Sepia Saturday 803 - Something in the way

 

Pictures of old steamships always bring back memories of the S.S. Ranchi. The Ranchi was an English mailboat launched in Newcastle-upon-Tyne just a little over a century ago. On January 24, 1925, the Ranchi was baptised by the wife of the CEO of the Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation Company. You may know this company better as P&O Lines. A.o., it operated a total of four R-ships, all named after Indian cities.

You may wonder why a Dutchman memorises the name of an English mailboat. The reason is an obituary I saw in one of our newspapers back in 2015. It announced the death of Esther Henriëtte Ranchita Sprangers. When reading the name Ranchita, I wondered where it came from, as I had never heard of it before. But fortunately, the obit also mentioned her place of birth: 'on board British ship Ranchi Ind'. And that made it clear that she was named after the ship on which she was born. The fact that she was born in 1950 made me think this ship had something to do with the independence of Indonesia and the sudden/forced return of many Dutch nationals living in what was shortly before a Dutch colony. So I decided to look into this matter to find out what happened.

Obit of Ranchita born on the SS Ranchi

Like several other European countries, the Netherlands also had colonies in both the Americas and the Far East. By far the largest one was present-day Indonesia, or the Dutch East Indies as it was known before its independence. Until that happened in the second half of the 1940s, the East Indies (partly) had been Dutch "property" ever since the 16th century. Depending on whom you ask, the change of government took place either in 1945 or 1949. The Indonesian and Dutch governments differ on this subject. In any case, the political change led to widespread violence. Between 1945 and 1955, over 300,000 people had to leave the country, most of them in a hurry, and many to a country they had never visited before: the Netherlands. Also, the vast majority travelled to Holland by boat. During the decade I mentioned, almost 300 steamers carried all these 'refugees' to Amsterdam and Rotterdam. 1950 was the peak year with 95 departures carrying over 100,000 passengers. The SS Ranchi, chartered by the Dutch government, made two trips from the port of Djakarta: Tandjong Priok. 

Our Ranchita was born on the voyage that departed from Indonesia on August 29, 1950. The passenger manifest, which I found in the Dutch National Archive in The Hague, lists 973 persons. The majority of this trip consisted of local military staff, their wives and children. They never visited Holland before...

The P&O S.S. Ranchi, 16,600 tons gross

The remarkable thing about this trip was that the passenger manifest only showed 936 passengers when the Ranchi departed from Tandjong Priok. So, how about adding the names of 37 passengers to the passenger list? Did the captain discover stowaways? Or did he pick up crew members of a sunken ship? The answer to both questions is negative. The cause of this increased number of passengers was a large number of pregnant wives, 35 to be precise! During the 4-week trip, they all delivered a baby, and two of them appeared to have carried twins! My investigation in the National Archive revealed that all these pregnant women had been grouped together on purpose. And that the ship's medical facilities had been adapted accordingly. So for many families, this was a happy trip. Obviously, the captain was well aware of all these new passengers. At the end of the voyage, he informed all on board as follows.

“I trust that all passengers, especially the little Ranchis and Ranchitas will remember this voyage to Amsterdam with pleasant recollection. I noticed since Aden, the local storks have been very interested in this ship. I have personally seen dozens, which probably accounts for the additions to our passenger list.”

The captain mentioned 'little Ranchis and Ranchitas'. In fact, 13 babies were (also) named after their place of birth. Nine times Ranchi, twice a Ranchita, a single Ranchis and another Ranchia. So that is how Esther Henriëtte got her third name, Ranchita.

Esther Henriëtte Ranchita Sprangers
when she was young

Based on the Ranchi archive, I could identify the 70 parents of the 37 newborns. There was also a list with the date and time of birth. This information, combined with the known cruising speed and the route of the Ranchi, allowed pinpointing the approximate place where each baby was born. The result is drawn on the map below.

