3. A World-Famous Case
in a Famous Location
Editorial by Christopher T. George
At the start of this month, the first major exhibition on Jack the Ripper closed at London’s
Docklands Museum at Canary Wharf after a duration of five months. I can reveal that we at the Rip
have been in contact with the curators to ask them for their thoughts on the event. Specifically, we
asked them, did it go as well as they had hoped? Was the line-up of speakers for the talks the right
balance in hindsight? What will happen with the exhibits, props, artwork panels, etc?
We would also like to ask you, our readers, to provide us with your thoughts on the exhibition for an article in the
December Rip. A ‘post mortem’ as it were.
We would like to hear from those of you who went through the exhibition or attended one or more of the associated
talks. But we also welcome the ideas of you who were not able to go. I have to confess that I am in the latter cate-
gory—I was sorely tempted to make a lightning visit to London from my home in the USA just to see it but did not manage it
due to my commitments Stateside and also, of course, because of money considerations in the tanking world economy. Drat!
For those of you who like me missed out on the exhibition, what is your opinion of what you have heard about the
show? And anyone, what do you think should be in such an exhibition if there should be a similar event, or even a per-
manent exhibition on the case? What could be improved compared to Docklands’ effort? Send your thoughts to us at
our new email address of contact@ripperologist.biz.
We hear that the target attendance for the Docklands show was 76,000.
Hopefully we will hear from the curators and can reveal the actual num-
ber that passed through the door.
The Whitechapel murders constitute a world-famous case that took
place in a famous location. From the many references to ‘Jack’ in the
international media, newspapers or electronic media, on blogs, and in
everyday conversation, it would seem that people worldwide have at least
heard of the Ripper, if only as a stereotypical savage killer.
It’s likely also that a hefty number of people know where the murders took
place, in the East End of London, even if many could not point out the exact
locations of the crimes. Hopefully Docklands will have educated tens of thou-
sands more as to the true facts of the case.
A few months ago, I read in the Baltimore Examiner that, after the
shooting of a young African-American boy, a fireman washed away the
blood with a firehose. This description reminded me of the similar descrip-
tions in the Whitechapel murders. In regard to the Buck’s Row murder of
Polly Nichols, ‘James Green, son of Mrs Green, came outside with a pail of
water to wash away the blood from the cobblestones.’1 The killer himself
even commented about how the authorities washed the blood away in one
murder. That is, if you believe the taunting words of a Ripper letter claim-
Ripperologist 97 November 2008 1
4. ing to be from ‘an American’ in regard to the murder of Elizabeth Stride in Dutfield’s Yard: ‘I was in the crowd at
Berners Street [sic] watching the blue boys wash the blood marks away. . . .’2
What is it about the Whitechapel murders that keeps them in the forefront of popular imagination after 120 years
when so many other crimes have faded from memory? Undoubtedly it is partly the viciousness of the crimes that attract-
ed attention. Also the fact that they were committed in a major capital that could justifiably claim in that day to be the
most important world capital. And not the least that the killer apparently got clean away after doing his bloody work.
We offer a smorgasbord of articles in this issue of the Rip, the last of our series of issues devoted to the sixth-score
anniversary of the Autumn of Terror.
We will have a detailed look at Dorset Street, the site of the horrific murder and mutilation of Mary Jane Kelly in
the low-rent dingy room at 13 Miller’s Court.
In truth, there is about as much mystery about the origins of MJK as the mystery of who her killer was. Some would
put the murders down to a Royal conspiracy to protect the monarchy and cover up the illegal marriage of the ‘heir to
the throne’ Prince Albert Victor, Victoria’s grandson: a notion that leading MJK researcher Chris Scott debunks in offer-
ing us ‘Mary Jane Kelly—A Family Tale.’
Another possibility for MJK’s background is discussed in ‘Mary Jane Kelly: From May Place, Liverpool, to Miller’s
Court?’ in which we asked Chris to comment on an 1881 Census listing that apparently finds MJK, or a woman with a
similar name, in a Roman Catholic reformatory in 1881 in the Liverpool area. In this piece, Chris discusses the many
difficulties of MJK research.
After Stan Russo’s recent articles examining the Jewish and Doctor theories, Stan looks at the colourful Irish American
quack, Dr. Francis Tumblety. No Royals here, but do we detect the distinct odour of Guinness and boiled cabbage? Did the
murders involve another type of conspiracy?
Christer Holmgren examines the case against little-known suspect Joseph Fleming. If MJK was not murdered by lover
Joe Barnett, from whom she was separated, could she have been killed by ex-lover Fleming? ‘Joe the Ripper’, anyone?
We were pleased to publish in our October issue Andrew Spallek’s article revealing to you the reader various newly
rediscovered photographs of Ripper suspect Montague John Druitt during his time as a pupil at Winchester College. We
publish now a follow-up in a piece on ‘Montie’s Photographer’—W. Savage of Winchester which as part of the Savage
story will introduce a number of you to the details of yet another famous Victorian mystery, the Tichborne Case.
Why wasn’t Jack caught? The popular perception is that the Met and the City Police were bumblers who bungled the
case. Rip editor Don Souden looks at the methods of the coppers of the day, the ‘Bluebottles’ as it were—and gives
them a passing grade. Feel free to send us your letters to the editor if you disagree with Don’s conclusion.
All this and the last of Karyo Magellan’s series on the wounds inflicted on the canonical victims, fiction by Antonio Ruiz
Vega translated by Eduardo Zinna, Chris Scott’s Press Trawl, and ‘I Beg to Report’.
If you had not realised it before, now you know why you subscribe to the Rip. Enjoy!
Christopher T. George is an editor at Ripperologist. He is a former editor of Ripper Notes.
Chris has given presentations at both the UK and US Ripper conventions. Chris is also the
lyricist and co-writer for Jack: The Musical, written with French musician Erick Sitbon. He
is currently finalizing work on a book on Jack the Ripper and the Jews, expected out in 2009.
1 The Times, 4 September 1888
2 Jack the Ripper letter headed ‘Spring Heel Jack The Whitechapel Murderer’, dated October 4th 1888, MEPO 3/142, p 195.
Ripperologist 97 November 2008 2
Ripperologist 97 November 2008
5. Mary Jane Kelly — A Family Tale
By Chris Scott
Over the years there have been a number of stories that allege a family connection with the
Whitechapel murders. The most direct of these claim that a relative was, or knew, or arrested
Jack the Ripper. This type of account has been characterised by the disparaging byline of “my
grandfather was Jack the Ripper.” In view of the number of years that have now passed since the
Whitechapel murders, perhaps this should be updated to take account of the number of genera-
tions that have now passed. Since there are so many unknowns in the Ripper case—who he was,
when and how he died, why he stopped, where he lived—the whole arena of these events became
a blank canvas on which a plethora of claims, fantasies and bizarre accounts have been painted.
Most of these claims have, quite rightly in my opinion, been dismissed as either wildly fantastic
or lacking any evidence whatever to support their substance.
Within this blank canvas, a breeding ground for speculation, we have one area in which this type of fantastic story
has run riot. This is the personage and mystery of the last of the so-called “canonical” victims of the Whitechapel mur-
derer, a woman known to criminal history as Mary Jane Kelly. The life and background of this woman remains utterly
impenetrable and has resisted all attempts at research to verify even the most basic of facts about her. By way of con-
trast, the other four canonical victims—Nichols, Chapman, Stride
Contemporary sketch of Joseph Barnett, the main source
and Eddowes—have been thoroughly and painstakingly researched— of our information about Mary Kelly.
notably by Neal Shelden—and the broad outlines at least of their
lives are known and established. That is not to say, of course, that
there are not areas of their backgrounds that are still to be dis-
covered. But of Mary Kelly we know, as ascertained fact, nothing
whatever. It would be a mistake to think that Kelly is actually
unique in this respect, in that one of the later victims considered
by some to have died by the same hand, Alice McKenzie, is just as
mysterious in her background and life as Kelly herself.
