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SYND 24 11 78 JEREMY THORPE LEAVES COURT WITH HIS WIFE AND TALKS TO REPO...
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23 November 1978 Thames - ITN News extract re. Jeremy Thorpe scandal
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Lord Steel on Jeremy Thorpe and Cyril Smith – BBC Newsnight
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Jeremy Thorpe scandal: attempted murder case to reopen / Thorpe affair / VIDEO:Jeremy Thorpe scandal: Norman Scott believes alleged hitman Andrew Newto...
Jeremy Thorpe scandal: attempted murder case to reopen
Police say man allegedly hired to kill former Liberal leader’s ex-lover may still be alive
Jamie Doward
Sat 2 Jun 2018 12.11 BST Last modified on Mon 4 Jun 2018 17.39 BST
The BBC drama about the rise and fall of the Liberal leader Jeremy Thorpe, A Very English Scandal, which concludes on Saturday, may need a sequel.
For the extraordinary tale of sex, power and corruption – in which Hugh Grant has been lavished with praise for his portrayal of Thorpe, who was acquitted of plotting to have his gay lover murdered – has taken another tragicomic twist.
Yesterday, police confirmed that an investigation into the murky affair will be reopened on the grounds that they had wrongly assumed one of the main suspects was dead. Easily verifiable evidence had emerged to suggest that he was indeed alive.
Andrew “Gino” Newton was allegedly the hitman hired to murder Thorpe’s lover, a male model called Norman Scott, on Exmoor in 1975. A pilot from Blackpool, Newton gave evidence for the prosecution of Thorpe and three others at what was described as “the trial of the century”, only to be branded by the judge as a “perjurer” who was “determined to milk the case as hard as he can”.
Newton, known as “Snaz” because of his flamboyant style of dress, claimed that he had agreed to murder Scott for between £10,000 and £20,000. After shooting dead Scott’s dog, a great dane called Rinka, he allegedly aimed the gun at Scott, only for it to jam. He was jailed for two years for killing Rinka.
Even though Thorpe was acquitted, the 1979 trial ended his career. Lurid speculation about what really happened and why dogged him for the rest of his life. Whether Newton was meant to only frighten Scott and stop him going public about his relationship with Thorpe, or indeed kill him, as he maintained, remains the stuff of conjecture. Hopes for a breakthrough came when a new inquiry was launched by Gwent police in 2015 – the year after Thorpe’s death. But it was dramatically scrapped after the force learned that Newton had died.
A quick spot of Googling, however, might have given detectives enough leads to ascertain what became of him. He resurfaces in numerous articles written in 1994, when a coroner ruled out foul play after one Caroline Mayorcas fell 900ft to her death while climbing the Eiger in Switzerland with her partner, Hann Redwin. At the inquest, it emerged that Redwin was, in fact, Newton, and was living in Chiswick, west London.
Throughout the first decade of the millennium, the unusually named Redwin (there is speculation he chose his new name as an anagram of “winner hand”) became an avid contributor to a journal, the Geo Quarterly – “the independent amateur quarterly publication for Earth observation and weather satellite enthusiasts”.
He surfaced again in a 2015 edition of Pilot magazine, in an article about Redhill airfield near Gatwick. “I get into conversation with Hann Redwin whose Pipistrel motorised glider I spotted in a small hangar near the Tower,” the article recounts. “He’s here with his companion Patsy Frankham to conduct some tests on the Pipistrel.”
As an excited press pack beat a path to Redhill, relatives of Frankham broke cover to confirm to MailOnline that he was alive and had moved his plane to a farm in Surrey. The news will do nothing to dissuade Scott from his view that the investigation into what he has always insisted was an attempt to murder him was a stitch-up by the political establishment.
“I just don’t think anyone’s tried hard enough to look for him,” Scott tells the makers of a BBC Four documentary, The Jeremy Thorpe Scandal, to be broadcast tonight. “I thought [Gwent police] were doing something at last and soon found out that absolutely they weren’t: they were continuing the cover-up as far as I can see.”
Gwent police told the documentary makers: “Inquiries were completed which indicated Mr Newton was deceased. We have now revisited these inquiries and have identified information which indicates that Mr Newton may still be alive.”
• This article was corrected on 4 June 2018 because it said an alleged murder attempt on Norman Scott took place on Bodmin Moor.
Thorpe affair
Bessell's evidence against Thorpe, reported in the Daily Mirror during the pre-trial committal proceedings, November 1978. Such headlines may have contributed to Thorpe's 1979 electoral defeat, even though he and his co-defendants were found not guilty in court.
The Thorpe affair of the 1970s was a British political and sex scandal that ended the career of Jeremy Thorpe, the leader of the Liberal Party and Member of Parliament (MP) for North Devon. The scandal arose from allegations by Norman Josiffe (otherwise known as Norman Scott) that he and Thorpe had shared a homosexual relationship in the early 1960s.
Thorpe denied any such relationship, while admitting that the two had been friends. With the help of political colleagues and a compliant press, he was able to ensure that rumours of misconduct went unreported for more than a decade. Scott's allegations were a persistent threat, however, and by the mid-1970s he was regarded as a danger both to Thorpe and to the Liberal Party, which was then enjoying a resurgence of popularity and was close to a place in government.
Attempts to buy or frighten Scott into silence were unsuccessful, and the problem deepened, until the fallout following the shooting of his dog during a possible murder attempt by a hired gunman in October 1975 brought the matter into the open. After further newspaper revelations, Thorpe was forced to resign the Liberal leadership in May 1976, and subsequent police investigations led to his being charged, with three others, with conspiracy to murder Scott. Before the case came to trial, Thorpe lost his parliamentary seat at the 1979 general election.
At the trial in May 1979, the prosecution's case depended heavily on the evidence of Scott, of Thorpe's former parliamentary colleague Peter Bessell, and of the hired gunman, Andrew Newton. None of these witnesses impressed the court; Bessell's credibility was undermined by the revelations of his financial arrangements with The Sunday Telegraph. In his summing-up, the judge was scathing about the prosecution's evidence and all four defendants were acquitted. Nevertheless, Thorpe's public reputation was damaged irreparably by the case. He had chosen not to testify at the trial, which left several matters unexplained amid public disquiet.
Thorpe's retirement into private life was hastened by the onset of Parkinson's disease in the mid-1980s, and he made few public statements afterwards. He achieved a reconciliation with the North Devon Liberal Democrat constituency party, of which he was honorary president from 1988 until his death in 2014. Allegations of suppression of evidence by the police before the trial were under investigation from 2015.
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| Norman Josiffe / Norman Scott |
Homosexuality and English law
Before the passage of the Sexual Offences Act 1967, which decriminalised most homosexual acts in England and Wales (but did not apply to Scotland or Northern Ireland), all sexual activity between men was illegal throughout the United Kingdom, and carried heavy criminal penalties. Antony Grey, a secretary of the Homosexual Law Reform Society, wrote of "a hideous aura of criminality and degeneracy and abnormality surrounding the matter".
Political figures were particularly vulnerable to exposure; William Field, the Labour MP for Paddington North, was forced to resign his seat in 1953 after a conviction for soliciting in a public lavatory. In the following year Lord Montagu of Beaulieu, the youngest peer in the House of Lords, was imprisoned for a year after being convicted of "gross indecency", victim of a virulent "drive against male vice" led by the Home Secretary, Sir David Maxwell Fyfe.
Four years later public attitudes had changed little. When Ian Harvey, a junior Foreign Office minister in Harold Macmillan's government, was found guilty of indecent behaviour with a Coldstream Guardsman in November 1958, he lost both his ministerial job and his parliamentary seat at Harrow East. He was ostracised by the Conservative Party and by most of his former friends, and never again held a position in public life.Thus, anyone entering politics at that time knew that revelations of homosexual activity would likely bring such a career to a swift end.
Thorp
John Jeremy Thorpe was born in 1929, the son and grandson of Conservative MPs. He attended Eton, then studied law at Trinity College, Oxford, where, having decided on a political career; he devoted his main energies to making a personal impact rather than to his studies. Rejecting his Conservative background, he joined the small, centrist Liberal Party—which by the late 1940s was a declining force in British politics, but still offered a national platform and a challenge to an ambitious young politician. He became secretary, and eventually President of the Oxford Liberal Club, and met many of the party's leading figures. In the Hilary term (January–March) of 1950–51 Thorpe served as President of the Oxford Union.
In 1952, while studying at the Inner Temple prior to his call to the bar, Thorpe was adopted as prospective Liberal parliamentary candidate for the North Devon constituency, a Conservative-held seat where, at the 1951 general election, the Liberals had finished in third place behind Labour.Thorpe worked in the constituency tirelessly, using the slogan "A Vote for the Liberals is a Vote for Freedom", and at the 1955 general election, had halved the sitting Conservative MP James Lindsay's majority.Four years later, in October 1959, he captured the seat with a majority of 362, one of six successful Liberals in what was generally an electoral triumph for the Conservative Macmillan government.
The writer and former MP Matthew Parris described Thorpe as one of the more dashing among the new MPs elected in 1959.Thorpe's chief political interest lay in the field of human rights, and his speeches criticising apartheid in South Africa attracted the attention of the South African Bureau of State Security (BOSS), who took note of this rising star in the Liberal Party. Thorpe was briefly considered as best man at the 1960 wedding of his Eton contemporary Antony Armstrong-Jones to Princess Margaret, but was rejected when vetting checks indicated that he might have homosexual tendencies. The security agency MI5, which routinely keeps records on all Members of Parliament, added this information to Thorpe's file.
Norman Josiffe was born in Sidcup, Kent, on 12 February 1940—he did not assume the name Scott until 1967. His mother was Ena Josiffe, née Lynch; Albert Josiffe, her second husband, abandoned the family home soon after Norman's birth. Norman's early childhood was relatively happy and stable. After leaving school at 15 with no qualifications, he acquired a pony by means of an animal charity, and became a competent rider. When he was 16 he was prosecuted for the theft of a saddle and some pony feed, and was put on probation. With the encouragement of his probation officer he took lessons at Westerham Riding School at Oxted in Surrey, and eventually found work at a stable in Altrincham in Cheshire. After moving there he chose to cut all links with his family, and began to call himself "Lianche-Josiffe" ("Lianche" being a stylised version of "Lynch"). He also hinted at an aristocratic background, and of family tragedies that had left him orphaned and alone.
In 1959 Josiffe moved to the Kingham Stables in Chipping Norton, Oxfordshire, where he learned dressage while working as a groom. The stables were owned by Norman Vater, the self-made son of a coalminer who, like Josiffe, had inflated his name and was known as "Brecht Van de Vater". In the course of his rise, Vater had made numerous friends in higher social circles, among them Thorpe. Initially, Josiffe was settled and happy at the stables, but his relationship with Vater deteriorated in the face of the latter's assertive and demanding manner, and he was unable to form good relationships with his fellow-workers.He began to evidence the kind of behaviour which a journalist would later summarise as his "extraordinary talent for wheedling his way into people's sympathy before turning their lives to misery with his hysterical temper-tantrums."
Bessell
Peter Bessell, eight years older than Thorpe, had a successful business career before entering Liberal politics in the 1950s. He came to the party leadership's attention in 1955 when, as the Liberal candidate in the Torquay by-election, he substantially increased his party's vote in the first of a series of impressive Liberal results during the 1955–59 parliament. He was subsequently selected as candidate for the more winnable constituency of Bodmin, and became both an admirer and personal friend of Thorpe, who in turn was impressed by Bessell's apparent business acumen.[26] At Bodmin in the 1959 general election, Bessell reduced the Conservative majority, and he followed this in the October 1964 election with victory by over 3,000 votes. With the prestige of the letters "MP" after his name, Bessell set out in pursuit of serious money-making, while staying close to Thorpe whom he considered the likely next leader of the Liberal Party.
Bessell noted that Thorpe, for all his gregariousness and warmth, appeared to have no female friends and lacked any interest in girls. The former Liberal MP Frank Owen confided to Bessell his suspicions that Thorpe was a homosexual; other West Country Liberals had formed the same opinion.Aware that exposure as a homosexual would end Thorpe's career, Bessell became his self-appointed protector, even to the extent, he later said, of falsely claiming to be bisexual, as a means of acquiring his friend's confidence.
Origins
Thorpe–Scott friendship
In late 1960 or early 1961, Thorpe visited Vater at the Kingham Stables, and briefly met Josiffe. He was sufficiently taken with the young man to suggest that, should Josiffe ever need help, he should call on him at the House of Commons. Soon after this, Josiffe left the stables after a serious disagreement with Vater. He then suffered a mental breakdown, and for much of 1961 was under psychiatric care. On 8 November 1961, a week after discharging himself from the Ashurst clinic in Oxford, Josiffe went to the House of Commons to see Thorpe. He was penniless, homeless and, worse, had left Vater's employment without the National Insurance card which, at that time, was essential for obtaining regular work and access to social and unemployment benefits. Thorpe promised he would help.
According to Josiffe's account, a homosexual liaison with Thorpe began that same evening, at Thorpe's mother's home in Oxted, and continued for several years. Thorpe, while acknowledging that a friendship developed, denied any sexual dimension in the relationship. He organised accommodation for Josiffe in London, and a longer-term stay with a family in Barnstaple, within the North Devon constituency. He paid for advertisements in Country Life magazine, in an effort to find work with horses for his friend, arranged various temporary jobs, and promised to help Josiffe to realise an ambition to study dressage in France. On the basis of Josiffe's claim that his father had died in an air crash, Thorpe's solicitors investigated whether any money was due, but found that Albert Josiffe was alive and well in Orpington.
When early in 1962, the police questioned Josiffe about the alleged theft of a suede jacket. Thorpe persuaded the investigating officer that Josiffe was recovering from mental illness, and was under his care. No further action was taken. In April 1962 Josiffe obtained a replacement National Insurance card which, he later said, was retained by Thorpe who had assumed the role of his employer. This was denied by Thorpe, and the "missing card" remained an ongoing source of grievance for Josiffe.[ He began to feel marginalised by Thorpe, and in December 1962, in a fit of depression, confided to a friend his intention to shoot the MP and commit suicide. The friend alerted the police, to whom Josiffe gave a detailed statement of his sexual relations with Thorpe, and produced letters to support his story.None of this evidence impressed the police sufficiently for them to take action, although a report on the matter was added to Thorpe's MI5 file.
In 1963, a relatively calm period in Josiffe's life as a riding instructor in Northern Ireland ended after he was seriously hurt in an accident at the Dublin Horse Show.He moved back to England, and eventually found a job at a riding school in Wolverhampton, where he stayed for several months before his erratic behaviour proved too much, and he was asked to leave.After a period of aimlessness in London, Josiffe saw an advertisement for a groom's post in Porrentruy in Switzerland. Thorpe used his influence to secure him the job. Josiffe left for Switzerland in December 1964, but returned to England almost immediately with complaints that conditions were impossible. In his hurry to depart he left his suitcase behind, which contained letters and other documents that, he believed, supported his claims to a sexual relationship with Thorpe.
