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Police Constable Archie Greenshields moved to Roedean Road, Worthing with his wife, Barbara and three daughters in 1952. He remembers what it was like being a 'bobby on the beat': -
Gaining experience all the time with each year that passed, I felt that I was doing the job I was paid to do. Admitted, I had not brought any major criminal to book, but had had my share of the many petty larcenies that were always prevalent, juvenile crime, cycle thefts, door step thefts, and the thefts from washing lines. The latter brought the commendation I mentioned earlier.
Two from our section were detailed to keep observation from a vantage point in terraced house gardens at two locations, as this type of offence was rife. It was suspected to be the work of just one individual. PC 'Joe' Wyatt and I were given this detail and told that we were to carry out the duty until the thief was caught. We were both unhappy to be chosen, first because it was during the winter, and secondly because it might mean an extension of late tours.
To shorten the story, on the third, very frosty evening I was sitting in an outbuilding. A brilliant moon shining down to illuminate the line of bras and panties pegged out as bait, when, with my nose buried deep into my upturned overcoat collar, chilled to the bone, I dozed off. Only momentarily I hasten to add, but long enough that when I opened my eyes, I saw with fright that the line had been cleared.
Muttering words that I normally would not, I ran down the garden path and looked over the low garden wall at the end. I saw a shadowy figure performing an indecent act into a handful of intimate clothing.
I shouted out something rude at him, jumped over the wall and set off in pursuit, and how he ran. I am sure he had not waited to adjust his dress and give me that advantage, but threw the panties and bras over a neighbouring wall. He obviously knew the area well, but all I had to do was give chase. I eventually caught him in a nearby park with a tackle and when we both got our breath he was told, 'you are nicked!'
It was a proud moment when I marched him into the station to confront the Station Sergeant. It took sometime to sort out the paperwork and charge my prisoner and no one had thought to tell poor 'Joe' that the suspect had been apprehended. As a result 'Joe' had been left watching another line of bait at another address.
The CID interviewed the fellow the next day and they were able to clear up over a hundred other thefts of underwear. What is more, to assist them, he was able to identify the gardens when he was taken down back entries. Many years after I left the force, when meeting Mr Clapp, I related the truth about my dozing off, and he replied that he already knew!
No one relished prolonged periods of observation duties, which had to be carried out to prevent the repetition of a crime, or to apprehend suspects. It might be necessary to maintain it alone or accompanied, in comfortable surroundings or in an isolated place, by day or night, and in rain or shine. One must not run away with the idea that comfort would be given priority either. Those of us finding themselves performing these duties rarely had ideal methods of communication when assistance might be required, not the luxury of personal radios or the comfort of vehicles.
It might be unbelievable to some perhaps, when I relate that at Lancing a constable was hidden in the roof of a toilet, after a multitude of complaints regarding the activities of homosexuals. He could only warn a colleague, watching from a vantage point outside, to take action, with use of a small semaphore flag pushed out from a ventilation tower on the tile ridge!
Many an hour has been spent in the dark, secluded passageway at the side of the Rivoli Cinema in Chapel Road, Worthing, during a period of cycle thefts. Each evening, someone from the late shift was delegated to don a 'civvy mac' and secret himself in this passage, in an endeavour to catch a thief in the act, for upwards of three hours at a time. One man, who shall remain nameless, stood so far back into a dark corner, that he was startled when he realised that someone was urinating on his leg!
Again, there was the occasion when, along with several other constables, I was told to lock myself into the toilets along the Promenade and the central toilet at the Old Town Hall. This was in order to detect and apprehend the person, said to be titled, who was vandalising the brass locks and coin containers in the many Gents in the Worthing area. The cost to the Borough Council in replacing these locks was getting out of hand, with the result that strong representation was made to Superintendent Clapp for more direct action.
This resulted in a team being selected to keep observation from a toilet that had been falsely labelled as being out of order. We were ordered to maintain a watch from the time a toilet block was opened early in the morning, until it was locked at 10.30 p.m.
The first constable in each block let himself in and did the best he could to keep out of sight; squatting on the 'throne' and lifting his feet to prevent prying eyes discovering it's occupant, whilst listening intently for the sounds of wrenching metal. We were expected to keep out of sight until the relief arrived, and that might be later than expected if the toilets were genuinely occupied, in order to make the changeover a secret.
Refreshment breaks were taken in situ. These then, were the most disgusting duties I, and I expect, my colleagues too, ever had to perform, way above the normal call of duty. The ignominy of this was that the person was never brought to book, but strangely the damage ceased. A great pity was that the taxpayers of Worthing were given no idea to what lengths their loyal guardians protected their property, and to ensure they had somewhere to place their pennies when needed most.
By the end of the 1950's, our family was well and truly settled in and the girls were happy and doing well at school. But by the spring of 1960, the blow came with the news that we were to move to Petworth. Our friends, the Barnes family, had already moved to a country detachment at Singleton in May 1959. Now it was to be our turn and the girls were none too pleased.
The moves were usually followed by, what the lower ranks referred to, as the 'Auction of Souls', and when the news spread around that all Superintendents had been summoned for a meeting with the Chief Constable in Chichester, its usual portend heralded reward for some and bad news for others.
I was not sure how I viewed my orders at the time, for no one could expect to remain at one station, or even within the same division, for the whole of his service. I had on the whole enjoyed my time at Worthing, but the future might bring rewards.
When I passed on the news to my colleagues in the section, some commiserated, knowing who was in charge of that division. I remember my Inspector, Mr Hawthornthwaite remarking, 'You know what your first job of the day will be, Greenshields, don't you?' 'No Sir', I replied, 'To sweep the sheep shit off the Duke's cricket pitch!' was his answer.
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