Guest: Brighton Beach, Windsor, Ontario

Brighton Beach in Windsor, Ontario, occupies a solitary strip along the Detroit River, metres from the US/Canada border. It lies within a neighbourhood that has become almost entirely an industrial landscape. The physical beach was never a grand resort but a working-class destination, with a scrubby, sandy waterfront bordered by scattered cottages, unpaved lanes, and the smokestacks of industry visible upriver and down. For decades, the water’s edge was a place for fishing, mooring small boats, and impromptu summer picnics - the sand blending into patches of grass and, in later years, the untidy sprawl left behind as homes disappeared.

Windsor’s Brighton Beach has kept a wild, transitional character. Waves lapped the narrow strand, overlooked by remnants of wooden docks and, eventually, the steel infrastructure of major industrial plants. The physical shoreline shifted over the years due to both natural river currents and city-led expropriation and demolition. By the 2000s, the beach was bordered more by silence and wildflowers than by families, except for the occasional urban explorer, local birdwatcher, or fisherman. Yet the riverfront view - freighters sliding past beneath blue or stormy skies - has remained an enduring, haunting place.

Historic and contemporary photographs give a stark sense of this shifting landscape. The most comprehensive series is in ‘Brighton Beach Through The Years’ on International Metropolis, which features aerial images from 1949 through 2006, charting the steady disappearance of homes and roads as the area reverted to prairie and open shore. There are also evocative ground-level photos and travelogues from blog photographers - such as JB’s Warehouse & Curio Emporium - who captured the crumbling streets and river’s edge as late as the 2010s. The adjacent photo, for example, carries the caption: ‘Brighton Beach continues to offer up the finest in abandoned couches. Treasure hunters or connoisseurs of neglected boat hulls, car seats and furniture would have smiles on their faces after a quick scouting trip of the neighbourhood.’

The veteran run to Brighton

At sunrise this morning, more than 400 pre-1905 motor cars were scheduled to set off from Hyde Park for the 98th London to Brighton Veteran Car Run, the world’s longest-running motoring event. The run commemorates the original ‘Emancipation Run’ of 14 November 1896, which celebrated the passing of the Locomotives on Highways Act. That law raised the speed limit for light locomotives from four to fourteen miles per hour and abolished the requirement for a man with a red flag to walk ahead of every vehicle.

Organised by the Royal Automobile Club, this year’s event covered a route of about sixty miles, following the traditional course from London through Croydon, Redhill, Crawley and Burgess Hill before descending into Brighton. It is not a race: the event is open only to vehicles built before 1905, and every entrant who crosses the finish line within daylight is considered a victor. The finishing stretch took the cars directly onto the Brighton seafront, Madeira Drive once again serving as the ceremonial end-point. 

The run’s tradition of finishing on Madeira Drive dates back to the early 1900s, when the event was revived after the First World War. Over the decades it has only rarely been interrupted - by fuel shortages, war, and once by the pandemic. This year’s run also honoured the 125th anniversary of the Royal Automobile Club’s 1000-Mile Trial of 1900, another milestone in the story of early motoring. 

This morning’s first arrival on Madeira Drive was vehicle number 046, a 1900 Renaux tricycle driven by Clive Pettit (picture at top). The lightweight three-wheeler crossed the finish line just before 11 a.m., its simple design and reliability giving it an early advantage on the 60-mile run. The second vehicle and the first four-wheeled car to reach the seafront was number 018, an 1898 Stephens dogcart (pictured above), which rolled in at exactly 11 - later than usual, possibly because of early morning bad weather.

The run has acquired its own folklore. Many entrants and passengers dress in Edwardian costume; breakdowns are frequent and often met with good humour and clouds of steam; and the sound of sputtering engines and brass horns evokes the infancy of motoring. The 1953 film Genevieve (see film still) has immortalised the event’s charm and chaos, and even today the scene of creaking, smoke-puffing machines rolling into Brighton beneath the cliffs of Madeira Drive retains something of that cinematic magic. 

Among the machines entered in this year’s London to Brighton Veteran Car Run are: 

- an 1894 Benz, a single-cylinder 1.5 horsepower pioneer from Germany driven by Hermann Layher, its exposed brass fittings and carriage-style tiller steering embodying the dawn of motoring; 

- an 1898 Léon Bollée, the elegant French tricar whose sloping body and chain drive reflecte the ingenuity of fin-de-siècle engineering;

- the British Motor Museum’s 1899 Wolseley, one of the earliest four-wheelers designed by Herbert Austin;

- a newly restored Opel Darracq making its debut, representing a rare Franco-German collaboration from the earliest years of the automobile.

