SMART FABRICS

Throughout History and Now

What did ancient people try to accomplish when they deliberately made clothes that contained meaning? For one thing, it must have been to mark or announce information.  Twenty thousand years B.C. a small, plump Venus donned a string skirt to announce her readiness for childbearing and in the mountains of South Central Asia, a Kafir woman wore a distinctive headdress for a few days each month to indicate that she was now a woman.

 Cloth could also be used as a mnemonic device to record events and other data.  Social rank too, has probably always been encoded through symbols in material, design, colour and embellishment of the clothing.  In Ancient Rome the emperor and no other enjoyed the privilege of wearing entirely purple robes.  Hanging up a distinctive textile could be a way of making ordinary space special, even sacred.  In Southern Sumatra a special ritual cloth was placed as a backdrop in important rites of passage ceremonies.  And the vision of Henry VIII and his ‘Field of the Cloth of Gold’ remains a vivid image in the minds of many British schoolchildren cheering at the British King who was grander and more stylish than his French counterpart.

 

Thirdly, fabric design has been used to invoke magic – to protect, to secure fertility and riches, to divine the future, perhaps even to curse. Within that magical world, fertility, prosperity and protection were three of the most common objectives.  Images of snakes, frogs and fish (egg layers all) incorporated into woven cloth were thought to bring wealth and fertility to a household in many parts of Europe.

SLAVIC GODDESS

The Slavic Goddess Berehinia – Protectress of women and their fertility displaying birds in her hands

 But Europe had no monopoly on mystical, protective images on cloth and clothing.  In Egypt, Tutankhamon’s tomb was found to contain a wealth of royal cloth, in particular a richly decorated tunic, with a neckhole forming an ‘ankh’ (or sign of long life) with his name embroidered at the centre of the cross and surrounded by the traditional ‘cartouche’ (a protective oval made by a magic rope), and at the bottom of the tunic panels embroidered with an array of real and mythical beasts (thought to be of Syrian workmanship) are all designed to ease his journey into the afterlife.

 More structural approaches to working magic have been devised with folktales telling of magic girdles where the magic seems to be inherent in the weaving, not merely in special decoration.  One possibility was to weave in the spell as number magic; in the Netherlands experts have unearthed cloth where the weaver has chosen red wool warp threads for her work, twenty four spun one direction, and twenty four spun the other way.  Opposite spins catch the light differently and, when placed next to each other, give a striped effect.  She divided the bunch spun one way into three sets of eight, and the other bunch into four sets of six, and alternated them. It can’t be a coincidence that in Holland, Germany and Denmark those numbers were considered particularly sacred.  The scheme is best known from the runic alphabet, which at first consisted of twenty four letters in three sets of eight, and later of thirty two letters in four sets of eight.  It is assumed that number magic began with the introduction of Mithraism into those countries via the Romans; Mithraic religion from the Near East is just packed full of number magic. 

 The Batak tribes of Sumatra generated woven magic another way; in one area the women wove special magical cloths on circular warps, which were never cut because the continuity of the warp cloth across the gap where the wool had not been woven in, was said to ensure the continuity of life from the mother to the child.  The birth of the child was represented by the beginning of the weft at one side of the uncut fringe; drawing the cloth through the hands of the weaver represented the child growing up, and when the other side of the uncut fringe was reached, it represented the beginning of a new generation whose life would repeat that of the mother, and so on ad infinitum.   Biblical students will remember that Jesus’ garment was removed from his body uncut “in accordance with the scriptures”, a possible reference to this custom?

But these magic numbers, symbols, and methods of weaving depended largely on the wearers and viewers buying into the myth of the magic woven into the cloth which they were conditioned to believe.  It was not until the twenty first century that actual magic became available to inventive weavers worldwide.  Conductive fibre or elements; computer circuitry and electronics; laser optics and speakers would mark the next stage for this fabricated messaging. Value Added Fabric can communicate, transform, conduct energy, grow, medicate, play music or identify friend or foe.  It is used for astronaught suits as it can inflate or deflate, be heated or cooled down, be lit up in dark outer space, and can incorporate infra-red digital displays and alarms.

