Crime on the Canals

A few will be aware I have been known to speak on various subjects over the years. Fundamentally these all revolve around my favourite subject of etymology. Have always enjoyed bringing this fascinating subject to others. It’s not for me to say whether the audiences have, although many have asked me to return.

Thought it might be worthwhile sharing a snippet or two from these etymological presentations, continuing with Crime on the Canals. A look at over two centuries of murder, theft, criminal damage, health and safety, and even truancy. Until the coming of the railways these waterways were the main arterial routes in the country and, as such, proved a temptation to every rogue, rotter and ne'er-do-well. Not just the macabre here but also the mysterious the hapless and more than a little humour. There is a PowerPoint presentation to accompany this talk if required.

Throughout our islands' history we find tales of thieves, smugglers, thugs and murderers. Books have been written retelling tales of bandits, footpads, highwaymen, et al, attacking the lone traveller, the horseman, the coachman, shipping line, locomotive engineer, lorry or van driver and even pilot. Yet for almost two centuries the majority of goods travelled on Britain's famed canal network. This also attracted felons of all kinds and yet these many tales had been ignored, until now.

Here all manner of crimes are covered. From murders to muggings, parental problems to pilfering, arson, assault, smugglers, counterfeiters and even road rage (albeit canal-style). But it is not all morbid and misery, humour also plays a significant part in these tales. Why would a hungry man steal the inedible? Follow the policeman on foot chasing down a thief on board the narrowboat. Discover what really does lie beneath the waters of the canal. Learn canal etiquette, the hardships, the kindness and the cruelty.

If you think you know someone who would like to hear me speak on this subject, drop me a line andf if you want to buy the book, contact me or try Amazon where it is also available as an ebook.

Esther Dyson

The question of mental capacity comes into question in the case of Esther Dyson. Murder of a child in Victorian times was not regarded as any less despicable than today, but this 24-year-old woman may have been treated rather differently today.

In 1830 Esther was accused of murdering her illegitimate daughter. Bad enough? Maybe worse when you hear she attempted to sever her newborn child’s head with a knife before attempting to hide the body by throwing it in a dam. Appalled? Read on.

Esther was acquitted on the grounds of insanity – although the ‘insanity’ was probably due to her being deaf and dumb since birth. Feeling more lenient? There’s more.

Contemporary newspaper reports claimed her disabilities were rather exaggerated, describing her as ‘shrewd’ and ‘an intelligent woman’ who well ‘knew right from wrong’. In a crowded court at Leeds in March 1831 was asked how she pleaded but failed to respond – so the members of the jury were asked to determine whether the prisoner stood mute ‘by malice or by thr visitation of God’. The jury blamed the Almighty.

One called to give evidence, Mrs Ann Briggs, had known the prisoner of almost ten years and stated she doubted whether Esther had any idea of what was happening in the courts. But Mrs Briggs admitted Esther certainly knew the difference between right and wrong.

The judge, reluctant to try Esther, instructed the jury to decide whether she was insane, in which case she would be detained at His Majesty’s pleasure. This is what happened and the West Riding Pauper Lunatic Asylum in Wakefield became her home from 24 November 1831 until her death on 2 March 1869 at the age of 62.

It is recorded that she was regularly employed as a housemaid, and showed no symptoms of insanity during her more than three decades at Wakefield.

Was she insane? Should she hang? What do you think?

The Oddingley Murders

Researching one thing often results in finding something else of note. This piqued my interest recently and, although I had read about such before, delved a little deeper.

The story begins in the quiet village of Oddingley some 5 miles north of the city of Worcester. The place name means ‘the woodland clearing of the family or followers of a man called Odda’, and as the story unfolds you will see events really do get ‘odder’.

Beginning on 24 June 1806, two fellows travelling near the glebe meadow heard a gunshot. As they went to investigate, they heard the faint cry of “Murder!” and soon discovered a man lying in the meadow, with a gunshot wound to the abdomen. This was George Parker, Rector of St James’ Church in Oddingley, but not for long as he soon died from his wounds. These witnesses also spied a man fleeing the scene. While these strangers could not name him, from their description he could only have been Richard Heming, a local odd-job man. A man-hunt ensued, but Heming would never be found – it was rumoured he had fled the country and living in anonymity in America. Not having any reasons to doubt the murderer had made good his escape, the story made the local headlines for a while but, other than local gossip, was forgotten.

Forgotten until 24 years later when the skeleton of a man was discovered buried beside the wall of a barn at nearby Netherwood Farm. Forensics not available in the first part of the 19th century, the identity of the chap could only be deduced from the clothes and belongings found with him. There was no doubt these were the skeletal remains of Richard Heming.

Investigations showed Netherwood Farm had been leased to a famer named Thomas Clewes at the time Heming vanished. Arrested, Clewes confessed to having witnessed the death of Heming, gave clear details of the killing and named the murderers. He named John Barnett and George Banks as the killers (a third man, Captain Evans, had since died), all three local farmers who had been at odds with the rector on the subject of tithes and had paid Heming the princely sum of £50 to kill George Parker, but subsequently reneged pn the deal and bludgeoned the assassin to death. They had the motive, the body, and the murderers. Locals were confident Barnett, Banks, and Clewes would soon provide the focus for the spectacle of a public hanging.

What had been a local scandal in 1806, became a national headline in 1830. Interest grew when it was announced they could not be tried with the murder of the rector, but only as accessories. The late Captain Evans, said to be the ringleader and mastermind despite being an officer and a magistrate, could not face charges; farrier James Taylor had dealt the fatal blow (according to Clewes) and he faced a murder charge; Clewes was charged, as were Barnett and Banks.

At the trial, the complexities of the case created more confusion. Clewes was the key, everything revolved around his confession. The jury’s verdict against Clewes was ‘guilty as accessory after the fact’ – but when the judge pointed out (and as the press reported quite vociferously) Clewes had not been charged with that but with ‘aiding and abetting’, they retired a second time and returned with a verdict of ‘not guilty’. Such effectively ended the cases against all concerned, and all went back to the quiet life away from the public eye.

The acquittals were, rather surprisingly, met with relief in and around Oddingley. Indeed, some of the villagers broke into the church and rang the bells in celebration – such levity did not go well with landowners or the press, especially when they learned the bell ringers gathered a group who continued the celebrations by drinking and smoking inside the church. Generally the newspapers were in agreement with the verdict as an important principal of law had been upheld.

While I could never suggest George Parker deserved to be murdered, his tithe demands would certainly be seen as excessive. As rector the tithes came to him, one-tenth of the value of their crops to be paid to him to cover his income. That income of £135 per annum - £14,450 today is not a fortune, but considering he did not have to pay for his accommodation, comfortable enough – but Parker, having spent five years trying to get the farmers to pay up, demanded an extortionate sum of £150 in compensation. When the rector took the farmers to court to get payment, he won. Then after five years the farmers, who had resigned themselves to having pay every year, would have given up – but then Parker got greedy.

Perhaps today forensic evidence would have helped secure a conviction or convictions. Doubtless we could almost certainly have shown Heming had not left the country, and surely forensic evidence would have identified killer or killers. And yet today’s legal system would also likely have rejected Parker’s demands for £150.

The Second Titanic Murderer

William Mintram was a fireman stoker aboard the Titanic when it was hit by the iceberg. While Robert Hitchens’ accusations came after the sinking, Mintram was gaoled in 1902.

