Fury as Queensland MP Dean Wells gets man off traffic charges

This sounds like a handy lawyer to know

A state Labor parliamentarian moonlighting as a barrister has angered police prosecutors by helping a constituent beat multiple traffic charges. Former attorney-general Dean Wells, now the Member for Murrumba, appeared in the Redcliffe Magistrate's Court on Tuesday to defend a 21-year-old constituent.

Nathan Kirby pleaded guilty to driving on a suspended licence but was "absolutely discharged" by Magistrate Alan Taylor after Mr Wells argued police should not have pursued such a "trivial matter".

The magistrate's ruling and Mr Wells' comments that the police prosecution of the matter amounted to an "abuse of process" have enraged police. Officers questioned why a member of government would want a repeat traffic offender to remain on the roads and avoid paying his fines.

Kirby lost his licence on May 24, 2009, as a result of an unpaid traffic fine for driving a defective vehicle. He had previously had his provisional licence suspended by the State Penalties Enforcement Registry after accumulating demerit points for speeding and other offences. When Kirby was stopped by police at 3am on July 10, he said he was not aware his licence had again been suspended by SPER. Police warned him not to drive and when he was intercepted 15 minutes later he was arrested.

Under Queensland law, anyone who is caught driving after a licence suspension faces an automatic disqualification for a minimum of one month.

Mr Wells said he agreed to represent Kirby free of charge because he was "a law-abiding citizen and a previous victim of crime". "The consequences of losing his licence for a month, which is what the legislation requires, means he would've lost one or both of his jobs," Mr Wells said. "Police don't have the discretion to let an unlicensed driver go but they do have the discretion not to prosecute."

Police told The Courier-Mail the magistrate's ruling was "blatantly ridiculous". "Millions of dollars are owed to SPER and now one of the Government's own members is helping offenders avoid paying fines," said an officer who did not want to be named.

But Mr Wells said it would have been unfair to penalise Kirby. "This kid is not a deliberate law breaker, he's just a kid who happened to be driving unbeknown to himself with a suspended licence," he said.

It is the third time Mr Wells has represented constituents, without charge, since being admitted as a barrister several years ago. He said the Integrity Commissioner had advised him his legal representation was not a conflict of interest, and was to be "commended, not criticised".


http://www.news.com.au/couriermail/story/0,23739,26051142-3102,00.html

Why are U.S. airlines so bad?

Leaders of the free world they may be. Land of the free, home of the brave, blah blah blah. But what they are not, is the home of decent airlines.

I love visitng the US. But what the hell's going on with their airlines? Why are they all so incredibly bad? Flying through the US is a nightmare, everyone knows that - but it's not just because of the massive security push, the fact you have to take your shoes off about four times before you even set foot in the airport, and hand over your mother's cousin's social security number before you can board the plane.

I can deal with all that. They don't want people hijacking their planes - fair enough. It's all the airline-related hassles I resent. It's not like there's no reliable model to go on for running a good airline. The Asian and Middle Eastern airlines are an absolute dream compared to anyone based in the US of A. Why don't they just copy them?

It starts from the moment you jump online to book your flights. If you want to fly, say, United, you'll find you can't book a domestic flight on their website unless you have an American-issued credit card. Otherwise, you'll have to go to a travel agent. It's as if they think no one living outside the States could possibly have the means to fly in a big aeroplane.

So that's United. You'll be fine booking domestic flights with American Airlines. US Air is okay too - you'll just have to make up a fake American phone number, since the website can't get its head around foreign phone numbers. Continental is fine. North-West and Delta will let you get up to the payment stage, then redirect you to its Australian site, where you'll have to start all over again.

There's a way around these problems though - go to one of the aggregator sites like priceline.com, and book flights with any of the airlines on there. You find all the flights leave at ridiculous times like 11.48am, or 2.12pm, but, whatever.

With your flight booked, you then head to an American airport, most of which are complete chaos. By the time you find out where you're supposed to be, you'll realise the airlines have done away with most of the actual "people" working for them, and you have to check in at a machine. This is pretty straightforward with practice, but it's the added extras that get me. If you're flying domestic, the machine will tack travel insurance onto your ticket. No thanks, don't want that. Oh, and you've been upgraded to business for just $300 extra. Press here to cancel that option. Cancel. Checking a bag in? That'll cost you $20. Please swipe your credit card. What if I don't have a credit card? Could you have warned me about that in advance?

You almost find yourself waiting for the option to pay $50 more for a plane with wings.

Phew. Okay, all that's out of the way, and you can board your flight. Hoping for one of those nifty little TV screens on the seat in front of you? No chance. I took an hour-long flight from Washington to New York recently: no telly. Fine, it's only a short flight. Then I flew four hours from Chicago to Seattle: no telly. Bit annoying, but I could deal with it. Then I flew 14 hours from LA to Sydney: still no telly. In the words of a great American: you cannot be serious.

Ah well, might as well kick back and enjoy my meal. Except ... there's no meal. Food on US carriers used to be bad - I remember flying about 10 years ago and being presented with a mini pizza and a small packet of M&Ms. Now? If you're on an international flight you'll at least get something to eat.

Domestic travellers, though, often get nothing. Nada. Nilch. It might be a four- or five-hour flight, but the tastiest thing you'll get to munch on will be your arm rest. You might get a small snack. But you'll have to pay for a beer to wash it down. These aren't budget carriers, but they act like it.

I don't want to be totally negative though. I guess the one thing all my US flights have had in common is that they've all landed safely. Which, you'd have to agree, is a nice touch.

But things could be a lot better. Maybe once Obama's done sorting out the health care system and the war on drugs and the terrorists and the motoring industry, he could give his country's airlines a nudge...

http://blogs.smh.com.au/travel/archives/2009/09/whats_up_with_us_carriers.html

New light on Easter Island red hats

BRITISH archaeologists believe they have solved the ancient mystery of how the giant stone statues on Easter Island acquired distinctive red hats. The researchers said the key to the mystery lies in their discovery of a road on the tiny Pacific island. The hats were built in a quarry hidden inside the crater of an ancient volcano and rolled by hand or on tree logs to the site of the statues, said the team from the University of Manchester and University College, London.

The archaeologists examined the way the hats, each weighing several tonnes and made of red scoria, a pumice-like volcanic rock, were moved by Polynesians between 500 and 750 years ago. They were placed on the heads of carved stone human figures - known as "moai" - standing on ceremonial platforms which encircle the island's coastline.

But the riddle of how they were raised and attached remains unsolved.

"We now know that the hats were rolled along the road made from a cement of compressed red scoria dust with a raised pavement along one side," Dr Colin Richards from the University of Manchester said. "It is likely that they were moved by hand, but tree logs could also have been used.'' A third of the crater had been quarried away by hat production, the team said, and more than 70 hats had been found both at the ceremonial platforms and in transit.

