Only five of these murders, however, are counted today as definitive Jack the Ripper murders. The other six were kept separate, thus making a clear distinction between those of Jack the Ripper and those committed by a person or persons unknown. The murders were considered far too complex for the local Whitechapel H Division CID, headed by Detective Inspector Edmund Reid, to handle alone; which is why Scotland Yard were drafted in, and the name of Inspector Frederick Abberline became forever synonymous with that of Jack the Ripper.
Frederick George Abberline was 46 years old at this time, and had been in the police force for twenty-six years. Described as medium height and build, with dark brown, thinning hair and a friendly disposition, he sometimes walked with a slight limp, especially during the summer months, due to a varicose vein on his left leg.
Inspector Abberline wasted no time in organising the team appointed to him by Sir James Monro. He was determined to bring this case to a speedy conclusion. Armed with all the evidence acquired by PC Hanks, he quickly obtained two arrest warrants, the first being for the arrest of Charles Hammond, the owner of the brothel on Cleveland Street, and the second being for the arrest of 18-year-old Henry Newlove, who acted as a procurer for Hammond. The crimes they were to be charged with were for the violation of Section 11 of the Criminal Law Amendment Act 1885. The law made all homosexual acts between men, as well as procurement or attempted procurement of such acts, punishable by up to two years, imprisonment with or without hard labour.
Abberline and two of his officers arrived at 19 Cleveland Street, at precisely 6 a.m. the following day, a time when most people were still in bed and an easy arrest almost a certainty. Abberline grasped the huge iron door knocker and banged it repeatedly as loudly as he could against the door. The two officers beside him stood with their truncheons drawn, ready to charge into the house the moment the door was opened, but unfortunately it never was; the occupants had long since flown the coop.
Had someone tipped the occupants off? With so many high-profile names involved, this theory certainly couldn’t be ruled out. Abberline’s priority at this time was to get into the house and carry out a thorough search to see if any clues had been left. In order to do this, however, he either needed someone to actually let him in or, failing that, he needed a search warrant, which would probably take another twenty-four hours to obtain. Applying for a search warrant would not only delay his investigation, it might also warn his opponents, if they didn’t already know, as to exactly what he was up to. He made his decision, and rightly or wrongly, told his officers to put their shoulders to the door and smash it down if necessary.
A few minutes later, Abberline and his men were inside the house, which looked very much as if the previous occupants had left in quite a hurry, with books scattered the floor, small pieces of furniture overturned, and vases and crockery smashed and broken. The larger pieces of furniture, such as beds, bookcases and armchairs, had been left, but little else. The lounge, which was elaborately decorated with red velvet flock wallpaper, a crystal chandelier and two plush day beds, was also bereft of any personal effects. After about an hour searching from room to room and not finding anything that might possibly give him a lead, Inspector Abberline decided to leave the premises. He paused for a moment by the street door, where he noticed a side table with a vase standing on it. The vase had a Chinese pattern and square base, and was exactly the same as one his parents had when he was a boy. Underneath the base, however, was something else. He discovered it to be a small black book, and a quick glance through showed it to contain addresses, which might prove valuable to his investigation. He didn’t have time to look at it in detail, so he stuffed it into his pocket and left.
Abberline knew that if he was to succeed in this case, he needed to make an arrest very quickly, as someone seemed to be one step ahead of him and relaying his moves before he made them. Leaving one officer to secure and guard the premises, Abberline hailed a hansom cab and hurried off with the second officer to Camden Town. He knew from the witnesses’ statements that Newlove’s mother lived here, and Henry Newlove sometimes stayed there when he was not with Hammond at the Cleveland Street house.
The driver stopped his cab at the end of a narrow alley, explaining that this was the address but it was too narrow for him to drive down. Camden Town at this time was known for its slums, and this alley, which didn’t even have a name exhibited anywhere, was certainly no exception. The tiny, two-up, two-down houses, many of which had broken windows and doors that looked like they were hanging off their hinges, didn’t look fit to house animals, let alone human beings. Abberline recognised Mrs Newlove’s house by the number 9, which had been drawn in chalk upon the brickwork beside the door.
From another house, somewhere along the street, he could hear the sound of a baby crying, but there wasn’t any sound coming from Newlove’s house. One of the officers peered in through the small window beside the door, and told Abberline that it looked like someone was still asleep in a bed. By now it was 8.45 a.m., a time when most people would be out at work. However, in this particular area of London, work wasn’t a word that rolled easily off the average citizen’s tongue.
A few loud knocks at the door usually did the trick, and got even the deepest of sleepers out of bed. As there was no knocker on this door, Abberline did his best to wake the house by pounding and kicking at it, only to find that it swung open of its own volition, having no lock as well as no knocker.
Abberline pushed the door open and called into the house, asking if anyone was there. A door to his right opened and Mrs Newlove appeared, holding a piece of grubby-looking material around her, probably one of the bed sheets. ‘Who are you?’ she screamed. ‘What do you want here?’ Abberline told her he was a police officer and he wanted to question her son. Mrs Newlove quickly moved in front of him, barring his way to the stairs, as she told him her son wasn’t there. Not exactly the best way of convincing a detective not to look on the upper floor. Abberline shook his head in disbelief as he told one officer to stay by the door and the other to follow him up the stairs, pushing Mrs Newlove aside as they did so.
