The Five
Page 32
Insisting that Jack the Ripper killed prostitutes also makes the story of a vicious series of murders slightly more palatable. Just as it did in the nineteenth century, the notion that the victims were “only prostitutes” perpetuates the belief that there are good women and bad women, madonnas and whores. It suggests that there is an acceptable standard of female behavior, and those who deviate from it are fit to be punished. Equally, it reasserts the double standard, exonerating men from wrongs committed against such women. These attitudes may not feel as prevalent as they were in 1888, but they persist. They may not be expressed freely in general conversation, as they would have been in Edward Fairfield’s day; rather, they have been integrated subtly into the fabric of our cultural norms. The threads become apparent in court cases and in politics; they are found interwoven in the statements of the powerful. They can be spotted in instances like People v. Turner (2015), which saw Brock Turner, a Stanford University student charged with the rape and sexual assault of a heavily intoxicated woman, receive a reduced prison sentence of six months, which his father complained “was a steep price to pay for 20 minutes of action.”7 They are manifest when it becomes necessary for the judge in the trial of the Suffolk serial killer, Steve Wright, to instruct the jury to lay aside their prejudices against the five victims, four of whom were sex workers, before making their decision about the guilt of the defendant. In a statement chillingly resonant with the echoes of 1888, he reminded the jurors, “You may view with some distaste the lifestyles of those involved . . . whatever drugs they took, whatever work they did, no-one is entitled to do these women any harm, let alone kill them.”
When a woman steps out of line and contravenes accepted norms of feminine behavior, whether on social media or on the Victorian street, there is a tacit understanding that someone must put her back in her place. Labeling the victims as “just prostitutes” permits those writing about Polly, Annie, Elisabeth, Kate, and Mary Jane even today to continue to disparage, sexualize, and dehumanize them; to continue to reinforce the values of madonna/whore. It allows authors to rank the women’s level of attractiveness based on images of their murdered bodies and to declare “Pulchritude was, it appears, of no interest to the Whitechapel Murderer,” before concluding, “Mary Jane Kelly was pretty, Stride, lively and . . . at least attractive . . . Otherwise, his victims were gin-soaked drabs.”8 This attitude gives such authors free rein to speculate pruriently on how frequently these women had sex before they were murdered. It makes it acceptable to dismiss these daughters, wives, and mothers as “a few moribund, drunken trug-moldies,” which “all [Jack] did was execute, [and] then gralloch.”9 It elevates the murderer to celebrity status and confers favor on his victims: because they “got intimate with one of the most famous men on earth.”10 At its very core, the story of Jack the Ripper is a narrative of a killer’s deep, abiding hatred of women, and our culture’s obsession with the mythology serves only to normalize its particular brand of misogyny.
We have grown so comfortable with the notion of “Jack the Ripper,” the unfathomable, invincible male killer, that we have failed to recognize that he continues to walk among us. In his top hat and cape, wielding his blood-drenched knife, he can be spotted regularly in London on posters, in ads, on the sides of buses. Bartenders have named drinks after him, shops use his moniker on their signs, tourists from around the world make pilgrimages to Whitechapel to walk in his footsteps and visit a museum dedicated to his violence. The world has learned to dress up in his costume at Halloween, to imagine being him, to honor his genius, to laugh at a murderer of women. By embracing him, we embrace the set of values that surrounded him in 1888, which teaches women that they are of a lesser value and can expect to be dishonored and abused. We enforce the notion that “bad women” deserve punishment and that “prostitutes” are a subspecies of female.
In order to keep him alive, we have had to forget his victims. We have become complicit in their diminishment. When we repeat the accepted Ripper legend in newspapers, in television documentaries, and on the Internet, when we teach it to schoolchildren without questioning the origins of the story and its sources, without considering the reliability of the evidence or the assumptions that contributed to forming it, we not only assist in perpetuating the injustices committed against Polly, Annie, Elizabeth, Kate, and Mary Jane, but we condone the basest forms of violence.
It is only by bringing these women back to life that we can silence the Ripper and what he represents. By permitting them to speak, by attempting to understand their experiences and see their humanity, we can restore to them the respect and compassion to which they are entitled. The victims of Jack the Ripper were never “just prostitutes”; they were daughters, wives, mothers, sisters, and lovers. They were women. They were human beings, and surely that in itself is enough.
A Life in Objects
Following their discovery, Polly, Annie, Elisabeth, Kate, and Mary Jane’s bodies were removed by the police from the scenes of the crime. Their bodies were then stripped of their clothing and whatever small artifacts they had stowed on themselves for safekeeping. As the first four victims had been found outdoors, inventories were made of their possessions. A similar list was not made for Mary Jane Kelly, who had been killed in her bed.
