Unexpected Places

 

This advertisement from the August 1938 edition of Good Housekeeping magazine shows the extent to which marketing departments jumped on the green and pleasant land bandwagon. Even Players cigarettes were taking out full page ads to let us know that theirs was the brand stocked in village shops off the beaten track. You were free to explore the countryside, because it would never mean having to go without your fags. Players were smoked by all those in tweeds and plus-fours. Perhaps if you couldn't get out to the countryside, then you could shut your eyes while having a smoke and pretend that you were on a village green.

The Green Woman of Firbeck Hall

 In March 1936, the South Yorkshire Times newspaper reported that the Firbeck Hall Ghost had made a return. The apparition, seemingly dressed in a green cloak, was said to be bothering the residents of the newly opened Country Club at the site with knockings, movements and wails. 

The story behind the Green Woman of Firbeck went as follows - in the Civil War, a beautiful young woman who lived at the Hall with her Royalist family, fell in love with a Cromwellian officer who lived nearby. They would meet in secret in the woods at night, and thought that they were getting away with it. However, one night, the woman's brother was there waiting for them and thrust his sword into the Cromwellian officer. In her grief, the woman threw herself into the pond - her body was recovered the next day, covered in slime and pondweed which created what looked like a green gown.

In her 1930s incarnation, she was said to be "upsetting the minds of the club servants." But isn't it interesting how, at a time of such obsession with green, this was when she made her comeback appearance...it's almost as if minds were open and ready to receive her.

Firbeck Hall has been in and out of use, and in and out of the local papers. Here's the most recent report with photos of the location:

https://www.worksopguardian.co.uk/news/people/take-a-look-inside-the-abandoned-firbeck-hall-near-worksop-before-restoration-work-began-3203497

Download a few ghost stories of my own for 95p - click here

Emeralds Were To Die For

The fashion for green in the 1930s naturally extended to jewellery, with emeralds and jade being in demand. 

A short story by G.B. Stern appeared in the May 1937 edition of Woman's Journal magazine. It was called 'Alas! Dear Love' and it was an unfortunate tale of a wife who is shot dead in her bed, presumably for the emerald necklace that she had been showing off that evening. However it turns out that her husband had done the shooting, because he had recently been told that he had a terminal illness and he just knew that his wife wouldn't be able to live without him. How kind of him to put her out of her misery like that. The 1930s were indeed strange days...

He gave her the emerald necklace as an alibi and hid it in his bureau after the deed had been done. Would that really have escaped the police? Anyway, here is the description of the emeralds:

"They were lovely stones, steady green fire...all the while the green stones were flashing against her skin as she twined them round her wrist, heaped them into her palm, even rubbed them with sensuous little cries of pleasure up and down her cheek."

Steady on, old gal. But with the illustrative drawing we get the message, emeralds were THE gift to give in 1937, so in demand that a murder for their possession is taken for granted even by the CID.

Green for Green Spaces

 In February 1936, it was reported that the National Trust were to have a new style of name plate for their properties. The omega shaped plaque would be moulded in a silver-grey metal, and would be marked with green oak leaves with the name of the place depicted in black lettering.

These name plates were designed by Joseph Armstrong and an initial distribution of 700 plates was planned.

It became an enduring design, the green oak leaves have now become shorthand for a location of natural beauty, a place for escapism from modern life.

The Green Wedding

 In July 1932, the Leeds Mercury reported on a wedding that had a definite green theme. Most 1930s reports of "green weddings" concern the shocking departure from old superstitions that considered the colour to be unlucky. Brides began to dress their bridesmaids in eau-de-nil or apple blossom with a modern disregard for the fear of impeding calamity that this might have instilled in their grandmothers. However, this particular wedding went all out to be as green as possible.

The betrothed were both members of the Woodcraft Folk - an outdoors youth group which had been established in 1925, advocating a return to a more simple life. The two members took part in a woodland ceremony with 200 other Woodcraft Folk before legalising their marriage at a register office the day after. The outdoor ceremony took place in Cordwell Valley near Dronfield, Derbyshire. All gathered around a camp fire and wore "Lincoln green jerkins". It was also reported that many of those present had bare knees, and some wore green bathing costumes. The group all squatted on the floor, and after the beating of tom-toms and the raising of the torch "Redwing" and "Heather" went  forward to have their hands joined together by the head man. 

The pair wore their green jerkins again as the marriage was formalised in Sheffield, and then left for a hiking honeymoon in the Derbyshire hills.

