How a shot in Paisley in 1856 was heard around the world

The Herald Scotland

07-07-2025

The manufacturing bosses were known as the 'corks' and were notorious for exploiting the labour and the workmanship of the Paisley weavers in an industry that made them fortunes. Their predations forced the weavers to form some of the earliest known trade unions in the UK, more than a century before they were granted legal protection by the state.
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And so, on the first Saturday of July, Paisley holds its Sma' Shot Day to commemorate one of the most important developments in the history of trade unionism and workers right. Having initially reproached myself for not knowing very much about this tale and absolutely nothing of Sma' Shot Day I headed to Paisley on Saturday. This is the sort of event I really should be covering, right? And not merely in a professional capacity.
As a committed trade unionist, hailing from a family of trade unionists whose activism stretches back before the war, I really should be here every year. It's not as though it's hard to miss.
The programme of events for the day lasts from morning until night, a mini-festival of events that – for once – really does mean 'for all the family'. And at its centre, a parade through Paisley town centre that rises in Brodie Park to the south before finishing on the green across from Paisley's grand cathedral. This is where the ceremonial burning of a 12-ft Cork mannequin representing the victory of the workers over the cheats and scammers which raw capitalism produces in every generation.
I was expecting a parade a mile long to be winding through Paisley's superb civic buildings and Scotland's most eye-catching town centre with that gorgeous cathedral and the old mill edifices and the White Cart winding through. And you reproach yourself once more for not visiting this place more often, and especially now as it seems to be undergoing a wee renaissance. Nothing you can hang your hat on quite yet: just a presentiment of something bold and optimistic happening in these streets and wynds and in the cafes and restaurants that weren't here when you last visited.
Sma Shot Day (Image: Robert Perry)
But here's the thing: someone had devoted a lot of work into making this parade look vibrant so that it proceeded with a swagger and a shimmy. There were schoolkids in costumes; giant mannequins and stilt-walkers and dancers. There were some of the assorted activist groups that you'd expect to see at a parade like this: Living Rent, CND and, of course, the Socialist Workers Party here represented by their Renfrewshire branch, and God love them for it, because they're always here, always represented.
And your heart was warmed too by a banner belonging to the Calton Weavers, who'll have their big day on August 31 in Glasgow's East End, not far away from the church where I was baptised. There are several other community groups such as the Renfrewshire Carers Centre; the University of the Third Age and the Waspi Women.
Where were all the others, who belong to Scotland's anointed trade elites? Where were the SNP and The Greens and the Lib-Dems? This isn't just another workers' rights event; this day represents one of the most important moments in the history of working-class activism. The Labour Party had a stall down on the piazza beside the cathedral, along with 20 or so other little tented pavilions, but they too should have been all over it.
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Davie Fulton, a retired construction worker who worked on repairs to the cathedral, sees me taking notes and introduces himself. 'I remember when this parade was more than three times as big as this,' he said. 'It would take ages to come through the town centre and all of the unions and local groups were present.' Not today though.
Another trade union activist expresses disappointment that her own trade union isn't represented. 'They're keen that we get along to various Pride events and Palestine demos – and that's fine – but this is what real trade union activism is all about: jobs, wages, security, maternity rights, the real living wage, fair distribution of wealth and dignity at work.'
Sma' Shot Day was a local workers holiday until war broke out in 1939 and then was slowly consigned to history: a remnant of a simpler time and maybe something else rooted in the new opportunities for homes and education and better pay in the era of post-war expansion when it might have seemed that many of the old battles for social justice and fairness at work had been won.
In 1986 though, it was revived at a time when Thatcherism was beginning to lay waste to the UK's traditional industries and destroying the communities they supported. Sma' Shot Day and the victory it represented need to be remembered again.
As we gather for the Burning of the Cork on Cotton Street, outside the council buildings I meet sisters Liz and Jane who are here with Jane's grandson, Daniel and his drum. 'He's been waiting all year for this event,' says Jane, a former council worker. Jane once worked for the old Anchor Mill and for the next 20 minutes they provide me with an eloquent and detailed folk history of their town.
Sma Shot Day (Image: Robert Perry)
'This is a great day,' says Jane, 'and it's never been more important to remember the weavers' struggle against the corks. There are no social and affordable houses being built and young people especially are once again prey to low wages which make it impossible to get on the housing ladder."
In the 'Sma Shot Cottages, just a few hundred yards from the Cathedral precinct, the original weaving looms are still intact and in good working order. This is where a mid-19th century mill foreman lived, complete with kitchen/living area, bedroom, children's room and parlour.
Here I find Dr Dan Coughlin is explaining the set-up on the loom. He's weaving a herringbone cloth. The warp threads run the length of the fabric, the weft threads run across its width. The loom is set up with warp threads going through eyelets, it has four treaders which he operates with his feet in different combinations. His feet move the treaders and the warp threads separate to create a shed, the space through which he shoots the shuttle which carries the weft thread left to right. He moves the treaders with his feet again to create a new shed and sends the shuttle back the way through the new shed, right to left, to weave he fabric.
He lays to rest some myths about the Sma' Shot but paints a vivid picture of the weavers' skills and gets to the core of their dispute with the bosses. It was all about fairness.
'The Paisley shawl had three different types of yarn,' he explains. 'The pattern yarn, the ground yarn and the small shot. This had nothing to do with the weavers having to pay for it themselves, it was an unfair system of payment. In the Paisley shawl we can have so many colours per line. If you have three colours in one line, then you have to put in a sma' shot behind them and then you start the next line; put in three colours; put the sma' shot behind them.
'In Paisley you didn't get paid for the sma' shot, you got paid for the pattern shot. The unfairness of the system was that if one weaver here, on this loom, got a shawl with only one colour in it, every second shot wasn't being paid for. The weaver over there has four colours in his shawl - every fifth one of his is not getting paid for, a weaver with eight colours, every ninth shot is not being paid for, so it's an unfair system of payment. If I'm asked to do a pattern with only one colour, I realise I'm not going to get paid for half my work, so it was an unfair system of payment. That was the problem.'
Dr Coughlin is describing both an art and a science. The craft and workmanship – as it does in all industries – is what built Scotland's wealth. Three centuries later, the workers are still creating Scotland's wealth and still being cut out of it.