Many years previous in large towns such as Manchester there was a host of boxes in which was kept a key for each premises, if found insecure a key was taken by the station officer and the premises secured. This was not the case in Claude’s time.
At twelve midnight officers reported back to the Police Station for a brief break and a warm drink. At 1.15am one officer arrived back and took a forty-five minute meal break, though remained on call. He continued patrol at 2am when the second officer took his break and then remained in the office until 6 am. This meant one officer, Claude as he was the most junior had to patrol alone on foot, no radio only a public telephone box to stand at keeping his point every hour.
At 11 pm the night patrol car crew arrived and worked until 7 am, being an over lap of cover. They carried out general patrols answering a wide variety of incidents out of town ranging from burglaries to domestic disputes and reporting traffic offenders. The crew also checked vulnerable property out of town too far away to be done on foot.
It would prove to be a common event for a sergeant to return unannounced normally to finish their paper work so one always had to be on ones toes. Found in the “Office” without good reason was certain to get an officer admonished and “What are you doing in, get into the town.”
Invariably the detective constable(s) having commenced duty at 9 am and finished at 5 pm were more often than not back at the office from around 8 pm until 10 pm or 11pm even until 2 am mostly typing reports but was still required to parade for duty at 9 am the following day. These hours were a constant requirement if one wished to be a detective and Claude was certain would not be tolerated by officers or their wives in the modern era.
All officers were expected to remain on duty as required without financial remuneration. If it was suspected an officer was anxious to leave duty for a personal commitment he might expect a note to be made in his personal file.
“This Officer is a Clock Watcher.”
Additional hours worked by uniform constables were recorded on an overtime sheet to be taken as time off, but CID officers were far from encouraged to do this. Should a detective be known to keep one he would, after a short while be called to see his boss and told his attributes would serve the police service better if he was back in uniform. No mention was made of clock watching or claiming over time but all realised it was the reason.
Claude recalled how one-day things were busy and an officer on the previous shift was still working some hour or so after he should have finished duty. The officer’s wife rang the police station and asked the sergeant why he was still on duty; she was simply told he was required on duty.
Before the officer finished he was called to the sergeants office and told, “Your wife rang to see where you were it seems you were going out, you tell her not to telephone here again we are employing you not her.”
On another occasion a call was made by the office constable to one of the rural beats stations and received no reply despite repeated calls. An officer was despatched from the town police station to deal with the matter. Some days later the rural officer was called to see the superintendent to explain why there was no answer to the telephone calls. When the officer explained he was out dealing with some incident the details of which he supplied, the “Super” had asked “Where was your wife, surely when you are out she should answer the phone.”
The officer said nothing and certainly didn’t respond by saying, “You are employing me not her.”
It was well known amongst the wives of rural police officers that they considered themselves to be unpaid servants of the police force.
Being sick didn’t always release one from the regulation, “You will devote the whole of your time to the police service.”
One day a man was driving just outside the small town of Broughton when he came upon some cattle straying. He called at the local rural police station to report the matter. He banged on the door for some time before a head peered out of the first floor window and called “Who is it?”
Told of the straying cattle the officer informed the caller he was off duty, sick and in bed with pneumonia, would the caller ring Broughton Police Station? He agreed but instead called Copton Headquarters who rang Broughton and an officer attended and with the assistance of the farmer.
(In those days Officers knew everyone locally)
When the officer returned to duty he was called to see the Chief Constable to answer to the matter of his inaction. The story was related as to the sickness and how ill the officer was.
The Chief Constable said, “The police can always do something, you should have reported the incident yourself to Broughton Headquarters not expected a member of the public to do so.”
A month later the officer was told he was being posted in three days time to beat duties working shifts at Sale Police station some miles away. This resulted in him and his family moving house plus school for his children. There was no point in the officer concerned asking the reason for he would have been told the usual reply.
“To balance the experience throughout the area your services would be better served elsewhere or the posting was necessary for the exigencies of the service.”
Uniformed officers and sergeants had one three-day weekend off every seven weeks. Finishing at 2pm on a Thursday, then taking Friday, Saturday and Sunday off, being Friday and Saturday of one week and Sunday the only day of the next week.
Some days prior to the event, Claude submitted his report seeking permission to be away from his station from Thursday 2 pm until 10 pm Monday. At which time he would commence a week of night duty, being seven consecutive nights from 10 pm until 6 am the next day.
Sir,
DUTY REPORT
I have to report that I seek permission to be absent for my
station from 2pm Thursday 4th October 1964 until 10 pm on
Monday the 8th October 1964. My away address will be the
home of my parents 1 High Street, Hafod.
C Friendly
Constable 377
Recommend
O Briggs
Sergeant
Approved
Supt Bannerman.
