Murder & Crime in London

by Peter de Loriol

  McIntyre visited Cream at his lodgings and requested a list of his movements while he was in England. Cream, in a panic, wrote a letter of complaint, via his solicitors, to the Chief Commissioner of Police, Sir Edward Bradford. Inspector Tunbridge was instructed to look into the South Lambeth poisoning cases. He visited Cream and was shown a medical case containing, among other bottles, a bottle of strychnine grains. Tunbridge also visited Dr Harper and realised that the blackmail letter was in Cream’s handwriting. They could nail him for blackmail!

  On 3 June, protesting his innocence, Cream was arrested and, the following day, was charged for attempting to extort money. Tunbridge re-visited Cream’s lodgings to find a wealth of information.

  On 22 June Matilda Clover’s inquest was opened. Her body had been disinterred and analysed. It was riddled with strychnine. Dr Cream had been seen entering her premises on the day of her death. The jury brought the verdict that ‘Matilda Clover died of strychnine poisoning and that the poison was administered by Thomas Neill Cream with intent to destroy life’.

  Cream was tried at the Old Bailey on 17 October 1892. He was formally indicted for four murders and other crimes. There was no hard evidence but the Crown rested its case on the cumulative evidence. The jury only took a few minutes to return a verdict of ‘guilty’.

  Cream’s criminal career.

  Title page of a contemporary account.

  Had Cream not sent the letters, nor schemed for constant attention, his crimes might never have been detected. Could it have been his morphine habit that so addled his mind that he committed these murders?

  He was hanged at Newgate on 15 November 1892. Legend has it that he uttered the infamous words ‘I am Jack…’ just as the rope cut his sentence short. Was he the Ripper or was it just one last attempt at being the centre of attention? Abberline, veteran of the Whitechapel murders and the ‘Cleveland Street Scandal’, affirmed that this was ‘also another idle story. Neil Cream was not even in this country when the Whitechapel murders took place. No, the identity of the diabolical individual has yet to be established, notwithstanding the people who have produced these rumours and who pretend to know the state of the official mind.’

  eleven

  THE REAL DEMON BARBER

  It was August 1901. Unemployed Maud Marsh, 18, of Croydon, answered an advert in the local paper for a barmaid at the Monument Tavern, Union Street, Borough. The landlord, a 34-year-old, imposingly mustachioed swarthy man with a hint of an American accent and something else, George Chapman, told her he was willing to take her on.

  Mrs Marsh, Maud’s mother, thought she should just check things out. She noticed Chapman had a wedding ring, Ah, Mrs Marsh thought, he was a widower and a family lived upstairs. The family were asked to leave soon after. Maud’s parents were, however, impressed.

  The neat Maud made quite an impression on Mr Chapman – or was it the opposite? A gift of a gold watch and chain was summarily written about in Maud’s letters to her mother. Mrs Marsh was quite perturbed and warned her daughter.

  Maud Marsh and George Chapman.

  Chapman and Maud visited her family in Croydon, ostensibly to show that he was an honourable man. He told her parents that he wished to marry their daughter, and then showed them a will he had made in her favour. This he duly signed and it was witnessed by her brother.

  The Marsh family weren’t sure about Chapman’s intentions. Her father visited, and then her mother, on Sunday 13 September. Confetti was strewn about the room. Maud explained that they had married that morning, ‘Catholically’, in a room in Bishopsgate. Where was the marriage certificate? Oh George had it.

  The ‘marriage’ seemed to be highly volatile. Maud confided to her married sister, Louisa Morris, that ‘you don’t know what he is’. Yes George was masterful; he beat her and pulled her hair and yet she stayed with him.

  In April 1902, Maud told her family that her husband had bought medicines including crystals to ‘procure’ an abortion.

  In June 1902 Chapman took the lease of the Crown public house in the same street, but not before a fire had damaged the Monument Tavern and the insurance company had refused to pay up. Chapman took on a new barmaid, Florence Rayner. He asked Florence if she would like to go to America with him. When she said he had a wife, he retorted with, ‘Oh I could give her that’, clicking his fingers, ‘and she would be no more Mrs Chapman.’ Florence left in July, just before Maud started suffering from nausea, vomiting and diarrhoea.

