Dermot, who was to see the firm through the grim years of ‘the Emergency’ and the 1950s, was born in October 1905, the youngest of his family. He had three sisters, Marjorie, Doris and Sheila, and a brother Desmond, who died aged two in 1900. Dermot’s early schooling was at Avoca in Blackrock. A little essay has survived from his kindergarten days in which he surveys his eventual inheritance:
There are 13 Findlaters, the biggest is Sackville Street, and I think the second biggest is Howth and Dalkey and I think all the rest are about the same. Sackville Street is very big; it has four big offices and a terribly big cellar and rooms full of pepper and tea. One day when I went in one of the people brought me in to see the pepper room and she said that I would sneeze but I didn’t and she did.
There is a big room full of salt and a place where you clean bottles, that is a thing with little brushes on it which you put through the bottles, and then you turn it round, when the bottles are clean you take them off and put wine into them and then you put the corks on and they are ready to sell and they have a great number of weighing machines and a great many stables.
As well as cleaning bottles they make bags to put tea into, the way they make them, they have some silver coloured paper and a square piece of wood, they first get the paper and shape it into a rough square and then they put the wood into it and that shapes it, then you put the tea in and close it up, and they clean currants and weigh them and put them into bags.
Dalkey shop is fairly big and it has a little garden and some stables in the back, and they sell ham and biscuits and flowers etc.
All the shops have lots of horses and stables and carts and motor vans.
The End
G. D. Findlater
At the age of twelve, in 1917, Dermot went to Portora Royal School in Enniskillen and in 1920 to St Bee’s School in Cumberland, now Cumbria. I imagine this schooling reflects the uncertainties of the period and the desire to get him educated and equipped to face whatever the future threw up. Though safely in England, St Bee’s was only a rail journey away from the Liverpool boat home. He enjoyed St Bee’s, was on the 2nd rugby XV, a sergeant in the Officers Training Corps (compulsory at the time) and a school prefect.
A few days before his Confirmation he received a letter from his local Church of Ireland Rector, Canon Dobbs of All Saints, Blackrock, whom we have already met as a friend of my aunts. The characteristic mixture of piety, a breezy public school bluffness, a sense of historic certainties being abandoned, combined with
This postcard, sent to Dermot while at school in England, must have been a little unnerving.
a confident sense of what God likes and does not like, could never have come from the pen of an Irish Catholic priest. It provides an insight into the moral atmosphere in which the young Dermot was raised, at least by his mother, a favourite of the Canon’s. The fact that he kept the letter suggests that it was taken seriously by its recipient.
My dear Dermot . . . I wonder is there any use my giving you a bit of advice about things in general? I’m an ancient antiquated greybeard, thousands of years old, and you are one of the young bloods and it is not easy for a Methusalah like me to see things from your point of view. But I’ll tell you this. I heard one of the three very greatest English Statesmen of our time, a man head and shoulders above everyone in intellect and character and position—Lord Robert Cecil*—speaking to a huge meeting of English men and the whole burden of his speech was this: that the whole Western world is on the edge of an abyss and European civilisation in the most imminent danger of being utterly destroyed, and that the only thing that can possibly save it is Christianity . . .
So on Monday, you just say to yourself that you’ve just got to be a genuine out and out Christian at any price, not merely for your own sake, but for the world’s sake. So that you may do your part in the saving of it and help to save it. For to make Europe Christian means to make every man and woman in it who has anything to do with the directing of its public life Christian. And some day you have to play your part and take a share in the life of your particular bit of Europe and if you are an out and out Christian you’ll always act from the highest motives and inspire other men to do the same. You’ll be straight and square and honourable, upright and fair minded, and
* Lord Robert Cecil, English politician who helped draft the Charter of the League of Nations, was awarded the Nobel Prize for Peace 1937.
you’ll hate humbug and crookedness like the Devil, and you’ll infect other people with your own straightness and so help to shape the destiny of Europe and to save it. . . . You won’t become a first-class Christian all at once. It takes time. One dinner doesn’t seem to make any difference to the growth of your body. One prayer or one Communion won’t make much difference to the growth of the higher part of you either. It is a slow process in either case. You’ve got to stick to it and the results will come in due time.
After some comments on the importance of controlling one’s animal instincts ‘until the time comes for their lawful gratification’, Canon Dobbs continues:
You ought to make a first-class Christian. You’ve good stuff in you. Your mother is a grand woman. You are a lucky fellow to be her son. And there is good stuff on your father’s side too. The Findlaters are a fine race and go back in long succession through a great line of good, stout, honourable Scotchmen. And all that ought to stand to you. It’s a good clear, wholesome strain. It’s the strain God likes immensely—straight and strong. I’m sure God hates weak, namby pamby sort of people. Strength—the strength which is very gentle and true and kind—is what God likes because it is what he can best use for the big job of cleaning up the world. And you ought to be strong like that because of the stock you spring from.
Well, God bless you and give you the strength you most need, and make a man of you, a true, straight, brave, honourable, gentleman. You can’t be anything better than that, for that, after all, is just what our Lord wants. I’ll pray some sort of a prayer like that for you on Monday.
Ever yours affectionately, Harry B. Dobbs
If ever I can be of use to you, mind you write–or come and see me!
After St Bee’s Dermot spent a year at Dijon University, where he acquired a knowledge of, and made friends in, the wine industry. It would have been expected that he would have then gone to Dublin University (Trinity College) where his father and four of his uncles had graduated, one in medicine, one each in law and engineering and two in philosophy. But Dermot had taken a strong dislike to Trinity, so much so that when it came to my turn, it was only after the intervention of my godfather, surgeon Nigel Kinnear, that agreement was grudgingly given, providing that I did an apprenticeship in the firm at the same time, and the reason may be found in Terence Brown’s analysis:
In the 1920s and 1930s Trinity suffers one of its bleakest periods. The buildings and grounds became dilapidated and a little unkempt. A sense of isolation and economic insecurity was not alleviated by much intellectual or imaginative enterprise. Many of the graduates sought their careers abroad and the college was unable to play its part in the developing life of the Free State in the way the National University did. Indeed the college in the centre of Dublin bore in its isolation and decline a striking resemblance in social terms to the Big House of the countryside—each symbolising a ruling caste in the aftermath of its power.1
Dermot chose the grocery trade and served his apprenticeship at Coopers, the
Coopers, where Dermot served his apprenticeship, was a magnificent emporium of foods and associated products.
once great Liverpool grocery and provision emporium. He remained there from 1925 until the beginning of 1927. During this time he applied himself to all the duties of an apprentice, from sweeping the floors and washing down the shop fronts to the finer points of salesmanship and store management. Work began promptly each morning at 8 am, and the store closed at 6 pm. Two nights in the week, the staff worked until 10 pm. In a letter to Willie, the manager of Coopers thought Dermot had coped well with the challenge. ‘He has ‘“mucked in” and done his job in a most practical fashion. From my own observation I consider him extremely steady in his work, taking everything most seriously and if early promise goes for anything he has all the makings of a real sound businessman in him.’2
While Dermot’s mind was firmly made up to enter Findlaters the ladies in the family were showing concern at the turn of political events, for the Civil War was entering its last and most desperate stage. In January 1923, Dr Alex’s wife Emily in Edgeware wrote to Dermot’s mother in Dublin: ‘I am sure it must be awful in Ireland now, you really ought to leave it and start something over here. There is no chance of making good for anyone, when there is no law or protection of property.’ A few days later Horace Plunkett’s house in Foxrock was burnt to the ground. As it happened, the Civil War was not to last beyond May of that year.
In 1927, Dermot finished his training and joined the company. The directors were keen to benefit from the knowledge that he had acquired in Liverpool and after a little over a year he was invited to join the board. He wasted no time in making changes in O’Connell Street and by August 1929 was able to advise customers: ‘We have enlarged our Butter and Provision department, and fitted them with up-to-date and hygienic fittings. We have opened a Delicatessen and also a Cooked Meat department. We have enlarged our Cake and Confectionery department, also have added the following departments a) Poultry and Dog Foods b) Patent Medicines, Toilet Requisites and Infants and Invalids Foods c) Chandlery which will contain a few items of hardware.’ A few years later the Irish Grocer (August 1933) described how this appointment worked out, espe-
August 1929
May 1930
Little 12 page shopping guides were issued monthly in the 1920s and 1930s. The system of monthly special promotions, called ‘Afcograms’, continued into the 50s. I remember once naively looking for the word in the dictionary!
cially in the early days of the Economic War:
It may be safely assumed that the fine record which Messrs Findlaters have maintained during the past few years is due, in no small measure, to the progressive outlook and capacity of Mr Dermot Findlater. He takes not only a great interest in his business, he practically lives for it. Such an attitude in a young man of 28, is indeed remarkable . . . his business day is very full. He attends to the buying of all the firm’s commodities, in addition to advertising, inspection of branches, tea tasting, and the interviewing of the many members of the staff. Lately, buying has become the most difficult duty to perform. In addition to watching the markets, it is now necessary to watch the exchanges as well. It is almost impossible to know at what price goods purchased on contract from abroad may be delivered, owing to the extraordinary fluctuations in the money markets of the world.
