Advertising anxiety: Lucozade narratives in the 1939 newspaper promotion campaign

ABSTRACT

Lucozade is a British soft drink consisting of flavoured glucose that has very specific clinical origins but has more generally been associated with convalescence. That name was first used in 1929 and, over the years, the product has undergone metamorphoses to survive changed social and economic circumstances. From a largely local success in the north-east of England, much wider recognition can be attributed to a concerted newspaper advertising campaign in 1939 which extended a narrative of relief, and the prospect of cure, from ill-defined health afflictions. This promotion featured the techniques long-established for tonic preparations. Using the British Library Newspaper Archive, participating print titles were identified as were the complete range of Lucozade advertisements used there. The scale and scope of these presentational efforts can be illustrated. From February to December 1939, town and regional newspaper titles across England, Scotland and Wales were used to advertise 37 different problem scenarios with the consistent message of Lucozade’s effectiveness, and the suggestion of medical endorsement far beyond those clinical origins.

KEYWORDS:

• Lucozade
• advertising
• newspapers
• content analysis
• tonics

Introduction

Lucozade is a British brand with nationwide recognition. It is a flavoured glucose drink, effervescent when opened, and distinctively bright orange. The name dates back to 1929, but the history is longer. For much of that time, it has been associated with convalescence, helping people get over an illness, or recover from surgery. More recently, the product narrative has changed from being from this sickroom stand-by to a performance-enhancing sports energy drink. Thereafter, the marketing focus has been on the replacement of lost energy following physical activity.¹ In this, there was a continuing narrative of health support but the emphasis was different: the product had been commercially recast to align with consumer concerns in a new era.

However, there had been earlier, and arguably more dramatic changes to the narrative. There were two phases to this but both led to broader claims for effectiveness. Lucozade’s origins had not been as the sickroom standby at all, it was developed as an unbranded drink in the early 1900s and used clinically as a precaution before chloroform anaesthesia. In this, it was a pre-emptive life-saver, not something to generally aid recovery from illness. This later purpose appears to have been almost incidentally acquired, first gaining popular traction around the city of Newcastle. The drink was subsequently branded there, first as Glucozade in 1927 and as Lucozade in 1929, by a local manufacturing chemist. Acquisition by a national company, Beecham’s Pills Ltd., in 1938 and their substantial 1939 newspaper advertising campaign gave Lucozade much wider recognition and consolidated this claim of recovery support by invoking well-established advertising ideas about tonic preparations. In the course of that year, it was also portrayed as the answer to many everyday problems. General help with convalescence was still assured but now Lucozade’s effectiveness was framed as a bulwark against several ill-defined modern-day afflictions – poor appetite, nervousness, listlessness, depression and all manner of personal debility. These were terms designed to resonate with readers: the advertisements referenced problems in their lives and alluded to Lucozade’s approval by doctors and nurses. This article examines the context, scope and scale of newspaper advertising for the 1939 Lucozade campaign.² However, the story begins some years earlier with a problem confronted by surgeons.

A clinical breakthrough

Chloroform had been successfully used for anaesthetic purposes since the mid-1800s. However, it was not without occasional fatal consequences attributable to chloroform, rather than the vagaries of surgery per se.³ In some cases, the patient suffered cardiac arrest, in others there was the mystery of liver damage from delayed chloroform poisoning. Attempts to understand the pharmacology of these failures, and what might be done to reduce risk, predictably featured in the medical literature. Empirical work on the mechanisms of chloroform anaesthesia and sudden death reported by Edward Embley⁴ raised awareness of heart muscle susceptibility, and the premedication use of morphine, or morphine and atropine was developed to counter potential problems and improve patient safety.⁵ Liver damage by delayed chloroform poisoning was unpredictable and a number of studies investigated how this occurred, albeit irregularly, and what might be done to treat the problem or, more generally, to prevent this happening to patients.⁶ The underlying problem was thought to be acetonuria resulting from excessive fat metabolism for which chloroform anaesthesia might be the final straw. Emerging from experimental work on animals was a tentative clinical solution: metabolic changes induced by chloroform might be prevented by ‘feeding with dextrose before the anaesthesia’.⁷ Even with ‘no means of knowing which patients will show a greater susceptibility to chloroform … it might be advisable to try it in rickerty and ill-nourished children’.⁸ Furthermore, Frew noted that carbohydrate starvation was quite common among children in hospital wards and was related to pre-operative dietary changes. The disruptions of admission and the accepted practice of giving the patient no solid food or milk for at least four hours before the operation rendered ‘it certain that the child receives its anaesthetic during the period that its metabolism is deranged’.⁹ The answer to the carbohydrate starvation problem was not bulky foods requiring lengthy digestion but

dextrose, where we have our ideal remedy – it is not bulky, it is ready for absorption without preliminary preparation; it is readily absorbed, and even when the disorder of metabolism is already set up, it can cause a return to the normal within twelve hours.¹⁰

Where used, the pre-operative dextrose drink was to change the likelihood of chloroform poisoning: it was also the start of an unusual commercial history. In 1908, a baby’s post-operative death following successful surgery made a lasting impression on Frederick Pybus, a house surgeon at the Royal Victoria Infirmary in Newcastle-upon-Tyne.¹¹ Complications had arisen after chloroform anaesthesia and, with hindsight, the child might have been saved if a glucose drink had been given beforehand. That surgeon was later to write, ‘after even trivial operations patients were lost before the condition of acetonuria was recognised and guarded against’.¹² In the introduction to his surgical textbook, he advised that any patient excreting acetone, detectable on the breath or in a urine sample, should have their operation postponed if possible, carbohydrate nourishment should be kept up before an operation and although a solid meal could be given up to four hours before the operation, glucose water could be given up to half an hour before. Water, and then glucose water made palatable with lime juice, could be given afterwards or, where not possible, glucose solution per rectum.

