“Jumpers”--“Spots”--Some curious passengers--Conductors and
coachmen--The Rothschild Christmas-boxes--Mr. Morris Abrahams and
Omnibus Men’s Superannuation Fund--Horses--Cost of omnibuses--Night in
an omnibus yard
It is said, frequently, that omnibus companies and proprietors have
received little or no benefit from the introduction of the ticket
system because of the expense connected with the working of it, but
that is a very great mistake. The London General Omnibus Company saves
£100,000 a year by it, and the other companies and associations have
just as much cause for satisfaction. But it must be confessed that at
the outset the ticket system was more or less a farce, the conductors
omitting openly to give tickets and being encouraged in their breach
of duty by the lower class of riders. Some conductors flung away
their rolls of tickets and declared that they had been stolen. Others
placed them under the omnibus wheels to be crushed, and then pretended
that the damage done was the result of an accident. Some of the more
reckless spirits bragged that they had given the tickets to their
children to play with.
The polite inspectors--called by the men “jumpers”--came into
existence with the introduction of tickets, and for some time there
was a considerable amount of excitement about their work, for, while
conductors did not trouble to conceal from passengers the fact that
they were not doing their duty, they seemed to consider it a personal
insult that an inspector should board their omnibuses to see if
passengers had been given tickets. Some conductors assaulted the
unwelcome inspectors, but the police-court magistrates soon proved to
them that it was a very unprofitable step to take, and, in course of
time, the men who wished to retain their posts settled down to issuing
tickets in a proper fashion, and to regarding with comparative calmness
the sudden appearance of an inspector on their step.
“We have to punch tickets in the dark,” one conductor declared
indignantly to a passenger, “and then a ‘jumper’ comes up with an
electric light to see that we’ve punched them in the right section.”
“Perhaps they’ll fix electric lights on top of the ’buses before long,”
the passenger said, consolingly.
“Hope they won’t, guv’nor,” the conductor answered hurriedly.
“Shouldn’t get any more two-shilling pieces for pennies if they did.”
Ticket-inspectors are known to all Londoners, but few people are aware
that the omnibus companies have also private inspectors, whose duty it
is to ride about in their omnibuses, as ordinary passengers, for the
purpose of noting and reporting anything that affects their interests
adversely. These people, who are called “spots” and “wrong ’uns” by the
’busmen, are not beloved by conductors and coachmen, for the simple
reason that they never know when they have one on their omnibus. The
man in evening dress who enters the omnibus in the Strand after the
theatres have closed may be one; so, too, may be the man with a bag
of workman’s tools who rides up to town by the first omnibus. The
daintily dressed young lady who enters at Peter Robinson’s or William
Whiteley’s may, from her seat in the corner, be regarding the conductor
with an interest which is not born of admiration, and the palpably
retired officer who gets in at Piccadilly may be earning a welcome
addition to his income by watching ’busmen’s manœuvres. But it must
be very embarrassing to these “spots” as they sit, unobtrusively, in
the omnibus to see facing them, as an advertisement of Sapolio, Lady
Macbeth’s exhortation, “Out, out, damned spot!”
Private inspectors are by no means a modern addition to the staff of an
omnibus company. Shillibeer, as stated in Chapter II., employed them
a few weeks after he placed the first English omnibuses on the road,
and succeeding omnibus proprietors followed his example. The duties of
these early inspectors were not very arduous, for, as there were only
shilling and sixpenny fares, known as “longs” and “shorts,” and but
two outside seats, it was a simple matter to check the amount received
by a conductor during a journey. The defalcations of conductors were,
by the means of these inspectors, kept from being extensive, but
when omnibuses had been in existence about fifteen years one of the
largest proprietors received reports from his “spot” which he could not
understand. The “spot” would state that a certain omnibus, on a certain
journey, had carried, say, twelve “longs” and sixteen “shorts,” but the
conductor would pay in the fares of fourteen “longs” and seventeen or
eighteen “shorts.” To unravel this mystery the proprietor persuaded a
relation, who was unknown to the ’busmen, to ride in a certain omnibus
on the same journey as his “spot,” and check who was really right.
