Chapman Pincher, reds-under-the-bed journalist of the Daily Express and his earlier foray into writing about fish

Pincher's Autobiography
To keep my academic interests
in trim, in 1947 I published
A Study of Fishes, a book
intended mainly for anglers
and heavily illustrated with
my own line drawings.

I was surprised while scanning old copies of the Aquarist magazine to find the name of a Fleet Street legend. During the latter half of the 20th Century Chapman Pincher was defence correspondent of the Daily Express at a time when stories—rather like now—of Russian and other Soviet bloc agents embedded in the British government, in the security service and in the secret intelligence service, real or imaginary, were rife. Pincher’s stories mixed leaked facts on defence matters with deliberately planted fake news fed to him from all quarters of the intelligence world together with the conspiracy theories and unproven fixations of spies and spy-catchers. He was a highly successful journalist, concerned only apparently with getting a story, and noted as a thorn in the side of successive governments because of his ability to extract from contacts confidential and often accurate information. Later comments from across the political spectrum have been damning, particularly on the accuracy of many of his stories on intelligence matters. The official and independent historian of MI5 wrote: ‘The stuff he produced on the intelligence services was almost totally inaccurate’†.

What I did not know (I must have been out of the country when he died aged 100 in 2014) was that Henry Chapman Pincher started off with a degree in zoology and botany from King’s College, London, became a school teacher because no university posts were available, and after service in the army became science correspondent of the Daily Express. It was in the 1940s that I found him, ensconced in the Express as a favourite of the proprietor, Lord Beaverbrook, in the pages of the Aquarist, where and seemingly presaging his entire career, his writing proved controversial in some circles.

In the March 1947 issue of the Aquarist, A.G. Evans wrote to say that he had complained to the editor of the Daily Express about an article on goldfish that was published on 21 December 1946; the text of the letter was added. The gist of the complaint was that it described research that had later been falsified to the effect that fish can absorb microparticles of food through the skin. Evans also noted but did not expand in the letter to the editor on a claim made in the Express that  ‘the skin of a goldfish secretes a substance beneficial to other goldfish’. Chapman Pincher replied but did not deal with the main complaint only to ‘substance beneficial to other goldfish’ claim. He noted that the work had been published, quoted the reference and informed Evans that he could find the journal in the Zoological Society’s library.

Then Alec Frederick Fraser-Brunner (born 1906), the Editor of the Aquarist, took up the cudgels but in doing so actually scored an own goal. He began by quoting from the original newspaper article and then explained that it was the second claim in Pincher’s article that was wrong since it had been shown that goldfish do not absorb small particles of food through the skin. Fraser-Brunner also asked why Pincher ‘chose this abstruse matter, still in the experimental stage, rather than something simpler and more instructional for the children’ and then criticised the illustration in the Daily Express, saying it was of a Crucian Carp, not a goldfish.

The own goal? Well, Fraser-Brunner quoted the paper that Pincher had suggested Evans read in his reply. The authors he said were Allen, Finkel and Hoskins. But the senior author’s name was not Allen but Allee*. This could not have been a typo because he made the mistake twice.

Looking at Fraser-Brunner’s letter 70 years later, I have some sympathy for Pincher. He was at least trying to pass on the latest information, as he saw it—albeit imperfectly, and was not taking the patronising tone in what appears to have been an article for children that Fraser-Brunner was advocating.

The matter did not end there. In his letter to the Aquarist, Chapman Pincher wrote:

Your correspondent [Evans] states that I must be hard up for what he amusingly calls “piscicultural information”. I would refer him to my “Study of Fishes,” shortly to be published by Messrs. Herbert Jenkins, Ltd.

Shortly afterwards, Alec Fraser-Brunner produced a long, scathing review of Pincher’s book for the Aquarist. It started as it continued:

A journalist steps in where ichthyologists have feared to tread. The task of collecting, collating and interpreting data from the large amount of recent work on fishes is one that would be considered by those who have made a life-study of the subject to be a formidable task. Mr. Pincher has viewed it as a little thing to be tossed off between purveying titbits to “Daily Express” readers, organising exhibitions of atomic power and writing on such matters as livestock breeding. The result, as might be expected, is superficial and undigested.

After criticising the lack of a bibliography, the diagrams, the simplification of terms and the drawings of various species, he concluded:

That it should be left to a journalist to produce this work as a pot-boiler is due to the preoccupation of ichthyologists with discovering new facts, and their realisation that the selection and interpretation of our knowledge takes a great deal more time and experience than has gone into the present work. This is very sad.

US Edition

After that excoriation, I thought it would be worthwhile finding a copy of Pincher’s book to see just what a bad job he had made of it. I found it online and was utterly surprised. It is actually pretty good for its time and its readership. Pincher had drawn his own diagrams from textbook illustrations and there are lots of them; he covered a lot of topics, some very well indeed and I ended up impressed by his breadth of knowledge and the way he had put that knowledge over to a lay readership (‘angler, naturalist, and general reader’).

Having read the snippets from the Aquarist, I can only guess at the motivation for Fraser-Brunner’s carping—(could not resist it)—criticism. That guess is professional jealousy pure and simple. I do not think that Fraser-Brunner could have been aware of Pincher’s biological background since in the review he seems to imply it must have been in general science.

Alec Fraser-Brunner

Fraser-Brunner has an interesting but incomplete history. He appears not to have had a university degree but obviously worked for a long period at the Natural History Museum. He is shown in their archives catalogue as ‘artist, aquarist and ichthyologist’ with his activity as ‘Made models and artwork for new Fish Gallery 1931. Employed part time at the NHM to work on Plectognathi from 1934 (grants supplied periodically until 1955). Worked at Godstone Quarry with evacuated spirit collections during WW2’. It appears—and I have no further information—that he must have shown such an interest in fishes as an amateur that he devoted himself to studying  and becoming accepted in the museum as an ichthyologist. He is listed in the 1939 Register (a special census in preparation for war) as ‘zoologist’. The Plectognathi are a group that includes pufferfishes, boxfishes, triggerfishes, filefishes as well as the enormous sunfishes or molas. I have found eleven papers with Fraser-Brunner as sole author. The Museum archives say he was employed part-time and I do not know what else he did over the same period except as Editor of the Aquarist from its restart in 1946 after the Second World War.

I suspect that Alec Fraser-Brunner, having worked his way up the hard way as a descriptive ichthyologist and taxonomist and as a well-known aquarist and fish fancier, was pretty put out by a stranger on the scene, Chapman Pincher, writing articles and books on what he, Fraser-Brunner, had a proprietorial interest. Pincher was, in fact, very well connected scientifically even at that time. He had produced two papers while still an undergraduate and had befriended the joint editor of Nature, L.J.F. Brimble (1904-1965).

Soon after this spat with Chapman-Pincher, Freser-Brunner got a job with the Colonial Office to survey the fish of the Gulf of Aden. He also worked for the Food and Agricultural Organisation of the United Nations on fisheries. He was appointed Director of the Van Kleef Aquarium (now demolished) in Singapore in 1956; in 1970 he became Curator of the Carnegie Aquarium (now also demolished except for a wall) at Edinburgh Zoo. He died in 1986 in Edinburgh.

Alec Fraser-Brunner left a lasting legacy in Singapore. He designed the Merlion logo for the Singapore Tourist Board which has become symbolic of Singapore since a statue of the beast was constructed in 1972.

Fraser-Brunner’s replacement as editor of the Aquarist was Anthony Evans. I assume this was the A.G. Evans who wrote the original criticism of Pincher’s piece in the Express. Evans edited the Aquarist until 1966 when he defected to a new magazine, Pet Fish Monthly.

