CHAPTER XIV
BY-PRODUCTS FROM THE WASTE-BIN
The exploitation of waste presents grand opportunities for pioneer research and investigation, not only to the chemist, but also to the layman who is fruitful of thought. In the praiseworthy determination to turn residues to advantage there is a tendency to follow the path of least resistance, and to apply them to the fields which most readily suggest themselves. This policy is regrettable. The true scientific solution to the problem lies not so much in the conversion of a refuse into a useful article, as the discovery of the precise province in which it is capable of giving the most lucrative and economic return.
This may appear to be a simple issue, but, as a matter of fact, it is one bristling with perplexities, invariably involving the expenditure of appreciable time and profound study. Some of the difficulties to be overcome are of an extremely abstruse technical order, and so can only be resolved through the indefatigability of the chemist, which goes to prove that the scientist really dominates industry and commerce. This fact was advanced many years ago, but it is only really acknowledged to-day.
A specific trade yields a conspicuous volume of residue of a distinctive character. From its composition and general characteristics it appears to be eminently adapted to a certain duty. But the chemist attached to the industry for which the waste is provisionally ear-marked delves into the problem, only to find that it is totally unfitted for what seemed to be an obvious application. He may even go so far as to assert his doubts as to the material possessing qualifications for any known use, owing to its unfavourable nature, or because application may prove to be too costly. In such an event that residue must remain an apparently redundant product until a possible field for its utilization happens to be found.
A case in point may be cited. In the manufacture of boots for the Services enormous quantities of trimmings accumulated, owing to the specifications relative to the selection of skins for official needs being more rigid than obtains for footwear designed for civilian use. These trimmings proved to be quite useless to the trade, and so endeavour became concentrated upon the discovery of some other attractive utilitarian duty for them.
The main objection to this residue—curried leather—was the grease. It was decided to remove it—a relatively simple and commercially practicable operation. But in solving the one problem another, every whit as perplexing, was precipitated. The degreased leather could be used, but what was to be done with the extracted grease, the contribution of which was imposing? In appearance this grease resembles the dubbin used for dressing footwear. Seeing that it was recovered from new leather the thought was entertained that this grease might be used in lieu of, or at least to supplement the supplies of, the conventional dubbin.
When the chemist took the proposal in hand he speedily shattered all hopes of turning the grease to such account. He produced an analysis which proved that the grease, instead of being a leather preserver as had been anticipated, was really a leather destroyer. The fatty acids were too predominant. Forthwith that grease had to be abandoned as a potential dubbin substitute.
Yet the chances are a thousand to one that the chemist will succeed in indicating a profitable use for this reclaimed fat from unused curried leather, because with war we have acquired wisdom. We are not so ready to throw away a substance just because we happen to be ignorant of an immediate industrial application therefor. Rather are we disposed to put forth a little exertion to strive to adapt, or to create, some useful range of service for it. There are hundreds of heads at work throughout the country attacking just such problems as the recovered grease from leather, and, consequently, from such a distribution and concentration of fertility of thought, it is only reasonable to suppose that such issues will ultimately be fathomed satisfactorily to one and all.
Such close union of brain power and ingenuity is not confined to any one industry. The search for the most promising fields for waste-products is far too fascinating. Even the private member of the community is taking a hand in the great game, and is contributing, in varying degree, to the widespread success which has been, and still is being, recorded.
The rural housewife, in her lonely remote home, contributes to the amenities of country life by bottling her own fruits, following this practice to avoid wastage arising from a glut of produce in her own garden, or in her appreciation of the prolific luscious contributions offered by the wild hedgerow. She knows that the rubber rings with which the bottles are sealed can only be used once. Hitherto, she has always thrown the spent rings into the fire to get rid of them. Now, true housewife that she is, she reasons that surely these rings, while useless to her for fruit bottling, are suitable for some other equally important purpose. Forthwith she makes inquiries to ascertain the quarter in which they are likely to find favour, even if it be only to swell the scrap-rubber melting-pot.