In 1932 Dermot married Dorothea, eldest daughter of Harry and Selina (née Knox) de Courcy-Wheeler of Robertstown, Co. Kildare. They had five children: Jeanette, born in 1934, myself, born in 1937, followed by Grania 1939, Suzanne 1942 and John 1948. Dermot settled down to life as a family man, a businessman, and (as was common among the Findlaters and Wheelers) a man devoted to his sport. He first appeared on the hockey field in 1927 where he played on the left wing for Three Rock Rovers and gained junior interprovincial honours for Leinster. Somewhat later his club was short a goalkeeper, Dermot volunteered for the hazardous position, acquired the gear, practiced assiduously and became the regular and reliable custodian of the position on the 1st XI.
Dermot and Dorothea on their wedding day (Lafeyette)
He was captain of the club first XI in 1935/36 and also captained the all-victorious Irish touring team, the Buccaneers, at the 1939 English Folkestone Easter Festival. The Buccaneers were drawn from Three Rock Rovers, Trinity College and players of international standard. It was an honour to be invited to join them. On this occasion Dermot refused a fixture with the German touring side whose practice it was to give the Nazi salute before the start of each match, when lined up in front of their opposition. One of the local papers reported: ‘The Germans “Heiled!” in approved style with right arm uplifted at the beginning of each of their matches, and they played grim, relentless hockey, as if their very lives depended on it. Each player wore a black swastika on his shirt.’ The article also added that the spectators ‘were a trifle surprised to find that most of the German players were shorter in stature than their English confrères’!
This was the period during which Ireland won the Triple Crown—in 1937, 1938 and 1939, and also in 1947 and 1949. While Dermot never achieved international honours, his wife Dorothea, her mother and two of her aunts all represented Ireland and the subsequent two generations have all turned a good hand at the game. Signal honours go to Dermot’s son-in-law, my sister Grania’s husband, David Judge, gaining 124 caps for Ireland and 15 for Great Britain (when the four home countries played as one in the Olympic Games), a total that earned him a place in the Guinness Book of Records. More recently my sister Suzanne's daughter Zanya won caps for Ireland in 2006. My mother Dorothea, playing consistently to her 13 handicap, surprised herself and her golf club, Carrickmines, by winning, with her partner Dorothy Beattie, the Irish section of the Daily Mail Ladies Foursomes and qualified for the 1981 finals in Hoylake, North Wales. She was applauded by the chairman of the Daily Mail for being the most senior participant in this highly competitive tournament.
But it was as an administrator that Dermot excelled. He first came into prominence in 1938 when the debt on the Leinster Branch hockey grounds at Templeogue was causing a serious strain on their minimal resources. To wipe out the debt he formed a club called the Sporting Stiffs; and so that no difference of opinion would ever take place between club officials, he occupied all three positions, that of President, Treasurer and Club Secretary. Only one match was played, on Boxing Day 1938, and the result was a 6-1 victory for the Stiffs. The Stiffs fielded a team of ten Irish Internationals plus Dermot, against a strengthened Three Rock Rovers XI.
Dermot in Buccaneers H.C. blazer as ‘Mr. Hockey’ in the ‘Famous Irish Sportsmen’, cartoon series by Pike.
Membership of the Stiffs was through a little white dice engraved with the letters and figures: H1, O2, C3, K4, E5 and Y6. Everybody desired to have one, enabling the debt to be paid off and the club was disbanded. In the 1940s and 1950s Dermot, with his firm grasp of financial realities, was a dominant figure in Irish hockey as an administrator and organiser of home tournaments and foreign tours.
Even at school I was aware of my father’s ability to organize the most unusual events. I was on the Repton hockey first XI and had suggested to him that it would be nice if he could organise an exhibition match at the school during my final term. Incredibly it came to pass that the full Dutch team, after an international match in Dublin, were diverted on the homebound flight to an airport in England and played an exhibition match against us on Repton’s beautifully manicured grass pitch.
Dermot’s interests were not confined to hockey. He was a member of the Royal Irish Yacht Club and during the 1930s raced the Water Wag Alfa (the brand name used by Findlaters for many of its products). His uncle Herbert had been a member of the Water Wags in 1899, though probably as crew rather than skipper, as he did not have his own boat. Alfa was built in 1932, after the original one-design plans had been lost, and models had to be re-created from scratch. Several other Wags were subsequently built from these moulds. The boat was a good one, and under other owners appeared regularly in the prize lists. Dermot was also patron of the Dublin Swimming Club, vice-president of the Howth Swimming Club, patron of the Sub-Aqua Club of Ireland and a vice-president of the Boy Scouts’ Association of Ireland.
Canned fruit labels introduced in 1927. Prices ranged from 1s 4d to 1s 6d tin with three for 4s. (1s 6d for a 2lb tin is equivalent to £3 today).
1938 Christmas list
1943 Calendar
1940 Calendar
1944 Calendar
Hockey in Ireland
Hockey is usually identified as an English game. However T. S. C. Dagg wrote in 1921 that hockey might be described as a scientific development of the ancient Irish baire, or game of hurling, which is probably the oldest field game of which any authentic records exists. He goes on to describe a match between the Tuatha De Danann and the Firbolgs in BC 1272. In The Irish Sportsman of 11 January 1879 under ‘Hurley notes’ stated that amongst those members of the Dublin University Hurling Club who had retired from the field were Palmer, Blood, Findlater, Ross and Caulfield, ‘who have all done much towards the progress of hurling in this, its native country’. The Findlater is most likely nineteen-year-old Alex, studying medicine. The previous year High School first XII beat the University second XII by 4 goals and 1 disputed goal to 1 goal. In a report on another match there is mention of a missed ‘puck’ at goal and ‘dribbling’, and of the goalkeeper deliberately taking the ball in his hand and throwing it away. On another occasion both teams played splendidly, or rather ‘savagely’. A bit of hockey and a bit of hurling perhaps.
In October 1878 there were six clubs in Dublin and they were ‘forming their rules to coincide with the English rules’ so that a team could go on tour there. In the following year the first meeting of an Irish Hurling Union was held in Trinity College. At this stage the games of hurling and hockey seemed to diverge. Laws were introduced in hockey denying players the freedom to ‘push, hold or trip an adversary, or to strike out or crook his hurl or throw his own’. No one was allowed to play with his stick on his left side and kicking the ball forward was abolished. Over the ensuing decade a dispute broke out. Thus the Gaelic Athletic Association was formed in 1884 and espoused the ancient, southern, wilder and more airborne form of hurling often played with one whole parish against another with the parish boundaries as goals or from ditch to ditch in a large field, the number of players being between fifteen and twenty-one. Wrestling was permitted up to the end of
1886. When two players came into collision they at once got into handigrips. Only one fall was allowed. Trinity College adopted the new rules of the game drawn up by the Hockey Association in England using a heavier, harder ball which led to the ball more often being played along the ground and requiring flatter playing fields. Sticks were still made of ash, oak or gorse but the width was restricted. The umbilical cord was finally cut in 1893. Dublin University Hockey Club was founded followed by six others including Three Rock Rovers, Corinthians and Monkstown, Herbert Findlater being the initiator of this latter club. In the same year the Irish Hockey Union came into being. 3
Although these were good contributions, it was in running the business that Dermot was to gain national recognition. The 1930s were a time of much change in Ireland. In 1932 Fianna Fáil, under Éamon de Valera, gained power, and inherited serious economic problems. As Tony Farmar wrote in the History of Craig Gardner, ‘The yield on key taxes had fallen alarmingly. Consumption of alcoholic drinks had been slipping since 1924, exports were in serious decline, agricultural prices were down and unemployment up.’4 De Valera immediately set about trying to implement the Sinn Féin vision of Ireland as an independent, rural republic detached certainly from Britain and to a degree from the world at large. He sought to abolish the offensive aspects of the Treaty of 1921 such as the Oath of Allegiance to the Crown, he downgraded the role of the Governor- General and, crucially, withheld certain annuities due to Britain under terms of agreements entered into by the previous administration. In response, the British government established tariffs on Irish agricultural produce, which provoked in return further Irish tariffs on British goods and the two countries entered on a state of economic warfare:5 At this time the Free State imported £32m worth of goods annually from Britain which represented 8 per cent of the country’s total trade. For the Free State, on the other hand, Britain represented 95 per cent of all exports.6 As a leading banker once said to me, ‘It was not very clever of Dev to cut off his best customer, but to cut off his only customer was an act of complete folly.’