This man’s reports agreed with the “spot’s.” Both declared that the
conductor had collected less money than he paid in. The amateur “spot”
then rode two journeys in that omnibus when the professional man was
not there, and on those occasions it was found that the conductor paid
in only about three-quarters of the money he received. Eventually the
conductor was arrested for fraud, and confessed how he had been working
his omnibus. He had bribed the proprietor’s clerk to tell him who the
“spot” was, and where he could be seen. As soon as he had received that
information, and taken a good look at the man, he felt that he was
safe from being detected in his fraud. Whenever the “spot” rode in his
omnibus, he paid in more than he received, relying upon getting back
the extra money, and a good bit more, on the journeys when the “spot”
was not present. Why he did not remain satisfied with simply paying in
the exact amount he took on every occasion that the “spot” rode in his
omnibus is a question that occurs to every one who hears the story.
In all probability he considered himself a very smart fellow, and it
is the fate of people possessed of an exaggerated idea of their own
cleverness to make some silly blunder which proves that, after all,
they are but fools.
In the forties and fifties several well-dressed women “spots” were
employed by the omnibus proprietors, and when a conductor suspected any
lady passenger of being one, he generally communicated his suspicion
to the coachman, with the result that when she wished to alight, the
coachman would pull up in the muddiest part of the road, so that she
would be compelled to get her boots and skirt dirty. More often than
not it was a perfectly innocent lady whom the conductor left stranded
in the centre of a crowded, muddy street. These mistakes are still very
common. Conductors are always on the look out for “spots,” and every
day hundreds of innocent passengers are suspected of being private
inspectors because they happen, perhaps unconsciously, to watch the
conductor punching tickets or to glance at his badge number.
Although private inspectors are, naturally enough, very strongly
disliked by ’busmen, they are a great protection to them. There are
always a few cantankerous, cross-grained people riding in omnibuses
somewhere in London who abuse conductors with scarcely any reason, and
threaten, when they have aggravated them into retort, to report them
for impertinence. And sometimes they do report the man, but if a “spot”
happens to be in the omnibus he sends to his employers a full account
of all that occurred. He does not forget to mention the provocation the
conductor received, a point which people who write letters of complaint
have a curious knack of overlooking.
Sometimes conductors get very strange people in their omnibuses. One
night, a year or two ago, a “Favorite” started from Victoria Station
with three inside passengers, two of whom were women. Suddenly the
woman sitting by the door pointed at the one at the other end of the
omnibus and exclaimed dramatically:--
“That woman has stolen my purse.”
“She hasn’t been near you,” the conductor declared; but the woman
repeated the accusation in a louder tone.
The accused woman remained very calm, and it was not until the charge
against her began to get monotonous through repetition that she told
the conductor to stop the omnibus and call a policeman. The conductor
did so.
“That woman has stolen my purse,” the passenger at the door shouted
when the policeman arrived.
The policeman looked from one to the other, and then said:--
“Why, there’s your purse in your lap.”
“Yes, I know,” the accuser admitted.
“Then, what do you mean by sayin’ that lady stole it?”
“I did it out of kindness, constable. The lady has got the hiccoughs,
and I wanted to give her a start.”
To be accused of having the hiccoughs seemed to annoy the woman in
the corner far more than the charge of theft did, and she appealed,
excitedly, to the male passenger to say whether or not she had the
hiccoughs. He answered boldly that there was not the slightest ground
for such an accusation.
“But she was going to have them,” the woman by the door declared, an
assertion which so astonished the policeman that he felt prompt action
was imperative.
“Out you come,” he said sharply, and assisted her to make her exit with
alacrity.
At times the eccentricity of some passengers takes very objectionable
forms. Quite recently a well-dressed little woman jumped into an
omnibus in Fleet Street, pulled a man out of his seat and sat in it
herself, poked her umbrella into another man’s eye, swore horribly at
everybody present for about half a minute, then suddenly got up, jumped
out without paying, and disappeared down a side street. The man whose
eye was injured had to hurry to Charing Cross Hospital.
On another occasion a sane-looking man, sitting on top of an omnibus,
suddenly started throwing pennies at the silk hats of passers-by
and spitting contemptuously at female pedestrians. Before his
fellow-passengers had made up their minds whether to pitch him off the
omnibus or give him into custody, he walked quietly down the steps and
alighted.
