Foul Deeds and Suspicious Deaths in London's West End Page 4

  I went to Madame Gerard’s place last Thursday at 11am, and when I arrived the door was closed but not locked. The floor and carpet were soaked with blood. The head and hands were wrapped up in a flannel coat that is at my place now. They were on the kitchen table. The rest of the body was not there. I was so shocked by such a sight I did not know what to do. I remained there five minutes stupefied. I did not know what to do. I thought someone had laid a trap for me. I started to clean up the blood and my clothes became stained … Then I went back to my place and had lunch, and later returned to Madame Gerard’s flat and took the packet back home. I had no intention to harm Madame Gerard. Why should I kill her?

  However, his story did not tally with the evidence and what Voisin had intended to be a false clue, to suggest a xenophobic antiwar motive, served only to trap him. Semi-illiterate, and not at all bright, he was clearly unaware of the misspelling of what he had intended to read ‘Bloody Belgium’. His inability to spell, in part, proved to be his downfall.

  The theory put forward by the eminent Home Office pathologist Bernard Spilsbury based on the evidence provided by the wounds to the body, was that a large number of wounds had been inflicted by a far weaker hand than the powerful brute of a man Voisin. However, what the police believed may have happened was never admitted by Voisin or Roche. This theory or at least something very like it, seems the most likely explanation, based on the known facts.

  On the night of 31 October 1917, London suffered one of the worst Zeppelin raids. It is believed that Emilienne Gerard was in the vicinity of Charlotte Street that night, and in fear of her life, she called at her lover’s home seeking shelter and comfort from the raids. However, her lover was entertaining another lady friend who had until that point been unaware of Madame Gerard’s existence. An ugly argument ensued, things got out of hand and Voisin and Roche killed Madame Gerard.

  The Murder of Madame Emilienne Gerard by Louis Voisin and Berthe Roche. The Illustrated Police News

  Voisin’s trial before Mr Justice Darling, at the Old Bailey, was only remarkable for the fact that after being found guilty of murder, the judge pronounced sentence of death in French. Louis Voisin was hanged at Pentonville on 2 March 1918.

  Berthe Roche was tried separately before Mr Justice Avory on 1 March 1918. She was acquitted of murder but charged as an accessory. The jury found her guilty and she was given a seven year prison sentence. However, she didn’t serve it, as within a very short time she was certified insane. She died on 22 May 1919.

  Murder After a Game of Bridge 1922

  … there was blood on Lady White’s unrecognizable face, blood on the sheets, on the walls and on the carpet.

  In the Spring of 1922, eighteen-year-old Henry Jacoby took the position of pantry boy at the Spencer Hotel, in the heart of the West End. Before he had been there a month, young Henry decided to avail himself of some of the wealthy residents’ property. With robbery in mind, on the night of Monday 13 March 1922, he put his plans into action. The Spencer Hotel, a private hotel (now the Mostyn Hotel), was situated in Portman Street. It was a comfortable hotel, dignified and quiet, the kind of hotel where retired people of good standing could spend the remaining years of their lives, being well taken care of, in pleasant surroundings.

  One of the residents was sixty-year-old Lady White, widow of Sir Edward White, a former Chairman of London County Council. Alice Jane White, daughter of Captain C J Adams of Yeovil and Jersey, became the second wife of Edward White in 1893. Her husband died in 1914, leaving her well provided for. That evening, Lady White had been playing bridge in the drawing room. She had been at the hotel since the previous November. The forty or so other guests liked her and as Lady White received the domestic attention she required, the Spencer Hotel evidently suited her. One of Lady White’s fellow guests, Mrs Adelaine Grainger, described the evening:

  On Monday last, I was one of a small party who played bridge with Lady White. We were not playing for money. We stopped playing just before eleven o’clock. Lady White and I sat before the fire in the drawing-room, just next to the bedroom of Lady White, for about ten minutes. Then she went to her bedroom, and I went with her. I offered to carry her chair, and that was why I went with her, because I thought she looked pale and tired. It was a bedroom chair which she had taken from her room as there were not enough in the drawing-room. When she reached the door of the room I gave the chair to her. She turned on the electric light, and I then bade her good-night.