The Ranchi route from Indonesia to Amsterdam with the
marks of the birthplaces of the 37 babies

It was 2015 when I looked into this Ranchi trip. A few years later, I was contacted by a pressman who also ran into this Ranchi matter. I was able to supply him with a lot of information, which you may read in my 2015 blog. Together with a small museum in Amsterdam (near the Ranchi port of arrival), the idea was developed to organise a get-together for the 37 grown-ups to celebrate their 70th birthday in 2020. During that occasion, I had the opportunity to meet a number of them, which was very special!

I trust you will agree with me that 37 babies, all born between departure and arrival, can certainly be regarded as 'something in the way'. And in case you disagree, there is the Sepia Saturday site with more interpretations of this week's slogan.

Sepia Saturday 798 - Travelling cheap

Being a retired (cargo) airline man, images of aircraft usually have my attention. In my previous SS post, I was faced with the unfortunate circumstance that the float plane my wife and I flew on crashed in the Canadian Chukuni River almost 25 years later. As you might expect, I also took a quick look at the aircraft in this week's picture.

Looking at the G-AJUM, true aircraft lovers will no doubt see that this is an Auster J/1N Autocrat, the English successor of the American Taylorcraft. This single-engine aircraft was built in 1947. It must be a coincidence that this aircraft as well terminated its life violently. The plane crashed near Yeovil, Somerset, in the UK. The date was October 6, 1958; unfortunately, the two people on board did not survive.

The remains of the Auster on October 6, 1958, 1)

All this talk about plane crashes may leave the impression that air transport is a dangerous pastime. But believe me, I could fill more blogs with car incidents! However, describing the joys of travel by air, I would like to provide you with a few examples of some budget possibilities. Obviously, low cost goes together with limited travel arrangements. In this case, space for luggage is smaller than you might hope for.

A couple of days ago, one of our Dutch public radio stations published the news item mentioned below. It was the follow-up to an earlier message.

The translation is:

The body found in Abbenes field turns out to be male. 

How he ended up there remains unclear.

The body found on Thursday in a field in Abbenes is that of a man. 

Police confirmed this to regional broadcaster NH. 

Criminal foul play is ruled out.

An investigation is ongoing to determine whether the man was a stowaway 

who fell from the landing gear of an airplane. 

Abbenes is located on an approach path to Schiphol Airport.

The body was found by a farmer who was plowing his field.

Multiple scenarios

Immediately after the discovery, police reported that the body was 

in poor condition and that identification would take time. 

For example, fingerprints were missing.

How and when the man ended up in the field remains unclear.

The news item suggests that the body possibly fell in this field from the landing gear space of an incoming aircraft. Although my desire to travel increases at times, never, and I said never, would I consider travelling in a landing gear bay! To give you an impression of what that looks like, the photo below may be of help.

Boeing 747 landing gear with open gear space, 2)

As can be seen, there is a total of four of these gears on a B-747 3). During the flight, they disappear in the space overhead. Desperate people sometimes hide there, hoping to reach their desired destination. As you can imagine, there is very little space left in those gearboxes. And temperatures go as low as minus 60 degrees centigrade! However, for some people, this seems to be the only possibility to reach a better future.

In case you have never heard of this travel method, my son, using AI, gathered a couple of examples.

The Man Who Fell Into a London Garden (2019)

On a sunny afternoon in June 2019, a man was relaxing in his garden in Clapham, South London. He was lying on a deckchair, drink in hand — when, out of nowhere, a body plummeted from the sky, hitting the ground with a deafening thud and leaving a crater in the grass.

Police later confirmed that the man had hidden in the landing gear of a Kenya Airways Boeing 787 flying from Nairobi, an eight-hour journey through air temperatures of -50 °C and almost no oxygen. He must have been dead for hours before the landing gear doors opened.

The homeowner was physically unharmed but deeply shaken. “He fell literally a meter away from me,” he said. “If he’d landed just a little differently, I wouldn’t be here.”

The Fall Over Brussels (2015)

In July 2015, Brussels awoke to grim news. A young man — believed to be from Africa — had hidden in the landing gear of a flight from Kinshasa. During the approach to Zaventem Airport, the landing gear opened over the suburb of Wemmel, and his body fell into a garden below.

Belgian police were never able to identify him. He carried no documents, no ID — only the traces of a desperate attempt to reach a better life.