Threats and counter-measures
Thorpe proved to be a lively and witty performer in the cut and thrust of parliamentary debates, and his presence in the House of Commons was soon noticed. In July 1962, in the wake of some disastrous Conservative by-election performances, Macmillan sacked seven cabinet ministers in what was known as the "Night of the Long Knives". Thorpe's comment—"Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his friends for his life"—was widely regarded in the press as the most apt verdict on the prime minister.Thorpe raised his political profile with effective attacks on government bureaucracy, and in the October 1964 general election was returned in North Devon with an increased majority. A year later he secured the office of Liberal Party treasurer, a significant step towards his ambition to become the next party leader.
By early 1965 Josiffe was in Dublin, where he worked at various horse-related jobs while continuing to badger Thorpe by letter about his missing luggage and the continuing National Insurance card issue.However, Thorpe rejected any responsibility for these matters. In mid-March 1965 Josiffe wrote a long letter to Thorpe's mother, which began: "For the last five years, as you probably know, Jeremy and I have had a homosexual relationship." The letter blamed Thorpe for awakening "this vice that lies latent in every man", and accused him of callousness and disloyalty. Ursula Thorpe gave the letter to her son, who drafted a quasi-legal statement rejecting the "damaging and groundless accusations" and accusing Josiffe of attempting to blackmail him. The document was never sent; instead, Thorpe turned to Bessell for advice.
Bessell, anxious to be of service to his party's highest-profile figure, flew to Dublin in April 1965. He found that Josiffe was being advised by a sympathetic Jesuit priest, Father Sweetman, who believed that at least some of Josiffe's allegations might be true; otherwise, he asked Bessell, why had he flown all the way from London to deal with them? Bessell warned Josiffe of the consequences of attempting to blackmail a public figure, but in a more conciliatory vein promised to help recover the missing luggage and insurance card. He also hinted at the possibility of an equestrian job in America. Bessell's intervention appeared to contain the problem, particularly as Josiffe's suitcase was recovered shortly afterwards—although, according to Josiffe, letters implicating Thorpe had been removed.For most of the following two years Josiffe remained largely quiescent in Ireland, attempting to establish himself in various careers; part of this time was spent in a monastery. It was during this period that he formally adopted the name of Scott.
In April 1967 Scott wrote to Bessell from Ireland, asking for help in obtaining a passport in his changed name so that he could begin a new life in America.A second, less positive letter, dated July, indicated that Scott had returned to England and was once again in difficulties, with medical bills and other debts. His lack of an insurance card prevented him from claiming benefits. By this time, Thorpe had succeeded Jo Grimond as leader of the Liberal Party.To resolve Scott's immediate problems, and to prevent a resumption of his tirades against the new party leader, Bessell began paying him a "retainer" of between £5 and £10 a week, ostensibly in lieu of lost national insurance benefits.Bessell also arranged Scott's new passport, but by this time Scott had abandoned his American plans and wished to establish a career as a model. He asked Bessell for £200 to set him up; Bessell refused, but in May 1968 gave him £75, on the understanding there would be no further demands for a year.
Developments
Incitement
Thorpe's leadership of the Liberals was not, initially, an unqualified success; his local campaigning skills did not readily transfer to set speeches on national or international issues, and some sections of the party became restless.His engagement to Caroline Allpass, announced in April 1968, reassured those in the party who had reservations about his private life; others were shocked by Thorpe's emphasis on the political motivation for the marriage—worth five points in the polls, he opined to Mike Steele, the party's press officer.For much of 1968 Thorpe was untroubled by Scott, who had acquired new friends and, according to Bessell, had burned his Thorpe letters.His reappearance in November 1968, again penniless and without prospect of work, was particularly unwelcome to Thorpe, as he fought to establish his leadership credentials. Bessell provided immediate relief by resuming the weekly cash retainer, but this was a short-term respite.
Early in December 1968 Bessell was summoned to Thorpe's office in the House of Commons. According to Bessell, Thorpe said of Scott: "We've got to get rid of him", and later: "It is no worse than shooting a sick dog."Bessell said later that he was unsure whether Thorpe was serious, but decided to play along, by discussing various ways of getting rid of Scott's body. Thorpe supposedly thought that disposal down one of Cornwall's many disused tin mines offered the best option, and also suggested his friend David Holmes as an appropriate assassin. Holmes, one of four assistant treasurers of the Liberal Party appointed by Thorpe in 1965, had been best man at Thorpe's wedding, and was completely loyal to him.
Bessell further maintained that in January 1969 Thorpe called him to a meeting together with Holmes, and that again Thorpe put forward suggestions for eliminating Scott. These were dismissed as impractical or ridiculous by Bessell and Holmes, who nevertheless agreed to give the matter further consideration. They hoped, said Bessell, that if they stalled, Thorpe would see the absurdity of his murder scheme and abandon it. Holmes, who largely confirmed Bessell's account of the meeting, later justified this decision on the grounds that "if we had simply said no, he might have gone elsewhere—and that might have led to an even greater disaster."[60] According to Bessell and Holmes, discussions of the plan ended in May 1969, after the surprising news of Scott's wedding that month.
Party enquiry
By early 1971, Thorpe's political career had stalled. He had led the party to a disastrous performance in the United Kingdom general election of June 1970; in an unexpected victory for the Conservatives under Edward Heath, the Liberals lost seven of their thirteen parliamentary seats, and Thorpe's majority in North Devon fell to below 400.Bessell, with mounting business worries, did not stand for re-election in Bodmin. Thorpe faced censure for his conduct of a campaign during which he had spent extravagantly and left the party on the verge of bankruptcy; but the matter was put aside in a wave of sympathy when his wife Caroline was killed in a road accident 10 days after the election. Thorpe was devastated; he continued as leader, but for the next year performed little beyond routine party duties.
Meanwhile, Bessell's efforts ensured that for the time being the Scott threat was kept at bay. The missing insurance card meant that Scott's wife, who was pregnant, could not claim maternity benefits. Scott threatened to talk to newspapers, but the matter was resolved by the issue of an emergency card after Bessell's intervention at the Department of Health and Social Security.In 1970 Scott's marriage collapsed; he blamed Thorpe, and again threatened exposure. Bessell successfully prevented Thorpe's name being mentioned in court during the divorce proceedings, and arranged that Thorpe would anonymously pay the legal costs. Early in 1971 Scott moved to a cottage in the village of Talybont in North Wales, where he befriended a widow, Gwen Parry-Jones. He sufficiently persuaded her of his mistreatment at the hands of Thorpe that she contacted the Liberal MP for the adjoining constituency of Montgomeryshire—Emlyn Hooson, on the right wing of the party and a friend of neither Thorpe nor Bessell. Hooson suggested a meeting at the House of Commons.
On 26 and 27 May 1971 Scott told his story to Hooson and David Steel, the Liberals' chief whip. Neither was fully convinced, but felt the matter warranted further investigation. Against Thorpe's wishes, a confidential party enquiry was arranged for 9 June, to be chaired by Lord Byers, the leader of the Liberals in the House of Lords. At the enquiry Byers took a tough line against Scott, failing to offer him a chair and treating him, Scott said, "like a boy at school up before the headmaster." Byers's unsympathetic manner quickly unsettled Scott, who changed the details of his story several times and frequently broke down in tears. Byers suggested that Scott was a common blackmailer who needed psychiatric help. Declaring that Byers was a "pontificating old sod", Scott fled the room.The enquiry then questioned police officers about letters which Scott had shown to the police in 1962, but were told that these were inconclusive. Thorpe persuaded the Home Secretary, Reginald Maudling, and the Metropolitan Police Commissioner, John Waldron, to inform Byers that there was no police interest in Thorpe's activities, and no evidence of wrongdoing on his part. As a result, the enquiry dismissed Scott's allegations.
Further threats
Angry at his treatment by the Byers enquiry, Scott sought other means of pursuing his vendetta against Thorpe. In June 1971 he met Gordon Winter, a South African journalist who was also an agent for the South African intelligence agency BOSS. Scott provided details of his supposed seduction by Thorpe, a story which Winter assured his BOSS masters would destroy Thorpe and the Liberal Party. He found that no newspaper would print the story on largely uncorroborated and unreliable evidence. In March 1972 Scott's friend Gwen Parry-Jones died; Scott used the inquest to denounce Thorpe for ruining his life and driving Parry-Jones to her death. None of these accusations was published. Depressed, Scott retreated into a state of torpor, assisted by tranquilisers, and for a while presented no threat to Thorpe.
The most disappointing result has been Jeremy Thorpe's success in North Devon. Thorpe was already conceited enough, and now threatens to become one of the great embarrassments of politics. Soon I may have to reveal some of the things in my file on this revolting man.
Private Eye, March 1974.
In 1972 and 1973 Thorpe's political fortunes, and those of the Liberals, revived. Thorpe's personal standing was enhanced when, on 14 March 1973, he married Marion, Countess of Harewood, whose former husband was a first cousin to the Queen. After a series of by-election victories and local government gains, an electoral breakthrough for the party looked plausible when Heath called a general election in February 1974. In that election, with more than six million votes (19.3% of those cast), the Liberals achieved by far their best election result since the Second World War, but under the first-past-the-post voting system this large vote translated into only 14 seats. However, as neither major party won an overall majority, these seats gave Thorpe (whose personal majority in North Devon increased to 11,072) significant leverage.He was briefly in coalition discussions with Heath, who was prepared to give cabinet posts to Thorpe and other senior Liberals. Thorpe later denied that there was any serious prospect of agreement,and in March 1974 Harold Wilson formed a minority Labour government. In the second 1974 general election, in October, Wilson achieved a narrow majority; the Liberals lost ground, with 5.3 million votes and 13 MPs.
After Parry-Jones's death Scott lived quietly for a while in the West Country. In January 1974 he met Tim Keigwin, Thorpe's Conservative opponent in North Devon, and gave his version of his relationship with Thorpe. Keigwin was advised by the Conservative leadership that the material should not be used. Scott also confided in his doctor, Ronald Gleadle, who was treating him for depression. He had shown Gleadle his dossier of documents; the doctor, without Scott's knowledge or consent, sold the papers to Holmes, who had assumed the role of Thorpe's protector after Bessell settled permanently in California in January 1974. Holmes paid £2,500 for the documents, which were promptly burned in the home of Thorpe's solicitor.A further cache of papers was discovered in November 1974, by builders renovating a London office formerly used by Bessell. They found a briefcase containing letters and photographs that apparently compromised Thorpe, among them Scott's 1965 letter to Ursula Thorpe. Undecided what to do with their find, they took it to the Sunday Mirror newspaper. Sidney Jacobson, the paper's deputy chairman, decided not to publish the material and passed the briefcase and its content to Thorpe. Copies of the documents were, however, kept in the newspaper's files.
Alleged conspiracy
In their analysis of the case, the journalists Simon Freeman and Barry Penrose state that Thorpe probably formed the outline of a plan to silence Scott early in 1974, after the latter's re-emergence became a matter of increasing concern. Holmes later said that Thorpe was insistent that Scott be killed: "[Jeremy felt] he would never be safe with that man around".[86] Uncertain how to proceed, late in 1974 Holmes approached a business acquaintance, a carpet salesman named John Le Mesurier (not to be confused with the actor of that name). Le Mesurier introduced Holmes to George Deakin, a fruit machine salesman who, he thought, would have contacts with people who might be prepared to deal with Scott. Holmes and Le Mesurier concocted a story involving a blackmailer who needed to be frightened off; Deakin agreed to help. In February 1975 Deakin met Andrew Newton, an airline pilot, who said he was willing to deal with Scott for an appropriate fee—between £5,000 and £10,000 was suggested. Deakin put Newton in touch with Holmes. Newton always said that he had been hired to kill, not frighten, citing the size of the fee that he was offered—too much, he said, simply to scare someone.
While these arrangements proceeded, Thorpe wrote to Sir Jack Hayward, the Bahamas-based millionaire businessman, who had given generously to the Liberal Party in the past. In the wake of the Liberals' February 1974 election successes, Thorpe asked for £50,000 to replenish the party's funds. He further requested that £10,000 of this sum be paid, not into the party's regular accounts but to Nadir Dinshaw, an acquaintance of Thorpe's who was resident in the Channel Islands. Thorpe explained that this subterfuge was necessary to deal with a special category of unspecific election expenses. Hayward trusted Thorpe, and sent the £10,000 to Dinshaw who, instructed by Thorpe, passed the money to Holmes. After the October 1974 election Thorpe again requested funds from Hayward, and again asked that £10,000 be sent via the Dinshaw route. Hayward obliged, though this time with more reluctance and after some delay. No accounting of this £20,000 was ever provided; Holmes, Le Mesurier and Deakin all said that it was used to finance a "conspiracy to frighten", although they disagreed as to how much was spent. Thorpe later changed the story he had given Hayward about special categories of election expenses, and said he had deposited the sum with accountants "as an iron reserve against any shortage of funds at any subsequent election." He denied that he had authorised any payment to Newton or to anyone else connected with the case.
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| Newton known as "Gino" |
Shooting
Newton met Holmes early in October 1975 when, the former claimed, he was given a down payment on a fee of £10,000. Holmes later denied any such transaction, admitting only an agreement that Newton would carry out a frightening operation. On 12 October Newton, calling himself "Peter Keene", drove to Barnstaple in a yellow Mazda car where he approached Scott, claiming to have been hired to protect Scott from a supposed Canadian hit man.This seemed plausible to Scott, who had been beaten up a few weeks earlier, and he agreed to meet "Keene" at a later date. He was sufficiently cautious to ask a friend to make a note of the stranger's car registration number.
On 24 October Newton, now driving a Ford saloon, met Scott by arrangement in Combe Martin, just north of Barnstaple. Newton explained that he had to drive to Porlock, about 25 miles away, and suggested that Scott accompany him—he and Scott could talk on the journey. Scott had with him his recently acquired pet dog, a Great Dane called Rinka; this disconcerted Newton, who was afraid of dogs, but Scott insisted that Rinka go with them. At Porlock, Newton left Scott and Rinka at a hotel while he supposedly dealt with his business. He picked them up shortly after 8 pm, and they began the drive back to Combe Martin. On a deserted stretch of road, Newton began to drive erratically, feigning tiredness, and accepted Scott's suggestion that he take over the driving. They stopped; Scott got out, followed by Rinka, and ran round to the driver's side, where he found Newton, gun in hand. Newton shot the dog in the head and, saying "It's your turn now", pointed the gun at Scott. The pistol failed to fire several times; eventually Newton jumped into the car and drove away, leaving Scott and the dead or dying dog by the roadside.
