Audio Tour: English

Welcome to the Central Lock-up. My name is Phil Tucker and I am a retired custody sergeant. I’ll be showing you around, and introducing you to different stories and information about the building and the West Midlands Police Museum collection including contributions from several members of our team. Further information on many of these topics can be found in our guidebook.

I’ll go round the landings in a clockwise direction, we’ll start on the ground floor, then go up to the top and finish in the basement.

To start with – Chris will tell you a bit about the history of the building, the entrance and the holding area.

For years, Birmingham had campaigned to become an assize town and have an assize court. This would mean that they could hold serious court cases every quarter of the year and not have to try cases in other counties. They were successful in 1886, with planning and building beginning for the Victoria Law Courts and Steelhouse Lane Cells. The Moor Street Public Office was the main custody block in the city beforehand.

The Grade II listed Steelhouse Lane Lock-up opened in 1891 at the same time as the Victoria Law Courts, operating until 2016.  A tunnel that goes under Coleridge Passage next to us connects the two buildings. It allowed prisoners to be sent to the courts directly from the cells. This reduced the risk of prisoners escaping.

As you entered the building, did you notice the worn steps that indicate just how many people came through here over the years? A journey that for many was a one way trip.

Prisoners would normally spend less than 24 hours in the Lock-up before going to court. The building had a mixture of “Steelhouse Lane prisoners,” who’d been arrested in the city centre, and people who’d been charged with offences all over Birmingham. They would come in via a custody van every morning, and they were called “Lock-up prisoners.”

In some cases, prisoners served short sentences at the Lock-up. They were called Home Office prisoners, as they’d been convicted. This would normally happen during a prison strike or following a prison riot.

Our holding cell features a Trompe-L’oeil which is French for ‘to deceive the eye’, is an art technique where artists create illusions to make the painted world seem real. By matching the colour and angles of the room, the picture seems to extend it further creating a glimpse into the past!

This mural depicts a scene in 1935 and includes Chief Constable Sir Charles Haughton Rafter and Evelyn Miles, one of the first two female police officers in Birmingham.

The prisoners would one by one be called from the holding cell to the charge desk which as you can see is a modern version now, but prior to this was a large wooden desk where you can still see the markings on the wooden floor of its previous position. Both with the similarities of being very tall to prevent prisoners jumping over them when being charged and attacking the custody officer on the front desk.

Originally, there were 70 cells across three floors. You enter the Lock-up on the ground floor, but there’s also a basement and first floor.

The glass roof provides all the natural light into the building, with a single window on each floor on the side of the building. You’ll notice the glass floor blocks in the holding area before you reach the charge desk, and also on the floor above the reception area, which also helped to provide light.

Custody sergeant Nicola Sefton is going to explain the process when someone arrives in custody, and then listen on for a glimpse back into what it would have been like 100 years ago.

A detainee arrives at the custody desk at the Lock up the year is 2016. Before anything else, the custody officer steps forward — the gatekeeper of the entire process.

The custody officer would ask for the circumstances of the arrest. The lawfulness of the arrest is checked. The necessity for detention is challenged. Only when the grounds stand up… does the booking-in begin.

A custody record is opened — every second, every decision, logged. Then comes the risk assessment: Health, behaviour, intoxication, mental state. Anything that could put the detainee — or anyone else — in danger.

The custody officer informs the prisoner: “You have the right to free legal advice…”

Rights are delivered clearly. Property is removed and sealed. A search is carried out.

If there’s any sign of injury or vulnerability, a healthcare professional is called.

Finally, the detainee is escorted to a cell.

Observation levels set. Welfare checks scheduled. The door closes… and the investigation begins.

Imagine the time period is now the early 1930s. Welcome to the Lock-up, attached to the Steelhouse Lane Police Station. You are standing in the Custody Suite. This room is the gateway to the justice system—a place of fluorescent lights, the smell of stale tobacco, and the rhythmic clatter of manual typewriters.

Step toward the high wooden desk. This is the Booking Desk. There are no computers here. Every detail of a prisoner’s arrival is recorded by hand in the thick, leather-bound Custody Ledger.

Look at the desk. You’ll see a stack of “Charge Sheets” and carbon paper. The Police and Criminal Evidence Act 1984—known as PACE—hasn’t been introduced yet. Prior to PACE the station sergeant ran the cell block, and they supervised the station PC. On arrival at the station the arrest circumstances were outlined and the sergeant will book the prisoner in on the sheet. PACE introduced the role of custody sergeant, a dedicated role overseeing the whole custody process and ensuring the safety and rights of detainees. They are independent from the investigation process and act as a guardian of the detainee. For the first time, detainees have the explicit right to legal advice and a phone call.

“Booking in” is a physical process. A Desk Sergeant would demand the prisoner empty their pockets: loose change, keys, lighters, and—crucially—their shoelaces and belts. These items are placed in a heavy brown paper envelope, sealed with red wax or sellotape, signed for and stored in the cupboards behind the desk.

There are no risk assessment or medical questions at all, unless the prisoner is clearly ill.  Drug use is rare, although alcoholics are commonplace and still arrested for being drunk and incapable.  The rule of thumb being that a drunk prisoner should be fit for interview charge after 4 hours.

The only medical staff are ‘police surgeons’, GPs who had a very lucrative sideline in coming out to police stations when required.

Mugshots are taken on instant film and physically stapled to the file. To the fingerprinting station. No electronic scanners—just a slab of glass, a roller, and thick black ink. If the prisoner smudges the card, the sergeant starts over.

Right then, into the cells with you.

Fingerprinting

During my attachment to the Lock-up in 1971, all crime prisoners (ie those not under arrest for drunkenness or Breach of the Peace) were fingerprinted by Lock Up staff, and on my shift it became my job.  Using the black Indian ink, metal coated block and roller, I strove to obtain perfect prints from each prisoner, on to thick paper documents.   Once taken, they were scrutinised for perfection by the sergeant who seemed to delight in rejecting some of my early attempts as ‘not being good enough’.