The Boy Who Survived (2014)

Amid the many tragedies, one story stands out as a miracle.

In April 2014, a 15-year-old boy from California hid in the landing gear of a Hawaiian Airlines Boeing 767 bound for Maui. The flight lasted more than five hours over the Pacific. When the plane landed, ground staff found the boy unconscious, hypothermic — but alive.

Doctors were astonished. He had survived temperatures near -60 °C and a near-total lack of oxygen. He later said he fainted shortly after takeoff and woke up only when the plane landed. His survival odds were estimated at less than one in a thousand — a story that made headlines around the world.

Los Angeles (1996)

A Nigerian man tried to reach the U.S. by stowing away in the landing gear of a DC-10. As the plane approached Los Angeles International Airport, the gear opened — and he fell. His body landed in a supermarket parking lot, in broad daylight.

Why It’s So Deadly

The landing gear bay may look large enough to crawl into, but it’s designed for machinery, not people. There’s no heat, no oxygen, and almost no room to move. At cruising altitudes of 10–12 kilometers, temperatures drop to -60 °C, and air pressure becomes so low that consciousness fades within minutes.

Even if someone manages to survive that, the landing gear doors open again during landing — and the stowaway simply falls out.

Since the 1940s, more than 120 such attempts have been documented worldwide. Fewer than 25 people have survived, most suffering severe frostbite or injuries.

These are the exciting AI travel opportunities. Although the 100% fare discount may be seducing, it does not excite my travel genes. But if you take a look at the Sepia Saturday contributions written by my literary colleagues, all of a sudden, you may want to visit your travel agent.

Notes

1) Source: https://airport-data.com/aircraft/photo/000584542.html
2) Source: https://www.instagram.com/p/CMgn6Fsg98R/

3) The take-off weight of a Boeing 747 is between 350 and 400 metric tons.

Sepia Saturday 790 - 1000 Island Air

This week's prompt shows Gladys & Charlie (?) taking a rest during a (dusty?) motorcycle trip. Somehow, the picture reminds me of Bonny & Clyde. But that may be my unbridled imagination. Apart from the people, the other element in this picture is 'transport' (or 'transportation' if you like). As a former airline employee, transportation played a significant role in my life, particularly since my activities primarily involved the forwarding of cargo. However, during many (mostly service) trips, I acted as a passenger as well. I flew on many different aircraft types, the oldest being the Lockheed Electra II (KLM), the Caravelle (AF), and the Vickers Vanguard (AC). Altogether, I spent close to 500,000 miles in the air. Some of these aircraft trigger special memories. One of those is the de Havilland Canada DHC-2 Beaver. What makes this aircraft special is that it is a float plane.

Two of our friends/colleagues were living in Belleville, ON, Canada. And in the fall of 2000, they invited us to visit them in Canada. So early October, my wife and I flew (on jump seats!) to Toronto and from there by car to Belleville, some 200 kilometres to the east. One of the (many) things they organised for us was a sightseeing flight over the St Lawrence and its many islands. It was going to be our first trip on a float plane, and I was looking forward to the experience! So we drove to Gananoque to meet with one Mr. Thomas Blackwell, President & CEO of 1000 Island Air. A little later, he also appeared to be the ticket clerk, the pilot, and the janitor of the airline.

Home base of 1000 Island Air

F.r.t.l. our friends the Haitsma's and we, before embarking
the DHC-2 Beaver with registration C-GBZH

Another 1000 Island Air Beaver (C-GEDL) is taking off

The 1000 Island Air Met-office
Weather conditions on Oct. 5, 2000

It was reassuring that our pilot added that the air was mostly smooth. And indeed, we hardly experienced any air pockets. The flight was very nice, and we had some beautiful views of the many islands, including splendid mansions built there. We also saw a couple of bridges. They served very well to identify afterwards where we had been.

The Canadian Thousand Islands Bridge - ON-137

The Thousand Islands Bridge on the US side - I-81

All in all, it was a very pleasant flight. In particular, taking off is quite an experience. I am used to take-offs from smooth, concrete surfaces, usually with speeds of close to 300 kilometres/hour. However, a float plane such as this one takes ages, it seems, before being airborne. And that is because the "ground speed" is far less than half that of conventional aircraft. Additionally, the surface is not as smooth as on a concrete runway.

