I said I intended to learn more about him and added that I would appreciate hearing from any reader who could help me give Harry his rightful place in the roll call of gifted local artists whose lives and work should be memorialised. Needless to say, I was overwhelmed by the response.

So, I feel I owe it both to the several readers who responded and to Harry himself to pass on the knowledge passed to me. I do so in the hope that Harry’s pictures will receive a wider recognition among collectors and who knows, possibly cause more of his work to be unearthed which might otherwise be left lying unidentified, unknown and unloved.

I owe the biggest debt of gratitude to Mr G.H. of Birkenhead, who was kind enough to send at his own expense a copy of “A Record of the Neilson Family”, compiled by Geoff W. Neilson a family member now living in New Zealand. The large format illustrated book gives a history of the Neilson clan from the 16th to the 21st century.

Our interest, though, is in Harry, who was one of the leading comic illustrators of his day, illustrating various books as well as producing posters and postcards with a particularly fine series of comic animal sketches. He also contributed to the Savoy, Dainty and Premier series of picture postcards and told his own story in his book “Auld Lang Syne” published in 1935.

In the book Harry writes: “I was born in the year 1861, at number 39, Westbourne Road, Birkenhead. The house was pleasantly situated amid green fields which extended into the suburb of Claughton.

“Some water-logged old clay pits afforded free bathing in the summer to many naked little urchins. Small thatched cottages, with white-washed walls, little gardens, and all with pig sties, were dotted here and there, and were said to have originally possessed ‘squatters’ rights’ and so paid no rent, rates, or taxes!

“My father still wore half-Wellington top boots and the old fashioned stocks. The ladies wore poke bonnets, crinolines, Paisley shawls, and many-flounced, voluminous skirts, while young men of fashion affected peg-top trousers, little pork-pie hats with fluttering ribbons, and Dundreary whiskers! Policemen still wore top hats. Croquet was practically the only outdoor game played by ladies.

“In the year 1863 my parents moved with their family of children to the new house my father had built in Forest Road, Calughton, a suburb of Birkenhead. He bought the land, which was covered with fir trees, and one acre in extent, for 3s 6d per square yard! The house was called “Airliewood”, a name well chosen, as was that of the road which it faced, for all around us stretched forest land composed mostly of Scotch firs.”

Harry was born Henry Bingham Neilson in 1861, the eighth child of Andrew and Isabel Neilson. He completed an engineer’s apprenticeship with Laird Brothers, Liverpool, starting in 1879 and finishing in 1884. He worked on board the S. S. Noordland, as an electrician, on voyages across the Atlantic, between the years 1884 to 1886.

In 1887, he went to the Behar Province in India to work on an indigo plantation managed by his cousin. Whilst in India, Harry became a trooper with the Behar Light Horse Regiment.

In 1903, he was back in England and moved to “Meadowbank”, 36 School Lane, Bidston Village, where he lived with his sister, Louisa. There he continued his artistic work, illustrating at least 21 children’s books, many betraying animals with “human feelings and attributes”. He also sketched Christmas cards and developed a keen interest in amateur horse keeping, a subject which was to feature in some of his sketches. He remained at Meadowbank until his death in 1941.

Another transcript reprinted in the Neilson family record is a note written by Harry, expounding the conflict between motor transport and horse transport.
The note was “Dedicated to all lovers of a good nag” and his horse, Isabel, is herself immortalised by several references and sketches in Harry’s book Auld Lang Syne.

It reads: “In these fast-moving days of motor transport, where in most parts of the country it has become impossible to either ride or drive a pleasure horse, with any sense of security or comfort, it occurred to my mind that it might be of interest to horse lovers, if one of themselves were to present with pen & pencil, his experiences of horse keeping, as a hobby in a small way, between the years 1907 & 1927.

“When at the earlier of this period it was possible to enjoy country rides & drives with a degree of comfort, this will probably never occur again, especially by those who would keep a horse or pony for the mere joy of it; and this I have endeavoured to show in the following pages. I was my own Stable man groom. In fact everything in one, regarding the keeping, riding & driving of one of the most delightful & lovable little nags that ever wore a saddle or looked through collar, and her name was Isabel.”