At least two sets were taken from each prisoner, one to be filed here in Birmingham, the second being despatched to Scotland Yard whose staff filed all prints from the various Forces throughout the country.  If the prisoner had been charged with a burglary offence, a third set of prints was required and these had to be taken on a cardboard document which was to kept and filed separately (these were known as a ‘breakers cards’) If the burglar happened to be born in Southern Ireland, a fourth set was required to be sent to Dublin.

Also before their appearance in court all crime prisoners were photographed by a civilian police photographer who attended Monday to Friday around 8.30/9am. The prisoners were escorted from their cell to the ground floor where the photographer would have set up theirequipment to complete the task. 

After the introduction of the DNA database in 1995, prisoners arrested for recordable offences started to also have a DNA sample taken whilst in custody, which would be loaded to the database and searched against profiles taken from crime scenes or victims.

This building played a very important role in the history of women in policing in the West Midlands, as Sue is going to share with you.

The first Lock-up matron was employed in 1895 to look after the female prisoners and take care of the prisoner welfare.

The matrons were the first women in the Birmingham Police who had operational responsibility, they walked these same landings that we walk on at the museum. Originally, uniform was a simple black dress, with a white collar and cuffs. Later on a white pinafore was worn over the dress. The matrons would spend time talking to the women, a lot of whom needed a kind word and a listening ear.

Birmingham was one of the first forces to employ policewomen. When Chief Constable Charles Haughton Rafter received approval to recruit two female officers in 1917, he chose lock-up matrons Evelyn Miles and Rebecca Lipscombe (54 and 60 years of age). Evelyn continued a career that saw her become the force’s first female sergeant and the oldest serving female officer, who was 77 by the time she retired.

A women’s police department was formed in 1917 to deal with cases of indecent exposure, sexual assault, carnal knowledge, attempted suicide, obscene language, and shoplifting. A hostel for young women was opened in Dale End the following year, which helped provide accommodation for women so they could gain employment. The Women Police worked very closely with this hostel, regularly referring young women there.

In 1929 the Royal Commission on Police Powers and Procedure praised the force for pioneering the appointment of women police constables. In his evidence to the commission, Chief Constable Rafter had outlined the preventative work of the women police and also noted that they protected male officers from the sort of complaints “readily and glibly made” by “the class of women who usually come into Police custody”. By 1935, the women’s police department consisted of fifteen female officers, with an additional two female enquiry officers attached to the Detective Department, and had its own office in Steelhouse Lane, adjoining the new central police station.

Evelyn carried out a variety of different roles in her career, many captured in succinct reports to the Chief Constable in a report book held by the museum. The force surgeon eventually recommended she retired in December 1939, as she was suffering with emphysema. The following January Evelyn did an interview with the Birmingham Post, and she explained how the early days of working in the force were extremely difficult. She suffered a lot of jeering from both men and women. She also said that she continued her work long enough to see virtually all prejudice against women police vanish from Birmingham. That point is debatable. In the interview, Evelyn states that her only regret is that she did not start her work sooner. She died aged 91 in 1954.

It was not until 1946 that policewomen were allowed to remain in post after getting married, and much later that women were represented in all areas of policing. As was usual in society at the time, policewomen felt under pressure to leave the police if they had a child. It wasn’t common for women to remain in the service after having children until the 1990s.

Since the Sex Discrimination Act of 1975, women are now allowed to do all the same roles in policing as men and get paid the same. So far in West Midlands Police we have had women in every rank, with the exception of Chief Constable.

Sir Charles Haughton Rafter was the longest serving Chief Constable in the West Midlands, who completed 35 years as Chief before dying on holiday in service! Listen to Chris tell you more about his achievements.

Before you is a life-sized portrait of Chief Constable Sir Charles Haughton Rafter, along with his uniform. In July 1899, Rafter was one of fifty candidates who applied to succeed Joseph Farndale as chief constable of Birmingham. Of the eight short-listed candidates for interview, only Rafter appeared in uniform. This impressed the city’s Watch Committee, which unanimously decided to appoint him with a salary of £800 (worth around £133,000 today).

When Rafter was appointed, there were 700 members of the Birmingham force. Upon his death in 1935, the force numbered 1,587, manning more than 64 stations.

Rafter was also instrumental in introducing women into policing including initially recruiting Evelyn Miles as a lock-up matron.

Rafter managed the Birmingham police force during a period of transition. The city’s boundaries were extended in 1911 to incorporate the outlying suburbs of Aston Manor, Erdington, Handsworth, Acocks Green, Yardley, Kings Norton and Northfield. The creation of Greater Birmingham, as it was known, trebled the city’s acreage to 43,000 acres and increased its population from 523,000 to 840,000, creating new challenges for policing such a large urban area.

Rafter formed a large branch of mounted officers attached to several of the outlying districts. Members of county police forces in these districts (214 men) were amalgamated with the Birmingham police. New police stations were built in Nechells, Bordesley Green, and Digbeth, among other districts; existing stations were substantially enlarged to accommodate the new intake of policemen; and the force invested heavily in subsidised housing for its officers. A citywide network of pillar-box telephones was also installed to facilitate greater communication between the police and members of the public. This was later augmented by a motor patrol fleet.

Rafter was a noted moderniser of the service. One of his first acts was to introduce educational classes for the rank-and-file. The curriculum included criminal law and procedure, police duties, arithmetic, English composition, dictation, gymnastics, swimming, drill, first aid, and practical tips for dealing with the public. Only with sustained training could officers perform their principal duty, which, as he liked to remind people, was ‘the prevention of crime’. Potential recruits were introduced to this educational regime the moment they arrived for interview: all of the 5000 candidates personally interviewed by Rafter between 1899 and 1928 heard his lecture ‘Advice to police officers’.

