John Randall: London MEPO and REPO

In a previous post, I wrote about my great-great-great-grandfather John Henry Randall (1817-1869) and the ladies in his life (the Beresford sisters). John Henry was the second child of Charles Randall (1784-1849) and Mary Ann Allpress (1786-1830) of Huntingdon, England. He usually just went by John and should not be confused with his older half-brother Henry Randall, the Huntingdon schoolmaster. John was the only one of his siblings to settle permanently in London. Here I delve more into his career in law enforcement in Victorian London.

Illustration of a policeman or “Peeler” as they were called (c1840), from the collection of the London Museum. The early uniforms were blue and included top hats as shown here. The rounded Custodian Helmets that we now associate with British police were introduced later. (1)

Career with the London Metropolitan Police

When John Randall married Mary Ann Beresford in 1841 in Huntingdon, he was working as a grocer. (2) A few years later, the couple moved to London and settled in the neighborhood of Bloomsbury. This area is home to the British Museum and University College London and is known for its elegant and understated Georgian architecture. Charles Dickens lived in Bloomsbury for several years, first on Doughty St and later at Tavistock House.

John and Mary Ann had two sons, both of whom died at a young age. The first son lived just 11 weeks. On the child’s 1846 death certificate (3), John gave his occupation as “police constable” and his residence as 15 Leigh St in the district of Grays Inn Lane. 

With some digging, I learned that John joined the London Metropolitan Police (abbreviated as MEPO) in 1845. Police forces were fairly new at the time, having been established by Sir Robert Peel in 1829. (4) I have not been able to find John’s swearing-in or sign-on papers, but I did find him listed in record set MEPO4/334 at The National Archives. (5) These records are a bit confusing to navigate, and they are not indexed. But by browsing the records page by page, I found “my” John Randall in file MEPO-4-334_5. 

John Randall is listed on the last line of this excerpt from MEPO-4-334_5 at The National Archives

This record set is a collection of warrant (appointee) numbers issued to new recruits, listing their name, date of appointment, date of removal, and the names of two references. John’s warrant number was 21912. He was appointed on 17 March, 1845, and dismissed on 27 September, 1859. A subsequent page shows that he was recommended by his father-in-law William Beresford and by the Rev. John Fell of Huntingdon.

Police recruits were required to be at least 5’7” in height and generally fit and healthy. Constables worked 6 or 7 days (or nights) a week and walked 10 or more miles each day on foot patrol. (1, 4)

Max Schlesinger wrote about the London policemen he encountered in the early 1850s, describing their work as dealing with “the vulgar sins of larceny, robbery, murder, and forgery” and taking care of “drunkards and of children that have strayed from their homes.” (6) Schlesinger argued that the London police were successful in reducing crime and cleaning the streets because they were such keen observers; they would investigate anything that looked unusual or out of place. He wrote:

The London policeman … knows every nook and corner, every house, man, woman, and child on his beat. He knows their occupations, habits, and circumstances. This knowledge he derives from his constantly being employed in the same quarter and the same street, and [from that] platonic and friendly intercourse which he carries on with the female servants of the establishments which it is his vocation to protect. … The handsome policeman, too, with his blue coat and clean white gloves, is held in high regard and esteem by the cooks and housemaids of England. His position on his beat is analogous to that of the porter of a very large house; it is a point of honour with him, that nothing shall escape his observation.

I have to believe that John Randall was a competent police man, as he served the MEPO for 14 and a half years. I don’t have any indications that he was ever promoted to a higher rank. He was always recorded as a constable. But in 1859 he was dismissed for unknown reasons.

Common causes for dismissal were drunkenness and insubordination. Other policemen became “worn out” and resigned at an early age (1). My ancestor may have been injured on the job and unable to resume his duties in a satisfactory manner. I can’t know for sure, but I believe the police constable mentioned in the following article from May 1859 is “my” John Randall. (7)

Article from The Globe, 25 May, 1859

I couldn’t find any more details for this case, such as the location of the crime or the full court proceedings. But if this is my John, it means he was let go from the police force at age 42, after being injured on the job, without a pension. Yikes. According to Green et al. (2024), receipt of a police pension during this time period was “at the discretion of the employers.” (8) Maybe John engaged in misconduct after his injury or maybe his superiors weren’t very fond of him?

