Cops and Robbers. Ant Anstead
in total, including motorcycles. By the end of the war, in 1918, 6.7 million people had joined the British armed forces, and its quantity and variety of vehicles was huge. World War I really was the engine of invention and it’s true to say that it was a major contributor to the advancement of the internal combustion engine; aviation in particular drove advances in engine design and ignition. At the start of the conflict most planes were lucky to make 50mph, but by the end both sides had fighters capable of nearly 150mph. In four years that is astonishing progress, by any measure.
The war also taught a huge number of people, well, mainly men but some women, to drive, so when the government, in debt and battling other issues such as the post-war flu pandemic, decided to sell off the military’s massive vehicle roster there was no shortage of qualified (or otherwise) drivers. Suddenly war-surplus trucks were cheap and most tradesmen could afford to buy one and pension off their horse because the truck was substantially cheaper to run, more reliable and much faster. This was also seen as a move to clean up a society that had been literally awash with horse manure for many years, but in historical terms it was almost an overnight change – from the war ending in a still largely horse-drawn Britain to massive auctions of war surplus vehicles, such as Mac Bulldogs, being sold cheap to anyone who wanted one, in less than a year. This presented three very separate new issues for the police: vehicle theft became a problem, and in addition criminals could use this sudden availability of vehicles to get to and from crime scenes, and the roads suddenly became congested and needed policing – a wholly different problem that put the police into potential conflict with ordinary and normally law-abiding citizens. Policing motorists for speeding or parking wrongly was and remains a totally different problem than catching criminals.
The motor car had come of age, the public were falling in love with their cars, motor-racing heroes such as Sir Henry ‘Tim’ Birkin and Malcolm Campbell were celebrated for their achievements in the new cinema newsreels, and Brooklands was the place to be and to be seen. The post-war world was going to be a wholly different place and Britain’s police service simply had no option but to become a properly mechanised service in order to keep up.
The police ambulances
As the police service became organised and matured through the nineteenth century it may surprise you to learn that a major part of their work was operating an ambulance service and sometimes even a fire service for the local area. This was usually with a hand ambulance – a cart that an officer pulled – while richer boroughs, or areas with a bigger distance to cover, had a horse-drawn ambulance. This continued into the early part of the twentieth century, when both tasks were gradually devolved to separate services in various ways. The government formally devolved the responsibility for ambulances to local authorities in 1930 and, of course, the creation of the NHS in 1948 launched a whole new service. For reasons of space I have focused on ‘policing’ duties and vehicles in this book, as the fantastic work done by ambulance and fire crews deserves a whole separate volume. On a personal note, I worked alongside both services during my time in the police force and I have huge admiration for their professionalism, competency and, it must be said, humour; they do a fantastically difficult job brilliantly well.
POST-WAR PEACE; LONDON SETS THE WAY
The Met police reorganised their management of traffic just after World War I started and placed it under one commissioner’s auspices, which, in hindsight, can be seen as the beginnings of the first traffic department. At this time congestion from the mixture of horse-drawn and motor traffic was far worse in London than anywhere else in the UK, even during the war: a conflict which was initially seen as a short-term inconvenience likely to end by Christmas.
However, this scenario lasted five years and the practical experience gained by policing the city’s traffic during the war years had shown the value of having a separate department to deal with these matters in London. The Commissioner, too, saw the wisdom of this and, in writing to the Home Secretary at the end of the war, stated that he proposed to make the temporary wartime arrangement a permanent one. He went on to state that, ‘with the object of securing still further continuity and uniformity, it was desirable that a department should be formed to deal with traffic and to devote its resources to the study of the various and intricate problems that were constantly arising. This would act as an intelligence department by noting all points arising in other Public Departments, or in the press, and also the effect of the statistics prepared by the Executive Department and the Public Carriage Office.’ The Commissioner also said that he ‘envisaged that the new department would also provide a member for the Committee for the examination of Parliamentary Bills and, when required, for the Cab Drivers and the (splendidly named!) Noise Committee (no, this is not a Monty Python sketch). It would also deal with all correspondence on the subject of traffic, including by-laws and licensing. In addition, it would also generally collect and collate all matters appertaining to every phase of the traffic question.’
The Commissioner’s ideas on the need for a new department were accepted by the Home Secretary, and on 24 May 1919 the department officially came into being, having responsibility for all traffic matters, whether vehicular, aerial or pedestrian. The Commissioner, Sir Nevil Macready, in his annual report for the year, said of its formation that:
‘Owing to the increasing complexity of matters concerning traffic, it has been necessary to form a separate department to deal with this matter. The traffic advisers are in close touch with the Ministry of Transport and are thereby enabled to issue and co-ordinate suggestions. There is no doubt that the congestion of the traffic in the Metropolis is, to a great extent, due to existing thoroughfares being out of date and unadapted, either to the volume or the nature of the present traffic conditions. Another factor is the length of time taken to repair streets and roads, no attempt being made to work at night, with the result that traffic becomes hopelessly congested in main thoroughfares for a period which could probably be very considerably curtailed if more up to date ideas prevailed.’
And it appears that almost a century later nothing much has changed!
Traffic policing was born and the new department was to be responsible to the Assistant Commissioner ‘B’, Mr Frank Elliott, and came under the immediate control of Mr Suffield Mylius, a civil staff member, and Superintendent Arthur Bassom, who was in charge of the Public Carriage Office, both men carrying the new title of ‘Traffic Advisor’.
Arthur Ernest Bassom OBE KPM (14 June 1865–17 January 1926), Director of Traffic Services
Bassom was, in many ways, the father of UK motorised traffic control; he thought far ahead of most of his contemporaries and was famed for his incredible memory and encyclopaedic knowledge of all aspects of the motorisation of society. Police Commissioner Sir Nevil Macready admitted publicly at the time that Bassom was the one man in the Metropolitan Police who was indispensable! When he reached the retirement age of 60 (for officers below the rank of Chief Officer), in 1925, he was promoted to Chief Constable and given the title of Director of Traffic Services in order to retain him. He died the following year, still in harness. He was also awarded the Road Transport (Passenger) Gold Medal by the Institute of Transport, just two months before he died. As a mark of respect, it was decided not to fill his position after his death and his duties were absorbed by Assistant Commissioner ‘B’, Frank Elliott.
Bassom joined the Royal Marine Artillery as a gunner at 17 and passed his gunnery examinations with flying colours, which meant he was therefore almost certain of promotion. However, in 1886, just before his twenty-first birthday (the minimum