The Birmingham Blacklist was a list of local drunks who were not allowed to buy alcohol, according to new licensing regulations in 1902. Archie will tell you about one particularly famous local drunkard, known as Tommy Tank.

Looking through the hatch in the door of cell B13, you can see a representation of a very famous local man called Thomas Larvin.

Born in Birmingham’s notorious back-to-backs in 1853, Thomas was made nationally famous in 1902 when he became one of the first two people in the country to fall foul of the Conservative government’s new Licensing Act, that covered the sale of alcohol to drunkards. The Licensing Act led to the creation of the well-known Birmingham Blacklist, whereby any person convicted under sections one or two of the 1898 Inebriates Act required their local police to add them to their area’s Habitual Drunkards Register.

Every person listed on this register was banned from procuring alcohol for three years after the notice was issued, at risk of a fine of between 20 and 40 shillings. Managing the register was a nightmare for publicans who had to trawl through the photographs of every one blacklisted before being able to pour out their first pint, because serving one of these people could lead to a fine of between £10 and £20. Not a small sum, this would have amounted to several months’ worth of rent for many families at the time.

Thomas was a well-known face around the city and in Winson Green, Small Heath and Digbeth. He earned the nickname ‘Tommy Tank’ from his propensity for drinking beer. It was said that he could drain a beer tank, the 500 to 1000 litre container used to transport beer from the brewery to the pubs.

Larvin never really held down a job for long enough to develop a career, but at times he was known to be a hawker, an itinerant peddler, selling easily transportable items from a cart in public spaces, and many of the stories about his antics stem from this work. Lots of people reported that when local landlords refused to serve him because he was blacklisted, Tommy frequently lost his temper and threw things through the pub windows, most notably, the weights from the scales on his cart. On one occasion, when he was drinking at the Bull’s head in Digbeth, the pub’s regulars took the wheels off Tommy’s cart, turned it on its side, and carried it down the entryway to the beer garden. Tommy was so drunk that he couldn’t work out how to get it back onto the street, despite having watched them put it in the garden and spent ages trying to rescue it. Probably the most famous story about Thomas Larvin’s days as a street hawker was the tale of the five-day old herring. Tommy was really disappointed on the day that he got a shipment of lovely fresh herring, because a woman looked at his offering but refused to buy anything. When the same woman came back five days later, he happily sold her the herring, but she soon returned, complaining that the fish were stale. Tommy’s response to her was simple, ‘they would have been fresh if you’d bought them five days ago when I first offered them to you’.

Reflecting on his ‘peculiar’ relationship with Larvin, chairman of the Birmingham Watch Committee, Alderman W E Lovesy recalled a time when, struggling with the restraints put on him by being on the Birmingham blacklist, Tommy accepted a wager from the patrons of a Deritend pub, to walk the three miles from there to the Stonebridge Hotel on Coventry Road, carrying a weight on his head. The Alderman described Larvin’s reward for achieving this as ‘copious draughts of beer’.

On 24th of April, 1893, following Tommy’s arrest and imprisonment 9 days earlier for malicious damage, he was ‘duly certified to be insane’ and moved to the Birmingham City Lunatic Asylum in Winson Green. For several years during and after the First World War, Larvin was held between there and the city’s second asylum, Rubery Hill Hospital. On one occasion when he was there, Tommy saw a magistrate who had fined him several times in the past visiting another patient. Allegedly, the first thing Tommy said to the magistrate was ‘Oh no. Have they got you too?’

By 9th of June 1906, Tommy was reaching his 120th appearance before the magistrates for being drunk and disorderly. He had been found ‘rolling about on the footpath and abusing people’. On this occasion, Birmingham City Police were represented by Superintendent Ravenhall, who told the bench that he already had more than 100 convictions for ‘all manner of offences’. Tommy’s last visit to Rubery Hill Hospital must have been successful though, because after that he had no more court appearances before his death in 1935, at the age of 83, as a result of being hit by a car when crossing the road.

In the days following Tommy’s death, several local newspapers ran obituary pieces reminiscing on the man’s life and legend.

We’ve tried to recreate three cells as they would have looked at different time periods. Listen to Jacob take you through the changes from a Victorian cell, to a World War 2 era cell, up to a modern day cell.

Victorian

This first cell is from just after the lock-up opened in 1891. Imagine you have just been arrested and brought to the new holding facility. 

Why do you think you may have been brought here? Fraud? Pickpocketing perhaps? Or maybe even an assault? 

These were some of the more common offences in the 19th century. 

Can you see the hole in the wall to the right of the door? That’s where a small candle or oil burner would have sat, providing whatever light it could muster. 

You may also notice that there is no toilet in this cell, only a bucket. 

Imagine what it would have smelt like in this building, with all the cells lacking modern plumbing. 

The bed is nothing more than a sturdy wooden shelf, with an additional block of wood to rest your head on. 

Hardly a five-star experience, but think of why this may have been. 

Could it be because they were limited in what they could provide, or was it another way of trying to deter people from committing crimes? 

If you can imagine what it would have been like in the 19th century, or if you can imagine how uncomfortable this cell was, at the end of the row is the smallest cell in the building, kept exactly as it was originally. 

Think about how you would have had to lie on that small bed with nothing but a scratchy blanket. 

You can remain here to learn a bit more about this cell, or you can move on to the World War II cell. 

WWII

Welcome to the WW2 cell. This cell is certainly an upgrade from the previous one. Electric lights have now been fitted to the building, which provides much better lighting than before, and as a result, the candle hole has been filled in. 

Despite this new equipment, the building still would have been quite dark during times of war to avoid any bombings. 

Plumbing was added around this time, so there is less of that lingering smell. However, there would still be some cells that didn’t have the toilets, in case there was a suspicion of smuggling in contraband. 

