Jack The Ripper

by Mark Whitehead

  Following the press comments about ‘Leather Apron’, anti-Semitic feelings became more pronounced. An influx of Jewish immigrants in 1881 had been met with sympathy but the economic depression had led to increased competition for the few jobs there were and the customary attitude of ‘Them’ coming over here and taking ‘Our’ jobs was never far from the surface. Representatives of the Jewish commu­nity sought to quell the anti-Jewish feeling. Letters were sent to newspapers explaining that Hebrew beliefs involved a complex abhorrence of spilling blood. On 15 September, the Day of Atonement, the Chief Rabbi, Dr Hermann Adler spoke with the same message in mind, pleading for religious tolerance and asserting that no Hebrew could be capable of such appalling crimes. Samuel Montagu’s offer of £100 reward was made with the same goal in mind, as was the assembly of the Mile End Vigilance Committee, many of whose members were Jewish tradesmen. These efforts to show that East End Jews were as concerned for the safety of the community as anyone calmed the public to some degree, but a fear of anti-Semitic riots continued to haunt the pro­ceedings and certainly remained a possibility for Sir Charles Warren, the Metropolitan Chief Police Commissioner.

  Mrs Darrell’s testimony that the man she’d seen talking to Chapman was ‘foreign-looking’ didn’t help matters. However, when her testimony was given on 19 September, the atmosphere in the East End had relaxed and locals, par­ticularly prostitutes, were beginning to take to the night streets again. Not everyone was terrified by the crimes. Some even found ways to profit by them. Inhabitants of houses over­looking the backyard of 29, Hanbury Street charged members of the public a small entrance fee so that they could see the crime scene. A waxworks’ owner in Whitechapel Road splashed red paint on three of his female dummies and exhib­ited them as Tabram, Nichols and Chapman.

  Perhaps the group that profited most from the crimes was the press.The sales of newspapers to bloodthirsty members of the public eager to hear the latest about the atrocities boosted sales like nothing before, and extra print runs were needed to meet requirements. Journalists from the tabloid Star to the upmarket Daily Telegraph rose to the challenge. Even the usually sedate Times wasn’t exempt. All were equally keen to make political currency out of the murders. Both radical and conservative papers used coverage to criti­cise the Home Secretary and Sir Charles Warren.

  Sir Charles Warren, in turn, was highly critical of the behaviour of the press. He angrily denounced them to Matthews for trailing police officers on their enquiries and re-interviewing people once the police had finished their questions. The CID’s policy of maintaining secrecy to pro­tect the investigation caused journalists to resort to such tactics. Journalists flocked to Wynne Baxter’s lengthy inquests which supplied them with many of the details they couldn’t glean from the police, and claimed that fuller reports could only help the police investigation.

  The press and the public were only too keen to offer their own theories to the police.Was the killer a religious maniac on a crusade to clean up the vice-ridden streets of Whitechapel? Were the attacks motivated by revenge, the killer having contracted a venereal disease from a prostitute? Maybe he was the member of some heathen sect, or a Jewish ritual slaughterman seeking out human sacrifices. On 13 September, The Star suggested photographing Chapman’s eyes (there was a widely-held belief that the human retina retained the last image it saw).This was politely ignored, but the Home Secretary would later suggest the same idea to Sir Charles Warren during the investigation of the next Ripper victim, Elizabeth Stride. After Chapman’s murder Dr L Forbes Winslow, self-described ‘medical theorist and practical detective,’ offered the first of his suggestions to The Times, advising the police to check lunatic asylums for patients recently discharged or escaped. Winslow later became obsessed with the case to the degree that he patrolled the streets in search of clues.

  Wynne Baxter’s theory of the cash-hungry uterus collec­tor was welcomed by the press but disputed by the medical fraternity. Most medical schools denied receiving such a request. University College and Middlesex Hospitals refused to confirm or deny the suggestion. Instead, their comments that the interests of justice were endangered by the disclosure suggest that they might have been approached by just such a journal publisher. By 6 October, the British Medical Journal sought to kill off the idea. They referred to a foreign physician of ‘highest reputability’ who had enquired eighteen months previously about securing certain anatom­ical specimens for scientific investigation. Their theory was that this request had been misinterpreted by ‘a minor offi­cial’. No more was heard from Baxter on the subject.

