An Appendix to Electric Hot Plates

The Working Life of Arthur Callum 1918-1965

The death of my father had made it necessary for me to leave school, with effect from Christmas 1917. With the War still raging, my age meant that I would be served with my ‘call-up’ in a few months. In the meantime, I entered a famous bank in the City of London as a junior clerk at the handsome salary of 15/4d. per week. This job lasted 4 days. To my abject horror, my immediate chief was what we termed a ‘conchy’, a conscientious objector, who, I was given to understand, would not even contemplate joining the stretcher-bearers. From that I could only conclude he was a coward. This was related to me on what would then inevitably be my last day. My patriotic upbringing could not be reconciled with his character.

It was about 11am., and there I was, sitting on a high stool, doing some already routine work. A voice said “Boy!” I took no notice. “Boy” he repeated, “I’m talking to you”.

I said, “You know my name and it’s not ‘Boy’.

“Don’t be cheeky, come here”, was his reply. I remained seated. “Do you want me to come over and smack your head?”

“You’d better not try”, was my reply.

He came over and took a swing at my head. This I easily avoided and followed with a quick jab to his possibly 25 year old jaw, which knocked him out completely. I recollect shouting and people rushing about. Within a few minutes, I was escorted off the premises by two large porters and cast into Threadneedle Street. I asked for my hat, which a minute later, was thrown out to me. A day or two later, I received a cheque for £.-.15/4d., which foolishly, I cashed. It should have been framed. Thus ended my banking career!

That same afternoon, I walked all the way to The Mall, and secured a position in the Ministry of Shipping. This was then a temporary building over the Lake in Green Park. I was placed in the Register department where I was to be very happy. The War came to an end shortly thereafter, the 11th November, when everybody went mad, including me.

For the next few years I drifted from job to job, interrupted by my appendix ‘bursting’. I had had occasional pains, right back to my time at school, but this time I was very sick. My doctor made a house-call and diagnosed a ‘chilled stomach’. He promptly applied a mustard plaster. Within two hours I was unconscious and woke up in hospital. I found myself to be sitting upright with three ghastly tubes sticking out of my stomach. It was many weeks before I was discharged.

As the World’s economy started to slowdown jobs became few and far between. Unemployment was soon rife. However, I was apprenticed to a shipping line and had a brief life at sea. Brief it was because in my very first encounter with a hurricane in the South Atlantic, I had to assist in securing a tarpaulin, which proved to be too much work for my abdomen. Down I went with a strangulated hernia. Fortunately the bad weather had ensured that I hadn’t eaten for 24 hours, this allowing me to survive to get back to GB. to be taken into hospital for another serious operation. How I cursed that doctor who had applied the mustard plaster and thus exposed me to a life of continual surgery.

I could not continue my life in shipping, at least not as junior navigation officer. I hoped, however, to find a position with some company in their purser’s department. Shipping was ‘dead’ at this time and I knew it was essential, if one was to get a position, to seek influence. Consequently I called upon an old friend of my parents, who knew me of course. He was a Swiss born gentleman and a very clever one at that. He had, although Swiss, compiled an English Dictionary! He knew lots of influential people, and was therefore a good chance of help in my endeavour. He was very kind, and made enquires, without success. He did, however, explain that he was thinking of starting a ‘new line’ in what he termed “Kochplatten”. These were translated as hotplates. I had to ask as to their nature, naturally enough. He was forced to admit that he actually didn’t really know, save to say that they were iron discs which were heated by electricity for use on electric rather than the then familiar gas cookers. He did add that he knew they were very safe as compared with the existing electric hotplates- which had exposed live coils. These earlier devices were extremely dangerous, especially in the inevitable presence of a good deal of water.