Echos of Industry

During Stoke-on-Trent’s industrial boom, Carol worked as a lithographer at Royal Doulton on Nile Street in Burslem. The factory atmosphere was one of necessity. According to Carol, workers didn’t particularly want to be there, but they made the best of it. As a piecework operation, speed dictated earnings, so employees worked as fast as possible. As one could imagine, she recalls how the factory was often stiflingly warm, especially in summer when the kilns below radiated heat, turning the space into a greenhouse. With no fans or cooling systems, workers would have to sweat through their shifts, adding to the discomfort.

Despite these conditions, Carol was still able to recall some small comforts. Employees could smoke at their desks, drink coffee, and listen to the radio, though lithographing required both hands, making it difficult to eat or smoke while working. Conversation and music filled the workspace, providing some relief from the repetitive nature of the job. Occasionally, difficult assignments—such as mismatched plates and lithographs—meant employees couldn’t earn extra money from piecework, so they would relax and work at a slower pace instead.

Workers tracked their productivity using handmade numbered tickets, which they placed on stacks of a dozen plates before sending them down a central belt. Some employees found ways to game the system, placing extra tickets on stacks to inflate their numbers. In more extreme cases, management discovered plates hidden in toilet cisterns—evidence that some workers were dodging repairs they were expected to redo in their own time. The job itself required precision and specific tools, such as squeegees worn down to fit each user’s hand, cloth dabbers made from old hospital sheets—grimly nicknamed “death shrouds”—and razor-sharp craft knives that often left workers with cuts.

Despite the demanding nature of the job, Carol formed strong, lifelong friendships. The factory had a dark sense of humor, which helped workers cope but could also lead to unintentional harshness. It was a “sink or swim” environment, where resilience was essential. One of the biggest concerns was repetitive strain injury, a common issue among lithographers, which left many wondering how they would cope if it happened to them.

At its peak, Royal Doulton played a vital role in Burslem’s economy. Workers spent their lunch breaks patronising local shops, pubs, and food vendors, keeping the town bustling. Nurseries and childminders flourished around the factory, catering to the workforce’s needs. Shops like Woolworths thrived during this period, benefiting from a steady influx of customers. However, when the factory closed, the impact on the community was immediate. Many local businesses shut down, nurseries disappeared, and the once-thriving streets fell silent. Today, Carol remarks that the area feels largely abandoned, with most shops converted into takeaways and little foot traffic to sustain a vibrant economy.

She believes Burslem’s rich industrial history is undervalued. Its beautiful architecture remains overlooked, and she laments the absence of a dedicated museum to celebrate its legacy. Once regarded as high-quality ceramics, Royal Doulton products are now seen as outdated, sold for pennies rather than displayed with pride. She sees the factory’s decline as part of a broader issue in Stoke-on-Trent, a city too reliant on its pottery heritage. The failure to innovate and adapt has left the region struggling to redefine itself in the modern era, clinging to the past instead of investing in future industries.

Another one of the interviewees, Karen, worked across multiple pottery firms in administrative and managerial roles, including as a wage clerk at Royal Doulton Paladin Works and Royal Adderley China, before moving into production control at Elizabethan China, James Kent, and Carlton Ware. Unlike the factory floor, where she reported that workers often operated in a more relaxed but fast-paced environment, Karen’s role required strict attention to hierarchy and precision. At Elizabethan China, the owners, Mr. Derek and Mr. Peter, she stated, commanded deep respect, and employees understood their place in the structure. Answering back to a superior was unheard of, and skilled workers formed their own distinct teams—hand paintresses viewed themselves as the elite, while casters and mould makers each had their own defined roles and reputations.

To this day, Karen recalls that the atmosphere across these firms carried a strong sense of pride and camaraderie. She also recalls the distinct smell of clove oil all over the workspace, the friendliness among colleagues, and the unwavering respect people had for one another and for their craft. One of her most memorable experiences was counting wages in the strongroom at Royal Doulton’s head office on Nile Street. Everything was handled in cash, and no one could leave until every penny was accounted for.

However, the role came with its challenges. According to Karen, even the slightest wage miscalculation would spark intense discussions, as workers relied on their earnings and expected absolute accuracy. One of the most difficult moments of her career was informing half the workforce, over 70 employees, that they were being made redundant. It was an emotional and devastating experience, made even more difficult by the personal connections she had built with the workers over the years.