On his appointment to the Fleming Memorial Hospital for Sick Children in 1911, Pybus had required the flavoured glucose drink to be given before operations.¹³ He also saw the nutritional value of an immediate post-operative use of glucose water and had thought it no bad thing if it was generally used on his wards.¹⁴ This practice was then adopted more widely in the hospital and in local nursing homes. William Campbell wrote that ‘for those recovering from operations he provided a pleasant energy-giving drink containing glucose, with a citrus flavour and an engaging sparkle; this mixture was made up at Owen’s pharmacy nearby’ … ‘on discharge from the nursing homes, many patients came to Owen with requests for further supplies of the drink’.¹⁵ W. Owen and Son were a local manufacturing chemist¹⁶ and the chief assistant there – William Walker Hunter – was subsequently to adapt the formulation and improve taste problems caused by the sulphur dioxide used to prevent fermentation.¹⁷ This product was sold as Glucozade from 1927 to 1929, when the name was changed to Lucozade.

That initial branding, and then the renaming, had signalled wider commercial aspirations for a drink that was now becoming more associated with patient recovery than clinical precaution and with a potential market beyond the hospital ward or nursing home. This was the first, but not the only, pre-Second World War product narrative transformation for Lucozade.

Repurposing

Glucozade does not appear to have been advertised in newspapers at all and, until February 1939, Lucozade was infrequently mentioned in the newspapers currently listed on the BLNA database.¹⁸ All of these earlier advertisements were placed by retailers, with the earliest found being an enthusiastic endorsement for glucose by Smith & Govan of St. Andrews in March 1933. Lucozade was there described as a ‘nutrient food beverage … recommended for acidosis’ … [and] … ‘freely recommended by the medical profession, and is in use in hospitals and nursing homes’.¹⁹ This ‘food beverage’ description was nearly always mentioned in other retailer advertisements between 1933 and 1937. It was probably a term from Owen and Son’s description.²⁰ Illustrating the retailer view of competitor products on their shelves, Lucozade sometimes featured alongside their range of popular tonic drinks – Wincarnis, Vibrona, Hall’s and Phosferine.²¹ Arguably, this was prophetic.

At the time, a retailing transition was underway. The bespoke elements of shopping at a High Street chemist – the weighing and packing, the measuring out and bottling – for a customer at the counter were changing. All of this was to be the antithesis of a maxim attributed to an old-style chemist that their business had been to ‘not fit the case to a particular bottle but to fit the bottle to a particular case’.²² Instead, there had been an increasing tendency after the First World War for basic items – liquid paraffin, golden eye ointment and the like – to be supplied in retail packs by pharmaceutical wholesalers with the individual chemist’s name printed on the label.²³ Not only was production moving from inevitable limitations at the back of the shop to separate facilities, with all that entailed for packaging and distribution, there was a gathering momentum for new lines to be added to traditional stocks. For many chemists, there were widely advertised powders, pills and bottled answers to everyday afflictions as well as toiletries and mass-market perfumes providing additional sales opportunities.²⁴ Name recognition for a specific product was increasingly seen as a way to add distinction, to sell in a different way and, with it, came the ‘growing concern of manufacturers with the marketing of their goods … leaving nothing to chance and to make the wholesalers’ and retailer’ selling tasks simple and automatic’.²⁵ Moreover, for the manufacturers, there was the possibility of considerable additional value in a named and widely known product that could be sold elsewhere or, indeed, anywhere. Unlike retailer advertisements, giving prominence to their shop while featuring a selection of products available there, extensive producer advertising ‘provided no guarantee that the individual shopkeeper would be the beneficiary of their promotional activities and expanding demand’.²⁶ As one contemporary account of commercial travelling was to say,

customers have been educated to ask for certain lines, and there are now very few that do not come within the category of proprietary articles or branded goods, and this applies with almost equal force to drapery as it does to the contents of the grocers’ and the chemists’ shops.²⁷

While there had been a limited use of newspaper advertising from 1929 to the late 1930s, it is clear that Owen and Son distributed Lucozade well beyond Newcastle.²⁸ However, the success of this product became ‘too big for Hunter to handle’.²⁹ Maclean’s accountant, Leslie Lazell, recounted how news that William Hunter was looking to sell the Lucozade business had been brought to him by John Gibson, one of their commercial travellers. He convinced Lazell to take a closer look with the prospect of good national sales based on the success of what was still mostly seen as a regional product. With advertising and distribution expertise a brand could be taken from largely regional success to national recognition.

Maclean’s was then in the process of being taken over by Beecham’s so, in 1938, Lucozade was acquired by Beecham’s Pills Ltd. for £90,000.³⁰ This was a major British patent medicine company and, around that time, Lazell found himself a close observer of this retailing transition as both Maclean’s and Beecham’s were adding several existing brands to their own product ranges. These various acquisitions were good for business with Beecham’s ordinary shares rising in value by 76% over the period 1931–1939.³¹ In that process, Beecham’s also acquired additional marketing expertise from Macleans.³² For Lucozade, Beecham’s now invested heavily in a print advertising campaign designed to suggest the product was not just an aid to recovery from physical illness, or from the effects of medical treatment, but a panacea to many everyday difficulties. This campaign, starting at the end of February 1939, is interesting for a number of reasons: the newspapers used; the style of advertisements, and the implied professional endorsement. These are considered in turn.

First, reflecting the nature of the print industry in the 1930s, a number of local newspapers were used for advertising (see Table 1).³³ The inter-war period was ‘in many ways the golden age of advertising’.³⁴ Not only were newspapers competitive within their differentiated markets, they were near-essential daily and weekly purchases by many households, thus amplifying their readership beyond the sales figures. Newspaper content could now include a ‘women’s page’ in some form and reflect domestic concerns.³⁵ Advertisers were to sense possibilities not only in terms of what was advertised, but how the product might be framed for best effect. Furthermore, although there were newspaper ownership chains, there was a strong local focus on production, distribution and readership. Moreover, there was a marked regional emphasis in the campaign, starting with those in the large towns of North-East England, Yorkshire and the Humber, and the Scottish central belt. These were to be the regularly used publications even as others were added over the next few weeks in Wales, North-West England, and the East and West Midlands. There was, however, an absence of newsprint advertising for Lucozade in London, the East, South-East and South-West England until 1940 although the head office, after 1938, was in Brentford, Middlesex.³⁶

Table 1. Newspapers used for Lucozade Advertisements placed in 1939.