Dr Richards said there was evidence the quarry, known locally as Puna Pau, had previously produced statues before changing to hats. "Initially the Polynesians built the moai out of various types of local stone, including the Puna Pau scoria, but between 12,000 to 13,000 AD, Puna Pau switched from producing statues to hats," he said. "The change correlated with an increase in the overall size of the statues across the island.''

http://www.news.com.au/story/0,27574,26042728-13762,00.html

Sir Peter Maxwell Davies: 'We owe the Queen an awful lot'

As Sir Peter Maxwell Davies turns 75, the firebrand composer and Master of the Queen's Music talks about his mellowing attitudes towards the monarchy...

When composer Sir Peter Maxwell Davies turns 75 on Tuesday, his thoughts won't just be on his birthday celebrations, or the two Proms being held that evening in his honour. At the back of his mind, he'll be thinking about what to give Her Majesty the Queen for Christmas.

"I write her a carol every year, for the Chapel Royal. But I haven't done this year's yet. I'll have to do that," says Sir Peter, making a mental note and chiding himself with a quick curse. "That's on the to-do list."

As Britain's most revered living composer, Sir Peter, who cut his musical teeth at the forefront of the classical avant garde in the 1950s and was knighted for his efforts in 1987, has been penning pieces for state occasions since becoming Master of the Queen's Music in 2004. He was, he says, "terribly surprised" to be asked to take up the royal post dating from the 17th century, the musical equivalent of Poet Laureate. "After all, I was the author of Eight Songs For a Mad King, and that king [George III] was a relation."

Like the Laureateship, the role lasts for ten years. Unlike the Laureateship, it has no fixed duties, but comes with a salary – an annual stipend of £15,000. So how did the musical firebrand, whose resolutely atonal works rarely bother the schedulers at Classic FM, ever come to be welcomed into the heart of the establishment? "I saw it as an opportunity to raise the profile of serious music. As she herself, the Queen, has said to me – now there's a bit of name dropping… – 'This is what you want to make of it, and it's up to you. Of course I'm not going to tell you what it should be.' And I thought that was very reasonable."

Armed with his musical mandate, Sir Peter – 'Max' to his friends – has set about gently stirring things up by being characteristically single-minded ever since. "I don't think I would write a piece about a royal occasion unless I thought it was really something which was worth celebrating," he says.

"The big event coming up, of course, is the diamond jubilee in 2012, so I think that I'll certainly do something for that." However, there'll be no such fanfare to announce, say, any Royal offspring graduating from university. Treading carefully, he says: "I don't think I will do anything to mark such occasions. I would much rather do something which, if you like, marks the permanence of the institution, rather than its transitory events."

Does Sir Peter, a musical and political radical who sees the Queen "once, twice or three times a year", even consider himself a big fan of the monarchy? "Not particularly," he says. "The monarchy, as such, doesn't really concern me this way or the other. But I do think that the Queen and various others do a very, very good job."

Nonplussed by the monarchy, he has nothing but admiration for the Queen herself. "I think we owe her an awful lot. She is no fool, and absolutely on the ball.

"I remember when I went to see her the first time after I accepted the position, I took her as a little present, a Hyperion recording of music I had written for Westminster Cathedral. There was nobody else there when we listened to it, just the Queen and myself, and she said: 'Why is it that the choir of the cathedral sounds so different? It's not at all like our choirs at St Paul's or the Abbey.' So I told her about the continental way of voice production for boys. And she said: 'Oh, that's very interesting, I had no idea. I'm very pleased to know that.' There was nobody there to prompt her, and she observed that herself. So you're dealing with someone whose first interest, plainly, is not music, but who is really aware. As she says, she and Philip are 'willing to learn'."

Sir Peter will conduct the Royal Philharmonic at the Proms on Tuesday, on a bill which – appropriately enough for the musician who has called the Orkneys his home for almost 40 years – includes Fingal's Cave, Mendelssohn's Scottish overture. Late-night Prommers will then get to hear the latest Maxwell Davies composition when his second "fiddle concerto" receives its UK premiere. A spray-soaked affair, it was conceived after Sir Peter started taking walks along the shore near his house on the remote, wind-whipped Orkney island of Sanday with a local folk violinist: "He would play me tunes as we walked to the sound of the sea."

From such austere beginnings, the concerto grew into a piece that speaks about the threat posed to Sanday's very existence. "We are told that it will disappear under the sea, probably within the next 300 years, because it's a very low-lying sandy island. My house is right on the shore, so we do feel a little bit exposed. I do hope I can survive my lifetime there. I don't think I would find anywhere, or any house, or any position, more beautiful. I've no intention of ever living anywhere else."

Sir Peter has lived on Sanday – population: 550 – for the best part of a decade with his partner, Colin, and their eight-year-old rescue dog, Judy. "It's absolutely quiet. You can be alone on the beaches and not see anybody, and I think it's a great pleasure and privilege just to take a dog for a walk and not see anybody for a couple of hours in the most beautiful scenery you can imagine."

More HERE

A doctor with a heart saves baby that others had given up

At just four months old, Maisey Fishwick was diagnosed with untreatable brain cancer and sent to a hospice to die. Doctors told heartbroken mother Emma all they could do was relieve the pain as she lived out her short life.

But just days before Maisey was expected to die, child cancer specialist Eddy Estlin saw a ray of hope for the child and sent her back to hospital for care. And now, after 11 hours of surgery and 15 months of chemotherapy, brave Maisey, now 21 months old, has been given the all clear.

Emma, 25, said: 'He had a look at her and said "She's a little fighter. I'm going to take her back to Pendlebury (children's hospital)". Suddenly, we had hope again.'

Single mum Emma's nightmare began last year. She took Maisey to the doctor after noticing the top of her skull was swollen. Meningitis was initially suspected, but tests ruled that out. It was only when relatives insisted on a scan that they discovered a large tumour growing on Maisey's brain stem, pushing it to one side.

Her family was told nothing could be done and the toddler was taken to Derian House Children's Hospice in Chorley, Lancashire. But then Maisey received a visit from Dr Estlin, consultant paediatric oncologist at Manchester Children's Hospital.

He said: 'It was a really difficult situation in the beginning. 'The low grade tumour was causing big problems and we thought she would rapidly deteriorate, with surgery risky and, ultimately, unable to help her. 'But when I visited Maisey at Derian House, she was looking a little bit better.

'The team took the decision to operate, and surgeon Ian Kamally completed a very long operation. 'Now, following chemotherapy, the scans show she has had an extensive tumour, but she is now recovering. 'While Maisey's future is not certain - we don't know if it will grow back - we're confident in our treatment.'

