A New Start

FT: Design - Kenneth Grange

Collecting special: Everywhere and nowhere

By Edwin Heathcote

Published: May 27 2011 22:35 | Last updated: May 27 2011 22:35

Designer Kenneth Grange at home in London

Kenneth Grange is ubiquitous. The day before I went to talk to him I’d taken a trip on one of the trains he designed and had got into one of the London taxi cabs he designed. I shaved with one of his razors, opened a door using one of his handles and waited for a bus at one of his bus shelters. No other designer has had the same impact on the London environment.

Yet his name will be largely unfamiliar, even to many design aficionados, and the forthcoming show at London’s Design Museum will be his first major exhibition for almost 30 years.

EDITOR’S CHOICE

Now 82, Grange was born in London to what he describes as “an ordinary background, flowers on the wallpaper, you know the kind of the thing.” At school he showed a talent for drawing and worked first as a scene painter for the fledgling BBC TV studios. He then studied at the Willesden School of Art and began working for architects, notably with Jack Howe and Bronek Katz. From bits and pieces of street furniture and fittings designed while with architects he went on to become a pioneering product designer, a field which – although established in the US and Germany – was only just emerging in Britain.

Grange exemplifies a type of industrial designer synonymous with an era of faith in modernism, a passionately held conviction that design could be used to make life and society better. If the designer today is presented by the PR machine as an artist and superstar, Grange represents an era when it was corporations rather than galleries who turned to successful designers.

Grange is sitting with me in his Hampstead house, one of the fruits of his success in the 1960s when he was the most efficacious industrial designer in the country and a partner in the pioneering multi-disciplinary design agency Pentagram.

We’re sitting at a big table which serves for dining, display, drawing, even model-making. There’s a workshop outside as well, a place of meticulous craft in which every tool has its rigorously designated place. But for now, Grange is surrounded by papers and photos from a full career, trying to hone down a representative sample for the exhibition. Does this mountain of stuff, I wonder, make him reassess his career?

“It’s a bit like looking at a family photo album,” he says. “I keep seeing things I’ve forgotten. I’m pleased, perhaps a little disappointed at some moments, but I was lucky to work on a lot of exciting things. I got into this trade [industrial design] so early that clients still had no experience of employing anyone like me and so I was, by default, pushing at the boundaries.

“It also displays all these social phenomena – shows how much life has changed. Everybody used to smoke, so I have a huge catalogue of designs for lighters. And there were paraffin heaters – it’s easy to forget it wasn’t so long ago that not everyone had central heating. And then, almost overnight, those markets disappeared.”

But there were plenty of others to replace them. Grange was commissioned by an extraordinary number of leading companies, in an era when Britain still had a big manufacturing base. He designed the first Kenwood Chef food mixer, irons for Morphy Richards, cameras for Kodak, washing machines for Bendix, pens for Parker, razors for Wilkinson Sword. He designed Britain’s first parking meter in 1958 and computer terminals for Reuters. His designs formed the background to everyday life in Britain during the postwar era. How did he manage to design so much? “Well, I’ve always had a bit of a work ethic,” he replies with the cheeky beginnings of a grin. “If you work 12 hours a day, six or seven days a week, you soon find you’re ahead of every other bugger.”

One job from 1968 exemplifies Grange’s particular combination of hard work, initiative, charm and chutzpah. “I’d been approached by British Rail to design a livery for a new train. It was a bloody ugly thing, it looked like a barrel with a port-hole at the front, but I’d learned never to say no to a commission. I’d done some bits and pieces for British Rail by then already – I had a bit of a track record. So, without permission, we started working on a new design, on what a train could be. We tested models in a wind tunnel (slipping the lab technicians at Imperial College a fiver) and we took along the new models, along with all the wind-tunnel information to British Rail.” It’s hard to imagine a designer today being commissioned for a paint job and coming in with a new train, but that’s what happened. And he got the job. The InterCity 125 became the archetypal high-speed locomotive, its sleek nose and simple lines still influential today, over 40 years since it was designed.

When I later ask which of his designs he is most proud of he tells me: “The train still takes some beating. There’s nothing like having to live with your designs and it sounds arrogant but there’s not much I would change about it today.”

Grange is still active but his designs are smaller in scale and for far smaller, design-conscious British manufacturers. The huge British consumer product industry with which he made his name has come and gone, virtually within the span of his career. Grange has eschewed the neophiliac, burgeoning world of “design art”, instead concentrating on functional products. How does he view the world of contemporary design and production? “The problem is that it all begins – and ends – with the manufacturing base. And we don’t have a manufacturing base any more. I’ve always admired the Germans for governmentally supporting manufacture but British culture is different, it’s buccaneering. It’s highly paid managers manipulating finance. It’s a completely different model.”

We begin to wrap up, flicking through images of endless designs, many still unfamiliar to me even though I thought I knew his oeuvre well. “I’ve been lucky,” he says. “Design education now is big business [he is also Visiting Professor at London’s Royal College of Art]. There are all these young designers coming out of colleges now and what are they going to do? The big corporations don’t even have design departments like they used to. Some of the kids will fall by the wayside, others are virtually forced into producing one-offs and that way design inevitably becomes a kind of art.”

Can design really be art? “I think design in its highest form can be art. The work of the great Scandinavians – think of Arne Jacobsen.” He starts deftly sketching Jacobsen’s stainless steel Cylinda Line coffee pot. “Look at that,” he says. “It’s sculpturally, graphically perfect. It’s comfortable and it works, you couldn’t make it any better and that takes exceptional skill. Or,” he grins, “it could just be the most amazing accident.”

‘Kenneth Grange: Making Modern Britain’, Design Museum, London July 20-October 30. www.designmuseum.org

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Works by Kenneth Grange: Part of the British landscape

Many of Kenneth Grange’s creations are so integral to British life that we hardly notice them as pieces of self-conscious “design” – which may, of course, be the highest compliment one can pay to an aesthetically pleasing object or machine whose form and function mesh seamlessly. The pleasing lines of British Rail’s 125 train (1968), the London taxi updated in 1997, sleek lamps, irons, washing machines, cameras and chairs for well-known manufacturers are all part of his repertoire.

Copyright The Financial Times Limited 2011.