It was a standard report but some weeks later when a similar one was submitted identical to the previous there was a slightly different comment from Superintendent Bannerman.
“Approved, but I seem to recall this officer recently submitted a similar request, I hope he isn’t going to make a habit of it.”
Having finished duty, Claude went to his lodgings changed into civilian clothes and eventually caught a bus to Copton and a train then another bus to Hafod. The journey took four hours. With more experience Claude deviated and put a civilian coat over his uniform, his helmet into a bag. Then standing at the road side, he took off the coat put on the helmet and stood in the road with raised arm as done when performing traffic duty and requested a lift from a passing driver.
On arrival in Copton he put the civilian coat back on and his helmet in the bag, had he have been seen by any of the powers to be he would have been in trouble. His next port of call was Headquarters information room seeking a lift in a patrol car and this always proved a success. The control room staff called the area car for Hafod on the pretext of refuelling, the driver made the journey picking up Claude and to quote a phrase “Bobs your uncle.”
The return journey on a Sunday was not so simple unless the officer who brought him up was on duty and agreed to pick him up again. If not it was a return journey by bus, train and bus again. Eventually Claude would take steps to improve his ability to travel home to visit his parents every seven weeks.
Whilst walking the beat he often checked a motor cycle shop and within was a very nice brand new motor cycle a bright red Royal Enfield, with dropped handle bars.
It was necessary for Claude to obtain a driving licence and he duly obtained one, a provisional motorcycle licence. It was then as he was typing that Claude realised in those days, as he was a non-driver how strange it appeared now
but then there was nothing strange about it.
He was a police officer enforcing the traffic laws yet he was a non-driver. At no stage since he first applied to become a member of the police force had anyone asked him if he held any form of driving licence. Neither had anyone suggested he should take driving lessons to obtain one and certainly never offered to train him just as in the necessary skill typing. In fact it would be several years before he would be authorised to driver any police vehicle.
Having obtained the provisional motorcycle licence, he bought the motorcycle and never having been on one, the initial learning alone without any help or advice must have been horrific he now thought.
All his teenage years his mother had refused to allow him to have such a thing to the point of mortal fear. He recalled how his father had said, “Buy a ferret you have to buy a spade and you get hard work. Buy a motor bike and you buy injury,” how correct his words would prove to be.
Once the machine had been purchased that was more or less, it. There was no necessity in those days for a helmet or other protective clothing.
On the contrary attending a post mortem on a deceased motorcycle rider the cause of death was broken neck.
The pathologist was of the opinion the neck had been broken as the rider’s head had been thrown backwards in the collision and the bottom of the helmet had caused the fracture. He enlightened Claude into numerous cases and told how he had kept a note and submitted a file on his findings.
Those who ride such machines today will note at the rear of the helmet there is now a round cut out which fits around the neck.
There was already trouble a foot for Claude. Having purchased the machine he needed an item and after he finished duty at 6am, later that day he had the need to walk into town for something. Walking along the High Street, he heard the tooting of a car horn. On looking up he saw Superintendent Bannerman and with his index finder indicated to Claude he wished to speak with him. Claude approached the vehicle and stood to see what was required.
The Superintendent said this. “I see you are wearing jeans. Jeans are for working in, I see you have a shirt on with an open neck. Never let me see you in the street again wearing jeans or a shirt with an open neck. Go home now put on decent trousers and a collar and tie.”
With that he drove off and Claude recalled all these years later, two things. The first was he did exactly as he was told and didn’t repeat the transgression. The second took many years over thirty when he had occasion to meet his old boss in the same location. Passing the time of day Claude related the incident when he was aged nineteen years, his old boss replied, “Was I really such a shit.”
There was a knock on Claude’s door with an immediate call, “It’s only me.”
He looked up it was Angelina, “I say Claude are you ready for dinner?”
“I have heard a whisper from Sally we have yet more visitors, how exciting it is.”
“What is exciting?” replied Claude.
“Why Christmas coming of course, all the extra visitors and attention we will be getting, come on or you’ll miss the star show?”
He closed down his machine and went into the bathroom, making do with a wash rather than a shower. He could see Angelina sitting waiting, how patient she was, he thought.
Arriving back, he decided as there were guests and Matron always insisted on a good turn out even if she didn’t go as far as demanding “Bulled boots” and a short hair cut. There again he thought none of us surviving chaps here need a hair cut on the contrary, more hair might well have been on the priority gift list for Santa, certainly from him.
As he pulled the multi coloured sweater over his head his appearing eyes were just in time to see Miss Hailsham, assistant to Matron walking passed the door. She stopped, hesitated, looked back inside then disappeared without a word being said.
Claude thought no more of it as he put away his laptop. In a moment he was enroute to the dining room with Angelina seemingly excited as to what was in store.
