by Nick Barratt
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This book has been one of the most difficult, challenging and enjoyable that I’ve ever written and it would not have been possible without the help and support of some very special people.
Firstly, a big thank you to Elly and Heather at Heather Holden Brown Agency for securing the commission with Blink Publishing and Clare, Karen and Joel for their belief in the book and professionalism in turning it from concept into reality. Your support and brilliant work is really appreciated and it is quite literally true that this book could not have been written without you.
One of the biggest debts of gratitude must go to my research collaborators on this project, Ned Kershaw, Susan and Anthony Stanforth, and Michael and Eileen Barratt. I’ve been picking away at Oldham’s story ever since Susan and Anthony had flagged up the fact that his MI5 file had been released to the National Archives in 2002. Susan was the first person within my family who reviewed the file and realised the significance of the story and followed up with research in relevant secondary literature. Michael was already regularly sending over snippets of information from the USA about the Oldhams and Holloways, gleaned from his store of family knowledge and ceaseless research online – since this is a book about revelations and secrets, it is fair to state I am not the main genealogist in my family! The resolution of his childhood story of adventure from 1933 was thus solved by accident and I was provided with a convenient ‘badge of honour’ for my subsequent work on Who Do You Think You Are?. In particular, I must thank Anthony and Susan for painstakingly reviewing the text for errors; if any remain, they are of my making.
Yet unknown to us, Ned had already conducted some amazingly detailed research into Oldham’s life, fascinated by the fact that this extraordinary story had been overlooked completely in the histories of the period – attention perhaps naturally gravitating towards the Cambridge spy ring and subsequent Cold War espionage. I say unknown, but Ned first made contact with me in 2006 after my connection to Oldham had been featured in the Telegraph; we swapped emails and then drifted out of touch. However, out of the blue, Ned resumed correspondence again in January 2014 just before I was due to give a talk about Oldham at the National Archives the following month; with extraordinary kindness, he agreed to share his thoughts, research notes and chronology during the preparation of this current work. Without his collaboration, this book would not have progressed in the direction that it has taken, as quickly as it has.
I would also like to thank some other people who have contributed to this book – mainly for their willingness to look things up at short notice! Michael Meadowcroft, honorary archivist at the National Liberal Club for investigating Henry George Holloway; Juliette Desplat for wading through the Mitrokhin archive at Churchill College and assisting with Russian pronunciation; Nigel West, who also came to the February talk at the National Archives and shared his views on the subject; John Simkin for his advice, and general contribution to the Spartacus Network, a great online education tool for anyone who’s not viewed it already and Genevieve Bovee, who must be tired of post-midnight emails asking for ‘just another quick look-up that’s urgent’, but nevertheless always delivers the goods. Finally, I am indebted to Emil Draitser for answering my final panicked questions and sharing his recollections of meeting Bystrolyotov in person. His book, Stalin’s Romeo Spy, remains the standout work if you want to fully understand the danger, drama and difficulties that a spy in the 1920s and 1930s faced.
However, as usual, I leave the biggest vote of thanks until last, which goes to my family. I am often asked how I find the time and headspace to write, living in a house surrounded by four small children (and at the time of writing a fifth on the way). It’s easy – they are a daily reminder of what’s important in life, a sense of perspective that was clearly missing from Oldham’s existence. So this book is partly for Elizabeth, Charlotte, Chloe, Alice and the one-who-will-be-named (though I doubt whether Ernest or Lucy will feature highly on the list of options). I must also profusely thank my mother, who encouraged me to ‘write stories’ since I was at school and now helps with the children. However, the final and unending debt of gratitude remains with my wife Lydia, who is a constant support, tower of strength and source of inspiration; she is surely on the path to sainthood for coping with the children while I lock myself away to write. The line always goes up.
CONTENTS
Dramatis Personae
Introduction
Chapter one – An Ordinary Life (1894–1914)
Chapter two – Inside the Foreign Office (April–August 1914)
Chapter three – In the Firing Line (1914–1918)
Chapter four – The Paris Peace Conference (1918–1919)
Chapter five – Deciphering the New World Order (1920–1924)
Chapter six – The March of the Bolsheviks (1924–1927)
Chapter seven – Lucy (1927–1928)
Chapter eight – The Hunt for ‘Charlie Scott’ (1929–1931)
Chapter nine – Agent ARNO (1931–1933)
Chapter ten – Break-in at the Foreign Office (July–August 1933)
Chapter eleven – A Noose Around his Neck (August–October 1933)
Chapter twelve – Cover Up (1933–1974)
Acknowledgements
Bibliography
Endnotes
Index
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
This is a complex story with many different characters. To help keep track of the key players, here is a summary of their names and positions (code names given in brackets).
