The handbag of God

When homeless people seem lazy, sleep seems a waste of time and sex even more so, you're ready to pl

Thatcher left a provocative taste on the nation's tongue both politically and domestically, whether it be the stale emptiness of hunger, or of the now soured cream atop a Black Forest gateau bought with new money . . . Yes, the handbag of God touched us all.

As my right foot reached the tarmac of the parking lot outside Great Meadow Productions, June 2007, and my left remained gripped to the carpet of an old black cab, I attempted to steady myself in pre paration for as graceful a descent as one can muster with three backpacks, six scripts and a satchel full of episodes of the former Yugoslavian hit TV series Tesna koza.

"Kevin" the cabbie craned his neck to spectate in silent satisfaction. Kevin had reminded me on loop round every bend from Borough that he knew where I was going and I didn't. As I spat myself out of the car he couldn't resist icing the sticky journey, caked in heat, by purring, "Now, have you got everything, love?" both sides of his mouth curling. I made my way into the cool tranquillity of a public toilet in the basement and began to talk to myself in the mirror. Once I'd stopped feeling the urge to punch Kevin, specifically Kevin, I then felt the urge to punch all men. And thus my understanding of Margaret Thatcher began.

"Go back to the literature" - Joan Didion

Many thank yous to Kevin later, the Great Meadow meeting having been successful, I found myself surrounded by great doorstops of cold, hard fact, with a sprinkling of fiction, most of them written by the good lady herself.

For Maggie, knowledge was as powerful as it had been for John Lilburne in the Fleet Prison during the English Civil War. For the actor, as Mike Leigh once told me, there are things one needs not to know, but, in some part of my psyche, Margaret Thatcher will always be prime minister. All through my childhood that was her job. My job was to complete the Lego space hub for a newly acquired caterpillar. My dad's job was to sell luxury Japanese cars to Geordies all day, then come home to my plastic construction site and tell me how great Margaret Thatcher was at her job, while my mum picked curtains for the new extension and my sister got her fingers jammed in the new VHS player.

The Grocer's Daughter was responsible for a significant boom in my household's economy during the 1980s, not least the upgrade from Betamax. It was therefore essential to attempt to forget everything I'd ever seen on Look North Tonight. I also realised after the first 50 conversations (enjoyable though they had been) that I should never tell anyone that my next role was Margaret Thatcher, especially men and drunk people at dinner parties. Everyone has an opinion.

Having studied the earliest footage available, I worked backward, chipping away at the shroud of preconception to explore the mental and physical enigma of this social-reform-hungry young thing, and here met the Margaret and the make-believe.

Playing "Kalina" the Croatian-Serb beautician by night, I spent the day in personal pre-production, dividing the 13-year journey to Finchley into three stages of her development - Innocence, Experience and Downright Ruthlessness - as the surest references to withstand a non-sequential shoot. When you're making a film for £2.50 you haven't got time to fanny about.

I sat in her bedroom on a soggy Sunday, stared out of the crescent window at Grantham below and thought, "Why not? Why not get the fuck out of here?" I smelled the worn, wooden fixtures from the shop below. I remembered having championed an ecclesiastic debate in church that day and anticipated the completion of darning my right sock before returning that night.

I was nearly apprehended for trespassing at her grammar school one morning, uninvited and skulking around for Roberts's residue, my escape not helped by my last-minute, conspicuous clothing choice of Iron Maiden T-shirt, violet leggings, and tutu the previous night as I'd rushed from the theatre to King's Cross.

"I am staying my own sweet, reasonable self" - Margaret Thatcher

It's strange when it happens. And it happens overnight. I started to stop "doing" her. Homeless people seemed lazy. Men began to irritate me. The sinking of the Belgrano seemed entirely justified. Sleeping became a waste of time, sex even more so. I developed a neck-jerk response to the dull question, "How does one balance a home life and a career?" My face made a smile but my eyes no longer wanted to follow suit. A new pair of eyes had opened within, and this time they were true blue.

"The people of Britain need to learn to eat their own two feet" - Spitting Image's Margaret Thatcher

Sympathy is human. Some might argue this is proof that Margaret Thatcher is the devil. The glimpse of an Oxfam poster, and penning that plea to Gordon Brown for Darfur asylum-seekers is back at the top of my list of priorities, but a couple of days pass and my letter drawer remains unleafed. That, my friends, is sympathy - shallow, dirty, Hallmark sympathy. Empathy is something different.

