The backwardness of actuarial techniques in Spain and the lack of Spanish mortality tables had a bearing on the development of life insurance in Spain. The actuaries of the domestic and foreign companies operating in this country used other countries’ mortality tables, corrected upwards, to draw up their policies. With actuarial reports from the Gresham Life Assurance Society, established in Spain in the 1890s, the difficulties actuaries had to confront to adjust expectations to Spanish reality can be followed for decades. On the basis of statistical information from 1896 to 1937, a comparison is made between expected and actual death rates. Furthermore, the information from this company enables a comparison with other countries in which it operated (more developed and less developed than Spain) and with the profit and loss results of other domestic and foreign companies operating in the country. Moreover, the problems caused for actuaries by unforeseen events that affected the Spanish population in particular, such as the “Spanish Influenza” or the Civil War, can also be studied. On the basis of this valuable documentation, certain patterns of the difficulties faced by actuaries operating in economically backward countries before World War II can be established.

In the decade after the Second World War IBM rebuilt its European operations as integrated, wholly owned subsidiaries of its World Trade Corporation, chartered in 1949. Long before the European common market eliminated trade barriers, IBM created its own internal networks of trade, allocating the production of different components and products between its new subsidiaries. Their exchange relationships were managed centrally to ensure that no European subsidiary was a consistent net importer. At the heart of this system were eight national electric typewriter plants, each assembling parts produced by other European countries. IBM promoted these transnational typewriters as symbols of a new and peaceful Europe and its leader, Thomas J. Watson, Sr., was an enthusiastic supporter of early European moves toward economic integration. We argue that IBM’s humble typewriter and its innovative system of distributed manufacturing laid the groundwork for its later domination of the European computer business and provided a model for the development of transnational European institutions.

Just months after the outbreak of World War I, rumors spread throughout the Russian Empire that Singer Manufacturing Company’s wholly owned Russian subsidiary, Kompaniia Zinger, was a German company that was actively engaged in espionage on behalf of the German military. Even though these rumors were untrue, they unleashed a wave of actions against the company that Singer’s officials were unable to stop, ultimately leading to tremendous losses for the firm. The central argument of this article is that the power of the accusations of Singer’s German ties rested far more on the nature of the company’s business model than on the national affiliation of its personnel or evidence of espionage. In the context of World War I–era Russia, many Russians took Singer’s operations not as those of an international capitalist enterprise, but rather as evidence of the company’s questionable foreign character. This perspective helps us to understand why Singer’s management had such difficulty shaking the accusations of its German ties; if what was suspicious about the company was the very foundation of its business model, then its continued operation meant that it necessarily exhibited characteristics that reinforced the basis for said suspicion. These findings have implications for international business history, the history of late-Tsarist Russia, and the history of capitalism.

Banking experienced large growth in colonial India along with a process of commercialization of agriculture. Yet, the rate of aggregate saving or investment remained low. This article is an attempt to resolve this paradox. It suggests that traditional forms of banking were helped by the formalization of indigenous negotiable instruments, but that transactions between bankers, merchants, and peasants were characterized by a limited use of legal instruments. The limited circulation of bills in this sphere is attributed, among other factors, to high seasonality in the demand for money. Seasonality-induced distortions in the organization of the money market made indigenous banking an unsuitable agent to promote saving and finance industrialization.

This article examines, from the viewpoint of a core group of Vermont milk producers, the period in the mid-1990s when organic dairy became mainstream. We look at the rise and subsequent takeover of one of the first organic milk-processing companies, The Organic Cow of Vermont, through the eyes of the farmers involved. In so doing, we provide needed perspective on the role of food producers working in industries subject to growth and consolidation. As producers of a commodity that grew out of the conventional system, organic dairy farmers faced unique choices that set them apart from other organic producers at that time. We demonstrate that the market for organic milk and dairy provided the opportunity for a new kind of farmer-processor relationship in which producers were supported through stable pay-prices and an intimate business relationship with processors. This article challenges the idea that the organic dairy industry was built by corporations trying to profit from booming consumer demand for organic foods and offers important contributions to debates surrounding the growth and conventionalization of organic food systems.

The electromechanical vibrator originated in the late nineteenth century as a device for medical therapy. In the first three decades of the twentieth century, however, marketing of vibrators as consumer appliances became pervasive. Ads appeared in the pages of The New York Times and Scientific American and plastered street cars. Companies marketed vibrators to grandparents, mothers, infants, and young adults. Vibrators are widely sold today, however, as instruments for masturbation, a use that was rarely mentioned but well known before World War II. How was vibrator advertising able to become so ubiquitous during the early twentieth century, despite draconian antiobscenity laws and antimasturbation rhetoric? This article argues that companies achieved this result by shaping the meaning of vibrators through strategic marketing. This marketing overtly portrayed vibrators as nonsexual while covertly conveying their sexual uses through imagery and the sale of phallic, dildo-like attachments.

Companies positioned vibrators within two major consumer product categories in the early 1900s: labor-saving household appliances and electrotherapeutic devices. By advertising the vibrator as both a labor-saving household appliance and a sexualized health panacea, companies could slip vibrator ads past the censors, while supplying user manuals that clued consumers into specific sexual uses. In household appliance ads, companies drew on traditional gender roles to present vibrators as emblems of domesticity and motherhood, whereas in electrotherapeutic ads they presented vibrators as symbols of progressive gender roles, the sexualized new woman and the body-conscious “self-made man.”