†I have found anomalies in his autobiography. His birthplace is given there and on websites as Ambala in India. However, the British Armed Forces And Overseas Births And Baptisms Register shows his place of birth as Sabathu, a hill station and military cantonment, 97 km to the north. His autobiography reads as if he was teacher at the Liverpool Institute, a famous grammar school for boys, from 1936 until he was called up in 1940. However, the 1939 Register shows that he was living 79 miles from Liverpool, at 91 Farrar Road, Bangor, North Wales with his first wife, Margaret Stanford, and another couple.

*Warder Clyde Allee (1885-1955) of the University of Chicago. Allee WC, Finkel AJ, Hoskins WH. 1940. The growth of goldfish in homotypically conditioned water; a population study in mass physiology. Journal of Experimental Zoology 84, 417-443.

Evans AG. 1947. Misinformation. Aquarist 11 (12, March 1947), 379.
Pincher C. 1947. [letter]. Aquarist 12 (1, April 1947), 4.
Fraser-Brunner A. 1947. The goldfish and the newspaper. Aquarist 12 (2, May 1947), 40.
Pincher, C. 1948. A Study of Fishes. London: Herbert Jenkins
Pincher C. 1948. A Study of Fish. New York: Duell, Sloan and Pearce. (U.S. edition of Pincher’s book)
Fraser-Brunner A. 1948. Book Review. A Study of Fishes by Chapman Pincher B.Sc. Aquarist 12 (12, March 1948), 365.

Pincher C.2014. Chapman Pincher. Dangerous to Know. A Life. London: Biteback.

Tropical Fish Transport in 1951 Avro York

Interest in fish-keeping has waxed and waned since the middle of the 19th Century. The trade in livestock and supplies this century is enormous at around US$M500 per annum. In Britain, all accounts stress the boom of the early 1950s. In those days air travel was extremely expensive and so I was surprised by what I read in this letter written to the Aquarist magazine in 1976 by C.D. Roe of Shirley Aquatics (a company founded in the 1930s that is still in existence). In discussing the development of artificial seawater, he wrote:

…In 1951 I used to charter every three months a York freighter from B.O.A.C. to bring fishes from Singapore to London. This was before the days of oxygen-filled bags and insulated containers, and we used to have to carry out our heating and apparatus at enormous cost, and the four or five day journey back, as it used to be, was spent in keeping the fish well aerated and at the right temperature. The bringing back of freshwater tropical fish in those days was very simple and successful and quite profitable…

The Avro York was developed from the Lancaster bomber. The British Overseas Airways Corporation (merged with British European Airways to form British Airways in 1974) operated all long-haul flights. Those of us who flew with BOAC still miss it while those of us of a certain age will also remember the Dinky diecast toy Avro York, made only between 1952 and 1954. Mine, a much-prized birthday present, had many take-offs and landings from an airfield drawn on a sheet of cardboard—none though with fish from Singapore.

BOAC Avro York
(from the British Airways Heritage Collection)

Aquarists and Fish-keeping in the 20th Century. Part 5: Charles Schiller

This article from the Golden Jubilee (October 1974) edition of The Aquarist and Pondkeeper by Paul William Charles de Zille Schiller (1906-1980) covers his activities in the tropical fish trade in the early to middle decades of the 20th Century. The Editor, Laurence E. Perkins, added the note on Charles Schiller which is also reproduced below. I have already covered Charles Schiller in my post of 17 February 2015.

Charles Schiller's knowledge of the Aquatic trade spans a period of almost sixty years. Below he recalls the growth of his own business, and some of the fascinating characters it has brought him into contact with.

For me it all started before the First World War, when I was only eight years old. My father was the Court Florist and held the Royal Appointment for Edward VII and George V and his very exclusive establishment was situated in Wigmore Street, London W.l. My interest grew with the years and in 1926 I built, what I believe to be, the first chromium-plated steel-frame aquarium, which I proudly installed in the shop near the cash desk. This created tremendous interest, and before long I was inundated with requests from people who wanted a similar tank of their own. And so it was that by the beginning of the Second World War I had a staff of 26 who did nothing but service aquaria all over the West End of London and beyond. As far as I know, at that time ours was the only concern selling or devoting our attentions exclusively to tropical fish—we had nothing to do with goldfish, although I believe there was much more money to be made out of them at the time. Our clients included many doctors, dentists and consultants in the district, and eventually our fame spread further afield. I remember one noble Earl who had an estate in Leicestershire. We installed a very beautiful tank there, but unfortunately they were in the habit of giving wild parties, as a result of which—usually on the Monday morning—we had to send staff all the way to Melton Mowbray to re-instal the tank, which might contain the contents of a bottle of whisky which had been given to the fish for fun!

     My parents became so interested in my hobby that they allowed me to use the first floor of the Wigmore Street premises as a showroom—in fact it was there that we held the first meeting of the Guild of British Aquarists, which was a society formed by people in the trade—in those days mostly goldfish purveyors. Eventually the property next-door also became available, and it was decided that, as my aquatic business was expanding fast, I should take these premises also.

     The first immersion heaters were made in my father's cellar in Wigmore Street. When Pyrex glass was invented in the late 1920s, we started using it as a cover for our immersion heaters, which previously had been enveloped in a mica wrapping and then sealed in a brass tube and nickel-plated. We made all our own aquaria, and when a local wrought-iron manufacturer decided to give up business we took the firm over together with a number of the staff. This gave us our first real entry into the manufacture of aquariums on a large scale. All aquariums were turned-out with polished slate bottoms—these were much sought-after because it was considered that the plants grew very much better. Eventually bi-metal (which originated in the U.S.A.) became available in this country and we began manufacturing thermostats, which were very accurate, considering the crude way in which we originally made them.

     In those days the Germans knew so much more than us about the hobby, and we constantly turned to them for supplies. Apart from a few fishes brought over here by amateur enthusiasts, Germany was the main source of new specimens. Two young men in Hamburg started a business known as 'Aquarium Hamburg', and subsequently we became their English agents. Being situated in such a busy port, they used to send students all over the world to collect fish. It was quite usual for them to book space on a ship—perhaps two or three cabins, which they had specially heated, and air laid on. There were no plastic bags in those days, and the fish used to come over either in aquaria or in large tanks. When my own stocks became really low, I used to book a cabin on one of the tramp steamers going out from London Docks, go over to Hamburg and bring back specimens—perhaps 5,000 or 6,000 at a time. In those days the journey used to take about 48 hours. There was no radio, and once you were away from London nobody knew where you were until you arrived in Hamburg. 48 hours in one cabin in a rough sea was no fun, I can tell you!

     Aquarium Hamburg soon built up a fine reputation throughout the world. Between the wars the company decided to teach America the hobby, and opened-up a depot along the Hudson River some 35 miles or so from New York. The two partners used to do turn-and-turn-about: one would remain at the parent company in Hamburg whilst the other would be in the States. I re-visited Germany in 1949 to see if I could re-establish business connections. As you know, Hamburg was in a state of almost complete ruin, and I was more than surprised to find that their buildings were still standing together with those of the Women's Clinic in the next block.

     Another regular source of supply over the years has been a certain well-known Chinaman in Singapore. At one time he built-up a very thriving business supplying the Germans, and occasionally there was enough to spare for us. We used to ship them in the care of the ship's baker on the P. & O. boats— the old 'Rajputana' and the 'Rawlpindi', unfortunately both sunk during the War. A large number of Rasbora and similar fish were brought over by Japanese crews who kept them in the kitchens. I once called at the Docks to inspect some fish which had arrived for me and found that in the large kitchen on one of the Japanese boats, the kitchen ranges had been closed down, and a number of the ovens lined with zinc trays in which the various fish had been put. On one occasion a ship had to put into Marseilles on the way home because the crew had used all the available fresh water on board. The small tropicals used to come over in large earthenware crocks in which the travelling Chinese are reputed to put the remains of their families who die en route.

