JACK THE RIPPER – WHO IS HE? From the front cover of Puck, 21 September 1889. (Courtesy of Stewart P. Evans)
Acknowledgements
The Whitechapel Society gratefully acknowledges the following for the material and the assistance they have provided: The Bancroft Library; The Bishopsgate Institute; British Library Newspapers; The National Archives; Winchester College Archives; www.casebook.org; www.jtrforums.com; Mark Galloway; Petrina Thompson; Richard Nash; Peter Leyland; Alyn Smith; Richard Clarke; Thomas Toughill; Nicholas Connell; Robert Smith; Roger Palmer and Stewart P. Evans.
A special thank you to our membership for their continued support.
The opinions expressed in this publication are those of the individual authors and do not represent The Whitechapel Society as a whole.
Contents
Title
Acknowledgements
The Usual Suspects
By Robin Odell
The History of The Whitechapel Society
By Frogg Moody
1. The Beatification of Joseph Barnett
By Mickey Mayhew
2. William Henry Bury
By Christine Warman
3. Severin Klosowski, alias George Chapman
By Sue Parry
4. More Likely than Cutbush: Montague John Druitt
By Adrian Morris
5. Sir William Gull
By M.J. Trow
6. The Mysteries of Aaron Kosminski
By Philip Marquis
7. James Maybrick: Ripper Suspect
By Chris Jones
8. Walter Sickert
By Ian Porter
9. ‘Doctor’ Francis Tumblety
By Joe Chetcuti
10. Prince Albert Victor
By M.W. Oldridge
11. Suspects: The Best (or Worst) of the Rest
By William Beadle
Copyright
The Usual Suspects
The Jack the Ripper murders, committed in 1888 in London’s Whitechapel, are etched into the public psyche. The killings were a criminal benchmark, against which subsequent murderers have been measured. For example, those committed by Peter Sutcliffe – the Yorkshire Ripper, Andrei Chikatilo – the Red Ripper of Rostov and Daniel Rolling – the Gainesville Ripper.
That the Whitechapel Murders have never been solved adds to their fascination. The combination of dingy Victorian streets, blood on the cobblestones, ephemeral clues, fumbling investigators and an unknown mutilator lurking in the shadows, has all the ingredients of a story that continues to captivate the imagination.
Yet, while the crimes remain unsolved, they are not without suspects. In a memorandum penned in 1894, Sir Melville Macnaghten, Head of CID at Scotland Yard, wrote of the murders that, ‘…many homicidal lunatics were suspected…’ He went on to name three of them, two of whom – Druitt and Kosminski – are included in this anthology. Sir Melville would, no doubt, have been astounded to see how the list of suspects has grown over the years.
From a cast of well over a hundred, the names of ten suspects have been selected for inclusion in this book. They include a member of the Royal Family, a barrister, an artist, a brace of hairdressers, a doctor, a quack, a businessman, a fish porter, and a wife murderer. To qualify as a suspect for a criminal offence, there must be reasonable grounds for suspicion, based on knowledge of the person and their background, and what in police circles might be called ‘previous’, as well as information about conduct and actions.
Common sense suggests that those regarded as suspects in the hunt for the Whitechapel murderer should be measured against a number of investigative criteria. For example, was the suspect known to be in the locality at the time the murders were committed? Was he familiar with the streets and alleyways of the area? Was his appearance such as to create fear or suspicion? How well did he blend into the social background and street scene?
This approach was supported and put on a more professional basis during the centenary year of the murders, in 1988, when American crime profilers applied their knowledge of modern serial killers to the known facts about the Whitechapel Murders. These experts concluded that Jack the Ripper was, almost certainly, male and a person of limited education, intelligence and resources. He probably lived and worked in the locale and would have been normal in appearance and, consequently, not someone who would have invoked suspicion. In profilers` parlance, he was a disorganised serial killer.
