by Rule, Fiona
Back in Duval Street, the once thriving lodging-house business was finally winding down but the criminal underworld of Spitalfields showed little sign of disappearing. Instead, it evolved into something more organised and potentially dangerous than ever before.
Ever since Jimmy Smith had set up his illicit rackets in the late nineteenth century, illegal gambling had been a popular pastime in the courts and alleyways of Spitalfields. Even the intervention of World War 1 failed to bring activities to a halt and as the new century progressed, police found themselves dealing with ever more sophisticated operations. On 18 September 1917, Robert Kenny from White’s Row appeared at Old Street Police Court charged with ‘being concerned in the management of a gaming house’ in Old Montague Street.
Police had raided the house, which had previously been used as a tailor’s workshop, the previous Saturday and had been surprised to find that the once commercial interior had been completely refitted as a gaming saloon, complete with ‘incandescent’ lighting over the tables and refreshment facilities. It appears that the police took the gamblers completely by surprise and consequently they fled, leaving their cards and money strewn across the tables. On searching members of the management, an astonishing £371 was found on the men – at the time, almost enough money to buy a house on Duval Street. On further investigation, it was discovered that the gaming house was owned by Edward Emanuel from Bethnal Green, a known proprietor of illegal gambling dens, who was duly fined £300; a paltry sum when it had already been established that he could take over that in one night.
As Spitalfields became riddled with gambling dens, the police struggled to keep the new crime wave in check. Unsurprisingly, some were only too happy to turn a blind eye if a bribe was offered. However, little did they know that their lackadaisical attitude to illegal gambling and more importantly, towards the men who ran the establishments, would contribute to the evolution of underworld characters whose exploits would make the activities of their nineteenth century predecessors look like playground antics.
As we have already discovered, 1920s Spitalfields was largely divided into two distinct groups of residents – the newly arrived Eastern Europeans and the English/Irish. The Eastern Europeans had been forced to leave their homeland and came to a country that was foreign in both culture and language. Having very little money at their disposal, they had no option but to live in the poorest areas of London in often squalid and overcrowded conditions. The existing population felt threatened by the new immigrants whose language and practices were different to their own. Consequently, divisions appeared and with those divisions came animosity, contempt and violence. The young of both factions went about in groups and learnt at a young age that there was safety in numbers. Unfortunately, these groups quickly evolved into gangs and began to create disturbing new problems for the area.
Gangs causing trouble in Spitalfields was certainly not a new phenomenon. There had been serious problems with group violence since the silk weavers’ insurrections in the eighteenth century. However, the twentieth century gangs were the first to realise that intimidation and the threat of violence would not only cultivate fear and a certain twisted prestige. It could also earn them a living.
By the end of World War 1, the Eastern European gangs had begun to demand protection money from the traders at Petticoat Lane street market. No doubt playing on the social divides that existed at the time, they would scare the traders into parting with ridiculously large sums of cash. In return, they would ‘keep an eye’ on the traders’ stalls and make sure that nothing happened to either them or their stock. In reality of course, the only threat that existed was from the gang offering protection. Protection rackets were the first rung of the criminal ladder for many young Spitalfields men. Following success in this field, they would inevitably move on to the well-established and extremely lucrative illegal gambling circuit and from there to all manner of illegal activities from robbery to murder.
One of Britain’s most famous gangland bosses learnt his trade on the streets of Whitechapel and Spitalfields. Jacob Comacho was born in Myrdle Street, Whitechapel, in 1913, the son of Polish immigrants. Known from an early age by his nickname ‘Jack Spot’ (due to a distinctive mole on his cheek) the young lad soon embarked on a criminal career pinching lead from a local scrap dealer and selling it back to him. On leaving school, Jack tried out a few straight jobs including a spell in the Merchant Navy. However, a law-abiding life proved to be uninspiring and soon he was back with the local gangs in Whitechapel, this time working the protection rackets along Petticoat Lane.
