The Real Sherlock Holmes

by Angela Buckley

  Dubbed in the Daily Despatch ‘a very outspoken book’, Caminada’s depiction of the sordid alleyways and slums of the recent past was well received by the press. Readers were fascinated by his revelations: ‘Mr Caminada has done more than let daylight into the dark avenues of crime’ and his ‘chronicle of crime’ was praised by reviewers as ‘a permanent memorial of outward and visible changes in the city’ (Manchester Courier).

  It was usual for police memoirs to be published after detectives had retired, but when the first volume of his memoirs was released in 1895, Caminada was still a serving police officer. In the years that followed his literary success, the force that he served so diligently would be rocked to its very foundations by a series of startling scandals that led to an inquiry by the Home Office.

  On 21 November 1896, two cases of ‘keeping a disorderly house’ (brothel) were brought before Manchester Police Court, which would have a dramatic and lasting impact on the city’s police. The defendants were Mary Potton, responsible for a lodging-house of ill repute in Shepley Street, as well as Thomas and Frances Burns, who lived in Lower Ormond Street. Both premises were near the slums of Angel Meadow. A man named William Taylor was also wanted in connection with the first case, but he had absconded, so only the case involving the Burnses proceeded.

  Detective Caminada had known Mr and Mrs Burns for more than 30 years. Frances Burns had previously been convicted of pickpocketing at Whaite’s Bazaar in central Manchester and her husband had served time for a hotel robbery. The last time that Caminada had crossed their path was in 1889, whilst chasing thieves through Zurich, Berlin and Paris. He had followed his quarry back to London, where he visited a temperance hotel run by Thomas and Frances Burns. After the international thief had been arrested, the Burnses were accused by the criminal fraternity in London of informing the police and forced to flee the capital. On their arrival back in Manchester they opened a refreshment house in Ardwick and soon after, Caminada helped them to acquire a broker’s licence. When suspicions first arose that Thomas Burns was keeping a disorderly house, Caminada had investigated, but Burns had assured him that he was merely taking in theatrical lodgers. By the time they were arrested again in 1896 several police officers were also implicated in their illicit activities and a trail of misconduct was uncovered which led back to Superintendent Bannister of D Division.

  William Bannister had been promoted to this senior position in 1882, when he was aged just 30, and after only 11 years in the police force. His appointment caused considerable controversy amongst his colleagues, leading them to conclude that he had powerful friends on the watch committee, especially as the protests of the chief constable had been overruled. In Caminada’s view, this was where the trouble began: ‘This rapid promotion, made over the heads of older officers, was a false step, and the starting point on the road that proved his ruin’.

  By 1893, complaints were coming in about Bannister’s dubious behaviour. He was seen regularly frequenting the many houses of ill repute located in D Division and it was common knowledge that he was having an illicit relationship with Julia Davis, who kept the Falstaff Inn in Hulme. The chief constable ordered Caminada to investigate, and his findings resulted in an inquiry by the watch committee. Bannister claimed that Davis was merely a family friend and although Chief Constable Wood wanted the watch committee to ask for Bannister’s resignation they declined, giving him a reprimand instead.

  Superintendent Bannister was seemingly invincible; he would stop at nothing to protect his position and advance his career. In 1895 when Reverend John Kelty gave information to the watch committee that Bannister had been observed in the company of prostitutes and under the influence of drink, the superintendent denied all charges and the case was dismissed. Keen to exact revenge, Bannister brought an action against Kelty, for defamation of character. Later that year Bannister’s relationship with Julia Davis was confirmed, when she applied for a renewal of her licence for the Two Terriers beerhouse. The watch committee objected, so Bannister paid for the removal of the key witness to the Isle of Man by one of his officers, until the objection was removed and the licence granted. Superintendent Bannister was heading for a fall and the brothels of Shepley Street would bring an end to his meteoric career.

  When Sarah Wilson, proprietress of one of the Shepley Street houses, died in October 1896, William Bannister was among her beneficiaries. This prompted Sergeant Henscoe, also of D Division, to initiate a covert investigation against his superior officer. On 20 November, Henscoe was granted a warrant for the arrest of William Taylor and Mary Potton, who had taken over the house after Wilson’s death. Taylor disappeared and five days later, Bannister withdrew the warrant. When the matter was placed before the police court, a sordid tale of corruption came to light. Aware that trouble was brewing for Taylor, Superintendent Bannister had sent a warning to him via Julia Davis. Taylor had fled while Bannister removed the warrant. Shortly after, Caminada arrested the fugitive Taylor in Birkenhead.

  A special meeting of the watch committee was convened at the beginning of December to enquire into the matter, by which time Bannister had resigned his position, claiming that the frequent attacks on his professional life were undermining his health. The Lord Mayor asked Caminada to investigate the connections between the police officers in D Division and the brothels of Shepley Street. He reported that Sarah Wilson had left all her interest in her properties to Bannister, who had been a frequent visitor with William Taylor. The watch committee accepted Bannister’s resignation, but withheld his pension in light of the recent charges. As usual Bannister denied the accusations, arguing that his relationship with Taylor was purely of a business nature and that he had withdrawn the warrant for his arrest to place it in more capable hands.

