What though the men loafed through the work, the percentage of the outlay went on just the same!
So the N.S.W. Government signed the compact, practically threw over State Socialism, so far as public works were concerned, thanked goodness for the riddance, and sat back for a while, stripped of responsibility, a Syndicate's collection of "rubber stamps."
Some of the Ministers, however, tired of the "nothin'-doin' policy," hankered after the tinpot glory they had when in charge of men, so they began to look for new fields of enterprise not touched by the Syndicate.
They saw an opportunity in Government bread-making.
The Government had heard a good deal about the profit possibilities of great American "combines." Why not introduce the thing into Australia as a great Government scheme, and combine all the small bakery establishments into one big concern, in which great automatic baking machinery would supplant the small ovens of the small employers?
This would not only knock out the "hated employers," but it would capture all their profits—and the Government wanted money rather badly.
So, immense bread-making factories were built. A standard price was put on wheat the Government wanted, which knocked the farmer rather hard and hundreds of employees were thrown out of the bakehouses.
It was an awkward situation for a Government pledged to Socialism. The unionists had shouted for Socialism, yet when Socialism brought in labor-saving machines, when, in fact, it hit the chap who shouted, he objected. Socialism seemed alright "for the other fellow." It was like the old story of the Irishman's pigs. He believed in sharing alike, except regarding pigs—he happened to have a few.
The Socialist Government was in a quandary with its mob of unemployed baker unionists, till the voice of the tempter came again.
The Syndicate quietly whispered, "Give us a little more power and we'll absorb them."