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.
Conservative Election leaflet, 2015
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). 1909/1910
1929, and afraid not so much of the “nanny state”, but the “inspector state”. 1929
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. 1931
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. 1935
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. 1950
1958. The Tories gave you two television channels. 1958
1958. “Will he ever be called up?” 1958
1959. Labour will take away your mod cons, apparently. 1959
1963. Test ban treaty signed. Good stuff. 1963
1974. Directed to the working class voter. 1974
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. 1978/79
1978/79
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. 1992
1997. The infamous “Demon Eyes” poster. Unbelievable that this ever was released. 1997
2001. The Police love the Tories. I wonder if they’ve since told Theresa May to “Foxtrot Oscar”? 2001
This little article in The Children’s Newspaper from 1937 caught my eye. Wear more milk?
The Children’s Newspaper, 3rd April, 1937
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”
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 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.
Here’s an advert for Burnley’s version of the World War Two National Loaf, Veget bread:
Burnley Express, 1946
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.
Velveeta isn’t a product I associate with either the UK or the 1930s, so I was surprised to see an advert for it in The Yorkshire Post from 1937. I don’t think it was sold for long in the UK though, not post-war anyway. It’s not cheese, it’s “cheese food”.
“The phosphorus in Velveeta makes it an important brain-food”, it says.
The Yorkshire Post, 1937
I first came across Velveeta processed cheese while living in Kentucky during a so-called “exchange year” in the early 1990s – I was a vegetarian at the time and I ended up eating quite a lot of it. It does make an amazing easy cheese sauce in the microwave, even though I’m not entirely sure exactly what it is, apart from being described as “American cheese”. Apparently, the official description of it now is “Pasteurized Recipe Cheese Product”. Mmmm.
I didn’t know it was as old as all that though, I thought of it as one of the convenience foods that sprung up in the 1950s. It always reminded me of Willy Loman complaining about American cheese in Death of a Salesman – “How can they whip cheese?” – and it being an indication of the zeitgeist, moving away from the traditional ways of life after the end of the War.
As every foodstuff apparently was, it’s presented here as being not only nourishing and good for you, but also suitable for invalids – very well catered for, the invalid demographic was.
Cocaine used to be used for all kinds of medicinal uses. In 1935, it was given as a nasal spray to treat asthma by Dr Stanley Rowbotham, who was subsequently sued by his patient for becoming addicted to it. Here’s the article about the court case:
The Yorkshire Post, 5th March, 1935
The court found in favour of the doctor, thinking the patient’s story unlikely. One expert said that “drug addiction is comparatively rare in this country,” which sounds like they were doubting it was possible for him to be addicted at all. With all the strong medication is was possible to get hold of at this time, I’d guess that drug addiction was commoner than they recognised.
Here’s close ups of the article to make it easier to read:
The Yorkshire Post, 5th March, 1935
The Yorkshire Post, 5th March, 1935
Dr Rowbotham was to become a key pioneer in the development of anaesthetics and plastic surgery, operating on facial disfigurements, and given the Bronze star for his work during World War Two.
The patient, Kenneth Rhodes, had a less happy future ahead of him. He didn’t survive the year, apparently shooting himself dead a few months later.
The Children’s Newspaper confidently declaring the mammoth a “mistake” in 1922, there.
The Children’s Newspaper, 13th May 1922
Wikipedia tells me that mammoths lived through the Pliocene epoch (5 million years ago) to the woolly mammoths of the Holocene epoch (dying out 4,500 years ago – although we are still in this epoch). As a species, they lived through multiple epochs, over millions of years, and were still around when Ancient Egypt was a well established civilisation. In fact, if the mammoth died out around 4,500 years ago, that is around the same time as the Great Pyramid of Giza was being built. I know that Egypt got started on the whole civilisation thing earlier than most of humanity, but it blows my mind that mammoths were roaming the earth at the same time as the Pharoahs were strapping on their false beards.
Seems a bit harsh in the circumstances to dismiss them as a mistake, especially as they seem to have died out largely because of either climate change or being hunted by humans. And seeing as modern humans have been around a mere 200,000 years.
And there’s also a good chance that one day the woolly mammoth will be resurrected, Jurassic Park-style, by cloning frozen DNA found in a Siberian specimen, the 40,000-year-old Buttercup.
On another note, look at this! A real, live teddy bear from Edinburgh Zoo, from the same issue. Awwww. Not a mistake, this one. The Children’s Newspaper, 13th May 1922