Married to Eliza since August 1886 – they had five children, their daughter Rosina married Walter Hurst, also a fireman stoker on the Titanic - a row between them in October 1902 (he complained his wife had pawned their son’s shoes to pay for her drinking) he stabbed her in the back. In court he gave evidence saying he was drunk at the time and remembered nothing other than her rushing at him.

Sentenced to twelve years after being found guilty of manslaughter but was released after three and joined the ill-fated maiden voyage along with his son-in-law. Mintram did get his hands on a lifejacket, but when he saw his son-in-law Walter without same, he passed across his lifejacket thus helping to save his life.

The First Titanic Murderer

Much interest in the Titanic of late with release of the computer-generated images of the wreck - and, of course, through a certain editing job recently completed – which reminded me of a few notes I made when researching something completely different.

The name of Robert Hitchens probably isn’t well known to most, but shortly after the vessel sank the man was notorious. No less than seven quartermasters were aboard the vessel, 29-year-old Hitchens being just one. Indeed, it was he who was at the ship’s wheel when the liner hit the iceberg. But it was for his subsequent actions he hit the headlines.

Put in charge of Lifeboat No.6, he refused to return to the sinking vessel after launching, for he feared the boat would be sucked under with the wreck or swamped by the large number of people in the water. For this he was charged with murder.

His unpopularity wasn’t helped by reports coming from those he did rescue having heard several comments. These included referring to the bodies in the water as ‘stiffs’; critical of those manning the lifeboat’s oars; ordering his charges to keep rowing to keep warm when the Carpathia arrived to ‘pick up the dead’; and at least two survivors later accused him of being drunk.

Suggestions he should be charged with murder were never anything but speculative as a result of the enquiry, he was exonerated as he was simply obeying orders given by Captain Edward Smith and second mate Charles Lightoller. He did serve four years for the attempted murder of Harry Henley from 1933.

In the 1998 film – never bothered watching it, I know how it ends – Hitchens is portrayed as a tall, slim cockney. Hitchens was a stocky 5.1/2 feet tall Cornishman. However, he did die at sea – aboard a ship at anchor off Aberdeen in 1940, the result of heart failure.

Blue Idioms

Several words have become part of the language in being used in phrases. Last time we looked at ‘green’ and now look at ‘blue’.

Blue blood is first seen to describe those of noble birth in 1809. It is not an English reference but one describing the old aristocrats of Castile in Spain.

Out of the blue, or a bolt from the blue, is first used in Thomas Carlyle’s writing entitled The French Revolution.

Blue, when referring to something risqué, is not recorded until 1840 and there is little evidence to explain why the colour was chosen. Several theories have been put forward, most often the colour of choice worn by ladies of the night.

Blue in the face, used to describe someone who is frustrated, is first recorded in 1864. Yet earlier it was said to be black and blue in the face, the earlier form seen from 1829.

Once in a blue moon is first used in the modern sense to describe a very long time in an anti-cleric flyer in 1528. But a blue moon is a real astronomical event and occurs, on average, every 33 months. As the lunar month is slightly shorter than a calendar month, the blue moon is simply a second full moon in a calendar month.

Monday blues originated in the US press in the 1830s, used to describe the hung over workforce returning to work after the weekend. More recently Blue Monday is the third Monday in January, said to be the most depressing day of the year.

Blue collar is first used in 1924, another of US origins, describing manual workers as opposed to white collar office workers.

Blue-eyed boy is first used in print in the novels of P.G. Wodehouse in 1919.

Blue ribbon is a misnomer used solely in the USA for many years. It was a mis-hearing of ‘blue riband’ and resulted in blue ribbons being awarded as prizes. Blue Riband had been awarded to the vessel making the fastest trans-Atlantic crossing when it was the only way to travel between the two continents. Blue Riband was borrowed in the early 20th century from the prize awarded in horse racing.

True blue has been used for centuries, certainly appearing in Chaucer, and likely only through the obvious rhyme. Yet it has not always had the same meaning. In the 15th century it was used to mean ‘sorrowful’; by 1788 it described women as either ‘pedantic’ or ‘learned’ depending upon context; while latterly it is a song by Madonna.

Feeling blue is simply the modern version of the earliest use of ‘true blue’, although there are records of ‘the blues’ from as early as the 16th century.

Blues and twos is a police reference to the blue flashing lights and the two tone siren used when attending an emergency.

Blue sky thinking seems to date from the 1940s and is based on the idea that the best work is done when the weather is fine or, possibly, the weather is perceived as better when working well.

Blue sky research is exactly the same as ‘blue sky thinking’ and seems to have developed at the same time.

Blue chip stocks are those which are a fairly safe bet and usually a buy-in to major companies.

Nobody had baby blues before 1892, when it first appeared in the Magazine of Poetry

Scream blue murder first appears around the late 19th and early 20th centuries. My research has often seen me reading old newspaper reports and I have often read of someone giving evidence at a trial or inquest and relating how they were first aware of the victim’s distress when they called out ‘you have murdered me’. I always wonder whether that was accepted as evidence as for surely you can’t be guilty of murder, while the victim is still breathing and screaming blue murder.

Trial by Combat

Ashford v Thornton (1818) 106 ER 149 is an English criminal case in the Court of King's Bench which upheld the right of the defendant to trial by battle on a private appeal from an acquittal for murder.. In 1817, Abraham Thornton was charged with the murder of Mary Ashford. Thornton had met Ashford at a dance and had walked with her from the event. Next morning, she was found drowned in a local pit, although there was little evidence of her having died a violent death. Charged with rape and murder, public opinion would have condemned Thornton, but the jury could not see any evidence to convict him and he was acquitted.

But that was not the end of the story, for William Ashford, Mary's brother, launched an appeal and when Thornton was rearrested, he claimed the right to trial by battle or combat. This medieval solution was still on the stature books and therefore quite legal. Back to court they went, with Ashford claiming the evidence against Thornton was overwhelming. The court disagreed and trial by battle was Ashford's sole remaining option. Ashford did not take up the option and Thornton was released. In 1819 appeals of this nature were abolished by the state, but too late for Thornton's reputation and he had already departed for a new life in the United States of America.

The last recorded trial by battle to come to a conclusion dates from 1597. In Scotland Adam Butterfield accused James Carmichael of murder and exacted revenge by killing the latter. Other cases in 1631 and 1638 were stopped by the king's intervention.

Attempts to abolish the law came in the 17th century and twice in the 18th century, all proving unsuccessful. Of course, in 1819 it did disappear from the statute books, but that did not prevent the law being cited in 2002. Unemployed 60-year-old mechanic Leon Humphreys appeared in Ipswich court, charged with failing to tell the DVLA his motorcycle was off road and thus liable to pay the Road Fund Licence. The DVLA were attempting to fine him £25. But the man from Bury St Edmunds did not agree. Indeed, he told the court he would not enter a plea but demanded the DVLA nominate a champion whom he would fight to the death to prove his innocence. He also claimed the new Human Rights laws meant ordinary folk like him could use the law for their own purposes. Traditionally these battles were fought with swords, lances, shields, staves, and the like - but Mr Humphreys was happy to wield Japanese samurai swords, Ghurka knives, or even a blacksmith's hammer.

Mr Humphreys was forced to pay the fine.

