100 years ago, 200 years ago

Exactly 100 years ago today, the Brighton & Hove Herald reported that a 49 year old visitor from London had died in the sea at Brighton Beach. Encouraged by his son to swim, the father appeared at first to have drowned, but it was then established that he had died from heart failure caused by shock. The same edition of the Herald carried a feature - ‘From our files of 1825’ - giving a snapshot of Brighton Beach events exactly 200 years ago.

Brighton & Hove Herald, Saturday August 8, 1925

SAD BATHING FATALITY - Visitor’s Death from Shock.

Within a few hours of his arrival in Brighton on Sunday for a holiday, Mr Robert Dargavel, aged 49, a steel and copperplate engraver, of Cavendish-road, Balham, London, had a bathe in the sea, which proved to be fatal. At the time, it was thought that death was due to drowning, but evidence at the inquest on Tuesday by Dr. H. A. Baines, of Cannon-place, showed that the deceased was suffering from inflammation of the lungs and pleurisy, and that death was due to heart failure from shock.

The circumstances of Mr Dargavel’s death were unusual. His son, Mr Leonard Albert Dargavel, a motor driver, told his father that he proposed to have a bathe, and his father said that he would bathe too. The son swam out some distance and saw nothing more of his father until his body had been brought ashore. Mr John Taylor, a boatman and coxswain of the Brighton lifeboat, when bringing in a load of passengers, saw the deceased standing in shallow water some yards from the shore. A few moments later he saw the deceased fall. Mr Taylor ran into the water, and, with the assistance of another boatman, Mr George Bert Souch, of Artillery-street, brought Mr Dargavel ashore.

Mr Taylor, assisted by Mr Souch, immediately commenced artificial respiration. Shortly afterwards, P.C. Henry Tindall arrived and took over the task. This officer continued the process for about twenty minutes, and, with the assistance of Sergeant W. Cook and P. C. A. Hobden, it was continued for about an hour, two methods being tried.

Dr. Baines, at the inquest, paid a warm tribute to the manner in which the work of artificial respiration was attempted so assiduously and efficiently by the police. If there had been any possible chance of deceased’s life being saved in that way, said Dr. Baines, in all probability it would have been saved.

The Borough Coroner (Mr W. D. Peskett) expressed his gratification at this latest testimony to the services of the police. In the course of the evidence, it was revealed that Mrs Dargavel, widow of the deceased, who had travelled to Brighton with her husband and son, was on the beach when the body was pulled ashore. The son told the Coroner that his father had not been very well at times, but had not had medical treatment, and had been able to attend to his business.

A verdict to the effect that deceased died from natural causes, produced by shock, was returned.

Here also are three verbatim notices from the same page of the 8 August edition of the Herald

Brighton & Hove Herald, Saturday August 8, 1925

BRIGHTON 100 YEARS AGO - From our Files of 1825.

Lady Byron disembarked here on Tuesday from her yacht. After a stay of a few hours, her ladyship sailed for Southampton.

On Sunday last 4,200 persons visited our inimitable Chain Pier.

Yesterday morning two strange boats with no persons on board were perceived in the offing. A boat from the shore secured them, when it turned out that they had broken from their moorings and drifted from Worthing during the strong gale.

NB: Both images above are used courtesy of Royal Pavilion & Museums, Brighton & Hove. The top image is dated c. 1925; and the lower image is dated c. 1825.

International shutdown services

It was almost like Thunderbirds down on Madeira Drive yesterday morning, near the Steve Ovett statue. But instead of International Rescue it was Specialist Group International, a world-renowned provider of 24/7 specialist rescue services. More than a dozen red-helmeted operatives in riot gear spread out along Madeira Drive and Marine Parade with one objective: squat shut down! 

Specialist rescue teams, enforcement officers, and bailiffs gathered on Brighton seafront yesterday to clear a makeshift squat from the decaying Madeira Terraces. The operation, which had been planned for some days, targeted a section of the closed-off terrace where an individual had been living for several weeks surrounded by tents, furniture, and other domestic items. By the time the teams arrived, the occupant - who had been advised of the raid by the council - had already left the site.

