The Lord Louis was more than just a pub – it was a celebrated cornerstone of Southampton’s social life, named in honour of a man who was once the highest-ranking military officer in the United Kingdom.
The grand opening of the Lord Louis pub in 1960 was a day of great fanfare, with crowds eagerly awaiting the arrival of Lord Louis Mountbatten himself.
One of the bars was named the Kelly Bar, a tribute to the destroyer he had commanded during the war, and its very existence seemed to carry a weight of historical significance.
On that opening day, a huge crowd gathered at the pub’s main entrance on West Marlands Road, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Lord.
But in a moment of charming confusion, Lord Mountbatten inadvertently slipped in through a side door.
Lord Louis Mountbatten at the opening of the pub in 1960. Colourised image.(Image: Echo)
His former crew members and other VIPs, who were waiting inside, were surprised to see him casually strolling around the corner, emerging from the midst of the very crowd that had gathered to see him enter officially. This quirky entrance became a fond memory for those who attended.
Ironically, the pub stood on the site of an old brewery bar that had been destroyed by German bombs in 1940.
It was owned by the Romsey-based firm Strong’s, which was later acquired by Whitbread.
Standing in a prominent position in the city centre, the Lord Louis seemed like an unlikely target for crime, but fate had other plans.
The pub’s landlord, Ernest Gregory, would become the unfortunate victim of two audacious robberies, years apart.
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The first attack on Mr Gregory occurred in 1977.
As he stepped outside the pub’s side door, which faced the exit road of the Hants and Dorset bus station, he was viciously struck on the head.
The force of the blow was so severe that it nearly knocked him unconscious, and he had to be treated at the General Hospital.
All he could tell detectives was that his assailant, who left him with a massive bump on his head, was wearing maroon trousers and scuffed brown shoes.
But worse was yet to come.
The area as it is now.(Image: Echo)
Three years later, in 1980, Mr Gregory’s dog began barking furiously, waking him from his sleep.
When he went to investigate, he was met with a chilling ultimatum.
He told the Echo, “I went out on the landing and looked over the banister down into the pub, when I was cracked across the forehead with a pistol.”
Two men had gained entry through his living quarters and climbed the stairs.
One man held a short-barreled pistol and the other grabbed his hair, while a third accomplice stood lookout by the door.
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With a gun now pressed against his back, his arms pinned behind him, Mr Gregory was forced to hand over the keys to the safe.
The intruder issued a terrifying threat: “The safe or your kids.” While his wife, Janet, and their three children remained oblivious to the harrowing drama, the robbers bound Mr Gregory’s arms and legs with twine before emptying the safe of about £1,500.
After the robbers fled, he managed to call for his wife’s help. The experience left him deeply shaken. “It was very frightening,” he said. “I am sure they meant what they said.”
After decades as a beloved local institution, the Lord Louis pub’s time came to an end in 1987.
For eight years, locals had lived with the constant threat of demolition by the very organisation it faced across the street – the city council. They planned to redevelop the Western Esplanade area.
Lord Louis Mountbatten.(Image: -)
But true to its spirit, the pub went out in style.
In its final months, it offered an unseasonal and quirky invitation to its customers.
On the 25th day of every month, no matter the time of year, patrons could enjoy a traditional Christmas dinner with all the trimmings: roast turkey, Christmas pudding, and all the festive fixings.
Manager Lee Bonham said at the time, “The customers love it. It will be a great shame to see the pub go.”
Dining and Cooking