A Visit to the Bow Street Police Museum

Many of the spies executed in England during the two world wars were brought through the doors of the Bow Street Magistrates’ Court. Over its nearly 300-year history, Bow Street dealt with an extraordinary range of high-profile cases: author Oscar Wilde, Irish nationalist Roger Casement, fascist broadcaster William Joyce (Lord Haw-Haw) and key suffragettes like Emmeline and Christabel Pankhurst. While few of the spies would have seen the interior of the Bow Street Police Station next door, today, that’s all that is accessible to us. The former Bow Street courts and most of the police station are now a swanky hotel and restaurant.

I have been to London many times, wandering through nearby Covent Garden market. I had never, however, hopped one block over to check out the famous building on Bow Street. On my visit to London in November 2025, I decided to rectify that.

Built in 1881, the exterior of the building looks very similar to photographs from the 1930s and 1940s, although behind the façade, virtually everything has been gutted, except for the portion with the police museum. The façade, according to Historic England, is an interesting mix of “dignified eclectic Graeco-Roman with some slightly Vanbrughian details.” It’s certainly a imposing building.

It was rather odd to stand in front of the doors to the Magistrates’ Courts and wonder about all the men (and some women) who had been brought before the magistrates on charges of espionage. Were they represented by an attorney? Did they even understand what was going on? Could they understand English? It must have passed in a blur for many of them. None of the accused spies were actually held in the cells of the adjoining police station. During the Second World War, suspected spies were held at MI5’s Camp 020 and interrogated. The unlucky few who, for a variety of reasons, were deemed disposable were arraigned before the Bow Street magistrates. After being remanded into custody, they were then sent off to one of the London-area prisons, some to HMP Pentonville and some to HMP Wandsworth. The exception, of course, would be German spy Josef Jakobs, who, as a German soldier, was tried by court martial.

While I dearly would have loved to have a look inside one of the four courts in the building, they are long gone. I did find an image from 1895, however, which gives a good sense of what a Bow Street courtroom would have looked like. Given the steeped-in-tradition history of English Law, I imagine that very little had changed between 1895 and 1941.

The Bow Street Police Museum is tucked around the corner, down Martlett Court. Look for the second door with the Police lantern hanging above it. The museum is only open Fridays and weekends and costs £8 (£10 if you want to add a donation). It’s a small museum but I found it quite fascinating.

The open display space has a history of policing in the area which was quite informative. The early “police” were basically individuals operating out of their homes, trying to keep law and order and solve crimes. In the mid-1700s, novelist and playwright Henry Fielding served as magistrate and hired eight reliable men to serve as constables, known as the Bow Street Runners. From those humble beginnings, slowly, over time, a more organized police force took shape.

One of the most fascinating artifacts in the display is the dock from Court 2, which was saved for posterity by contractors during the gutting of the court building. Each of the courts had a dock, where the accused would sit on a wooden bench. It wasn’t quite a cage, but it was unmistakably designed to separate the accused from everyone else. I have no idea which courtrooms the spies were brought through, but it makes one pause to think that one might be touching the same railing upon which their hands once rested.

The other section of the museum is a series of cells where individuals were held when they were initially arrested by the Bow Street police officers. None of the spies were held here as they were not arrested by the Bow Street police. They would have been brought to the Magistrates’ Court building on the day of their arraignment and held in cells near the courts. After being remanded into custody, they would have been sent to a prison to await their trial at the Old Bailey.

The police cells are narrow and high-ceilinged with very little in the way of comfort. A toilet and a radiator, a thin mat on a built-in bed, and that’s it. No sink. No privacy. A small window high up on the wall may have filtered in some weak London light. According to one display at the museum, prisoners had to ask for toilet paper, as it was not left in the cells due to possible misuse. Prisoners seeking attention would often drop the roll into the toilet where it could cause the cell to flood.

While the museum is not large, it is packed full of history. For those with an interest in crime or espionage, it makes a nice side-trip from Covent Garden Market. Highly recommended for a visit.

Header Image – Copyright G.K. Jakobs, 2026