ADDRESS

Confessions of a Promiscuous Researcher:
Friends of the Noel Butlin Archives Inaugural Lecture

Raelene Frances *

I am very pleased to have been invited to give this talk today. As a well brought up Catholic girl, I have the usual desire to confess, and you look like suitable recipients of this particular guilty secret – hence the title of my talk: ‘Confessions of a Promiscuous Researcher’. It all began back in the early 1980s when I was a postgraduate student at Monash University researching the history of work. You are probably all only too familiar with the usual Melbournian attitude to Canberra – a place devoid of culture, Carlton and cappuccino, to be visited under duress and as briefly as possible. I, however, came under suspicion because I appeared not only to tolerate long visits to the national capital, but to seek such opportunities and look forward to them with relish. Such enthusiasm could only be explained by one thing: a secret love affair. I am here to confess that such suspicions were indeed well founded. But it was worse than people suspected: I had not one, but many secret loves who drew me back as often as I could manage to Canberra. And they all hung out at the Noel Butlin Archives, then of course known as the Archives of Business and Labour. I am not speaking about the archivists at The Tunnel, charming and helpful though they all were. The people who really seduced me were the individuals who spoke from the dusty leather-bound volumes of union minutes and the brittle typed sheets of the arbitration transcripts. I suppose I should also confess to a penchant for voyeurism – I liked to pry into the lives of these people, to try to catch a glimpse of them saying or doing something revealing. Nor was I particular about the sex of the characters who I pursued – men and women were equally fascinating. I’d like to introduce you to some of these people today.	1
Perhaps I should begin with Elizabeth Tighe, a Melbourne coat machinist. Elizabeth gave evidence to the 1927 Commonwealth Clothing Trades Case. In this case, an attempt was made to establish the cost of living for the single working woman in order to determine a reasonable minimum wage. This was an extraordinary hearing, with the union’s case meticulously prepared by the inexhaustible Muriel Heagney. Cost of living questionnaires were collected from over 50 individual women, many of whom, like Elizabeth, then gave evidence before the Court. Elizabeth caught my eye because of the clarity and confidence with which she seemed to handle herself in the Court. It’s not hard to imagine how intimidating most female factory workers must have found this experience: the very formal setting of the Court, with the male judge resplendent behind his polished wooden bench; the individual witnesses facing questions not just from this judge but also from the be-suited men representing the union and the employers. It was clear from Elizabeth’s evidence that she was not deterred by this rather forbidding scenario. A very intelligent and astute woman, no longer young, she had worked for 17 years at the trade of tailoring. She lived with her widowed mother, also a clothing trade worker. Through careful management and doing without a handbag and ‘several other more or less needful articles’, she was able to save £4 over the year and paid 32 shillings a week off the mortgage on a small cottage which she and her mother hoped one day to own outright.	2
We were living in a fairly cheap house but it was not healthy and the doctor insisted that I should live somewhere else. We found that we could not afford to pay more than ten shillings each per week for rent and we considered whether we would take a couple of rooms somewhere. We did not want to do that because living in two rooms is not decent. You have to share the bedroom and the other live [ie living room] is used as a general room … After a lot of worry we decided that we could get a house built and pay for it by way of rent at one pound per week. I adopted that method as a means of making some provision for myself later on. For instance if my mother dies I will be left alone and ten shillings per week would mean that I would have to live in one room. I am not going to live in one room … I have seen lots of girls take on modes of living that they had no right to do but they were driven to it by this one room practice, and I am not going to do it for anyone.1
Almost every item of expenditure was carefully justified: chrome taps saved on the cleaning of brass, while the purchase of an apparent luxury – a wireless – was explained as follows:
The sum of £6/17/0 for amusements includes the purchase of a crystal wireless receiving set and license. Having neither money nor leisure to enable me to follow interests sufficiently varied amongst other things to make me vote with a broad outlook, I consider this item an absolute necessity.2
Elizabeth clearly took her duties as a citizen very seriously. As she pointed out, a wireless was much cheaper in the long run than purchasing daily newspapers.