  The citizens of Manchester were outraged by the watch committee’s decision not to prosecute the ex-superintendent and after further enquiries, a warrant for Bannister’s arrest for conspiracy and neglect of duty was finally granted. On 30 December 1896, Caminada arrested Bannister and his lover, Julia Davis and they were brought before the stipendiary. The chief constable instructed Detective Caminada to lead the prosecution.

  After stating the facts, Caminada expressed his reluctance to proceed with the charge of conspiracy as, in his opinion, Bannister had already received a severe punishment in the withdrawal of his police pension. After almost 26 years of service, Bannister would have been entitled to around £190 a year. With an invalid wife, a daughter in delicate health and three young sons to support, he was already facing a considerable struggle during the years ahead. The stipendiary, Mr Headlam, overruled Caminada’s plea for clemency and ordered him to proceed with the prosecution. In the end, the charge of conspiracy was dismissed due to insufficient evidence and Bannister was convicted of neglect of duty, for which he was fined £10 and his legal costs.

  This result still did not satisfy the public and complaints against Bannister and the officers of D Division escalated. Caminada took charge of the investigation and soon became embroiled in accusations of corruption. The scandals reached fever pitch and pressure from the public forced the watch committee to request the Home Secretary to launch an official inquiry. Sir Matthew White Ridley appointed Mr S. J. Dugdale QC, Recorder of Birmingham to conduct a thorough investigation into the Manchester City Police Force.

  The Home Office Inquiry began on 24 May 1897, casting a bright light into the dark goings-on of D Division. There were many brothels and beerhouses within the jurisdiction of the division. Some had been closed, but many remained open, notably the houses in Shepley Street. The investigation confirmed that Superintendent Bannister had been in league with the owners, warning them when they were being watched or when summonses were taken out against them. Furthermore, he had actively encouraged actions against rival brothels.

  The officers of D Division were reluctant to make complaints against Bannister, as they knew there would be serious consequences. In one recorded case an inspector had complained about the condu
ct of one of Bannister’s loyal officers and he had been ‘banished’ to a remote part of the division as punishment. Superintendent Bannister had ruled his division through intimidation and even during the course of the inquiry, many of his faithful colleagues supported him by making accusations against other officers, including Detective Caminada, who was called to answer a charge of owning a beerhouse. Caminada admitted that he had been the proprietor of the Shepherd’s Bush, subject to a lease that he had purchased with some cottages and as soon as the lease expired he had sold it. The judge was satisfied with his explanation. Other baseless accusations were brought against the detective, but they were dismissed as ‘frivolous’ and born of jealousy.

  The Recorder of Birmingham concluded that D Division of the Manchester City Police was in a state of disarray, with morale and discipline at an all-time low. However, the other four divisions, including E Division where Caminada worked, were operating efficiently. By the end of the inquiry a number of officers from D Division had already resigned or been transferred and a new superintendent appointed. The whole affair was a turning point in the history of the police force in Manchester.

  On 2 December 1897 Jerome Caminada was promoted to the position of Superintendent of E Division, on a salary of £290 per annum (the equivalent of roughly £27,000 today, but a considerable salary at the time). After surviving one of the most far-reaching investigations into the Manchester Police, he was rewarded for his loyalty and conduct.

  Despite his exoneration by the inquiry, one of the main victims of the scandals was Chief Constable Charles Malcolm Wood, who had succeeded Captain William Palin in 1881. The son of a civil servant, Wood had grown up in India, where he had joined the Indian Civil Service after leaving school. He rose to the position of District Superintendent of the Sind Police in Karachi, but when he was appointed Chief Constable in Manchester, he was a stranger to the city and unaccustomed to the ways of the British police force. Inevitably, his term of office was tainted by the Bannister scandal and Wood was accused of turning a blind eye to the excesses of D Division. After suffering vehement attacks from the press, his health began to decline and he resigned his post on 26 January 1898, with a full pension of £500 a year.

  Superintendent Caminada must have been devastated by this decision as he was firmly committed to his superior officer, even dedicating his memoirs to him: ‘I cannot here attempt to express to Mr Charles Malcolm Wood, the Chief Constable of Manchester, the thanks I owe him, or my gratitude for his uniform and unbroken consideration and kindness’. (It is also likely that Caminada had named his son after Wood.) Contemporary commentators suggested that Caminada never recovered from the loss of his close ally on the force and that he suffered under the new regime because of his loyalty to the former chief constable. His increasingly tenuous position was exacerbated by the temporary appointment of the new Acting Chief-Constable, William Fell Smith, with whom his relationship had been soured by the banned Slattery lecture.

  A year later on 5 January 1899, Jerome Caminada resigned his post as Superintendent of the Manchester City Police Force. Despite the unpleasant revelations of the police scandal, his illustrious career remained untarnished until the end. In 1895 he had received personal recommendations from the Postmaster General and the Duke of Norfolk for his contribution to the conviction of several people for telegraph frauds. Shortly after, the watch committee had rewarded him for the apprehension of 1,225 offenders. Furthermore, in his role as superintendent, he had obtained an increase in pay for his colleagues in E Division, who had presented him with a set of fine ivory-handled cutlery as a mark of their esteem.

