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Several years ago, I purchased a copy of A.W. Wheen's English translation of Erich Maria Remarque's Three Comrades (published, as best as I can tell, sometime in 1937 by Hutchinson & Co. of London, England) at a second-hand bookstore in Canada (rather oddly, not in Toronto, but in Guelph). On the first (blank page), there are two things, one of which is of interest in the context of this question: a partially-torn sticker, seemingly applied by the bookseller, as seen below:
Now, I'm assuming this indicates London, England, but it could just as easily be London, Ontario given where this particular copy has clearly spent the better part of its history. So, the real question is this: does anyone know anything about Smallman &
, Limited, proprietors of an unknown business in London?
Bonus points (i.e. a small bounty) will be awarded if you can tell me anything about the Keuroglouians of Toronto, in whose memory this book was donated.
The position of "Limited" in relation to "Smallman &" does resemble the "Smallman and Ingram" logo, for example on their catalog. While John Smallman and Lemuel Ingram started their retail store with a specialty in clothing, they quickly expanded to carry other dry goods, as both had experience working in the market. The business was based out of London, Ontario. The original location was at 147 Dundas Street in 1877. Smallman created Smallman & Ingram Limited in 1908, after the death of Ingram in 1901. He did bring Ingram's family into the business.
In 1944, Simpson's of Toronto bought them out, but Gordon Ingram (son of Lemuel) remained as chairman. The store is now known as Market Tower.
The most I can tell you about the Keuroglouians is that the Armenian Catholic Church of Toronto was established in 1972. At the least we can say that they donated this book well after Smallman & Ingram Limited was bought out.
Updated 9/19/2019: After a long time of searching, I was finally able to find what may be the funeral home record of Mr. Keuroglouian. No obituary is provided, but the funeral home is Donohue Funeral Home in London, Ontario. If this is the right person, he lived from 1903-1996. Also, I may have found him in Canadian voter records, along with a Mrs. Mabel Keuroglouian (possibly his wife's name?), but I don't have paid access to Ancestry.com to take a closer look at the record.
The Markets Of Old London
I never knew there was a picture of the legendary and long-vanished Clare Market – where Joseph Grimaldi was born – until I came upon this old glass slide among many thousands in the collection of the London & Middlesex Archaeological Society, housed at the Bishopsgate Institute. Scrutinising this picture, the market does not feel remote at all, as if I could take a stroll over there to Holborn in person as easily as I can browse the details of the photograph. Yet the Clare Market slum, as it became known, was swept away in 1905 to create the grand civic gestures of Kingsway and Aldwych.
Searching through this curious collection of glass slides, left-overs from the days of educational magic lantern shows – comprising many multiple shots of famous landmarks and grim old church interiors – I was able to piece together this set of evocative photographs portraying the markets of old London. Of those included here only Smithfield, London’s oldest wholesale market, continues trading from the same building, though Leather Lane, Hoxton Market and East St Market still operate as street markets, but Clare Market, Whitechapel Hay Market and the Caledonian Rd Market have gone forever. Meanwhile, Billingsgate, Covent Garden and Spitalfields Fruit & Vegetable Market have moved to new premises, and Leadenhall retains just one butcher selling fowl, once the stock-in-trade of all the shops in this former cathedral of poultry.
Markets fascinate me as theatres of commercial and cultural endeavour in which a myriad strands of human activity meet. If you are seeking life, there is no better place to look than in a market. Wherever I travelled, I always visited the markets, the black-markets of Moscow in 1991, the junk markets of Beijing in 1999, the Chelsea Market in Manhattan, the central market in Havana, the street markets of Rio, the farmers’ markets of Transylvania and the flea market in Tblisi – where, memorably, I bought a sixteenth century silver Dutch sixpence and then absent-mindedly gave it away to a beggar by mistake ten minutes later. I often wonder if he cast the rare coin away in disgust or not.
Similarly in London, I cannot resist markets as places where society becomes public performance, each one with its own social code, language, and collective personality – depending upon the nature of the merchandise, the location, the time of day and the amount of money changing hands. Living in Spitalfields, the presence of the markets defines the quickening atmosphere through the week, from the Thursday antiques market to the Brick Lane traders, fly-pitchers and flower market in Bethnal Green every Sunday. I am always seduced by the sense of infinite possibility when I enter a market, which makes it a great delight to live surrounded by markets.
These old glass slides, many of a hundred years ago, capture the mass spectacle of purposeful activity that markets offer and the sense of self-respect of those – especially porters – for whom the market was their life, winning status within an elaborate hierarchy that had evolved over centuries. Nowadays, the term “marketplace” is sometimes reduced to mean mere economic transaction, but these photographs reveal that in London it has always meant so much more.
Billingsgate Market, c.1910
Billingsgate Market, c.1910
Whitechapel Hay Market c.1920 (looking towards Aldgate)
Whitechapel Hay Market, c.1920 (looking east towards Whitechapel)
Porters at Smithfield Market, c.1910
Caledonian Rd Market, c.1910
Book sale at Caledonian Rd Market, c.1910
Caledonian Rd Market, c.1910
Caledonian Rd Market, c.1910
Covent Garden Market, c.1920
Covent Garden Market, c.1910
Covent Garden Market, 1925
Covent Garden Market, Floral Hall, c.1910
Leadenhall Market, Christmas 1935
Hoxton Market, Shoreditch, 1910
Spitalfields Market, c.1930
You may like to look at these old photographs of the Spitalfields Market by Mark Jackson & Huw Davies
The Streets of Old London
In my mind, I live in old London as much as I live in the contemporary London of here and now. Maybe I have spent too much time looking at photographs of old London – such as these glass slides once used for magic lantern shows by the London & Middlesex Archaeological Society at the Bishopsgate Institute?
