Presented at the forum on 2009 Year in Review, organised by The Online Citizen, 29 December 2009

2009 was a return to history. Men in White, written by three Straits Times journalists, appeared noisily in September, purporting to tell the ‘untold story’ of the PAP, including that of the ‘losers’. It was, however, one of the ‘victors’ who made an eye-catching critique of the book the following month. Yoong Siew Wah, former Director of CPIB and ISD, complained on his blog, Singapore Recalcitrant, that the authors had taken at face value a statement by Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew on Yoong’s alleged mishandling of an investigation into lawyer Francis Seow in 1971. The authors hastily apologised and promised to withdraw the offending point from subsequent prints of the book. For Yoong, now 82, reading Men In White was about restoring his reputation.

Younger Singaporeans have also been reading Men in White for political errors and suspicious silences, although for quite a different purpose. Before the book’s official launch, film-maker Martyn See posted an entry on his blog, responding to a preliminary news report on the book. Martyn raised two questions on the book’s credibility: that the report made no mention of Operation Coldstore, in which over a hundred leading leftists in Singapore were detained in 1963, and that the authors had not contacted two of the PAP’s main opponents in the early 1960s: Dr Lim Hock Siew and Dr Poh Soo Kai. In responding to Martyn’s queries, the authors, well, defended their work, stating that they did approach Dr Lim but he refused to be interviewed. They of course used his oral history interview at the National Archives of Singapore which many researchers are aware of, but this, I think, was not Martyn’s point. And there were many other instances of ‘history watching’. In a subsequent column in the Straits Times, one of the authors, Sonny Yap, lamented that the numerous salvoes, many in cyberspace, fired in their direction were ‘factually off the mark’.

Regardless of whether the allegations were true, I believe Sonny Yap missed the point. He should have been happy, rather than flabbergasted, that so many netizens, especially young Singaporeans, responded so acutely to a book on Singapore history. This is a country where Singaporeans born after the 1950s and 1960s are periodically reprimanded by the state for not showing interest in the country’s past. The responses to Men In White demonstrate that this is not entirely true. What is important is not whether the allegations were accurate, but that they were allegations. They revealed what histories, and whose histories, mattered to the Singaporeans born after independence. In comparison to the former ISD Director, their concerns have greater import.

I wish to talk about the possibilities and pitfalls of young Singaporeans reading our country’s history today. This is an enterprise which is crucially important but also perilous, both academically and socially. Writers of history, whether it is historians or the participants, inevitably select their facts, interpret their data and make their claims. The readers likewise: how they read will be largely determined by their views and values, by the social and political context, by their age.

There is a tendency for young Singaporeans to read our past for inspiration and vilification. This is not surprising and is part of the enduring appeal of history. Inspiration because the past provides positive precedents, or heroes, of an earlier generation of Singaporeans (also young and idealistic then) struggling to make Singapore a better, fairer and more open society. Vilification because history also provides what appears to be proof of what some present day young Singaporeans want to believe – that the government is repressive, manipulative and narrowly neo-liberal. In short, we read Singapore history for Lim Chin Siong and Operation Coldstore.

This is to some extent unavoidable. I have had my own ‘honeymoon’ with Lim Chin Siong, this formidable, yet humble, political and labour activist who could bring 40,000 people to their feet with a few choice words of Hokkien, whose work was destroyed in the making of Malaysia. Lim Chin Siong has passed into legend in Singapore’s cultural imagination, which makes writing and reading about him doubly difficult.

One of the first living leftists I met in 2005 left a lasting impression. Walking up to him in Toa Payoh MRT station, he looked no different from many other ah peh in the graying estate. He firmly grasped my hand and lowered his head in greeting. I never forgot that sense of humanity he conveyed in that single moment. He was Lee Tee Tong, a labour unionist in the Singapore Bus Workers’ Union, who in 1963 stood and won in Bukit Timah (the old constituency of Lim Chin Siong), but never took his seat as he was arrested and detained without trial shortly after for 16 years. I interviewed Lee Tee Tong on a later occasion for over five hours about his life, work and politics.

