Tulliallan at 70 - 1919 Magazine

By Gemma Fraser
Head of content

It has provided the first taste of policing to thousands of new cops over the years – and a lifetime of friendships and memories for so many.

The historic Tulliallan castle and 90-acre estate officially became Scotland’s police training college in 1954, after being purchased by the country’s then 49 police forces and government for £9,100.

The first intakes were sergeants only, but the training then expanded to include inspectors and senior officers.

It wasn’t seen as appropriate for senior and junior officers to socialise together at that time. Probationer training was delivered at the main training centre in Whitburn until it moved to Tulliallan in 1959, where everything except detective training was delivered until the late 1970s.

The first two weeks of training took place locally before officers attended Tulliallan for 12 weeks for basic drills, swimming awards and lifesaving skills.

At that time, officers were deployed to divisions where they were operational for around 10 months before returning to college for their second stage of training, which lasted about eight weeks.

They then completed a confirmation course at local training centres and were fully confirmed in the role after two years.

Senior Officers gather for tea in the castle lounges

Officers take part in the parade

First female traffic officer, Jesse McLagan poses for a photograph with male colleagues from the traffic department

Queen Elizabeth II meets Director of Studies Hugh MacLeod QPM at the college

Princess Margaret takes part in an inspection in a passing out parade

An intake of new recruits pictured with Senior Officers

A student unpacks and prepares for college life

Princess Diana chats to officers during a visit to the college

“Every single officer has a footprint at Tulliallan – we are all part of its rich tapestry and legacy”

Chief Superintendent Alan Gibson, head of learning, training and development at the college, said: “I can share in the excitement of their journey to becoming a police officer.

“It is incredibly rewarding when you meet with probationers and learn of their own experiences before they joined the service.

“We have such a rich, diverse and capable group of new officers constantly coming through Tulliallan’s doors.

“They are all unique but the fundamental starting point for every one of them is that shared drive to help people, that commitment to public service.

“That’s what brings everyone together, to these classrooms and through these corridors.

“Every single officer has a footprint at Tulliallan – we are all part of its rich tapestry and legacy.”

Retired superintendent George Barnsley – who supported college director Margaret Barr from 2006 until 2009 – is now chairman of the Lanarkshire Police Historical Society.

He said: “I spent my days managing the day-to-day running of the college, arranging VIP visits, managing disciplinary issues, internal investigations, all sorts of problems came to my door. It was a very busy role.

“The college was a highly disciplined environment then and that hasn’t changed in all these years – it’s important it maintains that historical training link as its unique selling point.

“The principle of policing hasn’t changed either. Officers are out on the streets, facing danger, running towards it to keep people safe.

“They are still fundamentally a part of the community and walking in the footsteps of those officers who have gone before.”

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Officers practising drills before their passing out parade

A typical classroom setting with training well underway

A group of officers performing drills on the parade square

The classroom setting continues to evolve

Officers forming a '70' on Tulliallan's parade square

Tulliallan – the ties that bind us

By Tom Wood
Former Deputy Chief Constable, Lothian and Borders Police

Whether we spent our police service in the rural highlands or the east end of Glasgow, whether we became community cops or senior detectives, if we joined the Scottish police service in the last 70 years, we had at least two things in common: we all started on the bottom rung of the same ladder, and in the same place.

No matter where on that ladder we ended up, on day one, like all the others, we walked gingerly into the imposing entrance of the Scottish Police College at Tulliallan.

The entrance hall, for some reason known as The Crush Hall, had a unique smell: a mix of strong disinfectant, sweat, and fear.

No matter how often you walked through that door, the aroma, and a sense of dread, endured.

I first ‘visited’ Tulliallan in the late 1960s as the rawest of raw recruits for what was then called first stage training.

We were the usual mixed bunch of misfits, about 30 of us from all corners of Scotland.

There were butchers, bakers – and probably candlestick makers as well – with a sprinkling of ex-soldiers, and only a handful of women – a far cry from the present day.

We lived in dormitories then, spartan by today’s standards, but the close quarters helped us make friends and we learned to depend on each other as we would for the rest of our service.

Any illusion of confidence or composure was quickly dispelled by our first encounter with our drill instructor, the legendary Sergeant Duff.

“No matter your rank, you still found yourself involuntarily bracing up when a red sashed drill instructor hove into view”

Amid the bawling and shouting he imparted some enduring wisdom.

Trying to smarten us up, he told us that if we looked smart, people might actually believe we were smart – it would give us an edge.

He was right. In the early days, looking the part sometimes gave the impression that we knew what we were doing, even when all the evidence was to the contrary.

I later found out that Tom Duff was a nice man with a pawky sense of humour. His fierce demeanour was apparently an act; a very good act as I can personally testify.

The other sergeant instructors were a kindly bunch who did their utmost to cram as much law and procedures as possible into our dozy heads. It says much for their determination that so many of us turned out decent cops.

I returned to Tulliallan many times over the years, as a sergeant, inspector, superintendent, then finally as a chief officer to take the salute at a recruits’ passing out parade.

The old place looked smart with many new buildings, but many things remained the same.

Uniquely, all ranks rubbed shoulders under the same roof, the aromas were still the same, the food was still on the solid side of stodgy, and the swimming pool was still so heavy chlorinated that your skin blotched and eyes turned bright pink instantly.

And no matter your rank, you still found yourself involuntarily bracing up when a red sashed drill instructor hove into view.

So happy birthday Tulliallan.

For the past 70 years you have been the thread of common experience that has bound together all who joined the Scottish police service.

We may not have loved you all the time, but you certainly left your mark.

You knocked the corners off us, and you gave us life skills we never knew we needed.

I am still very good at polishing boots.