THE MOORGATE TUBE TRAIN DISASTER. 28th February 1975.

On Friday 28 February 1975 the 08:38 service from Drayton Park on the London Underground Northern line (Highbury Branch) left one minute late. It was formed of two three-car units of 1938 LTE rolling stock. On arrival at Moorgate station the train failed to slow, passing through the station platform area at 30–40 mph before entering the 66 feet (20 m) long overrun tunnel with a red stop-lamp, a sand drag and a hydraulic buffer stop. The sand drag only slowed the train slightly before the train collided heavily with the buffers and impacted with the terminal wall. 

The smaller diameter of the tube train involved allowed the first car to ride up over the hydraulic buffers with the second coach driving under the first leading to significant damage at this end. The leading driving car buckled at three points into a V shape and was crushed to less than half its length between the wall and the weight of the train piling up behind it. The third car was damaged at both ends, more significantly at the leading end as it rode over the second car. Approximately 300 passengers were on the train; 42 passengers and the driver died and 74 passengers were treated in hospital for their injuries.

It was declared a Major Accident by both the Brigade and the London Ambulance Service. It was the LFB’s most difficult special service incident in over a decade. It was London’s worst-ever Tube disaster. The crash left the station in total darkness and threw up a huge amount of soot and dust.

Only one journalist was allowed down into the tunnel in the early stages- Gerard Kemp of the Daily Telegraph. He reported; "It was a horrible mess of limbs and mangled iron," he said. "One of the great problems [for the rescue teams] was the intense heat down there. It must have been 120 degrees. It was like opening the door of an oven." Twelve hours after the tragedy, a young policewoman was brought out of the front carriage after her foot was amputated. The last known survivor, a 26-year-old man, was brought out at 2200 GMT on the day of the accident.

 

The Department of the Environment report on the collision was published on 4 March 1976 and tests showed no equipment fault on the train. Post-mortem evidence indicated that at the time of impact the driver's hand was on the brake handle, rather than in front of his face to protect it. Witnesses were interviewed; some passengers on the train reported that the train accelerated when entering the station, and some witnesses standing in the station reported that the driver, 56-year-old Leslie Newson, was sitting upright in his seat and looking straight ahead as the train passed through the station. The state of the motor control gear as found after the accident indicated that power had been applied to the motors until within two seconds of the impact.

The six day rescue operation involved 1324 firemen, 240 policemen, 80 ambulance men, 16 doctors and numerous voluntary workers and helpers. The last body to be brought out of the tunnel was that of the driver, Leslie Newson, a 56 year old husband and father of two children.

Mystery has surrounded the cause of the accident, and to this day no-one has been able to explain why it happened. The Official Department of the Environment Report on the accident reveals that the train was old, dating from 1938, but it and the braking system were all in good working order.

Despite all the investigations, the eye-witness evidence and the various theories, no conclusive reason has ever been given for the cause of the crash, except ‘driver error’. Was Newson suicidal, was he taken ill or was he simply distracted by something? Nobody will ever know what the driver of train 272 was thinking as he drove into Moorgate Station at 8.46 that terrible morning.

A SECOND plaque in memory of 43 people who died in the Moorgate Tube disaster in 1975 was unveiled in 2015, to commemorate the 40^th Anniversary of the disaster. The black granite memorial at Finsbury Square has the names of all those killed. Its installation was organised by historian Richard Jones with support from Islington Council. 

Chief Officer Joe Milner talking to his crews.

Among those at the ceremony was retired fireman Brian Goodfellow. He had been stationed at Clerkenwell fire station and was part of the initial crews that attended the Moorgate disaster. This is his story of the shocking events 43 years ago:

“I was driving the emergency tender that day. We went downstairs with all our gear, thinking it was a ‘train into buffers’ situation, but we soon got the call saying it was a major action procedure – this meant there were multiple casualties and at least 50 walking wounded. We went inside what we thought was the first carriage, assuming the driver would be in there, but it was actually the third – there were two more carriages up ahead. 

What really sticks in my mind was the human jigsaw puzzle of casualties... if you imagine a fully-loaded, underground carriage at a 45 degree angle, in the shape of a W – everyone had been catapulted into the end of the carriage. The rescue situation was very arduous, a lot of images still stay with me. We were there from nine to five that day, with only glasses of water for relief. The Salvation Army brought some food but no one wanted to eat because of the atmosphere. And when we went back to the fire station there was an icy cold silence. I wanted to keep cleaning my teeth, someone else kept washing their hair, and someone else was washing their hands. Back then we didn’t understand what it meant, but we were trying to wash away the memories.

But in every tragedy there are gems of human recovery and happiness and one thing I remember is a man who was walking injured. He was being asked to leave the station but he said: ‘No, my wife’s in there. I’m not leaving till I see her.’ Then a woman came out from behind a pillar who was also just walking injured, and when they were reunited, the only way I can describe it is love and happiness going up that escalator... with all the tragedy going on behind them. 

That’s the image that I remember so well. It gave me a second wind to go back in there and do what needed to be done.”

Steve Gleeson is a retired London fire officer. As a fireman in 1975 he was part of Lambeth's Emergency Tender (Blue Watch) crew that day. In the London Fire Brigade’s 43rd anniversary account Steve gave his memories of that tragic incident. He arrived at Moorgate Underground station around 1000 hours on the Friday morning of the incident.

Steve recalled: "We were immediately told to get our spreading and cutting gear and take it down to the platform level. As we were taking our gear down, firemen were guiding casualties, covered in dust and grime, up the other escalators to safety, as well as to grab more equipment. We quickly began to get an idea of the size of the incident but we didn't really know what to expect until we got to the platform.

Once there we found a carriage half at the platform and half into the tunnel but on a slant up into the ceiling. Our brief was to go further into the tunnel and start rescuing the trapped people. At the time, we didn't know how many people there were or what condition they were in."

He made his way through a 2ft gap between the tunnel wall and the side of the train. As he advanced past the first carriage, Steve found crews had already started working to release people trapped in the wreckage.

Steve continued: "A crew from Clapham had already cut a hole in the end of the train carriage and we used that to go through to the next carriage. In there we met a senior officer who asked us to get into the roof of a carriage. We were right at the very front of the train – about 10 to 12 feet behind the driver's cab. While we were working on the roof of the cab, Paddington's crew were working on freeing a woman below. Crews worked tirelessly in the dark, dusty tunnel, which was illuminated by only old style battery ‘box’ lamps to rescue the trapped people. 

In order to fit through some of the gaps in the carriages – and to avoid heat exhaustion, as temperatures reached up to 33C Steve, and the other firemen, removed their helmets, tunics, belts and axes. None of the crews working down there wanted to leave. They all wanted to stay and help the casualties they were with. We had to all be ordered out by senior officers to allow fresh crews to come in and to give us a break from the ever increasing temperatures we were working in."