Did you notice that the toilet cistern is outside the cell? This serves two purposes. Primarily, it was for the safety of the prisoner, so they couldn’t hurt themselves with the chain. 

But also, in case there was an unavailable dry cell, the prisoner couldn’t flush any contraband or flood the cell.

The bed has now been upgraded, to include a proper cushion rather than a wooden block, but the bed itself is still an uncomfortable wooden shelf. 

You can remain here to learn a bit more about this cell, or you can move on to the modern cell. 

Modern day

Welcome to the modern cell, which shows you what our cells looked like around the 1990s or early 2000s. This cell is more in line with what is seen in cells of holding facilities built today. The ceramic toilets have been replaced with stainless steel ones for prisoner and staff safety. Mattresses and pillows are now present in the cells, making them far more comfortable than the previous iterations. Try out the mattress to see how comfortable is it (or not!).

There are some decorative elements to the cell that serve purposes too. The yellow line that is painted on the floor is to help maintain safety when opening cell doors. And can you see the black arrow on the ceiling? Where is it that you think this may point to? 

Modern times means more health and safety measures have been put in place. Safety glass has replaced any normal glass that was in the cells and a grill is placed over the window above the door to remove any areas that could be used for self-harm.

The lockup usually only held prisoners waiting to be interviewed or charged, or awaiting transfer to court, but by modern times it was sometimes used for people serving short sentences, such as when prison officers went on strike. Prisoners also came here after the Strangeways Prison riot, whilst the prison was being repaired. Due to the cramped conditions of the lockup cells compared to normal prisons, every day spent here counted as two days off of their sentence, so most people didn’t mind coming here too much! 

Neither corporal or capital punishment are used any longer in the UK. Listen to Archie explain a little more about some of the items on display in this cell.

‘The sentence of the court upon you is that you be taken henceforth to a lawful place of confinement, and thence to a place of execution, where you will be hanged by the neck, until you be dead and may the Lord have mercy on your soul.’

Imagine being accused of a crime, arrested, detained and interrogated and then – having plead your innocence throughout a lengthy trial – having to watch as the trial judge dons his black cap and makes this pronunciation of your sentence to death. How many people, having spent a night on remand here at the Lock-Up, have been taken through to the Victoria Law Courts, only to hear exactly that?

Of course, executions were never carried out here, so the condemned prisoner would have been conveyed to HMP Winson Green, where 39 offenders were put to death in the 116 years between the opening of the prison in 1849 and the beginning of the general abolition of the death penalty in 1965.

The first of these was Henry Kimberley, sentenced to hang on 17 March 1885, after being found guilty of the murder of Mrs Emily Palmer, shortly after Christmas the previous year, at the White Hart Pub on Paradise Street. Kimberley had actually attempted to shoot his former lover Harriet Stewart, 29 years his junior, in the head at point-blank range, but Mrs Palmer intervened to try to save her friend and took the fatal shot instead, dying instantly. In his photograph in our mugshot ledger from the time, Kimberley is pictured looking sombre, but quite relaxed, seated, with his hat in his hand.

The last man hanged at what is now known as HMP Birmingham was 20-year-old Oswald Grey, found guilty of the shooting and subsequent death of Edgbaston newsagent Thomas Bates, during a botched robbery in the Summer of 1962. Grey’s death sentence came despite four of the five eyewitnesses at his trial testifying that Grey was not the offender that they saw at the scene of the murder.

You can see our punishment exhibition in cell G4. It is interesting to note that the bed in this cell is on the floor. This wasn’t done so that we can better display our birching stool; this was one of several cells updated in the 1970s to provide beds to the inebriated of Birmingham. They were dropped to ground level so that if drunk prisoners fell out of bed they wouldn’t have so far to fall that they could get hurt.

The birching stool on display is the real one that was used in the basement until birching ceased to be given as a punishment in 1948. For their punishment, offenders would be strapped to the stool, face down. Usually, children would have their trousers down for a beating with the birch rod; adults would be more likely to face a lashing from a whip, or the formidable cat-o’-nine-tails.

You can also see an exact replica of the death mask of Coventry murderess Mary Ball on display on the back wall of the cell. Mary was found guilty of poisoning her husband with huge amounts of Arsenic and was the last person to be publicly hanged in Coventry, in 1849.

If you’re interested in the darker side of crime in the West Midlands, you can find out more from our book the Macabre Museum, available to purchase in the shop.

There are two cells dedicated to memorials on the top floor – the first is a World War I and II memorial cell, listing officers who fought in the Great War and all those that died in the Second World War. This audio clip is slightly longer than the others, as there are so many important stories to be told of these men. It focusses on World War I and includes themes such as suicide of men suffering from PTSD, and highlights the stories of some men whose sacrifices were not recorded on the memorial. Berni has done significant research on many of these men, and will tell you some of their stories. If you can, have a seat and spend some time remembering those who fought, that we might live.

Welcome to our war memorial cell. We do not seek to glorify war, rather recognise the sacrifices made by those who have gone before so that we can enjoy our freedom today. 

On the left is our World War One Memorial Board for Birmingham City Police. It lists the names of 568 men of the force who joined His Majesty’s Forces.

On 4^th August 1914, when Britain declared war on Germany, the authorised strength of Birmingham City Police was 1,431 men, although the actual strength stood at 1,394 men. This meant just over forty percent of the force went on to serve with HM Forces. Not all joined immediately. Many men had joined Birmingham City Police after military service and were reservists who were immediately recalled to their units. Some, usually the older men, were recalled as drill instructors. As it became apparent that the war would not, in fact, be over by Christmas officers without any previous military experience were released and went to the front line. 

Every name has a story to tell. Someone’s son, brother, husband, boyfriend or father. As you look at the roll of honour, with names listed alphabetically by police division on which they served, the column to the left of the names has the annotation K, killed (43 men), D, died (5 Men), DW, died of wounds (1 man), W, wounded (71 men), M, missing (2 men) and P, prisoner (6 men). 

