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** This is an archived, static copy of the Casebook messages boards dating from 1998 to 2003. These threads cannot be replied to here. If you want to participate in our current forums please go to https://forum.casebook.org **
Detective Henry Smith
Casebook Message Boards: Police Officials: General Discussion:
Detective Henry Smith
Author: Keith Rogan
Sunday, 15 October 2000 - 03:02 pm |        | I keep seeing this gentleman mentioned here and there as tracking JtR following the Eddowes killing. Supposedly he followed blood right to Miller's Court.
There is nothing in Casebook about this story - at least nothing in detail.
Where does this story originate?
Keith |
Author: Thomas Ind
Sunday, 15 October 2000 - 04:19 pm | | | He was the acting commissioner of the City police. In his memoirs (about 20 years after the events) he claimed to know more about the killings than anyone else. From what I understand from the experts on this site, much of what he claimed is considered as 'bulls***' . He claimed to be within 5 minutes of JTR on time and made statements concerning the Lusk kidney |
Author: Christopher-Michael DiGrazia
Sunday, 15 October 2000 - 07:39 pm | | Keith -
As my friend Dr Ind has pointed out, Smith was Major (later Sir) Henry Smith. At the time of the Whitechapel Murders, Sir James Fraser, Commissioner of the City Police, was on leave and Smith took over as Acting Commissioner.
The story of following a trail to Miller's Court comes from Smith's own memoirs, lightly titled "From Constable to Commissioner." Though the Major tells an excellent story, most Ripper scholars today believe that he tended to exaggerate in order to make a point or improve his stories. This is not to say that he was outright lying in everything he said about the Ripper, only that some of his statements are obviously not true bill and he should be taken with a grain of salt.
I thought that somewhere I had the relevant excerpt from Smith, but my files are in a horrid mess. So, here is a precis of the event you are talking about, as adapted from Smith's reminiscences by Tom Cullen in his "When London Walked in Terror:"
"All during this never-ending Saturday night the major was to find himself exactly one jump behind Jack the Ripper, who was fleeing for his life through the back streets of Spitalfields. In fact the major could trace the route that the killer had taken. From Mitre Square he had cut across Houndsditch and Middlesex Street to Goulston Street, where he left a tangible clue behind him, and then went to the notorious Dorset Street, where he paused long enough to wash the blood off his hands at a public sink set back about six yards from the street. (When Major Smith arrived not quite all the bloodstained water had gurgleddown the drain.) It shows his familiarity with Whitechapel that the Ripper knew about this sink, which was well set back from the street and located up a tiny close. From there on all trace of the killer was lost."
All of which can be summarised as "nonsense."
CMD |
Author: Keith Rogan
Monday, 16 October 2000 - 01:50 pm | | Well, thank you both. It doesn't really "ring true", does it?
Is there no contemporary account that backs up any of Smith's claims?
I can't help but feel there may be some basis to his tale. Perhaps he did find the odd blood spot leading towards Spitalfields, perhaps he did find a bloody sink (which could be due to any number of legitimate reasons), etc.
Without some sort of contemporary verification though, it's not really worth pursuing.
Keith |
Author: LeatherApron
Monday, 16 October 2000 - 06:48 pm | | Keith,
As I've stated before, I agree that Major Smith had a flair for the dramatic which actually makes him a very entertaining read, but I disagree with the assumption that the events he described were total nonsense. One should allow for a few mistakes several years after an event has occurred particularly in the area of time as it relates to duration and exact dates. Just because one finds a counterfeit bill in someone else's pocket does not make the rest of their bills funny money.
I can recount information that was given to me several years ago without ever knowing that it was false, meaning hearsay, and having it later attributed to me as my mistake. More importantly though, is the fact that I can recount EXACTLY what happened TO ME on a trip to Jamaica several years ago even though I will definitely not get the dates or times correct (as in how long we sat by the road when the van I was in had a flat tire).
It's almost impossible to look at the persons involved from our vantage point here 112 yrs in the future and say one of them is a credible witness and the other is not. The fact is there were a lot of credible persons at that time which makes the mystery that much more intriguing and difficult. Whom do we believe?