Brighton Swimming Club

On 4 May 1860 a handful of regular sea-bathers met at the Jolly Fisherman in Market Street and founded Brighton Swimming Club, today recognised as the country’s oldest continuously running swimming club. The pioneers had been bathing from the beach near the Lion Mansions on Grand Junction Parade in the late 1850s; by formalising their group they introduced subscriptions, rules and early safety practices to what had been an informal pastime. Founder members included George Brown and the celebrated one-legged swimmer and lifesaver John Henry Camp, whose motto, ‘I dare the waves a life to save’, reflected the club’s public-spirited character.

Through the 1860s and 1870s the club became a fixture of Brighton’s seafront life. Its members staged crowd-pleasing aquatic displays off the West Pier, including the much-reported raft ‘tea parties’, and they helped normalise sea swimming as recreation rather than therapy. Photographers recorded the swimmers’ culture, from informal 1860s beach portraits in drawers and top hats to later team images outside the club’s King’s Road Arches headquarters, where the address numbers changed over time as the seafront was renumbered. Membership grew rapidly from a dozen to several dozen within three years, mirroring Brighton’s boom as a resort.

By the early 1910s Brighton’s enthusiasm for sea swimming had become fully institutionalised. The Palace Pier built a £6,000 bathing station on piles of greenheart oak, complete with curtained changing cabins, rafts and spectator seating. When the new facility opened in June 1913, the Brighton Herald reported that the Brighton Swimming Club had been granted its own private quarters beneath the pier, ‘handsomely equipped’ and inaugurated with a special fête. Members staged diving and ornamental swimming displays, with prizes for fancy diving and a 65-foot high dive by the visiting champion Professor Oscar Dickman of Australia. The paper called it ‘one of the most attractive swimming resorts ever seen in Brighton’, a mark of how far the club had evolved from an informal gathering of hardy bathers to a centrepiece of civic leisure.

Traditions established in the Victorian period proved remarkably durable. The club’s Christmas Day swim is documented back to the 1880s and became a hardy local ritual, interrupted only by beach closures in wartime. From the later 19th century, as public baths opened, the club broadened beyond salt water to embrace pool training and competition, while still maintaining its daily sea section. Water polo, diving and what would become artistic swimming all found a home in the club’s expanding programme. Women’s swimming developed alongside, with a separate Brighton Ladies Swimming Club founded on 2 December 1891; that organisation evolved into today’s Brighton Dolphin SC. By the early 20th century mixed bathing had become acceptable in Brighton, but the distinct women’s club shows how the city nurtured female swimmers on their own terms as participation widened.

The inter-war years added a signature race to the calendar. In 1936 Brighton Corporation donated a trophy for an annual West Pier to Palace Pier swim, and the ‘Pier to Pier’ became a midsummer highlight. Competitors once dived from the West Pier itself; since that pier’s closure the start moved to the adjacent beach. Apart from wartime and occasional rough-sea cancellations, the race has run ever since, drawing Olympians, Channel swimmers and club stalwarts to cover roughly a kilometre along the front.

War brought the only sustained break in the club’s daily sea routine, when beaches were mined and barred. Peace restored the rhythms of early-morning swims, competitions and community service, with club volunteers continuing the long tradition of watchfulness on a lively, sometimes treacherous shore. In the 21st century the surge of interest in open-water swimming put Brighton’s oldest sporting institution back at the centre of a national trend, while heritage work under the ‘Floating Memories’ banner secured and interpreted archives stretching to the club’s first minute books.

Today, the club’s sea-swimming section operates from its long-established base, The Arch, on the lower promenade east of Palace Pier. Open every day of the year, it provides showers, changing space and board storage for members who swim daily in all seasons. Annual membership begins each April, with fees covering upkeep of the seafront facilities; when capacity is reached a waiting list applies. The section’s swimmers range from casual dippers to long-distance enthusiasts, many training for events such as the Pier to Pier race or Channel crossings. Despite the expansion of pool-based squads and other disciplines, the daily ritual of entering the sea from the club’s Arch headquarters remains the institution’s core tradition and the living link to its 1860 origins.

See also Sussex Women bathing allowed! and Photo History for more detail and photographs (inc the sepia image above).

Houdini’s West Pier stunt

The extraordinary escapologist Harry Houdini died 99 years ago today, on 31 October 1926. He appeared several times in Brighton and, on at least one occasion, performed a spectacular stunt from the West Pier. Many years later a young Ronald Cunningham - who would become The Great Omani - came across a second-hand copy of The Secrets of Houdini which inspired him to follow in the master’s footsteps - even to the extent of repeating the same stunt from the West Pier on the fiftieth anniversary of Houdini’s death.

Born Erik Weisz in Budapest in 1874, Houdini rose from vaudeville beginnings to become the world’s most famous escape artist, thrilling crowds with feats of endurance and ingenuity. In December 1904 he topped the bill at the Brighton Hippodrome, and local tradition records that as part of his visit he staged a shackled leap into the Channel from the West Pier, a publicity stunt that packed the promenade with spectators. He remained underwater for close to two minutes before surfacing free of chains.

