(Author: Arnold Tannenbaum, Vol. 66, #2, Rosh Hashanah 2011)
When Charles and Tilly Tannenbaum settled in the small town of Roodepoort in the late 1800s, their name was anything but synonymous with pharmacy. They ran a general store. It was their four sons1 who would change things.
When the oldest son, Hyme, was ready to start work, he was apprenticed to Jack Blair, who owned the E.J. Adcock pharmacy in Ockerse Street, Krugersdorp. Hyme had found his passion and encouraged his younger brother, Jack, to follow in his footsteps. The third brother, Len, soon followed and in due course the youngest brother, Arthur (Archie), also joined Adcocks.
With so many Tannenbaums, the small pharmacy in Krugersdorp had to expand. This is the story of that expansion.
Hyme Tannenbaum was blessed with a special gift. He could recognise success and had an instinctual feeling about potential areas for new pharmacies. He bought some existing pharmacies and established new ones all along the western reef, from Johannesburg to Carletonville. He also instituted the idea of co-ownership, offering the manager appointed to run the pharmacy a half share in the business. The manager made no initial payment for this share. He was paid to manage the business and his 50% of the profits was used to purchase his share.
Hyme was a giant among men, a paternal figure, loved by his staff. He was impulsive and sometimes made dreadful mistakes, but his impulsiveness was tempered by a natural humility.
In his entire working career, Hyme lived in a small house at 34 Burger Street, close to the centre of Krugersdorp, and for years, his office was in the bottom of a lift shaft. He also drove the smallest of Ford cars, the Anglia. He drove fast and collected so many speeding tickets on his way to visit his brothers in Johannesburg that he eventually realised it would be easier and cheaper to hire a driver. The new driver looked at the Anglia and refused point blank to drive it. Hyme was forced to buy the next car in the Ford range – a Zephyr.
Hyme hated ostentation. He never wore a tie and usually didn’t bother with a jacket, preferring to work with rolled up sleeves. Generous to a fault, he was typically quiet about his generosity, preferring to be an anonymous donor. In fact, many pharmacists owe their success to the help Hyme gave them, and many partner managers became wealthy men as a result of joining the Adcock family business.
When he qualified Jack, the second Tannenbaum brother, was sent to manage Keatings Pharmacy in Pretoria Street, Hillbrow. It was not a very busy pharmacy, so Jack began looking for ways to exploit the time on his hands. In 1925, Hillbrow and the adjoining suburbs housed several nursing homes. Jack approached the matrons of some of them, offering his services as dispenser and medical supplier. In a short time, he had gained the custom of the Norman, the Joubert Park, the Frangwen and the Esselen nursing homes. Keatings had become a very active business.
Jack soon found other business opportunities. Doctors practising in the nursing homes would read about new medications in overseas medical journals and ask him if these were available. Instead of simply giving up on the request when local sources were unable to supply, Jack wrote to the overseas manufacturers, not only ordering supplies, but offering to become the South African agent for the company concerned. In this way, Keatings obtained sole rights to distribute the products of some of the largest overseas pharmaceutical manufacturers, including Abbott, G.D. Searle and Baxter in America, Organon in Holland and Chinoin in Hungary. Jack also gained the franchise for the Belgian company Gevaert, manufacturers of X-ray films and all photographic supplies.
Shortly before the outbreak of World War II, the Hungarian agency Chinoin sent their medical man Dr Bondi Janovics, a brilliant doctor and medical scientist, to assist Jack in the sales of their product. For two months, he battled to get South African doctors to prescribe Chinoin products, but was not very successful. His results hardly covered the expense of his visit.
Jack was ready to send Bondi home, but Bondi refused to go. By then, Hungary was under the shadow of Nazi Germany and Bondi would rather have starved in South Africa than return to his homeland. Jack asked Bondi for a plan of action, and Bondi said he could make pharmaceuticals in South Africa. In those days, other than dispensed liquids, hand rolled pills, hand-folded powders and cachets, all pharmaceuticals were imported. There were no locally made injection ampoules, no tablets, no capsules and certainly no intravenous drips. Bondi approached his compatriot, the chemical engineer Kuno Hoffer. He was in the same position, having being sent to South Africa to open a factory producing chloride of lime. This project had never gotten off the ground, and Kuno was also left stranded, not wanting to return to his homeland.