Writing history for me is about getting ‘inside’ the past, achieving empathy and then crafting an independent narrative and analysis. I have researched on different facets of the Singapore left: trade unions, university political clubs and rural associations. I find a good number of possibilities for writing the subject. We can frame the left as offering the alternative ‘paths not taken’ to a different (maybe better?) Singapore. Or as pathbreakers whose work made possible the PAP’s success, visionaries whose ideas enabled the making of modern Singapore. Or as nationalists who were outmaneuvered in the geopolitics of the Cold War and then forgotten. Still, I am concerned with what the left did for Singapore and how that contribution has for so long been ignored.

The possibilities are closely related to the pitfalls. The left’s history is far richer than the themes of inspiration and vilification. The left fought for a union of Singapore and Malaya – in fact, this belief was unquestioned to a point which most young Singaporeans born into a sovereign state would have difficulty imagining. The left’s ideology was socialist, although that some radicals were less doctrinaire than others. Socialism as a doctrine entails a belief in radical change and transformation, of both nature and human nature, no less radical than the development pursued by the government since the 1960s. Will Singapore be necessarily better, fairer and more open under a socialist regime? I believe deeply in the need for greater social justice in Singapore; much of my research has been on marginalised groups in Singapore history. But I doubt the road of socialism leads to a just society any more than the highway of neo-liberalism.

These are aspects of the history of the left which we should also read and consider. I recognise the complete history is yet to be written, but at the same time, we have a moral duty to be more creative, more rigorous in the ways we explore our history. Above all, we need to ask new questions. Lee Kuan Yew gave a grudging stamp of approval to Men In White but still deemed it necessary to repeat his charge that Lim Chin Siong was a communist. I think most of us here have no interest in reviving that question, much less the answer. Each generation writes its own history but this cannot begin until we first ask new questions, questions for a new era, for a new purpose. And young Singaporeans cannot simply inherit the perspectives of the older generation.

That generation of leftists is already writing its own histories. Men In White was quickly followed by The Fajar Generation, a book by former members of the University Socialist Club in the 1950s and 1960s (a subject which I have also been working on separately). The Fajar Generation is a collective biography, a classic example of a generation writing its own history. But it also significantly blurs the line between biography and history because, as far as I know, it is the first instance where the participants have relied not just on their own memories, but also the colonial archives, to establish their views. Young Singaporeans who seek only inspiration and vilification in history will find much of both in The Fajar Generation. My suggestion is we read the book as a collective biography, and then ask ourselves, why are the former leftists now writing their histories, and what else do we want to know?

The politics of age lies between generations of Singaporeans. Another plane of the divide is on social history. In my interviews with leprosy sufferers, kampong dwellers, fire victims, and British base workers, I have come to sense something of the collective psyche of ordinary elderly Singaporeans – what they feel about the breaking events of our recent history; about politics under the PAP government; about the regimen of life and work in a ferociously developmental state.

I bring up social history because it provides new insights into the past, because it allows us to explore ‘politics’ more broadly, but also simply because we really haven’t spoken enough to our elders about the past. Our nation’s history is not simply about the struggle between the left and the Lee Kuan Yew group. One thing which struck me in my interviews with elderly people is the ambivalence in their memories of life, housing, family, work, and change in Singapore. Leprosy sufferers tell me that ‘our lives are bad but our luck is good’; they have been forcibly segregated from society and relocated from their homes several times in their lives. One victim of the 1961 Bukit Ho Swee fire wanted to find a new attap house to live in and did not want to move to an emergency HDB flat, yet recalls Lee Kuan Yew as very hiong as the prime minister in tackling the country’s challenges at the time; young Singaporeans, she insists, have had it much easier. Many elderly Singaporeans firmly support the development of Singapore and the authoritarian government which has made it possible, but are also aware of the personal and social price that they – we – have had to pay in the process. They are also the keepers of memories of events and people which can serve as a valuable counterpoint to the Singapore Story, which will help us to bridge not only generational, but also mental, divides. In listening to them, we realise that history is not painted in black and white, that there are many more ‘untold stories’ to uncover. We will find new ways to look at our history in the last 50 years which will enable us to re-imagine the future.

written by Lori Thiessen

This year’s Christmas was very special so I thought I’d share my day with you.

My mom and I spent Christmas Eve’s at my sister’s place;  complete with our jim-jams and everything. My mom settled down for her Christmas sleep in the lazy boy and I in the fold-away sofa bed which tends to want to fold-away even if someone is trying to sleep on it.

At 5 am, Mom heard the pitter-patter of my niece and nephew’s feet and their stage whisper: “Santa’s been!”

