When John Leland toured England in the 1540s, he observed water conduits in several towns, including a number of smaller urban centres. Subsequent historians and archaeologists, however, have seriously understated the number and importance of piped water systems in English towns. This article uses studies of individual towns, together with civic records and Leland's Itinerary, to examine the sources and technologies of urban water supplies, the origins of civic piped water systems, their relationships to other local systems, finance, management and oversight. It will argue that the growth in piped supplies by civic bodies in the later Middle Ages reflects the importance of charitable provision and the efforts of civic authorities to establish, maintain and regulate them. An appendix lists medieval English towns known to have provided public access to piped water supplies by c. 1550.

Based on so-called Excise court records, this article argues that in eighteenth-century urban Sweden much of middling women's work took place in the interstices between households, as ‘help’ given to other women, often across social divides. These forms of work are often difficult to track in the historical records and, consequently, they have remained unnoticed, creating the erroneous picture that women did not contribute to their households through paid work. The lack of attention to these kinds of work has also overemphasized the closed character of early modern households which were, in fact, both flexible and permeable units.

The development of modern water supply systems has varied widely in terms of speed, paths and results, and each supply system has been strongly conditioned by its spatial, socio-economic and cultural context. Barcelona provides a useful illustration of how such a modern system came into being in a particularly dynamic southern European setting. Despite being Spain's leading industrial centre, the driving force behind the introduction of its new water supply system did not come from an industrial imperative but rather from the city's expansion plan, approved in 1859, which gave rise to a proliferation of private initiatives. Later, decisive changes around the turn of the twentieth century led to a concentration of water companies, sewer renewal projects and the entry of water into the domestic sphere, and the extension of the water supply to people's homes. The development of a modern water supply system in Barcelona, however, required a period of a hundred years – from 1867, when the first steam-powered pumping station was built, to 1967, when the water from the Ter River transfer reached the city, allowing new consumption patterns to spread rapidly.

This article examines fire-safety innovations (safety matches, extinguishers and hydrants) from professional engineers and lay inventors in Mexico City from 1860–1910. With a drastic increase in the frequency and intensity of fires in the capital, engineers and entrepreneurs saw fire hazards as business opportunities. Global trends that promoted patenting new technologies spurred entrepreneurs and professionals alike to transform the capital into an epicentre of innovation aimed at making the city safer. Their inventions marked the city with visible signs of technological change and reminded residents that fire was a real threat to urban life.

Garment strikes in London and Chicago provide a setting to consider the role of the city in early twentieth-century labour struggles. While strikers in the two cities shared similar experiences and confronted similar imaginings of the city, they faced different built environments. The comparative approach thus highlights the importance of considering spatial dynamics when studying strikers’ strategies. Journalists’ and other onlookers’ responses to picket lines, parades or mass meetings reflected normative understandings and expectations of workers’ behaviour, especially if those workers were young, women or ethnic minorities. The article considers the ways in which strikers in early twentieth-century London and Chicago transgressed contemporary perceptions of their cities by appropriating city space and by subverting behavioural norms in spaces where they did belong. I argue that the strikers drew attention to their struggles via their atypical use of the city streets and that occupying these spaces helped unify the strikers and thus strengthen the strike.

This article explores the changing urban form and society of waterfront Liverpool in the last generation of the city's role as a traditional general cargo seaport. Deriving much of its evidence from a collaborative public history project, it demonstrates the continuing vitality of the near waterfront zone into the 1960s, and interprets the subsequent sudden collapse of the district with the closure of the south docks in 1972. Interviewees identified sites of memory that cast light on both the routine working of the district and the nature of its fall into dereliction and abandonment.

This article looks at the first five years of reconstruction in Nagasaki City after the atomic bombing of 9 August 1945, elucidating how the municipal vision of reconstruction shaped the city's post-war urban identity, especially in comparison to Hiroshima. From early on, city officials envisioned the future of Nagasaki as a restored ‘international cultural city’, not solely as a centre of atomic memory, while Hiroshima made the atomic experience the centre of its urban identity. This article seeks to revive Nagasaki as a subject of historical inquiry in order to balance scholarly, as well as popular, literature on the bombings, which has favoured Hiroshima for nearly seven decades. In short, the story of Nagasaki sheds a different light on bombing and aftermath, not only in comparison with Hiroshima but with other cities that have suffered mass destruction and the course of their subsequent reconstruction.

In this article, I examine the rise of ‘countercultural rock’ in the city of Buenos Aires between 1965 and 1970. Through the identification, mapping and analysis of real and imaginary spaces, I analyse how rock occupied the city both materially and symbolically. This dual approach to the study of the production, circulation and consumption of rock music enables us to understand a paradox which spanned those formative years: although it was postulated as the genre of modern Buenos Aires, its aesthetic was geared towards constructing an anti-urban account that favoured escape towards idealized natural environments.

Since the first outcries from feminist historians in the early 1970s against the absence of women as historical subjects, tangible progress has been made towards the inclusion of both female and male identities and experiences in historical research. The definition of gender as a ‘category of analysis’ brought about a small revolution in historical research, especially in social, economic and, more recently, cultural history. Traditional narratives about the marginal economic role of women or their limited participation in the public sphere have subsequently been re-evaluated and new hypotheses about people's gendered experiences have emerged. This growing interest in the formation and influence of gender identities is also increasingly discernible in urban history, where gender analysis has proven to be of particular relevance in understanding men's and women's use of urban space and, vice versa, the ways that the urban environment shaped the construction of people's gendered identities.