Although a number of details about Kelly were supplied by peo-
ple who knew, or claimed to know her, the principal source of
what is alleged about her life and childhood comes from the tes-
timony of Joseph Barnett, the man with whom she had lived since
Easter of 1887. When a researcher first comes to this account —
contained in Barnett’s police statement and his inquest testimo-
ny—his version of her life appears to present a positive smorgas-
bord of researchable material. Here we have details of Kelly’s
Ripperologist 97 November 2008 3
6. family background, her marriage and the various moves she made prior to coming in London. We allegedly know her
father’s name, her place of birth, her husband’s name, his trade, how he died and so on. But, to the researcher’s cha-
grin, not one item of this tale checks out, not one detail can be verified by documentation. And it is surely this very
vagueness, this lack of verifiable any fact, which has made Kelly such a prime candidate for speculation, romanticism
and fantasy.
To this we must add that Kelly, as the last of the canonical victims, has been interpreted in some accounts of the
murders as the apogee, in more sense than one, of the series of killings. Firstly, the apogee in the sense of the brutal-
ity and extent of the destruction that was wrought on her body, and, secondly, in the sense that she is seen by some
as the final target of the killer’s intentions. There have been many examples where the alleged role of Mary Kelly has
been woven into a more or less complex version of events surrounding the Whitechapel murders. From the outset it is
important to differentiate between those accounts that are overtly fictitious and those that are allegedly factual. As an
example of the treatment of Mary Kelly in fiction, a fairly recent example would be the film “From Hell,” starring Johnny
Depp and Heather Graham. In this tale based on the Whitechapel murders, Kelly (played by Graham) is a central char-
acter and becomes romantically involved with the handsome and widowed Frederick Abberline, portrayed by Depp. At
the climax of this version it turns out that the victim found in 13 Miller's Court is not Mary Kelly, who ends up back in an
idyllic spot in Ireland looking after the young Alice Crook.
Of the allegedly factual versions of the murders in which Kelly plays a pivotal role, two examples will suffice. In The
Mystery of Jack the Ripper by Leonard Matters, published in 1929, the identity of the Ripper is revealed as a certain
Dr Stanley. The root cause of the murders is the syphilis infection and subsequent death of Stanley’s beloved son on
whom all his doting father’s hopes rested. It emerges that the source of the fatal syphilis infection in 1886 was Mary
Kelly, and it is the hunting down of her by Dr Stanley that precipitates
Colourized photograph of Prince
Albert Victor, Duke of Clarence the killings. Matters claims that Stanley fled from Britain and eventu-
ally died in Buenos Aires in 1918. It was on the basis of a newspaper
report that Matters based his story, but this newspaper account has
never been traced.
We now come to the so-called “Royal Conspiracy” theory. It is some-
what misleading to describe this as a theory as it is, rather, a set of the-
ories. The Royal Conspiracy story, like the Hydra, although apparently
killed off, raises its head in a new incarnation. Here I have neither the
space—nor, if the truth be told, the inclination—to go into all the ram-
ifications of this complex story. I will briefly summarise what might be
called the “classic” version of it. Prince Albert Victor, oldest son of
the future Edward VII, is the central character. As a quick aside, I have
often seen Albert Victor described as the “heir to the throne.” This is
incorrect. He would never have been known by this title in his life-
time. Under British Royal custom, there is only ever one heir to the
throne at any given time. This heir is designated as “Heir Apparent,”
signifying that no subsequent birth can displace him or her from this
position. Prince Charles is currently in this position. An “heir presump-
tive” is a holder of that position whose claim could be affected by a sub-
sequent birth. For example, the present Queen was heir presumptive all
the time her father was King, in that if a brother were born, he would
have become heir apparent in her place. Albert Victor died in 1892,
at which time his father was the Prince of Wales, not King. So Albert
Victor was never “heir to the throne.” He was in line to the throne,
Ripperologist 97 November 2008 4
7. but that is a different matter.
It is alleged that Albert Victor became enamoured of a young woman
named Annie Crook. He undertook a secret (and illegal) marriage with
Annie and they had a daughter, Alice Margaret Crook. The “powers that
be” in the form of the Government and/or the Freemasons undertook
the murders as a cover up to preserve the stability of the Throne. It was
alleged that Kelly was a witness at the secret marriage, and in some ver-
sions she also nursed the child. When the storm broke and Annie was
taken away and secreted in an asylum, Kelly and her East End cronies
saw the main chance and instigated a blackmail plot. It was this plot
that precipitated the killings to silence them. I must nail my colours to
the mast, as it were, and state that in my opinion not one version of the
Hydra-headed Royal Conspiracy theory has any credibility as an accurate
explanation of the killings. It is a classic fairy story, but only that.
The very reason that Mary Kelly has been such fertile ground for story
spinning and outright fantasy—and the brief versions above are only a
few among many—is that the verifiable facts about her life number
exactly zero. She is a tabula rasa, a blank canvas on which any fanciful
version of the Whitechapel murders can be depicted with no fear of
provable contradiction regarding Kelly herself. For the fact that nothing
is known about Kelly is a two-edged sword. Just as nothing can be Alleged photograph of Annie Crook, from Jack the Ripper
the Final Solution, by Stephen Knight.
proved about Kelly from the known documentation, so any fanciful ver-
sion of Kelly’s role in the events of 1888 cannot be disproved. And, on the basis that the standards of proof and verifi-
cation cannot vary from one version of the story to another, we must be equally wary of family stories that allege some
previously unknown role for Mary Kelly. I use the word “wary” quite deliberately, for the burden of proof still exists
undiminished, but any researcher must remember the existence of the possibility that some previously unknown aspect
of the Whitechapel case may come to light. New material does come to light even after 120 years, and any student of
the case who approaches an alleged new tale with the predetermined opinion that “it cannot be true” does a disserv-
ice to himself and his material. In my opinion, the greatest requirement for a researcher in any field is an open but
critical mind.
And so we come to the Mary Kelly story in which I have been involved personally. This came about in the following
way. In 2005 there was published my book Will the Real Mary Kelly...? which did not seek to provide a definitive or
“final” solution to the problem of Kelly’s identity, but, rather, to take a critical look at the orthodox version of her story
as provided by Barnett and to examine some of the myths that have grown up around the Miller's Court killing. After
the book had been out for some time I was contacted by the lady who is the source of the story I am about to present.
Briefly put, she said that there was a story within her family that cast a very interesting light on the identity and fate
of Mary Kelly. Would I, she asked, be interested? I think you can guess my answer!
However, it was made clear from the beginning that the lady in question did not want to be identified in any way
that would attract the brouhaha that still attends stories pertaining to the Whitechapel murders. Of course, I gave my
assurance that this would be respected and I have since done so and will continue to do so. I have to state for the
record that I have been in contact with the lady in question on many occasions and I have absolutely no doubt as to
her sincerity and I am as certain as I can be that the story she told has been relayed to me accurately and faithfully.
This inevitably leads to a second caveat, one that I have made clear to the lady in question on more than one occa-
sion. Even if she has related the story to me accurately as she heard it—and, as stated, I have no reason to believe that
she has not—that does not make it true. The fact that a family tradition is reported as it was told does not make the
Ripperologist 97 November 2008 5
8. factual basis on which that tradition is allegedly based historically true.
