A Lost Photo and a Strange Coincidence!

                                          

When I was back in England for my brother's 80th birthday earlier this year, I found the above photo in an old suitcase which he had brought down from his attic. The photo was taken way back in 1969 at the Judge’s Lodgings in Aylesbury, Buckinghamshire, and it brought back a flood of memories.

It was taken in January 1969 when I was Judge’s Marshal to Mr. Justice Thompson, the judge who sentenced Bruce Reynolds for masterminding Britain's notorious Great Train Robbery. I was in full morning dress because we were off to church and then the Assize court in Aylesbury that morning to hear Reynolds' plea of guilty.  The Judge had been up late the night before taking calls from the Home Office and chewing over the sentence he would give Reynolds the next day for his role in the train robbery.

I have been meaning to write something about my time as a Judge's Marshal for many years but, as usual, I fell prey to extreme procrastination.  Just this morning at breakfast, I happened to see this photo in digital form on my computer. Hmm, I thought, I really must write about this one day.  And then a very strange coincidence occurred later that afternoon which finally convinced me that I had to write this blog.  Like NOW!

So, let me first tell you a little bit about being Judge's Marshal to Mr. Justice Thompson who was on Assize for just over a month in the eastern court circuit of England in January 1969.  What does it mean to be "on Assize?" And what on earth is a Judge's Marshal? 

From about the 13th century onwards, Assize Courts primarily handled felonies, the most serious criminal offenses.  The word "assize" refers to the sittings (assises in Old Law French) of judges from the King's Bench in Westminster who were known as "Justices of Assize." Usually in pairs, they traveled across the six (seven?) circuits of England and Wales on commissions, setting up court and summoning juries at various towns in the different counties. The royal judges traveling from Westminster were said to be "on Assize".

(Assize Courts remained in existence until 1971 when they were replaced by permanent Crown Courts. My dear friends Bill George and Anthony Briggs, from my days at the Bar, both became renowned Crown Court Judges.  I think Judge Briggs was the longest serving Crown Court Judge ever).

This print (courtesy alamay.com) shows the Sheriff of Oxford's Javelin Men 

escorting Assize Judges in the 18th century.

In the good old days, travel was a hazardous exercise. The Judge's Marshal was responsible for “marshaling” the horses and retinue of the judges and for getting them safely to assize towns in various counties of the country, some more dangerous than others.  The early objective of an Assize Court was to bring the King or Queen’s justice to your doorstep and impose royal retribution directly if you had committed crimes such as treason, murder, rape or robbery. (It would be some centuries before train robbery was added to the list).

Assizes were the most feared trials of all because they usually ended in death. Do you remember the Bloody Assizes of Judge Jeffreys?  An Assize Judge not only represented the King or Queen when on Assize but, by a legal  fiction, was the King or Queen, with all attendant royal privileges.  I do remember that when we were in Aylesbury on the day of Reynolds' sentencing, we drove from the Judge's Lodgings to Aylesbury Court (below) in a 1922 Rolls Royce. One of the royal perks, no doubt, of being an Assize Judge! 

Aylesbury Court, Buckinghamshire

During my time with the Judge, we traveled through various towns in Bedfordshire, Buckinghamshire and Lincolnshire for just over a month.  As Judge's Marshal, I no longer had to round up the horses or protect the Judge from danger.  In fact, I was the one in danger. I met him in London on the prescribed date and he drove me up to Bedfordshire, our first port of call, at some considerable speed in his brand new Triumph 1300TC.  It was quite a ride and gave me an opportunity to see him in a rather different light. 

I don't think I am breaking any confidences at this late date but he got stopped for speeding up a hill.  The poor cop who stopped him nearly wet his pants when he realized that he had nabbed a High Court judge but proceeded to book him anyway. The Judge was not amused; but he did say that he admired the man "for doing his duty."

Mr. Justice Thompson had a permanent clerk, Ernest, who became a good friend and guide during that long, long month in 1969. He filled me in on all the Judge’s foibles and expectations.  “He will constantly test you and try to catch you out," he warned me, so I trod carefully at first but soon discovered that the Judge’s bark was worse than his bite.

