More from my Great-Grandma’s 1930s recipe book today. It’s Meat and Potato Turnovers, a pastie in other words.
Ingredients
1 lb flour
6 oz lard
1 tsp salt
A pinch cream of tartar
Filling for turnovers:
1 1/2 lb potatoes
2 oz meat minced
A little onion
Season with pepper and salt
Scatter a little flour in and boil until done.
Method
Rub lard into flour and [add] all other dry ingredients. Mix to a nice paste with cold water. Weigh 2 1/2 oz paste for each turnover. Roll out, out in the filling, fold up, egg wash, bake 25 minutes good hot oven top shelf.
As this is a 1930s recipe, the meat saving element is very much to be seen with 1 1/2 pounds of potatoes to only 2oz of meat. I upped the meat to about 300g and reduced the potatoes to about 500g, browned with a fried onion, flour stirred in, just enough water to cover everything, and cooked until the potatoes were tender. There was too much filling for the amount of pastry I ended up with, but that’s fine – meat and potato leftovers are easy enough to use in other dishes, or just to eat by themselves, Nigella-style in front of the fridge.
I wasn’t sure what shape there were supposed to be, so made them in traditional half-moon pastie-style, and cooked them at 200 degrees for 25 minutes. As my daughter has an egg allergy, I brushed them with milk instead of egg.
As you’d expect they tasted comforting and old-fashioned, the lardy pastry feeling very traditional. Best eaten warm, and on an old plate – I got out my 1950s Ridgway Homemakers Woolworths plate for the occasion.
Once upon a time, there was a zoo in Liverpool. In fact, there were quite a few. A short history on the subject would include Liverpool’s first zoo – the Zoological Gardens on West Derby Road, Tuebrook, open from the 1830s to 1860s (and near the site of where I lived during my student years). This zoo was owned by one Thomas Atkins, a showman who claimed to be the first person in England to breed the ‘liger’, a cross between a lion and a tiger.
Then there was William Cross’s Menagerie in the 1880s, housed on tiny Earle Street in the city centre. Such a small street I’m amazed he ever fitted a zoo on it. In this case the word “zoo” was fairly interchangeable with “pet shop”, as William Cross was primarily a dealer in animals, should you fancy your own wolf, baboon or lion. Sarah Bernhardt was a regular visitor, and did in indeed purchase a lion from Mr Cross. In 1898 a major fire on the premises sadly resulted in the deaths of a number of lions and tigers within. I know Earle Street as it was just round the corner from where I used to work for the doomed Littlewoods shopping channel “Shop!” – I was the buyer for DIY and Erotica (which is a story for another day).
Another one was Liverpool Zoological Gardens at Rice Lane, Walton, from the 1880s to around 1918. The old ticket booth still survives – it’s currently a pizza takeaway shop near to where I lived when I left university.
There was a small zoo at Otterspool Hall from around 1913 to 1931. And even in the early 1970s dolphins were, strangely, housed in the public swimming baths in Norris Green – on tour from a dolphinarium in Margate during the winter season. Norris Green is my adopted home turf so this is especially interesting to me. But it doesn’t seem right…surely swimming pool water isn’t exactly right for dolphins? Anyway.
My concern today is with Liverpool Zoological Park, based on Elmswood Road, in Mossley Hill, and which is also where I first lived as a student, in Carnatic Student Halls. In fact, if there’s one thing I’ve learned from today’s blog research, it’s that in my time in Liverpool, I have unwittingly lived or worked right in the middle of defunct zoo-ville.
This zoo was a short-lived affair, only open from 1932-1938 – it was the old Otterspool Zoo moved to a new location. The star attraction was a chimpanzee called Mickey. Not just any old monkey, Mickey was billed as “The World’s Cleverest Chimpanzee”. His cleverness manifested itself in such ways as being able to light his own cigarettes, which he would also smoke. This is one of the most 1930s things of all time. Well, this and the fact that the zoo’s official leaflet said “All Living Specimens of Animals, Birds and Reptiles on Exhibition at the Liverpool Zoological Gardens Can be Purchased. Apply for Prices to the Office.” If anything shouts “I am from another age” it is precisely the fact that you can pay to walk home with your very own wild animal from the zoo. In fact, that’s a blog post of the future right there – I do have an Edwardian book on how to look after all manner of wild animals.