Urged on by his paranoid personality, he waited for the right opportunity in order to fulfil his killing instincts. He targeted prostitutes as they were easy prey for the opportunist who readily merged with the local street culture. He was a predator in his own time and place. After each murder, swiftly executed and followed by equally rapid mutilation of his victims, he melted away into the shadows of his comfort zone. Once safely off the streets, likely as not, he was within earshot of the hue and cry breaking out in the neighbourhood at the discovery of a fresh killing.
There is another conceivable measure of the suspect and that is his familiarity with the knife. The hallmark throat-cutting, inflicted on each of the five victims, cannot be denied, nor the swift mutilation and excision of organs which usually followed. A knife was clearly an essential tool of the Ripper’s murderous trade. Of our ten chosen suspects, we might suppose that the doctor and the quack knew how to use a scalpel and that the hair-dressers would be familiar with cut-throat razors. On the other hand, of course, anyone might use a knife when compelled to violence.
So, there are some considered criteria against which Ripper suspects might be measured. Readers will judge the suspects chosen by our contributors and form their own opinions.
In some cases, there might be evidence, or arguments, that will be sufficient to keep a particular suspect in the frame. In others, there may be evidence which eliminates a suspect from consideration and, thereby, clears his name. Alternatively, the conclusion reached, after analysing all that is presented about the candidates for the Ripper’s mantle, might simply be ‘suspect unknown’.
It is the mystery that has sustained the pursuit of Jack the Ripper’s identity over such a long period. It is in the natural order of things to want to fill a vacuum and, certainly, there is a void at the heart of the story of the Whitechapel Murders. Perhaps one of our contributors has finally pierced the shadows and directed a spotlight at the true suspect?
Researchers consistently uncover new information, such as the recent revelation about Montague Druitt. The discovery that he was denied membership of the Oxford Union, in 1876, brought new light to bear on what is arguably the most enigmatic remark made about any of the suspects; Macnaghten referred to Druitt as being ‘sexually insane’. This indicated that the essence of Druitt’s sexual orientation had already been recognised. The case is made that the sources for this contention were his contemporaries at Oxford. These included Evelyn Ruggles-Brise, Private Secretary to the Home Secretary at the time, and Thomas Tuke, owner of the Chiswick Asylum, located close to the spot where Druitt’s body was recovered from the River Thames. The likelihood is that Dr Tuke, who later treated Druitt’s mother, was the doctor who declared that her son was ‘sexually insane’.
We must, of course, keep an open mind, even in the face of apparently compelling arguments. The conduct of research and the recording of history depend on the questing spirit which is not seduced by vapours of the final, definitive word having been pronounced on any subject. We might agree with Francis Bacon when he wrote of suspicion, ‘there is nothing makes a man suspect much, more than to know a little.
Robin Odell, 2011
Bibliography
Toughill, T., The Ripper Code (The History Press, 2008)
Bacon, F., Essays: On Suspicion (1625)
Since its establishment by Mark Galloway in 1995, The Whitechapel Society (formerly ‘The Cloak and Dagger Club’) has fostered the advancement of studies into The Whitechapel Murders and the social history of the Victorian & Edwardian East End.
How it all began…
When Mark Galloway founded the ‘Cloak & Dagger Club’ back in 1995, he could not have envisaged that it would eventually develop into The Whitechapel Society and the international organisation it has become today. Mark’s first real interest in ‘Jack’ came about when, as a twelve-year-old boy, he came across a book in his local library on the history of the Metropolitan Police, which contained a whole chapter on the Whitechapel Murders and Jack the Ripper. What really interested Mark, like so many of us, was the fact that they never caught the killer.
It was years later that Mark (who is now ‘Lifelong Honorary President’ of The Whitechapel Society) decided to follow up his early interest and, together with some like-minded people, organised a gathering for a discussion on Jack the Ripper. Gradually the idea consolidated into the notion of a regular club, with a membership list and a bi-monthly meeting – an event that would also include a guest speaker to give a lecture or talk. An ambitious beginning, but the ‘Cloak and Dagger Club’ was born.
After several successful meetings, it was decided to introduce a membership newsletter; this was the beginning of what would eventually become the highly respected magazine The Whitechapel Journal. Society member Paul Daniel was the very first editor and he took the early magazine to a new dimension, producing a first-class publication containing historical articles, book reviews and all the latest research into Jack the Ripper and associated East End of London history.
The Whitechapel Society today…
In 2005, it was decided to rename the club ‘The Whitechapel Society’ and to ask the question of not who was Jack the Ripper, but why was Jack the Ripper? This simple question allowed us to broaden our research into the Whitechapel Murders of 1888, by looking at a whole spectrum of other, closely related issues. These issues are important because they give us a better understanding of Jack the Ripper, by looking at the world he lived in and what was happening around him. This has resulted in The Whitechapel Society researching and studying workhouses, poverty maps, social conditions, Victorian policing methods and lodging houses and more, resulting in published articles and presentations by, not only Whitechapel Society members, but some of the country’s leading experts.
The new direction has allowed The Whitechapel Society to develop, whilst faithfully continuing the tradition started by that small group of enthusiasts over ten years earlier. At the six meetings held each year, members are still blessed with superb presentations and talks from the top experts in the field of Ripperology and Victorian/Edwardian social history. Entry into official meetings remains free to our members and new attendees are always made to feel very welcome indeed! The Whitechapel Society Journal has continued to attract many contributors, with articles of every description, from well-known authors to amateurs trying their hands (and often very good ones) for the first time. Now edited and produced by the team of Adrian Morris and Frogg Moody, respectively, members receive six Whitechapel Society Journal magazines per year and are actively encouraged to participate with articles, research, letters and reviews.
In recent years, The Whitechapel Society has diversified, broadened its horizons and explored new, exciting ways of bringing the past to life. Members have been encouraged to participate in a whole host of events, including a photographic history of London’s old east end, short story competitions, public exhibitions and ‘Question Time’ debates. The Whitechapel Society is also proud to be on the steering group of the Tower Hamlets Bancroft Library.
The association between The Whitechapel Society and The History Press, in bringing you this new publication of Jack the Ripper: The Suspects, is seen by our organisation as a real achievement and one that takes us to a new level of development. All the contributors are current members of The Whitechapel Society and we are delighted that their meticulous research into each of their given suspects has been rewarded in this book.
Interest in Jack the Ripper, world-wide, remains as strong as ever, and the Society’s membership embraces people from all walks of life and from every part of the globe. The Whitechapel Society is open to anyone – all that is required is an interest in Jack the Ripper and his world.
You can become a member of The Whitechapel Society via our website at:
www.whitechapelsociety.com
Our website keeps you up to date with all the latest news involving The Whitechapel Society, Jack the Ripper and historical East End articles.
Go to our official website if you are interested in joining The Whitechapel Society or would like more information.
The Whitechapel Society is the best way to keep in touch with what’s happening in the world of ‘Ripperology’ and the historic East End of London. The Whitechapel Society offers:
Regular Society Meetings
With excellent speakers, conducted in the East End of London, the very heart of the area that we actually study.
The Whitechapel Society: Jack the Ripper London Conference
A two day international conference attracting delegates worldwide.
The Whitechapel Society Journal
The critically acclaimed membership magazine, which features articles, reviews, interviews and much more.
Frogg Moody, 2011
1
The Beatification of Joseph Barnett
Mickey Mayhew
For Monique, who found me; and to my babies, Wolvie and Tiggy
Joseph Barnett holds a rather unique position among Ripper suspects; he’s the only partner of one of the victims to be seriously considered as a suspect. But, unlike John Kelly and Catherine Eddowes, for instance, Joseph Barnett and Mary Kelly, as a couple, are also the closest we come to painting a picture of domestic harmony amid all the horror and hyperbole of Whitechapel,in 1888. In fact, given Barnett’s proximity to the perpetually elusive Kelly, one wonders why he isn’t actually held in higher regard – the privileged person who knew the face that, 120-odd years on, can be reconstructed only from witness statements, given that the photographic evidence is just a forlorn mess. But, when Bruce Paley put Barnett forward as a suspect in his book, The Simple Truth, any notions of beatification went by the wayside, as it was suggested that Barnett himself may have been the one responsible for destroying that famous non-face in the first place.