Many passengers leave strange things in omnibuses, but I have heard of
only one man who went away without his clothes. A conductor looking
round his omnibus at the end of his day’s work, kicked against a heap
of clothes lying on the roof. While examining the articles by the light
of his lamp he heard a noise above him, and, looking up, beheld a man,
stark naked, climbing into the loft. The poor fellow had gone mad.
But of all the eccentric characters known to ’busmen, the most harmless
and the most amusing is the respectable-looking little man with a black
beard who runs in front of omnibuses, excitedly waving a long stick
above his head. He is about forty years of age, dressed generally in
black clothes, and sometimes carries a pair of gloves in his hand.
He singles out an omnibus, gives a friendly shout to the coachman,
darts in front of the horses, and leads the way through the streets,
coming occasionally to the side of the omnibus to give passengers an
opportunity to throw money to him. He delights in long runs and usually
sticks to the omnibus he takes up with until it reaches the end of its
journey. He has been known to run with an omnibus from Queen’s Road,
Bayswater, through the city, to Burdett Road, E., and then to run back
with another.
An eccentric person, well known to ’busmen in one part of London, is
a gentleman who stands, almost every night, at certain corners where
omnibuses stop and gives a searching look at each one as it comes up.
When he started that practice, ten or fifteen years ago, the ’busmen
thought that he was some omnibus official, but they soon discovered
that he was not. Who or what he has been looking for all these
years neither ’busmen, policemen, nor any one else, know. Sometimes
conductors say to him, “Coming our way, sir?” Whereupon he answers
sharply, “Take your departure.” Usually he allows about a hundred
omnibuses to pass before he enters one, but sometimes he lets the last
go by and then walks home.
Omnibus conductors are, on the whole, a very respectable and
intelligent class of men, and this is scarcely to be wondered at,
for their pay, after one year’s service, is six shillings a day.
These wages cause hundreds of clerks and shopmen to resign their
positions and become conductors. Many men who have been in business for
themselves, but failed to earn a good living, are to be seen wearing
the conductor’s badge and punch. The army, it is pleasing to be
able to say, is very well represented--largely by ex-noncommissioned
officers. They do not wear their medals on their waistcoats, because
they know that to be the practice of old soldiers in straitened
circumstances, and also, alas! of rascally impostors who have never
worn the Queen’s uniform. If the conductors had uniforms, as the
tram-men have, they would wear their medals.
The dissipated down-at-heel gentleman, of the type which sometimes
drives a cab, never becomes an omnibus conductor, for the very good
reason that no company or proprietor would employ him. But the
unfortunate gentleman often does. An Oxford graduate was the conductor
of a West-End omnibus for some considerable time, and a man who was
once the secretary of a flourishing literary society, and a church
organist, is and has been one for some years. And a City man, ruined
in business, became, by the irony of fate, the conductor of the very
omnibus on which he, formerly, rode up to town every morning.
A small proportion of conductors do possibly make occasional mistakes
in their grammar, but that is no reason why a certain writer should
have attributed to them, week after week for some years, a dialect
which they do not speak. Evidently the writer has not troubled to study
conductors, and imagines that they are drawn from the costermonger
class. Conductors, it may be added, do not even say “lidy,” or “lydy,”
although it has become the fashion in novels and articles to make
out that they do. They say “lady” as distinctly as ever the word was
uttered.
Omnibus drivers are, as a body, intellectually inferior to conductors.
They are usually brought up among horses, and, unlike the conductors,
are totally unfitted for any other calling than the one by which they
earn their living. Their wages, which are eight shillings a day,
after one year’s service, enable them to live in comfort and to put
a shilling on a horse in every race of any importance. They have no
ambition but to “back a winner,” and many men who started driving at
the age of twenty-one are not a penny richer after forty years’ regular
work. They continue driving until they become too old, and then they
realise that they have been exceedingly foolish. One driver, who for
more than forty years earned over two guineas a week, now sweeps a
crossing for a living. Many others have died in the workhouse.
As a wit the omnibus driver is greatly overrated. There is nothing
spontaneous about his witticisms, and all drivers let off exactly the
same jokes. These are three from their stock:--
When a coal cart is in front of them: “Now then, short weight, hurry
up!”
When another omnibus remains at a point longer than usual: “Got a bit
of freeehold there?”