When my informant was 14 years of age—which, I’m sure she won’t mind me saying, was quite some years ago—she
happened to see a copy of the Miller's Court photograph of Kelly’s corpse lying on the bed. She mentioned this to her
grandparents, and was told that the woman in the photograph was not Mary Kelly, that, indeed, Kelly had survived
beyond 1888, had moved to another part of London and was known to her great-great-grandparents, who were named
Alfred and Sarah Joel. Alfred was born in early 1856, his birth being registered in Gainsborough, Lincolnshire. In vari-
ous census returns his place of birth is given as Hull and Butterwick. Interestingly, there is a variance in the spelling of
his surname in the birth register, it being recorded as Joels. He was the son of John Joel, a carpenter—a trade that
Alfred would follow—and in 1861 the family is listed as follows:
North Street, West Butterwick, Lincolnshire
Head: John Joel aged 40 born Flixborough, Lincs — Master carpenter
Wife: Elizabeth Joel aged 37 born Amcoath, Lincs
Children:
William aged 14 born Althorp — Apprentice carpenter
Betsy aged 9 born Butterwick
George Henry aged 7 born Butterwick
Alfred 5 born Butterwick
Frederick aged 3 born Butterwick
Daughter aged under 1 month born Butterwick
The woman who was to become Alfred’s wife was born Sarah Newsom in 1859 in Tottenham. Her family is listed in
1861 as follows:
Park Lane, Tottenham, Middlesex
Head: Edward Newsom aged 38 — Dealer in cattle
Wife: Mary Newsom aged 28
Children:
Elizabeth aged 4
Sarah aged 2
Julia A aged 9 months
All the members of the family are listed as born in Tottenham.
The only reason I have listed this information in such detail is to show that the source of this Mary Kelly story were
real people from provable backgrounds. Again, I stress, this does not make the story they told true, but demonstrates
that those who originated the tale are traceable.
At what point Alfred and Sarah met we do not know, but they married in Edmonton, Essex, in the last quarter of
1880. In the 1881 census the couple are listed as follows:
Commerce Road, Tottenham
Head: Alfred Joel aged 24 born Hull — Carpenter
Wife: Sarah Joel aged 21 born Tottenham
Ripperologist 97 November 2008 6
9. By 1891 the couple had moved back to Lincolnshire, as follows:
3 Collins Yard, Clee, Grimsby
Head: Alfred Joel aged 36 born Butterwick — Joiner
Wife: Sarah Joel aged 32 born Tottenham
Children:
Florence aged 7
Annie aged 5
William A aged 3
Fred aged 1
All children are listed as born in Grimsby.
If the place of birth of the four children is correct, then this suggests that the couple moved back to Lincolnshire
prior to 1884. Those whom I have been able to trace read as follows:
Florence Joel born 1884 in Caistor, Lincs
Annie Joel in 1886 in Caistor
William Alfred Joel in 1888 in Caistor
This shows that throughout the period of the murders the couple were living in Lincolnshire and raises the impor-
tant question of how they would have found out about the alleged Kelly story. Of course, Sarah Joel had family ties
with Tottenham and it is possible the couple returned there on occasion.
Within four years of the 1891 census both of the couple were dead. Sarah Joel died in 1894 and the details of her
death are:
1894 Quarter 2
Sarah Ann Joel aged 34
Gainsborough, Lincolnshire
In the following year, 1895, Alfred died by his own hand in strange circumstances. The details from his death certifi-
cate read as follows:
Registration District: Caistor
County: Lincoln
When and Where Died: 28 November 1895
Workshop of Messrs Nightingale of Convamore Road, Grimsby
Name: Alfred Joel
Sex: Male
Age: 38 years
Occupation: Joiner (foreman) late of 343 Convamore Road, Grimsby
Cause of Death: Suicide by hanging whilst of unsound mind
Informant: Certificate received from Coroner for the Borough of Grimbsy.
Inquest held 29 November 1895
When registered: 30 November 1895
Ripperologist 97 November 2008 7
10. A few more details can be gleaned from a short newspaper article I found in, oddly, the Bristol Mercury of 29
November 1895:
SHOCKING SUICIDE
Alfred Joel, foreman for Nightingale and Danby, a building firm at Grimsby, proceeded to his work yesterday morning, pro-
cured a sash cord, to which he tied a silk handkerchief, and then hung himself from a beam in the joiners’ shop. He was dead
when found half an hour afterwards. The deceased was between 30 and 40 years of age, and leaves a widow and large family.
A rather macabre addendum to this newspaper report is a family story relating to Alfred‘s suicide. My informant told me that
it is told within the family that Alfred, a carpenter and joiner, made his own coffin prior to taking his own life.
However, my grateful thanks are due to Mike Covell who found the following two reports in Hull newspapers, one of
which gives substantial detail about Alfred’s suicide:
Hull Daily Mail
28 November 1895 (Early Edition)
FOREMAN HANGED IN WORKSHOP
This morning the Grimsby Police report what appears to have been a deliberate case of suicide by Alfred Joel, a foreman join-
er, in the employ of Messrs Nightingale and Danby. It is stated that one of the workmen in the same employ, named Thomas
Turner, of Ayscough Street, went to Messrs Nightingale and Danby’s workshop this morning, at about 7.10 o’clock, and found Joel
hanging by a piece of rope from the ceiling. He immediately cut the man down, and sent for his employers and the police, but
when they arrived the man was discovered to be dead. The body was, however, still warm, and it is supposed that deceased went
to the workshop between six and seven o’clock as usual, and had then hanged himself. No reason for the suicide has, up to the
time of writing, transpired. Deceased was a married man, residing at 343 Convamore Road.
Hull Daily Mail
28 November 1895 (Late Edition)
JOINER’S SUICIDE
A joiner named Alfred Joel, of 343 Convamore Road, Grimsby, was found hanging in the workshop of Messrs Nightingale and
Danby, on Thursday. The facts were investigated by the Coroner yesterday. The inquest was held in the workshop, and the body
of the deceased man was lying in another part of the room.
The Coroner, at the commencement of the proceedings, remarked that he had been compelled to accept somewhat hastily
improvised accommodation. He had, however, no chance between this and compelling the jury to walk a considerable distance
to view the body, for there were, as they knew, no public houses on Mr Heneage’s estate in which an inquest might have been
held. He, therefore, had been pleased to accept the offer of Messrs Nightingale and Danby to hold the inquiry in their workshops.
Annie Gray, the wife of Harry Gray, engineer, of 308 Convamore Road, said she was aware of the fact that deceased was in debt
and it seemed as if this was preying on his mind. His creditors were pressing for their money. Witness was a friend of the family,
and was often in the house, so that she knew that the man and his wife were living on bread and butter only, in order to try and
get clear of debt. During the last week Joel had received 30s wages, and out of this had paid 16s for rent and back debts. Witness
had herself advanced money to pay off a debt and get the bailiffs out of the house during the last month.
Ripperologist 97 November 2008 8
11. Thomas Turner, 48 Ayscough Street, said he found deceased hanging by a silk handkerchief round his neck in a part of the room
which he pointed out to the jury. The handkerchief was attached to a cord fastened round one of the beams supporting the roof.
Witness cut him down, and he was then apparently dead. There was a lad in the shop at the time, and witness asked him to help
him, but he dare not approach the body. Another lad was sent for Messrs Nightingale and Danby and for the police. Witness had
known that deceased had undergone a considerable amount of trouble recently, and had been considerably depressed.
Ernest Needham, an apprentice in the same employ as the last witness, and Christopher Stephenson, yardman at Messrs
Nightingale and Danby also gave evidence.
Mr George Thomas Danby, in partnership with Mr Nightingale, said deceased had been recently appointed foreman in their
works. Witness was aware of the fact that deceased had been in debt, and he had on one occasion relieved him from pecuniary
difficulties.
The jury decided no further evidence was necessary, and gave a verdict of “Suicide whilst in an unsound state of mind,” adding
an expression of sympathy with the wife of the deceased.
The Coroner said he could not help regretting that deceased had not taken legal advice with regard to his pecuniary difficul-
ties, if it was possible for persons in positions such as his to be relieved from them pressing upon them in the manner in which
deceased had suffered.
There is one anomaly in these reports in that there is persistent reference to a surviving wife.
