Plymouthhistory

PlymouthHistory
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Children were often the victims of their parent’s alcoholism, sometimes from violence, but more often from neglect. Plymouth’s Superintendent Gibbons, whilst acting on information given to him, visited the dilapidated eighteenth-century home of a naval officer’s widow in 1851. He found the wretched-looking woman downstairs and two children, a fourteen year old girl and twelve year old boy, in another room. The children were reportedly covered in filth and vermin, and the girl was literally naked. What Gibbons found upstairs though disturbed him most of all. In a bedroom was the eldest daughter, aged twenty-two, holding her new-born baby, both of whom were in a state of malnourishment. No food was found in the house. Even though it was claimed by the widow she had a pension of ninety-four pounds a year, it was almost entirely spent on drink. But the epitome of Plymouth’s drinking problem can be exemplified with a study of a particular infamous local man and his decline. Robert “Bob” Cowley was a Plymouth-born fisherman and regularly found himself waking up in the police cells with no knowledge of the previous night. By the mid-1850s he was known throughout Plymouth as “Notorious Bob” due to his increasing visits to the courts and regular appearance in the stocks in Plymouth market. In 1856 he appeared before magistrates almost once a month and sometimes more. One magistrate even ordered that Cowley was to just be imprisoned in the cells when found intoxicated and released when sober so as to not “waste” the court’s time. In 1858 he was found drunk and brought before the magistrates. He declared he had not drank for sixteen months, and only just relapsed. The magistrate discharged him on the promise he would make another attempt to give up the drink. But less than a week later, he was back for his usual offence, but this time things were different. The court correspondent reported that the defendant looked very ill and that he shook involuntarily. It was also shown by the police that a landlady took all his money and valuables in return for drink, allowing him to stay in her public house for six weeks. The court magistrates took a dim view of the landlady and the charge was dismissed.

As he left the court, Bob declared that he had not ate more than a sixpence worth of food for five weeks. No reaction to his statement was recorded. Cowley spent the next few years being sent to the workhouse. Yet every time he was released he would be given drink and became a morbid source of amusement for the locals, until he died. Bob Cowley’s story was not unique, each of the three towns had characters whose reputation for alcohol-related court appearances resulted in notoriety, and the death of one merely witnessed the rise of yet another. In 1862 the Plymouth magistrates were already labelling another man as the ‘new Cowley’. But drink had more extreme consequences for some. Drunken arguments, fights and frolics would result in serious crimes being committed and sentences obviously increased in harshness as a consequence. Another type of crime also prevalent in the district was smuggling. The smuggling networks were embedded into the fabric of the entire region, not just the towns . This is because of its prevalence throughout the centuries. Even Plymouth’s greatest heroes, Drake, Hawkins and Raleigh, were perceived by many around the world merely as glorified pirates. Henry Whitfeld’s huge undertaking, Plymouth and Devonport in Times of War and Peace, is inundated with anecdotes and reports of smuggling. His very first sentence of the relevant chapter is a good indicator as to how endemic this crime really was, ‘[e]xtremely lax was public sentiment as to smuggling.’ Therefore if the police could enforce the anti-smuggling laws and influence a cultural shift in the social acceptance of the crime, only then could they truly claim to be an efficient force. But the local police would have help in combating this crime, from the original Dock police, the Dockyard Police, then the Metropolitan Police who searched the smugglers out, and to the customs officials who watched the stores and landing stages. The role of these particular law enforcement agencies will be discussed in later chapters. By 1850, overcrowding (people per house) in Plymouth was double the national average and higher at that point in time than London and Liverpool. By the 1860s, there was 848 public houses and beer-shops in the district, a combined population of over 130,000 people, plus thousands of military personnel both domestic and foreign, and three separate areas of police jurisdiction. This made the district a vibrant, but often brutal, place to be. With no suggestions of amalgamation accepted by the various councils, bringing order to the entire district through the efforts of three separate and distinct police forces was a challenge. Yet it was one which the superintendents and chief constables had to meet. To fail to do so would have dire consequences on one of the largest centres of population and arguably the most important military hub in the entire country. Part of an unpublished thesis available in full from the electronic library resource at the University of Plymouth, Policing in Plymouth, Devonport and Stonehouse, 1835-1886 ©Marc Partridge.

Children were often the victims of their parent’s alcoholism, sometimes from violence, but more<br />

often from neglect. Plymouth’s Superintendent Gibbons, whilst acting on information given to him,<br />

visited the dilapidated eighteenth-century home of a naval officer’s widow in 1851. He found the<br />

wretched-looking woman downstairs and two children, a fourteen year old girl and twelve year old<br />

boy, in another room. The children were reportedly covered in filth and vermin, and the girl was<br />

literally naked. What Gibbons found upstairs though disturbed him most of all. In a bedroom was<br />

the eldest daughter, aged twenty-two, holding her new-born baby, both of whom were in a state of<br />

malnourishment. No food was found in the house. Even though it was claimed by the widow she<br />

had a pension of ninety-four pounds a year, it was almost entirely spent on drink.<br />

But the epitome of Plymouth’s drinking problem can be exemplified with a study of a particular<br />

infamous local man and his decline.<br />

Robert “Bob” Cowley was a Plymouth-born fisherman and regularly found himself waking up<br />

in the police cells with no knowledge of the previous night. By the mid-1850s he was known<br />

throughout Plymouth as “Notorious Bob” due to his increasing visits to the courts and regular<br />

appearance in the stocks in Plymouth market. In 1856 he appeared before magistrates almost<br />

once a month and sometimes more. One magistrate even ordered that Cowley was to just be<br />

imprisoned in the cells when found intoxicated and released when sober so as to not “waste” the<br />

court’s time. In 1858 he was found drunk and brought before the magistrates. He declared he had<br />

not drank for sixteen months, and only just relapsed. The magistrate discharged him on the<br />

promise he would make another attempt to give up the drink. But less than a week later, he was<br />

back for his usual offence, but this time things were different. The court correspondent reported<br />

that the defendant looked very ill and that he shook involuntarily. It was also shown by the police<br />

that a landlady took all his money and valuables in return for drink, allowing him to stay in her<br />

public house for six weeks. The court magistrates took a dim view of the landlady and the charge<br />

was dismissed.

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