At around 4pm the shops began closing and by 5pm the town was deserted. Night duty on that night was much different, with many merry makers taking part in what was known as a “Pub Crawl.”
Participants would consume a drink or drinks mostly pints or spirits in each pub, often they were in large groups. He had been convinced many years ago that there was a culture being to get as many alcoholics drinks inside a person in the shortest possible time.
All was well until 11pm when each year for some unknown reasons the participants who had all day been happy, some in fancy dress mostly from office parties. After 11pm the atmosphere changed and there was always violence between 11pm and 2am when God must have looked down stretched forth his hand and said, “Go home or sent a massive fall of rain,” for the towns were then quiet.
Not so at police stations were the cells were inevitably occupied. The places were pandemonium, drunks swaying, as the sergeant was attempting to book them in, the arresting officer searching and removing their property.
The Sergeant checking and logging it on the Charge sheet before the guest was taken to the cells to be locked up for the remainder of the night.
In the cells area things varied. At first there was shouting and swearing abuse, fists banging the door often with added effect by using their shoes, the laces having been removed to avoid one or other strangling themselves or their cell mate. After a while the noise subsided as the prisoners fell into drunken slumbers. The atmosphere had changed when the sergeant made his half hourly visit to ensure no one had died and his job and pension with him or her. Visits were then quiet but the noise was replaced by the aroma of vomit and excreta as the cell occupants natural body motions clicked in, they being so drunk they weren’t aware of it.
The atmosphere changed once again around 8 am when the early morning sergeant having taken over wanted the cells empty before the Super arrived at 9 am or indeed before his own meal break. The scene in the cells was of prisoners being shaken to awaken them, when they were roused those that still needed to visit the toilet were escorted from the cell to do so. (there were no toilets in cells in those days)
At this stage they were given a mop and a bucket of hot water and told to wash out the cell. Those who objected were told, “You did it; you clean it up, if you don’t want to do it why do you think I do.”
Most then cleaned up their mess immediately, all cleaned it up eventually as a refusal meant further time to contemplate their decision and thus further time in the smelling cell.
As he reminisced he thought back to his early youth, late child hood call it what you will.
His father related a story that on Christmas Eve he had been having a drink in the village pub at Hafod. It was packed to the door. Suddenly two miners began to argue and in moments the whole house was fighting.
Mrs Ellie as she was called by nickname sent her daughter the 100 yards to the policeman’s house. Minutes later he arrived, he was alone, no radio, no vehicle, no help. He stood at the front entrance and then grabbed the first person he saw, grabbed him and “Chucked him out” to quote a local phrase. He systematically moved inside and the pub began to empty. Some miners thought it was a “Joke" and once thrown out went around to the back door and re-entered.
The Copper soon realised this and grabbing one-man nick named Toby he said to him, “I threw you out once; I won’t have to do it again.” With that as he arrived at the entrance he gave the miner a “Dig in the ribs,” and tossed him outside. He was correct, according to Claude’s Dad, for he didn’t return, neither did the others. The back door was in use but by “Boozers" hastily retreating that way rather than now passing the policeman. As Toby got up he noticed his shirt was ripped, presumably as he was ejected.
There was a twist in the tale when some days later Toby arrived home to discover the policeman had visited whilst he was at work, he had brought a brown paper bag, opening it Toby found a new shirt.”
Those were the days thought Claude little money food and other items they all just being taken off national rationing. He hesitated as the times came back to him.
His father related that during the war he and some miners had visited a farm carol singing. Having completed the carol, there was no response, the door opened with the banging and inside was a table laden with all manner of food. The miners helped themselves and as the farmer, his family and workers were at church a note was left for him on the table “All is safely gathered in.”
Looking through the window along the canal he saw a lady walking her Pekinese dog, he laughed as he thought once again of the village pub in Hafod, similar to those fictional pubs featured on the television which are focal points in any soap opera. The dog reminded him of one in his village and its owner out walking it often brought it into the pub but whilst he was gossiping he didn’t realise miners were giving it a treat, drinks of “Booze” served in an ashtray. They thought how funny it was to look at the owner who couldn’t make out why the dog kept falling over and ended his walk having to carry the dog home.
Over the months since commencing his police service the routine was the same but Claude became more experienced and was soon patrolling alone. Time, he thought to recall some of the incidents that had occurred during his first two years serving the demanding public but even more demanding senior officers.
One night during the first weeks he had just commenced night patrol alone. It was 1am all the lock up premises had been checked he was in the High Street checking parked vehicles for expired vehicle excise licences known in those days as the Road Fund Licence but in police circles it was referred to as “Rent.” He had noted two offending cars and had completed the necessary card an RF 16/3, a form reporting an offence to the local motor taxation department, to send to the Local taxation office to report the offenders.