In 2022 I reached out to the Metropolitan Police Museum and Archive via the contact form on their website to see if they had any additional files on my ancestor. The response I received from the Curator was rather discouraging. Her exact words were “We don't have service records for officers from these dates.” That doesn’t make sense, because their website says they hold Police Orders starting in 1857, and I inquired about records up to 1860. Maybe I’ll contact the Police Museum and Archive again and word my question differently.

Life after dismissal

After being fired from the London Metropolitan Police, John remained in Bloomsbury and began working for a Sheriff’s officer. (This would have been an officer for the county of Middlesex). In 1864, John’s wife Mary Ann died. On her death certificate his occupation reads “Assistant to Sheriff’s officer.” (9) Three years later, John had a son with Mary Ann’s sister Rhoda, who had been deserted by her husband William Ashman. At this time, his occupation was recorded as “Sheriff’s officer’s servant.” (10) In 1868, when daughter Bessie Jane was born, John’s occupation was listed as “Sheriff's officer's possession man.” (11) This version of the job title is the most insightful, as it indicates that he was involved in debt collection, asset seizure, and repossession of goods. In other words, he was a “repo man.” 

The following court cases from the era mention other sheriff’s officer’s assistants and highlight the duties and dangers of the job:

The Pall Mall Gazette, 11 Aug, 1869 (12)

Berrow's Worcester Journal, 16 Feb, 1856 (13)

One of Charles Dickens’s characters had a similar occupation, although Dickens refers to him as a “broker’s man.” In Chapter 5 of Sketches by Boz, Dickens writes about a man named Mr Bung whose work involved serving a “warrant of distress” to the head of a household and staying in the house until he was given the money owed. (14) Through this fictional character, Dickens paints a clear picture of what this job entailed. Mr Bung narrates:

A broker’s man’s is not a life to be envied... But what could I do, sir? The thing was no worse because I did it, instead of somebody else; and if putting me in possession of a house would put me in possession of three and sixpence a day, and levying a distress on another man’s goods would relieve my distress and that of my family, it can’t be expected but what I’d take the job and go through with it. I never liked it, God knows; I always looked out for something else, and the moment I got other work to do, I left it. … it’s the being shut up by yourself in one room for five days, without so much as an old newspaper to look at, or anything to see out o’ the winder but the roofs and chimneys at the back of the house, or anything to listen to, but the ticking, perhaps, of an old Dutch clock, the sobbing of the missis, now and then, the low talking of friends in the next room, who speak in whispers… or perhaps the occasional opening of the door, as a child peeps in to look at you, and then runs half-frightened away—it’s all this, that makes you feel sneaking somehow, and ashamed of yourself… If they’re very civil, they make you up a bed in the room at night, and if they don’t, your master sends one in for you; but there you are, without being washed or shaved all the time, shunned by everybody, and spoken to by no one, unless some one comes in at dinner-time, and asks you whether you want any more, in a tone as much to say, “I hope you don’t.”

It is wild to me that a possession man would have stayed at the home of a debtor until he was paid. But this explains John Randall’s weird 1861 Census record. In this Census, taken on the night of Sunday, April 7th, 1861, John’s wife Mary Ann was enumerated solo, as a married dressmaker residing at 44 Burton St in Bloomsbury/St Pancras. (15) Meanwhile, John was enumerated 4.5 miles to the west at 9 Napier Rd in Kensington. His marital status was given as married and his occupation was recorded as “coal and coke merchant and dealer.” I have no other records of him with this occupation, and I don’t think he ever had this occupation. But this is definitely him, as his birthplace is listed as Huntingdon. The head of the household was a 74-year-old widow named Charlotte Orme, and the only other resident was a 20-year-old lady’s maid. (16) 

The 1861 Census record for 9 Napier Rd, St Mary Abbots, Kensington

At first I could not figure out what John was doing at this house. I could not find any connection between my family and that of Charlotte Orme or her maid. At first, I thought John was “stepping out” on his wife. Would that result in this Kensington sleepover? Highly unlikely. I now realize that John was there as a “possession man.” To save face and avoid being outed as a debtor, the widow Orme got creative on her Census form to hide the true occupation of her unwelcome visitor. Thanks to Dickens, I was able to solve this case and gain insight into this chapter of my ancestor’s career.