Another sketch shows Bidston Church in about 1885 and in writing about some of the parishioners Harry says that “if the sermon happened to be drawn-out to much longer than the usual length, Mr Clover would draw his watch chain sharply between a finger and his signet ring, producing a distinctly rasping sound, which never failed to bring the discourse to the finish”!

Auld Lang Syne was published by Willmer Brothers and in his book, Geoff Neilson recounts how he met Mr Wrayford Willmer who vividly remembered the day this “persistent, eccentric little man” arrived at his office with a sheaf of papers and asked that they print and bind them as a book.

Their first reaction was to have nothing to do with it as bookbinding abd printing was not their trade. However, they eventually agreed to do it, originally printing 1,000 copies but binding only 500 which sold very slowly. The original price was 10 shillings and 6 pence.

The remainder sat on Willmer Brothers shelves for many years until such time as there was some community function in Bidston that created an interest in the records that Harry had put together and the rest of the copies went almost overnight.

On searching the Internet, Geoff Neilson discovered that the original manuscript of Auld Lang Syne was offered by Dominic Winter Book Auctions on July 24, 2002, the first two volumes in typescript, the third in a neat, legible hand with numerous illustrations in black ink, pasted at appropriate positions through the work.

It was offered together with a first edition of the printed book signed by Neilson on the inside front cover. The lot was estimated at £700-1,000 but appeared not to have sold. It is interesting to speculate where the material is today and what it would be worth!

Geoff Neilson also discovered that a collection of 325 items of original drawings, watercolour paintings and manuscripts by Harry are held in “2 oversize boxes” at the Manuscripts Division, UCLA Library,, Charles E. Young Research Library, in Los Angeles.

Auld Lang Syne was reprinted in a small limited edition by Birkenhead Library in 1996 and several readers contacted me to say they were lucky enough to own a copy. Sadly, I do not!

antiques@chris-proudlove.co.uk

Harry Neilson’s animal magic

Harry Neilson’s ability to put animals in human poses and situations was uncanny. This, coupled with his skill as a draughtsman, makes his sketches and watercolours both compelling and enduring.

No one is better equipped to explain the phenomenon than Harry himself. The following was probably used as a foreword to one of his children’s books. It is headed Canine Characters and reads: “It has been said of (Sir Edwin) Landseer, the great artist, that he introduced a too human expression into his pictures of dogs. Those who thus criticised him I think were mistaken. All lovers of dogs are well aware that their favourites are capable of expressing the apparently human element, and it was this Sir Edwin loved to bring out and portray. How often a look, or a glance from a dog surprises and amuses us by its uncanny resemblance to somebody we know!

“Not only in their expression does this occur, but also in their varied character and appearance. For they not only remind us of certain people but also, sometimes of the professions they follow! It is this, the accompanying sketches are intended to illustrate, and though the dogs are dressed-up, to indicate the parts they play, every care has been taken to preserve their natural expression and character.”

antiques@chris-proudlove.co.uk

Pictures show: Top, Among a cache of original sketches found in Harry’s house and given to Geoff Neilson when he visited from New Zealand were these two sketches, presumably from a children’s book, entitled respectively “Adventure with Gorillas and a Crocodile No.1” and “Adventure with a Rhinoceros No. 2”

Above: The Bulldog Breed – a sketch from one of Harry’s children’s books

About the size of an old sixpence, the badge was decorated with blue enamel, picked out of which were the initials W. L. O. G.

The only other decoration was what we later learned was a pair of oversized ears — an image that was once the trademark of a cartoon rabbit, and no, I don’t mean Bugs Bunny.

The rabbit’s name was Wilfred — his co-conspirators were Pip and Squeak — and W. L. O. G. stands for the Wilfredian League of Gugnuncs. Today, it seems, the tricksy trio have become something of a cult with collectors and anything connected to them sells for a premium.

Confused? Readers of a certain age will remember them. Those who are not should read on and then they won’t be.

Pip, Squeak and Wilfred were the invention of Bertram J. Lamb, editor of the Daily Mirror’s children’s column. His idea was a strip cartoon in the newspaper which first appeared on May 11, 1919.

The characters were supposedly named by Payne after his wartime batman who went by the nickname “Pip-Squeak”.

