HEARTS OF POLICEMEN

Greymouth Evening Star, 13 October 1928, Page 4

HEARTS OF POLICEMEN

MANY GENEROUS DEEDS. That there is a great deal of unflourished and secret good done by the London police was illustrated at Old Street Court, lately, when a youth applied to the magistrate for assistance. In speaking of the case the magistrate —who agreed to grant assistance if the man was actually working—remarked on the kindliness of a detec-tive-sergeant, who had gone out of his way tc- obtain employment for the applicant and had also provided him with decent clothing. But for the appeal made by the youth, none would have known of this act of generosity. And, indeed, little is realised of the extent to which the police assist men and women who have fallen by the way. Occasionally—as happened' recently —a judge has cause to compliment a constable on his liberality; and it is only then that the tender side of the executives of the law is revealed to a .public ever prone to criticise and grumble.

On a recent evening a writer in the “Sunday News” was chatting to a police-inspector at Scotland Yard, and, incidentally, inquired about a girl who had vanished from her home in the provinces. “Ah,” the inspector said, “I am afraid there are many instances of the sort. Only a week ago I came across two young girls who were stranded . They told me they had come from Liverpool, had been taken for a ‘joy-ride’ in a motor-car, were jettisoned miles from London and had to tramp the weary road back.

“I was anxious to save them from the terrible fate that overtakes so many lonely girls, and gave them money for a lodging, telephoned to the police at Liverpool, and when I discovered that they had really left that city, I advanced their fare back; of course, making sure that they boarded the train.”

“You were repaid?” the writer inquired. The police- inspector shrugged his shoulders. “What does that matter?” he exclaimed. “It’s all in the day’s work.”

The late Chief Detective Inspector Kane once provided the defence of a man whom he had arrested on a murder charge. When a remark was made regarding his generosity, with a gentle smile he answered: “We have to be fair; if it hadn’t been for that Adolph Beck would still be in prison; and while one is passing through this world one might as well do all the good one can.”

Ex-Superinteudent Froest now living in retirement, and the voluntary head of a convalescent home, was constantly assisting convicts; and for a long while' two discharged prisoners were practically pensioners on his bounty, though they let him down in the end.

Another inspector of police, who has just retired —Frank Hall—was never known to refuse help to a “down-and-out,” who showed a genuine determination to mend his ways. He dispensed many Treasury notes in private benefactions, while he was —and still is—the president of a charity for distressed and forsaken children. In duty, stern and unrelenting, he had, in the words of one of his intimate associates, “a heart of gold, a nature overflowing with kindness.” Not long ago one of the Scotland Yard chiefs made a. personal appeal to a young profligate. “If you go on as you are doing,” he said, “you will become a habitual criminal, beyond hope of redemption or salvation.” The youngster pleaded that he had never had a chance and that he would go straight if he could be given a situation and a little money to tide him over.

This challenge was accepted; lodgings were found and paid for by the detective, who also spoke for his protege to an employer; and it is stated that the man became a “brand plucked from the burning.”

When it was suggested that the facts should he published, especially as many bitter things were being said to the discredit of the force, the big man shook his head. “There's nothing extraordinary about it,” he said, “and in any case I wil not have my name used in association with such a trifle.”

There is now in London an old man whose years for the most part have been passed in convict prisons. He was convicted when a boy and punished with the savagery of those bad old days. This, he declares, made him a criminal. After his last sentence he approached a famous detective. He explained his position and added plaintively that he was not even able to draw the old age pension, though he was well over the stipulated age. The detective immediately advanced enough money to supply the necessities of life, and made such representations that the pension was granted, and with a little extra help placed the old man beyond the need of want. In relating the story the ex-convict said: “I received the utmost kindness from the officer. He helped me out of his own pocket. He took up time over my case, and he expressed the hope that my declining days would be spent in peace. He put heart into a dejected, broken old man. And he forbade me to give the name of my benefactor to anyone.”.

One could give scores of instances in which police-constables have financed broken-down men, even though there was not the faintest likelihood of any return; and these men would pooh-pooh any suggestion that their acts of mercy were out of the way and deserving of commendation. One such case did breakthrough the veil of secrecy the other day. An officer found a man in Hammersmith wandering about and eventually making for the direction of the river. He questioned the fellow, to find that he was on the verge of utter despair. He did not —as he might have done —charge him with wandering with no visible means of subsistance, but took him to a lodging-house, and early next morning called there with a bundle of clothes.

The officer kept the outcast for a week; and then got him a job on the riverside. And the man seems to be making good. The writer tried lo induce the officer to talk about his good deed; but he made light of it, and exclaimed, “If we can’t do a, decent thing for someone who is up against it, what is the good of living?”

After all, the members of the police force, representative of the unbending laws as they are, are intensely human. It may be asserted that even the hardest of them have their generous impulses. But they carry out the old tradition of never letting the left hand know what the right hand does.