Chapter 56, Christ Church, Jarrow, 5 October 1936
The Church spire soared above the terraces and shops around it (most of which were small, two floor terraces). Soot from coal fires and smoke from the docks drifted slowly over town; the weather augured well with an easterly breeze forecast to roll in from the coast and clear up the air over Jarrow, Hebburn, Shields and Sunderland. It was, Arthur McKay pondered, a grand day for a march.
Arthur, as a local union man, had asked and had been granted permission to attend the launch of ‘the Crusade’ while his son Reg, still unhappy, still on probation at the Sunderland Echo, had asked and had been granted permission by the paper to accompany one of their reporters to the scene (Arthur’s union connections granting, the editor had surmised, unique access to the Labour movement at the start of this demonstration). The streets had been crammed with well-wishers, there was a band on the street corner. Battling through the crowds, Arthur and Reg had been waved into the Church. Both sat, silently, idly, waiting for the blessing to begin.
“I told you, lad, there are stories, you should tell them.” His accent was an odd mix, his native Glasgow now sprinkled with Tyneside.
“McDermott has only asked me to come along because he thinks you’ll get him an interview with Ellen Wilkinson or Dave Riley.”
“I can get him Riley, but he has to let you do some of the interview,” Arthur said with flinty resolve, although Reg caught the beginnings of a smile. “Ooops, quiet, yon parson, he’s limbering up.”
The Bishop of Jarrow, James Gordon, had eschewed formal vestments for a more businesslike (Reg knew that his dad would approve, disliking the ‘trappings of Popery’ but he felt it was drab) appearance. After saying a few words of welcome, George Smith, one of the older members of the march, rose to the pulpit and gave the reading, from James.
“Consider it a great joy, my brothers, whenever you experience various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. But endurance must do its complete work, so that you may be mature and complete, lacking nothing.”
There were further readings and finally, realising that the men in front of him had a long trial ahead of them, Gordon finished with the blessing.
“Then they said to him, ‘Please inquire of God to learn whether our journey will be successful.’ The priest answered them, ‘Go in peace. Your journey has the
Lord’s approval’.”
They filed out, Gordon surprised that so many of the marchers wanted his hand before they left. Arthur and Reg, mere bystanders to this venture, filed out where McDermott was waiting, impatiently.
“Decent enough sermon, I thought. I’ll put something in the article. Who are you?” This was asked rudely of Arthur by a man in smart if unshowy clothes. He had a strangely accentless voice, as if a regional accent had been carefully erased.
“His dad”. He looked sharply at Reg.
“Ah, right. Yes! Ted McDermott, Sunderland Echo. Am I going to get an interview with one of the organisers?”
Arthur’s initial reaction was that he wanted to hit the unpleasant senior reporter, but huffily stomped off to find Riley.
“Say nothing, McKay, understand? Leave this to me.”
“Reg! David Riley, Labour Councillor and chair of the Borough Council greeted Reg with fulsome enthusiasm. McDermott fumed quietly, put on a brave face when Arthur got his name wrong, and took Riley to one side. The marchers were milling around, so there was time.
“I have written,” Riley said, “to the Home Office. They are fully aware of our plans.”
“London is a long way away,” McDermott said as he scribbled, “what arrangements have been for the welfare of the marchers.”
Riley smiled, pleased to show off what had been planned. “The local medical officer has already inspected each man to ensure that he is fit to march, we’ve bought each marcher a pair of boots with a stronger inner sole,” he stopped when he saw McDermott looking underwhelmed, “and in most towns where we’ll be sleeping we’ve already arranged accommodation.”
“Some will say,” McDermott asked, “if you have timed this march to take advantage of the crisis in Westminster.”
Riley laughed. “Unemployment doesn’t stop just because Mr Baldwin has resigned. The loss of Palmer’s Shipyard, the steelworks, the blast furnaces, it has all destroyed this community.” He spoke with a bitter passion.
McDermott liked that line. “But you’re marching to make the Government listen?”
“The Mayor of Jarrow,” Riley said, with the air of a zealot, “has a petition with thousands of signatures from Jarrow and the adjoining towns. This will be laid before Parliament.”
“Do you have the support of any Members?”
“Ellen Wilkinson, MP,” Riley confirmed. “Our local MP. She’s here today, and will be with us in London. Can I introduce you to her?” McDermott was beaming. “Any friend of Arthur and Reg is one of us. Is that alright with you, Arthur?”
Reg McKay would have needed a heart of stone to not have enjoyed the moment when McDermott looked pleadingly at his dad. To make it even better Arthur looked at his son, who, copying the lofty air of some of his old schoolmasters, gave the slightest, most dismissive of nods. Riley led McDermott away.
