These are not the notes of a man who knows. They are the simple notes of a man who is seeking information. The man who was the first to be caught in the web of this Diary. Not the man who was writing a master forgery.
Nevertheless, the rumour reverberated around the Ripperology world and was burnished through 1995-6 until it shone like truth. To the sceptics behind the scenes, Michael Barrett had forged the Diary and they redoubled their efforts to expose it — and us. An unseemly slanging match developed throughout which I largely maintained a low profile.
Eventually, in exasperation, I sent a contribution to the Internet from which I quote.
The Diary has generated its own momentum. It has not been kept alive by the publishers and myself but remains because so many knowledgeable people have been captivated and refused to let it die. It has revealed much new historical material, especially about the Maybricks. It has also been a catalyst for a great deal of good, providing opportunities for original research in a great variety of disciplines.
Over three years, Mr Harris has consistently claimed to know the names of those who forged the Diary. In the [London] Evening Standard of December 8th 1994, he says, ‘the identities of the three people involved in the forgery will soon be made known.’…
I challenge him to name these forgers so that the appropriate action can be taken.
Mr Harris’s reply appeared as part of an article for the Internet Casebook, in March 1997.
Mrs Harrison’s ‘challenge’ to me to name the forgers of the Diary is sheer hogwash and an excuse for yet more evasions! (Now, there’s a chance to yell, ‘abuse’). She already knows my answer. There are good legal and logical reasons why I choose to remain silent; I have, in fact, taken legal advice on this score. But I am quite willing to present my papers to any neutral solicitor and he, or she, will confirm that there are sound and logical reasons for my silence. But this is a petty diversion. My case against the Diary rests on the text and the handwriting of that document and is independent of the identities of the forgers. Thus anyone can review this evidence, here and now, and see just where the jiggery pokery lies…
The July 1997 edition of Ripperana, summarises a letter from Keith Skinner, Paul Begg and Martin Fido (who believes the Diary is a modern forgery). ‘Despite our stated respect for much of Mr Harris’s work… his persistent tone of superior self-confidence and patronising view of other writers may mislead the casual reader to believe he is always reliable…’
Finally when Mr Harris placed a 30-page document on the Internet entitled The Maybrick Hoax — a Fact File for the Perplexed I decided, reluctantly, to respond.
I was heartened at the positive reactions from readers weary of the aggressive and destructive wind that was blowing.
I have no intention of dissecting this latest analysis of the case against the Ripper Diary. In the five years since Paul Feldman and I have been, independently, searching for the truth about this enigmatic document we have become all too familiar with Mr Harris’ trenchant views…
Mr Harris’ argument is based entirely on his assumption that the Maybrick Diary and watch are modern forgeries, perpetrated by a small group of people in Liverpool. But I would like to remind Casebook readers that there is another, equally honourable and genuine view: that the Diary and the watch are not a modern hoax.
If the Diary is old, then it is an historical document, either the work of a forger many years ago (possibly a Ripper contemporary) or — as I believe — genuine. Ripper research in the past has leaned a great deal on unreliable witnesses (see Philip Sugden’s The Complete History of Jack the Ripper for examples). But should the Diary be proved to be old or the work of James Maybrick it could throw a totally new light on Ripper history. Then Mr Harris’ thesis will be left without substance.
In the past, Mr Harris has called me ‘a practised evader’. I am, indeed, someone who dislikes confrontation and I am all too aware of the dangers of extremism. Is it not a shame that a hitherto respected writer is so determined to vilify the Diary, that he relentlessly reads sinister and underhand motives into every action of those with whom he disagrees? He is entitled to an opinion. So are we.
Parts of Mr Harris’s contribution are impressive and stand by themselves. Others are just as impressive unless you are in possession, as we are, of all the facts relating to the writing, publishing and promotion of my own book The Diary of Jack the Ripper. He based his opinion here on often unreliable and partially informed secondary sources.
For example, Mr Harris’ picture of Michael Barrett’s character when he first came to London is a figment of his imagination. Was Mr Harris present at those meetings? Doreen Montgomery and I had natural reservations but in turn Michael Barrett was suspicious of us. The suggestion that at that stage we knew he was a ‘braggart and a drunkard’ and there was a convenient cover-up for commercial reasons, is a typical distortion of the truth. At first we did not appreciate the extent of Michael’s troubles and felt duty bound to protect him as far as possible. He was nervous and vulnerable. The deterioration of Michael’s health accelerated when his wife left and became a tragic and erratic process which is honestly documented in the paperback edition of my book…
Some of Mr Harris’ observations about the historical background to the Diary appear fair at first, but were tainted by his insistence that any viewpoint other than his own, arises only from malintent and commercial greed.
Did Mr Harris have grounds or evidence for such defamatory comments? He had met none of the original team involved with the Diary research. More importantly, he had not discussed his accusations face to face with those whom, he implied, had a hand in the affair.