Elizabeth was also purchasing a piano on time-payment, as she and her mother had neither the clothes nor the money to go out for entertainment. As she put it: ‘I wanted to go out, but I felt ashamed to go. I have some respect for myself and I do not want everyone to know how hard up I am and how shabby I am’.3	3
In cross-examination she admitted that she had made one frivolous purchase during the year – a small statue of a Buddha for ten shillings. ‘That was an extravagance’, she admitted. ‘We thought his face looked as if he knew something worth knowing’.4 That really appealed to me, and I read the rest of her evidence with even more interest. Like the other witnesses, she had to endure detailed cross-examination about her clothing purchases, including her underwear. When asked to explain why she spent nothing on corsets she pointed out that she didn’t wear them, not having sufficient flesh to warrant such a garment. If my image of her is accurate, the men in the courtroom would have been more uncomfortable than she was. Neither was she intimidated when the employer’s advocate suggested she should buy a pair of galoshes instead of paying off the piano: ‘I say that you cannot expect me to spend every farthing of my money absolutely to the best advantage. I am just an ordinary woman. I am not a saint’.5	4
As well as the transcript of her testimony, we also have Elizabeth’s cost of living questionnaire. This shows some other revealing aspects of her personality. For instance, she spent more on ‘donations to collections in the workshop’ and ‘hospital appeals, etc’ than on fares for outings, and twice as much again on life insurance (£2 12s); she spent £1 10s on presents and nothing on an annual holiday. We also learn that she makes all her own clothes – underwear, costume, coats and dresses, although despite this economy she was generally not happy with the standard of her clothing. Her verdict: ‘Underwear good. Dresses, etc. of too poor quality to be satisfactory with exception of one & raincoat. No best outfit for either summer or winter. Insufficient’.6	5
We also learn something of Elizabeth’s working life from this schedule. Although she lived in Ascot Vale, she travelled to work at Ellinson Brothers in Swanston Street, Carlton, a journey which cost her a total of £8 10s over the course of the year. In order to get to work at 8.00am she had to leave home at ten past seven. She finished work at 5.30pm but did not get home until 6.30pm. During the day she had 45 minutes for lunch and a ten minute morning tea break. Her weekly wage was £3 10s and she earned an additional £5 17s in overtime during the year.	6
Muriel Heagney described her as	7
a particularly interesting witness as she has had a lifelong association with the industry and has a very definite mind in respect to women’s wages and conditions … Miss Tighe put forward a strong plea for an equal basic wage for men and women and in her own mode of living shows much independence of spirit and earnest effort to achieve a measure of security and real comfort for herself and her mother who must soon retire from work at the trade.7
Having formed a picture of Elizabeth and her mother, living a frugal life focused very much on the clothing factory and the home, I was a little surprised to learn from the union minutes that she was in fact a long-standing member of the executive of the Victorian branch of the Clothing Trades Union – one of that band of mature, single women who gave so much to improve the conditions of working women between the two world wars. Several of these women also gave evidence to the 1927 inquiry – women who, as one woman put it, could ‘not throw themselves on the matrimonial market’ because the war had reduced the number of available men and left them with additional responsibilities – in this latter case, an invalid father. Nor were Elizabeth’s efforts restricted to women in the workplace: some years later, I was attending a conference in the hall of MacRobertson Girls High School, and was perusing the list of names of the Board of Trustees. There amongst them was – you guessed it – Elizabeth Tighe.	8
Another woman who jumped out of the pages of the 1927 arbitration hearing was Eleanor Brown, an order coat hand. Cross-examination revealed that she almost single-handedly provided for her elderly mother and younger sister out of her earnings in the tailor’s shop, working overtime every Saturday in order to maximise her earnings and making clothes in her time off for herself and her mother and sister. She did have a father, but he worked in the country and was ‘not very helpful’. When asked to explain where her wages (including overtime) of £3 11s per week went, she explained:	9
As I said before I have to keep the house in order. I have a younger sister who is very delicate and I pay a high fee to get her voice trained and I also pay a lot of doctor’s expenses. She was 8 months under the doctor. I like to see her educated well and I have to clothe her. By the time I have paid for that and bought things for the house and paid for mother’s clothes I have not much … left.8
Elizabeth may not have been a saint, but Eleanor certainly sounded close to one.