Title used in 1939^a	Town of origin	Number of advertisements placed^b
Daily Courier & Guardian	Halifax	34
(The) Daily Mail	Hull	34
Daily Record & Mail	Glasgow	25
Derby Evening Telegraph	Derby	25
Derbyshire Times Incorporating Chesterfield Herald & Derbyshire Courier	Derby	17
Edinburgh Evening News	Edinburgh	41
Evening Chronicle	Newcastle	39
Evening Express	Aberdeen	15
Evening Express	Liverpool	22
Evening Sentinel	Stoke-on-Trent	11
Evening Telegraph & Post	Dundee	13
Grimsby Daily Telegraph	Grimsby	18
Northern Daily Mail	Hartlepool	38
(The) Lancashire Daily Post	Preston	24
Leeds Mercury	Leeds	35
Lincolnshire Echo	Lincoln	15
Liverpool Echo	Liverpool	26
Manchester Evening News	Manchester	25
(The) Merthyr Express, Aberdare and East Glamorgan Herald, Tredegar & West Monmouth Times	Merthyr Tydfil	26
Newcastle Journal & North Mail	Newcastle	13
North-Eastern Gazette	Middlesborough	35
Nottingham Evening Post	Nottingham	27
Nottingham Journal	Nottingham	20
(The) Scotsman	Edinburgh	35
Scunthorpe Evening Telegraph	Scunthorpe	16
Sheffield Telegraph & Daily Independent	Sheffield	35
(The) Shields Evening News	North Shields	36
Shields Gazette & Shipping Telegraph	South Shields	9
(The) Star	Sheffield	34
Sunday Sun	Newcastle	36
Sunderland Echo & Shipping Gazette	Sunderland	39
Western Mail	Cardiff	23
Yorkshire Evening Post	Leeds	24
(The) Yorkshire Observer	Bradford	38
Yorkshire Post	Leeds	35

^a For continuity, the British Library Newspaper Archive may use a different title where holdings cover a number of title changes over the years.

^b N = 380.

A mixture of daily, evening and weekly titles was used to ensure coverage in different areas. Weekly titles were published on a Friday, Saturday or Sunday and, after using Tuesday or Thursday editions in the first half of the year, Wednesday was mainly used for daily and evening newspaper advertising from June/July. Between late February and the end of December, thirty-seven separate advertisement scenarios were used across the thirty-five newspapers although not all advertisements appeared everywhere. A few ran more than once in a publication with the gap of a few weeks but, for impact, there were new ones in the intervening period. Much value seems to have been placed on novel problem cameos to catch the reader’s eye.

Second, the relatively compact, single-column advertisement format featured changing headline statements – straplines – to draw attention to a linked statement of efficacy in smaller text. Invariably, those straplines announced an everyday problem capable of resolution with Lucozade.

As shown in Table 2, each advertisement signalled a different domestic or personal problem but the basic theme of health restoration was consistent. Advertisement 3, for example, run in 28 publications during March referenced the aftermath of influenza. ‘When influenza has made serious inroads on your strength – when the days of convalescence look as if they will never end – at such times Lucozade works miracles.’³⁷ Many others alluded to a less-specific sense of not being able to cope, being weary, run-down, worn-out, lacking vitality. For example, one appealed to ‘women who say “I could cry for sheer weariness”’.³⁸ The cameo continued,

tired when you wake, weary all day. And when evening comes, you’ve no desire to go anywhere or to do anything. You’re so dead weary you only want to be left alone. Your next day is no better – even worse.³⁹

The problem was attributed to having ‘insufficient glucose in your blood … [and] … in cases such as this, it is wonderful what the re-energising, re-vitalising power of LUCOZADE will do’.⁴⁰

Table 2. Sequence of advertisements used in 1939.

N^o.	Strapline and Scenario^a	Times used^b
1	Has illness pulled you down? What doctors and nurses advise	27
2	Nurse’s advice when YOU NEED A TONIC This is what Hospitals do	29
3	JUST HAD ‘FLU? Doctors advise this pick-me-up	28
4	What Nurse advises when CHILDREN get TIRED OUT	40
5	Doctors’ advice to all who ever say – “I was ready to drop”	55
6	Nurse gives you a REMEDY FOR BILIOUSNESS prescribed by Doctors	23
7	Nurse talks to women who say “I could CRY for sheer weariness”	19
8	SAVED THE CHILD’S LIFE! Read Doctor’s dramatic story!	23
9	If your child is TOO TIRED TO PLAY Let Doctors and Nurses relieve your anxiety	16
10	THIS DOCTOR’S CHILD WAS DELICATE Read what her father prescribed!	13
11	FEELING RUN-DOWN? What Hospitals and Doctors advise	20
12	Doctor’s child RUN DOWN AFTER ‘FLU This tonic quickly pulled her round	13
13	What Doctors recommend WHEN THINGS GET YOU DOWN	17
14	Do you ever feel YOU CAN’T GO ON? Let Doctors and Nurses advise you	17
15	If you CAN’T BEAR THE THOUGHT OF FOOD – take this hint from Doctors and Nurses	28
16	When Summer makes your CHILDREN FRETFUL AND LANGUID Nurses tell you what to do	53
17	A perfect god-send to SUFFERERS from TRAVEL SICKNESS Prescribed by Doctors	37
18	Day in – Day out ALWAYS LISTLESS Let Doctors advise you	22
19	WAITING FOR THE START New remedy overcomes handicap of nerves	18
20	“REMARKABLE STAYING POWER” of new tonic-beverage	18
21	What Nurses advise for CHILDREN WEARY AND WORN OUT	10
22	IF TRAVEL MAKES YOU ILL take this tip from Doctors	10
23	Does SUMMER make YOU feel WORN OUT?	20
24	Nurse’s child CLAMOURS for LUCOZADE	30
25	HELPED TO SAVE HIS CHILD’S LIFE – a father’s letter of appreciation	25
26	The way to COMBAT A.R.P. FATIGUE A hint approved by Doctors & Nurses	31
27	Don’t get run down by LOSS OF SLEEP Take this advice from Doctors	30
28	The danger of SNATCHING YOUR MEALS in times of emergency	32
29	Their health may suffer when CHILDREN’S LIVES are all UPSET	31
30	Nurses’ advice to those WORKING UNDER STRAIN	26
31	Don’t let WORRY SAP YOUR ENERGY Take the advice of Doctors	21
32	Nurses tell you how to stand THIS EXTRA STRAIN	26
33	Nurses’ advice in these UPSETTING TIMES for CHILDREN	24
34	If you are worn out by EXTRA WORRIES Doctors give this advice	28
35	AILING CHILDREN mean more worry Nurses’ advice is helpful	32
36	Doctors’ advice to those “NERVY” AND DEPRESSED	24
37	Doctors advise you how to SUPPLEMENT CHILDREN’S SUGAR RATION	22

^a Original punctuation and capitalisation shown.

