POOR BUT LOYAL

Evening Post, Volume CXIX, Issue 126, 30 May 1935, Page 11

POOR BUT LOYAL

HOW PEOPLE WAITED

NIGHT AND THE DAWN

JUBILEE INCIDENTS

(By Nelle M. Scanlan.)

In one of London's poorest slums, a banner stretched across the narrow street with the words: "We're Poor, but we're Loyal." That was typical of the London poor. In this street, and in many others, they had tea parties for the children. They set their tables out in the bright May sunshine, right in the middle of the street, and with that generosity of the poor they provided the best they could afford for the children to celebrate the King's Jubilee. . I passed through one of these slum streets on Sunday evening, and from every window, and above every door there were decorations, mostly childish affairs, flags, and streamers of red, White, and blue paper, and festoons of Eoyal colours. Out on the pavements the children stood looking proudly at their handiwork. There was intense rivalry between one side of the road and the oilier. This was no organised effort; there was no compulsion; it was purely a spontaneous gesture. One of the most amazing decorations I saw was in a little fish shop. Set in the midst of the cod and plaice and herrings on the marble slab were large portraits of the King and Queen, set in a block of ice, and crowned with coronets of crayfish. Nearly a million people had slept out all night to be in time, and to secure the best positions on the kerb for seeing the Jubilee procession. Many of these had come from the country or the provinces, and many had tramped the streets unable to get a bed. The King instructed that the parks, which are usually locked, at night, should be left open, and here they made camp, with, coats and. rugs and pillows, but.mostly with newspapers. At the first hint of dawn, someone awoke and shouted, "The toast is 'The King.'" And all these cramped and weary people around got up and sang. "God Save the King." MILKMEN BESIEGED. Here in the parks, they had their breakfast of sandwiches and buns and millions of oranges. The milkmen, who had been on the roads all night trying to deliver London's milk in time, tfl get off and see. the show themselves, were besieged at every yard for milk. It was the drink of the night. Men used it for shaving in the parks, while girls held up hand mirrors for them to see. Hair was combed, faces powdered, creased clothes pulled and straightened into position, and the first of the crowd were ready to take up their positions. But many had already pegged out sites on the kerb. Here they had slept leaning against each other, with nothing between them and the "cold pavement but a few newspapers. But the Londoner is a Spartan when it comes -to waiting. Young couples had brought a pillow on which the baby slept, but these eager waiting people were not all young. Many were old grannies. .. A cart came from Covent Garden, laden with its boxes of flowers, and was one of the first to get a cheer. With typical Cockney humour, the driver acknowledged, this greeting". Opening a box tjfrlcively tulips,,he took ah armful, and-'as he passed down The Strand, threw them, one by one, into the crowd with a royal gesture. DOG ACHIEVES FAME. A lean dog had a brief moment of glory—and fear. Fleet Street had been sanded, and: looked golden as a garden path. At each side a solid line pi khaki was firm as a painted picket fence. And behind was the crowd. The dog, coming from nowhere, found itself suddenly in this deserted street, for at the moment not a car or a hoof was passing. An officer tried to check it with his sword, a policeman made a lunge with his baton, but the terrified dog was too, quick for them, and he started on a magnificent rush which ended at St. Paul's. As the dog passed, the crowd cheered. The louder they cheered, the faster the dog ran. That solo sprint was one of the unrehearsed spectacles that has been more talked about, than any other. So "Jimmie, the Jubilee dog," had his day. Jimmie is owned by-the Rev. E. C. Bedford, of St. Andrew's, Holbom Circus. He is allowed to roam, the streets of London freely, and makes a point of attending all ceremonial affairs. The Mansion House is one of his special haunts, and he frequently enjoys the view from the steps. Scenting something special in the air of Jubilee day, he escaped from home, but finding himself the centre 01 attraction among cheering thousands, his nerve failed him for once, but now he is immortalised in photographs of this marvellous occasion. . THE POLICEMAN'S LOT. Today I was talking to a tired policeman. He was trying to move a small green car that had been parked at a bus stop, where it had remained for half the day, impeding traffic. The policeman told me that he had been on duty—on his feet—from 6 a.m. till midnight, on Monday, with 10 minutes off for a cup of tea in the morning, and 20 minutes later in the day. Even weariness could not damp his enthusiasm for the scene. "Our job is not to harass: people and make their life a misery, but to keep things flowing smoothly," he said. "And when you see a show like that, you begin to realise how little these Communists really'count in England." Two friends of mine, who had attended an official dinner on Jubilee night, were faced with the difficult problem of getting home to Holland Park. All traffic had been stopped in the centre of London from 9 p.m. till midnight At last they secured a taxi and the driver said he could get them out in a round-about way. So they set off over Waterloo Bridge, dodged about south of the river, and crossed'back over Lambeth Bridge. They were completely bushed, but near Sloane Square began to pick up landmarks. Then the taxi-driver stopped and asked: "Are you quite satisfied, sir, that I have done the best I could, and brought you the best way I could?" "Quite satisfied," replied the man. "No complaints?" asked the taxidriver. "None at all," he was assured. "Well, it's this way. This is Jubilee Day and I.haven't had a drink all day —never had a chance to drink the King's health, so would you mind . . ." Immediately the man offered him some money. "Oh, it's not that, sir. But would you mind waiting here till I find a pub; it's just five minutes to closing time." So the two of them sat on the roadside, while the taxi-driver went off to drink his loyal toast and slake his thirst. These good-humoured incidents could be multiplied by thousands.

