BEHIND THE SCENES.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 2394, 8 January 1909, Page 9 (Supplement)

BEHIND THE SCENES.

A LANCASHIRE COTTON STRIKE

“Cotton Crisis! Strike of Lancashire operatives.” Few persons outside the cotton county who have seeii this headline staring at them from the papers lately have realised all that such a headline means. A big strike in Lancashire is one of the most sensational -dramas ever produced upon Industry’s stage. It directly affects hundreds of thousands of people, and indirectly it affects millions. It shows us Avhat trade is like ivhen it is insane, -and it opens the eyes of the thoughtful to the tefrible possibilities that arises when masters and men, instead of working amicably together, roll up their sleei'es and fight. " WHAT IT MEANS. Strikes have reduced many a factory oiraer to tbje verge of bankruptcy. They plunge thousands of operatives hopelessly into debt, and subject inume-rable children to a period of semi-starvation which either semis them to an -early grave or leaves them n r ith a, legacy of lifelong illhealth. The strike opens the door to the money-lender, forces the most unwilling to the -paivnsliop, and generally ends by doing no actual good at tall. __

It is not our mission here to enter into the question of which of the parties may be -right and Avhich may be wrong. Tlie drama is much the same, whether the fault lie ivitli the employers or Avith the men. When the conferences between tho officials •have closed -and the ballots have been taken, and the last word has been spoken in favor of a struggle, in go the-men’s notices to cease. Avork, ami on the __ day Avhen the notices expire every single Avorker lays doivn his or her tools.

Should you chance to pass by a big factory at that moment you -would •hear, the operatives’ cheers echoing •and -re-cclioing through the long rooms. They are glad. They are fighting, they say, for principle, for their, rights, and for their Avives and families; and Providence and their trade unions will help them on to victory. THE FIRST SCENE. In a few minutes you see a score of human streams issuing from a score of factories, on ©very~face the sum.of satisfaction; on every tongue an assurance of success. As the engineers -blow - off tlio steam, the stoxuis put out the fires, and the ivatchmcn padlock the mill-gates, the . workers stand about in knots ’ close* by and read the latest neivs of the crisis to one another. A feiv minutes more and the men are crowding into the neighboring public-houses, ivhere they drink success- to the righteous, which is themselves, of course, and bad luck to the cotton princes ii'lio oppose them.

For a feiv days Lancashire ivears quite an unusual appearance. The Avell-knoAvn rattle of the early-morn-ing clogs is heard no longer. The “knocker-<up,” Avhose business it is to rouse the operatives, finds his occupation gone. The factories are silent and tho tall chimneys smokeless. Streets which in. time of ivork and peace are almost isolated during the day are noiv crowded. M ar and idleness are to be seen everywhere. Dancing-masters and concert agents, eager to make capital out of the struggle, arrange balls and conversaziones daily; and at midnight—the hour when, as in, rule, Cotton land is fast asleep—young Lancashire is making merry everywhere. THE PAWNBROKER COMES IN. And so the strike proceeds. Every Friday the men draiv* their allow ance from the trade unions, and every Saturday their ivives face the problem of how to make a little play the part of much. For a time the problem is interesting, but after a few* weeks there conies a crash that makes it hideous. The strike allowance is cut down. Then il> is trliatllic lioncst) prido for which the operatives arc famous begins to slide sloivly along m the •direction of pauperism. Til© first step is lat tlie pawnbroker’s, knowing from experience that the trouble will increase his business, the pawnbroker has, in all probability, extended his premises, and w'eek by iveek the Monday morning queues lengthen aim. lengthen outside his door. The strike proceeds. Bit by bit the enthusiasm Avhioli marked the strike’s commencement fades and fades aivay until it is -gone altogether, leaving blank looks of despair, with hardly a ray of hope to relieve them. To make matters worse, the strikers are called upon about i-lns time to deal with the “black-legs w;ho come along -in swarms ready to take tlie imen’s places. The trade unions ap point “pickets” to meet them and induce them to go" back. Then w e hear of free fights and the like, and read, in tlie local papers of policecourt sequels, and warning from the Bench taht if the intimidation goes on the strikers Avili be sent to prison. THE CLEVER BEGGAR. Another unwelcome visitor Avho airives at this stage is tlio professional “knobstick,” as ho is called. LLe knows nothing at all of -null work, hut pretends that -he does. When the men inform him that a strike iin progress he -affects surprise, and says that, had the known he would not h-ave come within rndes of the place. Whereupon tlie officials gj-ve him a shilling or two. for his trouble and disappointment, and off he goe to tell similar lies elsewhere. But one of tho . most interesting scenes which the strike produces is that in which the leading charactois aro the younger of the null operatives and smart recruiting-sergeants, me latter are here, there, and .everywhere. Noav is the time when the advantages of tho Army can be described with real effect, and officers A\dio knoiv it, and Avho have a knowledge of the Avorld, are sending doivn the smartest of their recruiters. Every morning they can be heard contrasting the f ree-and-e a sy-pienty-or-tood pienty-of-fresh-air and plonty-of-pocket-money life of tlie soldier with the continual anxieties of the young Avorkcrs' in. tho cotton milles. -And the tales -arc never told in vain. The lads troop aAvay Avitli tho sergeants

to tho station, all smiles, and whore the black shadow' of the cotton strike Avili never reach them. Mothers object, of course, -ami there are a lot of pathetic scenes ivehn tlio lads are saying good-bye, but —the recruiting goes on. WHAT THE GIRLS DO.

With the girls it is more difficult; there is no Army for them to join, and even if they were keen on domestic service, Avhich they are 'not, they Avili find little or no scope in the manufacturing towns. Girls that arc engaged cheer themselves by making clothes for their future homes, and a feiv get married, believing, -as so many -do in Lancashire, that what’ will keep one can be made to keep two ivitli a little stretching. These iveddings and the merry-mak-ings of the- young recruits are the only bright spots in the picture. The rest is gloom. As the .weeks go by and tlie-re is no settlement, soup kitchens -are opened, and the steamship companies begin to offer passages at special rates to strikers who -are tired of it all and Avant to get aAvay. THE LAST SAD SCENE. Not -a feiv trump to London, only to" find, of course, that looking for Avork in the capital is like looking for diamonds in tho dust-heaps of tho noorest suburbs. Tlie trouble is that the cotton operative understands no kind of Avork except his own. The moment ho leaves tlie factory he is lost, so far as earning money is concerned. . But the siaddest scene of all in the drama is the closing one. On the morning when work is once Snore stroll to the factories. iStandino- in. the doorways arc men who have just been informed that tlieii places have been filled. And the men have AA'orked there for years and Te ,ars. They have committed the crime of being leaders in the struggle of fair-play, and -now, after helping their felloivs to get a little nearer to it, they are victimised and left stranded in a country ivliero ivork is almost at a premium.