When they are driving home to the stables about midnight, and some
would-be passenger hails them: “Not to-night, sir. We have the rest of
the evening to ourselves.”
But it must be admitted that omnibus drivers have the knack of
delivering their remarks in a way that makes a stranger imagine that
they are uttering them for the first time. And that is an art.
At Christmas time there is a great demand among ’busmen for
Rothschild’s racing colours. The drivers attach them to their
whips and the conductors adorn their bell-pulls with them, as a
slight acknowledgment of the welcome Christmas-box--a brace of
pheasants--which they have received for many years from the firm of
Rothschild. Originally these presents were given only to the coachmen
and conductors of omnibuses which passed the Rothschilds’ houses, but
now others receive them as well, and there must be about three thousand
brace distributed every Christmas.
The late Lord Rothschild, who, years ago, gave an annual dinner to the
Hammersmith ’busmen--half the men being entertained on one night and
half on another--was the first of the family to present Christmas-boxes
to them. His gift to every Hammersmith coachman and conductor was a
brace of pheasants, a bottle of wine and six cigars. After a time he
stopped the bottle of wine and cigars and gave five shillings instead.
The Victoria Station Omnibus Association coachmen and conductors also
receive five shillings each as well as the brace of pheasants, and the
reason why they are favoured is, the old ’busmen say, as follows:--One
day, many years ago, in the height of the season, there was a big crowd
gathered in Park Lane, and the traffic was stopped for some time to
keep the road clear for a member of the Royal Family to drive along.
By the fountain the block was so great that pedestrians who desired
to cross the road experienced the greatest difficulty in doing so. A
lady of the Rothschild family came up Hertford Street and wished to
cross over into Hamilton Place, but, naturally, did not venture to pick
her way through the wide stretch of omnibuses, cabs and carriages.
Benjamin West, a conductor of one of the Victoria Station Association’s
omnibuses, saw her, and, recognising her, got off his step and, with
a polite apology for addressing her, asked to be allowed to escort
her across the road. His services were accepted, and he led the way
safely through the maze of horses and vehicles. West then returned to
his omnibus, well satisfied at having been useful to a member of the
family which contains the best friends that ’busmen ever had. But, to
his surprise, he saw the lady turn and speak to the page following her,
in charge of a pug dog, who came running back to West’s omnibus to see
to whom it belonged. He read the inscription on the panel, “Victoria
Station Association,” and then hurried back and reported to his
mistress. The following Christmas every conductor and coachman in the
employ of the Victoria Station Association received from Mr. Leopold
Rothschild five shillings, and the present has been given every year
since.
Many instances of the Rothschilds’ generosity to individual ’busmen
could be given, but it would be indiscreet to mention actions which
were performed privately.
The Rothschilds are not, however, the only Jews from whom London
’busmen have received substantial benefits. The late Messrs. Barney
Barnato and Woolf Joel were very generous to them, and Mr. Morris
Abrahams has placed them under a debt of gratitude by starting, on
October 26, 1897, the Omnibus Men’s Superannuation Fund. Mr. Abrahams,
who is a cousin of the late Mr. Barnato, had for some years taken
a kindly interest in the ’busmen of the neighbourhood in which he
resides, when he was asked to contribute to a fund being raised for the
benefit of an old driver, who was incapacitated from further work. He
did as desired, and was present at the meeting at which the money was
presented to the ’busman. It struck him, however, that this gift was
only postponing the old man’s days of poverty. The money would keep him
for about eighteen months; at the end of that time the man would be
still less able to earn even a few pence. The need of a superannuation
fund was so obvious that Mr. Abrahams rose and suggested to the men
that they should start one, adding that if they would support the
movement he would provide all the money necessary for founding it.
The men received the suggestion with cheers, and raising Mr. Abrahams
aloft, carried him round the room. Finding that the ’busmen would
appreciate a fund of the nature he had suggested, he set to work to
start one. His first step was to instruct two men in the employ of the
London General Omnibus Company to apply for a week’s leave, so that
they might go all over London to ask the ’busmen to appoint a man from
each district to represent them on the committee. The two men obtained
the necessary leave, Mr. Abrahams paying them their usual wages, and
expenses, while away from work. The first general meeting was held at
the Horse Shoe. Six hundred and thirty ’busmen were present, and £40
was collected from them in subscriptions. Mr. Abrahams, who was in the
chair, presented the fund, on behalf of Messrs. Barnato, with £250.
