One of the biggest heroes of the 1966 World Cup tournament couldn’t have cared less about
soccer. When the World Cup trophy was stolen during an audacious heist, a beloved family
pet came to the rescue. This is the tale of how Pickles, a mixed collie saved the World Cup.
In 1930 Jules Rimet, the president of FIFA (the Federation Internationale de Football Association)
commissioned French sculptor Abel Lafleur to produce a trophy for the World Cup. Lafleur was
inspired by the Greek goddess of victory, Nike, and created a 14-inch, 8.4-pound (35 centimeters,
3.8 kilograms) trophy consisting of a decagonal cup, supported by a winged figure. The trophy
was made of sterling silver plated with 14-karat gold set on a lapis lazuli base.
Though originally called Victory, the trophy was renamed the Jules Rimet Trophy in 1946 to
honor the FIFA President. The rule Rimet created for the trophy only added to its
mystique. Possession of the trophy would pass from one victorious team
to another until a nation earned permanent stewardship by winning three tournaments.
1966 wasn’t the first time the Julius Rimet trophy was in danger. Hitler was
a big soccer fan and sought to increase nationalism by collecting treasures for
the Third Reich. When the Nazis looted Italy, the World Cup trophy was on their hit list,
but Italian FA (Football Association) official Ottorino Barassi secretly
transported it from a bank in Rome to his home. He hid it in a shoebox and kept the
box under his bed. Nazi soldiers broke into his apartment but never found the trophy.
On January 5, 1966, the Rimet trophy arrived in London under tight security. The next day
the English FA displayed it at the live TV screening of the tournament draw. Then the
trophy was kept secure at the FA headquarters until Stanley Gibbons, a stamp company,
was granted permission to include the trophy in a sporting and stamp exhibition at Westminster
Central Hall. As part of the security measures, the trophy would be under guard at all times.
Despite only having a value of £3,000 (today £66,050.74 or about $78, 566 USD),
the trophy was insured for £30,000 (today £660,507.41 or about $785,219 USD.)
On the morning of Sunday, March 20th, the exhibit was closed, but a Methodist church
service was taking place on the ground floor of the building. The trophy was secured in a
display case in the hall on the second floor, with two guards stationed round the clock in
an adjacent office. Two more guards were stationed in another room downstairs, watching over the rare
stamp collection. The entrance to the hall was padlocked with a chain going through both door
handles. At 11 am one of the guards checked on the World Cup trophy. All was well. But,
after switching places with the guards downstairs at noon. it was gone. The small lock on the side
of the case was broken. Nothing else was stolen, including the much more valuable stamp collection.
Scotland Yard was quickly alerted. The case was assigned to the Flying Squad,
a branch of the Serious and Organised Crime Command. Police and detectives
swarmed Westminster Central Hall searching for clues. It was discovered that one of the metal
plates of the door handles that lead to the hall had been unscrewed, thus rendering the
padlock and chain securing the room useless. The authorities interviewed witnesses. No one had seen
anyone particularly suspicious. Guard Frank Hudson had noticed a 30-something man with slicked-back
black hair who wore a black raincoat. The man was dropped off by a black taxi cab around 11
am. He loitered near the bathroom and then used a public telephone in the hall. Margaret Coombes,
a parishioner attending Sunday School saw a balding older man with gray hair who wore an
overcoat and scarf also loitering in the area. In her several years of attending the church, she had
never seen this man. Was either one of these men the thief? Could they have been working together?
The FA wanted to keep the theft quiet, but it was too juicy a secret. Word quickly got out
and the Monday papers were full of articles about the crime. The FA offered a reward of
£3,500, (today £77,060, about $91,610 USD). This was a national embarrassment for England.
The next day, Monday March 21st, Joe Mears, the Chairman of the Football Association, received an
anonymous phone call. The caller stated that Mears would receive a parcel at Chelsea Football Club
the next day. The package ended up being delivered to Mears' home. It contained the removable lid of
the trophy along with a ransom note that demanded £15,000 (today £330,253, or about $392,624 USD)
in £1 and £5 notes. The ransom letter also stated that the FA must place the phrase “Willing to do
business signed Joe” in the personal Ads column of the Thursday edition of The Evening News. If Mears
followed further instructions, the trophy would quickly be returned. If the FA informed the police
or the press, the letter writer threatened to melt the trophy down into ‘scrap gold’.