ST: GE's new Internet star

Prime News

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May 10, 2011

GE 2011

GE's new Internet star

By Tessa Wong

Returning Officer Yam Ah Mee, who was previously chief of the Land Transport Authority, sashaying down a makeshift 'catwalk' during a charity event at Paya Lebar MRT station last year. -- ST PHOTO: LIM SIN THAI

 

UNTIL around midnight on Saturday, Mr Yam Ah Mee was the quintessential faceless civil servant.

As Singapore's Returning Officer (RO), he does his work in ensuring a smooth and impartial general election out of the public eye.

But since his live television announcement of the election results, Mr Yam has become an overnight sensation. Netizens have elevated him to folk hero status, after watching him make his delivery in a monotone and with a poker face.

A Facebook fan page called 'Yah Ah Mee, Returning Officer Extra-ordinaire' has drawn more than 37,600 'likes' since it was set up on Sunday. A fake Facebook account meant as a tribute to Mr Yam has also been set up, while on his real Facebook account, his friends count has doubled to 2,380.

Netizens have remixed recordings of his announcements into at least nine thumping dance tracks and uploaded them on YouTube. One has Mr Yam's voice tweaked to sound like he is singing the Aljunied GRC results, with the chorus: 'Yo, yo, yo. George Yeo!'

Fans are passing around photoshopped pictures of Mr Yam as James Bond or advertising medicated oil. One even designed 'I Love Yam Ah Mee' mugs, badges and T-shirts, and started selling them on Facebook yesterday. The designer, 27-year-old marketing communications executive Xylvie Huang, received more than 70 orders in four hours. The effusive reaction appears to be a spillover of the excitement over the historic results, which sent the most opposition MPs into Parliament since Independence.

Mr Yam's Facebook fan page states: 'We all love Mr Yam - please don't hate on him. He has become a symbol of the results for us, and we're just so excited about this GE.'

What does Mr Yam make of his newfound popularity?

The People's Association chief executive director told The Straits Times: 'I was surprised so many people liked me online. I don't see it as a compliment for myself, but for all the election officers who helped to make the election a smooth one.'

Explaining his delivery, he said: 'I felt it was important to announce clearly, concisely and impartially.' He had a throat operation that affected his voice when he was young, he added.

Yesterday, he left a modest note on his fan page: 'Hi everyone, thanks for all your interest :) Just trying to do a good job as RO.'

ST: George Yeo: A man for all seasons

Review

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May 9, 2011

George Yeo: A man for all seasons

By Tommy Koh, For The Straits Times

As Singapore's Foreign Minister of nearly seven years, Mr George Yeo will leave a legacy of strategic thinking, cultural diplomacy and friendship. -- ST PHOTO: WANG HUI FEN

 

ONE of my hopes for the 2011 General Elections was that those who won would be magnanimous and those who lost would be gracious.

Foreign Minister George Yeo was gracious in defeat. In his concession speech, he congratulated Mr Low Thia Khiang and his Workers' Party team on their victory and wished them success. Of the other defeated candidates, only Mr Desmond Choo of the People's Action Party and Ms Nicole Seah of the National Solidarity Party were just as gracious.

A man's character can be gleaned from his conduct, both in victory and in defeat. Mr Yeo is a gentleman and an honourable man, whatever the conditions.

I have had the pleasure of working under his leadership in three of his ministerial portfolios. He was our first minister of the then Ministry of Information and the Arts, or Mita. During nine years at Mita, he changed Singapore from a so-called cultural desert to a cultural oasis.

He appointed Mr Tan Chin Nam chairman of the newly created National Library Board - and Mr Tan, together with Mr Christopher Chia, revolutionised our library system and made it one of the best in the world. Mr Yeo also appointed Mr Lim Chee Onn chairman of the National Heritage Board, and me, chairman of the National Arts Council.

It was under his leadership that the Esplanade was built, the Asian Civilisations Museum was envisioned, the Arts Festival was made an annual event, the LaSalle College of the Arts took off, and the Government agreed, for the first time, to subsidise arts education. Today, Singaporeans enjoy a rich and varied cultural life. They should not forget the person who planted the seeds that have blossomed.

Mr Yeo brought the same energy, imagination and enthusiasm to the Ministry of Trade and Industry. He realised that because trade is Singapore's life blood, it should play a proactive leadership role in global trade forums like the World Trade Organisation (WTO). He quickly won the admiration and trust of his peers. They asked him to chair the negotiations on agriculture, one of the most contentious issues. WTO director-general Pascal Lamy is an admirer of Mr Yeo.

In order to enlarge Singapore's economic space, Mr Yeo championed the idea of linking Singapore's economy with other economies by way of free trade agreements (FTAs) and comprehensive economic partnership (CEP) agreements. During his watch, he launched more than a dozen FTA and CEP negotiations.

He appointed me chief negotiator in our negotiations with the United States. During the journey of two years, we encountered many difficulties. Throughout, Mr Yeo remained calm, optimistic and creative. He worked relentlessly with the different stakeholders in the US to earn their support and to find acceptable solutions to the difficulties.

In the final stage of the negotiations, there was a shortlist of issues that the two chief negotiators could not resolve. Those issues were finally resolved by Mr Yeo and his American counterpart, Mr Robert Zoellick, in a marathon negotiating session that extended through the night without dinner and ended successfully at dawn. Members of the Singapore delegation were deeply impressed by the cool and masterly way in which Mr Yeo had negotiated with Mr Zoellick.

Mr Yeo has been Singapore's Foreign Minister for nearly seven years now. He inherited a ministry in good order as a result of the legacy of Mr S. Rajaratnam, Mr S. Dhanabalan, Mr Wong Kan Seng and Professor S. Jayakumar. What contributions did Mr Yeo make to that heritage? I would single out three.

First, he taught us to think strategically and to prioritise. He constantly asked his staff to ensure that our most important bilateral relationships were in excellent order. He scanned the horizon for new opportunities - such as in the Middle East and Latin America.

Second, he was the first foreign minister to use history and culture as instruments of diplomacy. He persuaded the Chinese Chamber of Commerce to restore the Sun Yat Sen Villa and to turn it into a historic site linking Singapore, China and Taiwan. He requested that the National Heritage Board restore the memorial to Subhas Chandra Bose, who is celebrated in India as a nationalist and independence fighter. It was due to the leadership of Mr Yeo, a Roman Catholic, and of former Indian president Abdul Kalam, a Muslim, that the ancient Buddhist university at Nalanda, Bihar is being reincarnated.

