Authors: Bryce Courtenay
‘So you agree with me, we need a strong counter-system to control these rich families and consortiums, these money aristocrats?’
‘Well, yes and no. Alas, it is my observation that counter-systems, as you call them, tend to acquire the same characteristics and many of the bad habits of the systems they oppose and are therefore often counterproductive. What’s more, they are essentially more difficult to remove than big business, because they do not have to survive in a risk-taking world or answer to shareholders.’
‘Ha, that may be reasonable speculation, Grandfather. But the unions do have the government of the day to restrain them.’
‘Perhaps not as far as you think, let me give you an example, and one I personally experienced. Though I confess it was a little too early for the union movement, it was the start of worker dissent in factories. A Workers’ Deputation, as they called themselves at the time, claiming membership of several factories and workshops in the Hobart area, visited Mary Abacus under the leadership of a Scotsman named Hugh Kirk. Kirk was a small-time firebrand and his movement one of many which preceded unionism as we know it today. He had visited Melbourne where he became acquainted with a newly formed group who named themselves the Brewers’ Employes’ Eight Hours Association and returned home to aim his sights at the Cascade Brewery and ourselves, urging the workers to unite against the bosses and join “the Association”. He was a popular speaker among the working classes and had gained some real success in recruiting members as I remember, by calling one- or two-day strikes and frightening some of the smaller workshop owners. But not, it was claimed, without a fair bit of heavy-handed coercion involving several broken heads among those workers reluctant to join. The Potato Factory was his first incursion into the big league and with his new Melbourne association, Kirk demanded that Mary allow his movement to operate within the brewery.
‘”Righto,” says Mary, “if that’s what my people want then they can ‘ave it with me blessing.”‘ Victoria laughs despite herself for Hawk brings her great-grandmother alive for her. He continues, ‘Mary points her crooked finger at Hugh Kirk, “But first, let’s ask ‘em straight. You talk to them, tell ‘em whatever it is you wish to say, you know, exploitation o’ the working classes, snot-nosed kids begging for pennies on street corners, wife dying in childbirth, father of consumption, leaving ten starvin’ kids behind, all the stuff what’s been goin’ on for ‘undreds of years and all now blamed on big business. I promise I won’t say nothin’. I’ll keep me gob shut tight as a possum’s bum. Then we’ll ‘ave the vote, let ‘em decide for themselves. Fair enough, Mr Kirk?”
‘”Fair enough, missus,” Kirk says reluctantly. Well, Mary calls for the works foreman, Ernie Connaghan. “Mr Connaghan,” she says, “stop the brewery, close it down the ‘ole box and dice, we’re ‘aving a meeting o’ the workers this afternoon.”
‘Ernie Connaghan looks like he can’t believe what Mary’s just said, “Can’t do that, Miss Mary, we’d ‘ave to steam-clean all the pipes, get the yeast vats started from scratch, build up the fermentation vats, take us all night to get under way again, cost a fortune in lost production, what’s more, you know it’s impossible to close the malt house, barley’s piling up as it is with no place to store it.”
‘”That all right, missus, maltsters don’t belong in the Association,” says Kirk.
‘”You hear that? Cost a fortune, Mr Kirk. My money, not the workers’.” She turns to Ernie Connaghan, “No matter, do as I say, Ernie, er Mr Connaghan, Mr Kirk here is from the .. . what did you say you were?”
‘”Brewers’ Employes’ Eight Hours Association,” Kirk replies.
‘”Yes, well them. He wants to spruik to all the workers, ‘cept the maltsters and the clerks in the front office, whom he don’t consider the first brewers and the second to be workers, them wearing stiff collars and all.” Mary now turns to Kirk, “So what’s wrong with the clerks? You got something against clerks, Mr Kirk? I was a clerk once, still am as a matter o’ fact, only a bit better paid than most.”
‘”Clerks can become bosses, missus. Can’t trust a clerk.”‘
Hawk grins at the memory. ‘So we close the brewery down except for the malt house and the front office and all the workers assemble in the dray yard to hear Mr Hugh Kirk. And I have to say he does a damn fine job telling the workers how they are exploited by the owners, blah, blah, blah. He’s of a fiery Scots temperament and he works up quite a sweat socking it to the bosses, who in this case is Mary and myself, both of us sitting on a dray cart with our arms crossed listening. Then he says, “Righto, we’ll take a vote, like the boss said, all who wants to stop the exploitation by the bosses by joining the Association and getting an eight-hour working day raise yer hands.”