The only source I can find for this event is a memoir written by Omani. In the memoir, he says he once met a retired theatre electrician, Bert Croyle, who claimed to have worked with Houdini and seen the West Pier stunt. I’ll let Omani tell the tale (from The Crowd Roars, QueenSpark Books, 1998).

Chapter: A salute to Houdini

Once it was my privilege to meet an elderly gentleman in his late seventies, by the name of Bert Croyle. In his early days he had worked in London as head electrician in many of the big variety theatres. He had worked with many famous artists and vaudeville stars of yesterday. Me knew the Ching Ling Soo, who met an untimely death on stage when presenting the ‘catching a ballet in the mouth’ trick. He also knew and had worked with the legendary Great Houdini. He told me that Houdini was a very pleasant and polite man to work with, though conceited and at times very temperamental. But then what great artist isn’t temperamental? 

During his tour of England, it appears Houdini had visited Brighton and had appeared top of the bill at the Brighton Hippodrome. Sadly, like many other theatres, the Hippodrome is now a Bingo Hall. Only the ghosts of yesterday tread the boards to the phantom music of bygone days. One day, Bert Croyle and I were sitting down sipping a glass of wine when he suddenly said. ‘You know. I actually saw Houdini perform his famous death jump from West Pier. This was a publicity stunt to advertise his show at the Brighton Hippodrome. He was handcuffed, chained and padlocked and jumped from the pier into the sea and escaped underwater in about two minutes. The pier was packed. What a showman he was that night. As always with Houdini, the theatre was sold out. I asked Bert how long ago it was that Houdini performed on the West Pier. ‘About fifty years ago,’ he replied. ‘Right,’ I said, you’ve just given me an idea for my next stunt. I will perform Houdini’s jump from where he performed it on the West Pier, with handcuffs and chains, as he performed it fifty years ago. I will present it as a salute to the memory of the world’s all time greatest escapologist.’ 

This was a very good story and I had agreed to sell it to a well known London agency called Features International as an exclusive. The morning before the stunt was due to take place, Bert Croyle and I had an interview with one of the BBC radio stations and we discussed the forthcoming stunt. One question the interviewer asked Bert was ‘Do you think that Omani is as good as Houdini? He has done some amazing things.’ Bert hesitated, turned to me and asked what I thought. ‘Simple,’ I said, ‘Houdini was the greatest of all time. Long after our names are forgotten he will still be a legend.’ ‘You may be right,’ said Bert, ‘but Omani is the best we have got today.’ 

Several years had passed since I had performed on the West Pier. It had changed owners and now belonged to the Métropole Hotel, Brighton. The morning of the stunt arrived and Frank Durham, a director of Features International, and his camera-girl arrived to pick me up at my house. With my suitcase packed with manacles, chains and a pair of bathing trunks, I got into his car and we headed for the West Pier.

On arrival we were in for a shock. A battery of about a dozen cameramen and reporters were waiting for us. A gathering of the media such as one might expect had the rumour got around that Dolly Parton was going to appear topless!’

See also The Great Omani. Picture credits: Wikipedia, Brighton Hippodrome, and ChatGPT.

Drops and jolts

Galaxia at Brighton Palace Pier, now over 20 years old, opened in May 2004. This is a Jump & Smile style ride manufactured by the Italian firm Sartori Rides to its Techno Jump design, able to accommodate up to 42 riders per cycle. Over the years, Galaxia has become one of Brighton pier’s landmark attractions, with its rainbow-lit arms rising above the deck and blue cars spinning visitors through sudden drops and jolts while offering sea views.

Enthusiast sites and visitor blogs have described the ride as a mid-range thrill compared with the more extreme boosters on the pier, noting it as a good choice for those less keen on heights. Some riders, however, have commented on the over-shoulder harnesses being uncomfortable and the motion feeling rough compared with smoother coasters. On one fan forum it was memorably summed up as a ‘crappy coaster . . . but what a stunning location’.

In its two decades of service the ride has remained a consistent part of the pier’s fairground offer, promoted by the operators with the promise of ‘lifts, drops and spins you around at speed, so strap in, hold on and take in the views as you whizz round’. Despite the challenges of constant exposure to salt air, high winds and heavy seasonal use, Galaxia has retained its place among the pier’s most popular thrill rides, demonstrating both the durability of the Techno Jump design and its role in sustaining Brighton’s long tradition of seafront entertainment.