The Oddingley Murders

On 24th June 1806, George Parker, Rector of Oddingley, was found in the village of Oddingley lying in a field and dying from a gunshot wound to the abdomen. He was discovered after a shot and the cry of "Murder, Murder!" had been heard by two men travelling along a nearby lane. They saw someone running away and, from their description, Richard Heming, a local odd-job man, was wanted. He could not be found and rumours abounded he had left for America. In 1830 a skeleton was found in a barn near to where George Parker had been shot. From his clothes he was identified as Richard Heming. Both men were deemed to have died in 1806, and neither had yet resulted in a conviction.

The barn was owned by one Thomas Clewes. He was promptly arrested and, while in gaol, he confessed to having witnessed the murder of Heming, and even named the killers. Three local farmers, all substantial landowners, were in dispute with Parker about the tithes they were required to pay. They paid £50 to Heming to murder the rector, and then bludgeoned their own man to death. Clewes, John Barnett, and George Banks were arrested and charged, and the case made national headlines. (The third farmer had since died.) Everyone expected a triple hanging - and, in 1830, who did not enjoy a good hanging (well EastEnders had yet to reach the public and yes, I know it seems like it's been around that long).

First the law did not allow for the charge of murdering Parker to be levelled at any of them. They may have been accessories, but the law in 1806 (when the murder took place) did not allow them to be charged. It had been changed by 1830, but the law was not changed to work retroactively. Yet they could have been charged with Parker's murder, if Heming had been charged, which he could not be as he was already dead. But, it was these three who had had a hand in killing the killer, so where is the justice here?

Further complications meant Clewes was only charged with aiding and abetting the murder of Heming. His two surviving accomplices, Barnett and Banks, were then charged as his accomplices. Now it gets even more frustrating, for there was little evidence remaining, any witnesses called to give evidence were uncertain when giving details and many contradicted statements they had made earlier. Well it was 24 years afterwards and the ringleader, Captain Evans, and the third man, James Taylor, were deceased. To add further confusion, Clewes counsel argued that his confession could not be used to implicate others, as he had had no foreknowledge of, nor participated in, the murder of Heming. All three, despite clearly being guilty, were set free and lived out thier lives in relative peace. The locals, who were rather relieved that nobody was held to account for two murders (showing how unpopular the tithes were), broke into the church and rang the bells in celebration (much to the indignation of the press).

For a clergyman to be murdered was rare in Georgian England, but for his death to result from a conspiracy between a magistrate and yeomen farmers was unique. Although a clash of strong personalities contributed at Oddingley, the dysfunctional tithe system was the root of the conflict. Parker's income as rector came from his 'tithe', his right to a one-tenth share in everything the parish produced. At Oddingley as in most parishes farmers had switched to paying money annually rather than giving actual produce, but by 1800 there was often a mismatch between whatever long-agreed sum they gave as tithe, and the real value of a tenth of their crops. Parker's annual income from his tithes was £135, then a respectable amount; but one which had not altered for decades, while years of war had caused rampant inflation. After Parker tried to renegotiate his payment and the farmers refused, for several years he collected his tithes in kind. This procedure caused smouldering resentment and sometimes violence: when it did, Parker simply took the recalcitrant farmer to court. His stubborn refusal to be intimidated exasperated them and his success in gathering a tenth of their produce cost them money. After five years of attrition they were ready to yield the increase he had asked - but at this point Parker demanded a further sum of £150 compensation for costs incurred in collecting his tithes. With the resentful farmers under the sway of Captain Evans, an ex-military man already familiar with the process of delegating violence, a fairly commonplace quarrel over tithes ended in double murder.

Injustice?

On Wednesday 20th January inquest before J T Bagley, coroner, on the body of a female infant found in the privy of the Bell Inn, Derby. Both medical men interviewed, Mr Harwood and Mr Jones, were of the opinion the child had been alive when deposited there, certainly they thought it had been born alive. But witnesses said the infant had been stillborn and the jury were in agreement that the infant had been put there to conceal the birth. Jane Frearson, the mother, had lived at the Bell Inn for five months working as a kitchen maid; previously with a highly respectable family in Sheffield, and before going to Mrs Wightman’s was living with parents at Normanton. She was held awaiting trial at the next borough sessions – where she was acquitted through a lack of evidence to show the child had been born alive.

Criminal?

Esther Dyson was in court in York on 31st March 1831 for cutting off her child's head and throwing the body behind a dam to conceal the evidence. She had been deaf and dumb since birth and it was claimed she was insane. At the trial the judge asked the jury to consider one point, was her apparent inability to comprehend what was happening real or not? Was this a good act, or was this God's will? They decided it was the latter and she was acquitted, Yet later a Mrs Ann Briggs came forward and claimed she was more than capable of understanding, she had known her for eight or nine years, and should not have been acquitted. Esther was sent to West Riding Lunatic Asylum in Wakefield where she is reported to have performed tasks associated with a housemaid without trouble until her death on 2nd March 1869 at the age of 62.

Christina Collins

If you have not heard the story of Christina Collins, find a copy of my Bloody British Histories: Stafford and read the story of the woman who never made it to the rendezvous with her husband, but was murdered on the canal en route.

Four were on that boat - two were hanged, the cabin boy was never charged, but one, William Ellis, was found guilty and sentenced to be hanged. However, he was saved by a last-minute reprieve which saw his death sentence commuted to transportation. What happened to him?

We know he departed our shores on 6th April 1841 - sentenced to be transported for 10 years. He travelled aboard the Layton. This was Layton's last voyage of the five it made when transporting convicts to Australia, all but one to Van Diemen's Land. Departing on 13th June 1827, 17th June 1829 (to New South Wales), 26th August 1835, 9th July 1839, and 6th April 1841, the vessel took 1,131 prisoners halfway around the world, 235 of whom were sentenced to life.

Layton arrived in Australia on 1st September 1841 at Van Diemen's Land (Tasmania) with 249 other convicts. What happened to him then is unknown, which is revealing in itself as we would expect to find some record had he died in Australia or been released.

If well behaved, the convict could be given a ticket of leave, granting some freedom. At the end of the convict's sentence, seven years in most cases, the convict was issued with a Certificate of Freedom. He was then free to become a settler or to return to England. Convicts who misbehaved, however, were often sent to a place of secondary punishment like Port Arthur, Tasmania or Norfolk Island, where they would suffer additional punishment and solitary confinement.

Bloodbath

September 26th 1817 was a Friday. A Mr Owen went to visit his sister at her home in Gibraltar Row, Prospect Place, St George’s Fields, where she lived with her husband, Mr Jones. Here the maidservant Mary Berry let him in, whereupon Owen burst into the kitchen where the couple were eating and proceeded to attack Mr Jones with a large knife, resulting in large wounds to the head and neck. Mrs Jones and the maid attempted to pull Owen off, resulting in wounds to their hands and arms. With blood still dripping from her wounds, the maid ran into the street screaming for help.

A former sailor by the name of Hopkins heard her cries and rushed to her aid together they ran back into the building. Here they found Owen kneeling on his brother-in-law, the later now bleeding from several wounds including a deep cut to the abdomen. Hopkins managed to dislodge and disarm Hopkins and dragged the injured Jones into the street. Owen then produced a second knife and leapt upon his own sister, first plunging the blade between two ribs, then slashing open her forehead, and then shoving the knife into her mouth ripped the side of her face open to the ear and also split her tongue wide open. The maid rushed to the aid of her mistress but was also set upon and with cuts to Mary Berry’s arms.