After Scott had been picked up in a distressed state by a passing car, the police were notified, and began enquiries. Newton was quickly identified through the Mazda's registration number, and arrested; his story was that Scott was blackmailing him and that the shooting had been intended to frighten him. He made no mention of any deal with Holmes, perhaps calculating that by keeping silent he would maximise his chances of payment from that quarter.
Revelations
On 12 December 1975 Private Eye included another short teasing piece by Auberon Waugh which ended: "My only hope is that sorrow over his friend's dog will not cause Mr Thorpe's premature retirement from public life". By this time most newspapers knew of the stories surrounding Thorpe and Scott, but were wary of libel; according to Parris, by keeping silent they were "serving notice on Thorpe that they knew a bigger story must break, and could wait for it". In January 1976 Scott appeared before magistrates on a minor social security fraud charge, and stated that he was being hounded because of his previous sexual relationship with Thorpe. This claim, made in court and therefore protected from the libel laws, was widely reported.
The Daily Mail had meanwhile discovered Bessell's whereabouts in California, and on 3 February 1976 carried a long interview with the former MP. Bessell's claim that he had been blackmailed by Scott provided Thorpe with temporary cover.On 6 March newspapers reported Holmes's purchase of Scott's dossier from Gleadle, and a few days later David Steel discovered from Dinshaw, a personal friend, that £20,000 intended for the party had been diverted to Holmes and was unaccounted for. Steel told Thorpe that he should resign, but he refused. In an attempt to reassure his wavering parliamentary colleagues, on 14 March Thorpe made arrangements with The Sunday Times newspaper to publish a detailed rebuttal of Scott's charges, under the heading "The Lies of Norman Scott".
The "Bunnies" letter, February 1962
"Since my letters normally go to the House, yours arrived all by itself at my breakfast table at the Reform, and gave me tremendous pleasure. I cannot tell you just how happy I am to feel that you are really settling down ... you can always feel that whatever happens Jimmy and Mary are right behind you ... no more bloody clinics ... In haste. Bunnies can (and will) go to France. I miss you"
Extracts from a letter from Thorpe to Josiffe, February 1962.
Newton's trial took place at Exeter Crown Court from 16 to 19 March 1976, where Scott repeated his allegations against Thorpe despite the efforts of the prosecution's lawyers to steer him away. Newton was found guilty of possessing a firearm with intent to endanger life, and sentenced to two years' imprisonment, but he did not incriminate Thorpe.[105][n 5] Thorpe's difficulties increased when Bessell, fearing for his own position and perhaps scenting the possibility of making money, changed his stance and confessed in the Daily Mail on 6 May that he had lied to protect his former friend. A further concern for Thorpe was the danger that newspapers would publish letters he had sent to Scott early in their friendship. In an effort to forestall this, Thorpe arranged for the publication of two of the letters in The Sunday Times, a paper generally sympathetic towards him. In one of these letters Thorpe referred to Scott by the pet name "Bunnies". The tone of this letter convinced readers and commentators that Thorpe had not been frank about the nature of the relationship. On 10 May 1976 he resigned as Liberal leader amid rising criticism, again categorically denying Scott's allegations but acknowledging the damage that they were inflicting on the party.
After Thorpe's resignation the relative lack of press attention to the story for 18 months disguised the extent to which investigative reporting continued. Barry Penrose and Roger Courtiour, collectively known as "Pencourt", had originally been hired by Wilson after his retirement, to investigate the former prime minister's theory that Thorpe was a target of South African intelligence agencies.[108] Pencourt's investigations led them to Bessell, who gave them his account of a conspiracy to murder Scott, and Thorpe's role in it. Before they could publish, they were scooped; Newton, released from prison in October 1977, sold his story to the London Evening News. He said that he had been paid £5,000 to kill Scott, and provided photographs of him receiving payment from Le Mesurier. A lengthy police inquiry followed, at the end of which Thorpe, Holmes, Le Mesurier and Deakin were charged with conspiracy to murder. Thorpe was additionally charged with incitement to murder, on the basis of his 1969 meetings with Bessell and Holmes. After being released on bail, Thorpe declared: "I am totally innocent of this charge and will vigorously challenge it".
On 2 August 1978 Thorpe participated in a House of Commons debate about the future of Rhodesia,but thereafter played no further active part in parliament, although he remained North Devon's member. At the Liberals' 1978 annual assembly in Southport, he embarrassed the leadership by making a theatrical entrance and taking his place on the platform.
Committal and trial
The prosecution set out its case at the pre-trial committal hearing, which began in Minehead on 20 November 1978. At the request of Deakin's counsel, reporting restrictions were lifted, which meant that newspapers were free to print anything said in court without fear of the libel laws.This move infuriated Thorpe, who had hoped for an in camera hearing which would avoid unfortunate newspaper headlines and perhaps lead to the dismissal of the case. Whatever the outcome, Thorpe knew that the adverse publicity would destroy his career, and that Scott would thus have his revenge. As the hearings began, Bessell described the 1969 meetings where he alleged that Thorpe had suggested that Holmes should kill Scott, including the comment about the shooting of a sick dog. The court learned that Bessell had a contract with The Sunday Telegraph, which was paying him £50,000 for his story. Dinshaw gave evidence of the £20,000 he had received from Hayward and passed to Holmes, and of subsequent attempts by Thorpe to obscure the details of these transactions. Newton testified that Holmes had wanted Scott killed: "He would prefer it if [Scott] vanished from the face of the earth and was never seen again. It was left to me how to do it". Scott gave clinical details of his alleged seduction by Thorpe at Thorpe's mother's house in November 1961 and on other occasions, and also recounted his ordeal on the moors above Porlock Hill. Scott contended that homosexuality was an incurable disease, with which Thorpe had infected him, and that Thorpe therefore should be held responsible for Scott's lifelong care. At the end of the hearing the presiding magistrate committed the four defendants for trial at the Central Criminal Court, commonly known as the Old Bailey.
In March 1979 the Labour government fell on a vote of no confidence, and a general election was called for 3 May. This led to a brief delay in the start of the trial as Thorpe, who still had a following among North Devon Liberals, was adopted as their candidate in the election. Largely isolated from his party's national campaign, he lost the seat to his Conservative opponent by over 8,000 votes.
The trial began on 8 May, under Sir Joseph Cantley, a relatively obscure High Court judge with limited experience of high-profile cases. To conduct his defence Thorpe engaged George Carman, who had established a criminal law practice on the Northern Circuit in Manchester; this was his first high-profile national case.Carman undermined Bessell's credibility by revealing his financial interest in Thorpe's conviction: his newspaper contract provided that in the event of acquittal, only half the £50,000 would be paid.The judge left no doubt as to his own low opinion of Bessell's character;Auberon Waugh, who was writing a book on the trial, thought that Cantley's general attitude to other prosecution witnesses became increasingly one-sided. On 7 June Deakin testified that although he had put Newton in touch with Holmes, he had thought that this was to help someone to deal with a blackmailer—he knew nothing of a conspiracy to kill.Deakin was the only defendant to testify; the others all chose to remain silent and call no witnesses, believing that, based on the testimonies of Bessell, Scott and Newton, the prosecution had failed to make its case.During his closing speech on behalf of Thorpe, Carman raised the possibility that Holmes and others might have organised a conspiracy without Thorpe's knowledge.
On 18 June the judge began his summing-up. He drew the jury's attention to the previous good character of the defendants, whom he characterised as "men of hitherto unblemished reputation." Cantley described Thorpe as "a national figure with a very distinguished public record".The judge was scathing about the principal witnesses: Bessell was a "humbug" whose contract with The Sunday Telegraph was "deplorable"; Scott was a fraud, a sponger, a whiner, a parasite—"but of course he could still be telling the truth. It is a question of belief." Newton was characterised as a perjurer and a chump, "determined to milk the case as hard as he can."The mystery surrounding the £20,000 that Thorpe had obtained from Hayward was dismissed as an irrelevance: "The fact that a man obtains money by deceit does not [prove] that the man was a member of a conspiracy."Waugh felt that the judge's lack of even-handedness could well provoke a counteraction against the accused from the jury.The summing-up became the subject of a scathing parody by the satirist Peter Cook.
Acquittal and aftermath
Thorpe on the trial
All three [principal prosecution witnesses] had ... been destroyed in cross-examination, and the prosecution's case at its close was shot through with lies, inaccuracies and admissions to such an extent that the defence decided not to give evidence. To have done so would have prolonged the trial unnecessarily.
Jeremy Thorpe, In My Own Time
The jury retired during the morning of 20 June. They returned just over two days later, and acquitted all four defendants on all charges. The judge awarded costs to Deakin, but not to Holmes or Le Mesurier who he thought had been insufficiently co-operative in the enquiry. Thorpe made no application for costs.In a brief public statement, he said that he considered the verdict as "totally fair, just and a complete vindication." David Steel, on behalf of the Liberal Party, welcomed the verdict as "a great relief", and hoped that Thorpe would, "after a suitable period of rest and recuperation ... find many avenues where his great talents may be used." In North Devon Thorpe's acquittal was celebrated with a thanksgiving service at which the presiding vicar, The Rev. John Hornby, gave thanks to God "for the ministry of His servant Jeremy ...The darkness is now past and the true light shines. This is the day the Lord hath made! Now is the day of our salvation!"
Despite the acquittal, the broader public perception was strong that Thorpe had not behaved well, nor had he adequately explained himself. The Archdeacon of Barnstaple, who was critical of Hornby's melodramatic thanksgiving service, wrote: "There is a great deal of unhappiness about the result at the Old Bailey. As far as most people are concerned, the trial ended with a big question mark over the case".[150] Prevented by his party from a return to active politics, in 1982 Thorpe was appointed by Amnesty International as director of its British section, but after protests from the organisation's staff, he withdrew.[153] Not long afterwards, Thorpe first showed signs of the Parkinson's disease that led to his almost complete withdrawal into private life in the mid-1980s. There was a political reconciliation when, in 1988, following the merger of the Liberals and the Social Democratic Party, the newly formed North Devon Liberal Democrat association made him their honorary president. When he attended the Liberal Democrat party conference in 1997 he received a standing ovation. In 1999, Thorpe published his political memoir, In My Own Time, in which he justified his silence at the trial, and stated that he had never doubted the outcome.Nine years later, in January 2008, Thorpe gave his first press interview in 25 years, to The Guardian. Referring to the affair he said: "If it happened now I think the public would be kinder. Back then they were very troubled by it ... It offended their set of values."[154] Thorpe died on 4 December 2014.
After the trial Le Mesurier kept a low profile, after unsuccessful attempts to sell "the real story" to national newspapers.[156] In June 1981, in a series of articles printed in the News of the World, Holmes reasserted his allegation that Thorpe had asked him to kill Scott: "The incitement charge which Jeremy faced was true, and if I had gone into the witness box I'd have had to tell the truth.” Holmes, who died in 1990, had previously admitted his participation in a conspiracy to "frighten" Scott, though not to kill him. Bessell's account of the affair was published in America in 1980.[159] He died in 1985; his final years were devoted to a campaign to stop the erosion of the San Diego beaches in California.[160] Newton, like Le Mesurier, attempted to cash in on the case, but failed to find a newspaper willing to print his story. Scott's comments on the affair, immediately after the trial verdict, were that he was unsurprised by the outcome, but was upset by the aspersions on his character made by the judge from the safety of the bench.[149] In December 2014, Scott, then aged 74, was reported to have recently relocated from Devon to Ireland,[162] although John Preston, in his 2016 account, places him "in a village on Dartmoor ... with seventy hens, three horses, a cat, a parrot, a canary, and five dogs."
In a BBC investigative documentary broadcast in December 2014, an antique firearms collector named Dennis Meighan claimed that he had been hired by an unidentified senior Liberal to kill Scott, for a fee of £13,500. Having initially agreed, Meighan says, he changed his mind, but provided Newton with the gun used in the shooting. After confessing to the police, he was asked to sign a prepared statement which, according to him, "left everything out that was incriminating, but at the same time everything I said about the Liberal Party, Jeremy Thorpe, et cetera, was left out as well." The BBC's Tom Mangold said that Meighan's account, if true, indicated the existence of "a conspiracy at the very highest level".In 2016 the Avon and Somerset police passed their files to Gwent Police, for an independent review of the original investigation. After the police came to the conclusion that Andrew Newton had died, the Crown Prosecution Service closed the case. In 2018, Gwent Police reported that they had, "now revisited these enquiries and have identified information which indicates that Newton may still be alive", therefore re-opening lines of inquiry.On 4 June 2018 the force announced that they had interviewed Newton, who had been living under a new name, Hann Redwin, in Dorking, Surrey, but that he had given no new useful information, and so the case would remain closed.
In 1979 punk band The Surprises released Jeremy Thorpe Is Innocent (We Know Who Did It) and Rex Barker and the Ricochets released Jeremy Is Innocent!, both songs inspired by the affair.
At the 1979 Secret Policeman's Ball, in aid of Amnesty International, the biased summing up speech by Mr Justice Cantley was parodied by Peter Cook. The sketch was written and delivered shortly after the trial as was, according to Freeman and Penrose, "actually not that different from the original." The nine-minute opus, "Entirely a Matter for You", is considered by many fans and critics to be one of the finest works of Cook's career. Cook and show producer Martin Lewis brought out an album on Virgin Records entitled Here Comes the Judge: Live of the live performance together with three studio tracks that further lampooned the Thorpe trial.
In 2016 Viking Press published A Very English Scandal, a true crime non-fiction novel about the affair by journalist John Preston.
In May 2018 BBC One broadcast a three-part television miniseries adaptation of the book, written by Russell T Davies, likewise titled A Very English Scandal, directed by Stephen Frears and starring Hugh Grant as Thorpe and Ben Whishaw as Scott.
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"Hounds Hard And Horses Healthy" (1930)
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The Quorn Hunt / VIDEO:Hunting Again (1929)
The Quorn Hunt, usually called the Quorn, established in 1696, is one of the world's oldest fox hunting packs and claims to be the United Kingdom's most famous hunt. Its country is mostly in Leicestershire, together with some smaller areas of Nottinghamshire and Derbyshire.
Despite the abolition of fox hunting intended by the Hunting Act 2004, the Quorn continues to go out on four days of the week during the autumn and winter months.
History
The hunt traces its origins to a pack of foxhounds established in 1696 at Tooley Park, Leicestershire, by the youthful Thomas Boothby (1677–1752). Its present name comes from the village of Quorn (also known as Quorndon), where the hounds were kennelled between 1753 and 1904. They were established there by the hunt's second master, Hugo Meynell, who bought Quorndon Hall from the 4th Earl Ferrers.Following more than half a century under the leadership of Boothby, Meynell was Master for forty-seven years. He was known for his innovative mastery of fox hunting so that he has been called 'The Primate of the Science'.
In 1905 new kennels and stables were built at Paudy Lane, Seagrave; these are now listed buildings.The hunt's present-day kennels are at Gaddesby Lane, Kirby Bellars, near Melton Mowbray.
