Onion Johnny's

[Furry Knickers]

What has happened to the moustachioed onions sellers in the stripey top riding bikes? I have not seen one of these now since I was a lad! Have any of you lot seen one?

Chuck

 

[Miki]

Here you are straight out of our house tourist book.

The Johnnies legend (Remember the French man with his Beret,  Neckerchief & Onions round his neck)

 

Peter has just drunk a cup of tea and he's about to go out to play darts with his friends. Contrary to what one might think, this scene is not happening in England, but in Brittany. To be more precise it's happening near Roscoff and Peter, even if he speaks Shakespeare's language quite well, prefers to express himself in Breton, or French.

Peter is not a subject of Her Royal Highness, but a Breton, in fact he's a Roscovite who spends several months travelling the English roads, selling Breton onions, which are greatly appreciated on the other side of the Channel (in Breton Mor Breizh), just like his father did before him.
In fact, Peter is a "Johnny", unless you'd call him a Johnny's son. Johnnies are young Roscovites who have been sailing to the Brittish coast for more than a century to sell Breton onions (also called the "Lard of Roscoff") to our Welsh and Scottish cousins, as well as to the English (in breton : Saozon).

The adventure began in 1828. At this time, Henri Ollivier, a young Roscovite, 20 years old, driven by a brilliant intuition, filled a boat heading for Great-Britain full of oinions. Our cousins accross the Channel like the Breton onion, and, in a few days, Henri Ollivier had sold them all. His success, of course, encouraged others in this new vocation. Little by little, small farmers and agricultural workers made their way to the island of their ancestors to sell these precious vegetables which were so difficult to grow over there.

From summer to winter, for more than a century, thousands of young Roscovites crossed the Channel to stay in Great Britain. They would leave in september and only come back the following spring. It was a hard life for the Johnny. It began by crossing the channel in precarious weather conditions. It was a long time before the matresses of the schooner gave way to to the comfort of the Ferry. Sometimes, there were disasters. The wreckage of Hilda at Roscoff, in 1905, during which 70 Johnnies perished, is still remembered.

When they arrived in Great-Britain, the group of Johnnies would split in half. One half had the delicate role of making the "troches", or onion strings. The making of the onion strings is an art. The nice looking onions were placed carefully in order to sell them better, particularly the best ones, known as the "Pen Capitaine". Those who tressed the "troches" only got out of the store room where they worked, ate, and slept, on Sundays. Nevertheless, there were some small privileges, such as the allocation of tobacco and beer.

The others travelled the roads of England, Wales, or Ireland. Their living conditions were even more gruelling. They had to go up and down the sector which had been attributed to them, selling door to door. In the beginning this was done on foot, and then at the beginning of the century the advent of the bicycle meant that they could work the whole region with nearly a hundred kilos of onions on their handlebars. There was a lot of competition between each company of Johnnies. There were even known to be fist fights for a sector, although rarely. The outcome of the man who had not sold his stock was not to be envied : the unsold onions were deducted from his wages.

Where did the Johnnies go ? Outside of London where the law prohibited their stay, they toured from Cornwall to Scotland, looking in on Wales on the way. Some of them even got as far as the Shetlands and Orkney Islands. If the life of the Johnny seems particularly fulfilling, it is first and foremost because it meant that he discovered other and people (don't ever speak ill of an Englishman to a Johnny !). Financially speaking, that was another matter. Of course, the Johnny didn't come back home with his hands empty, but he didn't come back a millionnaire either. In fact, what he earned, helped him to escape poverty and to live well and in dignity.

The era of the epic crossings is now over. The Johnny now boards the Ferry with his cargo, and even if a small pocket of indomitable Johnnies still sell from door to door, to the great pleasure of his faithful customers, it is nevertheless the wholesaler who buys the "lard of Roscoff" loose. And when the stock is exhausted, just a quick telephone call suffices to restock. The tradition of the Johnnies is quietly dwindling away, amidst the odour of Virginia tobacco and tea, and a few English words punctuating the "brezhoneg" from this part of Léon. However, there are without a doubt, many Welshmen, Englishmen or Scotsmen who still recall the call of "Petitjean" ringing in their ears : "Buy my onions, buy my good onions".

 

 

[Teamedup]

I had a very confused conversation about onion sellers just after I got here. We are at least 1000 kms from Roscoff and these alpine folks did not know about the onion sellers and thought I was being rather rude. Which is sort of what I thought when I saw the title of this thread.

[Russethouse]

I think there is a book about them, it used to be available from Ar Bed Keltiek (SP ?) the Breton bookshop.

[Dick Smith]

"We are at least 1000 kms from Roscoff and these alpine folks did not know about the onion sellers and thought I was being rather rude. Which is sort of what I thought when I saw the title of this thread."

I was inclined to wonder "Onion Johnny's what?" Not to mention what a stripey-topped riding bike looks like.

[Monika]

[quote]What has happened to the moustachioed onions sellers in the stripey top riding bikes? I have not seen one of these now since I was a lad! Have any of you lot seen one? Chuck[/quote]

Yes, here in Dorset we see them at least twice a year and they come over from Roscoff.

Monika

[Val_2]

Back in 94 just before we moved here permanantly Countryfile did a programme on the last remaining Roscoff Johnnie who has a warehouse and van in Croydon and supplies La Gavroche and other expensive restaurants in London with his goods which were grown on the family farm at Roscoff. We are only 25miles from there and there is an excellent museum on the quayside dedicated to these "brave" men who made their living on the other side of the channel. Unfortunately now the real Johnnies have all gone and a little commercialism has crept in with some new blood starting again but with new age technology and travel assistance.

[Furry Knickers]

Thank you Miki, that was a very interesting and enlightening article. It is sad that they have all gone.

No doubt naughty Dick and Teemdup were thinking of the rubber variety (I can't stand rubber onions)

Chuck 

 

[Dick Smith]

Actually it was the misplaced apostrophe of possession. A confusion of English, rather than French, letters.

[Teamedup]

Coquine moi........ peut-être

[Furry Knickers]

Apostrophy of possesion? never herd of one of them things!

 Have you noticed we have Dick, Johnny, French Letters and rubber onions all in this topic?

 

[Dick Smith]

The comma was not misplaced.

[RayB]

[quote]Here you are straight out of our house tourist book. The Johnnies legend (Remember the French man with his Beret, Neckerchief &a[/quote]

Very interesting, Miki, thanks!

[SaligoBay]

[quote]What has happened to the moustachioed onions sellers in the stripey top riding bikes? I have not seen one of these now since I was a lad! Have any of you lot seen one? Chuck[/quote]

Oddly enough, furry, yes.   In Southampton, used to see him riding down the Avenue on his bike, with huge amounts of onions slung round him and the bike.

I even came across an article about him in a French magazine a couple of years ago, with photos too.  The Avenue was looking most attractive, it was raining, there were lots of cars in all 4 lanes, and a blue-and-white POLICE ACCIDENT sign.   How I wished I was there.