^b N = 938.

Some advertisements made specific mention of children. Advertisement 16, used 55 times between 7 June and 20 August addressed parental anxieties. ‘When summer makes your children fretful and languid’.⁴¹ ‘Longer hours of play, outdoor activities in the hot weather – all this draws on the child’s store of energy, which is not being replaced quickly enough. Then your child becomes listless, easily upset, fretful’ … ‘Give your child a wineglass full of Lucozade twice a day’.⁴² More dramatically, in advertisement 25, a father recounted that his child had contracted pneumonia while on holiday in Filey. The testimonial concluded,

she is now well and strong again and I would like to thank you, as I am sure Lucozade helped to save her life. We always noticed how she bucked up after taking a glass when she was so very weak and ill.⁴³

The strapline used was ‘helped to save his child’s life’.⁴⁴

On 3 September 1939, Britain had declared itself to be in a state of war with Germany. International tensions had been rising for some months and the Lucozade campaign had prepared their ground, switching to advertisements with a war-related focus on disrupted lives, worry and strain. There was little genuinely different in these narratives – except the straplines – but now there could be added emphasis from the new situation that readers experienced or feared. On 20 September, with bombing anticipated, Lucozade was ‘the way to combat A.R.P. [Air Raid Precautions] fatigue’.⁴⁵

On duty for hours on end. Night duty, perhaps, after a wearing day. There are times when you must feel tired out. Yet circumstances demand that every man and woman, particularly A.R.P. workers, should maintain reserves of energy to meet emergencies. Take this advice from the medical profession – drink a wineglass full of Lucozade twice a day.⁴⁶

In one way or another, dealing with the additional strains and disruption of war was the context for advertisements to the end of the year.

Third, advertisements alluded to the clinical provenance but only in terms of supporting recovery. Hospitals, doctors and nurses were invoked to suggest professional endorsement of the product in this extended domestic role. With the exception of advertisement 19, where a male runner crouched at the race start line, all other advertisements that year were illustrated with the outline head and shoulders of a female uniformed nurse. Even when doctors were mentioned in the strapline or text, it was the nurse providing visual reassurance. Advertisement 20 provides an illustration: ‘It was a Sister in a great hospital in the North who wrote this letter. She noticed how many of the patients were brought Lucozade by visitors; in fact, she says, “no bedside locker top seemed complete without it”’.⁴⁷ That nurse also recalled a doctor’s personal endorsement when ill with pneumonia. The advertisement went on to ask ‘what is Lucozade which this nurse and doctor recommend so highly? It is a delicious tonic-food-drink – that is, a drink that refreshes, nourishes and strengthens those who are tired or ill’.⁴⁸

Newspaper readers were assured by professional endorsement over the entire advertising campaign but, despite its clinical origins and popular association with recovery in the sick-room, Lucozade was only mentioned by name in one medical article during the 1930s. This was as a treatment for milder post-haemorrhagic cases where ‘glucose water, glucose lemonade, or lucozade (sic) and plain water is given at frequent intervals by the mouth’.⁴⁹ Although curative, rather than precautionary, this use had a specific purpose as part of a ‘practical routine for early or emergency treatment’.⁵⁰

Discussion: the 1939 Lucozade campaign in context

In the 1930s, Britain was something of a paradox. The harsh effects of structural economic change after the First World War (1914–1918), and through the 1920s, had persisted in specific parts of the country but, in other areas, there were the tangible benefits from new forms of economic activity. The north of England, south Wales and the central belt of Scotland depended to a greater extent on the extractive industries and heavy engineering that were then in decline: new opportunities in light manufacturing and white-collar employment were more often to be found elsewhere – in the midlands and the south of England. These economic differences were to linger for many years and although there was ‘a general increase in real income, there was no doubt … that very many families were still, in the thirties, ill fed, ill housed, ill cared for when illness struck’.⁵¹ Poverty, overcrowding and undernutrition were pervasive where there was long-term unemployment and little relief to be had from minimal welfare benefits. For households trapped within these realities, the pressures were seen to have ‘so reduced their stamina that they fall easy victims to physical ailments and disease’.⁵² Other studies of the time were also to note the chronic illness and insidious stresses of coping with daily life faced by many families.⁵³

Although the 1930s were not without healthcare and environmental improvements⁵⁴ beyond the areas of deprivation, it was a period when the actual causes of many medical conditions were unknown, or effective treatments were as yet undiscovered, locally unavailable or too costly. Richard Hoggart recalled a fatalism that prevailed in many households: as with so many things at the time, medical conditions were to be accepted since ‘nothing could be done about any of it’.⁵⁵ Coping with things as they were earned a respect from others. However, there was also ample space for conjecture about treatments and the opportunity for profit. Cynically, some suggested that contemporary doctors were little better than the purveyors of patent tonics themselves since

the majority of prescriptions issued can have no possible desirable effect. In fact, many of these prescriptions are not even given with the intention that they should exert any well-defined pharmacological action, but merely to make the patient feel he is getting some benefit.⁵⁶

By this argument, there was often not much to choose between the two, although both gave hope of improvement.

Chemist shops offered hope by making tonic preparations that might, or might not, contain ingredients to mitigate customer ailments. As in this case, some tonic products outgrew their individual shop origins to be manufactured at scale, distributed nationally and sold through local advertising. In many ways, the Lucozade story mirrors this more general transition away from remedies devised and made-up in the backroom of independent chemist’s shops, then sold over the counter on the basis of a local reputation. Shops increasingly became places to sell goods made and packaged elsewhere which ‘advertising has already “sold” to the customer in all but the physical handing over’.⁵⁷ As with so many proprietary medicines and tonic remedies, the distinctive Lucozade bottle itself now had wide recognition from those newspaper advertisements, and readers would have known this was claimed to be the answer to a variety of health problems from the regular reassurances they had been offered. In the 1920s and 1930s, many such products were routinely advertised in British newspapers giving readers a familiarity with brands that suggested respectability and implied effectiveness. Lucozade’s bold curative claims often enhanced by testimonials from grateful customers encouraged general household use; and implied endorsements from doctors or nurses made it all the more acceptable as a visitor’s gift for the hospital patient.