It's an extraordinary thing to feel the struggle of a woman who seemed so hopelessly alien, to feel every one of your nerve endings alive with tenacity, to believe above all else in social reform. Whether society at large feels it important to understand what really made the young Iron Lady tick or not, I certainly gained an invaluable understanding of how my childhood home - and many others - came to be Thatched.

Andrea Riseborough starred in "Margaret Thatcher: the Long Walk to Finchley", broadcast recently on BBC4

This article first appeared in the 30 June 2008 issue of the New Statesman, Thou shalt not hug

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The secret anti-capitalist history of McDonald’s

As a new film focuses on the real founder of McDonald’s, his grandson reveals the unlikely story behind his family’s long-lost restaurant.

One afternoon in about the year 1988, an 11-year-old boy was eating at McDonald’s with his family in the city of Manchester, New Hampshire. During the meal, he noticed a plaque on the wall bearing a man’s face and declaring him the founder of McDonald’s. These plaques were prevalent in McDonald’s restaurants across the US at the time. The face – gleaming with pride – belonged to Ray Kroc, a businessman and former travelling salesman long hailed as the creator of the fast food franchise.

Flickr/Phillip Pessar

But this wasn’t the man the young boy munching on fries expected to see. That man was in the restaurant alongside him. “I looked at my grandfather and said, ‘But I thought you were the founder?’” he recalls. “And that’s when, in the late Eighties, early Nineties, my grandfather went back on the [McDonald’s] Corporation to set the history straight.”

Jason McDonald French, now a 40-year-old registered nurse with four children, is the grandson of Dick McDonald – the real founder of McDonald’s. When he turned to his grandfather as a confused child all those years ago, he spurred him on to correct decades of misinformation about the mysterious McDonald’s history. A story now being brought to mainstream attention by a new film, The Founder.


Jason McDonald French

“They [McDonald’s Corporation] seemed to forget where the name actually did come from,” says McDonald French, speaking on the phone from his home just outside Springfield, Massachusetts.

His grandfather Dick was one half of the McDonald brothers, an entrepreneurial duo of restaurateurs who started out with a standard drive-in hotdog stand in California, 1937.

Dick's father, an Irish immigrant, worked in a shoe factory in New Hampshire. He and his brother made their success from scratch. They founded a unique burger restaurant in San Bernardino, around 50 miles east of where they had been flogging hotdogs. It would become the first McDonald’s restaurant.

Most takeout restaurants back then were drive-ins, where you would park, order food from your car, and wait for a “carhop” server to bring you your meal on a plate, with cutlery. The McDonald brothers noticed that this was a slow, disorganised process with pointless costly overheads.

So they invented fast food.

***

In 1948, they built what came to be known as the “speedy system” for a fast food kitchen from scratch. Dick was the inventor out of the two brothers - as well as the bespoke kitchen design, he came up with both the iconic giant yellow “M” and its nickname, the “Golden Arches”.

“My grandfather was an innovator, a man ahead of his time,” McDonald French tells me. “For someone who was [only] high school-educated to come up with the ideas and have the foresight to see where the food service business was going, is pretty remarkable.”


The McDonald brothers with a milkshake machine.

McDonald French is still amazed at his grandfather’s contraptions. “He was inventing machines to do this automated system, just off-the-cuff,” he recalls. “They were using heat lamps to keep food warm beforehand, before anyone had ever thought of such a thing. They customised their grills to whip the grease away to cook the burgers more efficiently. It was six-feet-long, which was just unheard of.”

Dick even custom-made ketchup and mustard dispensers – like metal fireplace bellows – to speed up the process of garnishing each burger. The brothers’ system, which also cut out waiting staff and the cost of buying and washing crockery and cutlery, brought customers hamburgers from grill to counter in 30 seconds.


The McDonald brothers as depicted in The Founder. Photo: The Founder

McDonald French recounts a story of the McDonald brothers working late into the night, drafting and redrafting a blueprint for the perfect speedy kitchen in chalk on their tennis court for hours. By 3am, when they finally had it all mapped out, they went to bed – deciding to put it all to paper the next day. The dry, desert climate of San Bernardino meant it hadn’t rained in months.

 “And, of course, it rained that night in San Bernardino – washed it all away. And they had to redo it all over again,” chuckles McDonald French.

