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jimi hendrixIn early July 1968, Jimi Hendrix (1942 Seattle – 1970 London) moved into a rented flat at 23 Brook Street, W1. It had been procured by his then girlfriend Kathy Etchingham, and they moved in together. Clearly delighted, the guitarist described it as the first proper home of his own. The couple had previously lived in various shared digs, no longer suitable for a man who’d become a superstar since moving to London barely two years previously. “For the first time we could wander out from the bedroom without having to get dressed,” said Kathy.

They decorated it themselves with the help of nearby Messrs John Lewis, who sent some men around to measure up. Similarly, cultery, crockery and all manner of domestic accoutrements were obtained from the same Oxford Street emporium.

In a vain quest for privacy, the couple had no doorbell. They valued their private time, which was rare. When not being pestered by the film crews, reporters, photographers, documentary makers, Jimi spent much time in the recording studio and on the road fulfilling a pitiless, brutal concert schedule over which he had little control. But during home time Jimi and Kathy would typically listen to records, loudly: Jimi’s collection was eclectic indeed, encompassing jazz, blues, rock and classical. Jimi also practised guitar and wrote songs, constantly. They drank either Mateus Rose or Lowenbrau. Beer and wine wasn’t easily and widely available in the late 60s except in pubs and clubs. Too lazy to go to the upstairs fridge, they kept the bottles cool on the windowsill. Jimi was also partial to an occasional dram – usually Dimple (is that still going?) – which he’d usually pick up duty-free when on tour.

60s cool. Mateus Rose on the windowsill.

60s cool. Mateus Rose on the windowsill.

Everyone smoked, of course. Benson & Hedges, Rothmans or frequently something menthol such as Cool. Menthol was very ‘in’ at that time. Jimi’s Englishness extended to enjoying milky tea and watching Coronation Street, which he adored, mainly because it seemed so alien to an American.

Jimi and Kathy split up in April 1969. He moved his stuff out gradually between then and October. They had spent less than a year at 23 Brook Street. A year later Hendrix was dead.

Legacy: Jimi’s Place
Almost 45 years later – this Wednesday – the rooms of Jimi Hendrix’s London flat open to the public as a permanent attraction. It comprises three rooms: an exhibition space; a recreation of Jimi and Kathy’s bedroom; and a small room between them to represent Jimi’s record collection. It has become part of the Handel House Museum which next door at Number 25*, was the composer’s home for over 30 years in the 18th Century. The combined attractions of these musical superstars are now known as Handel and Hendrix in London.

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The process started when a blue plaque was affixed to Number 23 in the late 90s. More recently, with Heritage Fund support, a long lease was acquired on the upper storeys of the building and the work began to create a permanent London memorial to a man whom many consider the greatest rock guitarist who ever lived.

* Hendrix himself thought that he’d moved into the same building as that occupied by Handel. On the strength of this he bought his own copies of the Messiah and Water Music.

52 and 54 Brook Street.

23 and 25 Brook Street.

Bohemian but tidy. As a result of his time in the US army, Jimi was a very tidy person, according to Kathy.

Bohemian but tidy. As a result of his time in the US army, Jimi was a very tidy person, according to Kathy.

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One of Jimi’s acoustic guitars.

Where would the late 60s have been without velvet? Plus some of Jimi's guitar strings.

Where would the late 60s have been without velvet? Plus some of Jimi’s guitar strings.

 

 

 

Lee Miller

A guest post by London Historians member Martin Thompson.

Lee Miller in the uniform of United States war correspondent.

Lee Miller in the uniform of United States war correspondent.

Elizabeth (Lee) Miller was one of the most remarkable women of the 20th century; Vogue fashion model, fashion photographer of note with her own studio, artist’s muse, an accredited war correspondent during the Second World War covering events such as the London Blitz, the liberation of Paris, and the concentration camps at Buchenwald and Dachau, friend of luminaries such as Man Ray and Pablo Picasso and in later life becoming a gourmet cook. She was admired as much for her free-spirit, creativity and intelligence as for her classical beauty. Known as ‘Lee’ Miller she married the artist Sir Roland Penrose in 1947 and thereafter was also known as Lady Penrose.

The Imperial war Museum is currently hosting a retrospective of her work as a War Correspondent exploring the impact of the Second World War on women’s lives through photography until 24 April, 2016 and is well worth a visit.

