For all the changes of the last 100 years, was the work of guarding all that different in 1914? Mark Rowe asks after going through the archives of Corps Security.
With the kind permission of Corps chief executive Peter Webster, I studied the Corps’ surviving personnel records at their head office in Cowcross Street in Farringdon in central London. The already bustling street is set to bustle even more as the Crossrail service will run through the area. Just as places have changed, so the paper records – the careful handwriting (pen and ink) in volumes as sturdy as the England they were part of – speak of an utterly different age before computers. While changing with the times, the Corps remains proud of its history. Briefly, it began after the Crimean War (1854-6) as a way of giving jobs to veterans – the question of how Army men could fit back into civilian life being as real then as now. Few companies in any sector, let alone quite a new one such as private security, have their own book – Our Sergeant, by Peter Reese (1986). If you seek one online, you will be competing with Corps head office who snap up copies. Reese charted a proud body of men ‘of a high calibre and happy with their lot’; in 1912 for example ‘just 1.5 per cent’ were dismissed for poor conduct. At this distance, it’s hard to judge whether that’s because the Corps set formidably high standards or whether ex-soldiers sometimes went off the rails. It was a considerable size; about 4750 men, typically standing at entrances, whether offices or factories. On the outbreak of war, in August 1914, ‘no less than 2145 men, virtually half its roll’ left to join the two services – the air force still only being a corps of the Army. How would an employer today cope with such a sudden loss of staff?!
Name, rank and height
Two bound leather ledgers list the ‘members’ as they joined. Each was given a number; by 1914 more than 18,000 had passed through in the first 55 years. Some stayed half a lifetime, such as Albert Hesselden, who joined in September 1918 and retired in 1962. And there’s two ‘descriptive roll’ books for the Birmingham division, based in Corporation Street in the city centre. They offer rich material for the family historian. Each man had his age noted, and nationality (usually E for English), birthplace, height, weight, if he’d been an officer’s servant, musician or tradesman while in a regiment, date of enlistment and length of service, if he had a wife (and if she was ‘desirous of employment’), month of discharge and cause, class of health, rank, and number of children – boys and girls. Fifty-three joined in 1914, 33 married and 20 single, compared with 63 in 1913. The data gives an insight into what men were like a century ago. For instance, life was hard for the common man; of those 53, the highest was five feet 11 and a half; no-one stood 5-11, though some stood 5-10. A height of 5-7 and 5-8, short by today’s standards, was normal, presumably because of poor diet. Eleven or 12 stone was a common weight. Let’s single out as typical William Milner, who joined on November 14, 1914, aged 47, and who stayed until he was 63 and ‘too deaf’. Born in Dudley, he stood 5-7 and a quarter, was 12 stone ten, served 21 years from 1888 in the Army and left with ‘exemplary character’ and the rank of colour sergeant. Typically the joiners came from Birmingham or nearby Staffordshire, and had been labourers or market gardeners, though some had a trade. Many men had medals from recent overseas wars, in South Africa, Sudan, or India. As early as spring 1915, men were joining the Corps who had been wounded in France. More would follow.
While we should stress that – then as now – your average guard or nightwatchman did his job without fuss or upset, the Corps’ Birmingham defaulters’ book does give some insight into what could go wrong with men, and what the Corps expected of its commissionaires. Some of the reasons why officers defaulted could apply just the same today. Take W Cooks, formerly of the 6th Dragoon Guards, whose offence on September 4, 1914 was to be drunk and disorderly; in fairness, his place of work was a brewery, Mitchells and Butlers in Smethwick. He was fined £1 – about a week’s pay. The records alas don’t say if that was a one-off offence, or why he did it then, because we do know he joined the Corps in December 1905. HH Say who joined in December 1913 was dismissed in July 1914. The unknown manager wrote these remarks: “A bad case. Not to be readmitted to the Corps.” His wrong-doing? He had failed to appear, to settle his accounts, when ordered to do so; and remained absent. As those words suggest, the Corps ran on qauite military lines.
Typically working as gate-keepers, the men as a minimum had to arrive on time and stay on duty; hence a man was discharged in February 1913 when he turned up an hour and a half late at the General Electric Company; and a man was dismissed in March 1914 after he was drunk and fighting while on duty at a gate at the general hospital. A sergeant was dismissed in September 1913 ‘for using insulting language’ to his commanding officer, a captain. A nightwatchman at a railway carriage works was dismissed in January 1913, for being found asleep on duty, and for falsifying the records of his patrol clock – evidence of technology a century ago. Were some employers long-suffering? Perhaps the Patent Shaft Company of Wednesbury were, for in December 1911 they reported Frederick Ferris. During the past year they complained he had ‘been much given to drink and that he had become so bad lately that they had to dismiss him’. The Corps gave a severe reprimand. As a sign that the Corps didn’t automatically kick out offenders, an unknown manager wrote: “I am extremely sorry for this man who has hitherto been an excellent character both in the service and in the Corps for the last eight years.” We should not leave with the impression that the men offended at all often; the book has no offences between September 1914 and April 1916. However perhaps there was something about the Dunlop tyre works: in February 1911 a nightwatchman was dismissed after sending a workman out ‘not once but several times’ for beer; in April 1916 a former Coldstream Guards man was dismissed for being drunk and ‘creating a disturbance’; and in June 1918 one Edward Green was dismissed for stealing a motor tyre.
For more about Corps’ history, visit http://www.corpssecurity.co.uk/about-us/our-history.aspx