Emma, a legal secretary from Wigan, said: 'It has been really tough and she has been in and out of hospital with all sorts of infections and other problems. 'She was meant to have started physio a good while ago, but she was too weak. 'She was also meant to have had another two rounds of chemotherapy, but the doctors have decided that she's had about as much as she can take. 'It is a big relief that we are through that and the doctors say she will be very unlucky if it comes back.

'You get used to all the hospital stays and anxiety - and Maisey has proved it was all worthwhile.'

Dr Estlin said: 'Maisey has done really well, she's staged a quite astonishing comeback. 'There's a real pleasure and pride at seeing how well she's done. She is a fighter and has had great support from her family and the community. It's a magnificent comeback.'


http://www.dailymail.co.uk/health/article-1211156/Baby-untreatable-brain-cancer-sent-hospice-die-makes-miracle-recovery.html

Steam train reunites 'British Schindler' with Jews he saved from Nazis

Hauled by a newly built British steam engine, a specially chartered train arrived at Liverpool Street station in London yesterday to commemorate the rescue of almost 700 Czech Jewish children on the eve of the Second World War.

Tornado, the first mainline steam locomotive to be built in Britain for almost 50 years, had been chartered by Czech Railways to haul the final leg of a train from Prague, poignantly recreating the escape of 669 Jewish children in 1939. The famous “Kindertransport” was organised by Sir Nicholas Winton.

Sir Nicholas, who turned 100 in May, was there to greet some of the now elderly people he saved from certain death at the hands of the Nazis. “It’s wonderful to see you all after 70 years,” he told them. “Don’t leave it quite so long until we meet here again.”

A band played and hundreds of wellwishers crowded the platforms to greet the train.

Twenty-two of the children, accompanied by 150 others, left Prague on a steam train on Tuesday, following the same route they had taken in 1939 out of Nazi-occupied Czechoslovakia. They arrived yesterday morning at Harwich and travelled the final leg to London to honour Sir Nicholas, known as the “British Schindler”.

In 1938 Nicholas Winton, a stockbroker of Jewish origin working in London, visited a friend in Prague and realised the danger of an imminent German invasion. He set about chartering special trains, and returned to London to raise money and find host families who would accept the children. Eight trains set off, travelling through Germany in 1939. But a ninth, with 250 children aboard, never left Prague, as it was due to depart on September 3, the day war broke out. The children were never seen again.

Sir Nicholas never spoke of his work until it was revealed by chance 50 years later by his wife, Greta, who found a briefcase with documents on the Kindertransport in their attic in 1988. Since then he has received many honours: he was awarded the freedom of the city of Prague, was decorated by President Havel, and Czech astronomers named a small planet after him. In 2002 he was knighted by the Queen.

In 1998 the Czech Ambassador to Britain sponsored a commemoration called “Thank you Britain” to honour those who helped to settle the children. A statue to him was unveiled at Prague station before the train left on Tuesday. Yesterday survivors spoke of their gratitude to Sir Nicholas and of the tragedies that befell their families.

Otto Deutsch, 81, who is originally from Vienna and now lives in Southend, said: “It happened so many years ago yet I remember it so vividly. I never saw my parents again or my sister. My parents were shot and what they did with my sister I really don’t want to know.”

Alexandra Greensted, 77, from Maidstone, said: “It’s a very emotional day for me. I can’t remember much about the actual train journey. All I can remember is being at the railway station crying my eyes out. I left my father and two older brothers behind.”

Tornado, the engine hauling the train into London, is an A1 Pacific that cost almost £3 million to build and was put into service on charter trains last year. Mark Allatt, the chairman of the trust that raised the money from volunteers, said that they were honoured to provide the motive power for this commemoration, dedicated to the Czech presidency of the EU, of the Kindertransport trains.

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/uk/article6822197.ece

Mini love affair survives new models

I have very fond memories of my Mini K -- a version made for Australia with an 1100cc motor -- JR



SEX symbol, film star, industrial success story - the Mini occupies a special place in Britain's national consciousness.

As Lord Mandelson said yesterday: "British drivers have had a long love affair with the Mini and I'm sure that this will continue for years to come." Few people would argue with his words, prompted by news from BMW that two new models are to be built at the MINI plant in Oxford, west of London.

Of course, what he did not point out was that, like many of the great love affairs, it got off to a rocky start.

When the Mini was introduced in 1959, early sales were so disappointing that production might even have been halted. Somehow it caught on, though, and the car that was originally designed as a utility vehicle for the working classes became the runabout of choice for the smart set and an indelible symbol of the Swinging Sixties.

Who had a Mini? Who did not, more like. Peter Sellers had one, as did Princess Margaret, and the Beatles had one each (customised, of course). Jack Profumo used to drive around in a bright red one - unusual for a Government minister - and Christine Keeler claimed that she had sex with him in it, which was even more unusual.

When a Mini won the Monte Carlo Rally in 1964, its status as a motoring legend was assured and by the time the car appeared in The Italian Job, it had become a global superstar.

Now, 50 years later, our affair with the Mini is still going strong - although, as with any long-standing relationship, it is politic not to draw attention to the various changes that have taken place over the years, such as the new owner, the new design and that the name of one's true beloved is now written in capital letters.

But love is blind, especially if it means the best news for the British motor industry in years and the creation of up to 1000 jobs at MINI's Cowley plant, where 3700 workers are employed building three versions of the car. The two new models, one of them a coupe, will be unveiled at the Frankfurt motor show on September 15.

Even Alex Moulton - who designed the suspension of the original car half a century ago and who could be forgiven for regarding the BMW MINI with a certain coolness - welcomed the news. "I am delighted," he said, before going on to describe the current MINI as "well done and well executed ... in a German way".

What it does not have, however, is any of the technical innovation of the original, such as the transverse engine, the front-wheel drive and the rubber suspension, all designed to give maximum space inside. "I once drove a 1959 Mini to Brighton," said Christy Campbell, author of Mini: An Intimate Biography, "and it was absolutely wonderful ... incredibly simple and incredibly clever."

Although it was not a success at first, its fortunes changed when it was taken up by the likes of Anthony Armstrong-Jones, later Lord Snowdon. Soon everyone wanted one. "But it was not just pop stars who bought them, it was Tory ministers," Campbell said. "Ernest Marples (Minister of Transport) had a special one to carry his golf clubs. Princess Alexandra was pursued by the Daily Mail because they wanted to know what was inside her boot."

After production of the Mini classic ended, BMW brought out the MINI: bigger, sportier and absolutely nothing to do with the original. "They bought an English suit of clothes," said Campbell, "and re-manufactured it in a humourless, but efficient way."

Does it matter? "No," said Chas Hallett, editor of Autocar, the magazine that once named the original its Car of the Century. "The MINI has been an amazing sales success, even in the States, which is something the original never achieved. There is a sense of fun and verve about it."