Lee Miller was born on 23 April, 1907 in Poughkeepsie, New York. The name derives from a word in the local tribal Wappinger language, meaning “the reed-covered lodge by the little-water place,” referring to a spring or stream feeding into the Hudson River south of the present downtown. She was the second child of Theodore, an Engineer, Businessman and Inventor and his wife Florence a Nurse. Always a tomboy she grew up on a farm and was always trying to outdo her brothers, Tom and Erik. Her father who was also an amateur photographer was a strong influence on the young Lee and introduced all three of his children to photography at an early age often using Lee her and her young friends as models.

At the age of seven she was raped by the son of a family friend. This was kept quiet, as such things were in those days – so quiet, in fact, that no one knew about the event except her immediate family. It was only after her death that her son Anthony, spoke to his Uncle Erik and this became known. It is possible that it affected her personality as she was always restless and somewhat rebellious finding it difficult to find love and settle down with anyone.

At the age of 19 she was nearly killed when she walked in front of a truck on a Manhattan street but was saved by a passerby who managed to grab her arm and pull her away just in time. Her rescuer was Condé Nast, the founder of Vogue magazine. He effectively launched her modelling career on the cover of American Vogue, and she was photographed by the greatest talents of the day becoming one of the most sought after models in New York.

Having become interested in the work behind the camera as well as in front as a model, she moved to Paris in 1929, becoming apprenticed to the surrealist painter and photographer Man Ray as well as becoming his lover and muse. It was here that she started her career as a photographer. She was an active participant in the surrealist movement and became friends with Pablo Picasso who immortalised her in a number of his famous works, and the artist and film maker Jean Cocteau. In 1932 she returned to New York and opened a portrait and commercial photography studio with her brother Erik as her darkroom assistant. This was not to last. In 1934 almost on a whim, she married Egyptian businessman Aziz Eloui Bey who had gone to New York to buy equipment for the Egyptian Railways; they moved to Cairo. By 1937 she had become bored with her life in Egypt and once more moved back to Paris where she divorced Aziz and met the surrealist painter Roland Penrose (later Sir Roland) who was to become her second husband in 1947 and father of her only son Anthony.

At the outbreak of World War II, Lee was living at 21 Downshire Hill, Hampstead with Roland Penrose when the bombing of London began. Ignoring pleas from friends and family to return to the United States, she embarked on a new career in photojournalism as the official war photographer for Vogue, documenting the Blitz. Roland was called upon to work as a lecturer on camouflage and used a picture of the naked Lee covered with camouflage netting. He said that his lectures were very well attended after that with some participants coming back two or three times. He was also required to do duty as an air raid warden and Lee would sometimes join him on his rounds. From Hampstead Heath the criss-crossing searchlights, bursting flak and glow of the fires at London docks would present an awesome panorama, one that she found exciting. She also recounted that one night a barrage balloon collapsed on the house. She and the operators spent the whole night getting the thing under control, rolled up, down into the garden, through the house and through the front door. Their house, in Downshire Hill, played host to a variety of colourful characters, including the ‘Cambridge spies’ Anthony Blunt, Guy Burgess and Donald Maclean, although they were not known as such at the time.

Lee was accredited into the U.S. Army as a war correspondent for Conde Nast Publications from December 1942. She travelled to France less than a month after D-Day and teaming up with Life photojournalist David E. Scherman, recorded the battle of Saint-Malo, field hospitals in Normandy, the liberation of Paris, the battle for Alsace, and the horror of the Nazi concentration camps at Buchenwald and Dachau. Her photographs, some of the first photographic evidence of the Holocaust, were a horrifying glimpse of the atrocities committed by the Nazis in the camps. From Dachau she and Scherman went directly to Hitler’s private apartment in Munich. She had Scherman photograph her washing herself in Hitler’s bathtub, her boots still with the mud of Dachau on them on the bathmat. In the immediate aftermath of the war, Lee travelled throughout Eastern Europe to see and photograph the devastating aftermath of the war. She photographed dying children in a Vienna Hospital, peasant life in post-war Hungary, and the execution of the fascist ex-Prime Minister Laszlo Bardossy of Hungary. After the war, she continued to work for Vogue for a further two years, covering fashion and celebrities.

