HENRY’S BEEN ON THE BEAT ALL OF HIS LIFE
NORTH SLIGO NATIVE, HENRY WYMBS HAS JUST PENNED HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY WHICH CHARTS HIS LIFE GROWING UP IN THE EARLY 1950’ S AND A SHORT LIVED APPRENTICESHIP AS A PANEL BEATER BEFORE EMIGRATING TO ENGLAND AND BECOMING A POLICEMAN AND LATER A BBC RADIO HOST STI
FOR many young people growing up rural Ireland in the late 1960s jobs were scarce and the prospect of having to take the boat to either England or the US were never far from their minds.
Born first of a family of ten at Cloonkeen, a couple of miles from Cliffoney, Henry Wymbs quickly realised how tough things were in Ireland as he tried to make his way in life here.
Three of his aunts had succumbed to TB in their twenties and as he says in his book, “without the right connections, you didn’t get a decent job.”
Though how he ended up in his first job was rather comical.
Henry recalls how he had secured work part time in the Allingham Arms Hotel in Bundoran but one day in 1964 his mother Nancy came into view with a salesman from Maye’s Motors on Adelaide Street and proudly declaring she had bought a new Hillman Imp from the man.
“I was shocked and ben-mused. Who exactly was the car for? Nancy couldn’t ride a bike properly, let alone drive and my father, Michael could drive a cub tractor, nothing more than a dinky toy for adults.
“My excitement at the prospect of the car potentially being for me quickly evaporated when I was informed that, in Nancy’s wheeling and dealining, she had thrown me in as part of the deal. I was to take on an apprentice- ship as a panel beater in the garage. No interviews, start in a month’s time”
At 17, the offer of a four year apprenticeship no matter how unappealing had to be taken up even though as he embarked on his new job he was fairly certain “this was not my future.”
And so, began what in the end turned out to be three years at Maye’s garage, which was tough work but which had its unforeseen perks.
“I did, however, become good friends with all the staff including Eugene Deering, Sean McGloin and Frank McSharry who were like brothers to me and, in my absence, covered up for me many a time by telling the boss I was taking a car out for a test run. Beyond forging these friendships and helping out at the petrol station in the evenings to earn a few extra bob, the only other perk was that I could make use of an old battered mini van on a Friday night. The boss was never that keen on me taking it out, but at nine in the evening with nobody around, it was mine for the week- end.
“I made great use of the van, especially in the evenings when eight of us would cram into it and head for a dance 50 miles away. I nebver had any money so the lads would pay for me to get in. For some reason a person with a car had many friends back then,” says Henry, who will celebrate his 70th birthday this year.
It was on one of those days in Maye’s garage that Henry picked up a copy of the News of the World that was knocking around and he saw an advertisement seeking recruits for the police force in England.
A colleague, Maurice Gilmartin from Grange replied and two application forms duly arrived soon after.
“You could apply for all the different forces in England but there was only about ten that I would have been tall enough for so I put the ten into a cup and Oxford City came out. I knew no one there but I sent it off and before I knew it was I was sitting an entrance exam, ironically in the Garda barracks in Sligo!” recalls Henry.
With the help of a school teacher in Cliffoney he had studied three times a week for the two months prior to the exam and he was fairly confident he would pass.
“I also used to read a lot,” he says.
In January 1968 at the age of 20 he was heading to a city he’d never been before but was determined to land the job.
A physical examination didn’t present too much difficulty, two pairs of thick wooly socks coupled with standing practically on his toes meant his height was offically recorded as 5’ 10” as he entered the police force.
And, it turned out to be a most rewarding career in Oxford, with promotions coming quickly at a time when being Irish in England proved difficult for many as The Troubles saw an IRA bombing campaign there in the 1970s.
“I have to say I never experienced any problems during this time. I was certainly conscious of it but I never got any hassle over being Irish,” he says.
From walking the beat to becoming a plainclothes officer and achieving the rank of detectivet and sergeant before retiring asa Detective Inspector, Henry can look back on a rewrading
30 year career.
“The first twenty years were really good when I was out and about while the final ten years were more desk bound,” says Henry.
After a couple of years as patrol sergeant he got a job as station sergeant at Didcot in the mid 1980s which suited him as he began to get knee trouble but it was also one of the most testing times of his career.
It was nine to five with weekends off but he had responsibilities ranging from custody, rural beat officers, running the station, court work and peparing duties.
