The spy traitors Burgess and Maclean and their last day in London

Rob Baker

Updated August 17, 2018 at 6:48 PM

The secret service was on their tail – but there was still time for oysters and chablis - This content is subject to copyright.

With only a few minutes to spare on the night of Friday 25 May 1951 Guy Burgess and Donald Maclean managed to board the mid-night cross-channel ferry to St Malo. In their haste they almost hit a lorry driven by Sid Hampton, a Southampton Docks employee who later told the press: ‘I was about to tell them off for speeding in the docks when one of them threw a couple of bob on the ground and shouted, “Buy yourself a drink”.’ Hampton asked them what they wanted to do with the car they had just left on the quayside. As they ran up the gangway, almost as it was being raised, Burgess yelled back, ‘I’m back on Monday...’

About 15 hours earlier that day Burgess had woken up in his untidy, musty-smelling bedroom at Clifford Chambers at 10 New Bond Street - a small three-roomed flat opposite Asprey, the famous jewellers. He had been waking later and later since he had returned from Washington DC three weeks previously. He had been second secretary at the British Embassy but had left in disgrace, and at the British ambassador’s behest, after several embarrassing drunken incidents. Thoroughly disliked by most of the Americans with whom he came in contact the FBI later described Burgess, not inaccurately, as ‘a louche, foul-mouthed gay with a penchant for seducing hitchhikers’.

Guy Burgess (left) and Donald Maclean - Credit: GETTY — Guy Burgess (left) and Donald Maclean Credit: GETTY

As Burgess was getting up, Donald Maclean was already sitting at his desk in Whitehall having caught his usual train from Sevenoaks some two hours previously. He was head of the American department at the Foreign Office on King Charles Street. The job sounded important but care was already being made by the authorities that it was of no operational significance. For several weeks now Maclean had been under suspicion for leaking atomic secrets to the Soviet Union and his movements were being watched. Two years younger than Burgess, Maclean was exactly 38 years old, for it was his birthday and he had asked if he could take the next morning as leave (Saturday mornings were still worked by many civil servants in the 1950s) so that he could celebrate the whole weekend with family and friends at home in Surrey.

Inside the Foreign Office - Credit: getty — Inside the Foreign Office Credit: getty

10am

Between 10 and 10.30 that morning Herbert Morrison, who had recently become Foreign Secretary, was at a meeting with a senior MI5 officer and the head of Foreign Office security. At the end of the discussion Morrison signed an official paper. It gave MI5 permission to question Donald Maclean about his links with the Soviet Union.

At around the same time Burgess left his flat in New Bond Street. He hurried to the Green Park Hotel on Half Moon Street just off Piccadilly and about a ten-minute walk away. In the lobby Burgess met a young American student called Bernard Miller whom he had befriended on his journey back from the US on the RMS Queen Mary. After coffee in the hotel’s comfortable lounge they went for a walk in nearby Green Park. They had previously planned a short trip to France and Burgess had already booked two tickets for a boat that sailed that night from Southampton. After a short while Burgess explained to Bernard that he had to help an old friend who was in trouble and that it was unlikely he was able to accompany him to France.

The RMS Queen Mary at Southampton - Credit: GETTY — The RMS Queen Mary at Southampton Credit: GETTY

12pm

By now it was just before midday and while Miller headed back to the Green Park Hotel, Burgess went to the Reform Club in Pall Mall for a much-needed large whisky. After half an hour he asked the porter to order a hire car from Welbeck Motors in Crawford Street. While a worried and thoughtful Burgess was slumped in a large corner armchair at his club, Maclean left his office and walked up Whitehall and across Trafalgar Square to Old Compton Street in Soho. There he met a couple of friends for lunch at Wheeler’s, which in 1951 had only been in existence for just over 20 years but was already a Soho institution. The owner, Bernard Walsh, a large and friendly Whitstable man, had started it in 1929 as a small retail oyster shop. He noticed how popular his oysters were in London’s top restaurants so he bought a few tables and chairs and started serving them himself. The war, despite much of Old Compton Street having been bombed, only made Wheeler’s more successful. Oysters weren’t rationed and it was easy for Walsh to sell them below the five-shilling limit - the maximum cost of a meal imposed by governmental wartime restrictions.

Soho in the Fifties - Credit: GETTY — Soho in the Fifties Credit: GETTY

By 1951, when Maclean and his friends visited for lunch, the restaurant featured a long counter on the left-hand side where a waiter or Walsh himself opened oysters at a frightening speed – up to six hundred an hour if the restaurant was busy. Maclean and his friends stood at the busy bar and ordered a dozen oysters and some Chablis. The restaurant was too crowded to be comfortable and they decided to eat lunch elsewhere. They walked up Greek Street, through Soho Square, across Oxford Street and on to Charlotte Street where they had two further courses at a German restaurant and delicatessen called Schmidt’s, situated at numbers 35–37. In 1951 this area of London was still known to most people as North Soho and the name Fitzrovia, named after the Fitzroy Tavern, would generally not be used for another decade or two. The word ‘Fitzrovia’, incidentally, was recorded in print for the first time in an article by Tom Driberg, the journalist, Labour MP and close friend of Guy Burgess.

Although Maclean would not have called the area Fitzrovia he might well have jokingly called Charlotte Street ‘Charlottenstrasse’. Schmidt’s was the last vestige of the German community which had settled north of Oxford Street in the late nineteenth century and the road’s nickname was still being used in 1951.

