The Guinness Harp

Guinness, the archetypical Irish beer (and wholly owned subsidiary of Megaglobocorp) has redesigned its harp logo, making it more three dimensional and metallic. Here it is from Brand New:

guinness_logo

And here is the harp’s evolution since 1862. Looks like Guinness wanted to reintroduce some detail.

guinness_harp_evolution

Now, the harp has been a symbol of Ireland since medieval times; King Henry VIII chose it as the main charge in Ireland’s coat of arms when he elevated Ireland to the status of a kingdom in 1541. King James I added it to the arms of the United Kingdom when he acceded in 1603, and it has remained there ever since.

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Wikipedia.

Most of Ireland, of course, is no longer under the control of the British monarch. The Free State, upon its creation in 1922, chose the harp as its state emblem. The specific rendition that they used was that of Brian Boru – somewhat like the Guinness logo. From Wikipedia, here is an image of the seal of the Irish Free State:

IFSGreatSeal

Wikipedia.

And from my own collection, the obverse of an Irish pound coin from 1990:

irishpunt

The flag of the president of Ireland even uses the same color scheme as the royal arms: a blue field, a gold harp, and silver strings.

Flag_President_of_Ireland.svg

Wikipedia.

You’ll notice that the Irish state harp faces to the left – unlike the Guinness harp, which faces to the right. Apparently, the reason for this is that the Brian Boru harp was trademarked by Guinness in 1876, and the Irish State had to distinguish their harp from the Guinness one! An article on Irish Central can tell you more. This resurfaced as an issue in 1983, according to the Irish Times:

The office of the attorney general recommended registering the harp facing in both directions with the World Intellectual Property Organisation (WIPO) to give maximum protection from image theft.

But the government feared Guinness could challenge the decision as it had been using a “right-facing” harp symbol “some fifty years or more before the founding of the state”…

Patent agents Tomkins & Co, employed by the government on the case, informed officials the following month, however, “we do not consider that mirror images of the harp symbol could be notified to WIPO” under existing rules. While the state might be able to register a right-facing harp “it is possible that such notification could debar the registration by Guinness of their trademark in territories where they do not currently trade but may wish to do so in the foreseeable future”.

The government took the agents’ advice and in 1984 registered with WIPO a “generic”, nine-stringed harp facing in just one direction – left.

And here I thought that it was not an issue between Ireland and some commercial concern, but between Ireland and the United Kingdom. By using the same direction (and color scheme) of the harp in the arms of the kingdom of Ireland, surely the Irish State was simply trying to claim Irish symbols for itself – as though to say, “We’ll take it from here, UK!” But I guess that the form of the harp matters too. You can understand why only the Brian Boru harp would be good enough for the Irish State – and certainly more appropriate than a topless female – leading to the aesthetic conflict with the Guinness Co.

Templars

Crusade historian Christopher Tyerman once wrote that:

The Templars occupy a prominent place in the pantheon of Alternative History of the ‘what they have tried to conceal from us’ genre, championed by obsessive, swivel-eyed anoraks and conspiracy theorists allied to cool money sharks bent on the commercial exploitation of public credulity.

Now I wouldn’t put it quite that way, but it’s true: like the Bermuda Triangle, the lost continent of Atlantis, and the Nazca Lines, the Templars do tend to attract a good deal of Speculation. The Templars, or more formally “The Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon,” were founded as a religious order in 1119 in the Crusader kingdom of Jerusalem. Like the crusading movement itself, they represented “a fusion of Christian and military practice” – that is, the members took vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, but instead of praying eight times a day and copying out manuscripts like monks, they practiced horsemanship, guarded pilgrims to the Holy Land, and fought Muslims as they needed to, like knights. (This is definitely a novelty – prior to the late eleventh century the Church did not like knighthood much, but after numerous unsuccessful attempts at regulating it, the Church threw in the towel, and gave it their blessing – but only if the knights exercised their craft far from Europe, and against non-Christians. Thus were they allowed to organize themselves into religious orders.) What attracts everyone’s attention is the Templars’ sordid end: in 1312, King Philip IV of France accused them of heresy, tortured confessions out of the leadership, and prevailed on Pope Clement V to dissolve the order, after which many of them were burned at the stake. But some of the Templars, it is alleged, escaped and “went underground,” later to emerge as the Freemasons. Some of them even sailed to the New World before Columbus, which is why the fifteenth-century Rosslyn Chapel in Scotland, built by supposed crypto-Templar William Sinclair, features carvings of new world corn. One author claims they buried treasure in the Oak Island Money Pit off Nova Scotia. A student of mine once lent me a book suggesting that the Shroud of Turin actually depicts an image, not of Jesus, but of the martyred Templar Grand Master Jacques de Molay. A character in Dan Brown’s Da Vinci Code asserts that the Templars, while in the Holy Land, had uncovered evidence that the Papacy was a con job, and that the leadership of the true Church belonged to the descendants of Jesus Christ and Mary Magdalene – which is why the Pope was so keen to eradicate them.