The closely observant student of the countryside, during his autumnal rambles through the copses and spinneys, reflects upon the profusion of the hazel-nut, and the circumstance that this crop is permitted to fall to the ground to rot, or to suffer only partial appropriation by the thrifty squirrel. Surely, he ruminates, such wild fruit possesses some commercial value. The shell can be turned into a high grade charcoal for the laboratory, while the nut itself is rich in oil, which it ought to pay to extract, leaving a residue to offer an excellent winter-feed for cattle. As he ponders upon the problem the fact dawns upon him that the country is rather more disposed to import vast quantities of a similar product, derived from the coco-nut, palm kernels and other exotic fruits, than to exert itself a trifle to turn its domestic resources to account.
It is useless for him to try to rouse the country to realize the wealth it is allowing to slip through its fingers. Any suggestion concerning the recovery of the hazel-nut meets with the instant retort that there is no organization available to conduct the requisite collection of the nuts in due season, and that the end would not justify the means, owing to the time, labour, and expense involved. But when we come face to face with stress such potential wealth of wild rural Britain meets with recognition. Was it not stringency which prompted the harvest of the blackberry crop in 1918 to avert the threatened shortage of jam? Yet the very success which attended the gathering of the blackberry crop, and the zest with which the task was pursued by the juvenile section of the population of the country, should suffice to indicate that the hazel-nut might just as profitably, easily, cheaply, and efficiently be gathered to swell the output of margarine or to be turned to other industrial account. Surely, by the exercise of enterprise and thrift in this direction, we might be able to reduce our expenditure of upwards of £16,000,000—$80,000,000—a year upon oils and materials for the preparation of edible foodstuffs for both man and beast to a certain degree, and thereby foster additional native industries. If further testimony be required to demonstrate the facility with which such a wild home-product might be secured were collection attacked along the proper lines, does not the acquisition of the horse-chestnut crop of the country in 1917 suffice?
The photographer is another lamentable, albeit unconscious, contributor to the great wastage problem. There are hundreds of thousands of enthusiastic amateurs scattered up and down the country. Their consumption of glass negatives and films during the course of the year runs into colossal figures. Yet of the millions of exposures which are made how many can be construed into successes, or, if satisfactory, need be retained for any prolonged period? If preserved the negatives accumulate at an alarming rate, to present exasperating posers in regard to their safe storage.
What becomes of these ruined and superfluous negatives? So far as the films are concerned there is no mystery. They meet an unmourned fate in flames. But the glass negatives are somewhat more troublesome to scrap. Some idea of the immensity of the hoards of negatives possessed by both amateur and professional photographers was revealed during the war. The stupendous production of anti-gas masks was responsible for huge inroads upon our glass manufacturing facilities. When the United States of America entered the arena, and concluded arrangements in this country for the supply of this indispensable article of equipment to the American troops, the demand for suitable glass was forced up to such a level as to tax our producing capacity to a supreme degree.
The glass was required to furnish the eye-pieces to the masks. These were circular in shape, and about 2¹⁄₂ inches in diameter. Each eye-piece was made from two discs of glass which were superimposed, with a thin layer of xylonite between. The last-named was introduced to extend enhanced safety to the fighting men. A ricocheting shell splinter might strike the goggle, shattering the outer layer, but the inner section might possibly escape all injury. Even if the blow were sufficiently severe to smash both sections of a single eye-piece the goggle was not certain to be shivered like the window-pane struck by a stone. The intermediate layer of xylonite nullified the force of the impact to a striking degree, any starring that might be communicated to the inner disc not necessarily being in line with that produced on the outer glass, except, of course, in instances of a direct hit. Moreover, the glass was deprived of its characteristic tendency to splinter under a blow, owing to the intervening thin film of xylonite. Photographers will appreciate the situation from their experience with their glass negatives. When dropped the glass may be smashed into a hundred fragments, but they are invariably held in position by the attached film.