  When Caminada’s retirement was announced, the press celebrated his achievements. The Evening Telegraph called him ‘one of the most noted detectives of the country, a man of whom Manchester has been pardonably proud’. Dubbed a ‘terror to evil doers’, the article praised his special qualities as a police detective:

  His career has been one of the most remarkable and brilliant in police annals. Probably no man living knows more about crime and criminals, their habits and habitats, their cunning and duplicity.

  After 31 years of service Detective Caminada received a pension of £210 per annum, almost his full salary, and £15 more than his official entitlement. The first task he undertook after his retirement was to write a second volume of memoirs.

  Chapter Eighteen

  State Secrets and Undercover Missions

  (1901)

  The census taken on 31 March 1901 shows Detective Caminada and his family living in Denmark Road, on the boundary of Chorlton-on-Medlock and Moss Side. An affluent part of the city close to Manchester University, his immediate neighbours included several doctors, a dentist, a cotton merchant and an engineer. Next-door lived photographer Warwick Brookes, who took Caminada’s picture for the Police Review in 1898. Opposite the Caminadas’ home was Whitworth Park, occupying 18 acres. Home to Whitworth Art Gallery, it opened to the public in 1890, boasting a boating lake and pleasant walks.

  Jerome Caminada, aged 57, was living in these agreeable surroundings with his wife, Amelia and 10-year-old daughter, Mary. They had a domestic servant, Margaret O’Brien, 35, from Ireland. Their son, Charles, now 13, was boarding at the Roman Catholic Stonyhurst College near Blackburn, where Sir Arthur Conan Doyle had been a pupil 25 years earlier.

  After their mother’s admittance to the workhouse in the late 1880s, there is no trace in public records of the fate of Jerome’s sister, Teresa, and her daughter Annie. In 1901 Caminada’s older brother, John Baptiste, was living in the working class district of Cheetham, closer to the city centre. John Baptiste worked from home as a druggist, assisted by his daughter, Florence (also known as Mary), who was then 22. The census revealed that John Baptiste was suffering from paralysis, a possible symptom of the syphilis that had most likely led to his mother’s blindness. A year later on 18 August 1902 he died, aged 65, of drink-related disease. Unfortunately, no record of the inquest into his death has survived.

  Despite his busy family life and the management of his properties, Caminada published the second volume of his memoirs in the spring of 1901. Although it comprised individual cases like the first, in many ways this volume was quite different. Having clearly been affected by the scandals at the end of his police career, Caminada devoted many pages to explaining these events and justifying his role in the controversy. In addition, he expressed his opinions on prison conditions, the rehabilitation of criminals, juvenile offenders and the organisation of the Manchester Police Force. Heavier in tone and dense in parts, this was a much more serious work. Sold at the same price as the first volume, Caminada said that the positive response of the public to his earlier publication had motivated him to share more of his stories and experiences as a detective.

  Yet the recurring theme of the bravery and efficiency of the police throughout the book, perhaps suggests a deeper motive: ‘A good policeman, then, requires tact, patience, and courage, qualities for which, it is to be feared, the majority of the public seldom give him credit’. Ever the realist, Caminada is scathing about the ‘fanciful pictures’ of detective fiction, yet in spite of his disapprobation reviewers could not resist comparing his work to the increasingly popular literary genre. Responses to this volume were varied, but the Manchester Evening Chronicle was generally positive: ‘This book is considerably more than mere detective stories, imaginative or otherwise’. The article introduces Caminada as a man ‘gifted with a personality’, highlighting his individuality:

  he is not a man to be herded with the average type. He has always his own point of view. It might be right or it might be wrong, but that view is according to the character and temperament of the man. He thinks for himself, and has the courage very often to say what he thinks.

  However, the reviewer criticises the structure and style, complaining that the introduction is ‘cumbrous’ and that Caminada lapses too frequently into emotionalism. It is true that the memoir cannot be classed as ‘light reading’ and t
he critic quips that readers would need a strong pair of hands to hold the tome for long enough to digest the contents. The inevitable conclusion is that Caminada writes with ‘a policeman’s pen’ and that his style, although he tells a good story, is not equal to that of a fiction writer: ‘He would never do to enter into competition with the author of “Sherlock Holmes”’.

  The comparison between detective fiction and real-life detective memoirs permeates reviews in the press. The critique in the Manchester Guardian opens with an exposé of the literary disadvantages faced by the author-detective:

  In his detective duties he sets out from given facts; he goes on to collect as many facts as possible, and keeping all the facts in his head or his pocket-book – facts relevant and irrelevant alike – he tries to establish with their aid a final fact… So dear are they to him that when he comes to write his story he cannot bring himself to throw them away, and therefore in they go, in flat defiance of literary form and with a merciless disregard of the reader’s flagging powers of attention.

  According to the reviewer, this adversely affects the narrative style and in the case of Caminada’s writing, it ‘may seem to the admirers of Sherlock Holmes disappointingly dull and tame’. Taking care to point out all its faults, the article concludes with a cautiously positive view of the memoirs: