Foreign News: Revolt in the Underground

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In the Battle of Britain, Londoners proved their readiness to queue if necessary and to bear steadfastly whatever had to be put up with. In the piping times of peace, rather than create an un-English "fuss," Londoners have often submitted to arbitrary indignities that would outrage a Stoic.

For years Londoners allowed themselves to be herded in and out of crowded Underground trains at the bellowed command of "Move along there, PLEASE!'' With the same unquestioning obedience, they marched off trains that stopped short of their scheduled destinations when ordered to and waited patiently on platforms for the next train.

The breaking point came early this month. An anonymous middle-aged man raised the standard of revolt, refused to budge when told to get off an Underground train that had come to a dead stop. He shouted: "It says on the front of the train that it is going to Dagenham East!" And, glaring around at his sheeplike fellow passengers, he added: "That is where we are all going, aren't we?"

Complaint. Though embarrassed because a fuss was being made, and because they were being addressed by a total stranger, a few murmured shy agreement. A reckless one or two applauded these strong words, never before uttered aloud on the Underground. Passengers who had docilely left the train discovered what was going on and re-entered like lions. The helpless guard fetched the station master, and the intimidated station master fetched a policeman, who blandly said he could do nothing unless the passengers were disorderly, and clearly they were not. For half an hour the embattled mutineers ignored threats and blandishments. Then the station master gave in, and the train went on to Dagenham East with the rebels waving their bowlers and umbrellas in triumph.

The victory raised the spirits of Underground travelers. Beneath the neat mufflers, hearts pounded with the excitement of successful defiance of authority. Few days later, 400 passengers refused to leave a train at Aldgate station when ordered to and shouted down a London Transport inspector who tried to explain that the train's failure to move was due to an equipment failure. "I couldn't get a hearing," he said, appalled. "I was one man against a mob."

Authority struck back with a fiendish plan. Trains that mutineers refused to leave were rerouted to other destinations, leaving the rebels miles from home. Twelve sit-down rebels found that their train was going backward toward its point of origin. Huffed Brian Harbour, operations chief of London Transport: "We can't stand for chaos any longer. A few people refusing to leave a train can delay thousands." Detrainment, as he called the ejection of passengers, could not be avoided.* All this was shocking news to Londoners, long proud of the Underground's superiority to the New York subway and Paris Metro.