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Straits Times
6 days ago
- Entertainment
- Straits Times
Extra, extra: Read all about the last newspaper hawker in Paris
PARIS – Among the literary cafes and chic boutiques of the Saint-Germain-des-Pres quarter of Paris, an impish man with a wad of newspapers makes the rounds, his trademark cry of 'Ca y est!' or 'That's it!' echoing down narrow cobblestone streets. Mr Ali Akbar of Rawalpindi, Pakistan, is a man with a ready smile who has been hawking newspapers for a half-century. Sometimes, he spices his offerings with made-up stories. 'Ca y est! The war is over; Putin asks forgiveness,' was one recent pitch that caused grim hilarity. From Cafe de Flore to Brasserie Lipp – two famed establishments where food and culture are intertwined – Mr Akbar plies a dying trade in a dwindling commodity. He is considered to be the last newspaper hawker in France. The profession may have reached its zenith in Paris in 1960, when American actress Jean Seberg was immortalised on film with several newspapers under her arm crying 'New York Herald Tribune!', as she strolled on the Champs-Elysees, pursued by French actor Jean-Paul Belmondo. Nobody in French-Swiss director Jean-Luc Godard's classic movie Breathless (1960) is buying The Trib except Belmondo's character, who is unhappy that the paper has no horoscope, but unhappier still to discover that his charm makes little impression on the beauty and faux American innocence of Seberg's character, yet another foreigner smitten by Paris and angling to make a buck. Mr Akbar is one of them, too. 'Sah-yay!' is roughly how his cry to buy sounds. Through persistence and good humour, he has become 'part of the cultural fabric of Paris', said Mr David-Herve Boutin, an entrepreneur active in the arts. Such is Mr Akbar's renown that French President Emmanuel Macron recently awarded him a Legion d'Honneur, the Republic's highest order of merit. It will be conferred at a ceremony at the Elysee Palace in autumn. Top stories Swipe. Select. Stay informed. Singapore Almost half of planned 30,000 flats in Tengah to be completed by end-2025: Chee Hong Tat Asia Death toll climbs as Thai-Cambodia clashes continue despite calls for ceasefire Multimedia Lights dimmed at South-east Asia's scam hub but 'pig butchering' continues Singapore Black belt in taekwondo, Grade 8 in piano: S'pore teen excels despite condition that limits movements Asia Where's Jho Low? Looking for 1MDB fugitive in Shanghai's luxury estate Asia Thousands rally in downtown Kuala Lumpur calling for the resignation of PM Anwar Life SG60 F&B icons: Honouring 14 heritage brands that have never lost their charm Business Can STI continue its defiant climb in second half of 2025? 'Perhaps it will help me get my French passport,' said Mr Akbar, who sometimes has a withering take on life, having seen much of its underside. He has a residence permit, but his application for French nationality is mired in Gallic bureaucracy. A stack of newspapers under the arm of Mr Akbar. PHOTO: DMITRY KOSTYUKOV/NYTIMES Mr Akbar moves at startling speed. A sinewy bundle of energy at 72, he clocks several kilometres a day, selling Le Monde, Les Echos and other daily newspapers from around noon until midnight. Dismissive of the digital, he has become a human networker of a district once dear to writers Jean-Paul Sartre and Ernest Hemingway, now overrun by brand-hungry tourists. 'How are you, dear Ali?' asks Ms Veronique Voss, a psychotherapist, as he enters Cafe Fleurus near the Jardin du Luxembourg. 'I worried about you yesterday because it was so hot.' Heat does not deter Mr Akbar, who has known worse. He thanks Ms Voss with a big smile and takes off his dark blue Le Monde cap. 'When you have nothing, you take whatever you can get,' he says. 'I had nothing.' At his next stop, an Italian cafe, Mr Jean-Philippe Bouyer, a stylist who has worked for French luxury brand Dior, greets Mr Akbar warmly. 'Ali is indispensable,' Mr Bouyer says. 'Something very positive and rare in our times emanates from him. He kept the soul of a child.' Born in 1953 into a family of 10 children, two of whom died young, Mr Akbar grew up in Rawalpindi amid rampant poverty and open sewers, eating leftovers, sleeping five to a room, leaving school when he was 12, working odd jobs and eventually teaching himself to read. Born in Rawalpindi, Pakistan, Mr Akbar left home in his late teens in search of a better life. PHOTO: DMITRY KOSTYUKOV/NYTIMES 'I did not want to wear clothes that reeked of misery,' he said. 