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:
Oh, look at this beauty! It’s The Home Entertainer by Sid G. Hedges, the author of my first 1930s book purchase many years ago, The Universal Book of Hobbies and Handicrafts. The chapter on self defence in that book is just the best – https://skittishlibrary.co.uk/dirty-rotters/
So when I saw this I had to get it. It’s a book full of party ideas, entertaining tips and games. And I do love a vintage game (especially on a Friday). But! Incredibly, the book arrived still in the original packaging it was posted out in, in 1935. Wow, wow, wow, as my baby daughter likes saying (although she pretty much exclusively says it while looking at light fittings). The address it was posted to was number 27 1/2, which is a bit odd.
So, here’s the first Friday Fun in ages. A game called “Winking”. I wouldn’t have thought it was possible to describe something as delightfully sexist, and yet that is how I find myself thinking of this.
(Nb – my friend Neil has just pointed out that the men and women swap places in this game after one round, which I completely missed. So, there we go, not sexist anyway.)
Happiness (for me) is a browse through what is probably my favourite online resource – the British Newspaper Archive. It’s here.
I thought I’d mention it now because it’s a subscription-based site, and there’s a discount code valid until the end of January 2015 – enter “news01” and you get a month’s unlimited browsing for just £1.
Here’s a little article I found, local to me as it’s from The Liverpool Post in 1937 (and I am all about 1937 right now). It’s what initially seems to be a fairly modern scenario, in a way. A pupil from Rock Ferry, Birkenhead, sued his teacher for caning him, and he won his case. Then everyone remembered they were still in 1937, his teacher appealed, and she was successful in getting the conviction overturned.
You’re left in no doubt as to what general opinion might be, reading the language of the article:
“On the afternoon of January 12th, she warned him several times. When she went to cane him in the ordinary way, he turned away and she hit him with the cane three times on his pants. She did not lose her temper. The boy went back to his desk and sat down, doing his work much better afterwards.
Mr Roland Thomas, K.C., for the teacher, commented, “Teachers will go in terror of punishing children, if bruising of the ordinary kind is going to be taken as excessive.”
I have a feeling things are going to get a bit 1937-y around here for a while as my latest Ebay ephemera purchase is an edition of the Mirror from May 1937. It’s not the usual daily newspaper, though, but the overseas weekly edition compiled from a week’s worth of newspapers. The date is quite portentous as it’s the week before George VI’s coronation, and there’s a huge sense of build up and excitement, with special adverts recommending food to eat whole you’re waiting for the procession to pass, endless details about visitors from other parts of the world arriving to take part in all the pageantry, and romantic asides with pictures of the recently abdicated Edward and Wallace Simpson smiling at each other.
And that’s apart from the amazing news stories and general adverts, which are reliably fascinating. One thing I have learned from the adverts I have from the 1930s and 40s – you’re never far away from a laxative ad. Not sure why this was such a huge deal at this time – I imagined everyone was eating quite a lot of vegetable matter at this point. In fact, I’ve previously written about my favourite advert ever, a laxative advert in my Grandad’s 1940 copy of the Radio Times (he was on the cover) – https://skittishlibrary.co.uk/remembrance-week-the-radio-times-1940/
So, how to capitalise on this apparent fear of constipation if you didn’t actually manufacture laxatives? Wright’s Coal Tar Soap decided to basically invent a new problem -“Skin constipation”, a kind of poisoning from your blocked pores. Luckily, this terrible affliction could be avoided with their soap, of course.
Did you know that Ken Dodd didn’t invent the Diddymen? Arthur Askey, another Liverpudlian comic, talked about them, treacle mines and all, in the early years of his act in the 1920s. But he didn’t invent them either, they’d been part of local folklore in this part of the country for much longer. I don’t have any more information about their origins though, I would love to know more.
Here’s a 1974 Arthur Askey interview from Russell Harty Plus, where he mentions the Diddymen and sounds ever so slightly ticked off that Ken Dodd was much more successful with them.
He was told when he went to London as a young comedian,
“We think you’re going to be very good, Arthur, but you must drop that Liverpool accent. You must get rid of your accent and you mustn’t talk about Diddy Men or jam butty factories or treacle mines.” Of course, Ken Dodd comes along thirty-odd years later and, through radio and television, they know what he’s talking about. But in those days I was doing missionary work, you know!”
Oh, and I like the sound of his untheatrical wife, who he claims had barely any idea of what he did for a living,
“My wife – I always used to say that she thought I was a burglar. She knew I went out at night to do something, but she wasn’t quite sure what it was. When I got my O.B.E. (I must drag that in), I said to my wife: “Do come along to Buckingham Palace to see me get this.” And she said: “What time is it?” I said, “Half past ten”. She said: “I can’t go at half past ten. I’ve got my work to do. It’s all right for the Queen, she’s got staff.”
Forty-foot, a derisive appellation for a very short person.
Forty-foot, well, that could used to describe me. There must be something especially amusing about the number forty.
There’s also another word for toilet on this page –
Forakers, the closet of decency or house of office.- Term used by the boys at Winchester School.
I was looking up the reason for this, and it turns out Forakers is an old word to refer to part of a field, so their original loo was the field behind the school.
Christine McVie has recently rejoined Fleetwood Mac, and here’s a little post about her. The story of that band is like the quintessential story of a rock band, it’s got everything – early different band line up, fortuitous meetings, relationships, break-ups, drugs, fall outs, huge success and longevity against the odds. Plus, some damn good songs.
