The first half of the last century. A
rainy day at Ooty, South India’s famous hill station. Some nuns
were walking along a road in the cold.
Suddenly a car stopped
by and the gentleman driver offered them a lift. He asked why they
did not use a vehicle in such inclement weather. The answer was that
their convent did not have one.
The next day, a local dealer
delivered a brand new Dodge car at the convent. The astonished nuns
thanked the donor. They also told him they could not keep the
vehicle, because there was no money to engage a driver or to buy
petrol.
That was no problem. The Irish gentleman assigned a
driver on his payroll to the convent. He also instructed a petrol
bunk to forward the convent’s bills to his office. That was John
Joseph Murphy (1872 - 1957). He was the proprietor of Murphy Estates,
Yendayar, which was India’s first commercially successful rubber
plantation.
Another scene. An old man in a remote village
receives a Money Order at the beginning of the month. That had become
a routine for him and others who had retired from Murphy’s
service.
A strange thing was that the message ‘This is the
last payment’ was written at the bottom of every Money Order form.
But the recipients were confident that the pension payment would
continue till they died. Only Murphy knew the purpose of the
message.
Murphy had a workforce of about 1000 people drawn
from the three South Indian states. His concern for their welfare and
that of their families was amazing. He was almost a century ahead of
the labour unions and the government in providing amenities to the
workers.
Murphy Estate had a small but pucca hospital, with a
few beds for inpatients. In complicated cases, specialists were
brought from outside for consultation. Patients in severe condition
were taken to major hospitals far away from Yendayar. All expenses
were met by Murphy.
Every married person in Murphy’s
employment was provided free housing with piped water. When the
couple had children, one more room was added to the living
quarters.
The entire country faced severe food shortage during
World War II. But the people of Yendayar were fortunate because
Murphy ensured regular supplies of quality rice and other items at a
great personal cost. Sub-standard stuff was destroyed.
One of
Murphy’s passions was racing. He had a large stable and his horses
brought him laurels from many courses in India, England and Ireland.
The trophies were proudly displayed at the Yendayar bungalow.
One
day Murphy found a gold cup missing. He was furious and called the
police. The cops suspected an insider job and wanted to take the
house staff to the police station for further questioning. That upset
Murphy. He did not want his servants to face the ignominy of the
police procedure. He withdrew the complaint.
Murphy’s
philanthropy was legendary. No person who went to him with a genuine
need had to return disappointed.
But the principal of St.
Berchman’s College, Changanacherry, who approached the Irishman for
a contribution to the college building fund, had a rough time. Murphy
told the priest that he did not believe in college education.
According to him, vocation-based technical training was more
important.
Murphy’s experience with university education was
rather short. He had enrolled at Trinity College, Dublin (TCD). But
without completing the course, he sailed to Ceylon (now Sri Lanka) to
seek his fortune. For some reason, he struck out on his own, though
he belonged to a prominent Dublin family of shippers and
bankers.
St. Berchman’s principal was rattled by Murphy’s
reaction and mumbled defensively that they were running a weaving
school also.
Anyway, Murphy donated Rs.5,000 – a princely
sum those days – to the college fund. Later he made enquiries about
the weaving school the principal had mentioned and sent a cheque for
Rs.7,500 for modernizing it.
During World War I or shortly
after it, an estate supplies company filed a case against Murphy
alleging that he had smashed several bottles of liquor at their
outlet in Mundakayam. The legal advice to Murphy was to deny the
charge. But he refused, claiming that he would never tell a
lie.
Murphy argued the case himself. He told the judge that
his (Irish) blood boiled when he saw some German products on the
liquor rack. He was let off with a warning.
In writing this I
have relied heavily on an article about Murphy titled ‘Princely
Planter’ by K. V. Thomas Pottamkulam. It concludes with the
statement “I would like to think that if, instead of coming to
India, he had emigrated to the United States, he might well have
become the first Irish Catholic President decades before J. F.
Kennedy.”
Tail piece. A few days back, on May 8 , when I
checked into Lotus Club, Cochin, an young fellow named Siby brought
my baggage to the room. I asked him where he was from. “Yendayar,”
he answered, and added, “Murphy sahib’s place.”
I
thought that his voice had a tinge of pride.
Ends.