Transcript
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Well I was down on my last.
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Dollar Then I started saving Cause the.
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Bank said fiscal restraint is what you're.
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Craving so I put my earnings in a high yield account Let the savings compound and the interest mount I'm optimizing cash flow putting debt in check now time is my friend and not a.
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Pain in the neck and we've got a little cash to rebuild the old.
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Deck Boring money moves make kinda lame songs but they sound pretty sweet to your wallet brilliantly boring since 1865. It's early December 1952, and a middle aged man, a banker, shuffles in his seat in the famous Sadler's Wells Theatre in North London. Sitting next to his teenage daughter, his eyes are closed as the first act of Verdi's beloved opera La Traviata reaches its climax. But though the music, as ever, has transported him this evening, it's been harder to concentrate. With the final moments of the act approaching, he opens his eyes and discovers that he can barely see the stage. Instead, a dense, yellowy brown fog is swirling all around, accompanied by an odor like rotten eggs. Though the performers carry on like the consummate professionals they are, the audience is increasingly restless. All around him people are coughing and spluttering. He impatiently shushes them, but to no avail. Suddenly the music halts. It seems the orchestra leader is refusing to continue, unable to see his music or fellow musicians through the haze. In the orchestra pit, the heavy red stage curtain drops as the opera's leading lady hurries into the wings, her hand clutched to her throat as if to somehow protect her vocal cords from the miasma. A moment or two later, someone walks onto the stage in front of the curtain. Shouting over the rising alarm of the audience, he announces that tonight's performance is to be abandoned. Those assembled accept the decision with resignation, and the man and his daughter gather their belongings and join the rush for the exit. When he grasps for a handrail at the end of his row, he feels his palms slide through the rapidly accumulating grime. So poor is the visibility that by the time he at last makes it outside, he realizes with rising panic that he doesn't know where his daughter is. It's bitterly cold out here, and the atmosphere is every bit as dense as inside the theater as it has been for several days now. He's seen plenty of smogs over the years, but never one as bad as this. He can hardly see beyond the end of his own arm. He calls out his daughter's name, his voice, raspy as the haze, scratches at his throat and forces itself into his airways. Someone tells him to watch where he's going when he blindly collides with him. And he narrowly avoids treading on an unfortunate pigeon lying prone on the pavement. Overcome by the unbreathable air, he stumbles on until finally there is a tug at his elbow and the welcome sound of his daughter's voice. Now safely reunited, they head to the underground station, bracing themselves for a joyless journey home. Like most other Londoners, the banker is used to the sight of these pea supers, as such dense smogs are known. But though some are beginning to realize that this is a smog quite unlike any other, what they can't yet begin to guess is that by its end, it will have exacted an unprecedented toll on the capital's ever stoic citizens. That it will be so deadly that the law will change in a bid to ensure it can never happen. For five days in early December 1952, the smog that descended upon London brought chaos to the city. By its end, it had claimed the lives of thousands and seriously impacted the health of many more. But though what became known as the Great Smog was just the latest in a long succession of such phenomena, it also proved to be a tipping point, forcing Britain's reluctant government to take action. So what were the circumstances that made such a dreadful event possible? How did Londoners cope? And what actions were taken by the authorities? And in a world where poor air quality continues to take the lives of millions across the globe, what lessons does the great smog have for us today? I'm John Hopkins from the Noiser Podcast Network. This is a short history of the Great smog of London. There is a certain romance to fog, an almost poetic quality to the idea of, say, lovers walking hand in hand through a fog bound forest. It is, after all, a natural phenomenon. Moisture in the atmosphere that condenses in cool conditions to form droplets light enough to remain suspended in the air. An ethereal spectacle. Smog, though, is a very different beast, a dirty cocktail of fog and a variable combination of pollutants. By the 13th century, it's becoming a notable problem, especially in London. Until recently, the city's main source of fuel has been wood. But amid rapid expansion, the huge amount of timber required for building means there is less to burn. Instead, people turn to coal, both for domestic and commercial purposes. Much of it is what is called sea coal, a particularly noxious variety that washes up on the shores of the English northeast. When burned, it releases great clouds of sulphur dioxide, carbon dioxide, nitric oxide, and soot. As London continues to grow, so too do its problems with air pollution. Especially after the Industrial Revolution takes hold in the 18th century. The nation's thriving economy has never been more reliant on coal, which powers many of the vast new factories springing up. By the 1800s, London is one of the most densely populated cities in the world. To heat their homes and cook their food, most residents use the cheapest coal they can find. But it's inevitably also the dirtiest. Unlike the cleaner, burning higher grade coals like anthracite, which are too expensive for most households. Combined with the smoky output of the factories and the newly emerging railways that have helped make Britain so powerful, it can only herald one thing. The age of the P Super has arrived. Of course, London is not the only place to suffer from these dense smogs. They are a peril of urban industrial hubs across continents. But as the winter of 1952 rolls in, the British capital is nonetheless a special case. For a start, its population, in excess of 8 million, is is contained within a relatively limited geographical footprint, particularly compared to some of the biggest cities in the United States. On top of that, the coal consuming population lives alongside a forest of factories and dozens of power plants, all spewing out waste products from the burning of fuels. During the planning and construction of the largest of these, the iconic Battersea Power Station, there was much discussion about the potential risks such pollution could pose to public health. But ultimately the debate was won by those who argued that London needed the extra power such an installation could generate. Meanwhile, the extensive road and rail network adds to the enormous production of pollutants. And even though wartime coal rationing has recently ended, most Londoners still face shortages of good quality fuel. And many can only afford the cheap, smoky grades. With the economy still not recovered from the war effort, the government is trying to bring in extra income by exporting its best black coal abroad. Much of the domestic market is left with second rate alternatives. Indeed, the National Coal Board has just begun a promotional drive for so called Nutty Slack or Nutty Brown, which it offers cheaply and without restriction on how much can be bought. Kate Winkler Dawson is a journalism professor at the University of Texas in Austin, a podcaster and the author of several books including Death in the Air.