In those statements, both men admitted playing a part in George Smart’s death but each blamed the other for the actual murder. Gilbert, who had once worked at the Aban Court Hotel for three months in 1953, admitted that he had struck Smart, but had only hit him twice before gagging him. Grant, for his part, claimed that he had seen Smart with his hand raised, as if he were about to strike out, and so hit him once, in the stomach. It was Gilbert who then hit Smart very hard, and continued to beat him, even after he was tied up.
The jury had little trouble in finding both men guilty of murder. There was now no need to proceed with the larceny charges and they were dropped. Both men were then sentenced to death.
An appeal was entered and during the proceedings the defence claimed that, since neither man had gone to the hotel with the intention of killing Smart, the correct verdict should be guilty of manslaughter. The three appeal court judges ruled that since the men had gone to the Aban Court with the intention of stealing, and were quite prepared to use violence, the charge was one of murder. The appeal was dismissed.
On Thursday, 17 June 1954, Kenneth Gilbert and Ian Arthur Grant were hanged at Pentonville by Albert Pierrepoint, who had three assistants: Royston Rickard, J Grant and Harry Smith. Though other pairs of killers would be hanged in the future, this was the last time that two men were hanged side by side at the same time. From this time onwards, double executions were always carried out at two different prisons.
Chapter 37
Guenther Fritz Erwin Podola
1959
In Friday, 3 July 1959, a burglary took place at a flat in Rowland Gardens, South Kensington. The owner of the flat, a model named Verne Schiffman, lost some furs, jewellery and personal papers. In all, the value of the haul was put at £2,000, a considerable sum of money at this time.
A few days after the robbery, on Tuesday, 7 July, Mrs Schiffman received a letter, which purported to come from an American private investigator named Levine. In the letter, Mr Levine claimed that some letters and tapes, of a compromising nature, had come into his hands. Mr Levine would be happy to give these items back to Mrs Schiffman, for the sum of £500.
Verne Schiffman knew full well that no such incriminating tapes or letters existed and that this was nothing more than a crude attempt at blackmail. Further, since this had all occurred within a few days of the robbery, it seemed reasonable to assume that the caller was the man who had burgled her flat. Mrs Schiffman contacted the police.
On 12 July, Verne Schiffman received a telephone call from someone who gave his name as Fisher, and said he was acting as an agent for Mr Levine. Fisher wanted to know what her reply was to Mr Levine’s offer. An astute Mrs Schiffman asked the caller to ring the next day, contacted the police again, and had a trace put on her telephone line.
At 3.30pm on Monday, 13 July, Fisher rang back as he had been asked. Verne Schiffer kept the man talking while the police traced the call. Within minutes they had discovered that the caller was ringing from a public telephone box at South Kensington underground station. Mrs Schiffman was still talking to the potential blackmailer when she heard him shout, ‘Hey, what do you want?’ This was followed by the sound of a scuffle and then a new voice came onto the line. The voice said, ‘Mrs Schiffer, this is Detective Sergeant Raymond William Purdy. Remember my name.’
In fact, two police officers had rushed to the telephone box in South Kensington. Purdy had been accompanied by Detective Sergeant John Sandford and they now began to escort the arrested man out of the underground and into the street. As they did so, the man managed to squirm free and run off down the street. The two sergeants gave chase and saw him vanish into a block of flats at 105 Onslow Square.
There was no other way out of the building, so it was now only a matter of time before the two detectives spotted their quarry. Within moments, he was seen trying to hide behind a concrete pillar. He was ordered to come out and not try to get away again.
Sergeant Purdy sat the man down on a low window sill while his colleague went to find the caretaker of the flats. Sandford knocked on the caretaker’s door but there was no reply. As he turned to tell Purdy, the man they had arrested reached into his jacket pocket, took out a revolver and fired one shot at Sergeant Purdy.
Detective Sergeant Raymond William Purdy fell to the floor, a bullet in his heart. As Sandford dashed to help his stricken colleague, their prisoner escaped for the second time. Sergeant Purdy was already dead. The burglary and blackmail suspect was now wanted for murder.