When the museum opened here in 2022, it was established that several men who are listed on the roll had in fact also lost their lives as a result of the conflict. They are commemorated on the blue board opposite the door: –

• Evan Davies, of C Division, was 26 years old and had just under two years’ service with Birmingham City Police

• William Reason, of B Division, was 21 years of age with 4 ½ years’ service with Birmingham City Police when he joined HM Forces, he is listed as missing on the Roll of Honour

• Alfred George Phillpott, of B Division, was 27 years old with 5 years’ service with Birmingham City Police when he joined HM Forces. Phillpott died, with his wife, aboard RMS Leinster, bound for Holyhead, when the ship was torpedoed in Dublin Bay on 18/10/1918. This action by a German submarine almost derailed the signing of the armistices that ended the war on 11^th November 1918.

• James Riley, of E Division had 16 years service when he joined HM Forces on 7^th August 1918. He was awarded the French Medal of Honour. He was discharged from the Army as no longer fit for military service and returned to Birmingham City Police on 11^th January 1919, but died just two months later on 1^st March 1919. Death believed to be the result of the effects of gas.

• Thomas Cook, of B Division, had joined Birmingham City Police on 7^th May 1913. He was 22 years old when he was recalled to join HM Forces on 4^th August 1914. Returned from the Military and re-joined Birmingham City Police on 28^th September 1918, but died just nine months later on 1^st June 1919. Death believed to be the result of the tuberculosis from military service

• James FitzGerald, of A Division, had joined Birmingham City Police on 8^th March 1900. He was 37 years old when he joined HM Forces on 22^nd May 1915. He returned to Birmingham City Police on 28^th July 1919. Died on 26^th September 1919, after cutting his own throat. Coroner recorded a verdict of suicide whilst of unsound mind.

Since then, it has been established that three additional men died as a result of the conflict that have not been recorded on the memorial or display panel:

• George Haynes joined the police in 1885. He is recorded as wounded on the memorial. George was discharged from the Army as medically unfit on Monday 9 September 1918 and he died at home on Sunday 9 November 1919 with his death attributed to tuberculosis throat.
• John Connor joined the Birmingham Police in 1884 and was killed in action in April 1918. He is recorded as missing on the memorial.
• Richard Tilley, for some reason, is missing completely from the memorial. It seems his name was missed from the lists of men who joined the Armed Forces, although his record shows he signed up in December 1915 after joining the police in 1912. Richard was killed in action in July 1916. His brother Edwin Tilley also served in both the Birmingham Police and the Armed Forces and is mentioned later.

You can keep listening to hear more about those who served, or move on now to the next section in the audio tour.

Overall the British military suffered a death rate of around 11% of all combatants in WWI. Birmingham City Police lost 57 men by the end of 1919, around 9% of those who served. 

Of the 71 men wounded in the conflict all but 5, Timothy Connor FitzPatrick and William Henry Sargood, Cyril Dean, Alfred Bennett and George Stagg returned to serve with Birmingham City Police.

It is not recorded what Stagg’s injuries were, but he did not return to Birmingham City Police and on 11^th November 1923, he was convicted of murdering Aston Villa footballer, Thomas Edgar Ball. His death sentence was later commuted to life imprisonment as part of sentencing reforms by a new labour government. He was subsequently declared insane and sent to Broadmoor Hospital. He remained in hospital for the rest of his life and died, aged 87, in February 1966.

Some of the wounded men returned to service with Birmingham City Police despite serious injuries.

• Charles Hale, of C Division, had his right leg amputated, but returned to service with the force on 29^th December 1917. He served until 31^st October 1920, when he retired on a medical pension.
• John Jones of E Division, had his right arm amputated above the elbow, but returned to service with the force on 15^th January 1917 and served until 26^th September 1929, when he died in service of tuberculosis. 
• Edwin Tilley, of R Division, was discharged from military service, on 3^rd July 1916, on medical grounds, following gunshot wounds to his left forearm. He returned to the Force and was promoted several times, reaching the rank of Chief Inspector. He resigned from Birmingham City Police on 4^th January 1930, when he was appointed Chief Constable of Wolverhampton Borough Police, a post he held until 1943.

Many of those who survived without any physical injuries returned broken men. Long before the term PTSD was first used men were deemed to be suffering from DAH, Disordered Action of the Heart, or shell shock. It is difficult for us to even imagine the horrors they were exposed to, but it no doubt changed some of the men for ever.

• Louis Bates of E Division was 26 years old at the outbreak of the war, he had seven years’ service with Birmingham City Police when he joined HM Forces. He returned to the Force on 3^rd February 1919. He committed suicide on 2^nd September 1929, by putting his head in a gas oven. It is recorded he was suffering from neurasthenia an outdated medical diagnosis describing nervous exhaustion.

• George Redding of A Division was 28 years old at the outbreak of the war. He had three years’ service with Birmingham City Police when he was recalled to re join his regiment. He is listed as a prisoner on the roll of honour and returned to Birmingham City Police on 5^th March 1919. He was medically retired on 14^th May 1922, suffering from consumption, likely to be tuberculosis.

All six of the men listed as Prisoners were able to return to Birmingham City Police at the end of the war. Although George Redding of A Division retired on a medical grounds, the other five served into the 1930s and beyond. With Joseph Stapleton of E Division retiring as a Sergeant here at the Lock Up, on 24^th April 1938 and Fred Pinch of E Division, who was awarded the Military Medal retiring as a Detective Sergeant on 30^th December 1945, having served through the second world war.

Around 90% of the men listed on the Roll of Honour were able to return to Birmingham City Police at the end of the War. 54 of these men were among the 120 officers of Birmingham City Police who went on strike in early August 1919. They were all immediately dismissed and no appeals for leniency or re instatement were granted. They included men who had been wounded several times, one who had won the Military Medal for bravery and one who was awarded the Croix de Guerre for acts of bravery.