Showing remarkable restraint for children on Christmas Day morning, they waited until 8 am to see if Grandma and Auntie (that’s me!) was awake. My nephew shone the flashlight in my face and said in a surprised voice, “Oh, they’re still asleep!”. Christmas Day had truly begun.

My sister asked me if I wanted o.j. or coffee. I muttered, “Coffee.” She asked what I would like in my coffee. The choices included such tantalizing offerings as Kahula, Bailey’s, rum, and other delicious but decidedly un-ordinary condiments.

I requested Frangelico. My sister who is the soul of generosity ladled in a hefty helping of the liqueur. The result was that by 9:30 a.m. I was feeling quite… tiddly.  It is only once a year.

The day wandered along wonderfully well. A multitude of presents were unwrapped and thoroughly enjoyed.  We breakfasted on my sister’s amazing baking powder biscuits, fruit salad and orange juice plus more coffee (however, sans frangelico because some propriety must be maintained).

I decided to have a short, pre-lunch nap. I awoke to my nephew exclaiming, “I can’t believe that Auntie Lori has slept for 3 whole hours!”Apparently, the spiked coffee had more of an effect than I imagined.

My mom and my sister were busy in the kitchen preparing the Christmas dinner.  Though I was planning on being an active member of the kitchen squad, I wasn’t. I sucked. Sigh. I did peel some potatoes later on and that made me feel a bit better, but not much.

My brother-in-laws parents arrived for the Christmas feast and we had a marvellous time.  The food was delicious, the company very pleasant.

After dinner, my nephew pulled out a book on making hand-puppet shadows he had received from his Nana and Papa. My brother-in-law produced the hand-crank camp light he had been given. The lights were turned off. Darkness was all around us, save for one bright light.

We saw reindeer, bats, alligators and other shadowy creatures on the diningroom wall.

As the peaceful darkness over took us all, my mom and I packed our bags, presents and memories. We thanked my sister and her husband for a truly magical Christmas.

We soon drove out of sight into the long, dark winter night.

Wishing you and yours a peaceful, joyous holiday season!

Erin go Bragh

There was a fascinating article in the Irish Times today by Donal McMahon in An Irishman’s Diary.

The photograph in the article shows a little girl sitting on her young soldier father’s knee.  Her father was killed not long afterward when that little girl was just over 15 months old.  It took over 80 years for that little girl, Ina,  to find out the truth about his death.   At the age of 10 that little girl Ina lost her mother and she grew up with cousins and was sent to boarding school.  When she asked about her father, all she could find out was that he had been shot during the Troubles.  She eventually married and had a family who, in turn, grew up ignorant about their grandfather.  Ina knew her father had served with the British Army during the First World War but after that there was a blank.  In actuality, after her death her son Donal found out that his grandfather had served in the Canadian Expeditionary Force.

Now with the resources of the Irish Times archives, Donal has found that his grandfather, Sergeant Thomas Enright, RIC, had been shot dead on December 14th, 1921.  This took place at a turning point in Irish history.  The Anglo-Irish Treaty had been signed eight days previously and was to be ratified by overwhelming majorities in both houses of the English parliament two days later on December 16th.   

Sergeant Thomas Enright, of the Royal Irish Constabulary, and a Constable friend were attending a coursing meeting at which Thomas had entered two dogs.  They wore plain clothes.  They visited the hotel where the draw was made for the following day’s coursing.  They left the hotel (the establishment) shortly after 11 p.m., and as soon as they appeared on the street a volley of revolver shots was fired at them by a group of men who were standing near the post office.  Thomas was age 31.

Donal shared his findings with his mother.  He speculates that it is quite possible that reading the account of her father’s death brought some sort of closure to Ina.  She passed away scarcely 2 weeks later.

Donal goes on to write that happily we now have an Ireland where it is possible at last to break the silence surrounding those who served in the police and army of pre-independence times.  The men who shot Thomas, and the reporters of the time, were not to know that Thomas carried a tattoo on his right arm:  “Erin go Bragh”

Reflections – 74 years ago today,  December 28, 1935, was my parents’ wedding day.   My father-to-be had 3 children, age 11, 9, and 8.  My sisters-to-be were flower girls, and the ceremony was held in Winchester Massachusetts in the parental home of my mother-to-be.  I suspect that her sisters, my aunts, were her bridesmaids.   I must ask my sisters, now 83 and 82, and my 96 year old aunt for more of the details.  Or maybe I can search the archives of the Boston newspapers.