'I always dreamed of giving my mother a house with a garden.' To advance, he had to leave. He procured a passport at 18. All he knew of Europe was the Eiffel Tower and Dutch tulips. A winding road took him by bus to Kabul, Afghanistan, where Western hippies, most of them high, abounded in 1970 – but that was not Mr Akbar's thing. He went on by road to Iran where, he said, 'the shah was an omnipresent God'. Eventually, he reached Athens, Greece, and wandered the streets looking for work. A businessperson took pity and, noting his eagerness, offered him a job on a ship. Mr Akbar cleaned the kitchen floor. He washed dishes. He was faced by aggressive mockery from bawdy shipmates for his refusal, as a Muslim, to drink. In Shanghai, he abandoned ship rather than face further taunting. The world is round, and around he went, back to Rawalpindi, and then on the westward road again to Europe. His mother deserved better – that conviction drove him through every humiliation. Visa issues in Greece and eventual expulsion landed him back in Pakistan a second time. His family thought he was mad, but, undaunted, he tried again. This time, he washed up in Rouen, France. It had taken only two years. After working there in a restaurant, he moved on to Paris in 1973. 'By the time I got to Paris, I had an overwhelming desire to anchor myself,' Mr Akbar said. 'Since I began circling the planet, I hadn't met many people who didn't disappoint me. 'But if you have no hope, you're dead.' He slept under bridges and in cellars. He encountered racism. He spent a couple of months in Burgundy harvesting cucumbers. Mr Akbar began hawking newspapers in Parisian streets in the early 1970s. PHOTO: DMITRY KOSTYUKOV/NYTIMES At last, in 1974, Mr Akbar found his calling when he ran into an Argentine student hawking newspapers. He inquired how he could do likewise and was soon in the streets of Paris with copies of satirical magazines Charlie Hebdo and Hara-Kiri, now defunct. He liked to walk, enjoyed contact with people and, even if margins were small, could eke out a living. Fast forward 51 years, and Mr Akbar is still at it. Because Saint-Germain is the home of intellectuals, actors and politicians, he has rubbed shoulders with the influential. From former presidents Francois Mitterrand and Bill Clinton to actress-singer Jane Birkin and author Bernard-Henri Levy, he has met them all. None of this has gone to his head. He remains a modest guy with a winning manner. His main newspaper is now Le Monde, which he acquires at a kiosk for about US$2 (S$2.50) a copy and sells for almost double that. He makes around US$70 on an average day and rarely takes a day off. Newspaper reading remains ingrained in France. Friends may buy two or three copies and slip him €10 (S$15) or invite him to lunch. He has no pension, but he gets by – and his mother got a Rawalpindi garden. Mr Akbar will receive a Legion d'Honneur, France's highest order of merit, at a ceremony at the Elysee Palace in autumn. PHOTO: DMITRY KOSTYUKOV/NYTIMES From an arranged marriage with a Pakistani woman in 1980, Akbar has five sons, one of them with autism and another with various physical ailments. A sixth child died at birth. Life has not been easy, one reason 'I have made it my business to make people laugh', he says. He is deeply grateful to France, which he calls a land of asylum, not least for the education it gave his children. But he believes that as a brown-skinned foreigner, he 'will never be completely accepted'. Some 50 years lat er, Mr Akbar remains on the move. Lose sight of him for a second and he is gone. But then comes the cry, 'Ca y est! Marine is marrying Jordan!', a reference to far-right leader Marine Le Pen and her young protege Jordan Bardella. His jokes are a sales pitch, but they also reflect a yearning for a happier, simpler world . NYTIMES
Daily Record
6 days ago
- Entertainment
- Daily Record
Unassuming 1937 book worth £24k - and other books that could land you a cash windfall
Experts have warned that it's easy to underestimate the value of first edition novels If you've got a collection of old books gathering dust at home, it might be time to take a second glance. Specialists are now highlighting the potential fortune to be found in first-edition novels, with one sought-after title fetching a whopping £24,000 last year. The book causing a stir is none other than J. R.R. Tolkien's 1937 masterpiece 'There and Back Again', also known as 'The Hobbit'. Set in Middle Earth, this story chronicles Bilbo Baggins, wizard Gandalf, and 13 dwarves on their quest to recover treasure guarded by the formidable dragon Smaug. The story leapt from page to big screen in 2012, becoming a cinematic sensation 75 years after its original release, with Martin Freeman portraying the Hobbit. Last May, Kinghams Auctioneers predicted that the original book would fetch 'between £7,000 and £10,000', with just 1,500 copies published in September 1937. However, on the day of the auction, the novel fetched more than twice that estimate, selling for an eye-watering £24,000. "When published it was nominated for the Carnegie Medal and awarded a prize from the New York Herald Tribune for best juvenile fiction," the auctioneers explained previously, according to the Mirror. "It is illustrated in black and white by Tolkien who also designed the dust cover. During the war, the book was unavailable due to paper rationing. On the first edition, first impression there is a manual correction on the rear inner flap for 'Dodgeson', (better known as Lewis Carroll)." While first editions of The Hobbit usually fetch between £6,000 and over £20,000 at auction, signed