I’ve never seen a photograph of either Eleanor Brown or Elizabeth Tighe. I did not have this problem with my next favourite archival personality: E.C. Magrath of the New South Wales Printers Union. He is a handsome, suave looking sort of chap – in my imagination he oozes charm as well as political correctness. What endeared Magrath to me was his consistent advocacy of the cause of women in the printing industry and within the printer’s union. A friend and colleague of feminist, Imelda (Mel) Cashman, he was one of the very few male voices who argued for some female representation on the National Council of the new industry-style union, the Printing Industry Employees Union of Australia, formed in the 1920s. It was not through any lack of advocacy on his part that this failed: most of the men in the unions seemed to agree with Mr Eagle, also from NSW, who lamented the problems caused by having women in the industry and in the union: ‘As you know, women are funny “Cattle”’, he wrote to a Victorian comrade, ‘Take them all around, they’re a damned nuisance’.9 Magrath’s insistence on arguing for proper margins for women’s skills as well as men’s must have made him very unpopular with the men in the union, but I’m sure he was a real hit with the women.	10
Another man who looms large in the holdings of the Noel Butlin Archives is the proprietor of the famous shirt factory, James Law, although he falls more into the category of ‘love to hate’ than ‘love to love’. As I’m sure many of you are aware, the Pelaco shirt factory was promoted as the model modern factory, incorporating Taylorist principles of subdivision with Fordist ideas about standardised products. Law was also keen on what he called ‘scientific’ approaches to industrial relations and personnel selection and management. He explained how he applied these ideas to the selection and allocation of workers:	11
Our employment girl downstairs has been well taught and has read a great deal of psychology, and knows the type of individual who would fit the different jobs … She knows by looking at a girl’s head and hands, the shape of her mouth, eyes, etc., and can tell to a certain extent what any girl is particularly useful for.10
His ‘scientific’ methods hinged on the employment of juvenile workers on piece rates. But, as the union advocate pointed out, rates which were attractive to young women under the age of 21 were much less competitive with adult wages prescribed by the award: as soon as the workers reached 21 they left. Law tended to gloss over this fact, preferring to paint a picture of his factory as one big happy family, mercifully free of the interference of the unions. When questioned about the high turnover of his workforce, he said he didn’t know where the women went once they left his employ: ‘I suppose they go where the flies go in winter’. On a more serious note, he suggested that ‘many of our girls are so attractive they get married. On the money that they earn they can dress themselves well, and get among people in a decent walk of life’.11 Not factory workers, presumably.
Not surprisingly, there was no love lost between Law and the Union. He especially complained about the interference and manner of the union officials:	12
These officials during their visits do everything possible to stir up industrial trouble and generally speaking the industry would be much better off and would be conducted on saner and more peaceful lines if the union officials adhered to the real principles of unionism, and did not prostitute the movement as is being done today.12
He admitted that he had, on one occasion, come to the Arbitration Court and threatened the judge that he would go to gaol before he would allow a union official to come to his factory. In his defence he said that he had been one of the earliest employers to allow union officials into his factories, but that was in the days when they knew their place:
In those days you came in and had a talk to our people but you behaved yourself as gentlemen, but directly you got the award of the Arbitration Court you were like the Prussian, swaggering round, with the iron hand under the velvet glove all the time. You did nothing but sabre rattling all the time and you are still doing that.13
Other people whose voices emerge in the archives have less definition than someone like James Law. I was intrigued to see the role that the female relatives of both judges and advocates played in different arbitration court hearings. As the judge confessed in the 1927 Clothing Trades Case, ‘My problem is I don’t know much about women’. He was not alone: Mr Letcher, the employers’ advocate, also clearly felt out of his depth in dealing with the cost of living for women. This extract from the transcript gives a little insight into how they attempted to resolve their ignorance:	13