When they arrived the room was almost full, he glanced across and saw Miss Hailsham she was in conversation with Charles the handyman. He was nodding his head, when she had gone he peered across the room at Claude then shook his head from side to side in a disapproving manner.
At that moment came the loud call “Clients and residents,” it was Matron once again in the splendour of her uniform and sporting a starched white cap for the occasion.
“Clients and of course residents” she announced a second time, the buzzing of conversation did not stop immediately and so the inevitable spoon dance on the table top brought an immediate response, “Silence.”
“As I was about to say, clients, residents and now honoured guests.”
Looking up he saw several newcomers enter the arena it was a group of local businessmen he had seen over the years.
Normally well off fellows, some were Masons, other members of various trade organisations, who drove large cars with personalised number plates. They lived in detached houses with large gardens, which on the first and any other fine Sundays; they infected the atmosphere with fumes from the “Barbecue.”
Their wives attended local functions sporting large hats they had acquired for some wedding or more excitingly the annual lady’s event at the point-to-point horse race day where it was prudent to be seen.
“I am pleased to announce today,” she added “We are highly honoured to be graced with a visit from a contingent (Military slang coming out thought Claude) from the local trades organisations who will, as a special treat I may say, serve us with a wonderful meal. This will once again be supplied by our friend, Mentor and Sponsor Mr Salisbury; you will recall him from the feast recently.”
There was loud clapping as the diners turned to their tables picking up spoons at the ready and had bibs placed around necks, let the festivities commenced thought Claude.
He looked across the room to see Charles arrive with a table which was placed some distance from the also ran clients and residents. Doris one of the kitchen workers arrived with a white tablecloth no less; this was followed by Matrons private plates and other accruements. When the table was laid, Mr Raving appeared armed with a silver candlestick in hand which he proceeded to attempt to light. No matter how he tried unfortunately, his lighter would not operate.
Scouser Joe who had, until now, appeared to take no part in events, other than sitting reading made his move. There was more to old Joe than met the eye, he knew more than a bit about racing and the large hats who attended them.
The embarrassment upon the face of Mr Raving and the raving upon the face of Matron Raving did not go unnoticed in a room full of clients, residents and a visiting party, for at the critical moment the bloody lighter didn’t work to illuminate the star table decoration.
The situation was aggravated as, of course the home was all non-smoking and so it appeared there was not a match to be found.
Suddenly all was saved, a hand went up in the air and as it did do, all saw it and the room became silent. There were various instant assumptions one was not too obvious to the visitors but to Matron, well she would.
“Joe the Scouser again,” thought Matron, “surely he is not seeking to request to leave the room to use the toilet. Oh God she thought, just the same as the private soldiers in the military hospital always wanted the toilet at meal times, could it be worse, a bottle at the table.”
With that, a closer examination of the raised arm showed that it in fact held a cigarette lighter. Charles dashed over retrieved the lighter handing it to Mr Raving who turned, pressed the “Button A” and a burning flame appeared. It was only moments before Matron’s table was well and truly illuminated.
She smiled looked down and any lip reader would have realised she was miming “What a fuck up.”
The interruption over, Claude looked at the visiting Trade delegation, which included Mr Land Grab seemingly doing well from his recent acquisition of Claude’s lost wealth and Mr “I will have my top up coff
ee, tomorrow.” The remainder he thought were a varied bunch, some were Ok, ordinary fellows. Others had joined what they assumed was a charitable set of blokes, as it was the thing to do to become noticed; after all they always got their photos into the local newspapers.
Some thought Claude, had stood for years giving their time collecting money for good causes; their time thought Claude not their money. Many of them could have given as much as an event collected on a day without noticing it. One very wealthy man had for years “Done the washing up” at numerous events but thought Claude he would bet he didn’t put his hand in his pocket.
Dinner over Claude retired after a long hard session typing he thought as he lay on his bed and closed his eyes, “what next? He thought, Broughton and more cases that would be another day.
Chapter 14
Christmas is nearly upon us thought Claude and although it would make little difference to him as it had not done, for many years. In fact since his retirement when on arriving home discovering his wife had left him.
Prior to this he had nearly always worked over the holiday. It had been common practice for all officers to have at least one day off, normally Christmas Day for married officers with small children and Boxing Day for the rest. He had, he thought for some inexplicable reason nearly always worked on New Years Eve. It didn’t matter much then and nowadays didn’t matter at all; one day was the same as another.
It did cross his mind having thought about it, of a strange phenomenon whilst being on duty. During the day of Christmas Eve had always been a pleasant affair. Walking the town and seeing the last shoppers leaving for home, parcels in hand. There were always husbands the worse for drink leaving the local jewellers right on closing time having bought some item for “The wife” at the last moment in the vain hope their washing would be done and their meals prepared for yet another year.
Police Memories Page 21