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The Postcard
A postally unused card by J. Salmon Ltd. of Sevenoaks showing the Gravesend Clock Tower.
The photograph has a 1960's feel to it.
Nottons
Nottons the Outfitters (visible on the right of the photograph) was founded in 1834 by George Henry Notton. Initially located in the High Street, the shop moved to Berkeley Crescent in 1888. You can see half of the Crescent in the photograph.
In 1931 a boys' outfitting department was opened which provided uniforms for local schools. The shop was rebuilt in 1933 when a new tailoring department was added.
After the war, in 1946, the business expanded into Harmer Street. The company motto was:
'It concerns us most that
we serve you well'.
Nottons was put up for sale in 1983.
J. Salmon Ltd.
Alas, J. Salmon no longer produce postcards. Having churned out small coloured rectangles of card from its factory in Kent for more than 100 years, the company stopped publishing postcards in 2017.
The fifth-generation brothers who still ran the company sent a letter to their clients in the autumn of 2017, advising them that the presses would cease printing at the end of 2017, with their remaining stock being sold off throughout the following year.
The firm’s story began in 1880, when the original J. Salmon acquired a printing business on Sevenoaks high street, and produced a collection of twelve black and white scenes of the town.
In 1912, the business broke through into the big time by commissioning the artist Alfred Robert Quinton (1853 - 1934), who produced 2,300 scenes of British life for them up until his death.
From Redruth to King’s Lynn, his softly coloured, highly detailed watercolours of rosy milkmaids, bucolic pumphouses and picturesque harbour towns earned him a place in the hearts of the public, despite references to Alfred's 'chocolate-box art' by some art critics.
J. Salmon also produced photographs and cheery oils of seaside imagery captioned with a garrulous enthusiasm: “Eat More Chips!”, “Sun, Sand & Sea”, “We’re Going Camping!”
It commissioned the comic artist Reg Maurice (who often worked under the pseudonym Vera Paterson), to produce pictures of comically bulbous children with cutesy captions, alongside the usual stock images of British towns.
It was this century’s changing habits – and technology – that did for Salmon. Co-managing director Charles Salmon noted:
“People are going for shorter breaks,
not for a fortnight, so you’re back home
before your postcards have arrived."
He barely needed to say that Instagram and Facebook had made their product all but redundant, almost wiping out the entire industry in a decade.
Michelle Abadie, co-director of the John Hinde Collection, said:
“When I heard the news, I was
actually surprised they still existed."
John Hinde was once J Salmon’s biggest rival; it sold 50-60 million postcards a year at its peak in the 1960's, but it, too, shuttered four years previously. The licensing for its rich archive of images was sold off, and repurposed in art books.
However, in one sense, the death of the postcard is overstated. Like vinyl records, our fetish for the physical objects we left behind is already making its presence felt.
Michelle Abadie points out:
“If you go into Waterstones now, they
sell lots of postcards of book covers.
The idea itself isn’t dead – as a
decorative object, people still want
them.”