Clarks: Made to Last

by Mark Palmer

  Regions such as South Wales that were dependent on heavy industry suffered greatly, certainly more than areas that relied on new technologies. The car industry, for example, boomed in the 1930s and Britain’s much discussed north/south divide began to loom large. Generally, anything to do with modernisation (construction, electronics, transport) found itself in the fast lane, while traditional industries (textiles, steel, shipping, coal) were left to languish on the economic hard shoulder. Exports of shoes made in Britain had reached 17.5 million pairs in 1913, but fell to 12 million in 1924, dropping to 4.5 million in 1935.

  C. & J. Clark responded to the recession with a bullish resolve. ‘We do not consider that our position is sound if we are only maintaining past years’ sales,’ said John Bright Clark in 1927. This was bold at a time when many other manufacturing companies were extremely happy if they were able to do just that. At C. & J. Clark, pride in the product and a reasonably contented workforce always had to be factored into any shift of strategy. William S. Clark had established a strongly patriarchal, paternal tradition, something that would filter down through successive generations and which still largely exists today. The idea of looking after your employees and your employees responding accordingly was not merely an aspiration at C. & J. Clark.

  Quality was taken seriously too, but the company had to adapt to the times and innovate. John Walter Bostock, the production ‘moderniser’ with strong American links who had been hired by the business in 1908, was determined not to compromise in the face of competition from rival shoemakers, particularly those in East London who were churning out footwear at prices and speeds that were unrealistic for a structured company such as C. & J. Clark. In the early 1930s, it took nearly four weeks to get a pair of shoes through the factory in Street, whereas in some London sweatshops it could be done in eight days.

  Bostock had visited retailers in London who stocked Clarks shoes, and was not always happy with what he heard. The proprietor of one West End store complained bitterly of a slip in standards of shoes produced in Street, prompting Bostock to give the Factory Council chapter and verse on what he had been told during his travels in the capital.

  He [the shop owner] brought out ten pairs of shoes which certainly should never have left the factory. There were two pairs of black crepe-de-chine machine-sewn courts on which the narrow galloon binding had in one or two cases broken away because the stitching had not caught; then there were two pairs with damaged heels – in one the attaching nail could be seen protruding through the heel cover, whilst in the other, one of the top-piece rivets had cracked the heel; there were several pairs of satin turnshoes and one pair of gold kid on which the toes had blistered badly.

  Through the council, Bostock reminded everyone how London-based operations were undercutting traditional manufacturers and warned that in Street there had been:

  … much petty negligence throughout the factory … in these days of increasingly keen competition and bad trade, these serious defects in our shoes will very rapidly tell on the amount of business we obtain.

  No one doubted Bostock’s expertise and influence. And his position in the company concentrated minds over the issue of non-family members occupying, or not occupying, senior positions. When a Clark cousin, Antony Walter Gillett, joined the firm in 1930, John Bright Clark felt it fitting to write an article in the Monthly News Sheet, entitled ‘Family Business or Not’, in which he said that although C. & J. Clark:

  … may usually be considered a family business, no one can expect to obtain or to hold, through family interest, a place for which he is not fully competent. In a choice between two equal men, the family interest would undoubtedly have preference. But there can be no favouritism. In the years to come, the most important places at the top of the tree will be open to anyone having the necessary qualifications and with the power, energy and initiative to work up to them.

  Bostock was living proof of this new egalitarianism. He brought to C. & J. Clark a shoemaker’s craft, a keen, lively and stubborn intelligence, and a knowledge of American techniques. As recorded in Clarks of Street, 1825–1950:

  He learned Clarks shoemaking as he created it, and he absorbed the old hand craft which he found in Street and turned it to new use. Besides the shoemaking craft, he brought into the Street circle an ardent Toryism, with blue ribbons at election times on his horse and dog-cart, which added variety of colour to the consistent Liberalism of the Clarks.