Although there was an open gate giving access to the upper terrace, the structure between the gate and the squat was judged unsafe to walk across. So, to reach the location, two members of a rope access team abseiled down from the upper promenade, watched by colleagues and not a few passers-by.

On Madeira Drive itself, several red vans marked ‘Specialist Rescue’ from Specialist Group International stood ready, flanked by enforcement officers in black body armour. Once the rope team had secured access, bailiffs entered the squat and began removing its contents. Furniture, bedding, and assorted possessions were thrown down into the fenced-off section of Madeira Drive, out of public reach but in full view from the pavement.

Specialist Group International says it is a world-renowned provider of 24/7 specialist rescue response to police, fire and other government agencies. With a highly disciplined professional team and an arsenal of cutting edge equipment, the team has a vast amount of assets at its disposal. This includes a fleet of boats, specialist vehicles, helicopter, underwater search team and an array of technical rescue and specialist search equipment.

The local Argus newspaper ran a live blog on the raid. It reported that Alistair McNair, leader of the Brighton and Hove Conservative Group, had slammed the council for being so ‘heavy handed’.

 

Praise for Pride

Brighton & Hove Council and the managing director of Brighton & Hove Pride have praised this year’s Pride weekend as a powerful celebration of unity and diversity, despite acknowledging a number of logistical hiccups. The 2025 festivities began with Saturday’s Pride parade setting off from the seafront, then winding through the city towards Preston Park, cheered on by thousands lining the route (see Brighton’s biggest bash).

An estimated 115,000 visitors arrived through Brighton Station that day, with large crowds attending both the Party on the Park - headlined by Mariah Carey - and the expanded Pride Street Party, which continued into Sunday with a closing set from Sugababes. Brighton & Hove City Council described the weekend as ‘the city’s biggest and brashest event’ and said it might well have been the largest Pride in the city’s history.

Paul Kemp, managing director of Brighton & Hove Pride, told BBC Sussex that although some people had faced delays getting into ticketed areas on Saturday, the team had acted quickly. ‘We know some people were frustrated, and we’re sorry about the delays,’ he said. ‘But public safety always comes first, and we adjusted plans quickly to improve the experience on Sunday.’

Brighton & Hove City Council also acknowledged the problems, particularly queues and entrance issues on Saturday afternoon. ‘It’s fair to say not everything went entirely smoothly,’ the council said, adding that changes had been made for Sunday and that lessons would be reviewed with organisers and partners in the months ahead.

Councillor Birgit Miller, Cabinet Member for Culture, Heritage and Tourism, thanked organisers, volunteers, and emergency services, saying: ‘It truly was a celebration of resilience, spirit, passion and unity . . . It is a massive planning operation and the work from Pride and partners across the council, police, fire, health and many more made sure it was a safe and fun event for everyone.’

The city’s clean-up operation began even before the weekend ended. The Environmental Services team collected more than 37 tonnes of rubbish, and 300 Pride Tidy Up Team volunteers joined an early Sunday morning beach clean, filling 280 bags. Most of the city centre was reported tidy by Monday morning.

My only literary prize

In the early 1990s, I took part in a Brighton Festival writing workshop on the famous novel Brighton Rock. It was an interesting experience, if a little disappointing. The workshop included entry to a short story competition with a £50 prize, and I duly entered. On this day, in 1992, I received notification that I’d won the competition and the £50 - it remains the only literary prize I’ve ever won. But, at the time, I was convinced - as my diary reveals - that I must have been the only entrant. Here is the story of that prize - in two extracts from my diaries.

4 May 1992

‘Friday saw the opening of the Brighton festival with a splendid procession of children and their school-made dragons. For the whole of Saturday, I’d signed up for a Brighton Rock workshop but I had little idea what it would be like. I dutifully arrived on the Palace Pier a little before 10 and took a couple of pictures - the light was astonishingly bright and clear and the pier furbishings were looking as spanking new and clean as I’ve seen them; they must have had a coat of paint within the last few weeks and the glass in the windows had been spotlessly cleaned.

