by Henry Mayhew
Omnibus Timekeepers
[pp. 356–7] Another class employed in the omnibus trade are the timekeepers. On some routes there are five of these men, on others four. The timekeeper’s duty is to start the omnibus at the exact moment appointed by the proprietors, and to report any delay or irregularity in the arrival of the vehicle. His hours are the same as those of the drivers and conductors, but as he is stationary his work is not so fatiguing. His remuneration is generally 21s. a week, but on some stations more. He must never leave the spot. A timekeeper on Kennington Common has 28s. a week. He is employed 16 hours daily, and has a box to shelter him from the weather when it is foul. He has to keep time for forty ‘busses. The men who may be seen in the great thorough-fares noting every omnibus that passes, are not timekeepers; they are employed by Government, so that no omnibus may run on the line without paying the duty.
A timekeeper made the following statement to me:
‘I was a grocer’s assistant, but was out of place and had a friend who got me a timekeeper’s office. I have 21s. a week. Mine’s not hard work, but it’s very tiring. You hardly ever have a moment to call your own. If we only had our Sundays, like other working-men, it would be a grand relief. It would be very easy to get an odd man to work every other Sunday, but masters care nothing about Sundays. Some ‘busses do stop running from 11 to 1, but plenty keep running. Sometimes I am so tired of a night that I dare hardly sit down, for fear I should fall asleep and lose my own time, and that would be to lose my place. I think timekeepers continue longer in their places than the others. We have nothing to do with money-taking. I’m a single man, and get all my meals at the — Inn. I dress my own dinners in the tap-room. I have my tea brought to me from a coffee-shop. I can’t be said to have any home – just a bed to sleep in, as I’m never ten minutes awake in the house where I lodge.’
The ‘odd men’ are, as their name imports, the men who are employed occasionally, or, as they term it, ‘get odd jobs’. These form a considerable portion of the unemployed. If a driver be ill, or absent to attend a summons, or on any temporary occasion, the odd man is called upon to do the work. For this the odd man receives 10d. a journey, to and fro. One of them gave me the following account: ‘I was brought up to a stable life, and had to shift for myself when I was 17, as my parents died then. It’s nine years ago. For two or three years, till this few months, I drove a ‘bus. I was discharged with a week’s notice, and don’t know for what – it’s no use asking for a reason: I wasn’t wanted. I’ve been put to shifts since then, and almost everything’s pledged that could be pledged. I had a decent stock of clothes, but they’re all at my uncle’s. Last week I earned 3s. 4d., the week before 1s. 8d., but this week I shall do better, say 5s. I have to pay 1s. 6d. a week for my garret. I’m a single man, and have nothing but a bed left in it now. I did live in a better place. If I didn’t get a bite and sup now and then with some of my old mates I think I couldn’t live at all. Mine’s a wretched life, and a very bad trade.’
CHARACTER OF CABDRIVERS
[pp. 361–3] Among the present cabdrivers are to be found, as I learned from trustworthy persons, quondam greengrocers, costermongers, jewellers, clerks, broken-down gentlemen, especially turf gentlemen, carpenters, joiners, saddlers, coach-builders, grooms, stable-helpers, footmen, shopkeepers, pickpockets, swell-mobsmen, housebreakers, innkeepers, musicians, musical-instrument makers, ostlers, some good scholars, a good number of broken-down pawnbrokers, several ex-policemen, draper’s assistants, barmen, scene-shifters, one baronet, and as my informant expressed it, ‘such an uncommon sight of folks that it would be uncommon hard to say what they was’. Of the truthfulness of the list of callings said to have contributed to swell the numbers of the cabmen there can be no doubt, but I am not so sure of ‘the baronet’. I was told his name, but I met with no one who could positively say that he knew Sir V— C— as a cabdriver. This baronet seems a tradition among them. Others tell me that the party alluded to is merely nicknamed the Baron, owing to his being a person of good birth, and having had a college education. The ‘flashiest’ cabman, as he is termed, is the son of a fashionable master-tailor. He is known among cabdrivers as the ‘Numpareil’, and drives one of the Hansom cabs. I am informed on excellent authority, a tenth, or, to speak beyond the possibility of cavil, a twelfth of the whole number of cabdrivers are ‘fancy men’. These fellows are known in the cab trade by a very gross appellation. They are the men who live with women of the town, and are supported, wholly or partially, on the wages of the women’s prostitution.