After having made several other trips, a.o. to Algonquin Park, we returned to Amsterdam on October 8. The KLM B747-300 delivered us safe and sound at Schiphol Airport.

The end

Although I intended this post to end here, I was curious whether 1000 Island Air still existed. But the company seems to have disappeared, in thin air, so to speak. However, I did find something else, viz. the demise of my favorite aircraft. It appears that the de Havilland C-GBZH, the very same one we flew on, crashed in June last year.

The C-GBZH literally in Red Lake, ON, Canada, on June 16, 2024*

The crash report** reads:

"A float-equipped DHC-2 aircraft operated by Canadian Fly-in Fishing (Red Lake) Ltd. was departing the Chukuni River, ON, on a VFR flight to Thicketwood Lake, ON, with the pilot and four passengers.
The aircraft accelerated and lifted off as planned about halfway down the waterway (approximately 2500 feet downriver). As the aircraft gained airspeed to 80 mph, the pilot initiated a climb.
Once the climb was established at approximately 100 feet above water, the pilot reduced the engine power to 30 inches of manifold pressure at 2000 rpm. Along with this power change, the wing flaps were raised from the TAKEOFF position to the CLIMB position.
Shortly thereafter, the pilot noticed the aircraft descending, accompanied by a decrease in airspeed to 60 mph. The pilot pushed forward on the control wheel and simultaneously added full power in an attempt to regain airspeed.
The aircraft’s airspeed did not increase, and the pilot made a turn to the right, into the wind. At a height of approximately 80 feet above the water, the aircraft entered an aerodynamic stall, with a roll to the right. Aircraft control was lost and, at 0655, the aircraft collided with the shoreline in a nose-down, banked attitude. The aircraft came to rest on its left side, partially submerged in approximately 1.5 m of water, 5000 feet from the start of the take-off run."

At the time of the crash, there were five people on board, including the pilot. Unfortunately, one passenger did not survive the crash. 

The aircraft was built in 1963 and accumulated a total of 13,590.4 hours. Although the aircraft may seem old (61 years), it was properly maintained. Its age did not contribute to the cause of this crash. However, the maximum gross take-off weight was likely exceeded due to one passenger being significantly heavier than the average weight of the group to be carried that morning in June 2024. The group counted eight persons divided over two aircraft, with the overweight passenger being seated in the crashed aircraft. The loadsheet was calculated based on the average passenger weight...

Statisticians here say: the road to hell is paved with averages. And statisticians are always right, they say.

For more crashed memories, please visit my Sepia Saturday colleagues.

* Photo credit: NWOnewswatch.com

** Transportation Safety Board of Canada, Air Transportation Safety Investigation Report A24C0057 (released 05 June 2025). 

Sepia Saturday 782 - A street in IJmuiden

 

Just recently, I was reading a Dutch book about certain WW2 events. I am not going to discuss the book here, but the cover photo did attract my attention. It shows an almost deserted street, a couple of people, a lot of emptiness, snow, and two parked cars. In most books, there is some explanation about the cover photo on the inside. But not in this case. 

For one reason or another, the image intrigued me; it made a desolate impression. So I decided to try and find out more about it. It may be a coincidence, but in my view, there is a perfect match with this week's prompt: buildings, people, a street, and a couple of cars. But now, the cover photo.

Front cover 'The Velser Affair'

The title of the book refers to the name of a town/municipality in the province of North Holland. It is situated on the Dutch west coast, adjacent to the North Sea. So it will not be a wild guess to suspect that the photo was taken there. Let me first describe the things I see in this picture. But before I do that, the picture does not consist of the front only. It extends to both the spine and the back cover of the book.

The complete picture

A close look reveals details such as the words 'hotel restaurant' on the building to the left (near the A of Affaire) and 'pension' (boarding house) on the back cover, two cars of pre WW2 design, seemingly disappeared buildings on the left side of the street and there seems to be snow on the street and partially also on the sidewalk. The facade on the right, just below the eaves, has been decorated with a capital W. A magnifier reveals the registration on the licence plate: G-70647. It also looks like there are heaps of snow against the building at the end of the street (red arrow).

