As I sat on the bus sucking on a Butter-menthol and hoping that the scratchy feeling in my throat wasn’t the onset of a cold (incidentally, it was) I got to thinking about the history of cough lollies which included (of course) historical advertisements.
Cough lollies (also known as throat lozenges – though I’ve never called them by this name) have been around since the time of the Ancient Egyptians but it was during the 19th Century that they became increasingly popular; largely due to the discovery that the addition of heroin and morphine to the lolly would supress the cough via the brain. Heroin and morphine weren’t the only extreme ingredients known to be in cough lollies and as you’ll see below, one company claimed that an American manufacturer listed formaldehyde in their ingredients. Although whether this is actually true remains to be seen.
These ingredients were eventually removed from cough lollies (thank goodness!) when concerns were raised about addiction and, today, most of them simply contain some kind of menthol. Though they do ease the throat and provide temporary relief from coughing, they do not serve as complete medication to cure illness. To illustrate my point, in Perth, they’re found in the lolly section; usually next to the chewing gum.
Though I am more familiar with brands such as Butter-menthol, Anticol, Throaties and Vicks, I am also curious about the other brands of cough lolly that existed and, for some reason or another, did not stand the test of time.
An early advertisement from 1892 for Keatings Cough Lozenges states that they cured coughs, asthma and bronchitis and stresses that no opium nor “any violent drug” is contained in the lozenge.
A “well-known shop” in Perth named ‘Mrs Harrod’s’ took advantage of the gold mining boom in the 1890’s and advertised a eucalyptus lozenge which was strongly recommended for miners to use in order to keep away sicknesses that were “so prevalent on the goldfields“.
In 1916 Throatoids decided to target their advertising towards people who regularly used their voice such as singers, soldiers and public speakers. The lozenges were available from Pleasance’s Pharmacy in Prahan, Victoria.
Peps’ 1917 advertising described how their lozenges would loosen phlegm then clear the lungs as well as the bronchial tubes. In case you were wondering whether they contained any “drowsy drugs” they reassured you that they were as “pure as the pines they come from” and were hailed as the “greatest discovery of the age“.
Plaistowe’s Particular Peppermints (P.P.P. Mints) were advertised in The West Australian as being extra strong and made with peppermint oil and cane sugar. Though sounding more like an actual lolly and less like a cough lolly, they were however described as lozenges which would disinfect the mouth, throat, nose and lungs and protect you from coughs and colds.
Pixettes, sold by F. Warland Browne & Co in Launceston, Tasmania, were advertised in 1925 as being a “delightfully soothing” lozenge that “won’t let you cough.” And in case you still weren’t convinced, they further stated that they would “keep out the damp.”
Hudson’s Eumenthol Jujubes were advertised in The Daily News in 1929 and included a handy picture of the lungs with the various parts labelled. Used for coughs, colds, sore throats as well as the prevention of consumption, they (somewhat disturbingly if it’s true) reassured consumers that no formaldehyde was contained in their lozenges.
Throaties (one of the brands still around today) were invented by Sweetacres in 1930 after several years’ testing in their laboratories. Their goal was to create a medicated lozenge which would provide relief for husky throats and would meet medical standards set by both advisors and chemical experts. They went on further to state that Throaties were “recommended not as a cure, but simply as a preventive of throat troubles and for the relief they afford.” Perhaps adding extra weight to my earlier statement regarding cough lollies being found in the lolly section, the inventors, Sweetacres, were the very same company who invented Minties. You might be interested to know that even after all these years, the Throaties logo still looks much the same.
There didn’t seem to be a lot of advertisements for throat lozenges throughout the 1940s but by the 1950s, Vicks had come onto the scene; advertising their product as a “6-in-1 relief for coughs and husky throats.” Judging by the amount of times they showed up in the search results, it would appear they launched a fairly aggressive advertising campaign.
Nyal advertised their medicated throat lozenges in 1958 stating that they checked infection, suppressed coughing and stopped soreness. While Nyal is a pharmaceutical brand that’s still around today, they have however appeared to have moved away from selling lozenges.
Since eliminating those dangerous ingredients, advertising for cough lollies (apart from claiming they were a complete cure) is still quite similar to today’s advertising. They are still described as medicated; as a relief for sore throats and coughs and often contain menthol, peppermint or eucalyptus oil. One difference however is that today, cough lollies also tend to advertise the fact that they temporarily relieve nasal congestion. Why this wasn’t listed in past advertisements (despite the similarity of menthol ingredients) is beyond me.
What about you? Is there a particular brand of cough lolly that you remember that I haven’t mentioned?
Christmas of 1893 must’ve been a fairly trying occasion for Tilly. Heavily pregnant with her third child, she arrived at her parents’ farm ‘Greenwood’ in Collie Bridge on Christmas Eve. Accompanied by her husband, Thomas Crampton, and two small children, Daisy and Thomas Junior, the family stayed with the Hursts throughout Christmas and onto the New Year. As is common with Christmas celebrations, they most likely partook in Christmas lunch or dinner as well as the Christmas cakes which were baked about a week earlier. The Cramptons stayed for a total of ten days and finally departed on the 2 January 1894 with Tilly’s niece, Nellie (aged 15) in tow.
