The village-like atmosphere of old Hampstead Town, with its close-knit community, produced many 'charac­ters', some eccentric and some who stood out by the strength of their personality. Those were the days when most people knew each other; married women were still referred to by their maiden names and the relationship between families was such that a 'hill-billy' situation prevailed. What happened in Golden Square (now Mount Square) would be known in the High Street within half an hour. It was surprising, therefore, that a man born outside Hampstead should become one of its best known and best liked characters.

Frank Ward, born in Bristol, left that city at the age of twenty-one to walk all the way to London in search of work. There he joined the police force and in 1909 he was posted to Hampstead, where he was to spend the rest of his long life. Frank, burly and jovial, had a local beat and was respected by the inhabitants. He was first on the scene after the murder of a detective at the Holly Bush public house and was chosen to accompany one of the first policewomen on patrol of the Heath.

All his life Frank was to fight for better social conditions, but never more so than when he joined ex-Inspector John Syme in the struggle to improve the policeman's lot by formation of a union. The clandestine meetings and activities in which he became engaged were only part of his local fame; the ensuing events ensured his place in the annals of local history. He was one of the eight local policemen who went on strike during the police strike of 1919 and were dismissed. With a wife and children to support at his Back Lane home, he was hard put to it to make ends meet. He was ostracised by the local establishment; there was little hope of employment locally and his children were even in disgrace at school on account of his action. This was a test of Frank Ward's character and initiative but, despite the vicissitudes, he was not to lose the great sense of humour for which he was later to become so renowned. Neighbours helped, as they did in those days, and somehow he got by. He was liked by the ordinary folk and this was to prove to his advantage in the type of work that he was able to obtain later.

On principle he would not have chosen to become a debt-collector, but this he had to do in the circumstances and as such was a success. From the ordinary people he would recover the money piecemeal and it is to be believed that most paid what they could because they liked him. For the few harder cases, the professional bilkers, he had a different approach in the form of a hat-band bearing the inscription 'Debt Collector', which he would slip on to his trilby hat. This was particularly effective in the case of a Jewish gentleman who would not pay the sum of £94 owed to Fowlers of Flask Walk, then a wholesale tobacconist. Frank Ward, with full headgear, waited outside the West Hampstead synagogue to the great dismay of the debtor, who hastened to pay the money, albeit in two instalments. Those who knew 'Old Ward', as he came to be known, would regard his part in this incident as more humorous than malicious.

Frank Ward was later to obtain employment at the Hampstead Brew­ery, where he attended the boilers at night. The nocturnal visits of police­men, one being found there the worse for drink, featured in his many anecdotes of night work at the Brewery.

For a time he was an agent for the Cooperative Insurance Society but once again his passion for union organisa­tion was to cost him his job. He was an early socialist of the George Lansbury type, who would not sacrifice his principles for personal advancement. He was the first Labour candidate in Town Ward in the days when that party could command but a handful of votes and helpers were few. 'Ward for Town Ward' was his slogan and the main distributors of his leaflets were his children. His sincere and straightforward oratory was a feature of open-air meetings at the Whitestone Pond. Despite the hard times between the two wars he had managed to provide for his family; his wife Rhoda having borne six children at No 9 Back Lane. His Victorian sense of discipline, tempered by kindness and humour, ensured that his children were a credit to him. One son, Harry Ward, was awarded the MBE for services to the Medical Research Station at Holly Hill. For several years prior to the last war, Frank Ward was a familiar figure outside Rowland Smith's in the High Street, where he was employed as a commissionaire.

By 1946 Frank Ward had reached retirement age but for another twenty-nine years his fighting spirit was to continue. He stood fast against the tide of property exploitation that overwhelmed and decimated the local population from 1960 onwards. Any suggestion that he should give up his tenancy for a financial consideration met immediate rejection but on one occasion his great sense of humour predominated in a way that was to make the episode a legend in the Town. For some time, a property agent had been suggesting that Frank Ward might like to move to other accommodation and that if he did so his expenses would be met. 'Let me know if you find someone to move you,' said the agent. Tiring of this, Frank sent his eldest son to the agent with the message that he had found someone to move him. On receiving the good news the beaming agent hurried to see Frank Ward. 'So you have found someone to move you, Mr Ward; do I know him?' said the agent. 'Yes, I expect you do,' old Ward answered, 'it's Crowe the undertaker, because that's the only way I'm going when at last I've got to go,' 'You're a wicked old man,' said the agent, 'you should be ashamed!' and then beat a hasty retreat from the chuckling.