  Louisa Morris visited again, being told by Chapman that her sister was ‘dying fast’. She insisted that something be done, so Chapman called a local doctor, Dr Stoker, but his ministrations seemed to have no effect. Her worried family insisted she went to Guy’s Hospital. Maud was there from 28 July to 20 August, where, despite the doctors not knowing what was wrong with her, she made a full recovery.

  Maud had only returned to the Crown for a short time when the symptoms re-occurred, but not before she and Mrs Morris had had tea together and Maud had confided that George had told her that she wouldn’t live to see 28! Dr Stoker prescribed medicines, which the ever attentive Chapman prepared. Mrs Marsh visited several times, noticing that a brandy drink Chapman had left for his wife made her sick when she had a sip herself. On another visit, Chapman told another of Maud’s sisters, Alice, that she could have a job as a barmaid when Maud died. She said it wasn’t for her.

  Finally, Mrs Marsh began to suspect Chapman. She and her husband asked their own doctor, Dr Grapel, to visit their daughter and consult with Dr Stoker. Dr Grapel was convinced she was being poisoned. It was too late – Maud died on 23 October.

  Dr Stoker refused to grant a death certificate, much to Chapman’s disgust. Stoker was in fact anxious enough to conduct a private post-mortem, requesting the analysis of the stomach and organs by the Chemical Research Association on Borough High Street. Their conclusion was that she had died from arsenic poisoning. Dr Stoker immediately wrote to the Coroner’s Office and contacted the local police.

  George Chapman was arrested on 25 October and charged with murder. The police searched the Crown and found a recently washed medicine bottle with traces of white powder, documents revealing Chapman’s real name as Severin Klosowski and his date of birth, £300 in gold and notes, and medical books on poisons. A full post-mortem was made by the coroner, Dr Waldo, and the Home Office expert, Dr Thomas Stevenson. They revised the cause of death – poisoning by antimony.

  But who was Chapman? Severin Antoniovich Klosowski was a 23-year-old Polish apprentice surgeon, with a fine record when he immigrated to Whitechapel, London, in 1888. There ‘Ludwig’ Klosowski was a hairdresser’s assistant, moving to a barbershop in Tottenham, where he was known as ‘Schloski’. He purchased another barbershop in the same locality and when that failed resorted to working in a barber’s in Shoreditch and finally at a barber’s in Church Lane in Leytonstone.

  Whilst in the East End he had ‘married’ a young Polish girl, Lucie Badewski, had a child by her and was confronted by his ‘original’ Polish wife, who had come to find him. This ménage à trois did not last. One wife had to go – number one! The child died and the Klosowskis moved to America, only for Lucie to return alone in 1891, fed up with his philandering. He followed soon after only for her to leave him for good a few months later.

  George Chapman.

  A highly-sexed man such as Klosowski could not remain single for long. Indeed, some women were drawn to this strong, almost dangerous man with a hint of cruelty. Annie Chapman (not one of the Ripper’s victims) was to have two children by him. His womanising made her leave too. She left him her name, though, and in 1895 ‘George Chapman’ was living with the Renton family in Leytonstone, paying court to their married daughter, Mary Isabella Spink. When the husband left, George got his woman and her £600 fortune. They moved to Hastings where, after a failed barbershop venture, he bought another premise where his wife’s piano playing brought in customers by the dozen to have their ‘musical shaves’. Whilst ther
e he became friendly with a local chemist who sold him some tartar emetic, asking him to sign the poisons book as required by law.

  They sold their concern and moved back to London. Chapman took on the lease of the Prince of Wales tavern in St Bartholomew’s Square, off City Road. A Mrs Doubleday helped ‘Mrs Chapman’ at the bar, and it was then that the landlady became ill with diarrhoea and vomiting. Mrs Doubleday suggested a Dr Rogers to help but despite his medicines, prepared by Mr Chapman, Annie died in December 1897.

  Within months Bessie Taylor had been taken on as a barmaid and become the next ‘Mrs Chapman’, only to fall ill shortly after. They moved to run a pub in Bishop’s Stortford, returning to London where Chapman took on the lease of the Monument Tavern in Borough.

