Berner Street

There's a turn up.

When I research a person, I use original sources – as far as possible. This sometimes discloses a mismatch with other researchers who’ve traced the same character. Mostly, my research reveals the same or similar results. Nonetheless, reading another’s outcome prejudices investigation. It’s surprising how often information is reproduced without questioning the process by which the originator arrived at their hypothesis. There is no reason to assume another researchers’ work is correct, incorrect, or is acting honestly, dishonestly, is or isn’t just plain barking.

Note to self and advice to other researches – and a gift from my old lecturer after I’d delivered a ten-page essay and managed to avoid, in the word storm, answering the question: Question, doubt, and ask that huge three-letter word, WHY? Follow that up with, HOW? But do not assume you know, or they know. They might be correct. You could be accurate. But how do you know?

This is the second time, by this process, I’ve arrived at a distinct data subset from other researchers. I don’t know which is correct – not yet, maybe never. The (main) character within this grouping has little-recorded background, but suddenly I’m looking at a set of surnames I’ve previously encountered – when examining another individual.

It’s intriguing but also a time-consuming distraction. It’s not what I expected, but I can’t ignore it. I’ll attempt to understand the ramifications of this ‘discovery’ if I can establish a relationship between these people – later.

Introducing my dead relative.

I thought life couldn't become more hellish for the inhabitants of Whitechapel. That perhaps I would like to be one of those middle-class tourists who would visit the East End much as one would tour a zoo -- with assistance from H G Wells' transportation. I'm not brave enough ...

 On the occurrence of a death amongst this description of labourers, what do you find to be the general condition of the family, in relation to the remains. How is the corpse dealt with?—Nearly the whole of the labouring population there have only one room. The corpse is therefore kept in that room where the inmates sleep and have their meals. Sometimes the corpse is stretched on the bed, and the bed and bed-clothes are taken off, and the wife and family lie on the floor. Sometimes a board is got on which the corpse is stretched, and that is sustained on tressels or on chairs.

Sometimes it is stretched out on chairs. When children die, they are frequently laid out on the table. The poor Irish, if they can afford it, form a canopy of white calico over the corpse, and buy candles to burn by it, and place a black cross at the head of the corpse. They commonly raise the money to do this by subscriptions amongst themselves and at the public-houses which they frequent.

What is the usual length of time that the corpse is so kept?—The time varies according to the day of the death. Sunday is the day usually chosen for the day of burial. But if a man die on the Wednesday, the burial will not take place till the Sunday week following. Bodies are almost always kept for a full week, frequently longer.

Have you had occasion to represent as injurious this practice of retaining the corpse amidst the living?—I have represented in several communications in answer to sanitary inquiries from the Poor Law Commission Office, that it must be and is highly injurious. It was only three or four days ago that an instance of this occurred in my own practice, which I will mention.

Do you observe any peculiarity of habit amongst the lower classes accompanying this familiarity with the remains of the dead?—What I observe when I first visit the room is a degree of indifference to the presence of the corpse: the family is found eating or drinking or pursuing their usual their usual callings, and the children playing.

Practise of internment in towns. Edwin Chadwick

Life in Whitechapel

LLOYD’S WEEKLY
The London Hospital

15th April 1888:-

“Malvina Haynes, who received very serious injuries to her head and scalp on the night of Bank holiday, has been from that time until this week lying quite unconscious at the London hospital, no sounds but moans having escaped her lips.
The sufferer has been under the care of Mr. George Haslip, the house-surgeon, and on Tuesday the patient, upon regaining consciousness, was only able to briefly to relate the circumstances of the outrage.
It appears, however,  that on many points her memory was an entire  blank : and when questioned  as to what her assailant was like, she replied, “I cannot remember; my mind is gone.”
The hospital authorities at once communicated Detective-sergeant William New, who  has charge of the case, and certain information,  which casually passed from the woman’s lips may perhaps lead to a clue respecting the would-be murderer.
Mr. Haynes, the husband, who is a hard-working house painter residing at 29, Newnham-street Great Alie-street, Whitechapel, has expressed his deep sense of the unremitting skill and kindness his wife has received from the surgical and nursing staff at the hospital, and from a statement which he has made, it appears that his wife, himself, and some friends spent the Bank holiday together by seeing some of the sights of the metropolis, and in the evening Mrs Haynes returned with them to their home.
She went out later on, and screams were shortly heard in the vicinity of Leman-street railway station.
A constable found Mrs. Haynes lying insensible on the ground, in a pool of blood.
Besides her brain being affected by the injury, Mrs. Haynes is suffering from a scalp wound of rather an extensive character.
A man who was said to have been near the unfortunate woman at the time of the occurrence, and who resided in the district, has since left the neighbourhood. The police hope that he may come forward, as his testimony might aid the ends of justice, by relating what he saw of the outrage.”

Thinking allowed, and aloud.