Two days after the shooting, on 15 July, Sergeant Purdy’s widow rang the police station. After her husband had been killed, officers had, as was routine, called around to offer their deep condolences and to return her husband’s property to her. One item, however, an address book, did not belong to her husband and Mrs Purdy was at a loss to know how it had been mixed up with Raymond’s possessions.
The notebook did not belong to Raymond Purdy, but it had been found in his jacket pocket when he had been shot. Since it did not belong to him, it seemed reasonable to assume that it must have belonged to the man that he and Sandford had arrested. The address book was checked and, after some of the addresses had already been visited, officers called at the next one on the list, the Claremont Hotel, 95 Queen’s Gate, Kensington. It was Thursday, 16 July 1959.
Given a detailed description of the wanted man, the hotel manager identified him as the man in room 15, a guest by the name of Paul Camay. Reinforcements were called for, and at 3.45pm, a number of officers assembled outside the door of room 15.
An officer hammered on the door, identified himself as a police officer and demanded that the door be opened. For a few seconds, all was silence, and then the police waiting outside heard a small click. This may well have been the wanted man turning the key in the lock, in order to admit the police, but equally, this man had already shot dead one police officer and that noise might have been the cocking of a gun. One of the more burly officers, Detective Sergeant Chambers, slammed into the door and knocked it flying. Unfortunately for the wanted man, he was immediately behind the door, crouching down to look through the keyhole, and got the full force of the blow in his face. Taken to St Stephen’s Hospital, to receive treatment for his injury, the wanted man, known previously, as either Fisher or Levine, was shown to be Guenther Fritz Erwin Podola.
Guenther Podola had been born in Berlin on 8 February 1929. Growing up during the height of the Nazi era, Podola was in his early teens when his father was killed on the Russian front. Too young to fight himself, Podola was an active and fanatical member of the Hitler Youth.
After Germany’s defeat, Podola found life in his own country very difficult and, in 1952, had emigrated to Canada, arriving there in the August of that year. He took a number of jobs, first in Quebec and later in Montreal, but he soon turned to a life of petty crime. In 1957, he received a short prison sentence for house-breaking. This was rapidly followed by a two-year term for eleven other offences. He was released on 25 July 1958, and deported back to Germany.
For a short time, Podola worked as a labourer in Stuttgart but on 21 May 1959, he had flown to London. Here he had turned back to petty crime, committing a number of burglaries, before his attempt to turn to blackmail after the Rowland Gardens robbery.
Held in the hospital, Podola claimed that he had lost his memory, and had no idea why the police had arrested him. Despite this claim, Podola was charged with the murder of Detective Sergeant Purdy, on 20 July.
Podola actually faced two trials. The first of these, on 10 September, was purely to decide if Podola’s claim of memory loss were genuine or not. Various doctors were called. Some said that Podola could not possibly be faking, and his memory loss was genuine. Others testified that it was all a lie and he was pretending in order to avoid facing a murder trial. The deliberations took almost two weeks and it was not until 23 September that the jury returned their verdict: Podola was faking and knew perfectly well what crime he had committed. The following day, 24 Sep
tember, the murder trial began.
Podola’s trial for murder lasted for two days, before Mr Justice Davies. The case for the Crown was led by Mr Maxwell Turner, and Podola was defended by Mr Frederick Lawton. Asked how he wished to plead Podola persisted in his claim that he could not enter any plea as he had no memory of the crime for which he was being tried. The judge ordered that a not guilty plea be entered.
For the defence, Mr Lawton now suggested that the gun must have gone off accidentally and, therefore, his client was only guilty of manslaughter. This was disproved by Mr Nickolls of the Metropolitan Police Laboratory who had tested the weapon, and found it to be in perfect working order. It could not be fired accidentally, and required deliberate pressure on the trigger.
Having listened to all the evidence, the jury took just thirty-five minutes to decide that Podola was guilty, and he was then sentenced to death. Podola did not enter an appeal himself but, since the case had raised a difficult point of law, the Home Secretary referred the matter to the Court of Appeal himself. The hearing took place on 15 October but it was decided that the verdict and sentence were safe.