De Valera’s Minister for Industry and Commerce was Seán Lemass, a wholehearted believer in the Sinn Féin approach, but lacking a good grasp of the way the food economy operated. One of his first presentations to the new cabinet, just after the Economic War was set in train, took a melodramatically gloomy view of the Irish economy: ‘The situation is black,’ he said, ‘we have reached a point where collapse of our economic system is at hand. By collapse I mean famine conditions for a large number of our people. You will ask how there can be famine in a country which produces more food than it can consume. Famine can come not because our farmers cannot but because they will not continue to produce food.’ (Given the aggressive economic policies he was planning to pur-
1937 Calendar
1942 Calendar
1941 Calendar and 1940 Christmas list
This hardhitting advertising of the early 1930s was typical of Dermot’s approach to promotion
sue, it is not impossible that Lemass decided to soften up potential opposition with this kind of analysis.) Among his new policies were the establishment of the Industrial Credit Corporation, restriction of foreign ownership of Irish manufacturing concerns, and wholesale tariff protection. Within a few months the Free State passed from being a predominantly free-trading country to one of the most heavily protected economies in the world. At the end of 1931 there were tariffs on 68 articles; by 1936 281 items were covered, and by the end of 1937 it was calculated that 1,947 articles were subject to restriction or control.7 However, on the other side of the balance sheet, employment in industry rose from 110,588 in 1931 to 166,513 in 1938 and industrial output rose by 40 per cent between 1931 and 1936.8
Dermot identified with the new Ireland and its institutions. His promotion and advertising were forceful and forward-looking and a number of his initiatives were the first of the era. Large display advertisements in the press were the norm. In 1934 he took a four page supplement in the Irish Press (the first four page food supplement printed in an Irish newspaper), undeterred by what has been described as the paper’s ‘partisan, bitter and uncompromising’ treatment of opponents of Fianna Fáil.9Price lists were issued every month. Consignments of special value were sought out and promoted with vigour. He was young, clear-headed, energetic and totally immersed in his work. He knew his market and he knew his sources of supply.
At this time the trade magazine The Irish Grocer produced a recommended price list for various products, and by comparison with Findlaters’ monthly lists we can see that we were usually able to maintain a slight edge in quality and pricing. For instance, in September 1936, where the Grocery Trades Association suggests 3d per lb for cocoa shells, Findlaters have them at 4d; first quality strawberry jam, GTA 11d, Findlaters 1s; tea, best quality Indian, GTA 3s 6d, Findlaters 4s; on the other hand, sugar (presumably as a result of adroit bulk buying) is cheaper at Findlaters—3¼d per lb to the GTA 3½ per lb.
This was still a world where the large grocers such as Dermot did their own
international purchasing in bulk (through Dublin-based commercial agents such as Wilfie Weir and his son trading as W. F. Weir Ltd who were also the agents for the highly successful Mazawattee tea at the time). The trade journal has two pages of lists of prices from London and Liverpool of all sorts of goods which read like the obscurer pages of today’s Financial Times–for instance, rice (‘Rangoon Two Star, ex warehouse on spot 9s’), tapioca, sago (quiet, spot sellers 13s 6d), macaroni, various types of tea (Indian, Ceylon, Java and China), sugar, coffee (‘a few sales of Mysore and East Indian at 48s per cwt; Jamaican grades are offered at 70s and Kenyan at 49s to 56s 6d’), currants, sultanas (‘Australians are in good demand . . . Smyrnas and Greeks are in extremely limited supply. Stocks of Cretans are practically exhausted’), fresh and dried fruit, and of course spices— pepper (‘Lampong black spot 2¼d per lb, forward Aug/Oct 2d cif ’), ginger (‘demand quiet, Cochin fair washed unbleached 85s, African bleached 75s to 85s’), cloves, mace, cinnamon, and nutmeg. 10 Another two pages in the same paper gave the prices of such wares in Dublin for the benefit of those buying smaller quantities.
It was perhaps inevitable that Lemass and Dermot, who were so different in background, beliefs and experience, should fail to see eye to eye. Lemass himself over-estimated the degree to which Ireland could cut itself off from the rest of the world, as the Fine Gael leader James Dillon pointed out:11 ‘The country seems to think it can cut itself off from the rest of the world, and by doing that save itself from the consequences of its own economic folly.’
Week-end offer August 1933—1s in 1933 is about £2.50 today.
Over the next few years, particularly when Lemass became Minister for Supply, this relationship was to deteriorate; Dermot felt it his duty to point out in public how, in his opinion, the government was mismanaging the supply of crucial grocery items such as tea and bacon. In the 1950s my father conceded that as Taoiseach, Lemass had done a good job, but it had taken him a long time to learn. He declared that no man in Ireland had had as expensive an education as Seán Lemass, for which the nation had paid dearly—as James Dillon put it, the end of the trade war was a return to political and economic sanity, but it had ‘cost the country £50m to educate Fianna Fáil’.12
On the whole, however, Dermot was happy with the high tariff policy. On 3 December 1936 he reviewed the relations existing between consumers, retailers and manufacturers in a speech to a meeting of the National Agricultural and Industrial Development Association at the Mansion House, which was reported by The Irish Times on the following day:
He reminded those present that their association had been in existence since 1905 and was the central rallying point for the defence and promotion of Irish Industry. Its influence, he asserted, counted for much in preparing the way for the new policy in 1932. Mr Findlater concluded that, on the whole, the policy was being worked out well. One good feature, as he noted, is that the new industries have not been crowded together in
a few selected spots, but have been spaced as widely as possible throughout the country, so that nearly every county in the Free State has benefited from the employment which they give. He maintained also that, on the whole, the factories are well-run, that they pay good wages to their workmen, and that the quality and variety of their goods are satisfactory. On the latter point it was inevitable that there should have been some grumbling on the part of consumers, but comparatively small factories, working for a comparatively small internal market, cannot be expected to supply the varied range of goods that can be obtained from the great mass-producing firms in England. The same consideration applies to price. A higher cost of living is one of the penalties which the Free State has to pay for turning out manufactures at home instead of importing them, and the factories themselves cannot be justly blamed for it.13
The protection policy created the opportunity to establish a local cider
Findlater Mackie Todd’s business under the Todd family proprietorship was expanding up and down England and in the words of Roy Jenkins to me ‘I well remember the firm . . . they seemed to produce most of the sherry consumed in England around the war years.’ Dry Fly, a medium amontillado, was their standard bearer.
industry and in 1936 Dermot, with Willie Magner of Clonmel (who already made a cider, as well as tomato sauces, table waters, and fruit squashes) and Bertrand Bulmer of Hereford, established Bulmer Magner Ltd to produce cider in Clonmel. Dermot was a very hands-on chairman of Bulmers and paid frequent visits to Clonmel. On one occasion there was a large discrepancy in the stocks. It took a lot of ground work to establish that the foreman in production on one side of the road was not on speaking terms with his opposite number in kegging and bottling on the other side and that there had never been any reconciliation of quantities. Elementary, my dear Watson!
Although Dermot was now becoming a publicly recognised leader of the industry, he was not yet boss in Findlaters. My grandfather Willie, now with a convivial preference for Leopardstown, Cheltenham and a few glasses of best Jameson with his cronies in the club, after the Chamber of Commerce meeting or at Rotary, friendly chats with the cabbies and an easy pace of life, was still very much in charge. Dermot, on the other hand was near teetotal and completely and energetically immersed in his work. In these circumstances, father-son conflict is almost inevitable. The father has usually completed most of his lifetime’s work by the time the son joins and is happy that everything is running smoothly. The son sees the need for change and is keen to get ahead and implement it, the father has wisdom and conservatism and is averse to excessive risk. The explosions are usually big and of short duration.
