Bernard

Well, they'd got a Worker's Union, and that Worker's Union was the off-shoot of end of the War, because they'd never had a Worker's Union up till then. It was all sort of grace and favour by the Superintendent who fixed the rates of pay, and bonuses, and that sort of thing, especially around Christmas. He used to go around all the departments and dish the money out to the men, and they thought the whole thing was very undignified. As it was! So they demanded that it should be put on a proper basis, simply because the old idea, as I said before, of the father figure 'The Superintendent' had disappeared, so they formed this Worker's Union. It was that, as much as anything, that drove Bingham out. He'd had enough of war and enough of the Worker's Union already.

Ronald

Did it start off as a left wing thing, or just as ordinary union as we know it, a British Trade Union?

Bernard

Oh Yes. It started off reasonably enough, not like a English Trade Union in that sense of it being very highly organised with area secretaries and managers and shop stewards and that sort of thing. But, gradually it became left dominated by Samuel Das who was a Christian. He wasn't a Hindu or a Muslim, he was a Christian, but he was a downright Communist as well. He used to say he was a Christian Communist, which is a contradiction in terms as we say. He was a proof-reader. He was a clever chap, and in his ordinary way he did his work and that sort of thing he was very good, but he'd got this Worker's Rights thing 'bee in his bonnet'. Studied it very closely, and he stood knowing far more about it than a lot of full time labour relations officers. But our advantage in asking Sham Howard to take over was that the key appointments in labour relations in big agencies in the City were held by Jews, and all the Jews knew each other, and if Sham had got some sort of problem that we were up against he could go to his friends and they could interpret the law to him. That's how we conducted it from a management point of view. Well that was a help in one respect, but every August or September they had this Charter of Demands that was submitted. Twenty-five point Charter of Demands. Outrageous claims for increases in wages and so on, right down to small things. Because they knew that October was working up to the climax time of all this security printing you see. We were stuck with deadlines... with examinations. All the stuff had got to be in the hands of the various universities by a certain date. They knew... they knew all this.

Every firm was up against the same thing. Then they'd take out processions, which of course they do in England now, but never to the extent in England that they did in India, because August or September, working up to Puja time in October, the City was full, after working hours, of various processions with their red flags and the hammer and sickle. Various worker's unions from all over the City, all converging, pretty well, on the Ochterlony Monument where they had their mass meetings.

They'd take these processions after working hours and parade through the streets shouting slogans and that sort of thing. It was all harmless enough in its way. It was part of an 'old Spanish custom' as you might say. I used to mix with them outside the gates sometimes when the working hours were over and they were taking out the banner, helping them to fix it up, and then off they'd go shouting very loudly all the way up Elliot Road and Royd Street and all the way to...

Ronald

What sort of things would they shout, or were they all in Hindi?

Bernard

What sort of things did they shout? Nothing in particular. They were not dead set against management in that sense. Sort of shouting that they wanted their just demands met and that sort of thing. Some of it would be in Hindustani. Then they'd go "Dededede...peeyu, updedede peeyu." And you'd got the cheerleaders flanked, you see em in these processions in London, and the walking people would shout some sort of response. But nobody treated it very seriously.

And I never really, I think I can honestly say, I never really got to the pitch when it was either or, confront them with anything, because the whole secret really of negotiating was knowing when to give way on some things, and knowing when to stand firm on others. But there's also got to be some sort of mutual respect between the management on the one hand and the workers on the other.

So if the President of Worker's Union and Secretary, Samuel Das, wanted to see me about anything they'd bypass Sham Howard, that was the weakness of the setup, they wouldn't always talk to him, they'd insist on coming straight to me. Then sit down round a desk, and I always used to call him Samuel, it was always Samuel, Samuel Das was. Things were conducted in quite a friendly sort of way. They were never belligerent. Never!

The President, he could be more than a bit, you know a sly sort of chap, but he was always all right me with me, because I found very early on, and I was playing it all pretty well by ear, that at the slightest sign of any trouble, then you'd got to tackle it straight away. It was no good sort of saying that by next week things would be easier, because they never did get easier. They always got worse. I mean if some of the claims that they were pushing were not talked about or some sort of decision reached, and negotiations opened, then you could run into a 'go slow'. That was worse than either a lockout or a strike, because it was just plain dishonest to go slow was where men came to work and then sort of run the machines as slowly as they could, or not set the type at the proper rate, or you know just sort of slorm about as you might say in Derbyshire. A 'go slow' was much worse than a lockout or a strike. I never had a strike.

But I also found that the simplest way of meeting these Twenty-five point Charter of Demands was to whittle a way at it. You gave way a bit on the minor things and insisted on some things, and so they'd give way too, until it finally came to the crunch, which was always the basic rates of pay, and bonuses, and share of profits, and that sort of thing. It always finished up with money.

Ronald

But you had bonuses and shares of profits?

Bernard

Oh yes.

Ronald

So bonuses for working faster?

Bernard

Attendance bonuses. No, No. Not for working faster. No, attendance bonus was one and share of profits was another.

Ronald

That was shared at the end of each year.

Bernard

Yes. Oh yes.

Ronald

And how much difference did that make?

Bernard

Oh, it made a considerable difference. In fact the Baptist Mission Press, Mr. Knight when he was Superintendent, he worked out Provident Fund rules which were so balanced and agreeable that the West Bengal Government took it over and based their Provident Fund on what Baptist Mission Press had worked out. In fact right up to this day, I think that is so now. It were all based on what Baptist Mission Press had done.

So once a man had been taken on and become a permanent worker it was pretty well no power on earth could get rid of him. He was there for life. Oh yes, until he retired. Of course they had to retire under and age limit, but if they were key workers then you'd got some sort of discretionary power to keep 'em on a bit, especially if he was a skilled chap like a Monotype operator who were not easily replaced.

Ronald

But if they were incompetent could you get rid of them?

Bernard

Oh great difficulty. Very great difficulty to dispense with their services all together.

Ronald

I mean because there would there be union trouble if you did try to?

Bernard

Oh yes. The workers would have come up. They'd have united against... We did have several cases of... In fact we'd got one peon (a messenger) who was affected by the moon and every time the moon was at the full, I expect that's where the word lunatic comes from, lunar, and lunatic, he was most unreliable. We had him medically examined. They said it was the moon that was affecting him. He had medical treatment and the press paid for that. Because you see a peon, as you know, his main job was delivering small orders and taking letters out to customers. That was their job really. Instead of relying on the post a peon would go out and deliver to various parts of the city. That was a peon's job. And it was all signed for and entered in the peon's book and that sort of thing. He was a peon. It was a responsible job in the sense that he'd not got to lose the letters and that sort of thing. And he went into his peon's book and nine times out of ten... it was just a class above a coolie but it was a responsible job in that sense in that they'd got to know what they were doing... not got to waste time either... But this chap, he was a nuisance not only to the Press because he was getting unreliable when the moon was at the full, but he was a nuisance to his fellow peons because he'd be given his uniform to put on, because they wore khaki drill with 'Baptist Mission Press' on the pocket, and he'd hide his own uniform and his fellow peon's too. So they didn't know where there uniforms either. So we couldn't get rid of him, we couldn't sack him, so we compromised and gave him a small pension, in addition to his Provident Fund to which he was entitled. I said if he chooses he can sit under a tree in his village from now for evermore and he thought that was a very agreeable suggestion. We only paid him about ten or twenty rupees a month on top. But it was worth it from our point of view. And much to my surprise the Worker's Union thought it was a generous gesture. It was worth it to us to get rid of him for a bit.