In 1901, the world witnessed a startling scene on
the streets of London—one
which would quickly
revolutionise how most of us clean our homes.
Engineer Hubert Cecil Booth was rolling his new
vacuum cleaner onto the
wealthier streets of
town. First employed by Maudslay, Sons and in
Lambeth in
the 1890s, at the time he was better
known for designing suspension bridges
and
fairground Ferris wheels (including Vienna’s
famous Riesenrad).
But in 1901 he turned his skill to carpet cleaning
after witnessing the demonstration of a new
machine at London’s Empire Music Hall.
He realised that the machine on display had a fatal
flaw. It was designed to blow out air in the hope of
raising the dust from the carpet and into the
collecting bag. The inventor told him that the
method Booth suggested instead—sucking up the
dirt through a filter—was impossible.
Challenge accepted, Booth set off on a mission to
produce a machine that would suck the dust
instead of blowing it.
After allegedly near-fatal tests—in which he
choked after putting a handkerchief 'filter' over his
mouth and sucking up dust from the arm of a
chair—Booth formed the British Vacuum Cleaner
Company and launched his new device. This was the huge beast of a machine seen doing the
rounds of wealthy Londoners' homes at the start of
the 20th century. Channelling a red and gold fire
engine aesthetic, according to journalist and
author Jane Furnival, the distinctive horse-drawn
vacuum cleaner and its liveried operators arrived
at your house, immediately advertising to the
neighbourhood that you were holding a 'vacuum
tea party'.
A visit wasn’t cheap—the cost was the
same as the annual wages of a 'tweeny', a junior
domestic maid. To conduct the miraculous cleaning, long hoses
were fed through windows, the petrol-powered
motor (and later electric engine) was started and
air was drawn by suction from the hose and
nozzles through a filter.
After a flurry of disapproval and a string of court
cases, both against the disruption the machine
caused on the streets (including frightening
horses) and from a series of disgruntled inventors,
Booth finally convinced judge and jury that his
powerful machine was the only vacuum cleaner at
the time that actually worked.
Cleaning everywhere from Buckingham Palace to
the Royal Mint and Crystal Palace—where 26 tons
of dust were removed from the girders during a
First World War outbreak of spotted fever—its
credentials were soon established as a reliable
cleaning machine.
Vacuum cleaners were purchased by Russia's
Tzar Nicholas II, Germany's Kaiser Wilhelm II, the
House of Commons and the popular Dickens &
Jones department store in London.
Despite the drama and theatre of Booth’s
machine, the basic technology and the suction
principle was the same as in most vacuum
cleaners today.
Vacuum cleaners soon got
smaller, more portable and—most
importantly—cheaper.
For wealthier households, the annual evacuation
so servants could complete their spring cleaning
became a thing of the past. Rich homeowners
purchased the new vacuum cleaners, eager to be
seen as early adopters of the technology, or
looking to retain domestic help made scarce by the
First World War.