Other examples of Sartori’s Techno Jump model can be found at several parks and fairs worldwide, each trading under its own name. Fantasy Island in Ingoldmells, Lincolnshire, has operated a version since 2004, while Tivoli World in Benalmádena, Spain, installed one in 2005. A travelling unit owned by the Piccaluga family appeared on Clacton Pier between 2004 and 2016 before returning to the Italian fair circuit, and a larger 14-arm portable model has toured in Mexico under the name Alegre Fantasia. The same ride type is also produced by other manufacturers under titles such as Smashing Jump or Hang-Jump, but the Brighton Galaxia remains the UK’s most prominent permanent Sartori installation.

Deaf Mosaic

The arches along Brighton seafront recently hosted a striking exhibition, Deaf Mosaic, which celebrates deaf culture and the many ways deaf people contribute to society. Created by award-winning photographer Stephen Iliffe, the project brings together 35 portraits of deaf people from all walks of life, each accompanied by their story. The exhibition was on show at the Brighton Seafront Gallery, 54 Kings Road, last September, forming part of Flarewave 2025, a deaf-led arts festival supported by Arts Council England and Brighton & Hove City Council.

Iliffe, who is himself deaf, has worked to challenge stereotypes by rejecting the outdated medical view of deafness and affirming the ‘social model’ instead - that barriers come not from deafness itself but from the structures of hearing society. His work has already been exhibited at the National Portrait Gallery and Kings Cross.

Two of the portraits on display carry a particularly strong connection to the city’s seafront. One features TV chef Scott Garthwaite, better known as Punk Chef, who poses outside his food van with the words ‘Punk Chef’ in bold pink across the windscreen. He recalls that when he first entered the profession, ‘kitchen chefs didn’t see my abilities, only my deafness’. He has since had the last laugh, working in top restaurants and becoming an award-winning television chef. The image is set against the wide horizon of Brighton beach, with the remains of the West Pier visible in the background.

Another portrait shows long-distance swimmer Andrew Rees fresh from the water, with Brighton Palace Pier behind him. Rees, a management accountant, trains by swimming between the two piers, but he is also a Channel veteran. In 2016 he became the first deaf person to swim the 34km from Dover to Calais, enduring gale-force winds, rough seas and shoals of jellyfish. ‘Nothing great is easy’ was his motto, he explains, and after 15 hours in the water he finally made it to France.

Both portraits encapsulate the exhibition’s central message: that with the right support, deaf people can achieve anything. Brighton’s seafront, with its open vistas and historic landmarks, can be viewed as a fitting stage for these affirmations of resilience and talent.

Slow in the Wintry Morn

This day in 1806 died Charlotte Smith, the poet and novelist whose Elegiac Sonnets established her as a leading voice of early Romanticism. One of her most famous works is The Emigrants, a long poem published in 1793 and set explicitly on the cliffs to the east of Brighton, then known as Brighthelmstone. Its combination of personal melancholy, political sympathy, and local coastal imagery made it one of the most striking poetic responses to the turbulence of the French Revolution and the transformation of the Sussex seashore.

Smith was born Charlotte Turner in London in 1749, the daughter of a wealthy merchant family. Married at 15 to Benjamin Smith, she endured an unhappy union marked by financial ruin and repeated imprisonment for debt. To support her twelve children she turned to writing, publishing Elegiac Sonnets in 1784 while her husband was in the King’s Bench Prison. The book became a sensation, going through multiple editions and influencing Wordsworth and Coleridge. Over the following two decades she produced both poetry and a string of innovative novels that engaged with contemporary politics, women’s rights, and the injustices of the legal system.

Despite chronic illness and poverty, Smith continued to write until her death at Tilford, Surrey, on 28 October 1806. Among her most enduring works is The Emigrants, written during the war with revolutionary France. It is addressed to her friend William Cowper, whose own Task had inspired her, and takes as its scene the Sussex coast overlooking Brighton. In the poem’s two ‘books’ (around 80 pages in total), she meditates on the plight of French exiles driven to England, weaving their suffering into her own reflections on war, tyranny, and compassion. 

Here are the first few lines of the first ‘book’. It opens with a note - ‘Scene, on the Cliffs to the Eastward of the Town of Brighthelmstone in Sussex. Time, a Morning in November, 1792’ - and begins with a powerful evocation of the pebbled beach and troubled Channel.

The Emigrants

Slow in the Wintry Morn, the struggling light
Throws a faint gleam upon the troubled waves;
Their foaming tops, as they approach the shore
And the broad surf that never ceasing breaks
On the innumerous pebbles, catch the beams
Of the pale Sun, that with reluctance gives
To this cold northern Isle, its shorten’d day.
Alas! how few the morning wakes to joy!
How many murmur at oblivious night
For leaving them so soon; for bearing thus
Their fancied bliss (the only bliss they taste!),
On her black wings away! - Changing the dreams
That sooth’d their sorrows, for calamities
(And every day brings its own sad proportion)
For doubts, diseases, abject dread of Death,
And faithless friends, and fame and fortune lost;
Fancied or real wants; and wounded pride,
That views the day star, but to curse his beams. . .