Like the new versions of the Fiat 500 and the VW Beetle, nostalgia is an undoubted part of the appeal. "But nostalgia is never enough," Hallett said. "People would not buy it unless it was a thoroughly good product. And it is a good product."

http://www.theaustralian.news.com.au/story/0,25197,26025228-2703,00.html

A picture of a young Adolf Hitler apparently playing chess against Vladimir Lenin 100 years ago has come to light.

The image is said to have been created in Vienna by Hitler's art teacher, Emma Lowenstramm, and is signed on the reverse by the two dictators. Hitler was a jobbing artist in the city in 1909 and Lenin was in exile and the house where they allegedly played the game belonged to a prominent Jewish family.

In the run-up to the Second World War the Jewish family fled and gave many of their possessions, including the etching and chess set, to their housekeeper. Now their housekeeper's great-great grandson is selling the image and the chess set at auction. Both items have a pre-sale estimate of £40,000.

The unnamed vendor is confident the items are genuine after his father spent a lifetime attempting to prove their authenticity. He compiled a 300-page forensic document that included tests on the paper, the signatures and research on those involved. Experts, however, have questioned its authenticity especially the identification of Lenin who they say might have been confused with one of his associates.

When the etching was made, Hitler was 20 and Lenin was twice his age and the house was where politicos went to discuss things. The etching is thought to be one of five and shows Hitler - playing with the white pieces - sitting by a window, with Lenin opposite him in half shadow. It is titled "A Chess Game: Lenin with Hitler - Vienna 1909".

It raises tantalising questions about what the two men who helped shape the world in the 20th century might have spoken of. Lenin was already a highly influential Russian figure who in 1907 went into exile once more after the revolution was crushed by Tsarist authorities.

Richard Westwood-Brookes, who is selling the items, said: "This just sounds too good to be true, but the vendor's father spent a lifetime proving it. "He compiled a 300 page document and spent a great deal of money engaging experts to examine the etching. "The signatures in pencil on the reverse are said to have an 80 per cent chance of being genuine, and there is proof that Emma Lowenstramm did exist. "The circumstantial evidence is very good on top of the paper having been tested.

"Hitler was a painter in 1909 and his Jewish teacher Emma Lowenstramm was the person who made the etching. "There is some suggestion that when he came to power Hitler protected her and she died from natural causes in 1941. "At the time, Vienna was a hotbed of political intrigue and the house where this game took place belonged to a prominent Jewish family. "Lenin at the time was moving around Europe in exile and writing "Materialism and Empirio-criticism".

"His movements are hazy and it is known that he did play chess and later he certainly wore wigs as a disguise. "It is also known that Lenin was a German agent and the house was where people went to exchange political views.

"The chess set is clearly the same chess set as that in the etching. It is a box chess set that folds out and the pieces are identifiable - particularly the kings and bishops.

"To my knowledge there are five etchings of this image, but this has the signatures of both men and the artist. "The provenance is that it has come through the family of the housekeeper who was given it when the Jewish family fled in the late 1930s. "The family is based in Hanover and it is the great great grandson of the housekeeper who is selling it. "On all sorts of levels it is an extremely valuable artefact. Even as just an allegorical picture it shows the men playing chess possibly for the world."

Historian Helen Rappaport, who has just written a book called "Conspirator: Lenin in Exile", said the etching was probably a "glorious piece of fantasy". She said: "In 1909 Lenin was in France and there is no evidence that he was in Vienna. "In October he went to Liege in Belgium and in November he went to Brussels. He would have visited Vienna before and after that year. "He liked the place and went there because he travelled around Europe on trains, but he wouldn't have been there long enough to meet a young Hitler. "He was also as bald as a bat by 1894 with just hair on the sides of his head. "And when in exile he was not known as Lenin and instead used a number of aliases.

"The person believed to be Lenin in the etching may well have been one of his revolutionary or Bolshevik associates who was misidentified. "It may even have been an Austrian socialist with whom he associated in the Second International. "The Germans did fund the Bolsheviks and gave them millions of marks for the revolutionary effort, but Lenin was not a German sympathiser.

"Although this is totally spurious it is wonderful to bring these two great megalomaniacs together. "It makes sense retrospectively and the history of art is full of retrospective meetings between people."

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/culturenews/6130672/Pictured-Hitler-playing-chess-with-Lenin.html

The "Glorious revolution" of 1688: When a dynamic commercial ideal won out over centralized power

Samuel Pufendorf, a 17th-century German historian, described the English people as "having been ­always inclined to rebellion and intestine commotion." But England's regime change in 1688—soon called "glorious"—was a revolution with a difference. Instead of overthrowing the existing order in violent upheaval, it put "government upon its ancient and proper basis, which the measures of a mad bigot had almost ­destroyed." The "mad bigot" was, in this case, James II, the Stuart king (and a Catholic) who was deposed in ­favor of William of Orange, a Protestant from the Dutch Republic. Edmund Burke famously contrasted England's balance of change and continuity in 1688 with the ­ferocity in France a century later.

In "1688: The First Modern Revolution," Steve Pincus challenges this received account to argue that the ­Glorious Revolution marked a much greater break with history than Burke realized—and proved to be an ­emblem of the West's future. James II, Mr. Pincus notes, sought to extend state power at the expense of Parliament and the privileges of local communities. James's adversaries preferred the dynamism of commerce; they believed that wealth sprang from the limitless striving of human endeavor rather than the finite availability of land. France under Louis XIV provided James with a pattern for absolutism; the Dutch Republic provided his opponents with a commercial ideal. The Glorious ­Revolution is often seen as a clash ­between ­"popery"—the term for authoritarian ­Catholicism—and ­ancient English liberties. But Mr. Pincus persuasively describes it as the collision of two ideas about the state in society. In a sense, he implies, we are all Dutchmen now.

In the decades before the Glorious Revolution, Mr. Pincus observes, Britain's economy had grown exponentially, thanks to ever more productive manufacturing and ever more ­expansive overseas trade. Cities grew, drawing workers away from the countryside. Britain's landed ­interests did not lose out: Profits attached them to the new economy in a way that was not true for elites on the Continent. By 1680, ­England had become the first consumer society. And it possessed a thriving public sphere that ­anticipated ­William Blackstone's later ­description of the English as a polite and commercial people.

Such was the world that James II inherited. Although a Catholic ruling a Protestant realm, he had broad ­support when he became king in 1685, and the Duke of Monmouth's attempt to overthrow him then won little support. Most Englishmen backed James, and little ­wonder. The civil war, not to mention Cromwell's ­authoritarian interregnum, was within living memory: An Englishman might well have thought that his country had more to lose from a regime of Protestant ­enthusiasts than from a Catholic king pledged to defend English liberties and even the Church of England. So what changed to bring about James's downfall?

