Harrogate - the wider picture

The invention of panoramic postcards was a nice but impractical idea. Much effort went into producing often genuinely startling wide angle views but the cards themselves, being twice the width of every other postcard, were exceptionally vulnerable and few arrived at their destination without sustaining some damage. Despite this the hunger for novelty drove their production and most surviving examples were retained as souvenirs. Many were then folded for convenience in storage which often, as in this example from the prosperous Yorkshire spa town of Harrogate, led to division into two sections. Urban scenes like this are relatively unusual but at their best can record a vast amount of period detail.  The back of this card identifies it as a “Panoramicard” printed and sold by the foremost High Street newsagent of the day, WH Smith, whose Harrogate shop dominates the left side.  Opposite is the Exchange Public House and Billiard Rooms adorned with hand painted signage promoting itself equally to adherents of Temperance and consumers of Malt whisky and Guinness stout.  WH Smith still exists in much reduced form having retreated in 2025 to train stations, airports and motorway services after selling off its High Street stores to private equity. They now operate under the undistinguished name of TGJones.

 

Past and Present No. 13 - Axminster

Axminster is a small market town in East Devon with a long association with carpet making. Close to the centre of town, at the foot of Castle Hill is a former mill building that, by the time this postcard was produced (c.1915), had been repurposed as a factory operated by James Coate, manufacturer of tooth, nail and hairbrushes. Coate (a native of the nearby Devon village of Membury) had established the business in London in 1847 and began transferring manufacturing to the West Country around 1865, starting with a factory near Chard in Somerset.  In 1882, Coate leased a mill in Axminster and expanded production on a site alongside the southern rail route from London to Exeter with easy access to water from the River Axe just beyond. Around the same time another London  brush manufacturer, Bidwell Brothers, moved into the still surviving castellated building part of which is visible to the right. Competitors of Coate, their business moved elsewhere in 1889 and collapsed in 1893. When the brothers relaunched their business they returned to Axminster and would carry on making fine tooth brushes until 1955. Meanwhile, Coate went out of business in 1935 after which it all gets a little vague about what was happening in the Old Brush Works. But in the 1970s Jaffé Feathers moved in and remain in business to the present day. Founded in 1946, they are wholesalers of bulk consignments of feathers and manufacturers of feather products. Around 40 years ago I recall a sign proclaiming them to be Suppliers of Feather Articles to the Royal Navy - the sign is no more and the Navy must have found a way to protect the nation without a regular supply of feathers.

 

Postcard of the Day No. 115, Saintes, Passarelle du Passage à Niveau

Saintes is a small town in Charente-Maritime on the railway linking La Rochelle with Bordeaux. A local postcard photographer has succumbed to the charms of robust displays of structural steel near the town station and, on a gloomy winter day, aimed a camera at the footbridge and level crossing that both join and separate the two halves of the town. For some this would have been seen as a modern intrusion into a traditional townscape, for others it was a minor wonder of the age. A trio of curious youngsters, with wheelbarrow and a passing facteur, with bicycle, have paused to witness what happens. In a drowsy town, any break with routine is welcomed. Especially if there's a chance of seeing their likenesses in print. The original photographic plate would have recorded much more detailed visual information than the limitations of the printed card would permit, but the enlarged details with all their imperfections have a charm of their own.

 

Never Closed

“Hey Magda, show us a smile”, they called through their stained and broken teeth, their hungry eyes followed her contours as she navigated the room.

She never did - too much on her mind.

Bridie and Petra gave smiles away by the yard but got little in return. They resented Magda for the way she wormed her way into Hank’s affections.

The diner was Hank’s and it was his idea to place Magda out front when the photographer guy turned up to take a picture for a postcard.

“Great for publicity”, Hank was assured, “Give em away for free, they get mailed all round the world.” “But most of my customers work right here in the railroad yard or the tannery.”

Magda hated the idea but knew better than to complain. Never liked the way she looked. And she could recall all the photos for visas, passports, immigration permits, police line-ups - each of which took something away that never returned.

Hank refused to pay extra to have the address of the Lunch Room overprinted on the card. Photography guy fussed and grumbled. Magda found a pose she was happy with, the shutter clicked and she went back to work.