Smart fabrics are set to transform the fashion industry and allow us to download new styles for our clothes rather than buying new garments.  “Micro-robotics, 3D printing and rapid changes in technology are poised to revolutionise fashion,”  says the designer of Lady Gaga’s bubble-blowing dress ‘Anemone’, and ‘Volantis’ her flying dress powered by twelve electric motor-driven rotors.

lady gaga 2

 Electronic conducting textiles have the ability to make music.  One example is the electric gloves that allow people to interact with their computer remotely via hand gestures, beautiful gloves that help the wearer gesturally interact with their computer and technology allows for a performance without having to interact with or physically touch, keyboards or control panels.

 The new generation of weavers will double as medics, technicians, artists, designers, spacemen, nutritionists, image consultants and, of course, scientists.  What will be next?  How much more inventive we can get?  Maybe they will be able to realise what only those imaginative writers of the TV series Star Trek, way back in the sixties, had thought possible; maybe the next big thing is Transportation Suits where we can wear a piece of clothing that will jumble our atoms and ‘beam us up’ to new and unexplored parts of the universe, or even to different time zones?  But what happens when those suits gets hacked or infected with malicious Ransomware?  Back down to earth or lost in time and space?  

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STRING THEORY

String is thought to be the earliest manufactured thread and has been described as the unseen weapon that allowed the human race to conquer the earth.  String can be used for carrying, holding, tying and trapping, securing and decoration.  Textiles underlie the great prints and canvases of Western Art and form a surface to write upon. Paper nowadays is largely made of wood pulp but is still made in the traditional manner with the fibres from plants in specialist paper mills; these fibres are pulped and bleached, washed and dried and then filtered onto a mesh and compressed onto a fine felt. 

 Sophisticated textile production dates to six thousand years B. C., in southern regions of Europe, and four thousand B.C. Egyptian women were weaving linen on horizontal looms.  Archaeologists have unearthed fabric and rope fragments that date as far back as twelve thousand years in the past, making them the oldest known textiles in South America.  In China, where the spinning wheel is thought to have first turned, sophisticated drawlooms had woven designs that used thousands of different warps.  These prehistoric weavers seem to have produced cloths of extraordinary complexity, woven with ornate designs far in excess of the simple need to cover and protect bodies or to provide warmth and comfort for their dwelling places.

ancient-greek-fabric-attica

The production of ‘homespun’ yarn and cloth was one of the first cottage industries, pin money was women’s earliest source of independent cash and women were selling surplus yarn and cloth, working as small-scale entrepreneurs, long before the emergence of factories or the mechanisms which now define the textile industry.

There were other spin offs from textiles too.  The weaving of complex designs demanded far more than one pair of hands, and textiles production tends to be communal, sociable work allowing plenty of occasion for gossip and chat.  Weaving was already multimedia:  singing, chanting, telling stories, dancing, and playing games whilst they worked; these spinsters, weavers and needlewomen were literally networkers as well, spinning yarns, fabricating fiction and fashioning fashion.  The textures of woven cloth functioned as a means of communication and information storage too, long before anything was written down. 

Weaving is often used to mark or announcer information and a mnemonic device to record events and other data.  Textiles do communicate in terms of the images which appear on the right side of the cloth, but this is only the most superficial sense in which they process and store data.  Because there is no difference between the process of weaving and the woven design.  Cloth persists as records of the process which fed into their production; how many women worked on them, the techniques they used and the skills they employed.  The visible pattern is integral to the process which produced it, the programme and the pattern are continuous. 

lozenge-shaped-blk-wht-fabric

The lozenge motif dates as far back as the Neolithic and Paleolithic period and is tied to human fertility and land. The binary male and female principles serve as the basis for deciphering the meaning of this symbol. It consists of two triangles. But in the pre-Ukrainian period, it was believed that the woman held the three corners of the lozenge (the three corners of the home), while the man held the fourth, which completed the integrity of the family. A lozenge with a dot in the middle symbolizes a sown field, which meant abundance and prosperity.  In addition to simple lozenges, we often see rhombuses with hooks (tiny horns) in Ukrainian embroidery. This design is called “zhaba” (frog) and symbolizes fertility. In ancient beliefs, this little creature was linked to heavenly moisture that gives life.

