The Moorgate Train Crash

The Worst Ever Disaster on The London Underground

The Morning Commute

On the morning of Friday 28 February 1975, there was nothing to suggest that the day would enter London’s history.

The rush hour had begun in its usual rhythm. Office workers filtered through suburban stations in North London, stepping onto the Northern City Line with the quiet familiarity of routine. The trains were rarely glamorous, but they were dependable. For many commuters, this was simply the last short stretch into the City before another working day began.

Train 272 left Drayton Park just after 8.30am, heading south toward Moorgate. The journey was short. Only a handful of stops lay between departure and the terminus deep beneath the financial district. Most passengers aboard were regulars. Some read newspapers. Others stared absently ahead in the half-lit carriage, conserving energy before the day to come.

Nothing was reported out of the ordinary. The train moved through the tunnels as it always did, stopping at each station along the way. By the time it departed Old Street, the final stop before Moorgate, it was entering the last moments of a journey that thousands had made before.

Ahead lay the end of the line.

A dead-end platform.

A routine stop.

Within seconds, that routine would be shattered.