A
personal account of over 40 years’ experience in the residential
child service in the United Kingdom, based on involvement in the
services as a practitioner and manager.
Names and places have been changed for obvious reasons.
“THE
GREAT ESCAPE”
I
should have guessed that something was afoot when Kingsley asked
me, on the way over to the kitchen to collect lunch, “Here,
sir, have you ever seen that film The Great Escape?”
After
lunch Fred Stone, a newish member of staff, took ten boys over to
the play yard for a bit of exercise. When they got there they suggested
to Fred that a game of cricket would be a good idea and Fred, like
a fool, went into the main building to look for the cricket bat
himself, instead of sending one of the boys.
When
Fred got back to the yard it seemed sort of empty. Six of the ten
boys had used the opportunity to clamber over the 8-foot wire fence
and had vanished into the city streets.
Absconding
was a big issue at Pink House. It was quite close to the city centre
and public transport. For many of the boys it was a very tempting
prospect to escape, as they described it, from the harsh reality
or the anxiety of their situation back to their home area. Sometimes
a boy went on his own but usually one led the others. Most were
caught within a day or so but some remained absent for days or even
weeks.
The
police and the press regarded the term ‘remand’ as a
kind of imprisonment and failed to understand why so many boys were
able to get away. There was outrage in the press occasionally as
disgruntled magistrates voiced their displeasure at the failure
of a remanded juvenile to return to court on the appointed day.
Pink
House was not allowed, within the terms of the 1948 Children Act
under which it operated, to keep residents locked in except in the
few cases where it was deemed appropriate to keep someone under
close provision for a limited time.
Thus,
in addition to the four house dormitories, there was a small unit
for up to five boys and two cells where unruly boys could be kept
for short periods. The rest of the building was meant to be open.
In practice, the door of the old building were kept locked but the
doors of the two newer buildings were not.
There
was a feeling of failure if someone absconded on your shift. This
meant that staff were frequently counting the boys to make sure
no one had slipped away. Boys were meant to be constantly under
supervision.
On
one occasion as I was escorting a group of thirty boys back from
school in the main building to their house living unit we passed
the long drive that led from the centre. I noticed, out of the corner
of my eye, that the last boy in the group had peeled off from them
and was departing rapidly down the drive.
I
made a split decision and said to the group, “Wait here”,
and set off down the drive in pursuit of the absconder. After about
a 100 yards I was gaining on the boy but was also running out of
puff. I shouted to the boy to stop or suffer the consequences, (I
had no idea what they might be). To my surprise and relief he stopped.
I
walked back to my group, not sure if they would still be there.
They were. They looked agog at me as I approached with the would-be
absentee.
One
boy said, “Cor, sir, you can’t half run!”
“Yes”,
I replied triumphantly, “and don’t you forget it. Lead
on, Davies”.
On
another occasion I was driving along a busy street on my Lambretta
when I spotted two youths in the distinctive clothes boys were put
in on arrival at Pink House. I parked my bike by the side of the
road and walked stealthily behind the boys until we were opposite
the police station.
I
then walked up to the boys, put a hand on the shoulder of each of
them and said, “Right, lads, just keep walking”, while
directing them over the road into the police station. They were
clearly so taken by surprise that they did as I instructed without
any resistance.
I
walked up to the duty desk and said to the policeman, “I think
you may have two boys reported missing from Pink House. Well, here
they are”.
He
said, “Well, there is a report just coming in; yes, thanks,
mate”.
I
felt a bit mean about spoiling their fun, but I also knew I had
done the right thing as many of the boys committed further offences
while absent and could be harboured by some unscrupulous people.
I
wasn’t always successful in frustrating absconders. One day
I was in charge of a group of about twenty-five boys during their
recreation time in the lounge-cum-dining room. I believed in keeping
the boys occupied. I gave out simple table games and comics and
played the latest hits on the record player.
On
this occasion they were all chatting happily as a record came to
an end. I turned my back on the group to change the record and when
I turned around I notice a gap in the left hand corner of the room.
“Where’s
X Y and Z,” I asked.
“I
think they may have left, sir”, said a boy with a wide grin
on his face.
Running
away was something that went in cycles. There could be weeks when
very few absconded and then it became the fashion and there were
‘break outs’ all over the place. I think it was right
that we showed we were concerned about absconding and did our best
to frustrate it. However, as well as being prompted by the element
of the fear and anxiety young people felt at a crucial time in their
lives, ‘the great escape’ could also be seen as the
great ‘two fingers sign’ to authority, and that was
not on.