This is from the Pelham Pop Annual of 1970 (and the only year it was published as far as I can tell). Before Christine McVie married John McVie, she was Christine Perfect (her real name), a blues musician and member of the band Chicken Shack.
This is a lovely late 60s cool girl photo of her in a cafe, along with pics of other singers Marsha Hunt, Clodagh Rogers and Pat Arnold.
Happy Families, old-school style, is a fascinating game – mainly because of the tradition of depicting the families in Victorian caricature, all big heads and semi-human appearance. For this reason, I was equally intrigued and unnerved by the card game as a child.
For the princely sum of 99p on Ebay, I purchased this lovely Chad Valley Games pack from 1910. In pretty good condition for a pack of cards over 100 years old.
Here’s the rules:
If you’re a comedy fan like me, a fun game with Happy Families is to decide which League of Gentleman would play each role, if Happy Families was a film (please do this, Mark Gatiss).
So for example, deffo Steve Pemberton for the terrifying Mr Drug the Doctor and Mr Blonde the Barber. Reece Shearsmith for Master Groats the Grocer’s Son and Master Putty the Painter’s Son (and Mrs Putty too), and Mark Gatiss for Mrs Howler the Singer’s wife and Mr Clamp the Carpenter. You’re allowed Jeremy Dyson.
However, I am having trouble imagining anyone but Michael Palin as Mr ‘Arris the Aristocrat. This is a good pun, ‘Arris being the first part of Aristocrat and also a slang word for arse. I love the tortured way this became Cockney rhyming slang – arse was firstly “bottle and glass”, then just “bottle”, which, via a new rhyme, became “Aristotle” and then “Aris”.
Anyway, here are the families. Creepy, aren’t they? Look at the cold, dead eyes of Master Bull, the Butcher’s Son.
Inspired by my mum handing me an envelope recently which contained a lock of hair from my very first haircut in about 1975 (a family hairloom, I suppose you could call it), I’ve been thinking about the little bits of history that surround me day to day. I didn’t know this lock of hair existed until a few weeks ago so to suddenly be presented with my hair (pale, gingery brown and wavy, entirely unlike my hair now) from 40 years ago was a slightly strange experience. Especially as I now have a one-year-old daughter myself and her hair is redder but much the same.
I can never quite understand those Cash in the Attic type programmes that zoom round someone’s house, gathering up armfuls of family heirlooms to sell at auction so they can put £400 towards going on a holiday that they were probably going on anyway. Firstly, the surprise that people emit from being presented with their own possessions, as if they knew nothing about them beforehand. I can only imagine most of these things were inherited by a largely disinterested family who shoved the house-clearanced bits in a cupboard and feel utterly unattached to them. Because, secondly, they are pretty happy to just get rid of this stuff for £10 a pop at an auction house.
Me, if I owned those antiquey odds and ends, I would know about it and I certainly wouldn’t flog them for buttons just so I could stand next to Angela Rippon (delightful as I’m sure she is) and get on daytime telly.
The programme of that ilk that I still think about, and which continues to annoy me, concerned some parents who wanted to sell their heirlooms in order to buy a new heirloom for their children. Which is a pretty strange thing to do in the first place, but hey ho. What was incomprehensible though, was that the heirlooms they sold were a large set of family silver cutlery pieces, with an incredible history. They came from some Jewish ancestors who had escaped Fascist Italy during World War Two with only these bits of silver, stashed all over their body. They were lovely old pieces, and I especially loved some long spoons used for ice cream floats, with a straw incorporated in the handle. Now, the family had three children, and you’d think this would be an ideal heirloom to share around fairly, what with there being lots of separate pieces. But no, they sold them to buy one (ONE) modern art painting that the parents obviously just wanted to buy anyway. I’m not a mega fan of a lot of modern art (unless it makes me laugh) so disregard my opinion…….but it was complete rubbish. Good luck kids, sharing that.
I also have what is probably the most common 100-year-old-thing generally owned now – a brass Princess Mary tin given to the troops as a Christmas present in 1914. My Grandad carried it in World War Two to keep his tobacco and spare uniform patches in, so he probably got it from his step-dad, who’d been in the First World War. Household tip – some brown sauce polishes old brass up a treat.
Some various wartime ephemera – a handkerchief sent to my Grandma, uniform patches and badges:
This made me realise that there must have been a brand new industry in wartime France – manufacturing souvenirs and tokens for the soldiers stationed there to send home. Although possibly only for a short time during the phony war period, I presume.
Oh, and what appears to be a live bullet Grandad brought back with him at the end of the war. Not too sure what to do with that. Or if I’m even allowed to own it.
What’s great is finding things in your house, though. Not in a Cash in the Attic way, I mean things actually as part of your house. Like when we found a newspaper from 1986 lining the shower base when we redid the bathroom. Or the general oddness of discovering a still-unexplained small bone in the plaster of the bedroom wall. And best of all, taking off some wallpaper to discover the previous, previous owners the Doyle family had written their family tree on the wall, and scribbled “The Doyles are the best!” in big letters before covering it up like a living room time capsule. This was especially great as I was captivated by a similar thing in Hancock’s Half Hour when I first saw it as a kid, when he “finds” poems by Lord Byron on his walls in East Cheam:
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=eAhd1Xs0kb0
What’s fascinating is that there’s so much stuff hidden away, things that may be of great importance, just unknown, in people’s houses. What do you have passed from the past?