Death

John Randall continued with his repossession work until his death on March 26, 1869 at University College Hospital. His death certificate suggests that he was a smoker, as his causes of death were bronchitis, emphysema, and heart disease. (17) Although this record gives his age as 53, he was only 51. He left behind 2 young children (John Harry and Bessie Jane) who eventually moved to Ludlow, Massachusetts. 

John was buried at St Pancras cemetery in East Finchley, North London. According to cemetery records, he received a third class, unconsecrated burial. (18) There is no sign of a will or probate for him, suggesting that he did not have any money to leave behind at his death.

I visited St Pancras cemetery in May 2025. Despite having the plot number (Square 10 H, Number 52), I couldn’t find John’s gravesite. That part of the cemetery is overgrown with ivy, the section boundaries are unclear, and the stones are crumbling and eroded. (I also saw a fox at one point.) It’s possible John never had a headstone. He may have only had a wooden cross or small stone marker on his grave. At least he’s somewhere green and peaceful.

John is buried somewhere in this general area of St Pancras cemetery (photo taken May 2025)

The billy club

I can’t forget to mention the billy club. This wooden artifact has been passed down in the Randall family of Ludlow, Massachusetts, for several generations, with the suggestion that it came from England, but a more detailed story of its origin has been lost. Some might call this a truncheon or baton, but in our family we’ve always called it a billy club, which was the same term used for a truncheon in Victorian London (1). I doubt this particular club was issued by London MEPO, as it bears no markings or insignias, so maybe it’s a baton that John Randall used to protect himself when working for the sheriff’s office. Or maybe it came from John’s father-in-law William Beresford, who was a parish constable in Huntingdon for many years.

The Randall family “billy club”

Someday I’ll take the billy club on Antiques Roadshow to learn its true age and origin. Until then, the club evokes images of Victorian London, where police constables such as John Randall patrolled the streets, keeping a watchful eye out for thieves and other Dickensian characters lurking in the corners.

References

1. Czerny, V. (2017). Peelers: The police force under the reign of Queen Victoria. Available for download at The Ragged Victorians.

2. 1841 England Census for St John parish, Huntingdon

3. General Register Office. Death certificate for Charles William Beresford Randall, 28 May, 1846

4. The National Archives (UK). Crime and Punishment: Robert Peel

5. The National Archives (UK). Record set MEPO4/334: MEPO-4-334_5, pg 73.

6. Schlesinger, M. (1853). Saunterings in and about London (O. Wenckstern, Trans.). London: Nathaniel Cooke. [Project Gutenberg ebook]

7. The Globe, May 25, 1859, pg 4

8. Green, D., Brown, D., Smith, H., Chick, J., & Preger, N. (2024). Managing the police workforce: Sickness and pensions in the Metropolitan Police in late nineteenth-century London. Business History Review, 98(2), 417–446. doi:10.1017/S0007680524000278

9. General Register Office. Death certificate for Mary Ann Randall, 17 Dec, 1864

10. General Register Office. Birth certificate for (John) Harry Ashman Randall, 8 Jan, 1867

11. General Register Office. Birth certificate for Bessie Jane Randall, 17 Dec, 1868

12. The Pall Mall Gazette, Aug 11, 1869, pg 9

13. Berrow's Worcester Journal, Feb 16, 1856, pg 5

14. Dickens, C. (1903). Sketches by Boz. London: Chapman & Hall. (Original work published 1839) [Project Gutenberg ebook]

15. 1861 England Census for St Pancras, Marylebone

16. 1861 England Census for St Mary Abbots, Kensington

17. General Register Office. Death certificate for John Randall, 26 Mar, 1869 

18. Deceased Online. Burial register entry for John Randall, 2 Apr, 1869, St Pancras Cemetery.

The Beresford sisters of Huntingdon, Bloomsbury, and beyond

Mary Ann, Sarah, and Rhoda Beresford were born in Huntingdon, England, the daughters of William Beresford and Mary Anne Callow. The girls did not grow up in poverty, but they faced many hardships throughout their lifetime. Their mother died in 1837 when the youngest girl, Rhoda, was just 8 years old. Their father remarried a year later. The girls eventually left Huntingdon but remained in close contact with each other. The lives of these sisters were intertwined in ways that highlight the harsh realities and tragic circumstances of life in Victorian England.