Shortly after receiving the letter, Mears got another mysterious telephone call. A man
referring to himself as "Jackson" changed the instructions from the ransom note,
he wanted the ransom delivered in £5 and £10 notes, not £1 and £5 notes.
Mears ignored the threat in the letter and contacted the police anyway. He met with Detective
Inspector Charles Buggy. The Flying Squad told Mears to place the ad. With the help of a bank,
the authorities created a false ransom payment out of bundles of ordinary paper,
with real money only at the top and bottom. The decoy ransom was placed in a suitcase. It was
decided that two police officers would act as Mears' assistants in handing the money over. On
Friday, DI Buggy and another officer went over to Mears’ home to await the next call.
Mears, an angina sufferer, was so stressed by the situation he had to take to his bed.
When Jackson called, Mrs. Mears answered the phone and explained that her husband
was unwell before passing the phone to Mears’ assistant ‘McPhee’ aka DI Buggy.
After some hesitation Jackson agreed to rendezvous with McPhee in Battersea Park.
DI Buggy arrived in the Mears’ Ford Zodiac. A few unmarked Flying Squad vehicles followed him.
Jackson met DI Buggy who quickly flashed him the briefcase of money. Buggy insisted
on seeing the trophy before handing over the money, claiming that he feared that
somebody would try to rob him. Jackson climbed into Buggy's car and agreed to
lead him to the trophy. Jackson had DI Buggy drive around south London for ten minutes,
then directed him to turn onto Kennington Park Road. Jackson had noticed the Flying Squad van
following them and got spooked. At a traffic light Jackson hopped out of the car and told Buggy that
he was going to get the trophy. After a little back and forth, Jackson ran away. DI Buggy chased
after him with first the car and then on foot He cornered Jackson in a nearby yard and arrested
him. Other officers caught up to them and helped escort Jackson to Kennington police station.
The police quickly discovered that ‘Jackson’ was 46 year old Edward Betchley, a petty thief with
a record of fencing stolen goods. Betchley insisted that he didn’t steal the trophy,
he was just a middle man and had been paid £500 (today £11,008, or about $13,010USD)
for his role. He also said he could retrieve the World Cup if he was granted bail. The
police denied him bail and charged him with theft of the trophy as well as breaking and
entering. Eyewitness Margaret Coombes was able to identify Betchley as the man she had seen
in the Central Hall. The police now had a suspect in custody but the Rimet was still
missing. They searched Betchley’s home, but found no trace of the missing trophy.
Betchley claimed the man behind the theft was known as “The Pole”. There was an underworld
fence named Bernard “The Pole” Makowski who was well known to the police. He and
a corrupt diamond dealer named Gerald Sattin were associates of Betchley’s. The authorities
felt that these two were involved in the crime, but never had enough information to charge them.
Seven days after the disappearance of the cup, David Corbett took his mixed
collie dog named Pickles for a walk through the Norwood neighborhood in
south London he called home. Pickles sniffed around the bottom of a hedge,
drawing Corbett’s attention to a bundle tightly wrapped in newspaper. Corbett was curious,
but a little worried that it could be a bomb as the IRA was fairly active at the time. His
inquisitiveness got the best of him and he picked up the package and tore some paper away. Corbett
saw a shining woman holding a dish over her head and realized he had found the World Cup.
Corbett promptly took the trophy to the Gipsy Hill Police Station. The desk sergeant wasn’t
impressed. To quote the sergeant, ‘'That doesn't look very world-cuppy to me." Nevertheless,
a detective was called in to examine the trophy. He thought it was the World Cup. Corbett and the
trophy were then taken to the Cannon Row police station where Harold Mayes of the FA verified
the trophy was indeed the World Cup. The police then interviewed Corbett, and he realized that he
was under suspicion. After several hours of questioning, the police were able to verify
Corbett’s alibi; he was cleared as a suspect and allowed to leave at around 2 am in the morning.