The comment that Alfred left a widow is false in that his wife had died the previous year, as we saw above. So whom
this “wife” is that the reports refer to is not clear. It seems likely that Sarah died in, or as a result of, childbirth in that
a final child is listed in the 1901 census and his birth was registered in exactly the same year and quarter as Sarah’s
death. When we trace the location of the five now orphaned children of the Joel family in 1901, we find the following:
The child Annie was a servant at Cricklade in Wiltshire, and two of the children are listed as orphans:
The Seamans and General Orphan Asylum, Hull
Frederick Joel (Orphan) aged 11 born Grimsby
Percy Joel (Orphan) aged 8 born Grimsby
The other two children were living with an uncle in Grimbsy but under a different surname:
9 Haven Street, Grimsby
Head: William White aged 49 born Butterwick, Lincs
Wife: Betsy White aged 49 born Butterwick
Niece: Florence Todd aged 17 born Grimsby — Domestic servant
Nephew: William A Todd aged 12 born Grimsby — Errand boy
There is one oddity here, in that the child Percy, whose birth may well be related to Sarah’s death, is listed as 8
years old in 1901 and born in Grimsby. That would place his birth in or near 1893. The only Percy Joel born anywhere
near that period is:
1894 Quarter 2
Percy George Joel
Ripperologist 97 November 2008 9
12. This is exactly the same year and quarter as Sarah’s death, but the odd thing is that the birth of this Percy Joel was
registered in West Ham, which suggests that the family had kept up close links with the area to the east of London.
The story runs that the Mary Kelly that this couple knew claimed, at some unknown period after the murders, to be
the Mary Kelly of Miller's Court fame. When this claim first surfaced is unknown, but as both the Joels were dead by
1895 this gives a comparatively narrow window for this story to have emerged.
So, what of this Mary Kelly of Tottenham? What do we know of her? Well, she was Irish, she was named Mary Jane
Kelly and she was born in very early 1864. I have been sent a copy of her birth certificate and it reads:
Depot 107th regiment of Infantry
Date of Child’s Birth: 24 January 1864
Place and Date of Birth: Fermoy
Baptism date: 2 February 1864
Christian Names of the Child: Mary Jane
Parents’ names:
Christian: Denis and Jane
Surname: KELLY
Rank of the father: Colour Sergeant 107th regiment
Name of Chaplain or other Clergyman by whom ceremony was performed:
J.O. Flaherty Chaplain to the Forces
Birth Certificate of Mary Jane Kelly
13. Fermoy is in County Cork, near the border with County Limerick, and was a garrison town. Mary’s father, Denis Kelly,
was a career soldier and the family was certainly mobile. Mary had an older sibling named Matthew, born in 1860, and
at that time the family was living in Devon. Again I have been provided with a copy of his birth certificate:
Registration District: Stoke Damerel
County: Devon
When and Where Born: 21 December 1859 Married Men’s Quarters, Raglan Barracks
Name: Matthew Samuel
Sex: Boy
Name of father: Dennis Kelly
Name of Mother: Jane Kelly late Quirke formerly Coffey
Occupation of father: Colour Sergeant 35th Regiment
Informant: Denis Kelly, father, of Married Men’s Quarters, Raglan Barracks,
Devonport, Devon
When registered: 14 January 1860
The note about Jane Kelly’s name relates to the fact that her maiden name was Coffey and, prior to marrying Denis
Kelly, she had been married to a man named Quirke.
After the birth of Mary I have traced the whereabouts of the family. Rather than Wales, as in the Barnett account,
their longest place of residence was the Isle of Man.
In 1871 the family was living in Staffordshire:
30 High St, Goldenhill, Oldcott, Staffordshire
Head: Denis Kelly aged 38 born Ireland — Pensioner, Staff. Serj. of Volunteers
Wife: Jane Kelly aged 36 born Isle of Man
Children:
Matthew S aged 11 born Devonport, Devon
Catherine M aged 9 born Ireland
Mary J aged 7 born Ireland
John D R aged 5 born Ireland
William P aged 2 born Preston, Lancs.
Lawrence M T aged 7 months born Goldenhill, Staffs
By 1881 the family were living in the Isle of Man:
28 Falcon Street, Onchan, Douglas, Isle of Man
Head: Denis Kelly aged 47 born Ireland — Pensioner (Sergt. Major 107th Foot)
Wife: Jane Kelly aged 46 born Peel, Isle of Man
Children:
Catharine M aged 19 born Ireland — Dressmaker
Mary J aged 17 born Ireland
John D R aged 15 born Ireland — Cabinet maker’s apprentice
Paul W aged 12 born England (This is the same as the William P listed in 1871)
Lawrence M aged 10 born England
Ripperologist 97 November 2008 11
14. The oldest son, Matthew Samuel Kelly, married in Edmonton in Essex to Catherine Standring. The couple and their
children are listed in 1891 as follows:
6 Tancred Road, Hornsey
Head: Matthew S Kelly aged 31 born Stoke Damerel, Devon —
Civil Service Clerk, Audit Dept.
Wife: Catherine Kelly aged 33 born Finsbury E.C.
Children:
Margery aged 4
Denis aged 3
Kathleen aged 1
All born in Wood Green
Mary Jane married in 1889 to a man named William Hayes Atkinson at the Crouch Hill Presbyterian Church:
Marriage:
When Married: 24 August 1889
Name and Surname: William Hayes Atkinson and Mary Jane Kelly
Age: William Atkinson 28 years, Mary Jane Kelly 25 years
Condition: Atkinson - Bachelor, Kelly — Spinster
Rank or Profession: Atkinson — Commercial Traveller
Residence at the time of Marriage: Atkinson —
? Villa, Hornsey, Kelly — 36 Daleview Road, Stamford Hill
Father’s Name: Atkinson — Joseph Atkinson, Kelly - Denis Kelly
Rank or Profession of father: Atkinson —
Independent Means, Kelly — Sergeant Major
Witnesses: Esther Catherine Atkinson and John Kelly
In 1891 the couple are listed as follows:
32 Fairfax road, Hornsey
Head: William H Atkinson aged 29 born St Lukes —
Commercial Traveller (Stationery)
Wife: Mary J Atkinson aged 27 born Ireland
Father: Joseph Atkinson aged 72 born Deal — Drug grinder
Step Mother: Ann E Atkinson aged 48 born Lynn, Norfolk
and in 1901:
52 Heysham Road, Tottenham
Head: William H Atkinson aged 39 born Finsbury —
Commercial Traveller in Stationery
Wife: Mary J Atkinson aged 38 born Fermoy, Ireland
Son: Denis aged 4 months born Tottenham
Ripperologist 97 November 2008 12
15. Marriage Certificate of Mary Jane married to William Hayes Atkinson at the Crouch Hill Presbyterian Church in 1889:
Other addresses quoted for Mary, all in the same area, were Daleview Road (at the time of their marriage), Vartry
Road and Warwick Road.
Mary lived on until 1912, and the details of her death certificate read as follows:
When and Where Died:
8 December 1912 109 Warwick road, New Southgate
Name: Mary Jane Atkinson
Sex: Female
Age: 48 years
Occupation: Wife of William Hayes Atkinson, Commercial Traveller
Cause of Death: Endocarditis, Cardiac failure. Certified by M Steward Smith M.D.
Informant: W H Atkinson, widower of deceased in attendance at
109 Warwick Road, New Southgate
When Registered: 9 December 1912
The only child I have been able to trace is the Denis Atkinson mentioned in the 1901 census. His full name was Denis
William Atkinson and his birth was registered in the last quarter of 1900 at Edmonton. Whether Mary and William had
more children is not known at present, but I will continue to look.
So, was this the Mary Kelly of Miller's Court fame? That is, and probably will remain, unknown. All that can be said with
some degree of certainty is that this woman CLAIMED to be the woman of the same name who allegedly died on 9th
November 1888. She may have been a fantasist, seeking to impress her neighbours or dine out, metaphorically, on such a
sensational story. The story is — and the lady who brought this story to me is fully aware of this — full of questions.