Lozenge-shaped patterns were embroidered on wedding towels and bridal gowns. Pregnant woman wore shirts covered with diamond patterns until childbirth as this symbol served as a powerful talisman.   

As the frantic activities of generations of spinsters and weaving women make clear, nothing stops when a piece of work has been finished off.  Even when magical connections are not explicitly invoked, the finished cloth – unlike the painting or the text, is almost incidental in relation to the process of its production.  The only incentive to cast off seems to be the chance it provides to start again, throw another shuttle and cast another spell. 

 

 

 

THE COLLECTION

at The Proud Archivist, London, N1

Thursday 21st – Saturday 23rd January 2016

“An immersive exhibition celebrating the lives and loves of some the UK’s greatest collectors.  Showcasing some of the most intriguing and unusual collections from across the nation.”

 We may think that collecting is a wonderfully eccentric British obsession – nearly seventy one percent of Britons say they are collectors – though it is not solely confined to these shores.  This exhibition, however, highlights collecting in a uniquely British historical context where collecting had once been a noble pastime and the practice of adventurers and amateur scholars.  Some of the greatest museums in the world owe their existence to the acquisitive instincts of private collectors from the Ashmolean in Oxford to the Wellcome Collection in Euston, London.  Henry Wellcome, the pharmacist, collected over a million sharp objects that he felt represented the history of medical science and later opened his museum.

 For many people who amass collections, their value is not monetary but emotional.  Collections allow people to relive their childhoods, to connect themselves to a period in their history, or to a time they feel strongly about. Their collections may help them to ease insecurity and anxiety about losing a part of themselves, and to keep the past present.  Some collect for the thrill of the hunt. Collecting is much like a quest, a lifelong pursuit which can never be complete; an itch which can never be eased.  Collecting may provide psychological security by filling a part of the self one feels is missing or is void of meaning. Some people find the act of arranging, organizing and presenting serve to provide a safety zone, a place of refuge where fears are calmed and insecurity is managed. 

 Psychologists have often taken a Freudian perspective when describing why people collect. They highlight the controlling and impulsive side to collecting, the need for people to have ‘an object of desire’ and hence the innate propensity to collect begins at birth, stemming from unresolved toilet training conflict, say the Freudians. They maintain, therefore, that the collector is trying to gain back control of their bowels as well as their ‘possessions’ which have long since been flushed down the loo. 

loads of houses

 Jung had a more reasonable theory about why people become collectors. He touted the influence of archetypes on behaviour, embedded in, what he termed, our collective unconscious. Using this logic, collecting and completing sets have as their archetypal antecedents the collecting of nuts and berries, once needed for survival by our early ancestors.

 At some point in history, obsessive acquisitiveness began to be seen as something suspect, infantile or just plain strange – stamp collecting became the epitome of suburban small-mindedness – and those inchoate accumulations were completed out of sight.  But in the late twentieth century came a second wave of collectors and those supposedly worthless assemblages of ephemera started to make serious money; a piece of chewing gum spat out by Britney Spears at Wembley Arena in 2000 being sold on eBay for $14,000.

Some commerce-motivated collectors hunt for collectables only to turn them into profit soon after – think the TV programme Four Rooms.  However, most autograph seekers are emotionally motivated to collect with, apparently, over ninety percent of autograph collectors having no intention to sell their trophies. Happiness is derived from adding a new find or signature to the collection; the excitement of the hunt, and the social camaraderie when sharing a collection with others.  