As Judge’s Marshal, you sat next to the Judge on the bench, kept copious notes on the various cases we heard, had some responsibilities for some minor travel and court logistics and, if deemed worthy, helped review the Judge’s written judgments or other court rulings.

I watched him at work in court and was often grilled over lunch or sometimes dinner on what I thought of a particular case, sentence, line of argument or the relative worth of prosecution and defense counsel. In essence, you became his companion/secretary (dogsbody?) for a month on the road. It was more a "social" position than an "official" position it but gave a young barrister (I was still in pupillage in 1969) an amazing and comparatively rare opportunity to see a judge in action in court and in his quieter moments. 

An English judge who somewhat resembled Mr. Justice Thompson!

The Judge was a Scot, rather forbidding in demeanor (especially in court), but with a sly sense of humor.  I had to address him as “Judge” and he addressed me as “Marshal” or sometimes “laddie” if he was annoyed. I had to be careful not to overstep my humble station but some evenings over dinner he would say: “Tell me one of your jokes, Marshal” and, with some trepidation, I did. He only chided me once for one of my off-color Liverpool jokes that he said was “a little sacrilegious” so I steered away from anything touching upon the Divine after that.

He was a prodigious worker, researcher and reader of novels.  We discussed a lot of literature (thank goodness I was an avid reader too) and could actually remember most of the lines of plays I had acted in--especially "Macbeth." I delivered the "If it were done when 'tis done" soliloquy with a slight Scots accent one evening at his bidding.  

He told me my accent was lousy but that I had remembered "most the words correctly."  He was also amused when I told him that I had read a lot of good literature by the time I was twelve because I was allowed to buy a "Classics Illustrated" comic once a month.  "Why once a month?" he asked. "Because they cost 11p," I replied, remembering my mother's aversion to comics, especially  expensive ones.

He had the supreme ability to listen to three days of legal arguments and then write (by hand, of course) a detailed judgement with apparent ease and great accuracy.  I reviewed several of his neatly written manuscripts at his request and honestly had very little to contribute. He wrote like he spoke--with great precision and the utmost clarity. I did on occasion point out several omissions or corrections based upon my notes but he waved them away as "not relevant".

In court, he never took his eyes off the counsel who appeared before him and listened intently to everything they said.  I know that his ferocious concentration unsettled quite a few of them, especially some "wayward" counsel as he called them, who didn't always have a good argument or who had got their facts wrong.  

A quiet but menacing "Are ye sure o' that, Mr. Gilbey?" or "That's no' ma recollection, Mr. Henry" would send the poor counsel into a fit of bumbling apologies and nervous fumbling around with his papers.  At lunch the Judge would say with a smile: "Did ye see him riffling his papers, Marshal? Be prepared with your facts or best keep your mouth shut." I followed that advice whenever I was with him.

I spent most hours of the day with the Judge and we fell into a pattern of not much talk at breakfast; discussion of the case at lunchtime; and legal anecdotes, memories and, yes, a few carefully considered jokes at dinner. He would retire by 8.00pm to work and I would usually seek out Ernest for a beer or two. By the end of the month I was somewhat at ease with the Judge; but it was the same sort of "at ease" as when you have a Golden Eagle strapped to your wrist!

I sat on the bench next to the Judge at the Buckinghamshire Assize Court in Aylesbury when he sentenced Bruce Reynolds to 25 years in prison for his role in the Great Train Robbery. Reynolds was one of the last train robbers (there were 15 of them) to be caught, after five years on the run and living off his share of the 2.5 million Pounds that they stole.   It may not sound a lot in these days of Trumpian Trillions but it was the biggest robbery ever in England's history at the time.

The court was absolutely packed and there were police and plain-clothes detectives everywhere.  The newspapers were full of the trial that morning and there was great anticipation about how the defense plea in mitigation might affect the final sentence. The bookies were forecasting 15 years maximum.  As it turned out, nobody was expecting 25 years.