Ripperologist 97 November 2008 13
16. Death certificate of Mary Jane Atkinson
Is it likely that Kelly would have married the year after the Miller's Court murder under her real name?
Is it likely that the Miller's Court Mary Kelly, a Catholic, would have married in a Presbyterian church?
Is it likely that Kelly, had she survived Miller's Court, would have kept the same name at all?
There are so many unknowns, so many questions we would like answered. My reasons for examining this story in such
detail is twofold:
1) I am satisfied through acquaintance with the lady who told me this story that she did so in good faith. Again, I
must stress, that does not make it true.
2) It is unusual to examine one of these family accounts in such detail and to verify the existence and details of the
major players.
There is much research still to be done and this is definitely an ongoing project which I hope will be of interest and
that I will have more to report in the not too distant future!
Chris Scott is a contributing editor at the Internet site Casebook: Jack the Ripper and specializes in track-
ing down newspaper reports on the case. He is the author of Jack the Ripper — A Cast of Thousands and Will
the Real Mary Kelly...
His Press Trawl in Ripperologist has uncovered many interesting and unusual snippets from the press for us
over the years.
Ripperologist 97 November 2008 14
17. Mary Jane Kelly:
From May Place, Liverpool,
to Miller’s Court?
Was Mary Jane Kelly at a girl’s Roman Catholic Reformatory in the Liverpool area, as the 1881
Census might suggest? Well at least we know there was a Mary Jane Kelly at the Lancashire
Reformatory School for Roman Catholic Girls in Old Swan, Liverpool, in 1881. Of course whether
this was the Mary Jane Kelly who was presumably killed in Miller’s Court, Spitalfields, on the night
of 9 November 1888 is quite another question.
Here is the 1881 Census record:
Mary Jane Kelly
Age: 16
Estimated birth year: 1865
Relation: inmate
Civil parish: West Derby
County: Lancashire
Country: England
Street address: Broad Green Roman Catholic Reformatory for Girls
Occupation: Youthful offender (sch)
Registration district: West Derby
‘Carrotty Nell’ at Casebook: Jack the Ripper sent us a message noting that this girl’s age is only slightly at variance
from that of a ‘Mary Jane Kelley’ aged 22 that Philip Sugden found was fined 2s. 6d. at Thames Magistrates Court on
19 September 1888 for being drunk and disorderly.1 Of course whether there is any connection between these two
women with the similar or identical name is not known at this time. As the many researchers who have tried to trace
Mary Jane Kelly’s origins have discovered, the name is unfortunately extremely common.
Chris Scott provided the following additional information about the Lancashire reformatory as given in the 1881 Census:
Lancashire Roman Catholic Reformatory for Girls, May Place, Broad Green Road, West Derby [or Old Swan],
Lancashire. Head: Anna Maria Donovan aged 43 born Putney — Superintendent; Officers: Catherine Callan aged 25 born
Preston — Headmistress; Mary Lancaster aged 23 born Ireland — Assistant; Annie McCleod aged 29 born York — Sewing;
Annie Carter aged 35 born Ireland — Laundress; Mary Ann Rafferty aged 30 born St Helens — Assistant; Margaret Ann
Redmond aged 42 born Ireland — Cook.
1 Philip Sugden, The Complete Jack the Ripper. London: Robinson Publishing Company, 1995, p 308.
Ripperologist 97 November 2008 15
18. Ordnance Survey map of 1893 showing location of the Lancashire Roman Catholic Reformatory for Girls, May Place, Broad Green Lane, Old
Swan, Liverpool. Courtesy of anonymouse on the Yo Liverpool Forum at www.yoliverpool.com/forum
Chris noted, ‘Thirty-six girls are listed, all described as “Youthful Offenders” including Mary Jane Kelly aged 16 birth
location not known.’
He added, ‘The Superintendent, Anna Maria Donovan, was born in 1837, the daughter of Cornelius Donovan, described
in 1861 as a Professor of Phrenology, and Henrietta Donovan, a schoolmistress. She does not appear to have married
and is last listed in 1901 visiting an Anne Walshaw in Scarborough. She died in 1916 at age 79 in Lewisham, Kent.’2
A British schools website explains that the Lancashire Roman Catholic Reformatory for Girls was originally begun by
the Sisters of Mercy and located ‘at Blackbrooke House, St. Helens, where it was certified 23rd June 1869. But circum-
stances delayed the actual commencement of the school until the following October, when the first girl was admitted.
Moved to Liverpool and re-certified 24th November 1876 for 70 girls and again, re-certified 3rd March 1902 for 75 girls.
Cessation of certification or closure 1922.’3
The core building that constituted May Place is still in existence, now renovated for sheltered housing. An Owen
Ellis architects webpage states, ‘The core of the scheme is a late 18th Century house that had been seriously neglect-
ed and almost lost under later additions. The original building was uncovered and restored to become the centre of a
sheltered housing scheme providing 50 self-contained flats around a sunny landscaped courtyard that can be enjoyed
by everyone who lives at May Place.’4
In regard to the task of trying to investigate this Liverpool Mary Jane Kelly, Chris Scott told us,
2 Chris Scott, email to Ripperologist, 22 November 2008.
3 Lancashire Roman Catholic Reformatory for Girls at www.missing-ancestors.com/lancashire_reformatory_school_old%20swan%20liver-
pool%20info.htm
4 “May Place, Old Swan,” Owen Ellis architects web page at www.owenellis.co.uk/html/projects/project_full.php?id=69
Ripperologist 97 November 2008 16
19. Modern-day photographs of May Place, Old Swan, Liverpool. It seems somehow fitting that this old mansion, the home at one time (perhaps!) of the
fifth canonical victim Mary Jane Kelly, would have had a colourful past. According to the book, A Pictorial History of Old Swan and Tuebrook by Colin
Gould (Liverpool, UK: Ogre Books, nd), ‘May Place, in Broadgreen Road, was built in about 1760 by a gentleman who was reputedly an African slave
trader and who later married an Indian princess. Later residents were a Mr. Papayanni (a shipowner), Mr. Spence (who allowed the local Methodists
to hold their first meetings in his garden), Mr. Austin (who apparently had 20 children), Reverend Wilson (Chaplain to Lord Derby) and Mr. Walker (a
wholesale grocer). The house then became a Catholic Girls School and is now St. Vincent’s Hospice [before its present-day incarnation that is, as pic-
tured here, newly renovated as sheltered housing].’ Photographs courtesy of Mark Anderson at Yo! Liverpool.
20. I haven’t investigated this particular girl personally — I found her in [the] 1881 census . . . and, glancing at the
1871 census, the nearest match is a Mary Jane Kelly born in Liverpool living with her mother, also named Mary, in
Bolton. But this match is by no means certain, as with anything to do with Kelly!
I am, of course, all for investigating any lead on Kelly but for this particular girl I would say the three main prob-
lems are:
1) We have so little to go on (not even a place of birth) to trace her backwards or forwards.
2) Personally I am convinced that the birth name of the woman who died in Miller’s Court was not Mary Jane Kelly and
that is why it has proved so hard to research her.
3) According to the orthodox account of [Joe] Barnett, if any reliance is placed on that, at the time of the 1881 cen-
sus we would certainly expect the Miller’s Court Mary to be listed under her married name (she should have married
some time about 1879) and also to still be living in Wales. According to all the accounts we have she did not leave
Wales until some time about 1884.
As I see it, there are two choices:
1) The Barnett account is substantially true but her name was NOT Mary Jane Kelly or
2) The Barnett account is substantially or wholly invented but her name was Mary Jane Kelly
Chris ended by adding, ‘Either eventuality makes researching her a nightmare!’5
Acknowledgements
Our thanks to Carrotty Nell at Casebook: Jack the Ripper for her input on this question, as well as to Mark Anderson at
Yo! Liverpool who informed us in regard to the recent history of the building that housed the reformatory: ‘May Place
used to be called St. Vincent’s Hospice prior to falling into disrepair and reopening under its original name of May Place
as sheltered accommodation. When it was St. Vincent’s Hospice it was run by nuns and was basically an asylum.’ We
are also grateful to hmtaj at Yo! Liverpool for kindly supplying the information on the history of May Place given in the
book by Colin Gould.