The conflict surfaced at a board meeting in 1937 when Willie (seventy) decided to hand over managing directorship to his son-in-law Edmund Mitchell (fifty-eight). Edmund had been on the board since 1920 and assistant managing director since 1922. Dermot, then thirty-two, was surprised and very annoyed, and left the meeting before the vote. The non-executive directors, Lewis Whyte, board member since 1911, James A. Denning, board member since 1917, and James A. Kinnear* (seventy), Company Secretary and with the company since 1889, voted, and the appointment stood. Dermot remained assistant managing director supposedly reporting to Edmund, but was additionally made deputy chairman. An interim board meeting was called during the row to appoint Dermot’s unmarried elder sister Doris (forty-two) to the board. She would have been well capable of managing the company. Was this possibly what the old men had in mind if Dermot had not toed the line?
Dermot was dealing with the cut and thrust of everyday trading and the nittygritty of management. He had ideas and plans. Edmund, on the other hand, was conservative, strong on the fiduciary aspects of management but with few innovative ideas for the development and modernisation of the company. Theirs was not an easy partnership. But from this point onwards Dermot was de facto managing director.
* I met JAK when he was a very old man. He ceremoniously presented me with a signed copy of my great-great-grand-uncle’s will (December 1873). He claimed to have known five generations of the family and this was recently confirmed when I found his date of birth, 5 June 1867; he would have been six when Alexander died and twelve on Adam senior’s passing.
Dermot’s advertisement, published a week before the outbreak of war in Europe, caused quite a stir and unfavourable comment in the Dáil.
Many of the most basic goods were imported through Britain, including tea, coffee, sugar, wheat for white bread and petrol, as were more luxurious goods such as wine, chocolate, soap and silk stockings. De Valera had long since declared that in the event of a European war, Ireland would remain neutral. However, the experience of the last years of the First World War had showed how easy it was for Germany to blockade Ireland, and how quickly shortages would be experienced. There was virtually no Irish mercantile fleet and it was unlikely that Britain would be inclined to allow too many of its sailors to die in the process of shipping tea and wheat to Dublin.
In this context, a week before the war broke out, on 24 August 1939, Findlaters took large advertisements in the newspapers announcing that: FINDLATERS ADVISES ALL CITIZENS OF EIRE TO HAVE AT LEAST ONE FULL WEEK’S FOOD SUPPLY IN THEIR HOMES IN CASE HOSTILITIES BREAK OUT. This advertisement was severely criticised in the Dáil by government ministers. One minister went so far as to say that we were creating a panic, and that no matter how long the war went on no rationing would be necessary in this country. The advertisement may not have been tactful, but Dermot was one of the country’s largest distributors of food and his particular expertise was in sourcing commodities both nationally and internationally. To hear government ministers spouting such nonsense must have infuriated him. His real aim in fact was not to earn a quick profit by creating a scare, but to free up warehouse space. Lemass was new to the food industry and had a tough job keeping the country fed. Dermot offered his help, and, the day before war broke out, was politely refused, in the best civil service manner.
‘The roads being impassable as a result of the recent snow-storm, Messrs Alex. Findlater & Co., Dublin, availed of the Iona National Airways service to send food supplies to isolated areas in Co. Meath. Photo shows the plane being loaded at Kildonan Aerodrome, Finglas’. Irish Independent, 1 March 1933
The van, Leyland IF 2507, was based in the Egyptian desert during World War 1
2nd September 1939.
Dear Mr. Findlater,
I have to acknowledge your letter of the 1st instant and on behalf of the Government to thank you for your offer of assistance in the present emergency which will be very gladly availed of should the need arise.
With best wishes.
Yours sincerely, Seán Lemass
Department of Industry and Commerce
On the day after Lemass wrote to Dermot, Neville Chamberlain announced on the BBC that Britain was now at war with Germany, and Éamon de Valera
confirmed Ireland’s neutrality. A week
later, on 11 September, de Valera announced
the setting up of a Department of Supplies
under Seán Lemass. This was immediately
followed by the Emergency
Powers Control of Prices (No. 1) Order
fixing prices at those ruling on 26 August
previous. This was coupled with a severe
warning against hoarding..
The first months of the war were a time of frequent government warnings about the unfairness of hoarding food, petrol and other supplies, and hints that petrol would soon have to be rationed. The Government announced a new form of compulsory tillage: at least 12½ per cent of all holdings of over ten acres would have to be made available for tillage, and whole page government advertisements extolled the virtues of potatoes, the perfect diet, full of vitamins and easy to grow anywhere.14 Agreement was reached between Dublin and London that Britain would take 2000 tons of Irish butter and the whole of Ireland’s exportable surplus of bacon.15
The plain people of Ireland faced the conflict with mixed feelings. The October issue of The Irish Tatler & Sketch in 1939 was headed by an editorial which addressed one point of view: ‘The third of September changed the whole face of the world. . . . we are fortunate in being one of the neutral states yet even in our neutrality we must suffer the effects of the terrible upheaval. The one idea for the time being is to try and keep Ireland as sane as possible. There is the need for entertainment and social activities . . . our theatres here are evidence of public opinion and next month dances are to take place.’ Brave words, and so it worked out—and the new legend of Ireland as a haven of welcomes—’away from it all’—took root! Our neutrality was qualified—anyone who wanted to go and fight the Nazi menace could do so—and thousands did, if only in the certain prospect of finding work. Once more Irish generals found fame in foreign battles, whether as staff-planners or actively leading armies to victory. Meanwhile The Irish Tatler, in common with others, faced drastic paper rationing and suspicious censors, while the urban citizenry coped with extreme restrictions in fuel, services and supplies.
Dermot took his position as one of the largest food suppliers in the country extremely seriously. As news came month after month of shortages of this commodity or that, he was regularly asked for his comment by the press. In the Irish Press on 31 January 1941, he observed that ‘two ounces of tea per week is quite a reasonable ration, except in the west, where tea drinking is considerable. It will mean a little cutting down.’ But within a year the ration would be down to half an ounce and all levels of society resorted to recycling tea leaves. Dandelion tea was another alternative. Tea registration cards were introduced.
Tea had traditionally been bought through the London market where Dermot had good contacts. Wartime conditions made this unsatisfactory. These included a resentment in London official circles against Irish neutrality, which manifested itself in a petty tendency to demonstrate to the Irish just how dependent they were on British goodwill. In June 1941 Seán Lemass announced the setting up of Tea Importers Ltd to purchase direct from India, the main source of sup-
ply in those days. In February 1942 the Irish Independent announced that ‘Assigning delays in the shipment of teas to this country as the reason for being unable to increase the ration, Mr Lemass, Minister for Supplies, has announced that consumers must each be still content with one half ounce per week . . . This tea was, as stated by the Minister early last month, to be first shipped to the United States of America and thence conveyed in Irish ships to this country.’16
Coffee drinkers didn’t fare much better. On 18 July 1941 The Irish Times reported that supplies of coffee in England consigned to Éire had been held by the British authorities. It was also stated that no further export licences were to be issued in England: ‘The coffee situation looks very serious. Mr Dermot Findlater said that “present stocks of coffee will certainly be exhausted by December or February next at the latest.”
In May 1941 Dermot took out a press advertisement to give his local suppliers a well deserved pat on the back:
During a period of Emergency such as this, the Manufacturer must change his method of production and the variety of lines which he manufactures; the Wholesaler gets less to distribute to shops; the Shopkeeper gets less to serve from his counters, and the Customer must buy less. When the pebble is dropped in the pool the effects are felt to the very edge. When a lifetime has been spent building up trade, it is hard to believe that some of that hard-won trade must be sacrificed for the common good. For accepting the necessity without complaining, for playing the game fairly, for explaining and easing the situation for their customers: Manufacturers, Wholesalers, Representatives, Staffs in retail shops and Customers of those shops may well feel
April 1930
November 1930
In 1930 Heinz passed their 57th variety with Piccalilli, mixed pickles, cream of asparagus soup and cream of corn soup.
proud of the part they are playing to help this country through this difficult period.
Such was Findlaters’ position that Dermot’s opinion was not resented—quite to the contrary. As a Dublin newspaper commented:
That firm is among the largest food retailers in the country and handles an enormous variety of products. That firm gave a magnificent testimonial to our Irish manufacturers. These manufacturers had enabled that firm to maintain its huge turnover because as soon as one article had to be erased from stock owing to impossibility of production the Irish manufacturers had immediately made available an appropriate alternative. These manufacturers had stood loyally behind the firm and the quality and finish of the commodities produced were such that Messrs Findlater with their long experience, expert knowledge and opportunities for comparison were satisfied. A word of praise from a firm of such standing is worth recording.