     Development of the hobby was very steady between the wars but when hostilities broke out in 1939, all imports ceased and very many of us were called-up. My connections were completely severed until 1946 when I returned home and opened my own retail aquarist shop. Sometimes on Saturday afternoon I would close the shop, dash off to London Airport, and get a flight over to Hamburg or Brussels. I was looking for Neons, which I discovered could be purchased either in Hamburg or Liege for the same price. It was a complete mystery to me where these fish originated, although it was rumoured that they were bred in East Germany and smuggled over the border to the Western Zone. Incidentally, I imported the first Neons ever to be seen in this country—I think it was about 1936. In those days I used to travel by Hillman's Airways, which was a line run by a London taxi owner who specialised in cut-price fares to the continent. He had a fleet of De Havillands, and this could be quite a lot of fun. I used to bring back 100 Neons at a time, and if I remember correctly we paid £1.00 each for them.

     During the past twenty-five years I have spent a great deal of time travelling all over the world, and the aquatic trade has seen many changes. Until about two years ago, anyone wanting to heat an aquarium in the home generally used what we call 'separates'— that is a separate heater connected to a thermostat. Although a number of firms developed an automatic heater with a thermostat in the same tube, it was a long while before these caught on. Now it appears that nobody really wants the separates except those few hobbyists who have more than two or three tanks. Combined heater/thermostats are so sophisticated nowadays, and the results so regular, that to mess about connecting wires from one small instrument to another no longer makes any kind of sense.

     Now that I am fast approaching seventy, looking back I can recall many interesting and a few almost eccentric characters, most of whom are sadly no longer with us. One of the latter was poor old Freeman of Waterloo Goldfishery who met a rather untimely end. It was his habit to collect a few water plants before breakfast, and one day he failed to return. We believe that he must have suffered a heart attack, because his unfortunate wife eventually found him in the pond with his head well and truly stuck in the river mud.

     Mr. Walter Woolland of Woolland's of Knightsbridge provided us with one of our most interesting commissions. He became a real tropical fish enthusiast and decided that he wanted to breed Mollies. It was arranged that one of my suppliers in Florida would put on the steamship 'Washington' in New York, 80 cans, each with a trio of Mollies. In those days they were worth about £7 10s a trio, and I shall always remember going down to Plymouth to meet the ship and bringing the 80 cans up to London. A special first-class coach had been reserved, and the engine put on two hours in advance in order to heat up the carriages. Subsequently Mr. Woolland became so interested in breeding this fish that he asked us to build several 16 ft. long aquariums on the first floor of his building.

     A French Count came into my shop one day and purchased out of hand a 24 in. aquarium with chromium-plated edges. He also bought all the trimmings—heater, thermostat, sand, rock plants, a selection of fish, and when I asked him where he'd like it delivered, he said: "Oh, I have a flat on the Champs Elysees in Paris, here is the address." So the next day I had to go over and instal the tank. Fortunately I was able to get back by teatime—Hillman's Airways again! The French now have exquisite taste in aquaria and accessories. I find it difficult to imagine a similar incident taking place today.

     I recall another occasion just before Christmas 1934. I was closing my shop somewhat late when I observed a large black face trying to look through the window which was covered in mist. I answered the door and invited him in. He was a very large gentleman indeed and exquisitely dressed for the City—bowler hat, rolled umbrella and a beautiful overcoat. He apologised profusely, but eventually entered the shop and asked the price of nearly everything on show. As he was about to depart, he turned to quite a nice outfit I had there and said: "How much is that?" "£25," I said, hoping desperately to get rid of him. "Wrap it up," he replied. Well, of course, you can't wrap up a thing like that, but I suggested that if he liked to send transport for it (it was obvious that he wanted it in a hurry) I would arrange to instal it free of charge. In those days we normally charged about five guineas to go to someone's house and instal a really nice outfit. A car duly arrived, and when my staff returned, having completed the assignment, they reported one very satisfied customer. The following day was Saturday —early-closing day—and having nothing to do until meeting my fiancee in the evening, I decided to go round and inspect the job for myself. The house in Camden Town was a large Georgian mansion, but the district itself had been allowed to run down and was rapidly deteriorating into a slum. The door was opened by a rather sleazy looking Irish maid who invited me in. From inside the house there suddenly appeared an apparition dressed in a pair of old, very soiled flannel bags and an athletic vest. With a sense of shock, I recognised my immaculate customer of the previous night. He was extremely cordial, said how pleased he was with the aquarium and invited me to look over the house. Well, I have never seen anything else quite like it. There were the most beautiful antique furniture and objets d'art. The man obviously had exquisite taste. Apparently he had made a great deal of money and decided to invest in beautiful things. Having looked over the house—which left me almost breathless—we went into the huge dining room. Running down the centre of the room was a large refectory table, beautifully set, with lace mats and silver. A great dish sat in the middle containing fruits out of season, and in the corner was a very large hot-plate. On the other side was a 3-manual electrically blown organ! My host insisted that I stayed to lunch, in spite of my statement that I had already lunched some two hours earlier. We were shortly joined by three gentlemen who looked suspiciously like thugs, and whom I supposed were his bodyguards. They looked and behaved in a manner reminiscent of all Hollywood gangster films you ever saw. We all sat down, and the maid entered carrying a large covered dish which she put on the hot-plate. I wondered what exotic feast lay beneath, and was much surprised to find that all the ceremony was due to a plate of sausages and mash.

     Before leaving I received a further invitation for my fiancee and myself to attend dinner on the following Tuesday evening, and a polite request was made that we should dress for the occasion. We turned-up at the appointed time, and were introduced to a number of guests, all of whom were in formal dress, like ourselves. However, there was no sign of our host who, it transpired, was down in the underground kitchens preparing the meal. He later explained that when he gave a dinner party he liked to send his cook out for the night and do everything himself. There were eight courses and everything exquisitely served. Our host insisted upon serving all the courses himself, with the aid of the two maids, but still dressed in his old flannel bags and vest! I called to see him at his City office shortly afterwards—a superb apartment, very much after the style of his house but everything in complete contrast to his weird apparel at home. He subsequently ordered a number of aquaria in most unusual shapes—one was a half-moon, and I know where this tank is today, still in running order. He was, in fact, one of the cleverest of share manipulators in the City, much sought-after by the underworld, to whom he regularly gave advice. It is very strange that beautiful things often seem to go hand-in-hand with people like this. As a matter of fact, two of the biggest international crooks of the time were very good customers of ours. But let me tell you of a rather different type of client whom we served for many years.

     Now in those days it was my habit to go into work before breakfast, and one early morning a very well known customer of mine poked his head around the corner and asked if I would arrange to instal an aquarium at No. 145 Piccadilly. During breakfast I happened to mention this to my parents, and they said: "Oh, yes, the Duke and Duchess of York." So of course I was determined to give them something very special. The aquarium was first installed in the children's playroom—the children being Princess Elizabeth and Princess Margaret Rose. The following day I was summoned by the Duchess—now the Queen Mother—who remarked that the aquarium was far too beautiful for the children, and requested me to transfer it to the morning room on the ground floor. There was an awful lot of work involved, but I was well rewarded. Every visitor to the house saw the tank, and this provided a first-class introduction to many valuable clients. When the family moved to Buckingham Palace after the abdication of Edward VIII, both the tank and our activities transferred with them. One day the Queen (as she then was) noticed that her little red guppy had become very fat, and she asked her page to enquire as to the reason. Once more I was summoned to the Presence, and I explained that the guppy was a live-bearing fish, and would eventually produce young. Their Majesties thought this was excellent news, but were dismayed when I explained that as fast as the new fish were born they would probably be eaten by the other residents. However, I agreed to lend them a small tank in which to isolate the mother. As many hobbyists will know, these live-bearing fish will occasionally hang fire and decide not to produce for a time. This was unfortunate as the Royal Family were going away the following weekend for a holiday. Their departure became imminent and still no small fish appeared. It occurred to me as I went to feed the fish each morning that perhaps it would do no harm on the last day to put three or four of my own little baby fish in the tank to avoid anyone being disappointed. This I did, and having completed my rather deceitful task, I returned to breakfast. I had hardly been home more than 10 minutes when a frantic call from the Palace told me of the happy event, and so, of course, back I went. I was more than happy to discover that following my earlier visit the guppy had in fact produced her own family, so I didn't feel such a cheat after all!