Mary Ann and John Henry Randall

The oldest Beresford sister was Mary Ann (1814-1864). In 1841, at the age of 27, she married John Henry Randall, who was working as a grocer on the North End of Huntingdon. In 1845 the couple moved to London, where John joined the Metropolitan Police Force and Mary Ann worked as a dressmaker. John and Mary Ann “moved house” many times within London but they always stayed in the Bloomsbury area, where John was appointed as a police constable in the E Division (i.e., the Holborn division). The couple was not wealthy enough to own property, so they rented living space in a three- or four-story building such as the one shown below.

15 Leigh St, Bloomsbury, where John Henry Randall and wife Mary Ann lived in 1846 (photo taken September 2022)

Bloomsbury was a middle- and upper-class neighborhood, but its residents were not immune to the high rates of infant mortality and other public health issues facing London at this time. John and Mary Ann had two boys. The first, Charles William Beresford Randall, lived only 11 weeks, dying of atrophy in May 1846. The second, John Frederick Randall, lived 4 years, dying of scarlet fever and pneumonia in January 1855. (Birth and death records throughout this post were obtained from the General Register Office.)

The 1855 death record for John Frederick Randall

I don’t think Mary Ann ever recovered from the pain of having to bury her children. She passed away in 1864 at the age of 50. Her cause of death was recorded as “softening of the brain” of 7 months duration. A quick Google search shows that softening of brain tissue is noted as a pathological finding in cases of stroke, brain infection, or brain injury. But it may have been used during the Victorian era as an umbrella term for a variety of neuropsychological issues. In an 1876 article in the Boston Medical and Surgical Journal, Dr. Calvin Ellis, a professor of medicine at Harvard University, presents the following anonymous quote from another physician: “In common language, dementia is known as ‘softening of the brain.’ Persons who are losing their faculties from whatever cause are spoken of as having ‘softening of the brain.’ Persons in deep melancholia, who cannot be interested in anything outside of their deep and silent miseries, are in common language said to have ‘softening of the brain.’”

The 1864 death record for Mary Ann (Beresford) Randall

Mary Ann’s husband John Henry Randall was also having a rough time. In 1859, after 14 years of service for the London Metropolitan Police Force, he was dismissed (i.e., fired). I haven’t been able to find a record that explains the reason for his dismissal. He may have been fired for insubordination, misconduct, or showing up drunk. Later, John ended up working for a sheriff’s officer. In 1868, his occupation was recorded as “sheriff’s officer’s possession man.” This might have been a run-of-the-mill “repo man” or it may have involved rounding up debtors and taking them to a temporary debtor’s prison.

Stay tuned for a future post that delves deeper into the life, work, and death of John Henry Randall.

Sarah and John Prior Sissman

Mary Ann wasn’t the only Beresford sister to die a premature death in London. Sarah (1815-1854) faced a similar fate. In 1838 she wed farmer John Prior Sissman and moved with him to his home village of Sawtry, Huntingdonshire. There the couple had three sons and two daughters. Two of the boys lived just a few weeks and the other died of measles at the age of 2 and a half. Only the girls (Rhoda Mary and Sarah Ann Sissman) survived to adulthood. 

In the 1841 England Census, Sarah and John can be found living in Sawtry, where they were farming and starting their family. Ten years later Sarah and John were M.I.A. I have not been able to find an 1851 Census record for Sarah (Beresford) Sissman or her husband. At this time their daughter Rhoda Mary (aged 9) was living with her aunt and uncle Mary Ann and John Randall in London, while their other daughter Sarah Ann (aged 7) was staying with her maternal grandparents in Huntingdon. At some point Sarah (Beresford) Sissman ended up in London. She died of tuberculosis at University College Hospital in 1854 at the age of 39. Six months after his wife’s death, John Prior Sissman was admitted to the Bedford Asylum in Bedfordshire (Ancestry.com: UK, Lunacy Patients Admission Registers, 1846-1912). In 1860 he was moved to the newly opened Three Counties Lunatic Asylum in Stotfold, where a few months later he died of “epileptic paralysis” at the age of 40.

