Remembering the RSPCA London Night Emergency Service 1936-76

The RSPCA London Night Emergency Service established in 1936 and based in Jermyn Street, London came to the aid of thousands of trapped and injured animals across London for over forty years, But is now forgotten.

A lifeline for the city’s pets for 40 years.

The RSPCA London Night Emergency Service came in to being because 1930’s London was a far different place to that of today in respect to the number of animals residing within the Greater London area and the standard of animal welfare. Estimates suggest that there were 1.5 million cats, 400,000 dogs, 18,000 horses and a multitude of livestock including pigs and sheep.

Many Londoners still lived in real poverty, not the perceived poverty of today and most dogs and cats were left to the wander the streets and mingle with the large numbers of strays. Disease was rife and many suffered injuries particularly in road accidents. Few veterinary surgeries existed and even fewer animal rescue organisations with out of hours services. There were no council animal wardens and the police and fire brigade had little interest, ability or equipment to deal with animal related incidents. So, there was an opening for a service to fill all these gaps.

The London Night Emergency Service arrives.

It was therefore timely when in 1936 a new London emergency service quietly appeared on the scene which soon became a lifeline for worried pet owners, and the city’s sick, injured or trapped stray and wild animals within a ten mile radius of the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (RSPCA) headquarters at 105 Jermyn Street, Piccadilly.

Over the next forty years its small dedicated staff were in great demand by the London Fire Brigade, Metropolitan, Transport and River Police, London Transport, and many other agencies and it rapidly became a true fourth emergency service in London at night and weekends.

Saving animals at the Crystal Palace fire

It got off to an auspicious start, when at about 9 p.m. on the night of the 30th. November 1936, it attended the great Crystal Palace fire at the request of the London Fire Brigade. Working alongside 700 Police officers, 438 Firemen and 88 fire tenders, its staff of two and one van helped rescue and attend to animals involved in the fire. According to an RSPCA report of the incident they arrived:

“With an ambulance fully equipped for first aid treatment, reached the scene in record time, and earned the grateful thanks of both Fire Brigade and Police”. (RSPCA Annual Report 1936)

Crystal Palace fire 30 November 1936. Photo: Londonist

Initially housed at an RSPCA hospital in a converted house in Clarendon Drive, Putney, and known as the “Night Clinic,” it soon moved to the basement of their headquarters in Jermyn Street. It was eventually called the London Night Emergency Service (NES). Every London cabbie, police officer and Londoner knew of its existence and its location. It was arguably the first combined out of hours veterinary and animal rescue service and way ahead of its time operating a rapid response collection vehicle, equipped to carry out specialised animal rescues.

The Night Service takes off

It soon became evident how vitally needed the service was when requests for its assistance rocketed from 334 emergency night calls in its first year to 14,500 telephone calls and 2,552 emergency ambulance journeys in 1952 and then to 23,759 telephone calls, 1,411 ambulance journeys, 161 major rescues and 2,982 night clinic treatments in its late 1960’s heydays. Taking into context the small size of this unit, this was quite a major achievement.

It was manned by six staff divided into two shifts, who worked extremely long hours in basic conditions, which would be illegal today, often putting themselves at great risk in the Health and Safety free era of the time, or as the RSPCA reported:

 “Since it was inaugurated, the Night Service has become an important and essential feature of the Society’s work, justifying the boast that the RSPCA is on duty day and night. On a number of occasions members of its staff took great risks to rescue animals under hazardous conditions, climbing derelict buildings, wading through fetid sewers and balancing between electric railway lines”. (RSPCA Annual Report 1960)

RSPCA Night Emergency Service
The badges worn by the emergency service officers in 1960/70’s.

The telephones rang constantly until the early hours.

The entrance to the night service was an unobtrusive door halfway down an uninviting dark cul-de-sac alleyway named Apple tree yard opposite the Red Lion Pub in Duke of York Street. It is unrecognisable today as all the original buildings on both sides have been demolished.

There was no neon sign over the door just a dull light and you entered by walking down three steps and along a short, badly lit corridor into a shabby waiting room, lined with plastic chairs and smelling strongly of disinfectant. To the left was an examination room containing basic equipment as these were the days before modern drugs and high-tech veterinary machines. Behind this room was a small recovery area with cages for the animals to get over the shock of whatever trauma they had suffered.

The night staff inner sanctum.

There was no reception desk, but a bell to summon help on the wall next to a door which led to the staff only inner sanctum. It was a large room some twenty feet square, mainly beneath ground level so there was never much natural light and it was often difficult to know whether it was day or night until you went outside. On one wall was a large map of Greater London where an address could be pinpointed.