Johnny McDermott, who then worked for Findlaters as an errand boy remembered ration coupons:
It originally started great, 2 ounces of tea and a pound of sugar per week—then things got rough and Hitler over ran things and it was reduced to 1 ounce of tea and half a pound of sugar and butter, plus the soap coupons. Half the shops in Dublin had no tea or sugar. They couldn’t get supplies. But Findlaters being in such a big way had supplies always, and used to give two weeks’ rations instead of one week. Then there were permits. Now, all the diplomats got permits, maybe for a stone of sugar, a month extra plus their rationing of 5 pounds of tea, so much butter and all that, so much soap and all that. The American chargé d’affaires, the American Air Attaché, the American Public Relations, the Belgian Legation, the Swiss Legation—but they never drew rations. All that stuff was sent in direct by their countries. The only one that drew their ration permits and everything was Herr Hempel, the German at 45 Dartmouth Square. Everything was in it there, and there used to be a crowd going into that house, a gangster. Must have been a spy at 45 Dartmouth Square—he was the only one drew them.
I don’t know what Williams done with the tea and sugar. I suppose he had clients too, and was able to give them extra tea and sugar and all, some friends and all that. I had a Belgian in Shrewsbury Road—they never drew their permits. Sometimes they would send for what their staff needed, and maybe got 10 pounds of tea and 2 pounds of sugar as England got a grip of the war.
For customers accustomed to Findlaters’ delivery service, the years of the Emergency were difficult, as Mary Gunning recalls:
Findlaters had to stop delivering groceries during the War, on account of the petrol shortage, so my job was to fetch the groceries once a week, riding from Clontarf to Howth with a basket full in front and a large box on the carrier. I had to wait for a dry day! One day on my way home, I was cycling along the narrow path beside the tram tracks at Raheny when a man who was behind me most of the way came up beside and ran his cycle into mine, knocking me off. He tried to attack me so I struggled and quite accidentally knocked off his glasses. They got broken in the scuffle and he appar-
ently could not see well without them, so I picked up some of the messages and rode like mad, against the wind. I was exhausted when I got home, and very upset. My father went to report the incident to the police. From then on we started dealing in Findlaters of O’Connell Street. My job was to weigh out six ounces of butter for each family member and put it in a glass dish, each portion labelled with a piece of paper on a cocktail stick. They looked like small yachts on the table.
By 1942 bread supplies were being affected. In February the government cut down supplies of flour to bakers to four-fifths of the normal deliveries. In addition, the country was to have darker bread, and it was announced that the Irish mills in future would produce 100 per cent extraction flour. According to the Minister for Supplies, there was now no possibility of making up for 100,000 tons deficit in the wheat harvest, and Irish households would have to be satisfied with four loaves where formerly five were eaten. ‘I ask’, said the Minister, ‘that all those who can afford other foods, and who have the facilities for cooking them, should try to cut out flour and bread almost entirely, and they certainly should not buy more than a quarter of what they formerly bought. New responsibilities are being placed on bread and flour retailers, and on hotels, to ensure that there will be a fair distribution of bread and a drastic restriction in the supply of anything containing wheat to their customers.’17 As Bernard Share writes in The Emergency, bread was part of the nation’s staple diet: ‘The ending of wheat imports heralded the introduction of the brown or 90 per cent wheat extraction loaf, undoubtedly nourishing but anathema to many Irish palates. The consumer hankered after the white loaf which eventually returned at the end of the
October 1930
December 1930
Free tickets for the very first Hospital Sweepstakes on the November Handicap (10s=£16 today).
war, leaving in its wake an ingrained prejudice against brown bread.’18
Indeed, by 3 March 1942, a journalist for The Northern Whig wrote, ‘I have seen my first bread queue. It was in a mean Dublin street; tired women and palefaced children stood clutching shopping baskets, looking up at intervals to make sure that the magic notice was still there—“Bread Now Ready, 3¼d. a Loaf ”. That was for a 1lb loaf.’ And by May of that year, to sell or serve bread or wheaten food at dances, races, sports, whist or bridge drives, bazaars, carnivals or work sales became illegal under an order by the Flour and Bread Supplies Controller.19
Other foodstuffs affected were bacon, sugar, eggs and oatmeal, the latter virtually unobtainable in Dublin by wintertime 1942 when a substantial cargo of oats had to be purchased for the Irish market in Canada. In April a reduction of 25 per cent in the sugar ration of householders, catering establishments and institutions was made by Order of the Minister for Supplies. The weekly ration of a registered householder became ¼lb for each person specified in the householder’s tea or sugar registration forms.
Indeed, such innovation became commonplace during the war, as can be seen from the following report in The Waterford News: ‘We learn that, near Bellevue, not far from the city, a factory is established for the making of carrot tea . It seems to be doing well at it as they are employing ten girls and are able to make five shillings per lb charge on their product.’21
And as for soap, The Irish Times of 19 October 1942 reported:
The use of fat from the shark and dog fish obtainable off the Irish coasts for the manufacture of a soap substitute is at present being examined, an Irish Times reporter learned on Saturday. The fats, as well as a wax obtained from holly leaves, could be used as ‘soap fillers’ to supplement the soap ration. Both, however, require factory processes, impossible to imitate in the home. The wax from holly leaves can be extracted and milled up along with soap, and, although the result is not ‘100 per cent’, the cleansing properties are only slightly impaired and by lessening the lathering value the soap lasts longer.
By October 1942, the butter rations in
Dublin and Bray were reduced from ¾lb to
½lb, a move which angered Dermot:
The company, during the winter of 1941, realising that, due to the fact that margarine had gone off the market, there would be a greater demand for butter, applied for permission to store 1,000 boxes, (each 56lbs), in addition to the quantity we then held a permit for. The Department concerned refused the necessary permit, but in the
May 1933 – ALFA ice creams, but only for cash.
following Spring, when the shortage became apparent, the Minister concerned announced the shortage was due to the fact that traders had not stored sufficient butter.22
In November 1942, Findlaters were fined £5 on each of two prosecutions for having on 27March sold ¼lb lard at 3d, the correct price being 2¾ and for having, on 7 February sold ½lb of lard at 6d, an overcharge of ½d. In his defence Dermot stunned the jury with figures. He said the firm had been trading for 120 years. Since the Emergency began they had made 5,773,206
cash sales, and executed 3,579,396 orders, and the only complaint made was in respect of ¼d and ½d. The sales complained of were obviously due to an error on the part of an assistant. Since the emergency began he had issued nearly 400 circulars to his assistants to help them maintain correct prices.23
One of the few commodities not yet affected by shortages was wine (which reflected its relatively low popularity at the time). Acccording to the Irish Independent:
While the light table wines of France and Germany are virtually unobtainable in Britain or Northern Ireland, stocks in Éire are by no means exhausted, and bottles are still being retailed at relatively moderate prices. Stocks of French and German wines cannot, of course, be replaced during the war; but Éire, on the whole, is not a wine drinking country, and a number of still Portuguese white wines are coming into favour. Sherry and port are the two wines in most demand in Éire. There has been a phenomenal increase in the demand for sherry in recent years and this has led to serious inconvenience in the wine trade because sherry is scarce and cargoes from Spain are irregular. The demand for port has remained steady and normal supplies are obtainable. There is a considerable quantity of wine under bond in Éire.24
At least there was no danger of drink driving, as in April 1942, private motoring was banned due to a shortage of fuel.
The ‘frugal comfort’ that de Valera spoke about in his St Patrick’s Day broadcast of that year was coming nearer, although there were still few takers for his idea, expressed some years before, that the Irish people would be better off if they drank light beer for breakfast instead of tea.25
qualified than Lemass in that area. During the Emergency and after, Dermot began to air his increasingly pointed criticisms in public, such as the one reported in Irish Industry in 1942: ‘We have a half-planned economy in our agriculture, something less in our industry and practically none at all in our distribution, hence nothing but complaints.’ And the journal concluded ‘businesses, such as Mr Findlater’s, run on such a system, would be a catastrophic ruin in six months.’26
By 1942 Dermot was reported at the AGM as criticising the government’s policies concerning foodstuffs:
Your directors have had the experience and results of at least four major wars passed down to them and were in a position to judge what would be the results of the present emergency. The Government made no capital available in the early years of the war for firms dealing in essential foodstuffs except in so far as the firms would themselves provide security for loans or overdraft. This was their first great mistake, and, in my opinion, they made another major error—that is, that too often they try to control imports of goods or consumption of goods after a shortage has taken place instead of before it occurs.27
Dermot regularly used the firm’s AGMs, and occasionally other events, to comment not only on the performance of the company, but also to address government on a wide range of topics. These reports were eagerly reported in the daily papers. In 1944 he spoke on the question of farthings: ‘The Government . . . have fixed the price of many items at a price which includes a farthing. This may be satisfactory from the point of view of the cash shop, but it is extremely difficult in the case of credit transactions, and it is hoped that farthings will be eliminated from all price orders in the future.’*
New fruit department at our Dún Laoghaire Branch, 1934
* The farthing was finally withdrawn in 1961.