As Jack’s business expanded, he had purchased the house next door to Keatings, using the main rooms for storage and as an office. Jack put Bondi and Kuno on the payroll and set them up in the kitchen to experiment and eventually manufacture pharmaceuticals. The two men duly went on to accomplish all kinds of things. They went to the abattoirs to collect glands and livers, thereafter making a liver tonic called Bethtone, manufactured injections of pituitary extract and even considered making insulin. Things looked so promising for the Hungarian venture that Jack built a small factory in the quiet southern suburb of Ophirton.
In 1939, Bondi and Kuno gave Jack a birthday present – a box of ampoules containing Ethyl Chloride. This was an anaesthetic manufactured by combining ethyl alcohol with hydrochloric acid. It was a volatile substance that had to be packed in sealed glass containers, with a spray nozzle. The Ethyl Chloride plant at the factory consisted of six huge vessels bubbling away, with tubes collecting and freezing gas. This was the first really big venture of Saphar, as the new laboratory was now called.
The Hungarians were willing to tackle anything and everything. They even grew penicillin mould and made eye drops and ointment. Tablets quickly became a big business, with Saphar making tablets for several overseas companies. Bondi’s wife Susie, a qualified pharmacist, was put in charge of the ampoule division, which soon developed a large repertoire of injectables, including dental cartridges. Within five years Saphar had become a big business.
Keatings’ Baxter agency, acquired in the middle 1930s, was also doing well. Large quantities of onelitre bottles of intravenous solutions were shipped by sea – and during the war, several consignments were lost when a ship was torpedoed.
Shortly after the war ended, Bondi and Kuno visited Baxter in Chicago and asked for permission to manufacture the solutions in South Africa. Bill Graham, president of Baxter and a good friend of Jack Tannenbaum, laughed at the audacity of the two Hungarians. The manufacture of intravenous solutions required many specialised skills, which few companies could supply. Baxter had not given anyone the right to make their products. How could they even think of talking to someone in a place as obscure as South Africa?
Bondi and Kuno were blessed with irresistible continental charm. They were also supremely confident in their ability to meet any challenges in this specialised process. To everyone’s surprise but theirs, they were given the contract. Baxter and Keatings formed a new company called Keagrams and Baxter agreed to supply material and men who would travel to South Africa and install a plant to make the precious solutions. Within six months, Keagrams was in full production, and several formulations of locally made Intravenous solutions were available to the medical profession. After just a few years, Saphar/Keagrams had grown so large that new premises had to be found. A large plot of ground was purchased in Aeroton and a new plant built.
Jack was a gentle man, loved by all who knew him. He, too, was a father figure to the staff. There was something special about this paternalism, something which has been lost in the hard, competitive climate of today’s world. People loved their work and their bosses.
Len Tannenbaum, affectionately known in the family as “Long Len” to distinguish him from a first cousin with the same name, was the third brother. Long Len was sent to manage Fred Ingram, the new pharmacy in Hillbrow. Under his guidance and initiative, Ingram’s became the largest pharmacy in South Africa.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row] The four Tannenbaum brothers and their wives, 1960: From left, Leonard, Jacob (‘Jack’), Jeanne (wife of Len), Sarah Phyllis (‘Sally’, wife of Jack), Pauline (‘Polly’, wife of Hyme), Rachel Regina (‘Reggie’, wife of Arch), Hyman (‘Hyme’), Arthur (‘Arch’). Long Len even had the audacity to open a night service, much to the chagrin of his colleagues and competitors. There were restrictions on the products which could be sold after hours. The front shop had to be closed and only dispensary items could be sold, but even this did not discourage him. A few months before the outbreak of war, Long Len experienced something that would make a huge impact on Adcock Ingram and the way South Africans dealt with dry, chapped and itchy skin. The following, in Long Len’s own words, is the story of how this came about: Little Hans Rose, podgy, short, ruddy complexion, haunted eyes and an engaging smile, stood at Long Len’s front counter in the pharmacy in Hillbrow. Long Len asked what he could do for him. “My name is Hans Rose. I left