Searching for Jumbo – an Elephant in the Archive

The body of Jumbo the elephant

In honour of the recent documentary entitled Attenborough and the Giant Elephant, we’ve delved into the archive to share these lesser seen Jumbo gems.

Captured as a calf in the Sudan, Jumbo toured with Menagerie Kreutzberg in Germany and was exhibited at Jardin des Plantes in Paris before arriving at Regent’s Park Zoological Gardens in 1865(he was traded for a rhino, fulfilling London Zoo’s desire to have both an African and an Indian elephant in their collection). He became a great favourite with visitors, giving rides to children on his back. Amongst the treasures in the archive is an original handwritten letter from Jumbo’s keeper Matthew Scott, accompanied by a photograph, replying to a fan enquiring as to circumference of the elephant’s feet.

JUMBO / LETTER

Jumbo the elephant at Regent's Park, 1865

Jumbo the elephant in his younger days

When P.T Barnum, the American showman and businessman, purchased Jumbo some seventeen years later in 1882 for £2,000, there was widespread public outcry in England, summarised in this cartoon by Alfred Bryan, published in March of that year, with the caption “If you take Jumbo, Mr Barnum, and he should revenge himself, don’t expect any sympathy from the English people.” Punch magazine cheerfully published a cartoon suggesting Barnum take an altogether different beast, the MP and atheist Charles Bradlaugh(caricatured as an incalcitrant wild boar), instead of the much loved Jumbo.



Jumbo’s departure from England was covered in great detail in the press; the logistics of transporting such a large cargo even to the docks, let alone across the Atlantic, aroused great interest. Pleasingly for the English, Jumbo showed great patriotism in his reluctance to leave the country, with much cajoling required.

Jumbo the elephant: on the way to St Katherine's docks

On Jumbo’s departure from Millwall docks, Mr. A.B Bartlett the superintendent of the Zoological Gardens gave a speech, quoted at the time in The Illustrated London News, which interestingly alluded to Jumbo’s occasional violent outbursts.  “He was an extraordinarily good-tempered beast…at the same time he was subject to periodical outbreaks, which from his immense strength made him, although the most amicable, the most dangerous animal Mr Bartlett had ever known.”




Barnum reportedly recouped the money from the purchase within just three weeks with the takings from exhibiting Jumbo in America. Jumbo became a star attraction, and on 30th May 1884 took part in a publicity stunt by Barnum, where 21 of his elephants marched across the newly built Brooklyn Bridge, to assure members of the public that the bridge was safe following a stampede just six days after the bridge was opened, in which 12 people were crushed and killed during a panic.

Jumbo died in tragic circumstances when hit by a train at a marshalling yard in Ontario, Canada in 1885. Barnum encouraged a story that suggested Jumbo has died trying to protect a junior elephant, Tom Thumb, from an oncoming train, but examination of Jumbo’s bones in Attenborough’s documentary suggest a less altruistic version of events, where Jumbo may have died simply whilst trying to escape from the train himself.

Even in death, Jumbo was a source of fascination and revenue; The Graphic depicted the plans to have Jumbo’s hide stuffed and displayed, with his skin reportedly being stretched to enhance his stature even more. The Graphic reported that the day after Jumbo died, “Mr Ward of Rochester, New York State, aided by half a dozen butchers, skinned the monster in three pieces, which were placed in a warm bath of salt and alum, and together with the bones, sent off to Rochester, where a special house was constructed in which to mount the skin and skeleton.”

His skeleton was sold separately and also exhibited, with his heart being sold to Cornell University. Poor stuffed Jumbo continued to tour as a stuffed exhibit for two years, when he ended up on display at P.T. Barnum Hall at Tufts University, Massachusetts. In 1975 much of stuffed Jumbo was destroyed by fire, but his bones, stored separately in the American Museum of Natural History in New York City, escaped destruction and proved a valuable asset in Attenborough’s research for his documentary.

Poster for P.T. Barnum & Circus featuring

Jumbo the elephant stuffed

The diverse material in the archive here at Mary Evans offers a fascinating on-the-spot look at how Jumbo was portrayed in the British press at the time, and is a compelling evocation of the great public interest that was taken in Jumbo.

ELEPHANT/JUMBO SCRAP

Gone to the Dogs

Greyhounds over hurdles

The message on the home page of Love the Dogs, London Wimbledon Stadium’s website, reads, “sadly Wimbledon will be finally closing its doors on Saturday 25th March after 89 years of greyhound racing here at Plough Lane.” After the closure in 2008 of the doors of Walthamstow Stadium’s iconic art deco façade, the Wimbledon site, making way for AFC Wimbledon’s new football stadium, is London’s last dog racing venue. It seems tragic for a sport which once welcomed a staggering 25 million people through the turnstiles of its 52 licensed tracks, and employed 30,000 people during its heyday in the 1930s.

