CARLABECK (SOMERSET)

(300+ acres approx.)
Category - High Grown
1953

     A division of Somerset, Carlabeck was situated on a road called the Radella Shortcut because, if taken, it reduced the travelling time via the main road by about fifteen minutes. One section of it, about one kilometre, was very steep, with an incline of 1:10 or more and the entrance to the Carlabeck bungalow was about 250m from the bottom of this steep section. Hence, motoring up the hill from this point was all in first gear, and since my car was brand new and being run-in, the cylinders developed an oval shape. The road was called the Radella Shorcut because the turn-off to the Radella Club and Radella plantation was at the bottom of it, and it bisected both Carlabeck and Easdale.

     Somerset's other divisions were Somerset itself, Easdale and Scrubs totalling 750-850 acres approx. Easdale and Carlabeck were adjacent to each other a few miles from Somerset division, and Scrubs was seven or eight miles away in Nuwara Eliya a couple of thousand feet higher. The factory was on Carlabeck but was not the responsibility of the SD.

     Carlabeck had recently been bought by the CTP, primarily for its factory as the Somerset factory had burned down. Prior to that, it was owned and managed by an ageing Englishman. This background was significant relative to me and the workforce when I came to this my first posting. The significant factors were firstly, there would have been a long term and relatively intimate relationship between the recent owner and his workforce; a long time of unchanging, established practice, and there may have been a certain laxity in discipline as a result of this and the age of the owner. With the new ownership came change and, with the arrival of an SD on site, close scrutiny of work and, perhaps, more discipline imposed. Such changes could be expected to be unsettling for a workforce. Secondly, I was the first SD on Carlabeck and, thirdly, I was not European. Where the last mentioned is concerned the "white master", purely because he was a different colour to the workers, a colour associated in workers' minds with connotations of their own inferiority, was more readily accepted as boss than a native. The new phenomenon, the native SD or PD, had a little more of a challenge to command respect, especially when this was a new experience for the workers; the whole business of labour management required just that little bit more effort and finesse.

      The Carlabeck workforce was about 384, based on the then accepted norm of 1.25 workers per acre.

     My responsibilities covered both Carlabeck and Easdale; the latter was about 160 acres but my focus here is on Carlabeck because work involving Easdale was uneventful. My salary was Rs 750 per month. The CTP was known for paying very well so this was an excellent salary. During my time on Carlabeck, the Chairman, Mr. Masefield, visited, and during his visit told me something like, 'We weren't paid as much as you chaps are paid.' And my reply was, 'That may be so, Sir, but how much was whiskey?' to which he replied, 'Oh, whiskey was Rs 5 a case, and the servants were paid with some sugar and rice.' He omitted to point out that the Company now paid the servants.

     My PD arrived at the Carlabeck bungalow to welcome and install me, and very thoughtfully brought with him a few basic supplies, one being Kelloggs Cornflakes, with which to start my larder. He was a very nice man, forthright and "gung ho", an ex British Army Major and quite a character. Much to my amusement I once saw him in his car driving round and round the factory at great speed, and when I asked him what was going on he said he was looking for the TM but that each time he thought that the TM was at the front door he had gone to the back door! Having been in the Middle East during the war (WW II) where he, typically, won an MC, he liked to use a few Arabic words and he also called those he liked "Badava" (Bastard). During the war he lost a leg below the knee and wore an artificial leg.

    The Carlabeck bungalow had an impact on me for two reasons: Firstly, because it symbolised, physically, my arrival as a planter, and secondly, because it was so old for its type of construction that it was dilapidated. At first sight, it did not appear to be dilapidated although it was certainly not well presented, a fact unimportant to me in the light of it being my first plantation home. It had electricity from the factory at the bottom of the hill, but there were times when I had to resort to candles, some times into the small hours of the morning attempting to reconcile the checkroll. It may have been that the wiring was faulty or that the factory engine was not in use. It was not until the late fifties that most plantations were connected to the electricity grid, something not in existence on a large scale in the country in 1953.

      The walls and ceilings were whitewashed at a time when modern wall finishes were just coming into use, and some of the whitewash was coming away from the ceilings. There was also a resident population of six-inch long, black millipedes which often walked upside-down on the ceilings dislodging flakes of whitewash which ended up all over the place, including on the dining table and, possibly, in the food. There was also a large resident population of rats. These lived in the walls, which were thick and made of pieces of rock held in place with mud, in which they obviously had galleries as they could be heard scurrying around out of sight.