A closer look at the license plate and snow

Armed with this knowledge, I leafed through address books issued in the 20s and 30s of the previous century, looking for hotels in Velsen. I found most in IJmuiden, part of the municipality of Velsen. The site of the local historical society shows a number of old picture postcards. One of these cards portrays recognizable buildings.

Hotel Augusta in IJmuiden

Comparing the Augusta hotel building characteristics with the building on the cover, the similarities are evident. Also, W's on the opposite building are clearly visible. As can be seen on Google Street View, the building is still there.

Neptunusstraat corner Oranjestraat ex Google Street View

If you again compare the building characteristics, there can be no doubt, it is the hotel Augusta. The next question, of course, is, where does the cover photo come from? After consulting a number of image banks, that riddle is also solved. The regional archive of North Holland has the original in its collection.

The uncropped cover photo of the Oranjestraat (Orangestreet)

Usually, photographers do not permit their work to be modified. And that includes cropping. But according to the regional archive, the photographer is unknown 1). Therefore, the publisher apparently felt free to remove parts of the picture, both left and right. 

The archive dates this picture to be taken in 1945. And that is very well possible because the further side streets of the Oranjestraat, such as the Prins Hendrik- and the Kanaalstraat, have disappeared. Insofar as they were not sacrificed to create a field of fire for the German coastal defenses (Atlantic Wall), the houses in those streets were destroyed as a result of two Allied bombardments on March 26 and August 24, 1944. With so many German defenses, 'Fortress IJmuiden' was a popular target for the RAF. 

RAF aerial photo of IJmuiden, March 18, 1945 2)

The Oranjestraat area is in the red rectangle. The lighter area is where the bombarded houses were.

Assuming that indeed there is snow visible on the cover photo, the dating estimate can be more accurate. During the winter of 1945/46, there was hardly any snow in this part of the country. But a winter earlier, there was severe frost and serious snowfall in January 1945 (the Hunger Winter). In many places, it snowed for a long time; there is talk of 14 days with 40 cm of snow. If that is true for IJmuiden, then this photo must have been taken at the end of January, beginning of February 1945. And there is another reason why this picture may have been taken by the end of January.

As I mentioned earlier, the license plate of one of the cars can be deciphered. It is G-70647. The G indicates that the owner lives in North Holland. If this photo was indeed taken in early 1945, you can't help but wonder who would still be allowed to drive around in a car. It must be some notable. Fortunately, the regional archive has preserved the 'registers of registration certificates of motor vehicles'. And there we find the owner of this plate.

Jan Hendrik Emck, owner of the license plate G-70647

The registration is dated February 27, 1930. In those days, the plate number did not belong to a car but to an owner instead. So we can be certain that the car in the cover photo belongs to Mr. Emck. The address books mentioned earlier also reveal that Mr. Emck holds a high position in the provincial (state) electricity company. So he was important to the German occupation authorities. It is likely that, because of his position, he was allowed to drive a car.

Looking up the personal details of Jan Hendrik Emck, it appears that he was born on January 28, 1889. He passed away on November 5, 1945. So he died well before any snowfall, if any, during the winter of 1945/46. This fact also points to a possible date of the cover photo in January 1945. Fantasizing a little, we see Mr. Emck walking towards his car, returning from his birthday celebration in the hotel on January 28. Obviously, I don't know whether that holds true, but it certainly is a possibility!

The only thing left I am curious about is the make of the car. I am not a connoisseur, but also in this field there are specialists. They put my question on their site, and one of their members came up with the answer: it is a Ford Model 40, 1934. Personally, I think it is a beautiful design!

Ford Model 40, 1934 3)

Well, there may be more to tell about the cover photo - and there is! - but I challenge you to look for other discoveries on the site of Sepia Saturday first!

