A day in the work life of a “GECOite” started the moment she boarded a designated bus at selected bus stops in Toronto’s east end, and ended when the bus dropped her off at the same bus stop approximately eleven hours later.
All Aboard
Women who worked at the Scarboro plant congregated at selected stops in Toronto to board a specially marked bus to GECO. Four main routes served the east end of the city, with terminal points including Yonge Street and St. Clair Avenue, Bloor and Church Streets, and Victoria Park Avenue and Danforth Road.4 Eglinton Avenue did not span Toronto’s vast Don Valley in 1941. Buses had to meander their way through East York, along Millwood Road, over the Leaside bridge, down Donlands Avenue, and up O’Connor Drive, which then rejoined Eglinton Avenue east of Victoria Park Avenue. In March 1943, GECO introduced a new bus route to operate between Eglinton Avenue and Yonge Street and the plant.5 This new route helped reduce the overcrowding of non-GECO streetcars and eliminated roundabout routes.
Munitions production at GECO ran twenty-four hours a day, six days a week — pausing only for rest on Sunday. At prime time, during shift changes, buses picked up or dropped off fifty employees per minute at the GECO facility.6 Buses jostled for a place to unload and pick up passengers in the factory’s jam-packed parking lot. Eventually, about a year after plant operations commenced, shifts were staggered over a two-hour period to manage the arrival and departure of thousands of women.7
“I Do Solemnly Declare …”
It is no surprise that security at a top-secret munitions plant was tight, and of paramount concern. Throughout the war, fear of a Nazi invasion upon the shores of North America weighed heavily on the minds and hearts of every Canadian.
Every GECOnian had to present identification in the form of a government-issued “pass” at Time Office wickets, and then clock in.8 No one was exempt. Even the two most recognizable faces at the plant, Bob and Phil Hamilton, had to produce their passes to gain access to the compound.9
Clean-side employees who wore GECO’s uniform left their passes in lockers.10 All other employees in the Danger Zone and all employees on the dirty side of the plant carried their passes at all times to present if challenged.11 Employee names and their respective employee numbers were sewn on GECO name tags prominently worn on their uniforms.12
All workers were photographed, fingerprinted, took an oath of secrecy upon securing employment, and underwent a background check from the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.13 Due to the RCMP’s diligence, approximately one hundred “undesirables” were discovered and kept from employment.14 Employees of war-industry plants in Britain and Canada signed an oath of secrecy under the Official Secrets Act 1939, and, in particular, for GECO, under Chapter 49 of the Statutes of Canada, 1939.15 It was an offence punishable by fine or imprisonment, or both, “to obtain or to communicate to any other person any information which might be, or is intended to be useful to a foreign power.”16
Article 2 of GECO’s Secrecy Oath read, in part:
You are now an employee of the General Engineering Company (Canada) Limited, because we consider you a responsible, reliable and loyal person. As an employee of this plant you will possess certain information regarding the Company’s activities. You have taken an Oath of Secrecy concerning all such information. Be sure that you do not break this Oath, either through carelessness or by thoughtlessness in conversation.17
First Things First: Ground Rules
Work life at GECO, as with any other wartime factory, had many rules and regulations that had to be obeyed, without exception. From the moment a GECOnian stepped off the bus in the plant’s parking lot, to the time she left at the end of her shift, a workshop employee was subject to innumerable imperatives and instructions.