Before gaining its present title in the mid-19th century, the hunt was often known by the name of its Master: for instance, from 1827 to 1831 it was called 'Lord Southampton's Hounds'. Until 1884, the hounds were owned by the Master, and a change of mastership took place either by purchase or inheritance. The hounds are now said to be "owned by the country", that is, by the hunt organization.
George Osbaldeston, Master 1817–1821 and 1823–1827
Among many notable Masters was George Osbaldeston, who in 1823 became the first to return to the Mastership after having previously retired.
Three Hunt-class warships of the Royal Navy have been called HMS Quorn, after the Hunt.
Country
English Foxhound
The Quorn hunts a wide area of Leicestershire, plus some coverts in Nottinghamshire and Derbyshire, stretching from just south of Nottingham to the edge of the city of Leicester and from Melton Mowbray westwards to Ashby de la Zouch. On the eastern side of the country lies a rolling open landscape, with good fences to jump, while to the west are the wooded uplands of Charnwood Forest and the Pennine Chain. The best centres are around Melton Mowbray, Leicester and Loughborough.
In 1853, the southern part of its country was separated off to form the Fernie.
The adjoining hunts are the Meynell and South Staffs (to the north west), the South Notts (to the north), the Belvoir (to the north east), the Cottesmore (to the south east), the Fernie (to the south), and the Atherstone (to the south west).
Season and supporters
Hunting takes place on Mondays, Tuesdays, Fridays and Saturdays, in the autumn and winter months only. More open country is hunted on Mondays and Fridays, the most popular days, with usually between one hundred and one hundred and fifty mounted followers, plus about twice as many who follow hounds on foot and with cars and bicycles. The smallest number of followers is on Tuesdays. Over eight hundred farmers in the country of the Quorn allow the hunt to use their land. There is a Supporters' Association.
The hunt's 'Saturday Country' is around Belton, Staunton Harold and Kingston and has its own 'Saturday Country Wire and Damage Fund'.
Squire Osbaldeston
George Osbaldeston (26 December 1786 – 1 August 1866), best known as Squire Osbaldeston, was an English politician who served as a Member of Parliament but who had his greatest impact as a sportsman and first-class cricketer.
He was born 26 December 1786 in Westminster, London, and named for his father, George Osbaldeston, a member of parliament for Scarborough. His father, born George Wickins, inherited the Hutton Buscel estates from his uncle Fountayne Wentworth Osbaldeston and adopted his name. Squire's mother, Jane, was the daughter of Sir Thomas Head of Langley Hall, Berkshire.
Osbaldeston spent his childhood at Hutton Buscel, the family estate in Yorkshire. His father died in 1793; from age 6, George and his three sisters were brought up by their mother, who despite being a great political hostess, was wildly extravagant and squandered much of his inheritance. He spent most of his life trying to recover from this poverty, mainly by trying to win bets and sporting competitions.
He was educated at Eton from 1802 until 1803, when he was expelled.[2] Thereafter he studied at Brighton (1803–04), where his behaviour was little improved. He matriculated at Brasenose College, Oxford in 1805. The combination of his absolute avoidance of academic work (even by the standards of the day) and his rowdy behaviour (including incidents such as pouring hot gravy over the head of a fellow student he disliked during hall) meant that he narrowly avoided being sent down. Ultimately, he left Oxford without a degree in 1807. On the other hand, during his student days he excelled in all sports, setting a pattern for the rest of his life.
Osbaldeston excelled at sport, and rowed at his various schools, at Oxford and into middle age. He was particularly famous for his racing abilities, in flat, steeplechase, endurance and carriage races. In 1826, he won a celebrated steeplechase for a purse of 1,000 guineas on his horse, Clasher, against Dick Christian riding Clinker, a horse owned by Horatio Ross. On one occasion, in 1831 at Newmarket, he rode 200 miles (320 km) in 8 hours and 42 minutes, using 28 horses. On another occasion he wagered 100 guineas with Paul Methuen that he could drive a stage-coach from St. Paul's churchyard to Greenwich in an hour with a full complement of passengers. Osbaldeston won his bet, although the coach was loaded with a number of hefty Life-Guardsmen and despite being sent back from the bottom of Ludgate Hill for a false start. His last race was at the age of 69, and he also bred racehorses.
A noted shot at the Old Hat and Red House clubs, Osbaldeston there used a gun with a bore of 1½ inches. Sir Richard Sutton recorded that he once shot 98 pheasants with 100 shots.[6] He brought his marksmanship to the track; on one occasion, when the notorious gambler Lord George Bentinck fired his pistol in the air while watching a race, Osbaldeston responded by shooting Bentinck cleanly through the hat as a warning.
In cricket, he was a fine all-rounder who batted and bowled right-handed, his bowling style being fast underarm. An outstanding Single Wicket player, he was chiefly associated with Marylebone Cricket Club (MCC) but he also represented Surrey, Sussex and Hampshire. He played 34 important matches between 1808 and 1830 as an amateur. His highest score was 112 for M.C.C. v Middlesex in 1816, where Osbaldeston also scored 68 in the second innings. His record in important matches was 1002 runs at 18.21, 2 centuries, 43 wickets, 15 catches and 2 stumpings.
Above all though, his passion was fox hunting. He had his own pack of hounds from the age of 16, and was later master of nine hunts, notably the Atherstone (1815–17), the Quorn (1817–21, 1823–27), and the Pytchley (1827–34). He was regarded by contemporaries as one of the best sportsmen of his generation, and became something of a folk hero in later hunting circles.
An anecdote demonstrates the passion with which he pursued "the hunt":
"Just when, in 1809, the 24 year old fourth Lord Monson was warming to the task of keeping his pack of foxhounds amongst the best blood in the country, nature accounted for him. The gentlemen of Lincolnshire cast around for a new master and up turned one of those adventurous amateurs whose exploits with hounds and the ladies either break or make a hunt. George Osbaldeston was 25 and he soon fell out with everyone except the foxes which he pursued with great noise, energy, boastfulness, courage and determination, to the far corners of the country."
Personal life
The money he made from racing wins were overshadowed by gambling debts of around £200,000 (equivalent to £1,842,835 in 2016), which eventually forced him to sell his lands in 1848 and led to his dying almost penniless. His will states that he left effects to the value of under ₤100.
He was also known for his romantic escapades, such as attempting to seduce a friend of his mother's, Lady Monson (an unrequited love affair, despite his claims that she was the one woman he had really loved), staying at the house of a friend and seducing both his daughters on the same night, and leaving a ball for two hours to pick flowers from his garden for a lady there. He was rumoured to have a son by a Miss Green, a prostitute, whom he sent abroad. He finally married an Elizabeth Williams in 1851 at the age of 65, most likely as he was then able to live in her Regent's Park house.
His relationship with his mother, Jane, was ambivalent. In his autobiography he claims that: "a cleverer woman never existed, not a better mother."By all accounts Jane doted on her only son. On the other hand, he resented her extravagance, her misuse of his inheritance, and her attempts to force him to pursue a political career. Ultimately, he exiled her to a house in London which he had bought.
He had a great rivalry with his fellow cricketer Lord Frederick Beauclerk. In 1818 this resulted in Osbaldeston being barred for life from membership of MCC (after an intemperate resignation in disgust at the outcome of a single-wicket match and despite the attempted intercession of E. H. Budd);[6] this event effectively finished Osbaldeston's career in important cricket. He also fought a duel with Lord George Bentinck, in the aftermath of a race of 1831, the outcome of which was disputed. Neither was hurt and they were later reconciled.
Of his brilliant beginning and impoverished end, his great friend and rival Horatio Ross commented, "He was open-hearted and trusted others; he was constantly deceived and robbed, and when his affairs were getting into confusion, he had not the moral nerve to pull up in time; nor had he a sufficiently business-head on his shoulders to guide him safely out of his troubles."He died 1 August 1866 in St John's Wood, London.
Descendants
In about 1812, Miss Ann Green of Lincoln (born about 1786) bore him a son, named George Osbaldeston Green. Mother and son were sent to Tasmania. George Green married a woman named Mary Ann Heastwood (b. Yorkshire 1819). Eventually George Osbaldeston Green and Mary Ann moved to the Gippsland area of Victoria. George was a butcher. They had 16 children, many of whom died in infancy or childhood; nevertheless ‘The Squire’ spawned quite a group of grandchildren. Their many descendants live mainly in Australia today. George Osbaldeston Green died in 1887 in Maffra, Victoria, and his wife Mary Ann died in 1908 in Heyfield, in the Gippsland region of Victoria.
Family historians report that Mary Ann Green was well-travelled and made some journeys to England, so whether there was contact maintained between "The Squire" and his Australian family is subject to speculation. Certainly their existence was known about, and recorded in Osbaldeston's autobiography.
Miss Green was described in George Osbaldeston's Autobiography as' a member of the frail sisterhood' (i.e., a prostitute). She was reputedly a natural (illegitimate) daughter of one of the Monson family. The boy was ‘sent abroad, has done well in the world, and is married with a family.’". No record of either the birth or death of Miss Green has been found.
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National Seersucker Day
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National Seersucker Day
Seersucker Thursday is an annual tradition in the United States Congress in which Senators wear clothing made of seersucker on National Seersucker Day. This light, cotton-based material is traditional in the Southern United States.
The tradition was started by Republican Senator Trent Lott of Mississippi in 1996 who wanted to "bring a little Southern charm to the Capitol" to remind the Senate of how Senators dressed before the advent of air conditioning in the 1950s. The practice was temporarily suspended in 2012 amid congressional gridlock, but began again in 2014.
While this tradition is an annual event, it is also common to see congressional staffers don seersucker suits on Thursdays throughout the year.
Seersucker weave was introduced to the American south, probably through British colonial trade, sometime in the second half of the 19th century. The cotton weave, which originated in western India, became a signature look of the United States in the early 20th century because its light weight and pre-rumpled surface made it ideal for the intense humidity of summer.
The wearing of seersucker suits declined with the advent of air conditioning. By the 1950s, air conditioning reached the Capitol, ending the necessity of seersucker suits there.
Gregory Peck famously wore a seersucker suit in the movie To Kill a Mockingbird, creating a cliché of how small town Southern lawyers dressed invoked by later actors such as Andy Griffith. The image of a bow-tied, seersucker-suited young man in a boater hat is likewise a cliche image of a recent graduate of elite Northeastern colleges.
History of Seersucker Thursday
In 1996[2] Senator Trent Lott decided to bring the tradition back. His goal was to show that "the Senate isn’t just a bunch of dour folks wearing dark suits and—in the case of men—red or blue ties". In 2004, Senator Dianne Feinstein decided to increase participation by encouraging women senators to follow the tradition. The following year 11 of the 14 women senators appeared on Seersucker Thursday in outfits received as gifts from Feinstein.
As of June 27, 2012, Seersucker Thursday was announced to be discontinued.
As of May 27, 2015, Senator Bill Cassidy successfully advocated for the return of Seersucker Thursday. Cassidy remarked, "This uniquely American fashion has a storied history dating back to 1909... Mr. Haspel said it best, ‘hot is hot, no matter what you do for a living.'
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Fiona Campbell-Walter / Thyssen / VIDEO: BARON VON DE THYSSEN MARRIES FIONA CAMPBELL-WALTER
Fiona Campbell-Walter / Thyssen
"Her aristocratic beauty had a mysterious, subtle sensuality that perfectly represented the glamour of a period in which elegance was never an opinion. She was a true English, better yet, Scottish rose. Sir Cecil Beaton said that she was his favorite muse, with the type of mysterious, sophisticated face that he adored and the gracefulness of a lady. Fiona Frances Elaine Campbell-Walter, better known as Baroness Fiona von Thyssen-Bornemisza de Kászon after her marriage to the steel magnate and super-art collector Hans Heinrich Thyssen, a.k.a.“Heini”, left her mark on almost three decades of the 20th century, starting in the fifties when she first worked as a model. She was born on June 25, 1932 in Auckland, New Zealand, to a rear admiral of the Royal British Navy and the daughter of Sir Edward Taswell-Campbell.
Her brilliant career, which was immortalized by interpreters of an evocative, sleek, dreamy photographic style such as Henry Clarke and Norman Parkinson but also by the nuanced modernity of David Bailey, brought her to incarnate the creative lines of Schiaparelli, Balenciaga, Grès, Nina Ricci, Lanvin, Dessès, Jacques Fath, Dior and Valentino. Her chic look blended a neo-classical and impressionist artistic mood with a vibrant idea of modernity. Combining Edwardian references and the revolutionary youthful feel of Swinging London, Fiona passed from photos with extremely complex, theatrical poses to the simplicity of a beach, where she posed makeup-free and wrapped in a towel, as she was portrayed by Georges Dambier in 1954, draped in a Givenchy beach towel. Her marriage to Heini (who had reached his third wedding) that took place in 1956, twelve hours after first meeting on the ski slopes of Saint Moritz, floundered and ended bitterly in 1965.
She returned to London with their two children Francesca and Lorne, leaving behind the palazzo on Lake Lugano filled with fabulous works of art. Love would return again thanks to her tumultuous affair with Alexander Onassis, which was strongly contested by his father Aristotle also due to the difference in age because Fiona was 16 years older than Alexander. Today, still gorgeous and proud, as if time could not fade her beauty, Fiona mainly divides her time between the islands of Greece and Vienna. She is often seen in company of her daughter Francesca, who became the Archduchess of Austria after marrying Karl von Habsburg-Lothringen. Now living a secluded life and taking care of the grandchildren, Fiona Thyssen is certainly far from the dazzling, frenetic and glamorous limelight."
Cesare Cunaccia, excerpt from Vogue Italia, September 2014, n. 769, p.366
Published: 09/25/2014 - 07:00
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The tumultuous affair with Alexander Onassis |
Fiona Campbell-Walter, née Fiona Frances Elaine Campbell-Walter le 25 juin 1932 à Auckland, est un modèlen britannique des années 1950, citée comme le « plus beau » modèle de Vogue. Elle devient baronne Thyssen à la suite de son mariage.
Les années 1950 voient plusieurs mannequins au style aristocratique et sophistiqué ; Fiona Campbell-Walter est de ceux-là. Son père est le vice-amiral Keith McNeill Campbell-Waltern , aide de camp du Roi George VIa . « Bien née », elle fait partie du Gotha de l'époque, apparaissant toujours élégante1. Sa mère l'encourage à devenir modèle, et dès l'adolescence, elle est photographiée par le prolifique Henry Clarke qu'elle a rencontré à Londres. Elle intègre l'agence de Lucie Clayton (en) et se voit publiée pour les différentes éditions internationales de Vogue et accède à la notoriété.