Along another wall were six staff lockers and in a corner a kitchenette with the sink piled high with an assortment of cracked and grubby mugs, which supplied the much-needed caffeine. Scattered around the room were an array of easy chairs in various states of dilapidation and comfort. In a further corner, there was a bunk bed, beside it a large desk with three telephones which rang constantly until the early hours and a two way radio to the emergency ambulance.

They had two heavy Austin Cambridge vans with the gear shift on the steering column which made them cumbersome to drive, but this did not stop the guys from driving at hair raising speeds through the then empty streets of London at night. They also had a large horsebox which was kept nearby in the Royal Mews with special permission.

RSPCA Night Emergency Service
The ambulance was cumbersome and difficult to drive but packed with equipment. Photo: John Brookland

First aid advice sounded like a witch’s brew.

I first came across the Night Service in 1970 as an 18 year old newbie to both London and the RSPCA. I discovered that because of its situation the unit was a meeting place or drop in for many staff visiting the West End for an evening out which soon included me.

On my visits the telephones were usually being answered by two of the doyens of the RSPCA at the time. One was Harry Hunt with 35 years on the Society and the other Nick Carter. They used their vast knowledge and inventiveness to offer advice and reassure worried owners giving first aid advice or offering appointments to the night clinic. I would sit and listen, trying to absorb all the information they gave for future reference. The first aid they advised often sounded like a witch’s brew. Friars Balsam, Fullers Earth, China Clay, Bicarbonate of Soda and Epsom Salts, were all mentioned which pet owners at the time, might have in their cupboards and could use for emergency first aid.

A terrapin rescued from the jaws of a crocodile

Its’ officers were willing to have a go at rescuing animals from every predicament imaginable, varying from the bizarre to the tragic and dangerous. I often listened to the many oft repeated old stories of past derring-do which were always greeted with much laughter.

There was talk of a terrapin rescued from the jaws of a crocodile that was kept in an ornamental pond in the foyer of a Mayfair Night Club and a pig rescued from an open well in the heart of London. Also a naked woman trapped in her bath for hours by a snake and an officer letting himself down by rope from the Highgate viaduct to rescue a pigeon. On one occasion a turkey found wandering down a main road in Southwark, without visible means of support.

Although often embellished and exaggerated the stories all had a basis of truth. This was true of a night staff officer named Mike Chester who in 1960 dangled on a rope under Charing Cross Railway Bridge, twenty metres above the tidal waters of the Thames to rescue a trapped pigeon. He was awarded the RSPCA Bronze medal for gallantry for this feat (or perhaps it was madness).

RSPCA Night Emergency Service
How the Illustrated magazine depicted the RSPCA night clinic in 1952.

Tinned dog food and curry.

The weekend shift was a long haul of 44 hours from midday on the Saturday through to Monday morning without a recognised break. Weekdays the shift stretched worked from 5 p.m. to 8.30 a.m. averaging a 60-hour week. Luckily, it was possible for the two overnight staff to sleep when the calls upon their services diminished in the early hours. The third colleague was able to leave at 10 p.m. when the night clinic finished. 

They usually came prepared to cook for themselves. This was a time before the 24 hour society we have now and takeaways were few and far between. I remember a classic weekend night when the cook for the evening was asked what a strange tasting meal was and he replied: ‘Tinned dog food with loads of curry powder, supplies are a bit short I’m afraid.

I spent many happy hours in the company of these good humoured and dedicated staff. They thoroughly enjoyed their work despite the hours and hardships. They made it such a cosy, convivial and welcoming atmosphere and it was a shame it soon had to come to an end.

Owners continued to arrive at the back door months after it’s closure – such was its popularity.

In 1973 the Society decided to move its headquarters to West Sussex and the fate of the NES and its 36 years of dedicated service was in the balance. The staff were obviously very upset about the decision and there was considerable public outcry. Representations were made to try to keep it working from the basement, or somewhere nearby, but to no avail.

Eventually it was divided between their two hospitals in London. Notices were placed in the London evening newspapers to inform everyone, but its impact had been so great, that for months afterwards, pet owners still arrived unannounced at the back door of Jermyn Street, clutching their sick or injured pets. A member of staff led a lonely and solitary existence there for three months redirecting people to the hospitals. Half the staff decided not to move as they felt it just wouldn’t be the same which gave me an opportunity to join the ranks.

RSPCA Night Emergency Service
There was public outcry when the Night Emergency Service moved in 1973

Times change resulting in a sad end.