During his late-teens, Jack Spot earned a reputation as both a competent worker and a fierce fighter and his exploits soon came to the attention of older, more experienced members of the criminal fraternity. He began working for various local bookmakers (quite possibly including Jimmy Smith) and became a trusted member of their team, even managing a local club for one of them. Because the local police had long since washed their hands of the illegal gaming and drinking clubs in the area, evenings at these establishments were regularly disrupted by rival gangs from other parts of London keen to get in on the action.
The most feared mob was the Italian gang from Clerkenwell, headed by the enigmatic Darby Sabini. Sabini’s gang had first emerged just before World War 1 and after hostilities ended, they quickly asserted themselves as the pre-eminent mob in London, specialising in both street crime and racecourse bookmaking. They were a constant threat to their East End adversaries and continued to be a thorn in their side until World War 2.
As part of his work for the bookmakers, Jack Spot was regularly sent to racecourses and dog tracks where he earned his keep practicing betting scams on race-goers and intimidating rival bookmakers into relinquishing their pitches. During this period, Spot also developed a talent for self-promotion. Keen to offset his criminal activities with seemingly good works, he began to style himself as a defender of the East End’s much-persecuted Jewish contingent. In the autumn of 1936, an incident occurred that was to improve his public profile immensely.
On 4 October, Oswald Mosley’s British Union of Fascists planned to march through the largely Jewish neighbourhood of Stepney. This march, which was ostensibly organised to mark the fourth anniversary of the foundation of the party, was also designed to strike terror into the heart of the Jewish community. The Stepney branch of the Communist Party were horrified at the prospect of the march going ahead and were determined to stop it taking place. They began to whip up support from the local community and on the morning of the march some 15,000 anti-Fascists blocked the Commercial Road chanting ‘They Shall Not Pass’.
Sensing that there could be a bloodbath if the two factions met head on, the police commissioner insisted that Mosley’s men (who totalled a rather pathetic 2,000 in number) march in the opposite direction. The commissioner’s last-minute decision probably adverted a catastrophe. Even though there was not a head-on collision of the two rival groups, several major scuffles did break out. However, the police managed to maintain order for the majority of the day. Rightly proud of the fact they had scuppered Mosley’s plans, the East End residents returned home full of enthusiastic tales and soon stories of the confrontation became exaggerated.
What in reality had been a series of isolated incidents became known as ‘The Battle of Cable Street’. Seizing the opportunity to develop his reputation, Jack Spot quickly disseminated tales of his pivotal role in the battle, even claiming that he had been sentenced to six months in prison for assaulting one of Mosley’s men. In truth, Spot was never imprisoned as a result of fighting the Fascists but his tale helped to cement his reputation as defender of his people.
Three years later, the outbreak of World War 2 proved to be a turning point in the fortunes of not only Spot but also dozens of other underworld characters as they made a small fortune out of the wartime black market. In addition to this, as the war progressed, the ensuing hostilities with Italy resulted in many members of the Sabini gang being inte
rned, thus leaving the way clear for other gangs to take over their business interests. Together with fellow gangster Billy Hill, Jack Spot capitalised on the lack of competition and asserted control over much of the criminal underworld on the north side of the Thames. For nearly ten years after the end of the war, Spot and Hill were the self-proclaimed leaders of London’s criminal fraternity.
Enjoying his new-found wealth and success, Spot left his native Whitechapel and moved up west, renting a spacious Edwardian apartment in Hyde Park Mansions, minutes away from the West End. However, his newly found opulent lifestyle was destined to be short lived. By 1953, Jack Spot was rapidly losing control of his empire. His bookmaking operations were being seriously threatened by the larger betting companies and once-loyal allies were beginning to turn against him. The final nail in the coffin came when safebreaker Eddie Chapman began to spread rumours that Spot was an informer after allegedly obtaining a copy of his police file. In 1956, Jack Spot was made bankrupt. Now with few friends left in the criminal fraternity, he retreated into obscurity and lived out the rest of his life in highly reduced circumstances, finally passing away in 1995.