Favorite de Cecil Beaton, le portraitiste officiel de la famille royale d'Angleterre, elle est au sommet de sa carrière au milieu des années 1950, gagnant jusqu'à 2 000 £ par jour. Elle a le rare privilège pour un mannequin d'apparaitre en couverture de Life Magazine en janvier 19534. Modèle élégant et sophistiqué à la taille très fine — sans corset —, elle porte aussi bien le tailleur que la grande robe de bal3. Ses proportions particulières, entièrement naturelles et à l'opposé des canons de l'époque incarnés par Elizabeth Taylor ou Gina Lollobrigida, sont un exemple pour les femmes.
Fiona Campbell-Walter devient la troisième femme du riche Baron Hans Heinrich Thyssen-Bornemisza de Kászon en septembre 1956 et se retire du métier de mannequin. Alors appelée la baronne Thyssen, elle s'installe à la Villa Favorita au-dessus du lac de Lugano5, ayant de par le monde une vie mondaine faite de voyages et réceptions, mélange d'élégance, de culture et de pouvoir6. Elle a deux enfants, dont Francesca Thyssen-Bornemisza en 1958 et un fils, Lorne, en 1963. Elle divorce peu de temps après la naissance de son fils et part avec ses enfants s'installer à Londres
Au printemps 1969, elle défraie brièvement la chronique à cause d'une liaison, qualifiée d'intense, avec Alexander le fils d'Aristote Onassis, âgé de seize ans de moins qu'elle : des projets de mariage sont annoncés, puis annulés à la suite de l'entremise de Jacqueline Kennedy-Onassisa 4. Alexander Onassis meurt en janvier 1973 dans un accident d'avion, scellant ainsi leur séparation5. Fiona Campbell-Walter se consacre à la protection des animaux
Surnommée le « plus beau » modèle de Vogue, Fiona Campbell-Walter a une carrière relativement courte au milieu des années 1950, bien qu'elle apparaisse encore ponctuellement jusqu'au au milieu des années 1960 sur des photographies de mode3. Elle restera, avec Barbara Goalen et Anne Gunningn , l'un des trois grands modèles britanniques de cette époquea
Photographies
La courte carrière de Fiona Campbell-Walter lui fait malgré tout travailler avec de nombreux photographes de mode majeurs de cette époque : Henry Clarke dès le début puis très souvent par la suite, John Deakin dans les années 1950, Frances McLaughlin-Gilln 4, John French (en), le photographe-mentor de sa consœur Barbara Goalena 7, plusieurs fois dont en 1951 et 1953 ; ce dernier sera l'auteur d'une photo de Fiona Campbell-Walter avec Anne Gunning en 1953, toutes deux en tailleur, image reprise dans certaines sources. La même année 1953, elle est sous l'objectif de Norman Parkinson, Milton Greene, ou Georges Dambier habillée en Marc Bohan pour le magazine Elle de l'hivern 5. Vers ces années 1950, c'est le mondain Cecil Beaton, « le plus notoire de ses inconditionnels4 » qui la photographie plusieurs fois ; il le fera encore en 1966 tout comme David Bailey deux ans plus tard pour le British Vogue du mois de février. Habituée du Vogue français, Fiona Campbell-Walter fait, entre autres, une couverture en 1952 habillée en Jacques Fath, celle du numéro de décembre 1953 en robe et fourrure, ainsi que juin 1955 en maillot de bain de la maison Jean Patou.
Baron Heinrich von Thyssen
A billionaire industrialist, he spent his life building the greatest art collection in private hands
Jane Walker
Mon 29 Apr 2002 02.22 BST
The Swiss billionaire Baron Hans Heinrich von Thyssen Bornemisza, who has died aged 81, accumulated arguably the greatest private art collection in the world. All his adult life, he invested his wealth in art to augment the collection he had inherited from his father.
In the early 1990s, realising that his collection of almost 800 paintings had outgrown his home in Lugano, Switzerland, the baron began to look for a new location. Spain won the day over stiff competition for a collection said to outstrip even that of the Queen. Both Prince Charles and Mrs Thatcher flew to Switzerland to put in a bid for Britain; President Mitterand lobbied for France; the Getty Foundation offered millions of dollars for the United States; and the Swiss government tried to block the paintings' export.
But, in 1993, the pressure of the bedroom decided matters in favour of the birthplace of the baron's fifth wife, Carmen "Tita" Cervera, a former beauty queen and widow of Tarzan Of The Apes actor Lex Barker. She negotiated with the Spanish government, who paid more than £241m for the collection, and donated the Villahermosa palace in Madrid, near the Prado, to house it. The contract was for 10 years but, after further negotations, it was agreed that the Villahermosa should became its permanent home.
Relations between "Baron Heini" and his older children, long tense, were aggravated after his marriage to Baroness Tita, who was once described by his daughter Francesca as "the wicked stepmother". Four years ago, he accused his oldest son, 52-year-old Georg (or Heini Jr), of negligence in the running of the family trust, which had been signed over to him five years earlier.
The baron launched court proceedings against Heini Jr to regain control of the billion-dollar holdings in the Bahamas. It was a case that threatened to enrich only the expensive lawyers employed by both sides; finally, last year, the two came to a private agreement.
Von Thyssen was born in Scheveningen, Holland, the fourth, and youngest, child of Heinrich von Thyssen, a wealthy German industrialist, and Margit Bornemisza, a Hungarian aristocrat. The family empire, founded on shipbuilding, coal, steel and iron, had been started by the baron's grandfather, August, who left his fortune to his two sons, Fritz and Heinrich, in 1926.
The grandfather was not a collector on the scale of his son and grandson, but was an admirer of Auguste Rodin, from whom he commissioned a set of six marble sculptures (they remain one of the gems of the collection). Relations between the brothers were acrimonious, with Fritz a sympathiser and financial supporter of the Nazis; his industrial interests would eventually form the basis of the Thyssen-Krupp group.
Heinrich Sr inherited August's love of art, along with the other financial benefits. He built up the collection with wise investments, buying at bargain-basement prices from American magnates ruined in the 1929 crash. Heinrich and his wife divorced in 1931, and 10-year-old Heini moved with his father to Switzerland, where they adopted Swiss nationality the following year.
Heini was only 26 when his father died in 1947, leaving his fortune, and 525 paintings and other art works, to his children. As the only sibling who had inherited their father's love of art, after an acrimonious court case Heini set about buying the collection back from his brother Stefan and sisters Margit and Gabrielle.
Heinrich Sr had invested heavily in art works up to the 18th century, but his son's interests favoured 19th- and 20th-century works; his purchases created a priceless collection, and a course in the history of art under a single roof. For many years, his vast wealth permitted him to take his place among the international jet-set, attending all the best parties and staying at the best hotels, while sitting on the boards of some 30 companies, many of them in IT and the technical sector.
Until his health began to fail, Heini and Baroness Tita continued this lifestyle, shuttling between their various mansions in Switzerland, three in Spain, Jamaica, Paris and London, which they filled with priceless and favoured paintings.
The baron is survived by Tita - his fifth wife - and his five children. These are Heini Jr, son of his first wife, the Austrian Princess Teresa zur Lippe Weissenfeld; Francesca (married to Karl von Hapsburg) and Lorne, by his third wife, the British former model Fiona Campbell-Walter; Alexander, from his fourth marriage, to the Brazilian Denise Shorto; and Borjahe, Carmen Cervera's son, whom he adopted. His second wife was Nina Dyer.
· Baron Hans Heinrich von Thyssen Bornemisza de Kaszon, industrialist and art collector, born April 13 1921; died April 27 2002
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Beyond Heritage: Introducing Mulberry SS'18
Beyond Heritage: To celebrate the launch of the Spring
Summer ’18 collection Mulberry is taking over the magnificent
eighteenth-century Spencer House in central London to host a series of
presentations and workshops throughout the weekend. On Saturday 17th and Sunday
18th February, guests will be able to shop the new collection and attend
workshops
Summer ’18 collection Mulberry is taking over the magnificent
eighteenth-century Spencer House in central London to host a series of
presentations and workshops throughout the weekend. On Saturday 17th and Sunday
18th February, guests will be able to shop the new collection and attend
workshops
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Mulberry Born in 1971 / Mulberry's sales of luxury goods fall sharply in UK / VIDEO: Beyond Heritage - Mulberry SS'18 at Spencer House
Born in 1971, the roots of Mulberry are in Somerset, England.
Mulberry’s founder, Roger Saul, established the brand at his kitchen table, with £500 backing from his mother. His sister designed our instantly-recognisable tree logo - both that, and the name “Mulberry” come from the trees he would pass each day on his way to school. All of this represented a love of nature, the importance of family and the growth of a fundamentally British brand.
The first designs were buckled leather belts - soon, other accessories followed, including iconic bags and a womenswear line in 1979. The hallmarks of these Mulberry creations - timeless design coupled with traditional quality and a sense of the here and now - are the threads that run through everything we make. Then, today and tomorrow.
Mulberry's heritage - and hence our identity - is quintessentially British. Early inspiration was drawn from the styles synonymous with English rural pursuits - hunting, shooting, fishing - and Mulberry's immediately-identifiable, utterly individualistic style came to be dubbed "Le Style Anglais" in 1975. This idea is still inspires us. Between town and country, between Somerset serenity and London pace, Mulberry combines authentic, age-honoured craft with an innovative fashion character. Heritage meet rebellion - rules are broken, to make something new.
For more than forty years, Mulberry has been a leading British lifestyle brand, internationally acclaimed for our quality and design. Mulberry’s handbags - the Trout satchel, the Bayswater and the Alexa - have become contemporary classics, iconic examples of British design and manufacturing expertise. Roger Saul’s successors, Design and Creative Directors Nicholas Knightly, Stuart Vevers, Emma Hill and, from 2015, Johnny Coca have each placed their own stamp on Mulberry, reinterpreting the brand to chime with the fashion moment.
Mulberry today offers a unique point of view on heritage. We continue to celebrate the contradictions of a truly British identity, looking back to our archives and rich British traditions and examining them from a new perspective. A sense of the past reinvented with the spirit of now. Heritage yet modern, classic, yet unclassic.
Play with the classic, twist the conventional, use the familiar to make something inspiring and new.
Johnny Coca
Creative Director
Mulberry's sales of luxury goods fall sharply in UK
British bag manufacturer says weak pound causing tourists to shop elsewhere in Europe
Angela Monaghan
Wed 13 Jun 2018 14.27 BST Last modified on Wed 13 Jun 2018 14.56 BST
Mulberry’s UK sales have been hit in recent weeks as wealthy tourists favour Paris and Milan over London for their luxury shopping sprees.
The British designer bags manufacturer said foreign tourists were choosing other European destinations because rival luxury brands had raised their UK prices to compensate for the weak pound.
Sales in Mulberry stores that have been open for more than a year fell by 9% in the 10 weeks to 2 June, as domestic shoppers as well as overseas tourists stayed away. Sales outside the UK rose 1%.
Thierry Andretta, the chief executive, said that over the period Mulberry products had been sold at full price, with no discounting, adding he was confident demand in the UK would pick up.
“We are playing a luxury game and we have a lot of attractive products that appeal to new, young customers and to our loyal customers,” he said.
Mulberry’s bestselling bag is currently the Amberley, launched last year with prices starting from about £500 for a small satchel.
Approximately 70% of Mulberry’s sales are in the UK, and Andretta said that while the company was “totally committed” to the domestic market, he hoped that over the long-term the split between UK and international sales would be closer to 50/50.
Alongside its annual results, the company announced a joint venture with SHK in South Korea as part of its international expansion plan. Mulberry will own 60% of the newly created entity, investing £3.1m. SHK will own the remaining 40% and invest £1.5m.
The luxury brand also created new entities in in China, Hong Kong, Taiwan and Japan in the year to 31 March 2018, as it seeks to capitalise on Asia’s swelling middle-classes.
“Although the UK market remains challenging, we will continue to invest in our strategy to develop Mulberry into a global luxury brand to deliver increased shareholder value,” Andretta said.
Pretax profit over the year fell to £6.9m from £7.5m, after £2m of startup costs and £2.4m of operating costs relating to its new Asia subsidiaries. Revenue edged up 1% to £169.7m.
Beyond Heritage - Mulberry SS'18 at Spencer House
To celebrate the launch of the Spring Summer ’18collection Mulberry took over the magnificent Spencer House in central London
to host ‘Beyond Heritage’: a series of presentations and workshops throughout
the weekend. Open to the public on Saturday 17th and Sunday 18th February,
guests were able to enjoy the Palm Room tea house and shop the new collection
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My Generation Trailer
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MY GENERATION Michael Caine / VIDEO: Q&A | BFI London Film Festival 2017
My Generation review – Michael Caine on what the 1960s were all about
3 / 5 stars 3 out of 5 stars.
Twiggy, Joan Collins and Paul McCartney reminisce with the Alfie actor about a decade of smiley hippies and grumpy people in bowler hats
Peter Bradshaw
@PeterBradshaw1
Fri 16 Mar 2018 06.00 GMT Last modified on Fri 16 Mar 2018 09.15 GMT
The enduring mystery of what Michael Caine is thinking and feeling remains intact during his watchable, if somewhat exasperating docu-reminiscence of 1960s swinging London. It certainly doesn’t say anything revealing or new about the man itself. With many images of smiley hippies and apoplectic people in bowler hats, the film is narrated by Caine in his inimitably measured and inscrutably deadpan style: the script is evidently the work of Dick Clement and Ian La Frenais whose 60s TV classic The Likely Lads sadly goes unmentioned.
David Bailey, Joan Collins, Sandie Shaw, Twiggy and Paul McCartney are interviewed here by Caine, though oddly and disappointingly off camera, their voices the accompaniment to old footage. Caine has said that he didn’t want the audience distracted by these faces all looking shockingly older. Well, it is a shame to diminish these people’s actual presence in the film, though there are some extraordinary archive moments here, and the film is all but stolen by the young and breathtakingly beautiful Joanna Lumley talking about how hilarious it is to work with the photographer Duffy.
The welfare state, a growing economy, free education and the pill created the conditions for postwar freedom and anti-establishment irreverence, a cultural aftershock to the Attlee victory of 1945. And these pop singers, hairdressers, photographers and movie stars had ideas above their station, promoted to a dizzyingly exciting central position in popular culture. It was a working-class, or at any rate middle-classless movement. Caine does not, however, mention that he and these other fortunate celebrities were unrepresentative. For most people outside London and indeed inside London, 60s life actually trudged on as it had done in the 50s and 40s.
Anyway, they were Caine’s “generation”, although they were mostly a bit younger than Caine, who was in his early 30s when he found stardom in Zulu and Alfie. Caine had come up from the East End though hard graft; he’d consolidated a strong work ethic in rep and avoided the drug experiments and live-fast-die-young affectations of many pop stars and associated media celebrities, who had perhaps covertly modified a posh person’s dilettante attitude, having money and contacts to fall back on.
