Part one of my blog, titled “The Rise of the Slogging Gangs and what made children such as the Notorious Giblin brothers become such violent men in Aston & Birmingham”, is an exploration into the Giblin family’s role in crime, in particular Birmingham's Jewellery Quarter and the Livery Street area.
As someone whose own grandfather and great-grandfather came from a working-class background, living on streets such as Lionel street, Bread street or Lower Tower Street, my poverty line thesis of Birmingham in 1881, highlighted the harsh realities faced by poor families and the daily struggles they faced. The establishment's treatment of the poor was often cruel and unforgiving, and because of this, my sympathies naturally lean toward these families. Even in the case of the Giblin Brothers, not the crimes they committed but an understanding of how the severe conditions they faced could have led them down such a path.
However, I wanted to offer a contrasting perspective — that of the police officers tasked with maintaining order. "What would it have been like to be a constable, dealing with these tensions on the streets?"
Introduction: The Birth of Birmingham's Police Force
Whenever any crimes were committed by the Giblin brothers or their slogging gang friends, they were invariably picked up by a constable from the Kenyon Police Station (Many of the newspaper articles spelled it as Kenion) , which by 1862 was the headquarters of C Division of the Birmingham City Police covering the Hockley, St Paul’s and Newtown districts. The Industrial Revolution saw masses flocking to the city for employment, bringing with them a range of social challenges, including rising crime rates.
The formation of town and borough police forces began in 1832 following the Charter of Incorporation, which empowered local authorities to impose a tax on householders to fund public services, including street lighting, cleaning, pavement maintenance, and the establishment of police forces modelled after Robert Peel's successful 'new police' in London, established in 1829. While many towns and boroughs adopted the Charter, Birmingham initially chose not to. (67)
However, following the 1839 Chartist riots, Birmingham formed its own force after requesting special permission from the Home Secretary, Lord John Russell. This force was led by Francis Burgess, a barrister from Warwick and a friend of Lord John Russell.
At its inception, the Birmingham Police force had just 39 officers, but the demand of the officers was monumental. By 1844 Birmingham's population had surged to 190,000, while the police force had grown to just 313, the presence of gang culture, especially the slogging gangs - violence was on the increase and especially violence to a police constable was a regular occurrence that the new force endured. (68)
Image of Birmingham Police from Victorian Society
The Structure and Everyday Realities of the Victorian Police Officer
The daily life of a 19th-century Birmingham constable was regimented and demanding. Constables were poorly paid, earning between 16 and 18 shillings a week, and were provided with a detailed book of instructions upon joining the force in 1840. Their uniform was symbolic—consisting of a top hat representing authority and a tailed jacket indicating servitude. They were equipped with a truncheon, handcuffs, an oil lamp, and, in more dangerous areas, a cutlass. Despite their official roles, these constables were public servants, yet they were perceived as the public's masters.
The constables' duties included patrolling the streets at a pace of two and a half miles per hour, ensuring the streets were free from obstructions, and moving on hawkers. They were expected to avoid alcohol while on duty and refrain from socialising with anyone outside of their duties. The harsh discipline extended beyond the streets; the Birmingham Police Force's "Default Book" from 1839-1840 recorded numerous instances of misconduct, such as a constable found drinking in a beer shop or displaying disgraceful behaviour in church, leading to fines, suspensions, or dismissals. (69)
Conflicts with the Working Class and Watch Committees
Policing Birmingham during the Victorian period was a delicate balance between enforcing the law and maintaining public order without inciting further conflict. The relationship between the police and the working-class communities was fraught with tension, especially in areas like Navigation Street, which were considered "no-go zones" for the police. The notorious Navigation Street gang maintained control over the area until the riots of the 1870s, which were sparked by the enforcement of licensing laws and harsh Poor Law policies. (70)
The police also faced conflict from within, particularly between the Chief Constable and the local watch committee. In 1880, for example, the Chief Constable of Birmingham unilaterally decided to prosecute all individuals found drunk, regardless of whether they were disorderly. This decision led to a marked increase in arrests for drunkenness, prompting further tensions and debates about policing practices. (71)
Below is a list of crimes recorded between 1870 and 1890 on four streets where the Giblin families lived: Livery Street, Water Street, Cox Street, and Northwood Street. These incidents were frequently reported in the Birmingham Daily Post.
