by Ray Black
In addition the guns he took with him were a .357 Magnum Smith & Wesson revolver, a Galesi-Brescia pistol, a .35 Remington, sawn-off Sears 12-gauge shotgun, a 6mm Remington bolt-action rifle with telescope, and a .30 calibre M-1 Carbine, along with 700 rounds of ammunition.
On entering the University building Whitman clubbed the receptionist to death, killed two and wounded two other people who were coming up the stairs from the twenty-seventh floor and then ascended to the observation tower which was at an elevation of 231 feet. Whitman then opened fire on people who were crossing the campus and on nearby streets, killing ten more people and wounding thirty-one (one of whom died a week later). Police arrived at the scene and immediately returned fire whilst other officers worked their way up to the tower. At 1.24 p.m. two police officers along with a deputized private citizen burst onto the observation deck and killed Whitman.
The horror, which had lasted a total of ninety-six minutes, was finally over. It was a massacre which not only shocked Austin but the rest of the nation. A nation which hadn’t even had time to recover from the brutal slayings of nine young nurses in Chicago the previous week.
WHY?
When the police searched Whitman’s house they found a letter written by him asking the authorities to carry out an autopsy on his brain, to discover any visible physical disorder. In fact, a small tumour was discovered just above his brain stem. Could it be that this tumour attributed to Whitman’s rage and outrageous behaviour? Not, in the opinion of the neurosurgeon and medical experts. Could it have been the amphetamines that Whitman was taking due to the violent headaches? Maybe it was just that he wanted to get back at his father and all the violence he had suffered in his childhood.
The observation deck remained open for several years following the shootings, and the University spent $5000 repairing bullet holes in 1967. Due to a spate of suicides which were connected to the massacre in 1966, the University of Texas Regents declared the deck permanently closed in 1976, and so it remained for over twenty years.
Peter Manuel
What was it that stimulated Peter Manuel’s abhorrent appetite for human suffering? He killed entire families while they were asleep, even lingering after the crime to gloat.
Peter Manuel was born in the United States in 1927. Both his parents were Scottish and they returned to their native country in 1932. He took to crime early in his life and spent days in and out of approved schools and Borstal for a string of petty crimes.
As Peter grew up he was seen as a loner who had an obsession with the dark. His petty crimes grew more sinister as his need for sexual gratification came out first in assault and rape, and then peaked with the killings of several families. He lived with his parents in Birkenshaw, and this was to become the centre of his killing territory.
THE BAKER
William Watt was a master-baker who lived in Burnside, and the proud owner of a string of bakery shops. He was happy as he left work because he was planning to have a fishing holiday around Loch Lomond. On the afternoon of September 9, 1956, he packed his suitcase, put his fishing gear and black Labrador bitch into the car and kissed his wife farewell. He was a little worried about leaving his wife, Marion, because she had been suffering from a heart complaint for some while. She had recently undergone an operation and was still not back to full strength, so he promised to phone her when he arrived at his destination. While he was away the couple had arranged for Marion’s sister to be staying at the house, and their sixteen-year-old daughter, Vivienne, would also be at home.
As promised, when William arrived at the hotel he immediately phoned his wife to tell her he had arrived safely, and to check that everything was well with her. Indeed, everything was fine and she told him not to worry and to enjoy his fishing trip. He said he would, but he would keep in touch by telephone.
On the evening of September 16, Marion Watt and her sister were chatting in the lounge while Vivienne and a friend where giggling in the kitchen. By midnight the house was quiet and the three occupants were all asleep.
The Watts had a daily help named Helen Collinson, who arrived at the house around 8.45 the following morning. She was surprised to find the bungalow still locked and the curtains closed. She wandered around the house knocking on the windows and calling out her employer’s name. When she arrived at the front door she knew that something was wrong, and thought that the house had probably been burgled. The door had glass panels and one, just above the lock, had been smashed. She went to the house next door to fetch help, which was where Vivienne’s young friend Deanne lived. Mrs. Collinson, accompanied by Deanne and her mother, returned to the bungalow and stood outside discussing what to do next. The next person on the scene was the postman. Having heard the women’s story he said they should investigate further, and put his hand through the broken glass and turned the lock from the inside. Mrs. Collinson went in before him and went into the first room on the left. Seconds later she appeared, gasping, ashen and she had to clutch the door jamb for support. The rest of the group looked at her in horror as she told them, ‘They are – they are covered with blood!’
The postman immediately rushed past her and went into the room. What he discovered was a bed, dark with blood and in it were two women who had both been shot in the head. Even to a layman it was very obvious they had been shot at close range. Meanwhile, Mrs. Collinson, who was recovering from the initial shock, felt concern for Vivienne and went into the other bedroom. She could see from the door that the scene was the same, the bed was covered in blood and Vivienne was just lying there. As she started to approach the inert body, the form gave out the most terrifying noise which was heard by the other two, who subsequently rushed into the room. The agonising noise, in fact, came from Vivienne in her last fight for life.
