What a heartbreaking little story this is. It’s from the first issue of the Seventh Day Adventist publication Herald of Health in 1910.
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Infant with Smoker’s Heart, 1910
Category: 1900-1949
I recently stumbled across a wonderful website for lovers of old books – Forgotten Books. You can look at a huge selection of ancient books for free, although there are some pages removed unless you pay for a subscription. But if you sign up to their mailing list, every day they will send you a link to one of their books that is entirely accessible for free for that day. It’s like having a little lucky dip every day.
A few days ago it was this, “The Right Way To Do Wrong” by legendary escapologist Harry Houdini. It’s an exposé of a range of scams used by confidence tricksters of the time – and it’s interesting how many of these are still current, just repackaged a bit.
It reminds of the kind of thing Derren Brown might write, but 100 years earlier. Incidentally, if you’ve never read Derren Brown’s books, I really can’t recommend them enough – they are an absolute joy to read. The man is a great writer, and he also seems to be a completely lovely chap. And you’ll never look at Monster Munch the same way again.
But back to Houdini. It’s really a corker of a book, and very easy to dash through. These are the chapters he covers, I’ll post up a few excerpts from them.
An intriguing chapter about Burglar’s Superstitions:
Begging letter swindles, including chain letters, which I still remember being a thing when I was a kid. Email chain letters – that happened for a while too, didn’t it?
Tricks of Bunco Men – or con men who convince poor saps that they’re about to get a big something for nothing. Much like the Nigerian 419 scams today. This explains the bit in The Paul Daniels Magic Show with the “Bunco Booth” – never knew what that meant.
Tales of quack doctors and psychics – both still very much with us now:
Lady criminals:
And a bit of autobiog from Houdini at the end. He had one of those old-school interesting lives alright.
Here’s a striking little article in the Children’s Newspaper from May 1922. This is it in its entirety:
“Eleven dynamite cartridges were exploded in the South American lake where the plesiosaurus was said to have been seen. It did not appear.”
Well, you can’t blame it, but there’s obviously a back story that was so well known at the time that further elaboration was unnecessary. I looked it up as I hadn’t heard of Nahuelito, the South American version of Nessie before. A supposed sighting of a lake monster in Nahuel Huapi Lake in Patagonia, Argentina was hot news in 1922. There’s some “photographic evidence” such as the picture below (taken later than 1922) – and they look pretty much the same as the ones of Nessie. But Nahuelito remains unfound just the same.
This was a big time for monsters of lake and sea, apparently. In another article a year later, a Mr Mitchell-Hedges “described his extraordinary battles with the giant fish of the ocean,” and “began by stating his belief that in the depths of the Pacific terrible monsters, survivors of the Mesozoic age, still exist.”
A bit of investigation about Mr Mitchell-Hedges reveals him to have been the owner of the strange crystal skull which featured on the cover on one of my favourite childhood books, Arthur C. Clarke’s Mysterious World. He led quite the Boys Own-style life – his job description was pretty much just “adventurer”. Some say he was the inspiration for the character of Indiana Jones, too, although not George Lucas or Steven Spielberg, to be fair, who you would expect to know such things. I’ve been tracking him in The British Newspaper Archive, and it’s quite a wild ride. But that’s another adventure for another post….
I was reading the “10 things we didn’t know last week” on the BBC website yesterday. I was intrigued by point two – the earliest mention of pizza in the New York Times was in 1944. It seemed quite late for something that took off so fast a short while later.
I thought I’d check The British Newspaper Archive to try and find the first mention of pizza in a British Newspaper. I’ve found this, which might be it, from 1860. A correspondent from Naples describes the frankly delicious-sounding pizza to be had in that city and how it was a classless food, enjoyed by every section of society. “The pizza cake is your only social leveller”. Apparently, the pizza was “only made and eaten between sunset and two or three in the morning…” 3am? Sounds like it was made to go with a bit of booze then, and I can’t argue there.
This bit is less appealing though – “the pizza shops are about the filthiest in Naples, and whoever knows Naples will admit that is saying a good deal.” I’ve gone off the idea now.
The general election draws nearer and I’ve just had a leaflet from the local Tory candidate through the letterbox (I don’t rate his chances).
His policies sound to be mainly all about how great the NHS is – oh, what an enormous con the Tories have pulled on the country there. Privatising by stealth, with no manifesto to state their intentions, and while still maintaining some kind of double think by continually stating how much they love the NHS. Well, I suppose they do love it now, seeing as so many of them are now coining in the private healthcare profits.
One of his main reasons given in the leaflet not to vote Labour is, unbelievably, because there would be a coalition, with Labour “propped up by other parties”, which is either completely shameless or completely idiotic.
Anyway. I’ve been having a look at Conservative Party election posters through the ages, thanks to the Bodleian Library’s online Conservative Party Archive. Interesting stuff. As a history buff you can divine so much information about the wider state of the country from each one. Here’s a few for you here.
From 1909-1910. Well….the past is like a foreign country, and all that (except Tories like the past).
1929, and afraid not so much of the “nanny state”, but the “inspector state”.