  Never mind his politics, Bostock’s emphasis on producing quality footwear was met largely with approval by the workforce. The desire not to be part of the shoemaking herd also went down well in Street. On one occasion, both the president and secretary of the Factory Council visited the annual Shoe and Leather Fair in London and commented scathingly about the inferior quality and cheaper prices of competitors. On their return, some members of the council wanted to know why C. & J. Clark was not formally represented at the trade fair, receiving the answer from the Factory Council secretary that ‘we could only get some little hole-in-the-corner place that was scarcely suitable to our position in the shoe trade, so we abandoned the attempt’. A further justification was issued: ‘Those who have visited the Fair will easily imagine that a week in the thick atmosphere one finds there must be exceedingly bad for the health.’

  But perhaps it would have been good for business. Sales of C. & J. Clark’s ‘cheaper’ Tor-branded shoes were not doing as well as expected in 1927. With unemployment rising, consumers were not only price-conscious but value-conscious. Their buying habits indicated that they regarded C. & J. Clark’s unbranded mass-production lines as offering better value than the company’s cheaper Tor lines. As a result, in October 1927, it was decided to launch ‘Wessex Shoes’ as the umbrella brand for those mass-produced lines not carrying the Tor name. Even in the all-important children’s trade, travellers were reporting back to Street that a cheaper line was urgently needed. An upturn in sales was the much-needed result, but this was offset by rising costs. For example, between July 1927 and January 1928, the price of sole leather increased by 50 per cent.

  Women, meanwhile, were beginning to enjoy themselves like never before. They could vote and smoke in public, and dancing became something of a craze both in America and Britain, opening up a new fashion front. This led to demand for what was called a ‘T-bar pump’ with a sturdy, medium heel – the ‘T’ over the instep often made in a contrasting colour or fabric. This was a party shoe. And partying meant dancing. The Austrian artist Mela Koehler designed a showcard for C. & J. Clark’s range of dancing shoes. It portrayed three young girls sitting out a dance, dressed impeccably, fanning themselves. They were all wearing the same dancing shoes, with pretty ankle straps made of wispy ribbon.

  Howard Carter’s discovery of Tutankhamun’s tomb in 1922 provided yet more inspiration for shoe designers. The French shoemaker François Pinet created an intricate Egyptian-style brocade court shoe with jewelled heel, while gold shoes inspired by Tutankhamun’s casket gained favour with more adventurous women.

  The Art Deco movement, which took its name from the 1925 Exposition Internationale des Arts Décoratifs Industriels et Modernes, held in Paris, rejected the elaborate, the fussy and the dour and celebrated a crisp and colourful modern world. A 1928 advertisement for Varese showed a smiling young woman with a kiss curl on her forehead, holding up a sleek, shiny court-style shoe with ankle strap.

  The birth of celebrity, delivered by the cinematic ‘talkies’, sprinkled shoes with extra Hollywood sparkle, and one all-encompassing fashion trend was the advance of the rounded toe in contrast to the pointed toe. In addition, two-tone shoes made of leather and fabric were worn and endorsed by, among others, Greta Garbo, Norma Shearer and Marlene Dietrich. Celebrity endorsements were to become commonplace at Clarks.

  Frank Clark had taken over as chairman of C. & J. Clark Ltd following his brother William’s death, with John Bright Clark and Roger Clark as joint vice chairmen and sharing the role of managing director. John Brig
ht had been a long-time member of the Boot & Shoe Manufacturers’ Federation and became its president in 1929, just as negotiations with the National Union of Boot and Shoe Operatives were reaching a delicate stage over planned wage reductions and the introduction of the 46-hour week.

  A keen fisherman with a great love of horses, dogs and for enlarging the scope of people’s thinking, he was good at finding the balance between tact and getting his point across. As described in Clarks of Street, 1825–1950:

  His anxiety for justice and his sympathy with opposing points of view gave him a very special influence for conciliation …. These were critical days and things were to become worse, with unemployment rife, shipping lying idle round our coasts, the balancing of the national budget an anxious problem. At such a time, John Bright Clark’s qualities of mind and heart were of special value.

  He could be steely, too. In 1933, C. & J. Clark decided not to close the factory on Good Friday. This sparked a letter of complaint from the local rector, the Reverend Buckingham, and two of his clergy colleagues, who argued that such a move ‘is calculated to do irreparable harm to the cause of Christ, not only here but further afield as well’.

