The Redacted Sherlock Holmes
Page 6
The Minister and I were both taken aback by this suggestion – I, because I had no expertise at all in the area proposed, and the Minister because this solution, which is such a regular feature of the collaboration between Holmes and myself, had evidently not occurred to him.
“I have always taken a great deal of interest in Dr Watson’s writings,” said Mr Lawler warmly. “And he is always most assiduous at performing investigations at your behest, Mr Holmes. I am sure that, properly instructed by you, he will be more than capable of undertaking at least the initial stages of the required research. And, should such a thing tempt either or both of you, I am equally sure that the government could make a positive outcome in this commission worth your while either in terms of financial reward or honours.”
Holmes paused before responding and then he asked “And for on-going expenses?”
To my astonishment, Lawler plunged his hand deep into his pocket and pulled out a bundle of grubby-looking notes secured by a red rubber band. “We recognise that you will incur expenses before you can come up with any findings. Here are £1,000 for immediate outgoings and you may revert to me personally at my Ministry for any further advances you need to cover costs you may incur.”
Holmes wrote out a receipt for Mr Lawler and I waited until the latter had gone before making any comment.
“Why do you think I can research something like this when a department full of Mr Lawler’s staff are unable to do so?”
“My dear Watson! This is an interesting commission, but one for which I have no time at present. You, on the other hand, shuttle listlessly between your club and here. You have, if I may say so, looked a little out of sorts lately, and I am sure an investigation, undertaken with expenses to be recovered at a princely rate, will benefit you.”
I had expected Holmes to proceed to brief me on how I should carry out the necessary research, but instead he rose from his chair and disappeared out of the door.
I was at something of a loss as to what to do, but, as so often in my collaboration with Holmes, I decided to do what he asked regardless of the difficulties with which the task presented me. I reflected how I might research something as large and complex as the tobacco industry and drew heavily on a cigarette as I did so. I had been for many years a customer of Bradley’s of Oxford Street, of whose own brand of cigarettes I was a steadfast devotee. I liked the idea that in a world increasingly being taken over by machine-made cigarettes, he still had his own proprietary brand. I looked at the ornate packaging and read the legend “These finest cigarettes, containing select tobacco blends, and once made and packed by hand on our own premises here in Oxford Street, guarantee highest smoking pleasure.” I had consumed many thousands of Bradley’s cigarettes over the years and had read the legend on the pack many times. But I had never before noticed the word ‘once’ in the description of the cigarette manufacturing process on the packaging. I had been under the impression that Bradley’s cigarettes were still made by hand on the premises. I had got to the end of my cigarette and drew on another before I decided that Mr Bradley, whom I knew well by sight, might be a good person with whom to start my researches, especially as his shop lay not far from the route to the London Library in St James’s Square, where I determined also to consult with my friend Lomax, the sub-librarian.
When I got to Bradley’s, the proprietor greeted me in a friendly manner as I asked for a packet of his cigarettes.
“So are your cigarettes still made on site?” I asked and pointed out the insertion of the word ‘once’ in the legend on the packaging.
“Oh no, sir, not for several years. When we first put a legend on our packs, it was because we knew we would soon stop manufacturing by hand so it read ‘These finest cigarettes, containing select tobacco blends and made by hand on our premises in Oxford Street, guarantee highest smoking pleasure.’ It was then much easier to insert the word ‘once’ when we switched from making our products ourselves by hand to buying them from one of the big manufacturers without drawing attention to the change in the process.” Mr Bradley’s face creased into a conspiratorial smile and he was unable to restrain himself from breaking into a low-pitched chuckle at the success of his minor deceit.
“So what happened to the ladies who used to make your cigarettes?”
“Well, in the end, sir, we only had one. Carmen, she was called. Very beautiful girl with a lovely voice. She’s become a professional singer. Very talented chanteuse she is.”
“So why did you make the change?” I interjected as I was anxious to avoid Mr Bradley expatiating about Carmen.
“Well sir, cigarette machines can make two hundred cigarettes in packs a minute. Dear Carmen was good, but couldn’t roll more than six cigarettes a minute so the cost advantage is obvious.”
“So these are no longer your proprietary product?” I asked.
“I own the brand name, sir, but I buy the actual cigarettes from Commonwealth Tobacco who have factories across the country.”
“And the rest of your assortment?”
“They are all bought from the big manufacturers. There’s Commonwealth Tobacco, Thompson’s and International Tobacco.”
“And are there no small, competing manufacturers?”
“Oh no, sir!” Mr Bradley chuckled again, seemingly amused by my ignorance. “Since mechanisation of manufacture, those three have bought all the others out. The big three sometimes keep the names of the old, small companies on the pack, but that’s a bit like me referring to the cigarettes of Bradley’s of Oxford Street as having been made on the premises. There are in fact only three companies of any significance.”
“And how are your dealings with them?” I asked.