All,
This again raises the point of credibility and how we should (or should not) dole it out to contemporary persons associated with the case if what that individual said fits (or does not) nicely into our pet theories.
So whose opinions should we trust?
A person who'd been involved longer in the case (eg issue of police knowing who JtR was, Smith vs. Anderson)?
A person who is the most respected by his/her contemporaries (eg issue of whether or not JtR had any medical knowledge, Bond vs Phillips)?
A person who is higher up the hierarchy (eg issue of the GSG being written by the Ripper, Superintendent Arnold vs Constable Halse)?
It's not a trivial issue to resolve, but maybe someday we'll reach some sort of agreement.
Regards,
Jack |
Author: Jon
Monday, 16 October 2000 - 09:44 pm | | For anyone who's interested, below is the relevent text from, "From Constable to Commissioner".....scanned into this site, I have not proofed it so there may be the odd typo.
XVI
OF THE RIPPER AND HIS DEEDS—AND OF THE
CRIMINAL INVESTIGATOR, SIR ROBERT
ANDERSON
THE excitement caused by the " ripper " murders
it would be difficult to exaggerate, and the sugges-
tions made by amateur detectives, and the abuse of
the police in connection therewith, would have
driven a sensitive man into the Earlswood Asylum.
There is no man living who knows as much of
those murders as I do ; and before going farther I
must admit that, though within five minutes of the
perpetrator one night, and with a very fair descrip-
tion of him besides, he completely beat me and
every police officer in London; and I have no
more idea now where he lived than I had twenty
years ago.
None of the murders, I ought to explain, were
committed within the City, bar one, that in Mitre
Square. All the others were just outside the City
boundary, in Whitechapel and Spitalfields. The
coincidences in connection with the tragedies no
one would credit. After the second crime I sent
word to Sir Charles Warren that I had discovered
a man very likely to be the man wanted. He
certainly had all the qualifications requisite. He
had been a medical student; he had been in a
lunatic asylum ; he spent all his time with women
of loose character, whom he bilked by giving
them polished farthings instead of sovereigns, two
of these farthings having been found in the pocket
of the murdered woman. Sir Charles failed to
find him. I thought he was likely to be in
Rupert Street, Haymarket. I sent up two
men, and there he was; but, polished farthings
and all, he proved an alibi without the shadow of
doubt.
In August, 1888, when I was desperately keen
to lay my hands on the murderer, I made such
arrangements as I thought would insure success.
I put nearly a third of the force into plain clothes,
with instructions to do everything which, under
ordinary circumstances, a constable should not do.
It was subversive of discipline; but I had them
well supervised by senior officers. The weather
was lovely, and I have little doubt they thoroughly
enjoyed themselves, sitting on door-steps, smoking
their pipes, hanging about public-houses, and
gossiping with all and sundry. In addition to this,
I visited every butcher's shop in the city, and every
nook and corner which might, by any possibility,
be the murderer's place of concealment. Did he
live close to the scene of action ? or did he, aftercommitting a murder, make his way with lightning
speed to some retreat in the suburbs ? Did he
carry something with him to wipe the blood from
his hands, or did he find means of washing them ?
were questions I asked myself nearly every hour of
the day. It seemed impossible he could be living
in the very midst of us; and, seeing the Metro-
politan Police had orders to stop every man walk-
ing or driving late at night or in the early morning,
till he gave a satisfactory account of himself, more
impossible still that he could gain Leytonstone,
Highgate, Finchley, Fulham, or any suburban
district without being arrested. The murderer
very soon showed his contempt for my elaborate
arrangements. The excitement had toned down a
little, and I was beginning to think he had either
gone abroad or retired from business, when " Two
more women murdered in the East!" raised the
excitement again to concert pitch.
The night of Saturday, September 29, found me
tossing about in my bed at Cloak Lane Station,
close to the river and adjoining Southwark Bridge.
There was a railway goods depot in front, and a
furrier's premises behind my rooms ; the lane was
causewayed, heavy vans were going constantly in
and out, and the sickening smell from the furrier's
skins was always present. You could not open the
windows, and to sleep was an impossibility.
