Free No Easy Ride: Reflections on My Life in the RCMP by Ian Parsons Page B

fond childhood memories of the excitement and magic of these travelling exhibitions. The presence of the big top in Yorkton always attracted hordes of people and required extra policing duties. I remember the midway manager’s visits to my father’s office. I had no idea why, but he always left gifts for the police and their families. The gifts took the form of free-ride tickets for the kids and certain “favours” for the adults. Amazingly, years later at my first posting, the same midway manager came to our town. I no longer cared for ride tickets, but I now learned that he had bottles of Crown Royal rye for each member of the detachment. It was unlikely that such luxuries would be bought on a policeman’s salary, so we were delighted with the gifts. Looking back on it now, I am astounded that we were so naïve. There was only one reason for the generosity: our detachment was supposed to look the other way, particularly with respect to the girly shows and the games of chance on the midway. Several years later this same midway conglomerate was charged with offences surrounding inducements and even bribery of officials. During the enquiry into the company, their books were opened for scrutiny. There in black and white was a precise account of every free ride ticket and bottle of whisky given to each policeman, including my father and me and hundreds of other seemingly innocent officials. Although the gifts were minor, it made me realize how easily one can be compromised.
    Two of the quickest ways of incurring instant discipline and, most likely, dismissal, was the loss of a prisoner and the mishandling of exhibits, specifically liquor exhibits. With money being so tight, it was forever tempting to direct the odd case of beer or unopened bottle of liquor to the back room rather than down the drain. In spite of the consequences if caught, some members gambled with fate by enjoying the fruits of their labour. It was not uncommon for careers to be ruined and bright futures dimmed through the discovery of a bottle of beer that did not get properly destroyed. Liquor exhibits had to be carefully inventoried and held pending the appeal period. When the time for disposal arrived, the local magistrate had to observe the destruction, signing a form testifying to this. The occasional magistrate viewed the relegation of sealed exhibits down the drain as draconian. In these cases the form would be signed with the justice conveniently absent during the destruction, or possibly even on hand to assist in the consumption. It was a classic example of the old adage “Don’t get caught!” The improper handling of liquor exhibits persisted for years. It was typical of the era and no doubt tied to poor pay and long working hours. Exhibits are handled much more professionally in today’s Force.
    While there were no RCMP regulations forbidding members from socializing at local watering holes, detachment commanders would often discourage or forbid this activity in their local standing orders, which outlined expectations. But even when we were allowed to do so, entering bars and taverns while off duty was seldom a relaxing experience. Embittered clients and unsatisfied complainants tended to corner us, even if we were just trying to have a quiet beer. Members had to be constantly on their guard, and it was generally more trouble than it was worth. As a result, when we wanted to let off a little steam, we gathered at the local Legion or at private homes.
    George and Edna Siebel owned a small mixed farm a short distance northeast of Willmore. They had become friends of several members, and it was not unusual for three or four of us to assemble there, accompanied by wives and girlfriends. The Siebels were wonderful hosts and their home was an oasis from the hectic pace of law enforcement. Anything that took place at the Siebels remained there. Edna always provided a delicious country meal, which was appreciated perhaps more by the only unmarried