A neurologist who studies hoarding behaviour agrees with Jung that the need to collect stems from a basic drive to collect supplies such as food that goes back to our hunter/gatherer ancestors, and that this drive originates in the subcortical and limbic portions of the brain. He has found that many compulsive hoarders had suffered damage to the prefrontal cortex, a region of their brain that regulates cognitive behaviours like decision making, information processing, and organizing behaviour.

So collecting can be many things to many people, different motives are not mutually exclusive and different motives can combine in each collector for a multitude of reasons.  A positive and healing occupation; a way of passing the time; a symptom of brain malfunction.  Someone, one day, will probably make a collection of collectors, keep them in suspended animation and refer to them as curiosities. I’d pay to see that.

JOBS FOR THE GIRLS

The development of computer software is a history strongly represented by women who have played significant rôles in its development. Ada Lovelace is the best known and Grace Hopper is also becoming a legend among the cognoscenti.   Less heralded by history was a group of six women who worked in wartime secrecy at the University of Pennsylvania, where John Mauchly and Presper Eckert led a team that was building ENIAC, the world’s first programmable, all-electronic, general-purpose computer.

 As ENIAC was being constructed at Penn in 1945, it was thought that it would perform a specific set of calculations over and over, such as determining a missile’s trajectory using different variables. But the end of the war meant that the machine was needed for many other types of calculations—sonic waves, weather patterns, and the explosive power of atom bombs—that would require it to be reprogrammed often.

This entailed switching around by hand ENIAC’s rat’s nest of cables and resetting its switches. At first the programming seemed to be a routine, perhaps even menial task, which may have been why it was relegated to women, who back then were not encouraged to become engineers. But what the women of ENIAC soon showed, and the men later came to understand, was that the programming of a computer could be just as significant as the design of its hardware.

The tale of Jean Jennings is illustrative of the early women computer programmers. She was born on a farm on the outskirts of Alanthus Grove, Maryville, into a family that had almost no money but deeply valued education. When Jean finished college in January 1945, her calculus teacher showed her a flier soliciting women mathematicians to work at the University of Pennsylvania, where women were working as “computers”—humans who performed routine maths tasks. 

One of the ads read:

Wanted: Women with Degrees in Mathematics…Women are being offered scientific and engineering jobs where formerly men were preferred. Now is the time to consider your job in science and engineering…You will find that the slogan there as elsewhere is ‘Women Wanted’.

 When Jennings started work at Penn in March 1945 there were approximately seventy other women at Pennsylvania working on desktop adding machines and scribbling numbers on huge sheets of paper.  A few months after she arrived, a memo was circulated among the women advertising six job openings to work on the mysterious machine that was behind locked doors on the first floor of Penn’s Moore School of Engineering, the ENIAC. She had no idea what the job was or what the ENIAC was, all she hoped was that she might be getting in on the ground floor of something new.  She believed in herself and wanted to do something more exciting than calculating trajectories.

When Jean Jennings got that job she was set to work together with Marlyn Wescoff, Ruth Lichterman, Betty Snyder, Frances Bilas, and Kay McNulty to figure out how the machine worked and then how to programme it.   They made careful diagrams and charts for each new configuration of cables and switches. What they were doing then was the beginning of a programme, though they did not yet have that word for it.

Around the same time that Grace Hopper was doing so at Harvard, the women of ENIAC were developing the use of subroutines. Because it was being used for atom bomb calculations and other classified tasks, ENIAC was kept secret until February 1946, when the Army and Penn scheduled a gala unveiling for the public and the press.  At the demonstration, ENIAC was able to spew out in 15 seconds a set of missile trajectory calculations that would have taken human computers several weeks. The women had programmed the ENIAC.  The unveiling of ENIAC made the front page of the New York Times under the headline ELECTRONIC COMPUTER FLASHES ANSWERS, MAY SPEED ENGINEERING.

