COPPERS - you either love or loath 'em, depending upon whether they've just caught you in a speed trap or come racing to the rescue when you've been cornered by a thug.

And on occasions the long arm of the law throws up totally unique characters.

They certainly chucked the mould away after career policeman Wilf Beuden was created. And he remained a determined 'original' throughout his long life.

For one thing, he suddenly decided, in retirement years, that he disliked his Christian name so much that he promptly switched it to Bill.

And though this may have caused some confusion among his family and friends old and new, 'Old Bill' was perfectly appropriate for a character who had spent his entire working life in the police force!

The name-change confusion had to be carefully explained at the 79-year-old former top cop's recent funeral service. And though it caused a few raised eyebrows among the pews, it was regarded as nothing out of the ordinary for daughter Pam, over from America for the sad occasion.

"Nothing that dad got up to ever surprised me," she says, "he had an impish sense of humour and a strong will of his own."

Pam, who was raised in Newton but has carved a successful tourism career in Kansas City, has been regaled with anecdotes about her unforgettable dad.

Like the time he accepted a lift in the back of a plain van. Some well-meaning soul reported seeing him being kidnapped and within minutes the vehicle was surrounded by fast-response policemen. Wilf (as I knew him from my cub reporting days in Newton) was far from amused.

On retirement from the force in 1963, he took over a sweets and tobacconist shop on Newton's High Street, with his late wife, Norah. One night, the display window was smashed and a policewoman sent to make inquiries.

She requested Wilf's age for her records. He promptly replied that he was 101, taking delight in watching her carefully write this down - his views about women in the police force being extremely well known!

"When one policewoman gave him a parking ticket in Earlestown, that's when he sold the car," recalls Pam. "He was the original male chauvinist!"

But Wilf also had an easy-going side to his nature. I'll never forget how he aided and abetted myself and a pack of other fledgling reporters to briefly 'hi-jack' an unattended horse-drawn milk float while we were experimenting with a small movie camera. Our resultant epic, 'The Great Milk Heist', didn't attract Hollywood attention but a chuckling Wilf and his wife enjoyed watching its world premier, screened in the attic of the local newspaper office where we then worked.

Wilf had moved to Newton more than 40 years ago, becoming chief inspector in charge of the local force. Despite his Wrexham roots, he grew to love his adoptive town so much that he decided never to leave.

And despite her success abroad, Pam also feels closely drawn to Newton. "It's the end of an era for me," says Wilf's only child, "but I'll certainly be back to see my dear old friends again."

Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.