At No. 76 Clare Street in the little Welsh town of Merthyr, an old man sits before a glowing fireplace. Aberdare Mountain rises just opposite the front porch and the River Taff flows by the back garden. At 79, old Jim Horner, sometime foremen at the Merthyr railroad station, is as clear of speech and keen of wit as ever. He is also as stoutly devoted as ever to his son Arthur, old Jim's pride and pain. Arthur has gone far since his childhood in Merthyr. Today he holds the fate of the nation in his clenched fists.
As general secretary and boss of the National Union of Mine Workers, Arthur Horner controls the key to Britain's survival—coal. No matter how much aid the U.S. gives Britain and the Continent, Europe cannot recover unless Britons mine more coal. After a slight increase last spring, coal production is falling off again. That was the gist of Fuel and Power Minister Emanuel Shinwell's report to the House of Commons last week.
Arthur Horner himself, with a grimness he almost seemed to relish, told 50,000 of his men at Morpeth last week: "We shall be five million tons short of our requirements by the end of 1947." Mrs. Ivy Lee, a young London matron, understood what that meant. She said: "A good thing I didn't give away my little boy's push pram—looks like coming in handy again this winter, if we have to queue for a few pounds down at the old coal wharf."
How would Arthur Horner use his vast power in Britain's economic crisis? Arthur Horner's first loyalty is not to his country or his town, to his King or his father. Arthur Horner is a Communist.
The Preacher. When Arthur Horner was born in Merthyr 53 years ago, Britain was mighty and coal was at the core of her might. Old Jim Horner raised his son to fear God. Young Arthur forgot much of what old Jim taught him, but Arthur never forgot that coal meant power.
He went to work in a barbershop when he was twelve, as a wobbler's boy (in charge of lathering the customers). Then he became a grocer's helper; all evening he would fill his little wooden wagon with goods, and at midnight he started his laborious deliveries to the scattered cottages on the mountainside; at the edge of town a small, bespectacled man would meet him and help him pull the heavy load. It was his father, who always tried to make things easier for his son.
Arthur discovered a talent for preaching. One day, a lay preacher in the town fell ill and asked Arthur to take his place. From then on, though he was only 16, his fluent voice began to echo through the Welsh valleys. Old Jim skimped to send the youngster to a Baptist training college.
Then Jim Horner's money ran out. Arthur had to quit his religious studies, take a job in the coal pits. But he kept preaching. His sermons became tinged with socialism, and gradually only socialism remained. The mine owners fired him and he was blacklisted in all the Welsh mines. When World War I broke out, he refused to bear arms in what he called "an imperialist and anti-working-class war."