Vicki Petraitis - Once a Copper: The Life and Times of Brian ‘The Skull’ Murphy

I dedicate this book to my mum, Helen Burke, for her endless support, encouragement, and proofreading; to my friend Sandra Nicholson who first introduced me to The Skull, and to the two most special boys in my life, Archer and Jenson.

VP

My story is dedicated to my beautiful wife, Margaret, who has always stood by me, and to the memory of one of my dearest friends, Paul Higgins. May he rest in peace.

BFM

Praise for Once a Copper

What was policing really like before technology changed it forever? Vikki Petraitis takes us there with her vivid portrayal of old school cop Brian Murphy, who grew up on the mean streets of South Melbourne during World War II and walked the beat as the inner suburbs slowly gentrified. Murphy was often unconventional and occasionally found himself in hot water, but he always got the job done. A fascinating read.

Cheryl Critchley, journalist, true crime writer

A very compelling insight into the Police Force of yesterday. In the early part of The Skulls story, I kept thinking of what Winston Churchill said in the British Parliament pointing to the benches opposite, The opposition occupies the benches in front of you, but the enemy sits behind you. Thats how dysfunctional things were because of the corruption. Skull is the Australian version of Eliot Ness and has contributed to todays policing being far more proactive restoring faith in our police force.

Les Twentyman, AOM, National youth advocate

foreword

B rian Francis Murphy is one of the last of a breed of coppers well never see again in Australia. Some may consider this a big plus, but the old-style methods got results, with very little interference from the bosses and not much help from modern science. During his time in the job, Murphy shot 40 crooks and suspected crims, without killing any of them, saving his own life on many occasions. He never went anywhere without a gun.

Brians close mate, Paul Higgins, summed up those bad old days for me during a chat we had after he got out of prison, after serving time for other guilty people. He said that when he and Murph were in the job they could batter down front doors, give crooks a knee in the knackers, or a biff in the breadbasket and if all else failed, take them to the infamous fifth floor at Russell Street Police Headquarters, where if a few clouts with a phone book didnt produce the right answers, they could hang them upside down out the window, to give them a chance to revise their story. Higgins said that these days cops have to knock politely, be viewed through the front-door peephole and by the time, or IF, the door is opened, the suspect is standing in the hall on his mobile phone, already getting lawyered up.

Brians recollections, as told to my friend and colleague Vikki Petraitis, using the old-time police vernacular, are not only about tough policing, but about his disdain for bent coppers, the unorthodox methods used to achieve results and the sometimes unbelievable incidents that seemed to only happen to Brian. His stories remind us that in those days police had to find a phone box or a wall phone in a pub to call for backup or to relay information. They also recall a time when the Breakers, the Consorters, the Robbers and the Doggies consisted of blokes just as tough as the crooks they were chasing.

But like all tough guys, Brian has a soft spothis unfailing respect for the women he encountered in the job, and in particular, his enduring love for his large family, from his parents to his own children and his Catholic faith, which has sustained him on many occasions. Im pleased Margaret, Brians loyal and long-suffering wife, gets more than a mention. She has been his rock and he has protected her and his family throughout his dangerous career.

Now in his eighties, hes been retired for around thirty years, nearly as long as he spent in the job. But he has not been idle. He has many clients who engage his negotiating services and a mobile phone that rings incessantly, bringing him all the good mail from his huge network. In his dapper suit and trademark fedora hat, he is recognised by many as he keeps himself busy around town. But what he actually gets up to? Well, that would fill another book.

I hope you enjoy reading this engrossing tale about Brian The Skull Murphy as much as I did. He is not only one of the last old time coppers still standing, but a gentleman as well.

Robin Bowles , award-winning true crime writer, Melbourne

Introduction

I t was Christmas 2014 and Id just finished writing my latest book, The Dog Squad , about Victoria Police dog handlers and their dogs. Over lunch with retired Assistant Commissioner, Sandra Nicholson, I talked about finding a new writing project.

You should write a book about Brian, Sandra said.

Brian who? I asked.

Brian MurphyThe Skull. He was my old boss back in the 80s. Sandra got up from her chair, went to her bookshelf, and returned with a book called The Skull by journalist Adam Shand. The cover was red with a picture of a bald man in dark glasses on it. The subtitle read: Informers, hitmen and Australias toughest cop .

I have to admit, informers and hitmen are not my favourite topic, but I had recently dabbled in the dark side of organised crime in my writing.

This was written by a journalist, said Sandra, but Brian always wanted to tell his own story.

I told Sandra that I would read The Skull to get a feel for Brians story, and if I was interested, she could put me in touch with him.

I found The Skull intriguing more for what it didnt say than what it did. Adam Shand had done a fine job creating the rogue that Brian Murphy was as a coppera dashing man, fast with his fists, breaking the rules and getting the bad guys in the end. By the time I reached the final page, I wanted to meet the man himself. There was a lot of what he had done, but not so much why he had done it.

My interest always lies in the method behind the madness.

Brian Murphy lives at an address that, just by sitting quietly immovable in Middle Park for the last hundred or so years, had morphed in location from undesirable to highly desirable. Its a family home with stained-glass windows and high ceilings. It is here that Brian met me at the door. For a writer, Im not particularly good at describing people and have wondered in idle moments if I could describe members of my own family to a police artist with any accuracy.

My first impression was that Brian reminded me of my dad; around the same vintage, give or take half a dozen years. But there is something recognisable in men of that age. Politeness, a ruddy glow to their cheeks, a lack of hair, a gait swayed by a dodgy hip.And because I adore my dad, and because I trusted the judgement of my friend Sandra Nicholson, I felt an immediate fondness for Brian The Skull Murphy.