  John Bright Clark replied:

  We always make it clear that no obstacle shall be placed in the way of any persons in our employment who wish to leave work to attend religious service, and our feeling was that this met the views of those who wished to observe the day in a religious manner quite as well as the making of it a general holiday. My recollection of being in Catholic countries on Good Friday is that business went on as usual simultaneously with the churches being full.

  We are placed in an extremely difficult position at the present time. The recent influenza epidemic disorganised our works and threw us considerably more than a week behind on our estimated output. Orders have been coming in well lately and the present prospect is that, unless a great effort is made, we shall be unable to deliver the goods that are wanted between Easter and Whitsuntide, and which will not be taken afterwards. This means loss of wages to our workpeople, not only in respect of the goods that will not be made and delivered this spring, but as damaging our prospects for another season. This might not matter so much in normal times, but today, when employment is so precarious, loss of business is a very serious matter, not only for ourselves but for all those who are depending upon us for their livelihood.

  I would only say in conclusion that I should be very sorry if anything occurred to mar the pleasant spirit of religious harmony that has been obtained throughout Street lately, but at the same time, we are really in a serious dilemma.

  John Bright Clark in the 1930s.

  On 6 April 1933, not long after that contentious Easter, John Bright Clark died at the age of 66 while sitting in his brother Roger’s office, known as Number One office. Then, fourteen hours later, Tom Clothier, the architect son-in-law of William S. Clark, died from a fatal illness, prompting Roger to write in his journal that both men had been ‘pillars’ in his life. Roger was glum:

  John Bright Clark in Number One office at the Clarks headquarters in Street, 1931.

  And so the days go by and here is the end of April and tomorrow I shall say it was last month that John and Tom left us – yesterday, last month – and soon it will be last Spring and then last year and oh! what a burden.

  Two years on, in 1935, Roger again found himself in mourning, this time for his grandson Giles, the second child of Bancroft, his eldest son. Bancroft had married Cato (Catarina) Smuts in December 1928. She was the daughter of Field Marshal Jan Smuts, whose statue by the sculptor Sir Jacob Epstein stands on a plinth in Parliament Square in London. Giles, their second of seven children, was only two when he died. Then in July, soon after Giles’s death, Roger’s sister, Esther, also died. Roger wrote:

  The bottom is knocked out of our life here … I have lived close to her for 60 years – 62 – and always consulted and talked over everything and enjoyed fun together. I feel terribly lonely.

  Hindhayes Infants School in Street, built in 1928 by Roger and Sarah Clark in memory of their son Hadwen, who died aged sixteen in 1924.

  He did not have long to dwell on his misfortune. On 21 November 1935, Roger became chairman of C. & J. Clark on the death of his 85-year-old uncle Frank. Two months later, Peter T. Clothier, son of Tom Clothier and Esther Clark (William’s eldest daughter), was appointed a director. J. Anthony (always known as Tony) Clark, who was John Bright Clark’s son, was made a director in April 1936.

  In 1935, Clarks took a major stride towards becoming a high-street retailer when it acquired a business that had been an agent of C. & J. Clark, called Lane & Robinson, on Whiteladies Road, Bristol. It was agreed to keep the proprietors on to run the store, mainly because Wilfrid Hinde had got to know them well. Additionally, in the spring of that year, Hugh Clark, who was now living in London but was still in charge of sales, negotiated a lease on Mitre House, at 177 Regent Street, to where the London office and showroom moved from its premises in Shaftesbury Avenue.

  Other shoe manufacturers were moving into retail. K Shoes, Lotus and Norvic were all buying up shops, which meant C. & J. Clark was in danger of losing vital sales outlets. So in December 1935, at the instigation of Hugh Clark, the firm paid £800 to buy Walwyns, a shop in Moseley, a suburb of Birmingham, after it had gone into voluntary liquidation. Reggie Hart, who had joined C. & J. Clark a year earlier, and who would spend the next 30 years with the company, was put in charge of this operation. In addition to the shops in Bristol and Moseley, a third outlet called John Southworth was acquired in Preston, Lancashire, when Frank Jamieson, who sold Clarks footwear in his store, wanted to launch his son in business and sought help from C. & J. Clark.