I blogged a few days ago about The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher.       Many questions were unanswered in the investigation of this case – many family secrets still remained.   After reading it I thought about the probability that most families have secrets, some quite innocent but will never be uncovered, others that will be revealed in the course of time if we know the right questions to ask.

  Lillian Beckwith is one of my favourite authors.  When we were up in Bangor Northern Ireland earlier in December I was browsing in a 2nd hand bookshop and came across this one by her.  It was  first published in 1986.  I didn’trecognize the title or the cover.  I suspected that I had read it before but I decided that even if I had, it was worth reading again.  And sure enough it was.  Lillian Beckwith is better known for some of her other books about life in the Hebrides.  More famous ones include The Hills is Lonely and The Sea for Breakfast.  In the front of the book there is a small list of phrases in the Scottish form of the native languages of the British Isles.  These phrases are similar to Irish Gaeilge.  To quote Wikipedia, there are  “three Goidelic languages (Irish, Scottish Gaelic, and Manx)”.

As the sun shone in to our conservatory I took great pleasure in reading another Haruki Murakami book, After Dark.  This was a splendid book, possibly my favourite so far.

 Haruki Murakami – After Dark

Shortly before Christmas our Book Group met and we had a quiz.  There were a possible 26 points, I think.  My winner got a score of 17.  I think I came dismally last with a score of 6.  This was very bad – usually I like quizzes.  The only consolation to me was that I might have tied with the quizmaster’s wife, who also would normally do very well on her husband’s quizzes.  I was really envious when I saw the prize for the winner.  A book authored by the quizmaster himself and just published.      The Irish Post Box by Stephen Ferguson.   Over the past few months I have been taking pictures of post boxes and wondering about their history – here was just the book for me.  Stephen very kindly sent me one for Christmas.  In another entry I’ll show you some of my pictures of post boxes and tell you some of the history as gleaned from Stephen’s book

2009 – 20 page Population Reference Bureau report entitled, “20th Century Generations.”  The report, which includes demographic data, details the social history of 7 generations of Americans.  Included is data on trends in marriage, educational attainment, employment, politics, and independent living.

Written by Lori Thiessen

Ah, good ol’ Tim Horton’s. Timmy’s. T-Ho. No matter what name you call it, it’s a Canadian institution.

I was taking in a couple of Christmas concerts by two amazing homegrown choirs, Vancouver Cantata Singers and Musica Intima in downtown Vancouver on Saturday. (PS. The BC Govt has cut 81% of its funding to the arts. Support your local arts!)

I had some time to spend between the concerts and there was a Tim Horton’s nearby, as luck and capitalist empire building would have it.

Since it is the Christmas season and it’s traditional to be a little short on cash at this time of year, I decided that going to Timmy’s was the best option.

I wandered up to the counter, order a small black coffee and a low-fat cranberry muffin. The clerk asked me if I wanted milk or cream or sugar.  Apparently, you have to ask for cream or milk at the time of ordering.  Neither condiment is available anywhere else in the shop.

The coffee was fine. Not great but fine. The muffin was dry, but then that’s to be expected of a low-fat muffin.

The shop itself was fairly consumer industrial: plastic everything in colours that don’t quite suit my taste. But it was warm and dry plus there was food and drink at low prices.

I think that’s the critical point about Tim’s: coffee at low prices. Where else can you get a cup of coffee for less than $2 these days?

Q: Do you prefer Tim Horton’s or Starbucks? Why?

Until Next Time,

May Your Coffee Always Be Freshly Brewed!

James Connolly lived in a number of houses in Dublin during his time in the city. How many have plaques to mark this? None.

In 1896 when Connolly first came to Dublin the family lived in a one roomed tenement at 76 Charlemont Street. The following summer they moved to 71 Queen Street (beside Smithfield) and then to an end of terrace house at 54 Pimlico in the Liberties.

James Connolly with his wife, Lillie and daughters Mona, and Nora, c. 1895.

Before their move to the United States, they lived in a cottage in Weaver Square off Cork Street.