“They’re very efficient businesses, sir. They always deliver when we place an order and a salesman calls from each one almost every month. They bring in new versions of their products – look at this menthol-flavoured variant of Smooth Purple. The manufacturers of Georgiov introduced something similar last month. Or packs which make special price offers like this pack of Clayton and Bertram which is offered at 2d off. I expect that International Tobacco, the manufacturers of Dollar, will do something similar soon as well.”
“Fascinating,” I said, trying to adopt the easy manner that Holmes could adopt so well when trying to persuade people to give him sensitive information. “And what part of your shop’s takings come from tobacco?”
“Well, we don’t really look at it like that, sir. For us, tobacco brings people into the shop and they buy tobacco, on which we make a small margin, and then buy other goods, on which we make more. Tobacco is very good like that because it does not take much space.”
“So if you don’t mind how much you make on tobacco, how much do the suppliers make?”
“I’m sure I couldn’t say, sir. Most of the cost of a packet of cigarettes is made up of tax and excise duties and I’m only the final link in the chain of supply to the customer. When there is a budget, the suppliers put through a price increase to reflect any tax increases. I expect there will be another shortly after the Chancellor delivers his next budget. And they each put through an additional price increase of their own at about the same time each year.”
“Don’t you resist their price increases?”
“Oh no, sir! We’d go out of stock if we did that and that would help no one but my competitor down the street. There are lots of tobacconists but very few tobacco manufacturers, so there is no negotiation. We simply pass the increase on to the people who come into the shop to buy tobacco. They grumble a bit, but in the end they get used to the higher price. You know yourself how you occasionally cut down on tobacco but always go back to it.”
I thought of how prevalent tobacco smoking had been even at school and how I had been a regular consumer of tobacco ever since, irrespective of its price and the state of my own finances.
“So you are selling a product where the price does not really change the demand for it?”
“Up to a point, sir. We have noti
ced an increase in people coming in trying to sell us product sourced from overseas where taxes are lower and they can buy it cheaper retail than we can get it from the supplier. There’s obviously a demand for what they are trying to sell, but it’s illegal for us to sell it, and we wouldn’t touch it, though others would. The more prices go up here, the more smuggled stuff is going to come through.”
“How does tobacco get smuggled?” I asked.
“People coming through the ports bring it in. You may have heard it described as bootleg product. That’s because some people bring it in the leg of their boot. But you can only bring a limited amount in like that. The big players use all manner of devices to bring it in – either dropping it off on beaches for collection or putting it into containers carrying other goods. I’ve even heard of it being smuggled in hidden in specially modified coffins …”
Mr Bradley’s voice trailed away as though in awe of the smugglers’ ingenuity. I felt I had learnt as much as I could from Mr Bradley, so I continued on my way to the London Library.
Crossing Piccadilly, I noticed a hawker selling antimacassars from an impromptu market stall. As I watched, a gust of wind blew up a flap on the canvas and I noticed a large stack of packets of Holmes’ favourite cigarette, Gold Bush, beneath. I stopped at the stall and asked for a pack. To my surprise, the hawker at first denied he had any cigarettes to sell. However, at my insistence, he grudgingly passed me over a pack for which he wanted a price about a third lower than that which I would have been charged at Mr Bradley’s shop. When I looked at the pack, it was the same as the UK pack except that all the text on it was in Spanish.
“So where did you get these?” I enquired blandly.
“I only man the stall,” said the hawker, looking anxiously round. “But the gentleman behind you may be able to help you.”
I turned and all but collided with a swarthy mountain of a man who was standing right behind me.
“What do you want to know about my products?” snarled the giant in a voice which did not suggest that he was anxious to offer information.
I decided there was no purpose in asking any questions and walked on. When I glanced back I could see the ogre engaged in a furious and one-sided altercation with the hawker.
It was a relief to get to St James’s Square. Lomax was more than willing to help me, though he did warn: “We can look up what there is in the published material, Dr Watson, but there won’t be much. All the companies try and reveal as little about themselves as possible and this sort of thing isn’t really our speciality.” He wrinkled his forehead a little and then said “But, I remember there was something in the newspapers about them last week.”
He retrieved a copy of The Times from the archives and we read about two delegations, each led by one of the leaders of the two biggest tobacco companies, Commonwealth Tobacco and Thompson’s, to the Chancellor of the Exchequer, asking him to moderate the tax increases on tobacco in the next budget. The article identified the leader of Commonwealth Tobacco as John Vincent Harden while Thompson’s Chief Executive Officer was James Grace. We looked them up in Who’s Who and found the following entries:
John Vincent Harden: Chief Executive Officer of Commonwealth Tobacco, market-leading Anglo-German tobacco company, and non-executive director of several companies; patron of Covent Garden Opera House and the Aachen Opera Festival; owner of 200,000 acres of land in Shropshire with houses in London and Paris; married to Elizabeth, daughter of Lord Sorrell.
James Grace: Chief Executive Officer of Thompson’s Tobacco, global tobacco company; owner of the Syrret Racing Stables with Derby winners in 1898 and 1899; member of Chorley Club; married to Gwendoline, daughter of Mr and Mrs Bryant of Mayfair.
