Britain's Bottle

Shortly after the Franco-Prussian war, in which he had shrewdly enriched himself by selling foodstuffs to the French, a formidable British wholesale grocer named John Johnston found himself surprisingly afflicted with dyspepsia. Disgusted by the remedies then in vogue, he chose to make a new one, out of beef. Bovril, in its squat, liquorish bottles, is now capitalized for -L-3,000,000, has -L-6,000,000 of assets including 1,300,000 acres of cattleland in the Argentine and 9,000,000 acres in Australia, where "Bovril" is the slang equivalent for applesauce or baloney. Last week, Bovril, Ltd. of London launched a new company called Bovril of America, Inc. and appointed William C. Scull of Camden, N. J. to organize large scale distribution of Bovril in the U. S.

A meeting of the Bovril directorate would resemble a meeting of the British Cabinet, were it not for the fact that the Bovril board has the honor of including a member of the royal family (addicted to Bovril since Edward VII) but whose name is discreetly withheld. Chairman of the Board is Lord Luke of Pavenham, K. B. E., whose grandfather was Grocer John Johnston. Fellow members are His Grace the Duke of Atholl and that celebrated Tory jurist, Viscount Hailsham, P. C., onetime Lord Chancellor and present Minister of War. If it were conceivable that such names as these needed corroboration to inspire confidence they have had the advantage of being supported by such patriotic and patrician men of science as Lieutenant General Sir Arthur Thomas Sloggett, who was director general of medical services to the British Army in the War, and the late George James Playfair, Baron Playfair, an outstanding medical scientist who used to cheer patients with an account of his part in the action at Shipka Pass in the Turkish War of 1877. While the exact process by which Bovril is distilled from meat is secret, Bovril, Ltd. has never attempted to conceal the fact that it takes 20 to 30 pounds of good lean beef to make one pound of Bovril. This circumstance is cunningly suggested by the Bovril poster, which shows a shaggy and slightly dilapidated steer staring at a bottle of Bovril with a wild surmise that is elucidated in the caption: "Alas! My poor brother." Bovril sales took a big jump during the influenza epidemic of 1918 when it became standard British hospital diet. Bovril profits -- some $1,500,000 a year --have been built in part upon the assurance, heartily shared by its noble directors, that the sense of fun never sets on the British Empire. Too conservative to desert the archaic method of advertising by quips and slogans, Bovril cajolements for the past 25 years have been almost an almanac of British humor, a glossary to theatrical and taproom slang. Bovril's august board has catered not only to the British appetite for beef, but also to the British appetite for advertising, which may be why an attempt to Bovrilize the U. S. several years ago failed. Almost as delectable as Bovril are such Bovril puns as, "When it's in you--it's sinew!" or, "Don't let him--Mrs. Bovril." Bovril slogans can be didactic ("Bovril puts beef into you"), appositive ("The world-famous beef-tea"), enticing ("Bovril tickles the palate"), or purely comic ("Take Bovril and keep up to Pa," with a picture of a small boy standing on a bottle of Bovril). Competing beef extracts--like Oxo, which comes in cubes, Lemco, in crocks, or Beefex--have never endangered Bovril's prestige. Hitherto, Bovril sales in the U. S. and Canada have been handled by Harold F. Ritchie, "world's greatest salesman," who owns Eno's Fruit Salt (morning-after tonic), Pompeian Cream (face restorer) and who recently purchased for several million dollars Scott's Emulsion (delicious white cod-liver oil). William S. Scull Co., the newly appointed sales agents for the U. S., recently celebrated their 100th Anniversary in the wholesale coffee and tea business and were doubtless aware that many food experts believe there is big opportunity for some branded hot-drink (other than coffee) to rival the success of the many famed cold drinks in the U. S. The idea of marketing Bovril in the U. S. occurred to Lord Luke of Pavenham when he discovered last spring that an American brand of oats was replacing home-made British porridge in England. Eldest of seven brothers, George Lawson Johnston, Lord Luke of Pavenham, was once described as looking more like an American banker than a British gentleman. The description might have pleased him, for he is less keen about being a socialite than about driving a shrewd bargain. As a child, he used his allowance to buy large quantities of candy which he sold his brothers for a profit. Often mentioned for political posts in England, Lord Pavenham has always preferred Bovril to the exclusion of his other interests. Last May, he headed the British delegation to the International Chamber of Commerce meeting in Washington, harangued the members in lively British, Bovril style on the subject of cutting distribution costs in bad times.

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