The background to this remark was that Dermot had succeeded to the position of chairman and managing director within three months of the passing of the Emergency Powers (No. 83) Order 1941, which had limited firms’ ability to raise salaries. So Dermot was precluded from receiving any extra remuneration above the £1,500 he was receiving before his father’s death, despite his very considerable added responsibilities. To put this in perspective, his salary was the equivalent of €57,000 a year in current terms, and was at or below that paid to previous managing directors since the incorporation of the company in 1899. Even before that, almost fifty years earlier, in 1894 for example, the managing directors each received £2,442 plus their share in partnership profits. Counsel’s opinion was taken on Dermot’s unusual position but to no avail until the end of the war.
By the end of 1942, Lemass announced that the worst of the war was still to come:
During 1941 and 1942 we felt that the war was becoming more remote, moving away from us. Now it is moving westward again, and it seems certain that it is in the west that the decisive battles will be fought. Our dangers are growing, not lessening. Until the last shot has been fired, and perhaps not even then, can we hope for an improvement in our national circumstances or a lessening of the dangers that threaten us. Danger of physical attack is not the only one we have to face. If economic collapse came the workers would suffer most.28
In February 1943 the maximum weekly tea ration of a domestic consumer became just one ounce. The other problem with tea making was the fear of the glimmerman. The country was operating on 16 per cent of its gas coal requirement and if the glimmerman called when use of gas was restricted and found the gas jets still warm you could expect no mercy and the bleak prospect of cold dinners. 29
By March the headlines read NO SUGAR FOR JAM THIS YEAR when Lemass announced that owing to the limited supplies, it would not be possible to make any special allocation that year to enable householders to make jam in the home. That same month it became clear that the shortage of tobacco ranked with that of tea and bread as one of the most serious afflictions of the time.30 However, smokers’ pangs were eased when a shipment of 20 million pure Virginian cigarettes arrived from the United States, to be sold at 2s 4d (6d less than the normal price).
March 1934 ALFA Rolled oats. The 31/2lb bag at 1s is the equivalent of £2.30 in the year 2000 against a current price of £1.68. The ALFA brand is growing in strength.
After eight years of very unsatisfactory control it was announced that there would be virtually a free market for pigs in Éire . The only difficulty was that there were very few pigs to market. Indeed, bacon was still in very short supply, and a black market in illegally cured bacon had risen, as The Irish Times reported in November 1943: ‘Officials of the Pigs and Bacon Commission yesterday raided a number of Dublin hotels and restaurants and seized large quantities of illegally cured bacon. The bacon found in these hotels was unbranded, and all bacon handled by the licensed curers is branded. It is understood that the Commission’s objection to illegally cured bacon is based on health grounds, since it is not subjected to veterinary inspection, and the pigs might be diseased.’ 31
If there was any good news on the food market that year it was that, notwithstanding the drop in wheat acreage, the white loaf would be returning to Irish tables the following year. And on 11 November 1943 Lemass announced that white flour would be on sale before Christmas: the flour would be around 85 per cent extraction, made from nine parts wheat and one part barley, and there would be no restrictions on its sale. At the same time he revealed that the government had received advice ‘from high medical opinion’ that the continuance of the 100 per cent flour was having ill-effects on the health of the people, particularly the young’.32 So much for the popularity and health giving qualities of wholemeal bread today!
In March 1944 Dermot seized an opportunity to attack Seán Lemass again. Licences had been issued for the export of prune wine (an essence, used as an additive to rum and whiskey) to Britain. Unfortunately for Lemass, the only
manufacturer of prune wine in the South was a company that had been inherited by the Secretary of the Department of Supplies, the redoubtable John Leydon. There was of course a political question as to why scarce shipping capacity had been taken up for such a product. At the following AGM Dermot could not resist a comment (which was of course widely reported in the press): ‘I still feel that is definitely undesirable that any government official should have any connection with any public or private company. It is high time that legislation was introduced to make it compulsory for such officials to choose whether they wish to give their full time service as a paid official of the State or whether they would prefer to vacate their State appointment and take part in industry or commerce on their own behalf.’33
Breakfast cereal prices June 1934. Cornflakes were first listed in 1922 and Kelloggs from 1927. All Bran also dated from 1927. Shredded Wheat was on the market in 1903. 10½d is the equivalent of £2.00 in 2000, somewhat more expensive than a 250 gram packet at around £1.20 today.
A year later Dermot was back on the attack on Leydon’s business interests: ‘I still feel that it is undesirable that any government official with access to trade returns, or with any say in any capacity to allocate shipping space, should be allowed to have any connection whatsoever with any public or private firm.’ These attacks got to Lemass. In one Dáil debate on the subject he retorted: ‘It is true that the Secretary of my Department has some interest in that firm, but that firm has been in existence for over seventy-five years, and for that period its trade has extended all over the world. It receives no facilities not afforded to any other firm.’34 In principal, we can feel that Dermot was right. In practice, Leydon was one of the great Irish civil servants since 1922; as T. K. Whitaker wrote: ‘For most of his time in ministerial office, in Industry and Commerce and Supplies, Seán Lemass had the good fortune to be assisted, and at times creatively inspired, by a Permanent Secretary of outstanding quality, John Leydon.’35 It was not until 1975 (long after his retirement) that Leydon divested himself of his interest in W. & P. Thompson to Maurice Kelly of Kelly & Co.(Dublin).
After four years of war the constant shortages of basic foodstuffs and fuel, the movements of population and the general stress of wartime conditions began to manifest themselves in a steadily worsening tuberculosis epidemic. More and more vulnerable young people died, and influential citizens, including Dermot, became increasingly concerned.
At the time there were 24,000 people with tuberculosis in the twenty-six coun-
ties. Between 1942 and 1945 16,186 had died of the disease. In 1943 there were 4,220 deaths. Because of the dread of the social implications—tuberculosis was widely believed to be hereditary—it was not even a notifiable disease (to preserve family sensibilities doctors often concealed the disease on death certificates). The Department of Health at this time was a sub-office of the Department of Local Government. Although the new wonder-drug BCG had been used before the war, it was scarce, and dedicated beds were insufficient. Furthermore, the inadequate social security system encouraged afflicted wage-earners to conceal their illness, especially since everyone knew that a stay in a sanatorium could last as much as a year during which they could earn little or nothing. Until people with TB sought help they only increased their chances of infecting their fellow-workers; delay also meant that when they were forced to present their symptoms to the doctor, they were too far gone for anything to be done.
It took me by complete surprise in 1994 to receive a copy of a book by a former TB sufferer which detailed my father’s part in the campaign to eradicate tuberculosis, a story completely unknown to the family. The author Charles O’Connor highlighted the plight of sufferers in a letter to the Evening Mail on 17 July 1944. In his book, The Fight against TB in Ireland in the 1940s, he takes up the story:
On the following day the Dublin Evening Mail published this letter from Mr Dermot Findlater,
T.B.–MUST THEY DIE?
Sir–Having visited several hospitals in the last fortnight and consulted with some of the staffs, medical and secretarial, and members of the Board, I have reached the following conclusions:
1. It should be compulsory to notify T.B.
2. Bed accommodation in sanatoria should be sufficient
a) to enable patients to obtain immediate admission
b) to enable patients to remain in the sanatorium as long as considered necessary by the medical staff
3. Dependants of persons receiving treatment in sanatoria should receive equal pay equivalent to their usual weekly earnings up to, say, the sum of five pounds per week.
4. In all general hospitals there should be a special isolation hut or building.
5. In general hospitals only specially trained nurses on special diet, should handle T.B. patients, and such nurses should undergo frequent medical examination.
6. Old country houses should be converted into temporary sanitoria without delay.
7. Existing sanatoria buildings should be added to to provide extra beds–Government grants should be made to enable this to be done.
8. Nurses in sanatoria should live in buildings apart from the main hospital when off duty.
The above suggestions might have the effect of stopping the incidence of the disease until the main Government scheme is produced. The Government must make an immediate move to prevent the spread of this dreaded disease. Sufferers are being daily
condemned to death because treatment is not available NOW.