Third, Mr Yeo believes in the importance of friendship in diplomacy. He often invited his foreign guests to his home to have dinner with him and his family. He went out of his way to show warmth and friendship to his foreign interlocutors. When Tan Sri Syed Hamid Albar was Malaysia's foreign minister, Mr Yeo visited him in his constituency in Malaysia to pay his respects during Hari Raya.

Mr Yeo is blessed with high IQ, EQ and CQ - cultural intelligence. He is an exceptionally gifted man. Although an engineer by training and a soldier by profession, he is also a philosopher and historian. Although a devout Roman Catholic, he is a champion of inter-faith dialogue and understanding.

Mr George Yeo is ideally qualified to play a leadership role on the global stage, and I sincerely hope he will do so.

The writer is special adviser to the Institute of Policy Studies at the National University of Singapore.

---

A man's character can be gleaned from his conduct, both in victory and in defeat. Mr Yeo is a gentleman and an honourable man whatever the condition.

The Straits Times

www.straitstimes.com

Published on May 10, 2011

 

Where next for George Yeo?

 

THE electoral defeat of Foreign Minister George Yeo has probably punched a huge hole in the Prime Minister's Cabinet formation plans. It will be patched, but with some difficulty as the job requires multi-faceted skills and a touch of finesse. Singaporeans will rue the exit of a polymath-activist whose intellect and philosophical acuity gained Singapore a sizeable reputation in the international policy arena. Workers' Party leader Low Thia Khiang, who led his team to a famous victory in Aljunied GRC, might wish it was some other minister that he had brought down. This of course takes nothing away from his party's achievement. It had tapped skilfully and winningly into the prevailing mood for broader democratic representation.

One might speculate if the People's Action Party's deployment of candidates could have been better judged relative to the opposition's tactical placements. One might even speculate if the Group Representation Constituency system has in-built weaknesses, whereby untested candidates can saunter into Parliament while a high-value (indeed, invaluable) asset, like Mr Yeo - or Mr Ong Ye Kung, one of the most impressive among the newcomers - can end up as casualties, through no fault of their own or that of their team. This has been a prodigious waste of talent.

If the Singapore Parliament were a bicameral with an upper chamber of appointed legislators, Mr Yeo's Cabinet services might yet be retained - but alas Singapore doesn't have any such chamber. There would also be no by-election to rescue a defeated minister, PM Lee Hsien Loong had said before the elections. That is the correct position, for the integrity of the electoral system has to be preserved. Mr Yeo is thus probably lost to political office - irretrievably.

He has not indicated whether he will bow out of politics or mull his options to fight another day. He is 56, not young by the next electoral cycle but young enough for a public role here or abroad.

Domestically, it has been suggested in some quarters that he stand for President. The election is due this year. It is an intriguing proposition. He has all the requisite qualities - of both heart and mind, as well as of spirit.

Finally, a word is in order about how Mr Yeo conducted himself in this campaign: He displayed enormous grace under pressure. It is difficult to think of any other politician in Singapore's history who has made people, including his opponents, feel as uplifted as he did in this race. He raised everyone to a higher plane.

He is a man of rare distinction.

Copyright © 2010 Singapore Press Holdings. All rights reserved.

The Straits Times

www.straitstimes.com

Published on May 17, 2011

 

Singapore's perfect man for the world

 

IN THE aftermath of the recent General Election, as an American friend of Singapore, and a personal one of Foreign Minister George Yeo, I want to say that he has been the perfect global representative for Singapore.

A man of the world, an advocate for free trade, Asean and Asia, a man of vast talent and always a visionary, he has impressed those around him wherever he has travelled to put Singapore's best foot forward.

Mr Yeo and I first met at a conference about 20 years ago. After that meeting, I put him in my exclusive book of people I believe slated to make the world a better place and accomplish great things. In the case of Mr Yeo, I am pleased that I have been abundantly right. So, although he lost the election, he is a man of vigour, and I am just as certain as I was at that first meeting 20 years ago that in whatever he does, he will continue to make the world a better place and go on as an extraordinary representative of Singapore.

Robert A. Hefner III
The GHK Company
Oklahoma City,
United States

Copyright © 2010 Singapore Press Holdings. All rights reserved.

ST: Of lions and men

Think

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May 1, 2011

Of lions and men

Singapore story not due only to MM Lee, but also team of able, brave, passionate men

By Lee Wei Ling

An NTUC May Day rally in 1965. Early leaders like Mr Devan Nair (at the microphone), determined and courageous, risked their all and helped Mr Lee Kuan Yew (behind Mr Nair) to build Singapore into what it is today. -- PHOTO: LEE KUAN YEW

 

We had lunch with Li Ka Shing a month ago when I accompanied my father to Hong Kong. Sir Ka Shing has many titles, including the KBE (Knight Commander of the Order of the British Empire), which entitles him to be called 'Sir'. He is the richest person of East Asian descent in the world, with an estimated wealth of US$26 billion (S$32 billion).

As we sat down for lunch in his elegant office, he praised my father for his many achievements, noting they have garnered him fame and admiration worldwide. 'That,' said Mr Li, 'is what money cannot buy.'

But my father, Minister Mentor Lee Kuan Yew, never did anything for fame. He did and still does what he believes is good for Singapore. Whether it is encouraging graduate women to have more children or encouraging tree planting, if he thinks something is good for Singapore - whether it is popular or unpopular - he will try to persuade Singaporeans to adopt it.

Many historical figures say they leave history to judge them. My father accepts that scholars will eventually analyse his legacy. But as far as he is concerned, he has always tried to do what is best for Singapore, given the information available to him at that time. If the wisdom of hindsight proves his decisions wrong, he would not lose sleep over it.

Lord William Rees-Mogg, a former editor of The Times of London, once wrote an article praising my father, Dr Henry Kissinger and Mrs Margaret Thatcher on the occasion of Mrs Thatcher's 80th birthday.