     This hobby of ours has suffered many ups and downs. There have been times when it appeared that there was an aquarist shop on almost every street corner. Sadly, this kind of situation usually brings fairly widespread bankruptcies in its wake, although I believe there is still plenty of scope for the dedicated aquarists. So many folk have attempted to open shops on the strength of a few weeks' experience, only to find that the large profits they expected were just not there.

In order to succeed as a retailer you not only need years of experience but also the ability and patience to pass on your knowledge to even the most exasperating of customers. The effort involved is usually repaid many times over. At my age patience is a fading virtue! There was a time when I would have chased one particular fish round a tank containing six hundred Neons just to please a lady. Nowadays I must admit that I would feel more inclined to tell her to go and jump in the tank herself!

     Seriously though, I am appalled at the number of shops in existence today which are either unwilling or unable to offer reliable advice. Before the War I was responsible for five different departments in Selfridge's, in addition to running my own business. I think the 'Old Man' must turn in his grave at the way that most so-called retail staff behave nowadays. I trust that future generations will see a return to genuine professionalism in all branches of industry, in which case, with a little luck—it is just possible that there is hope for us all yet.

This is an advertisement from the Aquarist for Springfield heaters/thermostats for aquaria:

I also came across a report in Water Life of a talk given by Charles Schiller in 1936:

The Chairman then asked Mr. Charles Schiller to give his lecture on the " Lighting and Filtration of Aquariums." Mr. Schiller dealt first with filtration, explaining that filtration does two things: (1) it removes solids from the water and (2) by passing the water through carbon it removes gases, the efficiency of this latter process depends on the quality of the carbon and the time the water is in contact with it. Mr. Schiller then went on to deal with the ordinary air-lift filter, and also the "Schiller" system, which is a German patent*. He also described a method of using three large jars connected to each other which, with the aid of a powerful pump, will filter the water in a twelve-gallon tank in ten minutes. At this point Mr. Schiller gave an interesting description of the making of the aquarium for the Queen Mary and the difficulties experienced and how they were overcome.
     Dealing with the lighting of aquariums, interesting points which Mr. Schiller mentioned were, that when plants are lighted they also require heat for satisfactory growth, that minute quantities of salts, such as 1 /1,000th part, make a great deal of difference to the growth of plants, and that the nearer the light is to the water the better it is. He also mentioned that a 60-watt strip lamp is required to light two cubic feet of water.
     Some interesting data given as to the effect of light on plants were as follows:—Tank illuminated six hours per day—plants died and rotted. Tank illuminated eight to nine hours per day—growth good. Over and above this amount of light the plants become lanky It was also mentioned that sixteen hours' use of a 30-watt lamp will not equal eight hours' use of a 60-watt lamp.
At the end of his lecture Mr. Schiller answered a very large number of questions. He was then thanked for the trouble and care he had taken to give the club such a very interesting lecture, and the meeting concluded amid applause.

*I have searched for this patent but have failed to find it.

Finally, in this series, the cover of the Golden Jubilee edition:

Aquarists and Fish-keeping in the 20th Century. Part 4: Eric Hardy

This article from the Golden Jubilee (October 1974) edition of The Aquarist and Pondkeeper by Eric Hardy (1912-2002) covers the activities of amateur aquarists as field naturalists and microscopists in the early to middle decades of the 20th Century. The Editor, Laurence E. Perkins, added the note on Eric Hardy which is also reproduced here. I have added further information to that note.

Eric Hardy when leading a
Field Study Group in
North Wales

Fifty Years On. Memories of Progress in the Water World by Eric Hardy, President of the Merseyside A.S.

The golden jubilee of The Aquarist is a milestone in publishing history. In 1924, the hobby was truly for the "Amateur" Aquarist. Those of us whose parents didn't hold shares in wartime aircraft industries had little spare cash. It was a time of cold-water and marine aquaria before the advent of electrically-heated tropicals. More tanks were stocked then to study the natural history of native species than for anything like modern fish-shows. There wasn't a foreign fish in Liverpool Museum's public aquarium whereas they dominate its present aquarium. I never knew of the old M.A.S. holding a single pre-war fish show.

     The microscope was still in its heyday as a toy. From Manchester and Birmingham more people went pond-dipping, not for Daphnia to feed their fish, but for rotifers and diatoms to set up on slides to amuse their winter evenings. Only 4 years younger than the Quekett, Liverpool Microscopical Society then had 150 members: nowadays its surviving few meet around one table. It was still two years before Merseyside's first Aquarium Society was formed by the late Fred Jefferies, an Aquarist referee on pond-plants. It was a year after I represented my school at a special lecture in the British Association's meeting in Liverpool. I well remember the fascinating discourse, on the common snail, illustrated with a microscope-slide of its radula, or ribbon-tongue, projected on the screen in the old Picton Hall.

     A striking change has been many more women sharing the hobby of fish-keeping. Societies were full of lonely old maids, particularly hopeful teachers, who seldom took office. What old fogies they were (and the men!). No field-meetings were permitted on Sundays. The toll of the 1914-18 war left an appreciable gap of young men between 20 and 40, unlike the aftermath of the last war. From his home in Astonville Street, Southfields, A. E. Hodge built up The Aquarist at 1/- a quarter to attract the more far-seeing naturalists rather than these worshippers of tradition out of touch with the future. It was quoted widely in scientific works on botany and entomology as well as freshwater fishes.

     There were a few lady pioneers. In 1918, Miss Annie Dixon began her watery life collecting protozoa from the green, peaty pools on Lindlow common, near Wilsmlow, now a built-up Manchester dormitory. In recent years, the M.A.S. has held field-trips to Anglesey and Birmingham water-plant nurseries whereas in 1931 the old M.A.S. went collecting no further than for pond-beetles and water-crickets by the Manchester Ship Canal at Warrington, stocking their tanks with minnows, roach and perch from now polluted Padeswood Lake at Buckley in North Wales, Liverpool's nearest haunt of palmated newts. Or collecting bullheads and nine-spined sticklebacks, and sweeping netfuls of dragonfly-larvae, pond-skaters and Planorbis shells from the now filled-in brackish pool behind Leasowe Embankment, by the Wirral sea. The latter pool was famous for water-spiders, which fed on the swarms of Gammarus.

     I wrote an article that year on Jefferies' current efforts to start his public aquarium at New Brighton. I still have lots of his notes and letters. Captain W. O. Hopewell's liner was then bringing "swops" from New York Aquarium, like a short-nosed bony garfish, rarely seen in British aquaria. There were no trade shipments arriving from Singapore like nowadays. In 1931-2, members put in 2,285 working hours, an average of 44 per week, reminiscent of the present society's band of workers for their annual fish-feat, always the best amateur exhibit in Liverpool Show. The old aquarium reared 150 young from a hatch of the apuana variety of alpine newt, the only stock then in the country.

     People who wished to delve in ditchwateristics before Jefferies started his aquarium society had to join a rather expensive and aloof Biological Society, meeting at the university. It has since withered away. It pioneered in marine biology to the neglect of freshwater life, a position the university reversed in recent years.

