by Lily Ennis
He gathered the children up, Thomas in the perambulator and Fanny on the little seat across the front, even though she was too big for it, and walked into town.
The main street was packed and today, the first official strike day, had more the feel of a carnival than of industrial action. Men milled around in groups, most in their working suits, smoking and blowing hot breath into cold hands. Archie shook his head as he took in the scene before him. It wasn’t only Waihi mine workers but the men from Waikino and to rub salt in the wound, the borough council staff was on the street. Archie suddenly felt heavy. The fortunes of the mine were directly related to supporting the town and that meant all the services that council provided. All up there were about two thousand men not at work today.
‘Archie!’ It was Ian and he walked towards him with William. ‘Thanks for supporting us.’
‘I didn’t have a choice,’ Archie replied.
Ian peeked at Thomas and threw Archie a questioning look.
Archie understood. ‘Yeah, I know he’s too big for the pram, but I’m not carrying him. There’s no one at home.’
The men nodded. Ian was lucky. Isabelle was at home looking after Liam and Sarah. If he was lucky there’d be another one by Christmas.
‘I didn’t realise the county staff would be out,’ said Archie.
‘The mine pays their wages,’ said William. ‘Indirectly.’
Archie rubbed his chin. ‘What’s our next move?’
William and Ian had decided on a plan and William explained. ‘We need to get the wives to support us,’ he said. ‘I’ll call a special meeting for women only. Look around you. For every man you see there’s a wife or mother at home. We need their support. The sooner the better. And it’s better coming from us than them.’ He nodded at the groups of miners that thronged the street, all dressed in their work suits, smoking.
‘There’s a free picture show this morning at eleven,’ said Ian. ‘We’ll make an announcement there. Will you go?’
Archie shook his head. ‘With these two? I don’t think so.’
‘Mrs. Bracewell walk out?’ asked William.
‘She didn’t show.’
William and Ian veered Archie away from the nearest group of men. ‘Is there any chance of you meeting with the engine drivers, on the quiet like, make them see sense?’ asked Ian.
Archie let out a long breath. ‘I’ve been thinking exactly that. And I’ll help you at the women’s meeting. Count on it.’
* * *
The Miners’ Union Hall was packed. Women stood in the aisles rocking perambulators, they sat in rows cradling infants and stood crushed at the rear so that not a single person more could fit. The executive took the stage and William called the women to order.
‘Thank you for coming today ladies,’ he began. ‘It is the most serious turn of events that brings us here today and this committee owes it to you, our wives and daughters, our most ardent supporters of your miner men, to explain why this action was taken.’
There wasn’t a murmur in the whole hall. William continued.
‘Our union, the union to which your husbands and sons belong, has been weakened by the formation of a breakaway union, namely the Waihi Engine Drivers and Firemens’ Union. We believe this is an illegal act as the law under the Conciliation and Arbitration Act 1894 states that there shall be only one union of a particular type in an industrial district and thus the registration of the breakaway union would be unlawful.’
‘What difference does that make to the miners?’ shouted a woman half way down the hall.
‘A good question, madam,’ William replied. ‘The Waihi Trade Union of Workers has been working tirelessly to improve the lot of our miners. The Arbitration Act is nothing more than an act of oppression and to show the extent of that oppression, it makes it illegal for your husbands to strike while his union negotiates better terms – safer conditions, fair pay. We had to deregister from this oppressive Act and register under the Trade Union Act. Ladies, there is nothing illegal about what your husbands are doing, you may be clear on that.’
‘But how does that affect our men?’ asked the woman again. ‘Answer us that.’
Ian stood. ‘If I may answer,’ he said. ‘Our unions are so oppressed by this Liberal Act of Parliament that the Federation of Labour was formed to oppose it. Some of you may have seen the Federation magazine your husbands have taken home.’
A ripple went through the crowd.