Still every precaution was taken. A medical committee was established to examine Podola’s mental condition. They decided, unanimously, that Podola’s memory loss was a fake and that he had fully understood the case against him. Podola’s last hope was lost on 2 November, when he was advised, through his solicitor, that the Home Secretary had found no grounds for interfering with the sentence of death.
Three days later, on Thursday, 5 November 1959, thirty-year-old Guenther Podola was hanged at Wandsworth prison by Harry Allen and Royston Rickard. He was the last man ever executed in Britain for the murder of a policeman.
Chapter 38
Marilyn Anne Bain
1962
John Michael Hubbard was growing rather tired of the noise from upstairs, at 60 Redcliffe Square. Almost every morning it seemed to be the same. Yesterday, the two women who lived upstairs had been screaming at each other at around 3.00am, and now, on Thursday, 13 September 1962, it was happening all over again.
Mr Hubbard, a solicitor, was first woken at about the same time, 3.00am, when the two women started arguing. He was unable to distinguish any of the words but the noise was constant for an hour or so. Finally, Mr Hubbard was able to drift off to sleep again, only to be woken for a second time, at 5.00am, by yet another argument. Though he was not to know it at the time, Mr Hubbard would only ever have his sleep disturbed, by the women upstairs, on one more occasion.
One of the women who lived in the flat upstairs was Marilyn Anne Bain. She had been born, in Fife, Scotland, on 21 March 1937. An intelligent girl, she did not, however, seem to excel at school but, once she had left, Marilyn had appeared to blossom somewhat. She joined the Army and served as a nurse in Hong Kong, Malaya, Singapore and at various locations within the United Kingdom.
In 1959, Marilyn was based in London. By now, she had realised that she had lesbian tendencies, and as part of her new life, often visited the Gateway Club, a well-known gathering place for gay people. It was there, in May 1959, that she first met Jean Doreen McVitie, who preferred to be known as Jeannette Blake. The two women got on famously, and Marilyn ended up spending ten days with Jean at her flat in Oakley Street, Chelsea. The friendship between the two women soon became a love affair.
In September of that same year, 1959, Marilyn was discharged from the Army, with an excellent record. She immediately went to live with Jean, first at Oakley Street and later at Cremorne Mansions, also in Chelsea. After about a year there, the two lovers moved to Finborough Road, where they stayed for just two weeks, before moving to a basement flat at 16 Coleherne Road.
It was at that address that the physical relationship between Marilyn and Jean finally came to an end. One day, Marilyn met a man, who she knew only as Bob. They went out a few times and this led to tensions between her and Jean. At one stage Jean scathingly remarked that Marilyn must prefer men after all, but in fact, there was a deeper meaning to this argument.
The very early Sixties were not as enlightened as now, and many gay people still struggled with their own identities. Jean confessed to Marilyn, after another one of their arguments, that she wished she could be ‘normal’ like her friend, and seek the company of men. The two women talked through their problems and agreed that they would remain friends, and carry on living together, but their lesbian relationship was now over.
After about a year at Coleherne Road, the couple moved again, to the flat at 60 Redcliffe Square, Chelsea. Here, occasionally, despite the fact that she was not attracted to men, Jean would occasionally sleep with one in order to bring in some money. One such client visited the flat at some time between 8.30pm and 9.00pm, on the night of Thursday, 13 September 1962. When he had left, Jean had some extra money and she suggested to Marilyn that they should get some drinks in, and have a private party. Marilyn was all in favour and Jean then handed her £4, so that she could visit the off-licence.
Marilyn took the cash and went to the shop on the corner of Old Brompton Road and Earls Court Road. There she purchased a bottle of scotch whisky, a quarter bottle of brandy, three quarts of light ale, a bottle of ginger ale and five small bottles of cola to act as mixers. She then went back to the flat, where the two women began drinking heavily. By midnight, both were extremely drunk.
