CHAPTER 20

If You Catch a Weasel Asleep Piss in its Ear

‘By gum, it’s bloody hot today,’ I thought to myself as I pulled up the car outside the Excelsior pub on Attercliffe Common – time for a swift half or ‘dust sleckner’. The small pub was right in the heart of the steelworks and it was sometimes hard to see across the road with all the smoke pouring out of the chimneys. My tongue felt like sandpaper and I was parched.

‘Wards’, a local Sheffield brew was one of my favourite tipples. If it was ‘on’ it tasted gorgeous and it was also a good thirst quencher, but if it was ‘off’ it tasted lousy.

As soon as I walked in through the door of the pub I knew that the beer was ‘on’. At the bar stood about fifteen men, all with white sweat towels wrapped round their necks. It was their lunch break and they’d come in to replace the fluid that they had sweated out whilst smelting the steel. I couldn’t wait for a pint myself. I managed to get to the bar and ordered a half. Across the room I saw ‘Big Ginge’ who’d obviously seen me come in and the landlord said that he’d paid for my half of beer.

Big Ginge was a small-time metal thief and I knew that he’d recently come out of prison. During his three months away his son had been having trouble with a local gang of youngsters. His wife had been to the police station worried about it all and asked if I could sort it out. A sharp word here and a quiet word there and it was dealt with, I knew that Big Ginge would appreciate it. I raised a glass towards him and nodded, acknowledging my thanks and half a minute later having downed my half I reluctantly left the pub.

I was just about to get into the car when I heard Big Ginge say, ‘Thanks for sorting that out, Mr Johnson, now I might be able to do you a favour.’

‘What’s that then Ginge?’

‘I’ve just been offered a gold watch on the cheap – to be honest normally I’d have bought it but I’m ‘pink lint’.’

‘Was it knocked off?’ I asked.

‘Yes. Young Tommy … called in for a pint at the Sportsman up Attercliffe about an hour ago. He had a pint and the landlord and landlady were talking business to someone in the pub.’

‘Go on.’ I said, ‘what else?’

He went on, ‘Tommy went outside and slipped round the back of the pub and up the fire escape to the flat where the landlord and landlady lived, above the pub. As you can see it’s a red-hot summer’s day, the door was open and, unbelievably, so was the safe. He’s nicked four hundred quid and some jewellery.’

‘Where is he now Ginge?’ I asked.

‘When he’d done the job he jumped on the first 69 bus and came here to see me. I was skint and couldn’t afford to buy the watch so off he went and I last saw him walking down the road about fifteen minutes ago.

‘I don’t usually grass on anyone but I owe you for helping my lad out while I was ‘inside’. You haven’t seen or spoken to me. OK Mr Johnson? We’re quits now,’ and with that he walked back into the pub.

I knew young Tommy …., he lived on Greenland Road with his mum and dad. I knew he’d been in a bit of bother before for nicking metal from empty houses and that was it as far as I was aware and I’d not got him down as a burglar.

Where could he be? He could be anywhere, so I drove to his home. His mum was a teacher and his dad worked for the council, so at 1pm I knew that they’d be out at work but Tommy might just be in on his own so I could have a word with him. There was no one in so I drove up to the Sportsman on Attercliffe Road.

The pub had a fairly new landlord and landlady who I didn’t know and, after a quick look round, I deduced that it was the couple who were just saying cheerio to a plump bloke in a pinstriped suit.

After quietly introducing myself and after asking them to sit down I could see from the quizzical look on their faces that they hadn’t got a clue as to why I wanted to talk to them.

‘Have you got a safe on the premises?’ I asked.

‘Yes, it’s upstairs. Why?’ asked the landlord.

‘When did you last check the contents?’ I asked. His face was a study as he replied.

‘I looked inside when I was doing the books about two hours ago,’ he said, ‘but I was interrupted by the arrival of our Area Manager, who called in to see us – why?’