From that day the Omnibus Men’s Superannuation Fund has made rapid
progress, and has now 1300 members and a reserve of £3200. Mr. Abrahams
is the president, Mr. Alfred Rothschild the vice-president, and among
the other supporters of the Fund are the Duke of Cambridge, the Duke
of Westminster, the Earl of Crewe, Lord Rosebery, and many members of
both Houses of Parliament. Mrs. Aubert made a donation of four hundred
guineas, and Mr. Woolf Joel left the Fund £250. The trustees are Mr.
E. R. P. Moon, M.P., and Mr. Lister Drummond, and the committee is
composed of twenty-eight ’busmen; the chairman and vice-chairman are
both ’bus drivers. The Fund gives fifteen shillings a week for life to
any member incapacitated from following his customary employment. The
first recipient was “Fat” Smith, a well-known driver of a Kilburn and
Victoria omnibus. In his young days Smith drove a stage-coach in Wales,
but coming to London in the sixties he obtained a job as an omnibus
driver, and retained it until about three years ago, when old age
compelled him to resign. The Fund has twenty-three pensioners in all,
and the number will soon be increased.
The theatrical profession has given the Fund valuable aid. Mr. George
Alexander lent his theatre for a _matinée_, at which a large number
of the best actors and actresses gave their services. The performance
lasted from half-past two until six, and hundreds of people were
unable to gain admittance. At the conclusion of the performance the
old ’busmen went on the stage and bowed their thanks. Mr. Abrahams has
received promises of further help from theatrical managers, actors and
actresses.
When the Fund had been started a few months the ’busmen decided to
present Mr. Abrahams with a testimonial, and had collected £60 with
which to purchase it when he heard of their action and communicated to
them his intention not to accept the gift. He requested that the money
collected should be returned to the subscribers. But four years later
the men were determined that he should have a testimonial, and on June
27, 1901, they presented him, at a meeting at the Holborn Restaurant,
with an exquisite silver model of an omnibus. Jim Perry, who is
eighty-one years of age, and has driven a London omnibus since 1844, is
faithfully reproduced as the driver of the presentation omnibus. Perry
may be seen any day driving a London General Omnibus Company omnibus
between Baker Street and Victoria Stations. The conductor of the silver
’bus represents J. Baker, a Fulham conductor, known as “Sailor Jack,”
who acts as collector to the Superannuation Fund.
Mr. Abrahams has, without ostentation, given both time and money to the
Fund, and it is to be hoped that London ’busmen will never forget their
indebtedness to him.
At the present day there are about 3700 omnibuses on the London
streets. For each omnibus there is a stud of ten horses, except when
the road on which it works is hilly, and then twelve are required.
The majority of omnibus horses are Canadians, and are purchased at
the London repositories when between five and eight years of age, the
average price paid being £30 per horse. They are then graduated to the
work, and become seasoned in two or three months. When seasoned they
work from four to five hours out of every twenty-four. After working
for about five years they are, generally, unfit for further omnibus
use, and are sold by auction, the purchasers being, in most cases,
farmers. Many horses recover their “straight legs” after a spell of
farm life, and farmers have been known to send up to London as English
bred horses Canadians which they purchased, some months before, as
“fresh from omnibus work.” On several occasions omnibus proprietors
have discovered that their new “English bred horse” is a Canadian which
they had sold, deeming it unfit for further use. It may be asked how it
was that the purchaser did not recognise his old horse before buying
it. But omnibus proprietors in a large way of business are continually
buying horses, and cannot possibly recognise every animal they have
possessed; but their horse-foremen, however, discover the British
farmer’s smartness. In all large studs a number is allotted to every
horse as soon as it is purchased. That number is burnt on the near fore
hoof, and entered, together with the colour and sex of the animal,
in the horse-register book. It is also painted on a slip of zinc and
placed over the stall the horse is to occupy. When the animal dies or
is sold his number plate is destroyed and a fresh one allotted to his
successor.
Each omnibus costs from £150 to £160, and lasts for about twelve years.