Back in 1953, Spot had made a last-ditch attempt to protect what remained of his bookmaking pitches by employing the services of two rising stars of the underworld who operated close to his old manor of Whitechapel and Spitalfields. The surname of these two men was Kray.
Much has been written on the criminal careers of the Kray twins and many debates have taken place as to why they chose to embark on a life of crime. While Ron battled with mental illness as he grew older, it seems that Reg possessed both the intellect and business sense to have made a success of himself without resorting to unlawful activities. However, a close look at the men’s heritage reveals characteristics that perhaps make the twins’ choice of career less surprising. It also reveals that both their maternal and paternal grandparents had close links to Spitalfields.
Ronald and Reginald Kray were born on 24 October 1933 to Charles David Kray and his wife Violet Lee. Charles Kray spent most of his life earning a precarious living from hawking any goods he could get his hands on and spending the proceeds either in the pub or the bookies. Despite the unstable nature of the work, he enjoyed the freedom that self-employment gave him. During World War 2, he deserted the Army and spent the following years constantly on the run from the police. This meant that he was rarely at home when the twins were young. Desertion from the Army does however seem to be the only major crime Charles Kray ever committed, despite the fact that he regularly mixed with the East London criminal fraternity.
In the late 1960s, he boasted to the writer John Pearson, ‘I was brought up with most of the famous villains in the old East End. Knew ’em all in my time, ’specially when I was on the trot.’ However when Pearson asked why he didn’t get involved in his neighbours’ criminal pursuits he replied, ‘I couldn’t see anything in it. Say you get caught for doin’ a grand and get ten years for it, I ask you, what does it represent? How much a week? Too much like hard work for me.’
While Charles Kray’s avoidance of the criminal life seems to be due to laziness, the same could not be said for his father James. Charles Kray told Pearson, ‘My father was a tough old boy, very good looking but wild. Same type as Ronnie. He was known as “mad Jimmy Kray”.’
James Kray was also remembered by old East End villain Arthur Harding who recalled:
‘The Krays came from a great hawking family, one of the biggest in London. Old Jim Kray, he had the next door to me in Brick Lane, next to the “Princes Head” so I knew him quite well. He was a wardrobe dealer, but more a rag-and-bone bloke years ago – they used to call ’em “totters”... They had a way of going to the tailoring shops, where there’d be a lot of cuttings... and they’re only too glad to get someone to take ’em. Then they’d take them down Radgies’ – they bought all rags and that.’
James Kray and his parents originated from the Old Nichol, which at the time was one of the worst slums in London, controlled by the infamous ‘Old Nichol Mob’ so it is unlikely that Charles Kray was exaggerating when he claimed to have known many of the area’s most notorious criminals in his youth.
The Kray twins’ mother’s heritage was little better than their father’s. Violet Lee came from a family who also had strong links with Spitalfields. In fact her grandfather had rented a shop in Brick Lane during the late nineteenth century. It was this man who may be responsible for the mental illness that plagued Ron in adulthood. Violet’s father, music hall entertainer and part-time pugilist, Jimmy ‘Southpaw Cannonball’ Lee, told John Pearson that his father, a butcher by trade, was a violent man and a heavy drinker. One night while fuelled with alcohol, his mind finally caved in and he savagely attacked his wife and children. Following this terrifying incident, he was committed to a lunatic asylum, where he died. His father’s drunken attack left a deep impression on young Jimmy, who remained a strict teetotaller throughout his life and wouldn’t even allow alcohol in his home.
As World War 2 commenced, the Spitalfields recalled by Jimmy Lee and Charles Kray had almost completely disappeared. The story of the worst street in London was nearly over. However during the war years, the location of Duval Street and the surrounding area made it a centre for the storage of black market goods, from stockings to tobacco. Once again its proximity to the Docks and network of ancient tenements and warehouses made it the perfect place for the likes of Jack Spot and his cronies to hide contraband. Luckily for them, their stock remained largely undamaged despite heavy bombing of the East End during the Blitz.
