A Lovely, Lovely Strike

All Britain was braced for the expected shock. At Scotland Yard a special control center was set up to coordinate minute-by-minute reports from an armada of police cars. Squadrons of spotter planes stood fueled and ready for takeoff. Said Transport Minister Ernest Marples: "We kept going during the blitz, and we shall keep going now."

Cause of the crisis: a 24-hour rail strike, called in protest against a government modernization plan that will mean the elimination of twelve huge repair shops and 18,000 jobs. In London on the eve of the strike, thousands prepared to walk to work. To spare commuting executives, major firms booked every available hotel room. Big banks chartered buses to haul workers, and one Regent Street store collected its staff in furniture vans. The Foreign Office simply provided mattresses, suggesting that staffers might want to sleep in.

As strike day dawned bright and clear, many suburban workers bolted from the breakfast table with their kippers uneaten and their cuppas undrunk. To their surprise, there was no need at all to rush. As it turned out. the heaviest road traffic was not going into London but the other way--to beaches, picnic grounds and golf courses. For every brave Briton who had decided to struggle to work, it seemed that at least two simply took the day off. The City of London had one-third its normal inflow of 1,500,000 people. Shops were half empty. Autos zipped into town at 60 m.p.h.. buses glided smoothly, and Transport Minister Marples found the way clear when he bicycled to work. For the striking railwaymen who wanted to cause maximum discomfort, the whole thing proved a flop. For the public it was as one typist sighed, "a lovely, lovely strike."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.