The West Midlands Police did not, of course, exist in 1914. While Birmingham City Police is the largest of the forces policing the area now covered by West Midlands, there were other forces, including Coventry City Police, Wolverhampton Borough Police and Walsall Borough Police. On the wall facing the door is a smaller, blue board, listing the names of officers from these forces who were killed whilst serving with HM Forces.

Wolverhampton Borough Police was a much smaller force. The establishment on 1914, was 109 men. It is not known how many men from the force served with HM Forces, but ten, just under 10% of the force establishment, are listed as having been killed. Including

• Arthur Street, who served as Private 7304 3rd Battalion, Coldstream Guards. He received wounds to his hand by shrapnel and developed Tetanus,. He was evacuated back to England and died in Portsmouth on 9^th September 1914. He is believed to have been the first police officer to die during WW1.

Walsall Borough Police was smaller still, with an establishment of just 78 offices. Again it is not known how many men from the force served with HM Forces, but eight are listed as having been killed. Again that is just over 10% of the force establishment and included:-

• Thomas Fred Eccleston, who was awarded the Military Medal. He died on 17^th November 1918.

Coventry City Police, was slightly larger with an establishment of 137 men in 1914. It is believed that 60 men served with HM Forces, that is almost half of the Force. Ten of these 60 men are listed as having been killed. 

The second memorial cell holds the West Midlands Police Roll of Honour. It contains many stories of officers being tragically killed in the line of duty in the West Midlands or whilst on secondment, and others who have otherwise died whilst on duty or on their way to or from work. Here is the tale of PC George Snipe, by Paul.

On 19 July 1897, Police Constable George Snipe, aged 29, a married father of one, was murdered.

Constable George Snipe was on patrol in Birmingham City Centre when he was called to a “drunk and disorderly” in Bridge Street West. He and a colleague arrived at the Star Pub to break up the trouble and arrested a couple of men. As the officers started to walk away with their prisoners, a crowd of drunks from the pub turned on them. Both officers were assaulted

At first the officers faced a barrage of stones, but the drunken mob became more violent, punching and kicking the constables in an attempt to free their friends.

The officers managed to force their way into the entrance of St Matthews Church in a bid to escape the crowd.

In the scuffle, PC Snipe’s helmet was knocked off and he was hit on the temple with a brick.

Constable Snipe, described as an “exemplary officer” died four hours later in Hospital from a fractured skull.

James Franklin and George “Cloggy” Williams were arrested and stood trial for murder. Both would have spent some  time here in the lockup.

Franklin was accused by his girlfriend of throwing the brick – but other witnesses said it was Williams. Franklin was acquitted – but it was accepted that he did stamp on the helmet – and was heard to shout “if I can’t get the copper I’ll get his helmet”.

Williams was found Guilty of Manslaughter – and sentenced to Penal Servitude for life (later reduced to 18 years) in Dartmoor Prison.

He spent his prison years as a basket weaver and then Prison Library Assistant for 5 years.

Williams was released from Dartmoor in 1911 and in 1916 he married Caroline Mabel Robertson. They had a daughter Lucy in 1917 and Williams himself died in 1937, some forty years after killing Snipe.

PC Snipe lies buried in an unmarked Common Grave (NOT a paupers grave) in Warstone Lane Cemetery, in Birmingham’s Jewellery Quarter. This was the eighth attack suffered by George Snipe during his six years as a police officer. His helmet is on display here today, showing the damage caused by franklin stamping on it.

Thanks to the museum team we have been able to mark the sites of both his demise and burial with memorial plaques and commemorative services. I was privileged to attend both services as George Snipe was my great, great Uncle.

We have an extensive mugshot collection at the museum, here Corinne will tell you how it all began.

The first police mugshots in the UK were taken in Birmingham in the 1850s. When photography was in its infancy, a photography studio was used to create collodion positives capturing the likeness of these offenders. In beautifully ornate frames, these tiny early images are of incredible quality, offering a glimpse into the past and the lives of Birmingham people who found themselves on the wrong side of the bars.

The first mugshot ledger held by the museum dates back to the 1870s and the most recent covers the 1920s. They give a fascinating glimpse into the clothing, hairstyles, headwear, offending and sentencing of the period. The later ledgers are more sophisticated in terms of the information that is captured about the individuals, with a printed template to capture additional details such as hair colour, eye colour, complexion, occupation and marks or scars.

After the Lock-up opened, prisoner photography took place on the top floor with the glass roof offering the best lighting conditions for the images. We can see in images from the time, how additional features were installed such as lighting, a white backdrop and a straight-backed chair.

The cells down the far end of the top floor (now our timeline) were converted into a photography lab, the first of its kind in the Birmingham Police.

Because the photography equipment was expensive, heavy and cumbersome, all kinds of images were taken at the Lock-up instead of Police HQ which was only round the corner on Newton Street and Steelhouse Lane. Our collection also holds photographs taken at the Lock-up of officers such as early female officer Evelyn Miles, and Chief Constable Cecil Moriarty, both of whom posed on the top floor for their official portrait.

Various styles of photographs were trialled throughout the years before digital photographs became available. Police photographers explored using a mirror, to get a side and front view of the prisoner in one image. They also required prisoners to hold their hands  up with fingers stretched out, to identify any missing digits (a common occurrence from industrial accidents).

Hello there, I’m Carl Chin. I’m a social historian who’s written a lot about the real Peaky Blinders. Backstreet thugs who baited the police, battled each other and bullied the hard-working, decent poor amongst whom they lived. And I’m here at the wonderful West Midlands Police Museum, sat in one of the cells in the old lock-up. 

