Sitting at the north end of the High Street on the corner of the road named after it, the Crown may be slightly older than the George Inn at the other end of the village, and is thought to date from 1454. Built end-on to the street, like one or two other timber-framed buildings in Shoreham, it originally had an open hall in the centre stretching up to the roof: timbers blackened by smoke from a hearth in the hall bear witness to this. The building was extensively reconstructed in the 17th century, using many timbers from the earlier house, and a large two-storey extension was added at the rear in the 18th and 19th centuries.
It has been known as the Crown since at least 1607, and was designated – along with the George – as a public house in the census of 1841. Other pubs in the village at the time were unlicensed alehouses. It became known as the Crown Hotel and you could book rooms there until after the Second World War.
It has been known as the Crown since at least 1607, and was designated – along with the George – as a public house in the census of 1841. Other pubs in the village at the time were unlicensed alehouses. It became known as the Crown Hotel and you could book rooms there until after the Second World War.
Arthur Archer ran the pub in the early part of the 20th century, when it was a lodge for
the Odd Fellows club. Members had to give a password through a special panel in a
door to be admitted on meeting nights. Jessie Jeffries later became publican, and her
nephew Philip Crome lived at the Crown as a child from the spring of 1941. His father
Leonard was stationed at Biggin Hill, and Philip remembered the barrage balloons “all
over the farmer’s field opposite the Crown”.
Back in the 18th century, the Crown was said to be a haunt of the infamous Hawkhurst
Gang of smugglers. Dodging customs officers on the main roads, smugglers would
prefer the muddy, flinty lanes through remote Shoreham. Tea, brandy, lace and tobacco
might be some of the contraband. The Pig and Whistle pub on the eastern hill was
another staging post for the smugglers.
Violent encounters with both customs men and fellow ne’er-do-wells were common. One story tells of a Spaniard who was wounded and brought to the Crown to recuperate. It is said he married the daughter of the innkeeper, Mr Squib, but was then seized and press-ganged onto a ship. By the time he found his way back to Shoreham his wife had died in childbirth, leaving the Spaniard distraught. Local newspapers claimed that the grieving ghost of the man continued to bother inhabitants of the pub two centuries later.
Text by James Saynor