Categories
1900-1949 Ephemera

Ephemera – to keep or not to keep?

I might have mentioned it before, but Ebay ephemera (ideally 19th century to 1940s) is my new guilty pleasure. How much pleasure and interest these little scraps of paper, flimsy magazines and general oddities give me – and they’ve made me wonder about the modern day ephemera that surrounds us. I mean, I am not very interested in keeping a current bus timetable for the the bus I get to work every day. And yet, here’s a Leatherhead bus guide from 1920 that I love, despite never having been there.

I’m going to post all this stuff up eventually, just because, where else would all these bits and pieces be on the internet if not here? But what’s to be done with all the similar papery stuff that I happily chuck in the bin in the attempt to prevent my house appearing on one of those hoarding programmes where one old lady is living in a space 3 feet square, and the rest of the house is home to piles of newspapers and cat food tins? I think I might have to start a scrapbook for the interesting or notable things we’ve done or seen each year. Maybe one day my kids or just some guy on Virtual Reality Ebay will be interested…..

Categories
1950-1999 Adverts Ephemera

Hidden Treasures – Liverpool Echo, 1951

I’m happy to hold, read and buy any old Victorian book, really. I’m quite a visual, tangible person in general – I can’t concentrate very well on audio books and need to see the words on the page to really get into a story. I never much liked Jackanory as a child because of that (apart from Rik Mayall’s one obviously). And I’m the same with history. I’ve read so many history books (well, I do have a history degree) but seeing an old building, reading an old book, holding a piece of ephemera that has survived against the odds – they’re what brings the past to life to me.

So, when I found this 1889 book, Charles Stuart Calverley’s Fly Leaves, in a charity shop, I was interested at first purely because of its age. But I bought it mainly because, flicking through, I found that a torn page of a Liverpool Echo from 1951 had been used as a bookmark. And I really wanted to read that page. Any newspaper given time is fascinating. The most commonplace of things, the events, the layout, the adverts (especially the adverts) suddenly represents a time in a way you don’t realise while it’s your present.

Fly Leaves itself wasn’t especially interesting to me. Or at least it wasn’t until years later, when I found an appendix at the end with a spoof Charles Dickens exam on The Pickwick Papers which really made me laugh. With questions such as naming all the component parts of a dog’s nose and deducing Mr Pickwick’s maximum speed:

But the Echo was fascinating. It’s the front page, folded up for 60 years.

Along with a strangely high number of adverts for Private Detective agencies, here are some highlights from the so-very-closely printed page.

“What colour did you say you wanted your crease-resisting chiffon velvet gown, Mrs Clarkson?”

An advert to remove hair, moles and veins by Myra Howell’s diathermy techniques. She was a long standing presence in Bold Street – I’ve also seen adverts of hers from 1919. (An interesting side note – medical diathermy machines were used in the UK in the Second World War to jam German radio beams used for nighttime bombing raids in what was called “The Battle of the Beams”)

An advert for E Rex Makin’s Solicitors, that must surely have been newly set up in 1951, seeing as he’s still going, and I saw him in town not too long ago. A slightly legendary figure in Liverpool life, he is. Not only has his firm been going a very long time, but he was Brian Epstein’s solicitor and involved in setting up the Beatles contract with him. Plus, he’s supposed to have invented the word “Beatlemania”.

“Wednesday night is Landing Craft Night”

I love this advert – a wallpaper company gegging in on an upcoming General Election.

Categories
1900-1949 Adverts Ephemera Pharmaceuticals

Owbridge’s Lung Tonic, 1939

Owbridge’s Lung Tonic was a cure-all preparation invented in 1874 by Hull pharmacist Walter Owbridge. It was advertised as a cough medicine, a remedy for bronchitis, asthma, consumption (tuberculosis) and all manner of other throat, chest and lung afflictions – “It never fails”, or so it claimed.

It had a secret formula, but an archive analysis shows it to have consisted of chloroform, along with honey and alcohol in the form of ipecacuanha wine. Not recommended for babies under 6 months old, but fine after that, apparently.

(This archive text from 1909 is an interesting read on the subject of this and many other ancient pharmaceuticals – Secret Remedies – What they cost and what they contain)

They were also keen users of promotional merchandise. This small booklet, Owbridge’s Table Companion, is from 1939 and is designed to help schoolchildren with facts and figures, while advertising their wares.

The section on measurements of all manner of things interests me the most. All the befuddling names for specific amounts used just for that one item. I wonder if the schoolchildren were actually expected to know and remember all this information?

Categories
1900-1949 Adverts Ephemera Pharmaceuticals

The Liverpool Virus, 1913

I’ve recently discovered the thrills of the “ephemera” section of Ebay. Not least, the word “ephemera” itself which is now vying for the position of my favourite word, alongside “nebula”.

I was looking for old playing cards, and am now the proud owner of some gloriously grotesque Edwardian Happy Family sets. But I was enthralled by the other random and delicate stuff that has survived, almost by accident.

I now have all manner of old bits and pieces, including Liverpool pharmacy receipts from 1913 – the days when names were taken and logged on the paperwork, all the better to know who’d suspiciously been purchasing arsenic after a case of poisoning. They included this receipt for “The Liverpool Virus” rat poison:

Which feels rather like crucial evidence at the start of either an Agatha Christie, or a zombie film.

But the thing I really like about the ephemera is that they are a handy jumping off point into history. A little tangible clue to inspire a bit of history-surfing.

I’ve discovered resources I didn’t know of, like the joys of the Old Bailey’s archive of court case transcripts. I’ve found out about the ship SS Homeric from a letter written on board to a friend in 1932. Leatherhead bus routes in the 1920s from an old bus leaflet. And I’ve been perusing the British Medical Journal archives on account of an outbreak of severe enteritis caused by this “Liverpool Virus” rat poison in 1908. It turns out despite the manufacturer’s claims that it was safe for humans, it very likely contained some form of salmonella.

Advert for The Liverpool Virus
Advert for The Liverpool Virus

I’m especially fascinated by the pharmaceuticals of the Victorian and Edwardian era – the hard drugs you could buy over the counter, and the potentially dangerous snake oils that promised to fix you up and paint the garden gate while they were at it (and I’m speaking as someone who was rather severely quizzed by a doctor last week as to why I even owned a bottle of Piriton).

Some more information is on this blog (another bonus, discovering so many of the informative blogs people are writing out there): http://jsbookreader.blogspot.co.uk/2012/07/the-liverpool-rat-virus-strikes.html