The Blitz began on 7 September when the German Luftwaffe launched a ferocious airborne assault on London. The planes’ initial targets were the Beckton gas works, the docks and the Royal Arsenal factory at Woolwich. However, World War 2 bombing campaigns were not precise and consequently many civilian areas were hit. East London was an overcrowded, densely populated place and the residents found few places to shelter as the bombs rained down. In total, 430 people were killed on the first night of the Blitz and over three times that number were seriously injured.
The London Blitz continued for 76 nights with only one night of respite. Unlike many of their West End neighbours, most East Londoners did not have the necessary funds to escape to the safety of the British countryside and so were trapped at the centre of the action. Quickly recognising the need to devise shelters if they were to survive the nightly raids they commandeered any underground structures in the locality and made them into makeshift dormitories. Tube stations became a popular destination during air raids, as did the crypts of churches.
For the remaining residents of Duval Street, the closest air raid shelters were at Aldgate underground station – a short walk down Commercial Street or the crypt of Christ Church, which was just at the top of the road. Although many East Londoners regularly used the underground shelters, many families stayed in their own homes during air raids, deciding it was better to take your chances above ground than risk being buried alive if the underground shelter took a direct hit.
The East End took such a battering during the Blitz that it might be reasonable to assume that Spitalfields suffered severe damage. However, this was not the case. Thrawl Street, Flower and Dean Street and Fashion Street escaped virtually unscathed, as did Spitalfields Market and the roads directly adjacent to it. Of all the streets close to the market, Whites Row fared the worst when houses at the western end suffered a direct hit. The resulting explosion also damaged five properties in Duval Street, rendering them uninhabitable. After the war, these buildings were turned into warehouses and offices for traders at Spitalfields Market.
The remaining part of Duval Street staggered on. However, the publication of a paper by economist Sir William Beveridge in 1942 was to have a profound effect on Duval Street’s depleted residents and would also inadvertently signal the final destruction of this squalid but tenacious little thoroughfare.
In December 1942, the coalition Wartime Government publish
ed Beveridge’s paper under the title ‘Social Insurance and Allied Services’. The message conveyed by the paper of state support ‘from the cradle to the grave’ was widely published and to many people’s surprise, the public’s response to the ‘Beveridge Report’ (as it became widely known) was extremely favourable. This positive response showed just how much the public’s attitude to the poor had changed since the beginning of the century. Back in Victorian times, the prevailing attitude towards the poor was that they should help themselves (temperance and attending church regularly being the main routes to redemption). However, as the Labour movement became more powerful and the catastrophic loss of life during World War 1 eroded many families’ religious faith, the public gradually began to see that state intervention might be a better way to help those in need.
Prime Minister Herbert Asquith had begun to put the concept of a welfare state into action during the early years of the twentieth century by introducing the Old Age Pensions Act in 1908 and the National Insurance Act three years later. However, both these acts were reminiscent of the philanthropic housing schemes of the previous century in that they only benefited those who had been in regular (and legal) employment. It wasn’t until the end of World War 2 that life for the chronically poor was changed for the better.
In 1946, the National Insurance Act created a system of benefits to help those unable to work due to ill-health, redundancy, pregnancy or old age. Two years later, the National Health Service began providing free diagnosis and treatment. Finally, the long-suffering residents of Duval Street (and hundreds of other streets like it) could see a light at the end of a very long tunnel.
As we have previously seen, most residents of Duval Street, from the 1880s onwards were only there because they had nowhere else to go. Many were unable to work because they were either too old or mentally or physically sick. The creation of the NHS meant that these people could finally be correctly diagnosed and/or effectively helped. If treatment was not possible, then benefits were available to enable them to keep a decent roof over their heads and food in their stomachs. The mere fact that hospital beds were now free meant that many could finally leave the dreadful common lodging houses and seek medical help.