Old London exists to me through photography almost as vividly as if I had actual memory of a century ago. Consequently, when I walk through the streets of London today, I am especially aware of the locations that have changed little over this time. And, in my mind’s eye, these streets of old London are peopled by the inhabitants of the photographs.
Yet I am not haunted by the past, rather it is as if we Londoners in the insubstantial present are the fleeting spirits while – thanks to photography – those people of a century ago occupy these streets of old London eternally. The pictures have frozen their world forever and, walking in these same streets today, my experience can sometimes be akin to that of a visitor exploring the backlot of a film studio long after the actors have gone.
I recall my terror at the incomprehensible nature of London when I first visited the great metropolis from my small city in the provinces. But now I have lived here long enough to have lost that diabolic London I first encountered in which many of the great buildings were black, still coated with soot from the days of coal fires.
Reaching beyond my limited period of residence in the capital, these photographs of the streets of old London reveal a deeper perspective in time, setting my own experience in proportion and allowing me to feel part of the continuum of the ever-changing city.
Woman selling fish from a barrel, c. 1910
Trinity Almshouses, Mile End Rd, c. 1920
Highgate Forge, Highgate High St, 1900
Bangor St, Kensington, c. 1900
Walls Ice Cream Vendor, c. 1920
Strand Yard, Highgate, 1900
Eyre St Hill, Little Italy, c. 1890
Hoardings in Knightsbridge, c. 1935
At the foot of the Monument, c. 1900
Pageantmaster Court, Ludgate Hill, c. 1930
50 best books of the 1920s
It’s official: the world is in the grips of Great Gatsby hysteria. With Baz Luhrmann’s sumptuous 3D extravaganza set to hit the cinemas this weekend, the spotlight is back on Fitzgerald and the legendary literary circles he moved in.
Looking for something to rival the greatness of Gatsby? From prize-winners to controversy courters, Stylist lists our top 50 books published in the 1920s. It wasn’t known as the Golden Age of Literature for nothing, old sport…
Any we missed? Let us know below or on Twitter
50 Best 1920s books
This Side of Paradise by F. Scott Fitzgerald (1920)
Fitzgerald’s first novel was an overnight success that rocketed the 23-year-old to stardom. The semiautobiographical tale of Princeton student Amory Blaine and his life among the fabulous and the disillusioned got rave reviews, establishing Fitzgerald as the literary starlet of the era – and helping him to win the hand of the southern belle who would go on to become his wife.
50 Best 1920s books
The Beautiful and the Damned by F. Scott Fitzgerald (1922)
Fitzgerald’s second novel, the tale of socialite Anthony Patch and his beautiful wife Gloria, is thought to be based on his relationship with wife Zelda. As the couple’s relationship becomes ravaged by alcohol and vice, the novel paints a devastating portrait of the New York nouveaux riches.
50 Best 1920s books
To The Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf (1927)
The most autobiographical of all her works, To The Lighthouse was described by Woolf as “easily the best of my books”. Using stream-of-consciousness techniques and heavy doses of philosophical introspection, it muses on art, beauty and the differences between the genders.
50 Best 1920s books
A Passage to India by E.M. Forster (1924)
Based on the English author’s experiences in India, A Passage to India is the story of the trial of Dr. Aziz, an Indian man accused of assaulting a British woman. Regarded as one of the greatest novels of the 20th century, it also fared well on the silver screen, with the 1984 film version winning two Oscars.
50 Best 1920s books
A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway (1929)
Inspired by Hemingway’s experiences working for the Italian ambulance service during World War I, A Farewell to Arms is an unforgettable account of fear, fraternity and courage on the Italian front line.
50 Best 1920s books
Cheri by Colette (1920)
Controversy-courting Colette’s portrayal of the relationship between a hedonistic young man and a retired middle-aged courtesan is a beautifully written portrait of the end of a doomed love affair. When Colette died in 1954 she was the first woman in France to receive a state funeral, and today many still describe her as France’s greatest female writer.
Harvest Equipment: A Brief History of the Combine
In the early 1800s, it took an entire family all day to harvest their crop.
Today, the same task takes just seconds for one man in one combine.
Harvesting has come a long way since the days when farmers had to cut down the stalks with a scythe or a cradle – called reaping separate the kernels from the inedible chaff by beating the cut stalks with a flail –threshing and separating the kernels from the chaff – winnowing.
All this took a lot of time and a lot of people.
Source: The Farm Collector
Harvesting has come a long way since the days when farmers had to cut down the plants with a scythe or cradle.
The name combine derives from combining three separate harvesting processes
Reaping, threshing, winnowing – combining all three operations into one led to the invention of the combine harvester, simply known as the combine. Considered one of the most important inventions in agriculture, the combine significantly reduced manpower and sped up the harvesting process.
The combine harvester got its start in Scotland in 1826 when Reverend Patrick Bell designed a reaper—a large machine pushed by horses that used a type of scissors to cut the stalks. But Bell did not patent his invention.
The first working combine was the invention of Hiram Moore and John Hascall of Kalamazoo County, Michigan who tested it in the late 1830s, patenting it in 1836. In the same year, another American, Cyrus McCormick, was granted a patent for his famous mechanical reaper.