In 1949 Roland and Lee bought Farley Farm House in East Sussex which became a sort of artistic Mecca for visiting artists such as Picasso, Man Ray, Henry Moore, Eileen Agar, Jean Dubuffet, Dorothea Tanning, and Max Ernst. Having witnessed so much pain and pointless destruction during the war, she fell into a long period of depression and alcohol abuse but reinvented herself as a gourmet cook in the 1960s having completed the cordon blue course in Paris and was featured in several magazines. She hosted Surrealist dinner parties and made wildly experimental dishes, serving her guests’ foods such as green chicken or blue fish, the latter said to have been inspired by the Spanish Surrealist painter and sculptor Miró.

Lee Miller died from cancer at Farley Farm House in Chiddingly, East Sussex, in 1977, aged 70. She was cremated and her ashes were spread through her herb garden. Farley Farm has now, through the work of Anthony Penrose, become a museum featuring the work, life and times of Lee Miller.

Courtesy and permission of London Remembers.

Courtesy and permission of London Remembers.

A film of her life is currently in production starring Kate Winslet as Lee Miller and is expected to be released in 2017.
The house at 21 Downshire Hill, Hampstead was awarded an English Heritage blue plaque in 2003. Unveiled by the playwright Sir David Hare, it reads simply: Lee Miller (1907-1977), Photographer, and Sir Roland Penrose (1900-1984), Surrealist, lived here. For historians of 20th-century photography, the plaque marks the rightful rehabilitation of a remarkable artist and character that had been all but forgotten since her death.

John Dee at the RCP.

DSC01912_250Last week I went to the Royal College of Physicians to take a look at their new display celebrating the Tudor polymath John Dee. I don’t know why but I rather foolishly had no big expectations of the Royal College itself. But what an amazing place! My apathy may have been caused by the fact that their home is in a building designed by London’s number one brutalist concrete maestro, Sir Denys Lasdun. Grade I listed and opened by Her Majesty the Queen in 1964, it’s actually a rather handsome structure and once inside you realise it does a great job. One would expect this incongruous mid-20C building to stick out like a sore thumb amid the classical, cream Nash-ian terrace of Regent’s Park, but no: the RCP’s headquarters is indeed a gracious neighbour.

Royal College of Physicians

Provided you sign in and don one of those human cattle badges on a lanyard (yellow), you’re free to explore virtually the whole building unhindered. Most wallspace is covered with portraits of the greats of medicine of the past, by some of the leading portrait painters of their times. Reynolds, Lely, Lawrence, Hoppner, Zoffany. Here and there are portrait busts: I spotted at least one by Roubiliac.

But the most engaging parts are on the ground floor: a large collection comprising several hundred apothecary jars; a museum room with a wonderful, intriguing and sometimes eye-watering collection of historical medical instruments and devices, the pride of which must be the rare example of a 17C Prujean chest, named after Dr Thomas Prujean who devised it; and the Censors’ Room, dressed in the original 16C Spanish oak, transferred from the college’s three previous homes. This is where you would have your final examination to become a Member of the College, that is to say a legally practising doctor of medicine. You’d face the torture of a proper grilling by the leading medical men of their age. Prompted by English physicians of the time, Henry VIII founded the college in 1518 to reflect that which pertained on the continent. Prestige.

Royal College of Physicians

Royal College of Physicians

Royal College of Physicians

Royal College of Physicians

What follows about Dee notwithstanding, I’d highly recommend a visit to the Royal College of Physicians any time.

John_Dee_250John Dee (1527 – 1608/9), like his exact contemporary Sir Walter Ralegh, was an Elizabethan renaissance man par excellence. The two men had much in common, not least sharing a catastrophic drop from favour when James I became king, despite in both of their cases being friends of – and championed by – young Henry, Prince of Wales. And while Sir Walter may have been a more belligerent man of action, Dee was no mean traveller himself and shared with Ralegh a great the vision of an English Empire.

Dee was a mathematician, an astronomer, a map-maker, an apothecary, a courtier, an achemist. While not a qualified physician, he was sufficiently trusted on medical matters for Queen Elizabeth to send him to Europe to seek a cure for one of her ailments. He believed, as many did then, that we could communicate with angels and indeed less benevolent creatures from beyond the veil. Assisted by his associate, the “scryer” Edward Kelley, he would communicate with spirits. Not surprising, then, that in 1555, Queen Mary had him locked up in the Tower as an alleged sorcerer. Fortunately – and unlike many others – he was able to charm and actually befriend his interrogator, Archbishop Bonner, establish his good Catholic credentials and be given the official stamp of approval.

