PUBLIC CARRIAGES.
"Keep very still, please. Thank you."
A constable replaced the cap on the lens of a big camera, and with a
sigh of relief a man rose from the chair where he had been seated under
a cardboard number. It was the photograph-room of Scotland Yard, through
which every cab-, omnibus-, and tram-driver, and every conductor has to
pass once in three years. "The Yard" is as careful with a cabman on
licence as with a convict on licence, although for different reasons.
But the chief idea is the same--the safety and comfort of the public.
There are thousands of dossiers stored in the vaults, which give a
complete history of each man holding a licence in connection with a
public vehicle--records of warnings, convictions, medical tests, and so
on. Officially stamped photographs are placed on every document which
passes into a man's possession, so that there can never be cases of
personation, such as I believe have happened many years ago.
It is no mean work that is performed by the Public Carriage Department,
although it is done quietly, smoothly, and for the most part out of
sight of the public. Not a cab, omnibus, or tramway car that plies for
hire in the metropolis--and they average about 16,000 a year--but has
passed stringent tests by experts, and this applies equally to the men
in charge.
Every human precaution that years of experience can suggest is taken to
guard against the passing on the streets of any man or vehicle that
might be a nuisance or a danger in congested traffic. Rigid regulations,
numbering forty in the case of taxicabs, and sixty-two in the case of
motor omnibuses, insist upon details as far apart as adequate brakes and
freedom from noise.
We speak about the perils of the street; but they would be increased,
perhaps tenfold, but for the unobtrusive care of the Public Carriage
Department.
There are other detectives at Scotland Yard than those of the Criminal
Investigation Department--detectives, that is, in all but name--for the
control and supervision of traffic does not end with the issue of an
annual licence.
There are fifty skilled men dotted about London, all holding
certificates of proficiency in motor engineering, who exercise a
constant surveillance. Quick of eye and keen of hearing, they keep
unceasing watch on all public vehicles. An unusual sound as a motor
omnibus passes may tell them something is wrong with the engine.
Thereafter the proprietors are warned not to use the car until the
defect has been remedied. Or they may station themselves unexpectedly at
the gate of a garage, and test the brakes and steering gear of every car
that passes in or out.
That this is no mere formality is shown by the fact that on one morning
an officer stopped no fewer than forty taxicabs from going on the
streets. Indeed, during the last year for which figures are available
officers of the department reported 35,123 vehicles as unfit for use. In
some it was merely a question of noise or a trifling fault easily
remedied. In others the trouble might easily have caused a bad accident.
The principle acted upon throughout the department is that prevention is
better than cure.
Whenever a car of a new type is devised, be it a cab, an omnibus, or a
tramway car, Scotland Yard examines it, and, if necessary, calls in a
consulting expert for advice.
Should the type be suitable, similar vehicles are afterwards examined by
local staffs of the department--there are twelve of these in London--and
a certificate presented by the maker that there has been no variation in
the type.
In the early days of motor omnibuses complaints in shoals were received
by Scotland Yard from tradesmen, private individuals, borough councils,
and others as to the frightful noises made by them when running.
That resulted in the establishment of a committee of high executive
officials for the testing of every motor omnibus in respect of noise
before it is licensed.
Pass through Great Derby Street into New Scotland Yard any day after ten
o'clock, and you will find always a number of men clustered about a low
building and in the little square. They are drawn from all types and
classes, and all are candidates hopeful of obtaining their licences.
A would-be taxi-driver--an "original" he is technically termed--has to
be clean in dress and person and not under five feet in height. Two
householders who have known him personally for three years must give
him a good character. A doctor is required to certify that he does not
suffer from any ailment, that he is sufficiently active, that he does
not smoke or drink excessively, and that he is fitted for his duties by
temperament. After this he will be permitted to undergo examinations in
fitness and knowledge of driving. It is a tight-meshed net through which
an incompetent would find it hard to pass.
But it is the topographical examination that undoes most of the
"originals." I went through a couple of large waiting-rooms; hanging on
the walls of one was a slip of paper with the name of one man. "There
were twelve yesterday," said my guide; "he was the only one to get
through."
And then he told me something of the history of the man whose name was
hanging solitary on the wall. It was not an altogether unusual one in
that building. The candidate, a University man, had been in possession
of an income of about L1,500 a year. He had been neither reckless nor
extravagant, but suddenly, at the age of forty, with no trade or
profession in his hands, he had seen his fortune lost. So he had taken
his place among the "originals" and had started in the world anew as the
driver of a taxicab.
At the end of the waiting-room there are two little apartments, each
containing one table and a chair; there the "originals" are examined in
topography, _viva voce_, one at a time. Now, it is sometimes asserted
that trick questions are put to candidates. That is not so. There are
twenty-five lists officially laid down, each of eighteen questions, and
one of these lists the candidate has to answer.
Here are typical routes which a candidate has to describe:--
St. James's Park Railway Station to Baker Street Railway Station,
Clapham Junction to Brixton Theatre,
Hop Exchange to Royal Exchange.