The glass required for this purpose had to be of a certain standard, not exceeding one-sixteenth of an inch in thickness, and free from flaws. The authorities discovered that photographic negatives were made of the very material desired, and realized that here was a peculiar opportunity to remedy the deficiency they were experiencing in regard to the supply of new material from the accepted manufacturing sources. Accordingly, appeal was made to all photographers to turn out their stocks of dismal failures and negatives which need be retained no longer, and to surrender them to the Government.
The demand was certainly pretentious. The eye-pieces were required at the rate of 500,000 a week. As two quarter-plate negatives were required to produce a single goggle—four for each mask—it will be seen that 2,000,000 discarded quarter-plate negatives were sought weekly to keep pace with demand. Of course, larger-sized plates enabled the discs to be cut more economically, but it is the quarter-plate which has the biggest vogue among the huge army of amateur photographic enthusiasts, owing to questions of expense, and so appeal was especially made for plates of this size, in the feeling that here was the richest mine to be tapped.
The negatives were stripped, the emulsion being dissolved from the foundation by the aid of chemicals. In this manner the nitrate of silver content was recovered to be turned to profitable account. The metallic yield from the individual plate is negligible, but, under quantitative treatment, as in this instance, the reclamation was rendered profitable. No attempt was made to exploit the emulsion, but there seems to be no reason why this should not have been utilized.
All trimmings from the glass in cutting the discs were carefully garnered. These formed what is known as “glass cullet,” which was returned to the glass-makers. Being of high quality the cullet commanded a ready sale, the glass obtained from re-melting being used for the fabrication of ink-bottles, salt-cellars, scent-bottles and a hundred and one other articles in urgent request, while an appreciable quantity was again converted into the base for further photographic negatives.
Plates exceeding the officially inscribed thickness of one-sixteenth of an inch were not unceremoniously consigned to the melting-pot, but after being stripped of the emulsion, were sold to the trade for contrivance into the passe-partout photographic mounts so much the vogue to-day among enthusiastic amateur photographers, for picture framing, and numerous other applications for which their dimensions and the quality of the glass rendered them eminently suitable.
Turning to another phase of industry, gloves of every description have soared in price, irrespective of the materials used in their production. Even those contrived from stout textile, which five years ago were readily procurable for a few pence, commanded shillings a pair. In this instance the rise in price was primarily due to the call for vast quantities by the munition factories to extend a measure of protection to the hands of the workers, more especially the women. Toiling Britain became converted to the gauntlet habit, so pronounced across the Atlantic, as a result of war.
As may be imagined, from the character of the work involved, these gloves suffered speedy deterioration, becoming saturated with grease and grime from the handling of metal and the operation of machinery and tools. One firm found itself saddled with 112 lb. of these dirty gloves every week, and the item “glove renewals” consequently grew somewhat impressive. Feeling that this expenditure might be capable of reduction, the firm sought a simple and inexpensive cleaning process for the removal of the grease, to give the gloves a new lease of useful life, the fact having been ascertained that the textile itself suffered little injury as the result of a few days’ wear and tear.
Experiments were made and the requirements of the firm were met very effectively. Not only were the gloves turned out clean and sound, enabling them to be used over and over again until the textile was worn out, but the oil and grease with which they were sodden was recovered. This was cleaned and found serviceable either as “cutting oil” for use with the tools, or as fuel oil for engines of the Diesel type.
I have previously referred to the reclamation of the grease from the leather trimmings accruing from the manufacture of boots for the Services. The trimmings represent pieces of good sound leather, of all shapes and sizes, some of the fragments being of relatively large dimensions. A selection of this waste from two large Northampton factories was secured. It was carefully sorted. The larger pieces were found to be useful for providing patches of varying sizes, capable of profitable use by the trade for the repair of civilian footwear. The larger sections of soleing leather were similarly sorted, having been found adaptable to what is known as “packing-up” in resoleing operations.