Here’s some adverts for it:
Now I was first alerted to the zoo’s existence by reading my 1937 copy of The Mirror newspaper. A small article about an escaped chimpanzee in Liverpool caught my eye, “Escaped ape attacks and bites two men,” says the headline. Mickey the chimp had escaped, enjoyed “three hours of liberty” and bit Arnold Bailey, travelling circus proprietor. This wasn’t “Barnum and Bailey” Bailey, though, but some other circus proprietor.
So, I wanted to find out more about this audacious chimp. And many stories there are too. There’s this one that I’m convinced is about Mickey before he landed in Liverpool Zoo. A monkey called Mickey escaped on arrival by train into London, and took up residence in the rafters of Liverpool St Station in 1929. If there’s one thing I know about Mickey, it’s that he liked escaping, and I think this is him making quite an entrance into the UK.
Then there’s this one, which I think is hilarious. Mickey first went to Rhyl Zoo, where he wasn’t a big hit with the other chimps. So much so, that when they were packing them all up ready to go to the Otterspool Zoo for the winter, Mickey helped the keepers to cage his monkey-enemies, trying to nail them into their cages. Mickey, as befits the World’s Cleverest Chimpanzee, was allowed to travel in the arms of his attendant rather than in a cage. I’m wondering if the fact he didn’t escape again at this point perhaps means he just didn’t like cages – and who can blame him?
Mickey ended up staying in Liverpool for good, becoming the star attraction in the new Mossley Hill zoo. Here’s his aforementioned smoking party trick, posted on the brilliant Facebook photo group “Liverpool Yesterday to Yesteryear”:
But it wasn’t long before Mickey was up to his old tricks. The newspaper article I read in The Mirror was just one of four occasions when Mickey escaped. One that occasion in 1937 he snapped his chain like some kind of King Kong, shook hands with some clowns, kissed a woman in the street, bit some men and then submitted to being taken back after three hours of mayhem. My copy of The Mirror is the overseas edition, and so it’s a week behind these other newspaper reports.
As the first article states, Mickey broke into some offices and threw papers around. That wasn’t quite all he did, as legendary jazz-man George Melly revealed in his rollicking memoir of his Liverpool childhood, Scouse Mouse. George lived just down the road from the Liverpool Zoo and recounted how the roars of the lions kept the residents of Mossley Hill awake at night. Those offices, in fact, were something to do with his grandfather, and Mickey not only messed the papers up, he also left a “dirty protest” on the desk and in the drawers. I just love the line “My grandfather was not lucky with monkeys.” George seems to have misremembered the ultimate fate of Mickey though, which is odd as it was rather dramatic. Mickey wasn’t “transferred to [another] prison”, his end was rather more of a sad spectacle.
There was another incident a month later:
And then in 1938, Mickey escaped for the fourth, and last, time. This time he escaped into a schoolyard, mauled some of the children and was eventually shot dead by a Major Bailey – a different Bailey to the bitten man of the year before.
One of the children eventually received damages for his injuries:
Poor Mickey was stuffed after he was shot, still on display even after death. He ended up exhibited in Lewis’s Department Store in Liverpool. That is, until the shop was badly bombed in the 1941 blitz and Mickey really was no more.
It’s a sad story, but I think it would make a cracking film. More information about Mickey and his escapes are in these excellent posts on the Stuff and Nonsense blog here and here
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 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:
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.
I’ve looked at Tod Browning’s 1932 cult horror film Freaks before, a few weeks ago when I found out some previously unknown information about one of the cast, the “Half Man-Half Woman” Josephine Joseph here
I also found this little gossipy snippet from The Burnley News dating back to when the film was in production in 1931. It talks about how the subject of the film was kept under wraps during the making of it, and the egos of the cast members, all of whom would have been used to being star of their own particular show, I expect.
,
The Burnley News, December 19th, 1931
A NEW METRO-GOLDWYN-MEYER PRODUCTION
Temperament is not exclusive to the Garbos and Deitrich’s [sic]. Even the bearded ladies, Siamese twins, half men-half women, sword swallowers and other familiar figures of the circus show have it – and to a greater extent than any dozen prima donnas. Tod Browning says so. The man who is used to handling weird characters in his films – the late Lon Chaney adopted some of his most amazing guises under Browning’s direction – has all the varieties that Barnum ever brought together and a few more besides, under his command for his new Metro-Goldwyn-Meyer production which bears the apt title “Freaks”.
