It is therefore impossible by a statistical survey to give any adequate idea of the Trade Union world of 1892. We may note the fact that the thousand separate unions or branches between Blyth and Middlesborough numbered some 200,000 members. We may ascertain that within fifteen miles of the Manchester Exchange at least as many Trade Unionists lived and worked. But no figures can convey any real impression of the place which the Trade Union, even then, filled in the every-day life of the skilled artisans of the United Kingdom. We are therefore fortunate in being able to supplement our statistics by a graphic description of Trade Union life supplied to us in 1893 by a skilled craftsman, who joined his Union on the expiration of his apprenticeship, and served for some time in various official capacities.
To an apprentice, Trade Unionism is little more than a name. He may occasionally overhear the men in his shop discussing their Union and its work; and he knows that after “club night” a number of stories of the incidents of the meeting will be related; whilst, if he works in a strong Society shop, he may even hear heated discussions on resolutions submitted to the meeting. But the chief topic will always be the personal one—who was at the meeting, and what old chums were met; for the “club” is generally the recognised meeting-place for “old cronies” in the trade. If he works in a shop where any of the Trade Union officials are also employed he may sometimes receive a word of advice and exhortation “to be sure to join the Society when he is a man.” On the whole, however, his knowledge of, and interest in, the Society will be very slight. But should a strike occur at his shop whilst he is yet a lad, the presence and power of the Trade Union will be brought very vividly home to him; and as he works by himself or with the other lads in an otherwise deserted shop he will form some opinions of his own. He will naturally feel a violent antipathy to the “Blacks” brought into his shop, for the sense of comradeship is strong among boys; and he will notice with considerable pleasure that they are usually inferior workmen. But in spite of this, if the employer is “a good sort,” who treats him well and kindly, he will probably still think that the men are wrong to strike. For the boy regards the employer as the one “who finds work for the men to do,” and hence looks upon a strike as an act of ingratitude; and further, he has also a vague idea that the men are in the position of being many to one, and hence he promptly sides with the weaker party.
As the youth draws near the end of his apprenticeship he finds that he is frequently spoken to by Union men and urged to join the Society. He notices, too, that more attention is paid to him, and that his opinions are frequently asked upon trade matters. Finally he is invited round to the little public in which the club meetings are held, and introduced to the Lodge officials, and to a number of his fellow-tradesmen. The advantages offered by the Society are freely dilated upon, great stress being laid upon the friendly benefits—the sick, superannuation, funeral, and, above all, the out-of-work pay. For the Trade Society is the only institution which provides an out-of-work benefit. Against sickness and death he may already be insured in one or other of the numerous Friendly Societies; but the out-of-work pay is never provided except by a Trade Society, since only there is it possible to know whether a claimant is out of work by reason of bad trade, or bad character, or inefficiency, or even if he is really out of work at all. And as the advantages of this provision are pointed out to him he recollects the time when his father, a staid, steady-going mechanic, was thrown out of work by slack times; and the memory of that bitter experience clings very closely to him. Perhaps he is also in love. The thought of seeing “her” miserable and their children hungry whilst he himself is helpless to assist, must always be one of the most harrowing things to a careful young artisan, with visions of a happy little home in the near future. There is, however, another view of the club which appeals with almost equal force to our young artisan just out of his apprenticeship and finding himself in possession of an income nearly double that to which he has been accustomed. The Trade Union Meeting House is the recognised club for the men in the craft, and thus presents many social attractions. Friendships are made—numerous “sing-songs” and smoking concerts arranged; and the joke and friendly glass, the good cheer and the conviviality, all present great attractions to the young workman.
The club is also a centre for obtaining the latest trade news. Here come the unemployed from other towns; here are to be heard reports of reductions or advance of wages, increased or diminished working hours, stories of tyranny, or the first rumours of that bug-bear to the men—the invention of new machines, with its probable displacement of their labour; or even worse, the introduction of women and boys at reduced prices. There is also an occasional visit from an important official of the central office to look forward to, and his words to digest afterwards. All these attractions incline the young artisan to enrol himself in the Lodge, but it is mainly personal considerations which in the end decide him to take the step. Are the good men in his trade—those whom he likes; who have treated him well, helped him out of his difficulties and given him coppers when a lad; the powerful men, the foremen, and those whose words carry most weight with their fellows—are these men members of the Union? If they are, and if, as is most probable in a Society shop, he has formed friendships with other young fellows who are already members, it is not long before he consents, and allows himself to be duly proposed as a candidate for membership.
