Great Western Garment Company, Edmonton: A former seamstress remembers, Story by Assunta Dotto

Assunta Dotto remembers what it was like to work at the GWG during the Second World War.
\r\nDate: 1940s

I packed up everything and then there was only one chore remaining - going to the RCMP to request permission to leave Cadomin. After a lot of red tape and stern advice to report monthly at the RCMP barracks in Edmonton, permission was granted. I was given a passport-like document that had to be stamped each month. Father was livid because he felt there were a lot of unnecessary questions. As far as I was concerned, I was more Canadian than all of them put together.


In Edmonton, I soon settled into a routine of work and making new friends, in particular, two sisters, Irene and Irma Nimis, who also worked at GWG. They lived in a rented room nearby. Our lives have been connected for more than sixty years.


The GWG factory was located on 97 th Street and 104th Avenue where the Army and Navy department store is now located. It was within walking distance of where we lived; we would meet in the morning and walk together, discussing activities we might want to do in the evenings or on weekends.


My English was steadily improving and things were going well at work. Mrs. Nufer discovered my sewing skills and put me on a double-needle special machine. This machine was difficult to master and not everyone could use it. I was inserting sleeves on special orders of sailors' whites; because it was a very slow process, I was on time work rather than piece work. Otherwise I would have not made enough money to pay the rent.


After a short while, and as soon as I was able to pick up speed, Mrs. Nufer put me on piece work. I then learned the value of not wasting time. A few months later I was transferred to the work shirt department, which was in the annex, an added-on room within the GWG building. I had to join the union - all employees were required to do so. I didn't understand what the union was all about, and my lack of English didn't help. Mickey my landlady came to my rescue and explained it all to me.


GWG was a good source of employment, especially for women in the pre-war years, during the war and later for immigrants. Language was not a problem. All that was needed was the ability to operate a sewing machine. It was hard work for little pay, but better than one dollar a day I had earned for house cleaning and very much better than working as a maid in Italy. I was happy there. At coffee breaks and lunch, the girls on my line made me feel very welcome. Besides Irene (Irma had left GWG to work at Canadian bedding) there was Louise, Elsie, Juliet and Anne. They helped me with my English, never laughing at me. Many a time Irene came to the rescue - she speaks Italian - and in the end we all had a good laugh.


The factory produced a variety of mens' garments, such as blue jeans, coveralls, work shirts, as well as occasional special orders for railroad workers and others. There were also military contracts; we made the coveralls, and the khaki shirts for the Army, the sailors' whites for the Navy. It was very hard work. From the cutting room, we would receive garment pieces bundled together, including, for example, the shirt backs and fronts, sleeves, cuffs, and pockets. These bundles were distributed by a "bundle girl" to the women operating the sewing machines.


It was our job to assemble these pieces into the complete garment. We worked on an assembly line; each operator would sew on her particular piece and then the bundle girl would take the partially-completed garment to the next operator. My job was to insert the sleeves into the shoulder of the shirts.


If the bundle girl didn't remove the pieces fast enough, the line would slow down. Since we were paid by the piece, the faster we worked, the more we were paid.


A ticket card on each bundle listed the price of each operation. As each operator completed her portion, she would write her operator number on the card and remove the ticket listing the price for that piece. If an operator made a mistake, the garment would come back for repairs, which had to be done on her own time.


It was important not to mix up the bundles, since each one was cut from a different piece of cloth and the dye might not be exactly the same from one bundle to the next. If, by accident, pieces from two different bundles were sewn together, this was trouble. The garment would have be taken apart and the proper pieces found. Since this was very time-consuming, and could hold up the assembly line, an operator would often be assigned to work on these repairs.


It was hard work. By today's standards it could have been somewhat unhealthy. The speed of the needle into the fabric would produce a very fine dust from the dye in the fabric, which was inhaled by the operators. In later years, this could possibly lead to lung problems.


The men in the cutting room wore protective masks but no one thought of protecting the sewing machine operators. The finished product, especially the coveralls, were very heavy and if the bundle girl did not remove it quickly, the end-of-the-line operator would have to do it or she couldn't start another bundle. Although the bundle girl used a cart to remove the completed garments, the end-of-the-line operator would often lift the clothing by hand. Not only did this waste her time, which was money, she also risked a very sore back.


At first, none of us ever thought of complaining about some of the working conditions. When new orders came in, especially army contracts with new materials and new styles, sewing machines had to be adjusted to the lighter materials, It was a very slow process and as we were still being paid by piece work, there was hardly any money in the pay envelope at the end of the week. No minimum wage then!


Because there was a war on, we were afraid to complain, but we also had to eat. We started to voice our concerns. No one was listening. We had to find a way. All we were asking was to be paid time work until we could speed up the operation.