copies can exceed £60,000 in value. With this in mind, David Joyson, a home insurance expert at Homeprotect, recommends a thorough search of personal book collections for potential hidden gems. This isn't just applicable to old versions of The Hobbit, either. In 2024, Hanson Auctioneers revealed that one first-edition Harry Potter book, initially purchased for £10 in 1997, went under the hammer for £36,000. Other copies have reached £64,000 and £12,000 at Rare Book Auctions. "It's amazing to see how much the value of these novels has increased, and during tough financial times, it may inspire a lot of us to dig through our garages, attics, and storage units for hidden treasures that may be worth far more than expected," Mr Joyson said. "First edition books are a highly collectable and often overlooked and underestimated item of value, so before you give away or donate your old children's books, do your research to ensure you aren't throwing away a small fortune. "If you have any of these valuable items lying around your home, or if you come across an item you think may have a high value, get them professionally valued, so you know if they are worth insuring and to avoid underinsuring. "Rare or antique books may be covered by your contents insurance, but it's always worth checking the specific policy terms with your insurer and to confirm that you have an adequate amount of contents cover." Specialists at We Buy Books also last year revealed several other books that could fetch you a hefty sum. Among them are: First Edition Charlie and the Chocolate Factory by Roald Dahl - worth approximately £1,000 First Edition Sherlock Holmes: The Hound of the Baskervilles by Arthur Conan Doyle - worth approximately £5,000 First Edition Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald - worth approximately £10,370 First Edition James Bond: On Her Majesty's Secret Service by Ian Fleming - worth approximately £13,000
National Geographic
07-05-2025
- General
- National Geographic
These daredevil women pilots helped beat Hitler in WWII
Banned from flying in the U.S., these 25 American women headed to Britain to help ferry military aircraft—and fascinated the public with their free-wheeling lives. The women Of Air Transport Auxiliary flew the biggest bombers and the sleekest fighters. Photograph byThe United States barred women pilots from the armed forces during World War II, but that didn't stop 25 courageous young trailblazers. They bolted for Great Britain in 1942 to become the first American women to fly military aircraft. The pilots have been mostly forgotten ever since. But during the war, they shook things up wherever they landed, prompting headlines like one in the New York Herald Tribune. The pilots, it said, 'Fly 121 Types of Planes, Sleep Wherever They Land, Find Romance and Tragedy.' Jacqueline Cochran, American aviatrix, winner of Bendix Transcontinental Air Race, 1938. Photograph by Bettmann, GETTY IMAGES No wonder the public was fascinated. Noble, glamorous, and bold, the pilots represented a cross-section of American womanhood, from crop dusters to debutantes, college girls to performers in flying circuses. The famous aviatrix Jacqueline Cochran was the most celebrated, having risen from childhood poverty to become a millionaire cosmetics mogul who won cross-country air races and shattered records for speed. She set the adventure in motion by inviting the others to join her across the Atlantic. Britain, suffering under constant aerial attack from Germany, was desperate enough to accept a mix of pilots—even foreigners, and yes, even women. Those who made the grade performed one of the most dangerous jobs of the war for a unit called the Air Transport Auxiliary. One in seven pilots died in the course of the work, which called on them to deliver ultimately up to 147 different models of relatively untested fighters and bombers from factories to the frontline airfields of the Royal Air Force, then turn around and return shot-up wrecks for repair. They knew very little about what could go wrong until they were high in the sky. Many pilots crashed or made spectacular saves. Far from home, the free-wheeling, free-thinking American women proved themselves in the air, flying the world's most advanced aircraft in all conditions. On the ground, they reinvented themselves as they pleased, defying expectations for women at the time and often shocking their British hosts with thoroughly modern behavior. Under simulated flight conditions, Women's Air Service Pilots learned the intricacies of proper handling of equipment at high altitudes in a pressurized room at Randolph Air Force Base, San Antonio, Texas, 1940s. Photograph(These female pilots broke down barriers in aviation) Bulgaria's cultural capital Socialites and speed demons Twenty-three-year-old Dorothy Furey was a stunning beauty determined to overcome an impoverished background and an eighth-grade education. She passed in England as a sort of American aristocrat by acting imperious and recycling a single red evening dress. Impervious to scandal, she carried on an adulterous affair