Bruce Reynolds, mastermind of the Great Train Robbery 

at Aylesbury Court in January 1969

There was an audible murmur in the court when the Judge pronounced the 25 year sentence. People were totally surprised that Reynolds still got 25 years even after pleading guilty. Mrs. Reynolds sitting in the gallery let out a loud sob and then cried uncontrollably until the court was cleared. The Judge looked unperturbed, stood up after announcing the sentence and walked out of the court into his chambers.  Sentences of that severity were unusual, although some of the train robbers who had been caught much earlier were sentenced to 30 years in prison.

Later on that day over dinner the Judge asked me what I thought of the sentence.  I didn’t know him very well at that point and was hesitant to say what I thought but dived in anyway.  “Well, like everyone else in the court, I was taken aback--actually quite shocked," I blurted out. When I think back to that dinner it makes me cringe. I had no diplomatic skills whatsoever and had put my foot in it several times when the Judge had asked my opinion on something.  Not good.

The Judge just glared at me and shot back in his wonderful dry Scots accent: “Do you think I don’t know that? That’s the whole point, laddie. That sentence is supposed to shock everyone. But believe me, he deserves every day of that sentence. Driver Mills was coshed and will never recover properly.”

Driver Mills was the train driver who got badly beaten by one or several of the train robbers. It was never known who actually coshed Mills but it was considered outrageous in 1960s England that the poor driver should have been so severely beaten during the course of the robbery. What might have been considered a daring and brilliant robbery had been reduced to a vicious act that brought powerful retribution.  The Queen's justice (royal retribution?) was brought to your doorstep yet again by the Assize Court.

This was my first insight into the judicial mind.  Robbery was one thing.  Robbery with violence was intolerable, guilty plea or not.

Looking at that digital photo on my computer this morning brought a lot of this back to me and I started doing some research to see if I could find any photos of Mr. Justice Thompson on Google.  No luck.

But I did find a lot about the Great Train Robbery, including The Guardian photo of Bruce Reynolds (above) entering the court in Aylesbury and even a photo of Aylesbury Court (also above).

I even started writing this blog but gave up half way through.  I needed photos and all I could find was that other photo (above) of an English judge who somewhat resembled Mr. Justice Thompson. But it didn't feel quite right. Ah well, I thought, a good excuse not to write anything. A blog is nothing without some good photos.  Procrastination would triumph again. The story of my life.

Then this afternoon, we went to our overstuffed storage unit in nearby Falls Church to retrieve a few items that we needed.  While Regee was looking for something, I opened a random box just for something to do.  It was just one of about 40 or so boxes that are piled up in there. Inside the box there were some of my old business files that I had never had time to sort out before our recent move.  So, they got packed by the packers and were sent off to storage.

I picked out one of many Manila files in that box and what do I find on the very first page of the file but this carefully folded newspaper clipping!!

I just couldn't believe it. I was stunned. What are the odds?  Millions and millions to one?  Here was a photo of Ernest, the Judge's clerk, and me following the Judge into church on the morning of the Reynolds trial.  It was totally mind-bending.  A HUGE coincidence!

I carefully folded up the clipping again and put it back in the file.  On returning home, I photographed the clipping and here it is.  Not a brilliant photo but you get the idea. I could even read all about the Reynolds trial from The Bucks Herald of Thursday, January 16, 1969.

And I have been typing away ever since I got home.  I have finally completed a blog that I should have written many moons ago.  Well, life is full of surprises and maybe, just maybe, procrastination can work in your favor sometimes.

For just over four mostly happy, sometimes scary, weeks with the Judge, I dined on pheasant and claret and put on a lot of weight.  It was a great privilege to be selected as a Judge’s Marshal and it was a high point in my very early legal career at the Bar. And when do you go to work every day in a morning coat? It also revived a lot of memories of Mr. Justice Thompson who was a brilliant judge, a stern but admirable man and someone whom I will never forget. I learned a lot in that month and owe the Judge a great debt of gratitude for being so patient and forgiving of my many youthful blunders and indiscretions.

I should open more boxes in our storage unit and find out what else is in there.  Maybe a lot more stories are just waiting to be found?