One can hear the tutting of Yorkshire matrons as they read this sensational article over their bacon and cup of tea in smog filled Sheffield and Leeds. "What a load of daft beggers" might have been uttered. But wasn't it just a foretaste of what is becoming popular now, as much as it would have been a throwback to simpler times for the Woodcraft Folk. Each year one hears more about "Handfasting Ceremonies" while outdoor weddings now seem more popular than the church.

A vintage map of the location of the wedding. Cordwell is to the south west of Holmesfield.

Green Grow the Budgies-oh

 A look at the popular gardening magazines of the 1930s confirms the popularity of bird fancying of all types - a garden aviary was de-rigueur among those with a big enough garden. The hobby of both keeping and breeding budgies was popular enough for the formation of the Budgerigar Society.

As most of us know, you can get budgies with markings in a variety of colours - blue, white, yellow, green. And the most common colour as the 1930s progressed was green. Search for the phrase "Green budgerigar" in the 1930s section of the British Newspaper Archive and the number of hits steadily increases as the decade goes on. There is a notable high peak in 1939. Most of these hits are sales adverts - or appeals for missing budgies.

Fife Free Press, 8 June 1935:

Lost, green budgerigar, blue tail, finder rewarded at Evanton, Dysart Road

Lost on Wednesday 5th June, green budgerigar, reward, Hendry Road

Breeders worked hard to get that perfect shade of green for their budgies. W. Watmough of the Budgerigar Society wrote for the Yorkshire Observer in July 1936:

"Light green is the colour of the ancestors of all domesticated budgerigars. I do not think that for beauty of colour, markings and form they have ever been excelled by any other [colour]" The Budgerigar Society's standard was a "rich, bright, grass green."

It seems that though the urge to control nature was strong, those breeding budgies wanted that control to look as natural as possible.

The British Colour Council

 On Wednesday 9th October 1929, Lord Ebury presided over a meeting in the Connaught Rooms at the Park Lane Hotel, London. The proposal under discussion was the formation of an organisation that would determine "colour tendencies for the fashion and allied trades."

The reasoning behind this effort to control fashions in colour dyes was economic. The new fashions for spring and autumn collections were made from textiles that had been dyed to individual company requirements. Often they looked to Continental fashion houses for colour trends, ending up picking up on these quite late on. This led to waste as trends waned before all the the new products had been sold. It was felt that the proposed organisation could both reduce waste and improve colour matching. 

The British Colour Council was officially launched in April 1931 - it was non-profit making and had a board of representatives from throughout the industry. It operated by releasing two colour cards per year - one in spring for autumn collections and one in autumn for the spring collections of the following year.  In order to receive these cards, manufacturers had to become members and pay a subscription. The first colour card for autumn 1931 listed 60 shades. Examples of some of the early members include the Wholesale Textile Association, the London and Luton Bleachers and Dyers Association and a number of Irish linen firms. But it was not an entirely smooth launch, with many companies holding back from membership to see if it was going to work.

However, the resources were enough to release a second colour card in September 1931, and over time the Council's reputation grew - by 1949 membership stood at 2,554 companies. As the council progressed it branched out into more specialist activities, for example, the naming of new colours for Nottingham Lace products in 1939 (Rufford Rose, Portland Blue, Clumber Beige, Belvoir Blue). The Council also advised on colour schemes for the major state occasions of the 1930s such as the jubilee and coronation. On the death of King George V in 1936, the Council shared the correct colours for the mourning period - Regal Purple, Silver Grey. The Council's pronouncements became a regular reference in newspaper fashion pages and would take into account trends and events in their decisions. 

The relevance of this to Thirties Green is that the Council would have, to a certain extent, dictated what shades of the colour were in use, and how much of it. They may have been responsible for naming it, as each shade on the colour chart was given a specific name. In addition to the Nottingham Lace names given above, a range of colours was brought out to mark the 1937 coronation including the Sylko cotton favourite, Buckingham Lilac. Another of the new shades was called Holyrood Green.

In January 1932, the following paragraph appeared in the Yorkshire Post with reference to the Council's pronouncements:

"Acid greens of last year have been eclipsed by deep rich greens such as 'Lincoln' and 'Billiard' and attractive pale ones with a strong dash of yellow. One, the colour of very young leaves, is called 'Forester' and a fresh, very delicate version of 'Chartreuse'.

If a colour name begins with a geographical reference, it seems to be a fair guess that the British Colour Council will have come up with it going on the examples collected for this summary. Many seem to have aristocratic ties. I would be willing to wager that the Council came up with the Sylko colour 'Hunter's Green'.

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