This photograph shows waiters at the entrance of the 1928 Lloyd’s building in 1932.
By Paul Miller
It was a year in which an unusual action regarding a wealthy man’s insurance policy went before the King’s Bench Division. Before starting on a proposed trip around the world, Charles Weyerhaeuser, aged 63, took out an insurance policy with underwriters at Lloyd’s for £82,000.
It would be paid to the administrators of his estate if he died as the result of an accident. A month later, while he was with his wife and Miss Lee, a friend, on the German steamship Columbus, a pimple formed in his left nostril and was squeezed by Miss Lee. Within nine by days he was dead, a virulent germ having entered his blood.
Mr. Montague Evans, a Lloyd’s underwriter, was sued by his widow and administrators for a share of the sum due under the policy. They claimed that Mr. Weyerhaeuser’s death was accidental, contending that the breaking of the skin of the pimple by Miss Lee was an accident that broke the tissues and allowed the bacteria to enter his system.
Mr. Evans pleaded that he was protected by a clause of the policy which said that it did not cover death directly or indirectly caused by disease or natural causes or from medical or surgical treatment. The question for the court was whether his death followed an accident, and did Miss Lee, when she squeezed the pimple, give medical or surgical treatment? Mr. Justice Roche entered judgment for the defendant with costs. He held that there was no evidence which entitled him to decide that Mr. Weyerhaeuser’s death followed an accident or bodily injury caused by an accident.
Montague Evans passed away in July 1941, by which time, he was the chairman of C.E. Heath and Co., insurance brokers and underwriters. He was the third son of Sir David Evans, Lord Mayor of London, a member of the Committee of Lloyd’s for many years and a director of the British Aviation Insurance Company.
Also at Lloyd’s during the year this photograph was taken, a minister in Melbourne paid seven shillings a week for a policy that insured his Sunday collection against rain. If rain fell on a Sunday, he would have received £5.
In the same year, actress Lydia Sherwood was appearing at London’s Duke of York’s theatre. She was insured by the theatre for £10,000 against the risk that she may be accidentally hanged whilst performing an execution scene on-stage.
Perhaps the strangest policy of 1932 was taken out by P.D. Gwaltney. In the 1920s, he found a ham that had missed its original shipment. First cured in 1902, he put a collar around one end of it and began calling it his pet. He would carry it around with him and take it to trade shows to demonstrate the superior curing processes that he used. He claimed that no matter how old his ham was, it was still good to eat. He insured his pet for $5,000 against the risk that it may be stolen or damaged by fire.
