A police officer many people in the Huddersfield area would have been familiar with from the 50s through to the 70s was PC Harry Jackson. This is a photo of him on point duty at the Market Square junction. During busy periods PC Jackson could be seen on any of the main junctions along the main road through the centre of town which would also include New Street and St Georges Square.
An officer performing his duty
PC Jackson had a very flamboyant traffic control style. Crowds gathered to watch him ridicule drivers who were too slow to react to his instructions, or who went a different way to where he’d pointed. Woe betide any driver who stalled their vehicle when he’d instructed them to move off. He’d perhaps get down on bended knee and plead with them, or would stride up to the offending vehicle and glare through the windscreen, all the while exaggerating his instructions to the driver.
This often resulted in the driver panicking and flooding the engine, a common thing to happen when you used too much throttle when starting older engines. It would result in the engine refusing to start, which would of course receive applause and cheers from the watching crowds. And PC Jackson would play up to this like the main ham actor in a play.
Stalling, falling, stupid boys!
I stalled my bike at this junction once. But I got it started again quicker than I’d ever done previously, and before PC Jackson noticed. My mate Simon was not so lucky. He actually committed one of PC Jackson’s ultimate sins.
The laws of physics dictate that if a two wheeled vehicle comes to a stop it is likely to fall over without an equal and opposite force applied to stop it doing so. In my experience in those days they also fell over long before they came to a stop! Anyway, Simon had been instructed to stop at the junction and the normal method would be to place one or both feet on the ground to aid balance. In Simon’s attempt to do so he caught his trouser slop on the footrest. This wasn’t uncommon and all he had to do was quickly lift his leg and try again.
Unfortunately, Simon panicked and continued to push harder.
In the full view of PC Jackson’s withering stare, Simon and his bike fell over, trapping his leg under the bike. This was of course PC Jackson’s dream come true. He wasn’t going to let this opportunity go without ridicule. Flamboyantly striding over to the heap in the middle of his junction he leaned over poor old Simon and, continuing to play to the crowd, he said in a loud voice:
“Having a little lie down are we, lad? You stupid boy!”
He did help get the bike off Simon’s leg and sent him on his way with a pretend kick up the backside. He’d probably have given him a clip round the ear had Simon not been wearing a helmet (it wasn’t unusual for a police officer to give a quick smack to unruly, stupid boys).
A man of principle
Judging by the number of vehicles in the photo PC Jackson was again doing a fantastic job. It was at this very junction in 1965, after traffic lights had been fitted, that I was in collision with a car. Physics again dictated that both me and my bike fell over. Luckily (perhaps) our trajectory was in different directions, so I didn’t end up under the bike, nor under the car. But I suspect that it wouldn’t have happened at all had PC Jackson been there.
After the war he joined the police and was posted to Tadcaster where he honed his point duty skills before being posted to Huddersfield. After retiring from the police in 1974 he became the mayor’s macebearer. But he was obviously also a man of principle, for he left that position a year later after the councillors asked him to serve them tea and biscuits as part of his duties. He said that this was a council chamber not a works canteen.
In his retirement he lived in Honley with his wife Sybil. He lived to the ripe old age of 85. One of Huddersfield’s little known but great characters.
Police round every corner
This is the police box in Market Square in the centre of Huddersfield where PC Jackson would have made himself a cuppa between traffic duties. I also found myself in there on more than one occasion, asking for the time or directions, of course.
As described in a previous ramble, ‘Mad 60’s biker cured by the love of a woman’, the police were round every corner, constantly/persistently stopping us bikers from having our fun. We certainly wouldn’t have described any bobby as one of Huddersfield’s great characters in those days. It seemed like every time we were thinking about doing something wrong the police were there sticking their noses in. But wouldn’t it be grand if that was the case now!
Born again bikers are usually older and can afford the tax and insurance and ride better and safer bikes. Young idiot bikers now think it’s OK to ride without tax, test and insurance and to do it on one wheel. Even though I was a reckless and a foolhardy young rider, I always had the correct paperwork, knowing that there would be a bobby asking to see it just around the corner.
A good example of this was in 1963. There was a problem getting my bike taxed and it was the one time I deliberately drove it knowing that I was being a naughty boy. I got about half a mile and was pulled over; it was as if there was a big arrow above my head. Young and happy days.
What matters to the public
There appear to be no police officers on any kind of patrol these days. I can’t remember the last time I saw a marked police car just driving around looking for ne’er-do-wells, scoundrels and miscreants. Each village had a police station with at least a sergeant and several bobbies. Along with shops and surgeries, council estates were designed to include dedicated police houses so everybody knew the local bobby.
There were regular beats (foot patrol areas) around towns and villages. For longer beats, police boxes similar to the one in the photo would be erected at intervals to give the bobby a rest and a winter warm. If they weren’t catching ne’er-do-wells, scoundrels and miscreants it was at least a deterrent having them there. There’s now little to stop idiots doing the things that annoy the general public the most.
If we listen to the news media, we’re told that our biggest problem is immigration. Complete nonsense. Our biggest annoyances are dog muck, apparently abandoned cars on our pavements, or noisy, untidy and inconsiderate neighbours. Most of us wouldn’t recognise an immigrant if we saw one. The news media, influenced greatly by our government, are trying to distract us away from our real but more expensive problems and evoking our tribalistic nature.
Dear me! I’ve got political, it must be the cold weather. I’ll try to make amends with this little whimsy.
As I get older, I have noticed three things happening to me. The first is that I ache all over, but I can’t remember the other two.