      At one time I decided that it was time to eliminate the rats and set out rat poison which appeared to do the job. However, I soon began to get the smell of rotting flesh around the house but could not locate the source. As days went by the smell got progressively worse and seemed to be coming from the walls, in different places and at different heights. It was then that I realised, to my disgust, that the poison had a delayed reaction and that the rats had run home to die. There was no alternative to putting up with the stench until, like the rats, it too died.

     Some time after I left Carlabeck this bungalow was demolished and a new one built on the same site. Until this was done there was no SD on this division.

     When one first takes charge of a plantation or a division one is tested by the workforce. Usually, they have forward information about the new arrival from the amazingly efficient workers' 'grapevine'. For the first few months they try all sorts of things to see how much they can get away with. The period depends on the calibre of the protagonists and it can be quite an interesting 'battle'. On Carlabeck this was quite a challenge for the reasons stated earlier, but the strength and backing of my PD was very helpful.

     It is necessary to point out that the SD, most often, and the PD, sometimes, went round the fields alone, and was therefore susceptible to attack by disgruntled workers. Attacks on PDs, from severe to simple, were uncommon though not unknown as were attacks on minor staff.

     For some months, resentment towards me from the coterie of malcontents was palpable, and not at all comfortable! I was not doing anything commonly unusual in respect of discipline and quality of work but it was unusual for them. Apart from that, it was quite likely that they enjoyed power in the past that they now felt they would lose. This was a power war and, if peace was to reign in the future, it was necessary that I commanded respect and discipline from the start.

     Up to that time the starting and stopping times of work were signalled to the workers by a drum beaten by a worker and audible all over the division. However, on one occasion there was a significant incident involving a number of workers, details of which I cannot remember, whose excuse was that they had not heard the drum. This excuse was obviously incredible and we did not accept it, but the PD's response was swift, excellent and conclusive. Within a day he procured and installed, high above the factory roof, a whistle operated by high-pressure air from the factory engine room and cancelled, forthwith, the duties of the drumbeater!

     One day one of the supervisory staff told me that there were plans afoot to waylay me in the field and assault me. I told him to pass the word around that I was a marshal-arts expert and that, if I was attacked, I would put five of them in hospital before they killed me. I was not a marshal-arts expert but no attempt was made on me. However, my pet monkey was killed at this time or some time later.

     On another occasion I was in the bungalow when my servant told me that an angry mob was coming down my bungalow drive. I picked up my walking stick and marched out straight to them, outwardly fearless and inwardly somewhat fearful, and told them to clear off. I cannot remember whether this was all I said or whether I said that I refused to speak to a mob but would speak to a representative, or representatives, at the muster ground at some time. In any case they went away.

     Meanwhile, by being myself and without sacrificing anything, I was winning over the workforce as a whole.

     Parts of plantations were contracted to workers to weed. These "weeding contracts" were three to ten acres each and the contractors were paid monthly at a fixed rate. Weeding contracts were weeded after work or on the weekends, or full time in the case of large contracts and often the whole family assisted. These contracts usually brought in extra earnings for the workers. Once, when I was walking through a weeding contract, I came across a contractor using a large sorandy(11) and told him that I was going to fine him. He pleaded with me not to fine him claiming that he was earning X number of rupees, a fair amount, for his hard work. I smiled at him, genuinely, and said, 'In that case you can afford to pay the fine!' He too, smiled - and acquiesced! He was one from whom I had expected trouble, so this event was my first inkling that I was winning over my workers.

    Pay day for the workers, or "pay" as the event was called, was the one situation where the SD or PD faced virtually all his workers as a body. This could be a pleasure or daunting depending on the respect one held and/or the state of relations between the workers and management at the time. Hence, it was one of the important situations wherein to make one's mark with reference to all facets of one's personality, from strict discipline to laughter.

     From my first "pay" I set strict procedures in order to make it efficient and speedy, procedures that assisted me as well as my workers. On Carlabeck the pay would have totalled Rs 38,000 - 40,000 which, at Rs 300/minute, meant around 2-21/4 hours of paying time. Established pay discipline here was satisfactory and only needed refining.

    Bearing in mind that the workers were familiar with when their names would be called, some of these procedures were:

    Those whose names were down the list were asked to be considerate and move to the back instead of standing in the front and gawping. Those unnecessarily blocking the way of others were reprimanded; those who were close to being called were to move to the front so as to be able to respond to the call without delay; any undue delay meant that they would have to wait until last, up to 21/4 hours away; any claimed shortage between amount read and amount received was to be notified immediately (before re-entering the crowd); any claimed shortfall in pay due would be looked into at the end of pay; anyone intoxicated or smelling of liquor would not be paid; there should be quiet so that names could be heard when called.