It was facile for him to claim that all the forgers’ information was culled from a number of books — one of which, a novel by Michael Dibden, The Last Sherlock Holmes Case, is obscure and not easy to locate. This in itself would have called for considerable pre-knowledge and even erudition, such as his own. Such a feat might well have seemed easy to Mr Harris.
I have Michael Barrett’s ‘research notes’ in my possession. They were typed and collated for him by Anne, his then wife, while he was trying to make sense of the Diary, before he brought it to us. Where he can’t find what he wants, he writes, ‘nothing to date’. Or ‘not known’. Interestingly, there is a remark about the Diary reference to the Punch cartoon ‘Catch whom you May’. Mr Harris implied that the forger had only to look at the cover of Martin Fido’s hardback The Crimes Detection and Death of Jack the Ripper to see this reproduced. But Michael Barrett had never heard of Martin Fido at that time. He relied on Paul Harrison, Colin Wilson and Robin Odell. His research note says simply; ‘check for copy of Punch around September 1888.’
This is not the strategic, forward-looking plan of a forger embarking on research! It reflects the uncertainties of a man struggling to understand material that has already been written.
Had Mr Harris spent more time with his ‘nest of forgers’, he would have realised just how unlikely his theory is!
The amount of bad temper generated by the Diary has so often obscured its complexity. As believers and non-believers alike try to prove or disprove its authenticity, it throws up new possibilities and new challenges at every twist and turn. Only by quiet, objective round-table analysis do the full impact of its imponderables really hit home and grab you by the throat.
One such mutually enlightening discussion was held in the office of Robert Smith in March 1998. Crime writer and former police sergeant, Donald Rumbelow, had observed to me that he thought the unused album might have been assembled in recent years. He asked that an expert friend, whose family have been professional book binders for four generations, should be allowed to examine the Diary. We had reservations, because Robert Smith, himself a man with many years experience in bookbinding, had already spent several hours studying the binding and his detailed page report conflicted with Don’s suggestion. But in order to have an objective view we said ‘yes’.
Bill (he p
refers to remain in the background) looked at the Diary and said, within two seconds, ‘There’s nothing iffy about this scrap book.’ He said that it showed no signs of any tampering and was a typical medium to lower quality Victorian guard book for photos and, more probably, newspaper cuttings. He also commented that the missing pages had been ‘hacked out by a barbarian.’ He added that, when funds permitted, it could be useful for us to analyse the stains on the inside cover.
20
AM I NOT INDEED A CLEVER FELLOW?
In August 1889, the Liverpool Citizen printed an editorial comment:
My own observation — and it is purely personal — is that experts are not particularly large minded men. They appear to grow so absorbed in their own experiments that broader outside considerations — considerations which influence journalists, lawyers, and statesmen — do not greatly affect these gentlemen. They seem to be like experts in handwriting, only in a more scientific and elevated degree, but there is a good deal of the same kind of conjecture and uncertainty in their conclusions.
* * *
For a long time we had been strangers in a foreign field and somewhat in awe of experts. Despite the continually increasing amount of circumstantial evidence supporting my belief in Maybrick’s guilt, I knew that there were material questions which would have to be further addressed — in particular, the handwriting of the Diary, the date when the ink went on the paper and the internal historical evidence it presented. I guessed there would be a need, too, for more laboratory tests, psychological profiling, and a dictionary search for anachronistic words or phrases not generally in use in 1888, and I was worried about the cost of such investigations on my limited budget.
The ongoing research has straddled many years and, throughout this time, I have listened to all opinions and been ready to adapt or revise the text as new information or insights were brought to my attention. This is why some observations have been modified or expanded from edition to edition. In order to simplify the reports from our expert witnesses, I have brought their various conclusions together so that they can be interpreted in context. In the case of the scientific tests, I have not included tables and data which is unintelligible for the layman, but they are all available in full for those with the knowledge and interest to examine them. Equally, space does not permit the publishing of entire reports which run to several thousand words but they can be seen at any time by serious researchers. There is absolutely nothing to hide.
THE HANDWRITING
The investigation of handwriting falls into two categories. We asked for a forensic comparison of the Diary with the writing of Maybrick and the chosen Ripper letters. We also asked for character analysis or graphological report. Many people are sceptical about the use of handwriting analysis and graphology, although they are both used in police detection work.
Paul Feldman arranged for Anna Koren to fly to London from Israel. With an international reputation, Anna is the director of the Graphology Centre in Haifa, London and Sydney. She is also a member of the American Association of Graphologists and a Forensic Document Examiner for the Israeli Ministry of Justice and Social Security Services.
We first met her in Paul’s office, just two hours after she had arrived to see the Diary in late December 1992. Her spoken English was basic.
We sat in total silence round the table while she pored over a few of the centre pages of the Diary. She did not absorb the words themselves or see the signature at the end. We learned afterwards that, in any case, she had not heard of Jack the Ripper and knew nothing about the Diary. She had not had time to read it. ‘I do not need to understand the words themselves,’ she told us.