These objects offer a final imprint of a life: a humble snapshot of what each woman valued and what she felt she could use to assist her through her uncertain days.
Polly
Black straw bonnet trimmed with black velvet
Brown ulster [overcoat] with seven large buttons bearing the pattern of a man standing beside a horse
Linsey frock
White flannel chest cloth
Blue ribbed wool stockings
Two petticoats, one gray wool, one flannel. Both stenciled on bands “Lambeth Workhouse”
Brown [corset] stays (short)
Flannel drawers
Men’s elastic (spring) sided boots with the uppers cut and steel tips on the heels
A comb
A white pocket handkerchief
A piece of a looking glass
Annie
Long black figured coat that came down to her knees
Black skirt
Brown bodice
Another bodice
Two petticoats
A large pocket worn under the skirt and tied about the waist with strings
Lace-up boots
Red-and-white-striped woolen stockings
Neckerchief, white with a wide red border
Scrap of muslin
One small-tooth comb
One comb in a paper case
Scrap of envelope containing two pills, bearing the seal of the Sussex Regiment and post-stamped “London, 28, Aug., 1888”
Elisabeth
Long black cloth jacket, fur trimmed around the bottom, with a red rose and white maidenhair fern pinned to it
Black skirt
Black crepe bonnet (the back stuffed with newspaper)
Checked neck scarf knotted on left side
Dark brown velveteen bodice
Two light serge petticoats
One white chemise
White stockings
Spring sided boots
Two handkerchiefs
A thimble
A piece of wool wound around a card
A key (as of a padlock)
A small piece of lead pencil
Six large buttons and one small one
A comb
A broken piece of comb
A metal spoon
A hook (as from a dress)
A piece of muslin
One or two small pieces of paper
Kate
Black straw bonnet trimmed in green and black velvet with black beads. Black strings, worn tied to the head
Black cloth jacket trimmed around the collar and cuffs with imitation fur and around the pockets in black silk braid and fur. Large metal buttons
Dark green chintz skirt, three
flounces, brown button on waistband. The skirt is patterned with Michaelmas daisies and golden lilies
Man’s white vest, matching buttons down front
Brown linsey bodice, black velvet collar, with brown buttons down front
Gray stuff petticoat with white waistband
Very old green alpaca skirt (worn as undergarment)
Very old ragged blue skirt with red flounces, light twill lining (worn as undergarment)
White calico chemise
No drawers or stays
Pair of men’s lace-up boots, mohair laces. Right boot repaired with red thread
One piece of red gauze silk worn as a neckerchief
One large white pocket handkerchief
One large white cotton handkerchief with red and white bird’s eye border
Two unbleached calico pockets, tape strings
One blue stripe bed ticking pocket
Brown ribbed knee stockings, darned at the feet with white cotton
Two small blue bags made of bed ticking
Two short black clay pipes
One tin box containing tea
One tin box containing sugar
One tin matchbox, empty
Twelve pieces white rag, some slightly bloodstained (menstrual rags)
One piece coarse linen, white
One piece of blue and white shirting, three cornered
One piece red flannel with pins and needles
Six pieces soap
One small tooth comb
One white handle table knife
One metal teaspoon
One red-leather cigarette case with white metal fittings
One ball hemp
One piece of old white apron with repair
Several buttons and a thimble
Mustard tin containing two pawn tickets
Portion of a pair of spectacles
One red mitten
Acknowledgments
Writing this book has taken me on an incredible journey, both intellectually and emotionally, and I am indebted to a number of people who have assisted me at various stages along the way. From the outset, Claire McArdle and Julia Laite have been two invaluable sounding boards and have not only contributed to my knowledge but helped me to consolidate my ideas. The same can be said of both Daniel Olsson and Stefan Rantzow, who have each offered their invaluable insights into Elisabeth Stride’s world as well as their assistance in helping me acquire and understand much of the material in Sweden. Helena Berlin and Arne and Olaf Jacobson in Gothenburg are also deserving of my thanks.
It was a great pleasure to meet and exchange thoughts and research with Neal and Jennifer Shelden, who first ventured into the archives many years ago and began piecing together the basic information about the lives of the five women. Anyone who has had an interest in Polly, Annie, Elisabeth, Kate, and Mary Jane will be indebted to them. I’m grateful to Melanie Clegg for facilitating this connection, as well as to Adam Wood and Frogg Moody, who helped me make contact with people within the Ripperology community.
