Traffic Police in Many Lands

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 230, 17 December 1927, Page 17

Traffic Police in Many Lands

(Written for THE SUN by

O. A. GILLESPIE.)

Rafferty Rules in Paris .... Honolulu Provides Shady Seats . . . Auckland's Methods Are Those of London

, .... F the fairy wand performed wonftSwlcAH A> fe/'jt ders in fairyt land, the whitegloved hand of a traffic inspector taffSi* Performs similar bonders among ■c -- - •c: Auckland’s traffic One jaunty wave and a river of vehicles is dammed. All eyes watch for another wave, and the stream moves on. Bearing white gloves, a blue uniform and an alert mind Auckland’s traffic Inspectors are powers in the realm of wheels. But it is not so everywhere. Compare the orderly control of the traffic at the intersection of Symonds Street and Karangahape Road with this scene from Paris, the gay French capital. The Prefect of the Parisian Police decided that he would instal traffic signals on the grand boulevards. Someone suggested that it was merely a

scheme to amuse jaded patrons of the footpaths. Where the Avenue de l’Opera branches into six main arteries of travel, the first signal was installed with due ceremony and appropriate French gesture. It was not automatic, but was operated from a convenient street corner and consisted of huge red objects, accompanied by gongs of a terrific size. Across the face of the red plate glass the word

“Halte” was carefully inscribed. Here is a description of a scene typical of that which followed the first installation, told by an American visitor to Paris:

“Terrific clashing of gongs. Plashing of red lights. Repeated ‘haltes.’ Shrills, squeals from French horns. Pedestrians running for shelter. Like bloated aristocrats the taxi-drivers eye the signals—and move on. As citizens of the French Republic they are entitled to their rights. That

right is to cross the street —and they do it —totally oblivious of everything else.

“Then comes the climax. Gendarmes rush from every corner, their capes flying in the wind. They shout, they gnash their teeth, they implore the curses of Napoleon on the imbecile taxi-drivers and their friends. Unfortunately someone falters. Unfortunate soul—he is meat for the

wolves—an island in a sea of gendarmes—the Mecca of a pilgrimage of police. “But does he acquiesce? He does not. He announces that he is entitled to his rights and discusses at length on the glories of La Belle France. He is answered with further argument, accompanied by a windmill movement of arms.

“Fifteen minutes later other taxis are halted. The traffic moves on until the signal changes again—and then it moves on in every direction. It’s all so delightfully informal.” No, Auckland is not Paris where

traffic is concerned —even if its beaches do resemble French bathing resorts.

Auckland’s traffic is much simpler than that. Mr. G. R. Hogan, chief traffic inspector, watches it from his office in the Town Hall. He has his finger, bo to speak, on the pulse of the traffic and woe betide the delinquent if one of Mr. Hogah’s men catches the driver of a vehicle “out of step.”

But a traffic inspector’s life does not consist only in keeping his eyes on the wheels of the city. Far from it. During the day he may be called

upon . . . To impound a stray cow which has wandered from her paddock. To issue a licence to a man who wants to set up a street stall. To issue a licence to a bootblack To inspect a theatre, of which there are 25 in the city. To register a dog.

To attend to the licence for a pedlar, a hawker, or for household refuse.

To issue a licence for heavy traffic, for the driver of a motor-car, for the driver of a vehicle plying for hire, for a taxi, for a horse-drawn vehicle, for a bicycle, or for an omnibus driver (as distinct from a motor-car driver). There are 3,000 dogs registered every year in Auckland, an average of eight a day for seven days a week.

There are 23,500 motor vehicles registered in the Auckland district, and most of them seem to pass up

and down Queen Street several times a day, sometimes to the discomfort of pedestrians. Then there are the trams, and the small boys on bicycles, an occasional horse-drawn vehicle and a few perambulators.

Mr. Hogan estimates that there are 14,000 motor vehicles on the Auckland streets every day. In July of last year a statistician estimated that 12,600 vehicles passed over the intersection at the Grafton Bridge every 10 hours. The figures are enough to daze even a traffic inspector. Where does a traffic inspector come from and what does he do before he dons the white gloves of authority? There are 32 in the Auckland corps and they have been culled from various sources. Most of them are expolicemen, from the New Zealand, Australian, London and Irish forces.

Previous training, physique and general appearance count in choosing a man; it would never do to have the chaos of Paris!

First of all a thorough knowledge of the by-laws is required, no small accomplishment when one considers the worthy but indigestible booklet which has been evolved by the City Council. Then there are the signals to be learned. They are the same as those used by the London police: simple and effective and familiar to every Aucklander.

When proficiency is reached the new inspector Is placed on his tiny pedestal at a street intersection—and the world is his to stop or to start as he wills.

Even on his pedestal the inspector's duties do not consist of wholly directing the traffic.

“Can you tell me the way to Bumbleton and Bumbleton’s office, please?” asks an old lady as she looks up a building bearing the names in large gold letters. “Yes, madame, here in front of you,” he answers with one arm outstretched like an Egyptian dancer performing her daily dozen.

