Gay Life, Straight Work

by Donald West

  My Cambridge experiences were much less exotic than Sidney’s. During Pietro’s absences, there were rare overnight visits by Tom and others from London. One of them happened to have occasional work on a fairground near Cambridge and he visited several times. On his last visit he crept out while I was sleeping, taking my wallet, which he deposited in a nearby gutter, after extracting the cash. It was found by a neighbour and returned to me. I pretended that I had left my car parked with the window accidentally open. This was the only occasion when visitors stole anything. I recall some lonely wandering on dark evenings, in the cruising area by the River Cam, looking for a chance of quick, anonymous mutual masturbation. There was a port of call on the main road to London, a layby with a shack-like male toilet, usually unlit, much used for sex. I could call in for swift relief during late evening journeys back to Hampstead. A bold friend who often used this facility would park his camper vehicle in the adjacent lay-by. On one occasion he offered drinks to watching policemen. Such limited pleasures were ended when the structure was burned down and not replaced.

  Research Begins on Prisoners

  Teaching courses had not yet got under way when I first arrived at the Institute of Criminology, so I was allowed to try some research project. There was tacit agreement that it should not be on a sex topic. The sentencing of persistent offenders being a current political issue, Radzinowicz approved a psychological survey of chronic, recidivist prisoners. A sample of fifty men serving sentences of preventive detention was chosen. These were men who had been dealt with under S. 21 of the Criminal Justice Act, 1948 which allowed for offenders over thirty years old who had served at least three prior terms of imprisonment to be awarded long sentences of five to ten years on the grounds of their persistent criminality rather than the gravity of their latest offence. The justification for this provision was under active debate. A second sample of fifty recidivists in Wandsworth Prison was selected because they had had intervals of at least four years at liberty, having previously served at least two sentences of imprisonment and at least another two subsequently. The intention was to discover how these chronic criminals had managed to maintain unusually long periods apparently free from crime. Radinowicz had a preference for Institute book publications over contributions to research journals, so the findings appeared in a book, The Habitual Prisoner (London, MacMillan, 1963).

  I embarked on this project with the temerity of inexperience. First, the logistics of prison interviews were not easy. Apart from the Wandsworth sample, the preventive detainees were distributed among four outlying prisons accommodating men serving long sentences, chief of them Parkhurst in the Isle of Wight, accessed by ferry and necessitating lonely stays in a nearby hotel. Having secured Home Office permission and notified the prison of a visit, the individual listed, or an interview room in which to see him, were not always available at the time expected. There could be disappointingly long waits and on occasion a return visit was needed. The requirements of a visiting researcher were clearly way down on the scale of priorities for prison officers, and reception was very different from the red carpet treatment received years later when I was a member of the Parole Board.

  The interviews were conducted in an informal, conversational manner, but structured to cover topics of personal and family history with special attention given to accounts of offending behaviour and attitudes to the penal system. It was in effect much like the psychiatric case histories that I had been used to compiling at Maudsley. Information from the prisoners was supplemented by scrutiny of the men’s prison files and interviews with their friends and relatives outside, which were carried out by a female social worker with long experience of work within the penal system. The aim was to build up a comprehensive picture of each prisoner’s character and circumstances. The hundred men were classified into three groups on criteria taken from a then fashionable descriptive categorisation introduced by the psychiatrist David Henderson. A majority (52%) were classed as predominantly ‘Passive Inadequate’ deviants, that is feckless, socially ineffective, lacking in drive, often solitary and friendless, drifting along with careless neglect of personal responsibilities. Their criminal exploits were usually small scale and unskilled and carried out on impulse when confronted with personal problems. The ‘Active-Aggressive’ deviants (36%) were more extrovert, more actively defiant and aggressive, more energetic and resourceful, deliberately predatory in their criminal acts and conspicuously insensitive to the hurt they caused to others. Unlike the inadequates, they were sometimes guilty of serious robberies and large scale thefts. Only a minority (12%) of the interviewees were classed as ‘Non-Deviant’ with no obvious personality disorder and capable of normal family and social living. Their illegal exploits were generally planned rationally and they had friendly association with fellow criminals.

  This attempt to present a character classification was misguided. Modern research utilises standardised interview schedules and personality questionnaires to gauge quantitatively the extent of an individual’s ‘psychopathic’ traits, so that diagnostic labels no longer rely upon the subjective impressions of the interviewers. Nevertheless, qualitative assessments can have their uses. In this instance there were some significant correlations between the allocations made and the scores on psychological tests which had been given previously by prison psychologists, so the grouping was not without some meaning. It was a useful observation that so many of these ‘habitual’ prisoners, who might be regarded as conspicuous failures of the criminal profession, were social inadequates. The fifty preventive detainees proved to be a particularly sad lot. Their average age was 44.7 years with an average of 13.8 previous convictions. Most were serving sentences of seven or eight years. In a third of cases the value of the property involved in the offence causing their latest conviction did not exceed £10. Only one had an unblemished history of military service, though all had lived through the era of conscription. A half were unmarried, twenty-two had been divorced or separated; only one was living with his wife at the commencement of his present imprisonment. Eight were or had been psychotic (most certified insane) and an additional five had at some time been hospitalised for a psychiatric disorder. Many of the preventive detainees were pathetic social drop outs rather than desperately dangerous criminals.

