1985: Chelsea's electric fence

Football pitch invaders have been making the news in recent weeks. In April 1985, Chelsea chairman Ken Bates chose a rather controversial method to address the problem.

Preventing football violence during the 1984/85 season was proving a thankless task for the authorities. Events at Derby, Chelsea, and Luton provided examples of the problems facing the sport, and cures for the English disease seemed thin on the ground.

The shocking scenes at the end of the Milk Cup semi-final second leg between Chelsea and Sunderland put the spotlight firmly on the west London club, with the Football Association demanding that £40,000 was spent on improving stadium safety at Stamford Bridge. Enter Ken Bates.

Chelsea’s chairman was never afraid to speak his mind and ruffle a few feathers. But when he announced his proposal to improve crowd control in April 1985, many were left stunned. Bates’ suggestion was shocking in more ways than one.

An 11-foot high perimeter fence was not enough for Bates; he wanted, as he put it, the “ultimate deterrent” for wannabe pitch invaders. Barbed-wire at the top of the fence would be added, but Bates was planning to go one step beyond. Chelsea’s chairman wanted to add an electric section to the top of the fences.

“It will be above three strands of barbed wire and will be situated 11 feet off the ground,” Bates explained, as he described his plan. “People may howl about it being dangerous but it’s been used in farming for a long time. Any fan touching the fence will immediately have to let go and fall 15ft.”

Bates appeared convinced that his plan had no flaws. “There will be appropriate warning signs around the ground. I expect the vast majority of our fans, who are good law-abiding citizens, will be 100 percent in favour. The only adverse reaction will come from people who like to climb fences.”

If Bates thought his idea would receive universal praise, then he was in for an unpleasant surprise. He had some backers, such as Millwall chairman Alan Thorne, who was reportedly looking to invest in a similar fence at the Den. Yet the general consensus appeared understandably to be against the move.

“My God, how awful,” Luton chairman David Evans commented. “The next step is he will issue SS helmets to his stewards.” Bob Gill of the Liverpool Supporters’ Club was just as scathing: “They do that with the cattle don't they? It just shows what Chelsea think of their fans.”

Immediately given the nickname Goalditz, criticism continued to rain down on Bates. “It’s a terrible idea, Stalag Stamford Bridge,” Labour politician Gordon Prentice stated. “There could be all sorts of terrible legal implications if someone gets hurt.”

The Football Association were powerless to reject the idea, although chairman Bert Millichip and secretary Ted Croker voiced concerns. In the meantime, Croker attended the British Open squash tournament at Wembley Arena, investigating the clear plastic screens used at the venue as a possible material for fences in the future.

Fortunately there were two opponents to Bates that did carry some sway. Sports Minister Neil Macfarlane called the measure “one step too far”, with Bates responding immediately. “I am doing something positive to beat the louts, which is more than can be said for the talking heads.” Just to ram home his point, Bates then announced that Macfarlane should resign and “get stuffed.”

Planning to unleash the fencing for the London derby against Tottenham on April 27, Bates had to get approval from the Greater London Council (GLC) before proceeding. However, his chances appeared slim, when a quote was leaked from a member of the Public Services Committee: “If we don't stop this, what comes next? Mines, guard dogs and tanks?”

Bates showed off his new toy to the media, with one journalist demonstrating just how hard it would have been to go over the top. But by then, the GLC had already quashed the scheme:

“Under the general safety certificate issued for Stamford Bridge on February 13, Chelsea cannot make alterations to the stadium regarding such things as electricity, heating, lighting, and ventilation, without the written consent of the Council. We've ordered Chelsea to stop work and given them 24 hours to consider their position. If they decide not to co-operate with us, we will think about issuing a court injunction. Our lawyers are working on it. But, at the moment, we're hoping that Chelsea will respond positively to our recommendations.”

Bates seemed puzzled by the outrage. “Why all this sudden compassion for hooligans? Just a few weeks ago the whole nation was up in arms about these thugs attacking innocent people and driving them away from the game. Now there is all this concern that a few soccer hooligans might get their fingers burnt trying to scale the fences at Stamford Bridge.”

Promising to appeal the decision in the High Court, Bates was determined to fight hooliganism via the 12-volt wires at the top of his fences. But in May, the GLC Public Services Committee took an official vote on the matter; the 7-2 verdict against Bates seemingly put an end to the saga.

Bates formally appealed against the GLC decision a month later – “I don't know how long it will take, but we want the fence” – yet by October, Chelsea announced that the electric section would be removed. “Home and visiting fans have been well behaved at Stamford Bridge and we believe we are now able to make this positive move,” director Robert Bates revealed.

The whole electric fence affair gives a very real indication of the state of English football in the 1980s. On the one hand, you had football clubs, police, and football authorities searching for an answer to the conundrum that was hooliganism. On the other, you had a club chairman proposing to erect electric fences, without a second thought.

It is staggering to recall that Bates came up with the idea in the first place, and that he felt it would be acceptable. But the fact that some agreed with his hard line shows the disregard held for anyone entering a stadium during a turbulent decade for the sport. Football supporters were often treated like animals back then; if Bates had got his way, this would have been taken to the next level.