Rhoda Mary and Sarah Ann Sissman were at this point teenage orphans. With nothing to lose, they seized an opportunity to emigrate to Australia. In the spring of 1861 they sailed on the ship Utopia from Liverpool to Melbourne (Ancestry.com: Victoria, Australia, Assisted and Unassisted Passenger Lists, 1839–1923). The voyage lasted a grueling 3 months. The girls were only 17 and 19 years old at the time and made the trip without any other relatives. A few years later, Rhoda Mary Sissman wed Alfred John Stevens (Ancestry.com: Australia, Marriage Index, 1788-1950). The couple settled in Lucindale, South Australia, and had 10 children, one of whom received the middle name of Beresford. Sadly, Rhoda Mary died in 1883 the day after giving birth to her youngest child. Her sister Sarah Ann never married and lived to be 80 years of age. According to her obituary, Sarah Ann was a well-loved auntie.

Death notice for Rhoda Mary (Sissman) Stevens in Australia, immediately following the birth notice for her daughter (The Naracoorte Herald, 23 Jan 1883)

Death notice for Sarah Ann Sissman in Australia (The Naracoorte Herald, 29 April 1924)

Rhoda and William Henry Ashman

Finally we arrive at the youngest Beresford sister and my direct ancestor, Rhoda Beresford (1828-1892). In 1850, Rhoda married a carpenter from Cambridgeshire named William Henry Ashman (Ancestry.com: England & Wales, FreeBMD Marriage Index: 1837-1915). A year later they had a daughter named Eliza Mary Ashman. Nothing was amiss in the couple’s 1851 England Census record, but their 1861 Census record tells a different story. In 1861 Rhoda and her daughter Eliza Mary were living in Warfield, Berkshire with William’s parents and William’s brother. Rhoda’s marital status was recorded as “married” but her husband William Henry was nowhere to be found. I have looked for this man up, down, and all around, in every corner of the globe, and I have no idea what happened to him. He does not appear on any Census record after 1851. I cannot find a probable death or emigration record for him or any newspaper articles mentioning him. He seemingly vanished.

In January 1863 in London, Rhoda gave birth to a son named Charles Ashman. When she registered the boy’s birth she stated that William Ashman was the father, but I do not have any record that William was in London. Perhaps Rhoda was already pregnant when she moved to London. Unfortunately, Charles only lived for 2 and a half years. He died of rickets and diarrhea, suggesting that the family’s living conditions at this time were dark, overcrowded, and unsanitary. The family may have lacked clean drinking water, proper nutrition, and sufficient sunlight. (Vitamin D deficiency was a big problem in Victorian-era London, where the skies were full of smog and smoke that blocked the sun’s rays. Children also spent a lot of time indoors because they lacked clean areas to play outside.)

The 1865 death record for Charles Ashman

44 Burton St, Bloomsbury (photo taken September 2022)

The address that Rhoda reported for both the birth (1863) and death (1865) of her son Charles was 44 Burton Street, Saint Pancras (Bloomsbury). This address is noteworthy for a few reasons:

1. This is the same residence where Mary Ann lived with her husband John Henry Randall from at least 1861 to 1864. This is where Mary Ann died. This means that Rhoda was living with her sister and her brother-in-law, probably in the same flat. Did she move to London to take care of her sister? Why did she leave her daughter behind? Where was William Ashman?!

2. In the 1861 England Census there are 16 adults and 3 children living at 44 Burton St. As far as I can tell the street has not been renumbered since the 1860s. I’m sure that far fewer people live at that address today. These would have been very cramped quarters.

3. Burton St runs perpendicular to Tavistock House, where Charles Dickens lived from 1851 until 1860. Dickens traveled frequently and had multiple residences, but he was known for taking long walks through London, especially at night. It’s quite possible that my ancestors came across him in the neighborhood. Dickens may have even used my ancestors as inspiration for his characters. (The original Tavistock House was demolished in 1900, but there is a Charles Dickens Museum nearby at 48 Doughty St, where he lived earlier in his career).