  At five past eight on the morning of the 14 March, chambermaid Sarah Ann Pocock went into Lady White’s room, Room No. 14, as part of her usual routine. The room was in semi-darkness, as the curtains were drawn:

  I put a can of hot water in the basin of the wash-stand, and then looked at Lady White. I thought she had a red veil over her face.

  She pulled the blinds at one of the two French windows. As she turned towards the bed, she noticed that there was no red veil but there was blood on Lady White’s unrecognizable face, blood on the sheets, on the walls and on the carpet. Sarah did not panic. She went quietly downstairs and told the housekeeper of her discovery. A doctor was sent for and the police were called. Divisional Detective-Inspector Cornish, of New Scotland Yard, headed the investigation. Lady White was badly injured with serious head injuries. Police Division Surgeon, Dr Percy Bertram Spurgeon, was called to the hotel and found Lady White still breathing. She had an extensive fracture of the skull. The bone had been splintered and brain matter and blood clots were protruding. There was a laceration about eight inches long across the scalp and the edges were gaping. He concluded that the injuries were caused by more than one blow with a blunt instrument and that Lady White must have been rendered unconscious by the first blow. There was also an injury to Lady White’s left hand. There were no signs of a struggle and no traces of forced entry. Lady White died during the early hours of the following morning. She never regained consciousness.

  On the night of the murder pantry-boy Henry Jacoby told the porter he had heard some men whispering outside his basement room. However, nothing untoward was found and the porter returned to his duties, and young Henry to his bed. Next morning Lady White was found with terrible injuries in Room 14.

  The inquest was opened at Marylebone Coroner’s Court, by Mr H R Oswald, on 16 March. Meanwhile, police enquiries were continuing. Young Henry’s all too eager enthusiasm to help, and his theories as to how the murder might have been committed, along with his tale of hearing men whispering outside his room, threw suspicion his way. When his room was searched, two blood-stained handkerchiefs were found. Henry caved in and told the police what had happened. Robbery was the motive. He left his basement room in the middle of the night. He took a hammer from a workman’s toolbag, as repairs were being carried out at the hotel, then went a circuitous route through the kitchens to the guests’ bedrooms. He had no specific plan in mind other than robbery, and it seems he tried another bedroom door first, which was locked, before trying Lady White’s, which was not. He entered the room and before he had the chance to steal anything, Lady White woke up. He saw her in the beam of his torch, panicked and hit her with the hammer. In evidence Jacoby said:

  I struck her at least twice, because after I struck her the first time I heard her moaning and struck her again.

  He then fled the scene and on returning downstairs, wiped the hammer on two handkerchiefs, before replacing it in the toolbag.

  Jacoby was brought before Mr Leycester at Marylebone Police Court on 21 March. As he entered the dock of the crowded court, the collar of his overcoat was turned up and he carried a soft hat. His manner was casual and he seemed unconcerned. After evidence had been given by Inspector Cornish and others, Jacoby was remanded. The trial of eighteen-year-old Henry Julius Jacoby opened on 28 April at the Old Bailey before Mr Justice McCardie. Mr Perceval Clarke, Mr H D Roome and Mr W Bentley Purchase acted on behalf of the Crown and Mr Lucian Fior for the defence.

  Henry Jacoby who murdered Lady White in her hotel bedroom
. Author’s collection

  The Mostyn Hotel (formerly the Spencer Hotel), where the murder of Lady White took place, seen here in September 2005. The author

  The evidence having been presented, the jury consulted for some time in private, then returned to the court and the foreman said they were all agreed that Jacoby went into the room without intending to murder, but for the purpose of robbery. They wanted to know whether, bearing this in mind, they could bring a manslaughter verdict. Mr Justice McCardie said, that if Jacoby went into the room for the purpose of stealing, then the next question was, did he strike Lady White intending either to kill or inflict grievous bodily harm? Yet inasmuch as the victim had died from the injuries inflicted by Jacoby, he would be guilty in law of murder.

  The jury brought in a guilty verdict, but with a strong recommendation to mercy on account of his youth and because they did not believe he entered the room with the intention of killing. Asked if he had anything to say, Jacoby replied:

  Nothing at all, sir.