Management defended its seemingly endless rules, claiming the regulations had been reduced already to a bare minimum, leaving only those necessary to provide a healthy balance between GECO’s obligation to protect its workers and the employee’s obligation to fill and ship the highest quality munitions as quickly as possible.18 These regulations had evolved through generations of experience in handling and manufacturing explosives in the United Kingdom.19
Each employee received several booklets, all colour-coded, when she was hired. One of these booklets, Regulations of the Scarboro Plant, began by outlining general “do’s” and “don’ts” of a GECO worker. All persons had to enter and leave the GECO site through the main gate on Eglinton Avenue, be willing to be searched, remain in their respective workshops except when asked or “by demand of nature,” be sober at all times, and deposit all contraband and all articles not required in the performance of their duty in lockers in the change houses.20
“The cordial co-operation of every worker is earnestly sought,” wrote Bob and Phil Hamilton in Regulations of the Scarboro Plant: Clean Workers. “In fairness to those who wholeheartedly support the safety effort, any willful or deliberate infringements of these regulations will merit, and indeed, compel, drastic measures to deal with the offender.
“BE LOYAL to your family and your fellow worker. THEIR security and safety are in YOUR hands.”21
Please Check Your Brassiere
After punching their time cards at the gatehouse, GECOites proceeded to their designated change houses — also called “shifting” houses — that bordered the clean side of the plant.22 Employees entered and left the Danger Zone — the clean side — through seven change houses. Three large buildings were situated on the High Explosives side of the plant and three on the gunpowder side. On each side, two change houses were designated for female employees, the third for men. There was an additional change house for visitors located in Building No. 20.
General Engineering Company’s roots were in mining before war broke out, and the Hamiltons designed Scarboro’s change houses in a fashion similar to those servicing a mine.23 When miners emerge from deep underground, they are sopping wet from humidity. Clothing needs to dry before the men’s next shift, so wet clothes are hung on hooks in the change house and hoisted to the ceiling to dry. GECO’s change houses were designed likewise; uniforms were hung up on hooks to air out between shifts.24
Even with staggered hours, shift changes were chaotic at the plant. Hundreds of women descended on the change houses at the end of their shift, donning their “civilian” clothes to leave the plant, while hundreds more arrived, rushing to prepare for work. During GECO’s production heyday, each change room had the capacity to house 1,060 employees, and processed five hundred women every thirty minutes during a shift change.25 At least one change room remained open at all times since the change rooms provided the only route to the fuse-filling workshops.26
Features of GECO Change Houses
GECO workers had to follow many rules in the plant’s shift houses. Posters on the walls reminded employees of their responsibilities. One poster read: CIGARETTE BUTTS MUST NOT BE CARRIED INTO CHANGE HOUSES27 This seemed sensible given the nature of the women’s work. Employees removed their street clothing and footwear upon entering the change house and deposited all personal belongings in steel lockers outfitted with combination locks.28
GECO’s promotional hiring material described the plant’s change houses to be “splendid facilities for personal daintiness, with plenty of basins, showers and towels provided.”29
Change houses were divided into two distinct sections, similar to the rest of the plant. The north end of the massive room was the dirty side. The clean side sat at the southern end of the house, near the entrance to the galleries leading to munitions workshops. Once a GECO employee entered a change house on the dirty side, she performed any ablutions needed at sinks large enough to accommodate 140 operators, stripped down to her cotton bra, panties, and socks, hopped over a low barrier to the clean side, and put on the plant’s uniform.30 The barrier was a long, short wooden bench, one to two feet high.31 CLEAN was written on the side facing the dirty area and was painted red.32 Similarly, the side facing the clean area was painted grey
and bore the word Dirty.33
Two female guards stood at the barrier to inspect the women as they crossed over to the clean side, to ensure employees were clean, free of anything that might cause static electricity or ignite a spark. GECOite Sylvia Nordstrand, who was eighteen years of age when she began working at the plant, said, “We stepped over [the barrier] after being scrutinized visually by two elderly women referred to as matrons”34
The women declared they were clean as they jumped over the low hurdle by calling out, “All Clear!”35 Declaring “All Clear” was a verbal contract between the company and its employees, who were responsible for being clean of all prohibited items.36 Any contraband found on an employee after an “All Clear” rendered the employee liable to severe penalties, since even a minor infringement could result in a serious explosion.37 Employees were warned that ignorance was not bliss, and claims of unfamiliarity with the rules would not be accepted as an excuse.38 Prohibited items included nail polish, hairpins, and jewellery of any kind.39
Keeping hair tucked up under cotton turbans without the help of hairpins posed a chronic challenge to female operators. “You put the bandana on your head,” Sylvia said, “brought the two long ties or ends once or twice around your head and tuck each end under the bandana, with no hair showing.”40
While GECO had no fatal production-related accidents, its employees had their share of minor work-related injuries when women whacked their feet stepping over the barrier.