In another hiccup when starting out, a swarm of flies attracted by the light descended on an evening event they put on to drum up interest in their restaurant, driving customers away.


An original McDonald's restaurant, as depicted in The Founder. Photo: The Founder

***

These turned out to be the least of their setbacks. As depicted in painful detail in John Lee Hancock’s film, Ray Kroc – then a milkshake machine salesman – took interest in their restaurant after they purchased six of his “multi-mixers”. It was then that the three men drew up a fateful contract. This signed Kroc as the franchising agent for McDonald’s, who was tasked with rolling out other McDonald’s restaurants (the McDonalds already had a handful of restaurants in their franchise). 

Kroc soon became frustrated at having little influence. He was bound by the McDonalds’ inflexibility and stubborn standards (they wouldn’t allow him to cut costs by purchasing powdered milkshake, for example). The film also suggests he was fed up with the lack of money he was making from the deal. In the end, he wriggled his way around the contract by setting up the property company “McDonald’s Corporation” and buying up the land on which the franchises were built.


Ray Kroc, as depicted in The Founder. Photo: The Founder

Kroc ended up buying McDonald’s in 1961, for $2.7m. He gave the brothers $1m each and agreeing to an annual royalty of half a per cent, which the McDonald family says they never received.

“My father told us about the handshake deal [for a stake in the company] and how Kroc had gone back on his word. That was very upsetting to my grandfather, and he never publicly spoke about it,” McDonald French says. “It’s probably billions of dollars. But if my grandfather was never upset about it enough to go after the Corporation, why would we?”

They lost the rights to their own name, and had to rebrand their original restaurant “The Big M”. It was soon put out of business by a McDonald’s that sprang up close by.


An original McDonald restaurant in Arizona. Photo: Flickr/George

Soon after that meal when the 11-year-old Jason saw Kroc smiling down from the plaque for the first time, he learned the true story of what had happened to his grandfather. “It’s upsetting to hear that your family member was kind of duped,” he says. “But my grandfather always had a great respect for the McDonald’s Corporation as a whole. He never badmouthed the Corporation publicly, because he just wasn’t that type of man.”

Today, McDonalds' corporate website acknowledges the McDonalds brothers as the founders of the original restaurant, and credits Kroc with expanding the franchise. The McDonald’s Corporation was not involved with the making of The Founder, which outlines this story. I have contacted it for a response to this story, but it does not wish to comment.

***

Dick McDonald’s principles jar with the modern connotations of McDonald’s – now a garish symbol of global capitalism. The film shows Dick’s attention to the quality of the food, and commitment to ethics. In one scene, he refuses a lucrative deal to advertise Coca Cola in stores. “It’s a concept that goes beyond our core beliefs,” he rants. “It’s distasteful . . . crass commercialism.”

Kroc, enraged, curses going into business with “a beatnik”.


Photo: The Founder

Dick’s grandson agrees that McDonald’s has strayed from his family’s values. He talks of his grandfather’s generosity and desire to share his wealth – the McDonald brothers gave their restaurant to its employees, and when Dick returned to New Hampshire after the sale, he used some of the money to buy new Cadillacs with air conditioning for his old friends back home.

“[McDonald’s] is definitely a symbol of capitalism, and it definitely sometimes has a negative connotation in society,” McDonald French says. “If it was still under what my grandfather had started, I imagine it would be more like In'N'Out Burger [a fast food chain in the US known for its ethical standards] is now, where they pay their employees very well, where they stick to the simple menu and the quality.”

He adds: “I don’t think it would’ve ever blossomed into this, doing salads and everything else. It would’ve stayed simple, had quality products that were great all the time.

“I believe that he [my grandfather] wasn’t too unhappy that he wasn’t involved with it anymore.”


The McDonald’s Museum, Ray Kroc’s first franchised restaurant in the chain. Photo: Wikimedia Commons

Despite his history, Dick still took his children and grandchildren to eat at McDonald’s together – “all the time” – as does Jason McDonald French with his own children now. He’s a cheeseburger enthusiast, while his seven-year-old youngest child loves the chicken nuggets. But there was always a supersize elephant in the room.

“My grandfather never really spoke of Ray Kroc,” he says. “That was always kind of a touchy subject. It wasn’t until years later that my father told us about how Kroc was not a very nice man. And it was the only one time I ever remember my grandfather talking about Kroc, when he said: ‘Boy, that guy really got me.’”

The Founder is in UK cinemas from today.

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.