§0ClETY TODAY

Prostitution in London (3)

The new professionalism

lain Scarlet

lain Scarlet, the writer and broadcaster specialising in crime, delinquency and penal matters, is the author of 'The Professionals: Prostitutes and their Clients' (Sidgwick and Jackson, £2.50). This article is the last of three he has written for The Spectator on. prostitution in London.

Just over a century ago a clutch of shocked Belgravia mothers penned a letter to the Times complaining that, because of the availability of prostitutes in the capital, their daughters had received no 'serious offers' of marriage. Before their letter appeared it had largely been left to a journal called the Pall Mall Gazette to chronicle the goings-on in London's brothels and comment in outraged terms about their effects upon society.

Nowadays the only people who can manage to get quite so het up in print are the professional stone-casters of the News of the World, who long ago discovered a rich and profitable seam of the seamy and have been industriously mining it ever since. Mothers, on the other hand, are rather more inclined to be worried by the alleged 'permissiveness' of their own daughters — about which they write to Marje Proops of the Daily Mirror rather than the Tunes — which they interpret as meaning that any rogue-male can get an abundance of sexual satisfaction without benefit of either clergy or cash.

Unfortunately for the roguemales — though fortunately for girls on the game — this is simply not true. There are still thousands of men about who, for one reason or another, have to pay for it; and thousands more who prefer cash transactions to emotional involvement.

What is true, however, is that while the patterns of prostitution and the activities of the girls themselves became only gradually more sophisticated over a period of several centuries, the really radical changes have nearly all taken place since the end of the second world war.

The post-war influx of French girls — mostly under the auspices and 'protection' of the Messina brothers and others of Maltese/ Italian/Egyptian extraction — augured the end of the old order.. Refreshingly decorative in Chris tian Dior's calf-length New Look, they took on dual nationality (by marriage, at a cost of fifty pounds and on condition the groom disappeared immediately after the ceremony), then proceeded to the West End to ply the streets for ,hire. Understandably, business was good. Many of them were quite young, many more quite pretty; all were beautifully turned out. In a Britain bored by austerity and fed up with being able to buy only 'export rejects,' they took on the glamour of 'luxury goods.' On a poem written during the war about streetwalkers in the black-out, the late Peter Cheyney had said: She is a shadow in the street, Appearing every night, Moving on small, seductive feet, She needs no lamp to light her beat. For she herself is Light.

And those lines took on an even greater significance during the later 'forties and early 'fifties.) Prices, of course, continued to vary. But perhaps because of the influence of the 'protectors,' who were far more interested in gross turnovers than unit sales, not as wildly as hitherto. In the backstreets of Soho the going rate was a quid outdoors and thirty bob inside. Around Piccadilly and Regent Street it was up to two guineas but still negotiable within a few shillings. Pick-ups in Bond and Curzon streets, Park Lane and Shepherd Market charged anything betweeh three and five guineas. Top whack for all-night engagements, for girls prepared to undertake them, ran out between ten and twelve pounds — hotel room included if necessary. (The pros in Hyde Park itself and along 'Bayswater Road were, of course, mainly British and charging only ten shillings amongst the trees; but theirs is another, sadder story.) Despite the internecine warfare between rival gangs of protectors trying to extend their 'beats', most streetwalkers experienced only a few troubles, all of which were predictable. "In those days," one of them who is now retired and running a restaurant told me, "the punter could see the sort of girl he 'was paying for before having to commit himself. Also the girl could sum him up. Doing that in a public place is much safer than in private ..."

Approximately once a fortnight, however, on an unofficial rota system organised by the police, the girls were picked up, charged and paraded through one or other of the central London magistrates' courts, there to be fined the sum of forty shillings by somebody like the late Paul Bennett VC or comedian's son George Robey. In the interim they kept their own particular coppers happy with regular 'earners' and free services whenever necessary and by appointment.

That they were an attractive and much-in-demand bunch is evidenced by their earnings: few of those operating in Mayfair proper grossed less than E200 per week and many consistently grossed more than three hundred. Ironically, it was their very attractiveness, coupled with their direct, no-nonsense approach which brought about so many farreaching changes.

Ever since the eighteen century people had been complaining about the capital's vice-ridden streets but suddenly a comparatively_ new Conservative government, on the look-out then as now for a convenient scapegoat, decided to do something about it. The Departmental Committee on Homosexual Offences and Prostitution, under the chairmanship of Sir John Wolfenden, was the result.

The Wolfenden Report quickly became known as 'The Fairies' Charter' because it recommended easing the laws relating to homosexual activities among consenting adults. These provoked an entirely predictable public reaction and were quickly and quietly buried in the corridors of power.

But not even the much admired `Rab' Butler, then Home Secretary, could entirely ignore the recommendations of a report that had been so widely publicised and discussed. He had to do something. Consequently the crack-downhard-on-prostitutes recommendations were converted into law within a few months. The results were devastating. True, the streets were (almost) cleared overnight. True, the big operators had to modify their activities. True, a great many policemen had to forgo some of the little luxuries of life to which they had become accustomed...

But at least the Messina girls and others of their ilk had been clean and disease-free. The women who replaced them, operating surreptitiously, were not; and the results were apparent to every venereologist in the capital. And at least the Messinas and their rivals, while ruling by fear, had been consistent. Not so those unpleasant little petty crooks who replaced them, each fighting greedily for his own slice of the market.