James turned out to be a revolutionary, Mr. Pincus suggests, working to transform England's ­government into a centralized bureaucracy. With his standing army, his subservient judges and his efforts to control ­parliamentary elections, James extended state authority deep into English society. The idea was to ­establish ­England as a great power, beholden to state subsidies for its commercial wealth and ready to pursue yet more imperial conquest. Given such ambitions, Mr. Pincus says, James's willingness to promote religious toleration was a pretext for favoring Catholicism as a faith more conducive to royal power—and for exalting the king's authority by reducing the pope's. Even English Catholics found this idea troubling.

France served as James's model. As Mr. Pincus ­reminds us, prolonged war—and the financial burden of sustaining large armies—had created a crisis for ­Continental Europe in the decades before the Glorious Revolution: a Hobbesian war of all against all. Louis XIV solved the crisis by building a centralized, bureaucratic state and making France the strongest power in Europe. At the same time, he turned the French nobility into courtiers and crushed all rival centers of power. ­Government became the king's secret rather the public's trust.

What James II took as a model, though, his countrymen feared as a threat. Eventually a broad section of the English elite, and a good part of the English populace, repudiated James and his absolutism in favor of his daughter, Mary, and her husband, William. When ­William landed in England with a Dutch army, he faced little opposition, and James soon fled into exile. The revolution, if glorious, was not entirely bloodless, ­especially in Scotland and Ireland, where the Catholic Stuart claim was especially strong. But at least there was no clash of armies or civil war. A relatively peaceful ­transition secured English liberties and a ­facade of royal continuity—Mary was a Stuart, after all.

Unanimity quickly faded, inevitably, as Whigs pushed a reform program that included establishing the Bank of England and borrowing money from private sources for Continental war. Tories balked at such changes, ­believing them to favor metropolitan interests over the public good. Behind the contest over England's ­future—that is, between the French and Dutch ­models—lay a commitment to England's past that Mr. Pincus understates.

The next several decades would see a polarizing of parties within England, but a quarrel among competing interests, rather than rule by ­decree, is what the ­Glorious Revolution aimed to make possible. The English predilection for "intestine ­commotions" checked James II's plan to transform ­England absolutely while ­hastening the decentralized, commercial transformation already under way. John Locke noted that "people are not so easily got out of their old forms," preferring the imperfect system they know to a new one they don't. Rulers who ignore that lesson—as James II ­discovered—do so at their peril.

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052970204683204574358600236112862.html

White Europeans 'only evolved 5,500 years ago after food habits changed'

People in England may have only developed pale skin within the last 5,500 years, according to new research. Scientists believe that a sudden change in the diet around that time from hunter-gathering to farming may have led to a dramatic change in skin tone to make up for a lack of vitamin D. Farmed food is lacking in vitamin D and while humans can produce it when exposed to the ultraviolet light in sunlight darker skin is far less efficient at it.

People with pale skin may be descended from Europeans who dramatically changed their diets after switching from hunter-gathering to farming. Scientists at the University of Oslo believe this change in diet may have led to our dark-skinned ancestors evolving paler skin to overcome this problem.

The link between skin colour and Vitamin D from sunlight has been suggested before. It had previously been believed that our ancestors’ skin had gradually lightened to generate more Vitamin D the further north they moved away from the equator to places where there was less sunlight. Now scientists believe that the change in their diet away from foods rich in Vitamin D also played a major factor in the skin lightening in colour. And the particularly pale skins of people in Scandinavia may have evolved to maximise the amount of Vitamin D that could be produced, the research suggests. [There is some very pale skin in Ireland too. I have inherited it myself]

If the theory is correct it would mean that until this period in history, the ancient inhabitants of Britain and Scandinavia - our ancestors - would have had a dark skin tone.

Johan Moan, of the university's Institute of Physics, said in a research paper: ‘In England, from 5,500-5,200 years ago the food changed rapidly away from fish as an important food source. This led to a rapid development of ... light skin.’ The research paper, written with Richard Setlow, a biophysicist at Brookhaven National Laboratory in New York state, states : ‘Cold climates and high latitudes would speed up the need for skin lightening. ‘Agricultural food was an insufficient source of vitamin D, and solar radiation was too low to produce enough vitamin D in dark skin.’

Children with fair skins are able to get their daily dose of Vitamin D with just 10 to 20 minutes in the sun. But research has shown that sun-protective skin pigments in black children means that it takes up four times as long for the skin to produce enough of the vitamin. Milk and a few other foods such as fatty fish are fortified with vitamin D but most people get very little through their diets.

A lack of Vitamin D has been linked with cancers, bone problems, type 1 diabetes, and even multiple sclerosis. One recent study in the U.S found that nearly half of African American women of childbearing age may be deficient in vitamin D.


http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-1210056/White-Europeans-evolved-5-500-years-ago-food-habits-changed.html

Love it, hate it - just don't you dare spread Marmite's dark secret

Marmite may be proverbially loved and loathed in equal measure, but there is one village in Derbyshire where the locals definitely can't stand it.

Who can blame them when they have been forced to put up with a rather nasty stink hanging over them - a smell which has been traced back to the dumping (albeit perfectly legal) of liquid waste from Britain's main Marmite factory.

'The smell was unbelievable,' says Jeff Tully, 43, who led the campaign to stop the dumping on farmland outside the village of Sawley. 'You'd go outside and it would knock you over.'
Jar of Marmite.

While those opposed to the 'Sawley Stink' have been successful in getting Marmite to agree to stop the dumping, and the smell has now dissipated, one pressing question remains: what on earth is Marmite putting into its spread to cause such a stench?

Some villagers likened it to rotten eggs, while Jeff Tully describes it more as 'a combination of sewage and sick'.

To find out the truth, the Mail decided to hold its nose and venture to the Marmite factory in Burton-on-Trent. For fans of the salty spread, this is sacred ground. It was just down the road in 1902 that Marmite first went into production in a disused malt house, and ever since 1954 (when the firm moved here - bringing Bovril, too) most of the Marmite bought and consumed in the world has come from this site.

When you first arrive at the gates, however, it's a bit disappointing. From the outside, the factory looks more like a storage depot than the home of a classic global brand - but the strong smell of hops and beer fills the air.

'We make Marmite from the surplus yeast from brewing,' says 34-year-old factory manager Martin Beckford, who, like some savoury Willy Wonka, drives a taxi cab painted in yellow and red and emblazoned with the Marmite logo.

Indeed, beer is the reason Marmite set up shop in Burton-on-Trent. With the area's beer-making heritage, there were numerous breweries where Marmite could buy waste. The company still gets a significant amount of yeast from the nearby Coors and Marston's breweries.

Not that Marmite is in any way alcoholic. With the spread becoming increasingly popular with Muslims, Martin is very keen to point out that any alcohol in the yeast evaporates off during the Marmite-making process.
Martin Beckford

While there may be something vaguely puritanical in this insistence, it is in keeping with the slightly religious awe with which Marmite workers talk about their product. Even entering the factory feels like submitting to a religious ritual.