It is renovated every year previous to being inspected by the police,
who, on passing it, affix a number plate to the back of the step. The
police have two plates, which they issue on alternate years, so that
a constable can see at a glance whether an omnibus is licensed. For
each plate licence an omnibus proprietor has to pay £2 a year, and also
an annual tax of 15_s._ to the Inland Revenue. Until about ten years
ago the Inland Revenue tax was £2 2_s._, and would in all probability
have remained so had not Mr. John Manley Birch--one of the oldest
established proprietors--sued the Crown for a rebate on the ground
that as omnibuses came under the Hackney Carriage Act he could not
be compelled to pay more than the hackney carriage tax of 15_s._ Mr.
Birch’s action was made a test case and was decided in his favour, one
year’s rebate being allowed.
When an omnibus is no longer fit for London work it is sold at auction,
and becomes, eventually, a summer-house, a workmen’s shed, a cricket
club’s dressing-room or refreshment bar. The London General Omnibus
Company burns its old vehicles.
Until a few years ago it was a common thing for old London omnibuses to
be purchased by colonial and provincial proprietors, and a “Kilburn”
would be found at work at Liverpool, a “Camden Town” at Clacton-on-Sea,
and a “Hammersmith” or “Bayswater” in New Zealand. But municipal
authorities have, in most places, decided that an omnibus which is
unfit to be at work in London must be regarded as unworthy to ply in
their districts, and consequently the value of old omnibuses has fallen
considerably.
English-built omnibuses are acknowledged to be the best obtainable, and
Mr. Christopher Dodson, the well-known London coach-builder, supplies
many of the leading continental proprietors. Mr. Dodson has recently
invented a new staircase, which is more convenient for passengers, and
reduces considerably the risk of accidents. It is already in use on
some of the Road Car Company’s Putney and Brondesbury omnibuses.
The nightly washing of omnibuses is an important matter, and the person
who looks into an omnibus yard during the day would be surprised at
its changed appearance if he were to see it late at night. About 10
o’clock the first omnibus arrives in the yard. On its way from the
finishing point the conductor, lamp in hand, has searched the seats
and floor of his omnibus, and found, perhaps, a stray penny. If he
discovers a parcel, a purse, or anything of any value, he trudges off
with it to the nearest police-station, bearing no grudge against the
careless passenger who has made his walk necessary, for he knows that
he will be rewarded, no matter whether the article is claimed or not.
When the article is not claimed, he receives, eventually, a proportion
of its value. If his search has proved fruitless, he and the coachman
leave their omnibus as soon as it is in the yard, and depart for home,
or the nearest public-house. But before they have quitted the yard the
night men or “washers” have taken out the horses and led them into the
stable. Sometimes they take them upstairs to bed. Then the washers
unharness them and hang up the harness in the gangway. The collars,
however, are hung under the number plates, for it is very necessary
that every horse should have his own collar. The horses are then
groomed, provided with food and water and secured for the night. The
washers are now ready for the next ’bus, which has probably by this
time entered the yard. From midnight until nearly one o’clock ’bus
follows ’bus in quick succession. Each has its appointed position in
the yard, so that there shall be no hitch in its getting out at the
proper time in the morning. When the last omnibus has entered, the
stable-gates are locked and the men sit down to their supper. It is a
lively meal, and if the day has been a dry one and the ’buses are not
very dirty, they linger over it. If, however, there has been much rain,
they hurry through it, for a wet day means very hard work for them.
The ’buses have to be swept and swabbed, the wheels, the body, and
the windows have to be cleaned, the brass work polished, the cushions
brushed, and the aprons shaken and sponged. For some hours the yard is
full of noise and bustle.
At five o’clock the coachbuilder’s men arrive to test the wheels and
thoroughly overhaul each omnibus, and in the event of their discovering
any defect they repair it immediately. The coachbuilder’s men are
followed by the veterinary surgeon, who examines the horses; and if he
thinks that any of them should have a rest he gives instructions to
that effect to the foreman.
About seven o’clock the coachman and conductor of the omnibus which
came in first on the previous night arrive, the former carrying his
whip and rug, the latter with his little tin box--which contains his
bell-punch and tickets--under his arm. In a few minutes the bus leaves
the yard for its starting point. ’Bus after ’bus now passes out, and by
ten o’clock the yard has a deserted appearance, fowls and geese being
almost in sole possession, until the first change of horses is made.