At 10 exactly, I approached the tiny group of people in the centre of the pavement at the entrance to the pier. The literature event organiser was there holding a wad of tickets; there was a large well-built man of around 50 introduced to me as Tony Masters who I didn’t know from Adam; otherwise there were two other punters like me - Jake, a dead ringer in character and pretensions for my old flatmate Andy, and Bob. Masters, who turned out to be quite a well known and prolific writer, never really recovered from the fact that so few people had signed up

We removed to a banquet suite in the Albion Hotel where Tony talked a while about his working methods, about Brighton Rock (he had known Graham Greene) and about what we were going to do during the day - i.e. a walk in the morning and writing session in the afternoon. 

I suppose I too was disappointed that the turnout was so small. The walk was certainly a disappointment - we walked up and down the pier, passed the Forte’s cafe on the corner directly opposite the pier which was the setting for Snow’s. Tony insisted it would have been more sleazy in the time Greene researched the book but I thought otherwise - Rose says she couldn’t get another job as good and I suspect it was quite posh then, even more so than now. Tony said the same thing about the pier and the Albion hotel (where Greene stayed when in Brighton) but again I would have thought the pier would have been quite rich in those days given the amount of visitors it used to get. Our resident writer seemed determined to impose the sense of sleaze and squalidness that exudes out of the whole book on all the locations. We then walked up to Nelson Place which is where Pinkie grew up and where Rose’s parents live. Tony seemed to insist he could really feel ‘a sense of place’ (the title of the workshop) in this location but I didn’t get anything from it all. 

For a while we sat in the pub Dr Brighton’s which in the book and formerly was the Star and Garter where Ida was often found. I suppose I knew Brighton too well already. There are dozens of locations around the city which have real character and feeling but, the pier apart, we didn’t go near any of them. After a short break for lunch we retired to the same room in the hotel. It became clear that Tony has a lot of experience of such workshops - he has worked a lot in schools it seems and written a lot for children - and was determined to maintain a highly positive attitude and wring something out of us. We had five minutes to write down the bone of an idea based on any inspiration we had had on the walk; then we were given a bit less than an hour to actually write up the idea.

Apart from general thoughts about the gaudiness of the attractions on the pier and the similarity perhaps with Brighton itself in some respects, three pictures on the pier had struck me: the sight of a lanky youth, standing silent and motionless staring at a video machine; a small boy who refused to walk over the slats of the pier because he could see water below and chose instead to walk along the boards laid down for pushchairs; and the colour of the sea - a translucent turquoise which seemed to have a light source of its own - as spotted between the slats when walking through a covered part of the pier.

Pressed into creating a story line and taking my cue from a simple example put forward by Tony himself, I turned the youth into a rather lonely character yet to leave home, addicted to the video machines, his only pleasure, and on the edge of making an important decision in his life. I have him watching the small boy choose the safe path over the boards and seeing himself. A group of lively youngsters enter the amusement arcade and stand near the youth. He starts thinking about how he has never met people like this and so on. I was surprised how much I actually wrote in the short space of time but I suppose that’s my experience as a journalist showing through. Although Tony insisted that one should not enclose one’s characters into a finished plot and allow them room, I had sewn up my plot before I began writing. Tony said all one needs is to be able to see four or five scenes ahead (have a narrative thrust) and then one can write. Well, I couldn’t do this, I had already found the end to my story viz: the group of lively youngsters tease the youth and eventually nag him to come along with them for a bit. The first thing they do is go up the helter skelter. The youth, tied up in the imaginary world of the video games, has never actually been on any of the fairground rides and he is frightened sick of going to the top of the helter skelter and sliding down round virtually over the sea. Moreover, he has to spend his last coin of the day. The story finishes as he begins his slide down - a symbol really that he must begin his real life.

Pretty crass eh! Well, what can one do in 45 minutes. Jake wrote three sentences in Tom Wolfe style about a film star (Cher-like) who has come to Brighton to film a few scenes but falls over on the pier and is going to have an affair with a young street-wise lad. Bob also wrote just a few words about a tailor’s shop he’d seen. They were highly descriptive and emotive even and promised well.