Moore and Hascall’s combines incorporated most of the features integral to later versions: a reciprocating sickle to cut the stalks a reel to push the grain onto the platform and a canvas apron or drape to deliver it to a threshing cylinder. Screens and a fan cleaned the threshed grain.
Source: American Society of Agricultural and Biological Engineers
The first working combine was the invention of Hiram Moore and John Hascall of Kalamazoo County, Michigan.
Moore’s earliest combine harvesters were pulled by teams of mules, horses or even oxen. His first version was 17-feet long with a 15-foot cut. Up to 30 mules or horses were needed to pull the combine, with a ground-driven bull wheel providing power to the moving parts of the combine.
Source: Zechariah Judy from Idaho Falls, ID
J.I. Case combine and crew with 20-mule team pulling the machine, circa 1900
Inventors continue to improve combines using steam power
In the late 1880s, California farmer George Stockton Berry integrated the combine with a steam engine to provide power to the mechanics. Men forked straw from the rear of the separator back into the firebox to heat the water in the boiler.
Around the globe, industrious farmer-inventors continued to streamline the harvesting process. In Australia, John Ridley made a successful stripper harvester that simply stripped the heads off the wheat stalks. Another Australian inventor, 20-year-old Hugh Victor McKay, refined the process and created the first commercial combine harvester called the Sunshine Header Harvester in 1885. The machine stripped the standing grain heads, threshed the grain, and cleaned it in one operation.
Source: Museums Victoria
Early Sunshine Header Harvester, circa 1890
In 1911, California led the charge of manufacturing self-propelled combines with the Holt Manufacturing Company. Prior to the combine, the typical threshing crew consisted of 20 to 30 workers, while a combine crew consisted of only four or five men to operate the combine.
Source: The John Deere Legacy
Holt’s self-propelled combine, first built in 1911
John Deere, Case, IH, Massey Ferguson and others release tractor-pulled combines
Beginning in 1915, International Harvester released its first line of tractor-pulled combines with an engine aboard that powered the threshing mechanism. J.I. Case and John Deere introduced their tractor-pulled combines in the 1920s. These tractor-drawn or pull-type combines were rapidly adopted after World War I, as many farmers had begun to use tractors. Kansas, with more winter wheat than any other state, had the most tractor-pulled combines — 8,274 were in use in 1926. By 1930, of the 75,000 combines in the United States, 27,000 were in Kansas, according to Isern, cited below.
In 1922, Massey-Harris (now Massey Ferguson) sent one of its pull-type combines to the Swift Current, Saskatchewan, Dominion Experimental Farm for testing and use under prairie conditions. At about the same time, a few other combines were sold by International Harvester and J.I. Case to farmers in southwestern Saskatchewan. This marked the beginning of combine use in western Canada. According to Wetherall and Corbet, cited below, in 1925 there were 17 combines in use in the three western provinces, by 1927 there were 791, by 1928 there were 4,448 and by 1930 there were over 9,500.
In 1923 in Kansas, the Curtis brothers and their Gleaner Manufacturing Company (now an Agco brand) patented a self-propelled combine which included several other modern improvements in grain handling. The Gleaner fit on a truck, which was a benefit to custom cutters who moved north with the harvest season, providing harvesting services to farmers.
In Australia, one of the first commercial center-feeding self-propelled combines was manufactured with T-shaped configuration, closely resembling today’s combine. Its center feed crop intake made the machine narrower and easier to maneuver. Called the Sunshine Auto Header and patented in 1923, it was the joint venture of Headlie Shipard Taylor and H.V. McKay.
Source: Museums Victoria
HV McKay, Sunshine Auto Header, c.1927
One man is driving the Sunshine Auto Header Harvester, while a second man is bagging the collected grain at the back. The image shows five grain bags loaded on a bagging platform.
In order to keep up with growing demand, manufacturers competed for market share with Benjamin Holt buying up many of his competitors. In 1925, Holt and Best merged to form Caterpillar and dominated the market. Holt was also able to address the complaint that his combines would not work on steep hills in the northwest. He adjusted the combine’s rear wheels in separate “wheel modules” that could be raised or lowered, as needed, allowing the operator to work on slopes of up to 30 degrees. In 1936, Caterpillar sold the entire combine line to Deere and Company, to concentrate on their crawler tractors.
Massey-Harris (now Massey Ferguson) leads the famous “Harvest Brigade”
By 1937, Thomas Carroll, working for Massey-Harris in Ontario, perfected the first commercially viable self-propelled combine. This eventually evolved into the very successful, lighter-weight Model No. 21 introduced in 1940. The No. 21 is well known for its role in the famous “Harvest Brigade,” Carroll’s innovative idea created during WWII. Massey-Harris convinced the War Production Board (WPB) that if it were permitted to build 500 extra machines over its allotment, they could harvest at least 15 million bushels of grain from more than 1 million acres while releasing some 1,000 tractors for other work and saving 500,000 gallons of fuel. Basically, the 500 machines would only be sold to farmers who signed a document guaranteeing that they would harvest at least 2,000 acres with their new combine.
Source: Bangshift.com, 2015
The “Harvest Brigade” during WWII, 1944
Massey-Harris had men in airplanes flying over wheat fields from Texas to Canada to check the ripening process. Mechanics, fuel, and parts were stationed along the proposed route that the combines were taking.