The next club night sees him at the door of the club-room waiting anxiously, and perhaps timorously, whilst the formalities go on inside. Usually the ordinary business of the evening is all disposed of before the election of new members takes place. At the first mention by the President of the fact that a candidate is waiting to be elected, the doorkeeper (hitherto posted inside the door to see that no one comes in or goes out surreptitiously, and that none of the “worthy brothers” are in an unfit state to enter the room) slips rapidly outside, and holding the door firmly, refuses admission to any one while the ceremony lasts. The President then rising, calls for order, and having read out the name of the candidate and those of his proposer and seconder, asks those members to tell the Lodge what they know about him. Then the proposer rises, and addressing “Mr. President and worthy brothers,” states what he knows—that the candidate is a young man, apprenticed in his shop and duly served his time—a good workman and a steady young fellow—anxious to join the Society and sure to be a credit to the Lodge. He resumes his seat amid applause; and the seconder rises and repeats the same eulogy. Then the candidate is called into the room, the doorkeeper admitting him with some ceremony. He enters in fear and trembling; for the formality of admission, though shorn of its former mysterious rites, is still conducted with sufficient solemnity to make it loom as something rather terrible. At once he finds himself the object of the friendly curiosity of the members, and the cause of applause, all of which adds considerably to his nervousness and trepidation. But he is agreeably surprised to find the ceremony a very meagre one. The President, rising, calls upon all the members to do likewise, and then, all standing, he reads out an initiatory address, and a portion of the Rules of the Society. Then in a simple affirmation the candidate pledges himself to abide by the Rules, to study the interests of the Society, and neither to do, nor, if he can prevent it, allow to be done, anything in opposition thereto. He has then to formally sign this pledge. That being done, his name is entered as a member, and upon paying his entrance fee, he is presented with a card of membership and a book of Rules of the Society.
He is now an ordinary member of the Lodge, and this newly acquired dignity is fully brought home to him in the course of a week or so, when he receives his first summons to attend a Lodge meeting. He wends his way to the little public-house in the dirty back street where the Lodge is held, and arriving shortly before eight o’clock, the time fixed for the opening of business, finds a number of his fellow-workmen congregated round the bar discussing the evening’s programme and trade matters generally. The men come in by twos and threes, and he notices that, with few exceptions, all are neat and clean, having been home and had their tea and a wash in the interval between then and working hours.[593] The officers of the Lodge arriving, are greeted with a general recognition as they pass upstairs to prepare the club-room for the business of the evening. Shortly after the hour fixed for commencing, the President takes the chair, and, as the men slowly straggle up into the room, rises and declares the meeting open for business. The club-room is a long, low-ceilinged room which constitutes the first floor of the public-house. Down the centre of the room runs a trestle table with forms along the sides, on which the members are seating themselves. At the top a shorter table is placed crosswise, forming a letter T, and here sits the group of officers. The room is decorated with the framed “emblems” of various trade societies, interspersed with gilt mirrors and advertising almanacs. At one end is a throne and canopy, showing that it is used also as a club-room by one or other of the friendly societies which still maintain the curious old rites of their orders. In a corner stands a cottage pianoforte, indicating that the room is also used for concerts, sing-songs, and convivial gatherings.