I found 502 articles detailing crimes that occurred on the four streets. However, I believe this number is likely an undercount. My search used the full street names, such as "Water Street," but the British Newspaper Archive search function often struggles with imperfect text recognition. For instance, if "Water Street" appears as "W..e..St" due to poor text quality, it would not be captured in the results.
The data I gathered from the 502 articles provides insight into the types of crimes committed on these four streets:
Assault: 171 cases (34%)
Robbery: 170 cases (33.8%)
Assault on Police: 54 cases (11%)
Drunkenness: 40 cases (10%)
When reading the actual articles, many of these crimes, especially for robbery seem less severe than they might appear at first glance. For example, thefts were often committed by boys as young as 11 or 12, stealing food, clothing, cloth, cigars, or even boots—items that suggest the crimes may have been driven by poverty.
There were also nine recorded suicides, reflecting the deep despair felt by some individuals during this period.
On the other hand, more serious crimes were also documented, including violent assaults on women, with stabbings and brutal beatings. Husbands often returned from the pub and inflicted violence on their wives, including disturbing cases of stabbings, like one involving a 12-year-old victim. One particularly distressing case involved the attempted rape of a 4-year-old, with the offender receiving a mere six-week sentence.
Crimes involving the well known "slogging gangs" were also frequent, often involving attacks on police constables with bricks or knives. The infamous Giblin family—Patrick, John, and Thomas—appeared regularly in connection to violent incidents. They accounted for 48 crimes, or 10.45% of the total number recorded in my search of these four streets over a twenty-year period. (This number only reflects the crimes I found with their names during my search and is not the full tally of their offenses.)
Below are a selection of newspaper articles used in my research
A Violent Family Birmingham Daily Post - Wednesday 29 August 1883
Assaults On Police Officers Birmingham Daily Post - Monday 20 February 1882
A Drunken Family Birmingham Daily Post - Tuesday 29 January 1884
Assault on Wife Birmingham Daily Post - Tuesday 22 November 1881
A Drunken Child Birmingham Daily Post - Tuesday 12 July 1881
A Stabbing Affray Birmingham Daily Post - Tuesday 18 July 1880
A Stabbing Case Birmingham Daily Post - Tuesday 23 September 1879
A Violent Assault Birmingham Daily Post - Tuesday 31 October 1882
A Suicide By a Throat Cut Birmingham Daily Post - Friday 18 February 1887
Impudent Shoplifter Birmingham Daily Post - Monday 17 April 1882
A Daring Jewellery Robbery in Birmingham Birmingham Daily Post - Monday 11 February 1889
Brutal Assault on an Old Man Birmingham Daily Post - Saturday 7 July 1888
A Career of Crime Birmingham Daily Post - Monday 25 August 1884
Policing Practices
Policing in Birmingham was often influenced by prevailing social attitudes, particularly towards marginalised communities. Irish immigrants, who made up a significant portion of the working-class population in Birmingham, were disproportionately targeted by the police. Between 1861 and 1891, Irish-born offenders accounted for a disproportionate number of arrests across England and Wales. In Birmingham, Irish people were particularly overrepresented in cases involving assaults on the police, a reflection of both prevailing stereotypes and the closer surveillance of working-class districts by the new police force. (72)
There were also notable disparities in the application of the law. For example, while laws against street gambling were on the books, enforcement was inconsistent. Constables often showed leniency or outright ignored such activities, either due to sympathy with the offenders or a recognition of the dangers or futility of attempting to enforce such laws strictly. (73)
Advancements in Policing: Technology and Forensics
The latter half of the 19th century saw significant advancements in policing techniques, driven by the development of forensic science and technology. The introduction of photography revolutionised crime documentation. In Birmingham, the practice of taking photographs of criminals began in 1858, and soon an extensive archive of mugshots was compiled. This development signalled a shift towards a more sophisticated police force, one equipped with science and logical deduction rather than just brute force. (74)
The advancements in mugshot photography between 1876 and 1904 reflect significant improvements in both technology and police record-keeping. By 1876, mugshots were clear enough to provide useful visual documentation, enabling law enforcement to better identify and keep track of criminals. Early mugshots, like those of Patrick Pendercast and others, provided a visual profile, though the quality was limited compared to later years.
