Reading the almost daily reports on problems with the homeless and begging in Brighton, I am reminded of the days in the late Sixties and early Seventies, when the problem was nowhere near as big as it is now.

In those days, Brighton had its own police force who wore white helmets in the summer, its own ambulance service and its own fire brigade and each fire engine had 999 included in its licence plates.

I was an ambulanceman then and I remember a policeman telling me how they dealt with undesirable members of the public who caused problems - usually drunks and transients.

They would put them in a police car and take them up the A23 outside of the Brighton County Borough boundary in the middle of the night and drop them off. It would take them several days to make their way back to town or after several such trips, move onto other towns.

There was a small group who contributed to the character of Brighton and were allowed to stay. One I remember was a big, tall West Indian who went by the name of Big Des.

He had a great feeling for his fellow unfortunates and I would often find him taking care of someone when I would arrive at an incident or when I was dealing with a casualty.

I would feel a hand on my shoulder and it would be Big Des offering his help. He once showed me a bundle of pictures and letters from his family back home who had no idea how he lived in Brighton.

To give some idea of the respect he engendered, when he died, several policemen with a wreath attended what was a pauper's funeral.

What a difference from the beggars of today.

-Clifford W Witt, Saltdean