My Generation is mostly about rock stars: Jagger, Lennon, McCartney, Daltrey, Burdon. (Sadly, Cliff Richard is evidently not considered weighty enough to be interviewed.) There is also some entertaining material about pop art and what they did to help drearily monochrome, pea-soupy London get to be more colourful. There is oddly little about cinema in Caine’s documentary. The posh voices of Brief Encounter are teased; there are some clips of Alfie, Zulu and The Italian Job and bits of Albert Finney and Tom Courtenay – but nothing from Antonioni’s Blow Up. Similarly, nothing much about TV and theatre, and nothing about that quintessential standard-bearer of the irreverent 60s: David Frost.
Interestingly, literature had gone through what passed for its own revolution the decade before with Colin Wilson, Kingsley Amis and the angry young men. A dismayingly pompous Anthony Burgess blathers on about how “youth considers itself wise like a drunk man thinking himself sober”. Stuart Hall gets a tiny cameo talking about what the new currents in youth culture meant, but there’s nothing here about the whiteness of swinging London. Caine talks cheerfully about “birds”, an expression for which he apologises to the “ladies”.
Without entirely intending it, the film shows that the one institution in British life that remained stuffy and staid was the press. There’s a glimpse of a newspaper hoarding, advertising a warning about hippies by Billy Graham, written by that hungry young journalist Jonathan Aitken.
My Generation valuably reminds us that many people of the older generation really were very, very cross about the upstart counter-jumpers of the 60s revolution. There were grumpy gents and tetchy twinset ladies who were interviewed on TV and they didn’t realise or mind how absurd they sounded. It wasn’t just cultural or political. It was the age-old envy and hate of the old for the young. Nowadays people conceal it more carefully and make satirical jibes about “millennials”. Replace that phrase with “young people” and today’s droll commentators sound an awful lot like the purple-faced types who demanded that Mick Jagger got his hair cut and did some national service
Michael Caine: ‘What ruined the 60s was drugs’
By Michael Hogan
Michael Caine
The New Review Q&A
As his documentary about the 1960s opens, the veteran actor talks working-class culture, Woody Allen and why he never liked drugs
Sat 10 Mar 2018 17.00 GMT Last modified on Wed 21 Mar 2018 23.48 GMT
Now 84, Michael Caine has appeared in 127 films, including Zulu, Alfie and The Italian Job, and been Oscar-nominated six times, winning twice. Caine is the narrator, co-producer and star of new documentary film My Generation, about his journey through 1960s London.
What inspired you to make My Generation?
Simon Fuller [Spice Girls/Pop Idol svengali] and I are friends, and over dinner, conversation kept coming round to the 60s. He was too young, so was always asking about it. One evening he said, “Let’s make a documentary. You can tell the stories and I’ll find the music.” It’s taken a few years, but that’s what we did. I have a very good memory, which is fortunate at my age, so there’s a lot of material left over. We’re turning that into a six-part TV series.
The film is studded with star names, but they don’t appear in traditional “talking heads” style. Why?
I interviewed loads of people – McCartney, Twiggy, Roger Daltrey, Joan Collins – but we ended up taking the footage out of the film. It screwed it up, because you’re no longer immersed in the 60s, you’re too busy going “Oh look, he’s gone bald,” or “Ain’t she got fat?” So you only hear their voices; we’ll use the footage in the TV series instead.
I thought the saying went “If you remember the 60s, you weren’t really there”?
That’s more the late 60s/early 70s. In the 60s, we were drinkers. What ruined the 60s, towards the end of the decade, were drugs. If people were taking cocaine, they’d start talking bollocks and not stop for hours. If they were on other drugs, they’d just sit around, going “Wow, man.” So it was either people talking too fast to understand, or people not saying anything at all. It brought to an end the 60s as we knew it – which was a load of drunks getting up to all sorts and dancing like mad.
Is it true you smoked marijuana just the once?
Yes, and I laughed for five hours. I nearly got a hernia. I must have been very tense beforehand! When I left the party at 1am in Grosvenor Square, I was standing alone on a corner, roaring with laughter, and no cab would stop for me. I had to walk to my flat in Notting Hill, and when I got back, I vowed I’d never take bloody drugs again. And I never did. I’m not anti-drugs: I’m sympathetic to people who take them, because they’ve got themselves in a situation that I really do not envy. Most drugs are terrible… at least marijuana’s good for medicinal purposes.
You permanently had a fag in your mouth during the 60s, though…
I smoked a lot, but Tony Curtis saved my life. I was at a party, chain-smoking by the fireplace, when a hand came round from behind me, took the cigarettes out of my pocket and threw them in the fire. I turned round and it was Tony Curtis. We’d never met, but he said: “I’ve been watching you, Michael. You’re going to die if you keep doing that, you idiot.” So I quit.
I later took up cigars, but gave them up because of Hurricane Higgins, the snooker player. I knew Alex quite well, and one night I was smoking a cigar while watching TV. Alex came on the screen with a voice-box and I could see he was dying. I stubbed the cigar out in the ashtray and never smoked again.
In the documentary you sometimes seem like the more senior, sensible one…
Well, I was a serious actor. I’d spent nine years on stage and worked my way up to leading roles in movies. I’d be up at 6.30am for a day’s worth of dialogue, so I couldn’t stay up all night, dancing and getting laid. Don’t worry, though… between films I’d go a bit mad.
My Generation has a 50/50 gender split of contributors. Did you insist on that?
Absolutely. I’m a feminist to the core. An interviewer once asked my wife, “What first attracted you to Michael?” and she said, “The way he treated his mother.” I respected women tremendously, right from the start. I just didn’t know I was a feminist until they invented it.
The first night I went to the Ad Lib club every single Beatle and every single Rolling Stone was in there dancing
Michael Caine
Social change is a big theme in My Generation…
That’s the serious point of the film, really. Society was transformed by the 60s. I was born during the Depression, then came the Blitz. I was evacuated and spent six years waiting for a telegram telling me my dad was dead. A tough start. Six years after the war, I was in the army myself – first in the occupation force in Berlin, then the Korean war, fighting the Chinese. When I got home, London was all smog and rationing. The last straw was [Soviet leader] Khrushchev’s speech saying they now had the atom bomb and could send it here in a rocket to annihilate us within four minutes. So the attitude became: “We’re miserable as sin, we’ve got four minutes to live, let’s have some fun.” And boy, did we have fun.
Was there a working-class takeover of culture?
Yeah, slowly but surely. Small things happened: Radio Caroline launched, before the BBC finally gave in and started playing pop music. Coffee bars started putting on live groups, like the Beatles. Discotheques arrived from Paris. The first night I went to the Ad Lib club – run by my friend Johnny Gold, who later opened Tramp and called me “Disco Mike” – every single Beatle and every single Rolling Stone was in there dancing. Pop culture went bang, exploded, and just kept going. Working-class kids everywhere
David Bailey and Terry O’Neill became almost as famous as the people they were photographing. I shared a flat with Vidal Sassoon and got free haircuts. Terence Stamp was another flatmate. It seemed like everyone I knew became famous.
You were good friends with Roger Moore. Did his death last year hit you hard?
Yeah, we were close. But at my age, you get used to your friends dying.
You’ve been buddies with two Bonds, Moore and Connery. Who would you like to play 007 next?
Tom Hardy. And make him do a posh accent.
You won an Oscar for Hannah and Her Sisters. What do you make of the accusations against Woody Allen?
I am so stunned. I’m a patron of the NSPCC and have very strong views about paedophilia. I can’t come to terms with it, because I loved Woody and had a wonderful time with him. I even introduced him to Mia [Farrow]. I don’t regret working with him, which I did in complete innocence; but I wouldn’t work with him again, no.
Last year, you were in yet another Oscar-nominated film, Dunkirk…
Only a cheeky little cameo. Christopher [Nolan, director] and I have done six very successful films together. I’m his good-luck charm. Or is he mine? Anyway, I had to be in Dunkirk, but there was no proper part for me because of my age. Instead I did the voice of the Spitfire squadron leader over the radio. I looked at the gross yesterday: half a billion. The lucky charm worked again.
You seem almost as busy as ever…
What’s come into fashion, fortunately for me, is films for older people. Ever since The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel took $150m, they’ve realised there’s a generation who still go to the cinema. So last year I made Going in Style with Morgan Freeman and Alan Arkin, all of us in our 80s. I’ve just done Night in Hatton Garden, about the oldest robbers in history. It’s like the audience have grown up with me.
Tess Daly says you’d be her dream celebrity contestant on Strictly Come Dancing. Fancy it?
Oh, really? I’m afraid I’m beyond that. She should be mighty relieved. I watch Strictly every weekend with my three grandchildren. We all shout out the scores together.
Was the 60s the best decade of your life?
At the time it was. Since then, my life has improved from decade to decade. My joy nowadays is not movies, money or women – I’ve been happily married for 45 years to the most wonderful woman I ever met – it’s my grandchildren. I’m devoted to them.
You’re 85 next week. How are you celebrating?
My wife’s organising something but won’t tell me what. My 80th was in Las Vegas with Quincy Jones. We call ourselves “the celestial twins”. He composed the music for The Italian Job and when he came on set, we worked out we were born at exactly the same hour. We’re not identical twins, clearly, we’re celestial ones. One thing I love about Quince is he’s always late for everything. He invited me around for lunch recently and he was an hour late. In his own house.
Will you ever retire?
No. The movie business retires you. I’ve just turned down a film, actually; but if I get a script I really want to do, I will. I’m busy enough. I’ve got the TV series and a book I’m writing. I did a guide to acting, which went very well, so now I’m writing one on stardom. It’s full of funny stories and I name-drop like fury, obviously. You might have noticed.
My Generation is released 16 March. On 14 March a preview screening in cinemas will be followed by a live Q&A with Michael Caine, broadcast from BFI Southbank
Michael Caine rails against the establishment in exclusive clip from My Generation documentary
'I never understood who my betters were supposed to be. I've never seen any of my betters'
Clarisse Loughrey
@clarisselou
Monday 12 March 2018 12:29
Michael Caine invites you into the world of his youth in the new documentary My Generation: London in the Swinging Sixties.
It's an opportunity to see a revolutionary time in British history through the eyes of one of its famous participators, documenting the birth of London's pop culture scene.
The film combines Caine's own personal accounts, alongside archive footage and interviews with The Beatles, Twiggy, David Bailey, Mary Quant, The Rolling Stones, and David Hockney.
An exclusive new clip sees Caine and compatriots discuss how his generation clashed ideologically with the established powers, of the older generation still clinging on to the legacy of the British Empire.
Though the young have always been taught to respect "their betters", Caine notes: "I never understood who my betters were supposed to be. I've never seen any of my betters. I've seen a lot of my equals, but I've still never seen any of my betters."
My Generation has been a six-year-long passion project of Caine's, working alongside producer Simon Fuller, writers Dick Clement and Ian La Frenais, and director David Batty.
An exclusive Q&A with Michael Caine will be broadcast live March 14th when My Generation arrives in movie theatres. For more information visit: https://www.mygenerationmovie.co.uk/
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TROUBLE in the Conceptual Art Paradise … ‘Famous urinal ‘Fountain’ is not by Marcel Duchamp’ / VIDEO: Duchamp, Fountain
After "this"… is just delicious to listen at the “smart” conversation in the VIDEO below …
JEEVES
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The original Fountain by Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven photographed by Alfred Stieglitz at the 291 (Art Gallery) after the 1917 Society of Independent Artists exhibit. Stieglitz used a backdrop of The Warriors by Marsden Hartley to photograph the urinal. The entry tag is clearly visible. |
‘Famous urinal ‘Fountain’ is not by Marcel Duchamp’
Art history Art experts claim ‘Fountain’, the world famous piece of art, was created by German Dada artist Elsa von Freytag, not by Marcel Duchamp.
Sandra Smallenburg
14 juni 2018
Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven, Dada artist and Marcel Duchamp’s friend, seen here posing as a model at the New York academy of art.
Foto Bettmann/Getty Images
Fountain, the famous urinal credited to Marcel Duchamp, is not by the famous French artist, according to four academics and historians in the latest edition of Dutch art magazine See All This.
Instead, the urinal, which dates from 1917, should be credited to German Dada artist, Baroness Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven, the experts say.
The theory that a female artist rather than Duchamp is hiding behind the name R. Mutt – the signature on the urinal – has been doing the rounds in the art world for a longer period. And various academics have been trying to determine who is the real maker since 1982, when a letter by Duchamp popped up in which he denies any involvement. In 2002, academic Irene Gammel wrote in her biography of Baroness Elsa that Von Freytag-Loringhoven was at least partly responsible for the work.
In 2004, Fountain was described in the British press as „the most influential modern work of art ever”. The original urinal was probably lost in 1917 and is only known from a photograph. Replicas, authorized by Duchamp, can be found in some of the world’s most prominent museums, including the Centre Pompidou in Paris, the Tate Modern in London and the San Francisco MoMA.
Last year, however, new evidence emerged that indicates Von Freytag-Loringhoven rather than Duchamp dreamt up the urinal. Towards the end of his life, Duchamp circulated a story in which he claimed to have bought it in a sanitary fittings shop on Fifth Avenue in New York. That story turned out not to be true. In 1917, the address he gave was actually occupied by JL Mott Iron Works, which did not sell products.
British art historian Glyn Thompson was the first to track down a similar urinal to the original, in an old factory in St Louis. It had been made by Trenton Potteries Company in New Jersey. And according to the Mott company inventory, that particular type had never been sold in New York.
There is more indirect evidence which points to Baroness Elsa. When Fountain was submitted to an exhibition in New York, the label carried an address in Philadelphia, the city where Von Freytag-Loringhoven lived in spring 1917. Later that same year, the artist made another sculpture from a waste water pipe called God, which would appear to seamlessly fit the urinal.
Theo Paijmans, the author of the article in See All This, says all this evidence is overwhelming. „The letter, Duchamp’s weak arguments, the finding of a second urinal, the fact the original was sent from Philadelphia not New York – when I put everything together, I knew it. Elsa made Fountain.”
Paijmans says the myth Duchamp created is a „one big cover up” and „an old scandal that has to be revisited.” Now, with the #MeToo movement, the time is right for change, he says. „There is real momentum to put works by women in the spotlight again. It is high time that art history is rewritten and this mother of modern art is given the place in it that she deserves.”
Fountain (Duchamp)
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
The original Fountain by Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven photographed by Alfred Stieglitz at the 291 (Art Gallery) after the 1917 Society of Independent Artists exhibit. Stieglitz used a backdrop of The Warriors by Marsden Hartley to photograph the urinal. The entry tag is clearly visible.
Fountain is a 1917 work produced by Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven. The piece was a porcelain urinal, which was signed "R.Mutt" and titled Fountain. Submitted for the exhibition of the Society of Independent Artists, in 1917, the first annual exhibition by the Society to be staged at The Grand Central Palace in New York, Fountain was rejected by the committee, even though the rules stated that all works would be accepted from artists who paid the fee. Fountain was displayed and photographed at Alfred Stieglitz's studio, and the photo published in The Blind Man, but the original has been lost. The work is regarded by art historians and theorists of the avant-garde, such as Peter Bürger, as a major landmark in 20th-century art. Seventeen replicas commissioned from Duchamp in the 1960s now exist.