Germany two weeks ago and I must get work. I am twenty-six years of age and a German-qualified chemist.” The year was 1937 and Hans had just managed to slip out of Hitler’s grasp. “Well Hans, what can you do or make?” “Anything in the pharmaceutical field – creams, face powders, rouges, lipsticks, lotions – you name it.” “Hans, look at my hands!” This was Johannesburg in mid-July. Long Len could not ‘take’ the cold. His hands were chapped and bleeding, despite the fact that they had a generous coating of the then most popular skin cream. “Can you give me soft hands?” “Yes, I can, if you will help me.” “What do you want?” “Give me a note to the wholesalers, Sive Bros. & Karnovsky, and ask them to supply me with my requirements. I have very little money and promise you that I shall pay back every penny.” Long Len went into his dispensary and wrote an appropriate note to the wholesalers. At eight-thirty the next morning, little Hans, almost doubled over, came in carrying a huge black pot filled almost to the brim with a white glistening cream. “Hans, this cream does not smell of anything.” “I can make it smell of whatever you like.” Long Len’s mind was working at a rapid pace. In a drawer in the dispensary was a large quantity of red and white coloured labels. Old man Ingram, long deceased, used to sell a liquid cream called ‘Ingram’s Camphor Cream’, which had been off the market for many years. “Camphor? How terrible! It will never sell.” “Hans, camphor it is and nothing else, do you understand?” A messenger was sent to help Hans carry the pot back to his room. At midday, Hans returned. The smell of camphor filled the atmosphere from a hundred yards or so. Long Len found a four ounce jar, which he filled with cream. The Ingram’s Camphor Cream label fitted like a glove. The ready-made instructions described the usage of the cream. Long Len dabbed a large portion of cream into one hand and then massaged it well. “Hans, it feels like a winner!” Len began marketing the cream, sending it to nurses working in the nearby hospitals and employing door-to-door agents. Soon, the demand had overwhelmed Hans’s ability to make the cream and production was moved to the company’s factory in Krugersdorp. However, Hans wanted to work for a pharmaceutical manufacturing company and Len eventually helped him get a job with one. Len continues the story: At about eight-thirty the next morning, a beaming Hans Rose walked into the pharmacy. In one hand he held a bunch of red roses, and in the other an envelope. “The roses are for your good wife and the envelope is for you.” Long Len accepted both gifts and wished him a very successful future. When he opened the envelope, he found that it contained the formula for Ingram’s Camphor Cream and the method of manufacture. A short note said that Hans promised he would never use that formula again and wished them every success with the cream. Archie, the youngest Tannenbaum brother ran the wholesale division of E.J. Adcock. He supplied all the company’s shops, including the shop in Welkom. Wholesale branches were opened in Welkom, Klerksdorp and Pretoria. The years 1949-1978 were extremely profitable. The business expanded by way of acquisitions like ML Laboratories, as well as diversifying into over the counter products (Crowden products), retail photographic stores (Etkinds) and discount toiletries (French Hairdressing). The 1970s were politically damaging for the company. Hyme Tannenbaum had died and the other brothers were getting on in years. The riots in the townships made life very difficult for the managers and there was a move by important personnel to leave the company and the country. It was a good time to be out of South Africa. Adcock Ingram was not an easy company to sell as it was highly specialised and technical. Fortunately, Rudi Frankel of Tiger Oats couldn’t resist a good buy and a deal was consummated whereby the Tannenbaum family sold their interest in Adcock Ingram to Tiger Oats. Jack Tannenbaum stayed on as Chairman of the company and new people were recruited to manage its affairs. After Jack’s retirement, the company maintained a room honouring its original founders, but even that has now been dismantled. Today, a search for the name ‘Tannenbaum’ on the AdcockIngram website doesn’t return a single match. Arnold Tannenbaum, the son of Jack Tannenbaum, qualified as a pharmacist in 1948 at Durban Technicon. He was involved in various aspects of the pharmaceutical profession, including in retail, research, and imports-exports, over the next thirty years. In 1978, he obtained a BA degree from UNISA, and has since been involved in the field of alternative healing. 
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