And so on.

I tell my students that history is interesting enough without concocting such theories. The real history of the Templars touches on several late-medieval themes – among them the rising power of the king of France (at the expense of the papacy), and the desire to find a scapegoat for the loss of the Holy Land (Acre, the last Christian stronghold there, had fallen in 1291). But what it touches on the most is the money one could make as a result of the medieval commercial revolution – and the envy this provoked in others. The Templars were not just active in the Holy Land – they had chapters throughout Western Christendom (their churches were usually round, and you can visit one in London). Templars got into long-distance banking – and made a fortune, so much so that their formal title of “Poor Knights,” and their seal showing two knights riding a single horse, became ironic.

Seal_of_Templars

Wikipedia.

A BBC article, which my friend Chris Berard points me to, explores this history in greater detail. Author Tim Harford claims that they “invented modern banking.”

The Templars dedicated themselves to the defence of Christian pilgrims to Jerusalem. The city had been captured by the first crusade in 1099 and pilgrims began to stream in, travelling thousands of miles across Europe.

Those pilgrims needed to somehow fund months of food and transport and accommodation, yet avoid carrying huge sums of cash around, because that would have made them a target for robbers.

Fortunately, the Templars had that covered. A pilgrim could leave his cash at Temple Church in London, and withdraw it in Jerusalem. Instead of carrying money, he would carry a letter of credit. The Knights Templar were the Western Union of the crusades.

We don’t actually know how the Templars made this system work and protected themselves against fraud. Was there a secret code verifying the document and the traveller’s identity?

They did more than this, however:

Templars were much closer to a private bank – albeit one owned by the Pope, allied to kings and princes across Europe, and run by a partnership of monks sworn to poverty.

The Knights Templar did much more than transferring money across long distances.

As William Goetzmann describes in his book Money Changes Everything, they provided a range of recognisably modern financial services.

If you wanted to buy a nice island off the west coast of France – as King Henry III of England did in the 1200s with the island of Oleron, north-west of Bordeaux – the Templars could broker the deal.

Henry III paid £200 a year for five years to the Temple in London, then when his men took possession of the island, the Templars made sure that the seller got paid.

And in the 1200s, the Crown Jewels were kept at the Temple as security on a loan, the Templars operating as a very high-end pawn broker.

Harford goes on to say that Philip IV owed money to the Templars, and didn’t like how they operated beyond his control, and so contrived to dissolve them. But I can’t help but think there was even more at stake here. Lester Little’s Religious Poverty and the Profit Economy in Medieval Europe (1983) talks about how money made people very anxious in the Middle Ages, especially the “money from nothing” that one could get from currency exchange, lending at interest, or taking advantage of scarcity to sell at a premium. Charging more money than the “just price” for something was uncharitable and un-Christian, and if you made any extra-normal profits at all the only way to expiate your sin would be to give it all to the Church. (This helps to explain all those elaborate late medieval “wool churches” in East Anglia, and it also helps to explain the increased anti-Semitism of the High Middle Ages – Jews were increasingly shut out of various professions, leaving them in the role of the hated money lender.) It’s true that the Templars were themselves a church organization, but I suspect that just made it worse.