By 1904, the quality of these images had drastically improved, becoming much sharper and more detailed. This allowed police to maintain more precise visual records of criminals, along with detailed personal information such as height, hair color, eye color, and physical marks or scars. The combination of photography and written documentation—like offenses, physical descriptions, and dates—enabled more sophisticated criminal tracking and facilitated comparisons across police forces
With modern software like Affinity Photo, you can easily remove marks, scratches, and other imperfections, as well as reduce noise and sharpen the image, bringing it to an incredible standard. However, this level of enhancement is only possible if the original photo is of decent quality. Personally, I'm passionate about film photography and take many photos use vintage cameras such as 5x4 large format, which would have been similar to the ones used by the police in 1904. My cameras are from the 1950's though and achieving high-quality photographs can be quite challenging.
Case Study: Edward Giblin PC 3548 Division C63 2 - Kenyon Police Station, Northwood Street.
In my search for a suitable person to research from the police perspective, I was surprised to discover an ironic twist: Edward Giblin. Born in 1829 in Roscommon, Ireland, a small town that saw many of its inhabitants migrate due to economic hardships and the Great Famine. Like many of his countrymen, Edward came to England searching for work, settling in Birmingham before 1851. In May 1860, at the age of 30, he joined the Birmingham Borough Police Force, perhaps drawn by the promise of stability and opportunity amid the chaotic social landscape of Victorian England. Edward was stationed at Kenyon Street Police Station in the C Division, taking on the badge number PC 3548.
Image of Kenyon Birmingham Police Officers from Birmingham Weekly Mercury - Sunday 02 July 1950
Edward settled with his wife Mary at 73 Snow Hill Court, a typical back-to-back, where they raised their four children: John, James, Joseph, and Mary. By the 1861 census, it is evident that Edward Giblin faced the same struggles typical of their working-class community, with Mary’s siblings of four sisters and a brother all sharing the cramped living space.
Both Edward and Mary were born in Roscommon, and intriguing questions arise about their connections to the infamous Giblin brothers, John and Thomas, whose parents, Patrick & Mary Giblin, along with their older brothers, Michael and Martin were also from Roscommon
Edward married Mary in Birmingham in October 1852. The 1861 census shows Edward and Mary with four children, all born in Birmingham:
John - 7 born in 1854
James - 5 born 1856
Joseph - 2 1859
Mary - 2 months
Connections and Divides: The Giblins in Birmingham
The Giblin name was not uncommon in Birmingham during this period. In part one I found several records of several Giblin families living in very close proximity to each other in the Livery Street area. Could Edward, a policeman, and Patrick, a patriarch of the notorious Giblin gang, have been related or known each other before emigrating from Roscommon? Given the size of the town and the strong Irish community ties in Birmingham, it is highly likely that they crossed paths, especially considering that many Giblins, including Edward’s children, were baptised at St. Chad's Catholic Church.
Two of Edward's children took a religious path: James became a Catholic priest and emigrated to America in 1894, while Mary became Sister Mary in Shropshire. The Giblins on the criminal side, despite their violent reputation, were also known to be devout Catholics. This shared faith might have created a paradoxical mutual respect, even as they stood on opposite sides of the law.