On his return to Dublin in 1910, James Connolly lived at 70 South Lotts Road, Ringsend. You can see the 1911 census return for the household here On his visits to Dublin in 1913 he stayed occasionally at Moran’s Hotel (now O’Sheas) at the corner of Gardiner Street and Talbot Street.

At back: Jim Larkin & James Connolly. In front: Mrs Bamber (Liverpool Trades Council) & Bill Haywood (IWW), 1913.

More frequently he lodged in 49b Leinster Road, Rathmines, (a.k.a Surrey House) the home of Constance Markievicz where several of her colleagues in the Fianna organisation also lived. (James Larkin hid in this house after he was arrested on 28 August 1913 and before he addressed the crowd from The Imperial Hotel on Sackville Street on 31 august. The house also served as Connolly’s and Markievicz’s office for The Spark and The Workers’ Republic which was also printed here.)

Some time before the Rising Connolly moved into Liberty Hall. During this time, his family stayed with Constance Markievicz’s in her cottage at the foot of Three Rock Mountain in South Dublin.

The houses in Charlemont Street, Queen Street, Pimlico, Weaver Square and South Lotts Road where Connolly and his family lived should have small plaques to mark their importance. If Dublin City Council can’t provide them, maybe all the left wing groups active in the city could raise the money?

[References:
Joseph E.A. Connell Jnr, Dublin in Rebellion: A Directory 1913 – 1923, Lilliput Press, 2009 and Donal Nevin, James Connolly: A Full Life, Gill & Macmillan, 2006.)

    The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher or The Murder at Road Hill House by Kate Summerscale

What a good book this was.  If you want to follow the development and early days of detective story writing this is the book for you.  This book is about a murder case which happened in 1860 in England.  The case was most bizarre and was never solved to the 100% satisfaction of all concerned.  But I leave it to you to read the details.  I found it absolutely fascinating.

I listened to an interactive programme on the radio (102.3FM-Continental Radio) sometime ago, and the discussion was about the prevalent caste system in the south eastern part of Nigeria. It was quite interesting and the various contributions from both the audience and the invited guests made it so. From what each contributor said, the Osu people were dedicated to the gods – for their service. Contrary to negative perceptions concerning this special set of people, I learnt that they were the first set of people to be educated when the missionary people came to the South Eastern part of the country.

According to the history persona, it was quite easy to become an Osu. For instance, if an individual was trying to escape from an adversary, by swearing an allegiance to the society, such a person becomes an Osu. It was also interesting to know that due to the special duties being carried out by the Osus’, they were rewarded with choice lands, property and other valuables. They also had their own schools, markets and other social amenities. It was also interesting to note that only the fairest and the brightest people were members of this special community. I understand that within the South Eastern part of the country, they’re the most prolific and eminent individuals. So, I wonder where all the negative connotations started from.

Why would parents threaten to disown their children for marrying an Osu, who obviously has an illustrious pedigree? Why the unnecessary discrimination? I don’t know all the answers, but I’m of the opinion that this kind of abominable discrimination has got to stop.

Written by Lori Thiessen

My Dear Readers, the frost is on the meadow and we have all but hidden away in our respective burrows for the duration of this wintry weather. To help while away the hours, invite some close friends in for conversation and sample the following warming beverages.

The Polar Bear

Though there are many variations on this cocktail, most of them cold, I recommend the following concoction to warm the cockles of your heart. Pour into a heat-proof cup or mug:

• 2 oz of Peppermint Schnapps
• 3 oz of good quality hot chocolate
• 3 oz of medium strength, good quality hot coffee

You may want to top the mixture with a dollop of whipping cream and a candy cane to give it a festive twist!

Christmas Coffee

Here’s a post festive dinner coffee that could double as dessert!

• 6 cups strong, good quality coffee
• 4 tbsps sugar
• 1 organic, unsprayed orange studded with 3 whole cloves
• 1 stick of cinnamon
• 2 bay leaves
• 3 1/2 tbsps of Van der Hum, tangerine flavoured liqueur
• 1/2 cup of brandy
• 1 cup of cream
• freshly ground cinnamon

Put the first 6 ingredients into a heavy bottomed cooking pot. Set the heating element to low — just warm the ingredients, DO NOT BOIL.

In a metal soup ladle with an insulated handle, warm the brandy near the coffee. BE VERY CAREFUL. Hold the soup ladle full of warmed brandy over the cooking pot of coffee. Light a match and set the brandy aflame. Carefully pour the flaming brandy over the coffee.