As unfair as their end was, however, it happened. “Templar” groups today are somewhat disreputable – at least, they have no institutional continuity with their medieval namesake. If you’re interested in joining a crusading order, try the Hospitallers, the Templars’ main rivals in the Middle Ages, who do enjoy continuity and who are thus much classier.

On This Day…

Ninety-eight years ago Boston witnessed an event similar to the London Beer Flood. From New England Today, notice of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919:

In January of 1919 Purity Distilling Company of Boston, maker of high-grade rum, was working three shifts a day in a vain attempt to outrun national Prohibition. The company’s huge iron tank along the water’s edge at 529 Commercial Street in the North End was filled with more than two million gallons of molasses. Pipes entering the tank were heated to aid the flow of the dense liquid. A solitary vent was the only outlet for the fermenting gases.

It was just after noon on January 15 when the great molasses tank exploded with a ground-shaking blast. Those nearby who survived the ensuing catastrophe reported strange noises coming from the tank just before it let go. “It was like someone was on the inside hammering to get out,” said one witness.

A massive tidal wave of molasses swept across Commercial Street, smashing into a house at 6 Copps Hill Terrace, demolishing the building and killing Mrs. Bridget Clougherty. The metal latticework of the Boston Elevated Railway Company’s Atlantic Avenue line, running above Commercial Street, was struck by a large chunk of the shattered tank. A section of the El collapsed. A quick-thinking motorman, seeing the rail disappear ahead of the train, dashed to the rear car and, with the steel wheels spinning, managed to get it headed in the opposite direction.

The Bay State Street Railway freight depot and several motorized boxcars were destroyed. On the waterfront, Boston Fireboat #31 was sunk at its dock with loss of life. A five-ton Mack truck was picked up by the wave of molasses and slammed into a building. The city paving department office and stable were erased within seconds, killing five men and a number of horses. Scores of buildings, vehicles and bystanders were swept away. In all, 11 people were killed and more than 50 injured by the initial explosion.

Click on the link for more, including numerous photographs. Residents of the area claim that on hot summer days you can still smell the aroma of molasses in the air. I’m pleased to note that unlike Meux’s Brewery, the Purity Distilling Company actually was found responsible for the accident, and had to pay compensation to the survivors.

Junk Drunk Jones

This afternoon I enjoyed shopping at Junk Drunk Jones, a store in Canton run by my former student Stephanie McGuire Jones. Check out the store’s blog and Facebook page. Stephanie was one of Reinhardt’s Ten Under Ten honorees last year. From the linked article:

Canton native Stefanie Jones developed a love for travel and collecting vintage items from her parents at a very early age, which led to her hometown business, Junk Drunk Jones, in downtown Canton.

After graduating from Reinhardt in 2008, she began an on-the-road and online antique store which has steadily evolved ever since. She created Junk Drunk Jones LLC. In March 2015, she purchased a 100-year-old building in historic downtown Canton.

After two months of renovations, Jones celebrated the grand opening of her first store front. Junk Drunk Jones specializes in authentic vintage collectibles and superior quality reproductions.

It is definitely worth a stop if you’re in Canton. I did not get any pictures of the wide range dry goods for sale, but I am pleased to have acquired a postcard of the Kaiser-Wilhelm-Gedächtniskirche as it appeared before 1943:

kwgk

Here’s what it looks like today:

800px-geda%cc%88chtniskirche1

Wikipedia.

I.e. it was heavily damaged by the allied bombing of Berlin, and rather than restore it, architect Egon Eirmann kept it in its damaged state as a monument to the war, and constructed a separate modernist belfry (on the right on the photo) and nave (not shown), the main feature of which is a skin of blue stained glass. I remember discovering this by accident in Berlin once, and being impressed.

(The English equivalent of this, of course, is Coventry Cathedral.)

UPDATE: Here is a photo of the old belfry and the new nave, taken recently by my friend Michael Dorner:

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Liberal Arts for the Win!

From the Atlantic, as though it isn’t totally obvious:

American undergraduates are flocking to business programs, and finding plenty of entry-level opportunities. But when businesses go hunting for CEOs or managers, “they will say, a couple of decades out, that I’m looking for a liberal arts grad,” said Judy Samuelson, executive director of the Aspen Institute’s Business and Society Program….