Suddenly the bell at my head rang violently.
" What is it ?" I asked, putting my ear to the tube.
"Another murder, sir, this time in the City."
Jumping up, I was dressed and in the street in a
couple of minutes. A hansom—to me a detest-
able vehicle—was at the door, and into it I jumped,
as time was of the utmost consequence. This
invention of the devil claims to he safe. It is
neither safe nor pleasant. In winter you are
frozen; in summer you are broiled. When the
glass is let down your hat is generally smashed,
your fingers caught between the doors, or half your
front teeth loosened. Licensed to carry two, it
did not take me long to discover that a 15-stone
Superintendent inside with me, and three detectives
hanging on behind, added neither to its comfort nor
to its safety.
Although we rolled like a " seventy-four " in a
gale, we got to our destination—Mitre Square—
without an upset, where I found a small group
of my men standing round the mutilated remains
of a woman.
It was in Berners Street, a narrow thoroughfare
off the Commercial Road leading to the London,
Tilbury, and Southend Railway, that Elizabeth
Stride, the first of the two victims that night, met
her fate. The street is entered by a large wooden
gate, folding back in the middle, and almost always
left open, and it is conjectured that the murderer
took the woman in, closing the gate behind him.
At 12.40 a.m., as far as could be made out from
the evidence of the inmates, the street was vacant.
Within five minutes of that time a man who had
been out late opened the gate. He was driving
a pony-trap. The pony shied at something behind
the gate, and looking down he saw the body of a
woman, and instantly gave the alarm. The woman
was seriously injured about the head, and musi
have been thrown down with great violence, and
her throat was cut from ear to ear. Not a sound
was heard by anyone. No doubt she was rendered
insensible by the fall. The assassin must have
slipped past the off-side of the pony, and—as there
were civilians and some men of the H Division
close at hand—escaped by a very hair's-breadth:
an experience sufficient, one would have thought,
to shake his nerve for that night. But no, either
because he was dissatisfied with his work, or furious
at having been interrupted before he could finish it,
he determined to show that he was still without a
rival as a slaughterer, and, walking straight up to
Houndsditch, he met Catharine Eddowes,* and
finished his second victim within the hour. The
approaches to Mitre Square are three—by Mitre
Street, Duke Street, and St. James's Place. In
the south-western corner, to which there is no
approach, lay the woman. I was convinced then,
and am convinced now, that had my orders been
carried out in the spirit—they may have been to
the letter—the reign of terror would have ceased
* This woman was in my custody at Bishopsgate Police
Station twenty minutes before she was murdered.that night. The orders were to account for every
man and woman seen together. It may be that
the man and woman, having made an appointment,
went separately and met in the Square. That does
not exonerate the officers of the City Police. On
hundreds of occasions I have defended them and
stood up for them when unjustly accused of neglect
or excess of duty; but that is not, as Shaver
Quackenboss used to say, my " platform " now.
The *' beat " of Catharine Eddowes was a small
one. She was known to a good many of the
constables, but, known or not known, she was in
the streets late at night, and must have been seen
making for Mitre Square. With what object ?
In pursuance, it is needless to say, of her miserable
calling. Had she been followed, and men called
to guard the approaches, the murderer would to
a certainty have been taken red-handed. The
Square, every inch of it, was carefully examined,
but not one mark or drop of blood did we discover
to indicate by what approach he had made his exit.
