On a certain windswept corner, in the vicinity of Glasgow
Cross, was situated a stance for casual labourers. There, of a morning,
would gather anything up to a hundred men old and young, muscular and
puny, rosy and pale, anxious for a day's employment and ready to compete
with one another for the jobs available.
From different parts of the city would emerge agents with orders for
men, ready to hire the day labourers. But of course there were the slack
periods when business was slow or at a standstill and on such occasions
the men did not stand still long, for as we have said the corner was
windswept and the unsuccessful competitors would make their way back
to their respective homes or to the Labour Exchange, looking none too
cheerful at the non-realisation of their ambitions.
Of a busy morning the agents would appear, pick their required number
of men, take hold of their insurance books and direct them to their
appropriate place of employment.
Things were slack on that fateful December morning in the winter of
1942 at the height of the World War when Sylvester McQuigley decided
to become an employer of labour. Little did that group of twenty five
men know what fate held for them as they stood ready and eager to engage
in the war production drive. Their eagerness was reflected in their
posture; there were congregated the last stalwarts of an original crowd
of ninety five men the remainder of whom had taken to their heels with
the information that things were slack and no jobs were available. The
group were in eager mood, their hands inside their coats and jackets
clutching their thighs and some even dancing with the sheer joy of life
despite the cold and shower of sleet which drizzled in their cheerful
faces regardless of whether these were clean shaven or bearded, as many
were.
Despite a most interesting conversation on who had won the league in
1933 there were many who were on the verge of contemplating joining
their departed comrades when a person easily distinguishable as an employer's
agent by his soft hat, raincoat, glasses, a brown moustache and a neat
piece of sticking plaster on his nose obviously covering a blemish caused
by over-nourishment, appeared. There was a flurry of excitement as the
aspirants pushed and shoved their way into more advantageous positions
eager to attract the attention of the agent who curtly announced that
he wanted twenty four men for a digging operation.
In a cultured voice he picked his men — You, You and You, he intoned,
beckoning them to one side after pocketing their Insurance Books which
they anxiously thrust into his uncalloused hands — 'And You and
that's the lot,' he announced when he had left only one rather pitiful
little man feeling out of it. The agent was ushering the others in the
direction of the Gallowgate when, stricken with sympathy at the plight
of the poor little man in whose 'throat a lump had appeared, he waved
him to his side, 'Alright, you come along too.' A cheer arose from the
others who were quick to appreciate the generosity of the gesture and
of the agent who was prepared to hire an extra hand rather than cause
human misery.
The little man was obviously possessed of a great knowledge of the English
language for as the agent directed the twenty five men to a builder's
yard in a sidestreet nearby he expressed in forty three different terminologies
exactly how thankful he was for the agent's mercy and benevolence.
When they arrived at the builder's yard, which was little used these
days, the agent explained to his men, due to the war-time restriction
on certain building operations, the agent after fumbling in his pockets
announced that 'Dash it all' he had forgotten his keys and that this
would possibly mean the cancellation of the digging operation. With
this announcement fear and panic swept the ranks of the labourers only
to be relieved with the information preferred by a rather hungry-looking
specimen who announced that he was very handy with a hairpin. The agent
eyed him suspiciously but after consideration agreed that he should
pick the lock. He was even more suspicious when the greasy-looking man
produced the requisite pin from the pocket of an oil stained and well
worn jacket.
This done, the enthusiastic labourers were issued with a pick and shovel
each and after the hairpin man had secured the padlock once again, were
directed by the agent to a spot on the Gallowgate which they readily
agreed was badly in need of repair. The job, they were informed, was
to lift the stones in an agreed area. With these instructions and a
cheer from the men because a bonus would be paid if the job was well
done, the agent left whistling a then-popular melody.
The men proceeded with the job in hand and some of them having had experience
with this kind of work they made some very neat observations on exactly
how many stones they would require to lift per hour in order to make
the job spin out and allow them a sufficiency of spells in which to
take it in turns to knock off for a smoke.