My research schedule was intense, and the volume of material I had to cover in the preparation of this book was daunting. The assistance offered by Lucy Santos, Phoebe Cousins, and Wendy Toole has been of great value to the project, as have the eagle-eyed contributions of Sarah Murden and Joanne Major. I owe Hannah Greig and the University of York a debt for sending me the diligent and skilled historian Sarah Murphy as an intern. I am also grateful for the expertise offered by Anthony Rhys, Lindsey Fitzharris, Anthony Martin, and Drew Grey, while Christine Wagg at Peabody, Mark and Wendy at the LMA, and Sister Elizabeth Jane at the Community of St. Mary the Virgin were especially generous with their time. It would be negligent of me if I did not also thank the London Library for providing such a reliable resource and a perfect place to work.
Finally, those who cheered me on from the inception of this book cannot go unmentioned: my agents, Sarah Ballard, and her assistant, Eli Keren, as well as Yasmin McDonald at United Agents, and Eleanor Jackson at Dunow, Carlson & Lerner. They have been a dream team. Similarly, this book would not have come into being without the vision and tireless enthusiasm of the editorial teams in the UK and the United States. Jane Lawson, my editor at Transworld, has been an absolute star (as usual), as has Nicole Angeloro at Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. Sophie Christopher, Emma Burton, Kate Samano, Richenda Todd, and many others at Transworld and HMH, including Lisa Glover and Susanna Brougham, have had a hand in bringing this book into being, and for that I am truly grateful.
Authors, who lead most of their lives in their heads, would be nothing without those who pull them forcefully back into reality. My husband has endured my temporary transformation into an obsessive Ripperologist, and I am certain that I have bored my family and friends with lengthy discourses on my latest research. To you, my most beloved and cherished, I offer not only my heartfelt gratitude but, equally, my sincerest apologies.
Notes
Introduction: A Tale of Two Cities
1. Howard Goldsmid, A Midnight Prowl Through Victorian London (London, 1887).
2. Sheffield Daily Telegraph, 20 July 1887.
3. PRO: Metropolitan Police Files: file 3/141, ff. 158–59.
4. Ibid.
The Blacksmith’s Daughter
1. Max Schlesinger, Saunterings in and About London (London, 1853), p. 89.
2. John Hollingshead, Ragged London (1861), pp. 39, 282.
3. First Report of the Commissioners for Inquiring into the State of Large Towns and Populous Districts,vol. 1 (London, 1844), pp. 111–13.
4. George R. Sims, How the Poor Live(London, 1883), p. 12.
5. First Report of the Commissioners for Inquiring into the State of Large Towns and Populous Districts,vol. 1 (London, 1844), pp. 111–13.
6. Coventry Standard, 27 June 1845.
7. LMA: London Parish Register: P69/BRI/A/01/MS6541/5. I am indebted to Neal and Jennifer Shelden for this discovery.
The Peabody Worthies
1. Franklin Parker, George Peabody: A Biography (Vanderbilt University Press, 1995), p. 126.
2. London Daily News, 29 January 1876.
3. “New Peabody Buildings in Lambeth,” theCircle, 11 April 1874.
4. Ibid.
5. Phebe Ann Hanaford, The Life of George Peabody (Boston, 1870), p. 133.
6. Daily News,29 January 1876.
7. Hanaford, The Life of George Peabody, p. 137.
8. Daily Telegraph, 24 December 1878.
9. LMA: Stamford Street Registers Acc/3445/PT/07/066.
10. Ibid.
11. Ancestry.com, Glasgow, Scotland, Crew Lists, 1863–1901.
An Irregular Life
1. LMA: Board of Guardian Records, 1834–1906; Church of England Parish Registers: 1754–1906, P 73/MRK2/001.
2. LMA: Holborn Union Workhouse records: HOBG 510/18 (Examinations). Records for Renfrew Road for the period in which Polly claimed to enter the workhouse in Lambeth are missing; however, her name does not appear in the 1880 records of the union’s other workhouse on Prince’s Road.
3. G. Haw, From Workhouse to Westminster: The Life Story of Will Crooks (London, 1907), p. 109.
4. Report HMSO, Royal Commission on Divorce and Matrimonial Causes (London, 1912b and c), pp. 291, 318.
5. John Ruskin, “Sesame and Lilies,” in Of Queens’ Gardens (London, 1865).
6. George C. T. Bartley, A Handy Book for Guardians of the Poor (London, 1876), pp. 152–53.
7. Ibid., p. 59.
8. LMA: Holborn Union Workhouse records HOBG 510/18 (Examinations).
9. Charles Booth, Life and Labour of the People in London: The Trades of East London(London: Macmillan and Co., 1893), p. 295.
10. C. Black, Married Women’s Work(London: Virago, 1983), p. 35.
11. Ancestry.com: New South Wales, Australia, Unassisted Immigrant Passenger Lists: 1826–1922. Woolls immigrated to Australia on board the P&O steamer Barrabool.