This is confirmed by the presence of a bio-chemist and analytical manager called St John Skelton. He's in charge of 'keeping the Marmite flavour right'. Tall and decked out in a lab coat, the 57-year-old is part high priest, part mad scientist - and utterly devoted to Marmite.

Having worked in the labs since he graduated 34 years ago, he's the man who ensures the Marmite we spread on six million slices of toast each year tastes the same. He says: 'We do our best to maintain the flavour, but we cannot be exact, as yeast is a living organism.'

To guarantee each pot contains a product within a range of acceptable flavours, he leads a team of 30 'tasters' who are trained to pick up any deviation. 'Some of our tasters don't even like Marmite,' he smiles, 'but they can recognise what is and what isn't Marmite.'

Tastings are carried out in a kitchen, where a spatula of Marmite is added to a beaker along with hot water. The staff smell, swig and then ponder the aftertaste. Spitting is not encouraged.

Marmite was created in 1902, 16 years after a German chemist called Justus Liebig discovered that the yeast waste from brewing could form the basis of a protein-rich food. The spread was the brainchild of Frederick Wissler, a Swiss, George Huth, a German, and Alexander Vale, an Englishman.

Apart from technological advances, little has changed to the principle behind the Marmite Food Company. Taking its name from the French word 'marmite' (pronounced 'mar-meet'), the name of a cooking pot similar to the one pictured on the label, the product became a staple diet of soldiers in both world wars, and one of the most popular brands in Britain after 1945.
Marmite factory

Pregnant women swore by it because of its rich folic acid content, and its Vitamin B content and numerous health benefits were widely advertised.

Like HP Sauce, Marmite is one of those brands that remind us of a strong Britain of yesteryear. Boss Martin Beckford says: 'We employ 80 people at the factory. Much of the process has been computerised, so we operate 24 hours a day, and only shut on Christmas Day.' Operating one computer is Graham Brown, 57, a Marmite veteran of 34 years' service. Most employees have an average of 15 years' standing.

The yeast slurry arrives in tankers. It takes 50,000 tonnes of yeast a year to make 6,000 tonnes of finished Marmite. Hoses are connected to the tanker and, like petrol, it is pumped into vats. Next, it is stirred and slightly heated and it begins to break down until it becomes a bitter-tasting protein soup.

The yeast is pumped through hot centrifuges at 70C, which causes the cell walls in the yeast to separate from the liquid, which is siphoned off to form the basis of Marmite. The separated waste is then pumped off into vats, and it is this material that caused such a stink in the village of Sawley.

Martin approaches a bucket of the sludge. Brown and smelling slightly of hops, it's hard to see or smell what all the fuss was about, until you realise that it might not smell so pleasant once it is left out in the sun for a few days.

'The problem was the contractor was spreading it on top of the land instead of burying it,' says Martin. 'When it's buried, it's good for the farmland.'

That mystery solved, we are introduced to the most secret and mysterious step in the production process.

It is in a large room at the top of the factory where what is referred to by the workers as 'the secret ingredient' is added to the mix. For lovers of Marmite, this is the holy of holies, the inner sanctum where a base protein product is transformed into Marmite. So what is this secret ingredient?

'If I told you, I would have to kill you,' says operator Phil Harvey. Although he's smiling, I'm not sure he's joking.

'The secret ingredient is a mixture of things,' says St John. 'There are dire consequences for revealing it.'

Thirty million bottles of Marmite are filled here every year, and 27 of them are bought every minute. About 15 per cent of the pots are exported to former colonies such as Hong Kong, with half of all exports going to Sri Lanka, where it is used as a seasoning for porridge.

The company was bought by Bovril in 1924 and underwent a sale to new owners every decade from 1970 - with the latest buyer in 2000 being global corporation Unilever. Unilever has introduced an array of products including crisps and the squeezy bottle.

But Marmite is such an established and - yes - beloved part of British life that it is bigger than any of its owners. One of the Queen's most senior advisers compared the British monarchy's enduring quality with Marmite. That high praise, though, probably won't be shared by the residents of Sawley.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1207774/Love-hate--just-dont-dare-spread-Marmites-dark-secret.html

Berlin dedicates museum to street-corner snack of wurst cuisine

The colours hit your eye even before the meat concoction hits your stomach: a gory red and yellow, a sprinkling of radioactive orange powder.

In the view of critics, Berlin’s fabled currywurst resembles a particularly vivid car crash. Yet the pork sausage, covered with chilli powder, cayenne pepper and syrupy sauce, is considered to be Berlin’s culinary triumph — and, from today, Berlin has a museum dedicated to the snack. It is rather as if Glasgow were to establish an exhibition centre for deep-fried Mars bars.

Vienna has its schnitzel, Brussels its mussels but Berlin has the messy wurst that regularly sends unwitting tourists hurtling towards the city’s public lavatories.

Plainly, the hope is to create a site of currywurst pilgrimage. There will be an interactive guide through the sausage’s controversial history and, to entice the hoped-for 350,000 annual visitors, a currywurst stand in the basement so that the smell of animal fat can waft through the building.

The museum has the enthusiastic support of Berliners, who consider the strange sausage to be a test of love for the German capital.

Gerhard Schröder, the former Chancellor — once married to a strict vegetarian — used to have his chauffeur stop at a currywurst stand on the way to the office. The former US President Bill Clinton bit into the sausage on his trips to Berlin. Every candidate for the city’s mayoralty needs to be photographed by a currywurst stand.

Even the New York chef Anthony Bourdain has sung its praises — but then he has also sampled the beating heart of a cobra in Vietnam and the rectum of a Namibian warthog.

The museum’s aim seems to be to proclaim that the currywurst is the quintessential Berlin pavement food, despite strong competition from the kebab — a strong contender in a city with a 300,000-strong Turkish community.

It is promoting the food at the museum with pictures of film stars holding the sausage.

So rather than admit that the city is losing one of its institutions, Berlin has established a museum in its honour. Every filmstar who has ever been photographed holding the sausage is now featured in the museum to prove that the food is not only urban and authentic but also glamorous.

Berlin also has to make clear to the world that it really is the city that gave birth to the currywurst. The novelist Uwe Timm claims in his 1993 book The Invention of the Curry Wurst that he first tasted one in 1947 — in Hamburg. And there are rival claims from the Ruhr that it first saw the light of day there as a snack for workers.

Berlin’s story is that, after the war women, many war widows, kept the city going by setting up small businesses to feed their fatherless children. One was Herta Heuwer who, in September 1949, set up a sausage stand in the middle of the red-light district that was so successful that currywurst became a cult foodstuff. By 1959 she had patented the sauce as Chillup.

Since the 1950s, a proper currywurst etiquette has developed. The customer has to specify whether he wants the sausage with or without skin (made specially out of pig’s stomach), sharp (with cayenne pepper on top of the curry powder) or extra sharp (with the seeds of a chilli), or with a mixture of diced raw onion and chilli.