[B]usiness majors seem to be graduating with some of the technical skills they’ll need to secure jobs, but without having made the gains in writing or critical-thinking skills they’ll require to succeed over the course of their careers, or to adapt as their technical skills become outdated and the nature of the opportunities they have shifts over time.

A 2014 study of the Collegiate Learning Assessment test—administered to some 13,000 undergraduates as they entered and exited university—found that business, health, and education majors substantially underperformed students in the humanities, sciences, social sciences, and engineering. The authors then adjusted their results to account for the academic abilities of students entering these majors—and found that business and education majors still showed substantially lower gains in writing, complex reasoning, and critical thinking by the time they’d graduated.

Read the whole thing.

Gunning for Guns

At the Cartersville Public Library on Saturday I noticed this book on the recent acquisition shelf:

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I was curious, because the title reminded me of Arming America by Michael Bellesiles (2000), which advanced a similar thesis: that American “gun culture” was the creation of the Winchester Repeating Arms Company in the years after the Civil War, that Americans were by no means enamored of guns before that. Once the wartime government contracts dried up, the company had to find new buyers, and in a genius marketing campaign rivaling DeBeers’s “A Diamond Is Forever,” convinced vast swaths of the American public that owning a gun was a patriotic duty.

This makes intuitive sense. Much work has been done on nationalism from the same perspective: many historians claim that it was an “invented tradition,” projected onto the past, that prior to the late nineteenth century people didn’t care much for their putative nations, or were even aware of them. (Although I don’t quite agree with this.) One also thinks about the transformation of the American university at the time, with the rise of fraternities, intercollegiate athletics, and other aspects of “school spirit.”

Where Haag differs from Bellesiles, from what I can gather after reading her introduction, is that she admits that guns were ubiquitous in the early republic, it’s just that they were tools, like shovels or rakes. They were not cult objects. (I thought of this when perusing the magazine rack at our local supermarket later that day: on sale were plenty of magazines devoted to guns of all kinds, but none devoted to garden tools.)

guns

Gun culture.

Bellesiles, by contrast, claimed that Americans did not own many guns at all prior to the Civil War, and that those they did have didn’t work very well, making Winchester’s marketing seem even more heroic (or fraudulent, if you want to put it that way).

Of course, Bellesiles’s scholarship was quite fraudulent itself, so much so that he got fired from Emory for it. This was a big deal back in 2002. I was keen to see what Haag had to say about Arming America, but neither the book, nor its author, appear in Haag’s bibliography. And there was no acknowledgement of the controversy in the introduction! The “Search Inside This Book” feature on Amazon reveals a single mention in the midst of a long endnote on page 407, which claimed that Bellesiles’s

count of gun ownership, which he concluded was quite low (19 percent), based on colonial probate records, was subsequently challenged and rejected for questionable sources and technique. Setting aside his gun inventory, this book agrees with one of Bellesiles’s conclusions, namely, that the alliance between the government and the gun industrialist in the antebellum years was crucial to the development of a commercial market.

That’s it? That’s all she has to say? Surely a significant portion of the introduction should have been given over to the problems with Arming America, and why The Gunning of America will be better. As it stands, it comes across as “nothing to see here, move along.” Or “If we ignore it, it will go away.” Or, as Dr. Wheeler puts it: “Down the memory hole!  Makes me almost believe in conspiracy theories!”

(All this, of course, is a separate issue from firearms policy today. Bellesiles and Haag are attempting to do the same thing with gun ownership that Hobsbawm and Ranger did with nationalism: if it’s constructed, then it can be dismantled. But even if America’s “gun culture” came about only in the 1860s, it still happened 150 years ago! Is this not enough time for it to have become an intrinsic part of the American psyche? On the other hand, even if Haag and Bellesiles are wrong, and Americans have loved their guns from before the passage of the Second Amendment, surely we reserve the right to change things anyway, since gun technology has itself changed quite a bit since 1787, and there are certain well-known problems with widespread gun ownership?)

