In my last blog, I mentioned a
book by H.i. Williams, 3 Bottle Bar.
Let me
begin by saying that I have always had a fascination with oddities in names -
quirks in the spelling, why people have the names they have, or where names
originated.
Thirty
years ago, I met a woman, now long passed, named Voltarine. She spelled her
name as I have written it. Not having
encountered that name previously, I asked her if the name had a family
history. Those of you well read, and interested
in feminist studies, are probably thinking “She must have been named after
Voltairine de Cleyre, feminist writer and orator, and her parents misspelled
her name.” Not so. Voltarine explained that her parents were
enthusiasts of Voltaire and thought that Voltarine would be the feminine derivative
of his name.
I am
terrible with names, even those of people I know well. At the store a few weeks ago I ran into a
nurse that I had recently worked with for five years. I repeatedly called her “Kathy”
(the name of an RN I hadn’t worked with in 15 years) instead of Marianne. She
did not correct me and it didn’t dawn on me until I had gotten home. I still
remember Voltarine Williams’ full name, because of her little story, though we
met but twice.
On
another occasion, when employed as lead nurse in a pediatric clinic, I was
attending to a mother whose sons were named Donatello, Michelangelo, Leonardo
and Raphael. When I asked if she liked Italian art, she gave me a puzzled
look. I then explained that I was
curious about the names of her sons. As
you have probably guessed, she had named them after the Ninja Turtles.
In the hospital, and clinics,
where a large part of the patient population spoke only Spanish, I made my name
a private pun. Some Spanish speakers
have difficulty with the name “Charles.”
Knowing this, and since I conversed with these patients in passable
medical Spanish, I would introduce myself as Carlos Madera – a literal translation
of my given name. For a time, it caused
some confusion among co-workers when I was asked for by that name.
Back to
the book and the name of interest. The
first thing I noticed about 3 Bottle Bar
was the curious spelling of the authors name on the fly leaf. Initials capital “H.” lower case “i.” Surely
there had to be a story. I was correct. H.i. Williams was born Harney Isham Williams
in Ladoga, Indiana, 1886. In his youth,
his friends took to calling him “Hi.”
This name stuck and he used it throughout his life in both a personal,
and professional, capacity. “Hi” is
certainly an easier handle to remember than “Harney” or “Isham” and conveys a
friendly nature.
His book,
3 Bottle Bar - Hospitality Poured From 3
Bottles, published in 1943, is a rather thin book on mixology. A mere 64
pages, with 26 personally created recipes. You might overlook it as a potential
addition to your collection. The drinks
aren’t bad and it is an easy to find out-of-print book, on eBay or Amazon, for less
than $15 in hardback.
In 3 Bottle Bar, Hi talks about only
needing three bottles of liquor to make most drinks requested by guests -
whiskey, gin, and dry white wine (which he substitutes for vermouth). In the
section entitled Afterthoughts, he relents
and says that it would be OK to expand to a 5 bottle bar, adding rum and scotch
if desired. In the course of his book,
like most other authors of the genre, he offers suggestions on how to best
prepare a drink, requirements for a bar, and related trivia. I like his less than elitist attitude
regarding liquors. Discussing “whiskey,”
he does not mean bourbon or rye. He suggests using whichever whiskey you enjoy.
You may
be thinking, “Meh, doesn’t sound like much to bother with.” There is more.
A large
part of the pleasure of using a vintage drink book, or a favorite cookbook, is
that the handful of paper is a tangible link in a chain to the the past. A link not only to those who used that book,
but to the author who wrote it. While H.i.
Williams appears to be merely the writer of a mildly entertaining bar book, he
was so much more. To quote the foreward to 3
Bottle Bar:
In
earlier years, he relied on drawing as his medium, and he did well with it;
painting followed, and he did well with it, too. Currently photography is his
choice, and his colorful compositions, which are reproduced in millions of
magazines each month, have identified H.i. Williams as one of the foremost
photographers in America.
H.i.
Williams career spanned 50 years. He was
renown for his contribution to the “food as fashion” movement of the 1930’s.
This influenced advertising art as we know it today. He was much sought after
for his ability to create engaging, brightly colored commercial photographs of
food.
A
graduate of the Cincinnati Academy of Art, he earned reputation as a sculptor
and artist. In 1919, he moved on to New
York and became a commercial photograper in the 1920s. Williams shot iconic compositions for many companies
including Fiestaware and Fleishmanns Yeast. Pillsbury used his images in their
advertising and on cake mix boxes. Examples of his work are in many homes
today. If you look, you may have some,
too.
Prior to
the 1930s, images in cookbooks were hand drawn, sometimes hand colored, but more
often, lifeless black and white photos.
Do you remember your mothers, or
grandmothers, cookbooks of the 1930s, 40s and 50s? Sprinkled with pages of brightly colored,
full bleed images, of food perfectly prepared, appearing as it should when
served at the family table? These were
added to give the cookbooks a bit of dash and appeal to homemakers. Much of that color imagery was provided by
“H.i.” or his disciples.
Williams
was a perfectionist. He had a test kitchen with a staff that included
professional cooks and bakers. Meats and fish were professionally cut so that
the end product would look flawless. One anecdote alleges he would have his
staff go through 20 boxes of crackers to find those that were “pristine.”
Creating
his compositions was time consuming. He
would first meticulously arrange the layout, when it was completed to his
satisfaction, he would discard and replace anything that was damaged or had lost
its’ look of freshness. Only then would
he photograph the result.
I have a
friend, Mark, who likes to say, regarding selling, that “it is the
sizzle that sells the bacon.” Well, H.i.
Williams put the sizzle in food advertising and cookbooks. For this, he was
recognized world-wide, and virtually every professional photography magazine of
the 1940’s and 1950’s featured interviews as well as articles about his work and
techniques.
The
photographic process Williams favored to make food appear life-like is known as the
trichrome carbro. Carbro is short for
carbon and bromide. The trichrome carbro is very time intensive. Taking 80, or
more, steps, it is said that a person working a 40 hour week could complete
about twelve of these photographs.
The trichrome carbro process requires
three negatives taken utilizing red, green, and blue filters. These negatives are then transferred to
pigmented gelatin sheets which when developed, are then layered. Registration
has to be perfect to achieve the final color image. While this is a very quick and dirty
explanation, the results are impressive. There are many articles online that explain the process
more completely.
3 Bottle Bar, is a book by a creative genius of the advertising
age whose influence is wide spread. As a link to a bit of modern history, the
text is an item of drink related arcana worthy of your attention.
From 3 Bottle Bar, the drink of the day is the
Carbro. A drink by H.i. Williams, with a name of his choosing
that we can now understand and appreciate.