A game of ludo was suggested and played, but this was a little tame. Jean then suggested poker, but Marilyn did not know how to play. An hour or so passed with Jean teaching her friend the rudiments of poker, followed by a few games, and yet more drinks. Then, after one hand had finished, Jean got up to get some ice from the fridge.
Jean took a number of cubes out of the fridge and placed them onto a small blue plate, which she took back into the living room where Marilyn waited. Having dropped a cube into her own drink, Jean then dropped one into Marilyn’s, She, however, did not want ice so she took the cube out and dropped it back onto the plate. It was that simple event which led to a new argument, ending with the playing cards being thrown up into the air.
The cards were now all over the floor and yet another argument followed over who should pick them up. Eventually, it was Jean who collected the cards together, and the two women then sat in silence for a while, angry with each other. In due course, that anger boiled over into yet another heated discussion, ending in a physical fight between the two. Punches were exchanged and the fight only stopped when Jean slid to the ground, and Marilyn went to the toilet to be sick.
Going back into the living room, Marilyn saw, to her horror, that Jean was slumped on the floor, an ever-widening pool of blood seeping through her blouse. Though she was still quite drunk, Marilyn realised that something was wrong. She immediately ran off to find a telephone and ring for an ambulance.
Harry Sidney Fox was the driver of the ambulance sent to Redcliffe Square. He timed his arrival at 8.20am on the morning of 14 September. As he pulled his vehicle into the street, he saw Marilyn Bain waiting outside, frantically waving to attract his attention. She shouted, ‘Come in the house quickly. My friend has collapsed on the floor.’ Going into the flat, Fox found Jean lying near the sideboard, her head resting on a pillow. It was clear that she had been stabbed, though there was no sign of a knife anywhere in the room. Both the injured woman, and her friend, were taken to the Princess Beatrice Hospital. On the way, Jean remarked, ‘She knifed me. ’ She then paused for a few seconds before adding, ‘She doesn’t know anything about it.’
In a case of stabbing, the police are, obviously, informed that an incident has taken place. The hospital duly contacted them and, at 8.45am, Detective Sergeant Edward Smith and Detective Sergeant Alan Busby, attended the hospital to investigate. Jean was still being treated for her injury, but Smith did speak to Marilyn. He began by saying, ‘I understand a friend of yours has been stabbed.’ To this, Marilyn replied, ‘I don’t know what happened. I saw her in the room. She was holding her chest and she said she couldn’t breathe. I
rushed out and phoned for an ambulance.’
After some time, Sergeant Smith was informed that Jean was able to make a statement. Having heard her side of the story, he then returned to Marilyn and said, ‘Miss Blake says you stabbed her. What happened?’ Marilyn replied, ‘I can’t remember. We had been drinking all night and we always fight.’ She was then taken to Chelsea police station where she was charged with wounding and released on police bail, having been told to return to the station at 2.00pm the next day.
The following day, when Marilyn did return to the police station, she was given some good news. By now, Jean had been interviewed again, and she had made it clear that she did not wish to press charges against her friend. The charges were now dropped and Marilyn was free to go. It was not, however, the end of her problems, for the next day, Monday, 17 September, Marilyn received a visit from a policeman, at her home.
That officer was Chief Inspector Lansdall and he informed Marilyn that Jean had now died, and that she might now be charged with a serious offence. First, there would have to be a post-mortem, and if that showed that Jean had died as a direct result of the stab wound, then Marilyn would be facing a charge of murder. In the meantime, she was to return to Chelsea police station in order to make a full written statement.
Marilyn made no attempt to hide what she had done. In fact, she actively helped the police in their enquiries. Before she left the flat to go back to the police station, Marilyn said that she had been tidying the flat and had found the knife she had used, underneath the fridge. It must have fallen there, or perhaps been knocked under there, in the struggle with Jean. Chief Inspector Lansdall could not help but notice the dried blood on the knife. Marilyn had made no attempt to clean it or wipe away any of the evidence against her.
Foul Deeds in Kensington and Chelsea Page 18