Mr. Letcher: I am going to challenge the regimen and the prices of many of these items. I asked my daughters last night about some of them and I was informed that the prices are very high. For instance, my wife told me she would not pay 25/- for an umbrella. His Honor: I got the same impression from my daughter, that the prices in many cases are high.14
George Beeby, the judge in the 1937 Bootmakers Case, must have felt similarly ill-equipped to deal with the issues surrounding the claims for female bootworkers: he took his daughter with him on inspections of boot factories and appeared very much influenced by her opinions on the quality of the work being produced and the levels of skill required by the machinists.15
The Arbitration cases also give us wonderful insights into the lives of working women as well as into the personalities of the witnesses, advocates and judges. A very contentious item on the union’s claim in 1927 was an allowance for reading material. Muriel Heagney reported to the court the results of her research on the subject of women’s reading habits:	14
The circulation of one women’s paper – the Mirror – runs into two or three hundred thousand and women read it all over the place. I have been amazed at the number. Some months ago I was making an enquiry about women’s papers, and I have been informed that there has been a steady growth in the circulation of them. The man in charge of the bookstall at Ballarat told me that they sold 1000 copies a week.16
As she pointed out, the growth in the sales of these papers showed that in the 1920s women more and more were buying their own literature and papers. Again, Elizabeth Tighe is illuminating. When asked if the factory women read anything, she replied:
Yes they do, but amongst the girls there is a lot of this sort of thing: one buys a paper and exchanges it for another. They lend papers and books to one another. That saves money and they read them just the same. There is a lot of that sort of thing. Most of the girls belong to a library. I belong to the Public Library. That is a particular grievance of mine that I cannot belong to a good library.17
As we have seen, Elizabeth could not afford to buy daily newspapers. However, she did buy two weekly magazines, the Women’s Mirror and the Listener-In, but as with most of her purchases, she claimed this was a carefully calculated expense: ‘I consider that the Women’s Mirror pays for itself by its hints for housekeeping’.18
And although this was supposed to be an inquiry into the needs of working women, the transcripts tell us something about the reading habits of the advocates and judges as well as the witnesses, as this exchange reveals:	15
Rhoda Anderson, cross-examined by Herbert Carter, union advocate: Books, journals and newspapers, £1:5:0, do you read much? Are you in a library? Yes. Do you buy any ladies’ journals? No Will you tell His Honor what this includes? It includes library fees. I pay 4/6d. a quarter for library books. I buy the ‘Sun’ occasionally. You pay your library fees and you buy an occasional newspaper which brings the total to £1:5:0? Yes. You do not take advantage of the Prahran Library at the town hall? No. Cannot you get the books which you want there? I have never tried. Mr Letcher [employers’ advocate]: It is a very good library. I can get books there which I cannot get elsewhere. His Honor: Where is this? Mr Letcher: The Prahran free library. You can get all classes of books there. His Honor: I have been cut out of my library since the Federal Parliament went to Canberra. Mr Carter: It may be [more] convenient for you to go to your library, which one do you go to? It is in Swanston Street. [Mr Letcher]: If you want to save that 4/6d. a quarter I would suggest that you go to the best library in Melbourne which is at the Prahran Town Hall.19
What we learn from much of the evidence presented is the way in which working women sought to overcome the limitations of their individually small incomes by pooling their resources with other women. We have seen how they shared the purchase of reading matter. Many of the witnesses also told how they were able to make their clothing pennies go further by applying their workplace skills after hours and making their own clothes. Others who did not have the skills or access to a sewing machine sought a collective solution to their individual dilemmas by forming clothing clubs in the workplace. Herbert Carter explained how this worked:
A lot of the establishments have clubs. The man or woman employee contributes so much per week. When they are lucky enough to get a draw they get their suit or costume.