Looking at this with a pair of modern eyes, travelling whilst so close to when you are due to give birth does not necessarily seem out of the ordinary. If it were to happen today and you suddenly went into labour, there would be an ambulance (if needed) or (more likely) a car to drive you to the nearest hospital. So what about in 1894? Would a pregnant woman about to give birth travel across the countryside in a horse and cart? Despite my scepticism of such action, the fact is, I don’t know. Furthermore, I don’t know the details of the birth or of Tilly’s pregnancy. Perhaps she wasn’t heavily pregnant. Perhaps she gave birth prematurely. But, if that was the case, what would be the likelihood of a premature baby surviving in 1894?
There are a lot of questions raised by looking at the timeline obtained from the Hurst Daybook but one irrefutable piece of evidence (in the form of a birth certificate) remains. On 9 January 1894, a week after returning from her parents’ house (and perhaps with the help of Nellie) Tilly gave birth to my Great Grandmother. She was to be her mother’s namesake: Matilda Maria Crampton.
Born in Collie, the preference for many settlers to name everything after the Collie River means I’m not entirely sure in which Collie she was born. The most likely assumption was that she was born in Collie Bridge which was also known as just ‘Collie’ as this was where the Hurst family farm was situated. However, the fact that Tilly leaves the farm on the 2nd and isn’t noted in the Diary as returning or having given birth throws doubt over this assumption. The other option, is that she was born in the vicinity of the Collie coalfields which is where they may have been living at the time.
Only a baby, little Matilda was oblivious to all that was going on around her. Nellie had come to stay with the Cramptons and there’s no doubt that she would’ve doted on her new cousin as well as provided some support for Tilly. She stayed for a month and returned to her grandparents’ house on 6 February.
No further mention of Thomas or Tilly is found within the Daybook apart from the early January entries. It is my belief that throughout this time they were most likely living somewhere in the bush west of Allanson and somewhat close to the Collie coalfields. Why they were living in this area considering Thomas had built a house at Wokalup only six years before, is unknown.
They lived close to a gully and (most likely) close to a small branch of the Collie River. They were surrounded by the bush and were quite isolated. One of the nearest towns to the family was Brunswick and evidence shows that Tilly visited the town and on one occasion, went about in public wearing only her shift (underwear). Where was baby Matilda throughout this time? Was she left at home or did Tilly take her with her?
Tilly’s mental illness was becoming apparent not only to her husband but to the community as well. She had three children to care for (one a newborn) and also had to look after the house duties. By all appearances, she couldn’t cope. If anything strange was going on in the home at that time, baby Matilda would never remember it. She also wouldn’t remember the older brother who went missing in the bush on 16 September 1894. She wouldn’t remember the frantic searching nor the worry that had taken hold of her father, Thomas. She wouldn’t remember her mother (and most likely herself and her sister) being relocated to Greenwood and she wouldn’t remember the day her father and mother left the farm and caught the train to Fremantle where Tilly was admitted to the Asylum. Matilda would never see her mother again and being only a baby, she certainly wouldn’t remember her.
Motherless, it’s not known where exactly Matilda and her sister, Daisy, went to live in the few years following 1894. Whilst there is evidence of Thomas working hard for the Brunswick Roads Board, donating small amounts to various charitable institutions and competing in or umpiring cricket matches, there is little evidence with regards to the early years of Matilda. Small clues from later years allow us to draw conclusions as to where she may have lived following her mother’s admittance to the Asylum.
It seems she remained with her grandparents, Basil Hurst and Maria Hurst (nee Gardiner) at Greenwood in Collie Bridge. Despite their best intentions, Matilda’s grandparents were elderly and may not have been in the best of health to care for two little girls. To ease the burden, their own children and Matilda’s aunts and uncles may have helped and it wasn’t long before Matilda would become known to everyone as Kit, Kitty, Kate or Katie.
Growing up on the farm most likely meant that (despite her youth) she had to help her family in some way. She may have learnt early skills in cooking and sewing from her grandmother or perhaps her aunts. As she grew a little older, perhaps she helped with the cleaning or looked after some of the smaller animals such as the chickens. It would’ve been a beautiful spot to live; surrounded by the bush and close by to the stunning Collie River.
On 2 May 1901, Kitty was only seven when her grandfather, Basil, passed away at home after a long illness. She was at school age but at this point in time there was no school in the Australind area (it had closed in 1896 due to insufficient numbers). A school was desperately needed and in December 1902, a letter was written to the Education Department suggesting that a school room be built on Coast Road at a spot which would be at a somewhat equal distance for all the children needing to travel. On this list were the names Daisy Crampton (12) and Kate Crampton (7). They were noted as living at a distance of three miles from the proposed area and this figure places their residence as being in the vicinity of Greenwood near the Collie Bridge.
Just under a year later on 17 October 1903, Maria Hurst passed away suddenly from a heart attack which came on while she was moving an empty box in the dairy. Kitty was now nine years old and it appears her father remained unwilling or unable to care for his children. It’s likely however that the latter word is more correct. Thomas had to work to earn an income and caring for two little girls while out working would’ve been impossible. There is also the fact that traditionally men simply did not consider raising children to be a part of their job. The Hurst family was a very loving and caring family and when two of their own were left without guardians, they quickly stepped in and assumed the role themselves.
While it’s difficult for me to say where exactly Kitty ended up after the death of her grandmother, it’s possible that she continued to live at Greenwood for some time. The Hurst family farm remained in the family and it was the brothers, John (Jack) and Thomas (Tom) who took over running it.
By 1904, Kitty was noted as attending school. Perhaps frustrated at the lack of action in getting a school at Australind opened, she is recorded as having attended the Bunbury State School (now the Paisley Centre). She was in Grade I and was 10 years of age when the Christmas school holidays began on 16 December that year. The usual prizes and medals could not be given out as they had not been received from the Education Department but the certificates relating to the annual examination were nevertheless distributed. Kitty was recorded as having received hers.
