Rowntree’s Chocolate Crisp launched in 1935, and is now better known as the Kit Kat. Here’s some adverts for it from 1937.
It was marketed in these early years as a kind of quick meal substitute, “The biggest little meal”. A busy tailor for example, could scarf one down quickly if he didn’t have time for a lunch break. Although, frankly, he’s leaving it a bit late if he can’t get lunch before 3pm anyway.
And it’s just the job if you’ve been waiting for hours for George VI’s coronation procession and you’ve forgotten to bring any food for the day:
I must say, these adverts are working on me. It sounds absolutely delicious – crisp wafers, milk-cream chocolate and a lacing of finest butter. And it’s nourishing too! In fact, I’ve gone out and bought a Kit Kat, and am eating it right now. An advert from nearly 80 years ago has influenced me, so it must be a good one. I so wish I could try the “finest butter” 1937 version though.
OK, what? A peculiar and devastatingly under-explained little article from The Mirror, 1937.
This article reminded me of Tod Browning’s Freaks, the controversial 1932 cult horror film, which depicted the dying days of the freakshow. On account of its cast being real sideshow performers and its shocking plot, it was banned in the UK for 30 years. My favourite member of the cast is the “Half Woman-Half Man” played by the very cool Josephine Joseph, who claimed to be exactly split down the middle, gender-wise. The split-in-two depiction of a hermaphrodite was one of more popular types of sideshow “freak”, and was apparently mostly performed by males, who would exercise one half of their body and leave the other “female” side to go flabby and “moob up”. After ensuring you had two different hairstyles on either side of your head, you were away.
Now, this is where I get a bit excited. While writing this post I was suddenly overcome with curiosity about Josephine Joseph’s life. But….well, there’s hardly anything online at all. All I really found was that on Wikipedia, it’s claimed that she/he was 19 in Freaks, born in Austria, and was 5’6. That’s it! No one seems to know anything more – her/his real name, death or even if she/he were really a man or woman. Although some online commenters are pretty sure that J.J. was a man, in line with the tradition of such performers.
Me, I’m 100% convinced she’s a woman, and a pretty foxy one at that. I’m also rather sceptical of the claim to be 19 years old in Freaks. She looks a fair bit older than that to my eyes. And that was before I dug up something quite interesting in the British Newspaper Archive. Even more excitingly, it’s local to my part of the country too, the North West of the UK.
Now, the British Newspaper Archive doesn’t show up on Google searches as it’s a subscription service. And seeing as I’m newly armed with a month’s unlimited browsing, I decided to have a peek.
I found a rather intriguing article about a “Half Woman-Half Man” sideshow act called Josephine Joseph, who was the defendant in what sounds like a quite sensational, yet obscure, case in 1930. J.J. and her husband George Waas were an American couple who had been running a show at a “Coney Island” attraction in Blackpool. Their poster read:
“Josephine Joseph. Half Woman. Half Man. The most sensation freak of nature. Brother and sister in one body.”
J.J.’s name is given officially as Josephine Waas in the newspaper articles. They appeared before Blackpool Magistrates on August 22nd, 1930, charged with false pretences and conspiracy in order to “protect the gullible public” who paid to see their show. Brilliantly, the headline wearily calls this “Another Half Man-Half Woman Case”. You can’t move for them.
Before I get into the nitty gritty of that case, just for fun, let’s have a quick detour around the world of August 22nd 1930, as seen by the Lancashire Evening Post. It was in this issue that Princess Margaret’s birth was announced. It also reported on the birthday of Mrs Tackley, a 96-year-old woman who thought modern women’s dresses that showed their knees were “disgusting” and that there was “too much electricity about.”
There was the death of William Henry Townsend, the would-be assassin of Victorian Prime Minister Gladstone – who couldn’t go through with it because Gladstone smiled at him. He was still banged up in Broadmoor for the rest of his life though.