  Some Contemporary Suspects

  At 7am on the morning of Annie Chapman’s murder, Mrs Fiddymont, landlady of the Prince Albert pub in Brushfield Street (about 400 yards from 29, Hanbury Street) was in the bar with her friend Mary Chappell.While they were talking a rough-looking man came in and asked for ale. He looked ‘so startling and terrifying’ that their suspicions were imme­diately aroused. His shirt was torn on the right shoulder and a narrow streak of blood visible under his right ear. On the back of his right hand were several spots of blood and there was dried blood between his fingers. Seeing he was being watched, he drank up and left.

  He was followed from the pub by Joseph Taylor, a builder, alerted by Mrs Fiddymont. Taylor followed the man as far as Half Moon Street, Bishopsgate. He described the man as middle-aged, medium height with short, sandy hair and a ginger moustache which curled at its ends. He had faint hol­lows under his cheekbones and his eyes were wild and staring. The man’s dress was ‘shabby-genteel’, with pepper-and-salt trousers and a dark coat.When Taylor drew level with him to get a better look, ‘his look was enough to frighten any woman’. The description would preoccupy Abberline during the arrest of several suspects.Two days after Annie Chapman’s murder, the police thought they’d finally caught their man.

  Leather Apron

  On the morning of 10 September, Sergeant William Thick and another officer knocked at the door of 22, Mulberry Street. The door was opened by John Pizer, alias ‘Leather Apron’.Allegedly Thick said:‘You are just the man I’m look­ing for.’ Thick took Pizer to Leman Street Police station together with some knives found on the premises. This was so casually handled that they were inside the station before word spread that ‘Leather Apron’ had been captured and a huge crowd gathered outside. Inside, Pizer was interrogated about his movements on the nights of Nichols’ and Chapman’s murders. On the night of Nichols’ death he was, he claimed, lodging at ‘The Round-House’ in Holloway Road. From 6 September, he had been in hiding at 22, Mulberry Street in fear for his life.

  The police were able to verify these claims. The landlord of the Holloway Road lodging house remembered Pizer because, that night, there had been a fire at the Albert Docks. Seeing reflections of it in the sky, Pizer had discussed the fire with the landlord and two police officers outside. His brother told how Pizer had fled to lodgings in Westminster on 2 September after being pointed out as ‘Leather Apron’ and pursued by a ‘howling crowd’. The Thursday before Chapman’s death, Pizer had returned to Whitechapel. He had immediately gone into hiding at 22, Mulberry Street (his brother’s and stepmother’s home) on being told there was still ‘false suspicion’ of him.

  Pizer was part of an identity parade held on 10 September. Mrs Fiddymont was unable to identify him but one Emmanuel Violenia claimed to have seen him threaten­ing a woman with a knife in Hanbury Street the night Chapman died. Violenia added that he knew Pizer as ‘Leather Apron’. Under further questioning Violenia was discredited. The police believed that he’d fabricated the story in order to see Chapman’s body. Pizer was released.

  On 12 September, Pizer was summoned to formally clear himself of suspicion of murder. His claim that Sergeant Thick had known him for eighteen years was cut short by the coroner. Thick, however, stated the same day that when people referred to ‘Leather Apron’, they meant Pizer (despite claims of Pizer, his friends and family to the con­trary).

  While P
izer was undoubtedly the ‘John Pozer’ sentenced to six months hard labour in July 1887 for attacking James Willis, a fellow boot-finisher, he was no longer under suspicion of being the Whitechapel murderer. On 11 October 1888, he successfully sued Emily Patswold for calling him ‘Old Leather Apron’ and attacking him. She was fined 10 shillings.

  William Henry Pigott

  53-year-old Pigott was arrested at Gravesend where he had attracted suspicion by loudly expressing a hatred of women. One of his hands was also injured. Sources alternately claim he was a ship’s cook or a failed Hoxton publican. Both state that he was believed to be mentally unstable. He was arrested on 9 September in the Pope’s Head Tavern. A paper parcel that he had left behind in a fish shop was found to contain clothing, including a bloodstained shirt with a torn pocket. Pigott claimed that he’d seen a woman collapse in a fit in Whitechapel about 4.30am on Saturday 8th. When he went to help her she bit his hand and he struck her in return. Seeing policemen heading towards him, he fled.