On 31 March 1905 the annual presentation of prizes and medals (which may have been the previous years’ prizes which couldn’t be given out) were presented to the students. Kitty was listed as part of the Senior School in Grade I and received first prize for her sewing. This fact doesn’t surprise me. Despite not knowing her or how well she sewed, my Great Grandmother’s Singer treadle sewing machine sat in my Grandparents’ house for many years. I can even remember Grandma showing me how to use it.
These instances are the only times Kitty is mentioned with relation to schooling. Children of this time period generally only went to school up until about age 12 so it’s likely Kitty’s school days would’ve soon come to an end. Despite her limited ‘formal’ education, she could still read and write well so it’s likely that in addition to attending Bunbury State School, she was also educated at home.
At age 12, on 25 April 1906, Kitty took part in the happy celebration of her sister, Daisy’s wedding to Joseph James Adams. The couple were married at Cookernup and Kitty had the honour to serve as one of her sister’s bridesmaids. The mother of the bride played an important role in greeting the guests who arrived at the reception and, without a mother to do so, it was Kitty and Daisy’s Aunt Minnie Woodley who filled the role and hosted the guests at her residence in Yarloop.
It is unknown where Kitty was living around this time period. Though it’s possible she remained at Greenwood, the scant evidence from the following years as well as the close bond she shared with her cousins and Aunts and Uncles, suggests that she may have lived not only at Greenwood, but also spent time with her sister in Cookernup as well as with her Aunts who were all located in various areas around the southwest.
Cousins – Genesta Gibbs, Matilda Maria Crampton & Evangeline Gibbs
Certainly, sometime between 1909 and 1913, she spent a good deal of time living with her Uncle Abe (Abraham Hurst) in Argyle. It was here that she met and became great friends with Jessie Knight and it was also here that she met her great love, Charles Victor Barratt (known as Vic) who had moved to the area in 1909 with his family.
Though I don’t know when exactly or even how they met, it’s possible that Kitty and Vic became acquainted with each other from around the age of 16.
Their bond and love must’ve been extremely strong. It managed to survive even after Vic moved back to the metropolitan area and obtained a position with the Western Australian Government Railways in 1913. It survived throughout 1914 as well as 1915.
It wasn’t until 1915 (and under tragic circumstances) that we finally get a sense of Kitty’s life. She had been living at Greenwood with her Uncle Tom (Thomas Hurst) and had most likely been keeping house for him (he’d never married). On the 30th July 1915, Uncle Tom (who had been recovering from the flu) went for a walk to collect the mail from the letterbox which was fixed to a fence post near Australind Road. He returned home and was soon joined by Kitty who read him one of the letters that was received that day.
…and they were laughing over the contents. He then laid down on a couch to read the newspaper, when he gave what appeared to be a slight sigh, and without pain or the least sign of suffering he had gone to his long rest.
One can only imagine the shock that would’ve taken hold of Kitty. She may have initially tried to rouse him but, seeing that he couldn’t be woken, she quickly ran to the nearest house to get help. Dr Flynn was sent for and he immediately went to the Hurst family home. Sadly, there was nothing he could do. Uncle Tom had passed away as a result of heart problems caused by the flu that he was recovering from.
Everything happened quickly. Uncle Tom was buried the next day and about a week later, letters were sent between the siblings to organise what would happen to Tom’s Estate (he’d died without a Will). On 6 August 1915, Kitty’s Aunt Bina (Lavinia Gibbs) wrote from Greenwood to Aunt Lucy (Lucy Delaporte) advising of the arrangement that was thought to suit everyone best and in this letter, she made mention of Kitty.
Katie has been down to Aunt Minnies for a few days but she is here again for a while. I think she is going up to Daisy, for a while & then around amongst the rest of us till she can settle down. The poor child seems to be getting on wonderfully well considering the shock it must have been to her & she thinks she will go to Abe as soon as she settles down.
“Around amongst the rest of us” are the words that stand out the most and I can’t help but wonder if perhaps this hopping between relatives happened on more than one occasion.
Just as the letter stated, Kitty decided to make her new home with her Uncle Abe in Argyle. He had a farm and in particular, an orchard, and though Kitty was living with a relative, she was not going to simply ‘sponge’ off him. The Western Australian electoral roll from the election held on 13 May 1916 shows her as living at Argyle with the occupation “housekeeper”.
War had broken out the previous year and it may have been a source of pride and worry when she eventually found out that her sweetheart, Vic, had enlisted on 3 October 1916. They were still together and on 13 November she wrote him a letter stating:
You will see I am back at old Argyle again. I landed home today went into my sisters for a day. I’ve been wondering how you have been getting along or if you have been seasick. Cheer up my dearest. We did miss you old boy the place lost its charm after you left.
She had gone to Fremantle to see him off on the boat and it could be inferred, from the words written in the letter, that Vic had proposed to Kitty before he left Australia.
I did not see you on the boat. I looked and looked. Mum and Dad saw you. I was very glad they did. Wasn’t we lucky to see you at the train, I was never so pleased in my life and when we told Mum I had seen you, she said well that’s as good as 20 pound to me. She knew you would be so glad.
I got your letter on the Friday and Mum got hers. I looked forward to that letter although I knew what was in it.
