New book reveals tales from workers at Lothian plants churning out reams of material

Published on Saturday 18 April 2009 11:24

SHE was just 14 – and living in an age when working class women weren't encouraged to express strident opinions of their own, especially those which involved disagreeing with the boss. But clearly no-one had told Joanna Gordon that.

The teenager had gone straight to work at the paperworks in Esk Mills near Penicuik after leaving school in 1932. But she was less than impressed with the flea-ridden and filthy mill, where the washing facilities consisted only of a large barrel of cold water.

Joanna lasted just six months before she walked out. Asked: "Why are ye leaving, Joanna?", she replied: "D'ye want me tae tell the truth or tell a lie?"

Recalling the conversation, she goes on: "He says: 'Tell the truth'. I says: 'The place is filthy.' He says: 'I know that.' He never said any mair and neither did I."

Joanna is one of 33 veterans of the Penicuik mills, which for 300 years churned out reams of paper from the banks of the North Esk river who have recalled their memories for a new book, Through the Mill by historian Ian MacDougall – although sadly she didn't live to see its publication.

Paper-making was an important industry to Lothian with mills dotted across the region, including in Juniper Green and Linlithgow. But it was Penicuik – dubbed the paper-making town – which was best known for the trade.

The first Penicuik mill – Valleyfield – began production in 1709. It was joined by Esk Mills, a former cotton factory, in 1775 and Dalmore at nearby Auchendinny in the 1830s. But by the late 20th century their time was over, with Esk Mills closing in 1968 and the last, Dalmore in 2004.

Many of the tales paint a picture of a hard life. There were frequent accidents – in fact one worker featured in the book, Peg Mercer, who toiled in Esk Mills from 1926 to 1935, says: "There used tae be a sayin' that ye werenae a paper maker until ye had a finger off or somethin". Holidays were scant and staff were expected to be grovelling to the management. "Workers were expected to address members of the Jardine family, who were directors as 'sir'", explains Ian.

It was a tightly knit community. "Whole families worked in the same mill in and around the same years, or some in one mill and others in either of the other two," says Ian.

Many of the workers were provided with tied cottages but the accommodation wasn't exactly luxurious, as John Law, who died last year aged 99 and who worked at Esk Mills for 43 years and at Dalmore for six, recalls in the book: "At Kirkhill our toilet wis away out, ye had tae go round the back and up past the next house . . You'd take your candles and matches wi' ye . . . the door was broken and especially in the winter time, the wind wis blowin' in there and ye scraped the snow off the seat before you sat down."

He was equally scathing about Dalmore: "You didnae have tae be stupid to work at Dalmore. But it helped. It wis awfy."

But the memories weren't all grim – several workers recall courting, which involved walking to and fro every Sunday night along the main Edinburgh Road in the hope of meeting a member of the opposite sex.

The late Frances Parker, who worked at Valleyfield in the 1930s, remembers: "Ma father, he called it the monkeys' parade."

&#149 Through the Mill: Personal Recollections by veteran men and woman Penicuik paper mill workers by Ian MacDougall is published by the Scottish Working People's History Trust, www.swpht.org.uk, priced 11.99.