My current cultural comfort food is The Gilded Age, Julian Fellowes’ deeply silly Manhattan toffs-in-bustles drama, in which one storyline (summarily dealt with due to lack of taffeta-rustling opportunities, I suspect) features a tycoon’s downtrodden steelworkers going on strike for “888”: eight hours each of work, sleep and recreation.
That wasn’t a revolutionary demand in the 1880s. The slogan, coined by the utopian social reformer Robert Owen, dates from 1817 (his New Lanark mill workers still did 10.5-hour days, though). Even then, it wasn’t unprecedented: apparently, a 16th-century Spanish ordinance limited New World construction workers to eight-hour days.