The WPB approved the project and in May 1944, the Harvest Brigade began by cutting flax in Texas and California’s Imperial Valley, then north, cutting rice and barley and the wheat crop in the Pacific Northwest. The brigade moved into northern Texas and Oklahoma, and by July, the red combines marched through Kansas, Colorado and Nebraska. By August, they reached the Dakotas, and by September, the Canadian wheat fields. When the war ended, and they were able to switch back to normal production, the popular campaign created a high demand for Massey-Harris combines.
Photo Courtesy of Western Development Museum, Saskatoon, SK
Massey-Harris Model 21, introduced in 1940 Photo Courtesy of Western Development Museum, Saskatoon, SK
The No. 21 is well known for its role in the famous WWII “Harvest Brigade”
New Holland launches commercial twin-rotor combine
Combine innovations continued, when in 1975, New Holland introduced the first commercial twin-rotor combine, a significant advance in harvesting technology still in use today. With the advanced design, grains could be harvested faster and were handled gentler than the previous method. Other manufacturers, including Massey-Harris, John Deere and International Harvester built and tested rotary combines, but never brought them to market before New Holland launched their twin-rotor combine.
Source: New Holland
New Holland launches the first twin rotor combine in 1975, calling it the TR70
John Deere 55 – A family farmer’s first new combine
Dallas Blome, IronGuides® Managing Editor, grew up on his family farm in Central Iowa, and recalled the day his father replaced his Case pull-type combine, powered by a Wisconsin engine that never started easily during harvest season.
“I remember when we got our first new combine in 1963,” Blome said. “My Dad bought a JD 45 from the local dealer. Dad and a neighbor had both purchased new combines at the same time. The dealer suggested they could get the combines in time for harvest and save the freight cost by driving the combines back home from the Moline factory, rather than having them delivered. So a friend drove Dad and the neighbor to Moline, IL, which is near Deere Headquarters. There they got in the combines and started the trip home which was about 200 miles from our 200-acre farm.”
John Deere 55 Combine, circa 1963
Blome’s neighbor, driving at top speeds of 12 mph, made it home in about two days. Charlie Blome, however, got about an hour outside of Moline, and the combine’s wheel fell off. Apparently, the factory forgot to put grease in the final drives and the axle broke. The dealer salesman met Charlie Blome off the highway, and they returned to the dealership. After spending an hour on the road in the 45, Blome decided he needed a bigger combine.
“He finally made it home with a new JD 55,” Blome said. “Dad used that combine until he sold it in 1970 replacing it with a JD 6600. His last combine was a JD 6620 purchased in 1980.”
Source: Todd Klassy Photos
Modern-day combines: John Deere and Case IH combines are unloading wheat from the grain tanks into a semi-truck.
Modern-day combines cutting small grain can harvest about 25 acres per hour
One agriculture equipment dealer has witnessed the combine’s recent evolution firsthand.
Randy Tye, VP of Inventory Management at Mazergroup in Brandon, Manitoba, grew up around farm machinery working in the family dealership. Tye’s father, Max, owned Tye Farm Equipment, a one-location dealership in southern Ontario in operation from 1957 to 1985.
Tye recalled changes in combines over the past 40 years.
“When I started back In 1979, the TR75 combine was powered with a 145 hp engine, and today’s CR10.90 has a 600 hp engine,” he said. ”In those days, the majority of adjustments to the combine would be made outside of the cab, but today most adjustments can be made inside the cab,” he said.
“The cabs now are a farmers’ home away from home, as modern and high end as the nicest car you’ve ever seen,” Tye said. “The technology is revolutionary.”
Combines cutting small grain can harvest about 25 acres per hour, with multiple header types: draper and auger platforms that can run up to 45ft, and corn heads.
“While not common, there are farmers around Regina, Saskatchewan, who harvest up to 45,000 acres using as many as 10 combines running together with 40-foot headers,” Tye said. “When they go down the field and back, they’ve taken off 800 feet of crop in that pass around.”
Combines harvesting in a V-formation
“The old days of jumping up in the combine’s cab to see how things are going are gone,” Tye said. “Now, the farm boss can be in one of the combines or driving alongside the field in his truck and monitor each combine’s performance, check fuel consumption, yields and make adjustments to the combine – – all from his iPad.”
Source: New Holland
The view from the New Holland CR Revelation cab.
Combine prices, depreciation rate, and valuations in 2020
The majority of today’s combines are rotary combines offering multi-crop threshing and rotary separation. Optional equipment includes GPS, data collection, luxury panoramic view cabs, touchscreen monitors, and more. The newest models are able to harvest almost 100 tons of small grains per hour. These combines can range in price from $400K to $700K. With the additional cost of headers, platforms and attachments, costs can rise to a million dollars.
The USDA reported in the 2017 survey of equipment on farms that there are currently 323,347 combines on farms in the US. This number is a testament to this amazing machine’s utility.
The price of new combines fluctuates year to year. Looking at the period from 2010 to 2018 on the larger, Class 7 combines shows a trend with an annual price change of -4% to +13%. Factors like commodity prices, Section 179 write-offs (in the US), and changes in emission requirements are all factors that affect the annual price changes of new combines.
Just How Big Can Combines Get?
Combines are divided into classes based on their power. These classes are defined by the Association of Equipment Manufacturers (AEM). The class of combine is generally determined by the model’s horsepower where the higher the horsepower the higher the class number. Today, most new combines sold are class 7 or larger (greater than 323hp). The largest is a class 10 combine that first began to appear in 2013 but these behemoth combines are relatively rare. In fact, in 2019, Class 9 and Class 10 combines represented only 10% of the total used combine market in 2019. More on this topic here: “Have Combines Maxed Out On Size?” Or, take a look at some of the biggest modern combines on IronSearch.