During these spells they had the opportunity for a discussion on all
kinds of topics, ranging from football to horse racing, with a rather
corpulent and ruddy-faced policeman who assisted in directing the traffic
and even threw in a few hints on the most utilitarian methods of lifting
and laying stones. The constable was a cheerful happy man and told them
some very funny stories which made even one of their number, who was
a regular breacher of the peace and had a certain dislike for the hand
of the law, laugh. He even shared his sandwiches with the little hungry-looking
man who wore a happy beaming smile throughout that livelong day feeling
as he did that it was the happiest day he could remember.
Nor was their feeling of joy confined to the last men the agent had
picked. The others could scarcely remember such a happy day's work with
the steady drizzle of sleet and the fresh winds blowing from all directions
into their cheerful faces making them feel clean, adding to the warm
feeling that here they were being allowed to work without any arrogant
foreman, in fact without any foreman breathing down their necks.
This latter point did cause a little trouble early on in the morning
when one or two of their number, wishing to curry favour and with the
idea that here in the absence of a foreman lay the possibility of cutting
out a niche for themselves, did try and establish themselves as supervisors
but they were quickly bludgeoned into place by the others who were democrats
to boot — and didn't want any little Schicklegrubers emerging
from their ranks.
The job, it must be recorded, was well done. Even the constable remarked
on this fact and the stones were neatly packed by the side of the roadway.
General satisfaction prevailed and the spells during the latter part
of the day were enjoyed even more than in the morning for they felt
that they really had been earned.
Occasionally, a passer-by would stop and express admiration for the
way in which the job was being tackled and even exchange bits of gossip
with the roadmen. The local inhabitants were delighted that at last
that bit of the road was being tackled. It was, they explained, something
of a miracle that there hadn't been an accident long before now with
the state the road was in and it was disgraceful that some of the Councillors
hadn't seen to it before now. Of course that was perfectly natural with
the Councillors who forgot their civic duties the moment they were elected.
Yes it was ridiculous. The roadmen nodded agreement with these comments,
from which they learned a great deal about the work of the Corporation
and about road repair and many other things.
Time passed rapidly and soon it was five o'clock with the roadmen feeling
really satisfied with a day's work well done. They expected the agent
to arrive any moment with their wages and their books duly stamped.
Gradually their expectations gave way to a minor form of anxiety when
the kind and generous agent didn't arrive with the goods. And of course
he never did arrive for Sylvester had early on exchanged the Insurance
Books for five pound notes.
Great indignation filled the Gallowgate when the news of the misdeed
spread among the populace and of course suspicion centred upon Sylvester
McQuigley. His enemies, who included everyone except as we have said
his Granny, used the incident in order to raise the demand that he be
exiled to the South Side or Partick and if it had not been for the shrewdness
Sylvester McQuigley displayed in lying low for four days in his Granny's,
something of the sort might have taken place. But of course with those
four days emotions subsided and people were able to take a much cooler
and less malicious viewpoint.
The realisation dawned that the deed was not so evil as at first imagined.
It was true that Sylvester had handed the books to a certain black-marketeer
who was only interested in making cash but they had found their way
into the hands of twenty-five men who used them in order to engage in
the great war production drive. So keen were those men to engage in
this drive that they were prepared to defy military and naval authorities
in order to get into indirect contact with Sylvester and thereby be
enabled to place their energy in the essential production services.
Besides, when the casual labourers were interviewed by a reporter from
the Gallon Clarion they agreed that they had never done a more satisfying
day's work. They had enjoyed immensely the fact that they did not have
to endure the tyranny of a foreman criticising their every moment or
immobility, and thereby initiated the campaign still being conducted
by the Clarion for the dismissal of every foreman in the Clydeside for
an experimental period of ten years.
There was also the fact that the incident made clear to the world the
generosity of Glasgow policemen for the constable agreed not to arrest
the twenty five men provided they replaced the stones. The replacement
was completed before midnight when the grateful labourers expressed
their thanks and bade farewell to the cheerful and highly sympathetic
policeman, who, in any case, had been thankful for their company and
expressed the hope that they would come again.
As for Sylvester he was able to secure a supply of spirits sufficient
to keep his good old Granny fully occupied for seven weeks and this
made him the happiest man in the Gallowgate.