     By the mid-30s, however, things were very different. Though without the present jobs for the new boys, conservationists were active enough to get the 1937 export of Chinese white cloud mountain-minnows banned. Then the Malayan government limited the export of harlequin fish to bona fide dealers under quota. Breeding and showing tropical fish was extensive. Pre-blitz Brighton Aquarium attracted the trippers in at the standard public aquarium charge of 6d a time, while Liverpool Museum aquarium extended its exhibits to sub-tropical reptiles and an alligator-tank. Worksop transported Mr. Sutcliffe's aquarium from Grimsby to Memorial Avenue park, as a public venture. East London A.S. fish-show was one of the annual events, doubling its size to 34 classes opened by the Mayor of Barking. In his Richmond, Surrey, garden, my friend the late L. G. Payne had probably the first amateur open air vivarium outside Whipsnade's walled and moated rockery of snakes and lizards. He was in a bank.

     The biggest changes since 1924, apart from tropical imports, have been in our native water-life and our access to ponds and waters. These have been filled in by speculative urban building estates and drained by improved rural farming, to the loss of much aquatic plantlife (especially in Cambridgeshire). In the March 1937 edition of The Aquarist I mentioned finding natterjack toads from the Solway marshes to the West Lancashire dunes below Southport, Leasowe and Hilbre in Cheshire and to Prestatyn. The latter haunt has gone and vigorous efforts are now being made to save the remnants at the others. In March 1940, I wrote of water-beetles. By 1960 DDT sprays had reduced them from many old haunts. The Severn has been occupied by barbel and the chub exterminated from the Dee. Little ringed plovers have come to nest by many gravel-pits and inland pools, and creeping New Zealand willowherb has travelled alongside mountain streams.

     It is in the interests of fish-keeping and freshwater biology that The Aquarist should survive the next half-century. It is one of the few good links between amateur and professional aquarists. There is still much useful work done by life-long amateurs with a great background of field-experience or tank-work in a special area or subject. Professionals only too readily admit this when they find how much time-consuming work there is in field-work, and seek the amateur's time and experience to fill-in their grant-aided surveys and theses. If all the people working on natterjack toads, from biology to conservation, in south-west Lancashire alone would sit around a table and discuss their studies and problems amicably, there would be less suspicion and jealousy behind the scenes.

     Such a medium brings the fish-keeper to appreciate the ecologist's approach to the subject and the, perhaps a little snobbish and aloof, university student, or Ph.D., to tolerate the fish-show. After all, the late Dr. Francis Manning, from Cheshire, began, before he got his B.A. and Ph.D., as an enthusiastic pre-war member of Belle Vue Aquarium Society, where I first met him going to its shows and eagerly awaiting each new issue of The Aquarist. Fortunately, it has never descended to the wise-cracking almost illiterates of some North American pet-keeping magazines. Our only fear is the steeply-rising cost of printing and publishing specialist magazines, which can never hope to be a profitable venture. I would finally add that I am grateful that writing since pre-war in The Aquarist (and now defunct Water Life) brought me many new friends, but not, I hope, any enemies! I have brought home some of the interests and pleasures of my visits to the ponds and rivers, which I exchanged for the laboratory many years ago, and shared them with the readers of my notes. My typewriter has not always been such a tripewriter as proclaimed by critics of my stubborn stand for the right of every amateur, to study natural history in the countryside.

The Editor added: 

It is 54 years of fieldwork since Eric Hardy wrote the nature notes in his junior school magazine in Liverpool and over 40 since he began contributing to The Aquarist. The printed 1933-34 report of the council of the old pre-war Merseyside Aquarists' Association thanked him by name for his practical help. He has taken an active part in many natural history societies since pre-war and was among the handful of Lancashire naturalists who met in a room in Manchester University in February, 1962, and decided to call an inaugural meeting to form the Lancashire Naturalists' Trust, though he took no office in it. He has normally never taken more than a working position with societies, except when he accepted an honorary membership of Liverpool University Biological Society in 1940, and presidency of the post-war Merseyside Aquarist Society in 1959 and again in 1973-74. For two years he was honorary secretary of the Jerusalem Naturalists' Club and for over 21 years a Ministry-appointed member of Lancashire & Western Sea Fisheries Committee. Since 1935 he has been an annual tutor in natural history for the W.E.A. in Lancashire, Cheshire, etc.; he is also a part-time tutor for Liverpool University Institute of Extension Studies, and has been a past tutor for Oxford University department of extra mural studies. First broadcasting in 1936, he now gives a twice weekly "Countryside" programme on B.B.C. Radio Merseyside. Author of a number of books, his latest is "The Naturalist in Lakeland" (David & Charles, 1973). He formerly edited "Nature Lover" and other nature magazines, has written for a number of newspapers and magazines since pre-war, often in controversial vein, believing strongly in the right of all conservationists and serious fieldworkers to participate in natural history and is an opponent of class distinction and privilege in natural history. He is on the Lancashire executive of the C.P.R.E. A Royal Signals officer (Army Pigeon Service) in the last war, he organised a scheme for army naturalists serving in the Middle East to collect specimens for the British Museum and Jerusalem University, and to participate in field expeditions. His wide interest in life sciences ranges from freshwater and marine fishes, especially British, to aquatic plants (he writes the weekly garden feature in Manchester Evening News), birds, reptiles and amphibians. In 1949 he addressed the Federation of Northern Aquarium Societies' assembly at Manchester Belle Vue, on his studies of the fishes and aquatic life of the Jordan and Dead Sea waters. He formed the Merseyside Naturalists' Association in 1938 and has been its honorary secretary ever since. He has lectured to numerous schools and societies all over the country. He is a Life Governor of the Imperial Cancer Research Fund.

I have to confess that I was not a fan of Eric Hardy’s series in the Aquarist. He was very widely read and had an enormous knowledge of the natural world. But the articles mainly contained just snippets and jumped from topic to topic without taking breath; my overwhelming thought on reading them was either ‘And…?’ or ‘So What?’. Some of his views I disagreed with and my impression then, and not knowing what I do know of his extremely valuable activities to promote the study of the natural world, was that he was immensely knowledgable and gifted amateur naturalist but one who carried a very large chip on his shoulder. Unfair or not, that view seemed to be reinforced with every copy of the Aquarist that I read.

There was a similar series of articles published in Water Life in the 1950s by a writer using the pseudonym 'Aquaticus'. I am completely convinced that Hardy was the author of these articles.

There has been some activity since Eric Hardy’s death to celebrate his achievements as a field naturalist in the the Liverpool area. In the Footsteps of Eric Hardy, a book published in 2008 containing Hardy’s articles and edited by David Bryant is available from Amazon. The book, together with some photographs, is described on the website of the Merseyside Naturalists’ Association, an organisation founded by Hardy in 1938. You can hear one of his radio programmes on the Knutsford Ornithological Society’s website. He has a nature trail in Merseyside named after him.

Aquarists and Fish-keeping in the 20th Century. Part 3: Morris Davall Cluse

This third article from the Golden Jubilee edition of The Aquarist and Pondkeeper is by M.D. Cluse. Morris Davall Cluse was born in Islington, London, in 1903 and died in Derbyshire in 1977. He was the son of William Sampson Cluse (1875-1955), Labour Member of Parliament for Islington South and at the 1911 Census a printing compositor*. I have also found an article by Morris Cluse on the local history of north London.