By this time a stretcher had arrived, and when
we got the body to the mortuary, the first discovery
we made was that about one-half of the apron was
missing. It had been severed by a clean cut. My
men, thoroughly awake at last, were scouring the
whole neighbourhood, and one of them, Halse by
name, who had been with us in Mitre Square,
thinking he had a better chance down Whitechapel
way, ran at his best pace in that direction. Goulston
Street, Whitechapel, is a broad thoroughfare running
parallel with the Commercial Road, just one-third of
a mile from the Square, and in that street, at the
door of one of the model workmen's dwellings
erected by Peabody, he saw a light, and, halting,
found a constable of the Metropolitan Force looking
at the missing piece of apron. It was folded up,
and immediately above, on the wall, written in
chalk, were the words, "The Jews are the men
that won't be blamed for nothing." It was thus
proved beyond doubt that the murderer, on that
evening at any rate, made, in the first instance, for
Whitechapel. Sir Charles Warren was instantly
apprised of this discovery, and, coming down him-
self, ordered the words to be wiped out, alleging as
his reason for so doing that he feared a rising against
the Jews. This was, I thought, a fatal mistake, as
Superintendent MaeWilliam plainly told Sir Charles
when he called about seven o'clock, accompanied
by Superintendent Arnold. It is just possible the
words, if photographed, might have afforded an
important clue. The assassin had evidently wiped
his hands with the piece of apron. In Dorset
Street, with extraordinary audacity, he washed
them at a sink up a close, not more than six yards
from the street. I arrived there in time to see the
blood-stained water. I wandered round my station-
houses, hoping I might find someone brought in,
and finally got to bed at 6 a.m„ after a very
harassing night, completely defeated. The re-
yoking details of this murder would shock my
readers; but there are certain facts—gruesome
enough in all conscience—which have never appeared
in print, and which, from a medical and scientific
point of view, should certainly be put on record.
When the body was examined by the police
surgeon, Mr. Gordon Brown, one kidney was found
to be missing, and some days after the murder what
purported to be that kidney was posted to the
office of the Central News, together with a short
note of rather a jocular character unfit for publica-
tion. Both kidney and note the manager at once
forwarded to me. Unfortunately, as always happens,
some clerk or assistant in the office was got at, and
the whole affair was public property next morning.
Right royally did the Solons of the metropolis enjoy
themselves at the expense of my humble self and
the City Police Force. " The kidney was the kidney
of a dog, anyone could see that," wrote one. " Evi-
dently from the dissecting-room," wrote another.
"Taken out of a corpse after a post-mortem,"
wrote a third. "A transparent hoax," wrote a fourth.
My readers shall judge between myself and the
Solons in question.
I made over the kidney to the police surgeon,
instructing him to consult with the most eminent
men in the profession, and send me a report without
delay. . I give the substance of it. The renal artery
is about three inches long. Two inches remained
in the corpse, one inch was attached to the kidney.
The kidney left in the corpse was in an advanced
stage of Bright's Disease; the kidney sent me was
in an exactly similar state. But what was of far
more importance, Mr. Sutton, one of the senior
surgeons of the London Hospital, whom Gordon
Brown asked to meet him and another practitioner
in consultation, and who was one of the greatest
authorities living on the kidney and its diseases,
said he would pledge his reputation that the kidney
submitted to them had been put in spirits within
a few hours of its removal from the body—thus
effectually disposing of all hoaxes in connection
with it. The body of anyone done to death by
violence is not taken direct to the dissecting-room,
but must await an inquest, never held before the
following day at the soonest.
The Ripper certainly had all the luck. Three
or four days after the murder in Mitre Square, a
letter addressed to me by name—and for which I,
or rather the Corporation, had to pay twopence
sterling—was delivered at my office. The writer
was complimentary to myself personally. He
said he was anxious to see me, as he had a lot to
tell me about the murders ; that he was not afraid
to meet me, but that he was on ticket of leave,
and hadn't reported himself, and that if he came to
the Old Jewry the " tecs "—of whom he evidently
had a very low opinion—would apprehend him, and
send him back to work out the remainder of his
sentence ; that he was living on the earnings of his
wife, who, by the kindness of the missioner, had
got a laundry and was doing well ; that if I wanted
to write to him, a letter addressed to a certain
place in Hoxton—a large, and, generally speaking,
disreputable district—to be left till called for, would
find him.
Besides being a convict, the writer was evidently
an ex-soldier. " You're not on the right scent at
all," he said ; ""the man you want is not in London,
he's in Manchester. What you think is his writing
isn't. He writes just like an orderly-room clerk."