‘”Oi! Just a bleedin’ moment!” Mary shouts. “We’ll ‘ave none of that, Mr Kirk. A vote you shall have, fair and square, but it will be by secret ballot, our people will vote with their consciences not with their bleedin’ ‘ands. Only them and Gawd is gunna know who they are and ‘ow they’ve voted.”
‘”That’s not how it’s done, missus,” Kirk objects. “We like things to be kept in the open like, democratic, know what I mean?”
‘”Democratic me arse!” Mary says. “Sure you want it open so you’ll know the names of those who are for you and them’s what’s against. All for the future records, eh? Very ‘andy, if I may say so meself, being a clerk an’ all. Well, I tell you what I’ll do, I’ll exercise me own perog-a-tive as a boss and put democracy to work. I’ll allow a secret ballot to determine whether the people at the Potato Factory want an open vote, a show of ‘ands, or want a conscience vote. Now what say you to that, Mr Kirk? Ain’t nothing says that’s against the rules, is there?”‘
Hawk spreads his hands. ‘Well, the Potato Factory workers voted in Mary’s ballot that they wanted a secret ballot to decide whether to join Kirk’s association or remain as they were. Then they used the secret ballot to say they wished to remain as they were.’
‘You mean your workers didn’t vote for an eight-hour day?’ Victoria asks, incredulous.
‘Indeed, they did not, but they got it anyway two months later.’
‘Well, Mr Kirk’s visit did some good then. But, Grandfather, the Potato Factory was an exception, other companies did, and still exploit their workers,’ Victoria challenges. ‘The intimidation from the bosses experienced by the workers during the Shearers’ and the Maritime strikes proved once and for all that the capitalists could not be trusted, that a strong labour movement had to be in parliament, that unionism was essential if the workers were ever to be free of what virtually amounted to a system of bondage!’
‘Perhaps, but let me make my point. Perhaps as a consequence of this single incident with Mary, for Hugh Kirk was later to become a very big figure in the Tasmanian and Australian union movement, the unions never allowed secret ballots. Today, coercion and standover tactics are more than common in our trade unions. So you see, my dear, power and corruption are not such a long way away in any organisation. We all want control, the bosses have it by owning the means of earning wages and the unions have it by owning the workers. Mark my words, secret ballots are outlawed by the union movement and the next thing they will do is to make joining a union compulsory. In other words, a worker will not be able to find employment without a union card and, as a registered member, they will not be allowed to vote according to conscience for fear of repercussions, not from their industrial bosses, but from their own union bosses. Furthermore, industry will not be allowed to employ non-union labour.’
‘But the union officials will be serving in the interest of the workers, gaining advantages and better conditions for them, why would they vote against such laudatory pursuits? Besides, Mr Curtin says it is a matter of brotherly trust, that a worker must show where he stands at a union meeting, that secret ballots are sneaky and unmanly!’
‘Ah, well said, Mr Curtin, how very convenient to the cause.’ Hawk gives Victoria a rueful smile. ‘But in the end, my dear, it is a matter of freedom of choice. But it is interesting, is it not, that those who have been elected to the House of Representatives achieved this by secret ballot? The so-called common worker must enjoy the right to choose without fear or favour.’
‘Oh, I see, the age-old system of divide and conquer. Turn the unions against themselves. Is this then to be the new management weapon?’ Victoria snorts.
Hawk looks amused, enjoying both Victoria’s lively mind and her strongly held convictions. ‘You have the makings of an excellent union leader, my dear.’
Victoria appeals to Hawk. ‘But I am a member of the Labor Party and I do truly believe they are the solution to the terrible exploitation of the working classes in our country.’ Her eyes are sad, as though disappointed that he might not feel the same way. ‘Surely you also believe this?’
Hawk smiles. ‘Of course. Capital and labour must both be seen to co-exist, to be a viable part of our economy. Both must benefit if we are to prosper as a nation, but there is an ingredient which is essential if each side is to have its rightful share of the good life.’
‘And what is that?’ Victoria asks.
‘Goodwill,’ Hawk replies.
Victoria looks genuinely shocked. ‘You’re not serious? Goodwill? You said yourself, people are greedy and can’t be trusted?’
