This text provides some new information and further details regarding Monsignor ANCEL’s work experience as an employee at Établissements T. David in Gerland from 1954 to 1959.
The comments reported here were recorded by Pierre David in 1984, following the death of Monsignor Ancel, from his father, François David, who was the director of the company that had taken him on in late 1954.
During a visit we paid him at the Mâcon care home, Pierre gave us a copy of the manuscript he had written at the time and kept in his archives. We have incorporated into it some relevant historical and technical background information, which he had covered in a second report devoted to the other workshop specialising in textile recycling and the manufacture of polishing discs – that of Madame Chapolard in Saint-Fons.
First-hand accounts, based on the entrepreneur’s perceptions and memories three decades later, transcribed and edited by Pierre. Fresh material that is sure to interest readers.
Some memories of Monsignor Alfred ANCEL, who worked for Etablissements T. DAVID from 1954 to 1959.
(Interview conducted in Toussieu in November 1984 by Pierre DAVID with François DAVID, the company’s director).
«It was at the end of 1954 that Monsignor ANCEL came to seek work at the factory which I was running with my brother Jean DAVID. He had obtained authorisation from Rome, within the Prado community, to undertake a new pastoral experiment amongst the working class by sharing in their working conditions. Rome had, however, imposed one restriction: this work had to be carried out at home, and not in a craft workshop or a factory.
Monsignor ANCEL came to Gerland, where our factory was located, on the advice of Father CAPTIER, a priest from Prados, who was in charge of the house at Saint-Léonard, in the commune of ALBIGNY-sur-SAONE (69).
We had had links with the PRADO for quite some time. Indeed, the DAVID family, who lived at 9 Place Raspail in Lyon, were on good terms with the priests at the Prado, who were in charge of the family’s parish: Saint-André. Furthermore, before moving to Gerland shortly before the war, the craft workshop was situated on Rue Montesquieu, and it was not uncommon for it to take in «wards» of Sister Anna, whose mission was to help prostitutes wishing to «get out of the trade».
Furthermore, during the occupation, the company had received assistance from the Prado: to prevent our stock of fabric from being requisitioned by the Germans, we had hidden part of it on the premises on Rue du Père Chevrier; more importantly, as part of another metal refining operation, the company had acquired a large consignment of used nickel anodes before the war, in the form of crushed scrap metal contained in heavy iron drums; an order issued by the Vichy regime had required every company to declare its stocks of non-ferrous metals, which my brother and I had refused to do; but then another order was issued by the Kommandantur on 1er In the first quarter of 1943, with a view to requisitioning stocks of non-ferrous metals, including searches of businesses likely to hold such stocks… Once again, some of the drums were transported to the Prado house.
As soon as the Liberation came and the war ended, the company was able to resume its activities, in particular those involving the manufacture of goods made from recycled fabric: rags, old clothes and worn-out sheets, military blankets, etc. These fabrics of all kinds were delivered in bales of strong, coarse jute sackcloth, which had to be unpacked before sorting: on the one hand, the «fine» pieces, the largest pieces, from which it was possible to cut out flat panels and squares of fabric that would become polishing discs; on the other, those that became «wiping cloths» resold to garage owners, printers, etc.—all sorts of people who were constantly working with a rag in hand; finally, the pile of «frayed» scraps, suitable for being carded with metal brushes and unravelled to produce a mat of interlaced fibres held together by simple parallel stitches.
This is where Father CAPTIER and his Maison de Saint-Léonard came into the picture. Indeed, we supplied this type of work – including the processing of the «noble» part into polishing discs – to the workshop run by Father CAPTIER for former common law prisoners or political prisoners (collaborators), those granted sentence reductions, those under house arrest or subject to a residence ban, who found refuge in Saint-Léonard.
Sorted, then all cut into squares, the fabric panels were attached in successive layers to a ring of pegs to form a pad, which was held together by a spiral stitch, ready to be cut into discs of varying thicknesses but perfectly circular after being die-cut.
Whilst visiting this workshop, Monsignor ANCEL, Auxiliary Bishop of Lyon and Superior General of the Prado, realised that the work carried out there might be suitable for what he was authorised to do: it could be done from home; it could be paid on a piecework basis; the business owner and the Prado had known each other for a long time; the company was situated in Gerland, very close to the very place where the small working community he was leading had settled to undertake this experiment (two brothers working full-time in a factory and two priests working three hours a day in small businesses).
And so Monsignor ANCEL came to ask me to take him on as a domestic worker. I agreed, whilst making it clear to him from the outset:
- Your Grace, I would point out that you cannot expect to earn a decent living here through manual labour, for three reasons: firstly, you are a man, and this work – which requires dexterity – is generally women’s work; secondly, you have only one eye, which makes it considerably difficult for you to judge distances correctly; and finally, you are an intellectual, and you have never done anything with your hands!!!
- ‘Well, at least you’re straightforward,’ he replied, without a trace of bitterness.
- Yes, Your Grace, I wanted to tell you this straight away, as I wouldn’t want people to judge the salaries I pay on the basis of what yours will be…
I soon realised that, for these various reasons, Alfred ANCEL achieved a productivity rate of 1, whereas a somewhat experienced worker at Madame Chapolard’s workshop in Saint-Fons (another workshop I supplied) managed 2.2 or more.