Tonics, in powder, pill or liquid form, were said to offer relief from symptoms and promised the restoration of health and vitality. Some were specific⁵⁸ but a more general application made commercial sense so improbable lists of conditions to be cured were added, or vagaries mentioned to suggest the purchase could fit a range of individual customer needs. A branded product, Vibrona, was described as the ‘the ideal tonic wine … [it] … refreshes the strong, restores the weak and revives the depressed … [and is] … recommended by the highest medical authorities’.⁵⁹ An alcohol content was often a feature of tonics at the time and these medicated wines featured alongside port, sherry and whisky in local retailer advertisements: one had listed bottles of Wincarnis, Hall’s, Vibrona, Phosferine and Sanatogen in their festive advertisement along with whisky, port and sherry.⁶⁰ A public house in Northumberland promoted off-licence sales of alcoholic drinks along with ‘Lucozade, Hall’s wine, Wincarnis, etc.’.⁶¹ The two medicated wines mentioned in this advertisement are worth considering in a little more detail since, as tonics, they were framed in a remarkably similar way to Lucozade in that 1939 campaign, even though Lucozade contained no alcohol. This had history ‘as a base in medicines where it was used to dissolve various drugs’.⁶² Pharmaceutical practicality aside, the alcohol content was something that could encourage repeated use of products that were, in effect, isolated from a more general condemnation of ‘drinking’ behaviour. Respectability could be maintained because the product was said to have a therapeutic function and was used at home: something especially important for women.⁶³ The Temperance Movement had intermittently assailed medicated wines⁶⁴ and it is tempting to think that Beecham’s might have seen a commercial advantage in using that established advertising framework without the complications of alcoholic content. In any case, the ready-made advertising themes used by medicated wines were a template for the straplines listed in Table 2.

Wincarnis tonic wine was extensively advertised as the single answer to the widely different conditions featured. In common with other tonic products, several triggers could be used to remind readers of the help at hand. ‘Get well quickly after flu. If you are still convalescent take Wincarnis – the “no-waiting” tonic backed by 24,400 medial recommendations. Drink a glassful 2 or 3 times daily.’⁶⁵ Flu could strike again while convalescent but with Wincarnis ‘you feel better in 60 seconds … read this advice straight from doctors and nurses’.⁶⁶ Wincarnis advertisements also offered answers to more delicate reader problems. ‘A message to men’ … [was] … ‘do not let housework destroy her looks. Take her this tonic’.⁶⁷ ‘The good beef extract, the juice of fine grapes, the vitamin malt and the hypophosphite nerve tonic it contains works wonder.’⁶⁸ Other advertisements took a similar conjugal stance with fast results for ‘thin-blooded, nervy, tired, headachy women’.⁶⁹ ‘No more domestic scenes now. Women are taking the amazing “no-waiting” tonic.’⁷⁰ External events served to reinforce the message. ‘The war at home is against nerves, bad nights, depression. Read how a married woman keeps up her health and good spirits.’⁷¹

Hall’s Wine had similarly played on general fears of debility, and doubts about the capacity to resist or recover. The changing seasons brought new challenges: with Autumn here,

you must have Hall’s Wine to give yourself that splendid reserve of strength which will enable you to resist the dangers of the days ahead. Hall’s Wine is prepared from the formula of an eminent doctor. Patients and doctors alike have praised it as a never failing restorative for Anaemia, Depression, Nerve Troubles, and in all run-down conditions.⁷²

More specifically, anaemia was said to be ‘specially prevalent this autumn owing to the lack of sunshine during the summer’.⁷³ The advertisement went on to explain, ‘anaemia is a state of enfeebled blood present in most of us. Though it may be in you, relief from this weakening complaint is at hand in Hall’s Wine, the finest of all tonic wines for enriching the blood’.⁷⁴ Hall’s also promised a speedy recovery:

the remarkable thing about Hall’s Wine is that its benefits are immediate and lasting … Influenza, or maybe Cold after Cold, have left you weak and depressed. How thankful you would be for something that would really lift that depression and give you back your strength.⁷⁵

Tonics still echoed late nineteenth-century concerns with the ‘ill-defined evils of modern existence that were somehow related to the nervous system’.⁷⁶ All, in their various ways, subscribed to the view that ‘adaptation of the body and mind to the pressures of modern life was largely dependent upon the nervous system being sufficiently nourished and energized’.⁷⁷ The familiar scenarios of weariness with life, feelings of being run-down or worn out that were used by Lucozade, women often featured in Hall’s advertisements as well. ‘Worn out by housework? Nervy and miserable? Exhausted after illness? You need a tonic … Tiredness disappears for good. You look and feel years younger.’⁷⁸ Later advertisements showed a new confident woman emerging from the shadows of her former self. ‘Step out of that lifeless picture of depression. Face Spring gloriously revitalised by Hall’s Wine … Your eyes sparkle, your spirits soar, as Hall’s Wine builds you up to lasting health.’⁷⁹ Using the same imagery, another advertisement advised that

if you are over forty there is one point about tiredness and tonics that you should specially think about. When you were younger, you had big reserves of strength and vitality … But now you have used up that store of strength. You blood is thinner. Your nervous force diminished … Hall’s Wine puts heart into you at once – and does far more.⁸⁰

It has been said of the interwar years that ‘advertising was by now a far more disciplined process than it had been in Victorian times’.⁸¹ However, products claiming medicinal effects routinely tested this new-claimed professionalism, exercising not only the Advertising Association but also the Newspaper Society and the Newspaper Proprietors Association. For an editorial in the British Medical Journal, it was clear that matters were far from being under control. There was adverse comment on patent medicine advertisements that regularly played on fears made more potent by their topical references, and the ill-defined nature of problems they claimed they could solve for readers. Manufacturers and, by implication newspapers, were said to be ‘commerce without a conscience, and those engaged in [these practices] are not to be moved by any reasonable appeal’.⁸² Moreover, patent medicines were the biggest industry group in terms of press advertising expenditure and generally ‘proprietors [were] loath to take any action which would result in a diminution of advertising revenue’.⁸³ Although there was some scrutiny of outright quackery, nuances of the language were routinely used to mystify readers since whether they ‘would, or even could, differentiate between ending, relieving and curing must be open to doubt’.⁸⁴ Tortuous efforts had earlier been made to get better regulation of the ‘large and increasing sale in this country of patent and proprietary remedies and appliances, and of medicated wines’.⁸⁵ While some were ‘unobjectionable remedies for simple ailments’⁸⁶ others were ineffective or, worse still, dangerous. Vested interests represented in Parliament meant limited regulation of the problem, and many dubious practices continued.