In a nutshell, Paley put forward the hypothesis that Barnett killed the first four canonical victims in order to scare Kelly off the streets, because he disapproved of her lifestyle, and then killed Kelly herself when all these other efforts failed. Her death occurred, according to Paley, after she finally spurned Barnett, a week or so after he’d moved out of the tiny room they shared in Miller’s Court, Dorset Street. On the face of it this is possible; in fact, it’s fairly plausible. We, as human beings, do crazy things when we’re in love, and if the legends of her loveliness live up to the truth about Mary Kelly – no photo other than that of her crime scene is known to exist – maybe we’d understand why Barnett went wild the way he supposedly did. Elevating Barnett to the role of Jack the Ripper may be a touch sensationalist, but there are those willing to settle for his having killed Kelly alone; perhaps in a fit of pique over her return to prostitution. The world of Ripperology remains generous to a tee with the reputations of those it points a finger at.
Joseph Barnett was born and reared within spitting distance of all the murders, at Hairbrain Court, adjacent to the Royal Mint and mere moments from the Tower of London. He was effectively orphaned at an early age, when his father died and his mother seemingly abandoned the family, brought up henceforth by his older brothers. These facts alone are innocuous enough and, indeed, it sometimes seems as if the whole case against him hangs on this loosest of threads. Supposedly, he had a speech imp
ediment – a pronounced stammer or echolalia – that made possible over the years a sort of degeneracy of the personality. For me, the theory falls apart at this first hurdle; which dutifully leads to that dodgy area where innocent men are accused of being the most infamous serial killer in history because of some circumstantial evidence and a soupçon of specially formulated FBI profiling. Whitechapel in 1888 – as the poorest area in London – was full of people who had a lot more to contend with, both physically and mentally, than a stammer. They, as a result, didn’t all turn into knife-wielding maniacs. This isn’t in any way to do down Barnett’s personal experience – of which we know nothing – but Paley’s precisely researched pieces on the hardships of East End life, simply don’t transfer to putting Barnett on the scene as a serious suspect. In fact, they come across as fleshing out areas otherwise rather bereft of facts. It was a hard world for everybody, full stop. In fact, from all the accounts of Barnett and Kelly’s time together, he was anything but the sort of man who went around harbouring a grudge against a cruel and uncaring world. In fact, his whole demeanour and personality positively fly in the face of some of the more fearsome characters and conditions usually conjured up when referring to the Whitechapel of 1888.
Joseph Barnett. (Moody/Morris Collection)
Joseph Barnett met Mary Kelly in Commercial Street on the 8 April – Good Friday – of 1887 and they moved in together the very next day. Whilst this may indeed have been borne of economic necessity for her, for him it certainly seems to have been a case of true love. Barnett was old fashioned by our standards; he worked as a fish porter at Billingsgate market, so she didn’t have to ply her trade as a prostitute. The arrangement was suffused with an extra sense of nobility, by virtue of the fact that he was saving her, both body and soul, from the streets with his rather ample wage. Again, rather than conjuring up images of a nefarious, knife-wielding killer, I, for one, am far more put in mind of a well-meaning and rather mild-mannered young man; kind of like a downtrodden, Dickensian Clark Kent, clutching his billycock hat before him and fighting a valiant battle with his b’s, as he attempts to mollify her concerns over the constant media coverage of the killings. Without doubt, that is how Joe Barnett ought to be seen; a veritable Superman working his fingers to the bone to give the girl he loved the sort of life she deserved, rather than the sordid reality. Unfortunately, the rather random and indiscriminate realm of Ripperology then rears up, citing him as a possible suspect, simply because of his proximity to Kelly, in the hope of solving a series of murders for which there’ll never be any real justice, anyway. It’s a sort of slander, swaddled up in an all too human concern for closure. One wonders how diligent these social detectives would be if some snazzy research were to direct an accusing digit at their beloved grandfather or uncle, simply because he visited Bethnal Green occasionally and may, or may not, have worn callipers when he was a child.
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