Why am I sitting in one of the cells? Well, my great-grandfather Edward Derrick knew these cells well. He was an incorrigible rogue, a petty thief, a violent man, and most of all, for me, his worst offence was he was a wife-beating abuser. So, the real story is here, at the West Midlands Police Museum. The real story of the rogues, the Backstreet Ruffians, who imposed a reign of terror on the good people of the back streets of Birmingham. That’s the reality.

You can visit the West Midlands Police Museum’s shop and whilst you’re there, you might even want to buy one of my books about the real Peaky Blinders. 

Ta-ra a bit. 

You can see here we have two old Norton bikes out on display, as well as a Velocette tucked away in the adjacent cell. Listen to retired PC Ramesh Kumar QPM share his experiences of being part of the Motorcycle Patrol.

I joined the West Midlands Constabulary in 1970 as the first Asian Indian police cadet in the UK. I was appointed as a police constable in 1973, shortly before the amalgamation to West Midlands Police.

After a few initial postings and following my success in training and various courses I transferred to Western Traffic, firstly patrol cars in the Black Country area and later posted to Motor Cycle Patrol from Walsall/ Brownhills Police Station. 

This was in 1979. I was so pleased to have been successful on the motorcycle courses having not ridden a motorcycle previously, and very proud to put on the motorcycle uniform. At this time there was no leather, but cloth breeches, and open face helmets. I was thrilled to go out and patrol the West Midlands area. The only challenge was that the motorcycle fleet of BMW and Norton Interpol were older versions with a kick start. 

I managed to learn to use the kickstart and headed to patrol from Wolverhampton. I was also happy to be the first Asian officer in the UK to go on motorcycle duty. 

One day there was an embarrassing situation when I parked outside Beatties, in Victoria Street Wolverhampton to complete my Pocket Book entry and general observations. However,  after half an hour I went to kick start the bike and it just would not start. I was in short sleeves and sunglasses, but frantically sweating as everyone was watching. After five minutes with no joy, looking through my wing mirror I could see a near 7 foot man in motorcycle outfit standing behind me. He tapped on my shoulder and said “are you having problems lad”, stuttering I said yes, he said move over. When I looked closer I could see he was the head of the Hells Angels Chapter in Wolverhampton.  He did not sit on the bike, but with one almighty kick the bike started and he said “there you go”. Bystanders clapped enthusiastically.  

I nodded my head, put my visor down and exited quickly. 

Soon after being posted to the Motorcycle patrol duty we were issued with the leather uniform outfits. 

I was often called specifically to assist on football duties, festivals and carnivals, school visits, police recruitment to attract diverse community to join the police, escort VIPS, abnormal loads and often ambulance escorts. I also had the pleasure to escorts processions including the annual Sikh Vaisakhi Celebrations. 

On patrol, I felt like I was constantly under the spotlight and being closely being watched, with photos being taken regularly. It was sheer pleasure, the feeling of being free in the wind.

Being in uniform riding the police bike was like being King of the Road.

I’ll now take you on a tour of the basement, sharing stories of what it was like when I worked here, and how equipment and forensics have evolved and changed policing forever.

The Lock-up kitchen is now our temporary exhibition space, at the far end of the Lock-up basement.

Back in the 1970’s the Lock Up Kitchen was run on very strict guide lines, which had to be followed by the police staff and civilian janitor and cleaning staff alike.  Whilst the cleaners dealt with the disinfecting of the floors and the removal of rubbish, the officers were responsible for weekly stripping down of the fridge, freezer and gas oven to ensure anything removable was taken out and thoroughly scrubbed clean before being returned to the relevant appliance.  From my memory, the fridge’s day was Monday, freezer to be done on Wednesday, and Friday was the ovens allocated day.

Sandwiches and drinks were always prepared by officers, with the tea and coffee supplies being kept in locked drawers in the front office, each shift being given its own allocation.

In 1982 I was present in the Lock Up kitchen whilst the morning sandwiches were being prepared, when a mouse suddenly appeared from a small hole in the concrete floor near to the table on which the food was being prepared.  Defensive moves and noises created by the officers present, saw the mouse disappear back into his hole.

My reaction was to compile a police report of the incident, and a suggest a remedy to resolve the mouse problem.  My idea was that if the Lock Up had its own cat we could possibly eliminate the predicament for good.

I was later seen by the Chief Inspector, who accepted the idea of a cat, but as there was no budget for cat food or litter trays etc, the report would have to ‘go higher’ for a financial decision to be made.  Some two or three days later, the report came back with an authorised decision that funding, and permission had been granted for the Lock Up to have its own resident cat.

As it happened a friend of mine had a cat who had, a few weeks earlier, delivered a litter of kittens, and one remained to be rehoused. Needless to say, I took possession of the kitten during one weekend, and brought it to the Lock Up on the Monday morning to commence its mouse patrol and elimination duties.

I am happy to report that Cookie the cat remained a loyal member of staff for 13 years, keeping all the mice at bay, with no further rodent problems recorded during his tenure.

Bulls eye Police Lantern:

This was an oil fuelled lamp introduced to be used by the Police in the 1820’s and continued in use right through to the 1920’s.   The lamp, which had a circular magnifying glass resembling the ‘eye of a bull’, had the ability for its user to cover the flame by turning the roof of the lamp and rotating a thin metal shield which covered the flame from view when the constable needed darkness to assist his efforts in detecting crime.

The lamp did have the drawback of being quite hot and smoky, and there was always the risk of igniting clothes if oil spilled.  There were many incidents of mishaps during the dark hours as the constables negotiated the highways prior to street lighting being improved.

Some of the earlier lanterns contained just a candle for illumination.

Battery torches gradually replaced the Police lanterns in the early 1900 as the emerging technology became more reliable.  The display shows a number of police battery torches used up to the present day, and the officer now use excellent LED battery sourced flashlights.