Annie Hendry was in such a club and paid three shillings into the club in order to have a costume made when her turn came around. ‘I joined the club at the beginning of the year and I think it runs until just after Xmas. Then probably another club will be started’.20
We also get a few glimpses into the restrictions which long working hours and poverty meant for many working women. Unlike the wives of the judges and advocates, these women did not have the opportunity to spend long hours hunting down the best bargains in the shops. Again, Elizabeth Tighe has something to say:	16
I may say to Your Honor that opportunities for shopping are not open to we girl workers. I was in Court the other day, and when the Court rose I was able to do a little shopping with the result that I obtained a hat for 15/6 which was a bargain, but I would never have had the opportunity of getting that hat in the ordinary course of my working life.21
Rhoda Anderson conjures up an especially grim picture of the realities of a factory worker’s life in Melbourne’s winter:
With regard to fires in the wintertime, have you access to a fire? My landlady does not provide too many fires. Do you ‘do a perish’? Yes, it is cold. Have you a fireplace in your bedroom? No. And no radiator? No. Your landlady does not supply a fire? No. If you say ‘It is going to be a cold night,’ what does she do? She goes to bed. And what do you do? I usually go to bed. You go to bed to get warm? Yes. 22
But not all images evoked in the archives were so drab. I will always be grateful to the minute taker who conjured up a rather macabre image in the minutes of the Victorian bootmakers union, shortly after the death of the president: ‘It was resolved that a photograph of the executive, with the late president in the centre, be sent to his widow’. I hope the widow appreciated it. I also enjoyed the unselfconscious ways in which so many of the male unionists went about the delicate task of union propaganda. In this case, they have left some wonderfully telling visuals.	17
There is a sense in which my interest in personalities and infelicities of expression, both verbal and visual, provided light relief from the main object of my research, which was a rather earnest study of the changing nature of the labour process in the clothing, boot and printing industries from the 1880s until the Second World War. The results of this research were written up as my PhD thesis and published in various journal articles and as a full-length book.23 Perhaps needless to say, the deposits of the Noel Butlin Archives were absolutely essential to this broader project. The arbitration records, union minutes, correspondence and union journals enabled me to chart the changing technologies in these industries, and also to gain some insight into the conflicts and compromises which accompanied these particular labour processes and technologies at different times.	18
My research was informed by both feminist historiography and theories of the labour process, but was based on the assumption that the answers to some of the most important questions raised by this theory could only be found by empirical investigation. And there were many questions to which I sought answers. At the most general level: How and why did the nature of work change in these three industries?	19
More specifically: Is it possible to chart a general trend towards fragmentation of work (breaking tasks down into smaller parts and assigning these to different workers) and deskilling of the workforce in these industries? Was there a clear relationship between fragmentation and mechanisation? Did the introduction of machines also mean the employment of more female workers? Where fragmentation did occur, did this mean diminished worker control over the labour process? Did the physical conditions of work, and issues of health and safety, change significantly? What about wage rates and methods of payment? Did the ways in which employers exercised control in the workplace change significantly over this 60-year period? And related to this issue of workplace management and control, how important were so-called ‘scientific management’ techniques in these Victorian industries? What about paternalist and welfarist approaches to labour relations? What role did workers play in shaping the nature of the workplace as both individuals and as organised trade unions? How did issues of gender and ethnicity intersect with workplace politics to change the nature of work and the working environment? What role did the state, especially wages boards and arbitration courts, play in determining the pace and direction of change? How significant was the relatively small size of Australia’s population – which affected both product and labour markets – as a factor affecting methods of work?
You will be relieved to hear that I don’t intend to give detailed answers to all these questions today. What I will say is that the records held by the Butlin and other archives, such as the Melbourne University Archives, did enable me to reach what I think are quite valid answers to most of these questions. The lessons I learnt from this research have been important not just for me as an historian, but also for the part I have played in university industrial relations.