  Bessie Taylor was a popular landlady, easy on the eyes, with a sense of humour and a good soul despite being ill. It came as a shock to the community when Dr Stoker was brought in to administer to her, only for her to die on 13 February 1901. Dr Stoker obligingly filled out a death certificate with ‘exhaustion from vomiting and diarrhoea’. Mr Chapman could not run a pub without a barmaid. His advert brought Miss Maud Marsh.

  An inquest on Maud Marsh’s death was held on 28 October 1902. The exhumations of Mrs Spink and Bessie Taylor were ordered. It took longer for Bessie as she had been buried in her native Cheshire. The bodies were remarkably well preserved, usually a sign that there was a retardant such as a poison. Enough antimony was found in the two bodies to reveal that they had been murdered.

  Chief Inspector Abberline, the policeman in charge of the Whitechapel murders, was convinced that George Chapman was the ‘Ripper’. When DI Godley arrested Chapman he sent him a congratulatory note saying ‘You’ve got the Ripper at last’.

  George Chapman and Bessie Taylor.

  What made Abberline think this was the case? He had, during the ‘Jack the Ripper’ frenzy, closely interviewed Lucie Badewski. She had told him that her husband left the house for hours on end during the night. Chapman had, furthermore, arrived in Whitechapel at about the time of the first murder; the murders took place at a weekend, showing that the murderer had a regular job, as did Chapman; the description of the man seen with Kelly seemed to fit his; both seemed to have knowledge of medical procedure, and the murders stopped when Chapman left for America. There were two ‘holes’ in his arguments; could Chapman speak good English when he arrived? This was crucial to the Ripper investigation as sightings of the possible killer had always been followed by statements that the individual could speak English well. Would the modus operandi change so drastically from physical mutilation to poisoning? Some psychologists have always maintained that killers never change their method of killing; others say that experimentation leads to new avenues. ‘Chapman’ seemed to kill for money; Mrs Spink had a tidy fortune, Bessie Taylor was from a comfortable background and had been included in her father’s will, while the young Maud also seemed to come from a solid middle-class family.

  The trial was held on 11 February 1903 at the Central Criminal Court. Chapman was tried for the murder of Maud Marsh. Despite his continued assertions that he was George Chapman and American, the presiding judge, Mr Justice Grantham, refused to entertain this and sentenced him as Severin Klosowski after the jury had deliberated for barely ten minutes. He was hanged at Wandsworth Prison on 7 April 1903.

  twelve

  FOR THE LOVE OF A GOOD WOMAN

  In 1897, Munyon’s, the American Patent Medicine Company, sent a home-grown manager for their new branch in London. Dr Hawley Harvey Crippen was a mild-mannered, diminutive (he was only 5ft 4in), bespectacled, homeopathic doctor with a large, blousy wife named Cora.

  He had been to England before, during his studies in 1882. He had attended various hospitals to watch operations and had done an elective at the Royal Bethlehem Hospital, where he also watched the effect a new drug, Hyoscine, had on difficult mental patients. He had returned to America the following year, graduating from university as a homeopathic doctor and as an ear and eye specialist. A blissful, though short, marriage to a nurse produced a son, Oscar, who was sent to live with his grandparents in California when his mother died. Dr Crippen, meanwhile, worked in New York, where he met and married the attractive and bubbly Cora Turner in 1892, only to discover her real name was Kunigunde Mackamotzki after the wedding. They tried for a child but a life-threatening illness meant that Cora had to have a hysterectomy. This would have far-reaching consequences. It left her scarred both emotionally and physically. She threw herself into singing lessons, which her husband obligingly paid for.

  The couple settled in Bloomsbury, where Cora took up acting. Crippen, probably mortified by his wife’s operation and its consequences, worked to please his wife – a mistake he would later rue. The bolster to her ego made her more demanding and the occasional sallies onto the boards, notably with another actor, Weldon Atherston, proved to be disastrous.

  Dr Hawley Harvey Crippen.

  Cora became ‘Belle Elmore’ in 1899 and achieved a little more success, but not as much as she thought her talents deserved. By now Mrs Crippen was starting to fill out into a Rubenesque figure with a temper to match.