Should I Buy a New or Used Combine?
Consider the Total Cost of Ownership when buying combines and deciding if new or used is best for your situation. Factors like the efficiency of new technology, warranty considerations, and the depreciation rates of new versus used equipment should be considered. In some cases you may find that the Total Cost of Ownership Favors Used Combines.
What’s My Combine Worth?
Because of the variety of options available on combines it’s hard to find two that are identical. IronAppraiser has a broad dataset of combine valuation data that includes value adjustments for the wide variety of options as well as usage in engine hours and separator hours. If you’re planning to buy or sell a combine, get a specific appraisal on just about any used combine manufactured in the last 50 years with IronAppraiser.
The company sold its sugar business (EU operations), including the Lyle’s Golden Syrup brand, to American Sugar Refining, Inc (ASR) and ended its long association with refined sugar production.
Henry went into partnership with John Wright, a sugar refiner based at Manesty Lane, Liverpool. Their partnership ended in 1869 and Tate’s two sons, Alfred and Edwin joined the business forming Henry Tate & Sons. A new refinery in Love Lane, Liverpool was opened in 1872.
The sugar cube was invented by Eugen Langen and David Martineau in Germany in 1875. That same year, Henry Tate bought the rights to the technology and introduced cube sugar to the UK.
Unlike today, at this time there were 74 refineries in the UK, many small businesses run by families such as the MacFies, Martineaus, Fairries, Walkers and Kerrs. It was in this competitive marketplace that Henry Tate and Abram Lyle started their respective sugar businesses, with Thames Refinery specialising in cube sugar.
Abram Lyle & Sons started melting sugar at Plaistow Refinery, only a short distance from Henry Tate & Son's Thames Refinery. Lyle’s Golden Syrup was an instant hit and Lyle was soon selling a tonne a week.
These iconic green and gold tins feature the world’s oldest branding. Originally made in small quantities and sold in wooden casks to employees and locals, as demand grew, casks were swapped for large dispensers found on the shelves of grocery stores. Today, more than a million of these same tins leave Plaistow each month.
American entrepreneur Augustus Eugene (Gene) Staley was buying bulk starch cheaply, repackaging it under his own Cream Starch label, and selling it for a good profit. When his suppliers realised that he was serious competition, they joined together to cut off his supply of raw materials. Staley then responded by setting up the A E Staley Manufacturing Company.
Marquis, a cattle feed importer, was set up in Liverpool by Sir Michael Kroyer Kielberg from Denmark. The company began shipping molasses in bulk, using a custom-built 3,000-ton storage tank in Hull.
In 1925 Kielberg moved to London and renamed his company United Molasses. As he sourced new, low-cost molasses, he needed a longer-range, faster fleet, so launched the Athel Line with 16 vessels. This fleet saw many losses to enemy action during World War II.
In 1937 Kielberg sold his Liverpool sugar refinery to Tate & Lyle and in return was invited to become a co-investor in the company’s new West Indies raw sugar venture. This was the beginning of a prosperous relationship between the two companies.
Kielberg retired in 1953, and ten years later United Molasses was bought by Tate & Lyle.
Staley’s business made a range of food and industrial ingredients from starches and cereal sweeteners with different functional properties.
Rival businesses, Henry Tate & Sons and Abram Lyle & Sons merged, between them refining around 50% of the UK’s sugar. A tactical merger, this new company would then become a coherent force on the sugar market in anticipation of competition from foreign sugar returning to its pre-war strength.
Tate & Lyle was one of the original founder constituents of the FT-30 index and remains the only constituent from the original index still listed today.
Producing around 14,000 tons a week, it became necessary to build a new pan house at Plaistow to cope with the huge increase in output. It was an impressive building, standing at 180ft high (about 55m), but unfortunately, soon after became a target for the Luftwaffe.
Clement Attlee’s Labour government pursued a policy of nationalisation for key UK industries in 1949 and the British sugar industry (Tate & Lyle), was included in their plan.
A board meeting at Tate & Lyle on February 10 th marked the beginning of a fierce campaign to thwart the Government's plans. Mr Cube, a cartoon character drawn by artist Bobby St John Cooper spearheaded the campaign.
Mr Cube became a household name, appearing on sugar packets, in the press and even traveling the country with the ‘Speakers’ Team’ made up of Tate & Lyle employees. Mr Cube helped to present the Company's successful case for continued independence.
With the acquisition of United Molasses (originally named Marquis), Tate & Lyle became the world leader in molasses trading.
Sucralose, the no-calorie sweetener was discovered by Tate & Lyle in partnership with researchers at Queen Elizabeth College, University of London. Tate & Lyle went on to develop the product in partnership with McNeil Nutritionals LLC (a Johnson & Johnson company) to create SPLENDA® Sucralose.
Alcântara dates back to 1890 when John Peter Hornung began exploring sugar cane production in Mozambique and set up the 'Companhia do Assucar de Mocambique'. Mozambique was a Portuguese colony, so Hornung decided that Lisbon was the right place to build a refinery. ‘Refinaria Colonial’ in Alcântara, was opened in 1909 by King Manuel II and his uncle, Don Afonso and produced around 400 tons a week.
By 1950, Refinaria Colonial had become Sidul (Sociadade Industrial do Ultramar). Mozambique gained independence in 1975, and in 1980 a new company, Alcântara – Sociedade de Empreendimentos Açucareiros, SA, was formed which owned Sidul, the Lisbon refinery. In 1989 Alcântara bought Sores (Sociedade de Refinadores de Santa Iria, SA) and Sidul and Sores merged to form Alcântara Refinarias Açucares, SA.
