John Turner remembers

John Turner, CPM (CSP Retd) recalls his early career at Central Police Station.

I was posted to Central Police Station in the summer of 1956 after passing out from Police Training School with the lowly rank of Probationary Sub-Inspector (PSI). At Central I was “welcomed” by the then Divisional Superintendent, a very youthful Ted Shave who showed me my quarters, a rather large room in “C” Block. The room had a small verandah which overlooked the very steep access road up to the station compound and was linked to the adjacent “B” block by a concrete walkway. There were three blocks of single inspector quarters, “A” “B” and “C” with “A” being for the more “senior” inspectors and “C” for the most junior.

Many of the residents of “A” Block, including Jimmy Hidden, Mike Davis and Mo Hulbert, all apparently confirmed bachelors, had been in residence for some years and were not expecting to be moved. I, on the other hand, was informed I would be moved to a “superior” room in “B” block as soon as a vacancy arose. the residents of the three blocks, about 25-30 inspectors, were all served by one “room boy”, Ah Kit, who lived with his family on the ground floor of “B” Block. Ah Kit helped us all survive our first few months outside Training School and taught us the ropes. What a tale he could tell of the goings on at Central!!! Young inspectors with me at the time included Bob Styles, Ivan Scott, Jock Atkinson and Ken Wellburn.

The Sub-Divisional Inspector, SDI, was Mr Wong Wing-yin, nicknamed “Mambo Wong” on account of his fondness for ballroom dancing, especially Latin American. “Mambo” wanted to be British and regarded England as home where he went on leave. He very seldom spoke in Cantonese, insisting on an interpreter whenever he interviewed junior Chinese officers. Something we could never understand.

Opposite “B” Block and adjacent to the entrance to the old Victoria Prison, was a large pre-war building which served as Central Magistracy, where Mr Hing Shing-lo, the principal magistrate, presided, dispensing instant justice to a mixture of hawkers, opium addicts and wife beaters. Mr Lo wasted little time and rarely accepted a plea of not guilty!

The charge room staff were actually run by a Sergeant who sat behind a high desk, overlooking anyone who wished to make a report. He and only he was allowed to make an entry in the enormous red Report Book. I remember making an entry on one occasion but was quickly corrected by the Sergeant. When the charge-room became overcrowded, as it frequently did, those people waiting to make a report were placed in the large cage in the room, where they remained until they could be dealt with by the IOD. The SDI’s office was behind the charge room. However, Mr Wong seldom appeared outside his office.

In 1956 Hong Kong was being overwhelmed by refugees from Mainland China who were fleeing the communist takeover of the country. They arrived in their tens of thousands, many of them turning up at Police Stations to be “registered” for a Hong Kong identity card. They would queue for hours outside the charge room waiting their turn. Our knowledge of Cantonese, the local Chinese dialect, was rather limited to say the least, although in our first tour of duty we were expected to be able to qualify in both the Standard 1 and 2 language examinations if we were to become Sub-Inspectors. None of the refugees could speak English and we were taught to ask them in Cantonese for their name, age and place of birth in China. We struggled to make some sense but usually succeeded unless the person came from some obscure region in China and spoke a dialect no one could understand, in which case we often invented the personal particulars and passed on to the next one. Registration meant that they would receive a Hong Kong Identity Card in due course, giving them the right to remain in the colony.

My first year at Central was fairly routine and there was little in the way of excitement until the civil disturbances that broke out on the “Double Tenth” 1956 and I found myself in charge of anti-riot platoon, consisting solely of policemen with wooden batons – little use when faced with an angry mob of stone throwing rioters! I and my platoon were sent from Central to the San Miguel Brewery in Sham Tseng, Tsuen Wan, where the European staff were being held hostage by the Chinese workers. We succeeded in rescuing them and were then told to guard the brewery, obviously considered a vital point in those days, until relieved. Relief arrived some four days later. We had no rations of our own and were forced to survive on a diet of cuttle fish from the village shop, washed down by copious amounts of San Miguel beer!

In the Central Police Station compound and next to the station charge-room was the headquarters of the Hong Kong Island District Emergency Unit. The personnel spent their time “on stand-by” playing mahjong and waiting to be called out, when they would put on their white helmets, leap into their open-sided patrol vehicles and speed off down the slope leading to Central District. There was a story doing the rounds at the time that one night when on patrol two constables fell asleep while on second night patrol and actually fell onto the road when the patrol car went round a sharp bend!

Next to the Emergency Unit stood the Police Stores where Chief Inspector “Granny” Scott presided. “Granny” was a dour Scot who had an intense dislike of young inspectors and was determined to make their life a misery whenever possible. Woe betide anyone handing in their kit prior to vacation leave if even a single button was missing. This was a serious disciplinary matter in “granny’s” book. Not only would you be charged for the missing item, but also threatened with disciplinary action if there was any re-occurrence. As a result, to avoid any unpleasantness, most inspectors would bribe their barrack sergeant who would in turn bribe the stores sergeant to accept the kit as being all correct. We called this the “Ways and Means Ordinance.”

The large red brick building with its colonial style verandahs stood on the opposite side of the station compound and housed the Hong Kong Island District Headquarters, with Roy Turner, the District Commander, the Divisional C.I.D with “Paddy” Carty, the Divisional Detective Inspector. The Central Divisional Superintendent, Ted Shave’s office was on the ground floor of the building, together with Tommy Dow, the Divisional Chief Inspector. Lowly uniform probationary sub-inspectors, such as myself, seldom had any dealings with these senior officers, except during official inspections, although I was surprised on one occasion to receive Roy Turner’s bank statement from the Hong Kong Bank – they had got the names mixed up apparently. Unlike the District commander I was usually overdrawn at the end of the month, but not apparently on this occasion. It was not to last!

The Central Division and Hong Kong Island District Mess was located in the basement of the District HQ building. I had my breakfast and lunch there but only visited the upstairs bar on very rare occasions. It was usually frequented by the more senior officers, most of whom had a distinctly patronising attitude towards young sub-inspectors. It was “get yer knees brown”, and “what did you do in the war when we were in Stanley prison?” So taking the hint, myself and some other like-minded individuals, Bob Style, Taff Hughes, Les Henson and Jack English, would be found most evenings enjoying the delights of the Blue Heaven nightclub which was in the King’s Cinema building about ten minutes walk downhill from Central Police Station. Here we all received a very warm welcome from Louis the manager who, unknown to us, was operating a large illegal casino on the floor above the nightclub and appreciated the security of having half the officers of Central Division wining and dining on the floor below! The club had a Filipino band, Tino’s, and a gorgeous singer called Estella, with whom we were all hopelessly in love but couldn’t afford!

After a few months in “C” block, I was “up-graded” to a room on the ground floor of “B” block where I lived until early 1957, when I moved to Upper Levels Police Station where, under Ron Dudman the Mess President, we really knew how to live. Unfortunately, this was not to last and at the end of the year the Police Training Contingent (PTC), later to become PTU, was looking for volunteers and I was one of the first to go.

In retrospect, I look on my time spent at Central with a good deal of nostalgia. They were good days and quite unforgettable.

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