We talked for an hour or so about these attempts. Jake found my writing Kafkaesque, Bob liked it and Tony explained that I wrote rather economically without much description, that I didn’t waste words. He said whereas from Bob’s contribution he could touch the scene, with mine he got a strong visual sense. I don’t think he made any judgement as to whether it was any good or not, nor can I think of anything he said that might actually help me write the story better. Oh yes, he said I was very observant.

The cost of the workshop also includes the chance to send in a story (max 3,000 words) to the organisers who will then award a £50 prize as well as provide some constructive criticism. I shall certainly take advantage of that offer. If just three people turn up at the second of the two workshops and every participant sends in a story, I would still have a 15% chance of winning the prize!

I have to say that I liked Tony and found myself very much on his wavelength - I could tell in advance what pictures he might point out (at one point he was saying that one was unlikely to meet a Pinkie character these days but just at that moment two punks passed us in the street and we both acknowledged the irony of that) - and I could agree with much of what he said about other writers and films. At over 50, he has been a writer for thirty years he said, and is clearly much in demand, for films and television, and also pushes out a lot of books. I suppose if I were ever to be a writer, I would want to have as varied a portfolio as this man.’

5 August 1992

‘ “I am delighted,” Adrian Slack, organiser of the literature part of the Brighton Festival, writes, “to inform you that you have won first prize in the short story competition. I enclose a cheque for £50”. Well, well, well. My first ever literature success. Well, it would be if I wasn’t reasonably sure that I was probably the only entrant. Shame I didn’t get second and third prize as well. The story - Helter Skelter - was supposed to be read by several judges and a critique provided, that might have been more useful than the £50 prize.’

My policeman on the pier

‘We battled past the sodden deckchairs, fortune-tellers and doughnut stalls, my hair coarsening in the wind, and my hand, clutching the umbrella above Tom’s, going numb. Tom’s face and body seemed set in a determined grimace against the weather. “Let’s go back . . .” I began, but the wind must have stolen my voice, for Tom ploughed ahead and shouted, “Helter-skelter? House of Hades? Or ghost train?” ’ This is an extract from Bethan Roberts Brighton-set novel, My Policeman, published on this day in 2012. While themes of repression, betrayal, guilt, and enduring love are explored against a backdrop of post-war conformity, Brighton Beach provides both a place of apparent freedom and quiet entrapment.

Roberts was born in Abingdon, Oxfordshire, in 1973. She studied English Literature at university before returning to writing via a part‑time MA in Creative Writing at the University of Chichester, which she completed over three years while working in television in Brighton. In 2006, she won the Society of Authors’ Olive Cook short‑story prize, which helped launch her literary career.

Her debut novel, The Pools, was published in 2007, earning the Jerwood/Arvon Young Writers’ Award. The follow‑up, The Good Plain Cook (2008), was serialised on BBC Radio 4’s Book at Bedtime and selected as a Time Out Book of the Year. On 4 August 2012, My Policeman was published by Chatto & Windus. The novel is set in Brighton in the 1950s and explores a love triangle between a policeman, his wife, and his secret male lover. It was chosen as Brighton City Read 2012, became an Irish Times Book of the Year, and was turned into a film in 2022.

Mother Island appeared in 2014, winning Roberts a Jerwood Fiction Uncovered prize, and Graceland, a fictionalised account of Elvis Presley’s early life, was published in 2019. Roberts also writes short fiction and drama for BBC Radio 4; she has worked in television documentary production and has taught creative writing at the University of Chichester, Goldsmiths, University of London, and West Dean College. She is based in Brighton with her family. For more biographical information see The Royal Literary Fund or New Writing South.

My Policeman is a tragic love story set in 1950s Brighton, where social conventions and laws criminalise homosexuality. The novel centres on Tom Burgess, a young policeman who marries Marion, a schoolteacher, while secretly maintaining a romantic relationship with Patrick, a museum curator. The story unfolds through dual narratives - Marion’s confessional manuscript and Patrick’s diary - both written decades later, as the emotional consequences of the hidden triangle are laid bare.

Here’s one extract in which Marion, on her honeymoon, is choosing a fairground ride.

‘And so, a few minutes later, we were strolling arm in arm towards the noise and lights of the Palace Pier.