The Sidul refinery closed in 1994 and all production was moved to Santa Iria. Today the refinery continues to make Portugal’s two famous retail sugar brands, Sidul and Sores.
A prosperous year, Tate & Lyle acquired 90% of the A E Staley Manufacturing Co. and increased its stake in Amylum to 63%.
After acquiring Haarmann & Reimer, a subsidiary of Bayer AG, Tate & Lyle became the world's leading producer of citric acid.
Tate & Lyle acquired the outstanding minority interests of both companies to establish our worldwide sweeteners and starches business.
5 Soapy Smith [Born: 1860 Died: 1898]
Soapy Smith (born Jefferson Randolph Smith) was an American con artist and gangster who had a major hand in the organized criminal operations of Denver, Colorado, Creede, Colorado, and Skagway, Alaska from 1879 to 1898. He is perhaps the most famous &ldquosure-thing&rdquo bunko man of the old west. Some time in the late 1870s or early 1880s, Smith began duping entire crowds with a ploy the Denver newspapers dubbed The Prize Package Soap Sell Swindle.
Jefferson would open his &ldquotripe and keister&rdquo (display case on a tripod) on a busy street corner. Piling ordinary soap cakes onto the keister top, he would describe their wonders . As he spoke to the growing crowd of curious onlookers, he would pull out his wallet and begin wrapping paper money ranging from one dollar up to one hundred dollars, around a select few of the bars. He then finished each bar by wrapping plain paper around it to hide the money. He mixed the money-wrapped packages in with wrapped bars containing no money. He then sold the soap to the crowd for a dollar a cake.
A shill planted in the crowd would buy a bar, tear it open it, and loudly proclaim that he had won some money, waving it around for all to see. This performance had the desired effect of enticing the sale of the packages. More often than not, victims bought several bars before the sale was completed. Midway through the sale, Smith would announce that the hundred-dollar bill still remained in the pile, unpurchased. He then would auction off the remaining soap bars to the highest bidders.
Through the masterful art of manipulation and sleight-of-hand, the cakes of soap wrapped with money were hidden and replaced with packages holding no cash. It was assured that the only money &ldquowon&rdquo went to members of what became known as the &ldquoSoap Gang.&rdquo Soapy was eventually shot to death by a group he swindled in a card game.
Opium in Victorian Britain
“There were opium dens where one could buy oblivion, dens of horror where the memory of old sins could be destroyed by the madness of sins that were new.” Oscar Wilde in his novel, ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’ (1891).
The opium den with all its mystery, danger and intrigue appeared in many Victorian novels, poems and contemporary newspapers, and fuelled the public’s imagination.
“It is a wretched hole… so low that we are unable to stand upright. Lying pell-mell on a mattress placed on the ground are Chinamen, Lascars, and a few English blackguards who have imbibed a taste for opium.” So reported the French journal ‘Figaro’, describing an opium den in Whitechapel in 1868.
Opium smokers in the East End of London, London Illustrated News, 1874
The public must have shuddered at these descriptions and imagined areas such as London’s docklands and the East End to be opium-drenched, exotic and dangerous places. In the 1800s a small Chinese community had settled in the established slum of Limehouse in London’s docklands, an area of backstreet pubs, brothels and opium dens. These dens catered mainly for seamen who had become addicted to the drug when overseas.
Despite the lurid accounts of opium dens in the press and fiction, in reality there were few outside of London and the ports, where opium was landed alongside other cargo from all over the British Empire.
The India-China opium trade was very important to the British economy. Britain had fought two wars in the mid 19th century known as the ‘Opium Wars’, ostensibly in support of free trade against Chinese restrictions but in reality because of the immense profits to be made in the trading of opium. Since the British captured Calcutta in 1756, the cultivation of poppies for opium had been actively encouraged by the British and the trade formed an important part of India’s (and the East India Company’s) economy.
Opium and other narcotic drugs played an important part in Victorian life. Shocking though it might be to us in the 21st century, in Victorian times it was possible to walk into a chemist and buy, without prescription, laudanum, cocaine and even arsenic. Opium preparations were sold freely in towns and country markets, indeed the consumption of opium was just as popular in the country as it was in urban areas.
The most popular preparation was laudanum, an alcoholic herbal mixture containing 10% opium. Called the ‘aspirin of the nineteenth century,’ laudanum was a popular painkiller and relaxant, recommended for all sorts of ailments including coughs, rheumatism, ‘women’s troubles’ and also, perhaps most disturbingly, as a soporific for babies and young children. And as twenty or twenty-five drops of laudanum could be bought for just a penny, it was also affordable.
19th century recipe for a cough mixture:
Two tablespoonfuls of vinegar,
Two tablespoonfuls of treacle
60 drops of laudanum.
One teaspoonful to be taken night and morning.
Laudanum addicts would enjoy highs of euphoria followed by deep lows of depression, along with slurred speech and restlessness. Withdrawal symptoms included aches and cramps, nausea, vomiting and diarrhea but even so, it was not until the early 20th century that it was recognised as addictive.