(A facsimile of the writing of the purloiner of
the kidney—whence obtained I know not—had
appeared in an evening paper. ) Sir James Fraser,
who had been on leave for two months, came back
to work next day, and I instantly laid the letter
before him. "You have had all the bother over
this business," he said; " do as you like. Consult
MaeWilliam ; but, take my advice, no one else."
There were two courses open to me: to watch
the house in Hoxton, and apprehend anyone or
everyone who called, or to trust the man who
trusted me. I chose the latter. I wrote, making
an appointment with him for 10 p.m. in one of the
quietest squares in the West End; assured him I
would be alone, and that not one detective would
accompany me from the Old Jewry. I told him to
stand under the lamp at the north-west end of the
gardens and wait for me. Shortly before the hour
named I took up my position on the pavement oppo-
site. Punctual almost to the minute I saw a man
advance from the north, and halt under the lamp.
Crossing the road at once, I walked quickly up to
him and looked him over steadily. The man con-
fronting me could not have been more than five
feet two or three inches in height. He was stoutly
built, black-bearded, and of an ugly and forbidding
countenance. " Have you come to meet anyone,
my man ?" I said. " No, I haven't," he replied, in
a civil enough tone. " Well, I have," I said, " and
I mean to wait a bit longer to see if he keeps his
appointment." To turn your back on a gentleman
is indicative of bad manners; but I thought this
gentleman might, like Callum Beg, have a " skene
occle," or some such weapon about him with which
he might *' kittle " my *' quarters " if he got the
chance, so, like the Court officials at Buckingham
Palace in presence of Royalty, I retreated back
foremost till I got to my original position. There
we stood facing one another for five or six minutes,
wlien the man turned and walked leisurely away.
If the letter I received was written by a soldier, as
I think it must have been, this man could not have
written it, for he was well under the standard for
any branch of the service.
After the meeting in the West-End square, I
had a short note from my short friend. " Now,"
he said, " I know I can trust you, I'll be at the
Old Jewry as soon as I can." I had also a letter
from the missioner, in which he told me that the
man I had met had " some very startling revela-
tions to make."
I waited patiently for the promised visit, and
confidently for a further communication from the
missioner. The man never came, nor was I able
to get the missioner's handwriting identified. Had
either of them asked for money, I would have sent
it willingly, believing, as I did, that at last I was
on the right scent; but I never had any such
application from either.
To return to Mitre Square and the night of the
murder.
At the exit leading direct to Goulston Street,
opposite the corner where the murder was com-
mitted, there was a club, the members of which
were nearly all foreigners. One, a sort of hybrid
German, was leaving the club—he was unable to
fix the hour—when he noticed a man and woman
standing close together. The woman had lier hand
resting on the man's chest. It was bright moon-
light, almost as light as day, and he saw them
distinctly. This was, without doubt, tlie murderer
and his victim. The inquiries I made at Bemers
Street, the evidence of the constable in whose beat
the square was, and my own movements, of which
I had kept careful notes, proved this conclusively.
The description of the man given me by the
German was as follows : Young, about the middle
height, with a small fair moustache, dressed in
something like navy serge, and with a deerstalker's
cap—that is, a cap with a peak both fore and aft.
I think the German spoke the truth, because I
could not " lead " him in any way. " You will
easily recognize him, then," I said. " Oh no !" he
replied; " I only had a short look at him." The
German was a strange mixture, honest apparently,
and intelligent also. He " had heard of some
imirders," he said, but they didn't seem to con-
cern him.
Yes, the Ripper had all the luck.
Since this chapter was written my attention has
been drawn to an article in J3lack'uoood's Magazine,
of March this year—the sixth of a series by Sir
Robert Anderson—entitled " The Lighter Side of
my Official Life." In this article Sir Robert dis-
courses on the Whitechapel, or Jack the Ripper,
murders, and states emphatically that he, the
criminal, " was living in the immediate vicinity
of the scenes of the murders, and that, if he was
not living absolutely alone, his people knew of his
guilt and refused to give him up to justice. The
conclusion," Sir Robert adds, " we came to was
that he and his people were low-class Jews, for it
is a remarkable fact that people of that class in the
East End will not give up one of their number to
Gentile justice, and the result proved that our
diagnosis was right on every point."