‘Did you lock it when you came back down stairs?’ I asked.

The look of horror on their faces said it all and then I followed them as they both ran up stairs where I found them both standing and looking at the open door of the now empty safe and they both had their mouths wide open.

‘Did you lock the flat door?’ The landlord asked his wife with a face like thunder.

‘I was on the veranda sun bathing when you shouted me down to see the boss,’ she replied. She lowered her head and quietly said, ‘I must have forgotten,’ and promptly burst into tears.

For the next few minutes the air was blue. Each of them was blaming the other for the mistake. She’d left the door open and he’d left the safe door open.

They gave me a verbal description of what had been stolen and I sent for the fingerprint lads to check for any dabs on the safe. At the same time and out of earshot of the couple I asked them to check any fingerprints to see if they matched those on Tommy’s record sheet.

Big Ginge had been right about the money – four hundred quid had been stolen, a lot of money in those days.

The couple were obviously distraught, especially about the missing jewellery which, although not worth a fortune, was sentimental, having been passed down to them through their parents. They were also more than embarrassed about the fact that the police knew about the burglary before they themselves did. It was a first for me – if only I could find Tommy quickly we might just save the day.

He wouldn’t be in the pub, as, by now, they were all shut till they opened again at 7pm. A further check of his house showed that there was still no one in.

So, where the bloody hell was he?

It was anybody’s guess. If I was lucky enough to nab him while he still had the gear on him it would be dead handy. All this was going through my mind as I slowly drove up and down The Cliffe looking for Tommy boy. A couple of hundred yards past the Excelsior, where I’d bumped into ‘Big Ginge’ about two-and-a-half hours ago, I saw a bookies’ shop on the main drag – maybe, maybe not, I thought to myself, but it’s worth a try.

Because of the hot day the door was open and I went in. There was a big cheer and two or three chaps, including Tommy, were punching the air with their fists. What a lovely reception I thought but obviously realized that the cheer wasn’t because of my presence. When Tommy saw me he must have realized that the game was up and his face froze. There was no escape and I beckoned him to the door. I arrested and cautioned him and his reply was, ‘Why are you arresting me Mr Johnson? I haven’t done anything.’

‘Earlier on Tommy, I was driving up Attercliffe from Town when I saw you run down the fire escape leading from the back of the Sportsman and you then crossed the road to the bus stop.’ As I said, this I could see his eyes opened wide in disbelief. ‘When I got back to the police station I received a phone call from the landlord of that pub who told me that he’d had money and jewellery stolen from his safe.’

Tommy interrupted, ‘It wasn’t me Mr Johnson.’ You could see from his face that he wasn’t telling the truth.

‘When I got to the pub, Tommy, I called out the fingerprint lads who checked the prints on the safe against your record card and, guess what they found? – now you know why you’re under arrest.’ I said. ‘Now what have you got to say about that?’

‘Burglaries aren’t my scene Mr Johnson, but the landlord and landlady were having a meeting with someone and it was red hot outside so I took a chance that the door to the upstairs flat might be open because of the heat. I couldn’t believe my luck, the flat door was open and the open safe was right in front of me.’

‘Where’s the stuff you stole Tommy? – empty your pockets onto the police car roof,’ I said. Out of his pockets came a couple of rings, a ladies gold watch and a gold pocket watch. Everything, apart from the cash, that had been reported stolen.

‘Where’s the cash Tommy?’

‘I tried to sell the gold watch but couldn’t so I came straight into the bookies here and I’ve lost two bets but, just as you came through the door, that last horse has just come in at 10 to 1. That’s what all the cheering was for.’

Grabbing his shirt collar, I took him back into the bookies where the manager confirmed what Tommy had told me. If I’d arrested him half an hour earlier he would have been £200 down but now, because of his last big win the lucky landlord had got his money back and a bit besides.

