Landmarker

Rosy glow from a blue lamp !

I listened to a profile of the late Jack Warner the other week on Radio 4. It was good. He was born over a hundred years ago now, maybe more. I didn't realise he was the brother of Elsie & Doris Waters, and changed his name by deed poll to escape any accusation he was riding on their reputation.

I don't remember Elsie & Doris, (or even 'Gert & Daisy' whom they immortalised) they were 'before my time' but I do remember Jack. After music hall and stage success the war interrupted his career, although he found outlets for his talents in entertaining our troops. Film roles followed.

I wasn't quite born when 'The Blue Lamp' was made. It caused quite a stir back then. The shooting of a Policeman was both big and bad news, and the guilty would surely swing from the gallows courtesy of Mr. Albert Pierrpoint, the Governments executioner-in-chief.

The movie, also starred a handsome Dirk Bogarde, and the amiable Jimmy Hanley. With perhaps a first recognition of undisciplined, rebellious and dangerous youth the film struck gold at the box office and enthralled the British public, who saw cinema as a blessed & affordable relief from the austere post-war years of rationing and lingering hardship.

Soon afterwards, on commissioning a new television Police series a decision was made to resurrect Jack Warner's copper. George ' Dixon of Dock Green' was born. Ted Willis wrote the scripts and wanted only Warner for the role.

As a young child this series brought a cosy, rosy glow to Saturday evenings. The fire was stoked, and I'd be warming up nicely after seeing Manchester City beaten again.

Mum & Dad would be there , before the auld incorrigible took off to the pub on his moped - where he played 'the Joanna' * - for complimentary pints of ale and a couple of quid every Friday and Saturday night. Not that 'Dad' was auld back then, he just seemed older than today's thirty somethings, much older in fact. Yet he was still in the mid-summer of his life.

Dixon meanwhile, in rose tinted retrospect seemed always a winter programme, maybe that's just the way I remember it. As the familiar Harmonica theme tune faded away Warner's pre-amble to camera always started with his famed 'evening' all' and the nation gave way to fifty minutes of entertainment…usually.

The show was archetypal east end copper versus honourable villainy. 'It's a fair cop, guv,' with Morris Minors and Ford Anglias in lukewarm pursuit get-away cars. I can't remember any squealing of tyres and brakes, maybe those anti-diluvian brake shoes were not up to the task. !

Andy Crawford, the fresh faced plain clothes detective, conveniently George' s live in Son-in-Law always willing to take the odd bit of guidance across the the table from the older man, whilst staking his own C.I.D. authority as the need arose. And we mustn't forget his sidekick, the laudable Lauderdale. bedecked his quaint handlebar moustache which made him look forty-odd, rather than twenty-five! He 'lost it' on gaining promotion to Detective Constable, in a single act shaking off fifteen years from his boat race. I use rhyming slang intentionally because all the villains were cockneys. Mobility then was not as it is now. I mean, would Sergeant Dixon recognise today's east-end ?

Yes the weekend bulletin from Dixon's 'manor' was always moral, and always cosy. The bad men were caught, usually anyway. The summing up, usually in the dark, outside the station I recall , standing underneath that re-assuring blue lamp our avuncular Sergeant dispensing pearls of worldly wisdom to millions. Many of them took it to heart and as he walked away to the whistled strains of 'Maybe it's because I'm a Londoner.' George Dixon was a national icon, only we didn't know it back then, not enough people had done media-studies at University & we didn't have icons we just liked him, a lot.

How things moved on. Old George continued in uniform until Jack Warner was well into his seventies ! No early retirement for him. He loved his job, and even as late as 1978 the manor had not changed that much since the war. I do not recall any drugs problem in Dock Green, or any mention of prostitutes, although the show was screened around 7pm, would that preclude today's telly people from broaching the subject of the oldest profession? I doubt it. Though there may have been the odd reference to 'ladies of the night' my, how anodyne that sounds today.

There were no terrorists either of course , I can't recall an I.R.A. storyline. Fundamentalists were probably some kind of supportive undergarment back then, in those halcyon, British days, but time, as it does, moved on.

Dixon competed latterly with more gritty Police series like Z-cars, which began to shake off the cosy image. A decade later shows like 'The Sweeney' were hard hitting and fast. With drink sodden heroes, fighting men with wide lapels, flared kecks and sideburns, handy with their fists . Still almost scrupulously moral, yet not above bending the rules. Jaguars and Ford Capri's were the props as the car chase became des-rigeur.

Who can forget Inspector Jack Regan's immortal line 'you're nicked' delivered with a satisfied sneer to many a handcuffed hard man who had just received more than a cursory clip around the ear.

It is hard to believe that 'The Sweeney' first saw the light of day over thirty years ago. It soon became a 'must see' Monday night institution, not least, in our house . It's arrival coincided with a colour telly! from Radio Rentals at about three quid a month - the height of sophistication and a real advance for our happy little family, in our two up, two down terraced home.

Since then of course TV. police series have moved on apace, and imports from the U.S.A. have more than matched our home-grown shows for viewing figures. I seldom tune in to these programmes now but when I do I'm often disappointed. More my fault I suppose than the actors or producers .I just haven't kept up !

I'm need a measure of re-assurance you see. Moral victories. A world where good prevails. That's not always 'cool ' today. The crimes get nastier, the detail ever more graphic. Do we need it? Emphatically, No ! Close up corpses and blood soaked crime scenes turn me off, and not just for obvious reasons. They are not necessary. All they serve to do is to de-sensitise a public which is already reeling from real life events. Gratuitous violence has permeated our living rooms and it's no coincidence that society has followed suit.

Dixon is not coming back from the grave, neither can those far off Dock Green days be exhumed. However, the people who claim to know what the viewing public wants might take heed and sit up to notice that many of us are sick to the back teeth of nastiness and gore. We might even want a return to good , simple storylines which do not always involve murder, and which are well told and well acted. Where snarling yobs and bad-tempered women are not pushed into our living rooms nightly to spew forth their foul-mouthed venom and bile. Reality television Dock Green wasn't, yet it involved escapism before any 'escape' were really needed. George hung up his helmet for the last time in 1976, after 367 episodes. Coincidentally the same year Manchester City last won a major trophy ! Jack Warner died, five years later, in 1981

Come back elderly George Dixon with your blue lamp and your moral tales, you'd be welcomed in our house anytime.

The modern bunch just ain't Jack !

*'joanna' is a piano by the way, more rhyming slang.

'Landmarker' was born in Manchester in 1951. He has been married for thirty six years with two grown up children and one grandchild. He has had many different jobs but usually gravitates back to the road. He currently drives an articulated lorry. His interests include photography, current affairs, and exploring Scotland, where he one day hopes to retire to.

Landmarker's earlier social commentaries can be found HERE....>>>>

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