Origin
Marcel Duchamp arrived in the United States less than two years prior to the creation of Fountain and had become involved with Dada, an anti-rational, anti-art cultural movement, in New York City. According to one version, the creation of Fountain began when, accompanied by artist Joseph Stella and art collector Walter Arensberg, he purchased a standard Bedfordshire model urinal from the J. L. Mott Iron Works, 118 Fifth Avenue. The artist brought the urinal to his studio at 33 West 67th Street, reoriented it to a position 90 degrees from its normal position of use, and wrote on it, "R. Mutt 1917".
According to another version, Duchamp did not create Fountain, but rather assisted in submitting the piece to the Society of Independent Artists for a female friend. In a letter dated 11 April 1917 Duchamp wrote to his sister Suzanne telling her about the circumstances around Fountain's submission: "Une de mes amies sous un pseudonyme masculin, Richard Mutt, avait envoyé une pissotière en porcelaine comme sculpture" ("One of my female friends, who had adopted the male pseudonym, Richard Mutt, sent me a porcelain urinal as a sculpture.") Duchamp never identified his female friend, but two candidates have been proposed: the Dadaist Baroness Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven, whose scatological aesthetic echoed that of Duchamp, or Louise Norton, who contributed an essay to The Blind Man discussing Fountain. Norton, who recently had separated from her husband, was living at the time in an apartment owned by her parents at 110 West 88th Street in New York City, and this address is partially discernible (along with "Richard Mutt") on the paper entry ticket attached to the object, as seen in Stieglitz's photograph.
Rhonda Roland Shearer in the online journal Tout-Fait (2000) has concluded that the photograph is a composite of different photos, while other scholars such as William Camfield have never been able to match the urinal shown in the photo to any urinals found in the catalogues of the time period.
At the time Duchamp was a board member of the Society of Independent Artists. After much debate by the board members (most of whom did not know Duchamp had submitted it) about whether the piece was or was not art, Fountain was hidden from view during the show. Duchamp resigned from the Board in protest.
The New York Dadaists stirred controversy about Fountain and its being rejected in the second issue of The Blind Man which included a photo of the piece and a letter by Alfred Stieglitz, and writings by Beatrice Wood and Arensberg. The anonymous editorial (which is assumed to be written by Wood) accompanying the photograph, entitled "The Richard Mutt Case,"[14] made a claim that would prove to be important concerning certain works of art that would come after it:
Whether Mr Mutt with his own hands made the fountain or not has no importance. He CHOSE it. He took an ordinary article of life, placed it so that its useful significance disappeared under the new title and point of view – created a new thought for that object.
In defense of the work being art, Wood also wrote, "The only works of art America has given are her plumbing and her bridges." Duchamp described his intent with the piece was to shift the focus of art from physical craft to intellectual interpretation.
Menno Hubregtse argues that Duchamp may have chosen Fountain as a readymade because it parodied Robert J. Coady's exaltation of industrial machines as pure forms of American art. Coady, who championed his call for American art in his publication The Soil, printed a scathing review of Jean Crotti's Portrait of Marcel Duchamp (Sculpture Made to Measure) in the December 1916 issue. Hubregtse notes that Duchamp's urinal may have been a clever response to Coady's comparison of Crotti's sculpture with "the absolute expression of a—plumber."
Shortly after its initial exhibition, Fountain was lost. According to Duchamp biographer Calvin Tomkins, the best guess is that it was thrown out as rubbish by Stieglitz, a common fate of Duchamp's early readymades.
The first reproduction of Fountain was authorized by Duchamp in 1950 for an exhibition in New York; two more individual pieces followed in 1953 and 1963, and then an artist's multiple was manufactured in an edition of eight in 1964. These editions ended up in a number of important public collections; Indiana University Art Museum, San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, the National Gallery of Canada, Centre Georges Pompidou and Tate Modern. The edition of eight was manufactured from glazed earthenware painted to resemble the original porcelain, with a signature reproduced in black paint.
Interpretations
Of all the artworks in this series of readymades, Fountain is perhaps the best known because the symbolic meaning of the toilet takes the conceptual challenge posed by the readymades to their most visceral extreme. Similarly, philosopher Stephen Hicks argued that Duchamp, who was quite familiar with the history of European art, was obviously making a provocative statement with Fountain:
The artist is a not great creator—Duchamp went shopping at a plumbing store. The artwork is not a special object—it was mass-produced in a factory. The experience of art is not exciting and ennobling—at best it is puzzling and mostly leaves one with a sense of distaste. But over and above that, Duchamp did not select just any ready-made object to display. In selecting the urinal, his message was clear: Art is something you piss on.
Since the photograph taken by Stieglitz is the only image of the original sculpture, there are some interpretations of Fountain by looking not only at reproductions but this particular photograph. Tomkins notes that "it does not take much stretching of the imagination to see in the upside-down urinal's gently flowing curves the veiled head of a classic Renaissance madonna or a seated Buddha or, perhaps more to the point, one of Brâncuși's polished erotic forms."
Title of the work
The use of the word "Dada" for the art movement, the meaning (if any) and intention of both the piece and the signature "R. Mutt", are difficult to pin down precisely. It is not clear whether Duchamp or Freytag-Lorinhoven had in mind the German "Armut" (meaning "poverty"), or possibly "Urmutter" (meaning “great mother”). The name R. Mutt could also be a play on its commercial origins or on the famous comic strip of the time, Mutt and Jeff (making the urinal perhaps the first work of art based on a comic). In German, Armut means poverty, although Duchamp said the R stood for Richard, French slang for "moneybags", which makes Fountain a kind of scatological golden calf.
Legacy
In December 2004, Duchamp's Fountain was voted the most influential artwork of the 20th century by 500 selected British art world professionals. The Independent noted in a February 2008 article that with this single work, Duchamp invented conceptual art and "severed forever the traditional link between the artist's labour and the merit of the work".
Jerry Saltz wrote in The Village Voice in 2006:
Duchamp adamantly asserted that he wanted to "de-deify" the artist. The readymades provide a way around inflexible either-or aesthetic propositions. They represent a Copernican shift in art. Fountain is what's called an "acheropoietoi," [sic] an image not shaped by the hands of an artist. Fountain brings us into contact with an original that is still an original but that also exists in an altered philosophical and metaphysical state. It is a manifestation of the Kantian sublime: A work of art that transcends a form but that is also intelligible, an object that strikes down an idea while allowing it to spring up stronger.
The prices for replicas, editions, or works that have some ephemeral trace of Duchamp reached its peak with the purchase of one of the eight 1964 replicas of Fountain for $1.7 million at Sotheby's in November 1999.
Several performance artists have attempted to "contribute" to the piece by urinating in it. South African born artist Kendell Geers rose to international notoriety in 1993 when, at a show in Venice, he urinated into Fountain. Artist / musician Brian Eno declared successfully urinating in Fountain while exhibited in the MoMA in 1993. He admitted that it was only a technical triumph because he needed to urinate in a tube in advance so he could get the fluid through a gap between the protective glass. Swedish artist Björn Kjelltoft urinated in Fountain at Moderna Museet in Stockholm in 1999.
In spring 2000, Yuan Chai and Jian Jun Xi, two performance artists, who in 1999 had jumped on Tracey Emin's installation-sculpture My Bed in the Turner Prize exhibition at Tate Britain, went to the newly opened Tate Modern and tried to urinate on the Fountain which was on display. However, they were prevented from soiling the sculpture directly by its Perspex case. The Tate, which denied that the duo had succeeded in urinating into the sculpture itself, banned them from the premises stating that they were threatening "works of art and our staff." When asked why they felt they had to add to Duchamp's work, Chai said, "The urinal is there – it's an invitation. As Duchamp said himself, it's the artist's choice. He chooses what is art. We just added to it."
On January 4, 2006, while on display in the Dada show in the Pompidou Centre in Paris, Fountain was attacked by Pierre Pinoncelli, a 76-year-old French performance artist, with a hammer causing a slight chip. Pinoncelli, who was arrested, said the attack was a work of performance art that Marcel Duchamp himself would have appreciated. In 1993 Pinoncelli urinated into the piece while it was on display in Nimes, in southern France. Both of Pinoncelli's performances derive from neo-Dadaists' and Viennese Actionists' intervention or manoeuvre.
Marcel Duchamp, Fountain, 1917/1964, porcelain urinal,
paint, San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. Speakers: Dr. Beth Harris and Dr. Steven Zucker.
Created by Beth Harris and Steven Zucker.
Created by Beth Harris and Steven Zucker.
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The Crown (2016) season 1 - scene comparisons
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‘The Crown’ Costume Designer Jane Petrie / VIDEO: The Crown's Costume Designer Breaks Down the Fashion of Season 2 | Vanit...
‘The Crown’ Costume Designer Jane Petrie On Her Approach To Period Authenticity – Production
by Matt Grobar
June 14, 2018 9:40am
With an abundance of period work behind her on films like Genius and Suffragette, Jane Petrie would seem the perfect artist to oversee costumes for Netflix royal drama The Crown. Early in her career as wardrobe mistress—and later, as a costume assistant—Petrie tracked Queen Elizabeth I’s looks with two films: Elizabeth and Elizabeth: The Golden Age. Having covered this antecendent monarch of the 16th century, why shouldn’t she get her crack at Queen Elizabeth II?
While Petrie would take over for Emmy-winning costumer Michele Clapton for the series’ second season, she wasn’t sure upfront that she wanted the job. Watching a rough cut of Season 1 prior to its debut, though, the designer was compelled. “I realized just how brilliant the scripts are, and that they’re really about the whole country and world politics,” Petrie says on the latest edition of Deadline’s Production Value video series. “The narrative isn’t just sort of a shiny representation of the royal family; it’s so much more than that.”
While Petrie won’t return for Season 3 of The Crown, thus far, her instincts in signing on for Season 2 have been validated. Winning the Costume Designers Guild Award for Excellence in a Period Television Series for her contributions, the designer also drew a nomination from the BAFTA Television Craft Awards. For our interview, she took a break from production on David Michôd’s hot period drama The King (a Netflix original starring Oscar nominee Timothée Chalamet) to discuss the beginnings of her career and the craft she has brought to The Crown.
Looking to the series’ celebrated first season for purposes of continuity, Petrie was always encouraged to make her season of The Crown her own—and given the way in which the series jumps forward in time between seasons, there was little reason to hew too closely to any previous designs. Of course, on a project indebted to historical fact, Petrie’s work begins with an extensive prep process.
“I start just [with] broad research—social history, history. What are the main events that are happening around the time?” the costume designer says. “I watch a lot of documentaries, and in the case of The Crown—because it’s a period that has been documented on film—I watched lots of film footage.”
While research is essential, achieving authenticity on screen is certainly not as simple as picking up a book, or flipping on History Channel. “So much research has been edited before we even see it, so if you’re watching a documentary, it’s been selected,” Petrie explains. Approaching projects of this nature, the designer is always attuned to the little details—what was worn by the average man or woman living at a given time, as well as how they wore it.
“What I really look for is people wearing their clothes and being themselves, and not doing this sort of period thing of, ‘Their gloves match their shoes and their handbag, and everybody has to wear a hat, and everything’s neat,’ ” Petrie says. “I want to find how people really wore it, and how relaxed they were, and how they inhabit their clothes. If somebody’s wearing something and I believe it, that’s my first base.”
For Petrie, challenges of authenticity and chronology continued to present themselves throughout the production process, resolved only through “a lot of swatching, and a lot of searching.” “The hardest part of that—when you really pull it down to the nuts and bolts—is finding the quality of suiting for the menswear,” she reflects. “The rules that we have now that we make suits from are so very different. [They’re] so lightweight and soft compared to those heavy, dense wools that they used to use.”
Outside of finding the raw materials for a series’ costumes, there is also the matter of conditioning them for use onscreen. “Even if you can go to a shop and buy something, it’s unlikely it’s going to go in that condition onto camera,” Petrie notes. “It often needs to be dyed, slightly broken down, given a little bit of a history, a bit of wear and tear.”
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YES !! My Generation !! JEEVES / VIDEO: Paul McCartney Carpool Karaoke
Paul McCartney serves up surprise show in Liverpool pub
Rock star returns to home city for appearance on Carpool Karaoke with James Corden
Alexandra Topping
Fri 22 Jun 2018 18.42 BST Last modified on Fri 22 Jun 2018 23.15 BST
As homecoming gigs for one of the world’s biggest rock stars go, it was fairly low key: a small band on a slightly bigger stage in a local pub.
But for the drinkers who just happened to be in the Philharmonic Dining Rooms in Liverpool, seeing Sir Paul McCartney perform was probably the best gig of their lives.
There was amazement, dancing and more than a few tears when one of Liverpool’s most celebrated sons returned for his appearance on The Late Late Show’s Carpool Karaoke with James Corden on Tuesday.
McCartney performed a piano rendition of When I’m Sixty-Four as he revisited his childhood home, showing Corden the back room where he wrote songs with fellow Beatle John Lennon. Walking upstairs in the small terrace, he showed off his old “acoustic chamber” – the toilet where he would sit, strum and sing for hours.
Describing how he and Lennon had played She Loves You to his father, McCartney recalls him asking if they could change the refrain to “yes, yes, yes” because there were already too many Americanisms in common use. “We did not heed his advice. Had we have done, who knows what could have happened,” he said.
Tweeting a link to the episode, Corden wrote: “Ok, so here it is. Quite possibly the best #CarpoolKaraoke we’ve done so far. I hope you like it. I’ll never ever forget it. Take a breath and jump in.”
James Corden
✔
@JKCorden
Ok, so here it is. Quite possibly the best #CarpoolKaraoke we’ve done so far. I hope you like it. I’ll never ever forget it. Take a breath and jump in https://youtu.be/QjvzCTqkBDQ x
7:28 AM - Jun 22, 2018
35.5K
13.7K people are talking about this
The pair started the show singing the Beatles hit Drive My Car, while cruising through the city, replacing the song’s “beep beeps” with honks of the horn. On Penny Lane, they popped into a barber shop – which had a picture on the wall of a much younger McCartney getting his hair cut – much to the delight of the hairdresser.
Corden became emotional as the pair sang Let It Be in the car. “I can remember my granddad, who’s a musician, and my dad sitting me down and saying, ‘We’re going to play you the best song you’ve ever heard’. And I remember them playing me that. If my granddad was here right now, he’d get an absolute kick out of this,” Corden said. “That’s the power of music,” McCartney replied.
McCartney harmonised with Corden singing Blackbird and his new single Come On to Me from the album Egypt Station.
But the 18-time Grammy award winner saved the best performance until last, when he appeared from behind a curtain in the Liverpool Philharmonic Dining Rooms, or “the Phil”, where he had played and occasionally drunk as a young man.