There were two doors at the top of the stairs, both leading to tiny rooms with beds in each of them. The first room looked like it was also used as some sort of storeroom, piled high with what looked like second-hand clothes or rags. The second room contained just a bed and a wardrobe. The bed was unmade, but still warm to the touch, meaning they had found the right room and Henry Newlove had only just vacated it. A quick glance around also showed the most likely place for young Newlove to be hiding. Abberline nodded to his officer, who quickly drew his truncheon, as Abberline flung the wardrobe door open to reveal a very frightened youth, standing naked and trying to hide his dignity behind an old overcoat, the only item of clothing in there. Abberline pulled the bedclothes off the bed to see Newlove’s trousers and shirt that he had tried to hide. Throwing the clothes at Newlove, he told him to get dressed, and that he was under arrest.
Newlove was taken back to Scotland Yard, where he was formally charged and further questioned. During his questioning, he admitted that that he had warned Hammond, who had immediately locked up the Cleveland Street house and fled the scene to somewhere on the continent. This, he said, was after the initial police investigation into the missing money at the Central Telegraph Office, and the subsequent details of the Cleveland Street affair coming out.
When asked why he had warned Hammond, Newlove replied that his father had left him and his mother when he was just a child, and that Hammond had been like a father to him. Abberline didn’t answer Newlove on this, as he did feel sorry for anyone brought up in such circumstances, but as he later discussed with a work colleague, ‘Fathers don’t sleep with their sons, or sell their bodies to other men either’.
Whatever Abberline’s real feelings, he was still furious that his main witness had managed to escape so easily in this manner. If he could lose Hammond like this, it was possible other participants in this case could a
lso escape the net, and he would be made to look a complete fool. As much as he didn’t like threatening witnesses, especially young and vulnerable lads of Newlove’s age, he didn’t see that he had any alternative. He threatened the young Newlove with practically everything he could think of, from life in prison to whipping, and even hanging, if he did not start co-operating and naming names. Unorthodox it may have been, but within hours, Newlove had made a fresh statement with a list of names that filled up nearly four pages. Most of the names were of unknown members of the public, but amongst them were some that stood out like proverbial sore thumbs, including Lord Arthur Somerset and the Earl of Euston, who were without a doubt no ordinary members of the public. Lord Somerset was the third son of the Eighth Duke of Beaufort, a much-decorated major in the Royal Horse Guards, and equerry to the Prince of Wales and superintendent of his stables. The Earl of Euston was the eldest son of the Seventh Duke of Grafton and a prominent Freemason.
The naming of Somerset and the Earl of Euston by Newlove was exactly what Abberline needed; there could be no case worth proceeding without such names. Even though the Cleveland Street house was now closed, he was sure that there would be some customers who were unaware of this. His next step was to post surveillance teams of undercover officers to watch the Cleveland Street address, and take notes and descriptions of everyone who tried to gain access there. During the next few weeks, Abberline’s team noted the comings and goings of a great number of potential customers to the address, as well as their descriptions, times of arrival and departure etc. They also noted, with some glee, many of the visitors’ visible disappointment when they found the premises closed.
Inspector Abberline was still smarting from the fact that he had not managed to solve the Jack the Ripper murders just a few months earlier. It was probably this fact, more than anything else, that drove him relentlessly to do his best to bring swift justice to the Cleveland Street case.
Detectives in those days, just as today, worked very closely with their informants, and within days a reliable source came up with some very important information regarding Hammond’s whereabouts. Hammond was now living quite openly in Paris.
Armed with yet another arrest warrant, a very determined Inspector Abberline boarded the next steamer to France and made his way to Paris, where he contacted the French Sûreté, in the hope of securing their co-operation in extraditing Hammond. The one thing that Abberline had overlooked, however, was that he knew absolutely no French at all. Like most people at that time, and probably more now, he expected them to speak English. Whether the officials he met in Paris could or could not speak his chosen language is open to debate, but whatever it was, they certainly were not prepared to co-operate with the English detective.
During the two days he was there, the only development he made was by way of a severe case of gastroenteritis, which he put down to the ‘horrible foreign food’ he was forced to eat. What he didn’t know at the time, however, was that Hammond had left Paris the very night that he had arrived, and had made his way to Belgium, from where he then escaped to America. In other words, ‘someone’ must have tipped him off that Abberline was hot on his trail. Who this someone was, we will probably never know!
A very angry and frustrated Inspector Abberline returned to London, refusing point blank to speak to reporters, who by this time had started to get a whiff that something important was going on, as by now, his team at Scotland Yard had arrested several other telegraph boys and were holding them for questioning. Any reporter worth his salt knew, without a doubt, that they would not do this if it were just in connection with petty theft from the Central Telegraph Office. Unbeknown to the reporters, and it seems everyone else apart from the investigating team, more of those arrested had now also made statements, and named Somerset as a regular visitor to 19 Cleveland Street.