Arthur McKay waited until they were out of earshot. “Careful son, he’s taken against you.”
“He’s not in the editor’s little gang, he’ll do anything for a front page story.”
“Just the same, mind him.”
Reg changed the subject. “Dad, will this do anything?”
Arthur frowned; he was a union man, it was true, and renowned for having a clear head and abundant common sense, but he was a local man. Even Jarrow, a few miles from his little patch, the pit village of Whitburn, was on the boundary of his influence; he was mines while Jarrow was ships and steel (or had been, he thought ruefully). To contemplate the Jarrow March reaching London, and the reception that they would get was beyond his experience. But he was a father asked a searching question from his son. So he guessed. “Someone will listen,” he said, slightly sadly, “Morrison might be the one, now he is in the Cabinet. But he’s a London man. And Attlee is busy dealing with the King’s crisis.”
“At least they’re trying.”
“Aye, there is that.”
“I’m going with them,” Reg said suddenly. “I want to get away from the Echo, I want to get away from McDermott.”
“Now hang…”
“It’s not the Army.”
The Army had been the subject of an earlier attempt by Reg to escape what he viewed as a boring life. Arthur had quietly reminded him of what happened to boys who had joined the Army and under his refusal the idea had abated. “Aye but it’s not the Sunderland Museum either.” Arthur had also tried to secure Reg an administrative job in the Museum through a friend on the Whitburn parish council.
“Tell the stories, that’s what you keep saying.”
Riley returned. “He’s not very canny is he.” ‘He’ was presumably McDermott.
“Can I come with you? Write the story of the march? Help out?”
Riley looked from Reg to Arthur, whose expression was thunderous. “It’ll be a long walk lad.”
“I can walk.”
Riley saw the distance between father and son and looked burdened with yet another administrative problem on a day full of small issues. Picking a fight with a respected local union organiser was not a good idea. “Go back to the Echo. Make sure your mate there gets the story out.”
“But Mr Riley,” Reg said, immediately becoming a child again in Riley and his dad’s eyes. He frowned, and tried to speak with logic and resolution. “Anyone can do that,” he said firmly, “I mean someone to chronicle what happens to you on your travels.”
A wry smile formed on Riley’s tired face. “Ask them if they’ll send you to Darlington, make sure you bring some copies of what you write. Stay for a bit, the fund will pay for your train fare home. He’ll be alright, Arthur.” He looked to Reg’s father.
Arthur McKay looked sadly down at his feet. His craggy face looked softer. “Go.” He silently shook his son’s hand, put on his cap, nodded his thanks to Riley, and turned to leave.
“Where are you going?”
“The Jolly Sailor. I’ll need a pint in me before I explain this to your mam.”
As Arthur trudged to find his bicycle the marchers, in good humour, set off. Reg McKay looked once at the marchers, once at the disappearing form of his dad, and chose the future.
====
GAME NOTES
The Jarrow Crusade sets off. The idea of a bunch of unemployed shipbuilders and steelworkers walking from an obscure part of the depressed North East all the way to London, where their plan was to hand in a petition and hold some form of a rally may seem mad to our modern age, but it is all true and has entered popular (and Labour) folklore. It is one of the symbols of the economic woes suffered by traditional British industries in the 30s and has been weaved into the fabric of the left in England (I use that term deliberately).
But…
The glory has been tarnished. No that’s not fair, it’s more that the there are many shameless types that want to bask in the marchers’ glow. It is no longer remembered for what it was.
(sighs) I am, as is occasionally mentioned, a child of the North East. Hence the use of the DLI as ‘my’ regiment, and the ‘Lit and Phil’ in Newcastle for Sinclair’s speech many chapters ago. I am neither a “son of the coal” or a “son of the yard” although scratch the surface and both are probably there, somewhere. My family, on one side, are staunchly middle class yeoman types, the other working class (largely brewers) who knew, even then, that it was better to make something fun than to dabble in heavy industry. Both sides of the family ‘did alright’ in the prewar era as well as under Thatcher. We were strictly neutral in the Miners’ Strike (gleefully selling stuff and administering medical advice to all – or in my case, being at school). But there is something about the Crusade that has been instilled in me; it remains a ludicrously eulogised subject up there (and I speak from my new retreat in leafy Gloucestershire – “Fog on the Severn” just doesn’t have the same ring to the original) but I am occasionally rather moved by the idea. I accept that it was, the achievement of the march getting to London aside, something of a failure. But to look at recent commentary, you would never see this. The problem is that now everyone on the left (or from the North East) claims to find meaning in it for their own mad projects, and the number of ‘descended from a marcher’ claims from Northerners indicates an impressive degree of promiscuity in 1930s Tyneside unemployed (perhaps they did it to keep warm?!) which is rather offensive; particularly as Labour (Ellen Wilkinson and a couple of others aside) largely ignored the march or, even worse, tried to kill it at birth. What is also often overlooked is that marches of this nature happened all of the time and in 1936 our Jarrowmen had to compete with veterans, miners and other dispossessed members of the working classes from all over Great Britain. Jarrow, at the time, was just another depressed community with a leftish, increasingly outmoded way of making things. Hence it failed.
