Me & You Magazine Issue 11

Published by the Mary Evans Picture Library59 Tranquil Vale, London SE3 0BST: 020 8318 0034 www.maryevans.com E: [email protected]

MARY EVANSPICTURE LIBRARY

Issue 11, Summer 2014

Nameplate image ClassicStock/Mary Evans

ME & You is the twice-yearly magazine of the Mary Evans Picture Library, designed to share the amazing diversity and range of pictures in the library.

The features have been put together by Mary Evans staff, tapping into their specialist knowledge and love of history, and, naturally, the images all come from the library's own archive or from one of our many contributor collections. Features are also available for licensing on request.

We hope you find ME & You an entertaining read, a chance to immerse yourself in a constantly fascinating past and a source of inspiration for upcoming projects.

First World War anniversary s

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DOGS OF WARWhen war broke out in 1914, there were

no military dogs of any sort attached to the British Army save for one sole

Airedale, who served with the 2nd Battalion Norfolk Regiment as a sentry and accompanied the battalion to France where it was eventually killed by a shell on the Aisne. The dog had been supplied by Edwin Hautenville Richardson, a dog enthusiast from an early age who had studied the history of canines’ role in warfare and, after attending Sandhurst and serving in the Sherwood Foresters, settled down with his wife Blanche to train dogs on the farm they had bought at Carnoustie on the east coast of Scotland. Richardson was convinced of the essential role dogs could fill in wartime and had built up a large kennel of canine students who underwent experimental training to this purpose. He visited the Continent frequently to gather tips and information and to observe the extent to which dogs were used by the police forces and armies abroad - he was even in Russia three weeks before war broke out

acting as a judge at army trials of military dogs. The two other judges present were German.

It was Germany, he noted, which had the most advanced and methodical system for training military dogs, but they lacked the variety of dog breeds available in Britain. Indeed, he had even observed German military personnel buying collie dogs in England for express use by the German Army.

A British war-dog being trained for cross-country work. Illustrated London News, 17th April 1915 (image 10215224)

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In early August 1914, Richardson offered his services to the British Red Cross Society and travelled with some trained ambulance dogs to Belgium, but he arrived in Brussels just as the Germans were entering the city and so left immediately to make his way back to Britain via Ostend. It soon became clear that ambulance dogs could not be used practically: they were being shot and killed without regard to the wearing of the Red Cross.

Instead, Richardson began to supply dogs for sentry and patrol work finding that Airedale Terriers displayed the ideal combination of qualities. It was in response to a letter from a Royal Artillery officer in the winter of 1916, that Richardson turned his attention to training dogs specifically as messengers. The officer pointed out that trained dogs would be able to keep up communication between his outpost

and the battery during a heavy bombardment , when noise and communication d i f f i c u l t i e s r e n d e r e d t e l e p h o n e s practically useless and when the risk to human runners was enormous. Richardson, after a number of e x p e r i m e n t s , s u c c e s s f u l l y

trained two Airedales to carry messages for two miles without a hitch and on New Year's Eve, the two dogs, named Wolf and Prince, departed for France.

One of their first tasks was to carry a message four miles to brigade headquarters from the front line through a smoke barrage, a task completed within an hour. It soon became clear that dogs were faster, steadier, more nimble across shell holes and muddy terrain, and more difficult to spot than human messengers. The two dogs were trailblazers. With Wolf and Prince having proved their usefulness, demand for more messenger dogs grew and Lt-Col. Richardson was asked by the War Office to establish his British War Dog School in 1917 initially at the army barracks at Shoeburyness on the Essex coast.

At first, dog handlers were drawn from battalions whose commanding officers had expressed a wish to have dispatch dogs, but soon, in order to fully exploit

the potential of dogs, the keepers and their dogs were collected into a central kennel at Etaples, where they were then posted to sectional kennels behind the front line. Keepers were often men who had worked as gamekeepers, shepherds or hunt servants, though Richardson pointed out that the most important qualities were, 'to be of an honest, conscientious character, with sympathetic understanding for animals...using his own initiative to a great extent in handling his dogs...men of intelligence and faithfulness to duty are absolutely essential.'