Like most men of affairs during his era, John Dee was a great bibliophile. His library comprised over 4,000 books and manuscripts, vast by the standards of the day. It was housed at his home, a large house in Mortlake where he also kept his laboratory and entertained guests, including the queen herself. Heartbreakingly for Dee, most of his books were stolen or sold off by an unscrupulous relative – one Nicholas Fromond – while Dee was away on one of his travels. Down the years, over a hundred of these have come into the possession of the RCP, making it the biggest single collection of Dee’s books in the world. A selection of them forms the basis of a new display which opened last week. They are a joy to examine.

Royal College of Physicians, John Dee

Royal College of Physicians, John Dee

Clearly these tomes were not just for display, but for careful reading. For they are heavily annotated by Dee, as was the habit of those times. Underlinings all over the place, and marginalia comprising commentary and the little diagrams of the pointing hand here and there, a common Tudor era device (Henry VIII used it a lot, along with an eye). But there are also other types of diagrams – horoscopes, faces, shapes – particularly where topics like geometry are concerned. Best of all, though, is Dee’s drawing of a ship in full sail in the bottom corner of a page in Cicero’s Opera, published in 1539.

What interested me about this show was thinking about the golden generation of the late 16C – Shakespeare, Dee, Ralegh and their like – and comparing it with another golden generation but very different group a hundred years later – Wren, Hooke, Boyle, Evelyn, Pepys etc. In the interim, Francis Bacon had taught brainy men to think differently and the tumult of civil war and plague had entirely transformed the country, London in particular.

Hence, this exhibition is a must-visit for everyone interested in early modern history: absorbing and thought-provoking.

Scholar, Courtier Magician: the lost library of John Dee runs until 29 July 2016 at the Royal College of Physicians. Entrance is free.

Royal College of Physicians, John Dee

Victorian genre painting depicting John Dee at his house in Mortlake entertaining the queen and her entourage.

Scan20151201_16270271The cartoonist Martin Honeysett died just over a year ago to the great distress of his family, friends and fans. He was 71. He had led an interesting and varied life, including a spell of lumberjacking in New Zealand and in his later years as a visiting professor at a university in Kyoto.

Born in Hereford, Honeysett was brought up in south London, where he attended the Croydon School of Art.  He drifted around for about 10 years before properly knuckling down to the business of drawing for a living. From the early 1970s, he became a regular and prolific contributor to magazines such as Private Eye, SpectatorThe Oldie, and Punch. He also worked in book illustration with Michael Palin and Terry Jones of Monty Python, dour Scottish comedian Ivor Cutler, author Sue Townsend and others.

But it is mainly for his one panel cartoons and magazine covers that Honeysett will be remembered. Acutely observed, black, grotesque and often a little unnerving, the main attribute of his work was that it was very, very funny indeed – so much so, in fact that a great deal of them required no caption. And they worked on several levels, because his drawings – misanthropic in the extreme – were funny of themselves – funnier than any other cartoonist’s – and on top of all that: the strange joke, every one a cracker.

Last week on the exact anniversary of Martin Honeysett’s demise, The Cartoon Museum opened an exhibition in his memory and honour: A Taste of Honeysett: the Acerbic Wit of Martin Honeysett. I visited last Thursday afternoon and was soon giggling happily, something you’ll not experience at any other London gallery. I noticed other punters were snorting and guffawing too, quite unselfconsciously. Here are some examples.

Private Eye, 16 April 1996. Estate of Martin Honeysett.

Private Eye, 16 April 1996. Estate of Martin Honeysett.

Martin Honeysett

Cover for Punch. 27 May, 1981. Estate of Martin Honeysett

There are dozens more like this, along with his illustration work. You soon realise, if you didn’t already, what a talented illustrator Martin Honeysett was, possibly somewhat camouflaged by his busy, scratchy style. This joy of an exhibition runs until 16 April. Do not miss.

There is a 148 page catalogue of the exhibition with introductory articles by Ian Hislop, Richard Ingrams, Bill Stott and the Cartoon Museum’s director, Anita O’Brien. It includes a generous colour section and is a snip at just £8.99. Available from the museum shop, online here or by phone on 020 7580 8155.

Finally, here is a brace of my own Honeysetts. Treasured.

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Martin Honeysett

 

Exhibition at Hogarth’s House, 22 January – 3 April 2016

A guest post by LH Member, Val Bott

Anthropometamorphosis: Man Transform’d, or the Artificial Changeling, John Bulwer, 1653, a study of the way humans have modified their bodies for cultural and cosmetic reasons

Anthropometamorphosis: Man Transform’d, or the Artificial Changeling, John Bulwer, 1653, a study of the way humans have modified their bodies for cultural and cosmetic reasons

Layton’s Library: A Curious Collection will display some of the most beautiful and unusual examples of 17th and 18th century books once owned by Brentford antiquarian Thomas Layton. These are amongst the oldest volumes from his remarkable collection and this is an exciting opportunity to see them for the first time.