Breathalysers:

The Road Safety Act 1967 introduced a breathalyser which was issued to the UK Police during that year, the introduction of which dramatically reduced drunken driving, and the resultant road traffic accidents.  These devices used a glass tube in which were placed chemical crystals which reacted to alcohol fuelled breath blown along the tube, thus indicating the level of alcohol that had recently been consumed.  If the crystals changed colour and continued over a certain line, the driver was deemed sufficiently unfit for driving and was to be arrested and taken to the police station to undergo further tests, and possibly be charged with a drink/drive offence.

A plastic bag was fitted to the end of the tube to show inflation, proving that the driver had passed sufficient lung breath for analysis along the tube.  Any failure to provide a specimen of breath would also result in arrest.

Advancement in technology has seen the original breathalyser move into the electronic era, with exact levels of alcohol now being accurately reported. Various drugs can now be pinpointed as being in a person’s body with the use of the swab tests.

Police Whistle:

The Police whistle replaced the cumbersome wooden rattle in the late 1800’s as a device by which an Officer could attract the attention of any nearby officer when in need of assistance. Tests had shown that the sound of the whistle could be heard up to 1.2 mile away, and this piece of equipment was part of the Officer’s uniform until some months after the introduction of the Police personal radio in the late 1960’s.  Every Officer was then given his Police Whistle to keep as a gift, and ordered not carry it as part of his/her uniform from that time.

Police Personal Radios:

Although radio communication had been used by the police since the 1930’s, it wasn’t until the arrival of 1966 that ‘personal’ radios were issued to individual officers manning the streets.  The first being a pair of cumbersome pieces of equipment with large battery packs.  Both radio devices, (one a transmitter, one a receiver) were fitted with straps which were hung round the officer’s neck.  A wired microphone leading from the transmitter was clipped to the officer’s lapel, and a flexible plastic pipe lead from the receiver beneath the  tunic to be positioned near the Officer’s ear for him to received any messages from the station.

1967 saw the introduction of the blue ‘Pye’ Pocket Phone, which I remember to be a huge improvement on the earlier radio equipment we were instructed to carry. The new ‘Pye’ was very much smaller and lighter, and although still a ‘two piece’ radio, it was considerably more efficient and easier to operate.

The display shows a number of police personal radios, each an improvement on the previous introduction with both transmitter and receiver being incorporated into a single device.

In current use are even smaller radio devices capable of connecting with every police force in the country (including Scotland) as well as other emergency services, and these also have telephone capability.

Hand cuffs:

Some types of rigid or simple chain cuffs were in use by the Birmingham City Police from its inception in 1839.  Our display shows the Hiatt device which was very common by the 1950’s and continued to be used up until the late 1960’s.  These were not issued to individual officers, but were carried on the Police Area Cars, and could be requested when necessary.

The later ratchet style handcuffs shown in the display became available to the officers in the 1960s, but were not personal issue until around the 1980s. They were lighter and much easier and quicker to apply, especially to any struggling prisoner.

Plastic (single use) handcuffs were supplied for use on the occasion of potential mass arrests ie at sporting events (mainly football matches), where numerous group acts of disorder became prevalent.  These could very quickly be applied then cut off once the prisoner was safely in custody at the police station.

Police Helmet:

Birmingham Constables and Sergeants were issued with two helmets, one with silver coloured metal surround ribbing and topping, and a silver badge bearing the Birmingham Coat of Arms for use during the day.  The second having the metal attributes coated in black for night duty wear in order that the officer could remain undetected, whilst observing proceedings from the shadows. Greatcoats and police mackintoshes also had black buttons for the same purpose.

The exhibit display also shows a police helmet with a battery powered blue spinning light attachment atop.  These were introduced for use by the police when engaged in traffic point duty at busy junctions in the 1950’s as an additional safety measure to augment the white coat and gloves already being worn.  Because of its comical appearance, the idea never caught on, and within a very short time the decision was made to not include it as part of the Birmingham uniform.

You can’t have failed to spot the police horse who lives down here in the basement. With police horses returning to the streets of the West Midlands in 2025, Steve will tell you more about their history.

The 1974 amalgamation saw the long-established Birmingham City Mounted Branch, augmented by   horses from West Midlands Constabulary, become the West Midlands Police Mounted Department.

The main stable remained at Duke Street in Gosta Green, but the full establishment of twenty-nine horses was thinly spread around stables at Tally Ho, Kings Heath, Ladywood, Bordesley Green, Thornhill Road, and West Bromwich.

Horses and riders were carefully selected before undergoing specialised training at Tally Ho Riding School, preparing them for the challenges of equine police patrol in busy city streets, where their imposing appearance provided reassurance and a positive image for the new force.

The department evolved alongside the sea of change that swept 1970s society; spit and polish slowly diminished as operational duties became more arduous. Increasing large-scale violence became endemic at football matches, as serious industrial unrest and large-scale public protests became routine for the department. Inevitabley, ever escalating violence saw the introduction of fearsome looking protective equipment for horses and riders.

Simultaneously, the department embraced the fast-emerging approach to community policing. In addition to traditional ceremonial duties, visits to schools, youth centres and a multitude of other community organisations, became daily life for the mounted officer. West Midlands’ horses were seen performing displays at many prestigious venues around the UK, as well as successfully pitching their skills against other forces in national police horse competitions. The mounted officer, now performing increasingly diverse duties, became quite literally, the wearer of many hats.

Spread widely around Victorian back yard stables, the fast-growing department eventually outgrew its environment, so in 1983, moved into impressive new accommodation at Park Lane, Aston. Outstanding new facilities finally opened the door for the arrival of the first female mounted officer in 1984. Others soon followed and became valued members of the ever-growing, ever diversifying, team. Sadly, despite further expansion with the opening of more new stables in Coventry, 1999 saw the axe of austerity fall, and the once proud Mounted Department disbanded. Horses and equipment were speedily sold, officers were dispersed to other duties, and stables laid bare, as the much-loved horses permanently disappeared from Midland’s streets.