Pour the coffee mixture into heavy mugs (your fine china teacups cannot handle this!). Place a spoon over a mug and slowly pour a little of the cream so that it floats on the top of the drink. Sprinkle with freshly ground cinnamon. Repeat with each mug. Serve.

Special Christmas Morning Coffee

This coffee is a great way to start your Christmas Day!

• 10 cups strong, good quality coffee
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 1/4 cup unsweetened good quality cocoa
• 1 cinnamon stick
• 1 teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg
• 1/3 cup water

Whipped cream, optional. Frangelico, Amaretto or Bailey’s Irish Cream, optional. Freshly ground cinnamon and nutmeg for topping. Milk and sugar for serving.

Brew your coffee in the regular way. Take the next 4 ingredients and put them into a small, heavy bottomed pot. Bring to a boil. Remove pot from heat. Pour mixture into the coffee. Stir well. Add Frangelico, Amaretto or Bailey’s, if desired. Pour into mugs. Top with whipped cream, if desired. Top with ground cinnamon and nutmeg.

I hope these recipes will delight you and your friends and keep you warm.

Please remember to limit your alcohol intake during the Christmas holidays and be responsible. Call a cab if you’ve had too much.

Until Next Time,

May your coffee always be freshly brewed!

As told to me by a gentleman of high standing in a local hostelry a couple of weeks ago…

McDaids Bar has always done a brisk passing trade, being off one of Dublins busiest streets, while at the same time maintaining it’s regular and staunchly loyal customer base. Now, this story is set in the late fifties/ early sixties, and Ireland at that time was not awash with cash, and this regular and staunchly customer base was not shy of asking for a couple of half ones to be “put on the tab,” or of looking for a way to cadge a pint or two.

On an Easter Monday, sometime around the turn of the sixties, the owner of the bar decided to take himself and some close allies on a trip to the races, leaving the bar in the not so capable hands of a new, young (and very naïve) barman. Away he went on his jolly way, and not long after he was gone, one of the locals (who, as the story goes, was a notoriously nice man, but a terrible one for not having two shillings to rub together,) spotted his chance for a day on the gargle. A carpenter by trade, he still had his toolbelt on him when he came in the door. Up to the bar he went and asked the barman for a pint of plain and a Créme De Menthe. The barman, only in the job a couple of weeks, looked nervously around him before saying, “I don’t think we have that sir.” “Oh, sure of course ye do. The boss keeps it down in the cellar; to keep it cool.” The barman looked around him undecidedly but deciding rather than face the wrath of the boss for annoying a regular customer, took the chance, swung open the cellar door and darted down the ladder. Not wasting any time, the carpenter hopped the counter, slammed the door shut and drove several six inch nails into it, fastening it shut and promptly started dishing out the scoops.

Needless to say, word travelled fast that McDaids were having an unwitting free bar and the place very quickly filled up with Dublin’s finest. Whiskey and Porter were being thrown across the counter at a ferocious pace, with little to be seen of money passing the other way. Of course, our carpenter friend drank his fill and promptly scarpered…

So, after a grand day at the races, a few shillings up and all the happier for it, the landlord turned off Grafton Street and started up Harry Street, towards where his pub was, and still is, situated. He was only too delighted to see the place full to the gills, people staggering around outside and inside. I’m sure he thought all his dreams had come true… Until he got inside… And recognised none of the people behind the bar. With a roar, he made his way through the fast-emptying pub and got the strangers out from behind the taps. With the pub now empty at this stage, he noticed the cellar door crudely nailed shut, and heard the feeble knocks that emanated from within. He took a jemmy bar to it and managed, after a time, to prise it open. Upon opening it, a very dazed and anxious looking barman hauled himself out of the hatch and asked “No Créme De Menthe then?”

As with all Dublin stories, I’m sure this one has sprouted legs but sure who gives a toss. These stories are the ones that will soon disappear unless we tell them, and keep re-telling them…

Image taken from the British Pathé site.