Notes

1) Source: Beeldbank Noord-Hollands Archief, 1098 - Beeldcollectie gemeente Velsen, inv.nr. 6687

2) Source: Een blik op bezet Nederland, luchtfoto's van de geallieerden, by G. Staal and R.P.G.A. Voskuil, blz. 22

3) Source: https://www.prewarcar.nl/552299-1934-ford-v8-model-40

Sepia Saturday 781 - Dating a photo

Harry Elk looks a bit sad or bored, but he is sitting at ease, as are the two people in the photo below. It is almost as if they are on display. But if you realize the length of shutter speeds in those days, people probably had to sit still for a considerable number of seconds. Shutter speeds of even 1/25th second were unheard of.

The two people with almost expressionless faces are two of my wife's ancestors. They are her paternal great-great-grandparents. Her name is Annechien Schroeder. She was born in Muntendam on August 25, 1839. Muntendam is situated in the Dutch northern province of Groningen. Today, Groningen is known -infamous is a better word- for the many relatively mild earthquakes caused by natural gas exploration.                                                                                                                       Her husband, Homme Venema, was born in Zuidlaren on September 21, 1838. Although it is in a different province (Drenthe), it is only miles away from Muntendam. They got married in nearby Veendam on December 28, 1861.

Annechien Schroeder and Homme Venema

The couple had nine children, of whom, surprisingly for those days, only two died before reaching the age of 5. Possibly, they inherited strong genes from their parents. Annechien reached the age of 80, and Homme, a proper Groningen name, surpassed her by two years.

I always find it rather difficult to estimate people's ages from these old photographs. But fortunately, two things may give a clue as to when this picture was made. The first time indicator is the dimensions of this so-called cabinet image. It measures 10.7 x 16.5 cms, which, according to an expert in these matters, Belgian Peter Eyckerman, is significant for the period between 1866 and 1914. Then, there is the name of the photographer at the bottom right-hand corner.

G. Folkerts Stadskanaal

In the Netherlands, we are blessed with the availability of a reference book showing most photographers born here in the 19th century.  Also, our Geert Folkerts is mentioned. He was born on August 11, 1875, and had a studio in Stadskanaal between 1900 and the day he died on July 4, 1916. So it is safe to say that Homme and Annechien went to the studio sometime during the 1900-1914 period. And that puts their age in the 61-75 years bracket.

We'll probably never know why they had their picture taken, but it could very well be because of a special occasion, such as the celebration of their 40-year marriage in 1901. A newspaper ad shows the married couple's gratitude for the interest shown by their community.

Source: Nieuwe Veendammer Courant, Dec. 28, 1901

We would like to express our sincere thanks 

for the many expressions of interest 

on the occasion of the 40th anniversary of our marriage.

Although I know very little about this couple's life, I know Homme was a farmhand. Certainly, in those days and in that part of the country, that was almost a guarantee for a poor life. The photograph radiates the life they led; there are no symbols of any wealth or social status.

Two years before their marriage, Homme was involved in a quarrel. He stabbed farmhand Hendrik van Dalen on the property of landowner Harmannus Bulle. He was prosecuted for his behaviour, and the verdict briefly summarizes the hearing.

"Considering that from the investigation at the court session of 16 November 1859, under the summons, it has been legally and convincingly established that the defendant, on Thursday 20 October 1859, on a field belonging to H. Bulle at Zuidlaarderveen, deliberately and violently assaulted Hendrik van Dalen, struck him, and wounded him with a knife."

"The deputy public prosecutor demands a custodial prison sentence of six months, a fine of 8 guilders, and the costs of the proceedings, recoverable using coercive detention."

"Administering justice in the name of the King,
the court sentences Homme Venema to a prison term of six weeks in a house of correction, to be served in solitary confinement, a monetary fine of eight guilders, and to pay the legal costs, assessed at the sum of ten guilders and 80.5 cents, with both the fine and costs, if necessary, to be recovered by coercive detention."

The sentence was published in a local newspaper.

Source: Provinciale Drentsche en Asser Courant, Nov. 24, 1859

To put the 8 guilder fine in perspective, a labourer's wages varied by the season. In summer, they made something like a guilder a day; during wintertime, it was less: approximately 60 guilder cents. So the fine amounted to over a week's income (in summer)! And obviously, there was no income while in prison for 6 weeks. At the time, Homme fortunately was still a bachelor.