The enthusiasm for competitive fish shows and aquarist societies shown by A.E. Hodge is evident in this and other articles. Both the Aquarist and Water Life were involved in sponsoring fish shows. Combined fish and bird shows were held. I have never had any time for the mentality of the bird and fish fancy, or for any other sort of fancy based on artificial selection to achieve an ‘ideal’ bodily form or colour. Pages and pages of the Aquarist were filled with show results every month and I shudder even now when I see them. What a waste of time and talent, and what monstrosities the bird and fish fancies, not to mention the dog, have produced. The only saving grace is, perhaps, that these societies of fish fanciers were just about the only way of gaining knowledge in the days of very few and very expensive books.

From Sticklebacks to Tropicals and on to Goldfish by M.D. Cluse (President Goldfish Society of Great Britain)

Fifty years ago there occurred an event which transformed the scene for the amateur aquarist. It led to the first organisation of aquarists in Britain, which in turn led to the staging of the first aquarists, shows open to the public, and later to the drawing up of the first British standards for fancy goldfish. I refer, of course, to the publication of the first issue of the Amateur Aquarist, edited by the late A. E. Hodge, whose enthusiasm, imagination and optimism were to have such catalytic effects. I am probably one of the very few people now active in the aquarists' world, who bought that first issue. It had a profound and lasting effect upon my life interests and my friendships. Perhaps, therefore, it is appropriate that I should recall for the benefit of present readers, what things were like, half a century ago, so that they may appreciate the big changes which have occurred.

     Although living in the built-up area of Islington, North London, my interests were of a "naturalistic nature" and like many boys and girls at that time, I collected specimens of many living things. Some took up botanising or egg collecting, but others whose environment did not permit this, collected caterpillars and butterflies, or searched the ponds and streams for aquatic creatures. In my case it entailed long walks and train rides to visit places in the Lea Valley. Using my hands, I caught sticklebacks, stone loach, tadpoles, frogs, toads, newts, water snails, and water insects. I collected water plants of various kinds. At first the very small aquarium I had proved inadequate, but it was possible to buy "bloodworms" in a portion of leaf mould (really intended for cage birds). Then my father purchased a second-hand all glass aquarium, about eighteen inches long. This emboldened me to make visits to the emporium of Mr. B. T. Childs, who had a shop in Pentonville Road near King's Cross station with supplies for anglers and aquarists. He stocked many British and foreign coldwater fishes suitable for aquaria and ponds. Over several years I brought home Prussian and ordinary carp, roach, gudgeon, tench, minnows, etc. At first there were many stinking disasters because of overcrowding, wrong foods and putting in plants, although the aquarium was poorly lit (no electricity). My father who was my aider and abettor in all this, brought home a second-hand book, The Aquarium, by J. E. Taylor, published in 1901 and largely relating to aquarium keeping (including public aquaria) in the latter part of the nineteenth century. This was a great help to me as I had read nothing on the subject previously. I learnt about the volume of water required by each fish and how public aquaria were aerated. But we had no electricity and the various electrical gadgets now available were not known then. I had never seen a pool in a garden, but by the time I was eighteen years of age I had constructed a coffin-shaped concrete pool about six feet long into which I put various kinds of British freshwater fishes and I soon observed how they loved to gather into the stream of water gushing from the hose. I was cut off from all contact with other fishkeepers. Inevitably I made many mistakes and it is surprising that I persevered especially when we moved into a flat. No doubt there were thousands of aquarists like me who were struggling along in solitary ignorance and these would have included those who had progressed from the bowl of goldfish stage and anglers who had brought home alive some of their catch.

     In 1924 the first issue of the Amateur Aquarist was published and I probably obtained my copy from the shop of Mr. B. T. Childs. This publication and the issues which followed opened up new horizons for me. Moreover, for a subscription of 4s. 4d. per annum, one received four quarterly numbers post free, and also the right to participate in the activities of the British Aquarists Association such as meetings, lectures and rambles. Seven branches were soon formed. Four were in London, another in Birmingham (Hon. Sec, W. Harold Cotton), another at Norwich and one in Glasgow. I joined the North London branch at Wood Green and began my further education. Not only did I see other people's aquaria, clean and bright with fishes previously unknown to me, but I was also taken on rambles to gather specimens and taught how to catch daphnia. For the latter operation our favourite spot was an old gravel pit which was being filled with rubbish. This was somewhere near the junction of North Circular Road and Cambridge Road (A10—not then constructed). None of us then had cars to transport our cans and so we went by push-bike or motor-bike. At this time and for many years my main mentor was Les Katterns. I visited the home of A. E. Hodge at Southfields. In his garden were a number of enclosures for tortoises, batrachians and reptiles. In his house were his aquaria and I can recollect some beautiful silver bream which I have not seen since that time in home aquaria. As a result of this communion between aquarists it was decided to organise an open show for aquarists in 1926. This was the first national open show for amateurs and possibly preceded local open shows. The venue was Sea Anglers Hall in Fetter Lane, E.C., which was later destroyed during the War. The classes were mainly for coldwater fishes for aquariums, but a good display of British pond fishes was put up by Mr. E. C. Le Grice, of Norwich. Some coloured casts of fishes were also put on view by Mr. A. Fraser-Brunner. Two vivid impressions stay in my mind. The first was a glass aquarium furnished with "giant anacharis" and containing specimens of what we would now call orange-metallic fantails. The second was my first viewing of tropical fishes. They consisted of green swordtails (wild type) and Lebistes (wild type). We knew the latter as rainbow fish, and they were used to combat malaria by eating mosquito larvae in tropical lands. D.D.T. had not been discovered at that time. The second annual exhibition was a five-day show and was held at Chelsea Polytechnic Hall and I was on the Show Committee. There were 12 classes for goldfish varieties, six classes for other coldwater fishes, six classes for tropicals (including only one class for livebearers!). (The name "guppy" gets mentioned here). Two classes for aquarium plants, two classes for batrachians and reptiles and two more for other aquatic creatures. In the meantime it had become obvious that membership of B.A.A. could not be given away with the subscription for the Amateur Aquarist, because the expenses of running shows and various other organisational costs made it necessary to call for a separate subscription, but leaving the A.A. as the organ of the B.A.A. I married in 1927 and dropped out of central committee work, but kept in touch by helping at shows, etc. The third Annual Exhibition was held at Trinity Hall, Great Portland Street, London, W.l for five days. Eventually B.A.A. got into financial difficulties and was unable to pay some of the bills which resulted from its annual shows.

     Somehow or other the association must have been reconstituted and went on to draw up the first British standards for fancy goldfish, but I was not interested in those at the time. Indeed, I had taken up tropical fish-keeping in a small way, accommodating them in a small garden shed with some glass panes in the roof. I had no electricity out there and so I heated three well insulated glass aquariums with two small oil lamps placed under the tanks. Of course I had some guppies which did not have fancy shaped finnage at that time (1933). I also bred black platies which in fact were half green. Somewhere around 1934 I acquired a pair of brick red swordtails which were a novelty at that time. They proved to be infertile hybrids. A large pet show was held in Olympia in November, 1934, and I must have been an official in the aquarists' section as I have a photograph from Cage Birds of me with the judges inspecting goldfish classes, although I was not particularly interested in gold fish at that time.

     Many local aquarists' clubs had been formed by that time and B.A.A. in 1935 attempted to group them together nationally with elected representatives on a  central B.A.A. committee.   As far as I am aware nothing came of this initiative, partly because of jealously local independence. In that year I moved to Potters Bar, where I had a large garden in which I constructed a pond and bred some shubunkins therein. Thereafter I dropped out of aquarist society affairs. Then came the War.

     After five years of black-outs, bombing, rocketing, rationing, "digging for victory" and Home Guard duties, without any holiday to get away from it all, I began to feel the need for some light relief. I was fortunate that my home was not badly damaged and that my places of work were not hit while I was there. Nevertheless, it was all a bit wearing. Then we began to see some light at the end of the tunnel. The Allies had landed in Europe. The invasion of England was no longer feared and the Home Guard was stood down. The V2 rockets were still coming over at intervals, but as they gave no audible warning of their approach, they were not so psychologically detrimental as bombers and V1s.