'Mr Lee,' he wrote, 'almost single-handedly built up Singapore into one of the most astonishing economic success stories of our time, and he did so in the face of constant threats to his tiny state's security and, indeed, existence.'

Lord Rees-Mogg added: 'These three, born into different cultures, seem to me to have shared the basic qualities that allow great statesmen to influence the world for the good... They have shown great courage, unending determination and a clearly defined set of beliefs.'

My father has indeed gained worldwide fame, but that is irrelevant to him. And Singapore owes its success not only to him but also to a group of courageous, passionate and able men. The names that immediately come to mind are Dr Goh Keng Swee, Mr S. Rajaratnam, Mr Ong Pang Boon, Dr Toh Chin Chye, Mr Devan Nair - as well as a group of courageous Malay leaders, Mr Othman Wok and Mr Yaacob Mohamed in particular, who stood firm for a Singaporean Singapore even at the risk of their lives.

Since today is May Day, the day we celebrate labour, I want to tell the story of the late Mr Devan Nair, who stood for workers.

I have a soft spot for Devan, not least because he and 'Raja' were the only two among my father's friends whom I did not need to address as 'uncles'. He treated me as an equal.

Devan was a founding member of the People's Action Party (PAP), though he began in its pro-communist wing. He spent a total of five years in prison for his beliefs. Of the eight leftist leaders who were released from prison when the PAP formed the government in 1959, Devan was the only one who remained faithful to their pledge to support the non-communist leadership of the PAP.

When the PAP split in 1961, the trade unions also split. Devan founded the National Trades Union Congress (NTUC) to organise the unions sympathetic to the PAP, while the pro-Barisan Socialis unions were organised under the umbrella of the Singapore Association of Trade Unions (Satu).

If Devan had not stood firm in 1961, there may still have been an NTUC but it would have been a weak NTUC. He rallied the small group of unions that had remained loyal, and slowly clawed back support from the others - the overwhelming majority - that had gone over to Satu. The strategy he adopted was simple:

While the Satu unions called strikes for political reasons and caused widespread disruption, the NTUC unions worked on improving working conditions. They delivered the goods and slowly workers realised this was a better alternative than endless agitation and strife. The NTUC, in effect, adopted the same strategy the PAP did in government. You show people improvements - deliver jobs, housing, schools, health services - and thus you win their support.

Devan initiated the modernisation of the trade unions in 1969 with the NTUC Modernisation Seminar. From this arose Income, the insurance cooperative, FairPrice, the supermarket chain - both of which were inspired by Dr Goh - as well as Comfort, which was first established to organise the paongchia (or pirate) taxi drivers into a cooperative.

Later, NTUC extended its sphere of social activity further - including health services, childcare, leisure and recreational facilities - but the process began with that 1969 seminar. As a result, trade unionism in Singapore is now no longer just about collective bargaining - which of course remains its core activity - but also about improving the lives of workers across the board.

Devan's biggest contribution to Singapore was to make trade unions partners with the Government and employers, in a system we call 'tripartism'. If there had been industrial strife - or if workers had felt they had got a raw deal - Singapore would not have developed so rapidly in the 1970s and 1980s. Today, NTUC is a strong organisation - and union membership has not declined, unlike in almost all other advanced economies - because it modernised itself early and became a partner in nation building.

The concept of tripartism was in fact born in discussions my father had with Devan, Dr Goh and Dr Albert Winsemius, the Dutch economist who made a significant contribution to Singapore's development.

Singapore is the first country in the world to have a tripartite arrangement, where workers (represented by the NTUC), employers and the Government come together to discuss general wage levels.

The National Wages Council - the brainchild of Dr Winsemius - issues each year general wage guidelines, depending on Singapore's economic conditions. In difficult years, workers have accepted pay cuts without going on strike. And in good years, the pay cuts are restored without employers dragging their feet.

The Singapore story was not the work of one man only. A group of determined and courageous men risked their all to build this place. MM Lee was their leader, but he would not have succeeded if his team consisted of a herd of sheep. He was a lion who was fortunate to have had lions for comrades - and the result is the Singapore we know today.

Today, on May Day, when the NTUC also celebrates the 50th anniversary of its founding, let us remember the fundamentals of Singapore's development: Nation above self; cooperation over strife; fairness and justice.

The writer is director of the National Neuroscience Institute. Send your comments to suntimes@sph.com.sg

ST: Lee Wei Ling - Persisting despite everything

The Straits Times

www.straitstimes.com

Published on Apr 24, 2011

 

Persisting despite everything

No matter the trials, one must roll with the punches and carry on with life

 

By Lee Wei Ling

My elder brother Hsien Loong's son Yipeng was born on Oct 7, 1982. The baby had albinism, which means he had no pigment on his skin and eyes, and his vision would be impaired.

Hsien Loong phoned our father to tell him about the baby's condition, and added: 'He will not be able to do national service.'

Loong's late wife Ming Yang died of a heart attack three weeks after delivering the baby. I had just returned to Boston then after passing my MRCP (UK) examination, when my father phoned me to tell me that Ming Yang had died.

I flew home immediately, and stayed for a month. Then I returned to Boston to continue my training in paediatric neurology.

Recently, while clearing some papers, I came across old letters exchanged between my mother and me from that period. They speak of a sad time in our family, of persisting despite everything, of keeping faith with the fundamentals.

Below I reproduce a letter from my mother to me, dated Nov 25, 1982, and my reply, dated Dec 7, 1982.

My dear Ling,

Your letter of 14/11 arrived a few days ago.

We (Pa and Ma) were barely stirring, about to wake, when the SOs (security officers) put through your call. We were both glad to hear your voice. You sounded more like your usual self.

I was fearful you would be down and depressed and very vulnerable then to 'falling in love'. Papa always assures me that when he 'fell in love' with me, it was a very carefully considered decision.

He wanted someone intelligent so he could talk to her; someone healthy to bear healthy children, and someone tall and big because he wanted tall big children. The fact that I am two and a half years older than he is, was also carefully considered!

He did not discuss me with his parents, though he was very close to his mother. I hope you have inherited Papa's approach to this very important decision, and will not allow yourself to fall in love with the wrong person, and that you will make as happy a choice as your father did.

Loong has brought Yipeng to Mount Elizabeth medical centre. Dr KCY, an ophthalmologist, arranged for a British specialist, Dr MR, to see Yipeng.