  Informed by telegram of Pigott’s arrest, Inspector Abberline escorted him back to Whitechapel where he was put in an identity parade. Neither Mrs Fiddymont nor Joseph Taylor picked him out. Mrs Chappell did so but remained uncertain about whether Pigott was indeed the man. The police found no evidence to connect Pigott to Chapman’s death and his movements were accounted for. On 10 September, he was committed to the Whitechapel Workhouse Infirmary where he was treated for delirium tremens and later discharged.

  Jacob Isenschmid

  Isenschmid was a Swiss butcher, located in Holloway. When his business failed, he suffered a nervous breakdown result­ing in a ten-week stay at Colney Hatch Asylum in 1887. On 11 September, acting on a letter from Doctors Cowan and Crabb of Holloway, who believed him to be the Whitechapel murderer, the police investigated his lodgings at 60, Milford Road and his former home at 97, Duncombe Road, Holloway, where his wife still lived. She told the police that she hadn’t seen him in two months and that he often carried butchers’ knives with him. His landlord reported that on the night of Annie Chapman’s murder he’d come back at about 9pm and left again at 1am. He’d repeated the same pattern four times out of five previous nights. The police staked out both addresses until it was discovered that Isenschmid had been leaving at night to buy sheep’s heads and other offcuts to dress and sell in the West End. By the later murders he was back in Colney Hatch.

  Charles Ludwig (aka Charles Ludwig Wetzel)

  Early in the morning of 18 September, prostitute Elizabeth Burns accompanied Charles Ludwig to Three Kings Court, The Minories, a small dark court near some railway arches. Here, Ludwig pulled a knife on her. Her cries of ‘Murder!’ attracted the attention of City PC John Johnson. Johnson sent Ludwig on his way and Burns went with the policeman. Obviously frightened, it was only then that she mentioned that Ludwig had threatened her with a knife. Johnson returned to the court, but Ludwig had vanished.

  Ludwig resurfaced, the worse for drink, at about 3am at a coffee stall on Whitechapel High Street. Here he threat­ened Alexander Finlay with a long-bladed penknife. This drew the attention of PC John Gallagher who hauled him off to Leman Street police station.When searched he was found to be carrying a razor and a pair of long-bladed scissors. Brought before Thames Magistrates Court that day, he was charged with being drunk and disorderly and threatening to stab. The magistrate remanded him in custody for a week. During this time, the police laboured to find out everything that they could about him.

  A recent immigrant, Ludwig had been employed as a barber’s assistant by a Mr Partridge at Richter’s, a German club in Houndsditch. Ludwig slept on the shop’s floor for a while but then went to stay with a tailor named Johannes, in Church Street. Johannes apparently took exception to Ludwig’s habits and forced him to leave on 17 September. That day, increasingly drunk, he went to Richter’s and to a hotel in Finsbury where his threatening behaviour (he pulled razors on several people) caused him to be ejected. Partridge stood by him, after a fashion, claiming that Ludwig was too much of a coward to be the Whitechapel murderer. The landlord of the hotel was less supportive, stating that Ludwig had talked about the murders and was always in a bad temper, grinding his teeth with rage at any little thing that upset him. He further claimed Ludwig had also been a doctor’s assistant in the army, where he had helped to dis­sect bodies, and often consorted with prostitutes.

  The evidence against Ludwig made him appear a prime suspect. He was subjected to further periods of remand until his whereabouts during the previous weeks were inves­tigated. He was finally released on 2 October. However, while he was in jail, his innocence was proved when the real murderer struck again...

  Double Event

  ‘We’re all up to no good, and no one cares what becomes of us.’ Unidentified prostitute quoted by Dr Thomas Barnardo, letter to The Times, October 6th 1888

  Three weeks after Annie Chapman’s murder, the police’s best efforts had uncovered no suspects who proved to be the murderer and Whitechapel nightlife slowly returned to normal. The press still featured the murders prominently, fuelled with information from the lengthy Nichols and Chapman inquests. The murder of a woman near Gateshead on 22 September led many to believe the killer had fled to pastures new. The weekend of Saturday 29 September changed all that.