Since my appointment to the University of New South Wales in 1992, I have been actively involved in the National Tertiary Education Union (NTEU) at the branch, state and national levels. My understanding of the issues and possible strategies in the tertiary sector has to a large extent been shaped by the research I have done as a labour historian, and inspired by the courage I detected in many of the people who left traces of their lives and activism in the archives. People like May Francis (no relation), later May Brodney. May worked herself to the point of exhaustion during the First World War by simultaneously fighting conscription and waging a battle to bring the wages and conditions of ‘whiteworkers’ (underwear and linen machinists) more in line with those of women working in the ‘men’s sections’ of the clothing industry, such as tailoring. She had to be tough enough to overcome the intimidation of the employers’ representatives on the wages board, who succeeded in making the other worker delegates tongue-tied in their presence. Nor were the workers assisted by sympathetic chairmen: some had a reputation for telling ‘smutty stories’ to the assembled representatives, while Francis Reddin, chairman of the Dressmakers Board, reportedly ‘sat back in his chair laughing’ at the union’s claim. I remembered Mr Reddin when I was a member of the NTEU’s bargaining team and had to endure one of the university’s team members constantly mocking our claims, dismissing them generally as being in the realm of ‘Pixieland’. In the next round of bargaining we laid it down as a ground rule that this person would refrain from any mention of Pixieland. Although we did get the occasional Wonderland – and once even a Zululand – this rule really cramped her style!	20
I also drew inspiration from Lesbia Keogh, better known as the poet Lesbia Harford, who, despite a congenital heart condition, gave up a career in law to work in a clothing factory, making, as one of her poems recorded, ‘great big skirts for great big women’. Lesbia seemed to have a great talent for disarming the opposition, confounding their stereotypes about factory girls with her obvious intelligence and tact. While I don’t claim to have achieved anything like her success as a poet and diplomat, she gives me something to aim for, and I see something of her spirit in one of our industrial officers, also a lawyer, strategist and diplomat.	21
Lest it be thought that I only learnt from the women, let me say that E.C. Magrath again looms large as an instance of how important male sympathisers – especially smart ones – are to the feminist cause. And from those canny turn-of-the-century typographers I learnt about the importance of being prepared for new technologies and developing strategies that meant that workers as well as employers could benefit from any labour savings.	22
I should also be remiss if I neglected the other pleasures of researching in ‘The Tunnel’: my last confession is that it was not just the records which were so attractive, but also the setting by the lake and the expertise and sociability of the archivists – the cheap coffee, the biscuits and cakes, and advice not just about the archives’ holdings but also about enjoying Canberra and the surrounding countryside.	23
I’d like to end by thanking you for giving me the opportunity to indulge myself and sing the praises of some previously unsung heroes and heroines.	24