I took him back to the police station, sat him down and phoned the fingerprint department and, in full hearing of Tommy, asked if they’d checked the finger prints against Tommy’s. Yes they were a match. Tommy was open mouthed and said, ‘Didn’t you know they were a match when you arrested me?’

‘No Tommy, I didn’t’ I chuckled, ‘and neither did I see you run down the fire escape.’ And I chuckled again. The air was blue for a couple of minutes even to the point that Tommy doubted my birthright.

‘If you catch a weasel asleep – piss in its ear Tommy. That’s the way it goes!’ I said.

I charged him with the offence and, because he was only a petty criminal and he hadn’t broken in and every item stolen was recovered, he got a slap on the wrist and a small suspended sentence. If he’d have gone to prison he would have lost his job. The landlord and his wife were thrilled to bits when their stolen property was returned to them and instead of being £400 in cash there was actually £420.

As far as I am aware Tommy never ever got into trouble again and the landlord got an Alsatian dog which he kept, for security reasons, on the veranda. It just shows how easy it is for an opportunist thief to take advantage of someone’s lack of concentration. I used to call in regularly maybe about once a week for a chat and a beer – the first pint was always free.

With the pub being near to the steelworks it was usually fairly quiet in the early evening because of the lack of houses. Two to three weeks after this event I nipped in at about 6.30pm. As a rule landlords kept their eyes and ears open and you could often learn a lot from them but I wasn’t expecting what happened next. I had been in on this occasion for about three minutes when suddenly the front door burst open and a woman ran into the pub.

‘Is there a doctor in the pub? My husband’s collapsed across the road at the bus stop. Will you ring 999 for an ambulance please, and be quick?’ she yelled.

A doctor – there was more chance of finding a polar bear in the pub than a doctor. Then I realized that everyone was looking at me to do something. The landlord had gone to ring for an ambulance and the poor woman had gone back to her husband.

I was galvanized into action and left the pub and as I ran across the road I could see that there were about ten people in the bus shelter, just standing there and surrounding a man who was lying on the floor. They were just looking but not doing anything and it made my blood boil.

I ushered some of the people away and quickly knelt down beside him and checked his pulse. Nothing! The poor man was already dead. After loosening his tie and other clothing I moved him to one side and bent over him intending to give him the kiss of life – I knew that seconds counted. As I was doing this a guy shouted, ‘Leave him alone, can’t you see he’s dead.’ I was furious but hadn’t time to do anything about it. There are those people who do and those people who don’t and I could have done without comments like that. I had made the decision to try and help the poor man. Better to try and fail than not try at all.

For a brief second I remembered that I’d had a pint and that I reeked of beer but what the hell, I had to do something – and quick – the seconds were ticking away! I checked that he had nothing in his mouth, took his false teeth out and, tilting his head back to clear his airways I squeezed his nostrils together, took in a big gulp of air and breathed into his mouth – nothing – I did the same again, then again and again and just as I was about to give up I managed to get a splutter from him – he was alive again. A few seconds after this the ambulance arrived with defibrillators and oxygen. They stabilized him as best they could at the roadside and before the ambulance drove away one of the ambulance men came up to me and said, ‘I think he’s had one or two – he reeks of beer,’ which made me smile as they drove off with the blue light flashing. At the same time the 69 bus pulled in at the bus stop and everyone got on it and I was just left standing there on my own. I desperately wanted a fag but because of the adrenaline rush I couldn’t even hold a cigarette or lighter as I was shaking from head to foot – it was a weird feeling.

Back in the pub I was desperate to finish my beer but I had to wait a few minutes until I stopped shaking in order to pick up my half-empty pint.

I had to smile when the landlord shouted round the room to the customers, ‘I told you my beer was good. That poor guy only had a whiff of it and it saved his life.’ And everyone burst out laughing and patted me on the back, which broke the nervous tension.

It was really humbling when I went into the pub a few weeks later and the landlord told me that he’d had a letter from the poor bloke’s wife to say that her husband was getting on nicely and would he thank the man that helped to save his life.