Some confusion remains today as to whether metal clasps in brassieres were allowed. GECOite Elizabeth Ellis recalls that they wore special brassieres that laced up. Others do not recall having to remove their bras. Sylvia Nordstrand recalls removing the metal clasps from her brassiere and improvising with elastic.41 Most probably, women bought cotton undergarments then removed the metal clasps from the bra to replace them with buttons secured by lace or elastic.
There is a story still fondly recalled after seventy years of a time when, as a “lark,” to liven things up, GECOite Carol LeCappelain and her friend dyed their bras, socks, and underwear yellow. The act was a small, spirited rebellion against their otherwise pristine white uniformed existence, as well as making a tongue-in-cheek statement about the awful yellow staining of women’s hands, face, and hair from working with tetryl powder. Carol and her friend were dubbed the “Two Canaries” by change house staff.
A “Harmless” Pack of Matches
General Engineering Company took uniform breaches very seriously, as did the Government of Canada. From the July 1942 issue of the employee newspaper came this warning:
This week an employee of Scarboro appeared in police court, pleaded guilty to a charge of violation of Section 38A of the Defence of Canada regulations, and was fined the minimum of $50.00 and costs.
The section under which he was charged states: “Every person who has in his possession a match or other fire producing device in or upon any premise in Canada used for producing, treating, handling or keeping explosives, or used for the manufacture of primers, detonators, or time fuses, shall be liable to a fine of not less than $50.00 and not more than $100.00, or to imprisonment not exceeding one month.”
The offender was found in the clean area with matches in his possession.
In a regrettable incident such as this, there is a very natural tendency towards sympathy for the person involved. Such sympathy, however, should be tempered with a realization of the seriousness of the offence. When it is appreciated that many innocent people might have lost their lives because of one person’s carelessness, it does not seem that the punishment meted out was unduly harsh, especially since ample warning had been previously given.42
In an ironic twist, GECO provided packs of matches with the company logo to their employees. The inside of the match cover read:
Keep me on the “Dirty Side”
Never on the “Clean”
Feed the Guns with Shells and things
But keep me off the scene.43
Despite the lethal hazard associated with a spark or fire around explosives, GECO provided matches to their employees for personal use. Courtesy of Barbara Dickson.
Non-Explosive Uniforms
While there was concern over what employees carried in their uniforms, management was also concerned about the outfits themselves, and the design of employee uniforms received special attention from GECO’s medical team, who spent weeks designing the workers’ clothing, considering the health, comfort, and safety of employees.44 Management sought the advice of the medical officer, personnel director, safety officer, and employees in developing the uniforms. This consultation was an example of the use of “complementary talent,” which formed a basic policy of the organization.45
The plant’s team decided “factory” cotton would be used as opposed to the heavy wool used in Britain’s arsenals.46 Cotton seemed to be much more suitable to Canada’s variable and sometimes harsh climate.47 The material chosen for employee uniforms was one example in which the company’s management adapted munitions plant design and operation from its British historical counterparts to improve safety, comfort, longevity, and efficiency.
