Kenneth Hardman was known as ‘Hardman’ by name and by nature
amongst the captains of industry. He’d come up the hard way, starting as an
almost penniless assistant in a clothing shop, somehow, he’d acquired some cash
and before anybody knew it, he’d taken over the shop, then he was opening
branches in other towns, he launched a public company which was to lead him to
becoming chairman of a national retail chain. He had a ruthless determination to add wealth
to wealth, cut out the middlemen, get control of the manufacturing end as well,
and all the profits along the line would be his.
Takeovers, asset stripping, causing redundancies – it was
all part of the game to him. He had taken over several small clothing
manufacturers and now they were brought together under one brand label that was
soon one of the leaders in the country. He had 25% stake in Wonder- Wear and
the way he could conjure up profits and increase dividends, ensured he was annually
re-elected to chair the board.
Then factory workers started to strike for higher pay and
cheaper foreign imported clothes were beginning to compete for the home market.
Kenneth Hardman was one of the first to start closing down the factories he controlled
and transfer production to the Far East. Massive redundancies were just numbers
on paper to him. There was no line in company accounts for human compassion.
He sent out his emissaries to establish where in Asia labour
was cheapest and industrial health and safety regulation the weakest. In those
countries he established his factories where managers were paid high production
bonuses and the shop floor workers increasingly exploited.
The shareholders rejoiced when the dividends were announced
each year and applauded the chairman. Kenneth Hardman self-made
multi-millionaire, heading towards the top of the rich list, hoping for a
knighthood for services to industry, though a Panorama special, still in the production stages, on conditions in
Asian clothing factories was threatening to scupper that. The Rolls and a
Bentley too, the Mayfair apartment, the country house and estate in Berkshire,
the yacht down at Monte Carlo - all his, and three failed marriages.
Kenneth Hardman so materially rich was abysmally poor,
because in spite of it all, he lacked happiness and peace of mind. He’d been to
his club that evening and eaten a large supper and had lingered over his port
and the cheeseboard. He sat up in bed reading the share prices in the Financial Times before falling into a
heavy sleep. Then something unexplainable disturbed him. He woke and saw there
was a dim light in the room. A girl who looked about thirteen years old stood
by his bed. She had large dark eyes, a dark complexion, her black hair was long
and straggly, her dress looked a bit grubby and ragged and she had no shoes on
her feet.
He sat up startled and yelled “What the hell are you doing
here?”
“I’m an angel, mister” came her reply.
“Angel! Angel! You look more like something the cat dragged
in”
“Now, now Mister, just because you’re wearin’ silk pyjamas,
no need to talk to me like that. You’re going to come with me.”
Despite his protests as she took his hand he seemed to
bodily rise and float along behind her. She led him through the bedroom door, but
instead of coming out onto the landing they were in a large barn filled with children like herself, some
looked younger. They were all sat at tables with old treadle operated sewing
machines, sewing. A little girl, who was new there, turned to an older one
sitting next to her and said “I’m getting tired and hungry. When can we go home?” The older one looked
down sadly “Not till six o’clock; we have to complete our twelve-hour shift and
stay later if we haven’t fulfilled our quota, so keep working.”
“What are they doing?” said Hardman.
“They spend all day sewing buttons on jeans and trousers”
said the angel and picking up some buttons dropped them into his pyjama jacket
pocket “Take home a souvenir Mister.”
They passed through another door and were in a small, sparsely
furnished hut. The angel pulled back a threadbare blanket curtain to reveal a
pallid woman lying on a primitive cot. “This is that little girl’s mother,
she’s very sick and the little girl has to work so they can eat. Unfortunately,
there are no local medical facilities and they cannot afford to call a doctor.”
Kenneth Hardman awoke the scene still in his mind. It was
just a silly dream; maybe he’d eaten too much cheese the night before. He’d get
up and get on with the day; there was money to be made. As he got out of bed
something tinkled in his silk pyjama jacket. He felt in the pocket and brought
out a handful of metal buttons each one embossed with the logo “Wonder-Wear.”
Still in a state of shock, at nine ‘o’clock he rang his PA;
he was going to be away for a few days. Straight to Heathrow he was on the
first non-stop flight to the Far East. He found the factory and he found the
little girl and her mother. He arranged the mother’s transfer to a hospital and
for some-one to care for the child.
Within a short time back in England he called a special
meeting of the shareholders. He announced that there were to be no dividends
paid this year. Instead, he outlined plans to update the factories in the Far
East, provide medical care, improve working conditions, end child labour and
pay adults a wage sufficient to bring up families and educate them without the
need for children to work.
The faces of the other board members and shareholders
dropped. “Hardman’s gone mad” they muttered. “We’ll never be able to maintain
our standard of living”.” My dividends pay for my annual cruise holiday,” said
one. “I was going to put mine towards a second home by the sea,” said another.
Within days an extraordinary meeting of shareholders voted Kenneth Hardman off
the board; he had lost influence and control. He went quietly away into
seclusion.
Nobody noticed when he sold his Mayfair flat, his yacht and
his Berkshire estate. The stock market didn’t comment when bit by bit he
disposed of all his shares in the retail chain and stepped down as chairman.
He’d upset the shareholders in Wonder-Wear; perhaps he was better gone than
introducing any hair brained schemes into the retail sector.
Then the Panorama special on working conditions in Wonder-Wear’s
Asian factories hit the small screen. Overnight Wonder-Wear became less popular.
A newspaper headline quipped “Dirty Wonder-Wear needs Laundering”. Share prices
started to fall rapidly and everyone wanted to get rid of them, but as they
fell, through an intermediary an unknown person was buying them all up. Kenneth
Hardman had been doing some homework and on the same day it was announced that
he now owned and controlled Wonder-Wear he announced his reform plan. He had
studied the work and achievements of the Frys and the Cadbury brothers, the
Quaker confectioners and immediately started to put into action the plans that
had got him voted off the board a year previously.
Now he lives modestly, the wellbeing of the Asian workers is
his main aim. He has lost the desire to be materially rich but he has a wealth
of happiness and contentment. When bigger profits are made, they are ploughed
back into housing and leisure facilities for the workers. All Wonder-Wear
clothes are now tagged “Fair Trade” and they only use organic raw materials.
Kenneth is no longer called ‘Hardman’ by nature, but he’s sometimes called ‘Softie’
Hardman in business circles.
He never actually saw the angel again, but recently he’s
certain he woke once in the middle of the night and out of the darkness he
heard her say “Thanks Mister, well done.”
About the author
Guy Pratt is a retired octogenarian second hand bookseller who enjoys gardening, long walks with his dog and travel. He gravitated into the book trade after earlier years in farming, the army Intelligence Corps and the civil service.
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