Cold Open

It’s June 21st, 1948 at Tilbury docks, just east of London, England.

Jamaican Sam King stands on the deck of the Empire Windrush, a British passenger liner that’s just moored at its berth. After three weeks of breathing in the fresh air of the Atlantic, the smog drifting over the water from London catches in Sam’s throat. But he doesn’t mind. Instead, the 22-year-old is full of anticipation for the new life he’s about to begin in Britain.

The Empire Windrush has just completed the last leg of a long voyage. It left Australia to transport demobilized British soldiers back home after World War Two, but the large ship was nowhere near capacity. So, when it was part-way home, the captain of the Empire Windrush paused in the British colony of Jamaica and placed an advertisement in the newspaper offering cheap transit across the Atlantic. Sam decided to take up the offer. And he wasn’t the only one. Almost 500 other Jamaicans joined Sam, and now most of them throng the decks of the Empire Windrush, eager for a closer look at their new home.

As the crew finishes securing the ship in port, Sam joins the other Jamaican migrants as they head down the gangway to the dockside.

They’re met with a crowd of reporters. Sam smiles, pleased that his arrival appears to be big news in the country. Before he boarded the Empire Windrush, Sam was assured that the British were ready to welcome their colonial subjects to help the country rebuild after World War Two.

But as Sam steps onto the dock, an angry voice catches his attention. Sam looks over the heads of the reporters to see a man at the back of the crowd holding up a sign with the words “No Blacks” scrawled on it. Sam furrows his brow in confusion. He has a sinking feeling that what he’s been told might not be true—and that making a new home in Britain might be harder than he thought.

The arrival of the Empire Windrush is just the beginning of a wave of migration from the Caribbean, as over the next few years, tens of thousands more Black migrants arrive on British shores. Some Britons will welcome the newcomers, but many will resent them. The Black migrants will face widespread racial discrimination. And eventually, this will lead to protests and demands for equal treatment. And at one of the first demonstrations to gain national attention will be a boycott of the buses in the city of Bristol, one that will begin on April 30th, 1963.

Introduction

From Noiser and Airship, I’m Lindsay Graham and this is History Daily.

History is made every day. On this podcast—every day—we tell the true stories of the people and events that shaped our world.

Today is April 30th, 1963: The Bristol Bus Boycott.

Act One

It’s January 1955, in Bristol, a city in the west of England; seven years after the Empire Windrush docked with hundreds of Jamaican migrants on board.

A middle-aged bus driver opens the door to a large garage belonging to the Bristol Omnibus Company in the center of the city. Usually, at this time in the evening, the garage would be full of buses undergoing maintenance. But tonight, the vehicles are parked outside, because the Bristol branch of the Transport and General Workers’ Union is using this space for a meeting of its members. The bus driver knows exactly what’s going to be discussed tonight, because it’s all his colleagues have been talking about for the last several weeks.

After the arrival of the Empire Windrush in 1948, the number of migrants traveling to Britain increased substantially. And it wasn’t just people from the Caribbean. Thousands also arrived from the Indian subcontinent and Africa. Few received a warm welcome, though. Many landlords refused to rent to migrant families. And those who did offered substandard properties at inflated prices. Black people were barred from pubs and clubs. Their neighborhoods were vandalized at night, and Black men were attacked in the street by gangs of white youths. Black people were also excluded from many jobs—and tonight, Bristol’s transport workers are considering extending that ban to the buses.

While the chairman runs through the items on the agenda, the middle-aged bus driver shifts in his seat. It’s cold inside this cavernous garage. And after what seems like an eternity, they finally reach the item that everyone has come to discuss. A union leader stands to introduce a motion to ban Black people from working on Bristol’s buses. He argues that employing Black drivers and conductors will cause wages to drop since the bus company will have more workers to choose from. He adds that Black workers on the buses will make white passengers and other staff feel uncomfortable. But the union leader insists that his actions are not racist. In fact, he says he’s happy for Black migrants to work for the bus company as mechanics, where they’ll be kept behind the scenes and out of sight.