Dr MR did not tell us much that Loong did not already know. He examined Yipeng's eyes in a darkened room with an ophthalmoscope and made what Loong cynically described as 'comforting sounds'. He said that the pigment will probably develop when the child is between 12 and 15 years old, but he was just making a general statement, not forecasting anything for Yipeng.

We invited Loong to a poolside barbecue, and he said he would (come) and did bring Xiuqi to this second poolside barbecue. The first dinner must have been painful for him because it was less than a month before that he and Ming Yang were at a similar dinner, and at times, I saw his face drawn with pain and his eyes filled with tears.

The second dinner, he was a little more composed. He must and will get over it. But it's so painful.

Mary Thatcher (the widow of W.S. Thatcher, my father's former tutor at Fitzwilliam College, Cambridge University), to whom Loong had sent the two cards (one to announce Yipeng's birth and the other Ming Yang's death), wrote a letter to him and one to me.

She was very perceptive, and wrote that I must be grieving to see my son grieve, and that is true.

I don't want to make you sad, Ling, but I must get it off my chest. I went to see Dr LYK and Dr CBL for a thorough check because I still have heartache. They made me do the treadmill test and took some ultrasound pictures of my heart. They said everything was fine and I quite believe them, and know it is just psychological heartache.

Look after yourself and write home.

Love,

Mama

Dear Pa, Ma & Family,

This past weekend was the first weekend since returning from Singapore when I did not have to carry my beeper, because my colleague is back from vacation.

Saturday was an exceptionally warm day. I went for a long walk at Mount Auburn Cemetery. I have walked there many times before, especially last fall and this past spring and summer. The last time I walked there I was depressed over failing the MRCP exam and anxious about trying the exam again.

I remember Ming Yang wrote me a comforting letter soon after I arrived back in Boston (after failing the first MRCP exam). This time Ming Yang is gone. I felt very, very sad as I walked in the cemetery.

But cemeteries always have a calming effect on me and put life in its correct perspective. When I see graves of whole families with members dying at all ages, from babyhood to their 90s, I remember what we all know but purposely try to forget: how transient and unpredictable life is.

Ma, if you could send me at least US$3,000, I want to open a 'First Rate Account'. I am enclosing a letter from the bank. You can see the conditions and let me know whether I am wise. I can start the account any time after 14/12/82. My current account is running low again because I have been buying quite a lot of books.

Ma, stop fretting about my falling for an American. I can't give any 100 per cent guarantees, but have always let reason override passion in this particular matter. Besides, I am not even sure I want ever to get married.

Love,

Ling

It is now April 2011. Yipeng is a polite, gentle and determined young man of 29, a graduate of the National University of Singapore. He is still undecided about what career he wants to take on. He assures me that he does not want a routine job but one where he can contribute to society.

Hsien Loong got over his grief and married Ho Ching, who has two sons, both now studying at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. She has been a kind and sensible mother to Ming Yang's two children as well as to her own. She has been a filial daughter-in-law and a kind and very considerate sister- in-law. And I have remained happily single, and now support my father in his old age.

Life is an obstacle course. Neither moaning nor surrendering to depression can change things for the better. We have to roll with the punches, grit our teeth and carry on with life.

As a character in the Samuel Beckett novel, The Unnamable, puts it: 'You must go on, I can't go on, I'll go on.'

The writer is director of the National Neuroscience Institute. Send your comments to suntimes@sph.com.sg

Copyright © 2010 Singapore Press Holdings. All rights reserved.

ST: Haw Par Villa, the family playground

Lifestyle

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Apr 17, 2011

Haw Par Villa, the family playground

By Nicholas Yong

The last artisan at Haw Par Villa, Mr Teo Veoh Seng, 76, is still holding the fort at the park today, repairing and maintaining its figurines. -- ST PHOTO: LAU FOOK KONG

View more photos

 

Senior systems specialist Teo Miu Kiang, 44, has fond memories of a childhood spent at Haw Par Villa.

She says: 'I used to run around the park with my siblings and cousins. There was a cave where we could play hide and seek and open fields where we could play catching.'

Even the iconic 10 Courts Of Hell held no fear for her and her playmates: 'We were used to it. It was just another part of our playground.'

Ms Teo and her seven siblings have a unique connection with Haw Par Villa - her grandfather, granduncle, father and uncles served the owner, ointment tycoon Aw Boon Haw, as servants and workers.

The extended family of more than 40 lived in two houses just behind the park. Ms Teo's parents moved out in the 1970s while the rest of the family remained for some years longer.

Her father, Mr Teo Veoh Seng, 76, is the last of the six artisans who created the original statues depicting scenes from Chinese legends and folklore, which were meant to impart Confucian values.

Several recent letters to The Straits Times Forum page expressed hopes that the Singapore Tourism Board would take steps to revitalise the park.

More than six decades on, Mr Teo is still there five days a week, patiently repairing and maintaining the statues with handmade tools such as chisels and scrapers.

Trained by a master craftsman who had worked at Haw Par Villa's now- defunct Hong Kong sister park Tiger Balm Garden, which was sold and demolished in 1998, he started work at the Villa in 1948 at the age of 13.

As an apprentice, his task was to lay the foundations for the statues, which were made of materials such as wire mesh, cement and sand, before the more experienced craftsmen refined the design.

A typical 2m-high statue would take a team of four to five men about a month to complete.

'I was the youngest among them. When I was in my 20s, they were already in their 40s,' recalls Mr Teo in Teochew.

'Now, I am the only one left.'

Built in 1937 by Mr Aw Boon Haw, Haw Par Villa housed a residence for his younger brother Boon Par and a free public park filled with the statues.

It was one of three parks in Asia built by the Aw brothers, with another counterpart in Yongding county, in the Chinese province of Fujian.

Mr Teo recalls Boon Haw, who was based in Hong Kong, as a kind and generous boss. He allowed the family to build a house and rear livestock on the land while paying a nominal rent, as well as to supplement their income by operating food and drinks stalls in the park.

Mr Teo's eldest daughter, Ms Tay Chew Buay, 54, adds: 'Mr Aw Boon Haw came back once a year to pay his respects to his ancestors and the children would all queue up to get hongbao from him.'