  Her husband’s sacking by Munyon’s in 1900, probably caused by the company’s belief that his professional management of his wife was incompatible with his job, gave him the opportunity to become consulting physician to several companies of the same ilk in London, one of which was Drouet’s. It was there he met 18-year-old typist Ethel Le Neve and her sister. All three became good friends. Ethel Neave, to use her real name (she had adopted the more middle-class Le Neve), was the complete opposite of Belle. She was slim, young and pretty. She was also very lonely. The mutual loneliness would bring them together.

  He never mentioned his wife except in passing and it was only in 1904 that Ethel met Belle officially – she was not impressed by the garrulous, overstuffed and overbearing dyed blonde wife.

  The year 1905 proved a turning point. Munyon’s took Crippen back. He brought Ethel with him as his secretary. He also marketed himself as an eye specialist and sold remedies from home. The Crippens moved to a large house at 39 Hilldrop Crescent, close to Camden tube. The house was perfect for Belle. It was a semi-detached house with a long and pretty back garden, a semi-basement and three floors. The rent was fractionally too high, but they rented out rooms until Belle tired of the extra work. It was also not far from Ethel.

  An ex-lodger would later say that Crippen was ‘extremely quiet and gentlemanly in thought and behaviour to his wife and everyone else’. He let her win at cards, collect various pets such as cats, birds and a bull terrier, to whom he was devoted. He also tolerated her becoming Honorary Treasurer of the Music Hall Ladies’ Guild based at nearby Albion House, where, coincidentally, Crippen’s office was located. Her ebullient and jocular personality made her very popular with many variety hall artistes and her parties and dinners were not to be missed.

  Belle Elmore.

  Number 39 Hilldrop Crescent.

  In December 1906, Ethel and the diminutive, shy, balding Dr Crippen became lovers. She, in particular, was attracted to the older man’s kindness, empathy and generosity. He had found the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. They called each other ‘Hub’ and ‘Wifey’ and were besotted with each other. Her miscarriage in 1908 made her feel particularly vulnerable, but although her lover was always there to make her feel better, he wasn’t her husband. She met and disappeared with a chemist’s clerk for five months, but returned to Crippen to prove her point.

  Belle had guessed that her husband was in love with someone else and now only tolerated him.

  He invited friends of hers, Paul and Clara Martinetti, for supper on Monday, 31 January 1910. It was a good evening; Mrs Crippen was a good cook. It was the last time Belle was seen alive.

  In February, Ethel brought a letter to the Music Hall Ladies’ Guild in Albion House. It tendered Belle’s resignation as Treasurer, giving the excuse of family difficulties in Amer
ica and her need to be there. It was in Dr Crippen’s writing! Later that month Crippen attended the Music Hall Benevolent Fund dinner at the Criterion Restaurant, accompanied by Ethel in his wife’s jewels. The Martinettis and others were shocked to see the jewels on another woman – they all wondered what had happened to Belle. Another couple, Mr and Mrs john Nash, went on a trip to New York and asked the whereabouts of Belle, only to receive a letter from Clara Martinetti saying that Crippen had told her his wife had died in Los Angeles. John Nash called the Los Angeles Police Department, to be told that no such person had died.

  The Nashes’ return to England brought more questions, which Crippen couldn’t answer. A death notice for Belle in the Stage magazine convinced Nash to visit Scotland Yard. Meanwhile, the Guild had sent a letter to Crippen’s son in California, only to receive a reply saying that his father had told him of his stepmother’s death. Chief Inspector Walter Dew, who had cut his teeth on the Whitechapel murders, would be assigned the case in July.

  Dew was thorough. He checked with the Guild and saw the letters sent by Crippen. He then checked the Crippens’ financial affairs and finally called on Crippen with a colleague, Mitchell, at Hilldrop Crescent on Friday 8 July. A French maid answered the door, Ethel Le Neve followed soon afterwards only to say she was the housekeeper when they introduced themselves. She offered to fetch Crippen from his office at Albion House but the police insisted upon accompanying her.

  Chief Inspector Walter Dew.