As shown in the Lucozade data, the Beecham’s company followed this well-established practice of insecurity advertising, playing upon individual anxieties about health and role performance in modern life.⁸⁷ They had long experience of this with other products: one advertisement for Beecham’s Pills, an aperient, had announced that their ‘grand old remedy conquers the cause of 90% of everyday ills’.⁸⁸ Constipation, it was said, ruins lives: ‘Women lose their charms at 30, men cannot stand the pace at 40, middle-age becomes a trying time for many, and thousands grow old before their time’.⁸⁹ This is a specific example but represents a general principle of hyperbole.

However, if generating anxiety was not persuasive enough for the purpose, the reader could be shown someone to identify with ‘being advised by a more enlightened friend or an authority figure of a product that would overcome the problem’.⁹⁰ As shown in Table 2, doctor or nurse endorsement for Lucozade might be claimed, or at least suggested, in the advertisement strapline or mentioned in the text.⁹¹ Additionally, the distinctive head-and-shoulders illustration of a nurse was silently eloquent as a promise of care and the prospect of recovery.

Implied medical approval was sufficiently ambiguous for advertisements although doctors feared reputational damage incurred by the profession. One letter to the British Medical Journal complained that ‘the gullible public … assumes that the indiscriminate use of these diets, drugs and appliances has the approval of our profession’.⁹² Another bemoaned the effect on the patients they saw. ‘Pseudo-professional endorsement of the manufacturer’s claims is not without influence on many of our patients.’ People spent money they could ill-afford on tonic remedies because they ‘thought that all the doctors approved or recommended it’.⁹³ For nurses, there was a more basic concern for the ‘loose manner in which the title of nurse is used by the press’.⁹⁴ Press exploitation of the title occurred in articles as well as advertisements: there was little to choose between ‘those who have wares to sell, whether these be newspapers or cosmetics’.⁹⁵

Finally, Lucozade was to become an outstanding commercial success, outgrowing its regional manufacturer and becoming a national brand. It is not known if, at the time, there were several other glucose-based drinks derived from the same clinical background, or from the example of commercial success provided by W. Owen & Son in Newcastle, but there was at least one contemporary regional product identifiable through its newspaper advertising. Glucolem, described as a concentrated glucose lemonade, was produced by another chemist, W.H. Hampton, in Gloucester and first advertised in a local newspaper on 15 July 1932⁹⁶ although, like Lucozade, this may have earlier sold by word of mouth. Advertisements for Glucolem were never national, hardly regional even, with the Tewskbury Register and the Western Mail only briefly used to extend sales beyond the town. Without indication or explanation, the very last advertisement for Glucolem was published in the Gloucester Citizen in June 1940.⁹⁷ Lucozade, on the other hand, was to survive the war and flourish with promises to remedy peacetime ailments and anxieties.

Conclusions

Historical newspaper advertisements provide insights into the ‘life and times’ of a product as it was presented to contemporary readers. In terms of discoverable advertisements, Lucozade per se had been little publicised between 1929 and 1938. There were a few retailer advertisements and it is from them we can see that the product was distributed well beyond the north-east of England. All research has limitations and provides the basis for fresh questions about what happened. In particular, one part of this story has proved elusive – the efforts made by Owen and Son of Newcastle to advertise Glucozade and Lucozade before 1938. The current BLNA database reveals little if anything of this, but clearly Lucozade was known in Scotland and as far south as Devon in England. Future BLNA title acquisitions or different primary materials may be able to throw light on that.

Following acquisition by Beecham’s Ltd. in 1938, the 1939 newspaper campaign for Lucozade was purposeful and aimed for a major shift in commercial presence, and in the product narrative. A number of problem scenarios were designed to resonate with the anxieties that households might experience. This enhanced narrative followed the well-trodden path of advertising for tonic products, and which were something of a forté for Beecham’s. That extensive 1939 newspaper campaign not only reinforced Lucozade’s earlier reputation as an aid to recovery from physical illness, or after medical treatment, but extended this with claims for the improved psychological status and role performance of those who bought and used it. From September to December 1939, the sequence of advertisements allows us to see how they quickly they adapted and were enmeshed with the insecurities of a new war preoccupying British people.

Acknowledgements

I am grateful to the National Library of Scotland for access to many of the older texts used in this article.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Additional information

Notes on contributors

Phil Lyon

Phil Lyon is an Affiliate Professor in the Department of Food, Nutrition and Culinary Science at Umeå University, Sweden. His research focuses on the intersections of social change, domestic food practices and food retailing in twentieth-century Britain.

Notes

1 While not the current focus, this more recent transformation was also interesting since sports drinks are controversial products in different ways. Some are advertised with insufficient care as to their properties so that they mislead, or overstate their effects (Cohen, “Sports Drinks Adverts”). Sugary drinks have increasingly been seen as a dietary problem implicated in a generic obesity problem (O’Dowd, “Childhood Obesity Plans”).

2 This research drew on the resources of the British Library Newspaper Archive (BLNA) (https://www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk/). Searches were undertaken between April and October 2023 for ‘Lucozade’ in the British newspaper titles available for period 1929–1939. The start date was determined by the use of that name for the product, and 1939 proved notable for an advertising campaign to exploit the wider potential of this product under new ownership. Data were quantitatively analysed to produce Tables 1 and 2 where the scope of that campaign and the regional coverage are demonstrated.

