Free Before I Sleep by Ray Whitrod

healthy, unmarried, with a height of at least 5 feet 10 inches, a completed primary school education and no criminal record. Most of the recruits became honest, decent, trustworthy officers. They were men who, in earlier life, had not become stabilised as tradesmen, or who had become dissatisfied with rural occupations, or were simply unemployed. Many were recent arrivals from the United Kingdom, who had been in the armed services.
    When I joined the CIB in 1936 it had some thirty detectives and plainclothes staff and was based in the Police Headquarters on Victoria Square. I soon decided I would like to have my CIB posting made permanent. If this happened, I would be the first to obtain selection this way, since the normal procedure was to select uniformed members who had demonstrated above-average commitment and ability. It would also mean that I would be by far the youngest permanent CIB officer in the place. To this end I worked very hard and made sure that I did nothing wrong in the eyes of my superiors.
    The twenty-six months of my cadetship spent at Police Headquarters — observing and listening to office gossip, reading official files, talking to old-timers — had widened my horizons. I now realised that the detection and conviction of offenders was as important — and far more interesting — than being a “kindly” country sergeant. I hoped one day to be a detective-sergeant. At the time, there were only two in the force — one operational and one administrative. Each sergeant had achieved that rank by virtue of his seniority, although a sergeant’s written examination had filtered out some candidates. From youth’s perspective I soon saw myself as sharp as the best detectives and better than most. The head of the CIB was always an inspector. When I began, it was an officer widely known as “Greasy Mick”. He was a unkept, fat man who sat in his office all day spilling cigarette ash down the front of his shirt. His only son was the local representative of the Melbourne-based Truth. For some reason, Truth always managed to get the inside information on Adelaide criminal investigations. Greasy Mick represented the old order of detectives and was not impressed with the need for education. He made it clear from the start that he didn’t like me — although, at heart, it may have been the new system of recruitment that he didn’t like, rather than the recruit himself. I certainly went out of my way to ensure that he had no grounds for disapproval. I worked harder and longer than any others in the branch and as a result stumbled across a couple of wanted villains. I had some other successes as well. On one occasion I located some stolen goods in an obscure second-hand dealer’s shop. Fortunately, Greasy Mick soon retired and was replaced by a country inspector, William Owen Ignatius Sheridan.
    This continued the “Irish” dynasty, although it has to be said the Protestant-Catholic divide that was a feature of some of the eastern states was never very prominent in South Australia. The police force was a public service department available to migrants with little education. It was no wonder that the Irish were over-represented. “Bill” Sheridan was a newcomer to CIB work, but he soon picked up most of the goings-on in the office. By contrast to Greasy Mick, he was courteous and intelligent and I got on well with him. If Catholic members received any privileges, I never noticed it. He treated me fairly, acknowledged any good efforts I may have made and usually approved my suggestions. I couldn’t have had a better boss. Also my sergeant, George Walters, was an inspiration to me. However, there was still no systematic detective training. Potential detectives simply served for a few years as plainclothes constables, during which time they sank or swam according to their capacity to learn on the job. There was also a relatively easy detective’s