This caused him to digress from his story as he thought the money from such licences was so great as to exceed that required to maintain the roads so the Government had changed the name to an excise licence, thus receiving the money direct into the general taxation fund. It sounded a good idea but then Claude realised once the Government had the money from vehicle owners in the central fund it was suddenly discovered there was insufficient money for repairing and building roads.
Police officers like anyone else could be over inquisitive, such as the occasion when Claude was working a night shift in company with his parent constable. Having checked the property in the town they walked to the outskirts just a little over a mile to some new Industrial buildings. They split up taking a side of the road each. When completed Claude was a little behind meeting up with his Colleague.
When asked for an explanation Claude had replied, “At the factory over there I saw a car parked on the car park, all was in darkness but I checked it.”
“Anyone in it?” enquired Rob Olden
“Just a courting couple,” replied Claude.
“I take it you took their details Claude for the persons seen at night book I mean?” asked his fellow officer.”
“Yes, I have them both; they were having it off so I had to wait until they were in a position to give the details.”
“I see,” said “Olden, who were they?” He asked.
Claude handed him his note book and whilst doing so shone his torch on the page, the names meant nothing to Claude but certainly did to Rob Olden for on reading it he took off towards the parked car and upon arrival there was an almighty row.
When the ruckus had subsided Olden informed Claude the girl he had checked was in fact his own girl friend.
All is well that ends well, for forty years later whilst out shopping Claude met his old colleague and his wife, the same girl now an old lady.
Some men keep calm even under pressure, Claude was on patrol when he saw a parked car and on checking it discovered a couple inside. He knocked on the car window and it eventually slid down. A shine of the torch inside the vehicle revealed a couple making love. Feeling he had to say something Claude asked, “Have you
got your driving licence sir?”
The man half turned put his hand into his coat pocket, pulled out his wallet, found his driving licence and gave it to Claude. The man continued and when Claude had checked it he tapped him on the shoulder, the man put up his hand Claude returned the licence the man continued love-making non-stop and wound up the window and continued.
On another occasion he was walking at the regulation pace in the quiet Listern Street in Broughton, a car approached and stopped. It was the station car, it contained the duty sergeant who leaned over and opened the passenger door a clear sign Claude was required.
“Get in,” was the instruction.
He did so and the car sped off, he was told a report had been received of a prowler on one of the housing estates.
“I take it, you have read the Super’s instruction file of the constant complaints of a prowler on these estates?” replied the Sergeant.
Having no idea of what the instruction file was let alone its contents Claude replied, “Oh yes sergeant but I haven’t been allocated that area.”
“You will be,” was the reply and the vehicle arrived in a large estate of council houses and tall flats. Driving around they stopped by some garages, there was a group of about ten men standing and obviously waiting for the police being in the instance the sergeant and Claude, to arrive, and all was quiet.
They left the police vehicle and obtained the story. The residents were fed up with this prowler and his “Peeping Tom” antics having reported it to the police nothing in their eyes had been done so the locals had decided to keep watch themselves.
“We got the bastard, sergeant, we caught him looking through the windows of the young woman who lives over then, look in his pocket he has her knickers” said a man approaching the officers “Here he is, lock him up.”
Arriving within the group and looking at the man the sergeant replied, “Only one place for this fellow and it’s not the nick. Friendly here will give the area special attention in future won’t you Friendly.”
No doubt thought Claude as he imagined the one-mile walk from the town to the estate, all up hill.
What then transpired was typical of those times causing Claude to think of the press reports of today when the police would act much differently, that is if they agreed to attend.
The sergeant said, “Here, take the woman her knickers back and you lot get off we will deal with him and in future ring us and let us deal or you will all get locked up.” The group turned and walked away, taking their baseball bats with them.
The man had to quote a police phrase of the times, “Had sevens bells of shit knocked out of him.”
His face was black and blue there were cuts and bruises, he had trouble standing.
The sergeant said to him, “Well it looks as if you have been punished enough, we will take you to hospital, I take it you won’t be making a complaint about them. If you do we will have to arrest you for stealing the knickers and peeping. Then of course when the circumstances appear in the paper and your boss finds out, that wont go down very well now will it, I don’t suppose your wife will be much pleased either.”
The victim or criminal, he was both replied, “No, thank you sergeant for your help.”
Arriving back at the police station the sergeant directed Claude to write off the message in the message book.
The original message read, “Report of a disturbance and prowler at the council houses and flats in Long Lane.”
Claude wrote as directed. “Scene visited by duty sergeant and PC Friendly, all quiet on arrival, advice given to all parties.”
Claude never heard of the “Peeping Tom” again, but he himself did spend many long cold hours for many night shifts patrolling the area.
There was a telephone box on the estate Claude often kept a point there and frequently he received a call to attend an incident in or on the other side of town a return distance at a brisk pace of a mile to two miles depending on the location.