These are the fellows who, for the most part, are ready to pay the highest price for the hire of their cabs. One swell-mobsman, I was told, had risen from ‘signing’ for cabs to become a cab proprietor, but was now a prisoner in France for picking pockets.
The worse class of cabmen which, as I have before said, are but a twelfth of the whole, live in Granby Street, St Andrew’s Place, and similar localities of the Waterloo Road; in Union Street, Pearl Row, &c., of the Borough Road; in Princes Street, and others, of the London Road; in some unpaved streets that stretch from the New Kent Road to Lock’s Fields; in the worst parts of Westminster, in the vicinity of Drury Lane, Whitechapel, and of Lisson Grove, and wherever low depravity flourishes. ‘To get on a cab,’ I was told, and that is the regular phrase, ‘is the ambition of more loose fellows than for anything else, as it’s reckoned both an idle life and an exciting one.’ Whetstone Park is full of cabmen, but not wholly of the fancy-man class. The better sort of cabmen usually reside in the neighbourhood of the cab-proprietors’ yards, which are in all directions. Some of the best of these men are, or rather have been mechanics, and have left a sedentary employment, which affected their health, for the open air of the cab business. Others of the best description have been connected with country inns, but the majority of them are London men. They are most of them married, and bringing up families decently on earnings of from 15s. to 25s. a week. Some few of their wives work with their needles for the tailors.
Some of the cab-yards are situated in what were old inn-yards, or the stable-yards attached to great houses, when great houses flourished in parts of the town that are now accounted vulgar. One of those I saw in a very curious place. I was informed that the yard was once Oliver Cromwell’s stable-yard; it is now a receptacle for cabs. There are now two long ranges of wooden erections, black with age, each carriage-house opening with large folding-doors, fastened in front with padlocks, bolts, and hasps. In the old carriage-houses are the modern cabs, and mixed with them are superannuated cabs, and the disjointed or worn-out bodies and wheels of cabs. Above one range of the buildings, the red-tiled roofs of which project a yard and more beyond the exterior, are apartments occupied by the stable-keepers and others. Nasturtiums with their light green leaves and bright orange flowers were trained along light trellis-work in front of the windows, and presented a striking contrast to the dinginess around.
Of the cabdrivers there are several classes, according to the time at which they are employed. These are known in the trade by the names of the ‘long-day men’, ‘the morning-men’, the ‘long-night men’, and the ‘short-night men’, and ‘the bucks’. The long-day man is the driver who is supposed to be driving his cab the whole day. He usually fetches his cab out between 9 and 10 in the morning, and returns at 4 or 5, or even 7 or 8, the next morning; indeed it is no matter at what hour he comes in so long as he brings the money that he signs for; the long-day men are mostly employed for the contractors, though some of the respectable masters work their cabs with long-day men, but then they leave the yard between 8 and 9 and are expected to return between 12 and 1. These drivers when working for the contractors sign for 16s. a day in the season, as before stated, and 12s. out of the season; and when employed by the respectable masters, they are expected to bring home 14s. or 9s., according to the season of the year. The long-day men are the parties who mostly employ the ‘bucks’, or unlicensed drivers. They are mostly out with their cabs from 16 to 20 hours
, so that their work becomes more than they can constantly endure, and they are consequently glad to avail themselves of the services of a buck for some hours at the end of the day, or rather night. The morning man generally goes out about 7 in the morning and returns to the yard at 6 in the evening. Those who contract sign to bring home from 10s. to 11s. per day in the season, and 7s. for the rest of the
CAB DRIVER.
year, while those working for the better class of masters are expected to give the proprietor 8s. a day, and 5s. or 6s. according to the time of the year. The morning man has only one horse found him, whereas the long-day man has two, and returns to the yard to change horses between three and six in the afternoon. The long-night man goes out at 6 in the evening and returns at 10 in the morning. He signs when working for contractors for 7s. or 8s. per night, at the best time of the year, and 5s. or 6s. at the bad. The rent required by the good masters differs scarcely from these sums. He has only one horse found him. The short-night man fetches his cab out at 6 in the evening and returns at 6 in the morning, bringing with him 6s. in the season and 4s. or 5s. out of it. The contractors employ scarcely any short-night men, while the better masters have but few long-day or long-night men working for them. It is only such persons as the Westminster masters who like the horses or the men to be out so many hours together, and they, as my informant said, ‘don’t care what becomes of either, so long as the day’s money is brought to them’. The bucks are unlicensed cabdrivers, who are employed by those who have a license to take charge of the cab while the regular drivers are at their meals or enjoying themselves. These bucks are generally cabmen who have been deprived of their license through bad conduct, and who now pick up a living by ‘rubbing up’ (that is, polishing the brass of the cabs) on the rank, and ‘giving out buck’ as it is called amongst the men. They usually loiter about the watering-houses (the public-houses) of the cab-stands, and pass most of their time in the tap-rooms. They are mostly of intemperate habits, being generally ‘confirmed sots’. Very few of them are married men. They have been fancy-men in their prime, but, to use the words of one of the craft, ‘got turned up’. They seldom sleep in a bed. Some few have a bedroom in some obscure part of the town, but the most of them loll about and doze in the tap-rooms by day, and sleep in the cabs by night. When the watering-houses close they resort to the night coffee-shops, and pass the time there till they are wanted as bucks. When they take a job for a man they have no regular agreement with the driver, but the rule is that they shall do the best they can. If they take 2s. they give the driver one and keep the other for themselves. If 1s. 6d. they usually keep only 6d. The Westminster men have generally got their regular bucks, and these mostly take to the cab with the second horse and do all the night-work. At three or four in the morning they meet the driver at some appointed stand or watering-place. Burleigh Street in the Strand, or Palace Yard, are the favourite places of rendezvous of the Westminster men, and then they hand over to the long-day man ‘the stuff’ as they call it. The regular driver has no check upon these men, but unless they do well they never employ them again. For ‘rubbing up’ the cabs on the stand these bucks generally get 6d. in the season, and for this they are expected to dish-clout the whole of the panels, clean the glasses, and polish the harness and brasses, the cabdriver having to do these things himself or having to pay for it. Some of the bucks in the season will make from 2s. to 2s. 6d. a day by rubbing up alone, and it is difficult to say what they make by driving. They are the most extortionate of all cabdrivers. For a shilling fare they will generally demand 2s. and for a 3s. fare they will get 5s. or 6s., according to the character of the party driven. Having no licenses, they do not care what they charge. If the number of the cab is taken, and the regular driver of it summoned, the party overcharged is unable to swear that the regular driver was the individual who defrauded him, and so the case is dismissed. It is supposed that the bucks make quite as much money as the drivers, for they are not at all particular as to how they get their money, The great majority, indeed 99 out of 100, have been in prison, and many more than once, and they consequently do not care about revisiting gaol. It is calculated that there are at least 800 or 1,000 bucks, hanging about the London cab-stands, and these are mostly regular thieves. If they catch any person asleep or drunk in a cab, they are sure to have a dive into his pockets; nor are they particular if the party belong to their own class, for I am assured that they steal from one another while dozing in the cabs or tap-rooms. Very few of the respectable masters work their cabs at night, except those who do so merely because they have not stable-room for the whole of their horses and vehicles at the same time. Some of the cabdrivers are the owners of the vehicles they drive. It is supposed that out of the 5,000 drivers in London, at least 2,000, or very nearly half, are small masters, and they are amongst the most respectable men of the ranks. Of the other half of the cabdrivers about 1,500 are long-day men, and about 150 long-night men (there are only a few yards, and they are principally at Islington, that employ long-night men). Of the morning-men and the short-night men there are, as near as I can learn, about 500 belonging to each class, in addition to the small masters.
CHARACTERISTICS OF THE VARIOUS CLASSES OF VAGRANTS
[pp. 381–7] I now come to the characteristics of vagrant life, as seen in the casual wards of the metropolitan unions. The subject is one of the most important with which I have yet had to deal, and the facts I have collected are sufficiently startling to give the public an idea of the great social bearings of the question; for the young vagrant is the budding criminal.
Previously to entering upon my inquiry into this subject, I consulted with a gentleman who had long paid considerable attention to the question, and who was, moreover, in a position peculiarly fitted for gaining the greatest experience, and arriving at the correctest notions upon the matter. I consulted, I say, with the gentleman referred to, as to the Poor-law officers, from whom I should be likely to obtain the best information; and I was referred by him to Mr Knapp, the master of the Wandsworth and Clapham Union, as one of the most intelligent and best-informed upon the subject of vagrancy. I found that gentleman all that he had been represented to me as being, and obtained from him the following statement, which, as an analysis of the vagrant character, and a description of the habits and propensities of the young vagabond, has, perhaps, never been surpassed.