Life in a Railway Factory

by Alfred Williams

Wednesday is very similar to Tuesday, though the men are not quite as fresh and vigorous. The pace, though still smart and good, will fall a little below that of the day previous. Three days’ toil begins to tell on the muscles and reserve of the body, though this is counterbalanced by the increase of mental satisfaction and expectation, the knowledge of being in mid-week and of getting within sight of another pay-day and cessation from work.

Thursday is the humdrum day. As much work will be done as on the day preceding, but more effort will be required to perform it. An acute observer will perceive a marked difference in the general behaviour of the workmen and in the manner in which they manipulate the tools. They will begin to look tired and haggard. When they leave the shed at meal-times they do not rush headlong out, pushing and shouting, but file away soberly and in comparative silence.

By Friday morning the barometer will have risen considerably. Notwithstanding the tiredness of the individual, he is nerved to fresh efforts and induced to make a final spurt towards the end of the weekly race. His manner is altogether more cheerful, and he becomes quite affable to his mates. If the manager or overseer passes through the shed more frequently than usual and comes and times him at his work, he takes but very little notice of him. Those who are by nature gruff and surly melt a little and show a more genial disposition on the Friday. The secret of all this lies in the fact that Friday is both the last whole day to be worked at the shed, and it is pay-day, too. The men’s faces brighten considerably at the approach of that happy and eagerly-awaited hour. When they collect together around the pay-table they indulge in jocular remarks with one another, and the majority bubble over with good-nature. As they pass the table in single file they grab up the box containing the money with commendable determination. If the pay is a full one there will be a broad smile, or a grin, on the faces of most of the men as they remove the cover and pocket the coin; that is about the happiest and most triumphant moment of all for them.

To draw the wages each man is furnished with a metal check having a number, corresponding with his name in the register, stamped upon it. The check is issued to the men as they enter the shed after dinner, and is a guarantee that they have wages to receive on that day. Each man’s wages are put up in a tin box, which is also stamped with his number. The foreman takes his position at the head, and two clerks stand behind the table. Of these, one calls out the number upon the box and the other takes it and claps it sharply on the table. The men are waiting ready and take it as they walk past; two hundred may be paid in about five minutes by this method. Extras for piecework are paid fortnightly. Whatever stoppages and contributions are due for the local Sick and Medical Fund, coal, wood, and other charges, are deducted on the normal week, and this is called “stoppage week.” Accordingly, the day of great good-humour comes fortnightly, and that week is known among the men as “balance week.”

Saturday is the day of final victory, the closing up of the weekly battle, though a great part of the eagerness evinced a day or two before will have vanished now that the time to take the hebdomadal rest is really at hand. It is strikingly true, even here, that expectation is better than realization. Notwithstanding the fact that the men are tired and worn out they do not appear to be as keen for the rest as might be imagined; they now seem to have recovered their normal powers and work away quite unconcernedly up to the last moment. The boys and youths, however, will be restless; they whistle and sing and rush off like shots from a gun as soon as the hooter sounds.

Sunday is the day of complete inactivity with most of the workmen, and it is possibly the weakest and the least enjoyed of all. If the weather is dull and wet a great number stay in bed till dinner-time, and sometimes they remain there all day and night, till Monday morning comes. This will not have done them much harm; they will feel all the more refreshed and the better able to face the toil and battle of the coming week.

Every day, as well as the year and week, has its divisions and a temper and feeling on the part of the men corresponding with each of them. In the morning, before breakfast, nearly everyone is sober and quiet, very often surly, and even spitefully disposed. During that time the men in the shed rarely speak to each other, but bend down to the labour in silence. After breakfast the tone improves a little, and continues to do so till dinner-time, when the tempers of the men will have become about normal; they are restored to their natural humour and disposition. When they return after dinner a still greater improvement is discernible, and by five o’clock in the afternoon they are not like the same beings. In the evening, after tea, greater good-fellowship than ever prevails, and if a man meets his mate in the town he is quite cordial. By the next morning, however, he is metamorphosed again; the old conditions obtain, and so on day after day and month after month. The best work of the day is always made in the morning, between the hours of nine and eleven.

If a workman oversleeps in the morning and is too late for admittance before breakfast, he may start at nine o’clock. This is called “losing a quarter.” There are those at the works who are noted for losing quarters; they are usually absent from the shed before breakfast once or twice a week. Such as these, by the frequency of their absence, are not noticed very much, but if one who is habitually a good timekeeper happens to be out unexpectedly before breakfast, means are taken to celebrate the event. When he arrives there will be a little surprise awaiting him. He will find an effigy of himself standing near the forge, and will receive a salute composed of hammers knocking on steel plates, and the rattling of any old pot that chances to be at hand. During the meal-time the workmen obtain several coats, a hat, and a pair of boots, and fix them on the handles of the mallets and broom, and then chalk out the features of a man upon the coke shovel. Afterwards they assemble in a gang and greet their comrade with an overpowering din. If he is wise he will take it all in good part and join in with the fun, and the din will soon cease; but if he loses his temper — as is sometimes the case — he is assailed more loudly than ever, and driven half mad with the uproar.

A somewhat similar reception is given to a workman who has just been married. As soon as it is known that the banns are published — and this is certain to leak out and news of it be brought into the shed — he becomes the object of very special attention. The men come to him from all quarters and offer him their congratulations, sincere and otherwise, very often accompanying them with advice of different kinds, sometimes of a highly sarcastic nature. Many insist upon shaking hands with him and, with mock ceremony, compliment him on his decision to join the “Big Firm,” as they call it, assuring him, at the same time, that they shall expect him to “stand his footing.” Occasionally, if their mate is poor, the men of a gang will make a small collection and buy him a present — a pair of pictures, a piece of furniture, or a set of ornaments. Perhaps this may be carried out ridiculously, and the whole thing turned into a joke, whereupon the prospective bridegroom loses his temper and soundly lashes his mates for their unsolicited patronage.

If the workman divulges the time and place of the wedding there will certainly be a few to witness it, in order to see how he behaves during the ceremony. Very often they wait outside the church with missiles of several kinds, such as old shoes and slippers, rice, barley, Indian corn, and even potatoes, ready to pelt him. Occasionally, however, it happens that the wily mate has deceived them with regard either to the time or the place, and if they turn up at the church they will have to wait in vain, the laughing-stock of all passers-by. When the newly married man recommences work he is received with a loud uproar. This is called “ringing him in.” A crowd of men and boys beat upon any loose plate of metal that will return a loud clang — such as lids of tool-chests, steel bars, anvils, and sides of coke bunks — and make as much noise as possible. This is all over by the time the hooter sounds. With the starting of the shop engine the men fall in to work, and the marriage is forgotten by the crowd.