A PRIME SUSPECT
The police arrived at the bungalow by 11.00 a.m. and quickly ascertained that the three women had been shot at close range by a .38 revolver. Initially, they thought the deaths were the result of a bungled burglary, but as there was no evidence of anything having been taken, they realised that this was not the main motive.
Then the police were notified of a break-in at another bungalow in the same street the same night. An officer was sent to the house to investigate and when he returned had some important information. He told his superior officer that there were certain aspects about newly-discovered burglary, that clearly pointed to the handiwork of a local villain who was known to the police. The suspect’s name was New York-born Peter Thomas Anthony Manuel. He was a known sex offender with previous convictions for indecent assault, rape, and burglary and was currently on bail on charges of an attempted break-in at a colliery canteen.
The police didn’t waste any time going round to the house where Peter lived with his parents, and searched it. Unfortunately they found nothing in their search which would incriminate Manuel in the burglaries. While the police were searching, Manuel sat quietly smirking. He was a well-built man, with dark eyes and oily hair. He had an extreme hatred of the police and considered himself as something of an amateur lawyer who was able to outwit any authority. He refused point-blank to account for his movements on the night of the murders or to answer any of their questions. Very frustrated, feeling they had got their man, the police left.
A NEW SUSPECT
Several weeks later following his trial for previous convictions, Peter Manuel was serving an eighteen month prison sentence for the break-in at the colliery. By now the investigations into the Watt’s murders had taken a new and dramatic turn. The police now suspected Mr. Watt himself, and for a number of curious reasons. The police had contacted the ferrymaster on the river Clyde, who claimed that he had ferried Mr. Watt and his dog across the river in the early hours of the day of the murder. From this the police had convinced themselves that he had slipped out of his hotel room at Lochgilphead soon after midnight on September 16, driven the ninety miles home, broken in and murdered his wife, daughter and sister-in-law. Then they made the assump
tion that he had driven all the way back to Lochgilphead in time to eat a large breakfast, pretending that he had had a good night’s sleep. It was on this theory, and this alone, that William Watt was held in Glasgow’s Barlinnie prison, the same prison where Peter Manuel was currently serving his sentence.
A CONCOCTED STORY
While Peter Manuel was in Barlinnie prison he wrote a letter to the lawyer acting for Mr. Watts. He told him he had vital evidence regarding the murders and that he would like to meet up with him. The lawyer, Lawrence Dowdall, agreed to keep the appointment, during which Manuel proceeded to tell him a lengthy, if not concocted, story. He told the lawyer that the man in question gave him very precise details about the inside the the Watt’s house, but Manuel refused to give a name. The lawyer said that he was very surprised that anyone would give such unimportant information as regards to the inside of the house, and suggested that Manuel was in fact there himself. This he denied categorically.
Meanwhile, on December 3, William Watt was released from prison, and having been incarcerated for sixty-seven gruelling days, came out a broken man. Not only had he been accused of killing his beloved family, but he also had to come to the terms that he was now on his own. He tried to resume to a normal life, ignoring the gossip and rumours that were going on around him.
Exactly one year after his release, William Watt met up with Peter Manuel, who had by now completed his term in prison. Manuel had asked Mr. Dowdall if he would fix up the meeting, and for some inexplicable reason told the same detailed story to Mr. Watt as he had already recounted to the lawyer. Once again, as he went into the details of the Watt household, William shouted: ‘Now look, you know far too much about the house not to have been there!’ Manuel vehemently denied this allegation.
Directly after the interview with Watt, Manuel left Scotland and travelled to Newcastle-upon-Tyne for a short trip. It was December 7, 1957 and around 4.30 in the morning when Peter Manuel arrived at the city’s railway station and hailed a taxi. The taxi was driven by Sydney Dunn and he recalled later that it was a very dark night, and the streets were empty because of the stormy weather.
The next day a Police Constable was cycling along a lonely moorland road when he came across an abandoned car. On inspection it appeared that the car had blood on the steering wheel but there was no sign or either a driver or passenger. The policeman immediately summoned assistance and they searched the area around the car. It wasn’t long before they discovered the body of Sydney Dunn about 140 yards from where the car was parked. He had been shot and his throat had been slashed, and his wallet containing five pounds in notes was found lying near his body.
On December 28, seventeen-year-old Isabelle Cooke left her home in Glasgow on her way to meet her boyfriend. They had arranged to meet at the bus stop and then go on to a dance in nearby Uddingston. The boyfriend waited but she never turned up. When her father realised that his daughter had not returned home that night, he reported to the police that he feared she was missing. The police began a search of the area and discovered various items of clothing – panties, an underslip, a cosmetics bag and a raincoat – all scattered around the vicinity. As the items were discovered they were shown to a distraught Mr. and Mrs. Cooke who immediately identified them as belonging to their daughter. Unfortunately there was no sign of Isabelle.