British security services
SURNAME
FIRST NAME
POSITION
Archer née Sissmore
Jane
MI5 agent
Argyll Robertson
Thomas
MI5 agent
Boddington
Herbert ‘Con’
MI5 agent
Canning
Albert
Head of Special Branch, Metropolitan Police
Harker
Charles ‘Jasper’
MI5 agent
Hunter
Herbert
MI5 agent
Kell
Sir Vernon
Head of MI5, 1909–1940
Liddell
Guy
Special Branch, Metropolitan Police then MI5 agent
Miller
Hugh
Special Branch, Metropolitan Police
Sinclair
Sir Hugh
Head of SIS, 1923–1939
Smith-Cumming
Sir Mansfield
Head of SIS, 1909–1923
Thomson
Sir Basil
Head of CID, Metropolitan Police
Vivian
Major Valentine
SIS agent
Watson
Nigel
MI5 agent
Ottaway
John
MI5 agent
Soviet agents and officials
SURNAME
FIRST NAME
POSITION
Agabekov
Georges
Soviet OGPU agent
Bazarov
Boris
Soviet ‘Great Illegal’ (KIN)
aka Da Vinci
Bazhanov
Boris
Personal Assistant, Stalin
Bessedovsky
Gregori
Soviet chargé d’affaires, Paris embassy
Bystrolyotov
Dimitri
Soviet ‘Great Illegal’ (ANDREI or HANS)
aka Gallas
Alexander
aka Perelly
Joseph
aka Galleni
Hans
Deutsch
Arnold
Soviet agent
Helfand
Leon
Soviet secretary, Paris embassy
Ianovitch
Vladimir
Soviet OGPU agent
Krivitsky
Walter
Soviet intelligence officer
Leppin
Dr Joseph
Soviet agent (PEEP)
Mally
Theodor
Soviet ‘Great Illegal’
Orlov
Aleksander
Soviet ‘Great Illegal’
Pieck
Henri Christian
Soviet agent (COOPER)
Weinstein
Erica
Soviet agent (ERIKA)
Oldham’s family and friends
SURNAME
FIRST NAME
POSITION
De la Chapelle
Count Victor
International lawyer, friend of the Oldhams
De la Chapelle
Rachel
Count Victor’s ‘wife’
Holloway
Alfred Ernest
Oldham’s uncle
Holloway
Henry George
Oldham’s uncle
Hoover
Herbert Clark
President of USA, friend of Lucy Oldham
Oldham née Holloway
Carrie
Oldham’s mother
Oldham
Ernest Holloway
Foreign Office, staff officer (ARNO)
Oldham
Frank
Oldham’s father
Oldham née Kayser formerly Wellsted
Lucy
Oldham’s wife (MADAM)
Wellsted
James Raymond
Oldham’s step-son
Wellsted
Thomas Arthur
Oldham’s step-son
Everett
William Bostock
Royal Naval Reserve, friend of the Oldhams
Foreign Office staff and associated officials
SURNAME
FIRST NAME
POSITION
Antrobus
George
Foreign Office, King’s Messenger
Balfour
Arthur
Foreign Secretary, 1916–1919
Binden
Herbert James
Foreign Office, assistant clerk
Chamberlain
Sir Austin
Foreign Secretary, 1924–1929
Crowe
Sir Eyre
Head of Foreign Office, 1920–1925
Curzon
Lord George
Foreign Secretary, 1919–1924
Grey
Lord Edward
Foreign Secretary, 1905–1916
Harvey
Captain John
Principal Passport Control Officer, Geneva
Henderson
Arthur
Foreign Secretary, 1929–1931
Hilbery
Clarence Anderson
Foreign Office, clerk
Jesser-Davies
Charles
Foreign Office, King’s Messenger
Kemp
Thomas Eldred
Foreign Office, clerk (ROLAND)
King
John Herbert
Foreign Office, temporary clerk (MAG)
Macdonald
Ramsay
Prime Minister and Foreign Secretary, 1924
Mason
Enid
Step-daughter of Captain John Harvey (NORA)
Montgomery
Sir Charles ‘Hubert’
Foreign Office, Chief Clerk 1919–1933
Nicolson
Sir Arthur
Head of Foreign Office, 1910–1916
Norton
Clifford John
Secretary to Head of Foreign Office
Oake
Raymond Charles
Foreign Office, temporary clerk (SHELLEY)
Quarry
Major Francis
Foreign Office, temporary clerk
Roberts
Charles
Foreign Office, temporary clerk
Simon
Sir John
Foreign Secretary, 1931–1935
Smith
Howard
Foreign Office, Chief Clerk, 1933–1939
Tilley
Sir John
Foreign Office, Chief Clerk 1913–1919
Vansittart
Sir Robert
Head of Foreign Office, 1930–1938
Wheeler-Holohan
Victor
Foreign Office, King’s Messenger
Foreign Office clerk, (unknown ID) (BOY)
Foreign Office clerk, (unknown ID) (TED)
Foreign Office clerk, (unknown ID) (TOMMY)
INTRODUCTION
The Kensington police are trying to discover the identity of a man, aged about 35, who was found dead in a gas-filled kitchen at a house in Pembroke Gardens, Kensington.
