HUMOUR AT SCOTLAND YARD

Manawatu Times, Volume 60, Issue 232, 2 October 1935, Page 16

HUMOUR AT SCOTLAND YARD

■yyHEN I was in America in tho fall of 1930 studying police work, I was told more than onco by prominent officials that they could have guessed I came from Scotland Yard because of my Scottish accent, says Mr Frank Elliott in the Boston "Monitor.” This remark delighted police friends on tho west of the Atlantic, because they knew that I was not a Scot and that Scotland Yard situated in the centre of London, jhas no more connection with Scotland i than New York City has with tho cathedral town of York in England. It is customary to talk of the "grim portals” of Scotland Yard. There is in fact nothing grim about them, except perhaps to the guilty conscience of the evil-doer. It is true that the work done inside the Yard is often rather grim, but this must inevitably be the case with any work which- closely concerns the liberty and perhaps the life of a fellow creature. Any alleviation in the way of legitimate humour is welcome, especially if, as in the case of the American joke I have quoted, it is unconscious.

There is nothing particularly humorous in the crime of horse-stealing. It is not tho kind of offence you would expect to some across often in London, unless you remember that the 700 square miles which compose Greater London, and which is tho area 'controlled by the Metropolitan Police, include a fair amount of ground which is at least partially rural. But a certain constable did manage to extract humour from one such crime, not for himself, but for tho benefit of those who had to read his report. Three horses had been stolen from a field and a messago was circulated for police to bo on the lookout for them. This constable had the good fortune to recover tho horses and capture the | thieves. The way he reported it was that, acting on information received, he proceeded to a certain place and there saw the horses, each being ridden by one of the prisoners. "Being unable to secure assistance, I surrounded them and took them to tho polico station.” The idea of one man being of such ample proportions as to surround three horses and three men was distinctly pleasing. If he had only said that he "rounded them up,” which no doubt was what he wanted to say, the records of the Yard would kavo suffered thereby-

A Famous Minute Probably tho most famous minute ever written at tho Yard was by one of my predecessors. He was not fond of reading through long reports and had evolved a minute which generally- met tlio case and passed responsibility to bis subordinates. On tho docket of ono such report he minuted in his usual way "Take usual steps.” Unfortunately the case was entirely exceptional, and thus there could bo no "usual steps.” So his harassed department sent the file back to him with “Respectfully re-sub-mitted for directions. This is a special case.” He was not at a loss for a moment. Taking his pen quickly he wrote "Usual steps in special cases,” thus enriching tho records of the Yard with a gem that has never been surpassed. Very early in my police career, i

found that it was good policy occasionally to take a lighter tone in my minutes. A man had driven recklessly at a road junction and had not only disobeyed tho signal of the traffic pointsman but had caught his leg with the bumper and rolled him in the mud. Instead of expressing concern, the driver leaned back in his scat and roared with laughter. The obvious minute * ‘ summons” was placed on the file by the Traffic Branch and sent to me for my initials. I initialed it, but added a few words in my own hand. “Perhaps the P.C. will have the last laugh.” The superintendent of the division paid mo a visit on the following Wednesday. All the superintendents come to the Yard that day to draw tho weekly pay for their men. He had the particular file in his hand and said that he hoped that I would not miml his stating that minutes like mine did a great deal of good. Eirst, it showed that I took an interest in tho case. Secondly, it had pleased the division’s sense of humour. Lastly, he added rather naively, it showed that I had read the reports. Sympathetic Humour. < "'° after that 1 lost no opportunity of adding a few words in lighter vein. No scintillating wit was needed, only a touch of the most obvious, but not unsympathetic, humour.

Chiefs of police should realise that the junior ranks detest above all things the necessity oi writing out reports. When possible, forms lor reports are prepared so that the writing is reduced to a minimum. For instance the form for reporting cases of speeding is printed in skeleton, and one part contains the heading, “Statement made by driver when told he would bo summoned.’’ I noticed that such reports Irom one division always gave under this heading the formula, “No reply” So I sent fo>the superintendent and he said lie would look into the matter. Ever after-

Laughs in Crime Detection

ua.rd three out of four of the offending drivers ceased to be dumb, but their remarks were not illuminating. Thev said either “\ou want a job,” or “You oiurht to be catching burglars,” or Make it as light as you can.” It was a singular instance of mass production of three models. I fijdoed a little sidelight, if it were needed, by witnessing on that division, unknown to the officers concerned, a case of a young man caught speeding. For five solid minutes he poured out as fluent a stream ol invective as I have ever heard, to which the officers listened with patience and interest. How could this long How ol words be com* messed into the brief space provided on the form for “Statement of Driver” ? I felt.no doubt how it would be summarised, and my expectation was confirmed when I received the report. Tho statement in its condensed forni was

“No reply.” In my pre-police days 1 Had the advantage (though 1 would not have used that word at the time) of knowing what it was to fall foul of the law. Once, when I was an undergraduate at Cambridge, 1 wa* tempted to cycle on the footway in order to avoid an unpleasant stretch of flints spread on the surface of a country road. I was caught, summoned, and fined fivo shillings. Again, I was caught speeding at 27 miles ail hour, the maximum legal limit being 20 miles, and was fined £l. Neither of these offences could be deemed to “connote moral turpitude,” but I still remember the mental discomfort I suffered at the thought of having to appear in a polico court as a defendant. I found that I was nob alone in this feeling, and that to many people, especially women, such appearance is terrifying, both in anticipation and in fact.. Value cf Cautions. My experience has benefited a large number of people, for before I retired from Scotland Yard a system was established under which many thousands of persons every year received a polite letter of caution, instead of a peremptory summons to appear before a court of law to answer for their offences. This system has two results. First, each summons on an average involves the expenditure of not less than two hours of the working time of two policemen in attending court and giving evidence. Taking it at four hours of polico timo saved, there is half the working day of an officer released for his duties of pz'otecting life and property or regulating traffic. Secondly, it is contrary to the general run of human nature for the recipient of a cautionary letter not to have a» certain feeling of gratitude for not being summoned, and this must tend to the maintenance of good relations between the public and the police. .But for tho existence of such relations, some 20,000 police could not control 8,000.000 citizens in Greater London, fearlessly and unarmed

During the war, when it was easy for the best of citizens to offend against one or other of the multifarious emergenej? regulations, our consistent practice was never to proceed against anyone holding a high post in the fighting forces or against any member of the Government. It fell to me to caution them personally, not an enviable duty. In a single day there came to my room to receive cautions a member ot the Army Council, one of the Sea Lords of the Admiralty, a memoer ot the Cabinet and a member of the India Council. Each of them made things easy for me, for the job was odious to me as well as to them, except the Cabinet Minister, tie came in full of wrath and outraged dignity, but the situation was saved by one of the office cats. Unsuspected by me, it had curled itself in my armchair, and the sudden superimposition of some 200 pounds of Minister upon its slumbers aroused violent protests of voice and claw. This had tho effect of the appearance of the “monstrous crow” when Tweedledum and Tveedledee were “about to have a battle.” The Minister “quit o forgot his quarrel.” The Commissioner’s original idea was that a Cabinet Minister was too important a personage to bring to tlio Yard to receive a caution, but that I should instead attend at his office. I paid only one such visit, the Minister in question received me very coldly, rang his bell foi a stenographer, and told her that he required a shorthand note of what passed between us. I said to her, “Young lady, the only note that you need take is that I attended here by direction of my chief to caution the Minister for an offence against the Defence of the Realm Regulations. I have now done so.” And I left the presence. After this, the Commissioner decided that the venue had better be at the Yard.