By the time this sorting had been completed only shreds and tatters of leather were left. These were degreased for the recovery of the dubbin-like fat already described, and to leave the leather quite clean, soft, and pliable. The fragments from the uppers were again examined, and found capable of further selection to serve as raw material for another industry which was being sorely harassed from the non-availability of the raw leather upon which it was normally dependent. This was the fabrication of the tiny, circular, serrated-edge leather discs or “tufts” used in the making of mattresses for bedding.
This discovery proved to be extremely opportune. Leather had grown so scarce that the normal supplies for this range of duty had been summarily cut off. Yet mattresses cannot be made without these tufts, and the bedding trade had been striving diligently to discover the suitability of certain suggested substitutes, when along came the suggestion that degreased uppers waste from the boot factories might possibly satisfy all demands in this direction.
The ability to exploit the residue in this manner provided the Lord Roberts’ Memorial Workshops with an additional field for activity, of which due advantage was taken. Then it was found that the soleing leather might be put to equally useful service. Many trades were reduced to a quandary from the inability to obtain leather supplies from which to make washers. This waste was found to fill the bill very neatly, because as with boots so with washers—there is nothing like leather. Certainly no substitute therefore has yet been found able to fulfil the required duty so efficiently as the hide from the cow, although there has been no lack of enterprise in this direction. The wisps and scraps of uppers and soles of leather remaining from this selection—mere shavings and shreds—are ground up and converted into fertilizer.
That leather trimmings from the boot factories, hitherto regarded as absolutely useless, are forthcoming in sufficient quantities to fulfil the claims of the tuft and washer trades have been definitely ascertained. The residue is far more imposing than might popularly be conceived, especially in connection with the production of Service boots. Organized collection alone is required to bring this source of possible supply into contact with the market. From three factories alone approximately 2,300 lb. of trimmings are obtainable every week. Multiply this yield by the number of boot factories in the country, and it will be seen that this leather waste could supply adequate material to allow tufts and washers to be turned out in their millions during the course of the year.
Even the manufacture of civilian footwear, especially of feminine fancy boots, yields its quota of waste. But the contribution is not so pronounced as with Service footwear because wider scope exists for working up the surplus. Nevertheless, all waste, no matter what its character may be, has a utilitarian value. The cloth remnants find a ready market for the manufacture of paper. The cork sole cuttings, composed of cork, with cotton and wool attached, are similarly retrieved by the ton. Sorting enables the cork to be recovered for the manufacture of linoleum, the cotton for the paper mills, and the woolly component for shoddy.
Finally we get the floor sweepings—a collection of leather, textiles, and other materials recovered by the aid of the broom. So far as Northampton is concerned—the system probably prevails in other boot-making centres—the practice has been for the municipal authorities to collect these accumulations and to remove them to the dust-destructor for incineration. This was regarded as the simplest, cheapest, and most efficient method for their disposal.
Salvage experts examined these sweepings. They found a far more utilitarian use for this waste. It was worth £2—$10—a ton for conversion into fertilizer. Seeing that about 1,000 tons a year of these sweepings are recoverable from two or three factories it will be seen that we have been content to send £2,000—$10,000—annually up the chimney of a dust-destructor from sheer lack of foresight and the expenditure of a little thought and trouble during the very period when our land is clamouring for nitrogenous fertilizers.
Before leaving the boot trade I might refer to another recent development concerning a certain waste which is of decided interest. Patent cuttings presented quite a different proposal from the odds and ends of ordinary leather. The glossy finish was held to be a drawback, because obviously it would have to be removed before the material could be submitted to any of the purposes described. It was anticipated that such preliminary treatment might prove too expensive to render the recovery worth while. But a simple and cheap process for securing the patent in the form of a fine dust—“curriers’ powder”—was found. This left the leather free for further exploitation. Then the question of turning the reclaimed dust to account arose. Inquiries were made, but there appeared to be no opening for it. It looked as if this curriers’ powder would have to be set on the shelf in company with the recovered grease against a day of brilliant discovery upon the part of the indefatigable chemist.