Pip, the dog, Squeak his penguin companion and a baby rabbit called Wilfred came from Payne’s imagination and continued to delight both children and their parents until its run ended in 1958.

Oddly, Pip and Squeak were portrayed as being Wilfred’s parents – the apparently found him in a turnip field – while an elderly penguin was known as Auntie and a Russian spy was the villain with his dog “Popski”.

Austin Bowen Payne (1876-1959) was born in Cardiff, South Wales, but lived for a great part of his life in Herne Bay. He retired in 1953 and died there a year after the strip finally ended.

During its run, Pip, Squeak and Wilfred were a part of the British Establishment and the phrase passed into common parlance.

The Wilfredian League of Gugnuncs was founded in 1927 and is a mark of how popular Pip Squeak and Wilfred became (the Queen Mother was said to be a huge fan).

The name “Gugnunc” came about because unlike Pip and Squeak, Wilfred spoke only in baby-talk and “gug” and “nunc” were his favourite words. The Gugnuncs held parties and meetings and an annual rally at the Royal Albert Hall, raising funds for children’s hospitals and charities.

The cartoon also inspired a wide range of spin-off merchandise including children’s tea-sets, board games, toys, handkerchiefs and annuals. There was also a series of silent films in the early 1920s featuring the capers of the cartoon trio directed by Lancelot Speed.

The Daily Mirror Gugnunc Sing-Song was popular at this time and more money was raised from sales of printed songsheets and a now rare 78 rpm record produced by His Mater’s Voice. They change hands for £10-15, while a Wilfred car mascot can fetch £200-300.

Royal Doulton jumped on the Gugnunc bandwagon when they introduced the figure of Wilfred blowing a trumpet HN922 in 1927, while he also appears with Pip and Squeak on a ceramic ashtray, HN935.

Fund-raising was one of the prime motives of the cartoon – an important factor in its popularity, particularly at a time of the First World War.

Another money-spinner was a series of postcards by Raphael tuck from the Mirror Grange series, each of which showed views of a house of the same name which was built for the comic characters.

Artist F. Kenwood Giles was commissioned to produce the pictures used as illustrations and they showed the house from various angles, together with scenes from the interior. So the nursery showed Wilfred pulling a toy train, while Squeak was seen in his bedroom and so on.

They sold for a few pennies in the 1920s, while today a full set changes hands for £20 to 30 if in good condition.

Another delightful collectable is the Pip, Squeak and Wilfred Gugnunc board game. Made in England and also dating from the Great War, the game is based on war medals (see panel) and is similar to snakes and ladders with dice and counters. In good condition, the game is worth £30-40 today.

The first Pip, Squeak and Wilfred Annual for children was published in 1923 by Simpkin, Marshall, Hamilton, Kent & Co. It contained four colour plates by Ruth Cobb, Charles Folkard, Joyce Brisley & A E Jackson respectively and other colour-tinted illustrations of the amusing adventures our heroes.

The Pip and Squeak Annual ran from 1923 to 1939; “Wilfred’s Annual” from 1924 to 1938, while a second more cartoon-based “Pip, Squeak and Wilfred Annual” ran from 1953 to 1955. Expect to pay £35-45 for an example in good condition.

A pip-squeak is still a term used to describe something or someone small and such was the case when, in the history of motorcycles, the Budget of 1931 introduced a reduced rate of road tax rate of 15/- (75p) for machines with engine capacities under 150cc.

The aim of this concession was to stimulate British manufacturers to produce machines similar to the autocycle, which were popular on the continent.

At first, manufacturers took advantage of this new taxation class by producing small capacity motorcycles which were immediately nicknamed “pip-squeaks”.

When autocycles did appear, it was inevitable they were given the derisory name of “Wilfreds”!

antiques@chris-proudlove.co.uk

Medals by any other name

Pip, Squeak and Wilfred appeared in the Daily Mirror at around the same time that George V decided that our gallant lads should be awarded medals for their service to their country (pictured right).

However, the medals were not for gallantry, since they were given to everyone who saw service in any theatre of war, whether under fire or not, which somewhat demeaned their significance. As a result, it was not long before the trio of awards were christened Pips, Squeaks and Wilfreds!