I’ve recently been introduced to a great site that I’m sure will be of interest to some CHTM followers. British Pathé have archived over 3,500 hours of footage filmed from 1910 onwards on their site;  The historian in me loves the old newsreels, the football fan in me goes directly for the likes of this video, a rare clip from 1936 of a team representing Nazi Germany playing, and losing, 5-2, to an Irish team at my beloved Dalymount Park, true home of Irish football…

Another highlight is this clip of “Glasgow Celtic Vs. The Irish Free State” filmed in 1924, again in Dalymount Park. Notice the fans on the roof of the stand; If only people were as eager to get into League of Ireland grounds these days…

The freeview videos aren’t of any great length, they generally weigh in close to two minutes long but some of the scenes are just fantastic.

xxxx

Timeline of events related to popular culture

1923 In his early twenties Carl Stalling (1891– 1972)  was conducting his own orchestra and improvising on the organ at the legendary Isis Movie Theatre in Kansas City (Goldmark 1997).

1924 Twenty-Frank Churchill (1901-1942) became accompanist at the Los Angeles radio station KNX (AM).  He “played piano for honky-tonks in Tijuana, Mexico, followed by an orchestra in Tucson, Arizona. He returned to Hollywood in 1924, and despite his lack of formal education in music, Frank won a contract as an accompanist and soloist with radio station KNX and later recorded for RKO-Radio Pictures (Disney Legends).”

1924-05 The Max Fleischer’s series of animated short films with synchronized soundtracks entitled “Song Car-Tunes” made in DeForest Phonofilm were shown.

1926 An animated short film with synchronized soundtracks entitled “My Old Kentucky Home (1926)” was shown.

1927-06 Producer Pat Powers attempted unsuccessfully to take over Lee DeForest’s Phonofilm Corporation. Phonofilm Corporation was financially weakened and did not sue Powers when he illegally cloned Lee DeForest’s innovative synchronized soundtrack technology.

1927 Producer Pat Powers hired a former DeForest technician, William Garrity, to illegally produce a cloned version of the Phonofilm system, which Powers dubbed “Powers Cinephone.” Producer Pat Powers convinced Disney to use Cinephone for a few sound cartoons such as Steamboat Willie, The Gallopin’ Gaucho, and Plane Crazy (all 1928) before Powers and Disney had a falling-out over money — and over Powers hiring away Disney animator Ub Iwerks — in 1930.

1928-09-01 Paul Terry’s animated short film with synchronized soundtracks entitled “Dinner Time” was released.

1928-05 The first Walt Disney Mickey Mouse animated cartoon entitled “Plane Crazy (1928)” was released with Carl Stalling’s musical scores. Goldmark claimed that Stalling introduced a new form of music that did not exist before

1928 (Goldmark 1997). Producer Pat Powers convinced Disney to use an illegally cloned version of the Lee DeForest’s Phonofilm Corporation synchronized soundtrack system, dubbed the “Powers Cinephone” in the production of “Plane Crazy (1928).”

1928 (Goldmark 1997). Producer Pat Powers convinced Disney to use an illegally cloned version of the Lee DeForest’s Phonofilm Corporation synchronized soundtrack system, dubbed the “Powers Cinephone” in the production of “”Gallopin’ Gaucho (1928).”

1928 In Kansas City Carl Stalling also composed several early cartoon scores for Walt Disney’s animated comedy shorts, including Plane Crazy and Gallopin’ Gaucho. Goldmark claimed that Stalling introduced a new form of music that did not exist before 1928 (Goldmark 1997).

1929 Walt Disney discouraged his studio from using copyrighted music in his films to avoid royalty payments (Kaufman 1997).

A ghost sign is a term for old hand painted advertising or signage that has been preserved on a building for an extended period of time, whether by actively keeping it or choosing not to destroy it.

Here are a few of my favourites from a recent Boards.ie thread.

The old Lennox Chemicals HQ on Leinster Street South.

“Lennox Chemicals was founded in 1923. The company came to bear the name of Robert Lennox who served as Managing Director from 1923 until this death in 1936. Originally located at Great Strand Street, Lennox moved to South Leinster Street in 1937 and on to John F. Kennedy Estate just off the Naas Road in 1983″

Photo Credit - 'Wishbone Ash'

An old sign for Switzers Department Store (1834 – 1993) above the Brown Thomas Wicklow Street entrance.

Photo Credit - "Wishbone Ash"

The old Sick and Indigent Roomkeepers Society building on Palace Street, around the corner from Dublin Castle. Apparently it is Dublin’s shortest street with only two addresses.