The way to be heard was quickly found when someone said: 'Let's turn the power off.' Returning from lunch, we would be sitting at our machines ready to start at the sound of the bell and at the same time the power would be turned on. One of us went to turn the switch off and quickly returned to her seat. Dead silence. We were all waiting for the storm.


The storm came fast in the form of examiners, mechanics, floor ladies, top brass and a union representative. Who did it? No one said a word until they asked why. To say that we were scared for having turned the power off was an understatement.


Had we not been so scared we would have realized that management couldn't fire all of us at once and hope to keep up production.


Power was restored after our concerns were noted. Details would be worked out between management and union. Pay adjustments were made.


We also dreaded a machine breakdown because it meant we had to wait for the mechanics. No production, no money. There were only three mechanics and hundreds of sewing machines. George, the head mechanic, was good and very fast to detect a problem. Max was as good but he was a very relaxed fellow; he took his time coming around. I don't remember the name of the third one. He was a handsome young man. A lot of the girls, including me, were hoping he would be the one to fix our sewing machine.


The factory was going full swing, especially in the department where the army coveralls were produced. There were three shifts a day there, and they worked six days a week. In the shirts department, we also had to work Saturdays for half a day, I never minded that as I could always use the money.


The GWG was very big in the war effort. We were encouraged to purchase Victory Bonds and War Savings Certificates through the payroll. Mrs. Stevenson, one of the floor ladies -- Stevie as we called her -- used to give talks on the importance of helping in the war effort besides saving money. She was not my floor lady but for some unknown reason I was afraid of her. Yet Stevie helped the girls to start bank saving accounts. Nellie, a friend, was just telling me a while ago that she saved $76 dollars in one year and took her first holiday in Vancouver and came back to Edmonton with a few dollars left over. That was in the early 1940s.


We were paid by the bundle. Average shirt bundles had 36 shirts, some less if materials were heavy. Blue jeans and jackets probably were 18 or 24 to a bundle. Army coveralls definitely only had 18 to a bundle; the finished garment was quite heavy. Then there were the leather jackets. My friend Irma Nimis was working in that department. It was hard work; I believe that was one of the reasons she left the GWG. and went to Canadian Bedding. Irma was very talented. She preferred to work with satins and silks. She did love to fashion bedrooms ensembles.


If we became sick at work, very rarely, there was no need to go home. In fact, the floor lady would encourage us to see the nurse at the infirmary. With a couple of aspirins, a hot water bottle and a warm bed we were ready to go back to work in an hour or two. That was good for the company and definitely very good for us. Missing work was not an option in those years.


My room and board was reasonable, but I needed more money for other spending. If I remember correctly, "felling" (inserting) a bundle of sleeves would get me 12 to 15 cents, or 20 cents tops. I also seem to remember that no operation offered more than 30 or 35 cents a bundle.


One of the advantages I had was that I fashioned my own clothes. Mickey was generous. She let me use her sewing machine so I was always well dressed without having to spend a fortune. Both Irma and Irene were doing the same thing. On a Saturday afternoon we would head downtown, wearing white gloves and shiny shoes, no runners or jeans, for an occasional movie, small purchases of needed items, and a lot of window shopping. That was about all we did. The highlight of the afternoon was going to a restaurant for tea and having our tea cup read.


I was really integrating into the Canadian way of life and enjoying every minute of it. I never took for granted how fortunate I was to be in Canada.


The work at the factory was going well. Occasionally there would be a slowdown with new orders but never as drastic as to make us want to turn the power off ever again. For some unknown reason, I was asked to be on the safety committee. It was headed by the company nurse and George, the head mechanic. That meant, at any given time, we would go and check for anything that could be a hazard such as an oil spill. We used oil to lubricate the sewing machines. I was given time pay for that.


I was saving money, purchasing War Savings Certificates almost every pay day. They cost five dollars each, big money for me. In 1945, I was able to pay for my wedding dress with some of these certificates. The dress cost $25. It was a lovely dress.


It was an achievement for me: being able to pay room and board, look after myself and save money. Not once did I ever need to ask my parents for help.


Father had made a good recovery from his illness. All was going well at home. He was happy to be back at work, enjoying the things he used to do, as well as watching his grand-daughter Bruna grow-up.


Another good change was happening. I made my father very happy when I told him I no longer needed to report to the RCMP every month. In fact, after a few months, the officer on duty in Edmonton asked me what was I doing there every month. I gave him the reason why-I was told to by the RCMP officer in Cadomin. He then went into another office, and returned shortly. He stamped a document and said: "Go and don't come back."


The GWG closed down for holidays in the summer. I don't recall if it was for two weeks or longer. I believe that there was no vacation pay then. During the war years, Stevie suggested that it made more sense to keep the factory open and give holidays one department at a time. It worked out very well. I always went home to Cadomin for the holidays. It was nice to be there in the summertime and to be with my parents. They wished I could be there with them, but they understood my need to be on my own.