Sir Robert does not tell us how many of " his
people " slieltered the murderer, but whether they
were two dozen in number, or two hundred, or two
thousand, he accuses them of being accessories to
these crimes before and after their committal.
Surely Sir Robert cannot believe that while the
Jews, as he asserts, were entering into this con-
spiracy to defeat the ends of justice, there was no
one among them with sufficient knowledge of the
criminal law to warn them of the risks they were
running.*
Sir Robert talks of the " Lighter Side " of his
"Official Life." There is nothing ((l'?ht" here;
a heavier indictment could not be framed against
a class whose conduct contrasts most favourably
with that of the Gentile population of the
Metropolis.
In the early morning of September 30, 1888,
Sir Robert Anderson being in Paris, " two more
victims "—to use his own words—fell to the knife
of the murder fiend, the second victim being
Catharine Eddowes, killed in Mitre Square. This
was the only crime of the series committed within
the jurisdiction of Sir James Fraser, and he being
in Scotland, I was in command of the City
Police. Inasmuch as two women met their fate
on September 30, and it was discovered which way
the Ripper walked or ran after the second crime,
and how he wiped his hands to get rid of the
* In murder cases accessories after the fact—according to
"Stephen's Digest," an absolutely reliable work on criminal
law—are liable to penal servitude for life; and thus the Jews
in the East End, against whom Sir Robert Anderson made his
reckless accusation, come under that category.
blood-stains, that morning is far the most eventful
connected with the " reign of terror."
How Sir Charles Warren wiped out—1 believe
with his own hand, but will not speak positively—
the writing on the wall, how he came to my office
accompanied by Superintendent Arnold about
seven o'clock the same morning to get information
as to the murder of Catharine Eddowes, .1 have
already stated on p. 153. The facts are indis-
putable, yet Sir Robert Anderson studiously avoids
all allusion to them. Is it because " it would ill
become him to violate the unwritten rule of the
service," or is he unwilling to put on record the
unpardonable blunder of his superior officer ? I
leave my readers to decide.
Sir Robert says " the Ripper could go and come
and get rid of his blood-stains in secret." The
criminal, no doubt, was valeted by his co-religionists
—warned not to run too great risks, to come home
as soon as he could after business, and always to
give notice when he meant to cut up another lady !
On three occasions—the only three of which I can
give reliable details—there was no need to provide
the murderer with hot water and Sunlight soap.
In Berners Street he did not mutilate the woman,
and probably had very few blood-stains about him;
in Mitre Square he used the woman's apron; and in
Dorset Street he carefully washed his hands at the
sink.
The writing on the wall may have been written
—and, I think, probably was written—to throw the
police off the scent, to divert suspicion from the
Gentiles and throw it upon the Jews. It may
have been written by the murderer, or it may not.
To obliterate the words that might have given us
a most valuable clue, more especially after I had
sent a man to stand over them till they were photo-
graphed, was not only indiscreet, but unwarrantable.
Sir Robert Anderson spent, so he tells us, the
day of his return from abroad and half the following
night " in reinvestigating the whole case." A more
fruitless investigation, looking to all he tells us, it
would be difficult to imagine.
The " lighter side," we learn, is " to be con-
tinued." Meantime, if Sir Robert can spare a few
minutes, there are two books, I think, well worthy
of his perusal—'* Bleak House " and the Bible. In
the former book Mademoiselle Hortense, to divert
suspicion from herself, writes *' Lady Deadlock,
Murderess"—with what result Inspector Bucket
tells us. In the latter, Daniel interprets the writing
on the wall which brought things to a crisis at
Belshazzar's Feast. Sir Robert is fortunate to live
in times like the present. Mr. Blackwood's readers
seem pleased with his tales, but I fear the King of
the Chaldeans would have made short work of him. |
Author: Keith Rogan
Tuesday, 17 October 2000 - 01:53 pm | | >>>"On three occasions—the only three of which I can give reliable details—there was no need to provide the murderer with hot water and Sunlight soap.