Interestingly, she often refers to ‘Mum and Dad’ while she refers to her own Dad by the more formal ‘Father’. It’s in my opinion that Mum and Dad most likely referred to Vic’s parents and that she’d taken to calling them Mum and Dad due to the fact that they would eventually be her in-laws. The next paragraph shows her use of ‘Father’ and adds weight to my theory that she was engaged at the time.
Well dear old boy Father has come to see me at last got quite a surprise yesterday when I saw him at the train. Of course I told him everything and he said he would like to see you. Uncle Abe spoke up and said he’s a real good chap. I’ve known him since he was so high.
While Uncle Abe knew who Vic was, it would appear that Thomas Crampton, did not. His youngest daughter was most likely engaged and it seems as if he was the last to know and had perhaps visited her to fulfil his fatherly duties. The words “at last” further illustrates that Kitty’s visits from Thomas weren’t regular occurrences.
Kitty was still listed as living in Argyle and working as a housekeeper in 1917 and it’s likely that this continued until 1919 perhaps interspersed with visits to her sister, as well as to her other Hurst aunts and uncles. The return of Vic on 3 August 1919 would’ve been a great relief and may have also meant that Thomas Crampton finally got to see him. If this meeting did occur, it’s likely it was under a veil of illness. Thomas had pneumonic influenza and on 20 August 1919, he passed away.
Kitty and her Dad, Thomas Crampton
Two months later on 11 October 1919 and after many years of waiting patiently, Kitty and Vic were married in St Patrick’s Church in Bunbury. Kitty was 25 years old and was given away by her Uncle Jack. The wedding reception (just like when Daisy got married) was hosted by her Aunt Minnie. A few wedding photos were taken in front of the church and in one photo (just as it was throughout her whole life) she was surrounded by the Hurst family.
State Library of Western Australia; Hurst Family Daybook (1888-1893); Call No. ACC 2321A
Western Australian Registry of Births, Deaths & Marriages; Crampton, Matilda Maria (Birth); Registration No. 89; Registration Year: 1894
Crampton, Matilda Maria. Medical certificates and admission order, November 1894, Fremantle Lunatic Asylum. Mental Health Museum of WA, Inc. Shaw House, Graylands Health Campus, Western Australia.
The people of Western Australia were in a constant state of excitement. The Duke of Edinburgh (Prince Alfred; the second son of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert) was sailing his ship ‘Galatea’ around the world and was planning to visit the Australian Colonies (the very first Royal to do so).
No news had yet been heard. It was a time before email, telephones and even the telegraph and the only form of communication was by letter. With travel being only by ship, it meant that letters could take months to arrive. Rumours were rife but as the east coast of Australia had not yet heard anything either, the people of WA seemed content to apply the saying ‘no news is good news’.
The newspapers soon turned to discussion about giving the Duke the best welcome possible for when he arrived. It was fully expected that all the settlers should come out to greet him but it was further stressed that perhaps something more could be done to entertain him. A careful provision was placed at the end of the article:
It will be seen that the visit is but a probability, nevertheless we should be prepared [f]or a reality.
Eager to please and desiring to show a visiting Royal just how loyal the people of WA were to Queen Victoria (and perhaps a little concerned at not being prepared should he arrive) articles began to take on a slight change of tone.
Despite again stating that the visit was ‘probable’ the rest of the article implies that there was an awful lot of excitement despite the lack of confirmation.
Committees were soon formed and meetings were held for the purpose of superintending the arrangements for the Duke’s reception.
Every effort will be made to give the son of our beloved Sovereign a warm and hearty reception. Among the arrangements in contemplation are the formation of a Body Guard and the erection of a large banqueting room at Government House.
By early August the Committee had decided that a speech on behalf of the settlers should be given; that decorative arches be constructed and placed at points around Perth, Fremantle and Guildford; that arrangements be made to house members of the Duke’s staff who could not fit in Government House; that the expense of entertainment associated with the reception be paid for by the public funds and all other expenses be paid for by Governor Hampton; that banners be constructed; that a number of Aborigines be invited to hold a grand corroboree in the Duke’s honour and that as many children as possible be gathered in one spot to wait for his arrival so that when he went past them they could salute him and begin singing the National Anthem.
Furthermore, the new Causeway Bridge was nearing completion and it was decided that the honour of officially opening it should be given to the Duke of Edinburgh. It would mean waiting a little while longer before it could be used by the public, but all agreed that such an honour would make it worth the wait.
If the word ‘probable’ had raised any doubt as to whether or not the Duke would visit WA, a notice sent to the Governor sometime later providing instructions on how to receive the Duke (should he arrive) would likely have quelled such fears.
Days passed, preparations continued and the initial trepidation as to whether or not he’d visit WA, seemed almost to vanish. The papers began reporting on the Duke’s whereabouts in the world and the reception he received at that particular place. Such was the excitement that details of his life were published as well as anecdotes which illustrated the type of man he was. Royal fever had well and truly hit the Colony and various memorabilia commemorating the Duke’s visit began to show up in the advertising columns.
By September, construction of the arch on St Georges Terrace had begun and all were pleased with the preparations that Western Australia had undertaken.
The preparations for the reception of H.R.H. the Duke of Edinburgh are nearly completed, and all things considered, they are truly on a scale that does credit to the Government and the loyalty of the people.
There was still an undercurrent of worry that WA would be missed completely and so (in the same article the above quote was obtained from) the newspaper sought to show just how bitterly the slight would be felt. It went even further and indicated that should the Duke stop at King George Sound in Albany, a Despatch would be given to him (stating that the people of Perth were expecting him) in the hope that such knowledge would induce him to make a visit (even if it wasn’t planned).