At its most fashionable, along the shopping boulevard Kurfürstendamm, for example, it is served with champagne. Late at night, after the theatres have closed, a prominent actress can often be seen feeding her two Afghan wolfhounds with the sausage. So far they seem to have survived.

An East German version was developed in the 1960s. Konnopke’s currywurst stand, in East Berlin, was a classic rendezvous point for Eastern and Western spies during the Cold War. They, on the whole, did not survive.

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/world/europe/article6797043.ece

Babies' brains are more sophisticated than we ever believed

A baby’s mind is quite brilliant, a psychologist says in her new book. Far from being irrational, children are more astute than many adults

Alison Gopnik

In the past 30 years we’ve learnt more about babies and young children than in the preceding 2,500 years and that has given us new ideas about human nature itself — about knowledge and imagination, truth and consciousness. Thirty years ago most psychologists and philosophers thought that babies and young children were basically defective adults — irrational and egocentric, unable to think logically, take another person’s perspective or reason causally.

If you just looked cursorily at babies and young children, as generations of philosophers did, you might well conclude that there was not much going on. If you looked carefully, as generations of mothers and the great psychologist Jean Piaget did, you would start to appreciate how philosophically significant, fascinating and profound children are.

It is this sophistication that I hope to reveal in my book, The Philosophical Baby. For those of us who are intrigued but, equally, sometimes frustrated by a baby’s apparent lack of reason or awareness of the outside world, I hope that the latest ground-breaking research will explain just how brilliant a baby’s mind really is. Neither mothers nor even Piaget had the recording tools and experimental techniques that we have now that show babies and young children know much more than we ever believed.

One reaction to this research has been to say that all that knowledge must be built into our genes and that, therefore, experience and learning play only a small part.But studies show that this is not the case. Far from being irrational and illogical, in some ways children are brighter than adults. Even the youngest children turn out to have remarkably sophisticated and powerful learning abilities.

This was evident in three very recent experiments. First Professor Fei Xu, of the Department of Psychology at the University of California, Berkeley, took a group of one-year-old babies and showed them a box full of mixed-up ping-pong balls — 80 per cent white and 20 per cent red. The babies were more surprised, and looked more intently at the researcher when she pulled four red balls in a row out of the box, a statistically unlikely though possible event, than when she pulled out four white balls. The babies concluded that the researcher must like the red balls more than the white ones as when she held out her hand, they gave her a red ball rather than a white one. Far from being illogical and egocentric they could learn from statistics and use the logic of what they saw to figure out what someone else wanted.

In a second experiment, Laura Schulz, assistant professor of Cognitive Sciences at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, showed that when young children play they are really experimenting with cause and effect. Pre-schoolers saw a toy with two levers and a duck that popped up on top. One group saw that when you pressed one lever the duck appeared, and when you pressed the other it didn’t. The second group saw that when you pressed both levers at once, the duck popped up, but they never got a chance to see what the levers did separately. This left the causal relation between the levers and the duck a mystery. When given the toy to play with, the children spontaneously played more with the puzzling toy and figured out how it worked. Schulz’s research suggests that when babies and young children are “into everything” they are really exploring and discovering.

In my own laboratory at Berkeley’s Institute of Human Development, my colleague Tamar Kushnir and I discovered that pre-schoolers can use probabilities to learn how things work. We showed them two blocks that were likely, but not certain, to make a box light up. These children, who couldn’t yet add or subtract, were more likely to try a block themselves when it made the machine light up two out of four times than when it only made it work two out of six times. All these experiments show an astonishing capacity for statistical reasoning, experimental discovery and logic beyond the knowledge babies are born with.

Although young children have remarkable learning abilities, they have even more remarkable imaginative abilities. Even great psychologists such as Piaget thought that young children were confused about the difference between reality and fantasy, hardly surprising for anyone who has walked into a nursery full of imaginary princesses and superheroes who politely serve you non-existent tea and ward off non-existent monsters. But new studies show that children actually understand the difference between reality and fantasy very well, they just think the imaginary world is more interesting than the real one.

The new research also shows that imagination and learning are closely linked. For example, consider imaginary friends. The psychologist Marjorie Taylor found that most pre-schoolers have had an imaginary companion at one time or another. Moreover, although the children loved to talk about, and with, their imaginary friends they knew quite well that they were non-existent. Taylor discovered that imaginary friends, and pretend play in general, help children to understand the people around them. Children who pretended a lot were better at understanding how other people’s minds worked.

So imagining peculiar people isn’t a sign that children are confused, it’s a sign that they’re clever.

Just as Einstein imagined different ways in which the world might be, so these little scientists are trying to imagine all the ways in which the people around them might be. For example, my own niece grew up in literary Manhattan and she had an imaginary friend who was too busy to play with her. She would bump into Charlie Ravioli at a coffee shop but he would have to run, and she would leave wistful messages on his imaginary answering machine. She was using her imagination to explore the folk ways of busy Manhattan city life.

The reason for many of these abilities is that the young brain is remarkably flexible and, as the neuroscientists say, “plastic”, with many more neural connections than the adult brain. It is awash in chemicals that make neurons especially good at learning. The disadvantage is that it is much less efficient. A baby’s brain is like a map of old Paris with many small winding streets. Over time, we prune away the connections we don’t use and the connections we do use become faster and more automatic. In the adult brain, these winding pathways are replaced by fewer, but more efficient, broad neural boulevards.

In fact, many scientists have started to think of the baby brain as an exceptionally powerful kind of computer. Developmental psychologists, myself included, are collaborating with computer scientists who design machines that can use statistics and probabilities to learn and imagine. Many of these systems use something called Bayesian learning, and we think that babies may be doing something similar. One of the best ways for a system to learn, whether it’s a computer, a brain or a baby, is to start out by imagining and exploring many different possibilities. As you gather more evidence you should start to believe that some of these possibilities are more and more likely to be true. Quite rationally, once you’re pretty sure you’re right, your strategy should be to make decisions based on that knowledge, and to become increasingly reluctant to give those ideas up and try something new.

Understanding those incredibly powerful learning machines may even tell us something about a baby’s consciousness. What is it like to be a baby? I think babies may be more conscious than we are. At the least, they are conscious of more than we are. Adult consciousness is often compared with a spotlight, beaming in on just the relevant parts of the world around us. But baby consciousness is more akin to a lantern, illuminating everything.