Although both women were quite faint through loss of blood they somehow managed to drag themselves into the street and the protection of their neighbours, who took them into their own homes to await medical attention, albeit the likelihood of their successful recovery was, at best, slight. By now the large and powerfully-built Owen had barricaded himself inside the house loudly threatening anyone in earshot the, too, would be butchered should they attempt to gain access. This violent individual was now defending himself against at least two hundred individuals in the street.

When the police arrived they planned to storm the building. With volunteers aplenty armed with pokers, clothes-props and bludgeons, a vast number entered through the windows and doors both front and rear, even bringing ladders to crash through upstairs windows. Appearing at one of the upstairs windows, Owen was seen whetting one knife on the other until felled by (of all things) a clothes-prop and subsequently pounded by a multitude of fists and weaponry – although he continued to fight back ‘mightily’ until disarmed. With cuts to both hands, the now overpowered Owen was tethered at hands and feet with strong rope and carried bodily from the place, albeit still ranting and raging like a madman.

The injured were taken to St Thomas’s Hospital while, with his now wounds bandaged, Owen imprisoned. Later it was revealed this horrendous attack was started by Mr Jones when he sued Mr Owen for custody of Owen’s two young sons, believing they would be better off living with the Jones family. Owen had won the case and retained custody of his children, but the stress and worry had resulted in the death of his wife (just how this came about is not recorded). It had been earlier of the day of the attack that her funeral had taken place and, having been taken to the house of a friend where they had given him food and drink, the now drink-enraged Owen had gone into a frenzy as none had ever seen in the city of Lichfield.

Herbert and Maud Freeman

4th September 1911 and at Hanch, north of Lichfield near the present golf club, Herbert Freeman, aged 46, attempted to kill his wife Maud aged 33. Had been living at Craddock’s Yard, Wilcox’s Entry, Tamworth Street, Lichfield. They only married on August 8th, 27 days earlier, and it had already proved to be a terrible marriage.

Their wedding reception was held at the Windsor Castle Inn, Lichfield. Here they fought and were asked to quit but refused and so found themselves in front of magistrates charged with disturbing the peace – at their own wedding reception! Over the next four weeks matters did not improve. On the 4th September they were out on Cannock Chase together and called at the Roe Buck Inn, Wolseley Bridge - now known as the Wolseley Arms. Here they found Alfred Black, a dreyman of the Lichfield Brewery. and obtained a lift back on his float.

All went well until they reached Handsacre, as they left she put her hand in her husband’s pocket. He accused her of trying to rob him, although later claimed it was a joke. Words ensued, then he pulled out a long-bladed knife and threatened to kill both his wife and the driver, Alfred Black. The driver was alarmed but offered to help when Maud said she was hurt, he offered to take her to the nursing home in Lichfield. On reaching Hanch Hall the passengers alighted, husband saying he would take care of her. It seems he took care of both of them – first cutting his wife’s neck before turning to his own and severed the windpipe. When police and doctors arrived at 9pm, two bodies were found lying in a pool of blood. He was dead, she found unconscious but when taken to Rugeley District Hospital she gave an incoherent account of events.

Maud Shipley, as she had been known, was previously married to a workman for the local council, until he met with an accident at Lichfield Isolation Hospital the previous year and had died at Birmingham Accident Hospital from his injuries. Herbert’s daughter Alice Freeman said her mother died in December 1903 and her father had had no regular employment for the last 12 months but was a good father and fed and clothed his children well. Since the fight on their wedding night there had been many quarrels. On the day in question both were taking the train from Lichfield Trent Valley to Hagley, he to seek employment in the railway track widening work, she to look for a home at Hagley as they had been given notice at Wilcox’s Entry. Inquest was adjourned until October 3rd to trace further witnesses.

When reconvening, Alfred Black said Herbert had knocked her to the floor and thrown her from the float, she appeared to be hurt. Another witness driving a car picked up the story. He saw two people near Hanch Hall apparently fighting. He raised the alarm when he discovered the woman on the ground and apparently dead, while the man was still alive. He went to Hanch Hall to summon assistance, it was they who discovered Maud had two deep cuts to her neck although Herbert had but one cut but was dead. Another witness, a labourer at the hall, described how Herbert had hit his wife twice across the face with his umbrella, words were exchanged and there was much pushing. Policeman described the spring knife as that which poachers knew as a rabbit-legger or a buck-sticker. By the time the doctor arrived the man had been dead for 1.1/2 hours. Wife had two deep wounds about 3 inches long, one from the middle of the neck to the left side of the jaw and 3/4 inch deep and opened up a similar gash in the gullet, the right side was but a scratch. She also had a blackened left eye, finger-shaped bruises on her arms and other bruises about the body and legs. The man had fingernail scratches on his arms and face. He had a 4 inch wound to the throat, deep enough to expose the back of the palate, jugular was severed and death would have come in a matter of seconds. The man was also missing a finger and thumb on the left hand but this was from an old injury. His body also showed signs of alcoholism.

Then the wife gave evidence, having recovered from her injuries. She said on the afternoon of their marriage he had tried to strangle her. Soon after had got her on the sofa and held a knife to her throat, but released her when someone tapped on the window. She maintained he was a good man with no drink in him. On August 27th he had forced her upstairs and threatened to kill her, even sleeping with the open knife in his hand should she attempt to move. When drunk he was a jealous monster, sober he complained of pains in his arms and head. The tussle was exactly as others had described, adding he grabbed her around the neck with his left arm, she could not get away, he was too strong. He pushed the knife into her throat. She collapsed and laid her down and he kissed her forehead. She awoke to see him lying three feet away to her right, the poachers knife on her left but she did not know this until later. He was clutching his throat, his face down. With some deliberation as to the location of the knife the jury delivered the verdict of suicide after attempting to murder his wife.

Beaten to Death

In July 1839 Richard Howe is arrested and remanded in Stafford Gaol awaiting trial on the charge of the assault of his wife Mary. It emerged surgeon Mr C Waddell had been seeing Mary for some two years but saw nothing untoward until 25th July 1838 when he saw her when she complained of severe pains in her head, chest and liver. She told the surgeon her husband had caused the swelling to her face, her abdomen and the difficulty in breathing. He diagnosed the problem as inflammation of the pleura.

Next day he returned to find her condition had worsened and, when he returned on the third day, he found her so ill that her life was threatened. Every single day he returned to check on Mary's condition, doing so until August 5th, by which time he considered her out of danger. Yet still Mr Waddell paid regular visits to check on her condition. On 3rd January 1840 he discovered Mary complaining of severe pains in her side and began the daily visits once more, until 21st January, the day of her death.

The post mortem revealed little but an inflammation to the lungs. Both Waddell and Dr Edward Knight of the General Infirmary agreed the death had been due to the injuries she sustained in July the previous year. The court subsequently heard how she had spoken of her husband as a man fuelled by drink, how he crushed her frail body, and pushed her face down against his own chest until she felt she would be asphyxiated. A neighbour spoke of their many rows. How she heard Richard say he would ensure she would "maintain him" and that Mary had replied she had always "maintained him in his idleness". This had resulted in Richard threatening "if you call me idle again I'll split your face!" Soon after she had heard a scream. When she went to see if help was needed she was ordered out by the husband, a scuffle ensued and the neighbour removed from the house, at which time her punched her in the face. Another witness, William Hall, said he had also suffered at the hands of Richard Howe.

The jury retired and found Richard Howe guilty of Wilful Murder. He was hanged for his crime.