The Pip was either the 1914 Star or the 1914-15 Star, each of which were identical three-pointed bronze stars with a central scroll bearing the appropriate dates.

The 1914 Star was issued to members of the British Expeditionary Force who had served in France and Belgium during the period August 5,1914 and November 22,1914.

Most went to the Regular and Territorial Army but some naval personnel serving ashore were eligible as were a very small number of Australians and Canadians. The medal became known as the “Mons Star” of which 78,000 were issued.

In 1919, a bar stamped with the qualifying dates was issued to those who had actually been under fire.

The 1914 – 15 Star, which differs only in its scroll, was issued to the 2,350,000 British and Empire Forces and to civilians attached to the forces who served in a theatre of war between August 5, 1914 and December 31, 1915.

The British War Medal of 1914 – 1920 was known as Squeak. A solid silver medal, it was decorated with an image of St George whose horse is trampling the shield of the central powers. The reverse has the head of George V.

Around six million were awarded to the three armed services and to those who served in any Commonwealth or Imperial unit or certain voluntary organisations.

The Victory Medal 1914 – 1918 was a Wilfred, issued after the Allies agreed between them that each country would produce a medal to commemorate the Victory. The common theme among them all was the rainbow-coloured ribbon.

The British medal – 5,750,000 were awarded – shows the winged Victory on the front holding a palm branch with the words “The Great War for Civilisation” on the reverse.

The bronze medal was awarded to those who had received the 1914 or 1914-15 Star and to most of those who received the War Medal, but it could not be awarded alone.

It was awarded to anyone who had any service in a theatre of war, including civilians in recognised voluntary organisations.

Brave souls whose deeds of courage were mentioned in dispatches were also awarded a bronze oak leaf to fasten on to the ribbon.

Individually, the medals can be picked up for a few pounds apiece. A set attracts a premium and provenance, particularly if it is interesting – each medal is marked with the name of the recipient – boosts value accordingly.

antiques@chris-proudlove.co.uk

All are on sale this Christmas and so it was –admittedly with a different cast of characters – since the 1820s, which means there’s a rich collecting vein for lovers of children’s annuals.

When I was a lad, Christmas wasn’t Christmas without a Rupert, Dandy or Beano annual in my stocking.

Why I didn’t keep them I’ll never understand. Today they fetch good prices.

A quick search on eBay confirmed the point. A 1954 Beano annual (I was a toddler then) was up to £150 with 11 bids and four days’ bidding to go.

Another, the owner of which thought was from 1951, was being sold along with the first ever Eagle annual (you remember Dan Dare) from 1950 “both “owned by Dad from new” had reached £72 with 25 minutes to go.

The prices of Rupert annuals were scarier still. One from 1942 had received seven bids and was at £200 with seven days to go.

The amazing thing is that these things still turn up at car boot sales and in charity shops and flea markets and change hands for a fraction of what a collector is prepared to pay, while auction sales are often the source of job lots of dozens of the things that have been slung into cardboard boxes and are sold without reserve.

No one really knows when the first child’s annual was published in this country, although contenders for the earliest include Child Companion Annual, which appeared in 1824, and Children’s Prize (later known only as Prize), published in 1863.

Among my personal early favourites is Chatterbox, which also first appeared in 1863. A mere £30 buys a good, clean example today.

It was followed in 1879 by Boys’ Own Paper and its companion Girls’ Own Paper; Young England in 1880 and Chums in 1893.

The earliest children’s annuals started life as weekly or monthly paper-wrappered pamplets the content of which was largely evangelical.

Each Christmas, a special edition was given a richly printed pictorial title page bearing the date of the issue and the volume number.

The idea was that the year’s issues were bundled together and bound into a single volume.

One of the earliest of these was The Juvenile Magazine, edited by one Lucy Peacock, which didn’t last long. Just 12 monthly issues were published, the last dated December 1788.

Interestingly, the impetus for children’s Christmas annuals was probably the appearance of adult versions.

Forget Me Not, published for adults in 1823, was followed by dozens of others – for all ages. The most enduring was The Children’s Friend, which started life as a monthly penny magazine in 1824 and continued without interruption until 1860.