Vimto is marketed as an energy drink for boxers:
And cottage cheese is advertised as a way to keep policemen “nobby”:
Right, so back to Josephine Joseph. I think I know why this is piece of information has been left uncovered so far. The story was covered in two, local, newspapers – The Lancashire Daily Post and The Yorkshire Post – and it wasn’t a big trial that might have attracted national interest. Although the British Newspaper Archive is largely local newspapers so I’m not sure what national coverage this got, if any. George and Josephine complain about being summonsed only the day before and having no time to prepare a defence. They also apparently left the country immediately afterwards. Plus, J.J.’s big claim to fame in the movies was scuppered recognition-wise as Freaks was banned for so long.
Here’s the full article in the Lancashire Daily Post, and also a shorter version from the Yorkshire Post:
And here’s some close ups of the first article so it’s easier to read (although a bit awkward because of the columns):
It sounds quite riotous. They refuse to submit Josephine to a court doctor’s examination to prove hermaphroditism, but offer to provide X-rays to the court instead, given an adjournment. The adjournment was refused and the X-rays rejected as evidence without even being seen. A shame; I would have loved these, possibly doctored, items to still be available somewhere.
“Josephine Joseph” sounds a lot like a pure stage name, and there’s no photographs attached to the articles. But what makes me absolutely sure this is the same woman in Freaks are the descriptions of her in court. She is said to be a man on the right side, and a woman on the left, with her right arm longer than her left. Her eyebrows were different on either side. The Yorkshire Post article describes her stage costume as a bare right leg with a sandal, and a black-stockinged left leg with a woman’s shoe. Finally, her hair was brushed from the right side to the left, giving the impression of short hair on the right hand side. Now look at this picture of J.J. as she appears in Freaks two years later. Every point is the same:
Ultimately both pleaded guilty, the conspiracy charge was dropped and the show was ordered to be stopped immediately. Interestingly, only George was fined £25, while Josephine was discharged despite also pleading guilty. That seems quite unusual, but maybe she cast a bit of a spell on the courtroom. She sounds like a cool customer – it’s noted that she was smiling broadly when the verdict discharging her was announced, to some surprised murmuring in court. And there’s this exchange with Superintendent Hannan as he announced what he thought of Josephine’s physical attributes:
Superintendent: “I have no idea what the medical testimony may be, but I do say this, that the woman so far as I know does show to the public certain muscles on one side of her body which are more developed than those on the other side. She also has a male voice and a female voice. She may be without breast on one side, but this does not make her half man and half woman, as it can be brought about by operation or by physical exercises. Muscles can be developed on one side of the body and not on the other.
Turning to the woman defendant, the Superintendent remarked, “I see she is smiling.”
The Woman, “Can you stretch bones, Superintendent?”
There was laughter in the court and the Superintendent did not answer the question.
In the end, rather than submit to trial by jury in Preston, George Waas states:
“I want to plead guilty and get it over with. You are not going to crucify me entirely, are you? We both plead guilty.”
Asked if he anything to say to the magistrates, Waas replied, “I am sorry. I will give up this show and leave the country.”
As a postscript, I might have uncovered a bit more information on her life, but it’s not conclusive. Searching ancestry sites for George and Josephine Waas comes up with nothing that seems to be of a relevant time period for a Josephine. But there’s something very promising for George, and, after all, Josephine was probably a convenient stage name anyway. These are the details from the 1930 US Census. A George Waas was married to Betty Waas, and they later ended up in Los Angeles. Betty Waas was born in 1897 in Romania, and if this is our Josephine, that would make her 35 in 1932, a more realistic age for the performer in Freaks, in my opinion.
So there it is. A little light hopefully shed on a largely unknown life. I believe that Josephine Joseph definitely was a woman – or possibly of intersex gender, but not a man anyway, if she was indeed married to a man. And quite possibly she was really called Betty Waas, Romanian, and aged 16 years older than Wikipedia thinks. And this is where I came in – the title of the unrelated little article at the start of this post now seems to fit my findings pretty well, in the end.
