'It gave us a good living. But it stopped being fun'

There was a time when "going down the Stow" was one of London's big Saturday nights out. Ferraris, Aston Martins and Bentleys would dot the car park of Walthamstow Stadium, while Vinnie Jones would cheer on his greyhounds with Brad Pitt and Claudia Schiffer, and Cockney football manager Harry Redknapp would be there with his family.

For many Eastenders, it was a place to celebrate family landmarks: weddings, birthdays, even funerals. The story is told of a grieving widow who granted her husband's last wish, saying: "My husband spent most of his life at the Stow, he may as well be buried there."

This weekend the stadium is itself undergoing the last rites, bringing to an end 75 years of racing. Earlier this summer, the East End Chandler family who built the track in 1933, sold the place for an undisclosed sum.

Frances Chandler, 88, the oldest surviving family member, was at the track almost every night for 60 years. "The dogs have been my life," she said. "I have so many memories. I was here in 1945 when Winston Churchill spoke to a packed stadium of 20,000 people. I was here when Lana Turner came and charmed my husband. And when a young David Beckham worked here as a pot-boy, clearing up our drinking glasses before his talent was spotted.

"I'm broken-hearted now and I'm fed up crying. But you know what they say about family businesses: the first generation build it, the second adds to it, the third it goes bang."

The founder's grandson, Jack Chandler, 67, was managing director of the family business and said the offer was one they could not afford to refuse. "We lost £500,000 this year after making losses the previous two years," said Jack. "Ten years ago the stands would've been packed solid. We'd get 5,000 people on a Saturday night, 2,500 on Tuesday, but we were getting a quarter of that recently.

"We'd employ over 400 people for a meeting, so there were almost as many punters as there were employees."

For Jack and his cousin, Annie, 57, Walthamstow's PR director, nostalgia is all that's left. "My first memory is of my dad bringing me down at night and sitting in the judges' box," recalled Annie.

Later she chose a career away from the track, as a film costume designer.

"At first I was reluctant to give up the glam life of Shepperton Studios, but the dogs are like a drug, and the more I came down, the more I was hooked.

"You get every class here: the posh lot in their executive boxes, the sponsors, the owners, the trainers, the scruffy working-class geezers eating jellied eels and crusty cheese rolls."

Jack added: "For decades this place provided a decent living for us, and over £1 million annual prize money to dog owners. But it's stopped being fun."

Yet when I ask how he'll spend his time now that he no longer has five meetings a week to organise, his eyes light up. "Romford. I hear that dog racing is going well the other side of the M25. I might have a flutter."