In its heyday in the 1980s, Haw Par Villa attracted more than a million visitors a year. Today, it receives only about 250,000 to 300,000 annually.

Mr Teo says: 'In the old days, there were not many attractions in Singapore, so Haw Par Villa was a must-see. Now there are more places for people to visit, such as Sentosa.'

The Chinese New Year was an especially busy time for the Teos, when tourists and locals alike flocked to the park. While others were out visiting or enjoying themselves, everyone would chip in at the family stalls.

Bought over by STB in 1985, Haw Par Villa was given an $80-million facelift, expanded to five times its original size and turned into a ticketed theme park. But it failed to take off and is now a free attraction, open daily from 9am to 7pm.

When LifeStyle visited the park on a weekday afternoon, there were only about 15 visitors, all of them tourists. Many of the iconic statues were chipped and peeling and the small food court there had been closed for at least a year.

When asked if it was a pity that so few come to visit these days, Mr Teo says with a shrug: 'It can't be helped. Young people especially don't know about history or the things of the past. They don't know how to appreciate the figurines.'

One thing is for sure: If Haw Par Villa ever closes down, he will just quietly retire.

While the park has changed greatly from its original incarnation, the memories of the Teo family have not.

Ms Tay says: 'I go back every now and then to reminisce if I happen to be passing by. It is a place where I forget my troubles.'

View this photo

Mr Teo Veoh Seng's (fifth from right in the last row) extended family in the 1960s, many of whom worked at Haw Par Villa. -- ST PHOTO: LAU FOOK KONGImage 2 of 2

FT: TMB, Panyee FC

 

 

The public image: TMB

By Tim Johnston

Published: April 4 2011 22:47 | Last updated: April 4 2011 22:47

Agency: Leo Burnett and Arc Worldwide
Territory: Thailand
Verdict:

Most Thai television advertising is not subtle: a line of winsome young women, preferably dancing, seems to be the preferred solution to selling everything from chocolates to coffee.

Which is possibly why a recent campaign by TMB – formerly Thai Military Bank – has made such an impact. TMB has launched a series of four TV ads recounting the true story of the foundation of Panyee Football Club on a tiny island with so little flat land that they had to build a floating mini pitch out of driftwood before going on to become one of the country’s most successful amateur teams.

The ads, which were shot by Australian director Matt Devine using locals from Panyee Island, are a feel-good mixture of humour and inspiration. Each mini-episode ends with a challenge faced by the team and the question “What would you do?” before flashing up the TMB tagline.

Paradai Theerathada, who commissioned the ads for TMB, says the bank could not have opted for a more conventional campaign because of its traditional tagline. “Our brand is ‘Make the difference’ so we couldn’t go with the status quo,” he explains.

The unwritten subscript is of the underdogs – TMB is Thailand’s sixth-largest bank – using ingenuity and hard work to overcome the challenges of their situation, and on those grounds it succeeds triumphantly.

 

Copyright The Financial Times Limited 2011.

FT: A businessman reborn

A businessman reborn

By Emma Jacobs

Published: March 8 2011 22:28 | Last updated: March 8 2011 22:28

It’s his heart. That is Wing Yip’s explanation for his success in creating a multimillion pound food empire. Many immigrants to Britain have been content to keep their businesses small, says Mr Yip, a Chinese Hakka, originally from Hong Kong. But he put his heart into his new home. “A lot of immigrants don’t keep their heart here. If you do, it means you invest your money here rather than buy property back home”.

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In fact, the bespectacled 73-year-old likes to say he was born twice: once in Hong Kong and again in England. “If I could change my date of birth on my birth certificate, I would change it to [the date of] my arrival here,” he says.

Mr Yip identifies strongly with the eastern European Jewish immigrants who fled to Britain in the late 19th and 20th century and established businesses. He studied books on retail chains set up by immigrants and the children of immigrants such as Tesco founder Jack Cohen and Michael Marks, co-founder of Marks and Spencer. He has ambitions to expand into chinaware and furnishings “like M&S”. And, yes, he says, a lot of his best “friends are Jewish”.

Now, as chairman of Wing Yip Group, he presides over a family business that includes his three brothers and four children – Albert, Brian, Cindy and David; “E is for error we didn’t make,” he cackles over his own well-rehearsed joke.

Mr Yip operates supermarkets from four distinctively green-and-yellow-tiled sites (two in London, one in Birmingham, an­other in Manchester), which also rent space to businesses from restaurants to solicitors to beauticians that provide services to the Chinese diaspora. Last year pre-tax profits on his supermarket group were £6.2m on a turn­over of £98m.

Like Cohen and Marks, Mr Yip began with nothing. “I had to start from scratch,” he says in Hong Kong-accented English. When the Communists came to power in China in the 1940s, the party seized his family’s wealth in China, derived from soft drinks production in Jamaica. “By European standards, we were poor, but by Asian standards it was very normal,” he says over a dim sum lunch of prawn dumplings and peppery squid in a large Chinese restaurant next to his hypermarket in north London.

He struggled to make a living in Hong Kong, then a British colony. In 1959, aged 21, Wing Yip left his family and friends behind in Hong Kong. He pulls a cotton handkerchief from his pocket and mops his eyes as he recalls the experience. “I’m an old man,” he says.

Wing Yip’s tips for success

● There is no secret. “And even if there was, a hidden secret to building a business I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

● Timing and place are crucial. “I have seen countless people go bust because of missing one of these factors.”

● Work hard and think hard. “You can’t do anything if you are lying on a beach looking at the sun.

● Cash and property.“You need cash flow and you need to build a property portfolio as securitisation for the banks. Look at any large company – its property units are often as big as their central business.”

With £50 and the name of a friend’s uncle – Mr Wong – as a work contact, he set out for England. But when Mr Yip arrived he found Mr Wong had gone, so he made his way to Liverpool’s Chinatown, where he washed up in a Chinese restaurant. Northerners were hospitable, he says. “They would show you to the bus and tell the bus conductor to tell you when to get off.” He did encounter some racism, when at the weekends “young [fishermen] would cause problems when drunk. But later they would come back and apologise.”