Dogs for the Richardsons' school came from Battersea Dogs' Home (then known as the Home for Lost Dogs at Battersea) and, as demand increased, from other dogs' homes in Manchester, Birmingham, Liverpool and Bristol. Police around the country were instructed to send any strays, of all breeds, to the school, and when even this was not sufficient, the War Office

Dogs were faster, steadier and more difficult to spot than human messengers.

A British soldier securing a message to a messenger dog's collar on the Western Front during the First World War. Photograph from British War Dogs by Lt-Col E. H. Richardson, 1920 (image 10795552)

Paul Keevil/Mary Evans

Dogs at the British War Dog School being acclimatised to trenches before being sent to the Front. Photograph in British War Dogs by Lt-Col E. H. Richardson, 1920 (image 10795560)

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appealed to the public via notices in the Press to donate their own pets, with the promise that, at a time when food shortages were beginning to be felt, the dog would be well fed and cared for in the Army.

The response was excellent and many family pets were soon doing their bit for King and Country, though the letters accompanying the donated dogs were heart-rending. One little girl wrote, 'We have let Daddy go to fight the Kaiser, and now we are sending Jack to do his bit,' or a lady whose letter read, 'I have given my husband and my sons, and now that he too is required, I give my dog.' Certain breeds were considered better suited to the task, particularly sheep dogs, collies, lurchers, Irish terriers, Welsh terriers, deerhounds and of course, Airedales. Fox terriers were considered too fond of play, retrievers were too compliant and unlikely to show an independence

of thought while any dog with a, 'gaily carried tail, which curled over its back or sideways,' was rarely of any value according to Richardson!

The British War Dog School followed a training regime that encouraged kindness, gentleness and reward. If a dog made a mistake, it was not chastised or punished but simply shown how to do it over and over again. It also acclimatised the dogs to battlefront conditions by taking them through mock trenches at the school, or by making them run towards rifle fire. Any men under instruction, 'showing roughness or lack of sympathy with the dogs' would be instantly dismissed. It was a winning formula, the success of which was reflected in the impression made by dogs at the front. Reports from their keepers record some astounding performances. Keeper Davis talked of his dogs, Joe and Lizzard who could cover three miles at night in twenty minutes, 'and they are just the same on any front that we go to.' Keeper Brooks, reporting on one of his dogs, Tom, spoke of how the dog was gassed and hit by shrapnel but was quite well again after a fortnight's rest. Keeper Swankie's dog, Ginger, suffered from shell-shock but eventually recovered and was back on duty, able to cover a mile in just three and a half minutes. Perhaps the ultimate accolade for the dog's role in the British Army came from Field-Marshal Haig who acknowledged their essential role in his final dispatch of the war.

Luci Gosling 2014

Fundraising for good causes went into overdrive during the Great War and some of the most effective campaigners came in canine, rather than human form. Although not a new concept, the Great War saw more dogs than ever collecting for charity and doing their bit for King and Country. In busy areas, particularly at rail stations, they were a familiar sight often with harnesses carrying collection boxes on their backs. A number of pictures in our collection capture these doggy philanthropists, from a tiny Italian greyhound being taught to pull a toy Red Cross ambulance, to the biddable Toby, who has obligingly dressed in medical-themed drag, all in aid of the Woolwich and District War Memorial Hospital fund. 'Southville Beau', a proud looking little Yorkshire Terrier had collected three thousand pennies for the Wool Fund to knit socks and balaclava helmets for the boys in the trenches and then there is Laddie, the 'Tommies' Pal,'

who raised £130 for local wounded.

Charity Dogs

Left: A Scottish deerhound, the mascot of the London Scottish regiment, 1916. Postcard (image 10143436)Below: A guard dog of the British trenches, c.1915. Postcard (image 10143401)

Images Mary Evans Picture Library except where credited separately.

'Toby' collecting for the Woolwich & District War Memorial Hospital Fund (image 10225586)

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The First World War produced some of the most virulent and

barbed satirical cartoons of all those in our collection. The

period saw a flourishing of satirical and political magazines across Europe,

in which publications such as Iberia (Spain), Simplicissimus (Germany), and La Baïonnette (France) unleashed patriotic diatribes in the form of powerful cartoons, brilliantly executed.