It was a Canadian cement magnate, Brigadier-General Alfred Cecil Critchley, who first introduced greyhound racing as we know it to Britain from America after forming a partnership with Charles Munn, an American who saw the potential of track-based greyhound racing with the use of an electric hare. Critchley formed the National Greyhound Racing Association to regulate the sport and worked hard to give it an acceptable, almost glamorous veneer. It was soon attracting “society” to the turnstiles, or more often, to the elegant dining rooms and bar lounges attached to the huge, modern stadium complexes. Wembley’s Empire stadium for instance had a dancing and dining room of an area 15,000 square feet where one thousand diners could be accommodated at a time, while out of its ten bars, one, according to the claim of the stadium authorities, was the longest in the world.

A.C. CRITCHLEY

To 21st century race-goers who associate a night at the dogs with a rather earthy cocktail of working class bonhomie, flat caps and basket meals, it may seem strange to envisage ladies arriving at White City in their bias cut satin evening gowns. But, in fact, greyhound racing of the 1930s attracted all levels of society from the working classes filling the stands to the well-heeled diners watching in the rarefied environs of the stadiums’ silver service restaurants. And smart, society ladies tended to have more than a superficial interest in the sport; many were breeders, owners and trainers. One lady breeder, Mrs C. Clarke who wrote a history of the sport in 1934, noted that, “women have been the keenest supporters of track racing from its commencement: they form a large proportion of the huge crowds seen at various tracks”. Advertisements for race tracks bear out this claim, with illustrations featuring the smart set in evening dress cheering on the winner.

Greyhound racing and dinner at White City

Dining at White City greyhound derby, 1932

Mick the Miller, the most celebrated greyhound champion was owned by Mrs Arundel Kempton, whose husband had bought her the dog as a gift for an enormous sum – 2,000 guineas in 1929 (the equivalent of £91,500 today). The investment proved a canny one as the dog continued his winning streak before pursuing a lucrative film career. Patrons of the greyhound track included Tallulah Bankhead, Gracie Fields, Jack Buchanan and even King Alfonso XIII of Spain who enjoyed the 1930 Greyhound Derby at White City.

Tatler cover - Mrs Arundel Kempton & Mick the Miller

As the sport gained in popularity, so the greyhound came to be a representative icon of the art deco period, its sleek, streamlined appearance the embodiment of 1930s style. Greyhounds were the subjects of paintings and bronzes, and the wittiest cartoonists of the day drew inspiration from dog racing. And with their graceful, good looks and winning ways, greyhounds proved excellent advertising subjects, particularly for whisky brands such as Johnny Walker and Black & White.

DOGS OF THE GREYHOUND WORLD BY H.H. HARRIS

So where did it all go wrong, or, to coin a phrase, go to the dogs? Despite its huge success, greyhound racing did have its detractors in the thirties, notably from the anti-gambling lobby who argued that the phenomenal rise in dog racing had contributed exponentially to an increase in betting and the resulting social problems. Residential groups also opposed new proposed stadiums at Crystal Palace and the Oval but the existing stadiums, numbering over forty by the late 1930s continued to do a roaring trade. Although greyhound racing had begun to fall out of favour with the middle classes by the beginning of the Second World War, it remained the third most popular leisure activity in Britain (behind cinema and football).

Greyhounds arriving at Wembley by carThe Grand National at White City

Even in the late 20th century, greyhound racing enjoyed something of a renaissance: Walthamstow famously welcomed Vinnie Jones and Brad Pitt through its turnstiles for a good, old-fashioned night at the dogs. Some might have argued that there was still hope for the future of greyhound racing but Wimbledon has now gone the way of Catford and the twenty other greyhound stadiums that have closed over the past decade. Unlike the society ladies who once frequented the greyhound stadiums of yesteryear, this particular lady will be all dressed up with nowhere to go.

Neon Frontage at Walthamstow Dog Racing Stadium

© Lucinda Gosling/Mary Evans Picture Library

Black Bounty – the Mary Evans ‘Black Beauty’ Book Collection

A very warm welcome to our new Mary Evans blog: The Inquisitive Archivist. They say that every picture tells a story, and, working as we do among a cornucopia of original, historical material ranging from books and periodicals to scraps and cigarette cards, being distracted by the stories behind the pictures we supply is a daily hazard (or perk) of the job. And so it seems natural that we should combine our fabulous archive with our own insatiable appetite for history and bring you… ‘tales from the archive’. We aim to combine the fascinating and topical, strange and curious, fun and irreverent elements of history for your delectation with posts from the Mary Evans team as well as guest contributors. Mary Evans Picture Library is renowned for the depth and eclecticism of its world-class collection, and we hope this blog will be a fitting reflection of our unerring enthusiasm for the past.