Like many others, Karen acknowledges how the pottery industry played a crucial role in the local economy, supporting not only the factories themselves but also a network of surrounding businesses. There were always oatcake shops, newsagents, and sweet shops nearby, as well as reliable bus routes that ensured workers could commute easily. When the factories began to close, the effects rippled through the community. Karen vividly remembers one man who had worked at the same factory for 49 years, sitting on the curb in tears after losing both his job and his retirement plan. The closures stripped away not just livelihoods but a deeply ingrained sense of identity and pride.

Today, she feels profound sadness and frustration when she sees the state of these once-thriving sites. What were once bustling communities are now vast, empty wastelands. She believes the council failed to protect this rich heritage, allowing history to be erased rather than preserved. While some aspects of Stoke-on-Trent’s pottery legacy are showcased in places like Hanley Museum, she argues that more should be done—this history should be actively taught in schools and celebrated more prominently.

For Karen, the most significant contribution of these factories was the unparalleled skill and reputation of Stoke-on-Trent’s potters, known as the finest in the world. The industry was not just a source of employment but a defining aspect of the city’s identity. Looking back, she believes the decline of these sites has deeply damaged the city, leaving behind an economic void that has yet to be fully addressed. In her eyes, the loss of the potteries has ruined Stoke-on-Trent, stripping it of its heart and leaving the challenge of rebuilding its future.

Joanne worked as an enamel selector at Royal Doulton. The factory environment was intense, even more so, in the summer when the combination of skylights and kilns made the work environment unbearable. According to Joanne, the heat made the 6 a.m. to 2 p.m. shift everybody’s preference. As a piecework job, speed and efficiency were key—Joanne sorted through ware, marking faults for correction or designating pieces as seconds to be sold at a lower price. The constant clattering of dishes filled the workspace as she sifted through myriads of cups, saucers, plates, platters, and bowls, checking their fronts, backs, and edges with great speed—100 saucers in under ten minutes if she was good at it, shuffling them like playing cards.

The strongest memories Joanne has of her time at Royal Doulton are the camaraderie among the women she worked with and the deep bonds of friendship that lasted beyond the factory floor. Many employees had family connections to the factory, including Joanne herself—her father, stepmother, aunts, uncles, and grandfather all worked there. There was a tradition of celebrating weddings by dressing up the bride or groom and pushing them around the factory in a ware cart, creating moments of joy and laughter in an otherwise demanding job.

Though the work was physically challenging, it was fulfilling. Employees took pride in their roles, and the wages and holidays made the effort worthwhile. The factory was at the heart of the local community, employing entire families and fostering a sense of stability and pride. The surrounding area thrived, with well-kept houses and a strong sense of local pride. Most workers lived close to the factory, further reinforcing the sense of community.

The closure of Royal Doulton was devastating. Joanne recalls a newspaper article from the time, reporting that she, her father, and her then-husband were all made redundant within six months of each other. Her father had to lay off his entire team before losing his own job after 30 years of service. The impact rippled through the community, leaving thousands without work. The local economy suffered, and families who had relied on stable employment for generations faced sudden uncertainty.

Today, the site where Royal Doulton once stood has been demolished and replaced with a housing estate. For Joanne, this transformation is bittersweet—it is difficult to see a place once filled with hard work, laughter, and shared experiences reduced to mere street names in a new development. The history of the factory is not well preserved, and aside from personal stories, there are few reminders of its impact on the city.

Joanne believes that Royal Doulton’s legacy lies in the creativity and strong work ethic of its people. The factory workers of Stoke-on-Trent were skilled, dedicated, and took immense pride in their craft. The closure of sites like Royal Doulton forced many to adapt, taking on new trades or reinventing their careers. Joanne's father became a fruit and vegetable delivery driver, while she transitioned into retail before eventually becoming a self-employed artist and jeweller. However, for many, the job losses were catastrophic, wiping out entire family incomes overnight and leaving communities struggling for years. The decline of the pottery industry reshaped Stoke-on-Trent, forcing a shift away from manufacturing and into an uncertain future.