The names are sometimes varied. For instance, the second might be "from
the South-Western Police Court to Lambeth Town Hall," or the third
"London Bridge Station to the Mansion House." But in each case the route
is practically the same. Thus a complaint of unfairness can be checked
by reference to the record kept by the examiner of the list he used.
Some of the men present themselves again and again. In 1913, of 676
"originals" only 366 passed, yet there were 6,339 separate examinations.
Omnibus drivers and ex-horse-cab drivers do not have to pass this
topographical test. But all alike have to undergo a driving test of the
type of vehicle for which a licence is required.
First of all, there is a preliminary examination in the yard, so that an
examiner is not called upon to risk life and limb--to say nothing of
those of the public--before he is sure that the candidate has at least a
rudimentary knowledge of driving.
Afterwards, there is a more complete test under the difficult conditions
of the West End. Should a man fail at his first test, he is not allowed
to appear again for fourteen days; if at his second, he is put back for
a month; at his third, for two months. His failure at his fourth and
final examination is inexorable. Ex-horse-cab drivers are allowed two
extra tests. A fee of a half-crown is payable for each of the last two
tests.
The necessity of these precautions is evident when it is considered what
harm might be done by an ignorant, careless, dishonest, or short-sighted
driver, yet I have come to the conclusion that when a cabman gets his
licence he has earned it. But the Public Carriage Department has first
of all to consider the safety of the public.
I have tried to make clear some of the work that devolves upon the
staff. But that is by no means all. Now and again a warning has to be
issued to drivers and proprietors on some particular subject. Here is a
typical one:
SPECIAL NOTICE.
"In view of the number of accidents in the streets of the
Metropolis, and of the numerous complaints of the public as to the
reckless driving of certain drivers of public vehicles, the
Commissioner of Police gives notice that every case of conviction
for dangerous and reckless driving will entail serious
consequences, and the renewal of the drivers' licences may be
imperilled.
"Repeated convictions for exceeding the speed limit by drivers of
public vehicles will be considered to constitute evidence of
reckless driving."
Such hints bring home to drivers a remembrance that their livelihood
depends upon their good conduct. They never know when they may be under
surveillance, and they know that every time they transgress it is
entered in the records, which are scrutinised when an application comes
for a renewal of licence. Nearly 200 licences were cancelled or recalled
in 1913.
There is a Committee of Appeal at Scotland Yard, to which most cases of
this kind are referred, so that no man is deprived of his licence
without a fair hearing and reasonable cause. This committee heard no
fewer than 1,648 cases during 1913.
Some of us may recall painful memories of the early days of taxicabs,
when taximeters were not altogether above suspicion, and deft
manipulation with a hatpin or some other jugglery was possible, by which
fares and cab-owners were defrauded.
Those days have passed. A taximeter when it has once been sealed by
Scotland Yard is now a sternly conscientious instrument, with a regard
for the truth that might shame George Washington. There is a separate
register of taximeters kept cross-indexed to cabs, so that the number of
the latter is all that is necessary to reveal the record of a particular
taximeter.
Eight different kinds of badges are issued, varying in colour. Thus an
officer can tell at a glance who holds a conductor's licence, who has a
horse-cab licence and who a taxi-cab licence. In a few cases composite
badges are allowed, by which a man may act either as driver or
conductor, or as driver of a horse or motor vehicle.
All men of the department are police officers, but they are something
more. They are living directories of London and its suburbs from Colney
Heath, Herts, to Todworth Heath, Surrey, from Lark Hall, Essex, to
Staines Moor, Middlesex; they are skilful engineers; they have a keen
eye for the defects and qualities of a horse; they can drive a horse or
a motor car, they know the conditions of traffic in Piccadilly Circus or
in the deserted roads about Croydon.
Above all, and in this they are again police officers, they have a very
sure appreciation of human nature. They do not harass those with whom
they are concerned unnecessarily, but whether it is the London County
Council, a powerful omnibus corporation, or an unlucky hansom driver,
they act impartially, without fear or favour.
Outside their own province they have nothing to do with crime, though it
sometimes happens that their records are useful to other departments of
Scotland Yard. In reality, the actual police functions of the Public
Carriage Department are few, and for this reason there are people who
hold that it should be entirely separated from the force. The argument
is a forcible one, yet it is not complete.
Time was when all licences were issued from Somerset House. But even
then the police were asked to carry out certain enquiry work. It has
been suggested that the London County Council should take it over. But
the London County Council is not an impartial body in regard to public
carriages. It owns tramway cars which are run in opposition to motor
omnibuses. A Traffic Board for London might solve the difficulty.
But, however plausible such theoretical reasons for separating this work
from the police may sound, one thing is certain. The duties could not be
more efficiently performed than they are at present. A perfect system
has been devised by which not only are the perils of the street
minimised for pedestrians, but the comfort and convenience of all who
travel by public vehicles are ensured, whether it be the millionaire in
a taxi, or the factory hand in a workman's tramway car.
The Public Carriage Department has learnt its business. It has grown up
with the growth of motor traction. It knows the tricks of the trade, and
those who would throw dust in its eyes must needs be ingenious. To hand
over its duties to an outside body would result, at any rate for a time,
in something like chaos.