Herbert and Maud Freeman

We have all known couples who should never have been together. A marriage doomed from the onset or two people who should never be seen in the same room together. This is such a story. It culminates in the extraordinary events of September 4th 1911 at Hanch north of Lichfield and near the present-day golf club but had been causing much more than ripples in southern Staffordshire before then.

Herbert Freeman, aged 46, was charged with attempting to kill his wife Maud, aged 33,. They had been living at Craddock's Yard, Wilcox's Entry, Tamworth Street, Lichfield and married on August 8th 1911. To show just how big a mistake this marriage was we need look no further than the wedding reception at the Windsor Castle Inn, Lichfield. The 'happy couple' had fought and fought so bitterly and loudly the landlord had been forced to send for the police who, having failed to quieten them, arrested and charged the couple to appear before the magistrates next day.

Next month things had not improved. They were out on Cannock Chase and called at the Roe Buck Inn, Wolseley Bridge. Here they met none other than Alfred Black, a dreyman from the Lichfield Brewery Ltd, who managed to be convinced how it would be a very good idea to give them a lift back to Lichfield on the back of his float. All seemd to be proceeding surprisingly well until they reached Handsacre when Maud reached out and felt inside Herbert's pocket. He claimed she was trying to rob him, although she claimed it had been a joke. Words were exchanged and then he pulled out a long-bladed knife, threatening to kill both his wife and the driver. Alfred was understandably alarmed but offered to take them to the nearby nursing home at Lichfield when she said she was hurt. They never got further than Hanch Hall, where both passengers alighted and Albert drove away.

Later the police and a doctor travelled to Hanch Hall. Here they found the Freemans lying in a pool of blood. Both had had their throats cut, he quiet dead but she unconscious. She was taken to Rugeley District Hospital where she regained consciousness and babbled incoherently for a while. Maud Shipley, as she had previously been known, was previously married to a workman for the local council until he met with an accident at Lichfield Isloation Hospital in 1910 and died at Birmingham Accident Hospital from the resulting injuries.

Herbert's daughter Alice said at the inquest her mother had died in December 1903. Her father had had no regular employment for the last twelve months but she thought him a good father who had fed and clothed his children well. Since the fight on their wedding night she had witnessed many quarrels. On the day in question the couple had taken the train from Lichfield Trent Valley to Hagley, he seeking employment in the track widening while she looking for a home at Hagley as they had been given notice to quit Wilcox's Entry. The inquest was adjourned at this point while further witnesses were summoned.

Reconvening on October 3rd, the court heard from dreyman Alfred Black. He spoke of how Herbert had knocked his wife to the floor of the float before throwing her from it. Maud had appeared hurt but Herbert said he would take of her and he left them. Soon after a car driver stopped when he saw two people fighting near Hanch Hall. Picking up the story he spoke of how he raised the alarm when he discovered the woman on the ground, he thinking her dead, with the man still alive and he went to Hanch Hall to call for help. When the police and doctor arrived they found Maud with two deep cuts to her neck and Herbert with one deep cut severing the windpipe and he clearly dead. Another witness, an employee at the hall, described how he saw the man strike the woman twice with an umbrella, words were exchanged and both were pushing the other in an aggressive manner.

When the police officer gave evidence he identified the knife found at the scene as that know to poachers as a rabbit-legger or a buck sticker. The doctor estimated the man had been dead for around 90 minutes, the woman found to have two deep cuts about three inches in length to the side of her neck. She also sported a black eye, finger-shaped bruises to her arms, and other bruising about her arms and legs. Examining the man he found fingernail scratches to his arms and face, a four-inch wound to the throat and deep enough to expose the back of the palate, his jugular was severed and eath would have occurred in a matter of seconds. Earlier signs of alcohol abuse was found at the post mortem along with an old injury which meant he was missing a finger and thumb from one hand.

Having recovered sufficiently to give evidence, Maud Freeman took to the witness stand. She told of how, on the afternoon of their marriage, he had tried to strangle her. Later he had pinned her to the sofa with a knife at her throat, not releasing her until someone tapped on the window pane. Sober he was a good man but with drink in him a changed person. On August 27th he had forced her upstairs and threatened to kill her, even sleeping with the open knife in his hand should she attempt to move. When drunk he was a jealous and violent individual, but when sober constantly complained of pain in his arms and head.

She confirmed how that last afternoon had seen them fight as others had described. Maud added how he had grabbed her around the neck with his left arm, he was too strong for her and she could not get away. Twice he pushed the knife to her throat before laying her down and kissing her forehead whereupon she passed out. When she came around she saw him lying three feet away from her on his right side and unaware of the knife on the ground beyond him. He was clutching his throat.

The jury retired and returned to deliver their verdict. They were in no doubt the location of the knife on the far side of Herbert's body from Maud, showed beyond reasonable doubt that he had committed suicide after attempting to murder his wife.

Crime

Research often sees me ploughing through week after week of old newspapers, inevitably found on microfilm. Looking for criminal activities of yesteryear, I found the now obsolete crime of 'uttering' (passing forged money) and wondered how on earth a word meaning 'to speak' could also be a crime, etymologically speaking of course, for it is easy to see how certain individuals even thinking of opening their mouths could be considered criminal.

Arson - came to English from Old French arsion and Latin arsionem both meaning 'a burning'. Ultimately from Proto-Indo-European as 'to burn, glow', this has also given us the word 'ash' as in the residue of a fire.

Barratry - I actually thought this a misprint until I discovered this referred to marine law and 'the wrongful conduct by any on board resulting in a loss to the owners'. The word came to English from Old French baraterie 'deceit, guile, trickery' and a name also given to a bay off the coast of Louisiana and named as it was difficult to navigate through the entry.

Battery - is fairly easy to see as meaning 'to beat, thrash'; the word also giving us the sense of 'bombardment' and also the electrical storage cell. All come from Proto-Indo-European bhau 'to strike'.

Bigamy - is easier to understand if we separate the two elements, the prefix 'bi' meaning 'double' and followed by the Greek gamos 'to marry' and Proto-Indo-European gem 'to marry'. This early root is also the source of 'gamete', and Greek words referring to 'son-in-law, brother-in-law, father-in-law', Sanskrit fir 'brother, sister, daughter-in-law', and the seventh month of the ancient Attic calendar known as Gamelion, roughly corresponding to late January and early February this translates as 'the month of marriages'.

Blackmail - again two elements, the former 'black', first used as an adjective and ultimately from Proto-Indo-European bhleg 'to burn, shine, flash' and thus coming to the colour black as being used in the sense 'to blacken' for the original meaning was quite the opposite; with the suffix 'mail' ultimately from Proto-Indo-European mod 'meet, assemble'.

Bribery - came to English from Old French bribe 'bit, piece, hunk, morsel of bread given to beggars' and also Old French bribeor 'vagrant, beggar'.

Burglary - first please note ITV newsreaders the word is not pronounced as 'burgle-ree', although it does come from the Latin burgator 'burglar' and burgare 'to break open'.

Embezzlement - is from Old French em 'in' and besillier torment, destroy, gouge'. Earlier forms are unknown.

Embracery - is an alternative description of 'bribery' and comes from the Middle French embrasser 'to clasp in arms, enclose, covet, handle'.

Extortion - directly from Latin extorquere 'to wrench out, wrest away, obtain by force' and ultimately Proto-Indo-European terkw 'to twist'.