A lot of my friends had left Cadomin: some for technical school, college, university, or for work in Edmonton; some to join the Armed Forces. In the Dotto family, Bino joined the Air Force, Gus was in the Army. Gus and I were writing to each other. It was totally funny. He could understand my letters written in Italian; his written Italian was beyond understanding. I suggested that he write to me in English. It was a good choice, another way to learn to read English and speak it.


My life in Edmonton was going very well. I had a good circle of friends. I liked my work at GWG. My job gave me a lot of freedom to do things that I enjoyed. I never lost sight of how fortunate I was to be here. When I was a maid in Milan, my freedom was restricted to two hours on Sundays afternoon. I had no choices of any kind. In Edmonton, I had time for going out with my friends, skating (which I never accomplished), swimming (I had to be rescued), roller skating (a total disaster), bowling (a success - until I got into a league) and dancing.


At the GWG factory, we had a very pleasant cafeteria where we could purchase soups sandwiches, coffee, milk, etc. Mickey always made me a sandwich as part of my paid board, so all I needed was a drink. My favourite was chocolate milk. We often went across the street to Palm Confectionery for lunch. We called it Frank's Café because the owner's name was Frank. The GWG cafeteria was always very busy and noisy. At Frank's we could sit and visit for a very pleasant half hour.


One day during the Edmonton Exhibition, I was having lunch at Frank's with Elsie, Juliette, Louise and Anne. On this particular day, one of the very junior floor ladies joined us. The conversation was all about the Exhibition.


I had never been to an Exhibition. I surely wanted to go, and why not now? Louise hesitated. She was a little timid. The others said yes. I was sitting facing the entrance door and two large windows, and I said, "There is the bus, let's go!" Off we went. Turning around before reaching the door, I saw the look of horror on the floor lady's face. I then realized she thought we were joking. We all had a great time at the Exhibition.. It was definitely not a wise choice to leave work in that manner. The poor floor lady was left to explain why she did not stop us.


The next morning, reporting for work, we found out how unwise the choice was. At the top of the stairs there was Mrs. Nufer and Stevie. Mrs. Nufer called out our names, and told us to wait in the cafeteria. Returning shortly, she informed us in no uncertain terms that we were all fired. Very softly I said, "You can't fire me, I have already given notice that I am leaving." (I was quitting to return to Cadomin to marry Gus.) She paid no attention. She proceeded to give us our pay owing. She told us that now we had lots of time for the Exhibition. Needless to say, I felt really bad because I was the one that had such a bright idea. So much for freedom of choice.


The good news was that the girls were asked to return to work shortly after they were fired, because the factory needed the workers to keep up production. Mrs. Nufer wanted to make an example of us to show that we couldn't just take time off work. All went back except one, who chose other employment.


I left Edmonton. I married Gus Dotto on August 18, 1945. For the next eight years we lived in Cadomin where our two girls, Lydia and Teresa, were born. We had a good life there, and we had a nice home. It did not last.


With the coming of the oil in Alberta, coal was no longer needed. One after another, the Coal Branch towns became ghost towns. There was only one choice left - move to Edmonton. We did that in 1953.


The first few years in Edmonton were as hard as they could be. With a two-year-old and a four-year-old to care for, employment was out of the question. One pay cheque in the city did not leave anything for extras. Economizing was second nature to me. I knew we could do it. My two friends from the GWG plant, Irene and Irma, both married and living in Edmonton, were a great help to us in many ways.


Once the girls were in school, I considered going back to the GWG, but I was wondering if I had a record there of being fired. I didn't want to chance it. Besides a full-time job at that time was not practical. For a few years, I worked part time in the food services. Then in 1965, I took the plunge and went back to apply at GWG. No one remembered me. Of course not. In 1943 my name was Assunta Paron; in 1965 my name was Assunta Dotto.


The GWG plant had moved to another location, I believe it to be north of Jasper Avenue near 85th Street. It took up a square block of space. It was huge.


My first day back at work was a revelation. The work area was all on the main floor. Entering it, all I could see was a sea of sewing machines. At each one, a bent-over operator was working as if her life depended on it. All the operators were women. No one was saying anything. It looked like someone had pushed a button, and I was going back 20 years. Nothing had changed. Once again I was assigned a double-needle machine doing the finishing on the edge of blue jeans pockets.


Even the method of paying the wages had not changed. Once a week, every Friday, after working a full shift, all of us were tired, hungry, dusty and sweaty. We still had to stand in line and wait to collect our pay envelopes. This time, I only stayed a year because I felt the work had become too hard.


Not many Canadian-born women worked there. There were a lot of Italians, as well as Chinese, Vietnamese and Polish women. Like myself, 20 years before, all were feeling very fortunate to have the opportunity to improve their lives.


My family was able to make a good life in Edmonton. It is the city we called home for 50 years.