with a British lord. Eventually she married him and became a countess. Meanwhile, Virginia Farr, also 23, was known back home as 'the flying socialite.' Her wealthy family expected her to marry well, but she seized on her service in Britain to escape from that gilded cage. Thanks to discipline and rock-solid nerves, Farr advanced quickly to the most difficult assignments in rugged outposts. In private, she fell in love with a woman. January 10th, 1940: Women pilots of the Transport Auxiliary Service, who ferried new RAF aircraft from factory to aerodromes, ran to their planes to give a demonstration of their skills. Photograph by Hudson/TopicalFarr's archrival in the sky was Winnie Pierce, a 25-year-old who lived for thrills and delighted in breaking the rules. When she first arrived, the British rolled their eyes at the hard-drinking party girl. But early in her service, the entire airfield watched in horror as her engine failed just after takeoff in a brand-new Hurricane fighter. Everyone knew this was one of the most perilous circumstances a pilot could face. The Hurricane was too low to offer time for Winnie to find a suitable farming field where she might glide down to safety. Protocol called for her to aim straight ahead and crash into some buildings, because any other alternative was even more likely to be fatal. To try to turn back to the airport was a maneuver known as 'the impossible turn,' because few pilots possessed the skill to pull it off. In a snap, Winnie decided to defy procedure. She pushed through shock with shaking hands as she swung aircraft around, wobbled into position and hit the field without a swerve. Suddenly, she was treated with new respect— 'all that rot about 'good show,'' she wrote in her diary. Hazel Jane Raines, a 25-year-old former stunt pilot in Georgia air shows, also showed her mettle when the engine of a Spitfire fighter failed just as she entered a cloudbank. The whiteout made it impossible to judge left from right, up from down. Raines slipped into a deadly spin that could have drilled the aircraft straight into the ground. But when she finally broke free from the haze, she used her stunt flying expertise to level out in time and save her life. On land, Raines befriended the rich and powerful Lady Astor, who wanted Hazel to marry one of her sons, but Hazel declined. She insisted, 'The sky is my home as long as there is a place up there for me.' American pilot Jacqueline Cochran (far right) talked to members of the Women's Auxiliary Air Force at work on a Hawker Hurricane MkIIb fighter aircraft of 242 (Canadian) Squadron Royal Air Force Fighter Command. Photograph by Central Press/The women competed to fly the biggest, fastest, scariest aircraft, hoping that they could secure careers in the air when the war was over. Jackie Cochran returned home early in the fall of 1942 to help launch the Women Air Force Service Pilots [the WASP]. They delivered aircraft within the United States based on the success of the women in Britain. After the war, Cochran achieved more aviation landmarks, becoming the first woman to break the sound barrier. It was tough going for others as the war ended. Passenger airlines wouldn't hire female pilots, yet some found other aviation work. Ann Wood had been a college graduate who spent her downtime in London making connections with diplomats, generals, journalists, and spies who might help her career. After the war she had to decide between marrying a man she loved and pursuing a serious job. Wood eventually landed a position at Pan Am as the first woman vice president of an American airline. Nancy Miller, who today is the last surviving pilot at the age of 105, became the second American woman to earn a commercial helicopter license. She and her husband founded the first helicopter charter company in Alaska. Nancy Harkness Love, 28, director of the U.S. Women's Auxiliary Ferry Squadron, adjusted her helmet in the cockpit of an Army plane before taking off from an eastern United States base. The women under her command flew planes from factories to coastal airports, for transport to overseas battle fronts. Photograph by National Archives (208-N-4223) At the age of 19, Mary Zerbel had been the youngest woman flying instructor in the United States. When she returned from England, she delivered dicey surplus aircraft to dodgy locations around the world. Her career was so dramatic that Lana Turner starred in the movie The Lady Takes a Flyer based on Zerbel's life. Yet when she died in 2012, her obituary consisted of only three sentences in a newspaper in Idaho—no mention of her flying career. Few of her colleagues received any notice either. The pilots had lived as women ahead of their time, but despite their pioneering service, they were barely remembered when a busy world moved on after the war. Because they weren't permitted to serve within the United States military, they have been excluded from commemorations, and from history itself. With the 80th anniversary of VE-Day marking the end of the war in Europe on May 8th, 2025, it's time these Spitfires got their due.