‘Some of the engine drivers object to the candid views of this organisation. But they do not suffer the same working conditions as your husbands. We promote a more just system of employment; the abolishment of the wage system, grass roots democracy.’
The room erupted into groups of chatter. Heads nodded.
Archie whispered to Ian. ‘Too much.’ He stood and held his hands aloft. ‘Ladies, ladies. You must understand that your husbands are striking for unity above all else. While the engine drivers go it alone the company sees a fragmented workforce, a workforce that can be manipulated for the company’s own ends.’
He let the women digest his words. No interjections came.
‘It is a matter of safety,’ he continued. ‘While we are at loggerheads we cannot put our men at risk by being lowered by them. I put it to you that you would not let your husbands be lowered down a shaft into a mine, a dangerous endeavour at the best of times, by someone who is unwilling to stand united with your husband in the fight for the right to strike for better working conditions.’
The women chattered loudly and the executive sensed a consensus amongst the women.
‘How long will the men be out?’ someone asked.
William and Ian jumped to their feet.
‘Until we have unity!’ said William.
Archie sat down again and he glanced to the wing to Fanny who held Thomas’ hand. She looked tired and Thomas was cranky. Then he looked across the hall, scanning the audience. He held his breath for a second when he saw her at the back of the hall, crushed amongst the countless women in huge hats.
Mary’s hair had grown longer. He could tell that even beneath her hat. And her sea grey eyes seemed to be fixed on him across that crazy crowd. He hadn’t seen Mary since the day she walked out on him. He’d floundered around without her. He had a replacement in Mrs. Bracewell of course, but Mary was a light in his life during his dark days.
It surprised him that he should miss her quiet efficiency and her gentle almost Scots accent. There was a calmness she effused that he most certainly had not appreciated when she was there. At the time he had a tendency to blame Sybil for the negative ideas she put into his head about Mary. But that was cowardly. He was the one who chose whether to accept Sybil’s notions on Mary’s ability. He had been too influenced by Sybil.
Archie was transfixed on Mary and didn’t notice Ian coax Fanny and Thomas to him to face the women. Ian knew straight away the action would appeal to them.
‘Ladies,’ said Ian. ‘Your husbands strike for a better future. These children are our future.’
He held Fanny’s hand and Archie took hold of Thomas’. Together they presented a picture of tenderness to the women. The rest of the executive stood alongside and took hands raising them high.
‘Do we have your support ladies?’ Ian bellowed.
Every woman got to her feet and shouted yes.
‘Can your husbands count on you in the struggle ahead?’
Again the women chorused their support.
Thomas, startled at the unsettled crowd eventually broke into loud sobs. Archie picked him up and looked over the sea of hats to the back of the hall in time to see Mary leave.
* * *
The next day Mary visited the homes of her pupils and got the same response from each one: piano lessons would have to be put on hold until the men get back to work. It was hard to hide her gloom.
She didn’t share the jubilation in the hall yesterday. She hadn’t decided where to hang her hat. There were so many viewpoints.
Her dad had a view that she suspected not many would share. Her brother must have a view, notwithstanding his insistence that the strike wasn’t his making. But most confusing was Archie’s stance. Of course she’d read his Maoriland Worker. It was the first time she’d been exposed to such socialist ideas. But for Archie to abandon the job he’d done for nearly two years, to risk the wrath of his colleagues in favour of striking – Mary puzzled over it.
Emily dumped a load of washing on the table. ‘What are you so maudlin about?’ she asked.
Mary took hold of a sheet and held it out for her mother to grab the other side.
‘I don’t know which way is up,’ she replied. ‘It seems to me there’s no sitting on the fence. It’s straight forward for Rose and Meg; they’re engaged to miners.’
She gave the sheet a flick before smoothing down the final fold before it got ironed. ‘I can’t help but feel they have a point.’
She reached for another sheet. ‘What do you think?’