The dance that Isabelle and her boyfriend were heading for was held at a bungalow in Uddingston. The house was owned by Peter Smart who lived there with his wife, Doris, and their ten-year-old son, Michael. The Smarts had decided rather than join in all the festivities of Hogmanay, they would drive seventy miles to Ancrum to the home of Mrs. Smart’s parents. The custom at Hogmanay is for neighbours to call on one another to wish them good luck for the newly-arrived year. At 1.30 a.m. some neighbours called at the Smart house and noticed that the lights were out. They knew they were making an early start New Year’s Day so they just assumed they had gone to bed. Nobody paid any attention to the lack of activity at the Smart’s house over the next few days as they knew they were going away. However, one neighbour noticed that strange things were happening at the house – one minute the curtains would be open, the next closed. Gradually there was a sense of unease in the adjoining homes, which was only heightened when two local residents, Mr. and Mrs. John McMunn woke to find a leering face peering around their bedroom door on January 4.
With great courage and presence of mind, Mr. McMunn cried out asking who it was and asking his wife where the gun was. Immediately Mrs. McMunn answered, ‘Here it is’, at which the intruder fled.
When Mr. Smart failed to return to work on January 6 the authorities were notified. His car was found abandoned on a Glasgow street, and the police then went to make a search of the bungalow. They forced the back door and made a careful inspection of every room in the house. The first room they went into was the main bedroom as they noticed that the curtains were still drawn, even though it was broad daylight. He was sickened by the sight of Mr. and Mrs. Smart laying dead beneath blood-soaked sheets, they had both been shot. Fearful of what he might find in the other bedroom, the officer was right when his worst fears were confirmed. They found the young Michael lying beneath his covers also the victim of shooting.
Panic was now starting to spread around the suburbs of Glasgow, and people became fearful that they might become the next victim of these apparently senseless killings. The police were baffled by the crimes because there seemed to be no discernible motive, but information started to filter back that would help them in their search for the ruthless killer.
Once again their attention was drawn to the normally hard-up Peter Manuel, who had been seen by locals spending money quite freely in a bar near his home. They managed to recover some of the notes he used and luckily for the police they proved to be part of a newly-printed batch. The bank had a record of the serial numbers and one particular group had been paid to Mr. Smart when he cashed a cheque for money to spend on their forthcoming holiday.
READY TO TELL ALL
The police did not waste any time in apprehending Manuel and placing him in an identification line-up. Witnesses from the bar were able to point him out as being the man who had handed over the crisp new bank notes. At last they had Peter Manuel backed into a corner.
He was arrested on January 13, 1958 and for his own sordid reasons, this time he was ready to tell the whole sordid story. Not only did he admit to the killing of the Smart family but he also told them of many others that had been killed in and around the area of his home town. He seemed to be bragging about his horrendous actions and gave them details of exactly how he had killed his victims. Detail by detail he gave the gory details and about the death of Isabelle Cooke he said:
‘I met the girl walking . . . When we got near the dog track she started to scream. I tore off her clothes and tied something round her neck and choked her. I then carried her up a lane into a field and dug a hole with a shovel. While I was digging a man passed along the lane on a bike. So I carried her again over a path beside a brick works into another field. I dug a hole next to a part of a field that was ploughed and put her into it.’
After the admissions, even though the murder took place after dark, Manuel was able to take the police directly to the burial place. As they walked across the ploughed field the police officers noticed the lack of any sensitivity in Manuel’s manner. Suddenly he stopped and said, ‘This is it. This is the place. In fact, I think I am standing on her right now.’ The police started to dig, and to their shock and horror he was exactly right.
Peter Manuel had confessed to killing eight people, but at his trial he was only found guilty of murdering seven. He was acquitted of the murder of a seventeen-year-old girl named Anne Knieland, who he had named earlier, due to the lack of the corroboration of his statement by Scottish law. He was also not charged with the murder of the taxi driver, Sydney Dunn, as it was outside the jurisdiction of Scotland. However, there is no doubt that this evil and sick man did commit the crime. Al
though the police could not prove it, it is considered that Manuel was in fact responsible for the death of no less than fifteen people. Peter Manuel was sentenced to death and was hanged at Barlinnie prison on July 11, 1958.
THE SICK MIND
No one can really know what possibly stimulated Manuel’s loathsome appetite for inflicting so much suffering on a fellow human being. The most likely reason is that he somehow achieved a dark, possibly sexual satisfaction from killing completely defenceless victims. The mysterious movements of the curtains at the Smart house certainly indicate that this man had such a perverted mind the he returned to the bungalow several times just to gloat over the sight of what he had done. Another indication of how sick this man was, is that he talked in such precise details about his crimes, in fact, he ‘talked’ his ways to the gallows.
Peter Manuel can probably best be described as a ‘thrill killer’ – someone who kills for the pure pleasure of killing. They enjoy the sport of killing and relish in the misery that it creates, not only for the victim but for everyone connected to the victim and even the shock that it generates for the wider community.