Today we tell the story of Norwell Roberts, who became the first black policeman to join
London's Metropolitan Police in 1967. He was put forward as a symbol of progressive policing,
but for decades faced endemic racism from within the force.
They asked me: Why do you want to join the police force? I said, well I want to help people and it's
a secure job. But I had a particularly rough time. I suppose if people had warned me I may have sort
of had second thoughts about it, I don't know. But because no one warned me, I learnt on the job
shall we say, and I came through it. But nobody should be subject to that treatment, ever. Norwell
Roberts, born Norwell Gumbs, was nine years old when he came to England from Anguilla in the
Caribbean in the 1950s. His mum, a young widow, had secured a job in England as a housemaid.
They were part of the Windrush generation - citizens of the British Empire who came to the UK
from the Caribbean to work and rebuild the country after the Second World War. But their arrival
was met with hostility from many. It's probably true to say that any non-white person in Britain
is liable to encounter discrimination in finding a job or somewhere to live. "They're really horrible
to work with they're horrible." "As more and more of them come into the country it must get worse."
"I think they should live uh in a district all to themselves because they're not clean."
"Keep Britain, Britain - keep it white, as it should be."
Norwell and his mum first lived in the suburban town of Bromley in Kent. I was certainly one of
the first black people in Bromley. When I went to school, the sixth formers dropped me on my head
to see the colour of my blood. There's a scar there, I guess they found that it was red.
But eventually we moved to London, Camden Town. I went to school there, in Haverstock school,
and it was mixed - boys, girls, and there were black people there, they were Asians, I think I
got on well with everybody. It was good, I enjoyed it. I can honestly say that I wasn't aware of any
racism there. But at 16, Norwell was kicked out of the family home by his mum's new husband. He
found work as a lab technician. It was then that Norwell saw an ad in the newspaper. Because then
it said London needs more policemen, and it didn't say black policeman or Asian policeman,
it just said more policeman. Back in the Caribbean, he had family who'd been in the police,
but he said he applied just for a laugh; after all, the Metropolitan Police did not have black
officers. I wasn't thinking of my grandfather, my uncles were policemen, I want to be a policeman,
it wasn't like that at all. It's just something that i just saw it, thought i would try. Did you
think you'd be accepted? No. Good god no, I didn't think I'd be accepted at all, I thought i joined
as a joke, they're going to be laughing too. But to his surprise, he made it through selection and
was sent to the Hendon police training college. It was big news in Britain. During the 13 weeks
there, on several times, I'd be called out, my class would be called out, have photographs
taken by the press, because of course I was the first black policeman in London - a celebrity.
After 13 weeks, he passed out of training and was assigned to start his two-year probationary
service at Bow Street police station in central London, near covent garden. It was 1967,
and aged just 21, Norwell looked forward to his first day at work. That was exciting,
but when I went to my first station, Bow Street, my reporting sergeant, the first words he said
when I met him, he said: Look you ******, I'll see to it that you never pass your probation.
Police chiefs outwardly presented Norwell as an example of progressive policing,
and yet, in reality, from his own colleagues he faced racial abuse, harassment and persecution.
Whilst I was there, I had buttons ripped off my uniform, I had matchsticks in the keels of my
car. A half-crown is a coin with a serrated edge, they would run it down the side of my
car. My tires were slashed and my car was towed away on several occasions, which I had to collect
and pay up to get it. Now I'd go over there in full uniform to collect the car like I suppose
they thought it was funny at the time; I wasn't laughing, obviously. But uh that's all part of
growing up. And when he came back to the station, Norwell was shunned by his colleagues. It wasn't
the done thing to like me, if you can... I don't know if you can understand. You know, it wasn't
if you were seen talking to me you'd be ostracised by the rest of the policeman. One of the older
officers, he was really a bully, and the other policemen were frightened of him, and he would
tell them not to talk to me. One thing that was I found very sad is that a couple of policemen
who came out of training school with me, they would talk to me back at the section house,
where we all lived, but when we got to work they wouldn't, because it wasn't the done thing.
And clearly they weren't made of the stuff that I was made of, but they had to side with the others
against me to survive. So you were on your own? Yeah, yes I was completely on my own. Completely.
At the end of the shift, I'd go back to the section house and uh I would um
I would cry. I would go to the bath and cry because
of my treatment. That was my release. Nobody knew, because I would cry in the bath.
I'd go to the bathroom, run the water and just splash about and cry, and then...
but nobody knew what was happening. But that's the way I dealt with it. I wanted to be liked. I just
wanted to be accepted. They used to play cards in the canteen and I wouldn't be allowed to join in,
but once they got me to join in. I lost a lot of money, lost a few pennies, but I didn't care.
Losing money was a small price to pay, as I was, then, felt part of the group. At the time, the
police's relations with black British and Asian communities were notoriously bad. In part, they
reflected wider racist attitudes expressed by some in the white community towards ethnic minorities.