Mr Yip was soon waiting tables, where he watched and learned, and rode around on a Vespa scooter to im­merse himself in the culture. In the late 1960s, he and three friends bought “Nan’s teahouse”, a former teashop in which they converted into a Chinese restaurant. “In those days you could get only fish and chips after 9pm. We stayed open till 11.30.” The menu al­ways included some English fare, such as bacon and eggs. “If a family came along and the grandma didn’t like the food, they might not come again.”

Success encouraged the four to expand. This was the “take­away generation”, when thousands came over from Hong Kong, set up high street restaurants, and made chow mein a British dish. Mr Yip saw an opportunity in supplying this booming trade, and in 1970 opened a store in Birmingham, selling more than 1,000 Chinese products to restaurants as well as local Chinese families.

Before lunch, Mr Yip showed me round the north London shop. Tuna, marlin and seabass fill the freezers and the shelves are stacked with all kinds of noodles, coconut sauces and curry paste. Like the food, he says, his workforce reflects the diverse Chinese community. He summons an employee: “Where are you from?” The 20-something says he is English. “Where are your parents from?” Mr Yip insists. The father is Malay Chinese, the mother British.

It is quiet before the post-lunch surge of restaurant owners who buy 85 per cent of Mr Yip’s stock, with the rest bought predominantly by Chinese individuals and families. There is a smattering of non-Chinese customers, too, a market that is growing, he says, due to the increased number of westerners experimenting in their kitchens.

More shelf-space is now given to spicy soy sauce. Eight years ago Mr Yip realised a surge in demand was an indication that more Chinese from the mainland were coming in. “Every seven to 10 years the market changes,” he says. Most staff are Cantonese speakers, but many are learning Mandarin to converse with those from mainland China.

Sourcing supplies has become easier as mainland Chinese exporters bec­ame more professional. Recently, however, the cost of importing to Britain has risen bec­ause of the strong renminbi and higher fuel prices.

His business philosophy is simple – to give customers “what they want and get what you want”.

He has no plans to retire but he does start the working day later. Many decisions have, however, been devolved to the chief executive – his nephew Henry. Why is none of his four children in the top job? “He’s the most able. You run the business by head not by heart,” he says.

The pragmatism is revealing: in spite of the earlier claims that heart is the basis for his empire, clearly sentiment does not cloud his judgment. His children, who call him “chairman” or “Wing Yip” at work, understand, he says.

Mr Yip expects the business to remain a family concern for generations and would rather have £5m for five generations than £1bn for one. “We’re immigrants – we don’t want to be poor again”. But he frets that the third generation might lose his immigrant zeal for making money. “If you give an animal all the food it wants, why should it hunt?”

Copyright The Financial Times Limited 2011.

FT: Fitness guru who fed America’s hunger for healthy living

 

Fitness guru who fed America’s hunger for healthy living

By David Gelles

Published: January 28 2011 23:46 | Last updated: January 28 2011 23:46

Self-improvement, that restless striving for a better life, is as central  a tenet as any to the American psyche. In the 18th century, Benjamin Franklin implored citizens of the new nation to be frugal, industrious and modest. A hundred years later the writer Henry David Thoreau sought the optimum balance of solitude, study and nature, in his book Walden. There is no one correct formula, but people keep searching for it nonetheless.

In the 20th century, this impulse for self-improvement collided with capitalism and celebrity. The pursuit of well-being, now more populist and commercial, was perhaps best embodied by Jack LaLanne, the compulsive exerciser, calorie counter and motivational speaker who came to be known as “the godfather of fitness”. LaLanne, who has died at the age of 96, pioneered healthy living during a career that spanned different industries and the media, and helped establish the multi-billion dollar fitness market.

Born Francois Henri LaLanne in 1914, to French immigrants in San Francisco, California, he grew up like most boys – with an appetite for sugary foods. When he was 15 his mother took him to hear Paul Bragg, a popular nutritionist at the time, speak at a women’s club, where the impressionable teen heard about the benefits of eating well and exercising.

The transformation was instantaneous. “I became a voracious reader and I absorbed everything that would help me to improve myself,” LaLanne said. His favourite book was the medical tome Gray’s Anatomy, which informed his knowledge of human musculature. LaLanne began lifting weights for hours every day and took to a lean, bland diet. “If it tastes good, spit it out,” he liked to say.

After graduating from high school and earning a chiropractic degree, he opened a health club in Oakland, California, where he encouraged visitors to drink fruit juice and use devices of his own design to stretch. In an era before fad diets and modern gyms, such methods came across as dubious at best. “People thought I was a charlatan and a nut,” he said.

Yet LaLanne found a following. His network of gyms grew, as did his reputation as a good-natured and earnest trainer who delivered results. In the 1980s he licensed his network of more than 200 gyms to Bally’s Total Fitness, which took them over.

His looks did not hurt his mass appeal. Square-jawed, constantly smiling, with a shock of black hair and a perfectly sculpted body, LaLanne would have looked at home on the silver screen. His waist was small but his shoulders impossibly broad. “Your waistline is your lifeline,” he said. He took to wearing a short-sleeved blue jumpsuit, which became his signature outfit.

By 1951 he was well enough know to warrant his own television programme at the dawn of the TV age. The Jack LaLanne Show featured the host explaining health techniques and performing exercises, including his signature fingertip push-ups. It ran for 34 years, making it the longest-running exercise show in history.

He promoted a range of vitamin supplements, exercise equipment and household appliances. He wrote 10 books, including Fiscal Fitness: 8 Steps to Wealth & Health, helping to pioneer the business for self-help books. Just over a year ago, he celebrated his 95th birthday with his final offering: Live Young Forever.

After a first marriage failed, he wed Elaine Doyle in 1959. Ms Doyle, also a “junk food junkie” when she was a child, joined him in promoting the healthy lifestyle. With him  well into his 90s, the pair still exercised together regularly and, they said, had sex almost every night. She and their son survive him as does a daughter from an earlier marriage.

He mostly ate raw vegetables and egg whites, with the occasional piece of fish. He did not drink coffee, but took many vitamins. “Stay away from animal fats and processed foods,” was his dietary advice. “Read every food label, and if you can’t pronounce the ingredients, don’t buy it. Buying nutrient-empty foods is like putting water in the gas tank of your car.”