What can we do? If you know a T.D., a Senator, a member of the Anti-T.B. Section of the Irish Red Cross or a member of the Hospital Commission, we should ask him to do something NOW. If we personally do not know one of the above officials, then we must write and keep on writing to our local T.D. until something is done.
The ever-growing weight of letters and enquiries will enlighten our public representatives to the fact that we, the citizens of Éire, want immediate action and not a scheme in a year, three years’ or ten years’ time when the position will be far worse. If you do nothing, you too are blameworthy.
Dermot Findlater.*
This letter was followed by a spate of others, together with editorials and reports, over a protracted period, in the Dublin morning and evening newspapers, particularly in the Dublin Evening Mail, which devoted two columns on its editorial page to letters from readers. Most of them dealt with the plight and the grievances of persons suffering from tuberculosis, the alarming spread of the disease or epidemic, and the failure of the Government and local authorities to introduce the obvious reforms so urgently needed.
On 26 July 1944 the Post-Sanitoria League was established with the object of securing an immediate improvement in the conditions of those suffering from tuberculosis. At the meeting Dermot said it was his sincere wish that the League would achieve its objects. He commented on the large number of stamps an employed person was required to obtain before he became eligible for any benefits under the National Health Insurance Scheme. He finally commented on the discharge of half-cured patients and their subsequent return to conditions worse than those they had experienced prior to their illness. He then gave the League use of spacious offices and secretarial services, all free of charge, in the Findlater headquarter premises at 28 Upper O’Connell Street.
Large meetings were held in the Mansion House and public authorities canvassed, but progress was slow. Dermot used his company’s AGM to highlight injustices in the State and published the text of his speech in full in The Irish Times. Charles O’Connor continues: ‘Mr Dermot Findlater’s interest in the campaign never diminished. While I was in my office in the building adjoining his, he sent for me one morning and told me he was preparing his Report for the following day’s annual meeting of his company in which he wished to refer to the allowances and benefits granted to tuberculosis patients. I returned to my office, consulted my files and gave him the figures.’
Here is an extract from the Report Dermot presented to the meeting on 5 June 1945:
My board are aware that I am very interested in the problem of Tuberculosis. It is
* Dermot’s interest in the Anti-TB Campaign may have arisen as a result of the failure of the similarly named Anti-Tuberculosis Campaign to get established, after an intervention by the Catholic Archbishop of Dublin, John Charles McQuaid, in an area somewhat outside his remit. As Ruth Barrington put it: ‘The Archbishop clearly thought that such a crusade would be safer in the predominantly Catholic hands of the Red Cross.’
By 1934 Foxrock branch was taking so many orders over the telephone that a new line was installed. The numbers were changed from Foxrock 9 to Foxrock 208 and 209. The following month Baggot Street and Rathmines branches also installed new lines.
necessary that we, handling foodstuffs, should be very careful not to employ anyone suffering from this disease, and we do take that precaution. It is possible, however, for an employee to contract this disease by contact with an active TB sufferer. What then is his position? His full weekly sickness benefit is payable only if he is insured and has 104 contributions to his credit and payable for 26 weeks after the fourth day of incapacity.
A recipient of benefit, who is in necessitous circumstances, is eligible to receive a food voucher entitling him to 3½ pints of milk and ¼lb creamery butter per week and 6lbs of bread per fortnight. In an area where the Food Voucher Scheme is not in operation, a recipient in necessitous circumstances receives an additional allowance from the Public Assistance Authorities at a rate not exceeding 2/6 per week and at a rate not exceeding 1/6 to cover all his dependent children. These rates are lower than those received by able-bodied unemployed. There are somewhat similar allowances for what is termed necessitous cases, but time does not permit me to go into these in detail. The futile little allowances encourage TB sufferers in employment to hide the fact that
In 1934 – Dermot ran a series of large press advertisements promoting his 6 minute tea and urging customers to allow tea to draw for six minutes to obtain the full flavour.
1935: Findlater’s sole agency for Bulmer’s Cider ahead of the opening of the cider plant in Clonmel.
they have contracted the disease and thus they spread it.
The problem is a Government problem and should be dealt with at once, and all employers should join together and press for a revision of allowances. Dependants of TB sufferers undergoing sanatorium treatment should be paid the employee’s full wages less a sum equivalent to the cost of his upkeep at home, and when he is discharged from the sanatorium suitable employment must be found by the Government for him, so that he may maintain himself, or if married, maintain his wife and family. I hope that the responsible Minister will not contradict me and suggest that this is unreasonable.’
‘A year later’, writes Charles O’Connor, ‘Mr Findlater returned to the topic. In proposing the adoption of the Report and the Statement of Account at his company’s annual meeting on the 12th June, 1946, he said that a single man unable to work due to ill-health or accident got a sum ranging from 15s to 27s 6d per week. These small allowances forced many a man to return to work in an unfit state, his only alternative being to run up debts which would take years to work off. These rates were quite inadequate, and it was time that the whole position of State insurance was revised.
He added that he would like to mention the new Public Health Bill and the onus it appeared to put on shopkeepers and individuals suffering from certain specified diseases. It would seem to be more satisfactory to make certain diseases notifiable and then to let the authorities concerned deal with cases individually.36
The sterling work of Charles O’Connor and his committee is fully told in his book, and culminated in the election of Noel Browne to the Dáil, and his
A well-known Foxrock resident in LDF uniform. (Lafeyette) [Harry de C-W].
appointment as Minister of Health on 18 February 1948 with the declared intention of tackling the lack of sanatoriums. Charles O’Connor concludes his book as follows:
A man had at last emerged with enough drive and determination to implement the reforms advocated for so many years by Dermot Findlater, the Post-Sanatoria League, the Press, newspaper correspondents, eminent chest specialists, Medical Officers of Health, Trade Unions, TDs and Senators of all parties and others. Under his direction the number of beds for tuberculosis patients was increased from approximately 3,000 in 1944 to 5,500 in 1950, and the death rate dropped from 123 per 100,000 in 1947 to 73 per 100,000 in 1950.
During the Emergency Dermot undertook another public responsibility. He was in charge of the Local Defence Force. The LDF and the LSF—Local Security Force—performed similar functions, and personnel were often interchangeable. The LDF came under the Army, the LSF under the Gardai. Dermot was ably assisted by good friends and relations, in South County Dublin. Involvement in the LDF had done Jimmy Brohan a good turn, as he remembers:
In those days [1941-1950], especially at Foxrock branch, passing trade was very limited, which necessitated that the staff there had to go out from house to house to sell and collect orders—in other words, we were called canvassers. I enjoyed this and I created a company record by opening 120 new accounts in 6 weeks and received great praise from my directors, manager and seniors.
I remember a little boy who used to come with his mother to place an order and on
two occasions he brought me a little bunch of flowers from his garden—his name was Alex Findlater. I spent 24 years with the firm and when I look back I have to say they were happy years.
My mother Dorothea remembers other excitements:
When war broke out in 1939 men joined the LDF and women the St John’s Ambulance. Lectures on First Aid were given and it was necessary to do 90 hours in a hospital. I attended Monkstown Hospital, made beds, fed patients and attended operations in the theatre and applied dressings to out-patients.
A First Aid station was established in Foxrock village. After the bombing of Birmingham a number of people fled to Ireland—we would meet them at Westland Row and transport them to Foxrock for bed, bath and dinner. They usually had only what they stood up in. Many had relations or friends in Ireland so it was usually an overnight stay. Alternatively after the initial shock others returned home to England to stick it out.
Our men patrolled at night, watching out for invaders and parachutes—they spent quite a time warning young courting couples to go home or else. We were very moral in those days! One night two men spotted a parachute waving about on Three Rock. They cautiously crept up, dodging from rock to rock until they bravely apprehended the backside of a gray mare!
One time a British plane came down on the Leopardstown race course. It was important to get the plane away in a certain number of hours or the crew would be interned. The military were called in to blow up some trees to allow the plane to take off—unfortunately the blast shattered half the windows on Torquay Road. Alex visited the plane with us and received some lovely sweets. Another time a plane came down, some secret papers found their way to the British Ambassador’s wife in a box of chocolates delivered by Findlaters!