I’m off to fiddle with Wikipedia and think about what a great film this could make. I can’t imagine anyone but Reece Shearsmith as the lead role. Wouldn’t he be amazing in it?
And, lastly, here’s Josephine herself, as she is in Freaks. Well, any excuse to post this – always and forever one of my favourite things on the Web, Ricardo Autobahn’s The Golden Age of Video:
A proper Victorian Christmas Pudding recipe, from Hieroglyphic, a tiny little magazine-style pamphlet from 1884. It’s not so much a magazine though, as an extended promotional piece for a company called Goodall’s, and its various wares. Note their custard is sold by “…all grocers and oilmen throughout the United Kingdom.” Oilmen?
Christmas Pudding
Materials –
One pound of raisins;
One pound of currants;
One pound of beef suet;
Half a pound of moist sugar;
Half a pound of flour;
One pound of breadcrumbs;
Four eggs;
One gill of rum, brandy or whisky;
Half a pint of milk;
Quarter of a pound of citron;
Quarter of a pound of candied lemon-peel.
Process –
Stone the raisins, wash the currants thoroughly, chop the beef suet as fine as possible, cut the peel into small strips, and place these ingredients, with the sugar, flour, breadcrumbs and eggs, in a large bowl, pour the milk over them, and mix until the whole is well incorporated. Lastly, add the spirit; stir the mass again for a few minutes, tie it up in well-floured pudding-cloth, plunge it into boiling water, and boil for four or five hours. This should be done the day before the pudding is wanted, on the following day, boil for two or three hours more. A rich plum-pudding of this kind cannot be boiled too long, the longer it is boiled, the more wholesome it is.
The 1970s are strangely tainted at the minute, as you don’t need me to tell you. “The past is a foreign country, they do things differently there,” said L. P. Hartley in The Go-Between (note, this is not J. R. Hartley of Fly Fishing fame). This seems fairly self evident of a century ago, but quite odd to think of the decade of my birth as belonging to such a different social landscape to now.
Not that today’s book is the greatest example of such a gulf in attitudes, but still, things would be done differently today.
The Art of Drinksmanship is a book from 1975 that I refuse to believe is not in the personal library of Steph and Dom, the posh ones from Gogglebox. If you want to party 1970s style (er…) then this is the manual for you. I feel well disposed to this book largely because it sounds like an off-shoot of Stephen Potter’s Gamesmanship. The 1940s and 50s Gamesmanship, Oneupmanship, Lifemanship and Supermanship books are a must for the comedy lover, some of the funniest books I have read. In them, there are many forms of getting one over on someone else – gambits on how doctors can maintain superiority over their patients, how babies can employ “Babymanship” by wobbling their head alarmingly and worrying their parents, and how you can stay one up on your friends and colleagues in general. The proponent of these gambits is called the “Lifeman” and, therefore the reader of this book could be called the “Drinksman”. I do know one or two people who could genuinely hold that title – Simon Lawson, I’m looking at you.
There’s lots of colourful pictures of the many boozes of the world. What immediately struck me, though, was the answer to a perennial problem of mine – how to serve a lovely old bottle of Burgundy? I mean, now I see it, it’s obvious. A nice cut glass decanter and glasses, some rather indulgent pate….and a dead duck, artfully draped. It’s touching the decanter! It’s eyes are still weeping! Who came up with that idea?
1970s barmaid. There was a good reason for this picture, it was illustrating a very salient point that I seem to have forgotten.
Instructions on how to have a party, 1975-style. Can’t help thinking that jumpers-on-shoulders guy is feeling slightly awkward at this party. He’s come smart casual, everyone else is at a Moroccan orgy.
Hangover cures. Basically – if you can hold of an oxygen canister, you’re laughing. I agree with it though, speaking as someone who is completely rubbish at drinking – loads of water is the key.