After I had agreed to take him on, Monsignor ANCEL asked me where he could «learn the trade». I suggested he could do so at the Gerland factory, or with the women in the Saint-Fons workshop, or, if he preferred, in Saint-Léonard with the «ex-prisoners».
That was the solution he chose.
His apprenticeship, incidentally, gave rise to an anecdote which was later recounted to me by Father CAPTIER, whom I had asked how his «boss» had been trained:
- It was BIDROT, a prisoner acting as foreman, who took charge of him, he told me; he handed him over to two lads, one a former inmate from Cayenne and the other under house arrest, who work for you and get the job done quickly.
- Do they know he’s the auxiliary bishop of Lyon?
- No, of course not! Father ANCEL didn’t want me to tell BIDROT, or anyone else for that matter. And anyway, after a short while, they came to see me and said, «We don’t know where that bloke’s from, but he’s as daft as a bat!».
An assessment – no doubt rather harsh – of Monsignor ANCEL’s mediocre skill and poor output in carrying out manual labour.
Following this «training», roughly every fortnight, the factory driver would visit Monsignor ANCEL at the Gerland community to collect the finished work and deliver the bales of rags that served as the raw material. This back-and-forth continued for nearly five years.
On the other hand, he would come to the factory himself to collect his pay. There, everyone knew who he was – the auxiliary bishop of Lyon – and everyone called him Monsignor. It was Fellah, a North African who had worked at the factory for a very long time, who weighed his output, and the secretaries drew up his payslip. His status was that of a home-based worker, paid on a piecework basis; he paid Social Security contributions just like any other employee.
Usually dressed in a black jacket, dark trousers and a black beret, he would come to collect his wages, either on foot or by bicycle. This often gave him the opportunity to chat with people. These encounters, though sporadic, certainly forged quite deep bonds. For instance, when one of the two secretaries had to be admitted to hospital, he went to visit her there, and she was very touched by this.
Was he able, together with the factory staff, to discuss matters of religion or the role of the Church? I cannot say.
What is certain, however, is the genuine affection he inspired, even amongst members of staff who had no connection whatsoever with Catholicism.
Whether with me or with my brother, Bishop ANCEL had the opportunity to raise the issue of his involvement. Personally, I was opposed to this sort of involvement. I felt that a bishop’s place was not there, and I told him so. For him, it was the only way to truly connect with working-class people. But most of the time, we talked about economic issues, and about what he had also discovered during certain trips he had to undertake.
One point we have often discussed is that of employers« responsibilities. I was very keen for Monsignor ANCEL to see that employers are not solely concerned with personal enrichment and the exploitation of workers. I had, in fact, responded to a statement on this subject—which I considered rather simplistic—made by Cardinal Gerlier, by writing him a letter to which I never received a reply… To Monsignor ANCEL, I once took the liberty of saying: »Your Excellency, when you have finished your experience as a “worker-bishop”, I would very much like you to try your hand at being a “boss-bishop”, so that you may judge for yourself!’
In fact, I felt that certain positions taken by the Church, which systematically favoured the labour movement, amounted to an unfair bias in light of what I was experiencing or what I was trying to achieve on a daily basis.
The period when Monsignor ANCEL worked for us was also the time when the Algerian War began. In all that time, I never had the opportunity to speak to him about this issue, or about the political choices it gave rise to.
I am also unaware of any links the Gerland community may have had with certain members or supporters of Algerian political networks. The only discussion I recall regarding Algeria concerned a convergence of views on solutions combining craft trades and agricultural life in Kabylie. We’d arrived at this point following a discussion about peasant-workers in the Ardèche. It seemed to me to be a fundamental debate for the modernisation of Algeria. The option of large industrial complexes – which was completely at odds with this perspective – was ultimately chosen…
I went to the Gerland Community several times to deliver the bales and collect the finished work. I sometimes arrived at mealtimes and was invited to join them. It was fine, and always came with a huge salad. The workshop was on the ground floor, next to the kitchen where meals were eaten. When Monsignor ANCEL was working in this workshop, he would pull his beret down over his blind eye: he had removed his glass eye, as the dust caused by handling the rags might irritate his eye socket.
I had the opportunity to see him on other occasions, including at one of my daughters« confirmation at the Sainte-Croix parish. He was officiating alongside Monsignor Bornet. At the end of the ceremony, I went to greet him in the sacristy. Very warmly, he said to me: “Well, Mr David, what are you doing here? And he introduced me to everyone present as his ”boss»!’
- «I’m here because you’ve just confirmed one of my daughters. Do you need a lift anywhere now, after the ceremony?»
- «No, no! Thank you, I’m on my bike…»
A reply that is typical of his straightforward nature.
Our last meeting took place in Gerland, when he came to tell me about Rome’s decision to put a stop to the ‘worker-priests’ experiment. He came to the factory to sort out his National Insurance paperwork and close his file.
After that, I believe he ended up travelling extensively to various countries, including Japan, and we never saw each other again, except on one occasion when I was travelling to Toulouse whilst he was on his way to Lourdes.
François David. Interview by Pierre David, in Toussieu, November 1984