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HOPES AND DREAMS

SANITARY INSPECTORS IN WARTIME

EMERGING HAZARDS

CHRONOLOGY

REMINISCENCES

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EHJ June 2002

A CAUTIONARY TALE
Having qualified from the first 18-month full time sanitary inspectors' course set up for the demobbed, Eric Silvester obtained employment with Barnes BC in 1947 at the bottom of grade one, at a salary of £360 pa plus £30 London weighting. Just after Christmas in 1952, Eric received a call from someone concerned about the welfare of an old lady living alone in a terraced house.

"She was in a pitiful state," he remembers. "There was no heating and food, only water from a mug dipped in a bowl in the stone sink and kept full by a dripping tap," he says. Several things had to be done at once. The first was contact with the next door neighbour for immediate food and drink. Meanwhile," he says, "I got a blazing fire going in the front room and made the old lady comfortable. Then off went a message to the nearest surgery for a doctor to call.

"She was obviously Irish, so off went another message to the Presbytery for a priest to call, which he did within minutes. He was to prove invaluable. The doctor called very soon after and quickly arranged admittance to hospital. The lady however, refused to go and this is where the priest came in. He persuaded her it was the best thing for her and promised he would go with her and then visit her.

"We then checked and secured the house, notified the agent and wrote to a distant relative with the details. The old lady died a week or so later, as expected, but in her last days she was at least being looked after. I remember the house was clean and there were brand new towels and bed linen still in their wrappers. I do not think the moral to this episode was lost."

Eric Silvester, retired fellow, Wiltshire Branch

LOUSY DAY
1952 was a memorable year for Bernard Martin of Norfolk, who qualified as a sanitary inspector and was appointed district inspector for the Metropolitan Borough of Hammersmith in the October, aged 22 years and on a salary of £460 pa. "The incident which really stands out during 1952," he says, "was my visit to a double-fronted cottage type property in the Goldhawk Road. It all started with the arrival of a dead louse squashed between two pieces of 'Sellotape'. It had been taken off a lavatory seat in the house by a man who was recovering from Polio.

"I gingerly knocked at the front door of the house," says Bernard. "Mrs Pithers, the owner answered and immediately wanted to know my reason for calling. Somehow or other I managed to persuade her to let me see her tenant in the font room. The couple in the bedsit were nervous as they explained to me how they had found the insect - accommodation was hard to get.

"Mrs Pithers, meanwhile had bee listening on the other side of the door. She burst in on us shouting: 'Liar, liar'!" he continues. "We guaranteed her a certificate signed by one of the cleansing staff that she was definitely not lousy, if only she would go down the road to the Scotts Road Baths.

"To my relief, she agreed, while I rushed across the road to the telephone booth and telephoned the baths' superintendent to make the necessary arrangements. I walked back to the office," he says, "and on arrival found that I had had a call from the cleansing station: 'She needn't have walked,' they said,' she even had them in her stockings!'"

Bernard Martin, retired member, Norfolk

FOOD POISONING
John Billings remembers the year that he qualified as a sanitary inspector fondly: "I had been a student for only a few days when the department was informed of a possible case of food poisoning," he says. "'What do you know about food poisoning'? asked the chief sanitary inspector. I mumbled something about salmonella, but in truth I knew nothing," he recalls.

"Off we went, and 20 minutes later arrived outside a riverside cottage. Upstairs, was a middle aged man in considerable pain." The man had been at a wedding reception with some 30 other people - several days investigative work in itself.

"The chief asked what the man had eaten - ham sandwiches says the man. 'How many?,' says the chief, 'Oh about 20 I suppose', says the man". John goes on, "'What can I do about it?' says the man, 'Don't be so bloody greedy next time', says the chief - and with that we left!"

The lesson: the greater the intake of pathogenic bacteria, the greater the bodily reaction.

John Billings, retired member, Hertfordshire

THE APPOINTMENT
"The council, in its wisdom," says John, "decided to increase the staff by one sanitary inspector because of the chief sanitary inspector's impending retirement. Over 30 applications were received, which were given to me to look through. I prepared a long list of all the candidates, giving age, qualifications, appointments, war service - very important in those days - specialised knowledge etc. When completed, I presented it to the chief with candidates one to six in order."

"The chief took my list and studied the applications - depositing my first in the waste paper basket. I was taken aback to say the least. 'Why have you rejected Mr So and So?,' I asked. 'He knows bloody far more than I do, I'm not having him here!', was the reply.".

Lesson: Never reveal your entire hand, just enough to impress but no more.

John Billings, retired member, Hertfordshire