Edward's Police Record Default Book
A Policeman Amidst Turbulence: Riots and Arrests
As a police constable in one of Birmingham's most challenging districts, Edward Giblin's career was marked by violence and controversy, often intersecting with the lives of the Giblin brothers. The Murphy Riots of 1867 and the Navigation Street Riot of 1875 saw Irish Catholic and Protestant tensions explode, with Edward undoubtedly playing a role in the law enforcement response. Did Edward confront his namesakes during these riots? Were there moments of recognition, shared words, or silent animosity between the two sides?
The realities of Edward's daily life as a policeman were harsh, during his time on the force, Edward was involved in numerous significant incidents:
February 1871: The Death of Caleb Allsop Waldron
In early 1871, Edward was thrust into the spotlight for his role in the mysterious death of Caleb Allsop Waldron, a schoolmaster who died in Kenyon Street Police Station. According to the Birmingham Daily Gazette of February 8, 1871, Waldron had been found lying on the road and was believed to be intoxicated. Edward, along with Policeman Stephen Tomlin, assisted him to his feet and brought him to the station, where Edward charged him with being "drunk and incapable."
The next morning, Waldron was found unconscious in his cell and was soon pronounced dead. An inquest raised troubling questions about how Waldron had sustained severe injuries, including broken ribs and a dislocated spine. Testimonies suggested that he might have been injured before or during his time at the station, but the exact circumstances of his death remained unclear. The inquiry cast a shadow over Edward's conduct, raising doubts about the adequacy of the care he provided to a man in distress.
September 1871: The Stabbing Incident on Unett Street
In another notable incident, an 11-year-old boy named John Ross stabbed another boy, Frederick Taylor, after being provoked. Edward played a key role in the legal process by requesting a remand, citing Taylor's recovery from a punctured wound to his chest. His involvement ensured that justice could proceed fairly, even though the case itself was deeply troubling, revealing the harsh realities of life for children in the area.
September 1874: Arrest of Thomas Cooke and John Brindley
Edward was also involved in more straightforward cases of law enforcement, such as the arrest of Thomas Cooke (17) and John Brindley (18), who were caught stealing woollen shirts from Mr. Powell's shop on Constitution Hill. Edward, along with Sergeant Heverin and another officer, pursued and apprehended the young men, who were later charged and committed for trial. These incidents highlight Edward's active role in combating crime, regardless of the personal dangers involved.
June 1876: Accusations of being over zealous
Edward found having to defend himself against accusations of being over zealous in his duties. While on duty in Summer Lane, James Conway, a pearl button maker approached Edward, swearing and then hitting him in the chest. Edward sounded his rattle, and two other officers came to his assistance and proceeded to taken Conway to the lock-up. A witness named Neal made a statement that suggested an alternative account Neal stated that
"he was going home with the prisoner the previous evening when they encountered Giblin, who was standing at the corner of Summer Lane. They stood there for a short while when the officer told them to "move on" and, pushing him along, drew out his staff and struck him on the chest. Neal asked the officer to leave them alone, stating he would get the prisoner home quietly. However, Giblin sounded his rattle, and two other officers arrived. After roughly handling the prisoner, they took him to the station"
Given the witness's credibility and Conway's clean record, the court dismissed the case, giving him the benefit of the doubt.
Maybe his overzealousness was a reaction to being regularly assaulted, assaults on the police was a common occurrence and Edward continued to receive his fare share of being attacked. On the 5th June 1877, Edward was attacked by 19 year old gang member Thomas Jennings, a nut and bolt forger, who was endeavouring to rescue another prisoner from Kenyon police station.
October 1876: Thomas Wilkes
Edward arrested 13 year old Thomas Wilkes, a young boy from Hospital Street, charging him for stealing £4, 11s, and 6d from his sister, Sarah Ann Wilkes. After the theft, Wilkes disappeared and was later found by Edward at a factory. Upon his arrest, only part of the stolen money was recovered, Wilkes admitted to spending the rest. He also confessed to taking another boy to London and returning to Birmingham. The magistrates considered it a serious offence and sentenced him to three weeks of hard labour in jail, followed by four years in a Reformatory School.
