The Times Obituary of James Jardine OBE – He loved La Tania

Jim loved La Tania and all the people out here, sadly he died a couple of weeks ago aged 86. The Times Obituary is re-printed below, an amazing story from an amazing man. Be very proud Sandy.

The Times Obituary of Jim Jardine

Pugnacious chairman of the Police Federation who took on the Callaghan Government over pay — and won

James (“Jim”) Jardine was the national leader of more than 100,000 police officers in the most bitter industrial confrontation with government for more than half a century. As chairman of the Police Federation in the 1970s, he was a key figure in the protracted dispute with the Callaghan Government over police pay and conditions — and which ended in a victory for the police.
Under his leadership the police began increasingly to assert themselves on law-and-order issues, and Jardine became the most prominent police voice in the country. A national petition organised by Jardine calling for the return of capital punishment attracted 200,000 signatures, albeit to no avail. His strictures against critics of the police, whether it was leftwing politicians, civil rights campaigners or archbishops, were delivered with the vehemence of his Scottish Presbyterian upbringing and he was once described as “wielding words like batons”.

James Thomson Jardine was born in 1928 and raised in the Scottish border village of Bonchester Bridge near Hawick. His father, a farm labourer, became a widower and was so poor that he could not keep all of his six children. Four of them were put into orphanages and one went to live with grandparents, but Jardine, who was eight, stayed with his father. He began work as a farm labourer and then joined the Forestry Commission before National Service. He served with the Royal Military Police and was mentioned in dispatches during the Korean War for remaining at his post, directing military traffic, while the area was pounded by enemy artillery fire.

Jardine joined the Metropolitan Police in 1952, serving in central London, and eventually became a patrol car driver. It was a role that nearly cost him his life. Answering an emergency call in Holborn in 1960 his car was hit by another vehicle. The other officer in the car was killed, and Jardine was also thought to be dead. His body was covered on the pavement, ready for removal, but someone spotted a movement under the blanket and he was rushed to hospital, where he it was discovered that he had a fractured skull.

By this time Jardine was already active in the Police Federation, the organisation which represents all ranks up to and including chief inspector in England and Wales. He was a good and forceful speaker with a wry sense of humour, a strong sense of fairness and a down-to-earth attitude. He remained at the rank of constable but moved up in the pecking order of the federation and in 1976 was elected national chairman.
It was a pivotal point in the history of the police service. The Labour Government of James Callaghan was intent on pursuing a national incomes policy and pay restraints, but the Police Federation argued that the police were a special case: many of its members were so poorly paid that their children were receiving free school meals.

The federation walked out of national pay talks and police militancy grew. Officers were not allowed to strike but secret ballots nationwide showed a majority in favour of the right to take industrial action. Callaghan and Merlyn Rees, his Home Secretary, refused to budge but Jardine was as good as any politician at the pithy soundbite. After a heated meeting at the Commons with Rees ended in stalemate in early 1977, Jardine declared that the police had been offered “less than would fill a ham sandwich”.

When the Home Secretary came to address the federation’s annual conference in the spring of 1977 Jardine, in his welcoming speech, said that the police wanted an independent inquiry and warned the Home Secretary: “This could be your last chance.” When Rees rose he was heard in almost total silence, and after his speech he left escorted by uniformed officers because of fears for his safety. Outside the conference hall he was mobbed and booed by delegates wearing T-shirts bearing the slogan “Stuff Merlyn Rees”; one delegate even banged on the roof of Rees’s car. Callaghan, who had once been parliamentary adviser to the federation, was outraged, later privately complaining to Jardine about the treatment his Home Secretary had received. The battle continued through the summer and into the autumn. Jardine declared that if there was no fair settlement soon he could not appear on any platform as chairman and “speak against the police force taking industrial action, even if it is against the law”.

In October 1977, after fresh talks, the police were awarded an interim 10 per cent rise and the issue of pay and conditions was referred to an independent inquiry under Lord Edmund-Davies. There was talk of a climbdown by the federation but the inquiry ultimately proved a substantial victory: the police were awarded a 45 per cent increase over two years, and pay awards tied to average earnings.

The pay dispute was not Jardine’s only concern, however. As the 1980s dawned police officers were facing an increasingly critical public and a vociferous civil liberties lobby. Jardine attacked the Roman Catholic Archbishop of Liverpool, the Most Rev Derek Worlock, for giving what he felt was too much sympathy to rioters in Toxteth in 1981 and little (if any) sympathy for victims. The subsequent report by Lord Scarman into inner-city riots represented, Jardine said, an “upside down world” where action against muggers was criticised as the cause of rioting and police had to apologise.
Michael Foot, then the leader of the Labour Party, also drew Jardine’s ire. After the deaths of 13 black teenagers in a house fire in New Cross, South London, in 1981, Foot joined critics attacking the police investigation for lacking urgency and ruling out a racial motive. Jardine’s riposte was: “It is bad enough when those who make such a wicked attack on police integrity belong to a lunatic fringe, but when a major political party, including its leader, appear to lend support to the lie, it is a disgrace.”

He was appointed OBE in 1982, the year of his retirement; at a party to celebrate his OBE his stepdaughter Carolyn presented him with an elegant scroll proudly informing him that she had taken his name.
In retirement he toyed with taking over a pub but instead worked for Victim Support as a volunteer. He retained a keen interest in politics and in Arsenal football club, taking his grandchildren to as many games as possible. He was given a golden retriever puppy called Candy by his children and later owned a rescue dog called Kizzy; he loved to walk both dogs twice a day, for miles and miles. He also travelled widely with his second wife, Gwen, whom he married in 1976, going on trips to South Africa, New Zealand and Australia.

A highly gregarious man, Jardine had a passion for public speaking, and while chairman of the Police Federation he went on a lecture tour of California. “At any family event he would be up on his feet, and would go on and on,” Carolyn said. “It was always hysterical — he was very, very funny. He spoke at my wedding and at my brother Keiron’s, where he was best man. He would go off on tangents and had everyone in stiches.” His first wife, Bunty, died in 1953. In recent years he had suffered a series of strokes which largely robbed him of the power of speech but not the ability to sing “Happy Birthday”.

He is survived by his second wife, Gwen, a civilian worker for the Police Federation, and her three children, who became his stepchildren and took his name: Keiron followed him into the Metropolitan Police, taking his old badge number, and retired as a detective constable; Shaun is a solicitor; and Carolyn runs a public relations firm. He is also survived by six grandchildren and one great grandchild.

James Jardine, OBE, chairman of the Police Federation 1976-82, was born March 4, 1928. He died after a long illness on January 4, 2014, aged 86