Got something to say?
Got comments on a feature
in this issue?
Or found new information?
Please send your comments
to contact@ripperologist.biz
Ripperologist 97 November 2008 18
21. Dorset Street
(Duval Street)
Revisited
The fourth in a series taking a closer look at the murder sites of
the canonical five victims of Jack the Ripper
Penny Illustrated Paper
November 17th, 1888
THE MURDER OF MARY KELLY IN WHITECHAPEL.
Dorset street, lying almost under the shadow of Spitalfields Church, is a short street, composed largely of common
lodging houses, in one of which Annie Chapman, a previous victim, used sometimes to lodge. About half way down this
street on the right hand side is Miller’s court, the entrance to which is a narrow arched passage, and within a few
yards of which, by the way, there loomed grimly through the murky air a partly torn down bill announcing a reward
of £100 for the discovery of the murderer on the last occa-
Commercial Street, showing the Brittania pub on the
left hand side and the entrance to Dorset Street sion. There are six two roomed houses in Miller’s court, all
of them owned by a grocer, whose shop in Dorset street
forms one corner of the entrance to the court. The houses
are let out in separate rooms ‘furnished’ — that is to say,
there are in each of them a bed and a table, and, perhaps,
one or two odds and ends. For these rooms rents are sup-
posed to be paid daily, but of course they will sometimes get
a good deal in arrears. This was the case with one of the ten-
ants, who had occupied a ground floor room on the right
hand side of the court for about twelve months. This was the
poor young woman, Mary Kelly, the victim of the murderer
familiarly called ‘Jack the Ripper.’
Of all the murder sites, Miller’s Court was arguably the most
unsavoury in reputation — which, when one considers the com-
petition in the area, is quite a dubious accolade.
The narrow entrance to Miller’s Court was situated between
No. 26 and No. 27 Dorset Street, a short thoroughfare which
ran west to east from Crispin Street to Commercial Street.
It was lined by old, brick-built properties mainly dating from
the late seventeenth or early eighteenth century, most of
which were crumbling and fit only for demolition, as were
many of the residents. Nos. 26 and 27 were built some time
Ripperologist 97 November 2008 19
22. Map of Dorset Street — 1681
after 1709, although the exact date is not known, but the architecture would suggest that it was built somewhat later in the
18th century.
The entrance to Dorset Street was almost directly opposite the famous Christ Church, or more accurately the dis-
used graveyard of the church, known affectionately as ‘Itchy Park’, which was used by vagrants to doss in when they
could find nowhere else. The western end of Dorset Street was exactly opposite the Providence Row Night Refuge and
Convent, which stood at No. 50 Crispin Street. Tradition alleges that Mary Kelly stayed here for a while, although there
is no evidence to support it.
Originally Dorset Street was called ‘Datchett Street’, which later became corrupted to ‘Dorset Street’, and in the
17th century the whole area was pasture land covered by footpaths. When the landowners closed the footpaths they
built the road that was later to become Dorset Street.1 It was officially given the name ‘Dorset Street’ on 22nd
November, 1867, (it was unofficially known as Dorset Street before that date) its reputation already established as the
place you didn’t want to visit if you were attached to your pocket watch.
1 Paul Begg, Definitive History page 290.
Ripperologist 97 November 2008 20
23. Map of Dorset Street as it was in 1888
Much of the area around Dorset Street, and certainly most of the street itself, was run by small-time crooks and ‘bul-
lies’, in the form of slum landlords like John McCarthy and Alfred Coates.
Alfred Coates, for instance, had a common lodging-house in Flower & Dean Street, Dorset Street’s main rival for the
“worst-kept street of the year” award. In addition to his shops, John McCarthy was also the landlord of the properties
in Miller’s Court — these being referred to as ‘McCarthy’s Rents’ in some newspapers. He also owned the lodging-house
at No. 30. It’s not certain whether or not these rival slum landlords got along together in business, although it’s prob-
able they presented a united front against the authorities, covering each others backs if needed — just as was the case
in the East End in the 20th century, when the Krays would co-operate with other gangsters in the area, in an uncomfort-
able and mistrustful alliance simply for the sake of self-preservation. McCarthy and the other slum landlords were hardly
in competition with each other, in the sense that there were far more weary bodies to occupy their doss houses than they
could possibly ever accomodate.
Whether Dorset Street deserved its reputation as ‘The Worst Street in London’, it was certainly one of the most dan-
gerous and notorious streets in the area. The Daily News, November 10th, 1888, reports that the lodging-houses there
housed ‘mainly thieves and some of the most degraded women’. Dorset Street and the surrounding streets were often
referred to as ‘Tiger Bay’ because of its notorious reputation, and the vicious nature of its residents.2
Rev. Samuel Barnett, who spent many years trying to educate the local poor in the virtues of righteous living, called
the area the ‘wicked quarter mile’ and Charles Booth, when constructing his poverty map in 1887, designated the area
‘black’ — the lowest of his ratings — describing it, justifiably, as ‘vicious and semi-criminal’.
2 Ed Fisher, Bluegate Fields [article by reader of www.victorianlondon.org]
Ripperologist 97 November 2008 21
24. The Providence Row Night Refuge
That’s not to say that the entire population of the area were Hellbound; many of the locals were simple, decent folk
who were just trying to make a life of some kind, living on subsistence wages and making the best of a very bad lot,
but there was certainly a predominance of those on the wrong side of the law.
Inspector Walter Dew wrote in his memoirs that one of the worst problems in the area was the presence of organized
gangs, who extorted money from prostitutes, demanded protection money, and generally made life difficult for the
authorities and locals alike.
East Ender Arthur Harding, reflecting back on his life in the area at that time, wrote:
Dorset Street had an even worse reputation than Flowery Dean Street. That’s where Jack the Ripper done some of
his murders. We just used to call it ‘the street’. There was such a large number of doss-houses there that they called
it ‘Dosser’s Street’ and they abbreviated it again just to ‘the street’ which is what we called it. There were doss-houses
on one side, furnished rooms on the other. McCarthy owned all the furnished rooms down there. He was an Irishman, a
bully and a rough guy.
Marie Lloyd used to see him, because there was a pub round the corner she used to go to. All his daughters were
in show business on account of Marie Lloyd. They had plenty of money. McCarthy lived down there. . .”3
3 Raphael Samuel (1981) East End Underworld: Chapters in the Life of Arthur Harding, London, Routledge and Kegan Paul page 100
Ripperologist 97 November 2008 22
25. In the Victorian era the word ‘bully’ did not necessarily mean someone that beat up people smaller than themselves
or intimidated weaker individuals, although many of them probably did, quite often and with some enthusiasm. The
Victorian dictionary on viclondon.org gives this definition of it:
Bully, a cowardly blustering fellow, pretended husband to a bawd or prostitute.
A wider definition in general use by the lower classes was someone who ran a brothel, or some other disreputable
establishment. The slum landlords of Dorset Street generally fitted the bill.
An article in the Daily Mail, July 16th, 1901, ran a report confirming that even a decade or more later, Dorset Street
was still deserving of the title ‘The Worst Street in London’. It gave the account the subheading: ‘Where Our Criminals
Are Trained’.
The lodging-houses of Dorset Street and of the district around are the head centres of the shifting criminal popu-
lation of London. Of course, the aristocrats of crime — the forger, the counterfeiter, and the like do not come here.