By late September, all the decorations were completed and the people of Western Australia had nothing more to do than to wait (and hope) for the arrival of the Galatea within the next fortnight.
Decorations on Adelaide Terrace
The Arch on St Georges Terrace
September came to an end and October began. The days slipped away and October soon reached its end. The preparations had been finalised but the Galatea still had not arrived in WA. All were eagerly awaiting but in the latest mails there had been…
…no despatches to the Government, no letters for the Prince, his officers, or crew; and more, we had tidings of a rumour at King George’s Sound that the vessel had passed on her way to Port Adelaide…
Again the people of WA refused to accept that they wouldn’t receive a visit by the Duke and decided that, after all, such talk was simply rumour. Until they knew for sure, they would remain hopeful. It wasn’t until the start of November that all hope vanished with the receipt of a police express letter sent on horseback from Albany to the Government in Perth. The Duke had been in South Australia since the 29th of October. He had completely missed Western Australia.
All were disappointed and none more so, it seems, than those at The Inquirer and Commercial News who became rather melodramatic about the whole affair.
Our flags are half-mast high, and our decorations left to wither in the summer heat. There is but one course left to us, and it is a very simple one: — say nothing more about it.
Embarrassed, the reaction by the Government was swift.
Almost immediately on receipt of the intelligence from Albany that the Galatea had arrived at Port Adelaide, a large number of prisoners were at once detached to demolish the canopy in St George’s Terrace, over which so much labour had been expended to make it becoming the occasion.
After only a few hours the arch on St Georges Terrace was no more. Disappointment had turned into anger and what was left of the arch as well as the other decorations were soon set on fire as a demonstration of the resentment felt by some of the citizens in Perth.
So, what happened? Was Western Australia one of the places that the Duke was expected to visit? Or, was there some misunderstanding? As it turns out (and if you haven’t already guessed from the inverted commas surrounding the word ‘snub’ in the title) it was the latter.
The confusion, it seems, arose from the wording of the letter from the Admiralty which stated that the Duke would proceed to the “West Coast of Australia” and would be visiting “Adelaide, Melbourne, Sydney, Brisbane, Hobart Town, Van Diemen’s Land and also Auckland and Wellington”. While ‘proceeding to’ and ‘visiting’ are rather different terms, the word proceeding in itself is quite vague. Coupled with the Governor’s receipt of various despatches (which apparently shouldn’t have been sent in the first place) it is understandable to see how the misunderstanding could arise. In a time where such matters couldn’t be cleared up with the sending of an instant text message, perhaps those in Western Australia (who also harboured doubts as to the wording) decided it was better to be sure than sorry. After all, what if the Duke had visited and no preparations had been made. That, too, would’ve been embarrassing.
Personally, I find the whole affair of 1867 to be highly amusing (and slightly cringe worthy). Western Australia has long been nicknamed ‘Wait Awhile’ and, for those of you wondering, the people only had to wait a little while before the Duke of Edinburgh would make an informal visit. In February 1869, just over a year after his first visit to Australia, he finally arrived in WA and WA finally had the opportunity to show just how loyal they were to Queen Victoria.
Lifebuoy soap (though not invented by them) was promoted by the Lever Brothers in England in 1895. It was propelled into the advertising world with ads claiming that it would save you from illness and protect you from germs (hence the name) due to its antiseptic nature. Early ads focused on the fact that it was carbolic (it contained carbolic acid) and would keep you healthy but later ads simply stated that it contained a “special health ingredient” that would protect you from the perils of illness as well as body odour. It is the latter claim which provides us with very amusing ads, mostly from the 1940s. Incidentally, Lifebuoy used the acronym ‘BO’ instead of the words ‘body odour’ and, it is believed, it was their ads which resulted in BO becoming a commonly used term.
While most of the ads appear to be targeted towards women, I have since found that men were not completely excluded. All kinds of storylines were used in Lifebuoy’s “comics” in order to incite fear and play on a person’s insecurities. If people were snubbing you, excluding you or didn’t want to date you it was because (according to Lifebuoy) you probably had BO.
Wondering why no one wants to go to the dance with you?
Is there a reason you’re not married yet and, by golly, you’re 32!?
Do people think you’re not as dainty as you used to be?
Feeling a little hot under the collar because the chaps are snubbing you?
Does your fiancé continue to put the wedding off?
Perhaps there’s another reason why your guests aren’t showing up…
When dancing is skipped there simply must be a reason…
The cake of Lifebuoy soap was coloured red and though I can’t be completely sure, I don’t believe it was ever used by my family (I certainly don’t remember red soap – we tended to use Imperial Leather). It’s possible however that my youth is against me because, to be honest, I don’t really recall the Lifebuoy brand at all.
I’d love to read about your memories though. Do you remember red Lifebuoy soap or the brand itself? Are there any other ads that left such a lasting impression that you still remember them?
Every now and then I’ll search through online catalogues for names that I’ve already searched for many, many times before. I don’t get my hopes up. And I certainly don’t expect to see anything new. Searching for anything relating to the Barratts is particularly unexciting. Being my own surname, it’s a name that I have searched for many times over. If there’s a record relating to them, I’ve most likely found it and added it to the collection. But, rather than designate some catalogues as having been ‘tapped out’ I continue to search them. You never know when something new may be added.
There’s no doubt that the Western Australian Government Railways (WAGR) employment records at the State Records Office of Western Australia have been in existence for much longer than I realised. With a tendency to rely on ‘name searches’ this valuable record would’ve been overlooked had I not happened to search for “Charles Victor Barratt” on one particular day.