  Sentence of death was then passed on the prisoner but the judge declared he would forward the recommendation to mercy to the Home Secretary. Despite this, there was to be no reprieve and Henry Jacoby was hanged at Pentonville on 7 June 1922. In the Condemned Cell, Jacoby wrote several letters, one of which concluded:

  H. J. 382 – please excuse this curious signature, as this is what I shall be buried under.

  Gallant Death of a Field Marshal 1922

  Sir Henry, drew his dress sword, the only weapon he had to defend himself with but was powerless against the assassins’ bullets.

  Field Marshal Sir Henry Wilson was assassinated by two English-born members of the IRA, both ex-servicemen, Reginald Dunn and Joseph O’Sullivan on the front doorstep of his Belgravia home at 36 Eaton Place, after returning home from unveiling the War Memorial at Euston Station. Sir Henry Hughes Wilson (1864–1922) was born in Edgeworthtown, County Longford, Ireland. After serving in Burma and the Boer War, he was commander of the Staff College (1910–14), rising to Chief of the Imperial General Staff from 1918 until 1922, when he left the army and entered politics. He was made a baronet in July 1919 and later became MP for North Down, Ulster. On 22 June 1922, confronted by the two assailants on his own doorstep, Sir Henry, drew his dress sword, the only weapon he had to defend himself with but was powerless against the assassins’ bullets. As the two assassins were chased down Ebury Street, not an easy feat for O’Sullivan to accomplish, as he had a wooden leg, they first seized a cab in order to escape, then a victoria (a four-wheeled carriage for two people, with a collapsible top), firing as they fled at their pursuers, they injured two policemen. However, they were stopped in their tracks and seized by the crowd. Had it not been for the swift intervention of the police, Dunn and O’Sullivan would have been lynched on the spot. Sir Henry was buried in the crypt of St Paul’s Cathedral. Dunn and O’Sullivan were hanged at Wandsworth on 10 August 1922.

  36, Eaton Place, where Sir Henry Wilson was assassinated on the doorstep. The author

  Acquittal of a Socialite 1932

  I’ll teach you to arrest me, you bloody swine!

  In the early hours of 31 May 1932, neighbours in William Mews, situated between Belgravia and Knightsbridge, heard a shot and when they went to investigate, could hear Mrs Barney at No. 21, sobbing and calling out,

  Don’t die, chicken, don’t die!

  The neighbours misheard Mrs Barney, the resident, as what she was actually saying was, ‘Don’t die, Mickey’. The neighbours, however, were used to being awakened by quarrels at No. 21. Twenty-seven-year-old Mrs Elvira Barney had already shocked her neighbours and polite society, when, after her husband left her, she set up home with her twenty-four-year-old lover, Michael Scott Stephen, ex-public schoolboy, who described himself as a dress designer, the son of a London bank manager. Stephen lived largely by sponging off wealthy women. Elvira Dolores Barney was the daughter of Sir John Mullens, a former government broker, whose London residence was a house in nearby Belgrave Square. Elvira and her lover belonged to the set known as the ‘Bright Young Things’, who lived carefree lives around London, and provided fodder for Evelyn Waugh in several of his early novels. The exploits that this set found themselves involved in were reminiscent of the characters of Wodehouse’s Wooster novels. Although their exploits extended further than mere riotous parties and absurd practical jokes, to the depths of decadence and promiscuous sex.

  When a doctor arrived at Williams Mews he discovered Michael Stephen had been shot dead. The police were called and a .32 Smith and Wesson revolver was found lying close to the body. There were two empty chambers. Mrs Barney said that herself and Stephen had been to a nightclub with guests from a cocktail party the previous evening. After they returned home they began to quarrel, and Stephen picked up her pistol to shoot himself. As she struggled to stop him the gun went off. On 3 June, Mrs Barney was arrested and charged with murder. Her reply to the police when told she was to be arrested was:

  I’ll teach you to arrest me, you bloody swine!

  The trial opened at the Old Bailey on 4 July 1932, before Mr Justice Humphreys. The prosecution was led by Sir Percival Clarke and the defence by Sir Patrick Hastings. Mrs Barney stuck to her story that the gun had gone off accidentally and never wavered. She didn’t change a word of her statement. Despite convincing evidence from expert witnesses as to the likelihood of the gun going off accidentally, when a fourteen pound force needed to be exerted to fire the trigger, her society lawyer Sir Patrick Hastings managed to get her off; even in the light of what her neighbours said; that late one night, Mrs Barney appeared naked at her bedroom window and fired her pistol at Stephen in the mews below, as she called out to him:

  Laugh, baby, laugh, for the last time!

