It's In The Can
We would like to thank 'Gardens Illustrated' for allowing us to reproduce this article – which was written by Peter Roe with photographs by Gavin Kingcome.
When John Haws set about designing a watering can in the 1880s he simply intended to overcome the problems he had encountered with his own garden. But, like all truly great designers, he let function dictate form, and the haws professional watering can set a standard that remains unchallenged. Visiting the factory, peter roe found the design and production methods to be true to the original, and that the haws professional is as sought after as ever.
There are some things you just have to own. A Victorinox knife. Felco secateurs. Zeiss binoculars. An Aston Martin. OK then, not an Aston Martin; let's keep it real. But the principle's the same. When something looks the way it does because it performs perfectly, it always looks right. Function is the best designer, as Alec Issigonis and Le Corbusier might have said. And the Haws Professional looks right. It's only a watering can, but it's beautiful; every stylish line and curve of it. Many gardeners – including Anna Pavord – won't use anything else. In fact, Anna chose it for Gardens Illustrated as her perfect garden tool (Issue 31). So just what is it that makes this 'King of Cans' so perfect? Today the home of Haws Watering Cans is a rambling factory unit in Smethwick, in the West Midlands. But the story began with a civil servant who wanted to beat the French. John Haws was stationed in Mauritius in the 1880s. He was a keen gardener and took against the new-fangled French 'water pots' that were used there. The French idea was sensible – the handle, instead of just being attached to the back of the body, continued over the top of the watering can and joined the spout in one long curve. This meant that there was more to get hold of, and you could use both hands to lift a full can.
But the French, Haws thought, hadn't got it right. The can never balanced, it was awkward to carry, a strain to pour from and it always gave you backache. But, it was all there was. Haws retired and returned to England during the heyday of professional gardening on England's landed estates. The Lea Valley in East London, where Haws lived, was packed with nurseries, smallholders and busy private gardeners during the second half of Queen Victoria's long reign. With nothing to do, Haws – who had no engineering experience – began tinkering with a design for a watering can that wouldn't make your back ache, soak your feet, wash plants out of their pots, or fall apart. What he came up with, patented in 1885 and perfected over the next few years, remains virtually unchanged and has never been bettered.
Rather than sell his idea, John Haws formed his own company to produce the new cans. Although it's been bought and sold a few times since, Haws Watering Cans still makes the Professional in exactly the same way as it did the original. According to John Massey, a director of Haws Watering Cans, the only thing that has really changed is the size. ‘Men were men when the first Professional was made, and they thought nothing of hefting a 3-gallon can. We've brought it down to 2 gallons to suit modern men and women.’
A lot of components go into the world's best watering can. The body, the base, the handle, the spout and the spout support are all cut from thin mild steel. Then they're shaped and rolled on machines - some belt-driven - that were probably the bee's knees in the 1920s and 30s. One of the things that sets Haws' design apart is its handle. John Haws hated the single continuous handle from back to spout that was typical of the French 'pot'. So he designed a breast – the 'lid' of a watering can – and a neck to carry the separate back and spout handles; these became the hallmark of the Professional. The neck is still produced exactly as Haws first made it – formed on small, hand-operated rollers that look like a plumber's pipe bender. All the parts are joined together by interlocking flanges – the edges are bent over so they 'hook' together - and spot-welded by hand. Factory manager Adrian Harris says, ‘We don't use jigs or formers to put the bits together. The bloke doing the assembly just lines the handles, body and spout up along the edge of his bench by eye. It's quick and it's perfect every time. We'd never stand for a zig-zag can.’
The next stage of the Professional's production is a bit odd. The assembled cans are piled up outside in the yard and left to go rusty. John Massey explains, ‘The Professionals are galvanised by dipping them into a tank of molten zinc, which is by far the best way of weatherproofing them. We found the zinc sticks better if the surface of the steel is pitted with rust.’ When the shiny new Professional comes back from the dipping tanks there are two jobs still to do – polishing or painting (they come in British Racing Green, as well as the original zinc), and the application of the little brass Haws medallion that sets these watering cans apart.