Many notable Victorians are known to have used laudanum as a painkiller. Authors, poets and writers such as Charles Dickens, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Elizabeth Gaskell and George Eliot were users of laudanum. Anne Bronte is thought to have modelled the character of Lord Lowborough in ‘The Tenant of Wildfell Hall’ on her brother Branwell, a laudanum addict. The poet Percy Bysshe Shelley suffered terrible laudanum-induced hallucinations. Robert Clive, ‘Clive of India’, used laudanum to ease gallstone pain and depression.
Many of the opium-based preparations were targeted at women. Marketed as ‘women’s friends’, these were widely prescribed by doctors for problems with menstruation and childbirth, and even for fashionable female maladies of the day such as ‘the vapours’, which included hysteria, depression and fainting fits.
Children were also given opiates. To keep them quiet, children were often spoon fed Godfrey’s Cordial (also called Mother’s Friend), consisting of opium, water and treacle and recommended for colic, hiccups and coughs. Overuse of this dangerous concoction is known to have resulted in the severe illness or death of many infants and children.
The 1868 Pharmacy Act attempted to control the sale and supply of opium-based preparations by ensuring that they could only be sold by registered chemists. However this was largely ineffective, as there was no limit on the amount the chemist could sell to the public.
The Victorian attitude to opium was complex. The middle and upper classes saw the heavy use of laudanum among the lower classes as ‘misuse’ of the drug however their own use of opiates was seen as no more than a ‘habit’.
The end of the 19th century saw the introduction of a new pain reliever, aspirin. By this time many doctors were becoming concerned about the indiscriminate use of laudanum and its addictive qualities.
There was now a growing anti-opium movement. The public viewed the smoking of opium for pleasure as a vice practised by Orientals, an attitude fuelled by sensationalist journalism and works of fiction such as Sax Rohmer’s novels. These books featured the evil arch villain Dr Fu Manchu, an Oriental mastermind determined to take over the Western world.
In 1888 Benjamin Broomhall formed the “Christian Union for the Severance of the British Empire with the Opium Traffic”. The anti-opium movement finally won a significant victory in 1910 when after much lobbying, Britain agreed to dismantle the India-China opium trade.
A Brief History of Zines
Zines have now become so mainstream that even Kanye West has one. In February 2016, the hip-hop artist tweeted: “Season 2 Zine pronounced Zeen short for magazine. A lot of people pronounce it wrong.” The tweet included a picture of the publication Kanye had made to accompany his second line of footwear for his brand, Yeezy. After decades of existence, zines are no longer strictly counter-culture, but they originated as small-scale DIY efforts—many with an anti-authoritarian message.
Most definitions of zines include the fact that they are small-circulation, self-published, and often inexpensive or free. That’s generally true, although these are more guidelines than hard-and-fast rules. The most important aspect of a zine is generally that the publication identifies as one. Many zine-makers will say zines are as much about the community as the product, and that identifying as a zine is what separates these publications from comics, literary journals, websites, and other types of independent publications.
The first zine is often traced back to a 1930s effort by the Science Correspondence Club in Chicago. It was called The Comet, and it started a long-lasting trend of sci-fi related zines. The important sci-fi zine Fantasy Commentator began in 1943, and ran in various iterations (though not continuously) until 2004. One of the pieces serialized in Fantasy Commentator eventually became Sam Moskowitz’s book on the history of sci-fi fandom, The Immortal Storm. The interconnectedness of zines and sci-fi is reflected in the World Science Fiction Convention (Worldcon) Hugo award for Best Fanzine, first given out in 1955 and still awarded today. (As the name of that award shows, zines were originally called fanzines, alluding to the fans who made them. Eventually, fanzine was just shortened to zine, and the range of topics widened to include practically anything.)
The relationship between zines and sci-fi deepened after 1967, when the first Star Trek fanzine, Spockanalia, was produced. It gained plenty of attention, and the second issue included letters by members of the show, including writer D.C. Fontana and actors James Doohan, DeForest Kelley, and Leonard Nimoy. (The actors all wrote their letters in character.) In 1968, Star Trek was reportedly going to be canceled after two seasons, but a letter-writing campaign—partly organized through fanzines—that generated over 160,000 missives was able to help get the show back on the air for another year.
The technological innovations of the ‘70s made zines easier to create than ever. In particular, the rise of copy shops allowed zine-makers to produce their work cheaply and quickly. (Previously, zines had been produced using mimeographs, which push ink through a stencil to make multiple prints, but the process was impractical for large-scale production.) Steve Samiof, one of the people behind the popular punk zine Slash, told Dazed in an interview earlier this year that the copy shops of the '70s were “extremely inexpensive—you could pay under $800 for 5000 copies and that would be the actual printing cost.”
In the ‘70s and ‘80s, the main hub of zine culture became the punk scene in London, LA, and New York. Compared to the earlier sci-fi zines, punk zines had a grungier, DIY aesthetic that reflected the subjects being covered. Slash and other popular zines like UK-based Sniffin’ Glue covered seminal punk bands like The Clash, The Ramones, and Joy Division. The first issue of Punk, published in 1976, featured an interview with Lou Reed.
The dedication of the early punk scene allowed zines to get interviews with people who would go on to be big names before they had achieved fame. When punk started to gain popularity, many of the zines that previously helped define the scene shut down. Sniffin’ Glue ended in 1977 and in 1979 Punk followed suit.
In the 1990s, zines flourished again thanks to the riot grrrl scene. As an alternative to the male-driven punk world of the past, riot grrrl encouraged young girls and women to start their own band, make their own zine, and get their voices heard. Key bands included Bikini Kill, Heavens to Betsy, Bratmobile, L7, and Sleater-Kinney. By 1993, an estimated 40,000 zines were being published in North America alone, many of them devoted to riot grrrl music and politics.