     At the time"! worked near Gamages, which miraculously was virtually unharmed. I used to visit the store during my lunch times and found that in its aquarium department, there was a room devoted to tropical fishes. They must have relied on British bred fishes. Here I could lose myself in a world of fantasy and colour. So I bought a few platies and put them into a three gallon glass aquarium which I heated by partly immersing a blue incubator lamp bulb. Supplies of everything were very short or non-existent, so it was a case of make do or mend. I tried to trace some of the pre-war aquarists' clubs, but they seemed to have disappeared. Nevertheless, I continued to visit the tropical room at Gamages. Then occurred one of those quirks of fate which lead to a string of unforeseen consequences.

     I got into conversation with another aquariums gazer and asked him if he knew of any aquarists' clubs. It transpired that he lived in my road in Potters Bar and that there were three other aquarists who were his near neighbours and who kept tropicals and shubunkins. I soon joined this group and through them discovered some of the I.C.I. staff at Welwyn Garden City. So our little Potters Bar group used to travel there in my little Austin Seven with masked headlights. The Secretary was Harold Dunbar, a pre-war aquarist in London circles. There we met Bert Upchurch from Hitchin, who had managed to maintain his excellent strain of Bristol Shubunkins. We soon found that the number of kinds of tropical fishes available was very limited. Even aquarium plants were hard to come by and we acclimatised hormwort to tropical conditions. We managed to find small manufacturers of aquarium frames, but even then the glass was difficult to obtain because generally it was only being sold for the purpose of repairing bomb damage. When aquarists’ clubs were quickly reforming just after the war, Harold Dunbar who had contacts with various clubs was involved in the resuscitation of the F.B.A.S. and became its secretary. Gradually fishes and aquarists' appliances became available. Because of prodding and initiative of Harold Dunbar, it was decided to try an inter-club show to be held at 7 p.m. on Saturday, 5th October, 1946 (most people worked on Saturday mornings then) in the Church hall in Potters Bar, which was roughly equidistant between the localities of the main participating clubs, Enfield, Enterprise and Herts. Each club or exhibitor to provide own tanks.

     As an entirely new innovation, twelve clubs competed in a furnished aquaria section. Their tanks (some of which leaked badly) were set out along the front of the stage. The Amateur Aquarist and Water Life each had a stand. The event was publicised through the F.B.A.S. We had no idea how many would attend, but it proved to be very popular. Too popular in fact. A coachload arrived from East London during the afternoon and as it was pouring with rain and there were no restaurants in Potters Bar, we allowed the crowd into the hall while our inexperienced helpers were setting up the tanks, installing the lighting and heating arrangements. It was most difficult to get from one end of the hall to the other and I had to ring a handbell to get quiet whilst I shouted instructions to the stewards.

     I met Len Betts for the first time as he was one of the judges and later this led him to invite me to join the Goldfish Society of Great Britain in 1948 when it was formed. I had to learn genetics, to select my breeding stock, to selectively cull the fry to improve the strains over several generations. All this was a new approach for me and absorbed my interest for the next quarter of a century. Despite the shambles at the Potter Bar show, it was regarded as a trial run which had broken the ice.

     The idea of inter-club shows caught on and show secretaries were able to learn from the mistakes made there. Having stirred all this up, Harold Dunbar departed for Australia and I heard from a recent visitor from Victoria, that he is now a leading light in the Aquarium Society there!

     The Editor invited contributions regarding the changes us veterans have witnessed. What I have written is one man's memories of things which are perhaps historical now, but I hope that I have not been too long or boring. I come back to A. E. Hodge. If he had not had the energy and initiative to start not only the first British magazine for aquarists, but also to have founded the first British Aquarists' Association, would the hobby in this country now be as supine as it appears to be in many European countries ?

*I am not sure how he would have fared as an M.P. today. He listed his mother, a widow, above his wife in the list of household members for the 1911 Census.

Aquarists and Fish-keeping in the 20th Century. Part 2: Jack Hems

This is the second article from the Golden Jubilee edition of The Aquarist and Pondkeeper, October 1974. This one is by Jack Hems. The editor wrote and introduction:

Jack Hems, who celebrated his 63rd birthday earlier this year, began to keep fish seriously at the age of nine when he lived in Bedford Park, London, W.4. His introduction to the keeping of tropicals was around 1932. He has lost count of the articles on aquarium fishes he has contributed to English and American journals over the last 40 years. Before the war he was Query (Aquaria) Expert to Exchange & Mart. His first article in the Aquarist & Pondkeeper appeared in the September/October issue of 1934. He has answered more than 8,500 readers' Tropical Queries to date. Author and co-author (with G. F. Hervey) of ten books on fishkeeping, Jack writes from experience and has kept several hundred species of tropicals over the years and has bred a few score, too.

Early Days of Aquarium Keeping Remembered by Jack Hems 

It takes more than a blitz and the property developers to erase from the memory some of the aquarium shops which were well known in London about the time when Rudolph Valentino held the female heart enthralled. Max Miller played to packed music-halls up and down the country, and horse-drawn vehicles and barrel-organs could still be seen and heard on the streets of Mayfair.

Perhaps the most fascinating aquarium shop in those less-troublesome days was the one situated half-way up the Pentonville Road. "B. T. Child, The World's Best Aquarium Maker". So ran its owner's advertisements in early issues of this magazine. Later, this piece of succinct information was altered to "B. T. Child, The Compleat Aquarist".

     Ben Child, as he was always known to his customers and the frequenters of the pub across the road, was indeed The Compleat Aquarist. For 113 Pentonville Road was  a veritable Aladdin's Cave of aquarium requisites and fishes. Furthermore, it was not uncommon to find Japanese Waltzing Mice and bird-eating spiders sharing the wooden counter with a stuffed tabby cat and a number of containers housing, say, yellow paludina snails, frog tadpoles and water spiders. Tins of maggots and other ephemera rustled or buzzed among dusty invoices, price lists, discarded pipe-cleaners and ledgers. As added attraction, Ben Child always maintained an excellent stock of reptiles and amphibians.

     Behind the shop a steamy room contained serried rows of iron-bottomed tanks base-heated by tiny gas jets. A few of the tanks housed a goodly variety of livebearers, some of which are seldom, if ever, seen today. In other tanks cichlids, big and small, cyprinids from the U.S.A. and Asia, anabantids and a fair sprinkling of oddities such as Synbranchus eels, butterfly fish and electric catfish backed away from too close an inspection of their transparent prisons.

     Towards the close of the 1920s, my schoolboy addiction to goldfish and sundry coldwater fishes had given way to a passion for aqua-vivaria. Hence one darkening autumn evening, after a day's work as a junior in a publisher's office in Holborn, I made my way to Pentonville Road with the firm intention of adding to my collection of Japanese newts. Instead, I came away with a pair of paradise fish from China.

     From that moment, I was hooked. I mean on tropical fish. My wonderfully coloured male fathered hundreds of progeny over the next four or five years and for these, like the fry of other easy species of warmwater fish which I bred in regular tanks or large glass jars (ex-battery cases), I received a few pennies each from interested dealers though, more often than not, I used them as currency to expand my collection. Thus five or six young rosy barbs were exchanged for a Corydoras paleatus, and so on.

     From Mr. Philip Castang, a most likeable dealer in a variety of livestock on Haverstock Hill, I ordered a tank of unconventional construction. It was long, tall and narrow, with a base of sheet iron for oil-heating. I covered the iron with a mixture of sharp sand and cement over which, after it had set, I applied several coats of black bituminous paint. Then, following plenty of soakings and changes of water, I introduced some young angel fish. I was fortunate enough to have the two sexes present and before a year was out a pair bred. I succeeded in raising a few dozen fry.