In Berners Street he did not mutilate the woman,
and probably had very few blood-stains about him;
in Mitre Square he used the woman's apron; and in
Dorset Street he carefully washed his hands at the sink."<<<<<
This is odd. In this passage Smith mentions the bloody sink in connection with MJK's murder.
Perhaps that's the answer - he has simply mixed up the details in his aging brain as to which murder is associated with a bloody sink.
Perhaps the sink in Millers Court was indeed bloody after MJK's murder.
Keith |
Author: Warwick Parminter
Tuesday, 17 October 2000 - 04:32 pm | | | As a man compared to Anderson and Macnaghten, I prefer Major Smith. His evidence and memories seem more descriptive and straight forward than the other two,-- he didn't mind admitting the Ripper had beaten him the night Eddowes died, which is something the other two would never have done. But there are things that make me wonder about him. When the piece of apron and the grafitti was found in the tenement doorway in Goulston St, the evidence says every door in that building was knocked and questions were asked of the tenents there in.If Smith was in a very few minutes, on the trail of the Ripper and tracked him to Dorset St,and was in time to see bloodstained water in a public sink situated 18ft off Dorset St, ( the sink wasn't public, it was for the use of Millers Court tenents) thats if he was talking about Millers Court. On finding the blood in the sink what was it that made him think he hadn't followed the Ripper to earth?-- why didn't he order a search of the buildings in the court. Jon, if the streets from Goulston to Dorset were alive with police, plainclothed and uniformed, the Assistant Commissioner of the City police being one of them, so soon after the murder, then I don't think the Ripper would have ventured any where near Goulston St for a second time that night. Rick |
Author: Warwick Parminter
Tuesday, 17 October 2000 - 04:34 pm | | | As a man compared to Anderson and Macnaghten, I prefer Major Smith. His evidence and memories seem more descriptive and straight forward than the other two,-- he didn't mind admitting the Ripper had beaten him the night Eddowes died, which is something the other two would never have done. But there are things that make me wonder about him. When the piece of apron and the grafitti was found in the tenement doorway in Goulston St, the evidence says every door in that building was knocked and questions were asked of the tenents there in.If Smith was in a very few minutes, on the trail of the Ripper and tracked him to Dorset St,and was in time to see bloodstained water in a public sink situated 18ft off Dorset St, ( the sink wasn't public, it was for the use of Millers Court tenents) thats if he was talking about Millers Court. On finding the blood in the sink what was it that made him think he hadn't followed the Ripper to earth?-- why didn't he order a search of the buildings in the court. Jon, if the streets from Goulston to Dorset were alive with police, plainclothed and uniformed, the Assistant Commissioner of the City police being one of them, so soon after the murder, then I don't think the Ripper would have ventured any where near Goulston St for a second time that night. Rick |
Author: Warwick Parminter
Tuesday, 17 October 2000 - 04:38 pm | | | Excuse the double message, a difference of opinion between me and the MACHINE. |
Author: Jon
Tuesday, 17 October 2000 - 07:31 pm | | Keith
My sentiments exactly, as expressed back on January 11, 2000.
I quote:
Seeing as how were on the subject of Major Smith's memoirs,.....
What he says on page 153, after refering to Goulston Street..."In Dorset Street,with extraordinary audacity, he washed them at a sink up a close, not more than six yards from the street"
What rarely gets mentioned is a further reference to the same event on page 161, which makes it clear (sort of) that he is confusing the 'sink' thing with another event. The text is discussing Jack being able to clean himself up after a murder.....
"On three occations - the only three of which I can give reliable details - there was no need to provide the murderer with hot water and sunlight soap. In Berners Street he did not mutilate the woman, and probably had very few blood stains about him; in Mitre Square he used the womans apron; and in Dorset Street he carefully washed his hands at the sink."
This tends to suggest to me that the three occations he refers to were three separate murders. Hence.....he never went to Dorset Street as he first suggested on page 153, that is due to a confused memory.
Faulty memory is probably all that is at fault here.
Regards, Jon |
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