Compared to what I had learnt from Mr Bradley, it was a thin harvest that I had reaped at the London library, but Lomax assured me that there was little more that could be found out about either Harden or Grace from publicly available sources. As is my wont whenever I am at the London Library, I borrowed a couple of volumes from the shelves before I returned to Baker Street to find Holmes slumped in his armchair, deep in thought. He perked up when he saw me.
“So, Watson,” he asked brightly. “What have you found out?”
I started talking to Holmes about what Mr Bradley had told me. I told him about the elimination of small tobacco companies, and the resultant small number of players supplying Mr Bradley’s shop, and how they all passed on price increases to the tobacconists, which got passed on to the consumer. “The three big players control the entire market,” I concluded. “Surely there must be something wrong with that?”
I waited for a modicum of praise from Holmes, but instead he replied “Well, it is, I suppose, fair to point out that you trained to be an army surgeon and not a businessman. What you have described is what happens in all industries once there is effective mechanisation. The more successful players buy out the small ones. The few players that are left can then use their power to sustain a high level of pricing in the market and to keep competitors out. You will find the same pattern with suppliers of soap and beer. In the end you finish up with three or four companies. The most efficient market of all is politics, where the number of parties selling ideas is a mere two of any significance although other parties do make an impact from time to time. There is nothing illegal in what you have described, though it does mean that the consumers suffer at the expense of the tobacco manufacturers’ shareholders as price competition is reduced. Did you manage to establish anything which was not in any case self-evident before you started your investigation?”
I had been rather proud of what I had found out in my interview with Mr Bradley, especially as the hawker had confirmed some of it straightaway, and was downcast by how dismissive Holmes was about it. I then read out to him what I had extracted from Who’s Who about the chief executives of Commonwealth Tobacco and Thompson’s. To my surprise, Holmes reacted much more positively to this.
“If we are to find out anything useful about anti-competitive practices in the tobacco companies,” he said, “it must be personal things. It is perfectly legal for companies in the same industry to follow the same strategy. It is if they communicate with each other on the strategy that they are vulnerable to legal challenge. I am not sure, from the descriptions of Harden and Grace, whether I should send you to watch opera or horse racing.”
And with that he pulled out his own files of information. They contained some rather more personal observations about the tobacco moguls. He started with John Harden and his file stated “Agitating for a peerage. Will not get one while still a Chief Executive.” Of James Grace, his files stated “Gambler for big stakes and has a poker face. Wealthy so he can afford big risks.” To my surprise, he had not only entries against the Chief Executive Officers themselves, but also against their wives and their wives’ parents. About Elizabeth Harden he read that she organised charitable works in her home town of Guildford and that she was a former opera singer. Of Gwendoline Grace he read “Married to James Grace. Consumptive so spends time at spa towns – Buxton, Bath, Evian, Aix-la-Chapelle, Vichy.”
“Well, Watson,” he commented and looked me up and down. “There is at least money in this case if nothing else. Mr Lawler has been most munificent in the sum he has so irregularly provided to meet immediate outgoings. How would you like to go spend some of it in an agreeable city that used to be the capital of the Holy Roman Empire? The Aachen Opera Festival starts next week and John Harden is bound to be there. It is a shame Mr Lawler cannot lend you his opera hat that he had with him when he visited us. You can re-acquaint yourself with the voices of the de Reszkes who are singing there and whom I always associate with our great Devon triumph.”
“You want me to go to Aachen to listen to opera?”
“Please go and enjoy the opera, but your true mission is to find out what you can about John Vincent Harden. He must be a well-known figure in the town. Find out where he lives, what he does, where he goes, whom he meets. And keep me info
rmed of your progress.”
In less than a day, I had got the boat-train to Dover, the ship to Calais and the Vienna Express which passed through Brussels before I alighted at Aachen. The town was abuzz with the festival and I experienced considerable difficulty in finding a room. In the end I was able to locate quarters only in the most prestigious hotel in the town, Preuβischer Hof. After resting for a while from the rigours of my journey, I wandered round the town centre and soon came to the opera house. Holmes’s regular use of German quotations in our conversations had compelled me to brush up the German I had learnt at school, and I was able to understand the local papers with their previews of the opera to be heard. Nevertheless, I was relieved that the man who served me at the box office was a local polyglot, who told me he had been working at the festival for many years and was himself a true opera enthusiast. I got into conversation with him as I bought a ticket for the following night’s performance of Mozart’s Così fan tutte.
“You have an excellent seat, sir, even though it is one of our last ones,” he told me, after he had served another customer. “People often don’t like sitting in the slips of the dress circle, but in this theatre you can see the whole stage even from the side.” He broke off again as another customer came in before continuing. “The singing – I’ve heard the rehearsals – is going to be first-class and it will be the same all week. Perhaps you would be interested in a ticket for Fidelio which starts on Monday?”
“How are sales going?” I asked, anxious to keep him talking.
“We are well on the way to being sold out for every performance. People come from far and near to the festival and we’re all looking forward to the first night tomorrow. Your seat in the slips will enable you to observe the whole auditorium so you will see how full we are.”