The search did not extend into the 1940s since wartime press agreements and controls had implications for the normal sequencing and placement of advertisements. Staff from agencies and advertising departments were depleted and newspaper rates rose markedly with the number of pages being restricted in various ways (see, Nevett, Advertising in Britain). As a postscript to this research focus, the advertising style was partially maintained into 1940 and 1941. However, the newsprint context was changing and no Lucozade advertisements were listed for 1942 or 1943. Furthermore, although there had been some extension into those early war years, advertisements were socially situated in the new reality of war, and the new role to be played by newspaper content (see, for example, Clampin, “To Guide, Help and Hearten”; and Loxham, “Profiteering from War”). For as long as they appeared, Lucozade advertisements generally used their pre-war ‘tonic remedy’ framing and occasionally made direct reference to war roles. Any mention of the extra stresses and difficulties of life in wartime Britain simply served to reinforce traditional ‘debility’ themes (see Lyon, “Lucozade Goes to War”). Between February and July 1944, a special notice about restricted supply of Lucozade was placed in several newspapers. This was almost a proxy advertisement in terms of putting the name back in front of readers. However, it referenced the Ministry of Food and signalled a reversion to original purposes: Lucozade supplies were limited to chemists and hospitals and for invalids/persons requiring glucose. It was also to say: ‘remember also to ask for Lucozade only in case of real sickness’ (Lucozade, [Display Notice], Dundee Evening Telegraph, 3 July 1944, 6). With mergers and acquisitions, newspapers often change their titles at some point. The BLNA database opts for continuity by using a single name in the archive even if not the one displayed on the front page for all dates. The titles used here for these (predominantly) 1930s newspapers are BLNA names.

3 Although there were concerns for safety, chloroform was extensively used as an anaesthetic in Britain (see, Thomas, “Chloroform”).

4 See Embley’s three linked “The Causation of Death” articles in April 1902.

5 Shearer, “The Evolution of Premedication.”

6 See, for example, Beddard, “A Suggestion for Treatment”; Wells, “Chloroform Necrosis”; Weir, “A Case of ‘Delayed Chloroform Poisoning’”; Graham, “The Resistance of Pups”; and Davis and Whipple, “The Influence of Fasting.”

7 Beddard, “A Suggestion for Treatment,” 783.

8 Ibid.

9 Frew, “The Significance of Acetonuria in Childhood,” 65.

10 Ibid., 66–7.

11 Pybus (Professor Frederick) Archive, “Lucozade (Notes) R.V.I 1908.” FP/3/3, 4 March 1974. Accessed 2 July 2023. https://blogs.ncl.ac.uk/speccoll/2013/10/27/professor-pybus-and-the-origins-of-lucozade-october-2013/.

12 Pybus, The Surgical Diseases of Children, 4.

13 Pybus was appointed Assistant Surgeon to the Newcastle Hospital for Sick Children in 1911. See: BMJ, “Vacancies and Appointments,” 399.

14 Pybus’ willingness to use the glucose drink more freely on his wards can be seen in relation to general nutritional problems of the period which were keenly felt in the north of England. Pybus remained sensitive to nutritional and practical feeding problems with surgery as shown in a letter to the BMJ. ‘The absence of a general anaesthetic still further diminishes any risk, while children are able to take nourishment immediately the operation is completed’ (Pybus, “Operations on Children,” 688).

15 Campbell, “Pharmacy in Old Newcastle,” 270.

16 Established in 1847, Owen’s pharmacy business had relied on shop-prepared remedies typical of the time but had also developed a substantial mineral water manufacturing business behind their second shop in the 1880s (Ibid.).

17 It has also been suggested that, ‘at the time, jaundice was prevalent and the doctors were prescribing glucose’ (Lazell, From Pills to Penicillin, 25). Many patients could not keep the glucose drink down but Hunter managed to find a flavouring combination that made the drink palatable. Lazell notes that Hunter’s daughter had jaundice at the time.

18 Being definitive on this matter is subject to BLNA database limitations.

19 Smith and Govan, [Display Advertisement], St. Andrews Citizen, 4 March 1933, 1.

20 Hinton Lake & Son, [Display Advertisement], Exeter & Plymouth Gazette, 9 August 1935, 2; A. G. Marshall, [Display Advertisement], Morpeth Herald, 12 July 1935, 7; and Ralph Dodds & Son, [Display Advertisement], Berwick Advertiser, 20 May 1937, 1.

21 Jas. Duncan, [Display Advertisement], Kirriemuir Observer & General Gazette, 3 April 1936, 4; and John Stoddard, [Display Advertisement], Berwick Advertiser, 18 February 1937, 1.

22 Campbell, “Pharmacy in Old Newcastle,” 272.

23 Lazell, From Pills to Penicillin.

24 Bowlby, Back to the Shops.

25 Jefferys, Retail Trading in Britain, 49.

26 Winstanley, The Shopkeeper’s World 1830–1914, 59. This is not, of course, to say that retailer advertisements stopped but product advertisements were to have greater significance than individual shops. Where they were able, retailers sought to exploit features such as the wide range of branded goods available, the shopping experience, themed sales, additional services, demonstrations or other events to reaffirm the importance of ‘place’ for customers. Stobart (Spend, Spend, Spend), for example, reminds us of the heavy advertising and ‘positioning’ by department stores to attract and retain customers. For large and small retailers, and in various ways, a useful narrative was that shopping could be rather more than the acquisition of specific goods.

27 Beable, On the Road, 48.

28 In the current BLNA database, there are only 18 examples of retailer advertisements for Lucozade between 1933 and 1937. However, eleven advertisements were placed by one retailer in Scotland and the rest were from four retailers in the north-east of England and one from Exeter in south-east England.

29 Lazell, From Pills to Penicillin, 25.

30 Corley, Beecham’s 1848–2000, 170. Corley makes the point that Lucozade’s commercial success gave it an unanticipated importance in Beecham’s finances.

31 Lazell, From Pills to Penicillin, 23. ‘For a time after the war Lucozade was providing about one-third of the UK profits of the Beecham Group’ (ibid., 27).

32 Leslie Lazell, the Maclean’s accountant with a strong interest in business development, was to become a major figure at Beecham’s (see, Corley, “Consumer Marketing in Britain”).

33 Advertisers were better able to focus their efforts. There had recently been a major Britain-wide survey of newspaper and periodical readership analysed by town and income group allowing major advertisers greater precision in national campaigns (see, ISBA, The Readership of Newspapers and Periodicals).

34 Nevett, Advertising in Britain, 145.

35 See, for example, discussion in Lyon, “Uncertain Progress.”

36 In the 1930s, Lucozade was mentioned in the London-based newspapers only in the context of Beecham’s AGM (see, for example, “Beecham’s Pills: New Record in Profits, Encouraging Outlook,” The People, 11 June 1939, 15).

