Last Prisoners In The Tower Of London

So, you think you’ve had a bad day at work? Imagine clocking in at the Tower of London, expecting to give a tour about beheadings, only to find out you’re the last prisoners ever held there. Yes, the Tower—that grim celebrity of British history—actually had its final inmates as recently as the 1950s. And they weren't plotting to overthrow the crown; they were a couple of teenage boys who got a little too obsessed with uniforms.

The Kray Twins of the Schoolyard

Meet Peter and Michael Quinn, brothers aged 16 and 17. In 1952, they had the bright idea to break into the Tower of London—not to steal the Crown Jewels, but to camp out in a deserted barracks. Why? Because they were huge fans of the Coldstream Guards and wanted to live the military life without, you know, the actual military part.

The guards caught them hiding under a bed—not exactly a scene from a Bond film. The boys claimed they just wanted to "see the guards" and "maybe learn the drill." Their punishment? A night in the Tower's medieval cells, sharing space with ghost stories and six hundred years of history’s worst houseguests.

They were released with a warning, and no, they didn't get to keep the souvenir swords. Rude, right?

The Real Prisoners: Spies Who Got Caught Snacking

But the Quinn brothers were just the amateur hour. The last real prisoners of the Tower—the ones who weren’t just goofing off—were two of the most notorious spies of World War II: The Krogers. Morris and Lona Cohen (alias Peter and Helen Kroger) were American-born Soviet spies who ran a bookshop in London while passing atomic secrets to Moscow.

Their cover was so good that their neighbors thought they were just a quirky couple who loved late-night gardening. In reality, they were burying microfilm in their backyard—and a shortwave radio in their kitchen. When MI5 finally busted them in 1961, they found the radio still warm from a transmission, probably mid-sentence about the price of milk.

They were thrown into the Tower—specifically into E Block, the same wing that held Nazi Rudolf Hess—and stayed for six weeks while awaiting trial. That made them the last official state prisoners to occupy the fortress. And what did they complain about? Not the cold. Not the ghosts. They complained the food was too greasy. Priorities, people.

Tower Of London Prisoners And Executions

The Tower’s Final Farewell to Prisoners

After the Krogers were shipped off to life sentences (they eventually got swapped in a spy exchange), the Tower’s prison function quietly died. No more dungeon parties. No more "oops, we forgot to let that traitor out for breakfast." By the 1960s, the Tower became a full-time tourist trap—or, as historians call it, a "heritage site with excellent ravens."

But here’s the kicker: the Tower technically could still hold prisoners today. The Crown still has the legal authority to lock someone up there, under ancient writs. Imagine getting a speeding ticket and the judge says, "That’ll be 200 quid and a night in the Bloody Tower." Yikes.

And while no one has been imprisoned since 1961, the Yeoman Warders (the Beefeaters) still keep the cells tidy. One Beefeater told me, "We dust the manacles weekly. You never know." That’s the kind of hospitality you can’t put a price on.

Fun Facts to Haunt Your Friends

Did you know the last execution at the Tower was in 1941? A German spy named Josef Jakobs was shot by a firing squad—on a chair, because he had a broken ankle from parachuting in. Talk about bad luck: the chair is now in a museum, and it looks remarkably like the one your grandpa naps in.

What Being a Prisoner In the Tower of London Was Like - YouTube

Also, the Quinn brothers weren't the only "accidental" prisoners. In the 19th century, a man was locked in the Tower for three days because he imitated a Beefeater and nobody could tell the difference. He was released when he started giving terrible tours: "And here's the spot where they ran out of scones."

And let's not forget the Tower’s most famous "veteran": a polar bear given to Henry III in 1250. It was allowed to swim in the Thames on a rope, and ate so many fish that the local fishermen petitioned the king. Henry’s response? "Let him fish, you grumpy louts." The bear was, arguably, the Tower’s happiest resident.

The Ghosts Have More Guests Than the Warden

Today, the Tower is full of tourists snapping selfies with beefeaters, but the real vibe is that of a retirement home for royal drama. The last prisoners are long gone, but their echoes linger: the Quinn brothers probably bragged about it at school for decades, and the Krogers’ greasy-food complaints are now part of folklore.

So next time you visit, look at those thick, damp walls and think: I could do a night here. Maybe. If they served better chips. And if you see a Beefeater with a gleam in his eye, just remember—he’s legally allowed to lock you up. Behave yourself. And maybe don't ask about the polar bear.

End of the line, prisoners. The Tower’s dungeons are now just really, really atmospheric selfie backgrounds. And that is a happy ending, for once, in 1,000 years of blood, betrayal, and bad jail food.