Okay, the difference between mass killers and serial murders is apparent. The first explodes into rage and kills suddenly and violently knowing he will be caught, killed, or intends suicide.
The serial killer is driven, ‘not by a slow-burning rage that erupts one day in a single, cataclysmic act of gun-crazed vengeance—but by a profound sadistic lust, a terrible joy in inflicting suffering and death on helpless victims.’
Therefore, the question is: why did Jack the Ripper kill women so quickly they hadn't time to cry out or show defence wounds – Mary Kelly excepted.
So what did he gain from slaying? It’s almost as if the women aren’t important. Okay, they’re not important in any serialists’ actions, but Jack the Ripper didn’t inflict pain on his victims – he didn’t torture them. He dispatched the women quickly, much as a slaughter man kills an animal in an abattoir – speedily and as humanely as possible. So what was his motivation if it wasn’t the fear on those women’s faces?
Just knowing he could kill and get away with murder? Showing his power, but to whom was he displaying his prowess? Not the women. They were no sooner in is orbit than he killed them. He was showing off his ability to capture, control, and escape, to who? Proving it to himself? He didn’t doubt his skills. His belief in his abilities caused him to place himself in sites of maximum danger – Two police constables Mitre Square, with minutes between beats. An ex-policeman worked as night-watchman, and a policeman lived on the square. It was a contained location, with just three exits, two of which encompassed the beats of the two officers on duty. The third exited into St James Place where a night-watchman oversaw a building site, and just to add to the potential difficulties, St James Place was the site of a manned fire station. Miller's Court had but one escape route.
Jack the Ripper was displaying his bravado and demonstrating his ‘skill’, but who did he seek to impress, or ridicule? Was he saying, “I outwit you.’ And consequently, ‘I am smarter than you.’ To whom was he shaking his peacock tail?
So, the question is: who is The Boss?
Even if a newspaper marketeer wrote the Dear Boss letters, who did the journalist (when he adopted the Ripper’s persona) think Jack the Ripper wrote to when he dipped his pen in red ink?
Boss: A person who exercises control and makes decisions. A person with control over workers. What was the organisation or company?

Mary Jane Kelly

No it isn't Mary Kelly, even though she has several internal organs at her feet. It's an Anatomical Venus. The “Venerina” or “Little Venus” wax anatomical model by Clemente Susini, 1782. Photo by Joanna Ebenstein at, appropriately enough, The Whitechapel Gallery. Courtesy of the Palazzo Poggi, Bologna, Italy. 2010.

Dear Boss letter

The 17th September letter isn't written by the same author as the Dear Boss letter of the 25th September. It isn't just superficially different but structurally distinct. Strange, considering the 17th September missive used language similar to the Dear Boss letter!

A herd of Marys

The most popular ten female names in Ireland of the 19th century, in descending order, were Mary, Bridget, Margaret, Ellen, Catherine, Kate and Annie. Kelly was the most common surname after Murphy. So Mary Kelly is the Irish equivalent of John Smith. Of course, that doesn’t mean Mary Kelly wasn’t her birth name, but if she wanted to hide it’s easier amid a shoal of Marys and a herd of Kellys.

And she certainly recoiled against the moniker, stating she was really Marie Jeanette and not plain Mary Jane.

During most of the 19th century, the most popular given names in England were Mary and either John or William.

She stated she married a Davies whose first name was John. Davies is the 2nd most common surname in Wales and 8th most common in England. Oh, and her brother Henry was called Johnto or John too. Seems plain Mary Jane had rather a theme going here.

If she wanted anonymity she certainly succeeded. The question is, as always, why?

And just to add to the anonymity she says her father's name is John (Kelly) – or John Smith if she were English. I don't believe her.

What's that mean?

I’ve endured several days of pedestrian research – e.g. what is the burn time of a bull’s eye lamp? Google has discovered every ‘for sale’ lantern on the planet. ‘Burn time’ linked to, and dredged various torture sites.  But never mind. I’m basking in the afterglow of discovering the meaning of that GSG word.

So blindingly-bloody-obvious, but it only appeared after an indirect search. Certainly wasn’t looking for it. It doesn’t mean Jews, feminine, woman or yours.

Lesson learnt: disregard consensus thinking.

I’ve completed three chapters of my book – times it by ten, and it’s finished.

That chalked message

This is a map showing the tangle of alleys en route from Mitre Square to Goulston Street. Something slightly amusing about several of the narrow alleys called Hutchison. The killer could have discarded Eddowes’ soiled apron anywhere in these back streets

. But he didn’t. The killer wanted that apron found, which means he was making a declaration. Flinging down his gauntlet, alright in this case apron, and it served to underline that chalked message.

A farrier’s axe

A farrier’s axe dating from the early 19th century. It belonged to the Royal Horse Guards. The spike on the axe was used to put severely injured horses out of their misery as humanely as possible.
In order to account for all animals killed in action, the sharp axe blade was used to chop off the hoof of the deceased horse. Branded numbers in the hooves kept track of horses killed in battle and prevented a soldier from selling his horse to civilians in war zones. Horses were used for  both transportation and food.

Ceremonial use today.

Erm. Now what was that about JTR being a slaughterman?

Poof he vanishes.

The same man recurs after every string I use to track Hutchinson. But all to no avail because he vanishes. Not dead, not emigrated, just ceases to exist in the records. So has he changed his name again? If he has assumed another identity and given a different DOB that's the end of my trail.
I don't think I'll ever finish my non-fiction JTR. I'll leave it running in the background and work on it as and when. It's done when it's done.
I'm working in London next week so I'll make time to view original data.