He recalls in his book: “I had responsibility for preparing operational duties for officers at two police stations as well as mutual aid for the women’s peace movement at Greenham Common and the miners’ strike up North”
Every Thursday he’d arrive home with files to study for the magistrate’s court the next day where he would be the prosecutor. The files ranged from motoring offences to public order and minor crimes, always being prepared for a not guilty plea and where evidence was then required to be given.
“The miners’ strike was a difficult situation and, due to my knee problems I wasn’t in the best physical state to face the harsh reality of brusing battles with a hardy bunch of people protesting their jobs down the coal mines. I had a lot of sympathy for them as they were only trying to obtain better pay and conditions,” he writes.
He did have a stint of strike duty and says he will never forget “so many police vans in convoy along the motorways of England. There were literally hundreds from every corner of the country.” Long and arduous hours ensured with early starts, often at 2am. He spent sveral weeks in Sheffield and Nottingham.
He describes going down a mine as “sheer hell and one of the most scariest experiences of my life.” The journey down a shaft taking twenty minutes and the noise of rumbling coal and black dust everywhere.
He remembers “walking along an uneven surface to the coal face with a light on his head, dirty water dripping all over my face, and at the same time, trying not to smash my head against the planks holding up whatever was above me.”
Another period of his time in the force that stands out was the Hungerford massacre in August 1987, which was 20 miles south of Oxford. News broke over the radio that a serious shotting inciddent had occurred and he got a call to report immediately for duty.
He made his way with a colleague to the town but all communications were cut off to and from there because of the number of 999 calls being made .
“The Thames Valley Police firearms squad were training some 40 miles away and the police helicopter was in for repair. Only two telephone lines were in operation at Hungerford Police Station. All in all, a disaster.
“It took ages to get to Hungerford, despite being waved through by officers on traffic duty. What awaited us was a battleground, with bodies strewn all over the palce. The police chiefs were rushing around in panic and the shooter ( Michael Ryan) was still on the loose somewhere in the town.
“This mass shooting was unprecedented and the police were not prepared for the onslaught. When we got to the incident control centre, panic had set in. One of our officers had been shot dead and and was still in his police car. Fear was the order of the day. It was all so different then as firearms were not issued to officers as a matter of routine.,” he says. Ryan was armed with two automatic sniper rifles and handguns and in the afternoon he was spotted entering a school and the building was surrounded by police.
“It was time to get out on the streets and see the carnage first hand. Sixteen people lay dead with grief and despair everywhere. Meanwhile, a police sniper had Ryan in his sights as he stood by a window in the school. He was holding the weapons but not threatening anyone. Then a shot rang out - Ryan lay dead from his own bullet.”
Henry spent the next couple of weeks investigating one of the murders, a man in his 40s out walking his dog. BY chance he had come across Ryan who shot him dead on the footpath.
It was also a time Henry dealt with the tabloid press for the first time and he wasn’t impressed by some journalist’s behaviour.
“One day, I was taking a witness statement from the daughter of the deceased when a man of the cloth knocked on the door. The family had been warned about the press and the depths they would go to get pictures and a story. I looked at the man, dressed as a vicar and asked for ID. It turned out he was a reporter from one of the tablods,” says Henry.
Ironically, dealing with the press on a regular basis became part of his job when he was appointed as a press officer in Oxford becoming the face and voice of the police via the local and national media outlets. He appeared on Sky News, Radio 4’ s Today and News at Ten.
INterestingly, BBC show Inspector Morse was filmed in and around Oxford and the main character was played by John Thaw who would occasionally call in to check up how real detectives would deal with murders and serious crime.
“He was a lovely man, who was quiet and easy to get on with. Believe it or not, I was offered a cameo part in the series before I retired but never got round to takin it up,” says Henry. It was around this time his interest in radio broadcasting was developing and as retirement beckoned he says he didn’t want to end up in security work or doing a press office job.
He got a lucky break with the BBC in Oxford saying they must have liked his “soft Irish brogue.” His Irish Eye radio programme soon developed and the popular Sunday three hour programme has now been running for 23 years with many listeners tuning in from County Sligo.
His catchment audience is the South of England and his mix of Irish country, folk and traditional music intertwined with interviews has proven to be a major hit becoming friends too with many celebrities along the way. Sligo is never far from his heart and Henry returns up to five times a year here. “Im always promoting Sligo whenver I can,” he says. ‘ A Wymbsical Journey’ by Henry Wimbs- on sale in Easons and Liber from the middle of January and also shops in the Cliffoney and Grange areas.
RADIO WORK HASN’T BEEN LUCRATIVE BUT I GOT AND GIVE ENJOYMENT BY BRINGING A BIT OF THE EMERALD ISLE INTO HOMES OF LISTENERS EACH WEEK