After 20 minutes her off-the-cuff assessment stunned us. She later confirmed it in writing:
The Diary shows an unstable personality. Inner conflicts lack of social adaptability and a tendency to schizophrenia.
The author’s feelings of inferiority, emotional repression and lack of inner confidence may cause him to lose control every now and then and he may explode very violently.
Tendencies to despotism, irascibility and brutality are clearly discernable. He is affected by unconscious instincts and aggression is the constant companion of his instincts.
A tendency towards hypochondria and a use of drugs or alcohol is evident.
Any impulsive activity is carried out in secrecy, giving vent to his revenge and aggression fighting against an authoritative hostile figure in his childhood.
A psychotic disease impedes his ability to distinguish between good or evil, forbidden or permissible and may lead to criminal activity.
His behaviour is unusually bizarre. His disturbed thinking leads to strange ideas, paranoic suspicions and magic beliefs. His mode of thinking is circular, clouded, stereotyped and metaphoric. His disease can in all likelihood be termed chronic and persistent, with a tendency to get worse.
He shows an identity disorder, with confusion as to his sexual identity and distorted image of his masculinity, as well as an absence of a stable system of values. There are clear cracks in the super ego and an inability to persevere in matters involving a choice of career, long term targets, establishing friendships, loyalty.
Behind the violent outbursts lie deep-rooted feelings of loneliness, emptiness and insecurity which lead to depression and the partial withdrawal from contact with reality. Egocentric traits along with vanity and exhibitionism, childishness, a tendency to dramatise a constant search for attention and lack of consideration for others in the pursuit of his own interests.
His perception of sexuality and mating is distracted to the point of a tendency to sadism. His lack of trust in others and his paranoid feelings of being tormented are apparent. He is unable to form relationships of equality.
He suffers from psychological disorders, which produce illogical, obsessive, destructive and aggressive behaviour. An inner feeling of compulsion causes this behaviour to repeat itself in cycles.
It was an impressive performance! Moreover Anna said later that any suggestion that the Diary was a forgery was ‘impossible’! On the other hand, our euphoria at Anna’s uncanny insight was well and truly dented by the later observations of Sue Iremonger, to whom I had been introduced at the outset as a fairly new but ‘impressive’ document analyst (not a graphologist). She had been called in on a number of police fraud investigations and was an expert on false signatures, anonymous notes and poison pen letters. Sue was trained in Chicago and the United Kingdom and is a member of the World Association of Document Examiners. She is also a qualified psychotherapist specialising in the psychopathic personality.
So, armed with her camera and microscope, Sue began her examination of a facsimile of the Diary (the original was, by this time, securely safeguarded in the bank).
Both Sue and Anna were faced with the problem that, apart from the signature on Maybrick’s marriage certificate and his will, we had, at that time, discovered few examples of his handwriting with which to compare the Diary. We, too, were faced with a dilemma — that from the outset they did not entirely agree.
Sue believes that an individual’s writing always contains unconscious, identifiable, characteristics. ‘Handwriting is as revealing as fingerprints,’ she told me. ‘It doesn’t matter if a person is young or old, or switches from right to left hand after an accident — the style may appear to change but the components of every individual’s handwriting remain consistent.’
Anna, however, produced examples of the handwriting of a woman with a multiple personality disorder and sixteen distinct styles to support her contention that one person may exhibit many handwritings.
Sue Iremonger did not link the writing in the Diary with either the Dear Boss letter, or with Maybrick’s alleged will. She looked at over two hundred of the original Jack the Ripper letters at the Public Record Office but could find none which she felt matched the Diary. She explained in a letter to me on June 25th 1993:
If we look at the comparisons of the capital letter I in the Diar
y and the letter, the formation is completely different. In the Diary the formation of the I is a similar formation to a lower case g. In the Dear Boss letter it has a narrow initial loop which starts approximately half way up the stem. The tail of the stroke ends in a similar way to a thick full stop whereas in the Diary the ending is a small circular loop. The punctuation in the two documents is totally different and generally the differences between them far outweigh any slight similarities. A couple of the similarities include the left hand margin and the weight (thickness of stroke) of some of the letters.
For me, these reports showed an interesting new way of looking at the formation of letters. But I was uncertain of the absolute, unshakable reliability of handwritng analysis. On the other hand I was aware of the dangerous road down which rejecting such advice could lead us. It would be all too easy to make possibly superficial assumptions on the rapidly increasing number of handwriting samples in our files.
We noted that one of the ‘Dear Boss’ letters had been posted in Scotland and that it was believed to be in the same hand as the Liverpool letters. It said, ‘Think I’ll quite using my nice sharp knife. Too good for the whores. Have come here to buy a Scotch Dirk. ha. ha. that will tickle up their ovaries.’ We also recalled James and Michael Maybrick had on occasion visited Scotland together.
The Diary of Jack the Ripper - The Chilling Confessions of James Maybrick Page 29