The writer hitherto merely a peripatetic pilgrim, henceforth must be regarded as a mandarin, as on this auspicious day he was invested with a button - a gross of 'em, to be precise. This interesting ceremony occurred in the course of a visit to the factory of the Nagasaki Ki Botan Kwaisha, where so many thousands of buttons were seen, made and in the making, that it was forcibly borne upon him that buttons, like pins and dead donkeys, must be included in the list of unsolved mysterious disappearances.
After a short rickshaw ride from the hotel, the Pilgrim arrived at the gate of the factory, which is located in a number of one and two storeyed buildings, a busy hive, from whence the hum of machinery issued. From the gateway to the office, piles of shells, each riddled with perforations were observed, each perforation signifying that the missing disc now figures somewhere, or upon someone, as the common but absolutely essential button.
Arriving at the office, thanks to the introduction provided by the Japan Tourist Bureau, although the Manager and his staff were obviously extremely busy, the writer was welcomed and after a few minutes conversation, permission to inspect the plant was accorded and a member of the office staff told off to act as Cicerone to the visiting “Horrander San” whose advent, apparently, occasioned a partial cessation of work and excited much comment, among the bevy of charming young ladies in an adjoining room, who were supposed to be diligently at work, sewing the finished buttons upon the cards, backed with tinsel which are familiar to commerce.
It must be stated, with regret, that notwithstanding the ascetic mien and extremely “proper” appearance of the Pilgrim, several of these damsels proved themselves adepts in the gentle art of “making eyes”; but he escaped from the barrage of this dangerous battery and proceeded to the workshops.
The shells, it was learned with surprise, come from Hankow! Shipments also arrive from Tientsin and the shell is considerably larger than that of the Omura oyster. After being washed and the incrustations removed, the shell is taken into a long, low building in which a number of drilling machines are installed, the motive power being supplied by electricity. Here some forty men drill the discs from the shell, boring the holes as closely together as possible, in order to obtain the greatest possible number from each shell. As each of these men works 12 hours a day and the process of drilling out a disc is commenced and completed in four seconds, statisticians may at their pleasure figure out just how many discs drop through into the basket in the course of a working day.
The perforated shell is conveyed to another department where it is converted into line of an excellent grade while the discs pass to the grinding room, where the edges and that side which formed the outer part of the shell are trimmed up and smoothed off by grinding wheels.
Seated in front of a row of these wheels, a number of girls place the discs, one by one and rough side uppermost, in a groove terminating with a slot, down which they (the discs, not the girls) disappear, to be brought in contact with the revolving wheel. The writer stood watching the nimble fingers of one of these girls - 90 discs a minute being the average so dealt with. Feeding the insatiable maw of this machine for twelve hours per day, Sundays included, must indeed, be a terribly monotonous occupation and all for a wage of thirty sen a day!
From this machine, the roughly polished discs pass to the countersink drills. Expert work this, seemingly, as the operators are all of the sterner sex, some, the most proficient, being in receipt of “high wages” – as much as one whole yen a day being earned! At this machine is drilled the little countersunk depression seen on the front of the button, also the rims and edges of the more ornamental types, the countersinking, rims etc., being executed at one operation, according to the shape of the “bit” used in the machine.
The potential pearl button now passes upstairs to another department where the holes are pierced, four, two or one hole, as in the case of buttons with a shank, in which the thread is not seen. On a number of tables are installed a number of horizontal drills, operated by foot power, the operator seated in front of each machine with her feet on the treadles. In the case of two, or four holed buttons, the drills are arranged in pairs, or quartettes, all the holes being pierced simultaneously, the time so occupied being five seconds for each button. Fitting the disc into a slot, the operatress, by means of the “feed,” brought it in contact with the drill-points; a slight pressure and the holes were pierced, the button falls through into a receptacle and the slot is in position again to receive another disc, and so the work go on.
The single hold buttons are drilled by younger girls at an adjacent bench several of whom, judging by their youthful appearance, appearing to have successfully evaded the notice of the School Attendance Officer, if there be such a functionary at Omura!
Despite their long hours and the monotonous nature of their occupation, they all seemed to be happy and, it may be remarked, that there was no notice indicating that a strict silence be maintained. Possibly, the knowledge of having a job, however monotonous or ill paid, was a source of jubilation, as even in flourishing and prosperous Japan, “the high and increased cost of living” is no mere newspaper or magazines phrase.
The buttons pass next to the boiling room, where they are boiled in large vats with “Okusuri” (medicine), the conductor described it but probably a strong alkaline solution, after which they are poured into wooden, churn-shaped tubs, revolving, open head upwards, on an inclined axis, the thousands of buttons polishing one another by the mutual abrasion. The next process is the final, dry polish which they obtain in huge, revolving wooden drums, from whence they pass, each a fit and proper button, to a large, airy room adjoining the office, where, as previously described, they are sewn upon cards and racked for export. Large godowns and storerooms indicate the extent of the output, which averages some 800 gross per diem.
After being presented with a sample of the work produced, the Pilgrim expressed his appreciation of the kindness and attention of which he had been the recipient, in the course of which, happing to make use of the popular “Ai do-an-no-te,” considerable giggling resulted in the sewing department and not wishing to further clog the wheels of industry, he took his departure and returned to Kambutsu-ya.
As there was still some considerable time to elapse previous to the departure of the train, on arrival at the hotel the further services of the ricksha man were dispensed with. The usual “hold up” ensued. When, in response to the enquiry “how much?” a figure was named which seemed rather stiff the enquiry was repeated, with emphasis on the “how,” so to speak. Same result. Thinking possibly a little sarcasm would facilitate matters, the Pilgrim, closing with the deal, replied, “All right, dekimasu. Can do. Bring it inside, I'll buy it.”
Followed profuse explanation to the effect that the sum mentioned was the fare only and did not include the purchase of the vehicle and it necessitated the combined efforts of Kurumaya-san, Okamisan, and her staff to bring the truth home to the foreign stranger. The usual result. “Another Successful Hold-up” par. for the newspapers. While removing his boots previous to entering, the Pilgrim discoursed feelingly upon the iniquities of Kurumaya-san and explained what a joyful land China was in this respect.
This removal of one's boots, previous to entering a Japanese hotel, has its advantages (from mine host's point of view). The boots being kept in a cabinet downstairs in full view of the office, serve as a check upon the guest's activities; hence, the joyous practice known as “shooting the moon,” which is achieved by sliding down a convenient rain pipe, is unknown in this land. The act of removal also has its disadvantages, as during this operation the unwary guest is apt to “be caught bending,” so to speak.
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