Forgery - quite obviously having the same root as 'forge' in the metalwork sense which can be shown to share a common root with 'fabric' in Proto-Indo-European dhabh 'to fit together'.

Hijacking - puts together a shortened form of 'high' used to mean 'to lift' with 'jack' a slang term for 'to steal'. It is a comparatively recent term.

Incitement - from Old French and ultimately Proto-Indo-European en 'in' and the root of 'cite', Proto-Indo-European keie 'to set in motion'.

Kidnapping - a compound of 'kid' and a variant of 'nab', this originally referred to stealing children to provide servants and labourers in the American colonies, thus 'kid' is quite correct.

Larceny - coming to English from the French and Latin route, this originates in Proto-Indo-European le 'to get'.

Libel - comes from Latin libellus 'a little book, pamphlet', it also the origin of 'library'.

Looting - in English meant, as recently as the 19th century, 'goods taken from an enemy' rather than simply any stolen goods. This came from the Hindi lut and Sanskrit lotram, and all with the root in Proto-Indo-European roup-tro 'to snatch'.

Malversation - is another I'd never heard and thus had no idea it was 'professional or official corruption'. Coming to English through French and Latin, it can be traced to Proto-Indo-European wer 'to turn, bend' and preceded by 'mal' from Proto-Indo-European mol-o 'wrong, evil'.

Manslaughter - the important part here is the 'slaughter', itself from 'slay' which is virtually unchanged through a chain of Germanic terms and ultimately from Proto-Indo-European slak 'to strike'.

Murder - is another with a Germanic history and one traceable to Proto-Indo-European where mer was used to mean 'rub away, harm, die'.

Perjury - here Old French per 'entirely' and the root of 'jury', this Latin iurare 'to swear'.

Piracy - is from 'pirate', itself seen as ultimately from Proto-Indo-European per-ya 'trial, an attempt, attack'.

Rape - comes from the Latin rapere 'seize' and Proto-Indo-European rep 'to snatch'.

Robbery - is obvioulsy from 'rob' and this can be traced back to the same Proto-Indo-European root as the previous crime, where rep means 'to snatch'.

Sacrilege - here 'sacred', from the Proto-Indo-European root sak 'to sanctify' unites with the Proto-Indo-European root leg 'to collect, gather'; to suggest something taken away from a holy idea or object.

Shoplifting - 'lift' here is used in the sense of 'to take', this following a word with a Germanic root meaning 'shed, barn, building without walls'.

Smuggling - 'smuggle' has similar words in several Germanic tongues all suggesting 'to creep', 'to slip', and similar.

Theft - a Germanic word and derived from 'thief', itself of uncertain origin but common to just about every Germanic language.

Treason - seen as the worst of crimes, as it affects more than any other crime, it comes from the French and Latin where the latter traditionem 'delivery, surrender' and from two elements trans 'over' and do 'to give' and for obvious reasons.

Uttering - was what started it all and derived from the Middle English verb outen 'to disclose' and Old English utan 'to put out'. These can be traced to Proto-Germanic ut 'out' and this from Proto-Indo-European ud 'up, out, away'. Thus the link between 'to speak' and passing forged money is in the sense 'to give out'.

Quiz Question

A little break from place names and a look at a controversial subject - hanging. At a quiz I'd heard the question "When was hanging abolished in the UK?" to which the answer was said to "It hasn't, it is still possible to be hanged for treason." Having sat in the quiz master's chair years ago I didn't argue the point, it's a tough enough job, but felt fairly certain it had been abolished before the end of the 20th century in the UK. Hence I did a little research.

One of the first 'facts' to come to light was how, at the beginning of the 19th century, there were no fewer than 222 capital crimes. While perfectly true this does not give a clear picture. Further back in history we find there were just 50 offences carrying the death penalty in 1688, the massive increase retrospectively seen as an attempt by the 'haves' to protect what they had from the 'have-nots'. A contemporary wrote of how "Men are not hanged for stealing horses, but that horses may not be stolen." This also explains some of what we would see as ludicrously severe punishments for crimes which today would probably not even incur as much as a caution.

Before condemning these times, it should also be noted that while 35,000 death sentences were handed down between 1770 and 1830, only 7,000 actually reached the gallows, the remainder having their sentence commuted, most often to transportation. Many of these trials on record clearly show the courts have deliberately under-valued the value of stolen goods in order to avoid a mandatory death sentence. There were also a number of reasons where the guilty to be considered unsuitable for the gallows and listed as "benefit of clergy, official pardons, pregnancy, performance of military or naval duty" and subject to what can best be described as 'creative interpretation'. Furthermore note that by the middle of the 18th century this had been reduced to just five.

During my research of my book Bloody British Histories: Stafford, I came across one of the most notorious murderers, William Palmer, the so-called Rugeley Poisoner, and also the sad story of Christina Collins. Both crimes ended in three men being sentenced to death by hanging, in both cases they were found guilty of killing another human being and many will still argue today this is a fitting punishment - while at least as many will argue against.

To answer the quiz question hanging officially ended in Britain on 27th of January 1999, although nobody will have been sentenced to such for the last three decades. Yet since the Saxons introduced hanging as a punishment in the 5th century a number of odd 'crimes' have incurred the death penalty, an (incomplete) list follows.

Murder (officially removed in 1969).
High treason (until 1999).
Capital murder (defined as murder committed in the course of theft; murder by shooting or explosion; murder while resisting arrest or during a prison escape; murder of a police or prison officer; two murders committed on different occasions - I have to say the latter seems pointless as one murder (see above) already carried the death penalty).
Attempted murder.
Petty treason.
Rape.
Arson in a naval dockyard (until 1971).
Espionage (until 1981).
Piracy (until 1981).
Sodomy.
Buggery.
Witchcraft.
Highway robbery.
Embezzling a master's goods.
Robbing churches.
Robbing a person in a dwelling house.
Rioting which caused serious damage to a church, house, barn or stable.
Shooting at someone.
Cutting someone.
Maiming someone.
Counterfeiting coin.
Forgery.
Arson of a dwelling house or of a barn with corn.
Shoplifting.
Picking pockets.
Stealing sheep, cattle, or horses.
Grand larceny (defined as the theft of anything valued at at least 12 pence, remember this was pre-decimalisation and equal to the modern 5p).
Destroying a turnpike.
Stealing from a rabbit warren.
Damaging forests and parks.
Cutting down an orchard.
To lie in wait with intent to put out an eye, disable a tongue or slit the nose (very specific and a result of Sir John Coventry having his nose slit by an assailant in Covcent Garden).
Being in the company of gypsies for one month.
Strong evidence of malice in a child aged 7–14 years of age (makes you wonder how any every survived long enough into adulthood to enact the law).
Blacking the face or using a disguise whilst committing a crime (a result of bands of poachers doing so following the South Sea Bubble collapse).
Sacrilege
Letter stealing
Returning from transportation (presumably without permission) although records show only 5% ever returned (again presumably after they had completed their sentence).
Stealing from a shipwreck.
A sailor or soldier begging without a licence.
Damaging Westminster Bridge.
Impersonating a Chelsea Pensioner.
Strong evidence of malice in children between 7 and 14 years (amazes me that any survived long enough into adulthood to bring in the law).
Writing a threatening letter.

This list is not intended to be in any order of ascending or descending severity.