Apart from a table, there was no furniture in the house, but in a cupboard were a number of suits of clothes, including evening dress.
The man was 5-feet 6-inches in height, well-built, clean-shaven and had dark brown hair and eyes. He was wearing a brown mixture suit and a brown striped shirt with collar and tie to match.
THE STAR, 30 SEPTEMBER 1933
History is at its most compelling when a gripping story provides insight about the past. Most historians focus upon dramas played out on national or international stages, featuring politicians, aristocrats, royalty, criminal masterminds, military heroes, state scandals and secrets. However in recent years, a new area of interest has opened up with the rise of genealogy. For the first time, stories within families have started to emerge that are equally fascinating – although they rarely make the pages of history textbooks, and are treasured within a small circle who have traditionally passed them word of mouth from one generation to the next. The internet has changed things slightly, with easier access to research materials, instant means of communication via social media and a vast array of self-publication tools. Even so, it is unusual that our family stories make headline news or do anything other than provide case studies for professional historians to include in their own account of the past.
I’ve spent a decade researching other people’s backgrounds, both on television as part of shows such as Who Do You Think You Are? and for newspapers, books and magazines. However, it’s been difficult finding the time or (let’s be honest about it) the motivation to investigate my own family history. We all love a mystery, especially one that can’t be solved, but the best that I could come up with relates to my uncle Michael and a story from his childhood that he used to puzzle over, the sort of event that stuck in his mind as the moment when he became aware of a wider world outside his front door. He recalled that he was six years old when a curious incident took place, in October 1933. His brother David – my father – was seriously ill in the Southgate isolation hospital, north London, with scarlet fever, a ‘notifiable disease’ that was considered potentially life-threatening at the time. His parents would make the short walk each morning from their home in Berkshire Gardens, Wood Green, crossing the busy Wolves Lane to the hospital gates to check the danger lists posted outside daily at noon. This became a ritual, with anxiety building until they were certain David had made it through the night; a rush of relief, only for concern to grow steadily throughout the day in preparation for another night of worry.
Michael takes up the story.
Later that week it seemed that there was a domestic crisis: my mother had to go to something and earnestly wished for her husband’s support, but also wished for the latest news of David’s health – it was not dying that was feared but a relapse.1
It was decided that Michael, who had been kept off school all week having been in contact with his brother, should
go instead; the 1930s really was a different age in every sense.
The only snag at that time was the crossing of Wolves Lane, though the light traffic consisted only of bicycles and horse-drawn carts… They drilled me in crossing-the-road procedures, with the special-care-in-crossing-Wolves-Lane subroutine; they made sure that I could tell when it was noon and knew where to look for the danger list and could recognise David’s handwritten or printed name.
However they omitted to warn me that my brother’s name might not be on the danger list. When I failed to find it, no matter where I looked near the isolation hospital, at first I was cheered, but on the way home began to deal with a most unpalatable idea, that there were two ways for a patient to be out of danger… Did this mean he was dead? I wished there was a way of making the notice speak.2
At some point later that afternoon, Michael’s parents finally returned home without a single word of explanation. Michael was bursting to tell them about his adventure, but having imparted his news that David was still alive and expecting lavish praise for his successful lone mission, he was somewhat disappointed with their response – ‘they seemed gladdened by my news, but not outstandingly happy’. He never found out what had caused his parents to leave in such a terrible hurry. David made a full recovery and the incident was never spoken about again.