I’ve had a lot of fun since I started this blog. I’ve had the excuse to read more and also add to my old book collection. I’ve discovered the joys of the Ebay ephemera section and now have old letters, receipts from 1913, bits of Liverpool history, old pages from children’s books that I’ve framed for the baby’s room and strange old Happy Family cards. And the ephemera led me to discovering about Victorian stereoscopes and stereographic photographs, the collecting of which could very likely become a new hobby of mine. I’ve had two excellent guest blog posts (and I’m keen for more, if anyone’s got any interesting old stuff they want to write about out there).
But surely the greatest thing that’s happened so far is finding out about The Jon Pertwee Recipe Book. Not that I found it, it’s more that it found me. A blog post about a celebrity cookbook from 1986, that crucially contained some Worzel Gummidge recipes, alerted the Pertosphere to my presence – here. The Pertosphere also being known as this forum dedicated to the study of this (definitely canon) book.
And so I obviously needed my own copy. When it comes to locating specific out of print books, I’ve never been more grateful for the existence of the internet. I mean, imagine, in those mid 1990s days before I had even sent an email, I was busy doing…..er, well, all those things I used to do before the internet. Playing the card game Pit, watching Steve Coogan’s Live ‘n’ Lewd video on repeat, going out and playing pool while drinking terrible and terribly cheap drinks, all that kind of thing. Just imagine trying to locate a copy of an old book from 1973 when you aren’t really sure what it’s called anyway, just by going to charity shops and hoping.
Because that’s one of the best things about The Jon Pertwee Recipe Book. It’s not called The Jon Pertwee Recipe Book. And it doesn’t mention Jon Pertwee once within its pages, either. What it does have is this picture on the back cover, of BBC TV’s Doctor Who:
And it’s actually called Baking your Cake and Eating it, a budget cookbook from the Co-op, with recipes sent in by members of the public.
The most striking recipe is this, Banana Doolittle. Which has been attempted, impressively, by a member of the aforementioned forum, with interesting results. And this isn’t even the only 1970s recipe I have that crosses the pork/banana nexus. It was a strange decade. I like to think it’s something even too outré for Heston Blumenthal.
But there’s also such delights as the Pensioner’s Casserole (I think I can smell the cabbage all the way from 1973):
Mock Roast (basically meatloaf):
And Cheese Whispers, an impressive cocktail savoury made with instant mash. Well, it says it’s impressive. I haven’t made it.
I’ve still got all the coupons in the middle too – I could have saved 2p if they hadn’t expired in 1974.
I’ve made one of the rather more seasonal recipes. Last weekend it was Stir-Up Sunday, time to get the Christmas Pudding on the go. Here’s another, rather quicker, variation – Christmas Bunloaves by Mrs Margaret Edwards of Everton, Liverpool. Her family have been making it for at least 80 years, so that’s back to the 1890s, and it means it also fulfils my remit of making vintage recipes. I’d made a big pot of scouse for dinner, so surely this local delicacy will be perfect to follow.
Christmas Bunloaves (From Mrs Margaret Edwards, Everton, Liverpool who says the recipe has been handed down in her family for over eighty years)
-—-——————————————————————————————-
2 lb plain flour
1 lb soft brown sugar
1/2 lb white sugar
2 tsp baking powder
4 tsp mixed spice
2 tsp ground nutmeg
1 tsp ground ginger
1/2 lb lard
1/2 lb margarine
1/2 lb raisins (stoned and chopped)
1/2 lb sultanas
1 lb currants
2 oz chopped glacé cherries
2 oz candied peel
1/2 pint milk (or slightly more)
5 eggs
1/2 tsp almond essence
Lemon juice
1. Mix dry ingredients together, rub in fat, add fruit and candied peel.
2. Beat up eggs in milk, add essence and a few drops lemon juice.
3. Mix all together until moist but not too stiff.
4. Line two large loaf tins, pour mixture in and cover well with greaseproof paper. To give a shiny top, pat a little milk gently over the top before covering.
5. Bake at Mark 3 (325 degrees F, 160 degrees C) for 3 hours. Will make two 3 1/2 lb loaves.
——————————————————————————————–
I only made half portions – I think Mrs Edwards might have been cooking for a big old Liverpool Catholic family at Christmas and I don’t have a mixing bowl up to the job.