Endnotes * This address was presented as the Inaugural Lecture of the Friends of the Noel Butlin Archives, 4April 2002, at the Australian National University, Canberra. 1. The Amalgamated Clothing and Allied Trades Union of Australia (ACATUA) vs ANA Clothing Company (ANACC) et al., Commonwealth Court of Conciliation and Arbitration (CCCA), 1927, transcript of hearing, E138/18, p. 2467, Noel Butlin Archives of Business and Labour (NBA). 2. ACATUA, Questionnaire and Cost of Living Schedule for the Year – May 1st, 1926, to April 30th, 1927: Elizabeth Tighe, E138/18, NBA. 3. ACATUA vs ANACC et al., CCCA, 1927, transcript of hearing, E138/18, p. 2485. 4. Ibid., p. 2488. 5. Ibid., p. 2498. 6. ACATUA, Questionnaire and Cost of Living Schedule for the Year – May 1st, 1926, to April 30th, 1927: Elizabeth Tighe, E138/18. 7. ACATUA vs ANACC et al., CCCA, 1927, Muriel Heagney, Summary/Analysis of Evidence, E138/ 18, p. 12, NBA. 8. ACATUA vs ANACC et al., CCCA, 1927, transcript of hearing, E138/18, p. 2432. 9. Raelene Frances, The Politics of Work: Gender and Labour in Victoria, 1880-1940, Cambridge University Press, Sydney, 1993, p. 121. 10. ACATUA vs ANACC et al., CCCA, 1927, transcript of hearing, E138/18, p. 4134. 11. Ibid., p. 4193. 12. Ibid., p. 4166. 13. Ibid., p. 4181. 14. Ibid., p. 2411. 15. Unity, 14 July 1928, p. 11. 16. ACATUA vs ANACC et al., CCCA, 1927, transcript of hearing, E138/18, p. 2423. 17. Ibid., p. 2486. 18. Ibid., p. 2486. 19. Ibid., p. 2536. 20. Ibid., p. 2630. 21. Ibid., p. 2472. 22. Ibid., p. 2536-2537. 23. R. Frances, The Politics of Work in Victoria, 1880-1940, Cambridge University Press, Sydney, 1993; R. Frances and B. Scates, Women at Work from the Gold Rushes to World War Two, Cambridge University Press, Melbourne, 1992; R. Frances, ‘Gender, Federation and Working Life’, in M. Hearn and G. Patmore (eds) Working the Nation: Working Life and Federation, 1890-1914, Pluto Press, Sydney, 2001, pp. 32-47; R. Frances, ‘Printing Workers, 1890-1940’, in M. Lyons and J. Arnold (eds), A History of the Book in Australia, 1891-1945: a National Culture in a Colonised Market, Queensland University Press, St. Lucia, 2001; R. Frances, ‘May and Bob Brodney’, in J. Ritchie (ed.), Australian Dictionary of Biography, Melbourne University Press, Melbourne, 1993; R. Frances, ‘Shifting Barriers: Twentieth Century Women’s Labour Patterns’, in Kay Saunders and Raymond Evans (eds), Gender Relations in Australia: Domination and Negotiation, Harcourt, Brace and Jovanovich, Sydney, 1992, pp. 246-265; R. Frances, ‘Writing a Gendered Labour History’, in J. Martin and K. Taylor (eds), Culture and the Labour Movement, Dunmore Press, Palmerston North, 1991, pp. 62-76; R. Frances, ‘Gender, History and Industrial Relations’, in G. Patmore (ed.), History and Industrial Relations, ACIRRT, Sydney, 1990, pp. 30-42; R. Frances, ‘Bob Solly: Union Organiser and Politician’, in J. Ritchie (ed.), Australian Dictionary of Biography, vol. 12, Melbourne University Press, Melbourne, 1990; R. Frances, ‘Alfred Russell Wallis: Union Secretary and Industrial Relations Commissioner’, in J. Ritchie (ed.), Australian Dictionary of Biography, vol. 12; R. Frances, ‘Never Done But Always Done Down: Paid and Unpaid Labour in Australia 1788-1988’, in V. Burgmann and J. Lee (eds), Making a Life: a People’s History of Australia, McPhee Gribble, Melbourne, 1988, pp. 110-125; R. Frances, ‘The Victorian Clothing and Boot Trades, 1850-1940’, in E. Willis (ed.), Technology and the Labour Process: Australian Case Studies, Allen and Unwin, Sydney, 1988, pp. 173-208; R. Frances, ‘Harrison Ord: Public Servant’, in G. Serle (ed.), Australian Dictionary of Biography, vol. 11, Melbourne University Press, Melbourne, 1988; R. Frances, ‘One Hundred Years of Women’s Wage-Fixing’, Journal of Interdisciplinary Gender Studies, vol. 5, no. 2, December 2000, pp. 84-93; R. Frances, ‘Gender and Labour Markets’, Journal of Industrial Relations, vol. 40, no. 3, September 1998, pp. 401-408; R. Frances, J. Kealey and J. Sangster, ‘Women’s Work in Australia and Canada, 1880-1980’, Labour History, no. 71 and Labour/Le Travail, no. 38, Fall 1996, pp. 54-89; R. Frances, ‘Marginal Matters: Gender, Skill, Unions and the Commonwealth Arbitration Court – A Case Study of the Australian Printing Industries, 1925-1937’, Labour History, no.61, November 1991, pp. 17-29; R. Frances, ‘“No More Amazons”: Gender and Work Process in the Victorian Clothing Industry, 1890-1939’, Labour History, no. 50, May 1986, pp. 95-112.

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