Although containing much in the way of hyperbole, these cartoons often exploited an unpleasant truth. Snakes, spiders, octopi and monsters of various kinds representing nations or political figures feature prominently, as does Death, as a skull, skeleton or Grim Reaper.

Elsewhere, the British Tommy is shown as scrawny, the Germans are caricatured as brutish Jerry or Fritz, the Russians are undisciplined and the Americans motivated by financial greed. No nation escaped parody in the propaganda onslaught, and humour and wit became another weapon for nations struggling to win the war.

Above: German caricature of Russian soldiers, Walter Trier in Lustige Blätter, 1914 (image 10090526)

Above right: Germany fights to rid the world of the hideous British Imperial octopus, Olav Gulbransson in Simplicissimus 17th April 1917 (image 10034321)

Right: German cartoon of the American chief driving on his downtrodden French squaw, Brandt in Kladderadatsch, 18th August 1918 (image 10091542)

Above: German cartoon about the bombardment of Hartlepool in 1914. John Bull gets hit in a sensitive area, W A Wellner in Lustige Blätter, January 1915 (image 10025972)

Top: Tommy spanking Kaiser Wilhelm II, British commemorative art (image 10727931)

Above: Germany comes to the aid of Death. Paul Iribe in French magazine La Baϊonnette, 13th April 1916 (image 10028309)

Above right: Jerry by British soldier George Ranstead, postcard 1918 (image 10412075)

Right: Crown Prince Wilhelm to the Kaiser, atop a pile of dead soldiers, "Father, we must have a higher pile to see Verdun." Louis Raemaekers in Land & Water Edition, 1916 (image 10091420)

Hits of the Great War

CARTOONS AND CARICATURES OF

WORLD WAR ONE

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Above: German cartoon about the bombardment of Hartlepool in 1914. John Bull gets hit in a sensitive area, W A Wellner in Lustige Blätter, January 1915 (image 10025972)

Right: Mars is disturbed by noise from neighbouring planet Earth and asks us to be more considerate, Marcel Capy in La Baϊonnette, 7th November 1918 (image 10049044)

Below: Austrian Emperor Franz Joseph I is portrayed as 'gaga' in this French cartoon in La Baϊonnette, 5th August 1915 (image 10910513)

Bottom right: British Tommy on the cover of La Baϊonnette, 15th June 1916 (image 10923305)

All images Mary Evans Picture Library except 10727931 David Cohen Fine Art/Mary Evans, and 10412075 Grenville Collins Postcard Collection/Mary Evans

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Fields of BattleLands of Peace 14-18

The Fields of Battle, Lands of Peace 14-18 exhibition of images by Michael St. Maur

Sheil, who is exclusively represented by Mary Evans, is being opened in St. James’ Park in London by the Duke of Kent on the 4th August 2014. The outdoor exhibition of around 70 giant prints will be on show for three months opposite Horseguards Parade before touring the UK after Remembrance Day.

A qualified battlefield guide, Mike Sheil has worked on the project for more than eight years, and he estimates that it has taken around 450 days of photography time. He has travelled to many areas where the First World War took place covering all parts of the Western Front and further afield to places like Israel, Turkey and Africa.

Artistically exquisite, emotionally haunting and historically fascinating, Mike Sheil's photographs reflect on the fact that 100 years on, all living memory has faded but the landscape still bears witness to the tumultuous events of the ‘war to end all wars’. Mike commented: “This collection represents a legacy which I hope will create a gateway to the battlefields themselves, thus encouraging people to visit these historic landscapes during the centennial period and so create awareness and understanding of the events and historical implications of the First World War".

Using supplementary archive photos, maps and poems together with moving personal accounts of the Great War, each panel will provide a direct conduit between Mike’s contemporary image and the events that took place there 100 years ago. In addition to the display there will be a mobile education centre with facts about the war and its effect on those involved. There will also be an engaging programme of content designed to ensure that those who took part in the Great War are not forgotten by future generations.

VERDUN, FRANCE. The ground about the Ouvrage du Thiaumont bears testimony to the ferocity of the fighting. "The infantryman has no function except to get himself crushed, he dies without glory...at the bottom of a hole, far away from any witness" Lt. Raymond Jubert 151st RI, Verdun 1916 (image 10921061)

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Alongside the recruitment drives of World War One, came the inevitable flow in the opposite direction of wounded soldiers returning home from the fighting. Here we throw a spotlight on three individuals and the institutions they inspired to step up to the care and rehabilitation of these wounded men.