Abberline was getting fed up with chasing suspects, who were, in his eyes, obviously being tipped off by some mysterious third party, so he decided to proceed with the prosecutions on the evidence that he and his team had collected thus far. Two days later he presented his case to Sir James Monro against Hammond, the telegraph boys who acted as his willing accomplices, and a variety of gentlemen whom the boys had named. Monro seemed more than happy with the prospective prosecution, which had done exactly what he wanted, taking the case forward whilst excluding the really big names. Monro was sure that this would ingratiate him with his superiors, or so he thought, because when he decided to go ahead with the prosecution, he was suddenly faced with a solid wall of resistance.
The Home Secretary demanded to see the notes on the investigation and within hours, threw them back at Monro, telling him that the case was very weak indeed, and in his opinion should be dropped forthwith. When Monro and Abberline both appealed against this, the Home Secretary was joined by the Attorney General and the Lord Chancellor, and if that wasn’t enough, the Prime Minister, Lord Salisbury himself, also joined in the chorus of disapproval.
When Inspector Abberline was informed of this decision, he was absolutely furious and suggested to Monro that they should ignore these dissenters and go ahead with their case against Somerset and his cohorts; they had a strong case as far as he was concerned, with witness statements to back it up. Monro, however, had already been warned of the political implications right from the start, and even though he felt as strongly as Abberline on the issue, he also knew that his job could possibly be in jeopardy if he did not toe the line on this case.
During the following few weeks, friction mounted even more, as Abberline allegedly threatened to resign from the police force if the case was going to be swept under the political carpet, as he put it. One of the main reasons that Monro had inducted Abberline into the Cleveland Street case, apart from him being an excellent detective, was because he thought he was going to be an easy ride, a yes-man, who would do exactly as he was told. By this time, however, Monro was discovering a completely different side to Inspector Abberline, a rebellious side that he never knew existed.
While all this was continuing, the telegraph boys were still being questioned, and by 19 August, another new name had been thrown into the arena. This was George Veck, who had at one time also worked for the Telegraph Office, but had been fired from his job for improper conduct with some of the telegraph boys. Veck had never been charged with any offence regarding this, but after leaving the Telegraph Office, he became a close acquaintance of Hammond, allegedly procuring more young boys whilst posing as a vicar.
Abberline immediately issued an arrest warrant for Veck, and along with four officers from his team, made a dawn swoop on Veck’s London lodgings. The only person there when they arrived was a 17-year-old youth, who they found in a large double bed on the first floor. The youth told them that Veck was away in Portsmouth and would be returning that morning, via Waterloo Railway station.
Inspector Abberline and his team wasted no time in rushing to the station, where they arrested Veck as he alighted from the Portsmouth train. They took him directly to Scotland Yard, where he was questioned and searched. Among his possessions, they found several letters, two of which were from someone named Algernon Allies, whom, according to the letters, had been very ‘close’ to Somerset. Allies was interviewed at his parents’ home in Sudbury, Suffolk, where he admitted to having a sexual relationship with Somerset and receiving money from him. He also admitted working at Cleveland Street for Hammond.
Now armed with this extra evidence, Abberline decided he was not going to allow himself to be intimidated by his superiors any longer, and to take matters into his own hands. On 22 August, he called, unannounced, at Lord Somerset’s home, where he proceeded to interview him again. But Somerset proved more than a match for the detective, and refused to answer any more questions until he had his solicitor present. Abberline could do nothing but agree, and gave him twenty-four hours to attend his office at Scotland Yard, along with his solicitor. Somerset, however, never did go to the Scotland Yard meeting, and left that same day f
or Bad Homburg vor der Höhe, in Germany, where the Prince of Wales was then holidaying.
While Somerset moved around Germany, from Bad Homburg to Hanover, apparently purchasing horses for the Prince of Wales, the trial in England was getting ready to begin. Monro was relatively happy that no big names were firmly attached at this point, and Abberline saw the case as foolproof; one that he was sure would re-endorse his reputation and if he was lucky, ones that he might even be able to surreptitiously bring a name or two into before he was stopped again.
Finally, on 11 September, Newlove and Veck, alongside a number of the telegraph boys, were committed for trial. The big surprise of the day, especially for Abberline, was that Lord Somerset’s solicitor, Arthur Newton, suddenly announced that his firm, who was being paid by Somerset, would be handling Newlove and Veck’s defence. If that on its own wasn’t enough to prove Somerset’s involvement, then nothing was, but still the message came down the line that his name was not to be pursued in this case.
On 18 September, Newlove and Veck pleaded guilty to indecency. Newlove was sentenced to four months’ hard labour, and Veck to nine months. The judge in the trial was Sir Thomas Chambers, a former Liberal Member of Parliament who had a reputation for leniency, but it was never expected by anyone that even he would dish out such lenient sentences as this. The telegraph boys were also handed out sentences that were considered by both the police and the general public to be far too mild. Even the assistant public prosecutor, Hamilton Cuffe, said that the trial was a travesty of justice, but when asked to elaborate on his comments outside the court, he declined, as he ‘Didn’t want to miss the 6.15 p.m. train from Waterloo’.
Abberline: The Man Who Hunted Jack the Ripper Page 2
