Residents of Kingston may take their borough's royal status for granted, but in fact it's a rare honour, one which has long been jealously guarded.

Kingston has been Royal for more than a thousand years, so its people tend to take the fact for granted. Yet it's a rare honour, so rare that in the whole of England and Wales there are only three other Royal boroughs (Kensington and Chelsea, Windsor and Caernarvon), all younger than Kingston.

Jealous eyes have often been cast on the borough's Royal status, especially from Richmond, which has always felt it had a prior claim. So, 75 years ago this September, the then Mayor of Kingston, Dr William Finny, decided to settle the matter once and for all by asking King George V formally to designate Kingston a Royal borough "as it was formerly accustomed to be called."

He quoted from many documents, notably a charter signed by King Athelstan in 933, and another by King Edred in 946, describing Kingston as "the Royal town where coronations are accustomed to be held."

The King was convinced, and on October 21, 1927, confirmed that Kingston was indeed entitled to be styled a Royal borough.

Its special status was again upheld nearly 67 years later. On April 7, 1964, the Queen granted a charter giving the new London Borough of Kingston upon Thames the right to be "Royal".

This followed the massive, and much resented, re-organisation of local government in Greater London in 1965, when the proudly independent boroughs of Surbiton and New Malden were forced to meld with Kingston to form the Royal Borough of Kingston upon Thames (note the axing of the hyphens that had previously formed part of the name and which are often, but quite wrongly, still used today).

What is extraordinary is that a town where the foundations of the British monarchy were laid, and that has played such a key role in so many major royal events, should have so few royal landmarks left.

There are some though. At least, there are still sites, buildings and artefacts which can claim royal associations, and it's interesting to tour the borough seeking them out.

One that immediately springs to mind is Queen's Promenade, the fine riverside walk that runs from Town End Wharf to Raven's Ait.

With its lawns, shrubberies and landing stages, it's one of the most delightful spots in Kingston, and a far cry from the dismal waste that once existed here. It also has a unique link with Queen Victoria.

Until the 1850s, the river frontage of Portsmouth Road had been ugly and dangerous. Gravel beds had been gouged out until the foreshore was pitted with craters.

These excavations had so weakened the foundations of the main road that parts of it frequently fell away, and were shored up with bits of timber.

This was a menace to pedestrians and vehicles alike because, though the river was some 15 feet deep along this stretch, it was protected only by a row of decaying white posts and a wooden rail.

A further hazard was a great bend in the river, from Surbiton Road to South Lane. This forced the road into a dangerously awkward angle that caused many accidents and was often flooded.

Public meetings had been held years before to discuss the problem. But the cost of filling in the river bend was deemed beyond Kingston's financial means, and the river road was left to crumble.

Two unusually resourceful men ended this sorry situation. One was William Woods, who was building 300 houses on the former parkland of Surbiton Hall. The other was Frederick Gould, the ablest but most egotistical councillor ever to shatter the calm of Kingston's Guildhall.

Woods envisaged a raised riverside walk between Raven's Ait and St Raphael's Church for the exclusive use of people who bought his houses.

On meeting Gould in 1852, he undertook to pay for this promenade, and hand it over to the townspeople, provided the remaining stretch from St Raphael's to South Lane was accomplished at public expense.

The Corporation wanted no part in it, but Gould had an inspiration. He knew that vast quantities of dirt were removed from local roads each year, and arranged that it should be dumped on the river bank.

At the same time, Chelsea Waterworks Co had just begun massive excavations for reservoirs and filter beds along the Portsmouth Road. The company agreed to give all their excavated earth to the scheme, their contractors hauling it up to the river bend, and so gradually filling it in.

Meanwhile, Gould persuaded the City of London Corporation to provide all the necessary work boats and tackle, plus the services of their engineer/surveyor, Mr S W Leath.

He prepared the plans and supervised operations while Gould continued to amass thousands of tons of earth and dirt.

By 1856 the new road, plus its elegant riverside walk was complete and Gould could and often did boast that not a penny had come from the rates.

August 17 was fixed as the date to open the new road and celebrate the ending of the Crimea War, and it was arranged that Kingston's thousand schoolchildren should march to the spot at 3pm for the dual celebrations.

However, only 24 hours beforehand, Gould heard that Queen Victoria was to pass through the town the next day en route to Claremont.

Teams worked feverishly through the night, putting up all the decorations they could find.

Their piece de resistance was a triumphal arch of flags and flowers, hastily erected at the start of the new road, and here the children gathered at noon to greet their monarch.

The royal carriage rolled majestically through the arch, bearing the Queen, the Prince Consort and their eldest daughter, the Princess Royal. Then, after the ceremonial barrier had been removed, the Queen and her family became the first to pass over the new road.

"Hooray for the Queen's Parade!" roared the assembled children. And that's how this stretch of road, previously called Town's End, became Queen's Parade, then Queen's Road.

Now, prosaically, it is known simply as the start of Portsmouth Road; but the riverside walk that runs alongside it still retains the regal name Queen's Promenade.

Only one thing marred its memorable opening day. The Queen, it seems, had not been told she was opening a new thoroughfare.

She had assumed the archway, the crowds and the deafening cheers were part of the Crimea peace celebrations. But she was puzzled that her carriage was kept waiting while the ceremonial barrier was removed.

She made inquiries at the end of her journey, and on learning she had just performed an opening ceremony without knowing it, was definitely not amused. In fact, she's alleged to have vowed never to pass through central Kingston again, and thereafter made a point of keeping to the side roads.

Our "Royal Trail" of Kingston will continue next week.

June 14, 2002 10:00