The First World War had only commenced a few months earlier, but when Mary Eleanor Gwynne Holford visited a military hospital in January 1915, it was evident that the human cost of this conflict was already significant. Here she met Private F.W. Chapman, a wounded soldier who had lost both arms. The encounter moved her to vow after the visit, "I will work for one object, and that is to start a hospital whereby all those who had the misfortune to lose a limb in this terrible war, could be fitted with the most perfect artificial limbs human science could devise.”

Mrs Gwynne Holford, with the help of other high profile supporters, set about fundraising to provide a place to care for and rehabilitate amputees such as Private Chapman. With Queen Mary as a patron, and only five months after the idea was first proposed, Queen Mary's Convalescent Auxiliary Hospital at Roehampton House in South London was opened on 28th June 1915, with 200 beds. Here, men with prosthetic limbs were not only taught to walk, but prepared for other aspects of civilian life, learning carpentry skills and even playing billiards using their prosthetic devices. By the end of World War One, the hospital had 900 beds, and a waiting list of over 4,000 patients. Mrs Gwynne Holford’s vision left a legacy of hope for amputees that was to outlive a second world war, and would still be going strong nearly a century after its foundation, in the form of a purpose-built hospital near the original site.

RESTAND

Left: A wounded British soldier makes his first attempt to walk with artificial legs, at Queen Mary's Convalescent Auxiliary Hospital at Roehampton House. Illustrated London News 16th October 1915 (image 10215386)

Below: Ward 2 in Shanghai Hut No. 3 at Queen Mary's Hospital, 1918. Nurses and wounded servicemen with missing limbs wearing their convalescent uniforms (image 10822468)

© English Heritage Archive/Mary Evans

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RECUPERATION

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Sir Cyril Arthur Pearson (1866-1921) was another individual whose personal experience awakened him to the need to care for those returning wounded from the war. A successful proprietor of a number of magazines and newspapers, including the Standard and Evening Standard, Pearson began to lose his sight as a result of glaucoma in 1910, at the age of 44. A great believer in enabling the blind to acquire skills which would allow them to lead self-sufficient lives, Pearson went on to establish St. Dunstan's Hostel for Blinded Soldiers and Sailors for men who had lost their sight as a result of war. At St. Dunstan's, men could choose to learn a number of different trades including basket-making, mat-making, carpentry and boot-repairing. There was a model farm where poultry farming skills were acquired and in another classroom, massage was taught. Others trained in shorthand, typing and as telephone operators. Today, the work of St. Dunstan's continues, though under the name of Blind Veterans UK. Their motto is one which Sir Arthur would surely have approved–Life beyond Sight Loss.

Field Marshal Lord Roberts (1832-1914) was a veteran and V.C. winner, with a strong interest in the rehabilitation of ex-servicemen. Long before World War One had begun, Lord Roberts was heavily involved in nationwide workshops designed to produce British-made goods created by wounded soldiers. On his death in 1914, the workshop programme was renamed the Lord Roberts Memorial Workshops in his honour. Through these workshops, men learnt new skills and gained self-sufficiency through the manufacture of wooden toys, all crafted to the highest standards of quality. Basket work, cabinet making and furniture repair were also practised, utilising skills such as sawing, drilling, casting, sand papering and painting.

It’s estimated that over 1.65 million men in the British Army were wounded during the First World War. These three institutions, and the

work of many others like them, gave practical support, new skills and crucially hope, for a life worth living after the heavy toll that participating in the war had taken on their minds and bodies.

Above: A blind man weaving a wicker edge onto a tray at St. Dunstan's school, early 1930s (image 10164660)

Right: A cheerful group of blind soldiers at St Dunstan's Hospital. The Graphic, 4th December 1915 (image 10700705)

Above: Advert for Lord Roberts Memorial Workshops in The Tatler, 25th September, 1918 (image 10731732)

© Illustrated London News Ltd/Mary Evans

© Illustrated London News Ltd/Mary Evans

Mary Evans Picture Library

On 30th December 1914, ‘Blanche’ of The Bystander magazine reported on London’s latest craze in her

weekly column, ‘In England – Now!’