‘Well, take Sidney Myer again. He has established a pension fund for his workers, he is a Jew but allows the staff to hold Christian services in the shop at lunch time. He has a choir, a Friday night get-together for his staff, annual picnics and now he has introduced what is called “a spiff”, that is, his sales people are paid a penny in the pound commission as an incentive. Is this not the beginnings at least of a caring company?’
Victoria looks appealingly at Hawk. ‘You’re going to say, when a generous person controls a company and is in a position to make the right decisions, management and trade unions don’t necessarily have to be at each other’s throats. Is that it, Grandfather?’
‘Very good, my dear. If you were to join Solomon & Teekleman and rise to the top it would be a great opportunity to show your character, to show how things might be different.’
‘Well, what about Joshua? He has been groomed to run Solomon & Teekleman virtually since birth?’
‘We have the majority now, Victoria. We have the say.’
Victoria shakes her head. ‘How could you say that! How is that fair? If he were better than me I wouldn’t want to be chairman. I would hate that.’
‘Better? How can he be? He is the product of his grandfather, he will run the company much as his grandfather did. There is very little of Abraham and a whole lot of David Solomon in that young man, he would be the devil you know and want to be rid of, Victoria.’
‘But I would always have to fight him, he’d never give in.’
‘Aye, that’s true. If you were a union official you’d always have to fight him and he’d never give in. The proposition I hope, with your permission, to put to Abraham is that he remains overall chairman, that I become the chairman and managing director of the Potato Factory and take you with me to train you to eventually run it. Then, upon Joshua’s return from the war, he will take over Solomon & Co., whereupon I retire and you replace me as managing director of the Potato Factory.’ Hawk shrugs. ‘After that it’s your personal donnybrook with Joshua.’
‘I see, him with one company, me with the other. So that I can learn to practise what I preach, our ideal of a fair-minded company, and Joshua does it his way. The performances of the two companies may then be compared. What if his is better, and greed and bullying proves to be better than sharing the wealth?’
‘Well, that’s for you to find out, I didn’t say it would be easy. If it’s a disaster you could always resign and join the trade union movement,’ he teases Victoria. ‘A little wiser in the ways of the world by then, I daresay.’
‘But, Grandfather, you do believe that fairness and honesty will win the day, don’t you?’
‘I have always tried to be honest and fair in my dealings in life and to be perfectly frank with you my life has been a failure. But that doesn’t mean you will fail. The very predicament we find ourselves in at present, with David having snatched control of Solomon & Teekleman, was because I wanted to be fair-minded.’
‘You mean you don’t think I can do it?’ Victoria challenges.
‘No, I didn’t say that. I said that I had not been successful. But Mary Abacus was, so why not you?’ Hawk replies.
‘I have never understood why you wanted to join with David and Abraham in the first place, if as you say their way of doing things was so very different to yours? You didn’t need to do it, you were already a huge success and, as I understand it, they were in financial trouble. It’s never made any sense to me?’
Hawk sighs. ‘Because out of something rotten came something good and then out of that something good has come something rotten again and I am stupid enough to believe it might yet come to something good.’
‘Whatever can you mean?’ Victoria says, puzzled.
‘Ah! It’s a long story and one I would only wish you to hear if you decide to come into the company so that I might train you. If you don’t I will not burden you with it, it is too long and painful and not worth the telling unless it ultimately helps your determination to succeed where I have failed.’
‘Grandfather, that is so very unfair!’ Victoria protests. ‘You want me to make a decision without knowing its entire purpose?’
‘Nevertheless, I want you to decide using your own free will. Whatever you decide to do, I shall accept your decision. If I were to tell you my reasons for wanting you to take your rightful place in the company you own, you may well be persuaded by your emotions and not by your own reasoning. I should not want that to happen.’
*
Victoria spends the next two days alone, taking her meals separately then announces that she wants to talk to Ben who hasn’t, as expected, returned to Tasmania. Four days after the passing-out parade he was told to report to Major Sayers, his Victorian company commander.
The major, a scouse, comes straight to the point. ‘Look, Sergeant Teekleman, we need you here. I’ve spoken to your CO. in Hobart and he’s agreed you can stay with us, though in fairness I ‘ave to say he put up a fair bit of fuss, no, more than that, he was bloody angry.’