There is a strong ecclesiastical element to the march; Riley and the organisers were determined to have the blessing of the Church(es) and insisted that Methodist, Catholic and Baptist ministers attended the Anglican ceremony. At the time it was seen as a bit of an oddity. The send-off from home was as grand as described and the Bishop of Jarrow (a Suffragan Bishop, subordinate to the Bishop of Durham) did given them a benediction before they left (I’ve guessed at a couple of Bible passages, from James and Judges, that talk about journeys) and for which he was roundly criticised; the Bishop of Durham felt that he was taking sides in a political issue and Gordon had to backtrack by saying that he was merely praying for the welfare on the march. Ellen Wilkinson and the other organisers realised his predicament and forgave him, but it is indicative of the uncertainty over how to treat the event.
Riley, Wilkinson and the supportive Mayor (his name was Billy Thompson) were real, as was the first reader at the service, George Smith, who was indeed one of the oldest men on the march. The McKays are of course, fictional, although I do not think that I am stretching things too far by having a local union man from the miners being invited to show solidarity (the adjoining authorities, including Conservatives, did seem to support them so some senior miners would be invited). For a glimpse of the aims and arrangements I commend
https://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/mepo2-3097i1.jpg which formed the basis of Riley’s comments to the press.
McDermott is fictional and I have tried to avoid making him too stereotypical, although I needed a foil for Reg McKay. The Sunderland Echo’s coverage of the start of the march was, indeed, probably the best of the local coverage and so I have explained this by having Arthur get McDermott an interview with one of the organisers.
What will happen to the marchers? Well, in the real world they were ignored by Baldwin. But in this 1936…
To be fair, all parliamentary process is Bullshit. It's just some of it is so buffed and polished that no one really notices until you have to sit in it.
That is a fair observation
@TheButterflyComposer - and even Erskine May has something akin to persuasive precedent, in that it is an informal 'rulebook'. I do commend Lord Lisvane's writing, if you get a chance to read it. I heard him speak at Middle Temple pre-pandemic, he was outstanding.
One wonders whether the chaos in London will encourage the French to take a stronger line in the various upcoming crises... after all, no point in trying to forge a common policy with a nation descending into a non-shooting civil war.
Another good point - France has a real dilemma here given the introversion and chaos engulfing her recent ally. We'll look at France in the next update.
Well as we all know, that is exactly what happens if the king party route is chosen. As in the empire splinters and you have to go get it back. Stronger eventually, but what a horror show in-universe that must be?
I'll cover this in your later analysis below...
A rather damning-with-faint-praise assessment for a general of that rank in a command position. idea he should be able to do all three to at least a decent level.
I agree, but my lasting impression of Dill is that he was a better administrator / diplomat than a commander. I may be unfair in this, but I don't think that I am. His temperament and intelligence were not matched by decisiveness or charisma.
Governments may come and go in Whitehall, but there will always be trouble in Palestine. The idea of Duff Cooper and Churchill trying to solve various problems east of Suez by point at a map and shuffling troops around rings entirely plausibly, and it's entertaining to see what that looks like from the other side – the people actually being pushed around.
That is almost exactly what, in my head, I imagined happening. They're not wrong to think about India, but the strategy seems to be "stop off in Palestine on the way and sort it out".
I can see someone in No 10 thinking “Another Splendid Mess You Got Us Into, Allenby!”
Probably true - and given that both DLG and Churchill were in Government for the fall of Jerusalem, as well as the Versailles negotiations, they have a deep understanding of the problems (if lacking answers!).
From a purely cyclical and game perspective; this works out fine for the british given that unlike the rest of the Empire, they don't actually lose any colonies and proteftorates over this shitshow. So going in guns blazing actually works totally fine.
And on a purely ethical and moral level, the Empire collapses, which is 'good'. But not the African parts, because they're just totally lost without britian. Even Egypt stays within utter control of the empire. Somehow. Yet 'British Malaysia' gets away.
I'm not entirely sure what sort of logic paradox was using here. The crisis allows all major players and already independent leaning places in the empire to cut their losses and leave cleanly.
Except Egypt of course. And there are no issues in rhodesia or Sudan or any of the colony bits of the empire. They're loyal to the end...except British Malaysia I think who does leave.
