Ripley Roots Stories / Munro, The Foundry

	Ripley Roots

The Foundry
by theresa m. ripley

Foundry Bar in Arbroath, Scotland, housed on the original location of the Munro & Co Foundry

William was jarred from thinking about his Highland past by his oldest son, Archibald. As Archibald opened the door to his separate room in the foundry, which might be called an office, William could hear the familiar clatter of the work outside. The foreman was yelling, cursing was more aptly the term; and he could hear the rattle of cranes and molten metal being poured. Archibald was speaking over the din.

"Can you come, Father", Archibald asked, "we're having trouble with the furnace?"

The furnace is the heart of a foundry and often at the center of many of its problems. Archibald should know about the furnace, because at age 22 when William started the foundry, he put Archibald in charge of supervising the building of the furnace. He had done a masterful job. Archibald was authorized to get the cast iron lintels, necessary iron work, woodwork, and the sandstone needed for the hearth and inner walls. He had gone down to Edinburgh and hired five masons at a good wage to come and construct the furnace. He had also hired the necessary day laborers from Arbroath. The masons and laborers worked for over six months to complete the job. The furnace had been blown in on August 14, 1813, and had been going ever since that maiden voyage, but with its share of problems.

William stepped out onto the foundry floor. His eyes immediately began to water from the smoke. His nose and throat felt the everpresent dust. Sparks were in the air from the molten metal and the heat was excessive. He was following Archibald to the furnace area. Archibald was pointing over the noise to the furnace which appeared to be choking up, a dangerous sign. Archibald and William both moved back to the office. In the relative quiet of that space they agreed that getting more workmen to remove the slag quicker was what needed to be done.

William spent another two hours on the floor of the foundry conferring with supervisors and workmen and then prepared to go home. The foundry had started a public house for its workers three years ago. It was across the street. Appropriately, it was named The Foundry Bar. He thought he would stop by and have an ale with his sons and the other workers. He did not often do that. Tonight he felt like stopping because being with his workers seemed like family. Tonight he needed family.

o o o

At the Foundry Bar William saw most of his workmen even though many of them lived in other parts of the town and other public houses would have been nearer their homes. But it was custom to drink with one's workmates, even though it made a work day that began at 6 a.m. and lasted until 7 p.m. even longer, but the workers didn't see it that way. The single workers were eating a meal of porridge in addition to having an ale, while the married workers were waiting to eat dinner, probably broth and bread, at home.

William eyed his two sons sitting together with a couple of other workers. He had hoped to find them alone, but he decided to join the group anyway. They all dressed much alike in their thick shoes (to alleviate any chance that a spark might burn them), corduroy trousers, and shirts with sleeves down to their wrists even though they were out of the infernal heat of the foundry and rolling their shirtsleeves was now an option. They chose not to do so, no one did, and they did look and act much alike.

William began catching bits of the conversation as he approached his two sons and two employees.

"Yes, I understand Carron Company has had employee contracts for years," said a skilled molder.

"Well, they have had a longer time to work on such things," replied Robert, "since they have been in business since 1760 and I know they have over 800 workers. We're a much smaller operation."

"I know a fellow at Carron, but he doesn't speak too highly of it. Says they station porters around to check up on them and they have built high walls and gates around the foundry," offered the other employee.

"Theft has been a big problem as well as drunkenness around the machinery and they just felt they had to do something," replied Robert.

The conversation came to a halt when William arrived at the table. He was sorry for that, but he knew that Robert would report how the employees felt later because he seemed to have a pretty good sense and feel for the worker's concerns.

The two workers finished their ale and bid their goodbyes, prematurely William knew, but he had to acknowledge he was glad they were gone. He was glad for the opportunity to just sit down and have an ale with his sons.

In his mood of nostalgia William wondered how much his sons remembered of his own background and theirs, let alone the roots that took them back to the Highlands. He wanted his sons to remember what his life had been like before they were born. When they were 50 he wanted them to be able to describe to their children and grandchildren about not only his life, but life in the Highlands. The trek of his Munro family led from the Highlands to St. Ninians. Then his personal odyssey led from St. Ninians to Carron to Lanark to Monkland to Airdrie to St. Vigeans and finally to Arbroath. Just how much did Archibald and Robert know. He was not certain.