The police authorities, who had welcomed the Street Offences legislation with open arms, were suddenly not so sure of their own wisdom. For years past they had prided themselves on keeping tabs on everyone in the trade and knowing exactly where all the action was. But this was no longer true and they had their work cut out trying to control the warring factions with a newly developed interest in prostitution and its spin-offs.

Of course it was the punter who suffered most. Sleazy clip-joints, where he paid in advance for favours the girl had no intention of granting, spread like an eczema. Scrawled 'Model Second Floor' signs began to appear. Postcard advertisements decorated shoP windows. Night-club owners who'd only dabbled on the fringes before, quickly recruited more 'hostesses,' put up the prices of the drinks, then demanded a rake-off from the girls. For a period of two or three years the market was chaotic and totally beyond the control of the cops. Of course some ponces did find loopholes in the law and some girls did venture — albeit more discreetly — back on to their traditional beats. Others took to the clubs. Some tried soliciting with their eyes from lighted first floor windows. Many found their answer in an illuminated door-bell.

But again it was the punter who ran the most risks. The 'professionalism' had gone out of the game. Hundreds of men contracted disease, hundreds more were 'rolled' of their money while their attentions were otherwise engaged. And prices rocketed. It wasn't until the middle 'sixties that things began to settle down, that a new professionalisni emerged, that the patterns we know today began to take on recognisable shapes. But in the meanwhile a new breed of prostitute had come on the scene. The French, faced With immigration restrictions, found It increasingly difficult to enter the country, settle and operate. ManY other continentals got in, however. Ostensibly over here au pair they found it all too easy to supplement their income on a part-time basis, using cheap Paddington hotels as their base for the evening. English girls and young housewives quickly caught on. Apparently respectable secretaries, unable to make ends meet on their pay packets, took t° spending one evening a week, prowling around Curzon Street and Shepherd Market. Others graduated to the bars of the plushier hotels. Many were recruited by escort agencies. When massage and sauna parlours became fashionable, expertise Was the last thing a girl needed to qualify for employment. The lower end of the market, aAs always, provides many sad a.rit sordid tales. Soho abounds wan girls who came to London at tracted by the bright lights arla possibility of rich pickings, only t° be exploited by some vicious little pimp bent on building up his oWn empire. Now they are stuck. In tatty little flatlets with fading looks, a 'Model' notice downstairs, a ponce in the pub round the corner and no real hope for the future.

A few hundred yards to the west, however, and the punter is Moving up-market. Invitingly illuminated door-bells punctuate the progress of most Mayfair streets and mews and most of the girls are fairly well established. The great majority are foreignborn and, while they cater for the casual passer-by, most seem to rely on their 'regulars.' Prices vary but they are not exorbitant. The girls seem to Prefer a good steady trade to one-off 'killings.' And this in itself Is significant. Most of the foreignborn pros in the capital really do look to the long-term benefits of their profession, rather than the Immediate advantages. If they were all deported tomorrow, none Would be broke.

The attitude of English girls is quite different. They look upon What they're doing as a short-term racket which is both profitable and expedient at one particular stage of their lives. Few of them save money, most adopt the easycome, easy-go attitude. Perhaps in consequence they seldom either come to terms with themselves — I'm not a prostitute, really," a girl once said to me after a court appearance, "more a sort of call-girl" — or manage to exploit themselves to the full.

Nineteen-year-old Linda is a case in point. Four months ago She was working for a light-fittings firm in Leeds and being paid Ell a week net. She came to London with her sister and both were determined to go 'on the game.' They hawk themselves round Shepherd Market four evenings a Week and each charges ten Pounds. Linda being quite pretty and her sister quite amenable, .11eN, have averaged between them Just over £1,200 a month. On Christmas Eve they hadn't a fiver between them with which to buy groceries, let alone pay their rent Away from the streets, hotel bars provide what are possibly the best facilities for pick-ups. But s.ince hotels nowadays get named In various court cases and exposed by sundry Sunday newspapers, the gilt is likely to wear off that gingerbread fairly soon. The upper end of the market, however, doesn't rely on hotels. In May last Year, talking to a fairly rich and Prominent businessman, I was told: "If I'm anywhere and I see a girl Who might be available — well, then I make a direct approach. If, on the other hand, she doesn't look that sort, I generally use a go-between. There are plenty of them about, mainly older women Who get some sort of kick out of

They assignations, I suppose. they charge a fee but provided

give them the right kind of ,information, such as what she looks like and where she lives, they seldom fail.

"For a real corker, of course, You have to pay through the nose. °n a couple of occasions I've doubled my maximum and gone UP to £1,000. But more often four Or five hundred secures any girl." Any girl? "Pretty well any girl," admits Sally who was first propositioned at a charity ball held in a West End hotel.

"It was my hostess who first dropped the hint. She was a strange woman who moved everywhere and seemed to know everyone. We had lunch together a few days later and the next thing I knew I was being offered £400 I couldn't afford to refuse."

Sally has no regrets.

But it is another girl, Michelle, who best sums up the prevailing situation.

"London is full of men who can't wait to hop in bed with a young bird — so is every other big city in Europe. And no matter how many laws they pass, how many scandals there are, there'll always be a plentiful supply of men prepared to shell out, and a plentiful supply of birds willing to be shelled out too ..."

Which statement, of course, the News of the World will find quite shocking.