Until 1850, it was edited by the Rev. William Carus Wilson, who founded the Clergy Daughters’ School at Kirkby Lonsdale which the Bronte sisters were forced to attend.

Charlotte got her own back later, though. She modelled the character Mr Brocklehurst in Jane Eyre on her schooolmaster, a hard taskmaster who was generally disliked by his pupils.

The Boy’s Own Book, published in 1827 and 1828, was among the first real annuals for children. According to its title page, it was “A complete encyclopedia of all the diversions, athletic, scientific, and recreative, of boyhood and youth”.

The Christmas Box; an Annual Present for Children was more like an adult annual and was probably too well produced for its own good. It lasted for only two issues – in 1828 and 1829.

The first colour illustrations ever to appear in a children’s book were published in the 1836 edition of The New Year’s Token; or Christmas Present, a delightful annual that first appeared the previous year.

The illustrations showed George IV’s fishing temple in a delicate view of Virginia Water, in Surrey, which appeared on the frontispiece, while a vignette of a small boy examining a bird’s nest appeared on the title page.

They were printed from woodblocks by the great George Baxter who invented the process of printing with oil colours. The vignette of the boy is one of the rarest of all so-called Baxter prints.

The first real children’s annual in the modern sense was The Excitement, which first appeared in 1830. Contained within its pictorial covers were romantic adventure stories such as “A Lion Hunt in Africa” “Whale Ship Destroyed by a Whale” and “Sufferings Endured in the Black-Hole of Calcutta”.

The fact that The Excitement contained no religious tracts caused consternation in some quarters to the point where the editor, one Adam Keys, an Edinburgh schoolmaster, was forced to resign.

Undaunted, he set up a new annual, which he named, aptly enough, The New Excitement, first published in 1838.

The Boy’s Own Paper was among the longest running early monthly magazines which survived from 1879 until its final appearance in 1967.

A spin-off, The Boy’s Own Annual, published in a pictorial cloth binding, was issued regularly until the outbreak of the Second World War but was then dormant for 26 years until it reappeared at Christmas, 1964.

The Girl’s Own Paper was without doubt the most famous equivalent for girls which ran from 1880 to 1948. It appeared each year-end as The Girl’s Own Annual.

By about 1900, publishers began to move away from the practice of offering annuals that were simply bound versions of what had been printed in weekly or monthly installments throughout the year.

Pioneers were Blackie’s Children’s Annual, published first in 1904, and, in 1909, Empire Book For Boys (and Girls).

However, the massive growth in children’s annuals began in earnest after the first war. Amalgamated Press, which was enjoying huge sales of its weekly comics, saw annuals as a way of enhancing profits even further.

Titles included Puck (1921); Tiger Tim (1922); Rainbow; and Bubbles (both 1924) followed in the next decade by Funny Wonder (1935); Jester Annual (1938) and Chips Annual (1939).

D.C.Thomson, the Scottish rival to Amalgamated Press issued Adventureland in 1924; Rover (1926); Skipper (1932) Hotspur (1935) and Wizard (1936).

Newspapers too were quick to get in on the act. They had been printing cartoon strips since the early 1920s in order to attract a younger readership and it quickly dawned on executives that here was material for an annual.

The Daily Mirror started the ball rolling with its Pip, Squeak and Wilfred Annual in 1920, followed by the Daily Herald’s Bobby Bear in 1922.

In the same year the Daily Sketch produced Uncle Oojah and in 1934 the Daily Mail weighed in with Teddy Tail.

Not to be outdone, in 1937 the Daily Express harnessed the pulling power of its Rupert the Bear strip and introduced annuals which continue to this day.

Somehow, I don’t think builder Bob will last the course!

antiques@chris-proudlove.co.uk

Pictures show:

This 1954 Beano annual was up to £150 on eBay with 11 bids and four days’ bidding to go.
Boys Illustrated Annual, published in time for Christmas 1894. It marked the end of an era, Boys magazine being taken over by Boy’s Own Paper

Leading Strings “The Baby’s Annual” published in 1925 and worth only a few pounds
Annual3

Rupert Stories, written by Mary Tourtell, creator of the comic strip character, and published in 1947