AS the storm clouds of war ominously gathered over Europe, the Hampshire town of Andover endured the darkest days of its history with three days of class driven rioting that wrecked its centre, instigated by a court case of little significance.

Phyllis Beckenham had twice appealed for an affiliation order – proof of paternity – against Isodore Harvey, the son of a hard-working and prosperous shopkeeper in the town but on each occasion the magistrates rejected her claim for want of corroboration.

Enraged, Beck-enham and her mother sought out the supposed father, which led to their arrest for assault.

In court they refused to be bound over. Magistrates then fined the teenager 5s and her mother £1 with seven days and 14 days respectively in default of payment.

Despite offers from sympathisers the Beckenhams on a point of principle refused to pay the fines and the course of justice soon took effect, with mother and daughter as well as the baby at the centre of the case being incarcerated in Winchester. However, a well-wisher paid their fine and they were duly released before the completion of their sentence.

But the imposition of the jail term incensed public opinion and by the time the Friday afternoon train steamed into the town’s railway station, a large mob, swelled by arriving outsiders, had gathered on the platform, their anger and disappointment heightened by the family’s non-appearance.

By the time the evening service arrived some three hours later the mob’s numbers had swollen in excess of 2,000 – many inflamed by drink – who cheered without restraint when the trio alighted from their carriage.

As they had reached Bridge Street, the teenager was walking ahead of the mass and her mother and baby were safely guarded in the middle of the throng.

To the accompaniment of rattled tins the crowd surged towards the High Street singing: “It’s the poor that helps the poor when poverty knocks on the door.”

Then it reached Harvey’s shop.

Banging on the door brought no response, neither did kicking. Then a hothead picked up a brick. A smash, a cheer. A few moments reflective silence. The another smash and another cheer.

The commotion had alerted the police who, hopelessly outnumbered, could not disperse the protesters. Their only conceivable tactic was to form a half-circle outside the belea guered building as missile after missile brought shards of glass cascading on or around them.

The furious troublemakers then moved across the way, inexplicably targeting a confectionary store, a bicycle shop and a postcard outlet with their upstairs windows riddled with stones.

Police reinforcements were brought in by car from Basingstoke but they too were virtually powerless and the town’s firemen fared no better.

Attempts to shoot water from a hydrant near the Angel Hotel were scuppered when the firemen’s cart was kicked over and their hoses repeatedly kicked. They retreated to jeering.

“The High Street presented a dismal sight the following morning,” lamented the Andover Advertiser as broken glass, hideously misshapen bicycles, rotten food and torn postcards littered the scene.

As Saturday evening approached, other police reinforcements arrived in anticipation of further rioting – and so it proved.

So crowded was the narrowest part of the High Street, it was |nigh impossible to push a way through.

As trouble flared, mounted police charged the crowd who fled into every available alcove to seek refuge.

Not all were quick enough with the most serious casualty, a deaf woman, suffering a severe head wound that led her being carried unconscious on a stretcher to the Cottage Hospital.

A police officer also suffered a nasty head injury that needed medical treatment and many of the |mob limped home battered and bruised.

Delivering his Sunday sermon, the vicar, the Rev Walter E Smith, prayed for those injured to make a speedy recovery and the restoration of law and order. The response |was the destruction of all his windows.

As workmen toiled to repair the town, much of the crowd reassembled at the Recreation Ground where a procession was organised, with many of its participants arming themselves with short, thick sticks to inflict further damage on other businesses and homes of innocent townfolk.

However, police ranks were now reinforced with another 40 officers who arrived in a heavy lorry, the rabble greeting them with jeering and howling.

Some 30 minutes later, they emerged from the police station, headed by Hampshire’s Chief Constable, Major St Andrew Bruce Warde, who told the crowd they had half an hour to clear the scene or he would take drastic action.

“The usually quiet Sabbath was much disturbed and it was a common sight in the High Street to see carpenters barricading shop windows that were intact, so by night time, the town gave the appearance of being an armed camp,” the Advertiser recorded.

“Several people were given the hint to stay indoors if they valued their lives for it was rumoured that great things were about to happen.”

The main force of the demonstrators was now generally spent and though the police had to wrestle with the remnants at times, only one man was arrested but was never prosecuted.

Self-recrimination Afterwards there was considerable self-recrimination when it was learnt that Harvey’s two children were asleep as the initial violence erupted and two stones, each weighing over half a stone, had crashed on to their bed. Several others landed on the floor. Both had been badly frightened but otherwise were uninjured.

Many of the injured consequently claimed they had simply gone to watch what was happening, but the Advertiser castigated them for not going to the aid of the police who had been “remarkable in the manner they kept their temper under such severe provocation”.

It concluded that if just 20 men had gone to their aid, the fist outbreak would have been quickly quelled.

The paper said: “There were many who should have assisted the mayor and the police but did not do so. The cost of the extra policing may be a little lesson to those who pay the rates not to encourage disorder.”