1931. Not really sure what this message is – go to work or Johnny Foreigner will take over? At this point the patriotism is pretty overt, with the Tories calling themselves “The National Government” for a while.
1935. Being “peaceful and strong” didn’t really work out for Neville Chamberlain, although to be fair, I don’t think any diplomatic approach would have worked against Hitler.
1950. It’s Kitchener-style common sense to vote Conservative. No reason is necessary, just the implication you’re some kind of gibbering fool if you don’t.
1958. The Tories gave you two television channels.
1958. “Will he ever be called up?”
1959. Labour will take away your mod cons, apparently.
1963. Test ban treaty signed. Good stuff.
1974. Directed to the working class voter.
1978-79. Not sure what to make of these ones. I mean, I get what they’re saying, but it seems like a lot of spin to make a positive slant on essentially not having to disturb the status quo any more than necessary.
1992. I like this one. John Major seems to me to be great in retrospect. Well, in comparison with all the Prime Ministers just before and since anyway.
1997. The infamous “Demon Eyes” poster. Unbelievable that this ever was released.
2001. The Police love the Tories. I wonder if they’ve since told Theresa May to “Foxtrot Oscar”?
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Wear More Milk, 1937
This little article in The Children’s Newspaper from 1937 caught my eye. Wear more milk?
In the 1930s, Italian chemist Antonio Ferretti worked out how to extract fibres from the casein protein in milk, which could then be used to make material. It was called Lanital (and Aralac in America). This was celebrated as a national success in fascist Italy, which was looking to promote self-sufficiency in fabrics and everything else, on account of sanctions being placed on the country by the League of Nations in response to Italy’s invasion of Ethiopia in 1935.
In the end, Lanital didn’t wash well, apparently smelling a bit like sour milk when damp, and bacteria could eat away at it, which is why it was soon replaced by the newer synthetic fibres.
Futurist poet Antonio Marinetti wrote “The Poem of the Milk Dress” about the invention of Lanital and how it was interwoven with the fascist system of Italy. In the extract below, “the man” is referring to Mussolini:
“The Man commands
Milk, divide yourself […]
And let this complicated milk be welcome power power power let’s exalt this
MILK MADE OF REINFORCED STEEL
MILK OF WAR
MILITARIZED MILK”
And here’s how it was made(in Italian):
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No She Didn’t, 1937
A rather unlikely-sounding claim that the apparent genius-baby Princess Margaret was humming recognisable tunes at the age of 11 months. My daughter is good at copying sounds (and is also a genius-baby, naturally) but this would have been a bit advanced for her.
Princess Margaret, of course, was born on the day that Freaks actress/actor Josephine Joseph was up in court for fraud.
It reminds me a bit of that ancient practice of portraying the ruling class as somehow superhuman and just rather other to the masses. But then again, I wasn’t there, maybe she did hum it – who knows?
A warning from 1921 informing the public which window cleaners were covered by accident insurance in Burnley.
It’s a good point actually. Who checks whether your window cleaner has insurance these days?
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Kellogg’s Problem, 1941
A 1941 advert from Kellogg’s Cornflakes today – literally demonstrating their blitz spirit.
It’s apologising for the shortage of Cornflakes in the shops, while giving themselves a hell of a (deserved) pat on the back for keeping the armed forces and blitzed areas supplied with breakfast.
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Veget National Bread, 1946
Here’s an advert for Burnley’s version of the World War Two National Loaf, Veget bread:
The National Loaf wasn’t very popular. It was the consequence of white bread flour being in short supply and was made with wholemeal flour, husks and all, and added calcium. It was a bit of a shock to the system of the British public, who had previously only been used to eating white bread, and soon started to be referred to as “Hitler’s secret weapon”, as bakers were banned from making any other type of loaf. Wikipedia describes it as “grey, mushy and unappetising” so it’s no surprise that I also found this rude local rhyme about Veget:
Don’t eat Veget bread,
It makes you shit like lead,
And fart like thunder,
And no bloody wonder,
So don’t eat Veget bread.
I love that Wikipedia says that “The loaf was abolished in October 1956.” I bet there was cheering in the streets. I was wondering if Veget had another ingredient included – the name implies there’s vegetables involved, but maybe that was just to make it sound healthier.
Here’s a recipe for a version of the National Loaf you can make now, by Hugh’s mum, Jane Fearnley Whittingstall. It’s taken from Lavender and Lovage:
The National Wheatmeal Loaf: (Makes 2 loaves)
From: Ministry of Food – Jane Fearnley Whittingstall
1 ½ lb wholemeal bread flour
1 ½ tbsp salt
1 ½ tbsp dried yeast
1 dsp honey or treacle
450 ml tepid water
Mix together all the ingredients and knead for about 10 minutes until you have a soft dough. Place the dough in an oiled bowl, cover with a tea towel and leave until dough has doubled in size (around 2 hours).
Knock back the dough, give a short knead then cut into two equal pieces. Place in 1.5 litre loaf tins, allow to rise for a further 2 hours.
Pre-heat oven to 200°c then bake loaves for 30 min. To test the loaves turn them out of their tins and give the base a tap. if it sounds hollow they are ready. Allow to cool on a wire rack.