Rhoda and John Henry Randall

After Mary Ann died, John turned to his sister-in-law Rhoda. In January 1867, she gave birth to a boy named Harry Ashman Randall at 23 Henrietta St, Bloomsbury (this is now called Handel St and has since been redeveloped). The birth record names John Randall as the father and Rhoda Randall, formerly Beresford, as the mother. This boy would later be known as John Harry Randall.

The 1867 birth record for Harry Ashman Randall aka John Harry Randall

(I’ve confirmed through DNA matches that John Henry Randall was the father of this boy. I have no explanation for why Ashman was included as John Harry’s middle name. He never used that name in adulthood.)

In December 1868, while still living at 23 Henrietta St, Rhoda gave birth to a daughter named Bessie Jane Randall. Again, John and Rhoda presented themselves as a married couple when registering their daughter’s birth, but I cannot find any record of a marriage between them, not a civil record nor a church record. There should definitely be a civil record if they were actually married. Maybe they couldn’t wed because Rhoda’s first husband, William Ashman, was still alive. I would love to have baptism records for John Harry and Bessie Jane but I can’t find those either. Perhaps John Henry and Rhoda had given up on religion by this point.

I still have a lot of questions about how this relationship developed and how it did or did not fit the social norms of the time. If John Henry and Rhoda were “pretending” to be married, they didn’t have to pretend for very long. In March 1869, at the age of 51, John Henry died at University College Hospital. His causes of death were bronchitis, emphysema, and heart disease. He was buried at St Pancras Cemetery in north London in a third-class burial. It’s unlikely that he ever had a gravestone. (Burial information from Deceased Online and Ancestry.com: UK, Burial and Cremation Index, 1576-2014).

Rhoda was now a 40-year-old single mom with two children under the age of three. To make ends meet she took up work as a laundress. This was physically demanding labor, but she may have been able to do it at home, negating the need for childcare. She also had a few Beresford cousins living in the area who may have been able to help her. In the 1871 England Census, Rhoda, John Harry, and Bessie Jane were still living in Bloomsbury, this time on Sidmouth St. By 1881 they had moved to Islington, where the children attended school and Rhoda now worked as a dressmaker. I have not found Rhoda or her children in any London workhouse records, so it seems she was able to keep her family out of “the poor house.”

Laundress Carrying Linen by Edgar Degas (public domain)

Whatever happened to Rhoda’s first daughter, Eliza Mary Ashman? She stayed in Berkshire with her paternal grandparents and in 1874 married a hairdresser named Harry George Redrup (Ancestry.com: England & Wales, FreeBMD Marriage Index: 1837-1915). The couple settled in Wales near Cardiff and had 11 children, one of whom received the middle name of Beresford. Although it’s a shame that Eliza Mary spent so many years without her mother, she was probably better off growing up in Berkshire rather than in London. 

In the mid-1880s Rhoda’s son John Harry Randall emigrated to the United States. He found work at a jute mill in Ludlow, Massachusetts and sent for his sister and mother. Rhoda and Bessie Jane arrived in Boston in 1888 on the SS Norseman (Ancestry.com: Boston Passenger and Crew Lists, 1820-1943). John Harry Randall and his wife Annie Boman would go on to have 9 children, one of whom received the middle name of Beresford. Bessie Jane married Wilfred L. Telmosse; Beresford was also passed on as a middle name in that line.

Rhoda (Beresford) Ashman Randall, c 1890, Springfield, MA

Rhoda died in 1892 of apoplexy (a stroke) and is buried in Island Pond Cemetery in Ludlow (Ancestry.com: Massachusetts, Town Vital Collections, 1620-1988). The only photo I have of her is a Xerox copy of this studio portrait, taken around 1890 in Springfield, Massachusetts. She was just 62 years old here, but she looks a bit older. The Dickensian life she led in England is evident on her face. But I’m relieved that she made it through so many challenges. Rhoda and her sisters are not forgotten.