    On Carlabeck, I sat just inside a factory window and those called came to the window to collect their pay. It must have been soon after I came to this plantation that, during pay, a Subramanium kangany's name was called but no one appeared. I asked that his name be called again but still no one appeared, and subdued giggles and stifled laughter could be heard. Then, at the ledge in front of me, two hands appeared ……… Subramanium Kg was a dwarf no more than 3' 6" tall!! Any appearance I had given of authority crumbled and this little incident was enjoyed by all, including me. Subramanium was the Kangany in charge of the sorting room in the factory, and all the workers in the sorting room were women. I was told at some time that one way in which he asserted his authority was by jumping up and biting any errant worker on the breast! I must say that never during my time on Carlabeck did I notice any disrespect shown to this man because of his dwarfism.

    Weeders used an implement called a 'sorandy' and had a small sack tied to their waist, hanging behind them, into which they put the weeds prior to disposal at various points. The sorandy consisted of a flat strip of metal, bent at right angles towards the end, attached to a wooden handle. The sorandies supplied by us were small - the pointed section after the bend being about two inches long. The intended purpose and design of the sorandy was to remove weeds from the ground and base of the bushes with minimal soil disturbance. However, on all plantations across the country, these were substituted, by the workers, with their own sorandies which ranged in size from larger to enormous(12) , and the result was, and had been, very serious soil erosion. I have seen places were the soil level was more than eighteen inches below where it had been originally. Given the chance, the workers took their large sorendies to work to use instead of those supplied.

    On Carlabeck, and on all my plantations thereafter, I banned the use of all but regulation size sorendies, a ban that could have caused serious labour trouble but which I assiduously enforced, explaining the reason for the ban. No serious trouble occurred but the ban may have been the cause of the go slow mentioned in the next paragraph.

    At one time there was trouble brewing over weeding costs as there was an undeclared go-slow by the weeding gang, all of whom were children. They were trying to get the weeding task reduced - in my opinion without justification. Discussions made no difference so I resolved to do something possibly never done by anyone before or since. I announced that, first thing the next day I would join the weeders and weed with them to demonstrate that the task they were complaining about was achievable. I gave instructions that a sorandy and weed sack be ready for me next morning and then went away wondering what I had let myself in for! Nevertheless, at 7.30 the next morning I duly arrived at the weeding site, tied on my sack, took my sorandy, took my place in the line of weeders (much to the consternation and incredulity of everyone present) and said, 'All right, lets get started!' - and did.

    Half an hour later, my back was aching and my arms, hands and fingers sore, and the weeders were thirty feet ahead of me, racing along at full pelt, not to be outdone by the Dorai. Showing no sign of my physical state, I announced, 'In half an hour you have completed as much as you have and based on that you are quite capable of completing the set task.' That was the end of the matter and I had no further trouble with weeding tasks on Carlabeck.

    On most plantations dadaps trees (Erythrina indica) were planted as medium shade and for green manure(13) and when this was done for the first time after my arrival I wanted it done "perfectly"; that is that all cuts were to be perfectly level with each other. I wanted to get the loppers to take pride in their work. I felt that anything done was worth doing well. In other words, I was a perfectionist - a not necessarily perfect trait! Anyway, I managed to get the co-operation of the loppers - with their extremely sharp and dangerous pruning knives - and, so that they knew exactly what I wanted, I climbed a couple of dadaps and lopped them myself, "perfectly"! This had a dramatic effect in more ways that one. The work these men did then, and long thereafter, was excellent and done of their own volition. My PD congratulated me on the impressive lopping and told me that many PDs who used the Radella Shortcut, next to which was the lopped field, were full of praise.

    My characteristic of being a taskmaster did not change on Carlabeck and it remained a feature of my management throughout my career although it may have mellowed a little with time. I was very strict and did not countenance any laxity, but this was balanced by an intrinsic love of my workers. By and large, I usually won their support and friendship, and experienced very little "labour trouble" in 17 years.

    One day when pluckers were gathered on a field road(14) , suddenly, behind me, there was quite a racket. I looked back and saw a man, out of control, thrashing about almost on top of a four-foot high tea bush and doing a good job of demolishing it. To my relief, some seconds later he collapsed and was looked after by some workers. That was my first, and last, experience of someone having an epileptic fit.

    Abutting the main lawn of the Carlabeck bungalow was a disused dam, about twenty yards square, that was silted up to about three feet below the bund, and fallow. This dam had once been used for hydropower for the factory. It had been fed from a water source quite a distance away in a neighbouring plantation via an aqueduct that was still in good repair. My PD and I decided that it would be a good idea to drain the dam, fill it, and use it as a swimming pool.