For 1970s authenticity, I used Stork.
Stork and lard. Look at all those lumps of fat.
Add the spices. OK, I’ve misread the instructions and added the spices too late. It’s fine, though.
And into the Kitchen Machine it goes. Hawkwind’s Silver Machine is usually the tune in my head when I use this – not only does it scan, but….it’s also silver! BBC TV’s Doctor Who is helping out here. The spices being rubbed into the fat and flour start to smell pretty amazing now.
Being a Christmas recipe, a ton of dried fruit is in order. Currants, sultanas AND raisins are called for, of which currants are deemed most important.
The fruit, with candied peel and a meagre amount of glacé cherries.
Stir up the milk, eggs, almond essence and lemon juice, mix it in and dollop in your loaf tin. I don’t think this part is very budget-y, I had to buy a bottle of almond essence for just 1/4 teaspoons-worth. Still.
Then clumsily brush some milk on top for a shiny top, and decorate with the aforementioned currant, raisin and sultana, if you’re being fancy. Make sure to cover with the greaseproof paper because this baby is going in the oven for three whole hours and you don’t want a burnt top. This is the heaviest thing I’ve ever baked.
And here it is, a lovely shiny-topped fruity loaf.
Serving suggestion – get every Pertwee-related item in your house and arrange it around the Bunloaf. It turns out that about half my possessions are Pertwee-based.
Worzel serving suggestion – a cup o’ tea and a slice o’ cake.
Verdict – this is definitely a vintage recipe, it tastes very much like it’s from 1890. Like tea round your nan’s house. Slightly dry – better with a little slick of butter, and even better toasted first. The budget nature of the cookbook has possibly scrimped on glacé cherries, I’d add about 4 times as many next time. And a bit of booze wouldn’t go amiss. But – good! Very Christmassy and traditional.
Here’s a 1932 book produced by the Liverpool Daily Post, “Motor runs from Merseyside”. It’s in a fairly delicate condition and so I couldnt quite scan everything flat. I’ll post up some more of this book later. For now, here’s some of the adverts it contains.
My favourite bit is this advert for Mel-O-Ade, a “Summer health drink”, “in convenient cubes for motorists”. Mel-O-Ade was a locally produced drink, made in Dale Street, Liverpool.
Buy a book now and then, and refresh your mind! A great phrase from an advert from the stationer and bookseller Philip Son and Nephew, Ltd on Church Street.
Adverts for where to buy cars in Liverpool. I just love that 1930s Art Deco aesthetic.
A beautiful old advert for cookers and pans, from the very excellent Mrs Dora Rea’s Cookery Book, 1910.
Incidentally, a descendant of Mrs Rea’s has been in touch to correct my joke about Dora Rea being almost unfortunately named. Because “Rea” is pronounced “Ray”, not “Rear”. I am chastened and also honoured, thank you, Karen! Karen has kindly provided more information about Mrs Rea’s life in the comments here – https://skittishlibrary.co.uk/the-good-the-bad-and-the-calfs-head/
*Holds back from making a “Dora, Rea, Me, Fah, Soh, Lah, Tee, Doh” joke*
This week I’m going to be posting up bits and pieces I have dating from the Second World War, in honour of Remembrance Sunday on 9th November. Of course, this is particularly poignant this year, being 100 years since the start of the First World War.
And on Sunday I’ll be posting some of my own family history – my Grandad’s memorabilia, stuffed inside the most sinister book I own.
Today’s piece is from PTO Magazine, 1940. George Bernard Shaw was a devoted vegetarian, and in a letter to the Daily Express, he pleads that veggies are given sufficient rations, lest they lose their singular ferociousness:
It’s a woman’s life in the Frontier Nursing Service of Kentucky. In 1940 they held a cocktail party ON HORSEBACK. And not only that, but Mrs Edwin Allen Locke jumped her horse over a table after four of said cocktails. Rock and very much Roll.