The other thing that struck me was the difference between the prosecutor's demand - 6 months in prison - and the final verdict, 6 weeks. The documentation does not reveal why this is.

All in all, I feel we are lucky to know what our ancestors, born in the first half of the 19th century, looked like. For more discoveries, please see the Sepia Saturday site.

Sepia Saturday 777 - The radio

 

A little over 10 years ago, I wrote a blog so appropriate to this week's prompt that I cannot resist referring to that post again. Please click the link below to discover the truth about the birth of the BBC ;-) https://patmcast.blogspot.com/2014/11/why-bbc-came-into-being.html.

For more revelations, please see the Sepia Saturday site.

Sepia Saturday 771 - Cameras

The prompt of this week reminded me of my early photographic equipment. I remember a simple mirror reflex camera and a movie camera to record our kids' first steps. Since I do not remember discarding them, I started a search in several dark places. And yes, finally, I discovered the subjects of my search among the contents of a dusty cardboard box! It almost brought tears to my eyes. I had not seen them for years. These two cameras recorded our early family life. I am talking about the sixties. In those days, slides were popular, possibly because prints were more expensive? But before slides came into fashion, all our prints were in black and white. Developing those was not my cup of tea. I delivered the film to a nearby camera shop, which then forwarded it to a lab. And then, after waiting a week or so, the prints were ready to be picked up. Finally, you could see the result of your creativity. 

Exa IIb

Apart from an Agfa Clack (or was it the Agfa Box?), this Exa II b was my first 'real' camera. It was intended for 35 mm roll film with 24 or 36 exposures. It was manufactured by Ihagee in Dresden, which is situated in the former DDR (East Germany).  The lenses were interchangeable. Mine was a Jena 1:2,8 lens.

Exa II b with 50 mm Jena lens

At the time, this camera was also exported to the USA. Those models were engraved with the text 'Soviet occupied Germany'. Some habits never change...

I forgot what I paid for my Exa camera. But I do remember the price of the movie camera. It was $ 16,99! The camera was a Japanese product by the name of Hymart. I bought it in a small shop on Broadway, N.Y., during my second service trip for KLM to the USA, early October 1969.

Hymart Super 8 movie camera

I remember the main reason I bought this camera was because of the pistol grip. So the design was fine, but I also recollect that at the time, I experienced the purchase of film as rather expensive. 

Inside my Japanese Hymart

If my memory serves me right, a Kodak Super 8 film pack cost about 50% more than a 36-exposure slide film, also Kodak. But seeing the kids moving on a screen was priceless! 

The difference between these two analog cameras and their today's digital counterparts, is enormous! And I am not talking about making calls with your camera. Nobody thinks twice about that. But if you compare the performance of the lenses, especially in circumstances with bad or no light at all, there is a difference of night and day (no pun intended). 

In any case, I am glad I did not discard both oldies. Maybe, one day, my great-grandchildren will find the box with these two cameras and wonder what they are.

For more wonderful finds, please check the Sepia Saturday site.

Sepia Saturday 763 - Military Music

 Although the prompt picture shows a Beatle-like group of boys (in the sixties?), my contribution this week goes back. The album I referred to in my previous post shows photos made during the mobilization in Holland during the 1939/1940 period. The photographer was Karel Morren, my mother's life companion from the sixties. He served in an infantry regiment. His unit was transferred from The Hague to Arkel, a small village in the eastern part of South Holland, one of the twelve Dutch provinces. Karel was a troop sergeant. I doubt whether he was involved in any fights during the early days of the war. Most pictures show him during kitchen-related activities. The image below puts him amidst cooks. Karel is the man with the spectacles in the back row. Judging by the looks on their faces, the war was still far away.

The kitchen staff in The Hague in the 2nd half of 1939

Apparently, the regiment also had musicians in its ranks. They are shown below. I believe they are trumpeters but I am not a connoisseur. So I stand to be corrected (thank you, Mike!).  