My bouclé jacket was a pretty flimsy affair, and I clung to Tom’s arm as we sheltered beneath one of the hotel’s umbrellas. I was glad there’d been only one available, so we had to share. We rushed across King’s Road, were splashed by a passing bus, and Tom paid for us to go through the turnstiles. The wind threatened to blow our umbrella into the sea, but Tom kept a firm grip, despite the waves foaming around the pier’s iron legs and throwing shingle up the beach. We battled past the sodden deckchairs, fortune-tellers and doughnut stalls, my hair coarsening in the wind, and my hand, clutching the umbrella above Tom’s, going numb. Tom’s face and body seemed set in a determined grimace against the weather.

“Let’s go back . . .” I began, but the wind must have stolen my voice, for Tom ploughed ahead and shouted, “Helter-skelter? House of Hades? Or ghost train?”

It was then I started to laugh. What else could I do, Patrick? Here was I, on my honeymoon, battered by a wet wind on the Palace Pier, when our warm hotel bedroom - bed still immaculately made - was only yards away, and my new husband was asking me to choose between fairground rides.

“I’m for the helter-skelter,” I said, and started running towards the blue and red striped turret. The slide - then called The Joy Glide - was such a familiar sight, and yet I’d never actually been down it. Suddenly it seemed like a good idea. My feet were soaked and freezing, and moving them at least warmed them a little. (Tom has never felt the cold, did you notice that? A little later in our marriage, I wondered if all that sea swimming had developed a protective layer of seal-like fat, just beneath the surface of his skin. And whether that explained his lack of response to my touch. My tough, beautiful sea creature.)

The girl in the booth – black pigtails and pale pink lipstick – took our money and handed us a couple of mats. “One at a time,” she ordered. “No sharing mats.” ’

Tuba or Not Tuba?

Here is the 13th of 25 stained glass window designs on the Palace Pier which AI and I are using as inspiration for some of these BrightonBeach365 daily posts - see Stained Glass Window 1 for background.  The image shows the backs of two uniformed figures, possibly musicians, wearing dark caps with red bands. They are holding brass instruments, one of which appears to be a trombone and another a tuba. The background consists of a clear blue sky with stylised horizontal lines, suggesting a scene of a marching band or parade.

A limerick starter

Two bandsmen set off with a grin,

But one had his slide stuck right in.

He puffed and he blew,

Till his face turned bright blue —

Then sneezed, and played jazz on his chin!

The Case of the Missing Marching Band OR Tuba or Not Tuba? (From a recently-found episode of The Goon Show.)

FX: [Sea gulls. Waves crashing. Brass band warming up tunelessly.]

SEAGOON: Good morning! I am Major Horatio Seagoon, OBE, MFI, RSVP. I have come to Brighton Beach on a matter of national importance.

FX: [BAGPIPE WAIL]

SEAGOON: Shut that manhole cover, Eccles!

ECCLES: Sorry, I thought it was a new type of sunhat.

SEAGOON: It’s got wheels on it and says ‘Brighton Borough Drainage Department’!

ECCLES: Modern millinery, man!

SEAGOON: Silence! Now, according to confidential government memos, intercepted via a fortune cookie in Worthing, an entire marching band has gone missing from the seafront.

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE (smooth): Ah yes, the Royal Regiment of Reversible Saxophonists. Last seen marching confidently into the sea during a rendition of Anchors Aweigh.

SEAGOON: You mean they drowned?

GRYTPYPE: Not exactly. They’ve formed a successful underwater jazz trio off the coast of Rottingdean.

SEAGOON: By gad, we must rescue them before they collaborate with French crabs!

FX: [Marching footsteps, slowly getting squelchier]

BLOODNOK (exploding out of nowhere): Ahh! Not them again! I still owe the euphonium player two guineas and a cod.

SEAGOON: Where were you when the band disappeared, Colonel Bloodnok?

BLOODNOK: Nowhere suspicious! Merely camouflaged inside a tuba disguised as a deckchair.

FX: [Deckchair collapses with a metallic clang. Distant tuba fart.]

ECCLES: Ooooh! I think I sat on a B flat!

MINNIE (sing-song): Henry, Henry! There’s a man in the shrubbery playing a clarinet with his nose!

HENRY: That’s not a clarinet, Minnie. That’s my bicycle pump.