In Dorset Street we find more largely the common thief, the pickpocket, the area meak, the man who robs with vio-
lence, and the unconvicted murderer. The police have a theory, it seems, that it is better to let these people congre-
gate together in one mass where they can be easily be found than to scatter them abroad. And Dorset Street certainly
serves the purpose of a police trap.4
Dorset Street fell within ‘H Division’ of the Metropolitan Police, and was one of the streets that was allegedly dou-
ble-patrolled to protect the bobbies on the beat, who were reportedly sometimes set upon and beaten if they dared
to venture out on their own. Inspector Walter Dew, who admittedly was not renowned for understating things wrote:
‘A single constable would have been lucky to
Outside a typical large common lodging house in Whitechapel
reach the other end unscathed’.
The fact is, there is at least one report of a con-
stable walking down the street on his own, so he
was either an outstandingly brave/foolhardy indi-
vidual, or as with many of the reminiscences in
Dew’s memoirs, a little poetic license was used.
For much of the time, residents would hang about
in the streets, overspilling from the pubs and music
halls that lined the pavements, waiting to get a doss
for the night. Most of their lives would have been
spent outdoors, as many of the lodging-houses
would not allow residents in until a certain time and
would throw them out again very sharply in the
early morning. Some would be on the streets trying
to earn money for the doss, either gambling,5 or in
the cases of the women, prostituting themselves —
taking their clients to one of the numerous alleys that
ran off Dorset Street, for a fourpenny knee-trembler —
fourpence being the price of a night’s doss.
The street was well-lit from the vast number of
lights over the doors of the numerous lodging-houses
4 Daily Mail, July 16th, 1901
5 Daily Telegraph, November 10th, 1888
Ripperologist 97 November 2008 23
26. until about 2.00am, by which time most of the
area had either gone home for the night or
found a bed in one of the lodging houses.6 Then
the street would quieten down for a few hours,
and the only people left on the streets were
those who could find no lodging or who were
on their way to or from work.
The vast majority of the buildings in Dorset
Street were common lodging-houses, both reg-
istered and unregistered, which could hold as
many as 1200 men and women on any one
night.7 The large, once-luxurious buildings,
designed for the wealthy silk-weavers and
their families or for prosperous merchants,
were ideal for housing several hundred desper-
Contemporary sketch of the interior of a typical lodging house in Dorset Street
ate individuals on any one night.
It was far too easy for any enterprising soul with a few spare pounds to start a lodging-house in the East End in the
1880s. Furniture could be bought for a pittance, as long as they bought only furniture that was completely unsaleable
otherwise. Furniture, for instance, that was bought from the Small Pox hospital at King’s Cross when it was pulled down
provided enough furniture for four lodging-houses. Small Pox no extra charge.8
Deputies were appointed to run these lodging-houses, and they acted as managers, running them as they saw fit. As
long as the landlord received a good return, they were left to their own devices. It’s quite certain that most, if not all
of them, were skimming money from the landlord’s takings, and it’s also quite certain that the landlords knew they
were; but as long as they didn’t get greedy, then they would turn a blind
Crossingham’s, 35 Dorset Street in the late 19th century
eye, as any deputy they appointed would be sure to do the same.
Deputies could be male or female, or a couple, legally married or other-
wise, and it was quite a cushy number for them, with many little perks.
These deputies were paid from 7 shillings to 15 shillings a week each,
depending on how much they had to do to keep the houses running, which
was a good wage considering they also got free bed and board thrown in.
Some of the deputies were decent enough, did their jobs conscientiously,
and others allowed more or less anything to go on under their roof for a cut
of the takings. This included prostitution and fencing of stolen goods.
Their job required that they inspect the bedrooms, especially at night,
to make sure that nothing untoward was going on, or if it was that they
got a share of it; to see there was no trouble, and to keep the place
clean.
The better of the lodging-houses would not admit anyone after mid-
night, and none later than 1.00am, unless they knew them well. There
6 The Scotsman, November 10th, 1888
7 East London Observer, November 10th, 1888
8 London Labour and the London Poor; 1851, 1861-2; Henry Mayhew
Ripperologist 97 November 2008 24
27. were exceptions to this where weekly tickets could
be bought, such as The Victoria Working Men’s
home, and then the residents could come and go as
they pleased at any hour.
The police would go into the property regularly to
make sure that they were being run properly, and
inspectors would be sent to make sure that they
were abiding by the Common Lodging Act of 1851,
which had certain regulations that were to be fol-
lowed. The authorities certainly turned a blind eye to
much that went on there, simply because there was
no possible way to prosecute all of the offenders,
which probably amounted to 97 percent of the local
population. It is also certain that at least some of the
police officers on the beat were taking bribes to look
the other way. In reality, the whole lodging-house Contemporary illustration showing the entrance to
scheme had a solid foundation of corruption that Miller’s Court and the frontage of McCarthy’s shop
permeated through every facet of the operation.
The average takings of a lodging-house would be between 17 shillings and 6d a night and 20 shillings a night, but
when one considers that many of the lodging houses had 400 beds, at fourpence a time, and were almost always full
up, it’s not hard to work out that a great deal of money could be made by some of the larger lodging-house propri-
etors. Landlords like McCarthy and Crossingham were raking money in from many sources.
The newspapers at the time reported that the lodging-house owned by William Crossingham, which was directly oppo-
site the entrance to Miller’s Court, was the one at which Annie Chapman stayed regularly and which she was evicted
from on the night of her murder, but in fact the Crossingham’s opposite Mary Kelly’s room was Nos. 16-19 and accom-
modated some 300 persons, being fully occupied every night.9 The Crossingham’s at 35 Dorset Street was on the same
side of the road as Miller’s Court, closer to Little Paternoster Row.
Other known lodging-houses at the time were Nos. 9, 10, 11-12 and 28-29. In all around 750 beds were officially pro-
vided in Dorset St, but in reality, half that
A typical one room dwelling for a family in the East End in the late 19th century number again would be lodging there, espe-
cially when the weather was too cold to sleep
in the open air. Most of the properties that
were not registered lodging-houses were rent-
ed out to families on a room-by-room basis,
with as many as ten people sleeping in one
small room.
There were very few legitimate businesses
in the street, as evidenced by the Post Office
Directory of 1888, and those there were solely
catered for the needs of the local population of
dossers and slum tenants. To all intents and
purposes, this meant filling their bellies with
9 Times, November 10th, 1888
Ripperologist 97 November 2008 25
28. Dorset Street in the late 19th century
cheap cooked food and rot-gut alcohol or beer, and providing them with some entertainment while they were consuming it.
Apart from the Brittania pub, there was also the Blue Coat Public House at No. 32, run by William James Turner. Just over
the road from Dorset Street was the notorious Ten Bells pub, which Mary often frequented.
Grocery shops were sited at Nos. 7 and 36, run by Barnett Price and Alfred Coates respectively. Shopping in Dorset
Street was a risky venture in its own right, as hygiene was hardly high on the shop owner’s list of priorities. If a pork
pie dropped on the floor, and it didn’t get snaffled by a passing dog, it was brushed down and put back on the counter.
Waste not, want not. Most of the residents of the street would hardly have been bothered anyway, as the alternative
was starving to death.
Because of the absence of freezers and refridgerators, shopping had to be done not just on a daily basis, but often
several times a day. The grocers in Dorset Street would have expected to see the local women, particularly, in their
shops every day if not more to purchase not just food, but such things as candles, and firewood. People would gener-
ally shop at the grocers nearest their houses, and for the most part the women of Miller’s Court would have used
McCarthy’s chandlers shop at No. 27 and have been well known by him.
Most grocers, if not all, would have allowed credit to certain customers. Having items ‘on tick’ was a way of life for
most East Enders at the time, as there were invariably days when they had no money for food, and if the shop owners
knew them well and knew they could be trusted to pay the money when they were able, they would allow them some
items on credit. Mary Kelly was known to be considerably in arrears with her rent, and it’s more than likely that she
owed money in McCarthy’s shop as well.