It's so specific to Africa, with the exception of South Africa (which has white people in charge) that...Well...um...I think this is less anti-imperalist as it is extremely pro-white man's burden?
Uhh… right, yeah… Whatever you say, Paradox…
Right, so… chaotic good? Just be so imperialist that you break the system? Would love to see
@Le Jones ’s in-narrative take on that one…
I have no idea how they're going to try to implement or ignore or mod the system. I have said this before but the game ostensibly gives you three and a half choices (and you MUST pick at least one, it's mandatory) when it comes to Britain start 1936.
1. The OTL route (possibly with minor deviation). Edward is quickly forced out with little fuss, though you lose a bunch of poltical power and a bit of stability in the process. You can then move on normally with the game under the OTL con gov.
2. Go all in on edward and adopt the King's party. Britian goes non-aligned (which is paradox code for...mumbles) and has edward as head of state and for some reason occupying the head of govermnet portrait. This is assume to mean that royal Prerogative has been empowered back to early victorian days. The empire all leave *except the black dominated bits oops!*, leaving britian adversely weak and destabilised. However, you can then bring them all kicked and screaming back with 'loyalist rebellions' and the British army 'reclaiming' the lost empire. More control over them too, wouldn't want them to leave again. This makes imperial federation much easier to achieve, by the way.
You can also annex amercia at the end of this route because why not?
2.5. Instead of allowing edward to wave his sceptic and newly empowered cock around, you can depose him and probably have the rest of the King's party shot. Mosley takes power and I think is fascist but I'm not sure? Otherwise can do much the same as in option 2, but with facism! And probably German support, if you want it.
3. Hedge your bets and destroy the empire. This one...this one is the path we are currently on. The normal government doesn't get their shit together and edward stays on for way too long in the crisis, a bunch of poltical power and stability is lost, the dominions and assorted others leave...and then the player kicks out edward before he gets married and abdicates him anyway. Locks you out of the paths you can use to get the empire back and strengthen britian. Locks out a bunch of the normal tree because the empire is gone. Only real path you can now take is either forcing the country to go communist or fascist so you can use their branches, invading the empire with no bonuses so its rock hard and you will probably lose...or decolonisation and getting rid of what's left for a manpower boost.
Those are the (non modded) choices. Looking forward to how we avoid/how close we get to option 3. I'm expecting a mix of 1 and 3 somewhere along the line, I think.
SO...
We are currently on "Option 3" but being ready for veering off when it is necessary to so do; I will declare when I used console commands, but the game lumbers players with decision trees that range from the vaguely sensible (shadow factories) to the downright insane (annex the US. Yup. Ok). There will, as you say
@TheButterflyComposer, be fairly calamitous events as a result of this course of action. Some of them (the collapse of the 'Political Power' and 'Stability' in-game commodities) I can absolutely live with, some (India magically becoming independent) are just offensive and the classic Paradox "yeah it's a colony" view of the Empire. I will roleplay away some of the madness, but yes it will be necessary to use a couple of console commands and one (very very limited) Mod event to reflect what I think could have happened. But this AAR is a weird mashup of the game events (modded into sanity) and a narrative of how I think a more dramatic Edward VIII marriage crisis would have played out.
It is worth remembering that Palestine had been relatively quiet for all of Wauchope term as High Commissioner, I think he over-estimated how much of that was down to his efforts and that affected how he behaved. I also find the interaction with Appeasement fascinating, even at this early stage the failure to do anything about Italy in Abyssinia was getting people twitched and worried that failing to do anything about Palestine would just make things worse. Somewhat by accident LLoyd George and Churchill have stumbled upon a policy that covers those concerns, perhaps not a good choice but at this point there probably aren't any good options so maybe 'least bad' is a better way of putting it.
That's very fair, and Wauchope was, I think, not the worst of administrators at the time.
As for the policy, I'm not going to give too much away, but I wanted to show that a) the Government can do some things without needing a vote in the Commons (and on this it absolutely doesn't - this is comfortably Royal Prerogative territory) and b) that it may sometimes get it right, or, as you say, 'less bad'.
Hey, it works. Britian won't lose Palestine!
It'll lose almost everything else, but nothing in the middle east. Those guys must have been on the ball or something.
Britain won't Palestine - and again there is a bit of roleplay, coupled with a plausible decision, that reflects that in-game fact.
I am just dropping a line to say that I am going to start following this AAR, Le Jones. I have read the Prologue about the death of King George VI and will binge read everything else later. I really like your attention to detail in the Prologue, so I am looking forward to reading the rest.
Thank you
@Nathan Madien - just like old times!