MINNIE: Then who’s playing the triangle with our haddock?

FX: [Loud triangle ding. Distant fish slap.]

SEAGOON: Enough! We must assemble the backup band!

FX: [Horrible discordant crash of spoons, combs, and someone playing a mop]

ECCLES: I got my washboard tuned to C-sharp! But it only plays in the rain.

GRYTPYPE: Congratulations. You are now all part of the official Brighton Beach Auxiliary Marching Misband.

SEAGOON: Forward! Left–right–left–ooh!

FX: [Marching. Then a mass splash.]

BLOODNOK: Wait, wait! The tide’s back in! ABANDON INSTRUMENTS!

FX: [Chaotic retreat, a trombone honks like a goose.]

OMNES (singing): ♪ For we are the band that sank with pride, Near Brighton’s bins and paddle tide. . . ♪

VOICEOVER (LEWIS): And so ends The Case of the Missing Marching Band, sponsored by the National Society for the Prevention of Seaside Serenades.

FX: [Final tuba bloop, fading under waves.]

Brighton’s biggest bash

Today’s Pride parade - the city’s biggest and most colourful annual event - set off at 11 am from Hove Lawns, gathering thousands of float‑decorated participants, drag performers and rainbow‑clad marchers who made their way east along the iconic seafront promenade. They proceeded along Kingsway to turn into West Street and North Street before winding past Old Steine and heading up toward London Road and Preston Road on its way to Preston Park, where the music festival begins.

This procession continues a legacy stretching back to the Sussex Gay Liberation Front’s first demonstration in October 1972, followed by Brighton’s inaugural Pride Week in July 1973 - a protest‑cum‑carnival walk along the waterfront ending with a beach gathering. After a hiatus, modern Pride returned in 1991, growing rapidly through the 1990s, and by 1996 the parade consistently began on the seafront with a major festival in Preston Park.

A watershed moment came in 2011 when financial collapse forced the new Brighton Pride CIC to introduce fencing and ticketing for the Preston Park event, while preserving the seafront parade as free. That move stabilised the event and enabled the creation of a Social Impact Fund which now supports local LGBTQ+ groups.

The COVID‑19 pandemic marked another turning point: both 2020 and 2021 festivals were cancelled (the 2020 edition was replaced by streamed content), breaking the Pride tradition for the first time. In 2022 Pride returned in full force - with headliners Christina Aguilera and Paloma Faith - and a revived focus on activism as well as entertainment. 2023 emphasised trans rights and global solidarity; 2024 featured themes of environmental activism and celebration, headlined by Girls Aloud and Mika.

Economically, Brighton Pride is one of the city’s most vital events. It draws up to 500,000 people over the weekend, accounting for an estimated two per cent of the city’s annual tourism in a single day and generating approximately £30 million in visitor spending. Since 2018 the event has delivered consistent economic benefits and raised more than £1 million annually for community grants.

This year 2025 brings further evolution. The theme - ‘Ravishing Rage’ - signals both celebration and resilience, and the event introduces major improvements following widespread community consultation. Notably, the Pride Village Party stage in Kemptown has moved from St James’s Street to Marine Parade, which will remain open for pedestrian and vehicle traffic, while Marine Parade will host a new Street Party featuring outside stages and entertainment.

On the festival front, 2025’s Pride on the Park takes place in Preston Park on 2-3 August, headlined by Mariah Carey in a UK festival exclusive - her long‑awaited performance originally planned for 2020 - and supported by acts including Sugababes, Fatboy Slim, Confidence Man, Loreen, Will Young, Natalie Imbruglia, Ashnikko, Slayyyter and Sister Sledge. Hayu, the NBCUniversal reality streaming service, is this year’s headline sponsor, enabling over 150 LGBTQ+ performers across multiple immersive stages.

In sum, today’s procession along Brighton’s seafront is not simply a visual feast - it’s also part of a five‑decade arc of protest turning into celebration, of financial crisis becoming a sustainable model, of pandemic pause and triumphant resurrection, and of ever‑greater economic and cultural significance to both city and community. For further information see Time Out, Brighton and Hove Council, and Wikipedia.