37 For example: Lucozade, [Display Advertisement], Newcastle Evening Chronicle, 7 March 1939, 11.

38 For example: Lucozade, [Display Advertisement], Sunderland Daily Echo & Shipping Gazette, 5 April 1939, 9.

39 Ibid.

40 Ibid.

41 For example: Lucozade, [Display Advertisement], Grimsby Daily Telegraph, 19 July 1939, 4.

42 Ibid.

43 For example: Lucozade, [Display Advertisement], Yorkshire Post, 23 August 1939, 7.

44 Ibid.

45 For example: Lucozade, [Display Advertisement], Hull Dail Mail, 20 September 1939, 4.

46 Ibid. There had been fears about the possibility of another war and, with it, concern for the effects of bombing on urban areas. A number of Air Raid Precautions (A.R.P) measures were discussed. See, for example: Turner, “Observations on Air Raid Precautions.” One aspect of these measures was the use of volunteers (A.R.P. Wardens) to watch for bomb damage and liaise with the emergency services. The advertisement alludes to this volunteer work.

47 For example: Lucozade, [Display Advertisement], Sunderland Echo & Shipping Gazette, 5 July 1939, 6.

48 Ibid.

49 Hunter, “The Treatment of the Post-haemorrhagic State,” 856.

50 Ibid., 852.

51 Mowat, Britain Between the Wars, 502.

52 Hannington, The Problem of Distressed Areas, 62.

53 See, for example: Fenner Brockway, Hungry England; and Hutt, The Condition of the Working Class.

54 See discussion in Thorpe, Britain in the 1930s, 110–19.

55 Hoggart, A Local Habitation, 59.

56 BMJ, “The Psychology of the Medical Profession,” 1381.

57 Davis, A History of Shopping, 277.

58 Even when specific to one part of the body, advertisements offered a range of effects. Bland’s Hair Tonic, for example, assured readers it ‘cures dandruff, prevents loss of hair, promotes and encourages hair growth and relieves head colds’ (E.B. Bland & Co., [Display Advertisement], Marylebone Mercury, 13 March 1937, 5).

59 Vickers, [Display Advertisement], Gloucester Journal, 31 December 1927, 1.

60 D.F. Leslie & Sons, [Display Advertisement], Kirriemuir Observer and General Advertiser, 29 December 1939, 3.

61 Collingwood Arms, Chirton., [Display Advertisement], Shields Daily News, 21 December 1939, 2.

62 Bonea et al., Anxious Times, 129.

63 This tonic constituent was to acquire central role in its effect. ‘Note the sense of exhilaration following the dose of tonic, the patient’s conviction that the remedy had “touched the spot”. That’s not iron, quinine or nux – it’s alcohol’ … ‘It is a just reproach to us that some inebriates are started in the alcoholic way by our prescriptions’ (Waugh, “Tonics,” 97).

64 Loeb, “Desperate Housewives.”

65 Wincarnis, [Display Advertisement], Daily Herald, 26 January 1939, 7.

66 Wincarnis, [Display Advertisement], Leicester Evening Mail, 4 April 1939, 10.

67 Wincarnis, [Display Advertisement], Reynold’s Illustrated News, 27 October 1929, 1.

68 Ibid.

69 Wincarnis, [Display Advertisement], Daily Mirror, 25 July 1938, 2.

70 Ibid.

71 Wincarnis, [Display Advertisement], John Bull, 28 October 1939, 20.

72 Stephen Smith & Co., [Display Advertisement for Hall’s Wine], Taunton Courier & Western Advertiser, 30 October 1929, 4.

73 Hall’s Wine, [Display Advertisement], Portsmouth Evening News, 20 October 1931, 3.

74 Ibid.

75 Hall’s Wine, [Display Advertisement], Yorkshire Evening Post, 7 February 1033, 8.

76 Bonea et al., Anxious Times, 188–9.

77 Ibid., 187.

78 Hall’s Wine, [Display Advertisement], New Chronicle, 13 March 1936, 17.

79 Hall’s Wine, [Display Advertisement], John Bull, 8 April 1939, 26.

80 Hall’s Wine, [Display Advertisement], Daily Herald, 2 June 1939, 7.

81 Nevett, Advertising in Britain, 160.

82 BMJ, “Commerce Without Conscience,” 179.

83 Political and Economic Planning (PEP), Report on the British Press, 192.

84 Nevett, Advertising in Britain, 164.

85 BMJ, “The Trade in Secret Remedies,” 1213.

86 Ibid.

87 1930s advertisements often featured ‘an individual suffering the terrors of social inadequacy and failure, manifested in anything from constipated children to missed promotion at work’ (Wilkinson, “The New Heraldry,” 34).

88 Beecham’s Pills, [Display Advertisement], Motherwell Times, 1 September 1939, 6.

89 Ibid.

90 Wilkinson, “The New Heraldry,” 34–6. This aligns with industry thinking about newspaper advertisements at the time. They were seen to be at a disadvantage compared with the face-to-face ‘presence’ of the shop sales man or woman. A recommendation from a trusted figure was thought important to remotely give potential customers confidence to buy. See, for example, Woodcock, A Textbook of Advertisement Writing, 14–19.

91 Ironically, Lucozade’s original use as a source of readily available glucose when extra carbohydrate was required (as in hypoglycaemia) was the focus of the first advertisement in the British Medical Journal on 20 January 1940. This was the start of intermittent advertisements in the 1940s, more specifically directed at the medical community. The narrative was more considered than that used for newspapers but it was persistent. Between 1940 and 1963, 156 advertisements for Lucozade were placed in the journal’s front matter. See: Lucozade, [Display Advertisement], The British Medical Journal 1, no. 4124 (20 January 1940): 2.

92 BMJ, “Suggestion and Advertisement,” 118.

93 BMJ, “Advertisements of Secret Remedies,” 1337.

94 BJN, “Press Exploitation of the Title ‘Nurse,’” 113.

95 Ibid.

96 Glucolem, [Display Advertisement], Gloucester Citizen, 15 July 1932, 11.

97 Glucolem, [Display Advertisement], Gloucester Citizen, 18 June 1940, 2.