Something more than the light March rain has dampened the cheeks of the crowd standing in Newport's John Frost Square.
Alison Hopkins had warned them that thestoryof the 31 CWU members at Critchley Labels might appal them. "It may shock you, it may even make you cry. It certainly made us cry."
Photographer John Harris whispers. "She has a terrific stance". He's right, and he's not just talking politics. Alison Hopkins stands to the microphone like a playground saviour squaring up to the school bully.
For Alison and her colleagues are angry. Their neighbours and friends share that anger, as does the trade union movement in Wales and across Britain. The Critchley 3l gave their company a collective total of 471 years of loyal service. They kept the rules, honoured agreements. Critchley management tore up the agreement to recognise the CWU, and sacked the 31 members who went on strike to demand their rights back.
So now they march from the ancient cathedral church of St Woolos, down steep Stow Hill and into the centre of Newport's busy Saturday.
Like the sixth century church-builder Gwynllyw (corrupted in English to Woolos) they bear witness to a faith of their own; a belief that injustices like the sacking of working people for saying their union can speak for them shall not long endure.
The rally has already heard from CWU president Donald MacDonald of support for the Critchley picket flooding into the union. And heard, too, from Newport West Labour MP Paul Flynn, who assured the sacked Critchley workers that they were backed by the people of Newport. "You are at the forefront of fighting for rights for all. Your fight is for all of us."
Wales TUC general secretary David Jenkins declared that the Critchley 31 had the full support of trade unionists in Wales. "We will lobby the next Labour government to introduce an employment bill within 12 months of taking office to give each worker the right to be represented by a union and to have that union recognised."
Now it is time for rally chair Reg Kelly to call forward a representative of the sacked Critchley workers. Alison Hopkins steps diffidently onto the low platform and addresses the microphone with the quiet strength of certainty. She tells how people who had given everything to the firm were cast aside.
"There was one man, with years of service. He had learning difficulties. Even on his days off he used to come up to the factory to see us. We were family to him, you see. His mother had osteoporosis. They made him redundant. Management even told his mother that if he was going to be a problem, she should put him in a home. It broke my heart, it broke all our hearts." Few hearts now in John Frost Square are unaffected by this tale of modern values.
Then came the vote by the Critchley workers to ban overtime in support of their union agreement. "We were marched into the conference room by management every week, and told we should support the company and not the union," Alison explains quietly.
"They tried to batter us down, but it didn't work. So, they derecognised the union. Our backs were against the wall. We'd lost everything, but we weren’t going to lose that." So the strike was voted on, in accordance with the Tory law. And Critchley bosses sacked 471 years of service for insisting legally that their management's signature on an agreement to recognise the CWU ought to have some moral value.
Alison concludes with a poem passed on by a supporter. "When things seem worst, you must not quit." The applause and cheers are long.
Follow that, as they used to say at the Glasgow Empire. And in the best traditions of the Glasgow Empire, joint general secretary Tony Young brings the house down by observing: "Critchley describes itself as a family firm. I’m glad I didn’t grow up in a family like that."
Tony pledges continuing support to members at Critchley "What will keep them going is knowing that they have the support of every member of the CWU and of the whole trade union movement."
Then he calls the Critchley 31 up to the platform. The glitterati would call it a ’photo opportunity ’, but in Newport it is recognised for what it is - an opportunity for the assembled crowd to applaud the courage and dignity of a brave group of trade unionists.
And now it is all over. Leaflets are being bundled out for distribution to Saturday shoppers. Alison Hopkins and her colleagues are quietly preparing next week’s picket rota.
"Before the rally I was a bit nervous,” she says, “but there was so much support and friendship. With all the people out there who came to the march and rally, you just can't feel isolated. It's been overwhelming."
As people melt away into the Saturday afternoon drizzle, a section of the crowd begins singing Union Maid. Then the Internationale. . . in Welsh. Words (or even pictures) can't capture it. You just had to be there. Perhaps next time?
Copyright © 1997 - Text by Eddie Barrett and Pictures by Charlotte MacDonald. This article was first published in the April 1997 edition of Voice, journal of the Communication Workers Union.
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