October 1882: The Stabbing of Lizzie Holland
One of Edward's final notable cases involved the violent stabbing of Lizzie Holland in October 1882. Albert Wolff, a 22-year-old fitter and turner of Northbrook Street, was charged with attacking Holland after she refused to accompany him. Wolf became aggressive and stabbed her with a pocket knife. Just as he was striking with the fifth blow, a labourer named Fred Strange witnessed the assault. Edward recovered the blood stained knife. Lizzie eventually recovered from her injuries,
A Complex Legacy: Misconduct and Dedication
Edward’s career was not without its faults. Throughout his career, Edward Giblin found himself caught between the law he had sworn to uphold and the rough realities of the streets of Birmingham. His personal flaws, documented in the “Default Book” from his police records, paints a portrait of a man who struggled with discipline.
Drunkenness: Edward was noted for his drinking habits, which frequently got him into trouble. On more than one occasion, he was reported for being drunk on duty, a serious offence that undermined the credibility and integrity of the police force. His drinking was not just a private vice but had real implications for his ability to perform his duties effectively.
Assaults and Absenteeism: There were multiple instances where Edward was reprimanded for his aggressive behaviour, particularly towards members of the public. As in the case James Conway in 1876 or cautioned for assaulting people in Kenyon Street Police Station with his belt.
Absent Without Leave: Edward was also found to be often absent from his beat. In 1874, he was found abscent from his special duty post, then found coming out of the cattle show.
His drinking habits seemed particularly problematic, with several entries citing him for drunkenness on duty—an issue that plagued many officers in that era, reflecting the stress and dangers they faced. Yet, despite these issues, Edward remained with the force until his retirement and in fact was promoted from 5th class to 1st Class.
Class System: The "class" system for constables was a way to distinguish between junior and senior constables within the rank. A 5th class constable was a new recruit or a constable with relatively little experience, while a 1st class constable was one with more experience and possibly additional responsibilities.
Promotion Criteria: Promotion from a lower class (such as 5th class) to a higher class (like 1st class) was typically based on years of service and performance. Edwards' promotion of course brought in an increased salary and Greater Responsibility: Senior constables often took on more complex duties, including supervision of junior officers, specialised roles, or acting in the absence of sergeants.
Birmingham’s landscape and the struggles faced by the police during this period, would have been demanding, tough and arduous. A Life Entwined with the Giblins and Birmingham's Social Fabric
What would it have been like to be Edward Giblin, a man from the same background as the criminals he arrested, potentially sharing kinship ties with those he policed? Did he ever feel a pang of recognition or empathy as he stood against the rioting Giblin brothers? The small town of Roscommon, with its deep Catholic roots and close-knit community, must have seemed both far away and ever-present.
To come from the same place, to share the same streets, and yet to end up on such different paths is a testament to the unpredictable nature of life in 19th-century Birmingham. The enigma of Edward Giblin’s life as a policeman against a backdrop of family ties, religious devotion, and social upheaval offers a compelling narrative of law and crime, unity and division, faith and doubt.
Edward was a man sometimes caught between duty and temptation, law and disorder, and perhaps even divided loyalties but ultimately as seen in his promotions, rising to a senior constable and staying at Kenyon Police Station for all of his police working life. I can’t find a record for when Edward retired but in 1901 we find him at 74 years of age as a retired police constable, living with Mary at No 5 Brighton Place Kings Norton. One of their son’s Joseph now 33 is still living with them and is employed as gentleman's servant.
As I bring this blog to a close and prepare to return to the Giblin brothers in Part 3, I thought it would be interesting to highlight a case involving John Giblin—one that PC Edward Giblin would almost certainly have known about.