But riot grrrl was more than just a musical genre, it was a feminist movement—though it was often difficult to pin down the specifics of that movement. As Max Kessler wrote in Paper, “Whatever riot grrrl became—a political movement, an avant-garde, or an ethos—it began as a zine.” Riot grrrl spread from its epicenter in Olympia, Washington to across the country and other parts of the world.
Many of the members of these bands also had their own zines. Bikini Kill ran a zine of the same name, and Tobi Vail, a member of the band, ran her own popular zine called Jigsaw. The zine Snarla was made by artist Miranda July and musician Johanna Fateman. Both Bust, first published in 1993, and Bitch, published in 1996, started out as zines connected to the riot grrl movement and have since grown into full-scale magazines.
Today, zines are more diverse than ever. The rise of the internet has helped make the cost of production almost zero, and online zines such as Plasma Dolphin, Pop Culture Puke, Cry Baby, and Cherry have brought young artists together to collaborate. However, zines are also still sold in person through zine fairs as well as online via Etsy and Big Cartel. The internet has also made it easier for zine makers to connect and find community regardless of location.
While the zines of the past have been shaped by the predominant themes of sci-fi, punk music, and the riot grrrl movement, there have always been zines on a variety of subjects. Today, that diversity is reflected in publications like Home Zine, which invites artists to explore the concept of feeling at home Filmme Fatales, which explores feminism in film and Dad Tweets—a short, humorous collection of selected tweets from a real-life dad. There is even a zine about what plants are best for attracting bees and other pollinators. In fact, there is an entire magazine, Broken Pencil, dedicated to covering zines and zine culture. (In the 1980s and early 1990s, Factsheet Five, a zine of zines, performed a similar function.)
The usefulness of zines as historical documents is now being recognized. Many universities have their own zine collections and there are also numerous independent zine libraries both in America and around the world. It’s easier than ever to learn about zines first-hand. However, the best way to learn and be involved in the community is the same as always: start reading and then start creating.
How the 1930s changed housing
In the mid to late 1930s, a housing boom was in full swing. This explosion led to huge changes in the way houses were being designed, built and located.
Since the 1920s 4.3m houses had been built, and by the end of the 1930s one family in three was living in an interwar house. Fuelled by low interest rates, there was also a rise in home ownership, from 10% of families in 1914 to 31% by 1939. The majority of these mass building programs did not take place in the crowded inner cities of the old industrial heartlands, but on the outskirts of the city, where land was cheaper and more easily available.
The majority of these mass building programs did not take place in the crowded inner cities of the old industrial heartlands, but on the outskirts of the city, where land was cheaper and more easily available.
Despite this, it was estimated that there were 350,000 houses that were overcrowded in 1936 and many others that were unfit for human habitation. Even as late as 1943 it was estimated that 40% of houses in Hull, and 90% of houses in Stepney were without baths.
A row of Victorian terraced houses in an East London street, due for demolition Image: Mary Evans Picture Library
Many houses that sprung up during this decade were a simple evolution of the Edwardian home. The 1939 house tended to be terraced or semi-detached, with council housing being uniform in design. The private owner-occupiers opted for a design that showed their individualism. With the most popular house style being the ‘Tudorbethan’ style from the ‘Arts and Crafts’ movement, house styles moved away from the previously popular pebble-dash to brick and half-timbering. Bungalows were also rising in popularity during this period.
With the most popular house style being the ‘Tudorbethan’ style from the ‘Arts and Crafts’ movement, house styles moved away from the previously popular pebble-dash to brick and half-timbering
The new homes of 1930s suburbia featured a bathroom, inside toilet and a third bedroom. They also tended to be dry, better insulated, light and airy. The homes of this era featured a new style kitchen in which the cooking and washing were both done. The new kitchens would have gas or electric cookers and a freestanding hot water boiler.
As railways, trams and cars enabled workers to commute from a distance, suburbs developed on the edge of towns or along arterial roads, swallowing up great swathes of cheap farmland. This enabled the houses being built on the land to have a larger ground plan and spacious gardens. Back in the 1930s, building in green areas was more feasible than it is today. Restrictions were later to be introduced in the shape of the 1947 Town and County planning Act.
1930s Back Of Tenement Housing With Laundry Hanging Out On Clothesline Image: Mary Evans/Classic Stock/H. Armstrong Roberts
These new estates of avenues, crescents and cul-de-sacs, with their curving roads lined with trees, became the quintessential image of British suburbia. Most of the new estates sprung up across the South East and West Midlands as parts of the north were still reeling from the effects of the Great Depression.
These new estates of avenues, crescents and cul-de-sacs, with their curving roads lined with trees, became the quintessential image of British suburbia
In London, the population of the centre decreased by 400,000, while that of the suburbs increased by 1.4m. The appeal for many families seeking to escape the decaying 19th Century industrial city, with its landlord owned houses, was an obvious one. Though middle class families could now enjoy suburban life, many working class families were not able to benefit from the new building developments and saw limited improvement to their living conditions.
However, the government did make a concerted effort to make more council housing available. Only 1% of families rented council accommodation in 1914 but by 1939, this had risen to 14%. Equally the 1930s saw the initiation of serious slum clearance programmes. The coming decade, however, was to bring about new challenges around housing, as more than a million houses in London alone were destroyed by German bombs.
Main image:Sweeping street scene of terraced housing Image: Mary Evans Picture Library/MARGARET MONCK