At Rush where we were holidaying, a Wing Commander from Belfast appeared for breakfast—later we heard that a number of soldiers had escaped from the Curragh— British frequently escaped but never Germans—they had nowhere to go. Towards the end of the war householders were invited to take officers fighting in the war for a rest. We had two very glamorous Australian pilots—they were with us for quite a while. We fed them steaks and entertained them lavishly. They were with us when Hiroshima happened and they were absolutely stunned to hear that the war was over. They returned to their unit in the South of England to be returned to Australia and we did not hear from them again. One Christmas we had two Canadian airmen—one tall and thin, the other short and square—the very genuine pair—we called them Mutt & Jeff!! They wrote frequently after returning to Canada and sent us presents.
In October 1944, with the war moving away from the western front, and with no lessening of responsibilities in the firm, Dermot felt it was the opportune time to step down from the LDF. Chief Superintendent W. P. Quinn sent a very positive letter to Dermot regretting his departure: ‘My sincere thanks and appreciation for the great service you rendered as Group Leader of Cabinteely Group of the LSF. It is a matter for regret that business reasons compel you to sever your
Special half bottle sale for Christmas 1937, probably to correct an over-stocked position as the vintages suggest.
connection with the LSF, but I feel sure that should any emergency arise we can count on your good services.’
What Dermot had not said was that he had been devastated by the death, on 12 February 1944, of his ten-year-old daughter Jeanette, a blow that was perhaps the catalyst for his health problems with the consequential effect on his management of the company.
As the Allied Armies approached Berlin, and hundreds of thousands of refugees straggled across Europe, there was worrying, if parochial, news for the drinking man:
For most consumers, shortages of butter, sugar and tobacco still presented the biggest problems. In January 1945 the butter ration was once again reduced although from February a weekly ration of 2 ounces of margarine was introduced. By May it was learned that Ireland’s offer of 20,000 cwts of sugar for the relief of Europe could not be taken up at an early date, and sugar rationing was not reduced as was previously predicted.
In the summer of 1945 Findlaters were prosecuted for overcharging on eggs. The Ministry of Supplies had issued a summons against the company following
Our enormous buying power enabled us to wholesale as competitively as retail.
a complaint by a customer relevant to an overcharge on the purchase of three eggs at our Leinster Street branch. No wonder there was no love lost between Dermot and Lemass.
There were, of course, lighter moments, and the Irish Press recorded one such in October 1945:
Three thousand people, thinking they had a ringside seat for a ‘crime does not pay’ episode, blocked Upper O’Connell Street, Dublin, last night, and stopped all traffic for half an hour. Cause of the excitement was the violent and prolonged clanging of a burglary alarm in Findlater’s shop at 11 o’clock. Spectators gathered in dozens and scores. Carloads of Gardaí raced up the street, and there was a blaze of light from the shop. With the alarm still sounding, hundreds of people, going home from the pictures and the dances, milled around the shop, and waited for the apprehension of the burglars. People climbed drainpipes at the back and peered into windows, expecting to see tussles between the gardaí and the criminals. The crowd swelled into thousands who blocked the traffic, and there was much difficulty in having them dispersed. It was then discovered that the alarm was due to a defect in the bell.38
By this time (late 1945) the war was over. The Germans had surrendered in May and the Japanese in August. The world of trade struggled to get back to normal. By October, things began to look up, especially for brandy lovers:
Trading between Éire and France has started off briskly—150,000 bottles of finest Hennessy brandy will be taking their places soon on the now empty shelves of Éire’s hotels and public houses. The Brandy is already in the country. It came in casks because France, recovering from her war wounds, had not enough bottles to carry it. Some people may be puzzled to know why Éire should have received such a large cargo of brandy. The Hennessy family has many roots in Éire, and the present head of the family always has kept in close touch with affairs here. When he was taking up again the reins of his business, badly shattered by the war, he recollected Éire, and ordered that she should be amongst the first countries to receive a share of his product.
During the war Éire kept going fairly well on Portuguese brandy but the public did not take to it. Still, they took it when there was nothing else.39
There was also good news for car owners with the resumption of private motoring in November after three and a half years, as the result of an expected early substantial improvement in the petrol supply position. However, Dermot had a request for government: ‘I feel that a petrol subsidy should be issued for commercial goods vehicles that ran on coal gas or producer gas throughout the Emergency period. Our company still has to use producer gas propelled vehicles in order to give an adequate service.’
Then, in December the Argentina, a Swedish-owned ship, arrived from Brazil, her hold packed with 1,177 tons of oranges. The cargo represented nearly a pound of oranges for everybody in Éire.40 Christmas was suddenly looking good, with the first sultanas to arrive since 1940. Commenting on the prospects for Christmas 1945 Dermot declared that turkeys and
‘We do not cut price to catch trade’, and ‘no discount given’ yet we remained a leader in the trade for very many years. The Irish Times 20 September 1937
poultry would be fairly plentiful. Plum puddings in the shops, however, were likely to be scarcer than expected, owing to the shortage of earthenware bowls in which they were sold. While port and sherry were plentiful, white wines, Burgundy and claret were scarce. The remaining stocks of Champagne and gin were gone. Whiskey was no more plentiful than the previous year. However, there was likely to be a good supply of bacon and hams, as the allocations to traders that month were nearly double those of November.41
However, on 19 December 1945, the Irish Independent reported that ‘a shortage of stout and porter, described in some areas in the country as the most serious since the outbreak of the war, threatens a somewhat dry Christmas. No imports of the special type of wood for the manufacture of casks have been made since before the war so that casks worn out or damaged could not be replaced.’42
At the AGM immediately after the end of the war, Dermot took the opportunity to address the question of Ireland’s contribution to the destruction of
Nazism.
I must, on behalf of our Staff, Shareholders and Customers, take this opportunity of thanking our British and American friends for the magnificent way in which they continued to send us supplies of fuel, foodstuffs, and goods for the licensed portion of our business, throughout the war in Europe—notwithstanding the fact that they themselves were in short supply. We will never forget their help. We in Éire did much to help them during the past five years, not alone with manpower but also with food supplies. And I feel that if the true facts were set out better relations would be established between our Governments and our peoples, and it would be clear that we in Éire did more than our part to free Europe from the tyranny which has beset it for so many years.
In thanking the staff he could not resist giving the Department a nudge.
I would [also] like to take this opportunity of thanking our Staff for their inestimable help during the Emergency. They have been sorely tried by the hundreds of emergency orders, altered, revised, cancelled, and renewed often at a moment’s notice. They have dealt with thousands of problems, they have suffered uncalled-for abuse, and they have even been put in the dock for the matter of a farthing. All I can say is, I thank them 100% and I believe they trust your board and myself, and because of their loyalty I look forward to a further year of trading as good as this one.
Before closing, I must thank all the manufacturers, wholesalers, distributors, and consumers for their help and initiative during a trying five years. I must also thank all the departmental officials, junior and senior, for their courtesy and their tact and their understanding of our many difficulties.
Thanking departmental officials obviously went against the grain, for he then launched an attack on government policy in respect of wholesalers (of which of course Findlaters was one).
It is difficult to ascertain the government policy with regard to the distribution of foodstuffs, but we believe that a firm with multiple shops, such as ours, is the most economic method of distribution, provided of course the shareholders and directors are all Irish nationals. It is felt that the government considers wholesalers unnecessary, creating an extra cost between the producer, manufacturer or importing broker and the consumer. This is definitely not the case. The wholesaler in normal times acts as banker or financier to the smaller shops, and divides up the imports in quantities suitable to their needs and to their ability to pay for them, and very often the wholesaler gets very little in return for doing so.
But he had criticism for the one-man shop
To my mind the only uneconomic cog in the wheel of distribution is the one-man shop, which has such unlimited opportunities of defrauding the revenue authorities, trading for cash and giving no employment, and often keeping no proper account books.
With money in the bank, business was on the move:
During the year under review we have opened new branch shops in Cabinteely and Dundrum. These shops were opened at the request of former customers unable to avail of the Findlater Service by reason of the restrictions of the use of private motor cars and motor vans for delivery purposes, which restrictions, we hope, will be unnecessary in the near future. We have completely modernised our Baggot Street and our Blackrock branches. We have obtained a new lease of our Malahide branch, which is to be rebuilt and fitted on modern lines. These three shops will be in advance of any retail shop in any part of the world. They are completely vermin proof and absolutely hygienic, and as soon as equipment is available special arrangements will be installed for the comfort of our staff and customers.
The new world order slowly became clear as the smoke of war cleared. It became obvious that it was in more than Marshall Aid that the Americans were going to dominate. For the next twenty-five years, the lessons that Dermot had learned in Coopers of Liverpool, and in Sackville Street (as some still liked to called our headquarters), were to be less and less important.
Notes and references