  A Ripper Writes...

  Just as there had been people claiming to have committed the murders wasting the police’s time, there had also been letters admitting to the same, but on 27 September a letter arrived that demanded more attention. It was addressed simply to ‘The Boss, Central News Office, London City’ and post­marked September 27th, London EC, the same day that it was received at the Central News Agency at Ludgate Circus. It was written in red ink in an educated hand and ran:

  25 Sept: 1888

  Dear Boss

  I keep on hearing the police have caught me but they wont fix me just yet. I have laughed when they look so clever and talk about being on the right track. That joke about Leather Apron gave me real fits. I am down on whores and I shant quit ripping them till I do get buckled. Grand work the last job was. I gave the lady no time to squeal. How can they catch me now. I love my work and want to start again.You will soon hear of me with my funny little games. I saved some of the proper red stuff in a ginger beer bottle over the last job to write with but it went thick like glue and I cant use it. Red ink is fit enough I hope ha ha.The next job I do I shall clip the ladys ears off and send to the police offi­cers just for jolly wouldnt you. Keep this letter back till I do a bit more work, then give it out straight. My knife’s so nice and sharp I want to get to work right away if I get a chance. Good luck.

  Yours truly

  Jack the Ripper

  Dont mind me giving the trade name

  A second postscript in red crayon was written at a right angle to the rest. It read:

  wasnt good enough to post this before I got all the red

  ink off my hands curse it. No luck yet. They say I’m a

  doctor now ha ha

  Two days later it was forwarded to Chief Constable Williamson at Scotland Yard. An attached letter by journal­ist Thomas Bulling explained that it ‘was treated like a joke’. Whatever their first impression of the letter, the police cer­tainly paid more notice to Jack’s warning the next day.

  Double Event

  Dutfield’s Yard sat on the west side of Berner Street (now Henriques Street), a southern turning off Commercial Road. The yard had been named after Arthur Dutfield, whose van and cart-making business had once been there. The large wooden gates at the yard’s entrance still pro­claimed Dutfield’s connection, but now the yard housed only a sack warehouse and a disused stable. It was flanked on the left by a row of cottages. To its right stood the International Working Men’s Educational Club, a Socialist meeting place mainly attended by Russian and Polish Jews. Entry to the club was either through the front door or by a side entrance past the gates in Dutfield’s Yard. For this reason, the gates were usually left open. Any lighting
in the yard came from the cottages or the club and only illumi­nated its top end. As a result, the first eighteen feet or so within the gates were pitch black after sunset.

  On Saturday nights the club held free discussions. On Saturday 29 September, this had ended around midnight after which many of the ninety or so attendees had gone home.

  Thirty-odd remained behind to socialise, sing and chat with their fellows. Although there was noise coming from the upstairs rooms of the club, it was not rowdy.Witnesses were certain that had there been a cry of ‘Murder!’ from the yard, they would have heard it. Between 12.30 and 12.40am sev­eral people, including the club’s chairman, Morris Eagle, would leave and/or enter via Dutfield’s Yard. All of them would later state that the yard had been empty.

  Twenty minutes later, the situation was much different. Louis Diemschütz, the club steward, lived on the premises with his wife. On Saturdays he sold cheap jewellery atWestow Hill market, Crystal Palace. This Saturday was no different, and he returned to the club at 1.00am, intending to unload his unsold merchandise before stabling his pony and barrow at George Yard. Driving into Dutfield’s Yard, the pony suddenly shied over to the left-hand side of the passage. Looking down to his right, Diemschütz noticed something lying on the ground.At first he tried to feel what it was with his whip. Still uncertain, he jumped down and struck a match. Lying by the club wall was a woman. He ran inside and told several mem­bers of his discovery. Returning outside with a lighted candle, they saw blood on the ground. Immediately Diemschütz headed towards Fairclough Street in search of the police. Morris Eagle also went for assistance, running toward Commercial Street. Diemschütz found no officer, but was fol­lowed back by Edward Spooner, a horse-keeper attracted by all the excitement. At the yard, someone lit a match and Spooner inspected the woman. He lifted her chin. It was still warm and blood still flowed from a deep cut in the throat.