  Elvira Barney did not survive long. On 13 December 1936, she went to Paris, after enjoying a night of revelry on Christmas Eve, she was found dead in her hotel room on Christmas Day. She died from natural causes, aged thirty-one.

  Gordon Cummins 1942

  … strangled on her divan bed with one of her silk stockings and her body cut and disfigured by a razor and a knife …

  Twenty-eight-year-old, 5ft 7ins tall, serial murderer Gordon Cummins, horribly mutilated and killed four women in six days after picking up his unsuspecting victims in West End pubs and clubs in wartime London. This pleasant, good-looking, young serviceman found easy pickings when he selected older women, who were looking to have a good time. Born in New Earswick in North Yorkshire, Cummins was well educated but not industrious. He moved to London where before the war he worked in a laboratory. In 1936, he had married a theatre producer’s secretary. He was called up in 1941 and joined the RAF, where he trained for the air-crew. In early 1942 he was billeted in St John’s Wood, where his air force colleagues nicknamed him ‘The Duke’ on account of his phoney Oxford accent. On Saturday, 8 February 1942, Cummins left his RAF billet, went to visit his wife and borrowed some money from her. He then went to the West End.

  The following morning, the body of Miss Evelyn Margaret Hamilton, a forty-two-year-old pharmacist, was discovered in the doorway of a brick air-raid shelter in Montagu Place, W1. She had been strangled. There were no signs of sexual assault but her handbag had vanished, containing the sum of £80. Cummins repeated this pattern of taking money and small items of little value from his victims, which were found at his billet. On 10th February, an ex-actress and Windmill showgirl, Nita Ward (real name Mrs Evelyn Oatley), turned prostitute, was found almost naked and dead on the bed, in her flat at 153 Wardour Street. She had first been strangled, then her throat had been cut, and the lower part of her body crudely torn open with a tin opener.

  Piccadilly Circus in the heart of the West End, where Gordon Cummins went to pick up his unsuspecting victims. Author’s collection

  On Thursday 13 February, another prostitute, forty-three-year-old Mrs Margaret Florence Lowe (known as Pearl), was found murdered in her flat, Flat 4, 9–10 Gosfield Street, W1. She had been strangle
d on her divan bed with one of her silk stockings and her body cut and disfigured by a razor and a knife, which had been left nearby. In the kitchen was a half empty bottle of stout. A crucial piece of evidence, as was later discovered, was the bottle had Cummins’s fingerprints on it, from his left hand, and it had been established the murderer was left-handed, by the pressure exerted during strangulation, evident by the bruising he left on the necks of his victims. Chief Inspector Greeno, Detective Inspector Higgins and Home Office pathologist Sir Bernard Spilsbury were attending the scene, when news came of yet another murder.

  Thirty-two-year-old Mrs Doris Jouannet (also known as Doris Robson) of 187 Sussex Gardens, Paddington, the wife of an elderly hotel manager, a naturalized Frenchman, who at the time of her murder was on duty at a West End hotel. Mrs Jouannet led a double life, working as a prostitute when her husband was at work. She was found in the flat she shared with her husband and had been killed during the early hours of that morning. She had been strangled by a scarf, which was still wrapped round her neck and slashed several times with a razor blade.

  Later that evening, Cummins picked up Mrs Greta Heywood near Piccadilly and had a drink with her at the Trocadero Hotel. When Cummins became what Mrs Heywood described as ‘unpleasantly forward’, she decided to leave. However he followed her into the street and chased after her, eventually catching up with her in St Alban’s Street, where he forced her into a doorway and tried to strangle her. Fortunately for Mrs Heywood, as she passed out, Cummins was disturbed by a delivery boy taking some bottles to the nearby Captain’s Cabin. Cummins panicked and fled the scene, leaving his gas mask behind. It had his service number printed on the case. Cummins’s involvement in the four cases was quickly established and items belonging to his victims were found in his possession.