The middle-aged bus driver mutters in agreement, as does almost every other person in the garage. And when the matter comes to a vote a few minutes later, the motion passes easily. But the union vote has no legal authority. It’s not up to the union to decide who works on the buses—that’s a choice made by the Bristol Omnibus Company itself. But given the almost unanimous decision by the union members, the company’s management fear that their workers will go on strike and the bus network come to a standstill if they try to overrule the union. So, they agree to enact the ban.

For the next six years, Bristol’s buses run without Black drivers or conductors. The public doesn’t seem to notice - or if they do, they don’t seem to care. But then, in 1961, a local newspaper publishes a series of articles revealing the bus company’s racist hiring policy. The Bristol Omnibus Company and the workers’ union deny that there’s a color bar in place, and the controversy dies down for a while. But the truth is exposed soon enough.

The following year, the bus company experiences a staff shortage that forces them to cancel many routes. Eager to work, and to ease the strain on the local buses, a Black woman applies to become a conductor. The management of the undermanned company turns her down without explanation - and it’s not hard for the woman to guess why.

Soon after, this rejected woman’s husband joins with four friends to form a protest group: the West Indian Development Council. They want to pressure the bus company to reverse its racist hiring policy—and for inspiration for their campaign, they look across the Atlantic Ocean.

Eight years earlier, American Black activist Rosa Parks refused to move from her seat in a white-only section of a public bus in Montgomery, Alabama. Parks’ arrest spurred a year-long bus boycott in Montgomery, until such racial segregation was declared unconstitutional by the courts. Given that the Bristol dispute also involves bus transport, the West Indian Development Council decide that a similar boycott of Bristol’s buses is the best way to force the company to change.

Soon, the Council will go public with their grievances and issue a call to action. But just as in Montgomery, it will take months for the Bristol Bus Boycott to have an effect. And in the meantime, racial tensions in the city will only increase.

Act Two

It’s April 30th, 1963 in Bristol, eight years after the city’s bus workers voted to ban Black migrants working as drivers and conductors.

26-year-old Paul Stephenson stands at the side of the road, watching a bus approach the stop. As it slows down, Paul steps back and waves his hand, signaling the driver to keep going. Bus driver shakes his head in annoyance and presses on the gas, but he’s slowed down enough for Paul to get a good look through the windows. He wants to check whether local people are heeding his call to boycott the buses.

A few weeks ago, Paul became one of the founding members of the West Indian Development Council, a campaign group protesting Bristol Omnibus Company’s discriminatory hiring policies. Although he’s only in his mid-twenties, Paul is already an experienced activist. He knows his campaign group needed to collect as much evidence as possible against the bus company before beginning a boycott. So, Paul arranged for a Black friend to apply for a job as a bus driver without mentioning his ethnicity. The friend was then asked to attend an interview, but when he turned up at their offices, the bus company immediately canceled the appointment without giving a reason. That gave the West Indian Development Council the proof they needed that the bus company was refusing to employ Black workers as drivers. So yesterday, Paul called a press conference to announce a boycott of Bristol’s buses, and today, he wants to check that the message has gotten out.

As the bus roars past, Paul sees only a handful of people on board—and none of them are Black. He smiles in satisfaction and waits for the next bus to come along. Over the next few minutes, several mostly empty buses drive past, and it becomes clear that news of the boycott has spread. Paul hasn’t seen a single Black person riding the bus, and the number of white passengers is down too. But things don’t stop there.

The following day, dozens of students from the city’s university stage a march to the central bus station in support of the boycott. But although the young and liberal student population backs the protest, some other locals oppose it. Many white passengers continue to ride the bus, and drivers heckle demonstrators as they drive in and out of the bus station. The bus company attempts to play down the impact of the boycott on passenger numbers, but as its managers grow frustrated, they start attacking the West Indian Development Council in the press. Even the Bishop of Bristol criticizes the militancy of the protest and suggests that the campaign group has gone too far.