Schmidt's, now a Japanese restaurant - Credit: GETTY — Schmidt's, now a Japanese restaurant Credit: GETTY

Most of the staff at Schmidt’s had been interned during one or both of the world wars and this is often given as an explanation why the waiters were described as somewhere between ‘curt’ and ‘the rudest in the world’. Schmidt’s was also known for its cheap prices and this may or may not have been a reason why T. S. Eliot was a regular at the restaurant where, dressed in a navy blue suit, he would eat the Weiner schnitzel with chilled Moselle wine. The writer A. S. Byatt also often visited and described the establishment in her novel Still Life: ‘In Schmidt’s you paid for everything with little receipts at a central caisse presided over by an erect moustached lady with a black dress and lace.’ Ms Byatt was being kind: the woman behind the till dressed in black was usually described as ‘bearded’. In 1951 the restaurant still served food using an old European restaurant custom where the waiters brought staple middle-European main courses, such as Eisbein (pickled ham hock) with Sauerkraut or Frankfurters with Spaetzle (a sort of German pasta), from the kitchen and only then sold them to the customers.

3pm

At about the time Maclean was saying goodbye to his friends after their lunch, Burgess was calling on Welbeck Motors at 7-9 Crawford Street half a mile or so north of Marble Arch. After paying ￡25 cash in advance for his Austin A70 he drove down to Mayfair where he parked outside Gieves (the merger with Hawkes Ltd was not until 1974) at 27 Old Bond Street at about 3pm. After buying a ‘fibre’ suitcase and a white mackintosh (thunder could be heard in the distance and it had just started raining) Burgess went to meet Bernard Miller again but after a couple of drinks dropped the young American back at his hotel telling him, ‘I’ll call for you at half past seven.’ Burgess didn’t call of course, and they never saw each other again.

Dinner suits at Gieves and Hawkes - Credit: GETTY — Dinner suits at Gieves and Hawkes Credit: GETTY

Meanwhile Maclean had taken a taxi down to the Travellers Club, the club on Pall Mall that had long been associated with the Foreign Office and the Diplomatic Service. He quickly downed two drinks at the bar and cashed a cheque for ￡5. At just after three he then walked back to his office. Burgess drove the hired Austin A70 along Curzon Street back to his flat where he grabbed some clothes, ￡300 in cash, some saving certificates and, most importantly, his treasured volume of Jane Austen’s collected novels. After another quick drink at the Reform Club Burgess then drove the 22 miles to Maclean’s home at Tatsfield in Surrey. While Burgess was on his way Maclean left the Foreign Office at exactly 4.45 p.m. and walked up Whitehall and joined the hurrying commuter crowd at Charing Cross station where he got on his usual 5.19 pm train to Sevenoaks.

Books in the library of the Travellers Club - Credit: GETTY — Books in the library of the Travellers Club Credit: GETTY

7pm

The two friends arrived at Maclean’s house within half an hour of each other and Burgess was introduced to Maclean’s wife Melinda as Mr Roger Styles, a business colleague. Burgess, perhaps playing games with the security services he knew would soon be on his trail, used two Agatha Christie novels, The Murder of Roger Ackroyd and The Mysterious Affair at Styles, to make up the alias. They all sat down for a birthday dinner at seven for which Melinda had cooked a special ham for the occasion. After the meal, Maclean put a few things into a briefcase, including a silk dressing gown, and casually told his wife that he and ‘Styles’ had to meet a person in Andover.

9pm

At 9.00 p.m., with Burgess at the wheel of the cream-coloured Austin A70, they sped off on the 100-mile journey to the docks at Southampton. Neither of them set foot in Britain again.

The locations today

Clifford Chambers, the building at 10 New Bond Street in Mayfair where Burgess was living at the time he absconded to the Soviet Union, is still there. As is the famous jewellers Asprey opposite.

Clifford Chambers today - Credit: ROB BAKER — Clifford Chambers today Credit: ROB BAKER

Green Park Hotel on Half Moon Street in Mayfair, the hotel where Burgess met his friend Bernard Miller and had coffee in the ‘comfortable lounge’, remains a hotel. It almost has the same name but called the Hilton London Green Park Hotel now. When Burgess walked through the door in 1951 the street would have looked completely different. Although the hotel had survived the worst of the air raids during the war, much of the surrounding area was either a bomb or building site, and was still to be rebuilt at the time.

The Reform Club at 104 Pall Mall and where Burgess went to drink whisky and contemplate the enormity of what he was about to do, was founded in 1836 and membership was initially restricted to those who pledged support for the Great Reform Act of 1832. The Club does not hold tours for the general public, but by prior arrangement organised groups are welcome on weekday mornings. The minimum number of visitors per group is ten.

The Reform Club library in the 19th century - Credit: GETTY — The Reform Club library in the 19th century Credit: GETTY

The Travellers Club, situated 106 Pall Mall and where Donald Maclean cashed his cheques, is the oldest of the surviving Pall Mall clubs. It was founded in 1819 and moved to its present purpose-built clubhouse, designed by Charles Barry, in 1832. The original rules of 1819 excluded from membership anyone “who has not travelled out of the British islands to a distance of at least five hundred miles from London in a direct line”.

The Foreign and Commonwealth Office on King Charles Street which runs parallel to Downing Street to the south, and where Donald Maclean worked, still exists. Although in the 1960s the George Gilbert Scott designed building was very close to being demolished as part of a major Whitehall redevelopment plan. Lack of money and public protests led to a rejection of the demolition plans in favour of restoration. It is open to the public every September as part of the Open House London festival.

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Wheeler’s fish restaurant at 19-21 Old Compton Street is no more. It closed down in 1999 after being bought by Paul Raymond. Today it is part of the Soho House empire and is now a Cecconi’s Pizza Bar.

Schmidt’s at 35-37 Charlotte Street closed down in 1976 - by then the local German/Jewish community had long since relocated to Golders Green or Edgware. It lay empty for years but in 2015 a Japanese restaurant called Roka opened on the premises.