Much to my surprise, a listing relating to my Great Grandfather popped up. I suppose, in the end, searching for just a name did have its benefits as it’s opened my eyes to a new resource which gives more depth to my ancestors’ stories and their working life.
Railway Workers [date and names unknown]
Vic first applied for a position as an engine cleaner sometime in 1913. He was 18 years old and met the minimum age required to obtain the position (the minimum age being 18). As part of the interview process, he had to bring along his birth certificate to prove his age as well as three certificates or letters testifying to his character. There was also a height requirement; potential candidates had to be 5ft 6 inches tall. Luckily for Vic, he was 5ft 8 ½ inches tall. Once he had all the documentation in order he went before the Selection Board and on 7 November 1913 he was deemed to have passed and was awarded the position.
Donnybrook. August 12th 1913. To those whom it may concern, This is to certify that the bearer of this, Victor Barratt has been employed by me for nearly two years, and that during that time I have found him trustworthy and industrious of good conduct, and in all ways reliable. Signed J P Parke.
Three months later, on 15 February 1914, he passed his medical exam and two days after this, he officially began his working life as an engine cleaner with the WAGR at Midland Junction.
As is often the case with first time employment, he started at the bottom and worked his way up. According to Michael Reynolds’ book ‘Engine-driving life: stirring adventures and incidents in the lives of locomotive engine-drivers’ (1881) the cleaner…
…is supplied with waste, oil, and tallow; and he comes on duty when the engine is due, whatever time that may be, either in the day or in the night.
Reynolds further states that a cleaner who his thorough and smart would first clean the engine (while it is hot and the grease is easily wiped away) then move onto cleaning the other parts and finally clean the wheels and framework (which are cold).
It was hard, tough, dirty work.
It takes ten hours at least to clean an engine. It requires no small amount of courage, perseverance, and endurance to clean an engine regularly all the year round…
The next step up from an engine cleaner was the fireman, who was responsible for tending to the fire which enabled the steam engine to run. Vic sat the exam and on the 31 August 1915 it was noted that he had passed and was issued with a Fireman’s Certificate. Despite having passed the exam, he continued to work as a cleaner.
With the world still at war, Vic decided (like so many other young men) to do his bit to help his country by enlisting to fight. His employment records reflect this fact. It had been just over a year since he passed his fireman’s exam but he was nevertheless granted leave on 27 September 1916 to serve in the Australian Imperial Forces. Vic left Western Australian on 9 November 1916 and would not return until 3 August 1919.
Between August and October 1919 Vic most likely recuperated, visited family and friends and was reunited with his beloved, Kitty. The pair may have been engaged prior to his departure in 1916 as wedding plans were immediately put in place. They were married in Bunbury on 11 October 1919 and eight days later it was noted in his employment records that he returned to work. For the next four years he was intermittently designated both a cleaner and fireman.
His permanency as a fireman began on 1 January 1924. While previously he was only located in Perth, this permanent position resulted in several moves. From 27 October 1924 to about 1928 he was located in Busselton.
Vic, accompanied by his wife, Kitty, young son, Ron (who was four) and one month old daughter, Pauline, moved into a home on Gale Street (which he had built himself). My Grandpa, Ron, was a young boy at the time but the happy memories associated with his time in Busselton must’ve left a lasting impression. Photos from this time were lovingly collected and placed together in a small envelope entitled ‘Busselton Days’.
The house Vic built on Gale Street in Busselton .
Vic (third from left) in Flinders Bay with the Busselton train crew .
After his stint in Busselton, Vic was posted to East Perth in 1928 and he and his family returned to 62 Wasley Street; the home that he had purchased in North Perth in the early 1920s. Throughout the next seven years he worked hard and strived for the next step in his employment at the WAGR. On 14 January 1929 he passed an exam relating to Driver’s Duties and was presented with a certificate. On 3 September 1931 he passed the ‘Timetable & Rostering’ exam (first year course) and scored a respectable 84%. A year later he sat the advanced ‘Timetable & Rostering’ exam and scored a very impressive 93%.
He was again relocated in September 1935 and spent a year in Mukinbudin before eventually being posted in Merredin on 21 September 1936. It was here that he remained.
Vic had a great love of the steam locomotives. He grew up at a time when railway lines were being built and steam trains were transporting people from all walks of life from one town or state to another. I’m unsure as to whether he had any particular aspirations with regards to working at the WAGR but certainly driving one of these majestic locomotives would be high up on the list. All his training and exams paid off and on 1 October 1936 he was designated a driver.
An example of a train Vic may have driven in Merredin. This one’s surrounded by flood waters.
Perhaps it was this promotion which filled him with pride and inspiration that led him to contact The Meadmore Model Engineering Co. who specialised in model trains and other train related accessories. Vic placed an order and soon began construction of his model train; eventually finishing it many years later. See my previous blog post ‘Vic’s Model Train’.
Vic’s Model Train
For the rest of his working life Vic remained located in Merredin and continued working as a driver interspersed with the occasional stint as the acting shed foreman or acting sub foreman. He was granted long service leave in 1937, 1948, 1951 and 1956 with the last three times consisting of approximately 13 ½ weeks off each time.
On 23 May 1956 Vic was 60 years of age when he reached a milestone of having worked 40 years for the Western Australian Government Railways in adult service (adult back then was 21 years and over). To commemorate this anniversary, he was presented with a small medal.