The Police, Peel, Murder and Drayton Bassett

What is now home to the theme park of Drayton Manor was, as the name implies, a large estate. It lies largely within the boundaries of Drayton Bassett. This village uses the name of the family who held this manor for centuries until, through marriage, it passed to the Peels who built the estate. The most famous member of the Peel family is Sir Robert. As MP for Tamworth he delivered what amounted to the first pre-election manifesto. He spoke from the window of the town hall, addressing the crowd gathered below who probably never realised just what they were witnessing.

Even today the name of Sir Robert Peel is more likely to be associated with two other landmark events. Scholars of political history will undoubtedly point to the long-running debate over the Corn Laws which dominated his political career, although most will remember him as the founder of the modern police force. The latter is only partially true. While he did establish the Metropolitan Police Force in London in 1829, the thousand-strong force known as ‘Bobbies’ because of the association with Sir Robert, there had been a professional body to police the capital for some eighty years.

This earlier force were the Bow Street Runners, formed by author Henry Fielding in 1749, they originally numbered just six officers. Yet the name is something of a misnomer as they never ran and considered the term ‘Runners’ derogatory, nor indeed did they patrol a beat. These men were an arm of the courts, hence Bow Street, and arrests were solely as officers acting on behalf of the judiciary. They were disbanded in 1839, ten years after the formation of Peel’s force and eighteen years before legislation meant cities throughout the land had to introduce their own professional police force.

Parliament would have done well to ensure the significant drop in crime in London was mirrored across the land much earlier. Especially considering events of August 15th 1844 in Drayton Bassett. At the time the villagers were dependent upon the Peel estate for a living, be it directly in the service of the family or as tenant farmers. Fifteen years after the first ‘Bobbies’ were seen in London, the term ‘Peelers’ was more likely to be used by the criminal fraternity, the villagers were horrified when they learned of the murder of William Sudbury by William Walker. Perhaps the village ‘Bobbie’ will have been sufficient deterrent to prevent a quarrel escalating to such a degree.

Years later and our story returns to Market Street, Tamworth. The image below shows the town hall where that first manifesto was delivered, the event marked by placing the statue of Sir Robert Peel below the window. The unknown photographer’s position is some twenty yards or so in front of two buildings facing one another on the end of this ancient street. That to the left is now home to a Wilkinson’s store, yet previously had been a Berni Inn named the Peel Arms, named after Tamworth’s most famous son. Opposite we still find the Castle Hotel. One public bar here was renamed after the Peel Arms had closed and chose to adopt another supposed reference to the father of modern policing. However, as we have seen, the name of the Bow Street Runner is incorrect as it had no connection with Peel.

Whilst they should be congratulated in at least attempting to find an original name, and producing an attractive and relevant sign to accompany same, sadly my research when producing books on place names has shown such errors are commonplace and avoidable.

I would welcome any suggestions for themes or subjects, or even specific words to examine the origins, meanings and etymologies. I’d be delighted to hear from you.

Fanny Adams

An expression known to all meaning ‘nothing’ – and often said to be ‘Sweet Fanny Adams’. Yet it is also a term having a most interesting etymology, albeit a sad and macabre one.

In 1867 three girls from Alton in Hampshire took a walk. Fanny Adams, aged 8, her 7-year-old sister Lizzie, and their 8-year-old friend Minnie Warner were given permission to head towards Flood Meadow by Harriet Adams, mother of the sisters. Around two in the afternoon on Tanhouse Lane they met Frederick Baker, a 29-year-old solicitor’s clerk. The man offered four halfpennies to the girls, one for each and an extra one for Fanny to accompany him to Shalden some two miles away. They all took the coins but Fanny refused to go with him. It made no difference. Baker carried Fanny Adams into a field of hops. She was never seen alive again.

It was three hours before the other girls returned home. In their naivety they saw no reason to raise an alarm and it was only when a neighbour, a Mrs Gardiner, asked about Fanny that their story came out and Mrs Adams was informed. Both women retraced the girls’ steps and soon met Baker. They spoke to him and while he admitted he had given them money he denied anything else had happened. In Victorian Britain a man in his position was considered completely trustworthy and his version was accepted.

Another two hours and still no sign of Fanny and every available hand went searching. They soon found what they were looking for in the hop field. What they found was horrific for the body had been horribly mutilated. Arms and legs were severed, the eye sockets were empty, and the torso was empty. Her eyes later found in the river, with the internal organs strewn across the countryside. Over a matter of days the remains were recovered and taken to the local doctor’s surgery where they were reunited.

Later that evening Baker was arrested at the office of his employer, William Clement. Police had to protect him from the mob who, on seeing the blood on his clothes, were increasingly aggressive. There was so much evidence against him – two blood-stained knives on his person, a witness to Baker leaving Alton and a new career “as a butcher”, the statements of the Lizzie and Minnie, and a diary entry in Baker’s own hand “24th August, Saturday – killed a young girl. It was fine and hot.”

Sent for trial at Winchester it was revealed Baker had murdered her by a blow to the head with a sizable stone. His counsel tried to show he was insane, there being several cases of such in the family, they also tried to show diminished responsibility with medical evidence of epilepsy. There was no question as to his eventual guilt, the only question whether the police could protect him long enough for him to die at the hands of the executioner. On Christmas Eve 1867 Baker was hanged outside Winchester Gaol, the last person executed in the city.

Today we see the origin of the phrase as insensitive, to say the least. However it took just two years for this notorious case to enter the language, for it was then the Royal Navy introduced tinned mutton to their rations. Sailors did not care for the new protein source and suggested it must be produced from the remains of the murder victim. It has been speculated the two stories were linked by the local of the Royal Navy yard at Deptford, where there was an abattoir and a bakery and within touching distance of Alton. In reality the two were several miles apart and this explanation was almost certainly created several years afterwards. The same is also true of the abbreviation “Sweet FA” used for “sweet f**k all” when certainly from much later. The tin containing the meat was later reused as a mess tin. Recycling nineteenth century style led to the mess tin being known as a Fanny as it still is today

Shortly after the use of Fanny Adams to refer to something as ‘worthless’ or ‘nothing at all’ the Australians began referring to canned chopped meat as Harriet Lane. Despite this also being the name of Fanny’s mother, the two are unrelated except by the circumstances of their respective murders. As with Fanny, Harriet Lane (for that was her name) was murdered and butchered, the latter by a man named Henry Wainwright. However this was not in Australia, as we would presume, but in London.

As usual I would welcome any suggestions for themes or subjects, or even specific words to examine the origins, meanings and etymologies. I’d be delighted to hear from you.

Black Country Ghosts

An excerpt from my book of a couple of years ago, my first look at such and a book which has recently been reprinted. I have chosen one of the best-known towns in the area but not its most famous building, Dudley Castle. Locals will be aware of the Station Hotel, which stands in the shadow of the castle and a venue for many tales including the following.

Dudley seems to be a magnet for spectral sightings, particularly the region around the castle and below at the Station Hotel. The coming of the railway in 1850 was a major boost to the prosperity of the region and the town grew steadily. Until the end of the 19th century the main place for visitors was the hotel named, somewhat predictably, The Castle.

By May 1898 the new Station Hotel had taken in its first visitors, most of whom arrived in horse-drawn vehicles. In these early days the main entrance was on the corner of Trindle Road and Castle Hill. Once a fountain stood on the site of the traffic lights, an impressive first impression for visitors and a welcome watering place for the horses. This fountain had been relocated from its earlier site at the top of Castle Hill.