Once squarely in the public eye, he tallied up a number of improbable accomplishments. In 1955, LaLanne swam from Alcatraz, the island prison, to San Francisco, with handcuffs on. The next year, he swam across the treacherous Golden Gate Channel while towing a one-and-a-half-tonne boat. At age 60 he repeated his handcuffed swim from Alcatraz, this time towing a 1,000-pound boat. Ten years later, after most men his age had retired, he donned shackles and handcuffs and towed 70 boats from the Los Angeles harbour to a cruise ship 1.5 miles away.

For these feats, his impact on American health and his business acumen, he was recognised and idolised. He was a founding member of the President’s Council on Physical Fitness under President John F. Kennedy. He has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

Arnold Schwarzenegger, the bodybuilder turned actor and politician, met LaLanne on a stretch of Los Angeles coastline called “Muscle Beach” and remained close to him. Upon learning of LaLanne’s death, Mr Schwarzenegger said: “Now Jack, for so long the most energetic man in the room, can finally rest, knowing that he left the world a better and fitter place than he found it.”

“Life,” LaLanne once said “is like an athletic event. You’ve got to train for it. You’ve got to eat right. You’ve got to exercise. Your health account, your bank account, they’re the same thing. The more you put in, the more you can take out.”

Restless and uncompromising in his pursuit of fitness, LaLanne sought to improve his own composition and disposition – and America’s – for nearly a century. It was hard work, but it paid off. “Living is a pain in the butt,” he once said. “Dying is easy.”

Copyright The Financial Times Limited 2011.

FT: Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life

 

Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life

Review by AN Wilson

Published: January 7 2011 22:02 | Last updated: January 7 2011 22:02

Representatives of the Catholic, Buddhist and Muslim faiths at a prayer rally, Manila University, October 2007

Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life, by Karen Armstrong, The Bodley Head RRP£12.99, 224 pages

The religious slanging match that divides the media of the western world – Dawkins v Creation, Allah v Hitchens, however you like to define it – disguises the actual state of play in the world at large. Many regular attenders at synagogue or church are agnostic in belief. And many non-practisers of a faith recognise the truth and sagacity of the greatest religious texts of the world.

Karen Armstrong, who has been a Roman Catholic nun, and then a non-believer, and then a sort of theist, is now an ambassador for all that is best in the great religions of the world. She is a guide for those who want to be more compassionate without subscribing to some of the more arcane doctrines and propositions of organised religion. She quotes with approval the Dalai Lama’s saying: “Whether a person is a religious believer does not matter much. Far more important is that they be a good human being.”

Lately, Karen Armstrong won a prize from TED, the lecture and conference organisation committed to “ideas worth spreading” (the letters stand for technology, entertainment and design). Now, with the help of those who could be called, in a benign sense, the usual suspects – Archbishop Desmond Tutu, the Dalai Lama, Rabbi Julia Neuberger et al – Armstrong has launched her Charter for Compassion. This book is a distillation of 12 steps that readers can follow to become more compassionate persons and hence, it is to be hoped, the moulders of a more compassionate world.

No decent person could quarrel with that, surely, and so we set out with eagerness on Armstrong’s 12-fold path towards enlightenment. The Buddha, it will be remembered, began his path to cure the world’s pain by donning a mendicant’s robes and leaving his grieving parents. Tolstoy likewise donned a peasant’s smock, Francis a beggar’s rags and Gandhi a loincloth. Followers of the Armstrong way are given the more prosaic injunction: “As an initial step, it might be helpful, as a symbolic act of commitment, to visit www.charterforcompassion.org”.

If this provokes a smile, so too will the author’s occasional lapses into management jargon. We are urged to “think outside the box” and to remember that all great religions “put suffering at the top of their agenda”. And true, there is something a little absurd about such figures as Armstrong and the Dalai Lama flying around the world to conferences and book launches as a way of promoting wisdom.

Yet the contents of this book surely deserve our attention. I for one am not too proud to acknowledge that I need to be more compassionate, less ego-driven. And one of the charming things about Armstrong’s book is its deliberate descents into bathos. We move from the high thoughts of the old sages to the demands of everyday life, from Confucius to the checkout girl in the supermarket. In the chapter on empathy, we move from an exquisitely intelligent exposition of Sophocles’s Oedipus Tyrannus to a meditation upon how we might overcome a personal dislike of a colleague or family member.

As Armstrong reminds us, Greek tragedies began as collective religious experiences. By the end of the Oresteia, Aeschylus hopes we will have moved from the tribal-based cult of revenge to a polis-based, civilised respect for the law. Obviously, we modern readers can gain some wisdom from reading these plays in paperback but it is an experience different from witnessing the tragedies in an amphitheatre in 420BC.

The individualism that Armstrong’s do-it-yourself approach releases is surely cause for rejoicing. Gratefully aware of the riches of Buddhism, the Greek tragedians or the Hebrew scriptures, she does not want to make us into Buddhists, Athene-worshippers or Jews. She speaks with quiet eloquence to those of us who will never feel able to “believe” in the way that our ancestors believed.

Indeed, seeing the bad behaviour inspired at times by organised religion, we would often rather side with the unbelievers than be like that. But we recognise, partly thanks to Armstrong, that we do all wish to lead more compassionate lives, and these old sages can help us.

Armstrong has tried to devise a way of conducting what Socrates called compassionate discourse. This does not mean, as she reminds us, “trying to bludgeon other people to accept our point of view”. (I’d like to add: maybe the way of wisdom abandons any “points of view”, especially opinions that relate either to the unknowable, such as theology, or to other people’s sex lives). Armstrong more simply wants us to call to mind our common human nature.

In one of his notebooks, Henry James wrote six words: “Be kind, be kind, be kind.” That great man, who was in some ways a bit silly and a bit snobbish, surely achieved his aim. He was kind, and he was wise, and he had no obvious religious views, not even views as mild as those of his equally lovable brother William.

Armstrong ends her book by remembering the Iliad; she calls to mind the nobility of Achilles who, after much hatred and fighting, hands over the dead body of Hector to his grieving father Priam. Maybe part of our turning over a new leaf and resolving to be more compassionate would involve making a resolution to read more Greek literature. And (not that Armstrong mentions him) more Henry James.

AN Wilson is the author of ‘Our Times: The Age of Elizabeth II’ (Arrow)

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