Supported by a grant from the Heritage Lottery Fund, the Thomas Layton Trust is running a project to raise awareness and understanding of the collection. The exhibition has been curated by a team of dedicated local volunteers who have selected books for display from around 8,000 volumes! Visitors will be intrigued by these early books, their various subjects, their bindings and their illustrations. They will also learn a little about Layton and his passion for collecting and the Trust hopes the exhibition will raise awareness of the collection and share it with a new generation of readers.

The exhibition is on show at Hogarth’s House, Chiswick, admission free. Visitors are welcome from Tuesday to Sunday, between 12 noon to 5pm, until 3 April. From 30 April 2016, some of the exhibition will be on show at Boston Manor House in Brentford, where the Trust is planning a range of workshops for adults and children during the summer months.

Thomas Layton (born in 1819, died 1911) lived for the majority of his life on Kew Bridge Road in Brentford, West London. He was a lighterman, a coal merchant, a churchwarden, a member of the Burial Board and a Poor Law Guardian but, above all, he was a collector. During the course of his life he built up an enormous and intriguing collection of ‘every conceivable thing that can be found in an antique store’, including maps, prints, spears, swords, tokens, medals and coins, but his plans to endow a museum and library in Brentford ran into difficulties.

Many of his antiquities are on public display in the Museum of London; the river wall in their London Before London gallery. However, by far the largest element of his collection – the extraordinary collection of books – has remained relatively unknown and little used. The laytoncollection.org website has brought many of the elements together as a “virtual museum” for you to explore.

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Rules for drawing caricatures: with an essay on comic painting, Francis Grose, 1791, with wonderful illustrations by the author

The books on show include
A Compleat Collection of English Proverbs, John Ray, 3rd edition 1737
New, Authentic and Complete Collection of Voyages Round the World, Captain Cook’s First, Second, Third and Last Voyages, by George William Anderson, issued in 80 sixpenny parts 1784-6
Picturesque Views on the River Thames, Samuel Ireland, 1791
Foxe’s Book of Martyrs, 1631 edition
The Fables of Aesop, Paraphrased in Verse, Adorned with Sculpture & Illustrated with Annotations by John Ogilvie Esq, 1668
Indian antiquities or Dissertations relative to Hindostan, Thomas Maurice, 1792
A discourse concerning old-age Tending to The Instruction, Caution and Comfort of Aged Persons, Richard Steele, 1688
The Lady’s Magazine or Entertaining Companion for the Fair Sex, Appropriated solely to their Use and Amusement, 1790
The English House-Wife, Containing The inward and outward Vertues which ought to be in a Compleat Woman, Gervase Markham, 1683
Anthropometamorphosis: Man Transform’d, or the Artificial Changeling, John Bulwer, 1653
Rules for drawing Caricaturas: with an Essay on Comic Painting, Francis Grose, 1791

The Lady’s Magazine or Entertaining Companion for the Fair Sex. Appropriated solely to their Use and Amusement. Vol. XXI for the year 1790 - genteel entertainment, one year's monthly issue bound as a single volume.

The Lady’s Magazine or Entertaining Companion for the Fair Sex. Appropriated solely to their Use and Amusement. Vol. XXI for the year 1790 – genteel entertainment, one year’s monthly issue bound as a single volume.

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Preview evening. 

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Preview evening. 

All images by Toni Marshall. 

Rod Hall

A guest post by author, historian and journalist, David Long, a member of London Historians. 

Scene: The Tabard Centre, Prioress Street SE1 (2004)

‘Stalk-thin, with the ears of the Big Friendly Giant.’

When police alerted by friends arrived to find Rod Hall murdered in his gated, loft-style apartment, stylishly remodelled from two former classrooms in what had been a Victorian school, his death can fairly be said to have sent shockwaves through literary London.

Whilst by no means a household name, the 53 year-old was a pioneering and highly successful literary agent whose list of clients included the writers of such well known films and television series The Full Monty, Billy Elliot and Men Behaving Badly. He was also credited with creating the first ever dedicated film and TV tie-in department for a major British publisher, thus playing the role of midwife to a host of other productions such as Jeeves & Wooster, Just William, Casualty and Babe.