The Opera House opened opposite the hotel a year later, bringing the upper classes and their money to the town and, of course, to the Station Hotel. Even today the splendour of those early days is still evident, although what is seen inside today is largely the interior following the extensive refurbishment just prior to the second World War. The height of the ceilings instantly dates the place, while the broad and ornate staircase is as much of a delight to descend today as it must have been soon after it was first varnished. Doors of the rooms at this time were numbered and named using a method of embossing. These numbers are still visible when the light catches them from the right angle, as are the doors leading to the public cloakroom and water closet. The colours in some of the windows are mirrored in the glass of the light shades and are also from around this time. Both must be cleaned with care as replacements would have to be hand-made and thus tremendously expensive.

This refurbishment of the hotel coincided with the building of The Hippodrome, a brand new and modern theatre replacing the Opera House which had succumbed to a devastating fire in 1933. The hotel further enhanced its reputation with a guest list of stars from around this era including Laurel & Hardy, Johnnie Ray, Bob Hope and George Formby who, it is reported, appeared on the balcony of his suite where he performed a song or two to a crowd of fans who had gathered outside hoping for just a glimpse of their idol.

In the Swinging Sixties the hotel underwent yet another major facelift. A cocktail bar was opened, while the function room boasted 'the longest bar in the country' at that time. Still the place was considered very desirable and delightful way to round off the night after enjoying a show at the Hippodrome. However the place was still out of the reach of the pockets of most of the locals.

When I visited the hotel the former grandeur of the place was still very much apparent. I was treated to a tour, which took in the seemingly endless succession of passages and side rooms which formed the cellar. My guide allowed me to take the lead into one room, the murder scene. Here too is a disused passage which reputedly leads from the cellar to Dudley castle, the latter having closed that end shut many, many years ago. Yet there is no record of anyone ever having attempted to follow this subterranean route and, with the two famous buildings occupying entirely different moments in time, it seems this is a tunnel tale of folklore rather than fact.

My reason for visiting was the extraordinary number of reported ghosts here. Indeed a number of visitors here come simply to see if they have a ghostly experience, there is even a 'Spook Book' for those who wish to record any of their experiences. Those who hope to encounter something will reserve a room on the third floor where the vast majority of sightings occur. Dudley may well be able to warrant a ghost book of its own, if so the Station Hotel would figure at least seven times - for that is the number of regular visitors reported in this place.

I was taken on my tour by Sarah, a charming young lady who had worked here for a few years. This is a hotel and open twenty-four hours of every day, which means it needs to be staffed every moment of every day. Because of the shift system in operation the staff sometimes find it necessary to take advantage of the rooms themselves. It was during one of her overnight stays that Sarah had her visit from Eliza.

It was the early hours in the morning when the door, which had been locked and secured, opened and in walked a woman. This woman was wearing a drab brown woollen dress of full length, with a white apron. She was of small build, only about 5ft 4in tall, and wore a mob cap over a noticeable bun. Understandably unnerved by the intrusion Sarah challenged the woman, who made no response but simply disappeared into the ensuite bathroom.

Sarah refused to move from the bed until, after what could only have been a few moments, the mysterious woman emerged again and let herself out through the door. After regaining some of her composure she got out of bed, first to check the door and then to examine the bathroom. She instantly noticed the towels, which were once on the floor and now neatly folded. It was this that gave Sarah the clue to the identity of the woman. It seems that a former maid regularly pays visits to the rooms during the night and tidies up. There have been reports of clothes, which have been left on the floor where they fell, being found in the wardrobe on a hanger the following morning.

The woman she saw did not glow, was not transparent and, apart from her obviously dated attire, seemed a perfectly normal individual. Sarah was and remains sceptical about the existence of ghosts, despite her experience. However she did admit those towels went untouched. Her shower that day was followed by the use of a towel she collected from the reception desk.

The most frequently told tale of the hotel is that of George Williams - sometimes given as Williamson. A former manager of the hotel he was having an affair with a maid employed by him by the name of Elizabeth Hitchen. It seems the young Miss Hitchen, having discovered she was pregnant, confronted her employer demanding to know what he intended doing about this situation. She is supposed to have been less than impressed by his lack of interest and had threatened to reveal everything to his wife during a particularly vehement confrontation in the cellars. He snapped.

In a fit of rage he brutally murdered his mistress. Elizabeth is said to have been stabbed and strangled, her body lay in the cellar while Williams attempted to cover his tracks. Eventually he is said to have moved her body out via the chute and trap door which were used for the delivery of barrels and crates. Presumably this was achieved by pulling her body up by means of a rope, as the empty barrels would have been, for it is impossible to climb up this chute - especially while holding a lifeless corpse. Reports suggested it was here, under a patch of grass at the front of the Station Hotel, that the murderer concealed the body of his victim and former lover. During the recording of a recent television program the presenter, himself a medium, reported the body was still there.

However in recent years a guest came to the hotel, a woman who hoped to experience something of the paranormal activities. Indeed she was hoping to find she was visited specifically by either the perpetrator or his victim, for she had her own particularly good reasons. It seems that this crime was of particular interest to this lady, for she had undergone regression. This is where the individual is put into a hypnotic trance and taken back in time to see if they have any recollections of a former life. This was where this person had learned of the murder of Elizabeth Hitchen, for she claimed to have been her in a former existence. She had little waking memory of the events she had divulged during her regression, however she did report a feeling that she was in water. This suggests the body had been dumped in the nearby canal, not buried.

While this woman did not meet up with her former self, nor her attacker during her visit, others have reported seeing things which seem to point to this macabre event. For example there are numerous reports of hearing a woman screaming, wailing, or sobbing and clearly greatly distressed. In the part of the cellar where she was murdered a number of people have reported feeling chills, terribly uneasy, even scared with no apparent cause for this anxiety. There is also a report of a man seen cowering in the corner of the cellar, head in hands, sobbing. Could this be the guilt-ridden murderer? Nobody has ever been traced nor did George (or anyone else) face charges for the crime. Indeed we would be unlikely to known anything of these events had it not been for another George, who recorded this story and left his own mark on the hotel as we shall see in the following narrative.

An historian about whom more is known regarding his family and working life, than is known about his writings. He seems to have written the vast majority of his articles and reports anonymously. However it is known that what was written about the murder of Elizabeth Hitchen (see previous item) came ostensibly from the pen of Mr George Lawley.

George was a regular visitor to the Station Hotel, always sitting in the same place. Today this large round table is known as George's table. Indeed when bookings are made regular patrons often ask for this table by this very name. It is George's table which has been known to throw cutlery around the restaurant - thankfully so far this has only happened when the staff have been there and not when the place was full of customers.

However George is better known for his nightly patrol of the bar area of the function room. Apparently at twenty minutes to midnight a sudden chill is felt passing through from the direction of George's table through the bar in the direction of the reception area. This effect is highly localised, reports of just one side of the body or even just an arm or leg being affected are quite common.

George died in 1935 and, as far as anyone has managed to ascertain, his official record of the murder has never been seen since soon after it was written. Certainly nothing has ever been found in print. While his regular appearances through the bar can be unnerving for some, George Lawley's appearances are seen as an old regular keeping his eye on the place when he patrols his favourite haunt nightly. Indeed George is rapidly becoming seen as much a part of the place as anything else. Hopefully George will continue to watch over this part of history for many years to come.

I would welcome any suggestions for themes or subjects, or even specific words to examine the origins, meanings and etymologies. I’d be delighted to hear from you.