Specifically, uniforms had to meet all safety requirements in the Danger Area. Company clothing could not contain metal or be made of silk, rayon, or wool, in order to minimize the chance of producing static electricity.48 The material had to be slow burning in case of explosion; to ensure this, uniforms were treated with a boracic solution regularly.49 Closely weaved, uniforms had to be tight-fitting, especially at the neck and wrist, to protect skin, and be free of cuffs, folds, or pleats, so as not to accumulate ammunition “dust.”50 Workers wore special nail-free shoes, made from soft, caramel-coloured leather that laced up the front, along with turbans that covered as much hair as possible, not only to minimize the transfer of explosive dust from workshops to employees, but to protect women from getting their hair caught in moving machinery.51
To add to the rigid specifications, operator uniforms had to be two-piece, side-fastening with wooden buttons, attractive to wear, economical, and comfortable.52 Finally, employee attire had to last at least one hundred washes.53
Uniforms bore the employee’s name or number, and were colour-coordinated with trim — red for H.E., black for G.P., and blue for I.G. workers.54 A coloured armband worn on the sleeve indicated rank.55 Higher-ranked clean-side officials and office staff wore smocks, and uniforms suited to the work undertaken were supplied to tradesmen such as carpenters, mechanics, medical and cafeteria staff, and messengers.56
It is hard to imagine GECO’s medical team designing a uniform that would conform to the myriad demands and restrictions as outlined above. Incredibly, they did, meeting every single requirement.
A GECO worker models a munition worker’s “clean-side” uniform, which could not contain metal or be made from silk, rayon, or wool — any fabric that could produce static electricity. Uniforms were tight-fitting and free of cuffs, folds, or pleats, so as not to accumulate ammo “dust.” Workers wore turbans that covered as much hair as possible to minimize the transfer of explosive dust from workshops to employees. Inevitably, a wayward lock would take on a yellow hue from exposure to tetryl, to become a tell-tale sign to Toronto’s public that its owner worked at GECO. Courtesy of Archives of Ontario.
What did laundry staff do with discarded or stained uniforms when they no longer were suitable for factory wear? GECOnians could purchase them for 50 cents. Their suggested use? Pyjamas.57
An Ode to Ye Olde Shift House
GECO’s employee newspaper published a humourous poem written by the “23 Gang” — the women who used Change House No. 23. It speaks to the tight security, restrictions, and impeccable standards expected of all GECOnians:
Our Barrier Lady
Into the change house
Strip off your clothes,
Up to the mirror
To powder your nose.
Back to the locker
Fasten it tight,
Or out to the guard house
You’ll trot — to-night.
Over the barrier
Chanting “All Clear!”
Mrs. Hall answers
“Please check your brassier.”
Look at your peg
No clean uniform!
Back to the barrier
Ready to storm.
No clean suit, girls?
Sweetly says Mrs. Hall;
I can’t understand
That Laundry at all.
What size do you take, dear?
Only sixteen?
Then off to the cupboard
To get your eighteen.
And you lose your anger
As with twinkling eyes,
She says “bring me a slip please,
Mark on the right size.”
Take off your net please —
No pins or rings?
Where’s your towel dear?
She tirelessly sings.
But some day in heaven
She’ll get her reward,
For the GECOites there (if any)
Will with one accord,
Say “Welcome, dear Lady
We hold you most dear.
Don’t forget to give Peter
The famous “All Clear.”58
Working on the “Clean Side”
When a GECO worker left her change house, having declared herself “All Clear!” she walked to her respective fuse-filling workshop through above-ground heated/air-conditioned galleries that connected all buildings on the clean side.59 She travelled only through areas for which she had clearance — usually her workshop — and was not permitted to wander. She needed a barrier pass to leave her workshop, even for calls of nature.60 Most clean-side employees had a very restricted view of the entire complex, not knowing or seeing much outside the narrow scope of their individual jobs, especially since all fuse-filling workshops and the gallery system were windowless.61 “Everything looked the same for miles and miles inside the buildings,” Sylvia Nordstrand said.62 “Cream coloured walls and caramel coloured flooring.”63 Employees informally identified themselves using a shortened form of the building and workshop they worked in, such as working in “Shop 67A” — representing Building No. 67, Workshop A.
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