During his 45 minutes refreshment time that night he asked for and was given the “Instruction File” initiated by Superintendent Bannerman. It was a large file with index sheets at the front. It appeared to contain instructions or complaints upon every known or conceivable subject. Claude was to discover very soon this file was almost a station bible, when anything went wrong or an officer transgressed, the failure to comply with an instruction from within the folder would be quoted. He was to discover a saying; The Super would submit bigger and better memos, which with time became even bigger and even better.
Life in the police station did have its moments of rule breaking and hilarity for the officers at least. Outside the police station there was situated a telephone box. Adjacent to the telephone was a bus stop and a rubbish bin. All those years ago the Government promoted the sale of British eggs and invented the Lion stamp on each egg to indicate they were British and fresh. There were adverts in all the newspapers, magazines and on the television; the lion and the eggs were a household name.
Around 8 15 am, before the superintendent and the sergeant arrived, a long queue formed by the bus stop the office constable and any patrol officers would often ring the phone in the telephone box and meanwhile peep outside. Eventually someone could not resist going into the phone box and answering the phone, this is what transpired.
Innocent member of the public “Hello, phone box in White Street.”
Reply, “Ah Good morning this is the egg marketing board. We are promoting Lion eggs. If you would just go outside there is a waste bin on the telegraph post. At the bottom of the bin you will find there is concealed a box of lion eggs inside the box is a voucher for additional cash. If you would please retrieve the box of eggs and return to the phone reading the number from the voucher the eggs and cash refund will be yours.”
The officer waited and more often than not saw the person go and pull out all the rubbish from the waste bin, but found no eggs or voucher. The bus arrived and the victim would hastily leave the scene including the litter around the pavement and disappear on the bus. Occasionally they would not and then could be seen heading towards the police station arriving in a foul mood. The office man was experienced and kept a straight face whilst the rest ran into the back so as not to give the show away as they were all laughing. He listened intently, and then made a note on a piece of paper informing the complainant he would look into the incident.
Public telephone boxes in Broughton were cleaned by Sid, the handyman from the sorting office, in those days the post and the telephone services were part of the same organisation Her Majesty’s post office.
Sid was often seen on his pedal cycle, carrying some small steps as he visited each telephone box in turn, washing and removing waste items. He was a frequent visitor to the Police station handing in items he had found and so was well known to all officers.
Once he was seen cleaning a box in the town the phone would ring, he answered it “Hello Sid here.”
“Hello Sid, it’s the Sorting Office can you visit box ten?” “It’s been reported to be in a mess.”
It was about two miles away.
“Ok,” came the reply and off he went. When he arrived he had not been there long when the phone rang again, he answered
“Hello, Sid here.”
“Hello Sid, it’s the sorting office again can you visit box eight?”
Box eight was located on the other side of town.
“Ah Ok, by the way this box looks OK I didn’t have to do anything,” he called.
“It seems the postman who took that last call took the wrong location,” was the reply.
He was then seen cycling the two miles to the next kiosk as far as Claude could recall Sid never realised it was the police giving him the run around.
Telephone boxes were frequent stopping places for patrolling police officers, keeping points. That is to say at the designated time, the hour, the quarter hour; half or three quarter hour, officers would keep a point. They were duty bound to arrive at the kio
sk five minutes before the time and wait until five minutes after the time, if the telephone didn’t ring the officer continued foot patrol. If there was in incident the officer would be telephoned by the station duty officer and directed to what ever was needed. When more than one officer was on patrol the system meant an officer was readily available.
Soon after arriving at his first posting Claude was keeping a point when the duty sergeant arrived. Claude was standing outside the box when the sergeant arrived and said, “I’ll sign your book.” Claude produced his notebook; one had to ensure it was always up to date. On the occasions it was not the sergeant waited until it was and if more than one entry had to be inserted he gave the officer a telling off. He would then read the entries for the day and finally sign and date his visit and any write in any comment.
“Where is your four pence?” asked the sergeant, Claude looked at him with a blank expression.
“I take it you don’t have your four pence Friendly, how the hell are you going to contact the police station?”
Public telephones required four one-penny coins as local calls cost four old pennies. There was button A and a button B. The caller put in the four pennies dialled the number and when the person on the other end of the phone answered the caller pressed the button “A” and the coins fell into the box and the call was made. If there was no reply the caller pressed button “B” and the money was returned.
The sergeant demonstrated the no cost method, he picked up the handset placed in the coins and dialled the number. The phone was answered, he tipped up the handset and shouted down the ear piece not the speaking end and shouted High street.” He replaced the receiver and pressed the button B and his coins were returned.
In a moment the telephone rang, Claude was told to answer it when he discovered it was the police station.
Police Memories Page 22