John McCarthy lived in the rooms above the shop with his wife Elizabeth, and children John Jr, Margaret, and
Elizabeth. His brother, Daniel, also lived with them until 1890, when he took over the grocer’s shop at No. 36, presum-
ably from Alfred Coates. Although the premises of Nos. 26 and 27 were large, with several rooms upstairs in each prop-
Ripperologist 97 November 2008 26
29. Maps of Dorset Street and New Court — May 1890
erty, McCarthy and his family were hardly living in the lap of luxury.
There was a coal dealer, Miss Jane Brooks, at No. 39, although it is uncertain when she started in business, provid-
ing the other necessity for those living in the cramped and often damp rooms that were let out in places like Miller’s
Court. Coal was relatively cheap at the time; the transport system allowing for plentiful supplies to be delivered to
London. The coal dust and smaller lumps of coal was within the budget of most families, although it would be used
sparingly. A pennerth of nutty slack went a long way in those days.
The Brooks family was resident at No. 39 in or before 1881, so it is possible that they were operating there as early
as that date, but were just not registered in a directory before then.
There is little evidence of other businesses being conducted from Dorset St in the 1880s, but in the 1890s there were
two milk contractors listed at Nos. 13A and 14A by William Wright and Amos Payne. There were also several stables
along the street.10
The Brittania public house, on the corner of Dorset Street and Commercial Street, was also known as ‘Mother Ringer’s’
— hardly surprisingly as it was owned by “Mother (Mathilda) Ringer,’ who was said to do a great deal of good work in the
neighbourhood. It was demolished in 1928 to make room for the expansion of the Spitalfields Market.
This was one of the public houses where Mary Kelly was allegedly seen drinking in company with a man shortly before
her murder. John McCarthy was reported to have said that at 11.00pm on the Thursday night, Mary was seen in the
Britannia public house, with a young man with a dark moustache. She was drunk. The young man appeared to be very
respectable and well dressed.
The Horn Of Plenty stood on the opposite end of Dorset Street, on the north corner of Crispin Street and Dorset
Street. Its address was No. 5 Crispin Street, and in 1888 the proprietor was Christopher Bowen. Again, there was prob-
ably an uneasy alliance between the various pub landlords, who, although in competition with each other, would still
need to support one another to survive in business. For instance, if a beer delivery was late, then a landlord would
often borrow a barrel of beer from one of the other pubs. Mutual co-operation was a necessity.
There were two small courts leading off Dorset Street, Miller’s Court and New Court, which was about midway along
Dorset Street, between Nos. 33 and 34. Both were similar in character and allegedly of an even lower class than those
10 East London Observer, November 10th, 1888.
Ripperologist 97 November 2008 27
30. that frequented the lodging-houses. It was reported in at least one newspaper that ‘the lowest class of unfortunates.
Immorality is carried on in these houses, openly and with impunity’.11
These courts seem to have been built to try and alleviate the district’s dire housing situation some time around the
1850s, although the exact date has never been ascertained. The name ‘Miller’s Court’ is first mentioned in the census
of 1861, when No. 26 Dorset Street was occupied by a glass-blower named Abraham Barnett. There is a mention of
‘Miller’s Rents’ in Spitalifields situated in exactly the right place in an 1851 directory, so it is possible that it was built
as early as 1850. There were only three houses there at that time, though, and not the six that were there in 1888.
The plot of land occupied by Miller’s Court would once have been the back yards of Nos. 26 and 27 Dorset Street, at
least in part, as the houses were built a considerable time before the court was.
The Daily Mail of July 16th, 1901 reported:
The lodging-houses are bad, but they are the best side of a bad street. They at least have certain official inspec-
tion, and a certain minimum amount of sanitation and decency is there secured. But the furnished rooms so-called are
infinitely worse. Farming furnished rooms is exceedingly profitable business. You take seven or eight-roomed houses
at a rent of 10s. Or 11s. A week, you place on each door a padlock, and in each room you put a minimum amount of
the oldest furniture to be found in the worst second-hand dealers’ in the slums. The fittings of the average furnished
room are not worth more than a few shillings. Then you let the rooms out to any comers for 10d. Or 1s. A night. No
questions asked. They pay the rent, you hand them the
Illustration of Miller’s Court — Lloyds Weekly News, November 11th, 1888
key. If by the next night they have not their 10d. or 1s.
Again ready you go round and chuck them out and let a
new-comer in.
Miller’s Court was approached from Dorset St. via an
unlit flagged passage that ran under an arch, little more
than a yard wide and about twenty feet long. According
to one newspaper:
A big man walking through it would bend his head and
turn sideways to keep his shoulders from rubbing
against the dirty bricks.12
A very big man indeed, if he needed to do an impres-
sion of a crab to get through a three foot wide tunnel,
but allowing for hyperbole here, it was a narrow passage
and certainly it would have been very difficult for two
people to pass each other going through it.
Roughly half-way down this passage on the right hand
side was an entrance and staircase leading to the top
floor of No. 26, and then a little further down on the
right-hand side the door that led to Mary’s room.13
Directly opposite the entrance to Miller’s Court was
Crossingham’s lodging house at Nos. 16-19, which was
11 East London Observer, November 10th, 1888.
12 Evening Star, November 10th, 1888
13 According to The Daily Telegraph, November 10th, 1888 No.
26 had seven rooms.
Ripperologist 97 November 2008 28
31. fully occupied on the night of the murder, and which had
people standing around outside most of the time — although
all residents were usually required to be in their beds by
midnight or 1.00am at the very latest, which would mean
that anyone who was going to stay there that night would
already be indoors at the time of Mary’s murder. The gas
light outside was extinguished at around 3.00am.
There was another well-frequented lodging-house next
door to McCarthy’s, at 28-29, that was within a yard or
two of the entrance to the court; although again, as busy
as it was, all the residents would have been tucked in for
the night by 2.00am.
Lighting in the court was patchy. There was a gas wall-
lamp directly opposite the door to Mary’s room, which was
alight until around 4am., the light from which is thrown
nearly on to the passage and which would certainly have
thrown light on Mary’s door.14 However, the rest of the
court would have been in darkness, apart from any mea-
gre candle-light filtering from the windows of the houses.
In 1888, Miller’s Court had four units on the left (the
last not being used as accommodation, although it’s
uncertain what it was used for), and three on the right.
These were whitewashed to the level of the first floor, to
help alleviate the dampness, and the windows had green
shutters, which would have been closed at night to stave
off the cold and for extra security.15
The six occupied houses in Miller’s Court were divided
into upstairs and downstairs rooms, thereby making
twelve residences in the court rather than six, which is
why Mary’s room was designated number 13 — although
strictly speaking it was not part of Miller’s Court, but the
back of No. 26 Dorset Street.
Numbering started with No. 1, downstairs on the left,
with No. 2 above it, running down the left side and back
up on the right so that No. 12 was upstairs, thus making
Downstairs room 1: Julia Venturney
Mary Kelly’s room No. 13.
Upstairs room 2: Mrs Keyler — visiting her that night was Sarah Lewis
Somewhere above Mary’s room was No. 20 of 26 Dorset Downstairs room 3: Man engaged as a market porter (Daily Telegraph)
Street, although it’s never been worked out how it came Downstairs room 5: Mary Ann Cox
Downstairs room 7: John Clark
to be numbered thus, or where it was exactly. The Daily
Upstairs room 8: Elizabeth Bushman
Telegraph of November 10th, 1888 reports that there were
seven rooms in No. 26, which would mean that there were
quite a few rooms upstairs. A woman called Elizabeth
14 The Scotsman November 10th 1888
15 Daily Telegraph November 10th, 1888
Ripperologist 97 November 2008 29
32. Above: Artist’s reconstruction of Miller’s Court. Mary’s room is on the left hand side. Copyright Jane Coram
Below: The interior of 13 Miller’s Court