He continued to work as a driver and acting shed foreman or acting sub foreman for four more years. On 18 May 1960, a week shy of his 65th birthday, his employment record with the WAGR officially came to an end with the word ‘retired’. All up, Vic had worked and served the railways and the Government for 46 years of his life.
Vic (right) with an unknown railway worker [date unknown].
The records themselves are fascinating and have enabled me to confirm certain facts that I had only ever assumed. I knew Vic and his family had lived for some time in Busselton but I didn’t really know why. My assumption was that his work with the railways brought him there and it’s gratifying to have that finally confirmed with a record. Such confirmations also didn’t only apply to Vic. I have other family members who also worked for the WAGR and when I realised what gold was staring back at me from the computer screen, I eagerly began scrolling through the entire microfilm in order to hunt down other relatives with employment records (thank goodness for alphabetical order!). What initially started as a search for a record for one person eventuated in me obtaining records for four other people.
The Record of Service Cards can be found at the State Records Office of Western Australia on microfilm (Consignment: 3393). They can be viewed Monday to Friday during office hours or can be requested to be sent to the State Library of Western Australia for viewing on weekends or outside of office hours. For more information please visit: http://www.sro.wa.gov.au/
State Records Office of Western Australia; Record of Service Cards; Barratt, Charles Victor (Service No.: 10812), Cleaner/Fireman/Driver 4th Class/Driver 3rd Class/Driver 2nd Class; 17 February 1914 to 1 October 1939; Consignment: 3393.
State Records Office of Western Australia; Record of Service Cards; Barratt, Charles Victor (Service No.: 10812), Driver C1/Actg Shed Foreman/Actg. Sub Foreman/Driver; 1 October 1941 to 18 May 1960; Consignment: 3393.
A good friend is a connection to life — a tie to the past, a road to the future, the key to sanity in a totally insane world. Lois Wyse
In our quest to find our ancestors as well as their siblings and extended family such as aunts, uncles or cousins, we can tend to forget that there were other people in their lives besides those related by blood; there were also friends.
Unfortunately, the further we delve into the past, the less chance there will be of finding out who exactly these friends were and the role they played in our ancestors’ lives. It is with the closer generations (parents, grandparents and perhaps great grandparents) that we can work to ensure that photos are labelled and stories are told. Even though they may not be related, friends still play an integral part in helping shape the people we become.
My Nanna, Gwen Harwood, spent her teenage years in the 1940s living with her family at 111 Hay Street in Subiaco. A few doors down, at 115 Hay Street, lived the Hatch family. Walter and Rita Hatch’s daughter, Audrey, was born on 21 October 1934. Nanna was two years older than Audrey but living so close to each other resulted in a friendship being established.
Nanna and Audrey at Kings Park
The friendship between the two girls may have been the catalyst for a friendship that was also established between their mothers. Or vice versa. After the early death of his parents, my Pop’s brother, Ray, moved in with the Harwoods for a short time. While chatting on the phone with him, he recalled an amusing story where Mrs Hatch, in her house, would yell across to Mrs Harwood (in her house) asking if she had something or other that she needed. Their “conversation” would often result in Mrs Hatch coming over for a cup of tea.
Gwen and Audrey out the front of 111 Hay Street
As their lives started to change (Nanna married my Pop in 1950 and the Harwoods moved away from Subiaco in the early 60s) it is unknown whether these friendships continued via letters, cards or phone calls. It’s probable that they didn’t, but I like to think however that for me to know who these people were (passed down in stories by my Mum and Uncle Ray) the friendships themselves must’ve left a strong impression on both my Nanna and my Great Grandmother.
The friendships forged by my Grandpa, Ron Barratt, truly stood the test of time. His closest mates were Geoffrey Higginson and Glen Anderson and their bond most likely began when they first started school together (they were all the same age). Though I don’t have specific details, photos of them mucking around and standing in a group at Scouts or at a Sunday School picnic indicate that they were obviously quite close and that their friendship went beyond the schoolroom and into social activities.
Geoff, Ron (on top) and Glen
Sunday School Picnic – Ron is at the back (fourth from the left) and Geoff is standing next to him (fifth from left).
Their mateship continued throughout their teenage years and remained strong after they married and had children of their own. Photos were passed between them and their families and Grandpa even named his first born son after his friend, Glen.
Geoff’s early death due to a tragic gliding accident in 1989 absolutely devastated Grandpa and was a terrible shock. They had been friends for well over fifty years. The friendship between Grandpa, Geoff and Glen (from adolescence to old age) really is inspirational and for it to last as long as it did, I believe, is an indication as to their characters and the good people that they were.
After the shock death of her Uncle Tom in 1915 (whom she was living with at the time), my Great Grandmother, Matilda Maria Crampton (known as Kitty) ended up living with her Uncle Abe on his farm in Argyle. It turned out to be a fateful move. Not only did she meet her future husband, Vic Barratt, she also met one of her closest friends, Jessie Knight.
Jessie and Kitty were both aged about 21 when they first became friends and it seems that they instantly hit it off. When Kitty eventually married Vic after his return from WWI, it was Jessie who was the maid of honour. She was dressed in “a very pretty dress of cream crepe de chine and carried a bouquet of watsonias and marguerites” and can be seen in the header image of this blog (standing left of the groom who’s sitting).
Jessie Knight in 1920
The back of the above photo [To Dear Kitty, Wishing you many Happy returns for your birthday. With love, From Jessie]
Photos, cards and best wishes were constantly mailed to one another throughout the years and even though no letters survive, the photos, however, do. Jessie herself married Irem Thompson in 1924 and though the couple had no children, they were however close to Jessie’s sister’s children. Proud of them, as they grew, it was photos of her nieces and nephews that were also sent to Kitty throughout the years.