In April 1879, John, aged just twenty, was still living with his family on Water Street. Though young, he had already become a hardened criminal. The following article was reported in the Birmingham Mail
on Friday 24 January 1879 Newspaper:
John Giblin (20), labourer, Water Street, was charged with violently assaulting Mr. Palmer, landlord of the Wheat Sheaf Inn, at Suffoclk Street. Mr. Buckley, on behalf of the complainant, thought the case so serious it ought to be sent for trial at the Sessions. It appeared that on Saturday the prisoner went into the Wheat Inn and shortly afterwards commenced a fight. He then went out, returned with a brick in his hand, with which he dealt Mr. Palmer a violent blow on the forehead. A wound two inches long and pentetrating to the bone was inflicted and rendered Mr. Palmer insensible.
He was taken to the Queen’s Hospital, where he is still an outpatient. Detective Baker gave evidence about the prisoner's arrest, describing the high level of excitement at the time. Baker, along with two constables, went to the prisoner’s house at night. Upon knocking at the door, were refused admittance. Giblin tried to escape through the window, climbing onto the roof. He attempted to evade capture by pulling off tiles and throwing them at the police. He then moved to the roof of an adjoining house, which was a foot higher, and continued to throw tiles at the officers. However, the roof became too hot for him to hold his position.
Giblin then crawled on his hands and knees until he came to another house, he repeated the experiment of escaping from his pursuers through the roof there, he got stuck between the roof slates and ceiling. The constables obtained a ladder, followed him through the hole in the roof, while Baker went through the house into the room, in the ceiling of which the Giblin was confined. Baker noticed Giblin's foot pushed throught the plaster, and, seizing hold of it, pulled Giblin and the two constables all down togther. No one, however, was the worse (excepting of course the owner of the ceiling) and without any further difficulty Giblin was taken to the police station.
The prisoner was taken to the police station and committed for trial at the Sessions on the charge of unlawfully wounding Mr. Palmer and an application for bail was refused. Mr. Lowe remarking that until the trial, the prisoner should not be given the opportunity to escape by breaking into people’s roofs and breaking into peoples bedrooms.
John Giblin's Criminal Register - Trial Date 16th April 1879
John was was found guilty of malicious wounding and and sent to prison for twelve months hard labour. In Victorian Britain, hard labour was a central part of the prison system, designed to be both punishing and reformative. The idea behind this harsh treatment was simple: prisons should be unpleasant enough to deter crime. Once a person found themselves behind bars, the experience was meant to be gruelling, forcing prisoners to reflect on their actions and, ideally, reform their behaviour.
Treadmill Pentonville Prison
A key feature of this system was hard labour—work that was deliberately exhausting, monotonous, and, in many cases, entirely pointless. The most infamous forms included the treadwheel and the crank. The treadwheel, or treadmill, involved walking continuously on a large wheel, often for up to eight hours a day. Prisoners were required to hold onto a bar as they walked, taking ten minutes on, then five minutes off. Over the course of a day, a prisoner could "climb" the equivalent of 8,000 feet, though the energy expended by this task was not always put to any productive use.
Similarly, the crank—found in many prison cells—required inmates to turn a handle hundreds, if not thousands, of times. Unlike the treadwheel, the crank did not serve any industrial purpose. Its only function was to rotate paddles inside a box of sand. The number of rotations was counted, and prisoners had to meet a quota to earn their meagre food rations for the day. This pointless exertion was meant to break the spirit of the inmate, reinforcing the severity of their punishment.
Silence was strictly enforced during these tasks. Prisoners were not allowed to talk, fostering a sense of isolation and mental strain alongside the physical. These conditions were not just about punishment but also about instilling discipline and control. The silence rule and the monotonous labour were intended to give prisoners time to reflect on their wrongdoings, though many critics later questioned the effectiveness of such an approach. (76)
Part 2 a revelation on how interwoven that part of the city was we're loving this bring on part 3 carnt wait