     In the late 1920s and early 1930s oil or gas was in common use for heating tropical tanks though submersible electric heaters had already made their appearance on the market. Mr. Leslie Katterns, a well-known aquarist-dealer of Kentish Town, used to advertise "Electric heaters with four different heats, and guaranteed". Some dealers even stocked German air and water pumps too.   For all that, pumps to aerate the water were not in general use except among a small minority of ordinary aquarists or those enthusiastic beginners who could afford them. The balanced aquarium still reigned supreme.

     Among the most inventive of aquarist-dealers was Charles Schiller, who installed tanks in Buckingham Palace, transatlantic liners and constructed and maintained the spectacular aquarium on the roof of Selfridge's famous store in Oxford Street. Understandably, this superb aquarium was dismantled before Hitler's Luftwaffe spread death and destruction over most of Europe.

The Schiller System of filtration was, I believe, the best then known, and the inspiration for many of the improvements in aquarium hygiene which came after the war.

     Mr. Schiller's aquarium shop, situated in a narrow court off Wigmore Street, was one of my favourite ports of call. His craftsmen-built tanks were never anything but beautifully planted and spotless and he specialized in rare fishes from all parts of the world. If I remember right, Charles Schiller was the first dealer to offer the neon tetra for sale, though he may have been beaten to the post by Messrs. Pope and Robertson, in nearby Weymouth Street. The initial importation of neons into England caused quite a sensation and resulted in quite a few write-ups in the national press. They retailed at a high price, were sold out within the space of a week or so but by 1936 went for a mere £3 a pair. Marine fishes from the Red Sea and south-east Asia were often seen about this time. The saltwater necessary for their well-being was the genuine article and was commonly taken from various points off the south coast.

     Previous to opening the shop in Weymouth Street, Mr. Pope was in charge of Gamage's aquarium department. Increasingly this great store offered for sale rare breeds of fancy goldfish, tropical freshwater fishes and tropical marines. I can still see in my mind's eye a massive tank housing several large Selenotoca multifasciata. For a decorative aquarium, these fish of the family Scatophagidae could hardly be bettered.    Why do we not see them now ?

     There were two routes to Gamage's fish department. One was through a maze of lawn-mowers, garden forks, and the like, while the other meant hurrying along a narrow passage crammed on both sides with boxes of soap, myriad bottles of scent and jars of cosmetics.

     Not unnaturally there was no shortage of dealers or part-time dealers who made extravagant claims in the aquarium press about the amazing variety of fishes they had for sale. Yet after journeying miles across London, on bus or tram, all that could be seen in these places never seemed to amount to more than some short-tailed guppies, common or gold, the ubiquitous Mexican green swordtail and moon platies.

     However, one dealer residing in Lordship Park almost always had what he advertised for sale. He traded under the name of S. Robinson, and it was not unusual to find some hundred or more different species of fish in his tanks. Quite a few years before the war broke out, I obtained from Mr. Robinson the spiteful black paradise fish (Macropodus opercularis concolor), the chocolate gourami, various puffers, Cutter's reasonably peaceful cichlid and 'new' livebearers such as the dainty little Quintana atrizona, the female of which species presented me with small batches of tiny fry every so often.

     Another magnet for the ardent hobbyist was a shop in Royal Hospital Road, Chelsea. The proprietor of this well-stocked shop introduced to aquarists the so-called water aspidistra (Anubias lanceolata). I bought a plant for the equivalent in old money of 38p and it took all of a year for one new rhododendron-like leaf to unfold. This very slow growth no doubt explains why species of anubias, good plants for a partial-shady position, are not easy to come by today.

Always keenly interested in submerged plants, I set about importing rarities from Al Greenberg's fabulous plant nursery and fish farm in Florida. It used to take about a fortnight for the plants I ordered to reach me and most of them arrived dead. All the same, the few rhizomes, corms or cut stems which survived the long journey justified the expense. At least I always thought so.

     There seems little doubt that I was the first aquarist to grow and bring to the attention of hobbyists in the British Isles the plant once known in America as the Texas Mud Baby (Echinodorus cordifolius). My article on the splendid plant, which was first brought to my attention in C. H. Peters' Home Aquarium Bulletin (U.S.A.), appeared under the erroneous name of Sagittaria guayanensis in the July-August, 1936 issue of this magazine. Boschmann of Rotterdam was another fruitful source of plant rarities. Now and again uncommon plants were to be found at Cura's. Before World War II, L. Cura & Sons (of goldfish fame) had a London depot in Clerkenwell. At Cura's one rang a bell to be admitted to what appeared to be a large warehouse. The atmosphere inside was about equal in temperature but not in smell to the great Palm House at Kew. A member or employee of the Cura family used to lead me from room to room in order to reach the fish I was intent on buying. On many occasions I had to step wide over boas and other large snakes lying S-shaped or piled in tight coils on the floor, or step inside to permit enormous tortoises to proceed in arthritic stumbles in every direction. Cura's always appeared to be better stocked with reptiles and amphibians than tropical fishes but a visit there was never a waste of time.

     Londoners of about my age will remember Gay's Noah's Ark,  a few hundred yards  from Waterloo Station and nearly as well-stocked with birds, mammals, fishes and other things behind glass or bars as Palmer's of Camden Town. Trestle tables on which reposed baths filled with pond plants, molluscs and Daphnia stood outdoors in nearly all weather. During the spring and summer months the display was much more varied, and it must have been a laborious task carrying all the terrapins, tench, gudgeon, young pike and so on to the safety of the shop at night. There was a greater choice of coldwater fish in the old days. De Von's of King's Cross Road usually had some ten or twelve different species in stock. A dedicated breeder-dealer was Mr. Campion of Acton Street, a few minutes' walk from De Von's. Show quality fancy goldfish were to be found here and a score or two of tropicals, all bred on the premises.

     My first book on tropical fishkeeping was published by Cage Birds & Aquaria World in 1935. Before this, however, articles of mine on tropicals had appeared in a wide variety of monthlies and weeklies published in this country and the U.S.A. And mention of the U.S.A. reminds me that through the kindness of the late William T. Innes, best remembered for his Exotic Aquarium Fishes, now in its 19th edition, I received one of the first four Amazon Sword Plants to come into this country. The other three went to W. S. Pitt, F. Austin Watson, then editor of The Aquarist, and that truly erudite aquarist, Mr. Barry Funnell of St. Leonards-on-Sea.

     What of present-day fishkeeping? Well, I find some of the commercialism which was not so blatant in the old days rather disturbing. For there is no question that a number of dealers appear to find a busy cash-register of greater importance than acquiring much knowledge about the livestock they sell. On the other hand, there are dealers in all parts of the country who are founts of knowledge—one not a few minutes' walk from Victoria Station, for example—and give of it freely to their customers.

     Probably in these inflationary times the emphasis must be on operating our lighting and heating systems as cheaply as possible. Which brings to mind a dealer who during the latter half of the 1930s had his business premises on Blackheath Hill. This dealer used to manufacture and market a specially built unit of tanks housed inside a plywood cabinet well-finished enough to stand in any room. The inside roof and part of the upper walls were lined with looking-glass. A few inches below the roof a few electric lamps were mounted. A few low wattage lamps were placed at floor level, that is under the bottom row of tanks. The heat inside this cabinet was tropical indeed and the light reflecting from the top bright enough to grow almost any plant. Perhaps some imaginative reader good with tools and aided by all the clever electrical apparatus and adhesives now on the market could improve on this innovation.    Clearly, it's worth a go.