But a firm specializing in a peculiar phase of activity came along. It was experiencing distinct difficulty in finishing off the work with which it is identified with the requisite degree of satisfaction. Suddenly it had occurred to the technical staff that this fine dust might possibly extricate them from the dilemma with which the firm was confronted. The dust was submitted to trial. The tests are not yet conclusive, but the results so far recorded have fully justified the utilization of this material; certainly the firm in question is disposed to concede its employment as the solution to their difficulty. Should these expectations be fully realized there is every indication that the demand for curriers’ powder will become exceedingly heavy, and from a quarter which will arouse widespread surprise. The consumption in this realm will eclipse that ever likely to be recorded in connection with footwear. While industrial ethics preclude the mention of the precise application in question, it may be added that it is about as closely allied or has as much in common with boots as the use of cheese in the production of steel.
The one overwhelming obstacle to the commercial utilization of waste is organized and cheap segregation and collection. This difficulty is aggravated when the refuse in question happens to be in a combined form, that is to say, when two or three—perhaps more—widely divergent substances are associated to produce the one article. Possibly only one of the constituents possesses a known market, or it may so happen that each of the component substances has a distinct market but only in its individual form.
As a rule any waste of this character from industry is regarded with contempt by the approved specialists in waste collection—the itinerant merchant or the marine store dealer. Both these traders prefer to conduct their operations with approved straight and unadulterated materials. If the waste happens to be of the combined character, they realize that they must expend a certain amount of time and labour in its separation before carrying out its sale to advantage. As they are not inclined towards such exertion they refuse to accept the residue.
It is a foolish policy and one which directly reacts against their own interests. Such combined waste can generally be procured at a trifling figure. The factory in which it accrues cannot afford the labour or time necessary to bring about the separation of the constituents. Yet when separation is completed each class of material at once attains its true value. Resolution of combined waste into its components does not involve any skill, while it is immaterial how roughly the task is performed. The merchants to whom allusion has been made will also spurn waste of undoubted market value if it has been dressed or impregnated with another substance. They will jump at rags no matter how soiled and loathsome their appearance. They know the dirt can be removed readily and cheaply, but they never pause to reflect that substances used for impregnating textiles may be eliminated just as easily. Moreover, unlike dirt, the recovered dressing may possess a distinct commercial value in itself.
Waxed flannel is a recognized commodity, and, in fabricating articles therefrom, appreciable quantities of trimmings are obtained. One firm was in a quandary as to the disposal of this waste. No rag-and-bone merchant would touch it. The firm was quite prepared to sell the refuse at a low figure, fully confident that it could be turned to some profitable purpose. The material was investigated, and the separation of the wax from the woollen base was found to offer no supreme or expensive difficulty. Yet the extraction of the wax made all the difference in the intrinsic worth of the waste. At that time the de-waxed flannel fetched 85s.—$21.25—a hundredweight, while the wax, which was a high-grade product, was also of distinct value because it was available for re-use.
A similar problem cropped up in connection with oil-skin trimmings resulting from the manufacture of garments and other articles. The factory concerned stated that the waste was somewhat pronounced from the magnitude of its business, but what to do with it was beyond their knowledge. Experiment proved the separation of the oil to be an easy matter, and so the release of the cotton textile was secured. In the degreased form the trimmings fetched from 50s. to 60s.—$12.50 to $15—a hundredweight at the time, while the oil was also a valuable by-product and was readily absorbed by industry at a favourable figure.
It is a moot point whether any other textile enters so extensively into industry in some form or other as cotton. Consequently cotton refuse is recoverable in immense quantities from the factories and workshops where this textile is converted from the piece into garments and other utilitarian articles. These trimmings for the most part are unsoiled, but equally imposing are the contributions from the domestic rag-bag and the refuse bins of other trades, whence the residue is forthcoming in a more or less soiled condition. But a simple cleaning process renders it suitable for further use. Should all possible or promising applications be exhausted to no effect then this residue can always be absorbed by the paper-mill. The paper-making industry may truthfully be described as the salvor’s sheet-anchor; certainly there is no excuse for consigning any cotton fabric to the flames while the paper-maker’s craft flourishes.
