A man who worked at Abadan, traversed the traditional site of the Garden of Eden and has been in engine-rooms of liners on the Australian run and in tramp-steamers to the romantic ports of South America is the senior member of another quartette of British Bata workers who all come from one family - Charlie Summers, (left) who moulds lasts in the engineers’ department.
His daughter Valerie is a worker in the printing department, and his sons, David and Peter, are in other shops in the engineering department - and it is fortunate that they are separated when working, as they are identical twins, and as like the two proverbial peas.

Charlie has been at East Tilbury for six years, and was a bender before he started to mould lasts. He likes the work, and has every intention of staying with the Company. “I hope it will be my last port,” he told Bata Record - and he has certainly been around.
For eight years he was at Abadan, on Shell-Mex tankers bunkering ships on ;the River Euphrates, in the days when the Persians were friendly and nationalism was not even a theory. With an Egyptian who had acted as interpreter to Lawrence of Arabia, he enjoyed several trips over to Iraq, and generally had an enjoyable time.
“The remarkable thing about that part of the world,” he said, “is - or was, the succession of beautiful gardens, brimming over with fruit and flowers of all kinds. It is in a strip of land traditionally believed to have been the Garden of Eden. Both on and off the Abadan estate, we had all the amenities we wanted, although the natives then were not literate or educated.”
Twelve months in the engine-rooms of liners on the Australian service and work in similar departments of tramp-steamers to the romantic-sounding ports of South America - Rio, Sao Paulo, Montevideo, Buenos Aires, La Plata - also formed part of Charlie’s log of experience. He was a petty officer, and, like other people who have served in that part of the world, considers that the romance - if any - of it considerably overstressed. “No colorful adventures happened to me,” he said, “but then I usually went ashore alone; things usually happen in that part of the world when one is in a crowd.”
A native of Dorset, with an accent still reminiscent of that county of charm and history, Charlie likes his work at East Tilbury, and is enthusiastic about the Bata system. “Here. one is paid a certain rate and knows what to expect at the end of the week,” he remarked. “This is not the case at some other factories; it would be better for industry if it were.”
Charlie breeds fish for a hobby, and has a big pool full of them in his garden at Corringham. some of them - tench, carp, rudd - are more than a foot land, and others are less than an inch.

His children “quizzed” him so much about British Bata that he suggested they should find out for themselves what it was like. So they did. Valerie, (right) in particular, is very enthusiastic. Aged 17, she is a general favourite in the printing department, where she is a finisher - that is, she numbers. perforates and stitches leaflets, schedules, programmes, and the other many and various items produced in the room where British Bata literature is born.
When she first came to the printing department, her workmates rather unkindly thought her high spirits would “finish” them. Now she is a sedate and grave young lady, conscientious and capable, but still full of the joy of life.
“She has always been a good worker,” said Foreman Bert Webbe.
Valerie spent her first six months at East Tilbury as a linker in the hosiery department, but is keener on her present job.

“It is interesting, and I hope to get on at it,” she explained, “I have made many friends since coming here.”

When not working, she goes dancing, which is her favourite pastime, or tends the flower-garden at home, in which she spends three or four evenings a week.
Although they work in separated departments - David and apprentice fitter and turner in Dept 710 and Peter a sheet metal worker in Dept 712 - the twins have already, more than once, caused confusion among engineer foremen about their identity, few people being able to distinguish them from t’other.

They came straight from Hassenbrooke School at Easter, and both ope to make an engineering career with the Company. “It is nice work, and there are a friendly lot of chaps,” said David (or Peter).
“Yes, and the workshops are light and airy, much better than other factories,” said the other, from the depths of profound experience.
They are good workers, never happier than when they are doing one of three things: a) making or mending something: b) pretending to be each other; c) keeping Valerie in order. The last occupation, they say, is necessary from time to time, but Valerie disagrees, and is dearly looking forward to the day when she will be 21, and have a grown-up’s authority over them (she hopes).
As for the first point, they are now enthralled at the manufacture of model diesel-engine aeroplanes, with which they experiment every night. They buy the engines, and sometimes other parts as well, and assemble everything at home. These planes have a somewhat turbulent history, as sometimes they fly one evening and crash the next. “But we soon rebuild them, or build new ones,” said one of the twins. “We have been interested in model planes of all kinds.”
Typical of the identity difficulty was the occasion when David was seen coming from the First-Aid Centre, after being treated for a slight accident. “You should have reported to me first,” said the foreman who saw him.
“But I don’t work for you,” was the reply.
The foreman thought he was speaking to Peter.