He is finding the petty jealousies and differences make them anything but a happy family and that a great deal of diplomacy is required to prevent friction running riot. Browning is also called upon to ensure strict secrecy on the “Freaks” set in order that the inside working of the film does not leak out. Every member of the unit has meals on the stage, and at the end of the day’s work the freaks are conveyed straight to the apartment house where they are quartered.
Surely nothing can go wrong with cigarettes that come recommended by a doctor? I think you can be quietly reassured by Kensitas, the Mild cigarette.
Not that impressive a claim really – 84% of doctors who smoked anyway said they preferred a mild cigarette. Somehow this has been spun to be presented as the healthy option, although only against stronger cigarettes instead, of course.
That’s not a picture of a doctor, by the way. It’s the actor Mr Stanley Lupino, who, well, died of cancer aged 48.
(I mean, it might have had nothing to do with the cigs, but still.)
Remember the commotion about “video nasties” in the early 1980s and the debate about whether films could affect behaviour? Well, there’s nothing new under the sun, and all that.
In this article from a 1937 copy of The Mirror, a young Gosport lad was so affected by romantic thoughts after watching Romeo and Juliet that, after leaving the cinema, he immediately broke into the bedroom of what he claimed was “the first person that came into his mind”. This person being a rather startled Mrs Ivy Maud Bishop. The understanding Judge handed down a quite amusing punishment for this crime – “He was put on probation for twelve months on condition that he does not go to the pictures more than once a week.”
Hooray Hooray, it’s a happy holiday! It’s a 20-hour joy-day! To be more precise, it’s May 1937, the week before George VI’s coronation, and The Mirror couldn’t be more excited. I have the overseas edition of The Mirror, which was a week’s worth of newspapers bundled up into one edition (the overseas edition was out a week later, so the dates are actually those of Coronation Week itself). We moaned about the coverage of the last Royal Wedding, but this was something else. Nearly everyone was trying to get in on the act. (By the way, I’ve not been able to scan everything in the paper, it’s quite delicate in places, so the not so good bits are photos that might not be quite as clear.)
Firstly, the reason for George being King at all – Edward and Mrs Simpson. 12th May 1937 was originally Edward’s coronation date and, when he officially abdicated, the same date was kept for his brother. There’s lots of sweet, romantic pictures of the couple, and seemingly no disapproval at all, in this paper at least.
Here’s the schedule:
There are many ways to celebrate the day, as the Very Reverend Edgar Rogers rather tolerantly points out. He might be singing hymns, but he doesn’t mind if you’re getting completely blotto instead. In fact, is it just me, or is there a bit of a homoerotic vibe going on here? I’m imagining he has a secret passion for a “bit of rough” neighbour of his who likes a drink – all that talk of “he-manness” and everything.
And, along those lines….
It seemed like all the nations of the world wanted part of it. Nazi Germany was no exception, with Hitler giving George a special honour and sending a present.
Generous Ovaltine gave its workers an extra week’s wages to celebrate the occasion:
The Mirror had a special song commissioned, with a tune by Ivor Novello, no less.
Planning to get a good spot for the procession? Hyde Park was specially open all night on 11th May for overnight sleepers – here’s some tips:
But don’t bring your car:
Working underground? There’s still no excuse to miss the event!
You’re not patriotic enough unless you’re eating the correct food for the occasion.
Eat Nestle’s chocolate (in the days when everyone called it “Nessles”):
Or perhaps you fancy a Rowntree’s Chocolate Crisp? I know I do. It’s a Kit Kat now, by the way.
Drink beer! I love how this isn’t an advert for a particular company, it’s just that YOU’RE BRITISH SO DRINK BEER. From 1429 (that was Henry VI’s coronation) to 1937, beer has been going strong. I don’t know what they had before 1429, though.
Stuck in a crowd waiting for the King to go past? Eat some specially shaped cheese triangles:
And smoke some special coronation fags while you’re at it:
And here’s the film to use to take your pictures:
And finally, the new King pardons a murderer to mark the occasion, for some reason (welease Woderick). Well, he only stabbed his 20 year old fiancee to death, poor lamb. At least his “grey-haired” mother gets to see him again:
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.)