Emily pressed her lips together. ‘What do I think?’ she mused. ‘I think a girl needs to consider all the arguments before she casts her hat into the ring. Then once she’s decided which side she’s on she must stand by her beliefs.’ She smiled as if she suddenly wasn’t in the moment. Mary knew what was going through her mother’s mind.
‘Just like you did,’ Mary suggested.
Emily had campaigned for the Woman’s Christian Temperance Union, achieving success in 1908.
‘A little bit,’ said Emily. ‘It was a different fight. We rode a wave, a great international wave that started in 1836. I was fortunate to see success.’
‘But father was against you,’ said Mary. ‘How did you manage it?’
Emily smiled. ‘Because I believed in the cause. It doesn’t matter what we all think, Mary. You decide.’
Mary pondered. ‘What if I decide against father?’
‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Emily replied. ‘Your father has me.’
‘And against Sam?’
‘Sam has his friends and most of them will be on Sam’s side.’
Emily stepped into Mary as she transferred a sheet to her. ‘You’re wanting to support the miners aren’t you?’ she asked.
‘Maybe.’ Mary furrowed her brow. ‘I need to consider the arguments.’
The door opened and Gerald stood there, his face grim with worry.
‘What is it?’ asked Emily.
‘The mayor’s salary has been cut and his honorarium is to be cut when necessary. On top of that the Borough engineer was laid off along with other council workers.’ Gerald swiped the hat off his head and wrung it in his hands. ‘The company shares have dropped and they’ve cancelled all the mining contracts.’
Emily swept to his side.
‘There are people everywhere on the streets,’ he continued. ‘Businessmen are laying off staff.’
‘Mary’s teaching is on hold too,’ said Emily.
‘Oh, I’m sorry love,’ said Gerald. Then he got angry. ‘It’s not your fight damn it! Damn those bloody miners. Can’t they see what they’re doing to every single person in this town!’
‘Don’t worry about me,’ said Mary softly.
‘What’s the company doing about this?’ asked Emily.
Gerald took a seat while Emily sorted the washing. ‘It’s not a company dispute Em,’ he replied. ‘It’s between the miners and the engine drivers. It can’t last long. There’s nothing to be done by the company.’
‘But Sam won’t be earning wages, Gerald,’ said Emily. ‘What’s to be done about that?’
Gerald scratched his nose. ‘Technically he’s locked out. I guess the new union will support him – if it goes ahead.’
‘And you?’
‘They can’t not pay me.’ He forced a smile. ‘Don’t worry, it won’t last long.’
* * *
Archie woke to an urgent knocking on the front door. Between the curtains a pale slither of dawn light shone into the room. He inched a curtain aside and saw Mary standing on the verandah carrying a large basket. His heart leapt and he fumbled to drag on some trousers.
She knocked again.
‘I’m coming,’ Archie yelled.
No sooner had he opened the door than Mary stepped inside. ‘Good morning Mr. Wright.’
She swept passed him so he was forced to follow her into the dining room. She looked around disapprovingly.
Archie struggled for words, not helped by his semi-nakedness. ‘Ah, Miss Bell,’ he muttered.
Mary hefted her basket onto the table. ‘Why don’t you get dressed, Mr. Wright. Then you can get the fire started please.’
Archie was relieved at the excuse she gave him to leave and as he dashed off he allowed a small smile to form. By the time he returned Mary had swapped her broad hat for a simple band and was preparing porridge.
Archie cleared his throat. ‘Miss Bell, why are you here?’
‘To look after the children of course.’
A fleeting look of disappointment shot across Archie’s face. He had reflected on seeing Mary at the back of the hall. Perhaps it was his imagination that there might have been something in their short exchange.
‘You can’t drag the children around to be used like pawns in your game,’ she continued.
‘No,’ Archie muttered as he kneeled at the coal range to set the fire. ‘You are quite right. I feel I owe you an apology.’
Mary paused on her way into the kitchen. ‘Whatever for?’
There! He heard it! Archie heard a flicker of playfulness in Mary’s voice. She knew jolly well what he meant. She was teasing him.