The outbreak of war a few months earlier had seen the civilian British population, for want of anything else immediately useful to do, pick up their knitting needles and begin to make ‘comforts’ for the troops. Within days, working parties had been organised while distribution and packing depots were set up under the auspices of the British Red Cross and other charitable societies. Everyone from high-born

What is London like in war-time? Well, much as usual, you know, except, perhaps, for the knitting. They say the men who wear selections from the mufflers, helmets, mittens, body-belts, waistcoats, etc., that we’ve knitted for them look regular Falstaff ’s in the trenches. There’s a needle famine already, and as for wool – positively only duchesses or wives of alien millionaires will be justified in knitting soon…We knit, as I’ve said, rich and poor, high and low, we knit and knit and knit, and in the suburbs and the country…”

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duchesses to school children was bitten by the knitting bug. Special knitting bags, bracelets for keeping wool conveniently at hand and aprons with large pockets were just some of the accoutrements soon available to speed the most e n t h u s i a s t i c knitters along, while it was reported that knitting was very much in evidence in restaurants, at the theatre and even observed in progress in the Ladies’ Gallery in the House of Commons. Thousands of assorted knitted garments, of varying quality, were dispatched to keep Tommy warm during the bitter winters on the Western Front. With only three pairs of army-issue socks given to each man, additional pairs sent from home were greatly appreciated and helped ward against the dreaded trench foot, though such was the proliferation, they were sometimes used as a kind of rifle cosy, to keep mechanisms in good working condition. Knitting ‘recipes’ in women’s magazines and yarn manufacturers’ leaflets published simple instructions for an increasing variety of comforts; the more ambitious could attempt knitting two socks at a time, or leg warmer-like trench hose, which were afterwards soaked in linseed to give them waterproof properties.

Those less inclined to knit could try their hand at sewing instead, a skill most women of that era possessed. A working party dedicated to sewing items for Lord Tredegar’s hospital yacht set up HQ in the comfortable surroundings of Claridge’s Hotel while at the War Hospital Supply Depot, opened in August 1915 in Pont Street by Lady Sclater, it was calculated that around 174,000 items ranging from life-saving waistcoats for men on minesweepers, to slippers for convalescents,

MAKING DO

BRITAININ GREAT WAR

The Queen's Work for Women Fund, whose headquarters were based in a mansion in Piccadilly, pictured with just some of the 70 machines which had been installed in the drawing room to work on some two million socks required for soldiers at the Front. Illustrated Sporting and Dramatic News, 8th May 1915 (image 10925874)

Above: Pattern by Marjory Tillotson for Baldwin's yarn manufacturers, to make a knitted helmet with cap pieces – one of numerous comforts for soldiers suggested during the First World War (image 10847519)Left: 1917 issue of Home Cookery magazine, featuring 'Splendid Flour Substitute recipes' (image 10050598)

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were produced in a six-month period, an astonishing feat performed by the thousands of women volunteers who worked shifts at the depot.

We tend to associate the ‘Make Do and Mend’ ethos with the Second World War, but twenty five years before that, scrimping and saving was fast becoming part of everyday life for Britons on the home front. German submarine warfare targeted merchant ships with devastating results, meaning that Britain could no longer rely on the imports that had accounted for 60% of its overall food. In a 1915 article entitled ‘Economy in the Home’, The Bystander stressed in dramatic Churchillian prose, ‘Never perhaps in the history of our nation was the call for economy so imperative or the necessity so great as it is now’. The Bystander’s recipe column, ‘The Menu’ offered increasingly economical culinary ideas. In one issue, winter soups made from ‘an excellent and economical stock’ included a ‘white soup’ of sago and potato. Its suggestions for Christmas puddings that year included several versions without eggs (which, along with fruit had rocketed in price) appetisingly named, ‘Cheap Christmas Pudding’, ‘A Poor Man’s Plum Pudding’ and a rather resigned, ‘Another Inexpensive Pudding’.

