Under The Helmet

Press, Volume CII, Issue 30230, 7 September 1963, Page 3

Under The Helmet

(A Fourth Leader m ”Th» Times”)

Detection, like other walks or life, has been marvellously transformed by technology. In the age of electronics ’ and microdots Holmes no longer astounds even the veriest Watson. Now his amateur sensibilities as well as his scientific skill have been overtaken by the Ustrades. The smoke-lapped violin—or for that matter, Lord Peter Wimsey’s perfect pitch as he rehearsed the classics in a tight corner—are like incidentals from the age of innocence when set against the reported incident of a northern policeman on point duty with a transistor radio in his helmet. Wimsey may hum, and Holmes may scrape, but the man in blue could savour through his discreet earphones the greatest artists of the recording age. One must assume he listened to music, of course This has been part of the police tradition since “The Pirates of Penzance.” and if a colliery does not win a brass band competition it is reasonable to expect that policemen will. When Celtic and Rangers enact their thunderous rivalry on the embattled pitches of Glasgow the police band at the interval makes a harmonious foil to the dozens of grave and dignified colleagues about the touchline keeping their eyes open for flying bottles. On duty a policeman cannot decently sing, and must be wary even about laughing Some may feel it is pleasant that he should have the solace of music not only on ceremonial occasions and when the Aldermaston marchers are in full voice but in that lonely eminence when he stops all the street with a wave of his hand, like young Peter O’Loughlin from the Mountains of Mourne. Besides, observation suggests that there is nothing like a transistor radio for producing, in its owner at least, a serenity of demeanour perfectly suited to a policeman on sucb duty. One may see h on the beach, when a youth with his wireless in his hand passes obliviously among the crowded company half of whom would willingly have his life. This

is precisely the relationship of a traffic policeman to motorists. So long as he sticks to the earphone type, and is alert against a change of programme which might produce unseemly laughter—that favourite BBC. recording, for example, in which the driving instructor says to the woman he is teaching. “So long as you’re on this traffic island you're not blocking anyone's lane”—the muses and the proprieties are agreeably wedded. It says something for the officer's ingenuity as well. Even the White'Knight could hardly have thought up a better use fjjr his helmet.