It was a sad end to an incredible service, but times had changed and the calls for its assistance were decreasing. New laws were reducing the number of stray animals, vets were providing a better out of hours service and other agencies and animal charities like the fire brigade and local authorities began providing more help. I transferred to the night service and paired up with the doyen Harry Hunt and it continued for a few more years until it was eventually absorbed and ceased to be a separate entity, but the old staff were right, it was never the same free going atmosphere.

Although the Service helped thousands of animals and pet owners and did incredible work, during its 40 year existence it is now virtually forgotten except by the few of us still alive who had the pleasure of being involved and even the RSPCA archive has only a few vague references. It is a small piece of London history which needs remembering.

Some night staff who passed through the back door of Jermyn Street:

Officers: Gordon Barker, Pete Barton, John Brookland, Nick Carter, Mike Chester, Bruce Dakowski, Harry Hunt, Bob Lambert, Clive Pretty, Ray Richardson, Frank Salmon, Tony Sillars, Vic Taylor, Paul Thoroughgood. Veterinarians: Frank Manolson, John Newcome, Dave Presland, Glenys Roberts, Tony Self, Frank Wilson.

Find Out How the Night Service operated, meet the people who worked for it and join them on dozens of bizarre and exciting rescues on the streets of 1970s London in this book:

Book When cats Got Stuck Up Trees
ISBN:978-1479230419 254 pages with b&w photos.
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Condor of the Humane

A tribute to a Bahamian rescue dog named Condor who kept me safe and sane.

Condor on Paradise island beach
Condor died forty years ago but I have never forgotten her. [John Brookland 1976]

In September 1975 and I found myself sitting in a bungalow beside the Bahamas Humane Society compound in Nassau having just arrived on an arduous flight from the UK to take up the position of chief inspector. I was exhausted and full of misgiving as to whether I was up to the task.

At this point the back door was pushed open and I heard the tapping of nails on the tiled floor and a sleek black female padded nonchalantly into the sitting room. She had the appearance of a crossbreed black Labrador, but had a three-inch excuse for a tail probably nipped off when a puppy. Strangely no owner appeared behind her.

She stood in the doorway staring at me with sorrowful eyes for a few seconds and then flopped onto the cool tiled floor and made herself comfortable. There was no attempt to come over and introduce herself, but it was obvious I was being thoroughly scrutinised as though a great decision was being made. I watched her and she stared at me and from that moment on she never left my side during my stay and a special relationship was born.

Her guilty look – I always knew when she had done something wrong. [Photo: John Brookland 1977]

It was only our first date but she stayed the night.

I had no idea where she had appeared from, but I was glad of her company and although it was only our first date, she stayed the night lying across the doorway to the bedroom as though instinctively on guard. It proved to be a case of role reversal with her adopting me rather than the other way round.

I discovered next day that her name was Condor and that she was technically one of the “yard dogs”. It seemed though that she was a lady quick to take advantage of a situation when the fancy took her, and possibly spotted a relationship with good prospects. Wherever I went she became my permanent shadow, and she became my friend, soul mate and protector. She came out on all my work visits and social visits (she hated missing a party) and she was also very vain always finding a way of muscling into a photograph.

But when she stared at me with her sorrowful eyes I could forgive her anything.

We enjoyed patrolling the island attending incidents and stopping off at local villages to chat to residents about their complaints and worries over animals. Being a typical dog she adored hanging her head out of the passenger window and children would wave to her. She was good with them and they enjoyed meeting her giving me a chance to talk about animal welfare. When we sped to emergencies sometimes with the blue light flashing, Condor loved to lean into corners as we careered round them which always made me smile. (I was also a district constable in the Royal Bahamian Police Force (RBPF) so allowed to do it!).

Condor of the Humane, Bahamas Humane Society, Condor on the beach
Waiting for Kirk Glinton, my assistant Inspector to throw some driftwood during a rest on one of our patrols.

I often stopped at a sheltered deserted beach and allowed her to swim as she loved the sea, a true water dog, but it played havoc with her ears resulting in regular ear infections and irritations which I had to treat, but I didn’t have the heart to ruin her fun.

Black dog with bandaged ears
The sea water played havoc with her ears. [Photo: John Brookland 1977]

Condor loved our downtime weekly trips to Paradise Island beach.

We both enjoyed our downtime together particularly my weekly afternoon off when we usually went to the western end of Paradise Island beach which in the 1970’s was often deserted (no Atlantis, Club Med or marina at that time). We swam and snorkelled, finishing the day with a stroll to the lighthouse and back when she would trot in front with a piece of driftwood firmly lodged in her mouth. I enjoyed snorkelling but Condor had difficulty understanding the concept and all I could ever see was her four legs thrashing back and forth in front of me often ramming me and tipping me over. It was a time to escape all the stress and trauma of my challenging work for a while and it was extremely idyllic.

