One of the more obscure ‘jewish invention’ claims is that jews created the popular ladies’ liqueur: Baileys Irish Cream. This ‘jewish invention’ is directly related to another ‘jewish invention’ claim – as they often are since jews often feature as claimed ‘inventors’/’discoverers’ of multiple things – in the form of false assertion that jews ‘invented’ the famous ‘Kerrygold’ butter brand. (1)
The same jew – David Gluckman – also claims to have invented Baileys Irish Cream in 1973.
Since Gluckman wrote in the ‘Irish Times’ in October 2017 that:
‘My dinner-party party piece for many years was to say, “Well, actually, I invented Baileys. You know, Baileys Irish Cream. I did that back in 1973.”
If one of the unfortunate listening group is a woman – and this is based on actual past experience - she is likely to respond something like this: “Oh-my-God. Baileys. My mother absolutely adores it. Did you hear that, Jocasta? This man invented Baileys. It’s unreal. I don’t believe it. He must be terribly rich. Baileys Cream. Wow!”’ (2)
He goes on to enlarge upon this extraordinary claim as follows:
‘The initial thought behind Baileys Irish Cream took about 30 seconds. In another 45 minutes the idea was formed. Baileys was like that for me. A decade of experience kicked in and delivered a great idea. It wasn’t as instant as it seemed. This is the story of its creation.
[…]
Hugh looked at me with an almost earnest stare. “What would happen if we mixed Irish whiskey and cream?” he said. “That might be interesting.” He sat back and waited for a response.
“Let’s try it,” I replied. Where Hugh was more likely to intellectualise and think through the appalling consequences of dropping cream into Ireland’s beloved whiskey, I was all for doing it there and then. I jumped up, almost grabbed him by the lapels and marched him out into the street and into what was then International Stores at the southern end of Berwick Street market in the middle of Soho. It was the nearest supermarket to our office.
We bought a small bottle of Jamesons Irish Whiskey and a tub of single cream and hurried back. It was a lovely May morning. 1973. Underdogs Sunderland had just won the FA Cup. We mixed the two ingredients in our kitchen, tasted the result and it was certainly intriguing, but in reality bloody awful. Undaunted, we threw in some sugar and it got better, but it still missed something.
We went back to the store, searching the shelves for something else, found our salvation in Cadbury’s Powdered Drinking Chocolate and added it to our formula. Hugh and I were taken by surprise. It tasted really good. Not only this, but the cream seemed to have the effect of making the drink taste stronger, like full-strength spirit. It was extraordinary.
The whole process had taken about 45 minutes, from the moment Hugh looked at me to the moment we poured our mixture into a cleaned-out screw-top Schweppes’ tonic bottle and I called Tom Jago, our client at IDV. I suggested that we meet immediately. I went on my own. Either Hugh had had second thoughts and decided that the gentry at IDV would cast out our muddy concoction with suitable disdain – or he didn’t have an available suit hanging up in the office. I suspect it was the latter. Ten minutes later I was in a cab heading for 1 York Gate, an elegant Georgian house in the outer circle of London’s beautiful Regent’s Park.’ (3)
We can see from this that Gluckman is directly claiming that he ‘invented’ Baileys Irish Cream in 1973 downplaying even the role of his English business partner Hugh Seymour-Davies and that he further implies that he – Gluckman – was the one who came up with the idea and the recipe.
Thus he ‘created it’.
This would be hard to challenge except for the fact that Tom Jago – the man who had hired Gluckman and Seymour-Davies to create a new drink in the first place – replied to Gluckman in 2019 via the industry publication ‘The Drinks Business’ and – in essence – politely pointed out he was – and is- a lying jewish toad who is falsely taking credit for something he didn’t in fact do.
Jago wrote that:
‘I am a lateral thinker, or as some would say, hopelessly disorganised. That is why, a short while after Jasper Grinling, managing director of Gilbeys, hired me as advertising director in 1963, he said, regretfully: “Tom, it’s no good; I have to replace you.”
However, he recognised that I had some good qualities; I was clever. And Jasper felt guilty for having hired me away from a perfectly good job in advertising. So he said, “I’ll give you £10,000 year to spend: go and invent some new products.”
This was revolutionary talk in those days. An old cellarman in Harveys of Bristol once told me: “The fault of the drinks trade, Master Tom, is INERTIA !!” Then, the only new drink in Britain was Babycham (brilliant).
So I hired two discontented copywriters from a big ad agency; David Gluckman from South Africa, and Hugh Seymour-Davies, Eton and Oxford. In-house we had Mac McPherson, our head chemist, and Steve Wilson, his assistant. We had plenty of lab facilities in our totally new installations at Harlow. Now all we needed was ideas.
For a while we faffed about with fizzy sweet drinks and various liqueurs, but we were only retracing well-beaten paths. Stimulus arrived from our finance director, Robin Gold. The brief was simple; we had a tiny drinks wholesale business in Dublin, which lost a little money each year. This was 1973. The Irish government, in a successful rush for growth, offered a fifteen-year tax holiday to anyone exporting a new product or service, freely remittable. We were to produce something that could profitably be exported.
The parameters were these. We owned the name and stocks of a small brand of Irish whiskey. A sister company owned a dairy plant in Cork; this plant had a waste product called cream*. That was it, apart from the fact that Gluckman had worked on the creation of a brand of butter, Kerrygold.
There is some discussion about what happened next. Certainly, we did no research at all. We spent a lot of time in country hotels and various bars and restaurants beating our brains out. We rejected a green liqueur made from carageenan, a form of Irish seaweed. I seem to remember that, during an exploration of New York bars, we fell upon a cocktail known as a Brandy Alexander, which gave us a steer in the right direction. But certainly David was the man who took the idea forward, and with Hugh, assembled not just the liquid (Irish whiskey, cream, sugar and chocolate), but the name (taken from Bailey’s Bistro, a tiny restaurant beneath their office in Greek Street, Soho, in London), and a label, almost exactly as it is to this day. We used the original whiskey bottle. Mac got over his first taste and rapidly produced a stable formula (although early bottlings tended to turn to sweet alcoholic butter in transit).’ (4)
So, in summary then; Jago has testified that David Gluckman had almost nothing to do with the creation of Baileys Irish Cream beyond the advertising/marketing of the product (as with Kerrygold butter) (5) and the man who created it and its name was not Gluckman at all – as he falsely claims – but rather his English business partner Hugh Seymour-Davies.
Thus, we can see that in truth Baileys Irish Cream was not a ‘jewish invention’ at all but rather an Anglo-Irish one!
References
(1) On this see my article: https://karlradl14.substack.com/p/jewish-invention-myths-kerrygold
(2) https://www.irishtimes.com/culture/books/in-1973-i-invented-a-girly-drink-called-baileys-1.3240945
(3) Idem.
(4) https://www.thedrinksbusiness.com/2019/03/baileys-irish-cream-the-real-story/
(5) On this see my article: https://karlradl14.substack.com/p/jewish-invention-myths-kerrygold