If he hadn’t been so successful, so rich, and so damn charming, Thomas Lipton would have been truly annoying. No one had a better knack for popping up in the middle of big events and getting his name and picture in the press. The Queen’s Jubilee? Lipton puts on a banquet for 40,000 and earns a knighthood. Admiral Dewey’s return from Manila? There’s Lipton at his side for the daylong parade in New York. War breaks out in the Balkans, and yes, it’s Lipton who recruits doctors and nurses, and steams into the fray at the helm of a hospital ship. The guy was everywhere for half a century, and yet no one tired of seeing him. Indeed, for a time when he wasn’t around, people flocked to the theater to see a look-alike actor play him onstage.

Long before anyone heard of Richard Branson or Larry Ellison or, for that matter, Bill Gates, Thomas Lipton created the persona of the happy captain of industry who used self-promotion, or philanthropy, or sport (he used all three), to become a household name. Before him, no self-made rich man had had so much fun becoming famous. After him, everyone borrowed from the Lipton method. He succeeded because he knew, firsthand, the lives and feelings of the poor and working people who were his customers, and they knew that as improbable as it was, the story he told about himself was almost entirely true.

Born in Scotland to parents who had fled the Irish famine, Lipton spent his early childhood in abject poverty. On a journey to America he learned the tricks of modern retailing and the value of an entertaining stunt. Having returned home to open a chain of groceries, he used pig parades and elephants to draw crowds to his stores. He also dropped leaflets from hot-air balloons, scattered authentic-looking Lipton banknotes in the streets, and commissioned the world’s largest cheeses for his shop windows. After groceries he went into tea, and on the strength of outlandish advertising became the world’s largest supplier. But his greatest stunt was a challenge for the America’s Cup, which became a thirty-year quest that captivated millions on both sides of the Atlantic.

Having parlayed his fame into a profitable friendship with the Prince of Wales, later King Edward VII, Lipton volunteered when Britain needed a rich man to try for the coveted cup. He spent a fortune on his boat and crew and on parties in New York for the social set. He was thoroughly trounced on the racecourse but spectacularly successful with the press and the public. He would mount four more challenges, losing every time and yet winning more hearts. By the last challenge, he had most of America pulling for him and the great Will Rogers begging his fellow Yanks to just let the old fellow win.

What was it, in the end, that made Lipton so popular? First, he was the antithesis of the robber barons and monopolists who were so hated in his time. Second, with his adventures and philanthropy he used his money the way others imagined they would. Finally, he constructed himself with inspiring and loving attention to detail. Lipton loved being Lipton, and his enthusiasm—he called himself The Great Lipton—was infectious. His few critics said he eventually became the caricature he played for so many years. This was, in fact, true, and it made the man happy for nearly all of his days.

–Michael D’Antonio

Great to see then that about 1,000 people, mostly young in their 20s and 30s, reportedly gathered by a station of the Guangzhou Metro last weekend to show support for the Cantonese dialect. Police goons showed up flexing their muscles and the media were told to gag the event, but still it happened. The demonstration followed a controversial move by the government to switch programming on the main channels of Guangdong TV from Cantonese to Putonghua, the pared down and basic language preferred by Beijing as a nationwide form of linguistic control. The usual arguments about promoting tourism, investment, social harmony etc were trotted out.

The boys in blue got nervous telling a Cantonese pop band (rarely considered one of the most dangerous examples of rock band rebellion) not to perform or sing in Cantonese and then they hassled some guy who had the temerity to war a t-shirt that said ‘Not Guilty for having an opinion’. The crowd apparently jeered the police for being petty bureaucrats. There were some pointed criticisms of those looking to eradicate dialects in China and in particular of Ji Kekuang, the ignoramus official who is trying to forcing the TV stations to speak Putonghua.

Great to see the demonstration against this ridiculous officialdom that, to me anyway, just shows the hatred of ordinary people, their culture and opinions among the leadership in China. Across the country dialects are under attack constantly – we hear about attacks on Cantonese, Shanghainese and occasionally other major dialects (someone got in trouble last year for supporting the Manchu language) – other less high profile dialects are, I fear, losing the battle.

Still globally there are apparently something like 55 million to 70 million Cantonese speakers across the world – this makes it equivalent to say Italian or Turkish, which apparently most people think should probably be left alone! Incidentally Shanghainese and other Wu related dialects may well have as many as 90 million speakers globally too – so probably best to leave them alone too.

Glamour Bar, M on the Bund, Sunday 25th July – 2.30pm

Talk of restoring the opera house has been around since 2001 and the building was then in a rather dilapated condition. Things seemed to be progressing up till 2008 but a recent report on the BBC suggested restoration work had halted. If anyone knows what is happening to the site I’d very much like to know.

Then…

And now…

However, Beijing Today decided to stick their logo across our book cover! Rest assured that if you buy a copy (which you can do rather easily here) the Beijing Today logo is not included!

Here is a balanced piece in the New York Times with some accompanying photos and video by Matthew Niederhauser that makes interesting reading concerning the ongoing campaigns by both those seeking to preserve the area, the government bulldozer merchants and the community in the middle of it all.