These remarkable results lead many parents to think that they need programmes and products to make their babies smarter, and there are millions of pounds to be made by exploiting parents’ ambitions for their children. Like the equally popular dieting books, though, the very profusion of parenting books should make you question their efficiency. In fact, the message of the research is just the opposite. We don’t need to make babies brighter because they are already as intelligent as they can be. Instead, we need to give them rich surroundings that they can explore. But those surroundings may be rich with simple things, cardboard boxes and mixing bowls, bean plants and goldfish. And the new research shows that, above all, babies are learning about, and from, the people who surround them. It’s ironic that as a society we spend millions on useless “educational” enhancements for babies but very little to support the carers who actually make a difference.

http://women.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/women/families/article6793658.ece

Forget Hitler - it was America that snubbed black Olympian Jesse Owens

Throughout the tortured history of sports and politics, one moment has always stood above the others: Jesse Owens's performance at the 1936 Berlin Olympics.

A black man entered Hitler's Coliseum and destroyed the theory of Aryan physical supremacy by winning four gold medals in track and field.

The Fuhrer, according to legend, was so horrified by Owens's triumph, he stormed from the Olympic stadium rather than shaking his hand, as he had with every other medalist.

Baldur von Schirach, the leader of the Nazi Youth movement at the time, supposedly suggested to Hitler that he let himself be photographed with Owens. Hitler replied: 'The Americans ought to be ashamed of themselves for letting their medals be won by negroes. I myself would never shake hands with one of them.'

However, 73 years later, the veracity of these accounts is being challenged. It is particularly timely, for on Saturday memories of Owens will be rekindled at the athletics World Championships in Berlin.

As a mark of respect to Owens, who won gold medals in the 100m, 200m, long jump and 4x100m relay, the U.S. team will have the initials JO embroidered on their vests.

One of Owens's grand-daughters will walk with the U.S. team at the opening ceremony. She and the son of Luz Long, Owens' German rival in the long jump, will jointly present the long jump medals.

But, returning to the 1936 Games, a moment of seeming moral clarity, of good versus evil, is now starting to look more complex. A German sports reporter, Siegfried Mischner, has claimed Owens carried a photograph of himself shaking hands with Hitler and called it 'one of my most beautiful moments'.

Mischner, 83, says he and several other reporters saw the handshake behind the stands at the Olympic stadium but never mentioned it. Owens and other eyewitnesses always maintained that the story of Hitler's snub was exaggerated.

Owens said he thought Hitler waved at him at one point. But he never corroborated Mischner's story before his death from lung cancer in 1980, at the age of 66.

Whatever the truth, Owens always resisted his role as a political symbol. Having grown up in the segregated American South, the grandson of slaves, he was impatient with American claims of moral superiority over the Nazis.

'After all those stories about Hitler and his snub, I came back to my native country and I couldn't ride in the front of the bus,' Owens recalled. 'I had to go to the back door. I couldn't live where I wanted. Now what's the difference?'

Owens was given a tickertape parade in New York. But when he arrived at the Waldorf Astoria hotel for a reception in his honour, he was instructed to take the service lift rather than the normal guest lift, which was reserved for whites.
Owens powering his way at the start of the 200m event, which he won, during the Olympic Games in Berlin where he captured four gold medals

Owens powering his way at the start of the 200m event, which he won, during the Olympic Games in Berlin where he captured four gold medals

President Franklin Roosevelt never congratulated Owens or invited him to the White House. 'Hitler didn't snub me - it was FDR who snubbed me,' Owens said.

And Owens had his own memories of Berlin which differed starkly from the propaganda version. While the Nazis vilified the black American athletes, the German people cheered on Owens and his team-mates, clamouring for photos and autographs.

Owens later said that his greatest memory of the Games was not the races, the medal ceremonies or the politics. It was of his German rival in the long jump, Luz Long. On the surface, Long was the embodiment of the Aryan dream: tall, blue-eyed and blond.

The American was struggling in the early rounds of the long jump contest and risked going out before the final. Long introduced himself. He said he had been watching Owens's jumps and made a mark a few inches before the take-off board and suggested Owens jump from there, to ensure he qualified.

Owens took his advice and made it to the finals, which he won. The first person to congratulate him was Long.

The two men exchanged letters after the Games. 'It took a lot of courage for him to befriend me in front of Hitler,' Owens said. 'You can melt down all the medals and cups I have and they wouldn't be a plating on the 24-carat friendship I felt for Luz Long at that moment.

'Hitler must have gone crazy watching us embrace. The sad part of the story is I never saw Long again. He was killed in World War II.'

Owens was also witness to the U.S. Olympic team's decision to replace two Jews on its relay squad with two African-American runners. The Americans were accused of acquiescing to Nazi demands not to humiliate them by letting Jews beat them as well as blacks.

Instead of the endorsements or acclaim a modern athlete might expect, Owens was expelled from the American Amateur Athletics Union after he went home to try to cash in on his post-Olympic fame rather than star for his country in a tournament in Sweden.

He was reduced to becoming a kind of circus act to support his family. Owens had married his high school girlfriend, Ruth, and had a daughter, Gloria.

After the Olympics, the couple had two more girls. Owens would run sprints against athletes from other sports, even against cars, motorbikes, dogs and horses. He worked as a janitor at a children's playground and petrol pump attendant.

'People said it was degrading for an Olympic champion to run against a horse, but what was I supposed to do?' he said. 'I had four gold medals, but you can't eat four gold medals.' 'Sure it bothered me,' he said later in life. 'But at least it was an honest living. I had to eat.'

He became a partner in a dry-cleaning business in his native Cleveland, but the other two partners were conmen and Owens was forced to declare bankruptcy three years after his Olympic triumph. He was also charged with tax evasion. For a while, he was the front man for a travelling band.

'After I came home with my four medals,' he said, 'everyone wanted to slap me on the back, shake my hand or have me up to their suite. But no one was going to offer me a job.'

He wrote: 'For a while I was one of the most famous people on earth, but I soon discovered how empty fame can be and how easily it could be exploited by those who would use it, and me, for gain.'

It took several years for him to find his footing as a public speaker and public relations man, which eventually turned into a comfortable career. He also became a jazz DJ.

His post-Olympics experience, and the reality of being hailed as a hero in public, yet treated poorly in private, made him deeply suspicious of politics. Yet he was constantly being solicited for his opinions.

At the 1968 Mexico Olympics, two black American sprinters, Tommie Smith and John Carlos, used the moment after receiving their medals to give the black power salute. 'The black fist is a meaningless symbol,' said Owens. 'When you open it, you have nothing but fingers - weak, empty fingers. The only time the black fist has significance is when there's money inside. There's where the power lies.'

Later, he retracted his criticism and said that militancy was the only option for American blacks. 'Any black man who wasn't a militant in 1970 was either blind or a coward.'

By the time he died, Owens was financially comfortable. Presidents and governments in America and beyond were competing to honour him as a symbol of athletic wonder and of opposition to fascism.

In reality, his life and the way his myth has been exploited is not nearly so straightforward.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1205901/Forget-Hitler--America-snubbed-black-Olympian-Jesse-Owens.html