  The sample of fifty Wandsworth recidivists were quite similar, in fact most of them would have qualified for consideration for preventive detention, but their personal peculiarities and criminality were slightly less extreme. All had had some gap in their criminal career, that is a substantial period at liberty without conviction, but in twenty cases there was evidence (from the men’s own accounts, from information given by relatives, or from police reports in the prison file) that they had not been genuinely free from offending during these periods. The gaps were more often judged genuine among those classed as ‘inadequates’ (18 of 23 as against 12 of 27). The fifty preventive detainees also included five who had similarly defined and apparently genuine gaps in their conviction careers: four of these were classed as ‘inadequates’.

  Consideration of the men’s circumstances during their periods of non-offending showed that they seemed often to coincide with the establishment of some kind of stable, protective and usually dependent relationship, such as cohabitation with an older woman or, in some cases, a period of peacetime army service with basic needs safely provided. The socially inadequate were more likely to respond to such opportunities, but likely to relapse when for some reason their situation changed and they were obliged to fend for themselves unsupported.

  Two conclusions were proposed. Firstly: long term, expensive, secure imprisonment was being applied unnecessarily to offenders who were persistent nuisances rather than desperate criminals. “A man with a large number of offences and repeated sentences of imprisonment is much more likely to be a psychiatric case or a hopeless inadequate than a dangerous gangster or a well organised bank robber”.

  Secondly: it seemed that there was a category of persist
ent petty offender who might be controlled by a supportive rather than a harshly punitive approach. I quoted (Habitual Prisoner p.107) an appeal court judge who, in May 1961, had substituted probation for a sentence of preventive detention on the grounds that the offender was “…a completely ineffective man. You don’t seem to be able even to commit a crime properly”. I cited also the experience of Norman House hostels for former prisoners started by Mervyn Turner who had claimed that, under sympathetic but firm guidance and a supportive environment, he had had remarkable success in helping such men desist from a life of petty crime.

  The system of preventive detention was abolished soon after the research was published, but I claim no credit. Unfortunately the idea of basing sentences on the frequency rather than the seriousness of offending lingers on in re-introduced legislation requiring mandatory sentences of imprisonment for repetitive offences of violence. Removal of the judges’ powers to exercise discretion in sentencing is nearly always misguided. Legal definitions can never encompass all the possible variety of behaviour and circumstances of an actual criminal incident. The imposition of inflexible rules will always mean that in exceptional cases sentences will seem unjust or unnecessary

  Statistics showing general trends, and the recognition of specific types of offending career, are ultimately based on the accumulation of actual cases. Individual examples can bring abstract notions to life. Mr X, for instance, in a bout of spontaneous self-analysis explained: “When a man has nowhere to go and no money, he’s not going to let himself starve. Landladies always want a week’s cash in advance. If he can’t get into lodgings he puts himself out to get somewhere. He’ll put himself out to commit some sort of crime, setting fire, breaking a window or something … Whatever you do, you get sent to prison”. An old report from his days in Borstal youth detention described him as “a poor miserable type” and “a body without a spirit”. Tests showed he had a slightly above average IQ, but his performance as a naval rating was so bad he was discharged as mentally retarded. From childhood he had been thought to be solitary and unfriendly, uninterested in anything and lacking in affection even for his own family. The offence that led to preventive detention was theft of a letter containing money that had been delivered to the hostel where he was staying. He made off with it thinking to find work elsewhere, but failing to do so, and being refused when he wanted to be taken in at a mental hospital, he set fire to a haystack. His record of eleven convictions included three that included arson offences. At interview he was full of complaints about lack of help from prison authorities who are “not interested in the likes of me”, “don’t give you a proper trade” and “if you report sick think you are a malingerer”. Unsurprisingly, outside informants described him as lazy and irresponsible, unconcerned when caught by the police and not bothered about living in penal institutions.

  By coincidence another similar case among the preventive detainees had had prior contact with me. We were living above the shop in Hampstead when, awakened by a crash during the night, I jumped out of bed, ran outside, saw that the shop window had been smashed with a brick, and hurried a few yards down the street to the neighbouring police station. Smilingly the policemen told me “We know him. He’s already here”. The fellow had hurled the brick to attract attention of an approaching officer, doubtless wanting to be arrested and obtain prison accommodation, but not expecting the long years of detention that awaited him. When at interview he described his offence and its location I knew, but did not reveal, that I had been a witness.