But Paul and the rest of the West Indian Development Council know that they’re in the right and refuse to back down. And it appears that a growing majority of local residents agree with them. The bus company’s revenues drop as both Black and white passengers maintain the boycott for weeks on end.

Eventually, Tony Benn, a Member of Parliament representing Bristol, sees a wider political opportunity. He persuades his party leader Harold Wilson to speak in favor of the bus boycott at an anti-Apartheid rally in London.

Wilson’s speech transforms the Bristol bus boycott from a local story into a national one. And the boycott stays in the news when the prominent former West Indian cricketer turned diplomat Learie Constantine offers his vocal support as well.

The bus company and workers’ union hope that the passengers will tire of the inconvenience and return to the buses before it impacts their profits any further. But interventions like Harold Wilson’s and Learie Constantine’s keep the boycott on everyone’s mind, and the bus company begins to feel the squeeze.

In August 1963, five months after the boycott began, around 500 bus workers gather for another union meeting. Just like eight years before, one item dominates the agenda—the employment of Black workers on buses. But unlike last time, now the workers are divided. Some want to keep the color ban. Others want to end it. But they’re all told that unless the boycott comes to a conclusion soon, the company may go out of business, and a lot of people will be out of jobs. So, eventually the bus workers vote to end the ban of Black drivers and conductors. The union will no longer stand in the way of Black drivers and conductors working alongside them.

The result of this vote gives the Bristol Omnibus Company a way out of the crisis. The very next day, managers will announce that there will be no more racial discrimination in its hiring policies, and the West Indian Development Council will call off the boycott. After five months, the Black citizens of Bristol will return to the buses—and not just as paying passengers, but as employees as well.

Act Three

It’s September 17th, 1963 in Bristol, one month after the end of the Bristol Bus Boycott.

Raghbir Singh steadies himself as the bus he’s on slows to a halt. A single passenger gets on at the bus stop and takes a seat. A little nervously, Raghbir approaches the passenger and asks their destination. Then, taking the passenger’s money, he prints out a ticket from the machine strapped over his shoulder. And as the bus pulls away, Raghbir can’t suppress a smile. He’s just taken his first fare as a bus conductor.

The coin Raghbir’s just received isn’t just the first in his new job, it’s the first fare taken by any non-white bus conductor employed by the Bristol Omnibus Company. Raghbir is a Sikh from India who was interviewed after the bus company changed its hiring procedures. And he’s not the only new employee. Four other new conductors have been appointed as well. Two are from Pakistan, and two are from Jamaica. And over the next few years, they’re joined by several others. Despite the boycott and ill-feeling that preceded their appointments, the first Black employees on Bristol’s buses find that there’s very little pushback from either passengers or their white colleagues.

And the Bristol Bus Boycott has a greater effect than just allowing Black employees to work on the city’s buses. A year after the boycott comes to an end, one of its most prominent supporters also gains a new job. In 1964, the Labor Party wins the British General Election, and Harold Wilson becomes the country’s new prime minister. Britain in the mid-1960s is changing rapidly. Old attitudes and prejudices are weakening. Harold Wilson is aware that his stance on the Bristol Bus Boycott was a popular one, and it won’t be long before his government passes a new Race Relations Act. This legislation will make it illegal for businesses to discriminate against employees or customers on the grounds of color, nationality, or ethnicity. It will be a step toward creating a more equal society in Britain. And it will come about thanks in part to the Bristol Bus Boycott, which began on April 30th, 1963.

Outro

Next on History Daily. May 1st, 1941. Orson Welles’s revolutionary debut Citizen Kane premieres in New York after a bitter battle to suppress the film.

From Noiser and Airship, this is History Daily, hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsay Graham.

Audio editing by Muhammad Shahzaib.

Sound design by Matthew Filler.

Music by Thrumm.

This episode is written and researched by Scott Reeves.

Edited by Joel Callen.

Managing producer, Emily Burke.

Executive Producers are William Simpson for Airship, and Pascal Hughes for Noiser.