But in the majority of instances this waste, as already mentioned, is associated with some other substance, for the simple reason that it constitutes an ideal inexpensive base, or foundation, for carrying the medium desired. Take the rubber mackintosh sheeting as a case in point. Here the cotton sheet foundation is impregnated with rubber to secure the desired waterproofness of the material. But the trimmings need only to be submitted to a solvent treatment to bring about the removal of the rubber, when the cotton base at once becomes released for the paper-maker. The rubber is also retrieved to advantage because it is quite pure. Emery cloth, which has been discarded as too worn for further use, may be similarly treated, the recovery in this instance being of triple value when conducted upon a large scale, comprising respectively the emery powder, the oil, the fabric base, and possibly the metallic dust.
The extraction of nicotine from tobacco is a flourishing industry. This trade has been built upon the commercial utilization of waste, the raw material comprising tobacco declared as unsuitable for the generally recognized commercial applications. The nicotine is extracted for the preparation of insecticides and other commodities for which the juice is eminently adapted.
To obtain the nicotine the discarded tobacco is placed in linen bags. Subsequent treatment follows certain lines. As may be imagined, owing to the extremely oleaginous or gummy character of the juice and grease, these bags become clogged during the extracting process. In course of time they become so saturated as to be unfit for further use, not through any failure of the actual fabric, but because the fine mesh of the material has become choked. Owing to their admitted repulsive character the bags were thrown away or burned.
One firm specializing in this industry accumulated soiled bags to the extent of approximately 2,000 per month. It had never contemplated the feasibility of subjecting them to any treatment, probably because new bags were relatively cheap. But, as a result of the national demand for linen for more vital purposes, and the exceeding scarcity of the basic raw material, which had the effect of sending the price of flax from £54 to £280—$270 to $1,400—per ton, the idea of recovering the bags assumed more pressing significance. A sample was taken and submitted to a degreasing process. It was discovered that the combined action of steam and centrifugal action speedily separated the clogging gummy constituents from the fibres of the linen. When examined after treatment the bags were found to be quite free from every trace of the nicotine, and it would have been difficult for the uninitiated ever to have identified them with the industry of nicotine extraction. The tobacco juice was recovered in appreciable bulk, but what was far more important was the reclamation of the bags. In the cleansed condition they were worth from £20 to £40—$100 to $200—per ton.
To enumerate all the industries from which odds and ends of cotton-waste are derivable would demand too much space. There are stalks and ends of plumes from the fabrication of artificial feathers, tangled bundles of loose tatters, fragments of silk in a thousand and one forms, mercerized and natural, and so on. The yield from a single factory or workroom may be trifling, perhaps, while there is the rag-merchant to hand to take delivery of this residue. A firm may readily concede the preservation of its waste until it assumes a formidable bulk to be more troublesome than it is worth, as well as littering the factory or occupying space which can be put to more valuable account. So it generally throws the residue into the furnace, but the utilization of such waste as fuel represents the most costly method of disposal which could be practised.
The losses arising from such action are immense and deplorable, more especially when it is remembered how easily and readily they might be avoided. It is somewhat consoling to reflect that, to-day, despite the many perplexities involved, the salvage of this refuse is being attacked along serious lines. Factories and workshops are beginning to appreciate that these residues can always command good money from the pulp-makers, the result being that much less residue is being lost through the too handy furnace than formerly. Parings from ladies’ velour hats, felt trimmings, odd pieces from billiard-table cloths—woollen fragments in a thousand different forms are now finding profitable utilization. All such waste is being snapped up greedily by the shoddy mills. During the war some of this waste was somewhat freely absorbed for carrying out elaborate camouflage schemes to screen the movements and disposition of troops, guns, and transport from the prying eyes of the enemy, but to-day it is all being released for the reproduction of clothing material, blankets, and other articles innumerable—all of far-reaching import to the community.
