Trade Unions and Labour Troubles
The printing works, even back in 1926, was a closed shop. It was join the union or no job. This didn't bother me as although I had to join, union activities interested me not at all. There was no end of industrial unrest in the country, and every week when the union subs had to be paid there always seemed to be a levy to help some other union on strike. I never bothered much as there was far too much for an eighteen year old to do without bothering about labour relations.
Actually, things industrial were boiling over all round the country and the climax came with the General Strike. We all had to come out, naturally, but even this didn't make much impression on us youngsters, for it was all a kind of novelty as far as we were concerned. Union meetings were held every day in one of the town's hotels, addressed by some of the more extreme of the union leaders. There was a lot of hot air about our rights, brothers this and brothers that, and the wicked capitalists. All this seemed totally irrelevant to me as we had pleasant working conditions and were well paid.
After the first day's boring meetings, someone had the bright idea of having an impromptu 'hop' afterwards, so next day some of the boys who could play rolled up with their instruments. This proved so popular that next day, when we thought the speech-making had gone far enough we got the band to start up regardless. This soon put a stopper on the talking, and we were soon out on the floor enjoying ourselves. I'm afraid we neither knew nor cared what was going on in the rest of the country, or what effect the General Strike was having.
One little story regarding the strike stuck in my mind, although I never knew if it was really true. A backsliding train driver somehow got an engine going on the Waveney Valley line. By opening level crossing gates himself he got almost to Beccles, but at the last station striking railwaymen stopped him and put out the fire in the engine, leaving the train and passengers stranded.
The first week passed, and we began to wonder about strike pay. We were assured that was on its way and sure enough, at Friday's meeting we were told to queue up and get it. When it was discovered that the pay consisted of ten shillings a week for the adults and half‑a‑crown for the rest, uproar broke out. After paying levies for months to benefit other strikers about whom we knew nothing, it was asking too much to treat this miserable dole out with anything but disgust. Exhortations from the strike leaders that we must all make sacrifices to further our cause went unheeded, and the meeting broke up in confusion.
I have little doubt that if someone with a bit of authority had got up and suggested an immediate return to work, practically everyone would have followed his advice. However, the threats to withdraw the union cards of any anti‑strike demonstrators did their job, and no action was taken. By the middle of the next week it seemed pretty clear that the General Strike was collapsing and we were told we could report to work the following Monday, and jolly glad we were to go.
I often think of those days when I hear someone 'leading off' about the irresponsibility of modern youth. We were just as bad if not worse in many ways. As I found out later, there is no doubt that at that time there were hundreds of thousands of overworked and underpaid workers whose only weapon was to strike and fight for a better deal. Thousands of the poor devils hadn't worked for years, but did we care? ‑ not us. It was very much a case of 'I'm all right Jack, and nuts to you!' Here in rural East Anglia, hundreds of miles from the big industrial centres we knew little of what was going on in those places, and I'm afraid we cared even less. Heartless we were to some degree no doubt, but our lives were too full of work and play or the latest girlfriend to be bothered. Life soon resumed its familiar pattern.
Actually, things industrial were boiling over all round the country and the climax came with the General Strike. We all had to come out, naturally, but even this didn't make much impression on us youngsters, for it was all a kind of novelty as far as we were concerned. Union meetings were held every day in one of the town's hotels, addressed by some of the more extreme of the union leaders. There was a lot of hot air about our rights, brothers this and brothers that, and the wicked capitalists. All this seemed totally irrelevant to me as we had pleasant working conditions and were well paid.
After the first day's boring meetings, someone had the bright idea of having an impromptu 'hop' afterwards, so next day some of the boys who could play rolled up with their instruments. This proved so popular that next day, when we thought the speech-making had gone far enough we got the band to start up regardless. This soon put a stopper on the talking, and we were soon out on the floor enjoying ourselves. I'm afraid we neither knew nor cared what was going on in the rest of the country, or what effect the General Strike was having.
One little story regarding the strike stuck in my mind, although I never knew if it was really true. A backsliding train driver somehow got an engine going on the Waveney Valley line. By opening level crossing gates himself he got almost to Beccles, but at the last station striking railwaymen stopped him and put out the fire in the engine, leaving the train and passengers stranded.
The first week passed, and we began to wonder about strike pay. We were assured that was on its way and sure enough, at Friday's meeting we were told to queue up and get it. When it was discovered that the pay consisted of ten shillings a week for the adults and half‑a‑crown for the rest, uproar broke out. After paying levies for months to benefit other strikers about whom we knew nothing, it was asking too much to treat this miserable dole out with anything but disgust. Exhortations from the strike leaders that we must all make sacrifices to further our cause went unheeded, and the meeting broke up in confusion.
I have little doubt that if someone with a bit of authority had got up and suggested an immediate return to work, practically everyone would have followed his advice. However, the threats to withdraw the union cards of any anti‑strike demonstrators did their job, and no action was taken. By the middle of the next week it seemed pretty clear that the General Strike was collapsing and we were told we could report to work the following Monday, and jolly glad we were to go.
I often think of those days when I hear someone 'leading off' about the irresponsibility of modern youth. We were just as bad if not worse in many ways. As I found out later, there is no doubt that at that time there were hundreds of thousands of overworked and underpaid workers whose only weapon was to strike and fight for a better deal. Thousands of the poor devils hadn't worked for years, but did we care? ‑ not us. It was very much a case of 'I'm all right Jack, and nuts to you!' Here in rural East Anglia, hundreds of miles from the big industrial centres we knew little of what was going on in those places, and I'm afraid we cared even less. Heartless we were to some degree no doubt, but our lives were too full of work and play or the latest girlfriend to be bothered. Life soon resumed its familiar pattern.
posted by curlybonce | 2:33 pm
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