Later Jennings complained, in the tradition of Ada Lovelace, that many of the newspaper reports overstated what ENIAC could do by calling it a giant brain and implying that it could think. The ENIAC wasn’t a brain in any sense, it couldn’t reason, as computers still cannot reason, but it could give people more data to use in reasoning.

That night there was a candlelit dinner at Pennsylvania’s venerable Houston Hall. It was filled with scientific luminaries, military brass, and most of the men who had worked on ENIAC. But Jean Jennings and Betty Snyder  were not there, nor were any of the other women programmers.

Shortly before she died in 2011, Jean Jennings reflected proudly on the fact that all the programmers who created the first general-purpose computer were women. It happened because a lot of women back then had studied maths, and their skills were in demand, she explained. There was also an irony involved, the boys with their toys thought that assembling the hardware was the most important task, and thus a man’s job. If the ENIAC’s administrators had known how crucial programming would be to the functioning of the electronic computer and how complex it would prove to be, they might have been more hesitant about giving such an important role to women.

PALACES OF PEACE – Crystal Palace 1851 and World Trade Centre 1973 – How History Repeats Itself

                                                           Crystal Palace ironwork b&w 2

                                                                                 Crystal Palace 1851

 The twins were unusually animated on that bright spring morning

“Shall I see the Queen?” asked Samantha.

“Shall I see the Queen’s husband?” said Charles, not to be outdone.

“For goodness sake, stop hopping about or you’ll see nothing”, said Nanny.

“Shall I see the Queen?” Samantha repeated.

“Shall I see the Queen’s husband?” They went on and on.

“Shall I see the Crystal Palace?  Shall I see peace on earth?”

“I heard Papa say that the Exhibition meant peace on earth and goodwill to men”, piped in Charles.

“That’s as may be but there’ll be no goodwill towards me, or you, if your Papa is kept waiting in his carriage. 

 At last everyone was ready and they set off, Papa busily telling them that it was the Queen’s husband, Prince Albert’s idea to invite all the nations of the earth to London, and how this Great Exhibition would put an end to wars and conflict between countries through trade, and how Britain would spread peace throughout the world.  But the twins paid more attention to the great crowds that lined the roads cheering.  Over the top of thousands of people you could just see the Crystal Palace rising up, which after early showers reflected the May sun off the still-wet glass surfaces and made them sparkle.  It all looked unusually light and airy compared to the buildings they passed on their way, almost like it was floating over that part of South London.

 Once they got closer the children could see what looked like a great glass and iron, tiered wedding cake standing in a large green field.  Inside the building there were banks and beds of flowers in a rainbow of the loveliest colours, and there were tiers and banks of people whose clothes were of lovely colours too, so that everywhere was colour, on the ground and in delicate galleries.  And there were palm trees, and an organ sending a wandering thread of music through everything, and in the centre there was a platform carpeted in red with a huge sapphire blue canopy above what Papa said was the dais.     

Great elm trees grew behind it, indoors, and in front of it stood an intricate eight foot tall crystal fountain.  Twittering sparrows darted about the elms, Charles lifted his head and watched the fluffy white clouds drifting slowly over a blue, blue sky – they were moving and changing shape, and creating the impression that it was the Crystal Palace that was moving and the clouds that were staying still.  Looking up for a long time he was enjoying the sensation that the clouds were swirling around inside the vast curved dome that covered the palace.

“Don’t keep craning your neck up Charles.  Don’t slouch Samantha.  And do not chatter.”  Words which soon broke the spell and brought them down out of their own land of day-dreams.     

