Cops and Robbers. Ant Anstead
of cars you will see in this book – you’re welcome!
The General Strike is important in the history of the police car because it marked the very beginnings of police officers being moved around to deal with troubles, something I became all too familiar with in my time as a police (and especially PSU/Riot) officer. This particular role depended on motorised transport to get officers to scenes quickly, and the lack of this sort of capability within various UK police forces was soon exposed nationally to both the government and media. From this time on, policing fleets got bigger and bigger across the UK. At the early stages of researching this book we did look at trying to come up with a definitive list of cars that the police have used, but we gave up quite quickly, simply because it encompasses pretty much everything, with local forces sourcing cars individually and in some cases buying used as well as new, especially immediately after World War II. No records exist for many forces, and in the early days local philanthropic lords of the manor would sometimes even loan cars to the police as a gesture of public spirit, which meant that police officers were sometimes seen in the most unlikely of vehicles, from station wagons to Rolls-Royces. I can’t imagine a member of the public today lending their car to the police to borrow. I wouldn’t!
Car registration
The Roads Act 1920 had established the Road Fund licence and introduced tax discs to windscreens. This scheme was run by local councils, which meant it was fairly easy to register a car with a number plate that was also being used elsewhere because there was no central list of vehicles at this stage. The criminal fraternity exploited this regularly (as I discussed on the Channel 4 show The Lost Lotus, following my restoration of a mysterious Lotus Elite); a UK-wide system of checks was not properly introduced until the DVLA started to computerise information in the mid-seventies. This legislation, and consequent government revenue, was needed though, because by 1930 vehicle numbers had risen to a million (when the UK population was around 45 million, around 20 million less than it is as I write this book in 2018), but drivers were not educated in how to handle their cars in terms of etiquette, skill or plain common sense. Road deaths and casualties were rising alarmingly, and while the prevailing attitude was a feeling that ‘one took that risk if one drove’, the government felt they had to do something. Cars in this period were improving rapidly as well, getting cheaper and faster every year, with better handling and brakes. I’ve driven vintage cars (can I just say, vintage actually has an official meaning in the car world, referring to cars from post-1918 and up to 1930. Everything seems to be described as vintage these days, from Mk1 Escorts to 60s plastic handbags. Gosh, I sound like my dad!) and while they may seem, to modern eyes, very heavy to drive and possessing very poor brakes, they are much more usable than their pre-Great War cousins. It’s quite possible to cruise at motorway speeds in the larger-engined vintage cars (remember vintage also encompasses Austin 7s and similar economy cars, but somehow the term ‘vintage car’ produces a picture of a Bentley in the mind’s eye, or is that just me?) and they have 4-wheel brakes which, if properly adjusted and maintained, can actually stop a car reasonably well.
This increase in the performance of cars (and, perhaps perversely, the improved brakes as well, for humans will often go faster in a car that has good brakes! Indeed, legendary designer Alec Issigonis has been cited as saying ‘putting a dagger on the steering column would lead to a great improvement in driving standards’ and he was only half joking) led to the 20mph speed limit being so widely ignored as to be laughable, and the Road Traffic Act 1930 effectively removed speed limits, which caused much public debate. However, in short this was done because the speed limits then were just not enforceable and had become a joke. In fact, it was stated in Parliament in 1931 that, ‘the reason why the speed limit was abolished was not that anybody thought the abolition would tend to the greater security of foot passengers, but that the existing speed limit was so universally disobeyed that its maintenance brought the law into contempt’. So many people were breaking the speed limit that the police could not cope and the government dealt with this not by increasing the police’s budget or improving the equipment at their disposal, but by getting rid of the law! The police had realised the situation was untenable and had by then been lobbying politicians to deal with this unenforceable law, and, certainly in the post World War I era, enforcing it with a light touch – code for often not enforcing it at all because they simply did not have the manpower to do so, although officers seeing driving they considered reckless or dangerous certainly did intervene, at their discretion …
What the government did was bring in the Road Traffic Act 1930, the first paragraph of which read:
‘An Act to make provision for the regulation of traffic on roads and of motor vehicles and otherwise with respect to roads and vehicles thereon, to make provision for the protection of third parties against risks arising out of the use of motor vehicles and in connection with such protection to amend the Assurance Companies Act, 1909, to amend the law with respect to the powers of local authorities to provide public service vehicles, and for other purposes connected with the matters aforesaid.’
[1 August 1930.]
The Act required all police forces to institute motor patrols to improve driving behaviour by example, advice and ultimately legal sanctions and prosecution. There was a budget for this which was initially quite small, and because of this motorcycle combinations were often the chosen vehicle for such patrols. However, accidents proved this to be an unwise choice and they were quickly phased out of mass use in favour of cars. Some three-wheelers, especially the BSA, which, like the Morgan had two wheelers, at the front and was thus reasonably stable, were quite popular in various police forces for a short while after they were launched in 1929, until four-wheel cars came down to their price point and higher speeds made officers ‘nervous’. These patrols naturally became engaged in other activities – preventing crime and dealing with emergency situations – and the line of the responsibilities became blurred. Judged on immediate results, the Act has to be looked at as a failure, for Britain’s worst ever year for road casualties was 1934 when there were 7,343 deaths and 231,603 injuries recorded. However, in hindsight it was actually a very far-sighted and prescient piece of legislation that built on Britain’s reputation for policing by consent and sought to educate the public into safer behaviour and only punished them if they really refused to come into line. I think it’s important here to underline just how different the prevailing attitude to risk was in this era compared to what is, today, sometimes disparagingly called our health and safety nonsense. These modern regulations are a good thing, despite the press they sometimes get, because they actually make us think about risks and encourage us to take steps to minimise them – that can be anything from making sure your car has good brakes and tyres to putting your seatbelt on. In the 1930s these sensible steps evoked a society-wide mocking and were largely seen as not making any difference; but hey, smoking was good for you then as well …
Health and safety in racing
Oddly, motorsport has a very important role in changing this attitude and creating society-wide acceptance of the concept of risk management that gained social traction during the 1970s. Even in the 1960s, when Jackie Stewart started seriously to question why racetracks had trees on the side that would kill you if you skidded off and hit one, he was greeted by derisory calls of ‘coward’ from drivers and racing journalists alike, who, having recently fought in a war, even said things like ‘this is safe, at least no one is shooting at us’. Jackie had thought it through, though; he was getting paid for his skill and courage, not to take what he quite rightly considered to be stupid pointless risks. After all, the racing and skill needed were the same whether the circuit had safe (ish) barriers or very dangerous trees. Jackie blew every other driver away on a wet Nürburgring and won three World Championships, so no one could credibly call him a coward, but it took a long time for that seemingly utterly sensible piece of thinking to become the societal norm. Jackie undoubtedly has a place in the history books for his racing achievements as one of the greats; however, it’s his innovative thinking, which has became so mainstream as to seem obvious now but was revolutionary in the 1960s, and his tireless work on safety that are by far his biggest contributions to both motor sport and the world as a whole. His work had a massive impact on us all in one way or another.