Links

  • 155-year-old mousetrap, on display in the Museum of English Rural Life, claims its latest victim.
  • The Helgo Treasure, from Viking Age Sweden, includes a bronze Irish crozier, a Coptic ladle, and a bronze Buddha from the Indian subcontinent – a testament to how much Vikings were plugged into early medieval trading networks.
  • Related: a Viking woman was buried with a ring reading “For Allah.”

The Importance of History

According to the National Post, the logo for BoltBus, a recently-founded Greyhound subsidiary, has caused a bit of a stir, because it is a little too reminiscent of the insigne of the Oswald Moseley’s British Union of Fascists. From Wikipedia, the respective designs:

BoltBus_logo

400px-Flag_of_the_British_Union_of_Fascists.svg

It’s not quite the same (different shade of blue, and the bolt is slightly different), but it goes to show that you should probably pay attention to these things. But as the article says:

BoltBus has likely steered clear of any fascist associations for the simple fact that they are a bus company—a sector that traditionally has very little in common with far-right politics.

“If this was, say, the logo for the British Columbia Bolt of Truth Party, then I think the danger of making the connection is stronger,” he said.

And indeed, the logo does not seem to have hurt BoltBus’ fortunes.

Launched just before the 2008 financial crisis, BoltBus has gradually expanded its reach across the U.S. and Canada, and has presided over a decisive turnaround in North American bus ridership.

“We felt the lightning bolt as a logo fit the name of the brand,” wrote Gipson.

Lightning is a “quick burst of energy,” she said, and BoltBus is a “quick, energetic and fun mode of transportation.”

As for the fascist connotations, in eight years the similarities have only been noticed by the occasional history or design blogger. Said Gipson, “we have heard from only a few about the logo’s resemblance.”

Entirely by accident, it seems, BoltBus has joined a small but growing movement to reclaim other “stolen” symbols of 20th century fascism.

Very interesting. I don’t think that we’re quite ready to “reclaim” the swastika, however! That one has been ruined for some time to come…

Another Arctic Discovery

Hot on the heels of the discovery of one of the ships of the ill-fated Franklin expedition, the NOAA has announced the discovery of two nineteenth-century whaling ships on the north shore of Alaska. From the National Post:

Two whaling wrecks (worth $33M in today’s U.S. dollars) found off Alaska

When the ice opened for the last time, the local inhabitants urged the ships’ captains to get out before it returned and trapped the whalers against the northwest coast of Alaska for the deadly Arctic winter.

It was September, late in the season, but the wind had always kept an escape channel open that time of year. Plus, the whaling was finally going well. The Yankee skippers decided to wait.

It was a poor decision, which could have claimed hundreds of lives.

On Wednesday, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration said that it had discovered the wrecks of two of the 32 ships that were crushed by the ice that late summer of 1871 in one of the 19th century’s worst whaling disasters.

More than 1,200 mariners and their families barely escaped in small whale boats through narrow and rapidly closing channels in the ice to reach rescue ships 130 kilometres away, according to NOAA and old newspaper reports.

But the trapped whalers, many of which were owned by merchants of New Bedford, Massachusetts, were destroyed, ruining the owners financially and damaging the 19th century whaling industry, NOAA said.

The loss of the ships equalled about $33 million in today’s dollars, Brad Barr, the project’s co-director, said Wednesday.

The vessels, with names such as Concordia, Eugenia and Minerva, were left behind in the ice with their American flags flying upside down, a sign of distress, according to an old account in the New York Times.

NOAA said the discoveries, near Wainwright, Alaska, were made possible, in part, because climate change had melted ice in the area and made wreck sites more accessible to archaeologists.

Barr said that scientists had gone to the remote shores of the stormy Chukchi Sea, above the Arctic Circle, in August aboard a chartered research vessel.

He said experts used state-of-the-art sensing techniques to locate underwater remains of the wooden ships, anchors and tell-tale implements carried by whaling ships of the 1800s.

Among other items, the researchers found the iron braces, or “knees,” that supported the brick box in which the huge iron “try pots” boiled blubber into whale oil.

The finds provided a fascinating glimpse into a forgotten era in seafaring history.

More at the link.