Summer Fun

Ads from the 1950s and 1960s.

Given that interior sun visors had been fitted to cars since the 1930s, it’s hard to know in what way the Barnacle Sunmaster qualified as being “something entirely new” (unless it was the fact that it insisted on spelling visor as ‘Vizor’). Nor did the advertisers feel it necessary to explain how it met “all requirements”, since by its very nature its only actual requirement was that it blocked the sun’s rays. Sold by Barnacle Ltd of Croydon for a modest 27/6 (£1.40 in today’s money) it was made from tinted Perspex and chrome-plated dural, an aluminium alloy, with a suction cup. It also claimed to be “fully adjustable”, which presumably meant that it tilted up and down.

Another product which the advertisers preferred to cloak in mystery was the Straitin, a device that automatically opened your garage doors as you drove towards them. How it managed this miraculous feat was not explained, but the modest price of 10 guineas (approximately £10.50 today or ‘easy terms’ of nine payments of 25/- or £13.50) would seem to preclude any sort of hi-tech electronics or complex mechanical parts. Although the ad also fails to mention it, the Straitin was available from Gamages of Holborn, the noted London department store that closed its doors in 1972.

With the benefit of hindsight, many products can be seen to be ahead of their time. While relatively recent research has proven that pleated filter material in oil and fuel filters can significantly improve their performance, the Metafilter developed by the Metalfiltration Co Ltd of Hounslow came up with a broadly similar concept decades ago, using numerous pockets in the fibrous material packed into their oil filters. Another intriguing feature was the Oilon device fitted to the filter, which apparently kept the filter running after the engine was turned off, to ensure clean, fresh oil on the next start-up.

Nearly twice as expensive as the Straitin, but requiring considerably more effort, the Batley ‘Up & Over’ was a tilt-and-raise alternative to the traditional hinged garage door, offering unobstructed access so long as you were no taller than 6’1”. Made and retailed by Ernest Batley Ltd of Coventry, they were available in either aluminium for £18 or exterior grade mahogany for £20. Somewhat strangely, Batley offered free delivery to anywhere in England and Wales, but not to Scotland. Not sure such blatant discrimination would be allowed today.

There is a tendency in advertising to try to blind consumers with science, using complex technical terminology that makes a product sound more impressive than it actually is. This jumps to mind when reading the ad for

Regent TT petrol with the claim that it is “petrol with nothing missing plus volatane control”. As reassuring as this sounds, what exactly is “volatane control”? After much research, it appears to be an American concept which chemically adjusts the volatility of fuel for maximum efficiency, although we were unable to establish exactly how it worked. Clear as mud, then.

Occasionally you come across a product that appears so clever and useful that you wonder why it seemingly never caught on. Did it not work as promised? Was it too expensive? Is it still being used by anyone? For anyone who has experienced the slog of using a manual hacksaw, the Kennedy

Electric Power Hacksaw seems like a godsend. Described as “the world’s smallest and lowest priced power hacksaw”, it claimed to be able to cut pipes, bars and tubes, along with the promise that it “Pays for itself in ninety working hours.” Bold claims, especially for a power tool that retailed for a relatively modest £23 13/ (about £23.65). It was sold by W. Kennedy Ltd of West Drayton, Middlesex. Did any

CM readers buy or use one of these? If so, we’d like to hear about it.

The Advertising Standards Authority certainly wouldn’t have let Wellworthy Ltd of Lymington get away with their ad for Wellworthy Duaflex

Oil Control Rings today. Aside from the completely unsubstantiated claim that these were “The choice of the expert”, the photo of two unnamed gentlemen in uniform and vague reference to a similarly unidentified “Chief Constable of the Force” seemingly implied wholehearted endorsement by the British police. It’s criminal what advertisers try to get away with.

The ubiquitous WD-40 was first sold to consumers in 1958 and the formula remains a secret to this day, although it was never actually patented by its American inventor. That being the case, who knows how it may differ from the less well-known rival penetrating fluid Releaseall, made by Ferguson & Timpson of London and supplied through assorted branches around the UK. Available in handy tins for a mere 1/9 (less than 10p today), this seemed a small price to pay for something that could free seized parts, nuts and bolts in minutes and promised to cut through “rust, red or white lead, green corrosion, carbon deposit and hard baked oil”. So it literally did exactly what it said on the tin.