Jessie Knight in 1918
The back of the previous photo [To Dear Kitty, Wishing you the compliments of the season. From Jessie. Hoping to see you soon].
The correspondence appears to have continued at least until the late 1930s and though it’s possible it continued longer than the evidence allows us to see it sadly would’ve come to an abrupt end in 1947 when Kitty passed away at the relatively young age of 53.
Physical evidence, stories and long lasting friendships have enabled the names of these friends to continue to be passed down my family throughout the years. Where such things do not exist, one can only wonder who the people were, especially when their faces stare out at us from photos. The following are a few photos of my relatives with their friends or of just the friends on their own; all of whom are unknown. If you happen upon this post and recognise a face, please let me know.
My Grandma (Audrey Flynn – right) with an unknown friend in Merredin.
Audrey Flynn with an unknown friend
My Pop’s (Reece Nicholson) friend with his children
Friends of Charles Victor Barratt and Matilda Maria Barratt (nee Crampton)
The back of the previous photographic postcard.
Unknown Couple (probably friends of Vic and Kitty)
Late last year Matt and I were visiting our mutual cousin in Australind when she made mention of ‘letters edged in black’. Being of a different generation and never having heard it spoken before, we both looked at her blankly. She gave an explanation to us and the ‘letter edged in black’ has left a lasting impression. So much so, that when visiting another distant cousin of Matt’s and having a look through her photos and documents, we both exclaimed and looked at each other in excitement when we saw a conspicuous envelope with black edging all around it.
Despite being commonly known as letters or envelopes ‘edged in black’ it was properly known as mourning stationery or mourning paper and harks back to the Victorian era when being in mourning meant adhering to certain rules.
Throughout this era the loss of a loved one was memorialised in many different ways. They took photographs of their relatives after they had died and posed them to make them look alive and at peace. They cut a lock of hair from the deceased and kept it as a memento or had it turned into jewellery such as a ring or locket. Elaborate funerals were held, death notices were placed in the paper and letters and envelopes with black edging were used to break the news gently to the recipient that the contents contained information of a loved one’s death. This wasn’t always the case however. Generally, letters continued to be sent ‘edged in black’ for up to a year after the death and was considered a mark of respect for the deceased.
While there were official books concerning proper etiquette to follow while in mourning, newspapers also printed brief guides for those who did not have access to such books. Readers often sent in their questions asking about the correct rules to follow when in mourning and the papers would happily answer them by printing such rules in their editions. These articles provide a fascinating glimpse into what was right and was what wrong when it came to mourning etiquette and gives insight into the behaviours and customs that our ancestors may have adhered to.
The following snippets from an article printed in 1874 illustrates how restrictive mourning could be for widows in particular. Considered the “deepest mourning” the dress requirements could last for two years and women were advised that they should “accept no invitations, and should frequent no public places” for a year. After the year had passed it became acceptable for widows to slowly make their way back into society.
The guidelines further state that children should mourn their parents for one year with strict requirements as to what type of dress they should wear and for how long. For two months they had to abstain from society but after that time they could re-enter it.
Mourning etiquette also applied to the deaths of brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, first cousins and on occasion, second cousins. It became even more complicated when considering extended relationships that came through marriage. For example women who’d married a man who was a widower often had to wear mourning if either of the first wife’s parents died. Though not considered compulsory, it was however considered good taste.
Funnily enough, such rules and restrictions seem only to be applicable to women. While men were also required to be in mourning after the death of a relative, they could however get away with wearing their usual black suits and gloves for six months to a year accompanied, perhaps, with a black band in their hat. They could also continue to be seen in public and at work and were not restricted socially as women were.
Half Mourning Costumes in 1890
Examples of Deep Mourning (left) and Half Mourning (right) in 1899
Mourning stationery had its own particular requirements. Generally the paper was cream or grey with a black edge and was to be used for the duration of the time that the person was in mourning (this was of course dependent on the person’s relationship to the deceased). It would also appear that during the Victorian period the stationery would be edged with an extremely thick black border and as time went on, and mourning requirements began to relax, the border would become thinner until it ultimately disappeared once mourning clothes were put aside.
The following article from 1918 illustrates some of the changes in mourning etiquette that occurred after the Victorian era.
Though the extremity of Victorian era mourning was eased amongst most of the population, letters edged in black continued. Various State Governments also often carried out the tradition as a mark of respect for a deceased sovereign or dignitary.
The Commonwealth Government itself issued a special Gazette “heavily bordered with black” on 22 January 1936 which formerly announced that King George V had passed away.
While the ‘letter edged in black’ is more commonly associated with the Victorian era, a search on Trove indicates that it continued into the early 1940s with advertisements for mourning paper still being printed in newspapers. Perhaps however this was a slight carryover from the older generation who still adhered to such traditions. It was most certainly out of fashion amongst the younger generation and by the late 1940s the advertisements for mourning paper reduced significantly.
Today letters edged in black are non-existent except amongst old family papers and archives. We may no longer write letters on paper with an ominous black border or follow strict mourning guidelines but over time we have developed our own ways to respect and commemorate the death of a loved one. Who knows, perhaps in another 200 years the traditions will have evolved again and our own practices will look as archaic as those of the Victorian era.
Photo of the memorial card and envelope ‘edged in black’ courtesy of Matt.