My Lady, when she contemptuously discards her straw hat, does so without venturing a thought as to its possible further value, except, perhaps, as a lighter for the kitchen fire. But the abandoned headgear, together with the straw refuse plaiting from the factory, now possesses a market apart from that for making paper. It is being used extensively for stuffing the backs and seats of cheap furniture. During the period of war this waste was found suitable for another mission and one which still obtains. This was as a substitute for wood-wool, which virtually disappeared from the market. Wood-wool is prepared from wet wood, and, naturally, a certain period of time must elapse to allow it to dry before it can be set to its designed service. When wood was cheap and plentiful this delay presented no handicap, manufacture being continuous, but during hostilities wood became counted among the luxuries of commercial life. It was far too valuable to be shredded into wool, except in severely limited quantities, to act as packing.
As a result of the experiment induced by stringency, plait from old hats, and the factory waste, were found to be quite as good as the wood-wool in this capacity. The colour of the straw, faded or otherwise, constitutes no disadvantage. Consequently, to condemn the abandoned summer friend of the head to serve as a fire-lighter represents approximately its least economical application, although it may come as an equal surprise to learn that the perfect dream of the milliner’s creative faculty may reappear as the protective covering to chocolate and confectionery during transit from manufactory to the retailer in its familiar wooden box.
Discarded umbrella coverings may not appear to possess any further attraction except to the paper-maker. But the waste-expert declares otherwise. A flaw in the silk covering or possible damage wrought while attaching it to the frame no longer constitutes a passport for the material to the dust-bin or flames. Finger-stalls and eye-shades may be contrived from this waste. For making eye-shades it is only necessary to cut a piece of cardboard, likewise retrieved from the waste-bin, to the desired size and shape. Then, by the aid of a little glue the silk section cut from the abandoned umbrella covering may be fastened to the cardboard base.
During the course of the year thousands of tons of string are made in these islands. What becomes of it all? One industry utilizing this material found itself saddled with about ten tons of odd lengths, which, thrown into the waste-bin, became a tangled mass. The bewildering array was examined by an expert. He found that whereas some of the pieces were of only a few inches, others ran to three, four and even more feet in length. He contemplated the pile and concluded that it would never pay to unravel the tangle. It was a task calling for weeks of labour and infinite patience.
His first inclination was to hand over the bulky pile to the paper-mills to be pulped. But further consideration of the quantity of the long lengths of string in that junk heap prompted an alternative. String, neatly prepared in large balls, is furnished to prisons to serve as raw material to the prisoners engaged in the overhaul and repair of bags. Why not send this collection of waste to the penitentiaries? There the time occupied in unravelling the tangled jumble is of minor importance. Prison labour does not count, while the task is no less fruitful than that of picking oakum. Forthwith the string was forwarded to these establishments, and was found to meet the purpose very satisfactorily. Not only did this waste release an appreciable quantity of new string for more valuable applications, but it also enabled an appreciable saving in cost of bag repairs to be recorded, while the work was just as neatly and efficiently fulfilled with the odd lengths as with new string.
In another case a farmer of a thrifty turn of mind saved all the odd lengths of binder twine accruing from the use of the self-binder to harvest his crops. When untying the sheaves for threshing he threw the lengths into a bin, and in this way amassed quite a respectable pile. It was promptly acquired by paper-makers who paid him 25s.—$6.25—a hundredweight. This satisfactory result should prompt all our farmers to exercise like economy in this connection. They would find it to their financial advantage to do so. The annual consumption of binder twine in these islands runs into big figures. In 1917 we imported 115,086 hundredweights for which we paid £417,168—$2,085,840—while in the previous year the figure was 212,639 hundredweights valued at £550,104—$2,750,520.