Telegraph
16-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
How the Telegraph predicted Swinging London
On April 16 1965, The Daily Telegraph's Weekend magazine had a cover feature by John Crosby entitled 'London: The Most Exciting City', which declared: 'Suddenly, the young own the town', and claimed that it was now the place 'where the action is, the gayest, most uninhibited – and in a wholly new, very modern sense – the most coolly elegant city in the world.' Crosby, a well-known American journalist and television critic, was the London correspondent of the New York Herald Tribune, living on the King's Road in Chelsea at the heart of much that was newly fashionable. What makes his piece especially significant is that it appeared an entire year before the article that is often credited with having prompted the whole mid-1960s ' Swinging London ' legend, Time magazine's famous April 1966 US cover, 'London: The Swinging City'. These two high-profile features reflected a shift in popular culture that had been building up since the middle of the previous decade, exemplified by the recent American success of multiple 'British Invasion' bands, notably The Beatles. The initial stirrings had begun around 1955, when the UK's home-grown skiffle craze led many young people to pick up guitars and try to make music of their own, and Mary Quant opened her first boutique on the King's Road. In those days, pop music was supposed to only come from America, and ground-breaking new fashions solely from the Paris catwalks, yet during the early part of the following decade, British bands gradually began showing up on music charts worldwide, and Quant's innovative styles were breaking through internationally, as she explained when I interviewed her in 2004: 'From 1962 I started to design clothes and underwear for [American department store chain] JC Penney – as well as my own Mary Quant collection. I was commuting to New York once a month, which I loved.' The year 1962 also saw the release of the first James Bond film, Dr No, based on Ian Fleming's million-selling novels. Fleming grew up in Chelsea, and the fictional spy in his books lives in an un-named square off the King's Road. Sean Connery, star of the new film series, had cheap lodgings in the area in the late 1950s, and John Barry composed most of his classic Bond themes such as Goldfinger at his home on nearby Cadogan Square. This irreverent, wisecracking and stylish movie star appeared on the scene just as the first flush of more gritty, 'kitchen sink' films was drawing to a close. Many of the latter were the work of directors who had started out in 1956 at the Royal Court Theatre on Sloane Square, at the eastern end of the King's Road, empowered by the shock waves created by John Osborne's debut play for the resident company there, Look Back in Anger. Moving decidedly away from middle- or upper-class drawing-room locations, and placing working-class characters at the heart of the action, such plays and films – together with the anti-heroes depicted in the so-called Angry Young Men novels of the late 1950s – helped prepare the ground for the kind of 1960s figures on-screen, in the pop charts and elsewhere in the wider culture who talked back and didn't play by the old rules. A prime example of the latter would be a group of scruffs in 1962 who were living at the cheaper reaches of the King's Road in a squalid flat and gigging around town at any venue that would let them play their own interpretation of US rhythm and blues. John Gunnell, who together with his brother Rik ran the Flamingo Club in Wardour Street, once told me he booked the band for a month of Monday night shows during that era, but sacked them after the first one after they failed to pull a crowd. Nevertheless, The Rolling Stones did not let this deter them, and within two years they had progressed from Chelsea to the US charts. John Crosby originally considered calling his 1965 Telegraph feature 'Swinging London', and a year earlier had already informed readers of his New York Herald Tribune column that Britain was a 'swinging' nation. Now, in the wake of the 1966 Time magazine cover article, the US media descended in force on London looking for stories, and at one point that year, as Mary Quant told me, 'American news magazines and TV were often filming both sides of the King's Road at the same time'. Time declared that 'in a once sedate world of faded splendour, everything new, uninhibited and kinky is blooming at the top of London life', and the King's Road seemed to be the epicentre of all that had been declared groovy. 