 Suddenly trumpets sounded, everyone stood up and the organ started to play ‘God Save the Queen’, and a choir sang the words.  It sounded small and lost because the palace was so big, but as soon as it was over there was noise enough because everybody began to cheer and to wave handkerchiefs and papers.  Then, at last, they could see Queen Victoria.  She was dressed in pink and silver and she was walking with her husband, Prince Albert.  She held a little boy by the hand – a little boy dressed like a Scottish Highlander – and the Prince held a little girl’s hand.  They all went up onto the platform which Papa called the dais, and there they stood for a while, all four of them, with the people cheering enthusiastically and the fountain leaping in front of them, and the elm trees behind them where the sparrows were hiding.

Queen Vic in pink

 Prince Albert made a speech and then presented a copy of the illustrated catalogue of items in the exhibition to his wife.  The Queen, Prince Albert and their group then went round the whole building looking at the huge variety of exhibits before returning to the dais and officially announcing the exhibition open to the public.                                   

 Then it was time to go home.  As they left they could see vast numbers of people still queuing outside the building – they were told that these people would have to wait four hours before getting inside.  Samantha and Charles now felt very tired and they were only half aware of their father talking as they dozed in the carriage on the way back home. 

 “A splendid occasion.”  He was saying.  “The world has never seen the like.  Nine hundred thousand square feet of glass.  The Prince is justified if ever a man was.”

“But there were no black men, no brown men, no yellow men, no red men”, whined Charles.

“My dear boy”, said Papa, “you weren’t expecting that were you?”

“I was expecting to see all the nations of the earth in peace and goodwill.”

“Well, so far as I’m concerned, the fewer foreigners we see over here the better.  The best guarantee of peace on earth is British trade.  The Great Exhibition will promote British industry and innovation.  Glory to God in the highest and on earth room for the expansion of the steam engine and of British exports in general.” 

 His conclusion upset the children who believed all the words that had been spoken about peace and goodwill.  They started to cry but the effort was too great and they soon fell asleep.  A strange disappointment filled them as they lay in their beds that night.  Later Charles would wake up from a troubled sleep in panic; he had dreamed that he could see again that great glass and metal confection melting like ice cream, whilst firemen rushed around with hoses.  He awoke Samantha, for whom else would he turn to in the dark of the night?  They huddled together in her bed trying to dispel their fears.  As they lay there they weren’t to know that within two years Britain would be at war with Russia in the Crimea.  In six years there would be a civilian rebellion in India which had to be quashed, and in nine years Britain’s industry and innovation had turned to the building of iron warships.  In just fifty years a bitter struggle with the Dutch in Africa would start the Boer war and a conflict in that continent that would run and run.  They were not to know either that eventually their beautiful Crystal Palace would be destroyed by fire.

                                                              WTC

                                                                       World Trade Centre 1973

 One bright spring afternoon as the twins, Sam and Charlie, settled down in front of the telly to watch something that was making their father very excited.  It was a documentary programme – something they would usually avoid like the plague.  But this was a documentary devoted to a new building in New York City in the United States of America.  The commentator was rambling on about the World Trade Centre bringing together businesses and government agencies involved in foreign trade.  That it was a ‘one-stop trade information hub’ where ‘an international business person would be offered the full range of services such as market research, trade shows, exhibition space, business services, trade education, group trade missions’…………….. Blah. Blah. Blah, thought the twins.

 The commentator went on eagerly quoting figures.  Charles was bored and took no notice but he liked the pictures of spandrel plates welded to the columns in the fabrication shop; he was fascinated by immigrant navvies digging out the Tower’s supports with shovels and hands deep down in New York mud; he was spell-bound by other workmen balancing high up in the air like acrobats amid steel-plate girders.

Samantha was impressed by the size of the thing, one hundred and ten stories, one thousand, three hundred and fifty three feel tall, occupied by fifty thousand people.  Even more interesting to both of them was that these buildings would be called the ‘Twin Towers’, surely that meant that it all had something to do with them?

These twin towers were part of a complex of seven building in Lower Manhattan, the interviewer explained, and had been designed by the architect Minoru Yamasaki.  “You must be very proud of your design, Mr. Yamasaki?” he asked.