Photo Credit - "Wishbone Ash"

Along the bottom of this building on the corner of Upper Camden Street and Harrington Street you can see the old sign for Kelly’s Cigar Bounder – Tobacco Blender. Though the shop has well since closed, the area is still commonly known as Kelly’s Corner. The building was raided and destroyed (using hand grenades) by Captain J.C. Bowen-Colthurst of the British Army during the Easter Rising in 1916.

Photo Credit - "Wishbone Ash"

The old sign for The Shakespeare above the Korean restaurant and pub The Hop House where the CHTM team frequent most weekends. My dad used to drink here when he went to Colaiste Mhuire in Parnell Square around the corner.

Photo Credit - "Jay Carax"

Written by Lori Thiessen

A friend and I met for coffee the other week at a coffee shop neither one of us had been to before.

On Twelfth Street in New Westminster (a suburb of Vancouver), is the Village Coffee Lounge.

It is quite a small place but with a real homey atmosphere. There is an old upright piano resting comfortably in the back. Brass instruments adorn the walls. Live music concerts take place here from time to time. Phone to find out when the next event will be happening:  (604) 522-8567‎.

There is a table inlaid with a checkerboard for those who want to play checkers or chess. Most of the other furniture is a mish-mash of styles, ages and rickety-ness. Very charming.

My friend tried the hot chocolate and I tried the maple spice latte. Though my friend didn’t comment on her hot chocolate, I must say that the maple spice latte was wonderful.

It is a regular cappucino but made with maple syrup, nutmeg and other spices and topped with a dusting of brown sugar.

I also had a zucchini muffin which was moist and flavourful.  I’ve never seen a zucchini muffin anywhere else so it must be freshly made by either the owner or a local baker.

We spent about an hour there and I was heartened to notice that people kept popping in and out; a city workman, a senior gentleman, a young mother, a courier, among others chose this small, unassuming place to get their mid-morning pick-me-up.

You can find the Village Coffee Lounge at:

705 12th Street, New Westminster, BC V3M 4J7

Walking down the Grand Canal from Portobello Bridge (La Touche Bridge) to Leeson Street Bridge on Thursday got me thinking about an amusing prank from October 1968 that I heard some years ago. Here’s the original Irish Times article published in full.

AN ‘ICEBERG’ FLOATED DOWN THE CANAL
The Irish Times. October 4 1968.

Unknown pranksters turned over a mile of the Grand Canal in Dublin into a bubble bath yesterday. The sequence of events was described Dragnet style by Jimmy Parsons, lock keeper of Lock Cottage, Portobello Bridge. “At 2:30am, a night nurse in Portobello nursing home looked out the window and saw white foam rising 30 feet out of the lock and overflowing on to the bridge and roadways. At 5am the police arrived. All they could do was watch. At 7:30am the fire brigade came. They said it looked lovely but that they couldn’t help”.

By then, Dubliners were on their way to work. The wall of foam hampered traffic at the bridges at Porotobello, Charlemont street and Leeson Street. Hundreds of curious people jammed the canal-side.

Portobello Today. Flickr user Miroslav Čuljat.

“It’s really like a fairyland” a schoolbound youngster breathed. “I’m going to be late for work” said a typist who had jumped off her bus “But it’s worth it – I’ll never see a sight like this again”.

Hours later some of the original watchers were still there, still spellbound, gazing at the foam writhing upwards in a Disneyland ballet.

The high wind scooped great gobbets of froth from the lock gates and flung them into the sky. Other pieces, too big to fly, rolled over the roadway like huge snowballs. “Lookit – it’s snowing” two messenger boys bellowed in chorus, beside themselves with excitement.

Portobello Bridge today

“All we want now is Brigit Bardot in that bubble bath”, observed a man with a ballroom sheikh hair-do.

Jimmy Parsons arrived, with a weed-rake on the end of a 10-foot pole. Poling about on the bottom of Portobello lock, he said over his shoulder, “This must have been caused by jokers dumping detergent or soap – powder into the locks. The way the foam keeps coming up, the stuff is still down there. It’s an expensive joke. They must have thrown hundredweights of it to whip up this froth”

Giving up on the search, he sat on a lock-gate and said “You should have seen it at dawn. Like icebergs it was. Icebergs floating down the Grand Canal”.

Angrily aloof on the canal – bank nearby, two swans looked on. After a while, they took like seaplanes in search of pure water. But the foam stayed and so did the crowds…