  There were bigger retail fish in the sea at that time and C. & J. Clark was soon circling. In 1937, Abbotts Phitt-Easy Ltd, which owned a chain of shops trading as Abbotts, found itself in trouble after opening too many outlets too quickly. The company had 60 shops, mostly in London, but some were in other towns and even a few overseas, notably in France. Abbotts approached Somervell Brothers, the Kendal-based firm that made K Shoes. The proposition was that Somervell would take over the management of Abbotts and keep it afloat financially while new leases were drawn up and stock sorted out. The shops in Paris would be sold and Somervell given the right to buy a controlling interest in Abbotts if the new arrangement worked successfully.

  But Somervell did not want 60 shops and made contact with C. & J. Clark. Vigorous negotiations ensued, culminating in an agreement in June 1937 to split the stores between the two companies on the understanding that C. & J. Clark would not trade under the Abbotts name. Hugh Clark suggested setting up a new company called Lords, which he thought was resonant of England and of quality. The board liked the idea, but thought the name pretentious, and so it was agreed to call it Peter Lord Ltd – with the shops trading under the name Peter Lord – and with Reggie Hart as the new company’s first managing director.

  Hart had been educated at Bradford Grammar School and gained a classics scholarship to St John’s College, Oxford, where he was awarded a Blue in rugby football. On leaving university, he joined a rubber company and targeted C. & J. Clark as a potential buyer of black rubber soles – though it’s unclear if he ever made a sale. He then worked as a department sales manager in menswear for Lewis’s in Manchester – not to be confused with John Lewis, an entirely different company – before C. & J. Clark recruited him as assistant to the head of sales, Hugh Clark. Hart became an integral part of C. & J. Clark’s early days in retail.

  Many years later, in the Clarks Courier, a newspaper started by the company in 1957, Bancroft Clark wrote:

  He chose the sites, he designed the Peter Lord retail image, he saw to it that Clarks’ shoemaking got the benefit of retail advice. R.C.H [Hart] created our retailing system and transmitted back into manufacturing, the knowledge thereby gained. He was an architect and builder of the company’s growth in the UK.

  Most of the eight Pet
er Lord shops were in provincial towns, but the head office was at 98 Kensington High Street, in West London. Not trading under the Clarks name was eminently sensible because the company’s shoe range was not large enough adequately to stock a whole shop. It also enabled Clarks to continue selling to existing third-party outlets without antagonising their owners. As Bancroft Clark put it:

  The policy direction to Peter Lord was that they would be leading retailers specialising in Clarks shoes, but they were not required to buy any particular Clarks shoes or any prescribed proportion of Clarks shoes, and were to get supplies elsewhere on the market as best seemed to them.

  The proportion of sales of Clarks shoes in Peter Lord shops was around 40 per cent at first, rising to 80 per cent in the 1960s. Those sales amounted to £30,000 a year in 1937, reaching a high of £3.5 million in 1965.

  ‘We were now in retailing good and proper with eleven shops,’ wrote Bancroft. He continued:

  Bancroft Clark with Bert Bridge from the Sole Room in 1943.

  The turnover of Clarks shoes disposed of through those eleven shops was about 10 per cent of the total turnover in Clarks shoes in the UK. We laid down the policy that we would keep our own retailing at this 10 per cent proportion to the rest of our UK shoe trade. The object was to enable us to get an eye on the public demand, to learn about retailers’ problems, to learn about point of sale presentation to the public.

  Members of the board of C. & J. Clark travelled widely in the 1920s and 1930s – to North America, South Africa, Italy, France, Switzerland, Denmark, Czechoslovakia – picking up fresh ideas about machinery, factory organisation, marketing. Senior executives made no fewer than 32 overseas trips between 1925 and 1939, returning several times to some countries, not least America and Denmark. They were exceptionally impressed by Bally, a close rival in Switzerland, where the factory in Schoenenwerd was spotlessly clean, its canteen served inexpensive, wholesome meals and machines in the making room were driven by individual motors that required no overhead belts. It was noted that shoes could complete their passage through the Bally factory at great speed, and even standards of personal hygiene were admired. ‘We looked at the workpeople’s fingers and found them as clean as any clerk’s hands’ reported members of the board.