The first business of the evening is the payment of contributions. The Secretary, aided by the “Check Secretary,” the Money Steward, and Treasurer, receives the subscriptions from the men as they come, one by one, up the room, enters the payment in the books, and signs the members’ cards. In many cases women and children come to pay the subscriptions of their husbands or fathers; and he will feel a sense of shame at the idea of these having to come through the public bar to perform their errand. When the subscriptions are all received, the unemployed members, and the wives or other relatives of those who are sick, present themselves to draw their respective benefits. General inquiries are made after the health and hopes are expressed for the speedy recovery of the sick ones; and the sums due are paid out by the officials with considerable formality. During these proceedings there has been a constant hum of conversation in the room, and a continual running in and out of members to the bar, and back again. But all this now comes to an end. The President rises and calls for order. Strangers and non-members are cleared out of the room. The doorkeeper takes up his position inside the door to watch the comers-in and goers-out; and the drink-stewards make ready to attend to the members’ wants, and act as waiters, in order to dispense with strangers in the room, and to prevent any unnecessary bustle and confusion.[594] The business of the evening opens with the reading of the minutes of the last meeting. Questions concerning the enforcement of some resolution, or the result of some instructions given to the officers, are asked and answered, and the minutes are confirmed by a show of hands and signed by the President. Then letters received, and copies of those despatched by the Secretary since the last meeting are read. These include letters from the General Office interpreting some rule as to the payment of benefits, from the District Committee giving notice of a trade regulation, and from other branch secretaries asking for particulars as to the character and ability of some candidate for admission. Then follows the excitement of the evening—the report of delegates appointed to interview an employer on some grievance. They will explain how they waited on Mr. So-and-so, who at first refused to see them, and ordered them off his premises; how presently he came round and listened to their complaints; how he denied the existence of the alleged evil, and demanded the names of the men who complained, which the delegates of course refused to give; and how at last, after much dispute, he temporised, and gave them to understand that the grievance would be remedied. Then the members present from the shop in question are called upon to explain what improvements, if any, have been made in the matters of which they complained. If their report is satisfactory, the subject is allowed to drop. If not, there is a heated discussion. Our friend, seated with the young fellows at the back of the room, finds himself clamouring for a strike. The officers do their best to hold the meeting back. They suggest that the District Committee[595] ought first to be communicated with; or if the grievance is one against which the General Rules or District Bye-laws permit the men to strike without superior sanction, they urge further negotiations with the employer. The discussion is eventually closed by an order to the Secretary to write to the District Committee for advice, or by an instruction to the delegates to again interview the offending employer, and if he “bamboozles” them a second time, to strike the shop.
This excitement over, the interest of the meeting flags, and members drop out one by one. Perhaps there is an appeal by a member to whom the Committee has refused some benefit to which he thinks himself entitled. Against this decision he appeals to his fellow-members in Lodge assembled, urging his long membership, his wife and family, and his work for the Union as reasons why he should be leniently dealt with. Eloquent speeches are made on his behalf by personal friends. But the Committee and the officers declare that they have acted according to the Rules, and remind the Lodge that if they are ordered to pay an illegal benefit, the Central Office will disallow the amount, and order the members to repay it to the Union funds. With a strong Committee the vote will be against the man; with a weak one, and especially if the man is a jovial and “free-and-easy” comrade, his friends will turn up in sufficient numbers to carry the appeal. It being now ten o’clock, all other business—such as resolutions proposed by individual members—gets adjourned to the next club night, and the President declares the Lodge duly closed. The Secretary hastens home, to sit up burning midnight oil in balancing the books, entering the minutes, making reports to the Central Executive or District Committee, and writing the letters ordered by the meeting.
The Lodge meeting soon plays an important part in the life of our active-minded artisan. He feels that he is taking part in the actual government of a national institution. Special meetings are held to discuss and vote on questions submitted by the Executive to the whole body of the members, such as the alteration of a rule, the election of some central official, or a grant in aid of another trade. But primarily the Lodge is his Court of Appeal against all industrial tyranny, a court in which he is certain of a ready and sympathetic hearing. There he takes complaints of fines and deductions, of arbitrary foremen, of low piecework prices—of anything, in short, which affects his interest or comfort as a wage-earner.
The tendency of this ever-present power and actuality of the Lodge and its officials is to overshadow in the mind of the member the larger functions and responsibilities of the Central Executive. To him they are something far away in the vast outside world, and their powers are very vague and shadowy. They are, however, brought home to him in some of the incidents of his Trade Union and working life. There is, for instance, the “emblem” of his Society, a large and generally highly-coloured representation of the various processes of the trade in which he is engaged, often excellently designed and executed. This, purchased for a few shillings soon after his admission to the Society, or more probably at the time of his marriage, is hung, gaily framed, in his front parlour. On it is recorded his name, age, and date of admission to the Society, and it bears the signatures, and perhaps the portraits, of the general officers. To him it is some slight connecting link with the other men in his trade and Society. To his wife it is the charter of their rights in case of sickness, want of work, or death. As such it is an object of pride in the household, pointed out with due impressiveness to friends and casual visitors.