TAXMAN'S STRANGE FARES

Evening Post, Volume CXXIII, Issue 1, 2 January 1937, Page 21

TAXMAN'S STRANGE FARES

Humour, pathos, farce, tragedy, and the bizarre are the daily lot of the London taxi-driver. He sees most of the world go by, and some of it he takes on its way, sometimes to strange destinations, says a writer in an English paper. Meet Mr. Henry Charles Kay, of Acton. He has been driving a taxi ever since September, 1907—except for four years driving lorries in France. In all, he has driven 637,000 miles, or more than 25 times round the worl'd, without an accident. All the lore of London's cab-ranks —the "Scent-Box" at York Road, King's Cross, the "Ditch" at Ludgate Circus, "Frog's Island" at Westbourne Grove, the "Rat's Hole" at Charing Cross Underground Station, and many another—is Mr. Kay's. He is the comrade and fellow-worker of "Tarzan," "The I Happy Dustman," "Lord Offenbroke," "Wireless Willie," "Truthful Freddy," "Captain Slash," and many another taxi-driver character. To them he is "Plum." A yarn with Mr. Kay is worth while. "One of the best jokes," said he reminiscently, "was that of the man-ser-vant in Jermyn Street. He hailed my cab, and very politely helped an old lady into it. It was no light task, for she must have weighed 20 stone. He settled her comfortably, handed her her parcels and umbrella, patted her lapdog, and, when at last he did shut the door, he bowed most punctiliously and said to me, 'Take this old hag up to Southwick Crescent and give her a good shake-up. You won't shake much out of her, she's as deaf as a beetle.' "When I helped the old lady out, she said to me, 'That man in Jermyn Street was very rude. He mistook me for my sister —it is she who is deaf, not me.' I think she enjoyed the joke quite as much as I did. "Another old lady among my passengers is a pathetic memory. I was at Baker Street Station, when she came tottering over to us and said, 'I want to go to Castle-on-the-Green.' None of us drivers knew it. 'Don't you mean Strand-on-the-Green?' I asked 'No, no, Castle-on-the-Green,' she insisted. So I asked the policeman on point if he knew where it was. 'Yes,' he said, 'it's in Edinburgh. I come from there.' I went back to the old lady and said, 'Do you mean the one in Edinburgh?' 'Yes,' she answered, 'please hurry, I am late.' I told her, 'It's a little far for us to go, but there's a white bus stops over there that will take you in a minute.' Meanwhile, the policeman had 'phbned for an ambulance, and in a few minutes she was inside it and happily away to 'Castle-on-the-Greert.' Poor old soul! She was undoubtedly dying, and I suppose a sort of instinct in her clouded mind made her ask for the scenes of her childhood. "Peppery military gentlemen are an evergreen source of fun to taxi-drivers. I remember once answering a 'phone call at a cab rank. I realised at once that it wasn't a taxi that was wanted. It was obviously Colonel Blimp on the wrong number. 'Is that the War Office?' he barked. 'No, sir,' I replied, 'this is Bethlem Asylum. Can we help you?' What the old boy said nearly fused the instrument! "I well remember another of the same type, who nearly involved me in a riot. I was on a rank in Holborn, naturally keeping an eye on possible customers, but the only likelylooking one, a fierce old boy of military appearance, made no response when I 'plied' him. Suddenly, someone behind yelled, 'Taxi!' and when I looked round I saw this same old gentleman waving his walking stick. "I sized him up: retired army officer, very peppery, red-hot, and also very cross. I went over to him prepared. He opened.the entertainment by shouting. 'Here, I've been waving my stick for five minutes. Wake your bally self up,' get a move on, I want Waterloo!' I led off with, 'Who do

you think you're shouting at? Who the blazes are you? I'm not in the army now. Whether you want Waterloo, Beeroloo, or even Champagneoloo, you aren't on the parade ground.' "To my surprise he simply said, 'Waterloo, quick,' and jumped in. I did my best to please the old chap, but fate was against me, and I hadn't got very far before I got caught in a traffic jam. I couldn't turn back, so we had to stop there. "Meanwhile Blimp was hanging out of the window and delighting the crowd by yelling at the top of his voice, 'For the love of Mike, get a move on! I'm in a desperate hurry.' I said, 'All right, will you please explain that to the gentleman in front.' "There was no more trouble till we got to Waterloo. Blimp got out spluttering and yelled at me in a voice that rattled the glass roof. 'Now I've got an hour to wait!' 'Well, what about it?' I returned, 'you know where to spend an hour.' 'What in hell's bells do you mean?' he shouted. 'You know where the canteen is, you can persevere in there for an hour without getting tired, I'll bet.' He growled, 'Well, blast you, good day!'—and when I called the roll, Blimp had paid double fare. So, perhaps he wasn't as an.|y as he sounded! "I remember another story of a military fare, though it didn't happen to me. My brother at the time was driving a cab which was my property. He was going across Blackheath at 2 a.m. in a snowstorm. Suddenly he saw something moving in the road in front and stopped, rather than risk an accident. It was a soldier, wet through and in misery. He came up and said, 'Can you take me to Woolwich Barracks? If you can't can you take me somewhere out of the rain?' Although wet through himself, my brother said, 'Jump in. I'll soon have you there.' "When they got to Woolwich Barracks, the soldier jumped out a raving madman. He had a swordstick, a really dangerous weapon, and he flourished it, yelling, 'You come down here, and I'll run this through you!' "A sentry told my brother that the man's name was Gunner C— —. When it was reported to me, I wrote to the commanding officer at Woolwich. After about a week I got a letter from the Chief Medical Officer at Netley Hospital, which ran, 'Sir, I have to tell you that Gunner C is a patient here for mental trouble.' "One evening .1 was" passing Lloyd's Captains' Room, when I was hailed by two serious-looking individuals. 'Nearest ; pawnshop, quick,' was the order. As they were carrying an attache case, I got a' bit suspicious. "They were out of the pawnshop inside 15 seconds. 'Another pawnshop, quick,' said one. Again they were out inside a minute. There followed another and another. 'Now take us to a gramophone shop.' 'Oh!' I thought, 'it's a gramophone they've collared.'* The next order put me more at ease. They told me to drive to a West End address, and when they got out they were laughing loudly. '"Tell me the joke and I can laugh too,' I said. One of them replied, 'My friend has made me a bet that I can't pawn or sell my gramophone for 10s, and I can't. I said, 'I'll give you 10s for it,' but he said, 'Oh, no, that's not in the bet.' "One other story. I dropped a fare in a West End street, when another man got into the cab, and said, 'Just wait here a few minutes.' We waited and waited until an hour and a half went by. Every time I spoke to him, he said, 'Just a few minutes more.' At last I lost patience and said, 'Sir, unless you give me a reason for stopping here, you will have to get out of the cab.' "He replied, That's my house over there, and I want to know what time my wife goes to bed when I'm out. We waited till 4 a.m. before her bedroom light went out. I got paid off, and it was a good job, but the police came and asked me three times if everything was all right."