Then there are American visitors who “Just must see this lil’ ole burg before the Aorangi sails,” newly arrived English folk who have heard all

about our lovely gardens and want to spend an hour there and New Zealanders who want to know which tram to take to One Tree Hill, or the Zoo. Yes, a traffic inspector is gradually becoming an animated directory with an engaging smile.

Sometimes there is a little chasing to be done. Some enthusiastic motorist is leading a cloud ot dust a little too quickly along a busy street and he must be reprimanded. In hot pursuit, a motor-cyclist overtakes him. The magistrate does the rest.

Round Auckland there are 30 speed traps set and recently the “bags” have been astonishingly large. Of course, there are people who will make excuses every time they are reprimanded. The two stock ones begin: “I thought . . .” and “I wasn’t quite prepared ...” Every traffic inspector listens to them countless times each day. Women whose ' cars stall at the busiest time on the most congested crossings are always ready for an emergency. “Oh, officer, it’s really too bad. This car .. . My husband .. .” With this they flash a sphinx-melting smile on the officer, who immediately becomes horribly sympathetic toward the weaker sex and gives the signal “Onward” out of sheer pity. Then there is the flapper who is determined to be on the best of terms with the traffic men. She approaches a crossing looking coy enough to have every other vehicle in sight stopped immediately that her progress shall not be hindered. But traffic inspectors are hard men—they are immune from coy looks.

The London system of controlling traffic works well in Auckland. London policemen are one of the wonders of the Empire metropolis. An upraised hand and the traffic stops dead. There are no whistles, no noise, no shouting.

Italy also uses policemen—three or four at each corner in the busy streets. Holland is fortunate. A traffic inspector could not be expected to sit at a watery canal corner all day. Then there is Venice. A traffic inspector would have an easier time there than in Holland. The reckless gondolier has plenty of space, and water is soft for a fall . . .

Germany’s traffic is not difficult to control. In Berlin efficient-looking figures in spiked helmets spell authority. Perhaps, if motorists beer me troublesome, the spiked helmets could be used with good effect on tyres—

and tyres are expensive as all motorists know. Every country in the world seems to have evolved a different method of directing its traffic. The New Zealand method seems to be as efficient as any. For comfort the arrangement at Honolulu (Hawaii) appears to be the most delightful. The official sits in a little cage arrangement, protected from the sun by a business-like umbrella, and waves his hand from his shady seat. In Budapest, Hungary, the guardian of the traffic controls a most elaborate signalling system. He stands on a platform in which there are several small portholes, which show different coloured lights. An arrangement overhead also shows lights, the whole contrivance being worked by a series of levers. America has a variety of devices. In New Jersey, the traffic control tztfin stands in a small barrell and sigigals with flags. True to tradition, he smokes a cigar while at work, but then American authority is proverbflally free and easy. Cape Town favours a “Stop-Go” system controlled by the traffics man who stands on a wooden platform. In Kimberley, where it is particularly hot, the officer on duty stands beneath a huge umbrella, wearing white gloves and a helmet. No one could fail to see the notices which dot the principal thoroughfares of Copenhagen, Denmark. They bear “stop” and “go" signs in enormous letters. The traffic inspector stands below and works the signs with a lever, much after the fashion of the I control in Cape Town. The Constantinople inspectors’ only signs of authority are a helmet and a baton which looks like a small barber’s pole. Stockholm has a system of lights, worked by an inspector who stands on a small platform. The Portuguese inspectors wave a baton, the Spanish wave their arms. China does not seem to have at- I tempted anything definite in controlling its traffic. Perhaps life is not considered dear enough there yet. Auckland's Traffic Growth Proof of the growth of Auckland can be gained by figures supplied by the traffic department of the city. In 1894 the revenue from all licenses was £6OO, to-day that revenue has increased to nearly £ 50,000. Similarly the size and the work of the department has grown. In 1894 one inspector, at a salary of £llO a year, attended to the registration of cabs, buses, porters, hawkers, itinerant showmen and dogs. A staff of 32, with a salary roll of approximately £3,288, operates in the city. When Mr. Hogan joined the department seven years ago there was a staff of four. Increases were made to the department in 1923, 1925 and 192 G. In the last-mentioned year the control of traffic was taken over from the police and the department brought to its present size. The inspectors were put into uniform complete with a brass coat of arms and shoulder badges, white gloves by day, gauntlet gloves by night, and a smart cap. The first traffic inspector in Auckland was Mr. C. T. Turner. He was succeeded by Mr. J. B. Lindsay who, in turn, was succeeeded by Mr. Hogan. Mr. G. Meager, once a traffic inspector in Auckland, is now a captain in the British Air Force stationed at Pulham, in Norfolk, England. The gradual decrease of the horsedrawn vehicles and the increase of the motor have been stepping stones in Auckland’s traffic progress. In 1894 there were 124 licenses issued for horse cabs and omnibuses and 32 for porters. In 1904 the first taxi-cabs had appeared and the horsecabs had dwindled. The licences Issued were: motor-cars two, horse cabs and buses 103, porters 12. In 1914 the taxis had grown to 228, - the horse cabs had dwindled to 63 and the porters to 12. By 1924 the taxis had increased to 453 and the horse-drawn vehicle had disappeared altogether. The most recent registrations were taxis 619 and porters two.