Corbett returned home to find the press camped out on his doorstep. Pickles was celebrated as a
national hero. He and Corbett were interviewed and photographed. The Corbett family received rewards
totaling £6000 (today £132,100, or about $157,000 USD) for Pickles finding the trophy In comparison,
England’s players were paid £1,360 (today £24,081, or about $28,640 USD)
each in bonuses for winning the Wolrd Cup. Pickles was made Dog of the year,
he received a national Canine Defence League silver medal during a posh ceremony
at a fancy Kensington hotel; he was also presented with a year’s supply of dog chow.
When England prevailed 4-2 in the final over West Germany, Corbett and Pickles were
put up in a posh hotel and were the guests of honor at the 1966 World Cup winners' banquet.
Pickles also appeared on TV and in movies including a British spoof espionage film,
The Spy With the Cold Nose. For months afterward, people stopped Corbett and
Pickles when they were out for a walk to pet the national here or to pose for a picture.
Edward Bletchley received a 2-year prison sentence for his crime; no one else was charged. In 2018,
criminal investigative journalist Tom Pettifor researched the World Cup theft and identified
the trophy thief as Sidney Cugullere, a petty thief and associate of Betchley’s. Scared of
all the attention the crime was receiving in the press, he simply discarded the trophy.
When the theft initially happened, the English FA secretly met with jeweler George Bird to discuss
producing an exact replica of the Rimet in case it wasn’t recovered. When the trophy was recovered,
the FA asked FIFA for permission to produce a replica. FIFA denied the
request. But the FA secretly commissioned Bird anyway. He made a gilded bronze trophy,
very similar in look to the Rimet. After England won the match,
Queen Elizabeth handed the English captain Bobby Moore the real trophy. However,
shortly thereafter when the team was celebrating with the trophy in the locker room, a policeman
came and swapped the trophies for safe keeping. The replica was used on subsequent occasions up
until 1970 when the original trophy had to be returned to FIFA for the next tournament.
Bird kept the replica hidden for many years since FIFA had explicitly denied
the FA permission to create it. When Brazil won the 1970 World Cup in Mexico City,
it was their third victory, so the nation won possession of the Rimet trophy in perpetuity.
A new World Cup trophy was commissioned which is still in use. The Rimet was
put on display at the headquarters of the Brazilian Football Confederation.
13 years later, in 1983 the Rimet trophy was stolen from the headquarters of the Brazilian
Football Confederation. It was kept locked in a display case made of bulletproof glass, but the
back was made from plywood. Initially, police investigation turned up little. But ultimately,
several suspects were arrested over the theft. One popular theory alleged that the trophy was
sold to an Argentinian gold dealer who melted it down into bars. That wasn’t possible since
the Rimet wasn’t solid gold. Also when the gold dealer’s foundry was tested,
the gold residue didn’t match the trophy’s gold. In 1997, the estate of George Bird put the replica
Rimet trophy up for auction at Sotheby's. Though the replica only had a scrap metal value of around
£1,500 (today £3,226, or about $3,834 USD), the estate hoped to bank on the emotion associated
of the trophy. The reserve price was high, £20,000-£30,000. (today £43,030 - £64,530, about
$51,137 - $76,688.] Surprisingly the trophy sold for nearly ten times the reserve price,
£254,500 (today £547,433, or about $650,576 USD). For several years,
rumors had circled around that Bird had the real trophy. Some claimed once the trophies
were swapped in the locker room after the 1966 World Cup championship match,
the English FA never returned the real trophy to FIFA. There was an all-out bidding war between
a mystery bidder who was later revealed to be a FIFA representative and other auction
participants. Ultimately the FIFA rep won the auction, but when the trophy was examined, they
realized that they had just spent a ridiculously large sum on a well-made fake. FIFA arranged for
the replica to be lent for display at the English National Football Museum, where it resides today.
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