FOREIGNERS AMAZED.

Perhaps one of the most striking features of the day was the amazement of foreigners. They could not believe that the stolid English could show such emotion and enthusiasm. They had'

been taught' otherwise. This remarkable demonstration has been the admiration of the world, and countries where parades of enthusiasm are stagemanaged and salutes and cheers are arranged under compulsion were staggered to find a nation which so loved its ruler that all this was purely voluntary, an overflow of pent-up affection. 1 have heard the King referred to as "The Old Darling" a dozen times to- \ day. ' j The Socialist Mayor of Bermondsey is surprised that the streets of his i town are decorated for the Jubilee.! He refused to meet the King with the other Mayors, but his example did not impress the townspeople, who have arranged for a loyal address to be sent to the King. There is some talk of the Mayor being compelled to resign. A Communist attempt to insult the King and Queen on their Jubilee drive went wrong. Late on Sunday night a van drove up to Fleet Street, which was elaborately decorated, and added a wide blue banner that stretched right Those who saw it being erected thought some official group had come with a last-minute addition. It bore the words: "Long Live the King" on one side, and "Long May He Reign" on the other. The banner had been folded in half, the fold at the bottom, and by means of a slender cord through rings which held the ends together, the loyal device was shown. Just before the King and Queen arrived, this cord was' pulled by someone hidden round a corner,, but it stuck and the other inscription, which would have been displayed when the sides dropped, was never fully revealed. All that could be seen was, "Workers of the World," and part of the hammer and sickle, the Soviet emblem. This was enough to betray the plot, and soon the cords were hacked down and the streamer perished under the feet of an indignant crowd. So that was that. OLD WOMAN'S PATIENCE. I saw an old Grannie, a little, hatchetfaced woman, with that hard-bitten expression that has faced and overcome difficulties, and to whom life has been hard, who had spent the night on the kerb, waiting for the procession. She wore pale blue felt slippers, a faded green scarf, and an old brown coat. She was, in the front row, so there was no doubting that she must have been one of the earliest to peg out her claim. But those lean old legs got tired, and the poor feet in the blue bath-slip-pers must have ached, for there was no sitting down; no stools were allowed. Long before the King and Queen came she was showing signs of impatience, lifting first one tired foot, then the other, trying to ease the strain of those long hours of standing after the dreary night's vigil. But she was of Spartan stuff, and while men and women fainted all around her, she set" her grim little mouth doggedly, and hung on. It was hard. I watched two big policemen' near her, how gentle they were, first one and then the other inviting the old woman to lean against him. Just before the procession came I thought she would have to give in, but the policemen encouraged her to stick it out. They were marvellous in their kindness, and because of them she saw the King and Queen. The last I saw of them, the blue slippers were standing beside a fainting foreigner, Grannie fanning him with her handkerchief, and urging him to make a fight to see it through.