The decision as to what to choose as a first blog post is of course a weighty responsibility but looking across the office at the bookshelves running parallel to our desks, it suddenly became patently obvious. We often talk of how the library’s founder, Mary, was a great dog lover – and she was. The library has a superb collection of dog photographs (particularly the Thomas Fall archive), and countless doggy books from the 19th and 20th century. But she was an animal lover in general, and was also very fond of horses. Nowhere is this better represented than in her extraordinary collection of Black Beauty books. Filling several shelves here in the library, it is difficult to give an accurate number, but a rough estimate would put the collection at around 350 individual books, and is, we imagine, the world’s largest and most complete set of different editions of Black Beauty.

When Black Beauty was first published on 24 November 1877, its author, Anna Sewell (1820-1878), had been a housebound invalid for seven years. She died just three months after publication and £30, paid by the publisher, Jarrold of Norwich, was the sole amount ever received by the Sewell family for what would become one of the world’s best-selling books (sales figures are estimated around 50 million). Sewell had loved horses since childhood, pleading at the age of two to be allowed to go outside the family’s Shoreditch home to the Bishopsgate cab rank to feed the working horses there. Her passion continued into adulthood. Black Beauty was never intended as a children’s book, but, written BY rather than ABOUT a horse, it set out to highlight the terrible cruelties suffered by horses during the 19th century, in particular the use of the bearing reign which forced a horse’s head upright and back while pulling loads. Her expert equine knowledge is evident throughout the book to the point where, Edward Fordham Flower, the harness expert, wrote of it, ‘It is written by a veterinary surgeon, by a coachman, by a groom; there is not a mistake in the whole of it.’ When the book was published in the United States for the first time in 1890, by George T. Angell, the founder of the Massachussetts Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, it sold an astonishing million volumes in the first two years. Mary acquired an American first edition for her collection, as well as a first English edition with an inscription by Sewell herself offering thanks to her good friends, Mr and Mrs Tench, who proofread the book.

 bb4 bb3 bb2 bb1

These two first editions of course are jewels within the collection. There is also a limited edition from 1915, one of only 600, illustrated and signed by the famous equestrian artist, Lucy Kemp-Welch. But beside these treasures are many, many more; several volumes illustrated by the great sporting artist, Cecil Aldin and plenty of children’s budget versions from various decades including one I remember owning myself, when I first wept as a child at the adventures of Beauty, Ginger, Merrylegs et al. Her quest for completeness also extended to other blast-from-the-past examples, notably several Black Beauty annuals based on the 1970s Sunday tea-time drama, ‘The Adventures of Black Beauty’ (apologies if this triggers incessant humming of the famous theme tune in any readers!).

It’s easy to see why Black Beauty appealed to Mary. She was a fervent supporter of animal welfare, a vegetarian and as a young girl, had, like Sewell, been horse mad. Acquiring as many editions as she did is firm evidence of her collecting bug that forms the basis of the library. A note to Clarissa Cridland who had sent her a signed book plate to accompany Mary’s copy of ‘Pony Thieves’ which Clarissa had written when she was fifteen, reveals the pride Mary took in her ever-growing Black Beauty collection:

‘Dear Mrs Cridland
How kind of you to send me a signed book plate. I shall treasure that greatly. I have read your book from cover to cover and really enjoyed it. It took me back to my pony passion childhood and teenage years. Your book will be in good company on my bookshelves along with my horse book collection with ‘Ponies of Bunts’ and all the classic books of the time…I also have a large collection of ‘Black Beauty’ different editions which I treasure and am still adding to.’

This note is within a folder found among the Black Beauty books, also containing numerous pieces of Black Beauty-related correspondence and research. Included is an original leaflet, which looks to be from around the 1890s or 1900s, produced by the Anti-Bearing-Rein Association. Clearly, animal rights activism is not a recent phenomenon. A further note, dated 1999, from Mary to Norfolk and Norwich Central Library who had sent her an article about Anna Sewell’s birthplace in Great Yarmouth, seems an apt quote to end on.

‘Thank you very much for the piece about Anna Sewell House. I must come and look at it to see what it is like now. How I would love to take it over and restore it as a museum – and put my large collection of “Black Beauty” books there!’

Mary’s unique collection of Black Beauty books remain here, in the library at Blackheath. Now thoroughly mired in nostalgia for the book, I don’t mind admitting that it’s sorely tempting to browse the shelves and choose one to take home for bedtime reading tonight.

For a selection of our Black Beauty images please click here.