Life at Jarrolds

WINTER AND FUEL CRISIS, 1947

SATURDAY found us relying on the Corporation’s electricity. Not even Mr Shinwell knew the answers and it looked like a complete shut-down. It was decided to retain everyone on the pay roll and to employ fully as many as possible without too much counting of cost. This proved a wise and simple policy.

On Monday, with no hope of current night or day, we started considering alternative supplies. Nevertheless there were 300 employed, all hand-workers. To our surprise the canteen broke all records when meagre attendance was expected.

Permission to complete a publication brought the welcome sound of machinery on Tuesday and Wednesday, but we were still primitive with the two-manpower guillotine the only other machine operating.

Two tractors arrived on loan. No. 1 needed partly dismantling to get it inside, but eventually drove through the Bindery to run the guillotines and with No. 2 driving several platens through a window, we blessed the survival of that old-fashioned shafting.

Humour was provided by London Office asking for a large supply of labels. We just refrained from telling them to bring their scissors and cut them!

Many offers of help were received on Thursday following a report in the Eastern Evening News. A mobile generator from a fairground was adopted by two photographers to provide lighting. Two tractors are working, but a little petrol engine will not.

On Friday, the photographers, nicknamed Faraday & Co., festooned wires around the place and lit the most important sections.

Mr John returned from holiday on Saturday to find the factory looking like a farmyard. There are bottle-necks ahead. Can we work double-shifts?

The engineers fixed No. 3 tractor to the sewing machines on Sunday.

Speaking in Manchester Mr Attlee said, “We need a new technique in management.” What more does the man want?

At crack of dawn on Monday, No. 4 tractor was driven in scattering good Norfolk mud as it came, followed by No. 5. These two drove the two-colour offset and a 60x40 Miehle. Two petrol-driven generators wired together gave a 220-volt supply to the Bindery. The little donkey chugged away and became the background of our days.

On Tuesday, No. 3 tractor wouldn’t start and fuel was short. The lighting generator broke down and was removed for repairs. We are trying to convert a motor into a generator. A camera operator wins first prize by carrying his camera outside to expose by daylight. There’s heroism with temperatures below freezing.

On Wednesday the converted motor proved a roaring success with two offsets running normally, but spirits fell at the prospect of no lighting. There were compensations though, a kindly farmer loaned a 3 hp engine which drove a folder. The Foundry got going on power from the generators. At dusk the return of the lighting generator put the lights up with a cheer. Employment had risen from 300 to 460 and we couldn’t wire the gadgets quickly enough.

On Thursday the lighting looked like a certainty. Two folders were hooked to the 15 hp motor and a bit more power was squeezed out of the 220-volt system for the Litho plate making. Lights reached the casters and camera rooms where we had barked our shins so often. Shifts were working everywhere.

The best crack came from an electrician who suggested asking the Power Station if they’d like some juice! Are we tempting providence by planning 24-hour working?

No. 7 tractor arrived on Friday as replacement for No. 4 now required to run converted motors. No. 5 now drives two machines through a 15 hp motor.

A stand-by lighting generator came in on Saturday. Impression of the week is the unwelcome sound of the telephone at night.

How we hate Mondays. Poor old No. 3 is poorly, No. 7 keeps stopping, and results are slow from the motors off No. 4.

Everyone wants something: “Why can’t we have lights on?” or, “Why haven’t we got a big generator?”

Having borne the heat and burden we take refuge in our Christian upbringing, but determined that if the last really shall be first then next time we shall take jolly good care to be last. The general gloom reminds us that we never kept any diary going for long and wouldn’t have started this if we’d known how long it would last.

What was emergency has almost become normal. Faraday & Co. nearly gassed themselves, but otherwise no disasters. Two double-demy letterpress machines and the big 70 are running. The gremlins have crept in and several times sudden increases of load nearly wrecked the generators.

It finished on Saturday and the busiest weekend of all was spent unhooking the wires and gadgets. At the end only about 200 people were unemployed. Over 50 tons of finished goods have been despatched; more than 30,000 books produced.

During three weeks we’ve learnt a lot. We’ve learnt to rely on unexpected people, we’ve discovered hidden talent. We’ve been depressed by those who decry all efforts, but jump on the wagon when success is in sight. Let us draw no moral. The House of Jarrold suffered heavy financial loss but by its enterprise gained in reputation. The crisis is over, but if we’re careless it can happen again.

This extract comes from the Jarrold Magazine, Issue No. 2, May 1947, and clearly illustrates how the loyal workforce pulled together in the face of adversity.