The Story of a Portrait

This is the story of why I have a portrait of a very serious, elderly stranger in prime position in my Ladybird bookroom – and why I am proud to be his guardian. Are you sitting comfortably?

A long time ago, in the market town of Loughborough, a young gentleman by the name of William Simpson Hepworth went into partnership with Henry Wills, forming the company ‘Wills & Hepworth’. Wills & Hepworth was many years later to change its name to ‘Ladybird Books’ but at this time – the early years of the early 20th century – book publishing was not one of the many activities undertaken by the Midlands printing company.

Soon after the company was established, the senior partner Henry Wills retired and Hepworth took over the company outright. Printing remained the core business of Wills & Hepworth and, according to Johnson & Alderton, Hepworth was “very proud of the way in which the firm was taking advantage of modern print technology” which was produced on the premises in Market Place and Angel Yard.

The years rolled by; wartime challenges required the company to adapt and W&H, albeit in desultory fashion, began publishing children’s books under the name of ‘Ladybird series’ (no one knows why ‘Ladybird’ was chosen, but Hepworth must have been central to these decisions). During the interwar years, the company continued to publish children’s books but these were very far from being their core work and the quality of the books produced was low to unexceptional.

Some time around 1940, Hepworth retired from the company and 1940 is also the date at which the pivotal decision was made to expand and invest in children’s publishing. The ‘classic’ Ladybird book was born: well-made, robust, beautifully and colourfully illustrated, with the perfect dimensions to fit into the hands of young children. Ladybird publishing took off and swiftly proceeded towards huge worldwide success. The company was just reaching its stride in 1961 when Hepworth died.

So it is not surprising that a portrait in oils of William Simpson Hepworth should hang in the boardroom of Wills & Hepworth probably from around 1960 until the closure of the printworks in 1999.

What happened to the portrait after the factory was sold, I don’t know, but last year it turned up at auction. I saw it advertised online, and appreciated it but did not intend to buy it. I was in the process of moving house and was feeling overwhelmed by the vast number of books , artwork, Ladybird ephemera and archive material already in my possession. That said, I really hoped it would go to a good home – to someone who understood what the picture represented and quite how masterful it was as a portrait.

To this end, I watched the auction online and … you can probably guess what happened. Yes, perhaps inevitably, the portrait came home with me and, a few months later, moved house to Leamington Spa, along with the rest of the collection.

The fact is, it’s a beautiful portrait by one of my favourite Ladybird artists, John Berry. Since Berry only began working for Ladybird in about 1960, I imagine it was commissioned at around the time of Hepworth’s death and was painted from a photograph. The colours look a little faded – perhaps an indication that Berry was painting from a black-and-white picture and was cautious in his interpretation? Berry, a portrait painter by training, actually preferred painting his subjects from photographs; he [Berry] was rather frank and forthright and, if painting from life, often found the need to pander to his subject’s whims rather tiresome.

Now as it happens, I am also the custodian of John Berry’s own easel – the easel on which the portrait was originally painted. So how could I not reunite them? It would be nice to think that one or two of the paint marks on the easel today came from the production of this picture.

Next, I wanted to find verification of the story that the painting hung in the Ladybird boardroom throughout the company’s ‘golden years’. I searched high and low on the internet for supporting evidence – but without success. Then, finally, I remembered that there had been a copy of an article included as provenance in the auction lot. I found the piece of paper, unfolded it and took another look – and, sure enough, there was a photocopy of a page from the internet, including a faded image of my portrait hanging on the walls of the Wills & Hepworth boardroom. Excellent. But how had the auction house come by this article when I had signally failed to find it? I looked for clues – and at the top of the paper I found one. It was the URL of my own website. I was the source of the information!

Just call me Sherlock.

This is the photograph that I had included on my website over 20 years ago and here’s the accompanying caption that I wrote at the time.

“Staff at Wills and Hepworth, with Mr Hepworth in the portrait keeping an eye on proceedings. This picture is very true to its time and to John Berry’s world of work (606b) – a world of middle-aged, sober gentlemen in dark coloured suits. The women will be behind the door, making the tea or coming in later to polish the mahogany.”

My bookroom in my new Leamington home is not set up yet, but when it is, William Simpson Hepworth will preside over proceedings from his place on the easel that created him. I realise that his new accommodation lacks gravitas but – boardrooms being boardrooms – he may find he is more appreciated in his new home than he ever really was in his old.