“Yes, yes, I am.  But what I am mostly pleased with is that these buildings are a physical expression of the universal effort of men to seek and achieve world peace.”

“Why do you say that, Mr. Yamasaki?”

“Well now,” he replied, “this building will be a monument to world peace, because I believe that world trade means world peace.”

“In what way would you hope that this building will be regarded in the future?” asked the interviewer.

“It is my sincere wish that in some way this building will point to all the best aspirations of man to live in peace together.” Minoru Yamasaki answered.

Over the top of thousands of people you could see the first of the two towers rising up, which, after early morning showers, reflected the Spring sunshine off the still-wet glass surfaces, making them sparkle.  The columns, finished with a silver-coloured aluminium alloy made the towers appear from afar to have no windows at all.  It was a structure that filled your vision then got smaller as you looked upwards; it was unusually light and airy and it seemed to be enveloped by and absorbed into the fluffy white clouds which drifted slowly by in the blue, blue sky.

Building the WTC

 The camera zoomed in to show tiers and banks of people; firemen with their oddly shaped helmets and dark clothing contrasted with the soldiers and sailors who stood erect in their blue, black, khaki and white uniforms; and generals with their medals glinting in the sun and ladies in their fine clothes.  So that everywhere was colour, on the ground and in the banked tiers of the audience; and there was a brass band sending a thread of music through the whole congregation.  In the centre of all this there was a platform carpeted in red, that the excited commentator said was called a dais.

Suddenly trumpets sounded, everyone stood up and the band started to play stirring music and then a choir sang an anthem called the Star Spangled Banner.  As it played all the navvies and firemen removed their hard hats, engineers, designers, architects and invited dignitaries put their hands on their hearts and joined in.  All was quiet for a short moment, then there was noise enough as everybody began to cheer and to wave handkerchiefs and papers.

A great cheer went round the enclosed space and a dark-haired man, who Samantha thought looked a bit like the proboscis monkeys they had seen in the Popeye cartoons, and his mousy wife went up onto the platform which was called the dais, and President Nixon – for that is who it was – stood as the people cheered like mad and waved their handkerchiefs and little flags that had stars and stripes on them.  Suddenly it grew silent and he started to speak into a bank of microphones.

“On this day the fourth of April nineteen seventy three, we are joined together to celebrate the New York Port Authority whose vision it was to erect this building. 

We celebrate human innovation….  And we celebrate this great country of ours that is leading the way in technology, manufacture and farming……

I am proud to cut this ribbon and to commend and praise the building and the ideas behind it.  The World Trade Centre is a living symbol of man’s dedication to world peace …. A representation of man’s belief in humanity, his need for individual dignity, his belief in the co-operation of men and, through that, his ability to find greatness.”

Everyone was clapping, smiling and whooping while thousands and thousands of small pieces of paper – which the commentator called ‘ticker tape’, filled the air.  It was a very pretty sight.  The brass band started to play a march and everyone watched as the monkey and his mouse got into their limousine and left that place.                              

Then a sudden coldness made Samantha shiver and a cold shudder ran down her back.  “What’s wrong Sam? Asked dad as the programme ended with a view from high over the top of the crowds showing all the people slowly leaving.  “A splendid occasion.” Dad continued.  “The world has never seen the like.  Minoru Yamasaki is justified if ever a man was.  Amazing for a foreigner!  But then he was educated in America.  Now the best guarantee of peace on earth is trade, and with the prospect of limitless oil to lubricate the wheels of trade nothing can stop us.  Let ‘em try.”

Oh what a strange sense of foreboding filled the children as they went upstairs to bed that night.  Later Sam would wake up from a troubled sleep in a panic.  She had dreamt that she could see that great, sharp-edged glass and steel edifice blurring and melting like an ice cream as people ran away from it in terror.  Her moaning awoke Charlie and they huddled together in bed trying to dispel their fears.  Hadn’t this all happened before?  Didn’t it all end badly?