    We got workers to dig where the sluice should have been and found it six or seven feet down. It was in remarkably good condition and required little work later on to get it working properly. Meanwhile, in the ravine that had been gouged out by years of overflow, we built cross-terraces to catch the silt. When all was ready, we opened the sluice at the source and let the water flow again. Soon we had a large swimming pool into which we put a surplus to requirements section of a metal staircase, as well as a pontoon made of oil drums in a metal frame. This latter had a timber platform covered in hessian matting. We even toyed with the idea of having a wire shoot over the pool from a large tree in the lawn.

    At the rear of the house were disused rooms, previously used as offices etc., and these were used as changing rooms by the PD's family and, later, the numerous CTP executives who came to enjoy themselves, some with their families. All this was no real infringement of my privacy as all this was at the back of the house and, anyway, I enjoyed the whole concept and its aftermath.

    After my PD and I had moved elsewhere, Mr. Masefield got wind of this pool and decided that his staff were wasting their time 'cavorting in this playground' (my words) instead of working - an unfounded and gross over-reaction. The then PD, or the General Manager, received a telegram from Mr. Masefield in London that the pool was to be drained forthwith. And that was the end of that.

    Although my PD was really a nice man, and we got on well together, he was at times unpredictable or irritable or difficult, or all three at the same time. Once when we were going round the fields on foot he asked me how many days it was since the field we were in was plucked. For our own use, and in the event that the PD asked, we SDs carried with us a daily updated record of all fields detailing when they were last plucked and sprayed, but on that particular day I had forgotten mine. I had a decision to make: I could make a pretty accurate guess and he would most probably be none the wiser, or I could tell the truth. This I did and got a good telling off as a result. For the next two to three hours I was treated to a plethora of unjustifiable criticism, a diatribe in fact, at the end of which he said to me, much to my surprise, 'Lets go to my bungalow for a drink.' So, we got into his car and went to Somerset and went into his lounge where he poured me a gin and tonic. He did not pour small drinks! We got chatting, and during the course of the chat he explained to me that on certain days, particularly warm ones, the stub of his leg got very sore in its harness and caused him to get very irritable and difficult. He apologised for his behaviour that morning and I accepted it with respect and understanding. The behaviour never occurred again. Also, when I left him that day after a good few gin and tonics, I left my tin of cigarettes in his lounge and he went around thereafter, telling people, in jest of course, that I was responsible for him resuming smoking - which he did!

    Once, much earlier I think, I used to shave on every third day as my growth was not heavy, and we met during working hours on the road and he asked me why I hadn't shaved and instructed me to shave daily thereafter as it was scruffy to walk around unshaved. I understood the point of what he was saying and agreed without hesitation - not that it would have been wise to disagree. There were certain things one did not argue about with some of one's PDs - socially perhaps, but not at work about work.

    Soon after my coming to Carlabeck the rugby season was due to start and it was generally considered almost obligatory that those who could turn up for practice and/or played for the district team. Although I had not played the game before I had decided to have a go and even bought a pair of boots. I mentioned my intention to my PD who said that I was starting a new career and on (the usual) six months probation, and that he did not agree that I start at that time. Needless to say, I was disappointed. Then, only a matter of a few days before the first day of practice, he phoned and asked me whether I was going for rugby practice, that I should go, and that he would lend me his boots if necessary.

   Approximate work times for SDs had evolved on most CTP plantations as follows as far as I know:

• Attend muster at 7.00 am, perhaps after a pre-muster discussion with senior divisional staff at 6.30 or 6.45 am.
• Work from 7.30 am to 12 noon or 12.30 pm.
• Work from 1.30 pm to 4.30 pm followed by evening muster and the weighing of harvested leaf. The latter would take an hour to an hour and a half on normal days, but when there was late plucking (during high cropping periods) this could take a further hour and a half or more; that is to 7.30 pm. or later. After this, depending on the SD's experience and the PD, one had to complete the checkroll and reconcile it with the amalgamation book

    Sleeping during the afternoon, usually after a heavy night at the club, instead of going to work was, though infrequent, a tricky affair as one's PD could phone or, as some did, come to, and into, one's home to check. This happened to me only once, I think. My PD came in via the front door and I bolted out of through the back door! Missing evening muster was unthinkable.

    Most often Sundays and Wednesday afternoons were 'off' and, during the rugby season, Saturday afternoons for players and late afternoon/evenings for spectators. It was, by the way, an unwritten law that one joined the local district club. It was also an unwritten law, certainly in the CTP, that one paid one's club bills on time. In fact, at one club committee meeting, when a list of tardy bill payers was read and one of these was a CTP man, a committee member who was a CTP PD said, ' Did you say XXXXX (His SD)?' and when this was confirmed he said, 'You will have a cheque tomorrow!' - needless to say, not a Company cheque!!

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