It was a massive, white marble memorial on the wall of the main entrance, and on it was inscribed the names of the many employees of the company who had given their lives for the sake of the nation during World Wars One and Two.
The marble was of absolutely top-quality, white statuary, so - after it had been dismantled and taken off the wall - was sliced up into many pieces to make new fire-surrounds, as well as restore existing antique ones.
For several years afterwards, all you had to do was turn the jamb of a fancy fire-surround leaning against the wall of a workshop, in order to read the names of 20 or so dead heroes, and these names are forever imortalised in stone, albeit face up against the chimney-breast of a private house, and entombed in wall plaster. I even found one piece which read, "We shall never forget you..."
I still have a beautifully carved piece of laurel leaf border that used to run around the whole thing - laurel was a symbol of honour and valour, and I feel sad every time I look at it.
So when you are next standing by the Cenotaph at 11.0'clock on a cold autumn morning, listening to the band playing Elgar's 'Nimrod', spare a thought for that tobacco company and the developers who bought the factory.