But for Norwell, the one solace, it seemed, was that out on the streets, the public seemed less
hostile than his colleagues. In so much as I was having a rough time at Bow Street,
when I left the police station and went out on the streets, I got on so well with the market porters,
they were really lovely. I used to take fruit home, they would just give me fruit to take home,
I got them well with members of the public, I really did. In my life, I always have time to
talk to people, because you never know what they're thinking, what they're going through,
and how just talking to them can, sometimes, it can help them. I wish I'd had someone to talk to
me at the time, put their arms around me and say: I know what you're going through. I think at the
time it was so, so horrible when I was at the police station, I didn't really want to go in
for grub, because you'd have to go in for grub for three quarters of an hour for your refreshments,
but because I was having such a nice time out in the streets I'd rather go around someone's house
for a cup of tea, because members of the public did ask me in for a cup of tea, you know and say:
oh come in for a cup of tea any time, and I did. But even out on the streets, he did not
escape abuse from his fellow officers, and for the first time, Norwell decided to take action.
I was outside Covent Garden opera house, sunny afternoon, there's me: six-foot-one, pretty slim,
sleeves rolled up, just on my beat, the area car, the police car, the blue light that went by,
and as it went by the driver shouted out - you'll probably have to bleep this out - "black ******".
Members of the public were around, they looked round,
I looked embarrassed, I felt so ashamed. And they all laughed and just drove on down. I went
into the station because it was just across the road from the opera house, I went to the station,
went upstairs, I saw the chief superintendent and I told him what had happened, and he said to me:
Well, what do you want me to do about it? And I thought,
damn, I've lost. Because it was the first time I'd ever complained, and I thought then, I've lost,
because he wasn't interested. But I'd allowed him to see that something had happened to me. Do you
understand what I'm saying? You know, I was... - You didn't want to show any vulnerability? - No
I didn't. But Norwell was determined to stick it out. The more others wanted him to leave,
the more determined it made him. Nothing was going to get in his way. He knew he was a pioneer,
and he says he was determined not to let anyone down. I just saw it as a job which
had to be done. I did it. I was asked to do it, or given the opportunity to do it,
and I'd like to think that I made a success of it, and because I'd made a success of it,
I think in my own eyes, others were able to join. I could have gone the other way,
and complained to the press or sued the police force. That's not my scene. I don't think I'd have
got many people to follow me if I'd gone along that route because they'd have thought: Well,
it can't be any good or I don't think i'll join, i'm not having any of that. By the mid-1970s,
there were a few more black officers on the beat - but not many. "Now there are about 40 coloured
police, compared with 21,000 whites. What will be the effect if these recruiting efforts fail?" "Oh,
I think you'll not only have a polarisation between the different minority groups and the
police but I think you will cause an inevitable lack of confidence, probably totally unjustified,
in the police themselves." Sir Robert Mark was a police commissioner, he said that I'd done more to
promote the good relations between the white and black community than anybody else
and we have cause, his words, to be thankful to him for that. And I was just wondering how the
Afro-Caribbean community saw you, as a policeman? I can remember I was dealing with a burglary in
Charing Cross Road, in a cafe, I think it was about 11 o'clock at night, when the door opens
and a black youth looked in and shouted out: "Judas!" because he saw me as a traitor,
and then he ran away. "Some of them, they don't know the reason why I've joined the police force,
uh I joined because I like being a policeman, because I like meeting people,
you know, and they obviously think that I'm an Uncle Tom." But I was never ostracised by
my own community. I think they wanted to see it. But lots of black members of the public
came up to me when I was on duty and shook my hand and said: Hello there man, it's nice to see you.
Nice to see you. And that was heartening to me. It made it all worthwhile. After Bow Street,
Norwell served in other police stations around London. He was promoted, and eventually became a
detective sergeant. He worked on investigations in CID, he also worked undercover. - Did things get
better after time? - I felt it was a bit easier once I joined the CID, but then of course, within
the CID obviously you then have people who were just nasty. It was a certain amount of jealousy,
because I was very popular, I think I was, amongst the lads, I got on well with everybody
and uh certain elements didn't like it. There was constant sniping throughout the 30 years but you
just have to make the most of it, you know? You didn't sort of go around moaning about it. I kept
a lot in myself which is not good because I think it's damaged me slightly, because I can't forget
the bad treatment. But what I have learned is that I will see to it that nobody ever goes through
in my presence when I went through. - Did you ever think of quitting? - I only ever thought
of quitting once. I was having a rough time, later on at another police station, and I got
stress eczema. I don't know if you know what stress eczema is, if you're stressed out
it just comes out in the skin, it comes out in lumps in the skin, and I had to go and see a
specialist. Nobody knew about it obviously, but eventually I had to move stations because of it.
I went and asked for a transfer and then I saw out the rest of my service. In 1996, Norwell
Roberts was awarded the Queen's Police Medal for distinguished service, for which he is very proud.
A year later, he retired after 30 years on the force and now devotes his time to charity work.
Around the time he retired, a public inquiry into the Met's handling of the murder of the
black teenager Stephen Lawrence concluded that the police force was institutionally racist.
Norwell does think there have been changes since then, but there's still
a way to go. It is a lot better, and I think I'd rather be a policeman now than at that time. Would
I do it again? Yeah, I'd do it again. I think I dealt with things in the right way, for me.
What I regret most was that I would like for someone who was about then, to come to me and say:
I know what it was like, you know, I'm sorry about that. That's all. But they're always in denial.
But I'd like to think that I've been a force for good, and I'm proud of what I've achieved.