Within seconds, the small crowd was on its feet, and more poured through the door as word spread, as he performed A Hard Day’s Night, Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da, Love Me Do, Back in the USSR and Hey Jude.
The star said the journey back to his childhood home had made him reflect on the trajectory of his life. “The distance from here to where we went, and where we are now is phenomenal.”
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Patrick Melrose (2018) / VIDEO:| Official Trailer | Benedict Cumberbatch SHOWTIM...
Brilliant, Sharp and Dark. Much more than a portrait of addiction, is a deep reflection about the terrifying consequences of abuse, certainly if it comes from the architype: Your parents
JEEVES
Patrick Melrose is a 2018 five-part drama miniseries starring Benedict Cumberbatch as the titular Melrose. The show is based on semi-autobiographical novels about Britain's upper class by Edward St Aubyn.
Following the death of his father in the 1980s, Englishman Patrick Melrose attempts to overcome his addictions and demons rooted in abuse by his father and negligent mother.
It was announced in February 2017 that Benedict Cumberbatch would star in and produce a television adaptation of Edward St Aubyn’s Patrick Melrose book series that would air on Showtime in the United States and Sky Atlantic in the United Kingdom. David Nicholls wrote the five episodes of the series, with Edward Berger directing. In July, Jennifer Jason Leigh and Hugo Weaving joined as Patrick’s mother and father, and Anna Madeley was cast as Patrick’s wife. Allison Williams and Blythe Danner joined in August 2017, with filming having begun by October in Glasgow.
The first trailer debuted in April 2018, with the series set to premiere on May 12 on Showtime.The series will consecutively stream new episodes on CraveTV in Canada. It's showing on Sky Atlantic in the UK.
1 "Bad News" Edward Berger David Nicholls May 12, 2018
In 1982, Patrick Melrose is dispatched to New York City to retrieve the ashes of his father David. He decides to quit using drugs but finds himself unable to stop as he recollects his father's abuse and encounters associates of his father. Patrick resorts to using heroin, alcohol, and other drugs and finally breaks down with a botched suicide attempt. Patrick places a call to his friend Johnny telling him he wishes to finally give up drugs.
2 "Never Mind" Edward Berger David Nicholls May 19, 2018
While going through heroin withdrawal, Patrick recalls a traumatic day he experienced as an 8 year old while on holiday in France with his parents. His father David is manipulative and cruel, his mother Eleanor an alcoholic who is terrified of her husband. It is revealed through a series of flashbacks that the young Patrick was abused by his father, while his mother more or less acquiesced.
3 "Some Hope" Edward Berger David Nicholls May 26, 2018
It's 1990 and Patrick has been invited to go to a party of the upper class where Princess Margaret will be present. We see a Patrick who is trying to put his substance abuse in the past and has help from his friend Johnny who is in a therapy group. At the party, we find Princess Margaret behaving unpleasantly due to her social status and humiliating the French ambassador. She also dismisses the hostess' daughter from meeting her and this reminds Patrick of himself as a boy when his father wouldn't allow his mother to talk to him during dinner in France. Patrick later reveals to Johnny that he was sexually abused by his father for a number of years as a young boy. The episode ends with Patrick meeting the drug dealer Chilly Willy, who we as the audience met in the first episode as the drug dealer who passed out, as he is about to leave from playing in the band at the party.
4 "Mother's Milk" Edward Berger David Nicholls June 2, 2018 0.264
In 2003, Patrick is sober and has become a lawyer. He brings his wife Mary and three children to the South of France to visit his gravely ill mother, who has suffered a stroke. Eleanor has been taken in by a shady guru named Seamus, who has convinced her to sign the deed to the house over to the "foundation" which he leads. Being disinherited conjures up Patrick's buried resentment toward his mother, causing him to begin drinking and using prescription drugs again. His marriage to Mary is also in trouble, which he makes worse by engaging in an affair with his old girlfriend Julia when she visits. Patrick comes to terms with the loss of his childhood home and gives his blessing to his mother's plans, offering to arrange for her to be brought to London. Thereafter Patrick brings his family to Connecticut to see his snobbish aunt Nancy, where his drinking spirals out of control. After an angry confrontation with Nancy, Mary confronts Patrick and gives him an ultimatum: sober up or leave.
5 "At Last" Edward Berger David Nicholls June 9, 2018
April 2005 - Eleanor Melrose has passed away and Patrick presides over her funeral. There are flashbacks of Patrick's life over the past two years, in which his drinking problem continued unabated after separating from Mary and his children. Eventually he returns to a rehab center, and after initially resisting the process and even escaping, he returned to focus on his recovery. His mother, bedridden in a London nursing home, insisted on being euthanised, so Patrick petitioned the British government to allow her to be brought to Switzerland. After gaining approval, Eleanor changes her mind at the last minute. There is also a flashback to years earlier, when Mary and Patrick realize that his father was a serial child molester, and Patrick for the first time confronts his mother about the abuse, who claims to have also been abused by David. In the present day, Eleanor's funeral and wake turn into a bizarre show as old faces converge. Patrick struggles to reconcile the positive portrait of Eleanor which others knew to his own experience of her as a neglectful mother.
TV review
Patrick Melrose review – a brilliant portrayal of addiction
5 / 5 stars 5 out of 5 stars.
Benedict Cumberbatch had long wanted to play Edward St Aubyn’s character – and David Nicholls’s adaptation shows the actor’s deep understanding of the role
Sam Wollaston
@samwollaston
Sun 13 May 2018 22.10 BST Last modified on Tue 19 Jun 2018 12.23 BST
The phone rings, one of those telephones from my childhood, with a curly wire connecting the receiver. A stripy-shirted arm reaches for it tentatively. “Hello?” says a voice – deep, aristocratic, lugubrious and woozy, but unmistakably Benedict Cumberbatch (confirmed when the camera eventually looks higher). There is a delay and an echo on the line (remember that?). Sad news from New York: his father has died.
Patrick Melrose, the character Cumberbatch is playing, sinks slowly towards the floor, but not in grief. He has dropped something; a syringe. There is a tell-tale blood spot on the shirt, too.
After hanging up, Melrose’s face slowly – very slowly – transforms. His eyes close, he exhales through his nose, the corners of his mouth twist into a smile, because heroin is now flooding his brain cells and because of another kind of release – from the abusive relationship and trauma that was instrumental in getting him mixed up with serious drugs in the first place.
“Old bastard’s only gone and died,” he says to one of the women in his life. He is thinking of giving up drugs, he tells another. Then he Concordes across the Atlantic, where he fails spectacularly to give up drugs (to heroin add amphetamines, quaaludes, valium and alcohol) and very nearly fails to pick up his father’s ashes. He only just fails to kill himself, too.
The first episode of Patrick Melrose (Sky Atlantic), adapted by One Day writer David Nicholls from the autobiographical novels of Edward St Aubyn, covers two days in 1982 in New York, with flashbacks to a miserable childhood that is explored – excruciatingly and poignantly – in future episodes.
It could have been ghastly – messed-up, Tennyson-quoting toff throws money at people and takes a lot of drugs in 80s New York, because his messed-up toff daddy wasn’t very nice to him. And how can the thoughtful wit and exploration – of the character and of addiction and privilege - of the books translate to the screen?
It is a triumph, though. Nicholls must take some credit for managing to boil down five books into five hours of television without losing flavour. I have seen three, each of which has a distinct character that has a lot to do with where and when it is set, yet they nod to each other and belong together, like movements in a symphony. The dialogue (much of which is Melrose in conversation with himself) is sharp; this is tight, intelligent adaptation.
Then there is Edward Berger’s direction. Berger, who did Deutschland 83, does excellent New York 82 as well. There are so many glorious scenes in the first episode. At the funeral parlour on Madison (“only the best or go without” Melrose’s father would have said), where Melrose goes into the wrong room, a Jewish wake, before finding the right one and unwrapping his father like a birthday present (“Is it Dad? It is! It’s just what I wanted, you shouldn’t have!”). A disastrous date with an ambitious New York socialite who doesn’t want a quaalude or even a drink. Another drink with a woman who witnessed some of Patrick’s tragic childhood. During this one, a quaalude hits and everything slows down, as if all the batteries have suddenly gone flat – Patrick’s voice, the movement of the camera … until he does a line of speed in the loo. Suddenly, everything – jerky camera movement included – is on full charge again. It is an immersive experience: not just watching Melrose, but kind of being him as well.
Which brings us to the man who has thrown himself into Melrose. There are other fine performances: Sebastian Maltz, haunting as young Patrick; Hugo Weaving as his monster father; Jennifer Jason Leigh as his wasted, spaced out, waste-of-space mother. But this is the Cumberbatch show and it has come to town.
He had always wanted the part, he told the Radio Times, which might have been problematic, made it a vehicle for his talents and range: look at me acting, now shower me with awards.
Maybe there is a bit of that going on. But it also means he has a deep understanding of the character. He hits just the right note: hilarious, but also tragic, irritating, exasperating. It is addiction personified, sympathetic without being celebratory or glamorised. So, do look at him – it is impossible not to – and shower him with awards. He is, and it is, brilliant.
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“Pretty Gentlemen, by Peter McNeil / VIDEO: Macaroni fashion style, some images
“Pretty Gentlemen, by Peter McNeil (Yale). In the latter half of the eighteenth century, a new subculture emerged in England: the outlandishly dressed “macaroni men,” who flaunted a proto-dandy brand of masculinity that was often mocked as effeminate. Using sources such as caricature and poetry, this history examines the trend’s social, political, gender, and economic implications, and claims for it a role in the construction of English national identity. The macaroni style, brought from Italy and France by men who had made the Grand Tour, proved hard to integrate into English society, which was unused to such frippery. For every aristocratic youth excited to emulate the new fashions radiating from London, there was another whose first reaction was to stuff a mouse into a macaroni’s wig bag.”
A macaroni (or formerly maccaroni) in mid-18th-century England was a fashionable fellow who dressed and even spoke in an outlandishly affected and epicene manner. The term pejoratively referred to a man who "exceeded the ordinary bounds of fashion" in terms of clothes, fastidious eating, and gambling. He mixed Continental affectations with his English nature, like a practitioner of macaronic verse (which mixed English and Latin to comic effect), laying himself open to satire:
There is indeed a kind of animal, neither male nor female, a thing of the neuter gender, lately [1770] started up among us. It is called a macaroni. It talks without meaning, it smiles without pleasantry, it eats without appetite, it rides without exercise, it wenches without passion.
The macaronis were precursor to the dandies, who came as a more masculine reaction to the excesses of the macaroni, far from their present connotation of effeminacy.
Young men who had been to Italy on the Grand Tour had developed a taste for maccaroni, a type of pasta little known in England then, and so they were said to belong to the Macaroni Club. They would refer to anything that was fashionable or à la mode as "very maccaroni". Horace Walpole wrote to a friend in 1764 of "the Macaroni Club, which is composed of all the traveled young men who wear long curls and spying-glasses".The "club" was not a formal one; the expression was particularly used to characterize fops who dressed in high fashion with tall, powdered wigs with a chapeau bras on top that could only be removed on the point of a sword.
The shop of engravers and printsellers Mary and Matthew Darly in the fashionable West End of London sold their sets of satirical "macaroni" caricature prints, published between 1771 and 1773. The new Darly shop became known as "the Macaroni Print-Shop".
The Italian term maccherone, figuratively meaning "blockhead, fool", was not related to this British usage.
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Portrait of John Maynard Keynes by Duncan Grant, 1917 / VIDEO:Charleston - Bloomsbury Group Bohemia
Portrait of John Maynard Keynes by Duncan Grant, 1917
The beautiful science
Maev Kennedy
TU 24 Nov 2005 12.31 GMT First published on Thu 24 Nov 2005 12.31 GMT
Portrait of John Maynard Keynes by Duncan Grant, 1917
Shh, he's working on how to finance Britain's role in the first world war... portrait of John Maynard Keynes by Duncan Grant
The chap in the frivolous hat, looking as if he's considering nothing more taxing than replanting the herbaceous border and possibly lunch, is the great economist John Maynard Keynes - painted in 1917 by his lover, Duncan Grant.
The beautiful and tender portrait shows Keynes working (on how to finance Britain's role in the first world war, according to his daughter) in the garden of Charleston farmhouse, country bolthole of the Bloomsbury group, of which he was undoubtedly the most wildly improbable member.
The painting will be displayed for the first time at the Sussex farmhouse, where it hung for years after his death. It has been withdrawn from auction and bought by the Charleston Trust, which now runs the house as a museum, after just six weeks of frantic fundraising.
The trust raised £100,000 to keep it from auction, with major grants from the National Heritage Memorial Fund and the Art Fund charity.
Keynes died in 1946, aged 63, said to have been worn out by overwork. Grant, arguably the nicest of the Bloomsburies and certainly the best artist, outlived almost all his friends, working on at Charleston until 1978. After his death the house was opened as a museum. The trust maintains it as a shrine to the jaw-dropping interior decor tastes of the Bloomsburies, and has restored the garden.
Grant kept the painting until 1956, when a London dealer contacted him for a client who wanted a portrait of the much photographed, rarely painted economist. Alastair Upton, director of the trust, said: "Portrait of John Maynard Keynes is quite simply a wonderful painting by an artist at the height of his powers, that also tells an extremely powerful story."
Keynes, regarded as one of the greatest and most original economists of all time, is still revered by many contemporary money men: he argued for interventionism, warning against hoping things would sort themselves out in the long run - "in the long run we are all dead" - and directly influenced the creation of the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank.
He was also the oddest member of the tangle of writers and artists known as the Bloomsbury Group. Grant kept the painting in his studio long after his lover stunned the Bloomsburies by outing himself as bisexual, if not straight. Keynes turned up at Charleston in 1925 with his new wife, the Russian ballerina Lydia Lopokova, a member of Diaghilev's famous Ballets Russes company. The Bloomsburies relished being shocking, but were quite shockable themselves, and thought her habit of dancing naked in the dawn fields beyond the pale. Millions of art lovers have walked over her: she appears as the muse Terpsichore in the mosaics by her friend Boris Anrep halfway up the main stairs of the National Gallery in London.
Keynes was friends with most of the gang, including Virginia Woolf and her sister Vanessa Bell, their long-suffering spouses, Leonard Woolf and Clive Bell, the painter and critic Roger Fry and the essayist Lytton Strachey, as well as the society hostess Lady Ottoline Morrell - lover of Bertrand Russell - and the painter Walter Sickert. Sickert was recently accused by the American crime writer Patricia Cornwell of being the true Jack the Ripper.
Despite spending most of his life with Treasury mandarins, Keynes was intensely interested in the arts. After attending the Versailles peace talks after the first world war, he made his name with a small book mainly written at Charleston, Economic Consequences of the Peace, correctly predicting the dire implications of the punitive settlement. His 1936 tome The General Theory of Employment, Interest and Money was an academic and political sensation, and became a bestseller.
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