Tall and skinny – one client described him as looking like an escapee from a Quentin Blake drawing, ‘stalk-thin, with the ears of the Big Friendly Giant’ – Hall was a popular and well regarded figure in the publishing world, making his exceptionally brutal killing on 21 May 2004 all the more shocking.

His body was discovered by two friends who had called round to his flat, a stylish industrial-chic space with oils by Maurice Cockerill and Terry Frost and bespoke furniture which Hall had treated himself to when Billy Elliot received three Academy Award nominations. Inside the friends found the owner’s Siamese cat clearly in great distress, bloody footprints in the shower, and in the second bathroom their friend’s blackened and eviscerated corpse lying collapsed into the bath.

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The Tabard Centre, location of Rod Hall’s flat.

Within hours Hall’s business partner in the Rod Hall Agency had pointed police in the direction of a boyfriend, known to colleagues only as Ozzy, providing them with a partial telephone number and the information that he was a student at Newham College.

The clues led directly to Usman Durrani, a 20 year old part-time security guard from Forest Gate in East London who it soon became apparent had stabbed his lover to death. That said, the precise cause of death has never been ascertained because, with between 30 and 50 knife wounds to his body, it had been established that any one of seven different traumas could conceivably have killed Hall.

What is known, however, is that the two men had engaged in consensual if extreme sex games; that the victim had allowed himself to be bound, gagged and suspended over the bath; and that after killing him Durrani took time to clean up before leaving the Tabard Centre and going home to his wife in Beckton.

He took with him a camera, on which he had filmed the corpse, an expensive Jaeger-LeCoultre watch and various other personal effects – perhaps in order to make the crime scene look like a robbery rather than a straightforward killing. Shortly afterwards, however, Durrani told a friend what he had done, claiming that he had wanted only to hurt Hall rather than to kill him.

Before long Durrani was on a flight to Dubai, during the course of which police turned up at his mother’s home in Forest Gate and confirmed that they wanted to interview him in connection with a murder. With hopes evaporating that he had simply been engaged in a robbery which had gone horribly, horribly wrong, the accused was brought back to London and handed over to the police.

Initially released on bail but then rearrested, Durrani’s mood reportedly shifted quickly from bouncy to catatonic in a manner which the interviewing officers found unsettling. It soon became apparent that he was unwell, suffering the effects of what a psychiatrist who examined him for the prosecution called the ‘toxic brew’ of religion, homosexuality and sadomasochism.

Durrani himself expressed no guilt or regret over what he had done, and at his trial in July 2005 showed very little emotion. He also said very little, except to deny vehemently that he was in any way homosexual and to admit that he was guilty only of manslaughter on what the Guardian called ‘the grounds that he was mentally ill at the time of the killing.’

He was not adjudged to be insane, however, even though when he was referred for psychiatric testing it had been agreed that he fulfilled the criteria for a diagnosis of personality disorder. In court the jury found him guilty of murder, Judge Gerald Gordon ruling that he should serve a minimum term of 12 years, and saying that he had made Hall ‘suffer mentally and physically before his death’

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David Long is a journalist, historian and author of many London history books including Murders of London: in the Steps of the Capital’s Killers (2012, Random House Books). He is also a member of London Historians.

Sometime before the birth of powered flight – even before the Wright brothers themselves were born – there was the Royal Aeronautical Society. Founded on the 12 January 1866 in London, today is its 150th anniversary. Many happy returns.

The British Aeronautical Society HQ at 4 Hamilton Place, London W1.

The British Aeronautical Society HQ at 4 Hamilton Place, London W1.

The oldest of its kind in the world, the Society was founded as the Aeronautical Society of Great Britain, holding its first public meeting on 27 June 1866. It became the RAeS in 1918 and moved into its current HQ – an elegant five storey building near Park Lane – in 1938.

The Society’s aims are to promote and support the advancement of aerospace through its 67 international branches. Society gold medal winners – rarely bestowed – include the Wright brothers, Frank Whittle, Sir Geoffrey de Havilland, Sir Frederick Handley Page and most recently the aerospace entrepreneur Elon Musk.

We wish the Society all the best for the next 150 years.

Royal Aeronautical Society on Wikipedia.
Royal Aeronautical Society history page.
Royal Aeronautical Society 150 commemoration.

Royal Aeronautical Society on Twitter: @AeroSociety

 

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