‘We parted on ill terms,’ he said. ‘If I was any sort of a man I would have sought you out and apologised.’
Mary attempted a stern smile. There was a lot that could be said but not now.
Archie blew into the firebox until the flames caught. ‘I can’t pay you at the moment,’ he said without turning to her.
‘I know.’
Mary put the pot on the range. ‘You can run an account,’
Archie smiled as he turned back to the fire.
Chapter Nine
Archie led the men inside. Already it felt as though Mary had never left. A warm smell of freshly baked bread greeted them and they heard Mary’s sweet singing as she bustled about in the kitchen.
Archie introduced Mary to the strike committee who it was agreed would take turns to meet in each others’ houses for the time being. In addition to the union executive who she knew from the wives meeting there was the young lad Buster, who’d got his leg trapped in the runaway cage, and his best mate Leonard.
‘It’s vital I go to Wellington now,’ said William. ‘The Federation is our most powerful ally in this. I will appeal for financial help for our members. I can leave by tonight’s train.’
He turned to Floyd. ‘You’ll be acting President while I’m away.’
Archie cut in. ‘Shouldn’t we wait until we know for sure the new union is registered?’
Ian and William both shook their heads. ‘Can’t afford to,’ said Ian. ‘Apart from garnering financial support we need to make our plight known in the Maoriland Worker.’
Ian fished in his pocket and pulled out a dog eared piece of paper. ‘Here.’ He handed it to William. ‘Get them to print this.’
William cast his eye over it and slowly nodded.
‘Read it out,’ said Buster.
Ian suddenly became bashful and Archie took the sheet. He read the piece.
‘I’m a Miner, by Rufus Bandwork.’
Mary set cups and saucers on the table and stood back to listen.
‘Down we go into the black
To spend our days
In the cold and gloom
Deep into the caverns we made
Deeper than the worms that wriggle or glow
Deeper still than the colleagues we bury
For a bit of gold that’s too small to hold
Or a bit of coal that’s too black to see
For a miner’s lot is darkness
And the dank smell of earth is our friend
Not the one who stands atop
And winches up and down
We are like the pit ponies
There we are kept by the oppression
Of low wages
And the miners’ cough
And the inability to rise above
Until in unity we stand
In unity we fight
For a fair wage
And a safe mine
And compensation to our wives
Should we not come home
This class division that is our war
Must be fought as one union
Who in the employing class can claim
To understand our plight
The working class will control the means of production
Abolish the wage system
Live in harmony with the earth
The employing class are overwhelmed
At craft unions merging into workers’ union
Where in time
The working class will overthrow capitalism
Within the shell of the old
We go down that black hole
Not for gold
Not for coal
We go down the hole for the self respect that we all say
I am a miner
I am a miner
Not a word was spoken. Mary stood slack-jawed. Leonard and Buster looked at each other blank-faced. Archie smiled.
‘You’ll do me,’ he said and patted Ian on the back.
‘I don’t write it lightly,’ he said gravely. ‘And I don’t take this stance lightly. But it’s something I believe in.’
Leonard took the magazine. ‘What else is in here? That was a pretty radical piece, Ian. Where’d you learn about workers controlling the means of production?’ He laughed lightly under his breath. ‘I don’t even know what it means.’
‘The International Workers of the World,’ Ian replied. ‘Wobblies.’
Leonard and Buster shook their heads and Archie explained.
‘It’s an organisation like William’s, that is, the Federation of Labour; yet another enlightened body that recognises that New Zealand’s Arbitration Court is Labour’s leg-irons. It denounces the main political parties as tools of the capitalist system, not just the Liberal and Reform Governments here, but those in other countries too. But as Ian said in his verse, a crucial tool for the class war is unity of unions. No more little craft unions.’ Archie balled his hand into a fist. ‘Only workers’ unions have the power to make changes for the working man, for you, the miner.’