Whether or not this is true, I’ll leave to your imagination, but it came from a very, as we say now, ‘trustworthy source’ and he swears it is …
The late autumn of 1972 wasn’t particularly memorable, the usual December dark, drab, days with plenty of rain and wind, cold frosty nights with a threat of snow and even more depressing freezing fog, often filthy with a sort of black hue clinging in the air like a blanket at times, which made the old factory buildings and older parts of town seem bleak and eerie at night. The general political situation and industrial unrest caused by a variety of reasons – not all political (although those were questionable enough and the source of ramifications that are still rumbling on now almost 50 years later) all added to the gloom as I drove into work through freezing fog for the night shift in mid-December.
Nights in those days meant 10pm to 6am, based at what was then the divisional headquarters of the Constabulary of which I was a constable. It formed part of a large complex shared with fire brigade and ambulance service. A large 30s building, austere in appearance on the outside and inside, deliberately so as it also housed the magistrates’ court and before that the assize courts which were not known then for their user-friendly atmosphere.
The division, like many at the time, was under-strength and very busy, divided into four 15-officer uniformed sections and – as far as constables were concerned – each was run by two sergeants and one inspector. There was also a C.I.D section with its own hierarchy and the whole division was managed by senior ranks up to the Divisional Chief Superintendent. Mostly these men were ex – military second world war and Korean war veterans who had joined the police force and brought with them their ideas of disciplined service. To that end each section paraded 15 minutes before duty time, when the shift inspector inspected his troops looking at individual officers appearance as we stood to attention and showed appointments – these being warrant card, pocket book, truncheon (peg) handcuffs and, if on nights, a torch.
After stand easy a duty briefing was held, usually by the duty sergeant. This included requests for observations needed by C.I.D for example drug dealers, persons of interest, stolen vehicles and details of persons on ‘warrant’, which could range from trivial offences up to and including murder. Following that you were given your duty assignment for the shift, area mobile patrol, foot patrol, station duty coms, front desk and cell supervision along with your radio call sign, Charlie Bravo 05 or something akin.
None of this was on my mind, though, as I parked the car and walked through the murk into the station and parade room – no need to change in those days; we went to work in uniform just wearing a ‘civvie jacket’ on top. A bit thin on the ground again was my one thought as I met with other officers. It was. The usual complement was down to six PCs one sergeant and the inspector.
This in a city still with a lot of industrial workers and an army garrison on the outskirts whose complement of privates when combined with the baby-boomer generation, were not, contrary to popular myth, all paragons of disciplined virtue after a few ‘bevvies’ on a Friday or Saturday night, particularly if there had been a football match and the home team had lost. This was the early 70s, remember, and football matches before, during and after were often not places for the shy and retiring of our community.
“Right,” said the Inspector, “we are down on numbers and it’s going to be busy, I’ll take the area car, Sergeant station duties,” while one other officer and me were to do foot patrol city centre. The others would be mobile two up crew if possible, meal breaks to be as and when.
“Oh!” he added as an afterthought. “There are a couple of Specials from the two-ten shift on foot patrol in the city centre until midnight and Traffic have two cars on the division who may be able to assist if anything kicks off. You all know radio procedures and pay particular attention to sensitive buildings and vehicles.”
Remember that this was a time of heightened awareness due to the ‘troubles’ in Northern Ireland which looked, at the time, to be approaching civil war. We’d had lots of bomb warnings and military were always wary of situations where they may be under attack, added to that there were two military camps located on the sub-division, one apparently very sensitive, although just why or what we were supposed to do if called on to respond to an incident there was never really explained to us, unarmed and often few in number and ill equipped as we were by the standards of today’s ‘police service’.
We assumed that the army would take care of its own and there was a detachment of M.O.D police based locally with whom we had contact. They would, though, assist us from time to time at what was then called road traffic accidents that had happened near the camp, but that was about it.
Anyway, following a radio check, off into the night I went looking forward to eight hours in the freezing fog and walking probably the best part of 10 miles mostly on your ‘tod’ as we used to say; at least it kept you fit!
In those days radio communication was by what was called a pocket phone, in as much you had a radio receiver clipped to the lapels of your uniform tunic just above your whistle chain and the radio transmitter in one of your pockets. The receiver made a reassuring clicking noise every few seconds or so to show that it was ‘on’ but probably served as a warning of your approach to all and sundry, it never reassured me particularly, pinpointing your presence as it did to anyone with evil intentions who were certainly on the lookout at times, usually on nights the system was switched to ‘talk through’ which meant that everyone on duty could hear both sides of any radio call, that at least gave you a little confidence if you had to shout for assistance, ‘back up’ was never called for being something you did when parking a vehicle. Additionally you could always blow your whistle for help if needed of course but that just meant dust got in your eyes, most unlikely that it would have been heard by any other officers and anyway they would have been committed on patrol in other parts of the area minutes away by car never mind on foot.
Part 2 will be published here tomorrow and part 3 on Tuesday.
A fascinating insight into seventies policing. I believe there was also respect for police which doesn’t seem to be the norm now. Possibly unfair as I suspect a lot of police do not agree with some of the pc (not PC) directives that come down from above.
Those were the days, the golden age of policing. I was a London copper for 36 years and spent all of that time apart from 3 years walking a beat. I knew all the criminals on my patches and had them all sewn up metaphorically speaking of course. Stop and search was the order of the day and did on average 150 plus per month which led to 70 plus arrests in the main for drugs possession, offensive weapons and bladed articles in addition to stolen property. After parade in the morning (0600 am) when you would be standing to attention and having your appointments examined (pocket book, truncheon and whistle) by the section sergeant you would go and knock up those who were subject to fail to appear courts warrants, some backed for bail and some not. If you weren’t doing that, then getting at least 5 traffic process was required before tea break. In London we had Storno personal radio which were initially metal casing which hung from a clip attached to the trouser belt. In those far off days, if the sergeant stated he wanted to see you after parade you knew you were in the s**t, but if the Inspector wanted to see you, you knew it was deep s**t. In those days if an arrest was made then you had to investigate it from start to finish which might be all day and a little bit more. Going home on time was a rarity unless one was walking around not listening to the radio or with your eyes closed. The uniform was a belted tunic over which in winter was an overcoat with silver buttons, and always polished shoes. Yes those were the days, which sadly in the main are now long gone.
This is beginning to look like a good tale. Shades of Dixon of Dock Green, perhaps? I’m waiting for the twist.
Golly does this mean the police used to go out and walk about looking to prevent crime and keep an eye on things? The olden times are very strange but they must have thought it a good idea.
Yes it used to happen very widely especially in large cities and towns, but the Chief Constables of today are of a very different breed than they used to be, and appear to have little idea of how to police effectively. This is what happens when senior officers do not come through the ranks from Police Constable, and join as they do now straight from university into a senior rank thereby by-passing policing at the sharp end.