 

Postcard of the Day No. 114, Snake Handling

An adoring group of female admirers have gathered to pay homage to the courage and skill of the neighbourhood snake handler.  Look closer and all may not be as it seems - even though one of the group has fallen to her knees in homage, their expressions suggest they are less impressed and have sensed the defensive air of insecurity on the part of the snake handler.  A lack of confidence can be read in his facial tension and his audience appear to be close to dissolving into scornful mirth.  The stereotypical imagery falls clearly under the umbrella of Orientalism in its dependence on the exotic. I have another postcard of an Egyptian snake charmer that looks suspiciously like the same person - even the serpents look the same.  Other examples are from Myanmar, India and Sri Lanka. Closer to home is the demonic grin of Henry Brusher Mills (1840-1905), celebrity snake catcher of the New Forest, pictured here with a fistful of writhing specimens. Charming was not part of his act. Armed with a forked stick he offered his services to anxious homeowners and it has been calculated he caught over 30,000 snakes in his lifetime - some of which were rendered down to create various dubious potions, others were boiled to reveal their skeletons for sale to tourists. In a rare interlude when not snake bothering, he lit up a pipe and sat for his portrait - the result can be seen here. After his death in 1905 he was buried beneath a rather handsome headstone in the churchyard at Brockenhurst, where you can now take a drink at the Snakecatcher pub.

 

Seaside Photographer at Work

Between the wars every seaside town and resort would have at least one photographic business that specialised in selling visitors their photographic likenesses.  With large plate cameras they would record the departure of every charabanc tour and have prints of the participants ready for them to purchase on their return.  Others would haunt the esplanades and deck chairs taking photos on spec in the hope of selling prints later.  Often they would hand a docket to their subjects with a reference number and an address where the finished prints could be purchased. Another strategy was to gather the largest possible crowd of trippers at a point where a camera could record the scene from an elevated position.  They were then directed to a nearby shop where prints were on sale in less than hour.  The legal right to a week’s paid holiday was only established by the Holidays with Pay Act of 1938 but since the 1870s major employers had been closing factories and mills annually for a week enabling the workforce the luxury of an unpaid summer holiday commensurate with whatever they had saved during the winter. So there was no shortage of customers for the photographer’s services and photos like this must survive in hundreds of thousands if not millions.

What’s especially fascinating is the high definition that the plate camera supplied, leaving us with images that reward close scrutiny with remarkable clarity of detail. A rich variety of physical types and expressions turn up alongside a wealth of information about contemporary fashion trends. I counted only 16 hatless adults in this image. This camera confronts a mostly happy multitude of holidaymakers, it’s undated (the time is inscribed as 6.45pm) but on the reverse is the address of a Bournemouth photographic studio by the name of Bailey. Bournemouth with its origin as a Spa resort cultivated an image of respectability reflected in its Invalid’s Walk and the Russell-Cotes Art Gallery while they made the most of endorsements from the likes of Thomas Hardy and JRR Tolkien.  Many proud fathers, often in collar and tie, hold their offspring high for the camera and there’s an air of prosperity apparent in many other faces suggesting that the middle class is well represented here.  These aren’t the sort of people you might see on a Jarrow Hunger March.

A few details are selected here - faces that jump out of the crowd, some that are almost instantly recognisable, others that look like nobody we’ve ever seen before. There’s no lack of traditional British grumpiness to be seen but there’s also an impressive level of equanimity and good cheer - testament to the healing powers of a day at the seaside. These were the last decades of White British domination - pre-diversity Britain. After the war this would begin to change and a new and very different pattern of ethnicity arrived on the scene.  People who came to Britain because Britain had come to them.

 

Mother of Parliaments

It’s our very own National Theatre of Cruelty, an antiquated forum of futility.  On one side the benches are occupied by the defenders of property rights and privilege, drawn from the products of private education and Oxbridge, supported by subaltern recruits from the lower orders attracted by the prospect of personal enrichment and all too happy to identify with the interests of their social superiors.  All of which enables them to operate in a culture of impunity. Opposite them is a motley assortment of lost causes including sundry nationalists, an official opposition with a nominal commitment to social justice, minority parties and some empty spaces that the most intransigent of nationalists refuse to occupy.  Bewigged courtiers in pantomime costume strut back and forth bearing fundamentally useless objects of veneration without which proceedings cannot go ahead.  