To assist in the harvesting of the 1918 grain crop the Food Production Department purchased 20,000 tons of this apparently insignificant material to ensure farmers receiving adequate supplies. When the grain is taken in hand to be threshed the recovery of this waste should be an easy and simple matter. It is only necessary to provide a few sacks to receive it. Even at 12s. 6d.—$3.12—a hundredweight it would prove a profitable by-product to the farmer, and enable him to recoup a certain proportion of its outlay upon this item, while it would tangibly assist another industry. The recovery of 75 per cent. of the above-mentioned 20,000 tons, provided through the instrumentality of the Food Production Department, would have represented approximately £140,000—$700,000—and have contributed towards the production of 2,500 to 4,000 tons of paper.
To indicate how organized collection influences the value of so-called waste and its economical use, the experience of an importing house in the City of London deserves narration. This firm accumulated an appreciable quantity of the special packing paper with which the wooden cases are lined. This paper is very tough and is strengthened with thick cotton netting of open mesh, while it is also waterproofed. The firm did not know what to do with the waste, but was reluctant to turn it over to the paper-maker. Inquiries were conducted, to result in the discovery that a similar paper was used for packing motor tyres. Thereupon a motor tyre dispatch firm was approached with the suggestion that it might find it profitable to acquire this residue. The tyre-packers were buying the paper specially manufactured for wrapping purposes, but test revealed that this packing case lining was equally adapted to the duty. Thereupon it expressed its readiness to take over all the residue from the importing house at 25s.—$6.25—a hundredweight. Unfortunately, in this instance, the offer could only be met immediately with some 56 lb., but if all the firms importing from the United States and other countries were to conserve the paper lining to the cases coming into their hands, and to dispose of it to other trades for which its peculiar construction renders it specially suitable, there would be a material reduction in the strain imposed upon our domestic paper-mills, while a proportionate quantity of this indispensable commodity would be released for other applications.
We are all familiar with the little disc of metal having a bent-over corrugated rim and a cork lining which has displaced the glass stopper and driven-in cork for sealing bottles. It is commercially known as the “Crown Cork.” A slight angular prise and the cap flies off. It is one of those little inventions which have proved a great boon to many trades, especially to those identified with the bottling of beers, mineral and drinking waters. Incidentally it has proved a great money-maker.
An observant mind discovered that the tiny cap suffers little or no damage from its summary removal. Why should it not be used again? So he reasoned, and conducted experiments to establish the feasibility of such a suggestion. He has succeeded completely in his task. By a simple, inexpensive process, which he has devised, these crown corks can again be rendered as serviceable for their designed purpose as new corks. As a result of his brilliant ingenuity, and saving turn of mind, this observant and practical waste exploiter is readily disposing of the renovated article at eightpence per gross—16 cents—which is 300 per cent. below the price of the new article.
That inventiveness in its application to economy is fascinating and profitable is demonstrated very convincingly by the array of contribution of sound practicable ideas which are being contributed towards the “save the waste” problem. The potato-peelings attracted one economist, who with this apparently useless material and no other contrived an attractive biscuit. Another experimentor, securing a few ounces of fat from a whale, which had been cast upon the beach to the peril of the residents in the vicinity, converted them into a solid white block somewhat reminiscent of candied sugar, by submitting the fat to the hardening process. Another effort represents a bold attempt to turn the spent tea-leaves to economical account. In this instance this waste was mixed with another residue—sawdust—and some inexpensive, readily combustible agent, such as naphthalene, also waste. The mass was then pressed, and offered a presentable and effective cheap fire-lighter.
Within the space of this volume it is impossible to exhaust the many efforts which are being made to turn apparent waste into something useful. Sufficient has been narrated to indicate that there is no limit to such manifestations of ingenuity. Matter is indestructible. Properly handled, it can be used over and over again. Now that the ball of economy has been set rolling in grim earnest, strenuous endeavours are being made by the thrifty and provident to redeem the English-speaking race from the indictment of being woefully extravagant, with which it has been freely assailed for so many years.