A pre-war version of 'Blowing in the wind' maybe?

The sound of trumpets...

A musical welcome upon arrival in Arkel
In the background probably the river Linge

To demonstrate that military life did not consist of eating and playing music only, below the regiment howitzers.

The horse-drawn 10.5 cm/4 inch howitzers

Unfortunately, I don't know the exact unit Karel served in. For that, I have to go to the National Archive in The Hague. There I can have a look at Karels military records. But I suspect he served in the 28th Battalion Veld 6. That unit was part of an infantry regiment. Whether the military orchestra was part of that regiment as well, I don't know either. Whenever I find out, I'll let you know. In the meantime, have a look at the Sepia Saturday site for more musical intermezzos. 

Sepia Saturday 759 - The Minankabau House

Finding a picture of a man in front of a house is a real shoebox challenge, for me at least. But just before reaching the bottom of the box, I ran into a photo showing a childhood memory. When I went to primary school all pupils had their own garden. It was a plot of land measuring approx. 9 x 9 ft. where we grew flowers, potatoes, and vegetables and learned about biology. Very educational! But that was not the main reason why this garden complex was etched in my memory. That was the house that was built there. It was called the Minankabau house. As you can see it does not come close to the traditional Dutch stepped gables. In fact, the house originates in what before WWII was called the Dutch East Indies, today Indonesia. To find the true origin of the house, we have to go to the island of Sumatra. There the Minankabau people originate. Without trying to write an anthropological report, I want to highlight one aspect of the Minankabau society. Whether you like it or not, our culture is based on patriarchal structures. Not so the Minankabau. Land, property, and the family name pass down from mother to daughter. (Matters such as politics are left to men.) So it is not unlikely that the house in the photo below was sold by a Minankabau woman to a Dutch enterprise.

The Minankabau house on the Mient in The Hague
during the winter of 1939/1940

The picture comes from an album owned by A.K.J. (Karel) Morren (1906-1988), the man my mother lived with from 1967 until he passed away. I have no idea who the person with the broom/snow plow is. He or she is standing amidst the school gardens I mentioned earlier. It needs a bit of imagination,  but it can be said that he or she is standing in front of a house thus complying with this week's theme ;-)

The postcard below shows the same complex in 1935 but from the opposite direction. The Minankabau house is on the right.

To give you a better impression of these houses' beauty, below is a fine example situated in the village of Pandai Sikek, West Sumatra, Indonesia.

By Michael J. Lowe, CC BY-SA 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org

Please turn to the Sepia Saturday site for more (unknown) men in front of mysterious houses.

Sepia Saturday 755 - Celebrations

To the best of my knowledge, we don't have any Cinderellas in the family, nor am I aware of any aunts or nieces wearing glass slippers or fancy dresses. So, it is difficult to relate this week's theme to my shoebox full of family pictures.

Still, it is an interesting image. It looks like a photoshopped picture avant la lettre of drawn clothing with real human heads on top. It is supposed to have been printed around 1890 which makes it special.

Now, how do I relate this picture to my shoebox? When I looked closer, I saw that some people displayed a (family?) coat of arms on their clothing.

And that reminded me of the coat of arms belonging to my maternal grandmother's family. Grandma's  last name is Doelman. Today the literal translation of that name is goalkeeper. But the family records go back to the 16th century and in those days the word doelen referred to a shooting range, a place where the local military practised. So it could very well be that Grandma's ancestors were the proprietors of the shooting range. But that is sheer speculation.

Coat of arms Doelman

It is unknown whether the family already had the coat of arms as early as the 16th century. However, elements such as the lion already adorned a Doelman family crest in the late sixteen hundreds.

Coat of arms belonging to Cornelis
Michielsz Doelman approx. 1566

It is a common misunderstanding that having a family crest means that one is of noble descent. In many cases that is correct. But also prominent families high on the social ladder often had one. I assume Grandma's family qualified because they had important positions in the city of Delft. Of one thing I am certain. Although Grandma was fond of fancy dresses, she never wore any glass slippers, not even during the Christmas season.

For more fairy tales please turn to the last Sepia Saturday of the year 2024.