Teams of scribes and record keepers toil away in the orchestra pit while the Remembrancer lurks in the under gallery, poised to intervene should anything arise that is less than favourable to the interests of the City of London. (The Wikipedia description of this shady character is at such great pains to point out how little influence he has, that you may wonder why he exists at all.)  The chamber has been designed to facilitate the exchange of insults and though much time is devoted to this, it’s an offence of the utmost gravity to accuse another member of lying.  Otherwise accountability is nugatory, members may attend as little as they wish without sanction and their degree of participation and voting is for them to decide.  As a general rule the greater their majority, the poorer the service offered to constituents leaving them well placed to take on additional, often better paid jobs.  These tend to be in the legal profession, in business and financial services (in an advisory capacity) or as well rewarded gobshites on GB News. There is no inspectorate of MPs and no requirement to report their activities to constituents.

Supporters of these anachronisms loudly proclaim that they are what makes Parliament so unique and special while remaining silent on the point that they act as enforcers of the status quo, inhibiting any change that might result in wealth redistribution or rebalance the existing power structure.  Even the architecture has a part to play - Barry and Pugin’s Gothic Revival extravaganza invokes the England of stately homes, medieval Oxbridge colleges and ancient private schools - a Hogwarts orgy of ornamentation entirely familiar to members who have grown up with it but disconcerting and intimidating to those of more humble origins for whom the message is “this place is not for you”. Every attempt to update facilities and procedures fails in the face of furious opposition and an exorbitant refurbishment plan is currently stalled while ongoing repairs are costing the taxpayer £2 million a week.  There’s an almost irresistible impulse in British public life to employ delay as an avoidance strategy (contaminated blood scandal, Grenfell, Hillsborough, Post Office/Fujitsu IT scandal) so it seems inevitable that Parliament itself should fall victim to institutional procrastination.  In the spirit of doing more with less (so often commended by government), a budget solution would be a repurposed fulfilment centre in the Northumbria town of Haltwhistle, the geographic centre of the UK.  Appleby Parva in Leicestershire is the centre of population in the UK and suggests an alternative location.  Ancillary services and committee rooms could be housed in site offices and Portakabins which would have the merit of giving parliamentarians a taste of the working conditions enjoyed by millions of their constituents.  Compulsory annual reports to constituents could include attendance, voting and speaking record, donations received and freebies, income earned from additional occupations, assistance to constituents, links to lobby groups and details of overseas jollies. A little bit of accountability and transparency, could be simply posted online once a year - it’s never going to happen.

Postcard of the Day No. 113, Sutton Bridge

It seems the arrival of the camera was anticipated since the signalman has brought his daughters along to be part of the photograph. Father is stood behind them as they pose on the balcony.  Another railway employee stands in the doorway to the signal box, sporting a watch and chain.  In the distance the operator of the swing bridge has stepped out of the control cabin to be included in the picture.  All is unusually pristine and crisp - from the timber fencing to the signal gantries via the rivets on the bridge. The track work and the signal cabling is in immaculate condition.

This is the Cross Keys Swing Bridge, an east-west crossing of the River Nene at the Lincolnshire town of Sutton Bridge as photographed from the station. When it opened in 1897, one span served as a roadway while the other was used for railway traffic by the Midland and Great Northern Railway connecting East Anglia with the Midlands and Northern England, mainly for the transport of coal and it remained that way until the railway closed in 1965. The spans are only wide enough for one-way operation and two signal boxes were required to safely filter the rail traffic into a single track. Power supply for moving the bridge was initially provided by two adapted locomotive boilers installed by Armstrong, Whitworth. In latter years electric motors did the job. Commercial shipping bound for Wisbech and leisure craft still pass and the bridge remains in occasional use. Both the bridge and the Engine House (not visible in the postcard) are Grade II* listed by Historic England. 

Heywood Sumner