  Impressions gained from information on the early backgrounds of these recidivists suggested, what many subsequent, more systematic, research has amply confirmed, namely that deprived and unstable parental upbringing is characteristic of offenders whose official delinquency records begin early in life. On the other hand, there were some latecomers to crime whose offences began in later adult life who came from seemingly normal home backgrounds, suggesting, as recent research has confirmed, that criminal careers are not always the product of upbringing. Events in adult life can be important, as the following example illustrates.

  Mr Y came from a healthy, united family, well-liked and active in their local church. The father was in regular employment and the mother was described as caring, affectionate and a conscientious provider for all her children. Y had a brother and sister, both older and both in settled marriages. He displayed no significant behavioural problems as a boy and worked steadily at an apprenticeship for two and a half years until deciding to join the army. He disliked the life and on occasion went off sick with nervous complaints. His first known offence, while out drinking heavily with fellow servicemen, was breaking into a house. At age twenty-three he married a girl whose parents were disapproving. They allowed him to spend his leaves in their house, but there was considerable tension. At this point he lapsed into persistent and apparently irrational thieving of articles he did not need. On release from prison his wife agreed to come to live with him. There was a period of stability while he obtained a steady job and secured promotion and they were bringing up their young son. Then his mother-in-law fell ill and his wife insisted on leaving to help nurse her, taking the child with her. Soon he started drinking and thieving again and despite some attempts at reconciliation he was divorced. He remained in contact with his family of origin during his preventive detention and they were promising help after release. This was a classic example of a criminal career starting when a hitherto socially conforming man from a normal background failed to cope with stressful circumstances confronting him in later life.

  My views could have been swayed by awareness of my own ‘criminality’ as a homosexual and consequent sympathy with other types of outlaw, but it seemed to me that many of these prisoners did not deserve the sentences they received. Their misbehaviour needed to be brought under control, but punishment alone seemed likely to exacerbate their social problems, worsen their attitudes and lower still further their ability to lead a law abiding life. American penologists use the term “corrections”, which suggests benignly enforced self-discipline and social training, but my impression then, and everything I have seen and read since, convinces me that our prison system falls far short of this ideal.

  MORE RESEARCH PROJECTS

  Murder Followed by Suicide

  In the 1960s a third of the murderers in the UK never came to trial because they committed suicide immediately or very soon after the killing. Figures from elsewhere suggested that the proportion was of the same order in some other European countries. In Denmark it was 42%; but in the United States only 4%.

  I can’t remember how these surprising figures came to my attention, but they were little known to the public and seemed deserving of research. Who were these suicidal killers and how did they differ from other murderers? Accordingly, my next project was a study of police records of such incidents. Examination of police files in London (Metropolitan Police District) and three adjacent Home Counties showed that 78 murder-suicide incidents had been recorded in the area during the seven years 1954–1961. The circumstances of these 78 cases were perused in detail. Information culled from the files was supplemented by interviews with family doctors and other informants, conducted by a research associate, Miss C.H.Oppenheim. Families of the murdered victims might have been upset to have their tragedies revived, so they were not approached.

  In order to obtain a larger sample for basic statistical comparisons with murder in general, all of the 70 murder-suicide incidents found in the London Metropolitan Police records of nine adjacent years (1946–53 and 1962) were added, making a total of 148. A comparison sample of 148 murder incidents not linked to suicide was obtained from the same police records, choosing the chronologically nearest example to each of the 148 suicide cases. Some stark contrasts emerged. Females were much over-represented among the 148 killers in the suicide sample (40.5%). There were 156 killers in the murder sample, because some incidents involved accomplices, but only 11.5% of these killers were females. Child
ren under sixteen were more numerous among the 187 victims of suicidal killers than among the 156 victims of non-suicidal killers (49% against 18%). The contrast was caused by the many instances of suicidal mothers killing one or more of their own children. In both samples the incidents mostly involved the killing of family members, overwhelmingly so in the suicide sample (93.2% of 148 killers) but also to a great extent in the non-suicidal sample (88.8% of 156 killers). In those days murder was very predominantly a domestic crime.

  The murder-suicide sample was defined by the label ‘murder’ attached by the police following inquest findings, but unconfirmed by the outcome of a contested trial, so there is slight uncertainty as to whether some of the deaths could have been accidental. For instance, one case concerned an elderly, socially isolated spinster sharing drab accommodation with her very aged mother. She had become unjustifiably fearful about her health and worried about what would happen to her mother were she to die first. The pair was found dead from gas poisoning. Some taps of the gas cooker were half on but unlit and some dusters were stuffed into the ventilator above. However, the old lady was sitting at a table laid for tea and a kettle and saucepan of milk were normally positioned on the cooker. The spinster was lying near the cooker. The coroner noted that the possibility of accident was not ruled out. As it happened the old mother was wealthy and those standing to inherit from the daughter could not do so if her assets had been acquired by murder. Some years later it was ruled at a High Court hearing that this victim’s death was accidental, so her will was declared valid.