Food shortages continued to dominate life in home front Britain for the remainder of the war. A poor wheat harvest in America in 1916 exacerbated the problem leading to an extensive government campaign to ‘Eat Less Bread’ and a call for countrywide voluntary rationing led by Director of Food Economy, Arthur Yapp. By 1917, a Food Controller had been appointed: first, Lord Devonport, then Lord Rhondda. That year there was a potato shortage–a ‘no-potato scare, when half the population stood in queues at the greengrocers’ shops while the other half frantically jabbed at their unfortunate allotments with their nice brand new spades,’ according to Blanche. At other times, butter and margarine were in short supply. National or ‘communal’ kitchens were set up in order to provide nourishing and cheap meals en masse to war workers and poorer classes. Growing your own was the most obvious route to self-sufficiency and Britons were encouraged to start allotments. Even Buckingham Palace gave over its flower

beds to vegetable growing. Various food companies such as Bird’s Custard, Oxo, Nestle’s milk and Gong Soups promoted the quick and nutritional benefits of their brands, and increasingly inventive ways to eke out what food was available were published in magazines, including cakes made with potato, and marrow jam. By 1918, compulsory rationing of basic foodstuffs–mainly meats, fats and sugars–had been introduced, first in London and the South East before gradually spreading further to the rest of the country. Food could be plain and portions reduced, but in comparison to the German population, Britain remained well-nourished during the four years of war. And at the Front, though their sweaters may have been ill-fitting and socks sometimes missing a stitch or two, the British soldier was kept warm thanks to ‘comforts’ from home.

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Above: A sock with the toe cut off and soaked in oil, used to cover the muzzle and keep a British soldier's rifle in good working order. Illustrated Sporting and Dramatic News, 7th August 1915 (image 10925871)Below: British poster in response to food shortages on the home front (image 10237017)

Onslows Auctions Ltd/Mary Evans

The Man in Khaki sock knitting kit, designed to make the knitting of socks for troops as simple and efficient as possible, (Image 10822560)

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Knitting for tommy by Lucinda Gosling is published on 4th August 2014 by The History Press

We would be happy to receive your comments about ME & You. Please emai l us at me&[email protected].

Design by Jessica Talmage

IncredIbly, 2014 marks the 50th annIversary of the mary evans PIcture lIbrary. It seems appropriate that a picture library so synonymous with history has reached its own landmark half century, and we are enjoying spending this year taking pride in fifty, fabulous years spent supplying the best and widest range of historical images to our clients.

Our ‘Golden Jubilee’ is also an opportunity to remember and celebrate the lives of Mary and Hilary Evans, the wife and husband team who founded the library in 1964. Without their dedication and commitment to amassing their outstanding collection, the library would not exist today and it is testament to their vision that it remains one of the few remaining independents in the industry.

Although the beginnings of the library have passed somewhat into picture research folklore, we thought it would be of interest to readers to revisit the story leading up to our very first professional request, sent out on 12th October 1964...

Mary and Hilary were both avid book collectors before they met. Mary had kept her illustrated childhood books, and began to search antiquarian bookshops, fairs, junk shops and sale rooms for all sorts of subjects that were of interest. It became a challenge for her and Hilary to find interesting and rare books, and to seek out missing editions or titles to complete a set. Although books were originally the foundation of the collection, Mary and Hilary also began to buy up loose prints wherever they found them.

At this time, Hilary was working as a copywriter in the advertising industry. Friends, acquaintances and media contacts began to show an interest in the collection and borrow pictures for their own projects. Mary realised that, if her and Hilary’s substantial collection of images could be brought to the attention of commercial picture users, she could viably turn her hobby into a business. Beautiful pictures that had long since lain dormant could be used and seen again. The prints were filed into subject categories: people, events, nature and so on, and kept in loose folders on the top shelf of a clothes cupboard. In October

1964, Mary fulfilled her opening picture order for the BBC, still one of the library’s most faithful clients, for an illustration of horses throwing their riders. A far cry from today’s hi-tech industry, Mary had to stand on a chair to reach the folders while a black cab waited outside to rush the image to the BBC’s ‘Points of View’ programme. The library’s reproduction fee at that time was 3 guineas, about £54 in today’s money.

And in the best spirit of This Is Your Life, we have that very picture here for you today...

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