'Saturday afternoon in Chelsea, at La Rêve restaurant. Wolfing down a quick lunch are some of the most switched-on young men in town: Actor Terence Stamp, 26, star of The Collector and steady date of model Jean Shrimpton; actor Michael Caine, 33, the Mozart-loving spy in The Ipcress File; hairdresser Sassoon, 38, whose cut can be seen both at Courrèges in Paris and on Princess Meg; Ace photographer David Bailey, 27, professional associate of Antony Armstrong-Jones; and Doug Hayward, 28, Chelsea's 'innest' private tailor.' Much of the attention on the modish capital was met with predictable derision by Londoners themselves, and by the satirists at Private Eye, who printed a 'Swinging England All-Purpose Titillation Supplement' to assist the 'very small number of American periodicals which have not yet produced their 24-page survey of the Swinging, Vibrant, Thrusting New England Where Even the Hovercraft Wear Mini-Skirts etc etc'. Time's own letters column also received some scathing responses from British readers, including one that said: 'For the year's most ridiculous generalisations, you deserve to swing indeed. All of you. And not in London either.' Despite all this, the image of the capital as a wellspring of the emerging 1960s pop culture would continue to be disseminated as the decade progressed by numerous fashion articles worldwide, books such as Len Deighton's London Dossier, Karl Dallas's Swinging London – A Guide to Where the Action Is or the self-consciously trendy pulp novels of Adam Diment such as The Dolly Dolly Spy, scores of famous rock stars including Chelsea resident Keith Richards in his artfully tattered velvet jackets and scarves from hip King's Road boutique Granny Takes a Trip, by films such as Alfie or Blow-Up and stylish London-based TV shows like The Avengers (now shot in colour for the benefit of the American market), and by a blizzard of magazine articles either celebrating or decrying the myth of Swinging London. As for the man whose Telegraph feature helped unleash the hysteria, the Liverpool Echo reported in June 1966 that 'Crosby today nervously acknowledges paternity of the swinging movement but says he was only trying to be funny about one minor aspect of English life', and faced with the prospect of being interviewed by Paris Match for yet another article about the subject, Crosby himself observed: 'When Frenchmen come to England to ask an American questions about London's sex, you know the millennium has arrived.'
Yahoo
27-02-2025
- General
- Yahoo
He captured decades of Detroit history: 55 photos by Free Press photographer Ira Rosenberg
It was the height of the 1967 Detroit riot when the Detroit Free Press rented an armored personnel carrier (without the gun) to send the newspaper's staff closer to the scene. Photographer Ira Rosenberg was one of the people inside. Rosenberg, who died in 2016 at the age of 99, had a career that spanned nearly 70 years. His striking photography captured decades of Detroit history and pivotal moments. In honor of him and his dedication to the craft, we've compiled some of our favorite Rosenberg images into the photo gallery above. Born in New York in 1916, Rosenberg dropped out of school at 16 to be a copy boy for the New York Herald Tribune, where he began to teach himself photography, said his daughter, Andrea Rosenberg Rogoff, at the time of his passing. More: Iconic images by legendary Free Press photographer Tony Spina capture Michigan history 'He told the story ... and he was fearless in pursuing it,' Rosenberg Rogoff said. She added: 'The camera lived with him.' Rosenberg joined the Free Press in the mid-1960s. Within a year or two of his arrival, he was part of the team documenting the Detroit riot. That coverage earned the staff a Pulitzer Prize. 'It wasn't about him,' Rosenberg Rogoff said in 2016. 'It wasn't about getting his name on the photograph. … It was about bringing the photograph to the public.' Rosenberg left the Free Press in the mid-1980s to work for the Dallas Morning News so he could be closer to his family. The Detroit Free Press contributed to this report. This article originally appeared on Detroit Free Press: Ira Rosenberg, Free Press photographer, left trove of historic images