Condor a black Labrador dog walking along Paradise Island beach, Nassau in 1976 carrying a piece of driftwood.
I enjoyed our walks on deserted Paradise island beach with her in the lead, a piece of driftwood firmly grasped in her mouth. [Photo: John Brookland 1976]

Her stomach would bloat to the size of a beach ball.

She did come with many bad habits including severe flatulence mainly caused by pigging any food material she came across either fresh or decomposing. Her stomach would often worryingly bloat to the size of a beach ball to the point of exploding and she would lie on a cold floor moaning. My long-suffering friends, when I was invited to dinner parties were very tolerant of the occasional stench emanating from wherever she lay, and to their credit carried on conversing without pause.

She also loved to roll in horse manure and as I spent a lot of time dealing with abandoned and ill-treated horses, she had plenty of opportunity. When I shouted to stop she would always accept the scolding in good spirit and carry on.

Condor particularly loved speeding to emergencies sometimes with our blue light flashing.

Condor would stand on your groin until you gave her the window seat.

We had three vehicles of which two were Volkswagens with bench seats and obviously Condor always wanted the window seat which wasn’t a problem unless I had a colleague with me.  Then there was a lot of pushing and jostling to make her sit in the middle of us but she would soon lean heavily against you or lean over and drool while standing painfully on your groin until you gave way. Then with the seating arrangements organised we could start the day.

My work occasionally got me into sticky situations when I was threatened with a cutlass, broken bottle or some form of aggression, but the presence of growling Condor and the implied threat of letting her out of the vehicle often had a calming effect on the situation. I would never have put her in danger, but I discovered there was a form of black dog syndrome on the island and having her as a sidekick gave me confidence and prevented me from possible harm on several occasions.

Condor helps me to inspect the tourist surrey horses with the Government Vet and officials obviously concerned about the state of the wheel. Fort Charlotte 1976

Condor keeps me sane.

She was also adept at emotional support and near the end of my tenure the emotional and physical strain of work overload and the stress of dealing with all the abject cruelty reduced me to a state of depression and one evening I just went out and started walking down the road in a daze not knowing where I was going or even caring. A concerned Condor tagged along as always and I eventfully found myself sitting on a deserted Saunders beach a mile or so from home having a good cry with Condor leaning against me.

She did her best to cheer me up without success so she sauntered to the waters edge, grabbed a piece of wood, came back and threw it at my feet. She returned to the water and barked encouragingly until I got up, smiled and started playing. For some reason my mood immediately lifted. It was as though she was telling me that life was just a beach so forget everything else and let’s get on with it and we did. I think having her with me saved my sanity that evening.

She always had to be first into the ambulance. [Photo: John Brookland 1977]

Not long after this incident I was offered a job back in the UK and decided for the sake of my sanity I could not pass it up. Immediately my concern was what to do about Condor. I cannot explain how reliant and emotionally connected I was to her at that juncture and to leave her behind was unthinkable as I owed her so much.

Quarantine had just been introduced in the UK under new Rabies Laws and I knew she would have to undergo six months solitary confinement in a kennel which would probably be purgatory for a dog accustomed to so much freedom. She was not a young dog and I wasn’t sure it would be fair to take it all away from her, but I didn’t think I could give her up so I started applying for the required import license and quarantine space.

The Society veterinarian, Doc Watson, volunteered to do all the necessary tests for her health certificate and this was when I received the devastating news that she was suffering from the latter stages of heartworm. He advised that it would be unfair and selfish to put her through such a traumatic journey and change of lifestyle when her days were numbered. I was heartbroken making the terrible decision to leave her behind, but everyone at the Humane Society promised to care for her.

I shall never forget my day of departure when she trotted out to the car with me and sat by my side with an enquiring look. I had tried to say my last emotional goodbyes to her in my house but I gave her a last cuddle. As we drove away, I looked back to see her sitting in the middle of the car park with a resigned look on her face and I was absolutely devastated and full of guilt.

Postscript.

Condor survived another eighteen months and I kept in touch and was informed that she soon settled back into her old routine. I did see her again on a return visit a year later but kept my distance and I was pleased to see that she appeared happy with life. She was an amazing dog and I still mention her all the time, particularly when I see a black Labrador with a red collar on a beach, which is often.

John Brookland worked for the Bahamas Humane Society from 1975-77 during which time he had to deal with almost overwhelming instances of animal cruelty and suffering. The Society still battles to help the animals of New Providence island.

For a more detailed story of Condor follow this link

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