Jack the Ripper (5 page)

That evening, Bury went to the Central Police Station and claimed that his wife had strangled herself, and being both angry and afraid that he would be accused of being a ‘Jack the Ripper’, he had attempted to cut her up and hide her in a box. Detectives Lamb and Campbell went to the basement and found a scene of chaos. The remains of Ellen Bury were discovered – packed tightly into a wooden crate. She had been strangled, but there were also cuts to her lower abdomen and part of her intestines protruded. In order to force her into the crate, one of her legs had been broken. A cord lay on the floor, and on a windowsill, the officers found a knife with blood and hair upon it. Clothes and other items had been burnt in the fireplace. In another wooden box the police found male clothing and cheap jewellery, including two finger rings (Annie Chapman had been robbed of two brass rings). Ellen’s good jewellery was now in Bury’s pockets.

What did Ellen know? In the back stairway leading to the ash pit, where only she would go, the barely literate woman had chalked two messages which were to cause a local sensation:

Jack Ripper is at the back of this door

Jack Ripper is in this seller

The two chalked messages which caused a local sensation.
(Dundee Advertiser,
1889
)

Bury could, surely, not have known what she had done but, if he thought Ellen suspected that he was the Ripper, he may have begun to fear that she would do more than merely make sly remarks to people like the Smiths. This would have given him a strong motive for silencing her, but it is just as likely that they fell out about money, when he threatened to take her last asset – her cherished jewellery. What is less likely is that he succumbed to his compulsions. After ten months of marriage, she simply would not stimulate his perverse appetite, besides which, the selection and hunting down of a victim were probably important to him. Nevertheless, once he had strangled Ellen and stripped off her clothes, the sight of her dead, naked body revived his desires and he was compelled to mutilate her remains.

Rather to Bury’s surprise, the police did not believe his tale of suicide, and he was quickly put on trial for murder. The case opened at Dundee on 28 March; George, Lord Young was on the bench. Even without the suspicion that Bury was the Ripper, the proceedings have some points of interest. Bury was ably defended by a young advocate, William Hay, who probed every weak spot in the medical evidence, in order to keep alive the possibility that Ellen had killed herself. Meanwhile the prosecution irritated the jurors by making a mockery of a Dr Lennox, whose evidence supported the defence case. The jury then astounded the judge by giving a rather muddle-headed verdict. This was ‘guilty’ but with a recommendation of mercy, in view of conflicting medical evidence. They were sent back to come to a more sensible decision, and this time they simply said ‘guilty’. Bury eventually admitted to killing Ellen, but claimed in a letter, to the Revd E.J. Gough, that he was driven to it by Ellen’s conduct. To the last, Bury was trying to make a good impression.

Hay did his best to appeal, on the grounds of his client’s insanity, but this was not allowed, and the date of Bury’s execution was set for 24 April 1889.The Scottish press, and some American papers, took him seriously as a Ripper suspect, and police officers from London did come up to Dundee to take a look at Bury, but higher ranks in the capital did not take the matter very seriously; Bury simply did not fit in with their preconceived ideas of the Whitechapel killer.

One man was convinced of Bury’s guilt, and that man was the one person closest to him at the end: James Berry, public executioner. He reported that Bury said to him, with some emphasis, ‘I suppose you think you are clever because you are to hang me, but because you are to hang me you will not get anything out of me.’ James Berry also claimed, in his memoirs, that quiet men in suits told him, privately, that London would no longer be troubled by Jack the Ripper; but of course, Berry did have a book to sell.

So, why did William Henry Bury drop out of sight as a suspect? Bury was simply too dull. He was a wretched little man, but this is precisely why he is a very good suspect today. He conforms to the typical profile of the sexual serial killer as an embittered loner, unable to gain the respect he craves. More to the point, Bury was loose at night, at the time when the Ripper struck in London. While the death of Ellen Bury has eerie similarities to known Ripper Murders, although in 1889 these were not recognised. She was strangled, then mutilated post-mortem, and her killer used fire to dispose of some of her belongings. Ellen believed she was married to Jack the Ripper, and this shy, insecure little woman was uniquely, and tragically, in a position to recognise him for what he was.

Beadle, W.,
Jack the Ripper: Anatomy of a Myth
(Wat Tyler Books, 1995)

Beadle, W.,
Jack the Ripper Unmasked
(John Blake Publishing, 2009)

Macpherson, E.,
The Trial of Jack the Ripper
(Mainstream Publishing, 2005)

My candidate for Jack the Ripper is Severin Klosowski, also known as George Chapman, a convicted killer who was hung in 1903, following the murders of three women. Indeed, it was said that Frederick George Abberline, a senior police officer on the 1888 case, declared at the time of the Chapman’s arrest, ‘You’ve got the Ripper at last.’

Severin Antonio Klosowski was born in Poland on 14 December, 1865, to Antonio, a carpenter, aged thirty, and his wife Emilie aged twenty-nine. Between the ages of eight and fifteen, he attended a rural primary school and a school report described his conduct as ‘very good’. On leaving school, he was apprenticed for a period of four and a half years to a surgeon. He was described as ‘diligent’ and of ‘exemplary conduct’, studying with ‘zeal’ the science of surgery whilst ‘under doctor’s instructions rendered very skilful assistance to patients.’ His name was entered in a registry of surgical pupils in 1885, and from October 1885 to January 1886, he studied at the Hospital of Praga in Warsaw – again his conduct was described as good. Klosowski appears to have achieved the status of Junior Surgeon, by December 1886, and paid his fees to the Treasury of the Warsaw Society of Assistant Surgeons up until March 1887.
1
He then left Warsaw and came to London, but opinion varies as to the exact date of the emigration. On his arrival in London he worked as a hairdresser for Abraham Radin, in West India Dock Road. He remained in Mr Radin’s employ for about five months.
2
Klosowski then appears to move on, working as a self-employed hairdresser in Cable Street. In 1890 he worked first as an assistant,and then as the proprietor of a barbers in the basement below the White Hart public house, on the corner of Whitechapel High Street and George Yard (now Gunthorpe Street).

In the later part of 1889, Klosowski met Lucy Baderski at a Polish club in Clerkenwell.
3
After a brief courtship, of only four or five weeks, they were married on 29 October 1889. Initially they lived together at No.126 Cable Street.
4
A son, Wladyslaw, was born on 6 September 1890, but died on 3 March 1891. At the time of their son’s birth, the couple were living at No.89 High Street, Whitechapel. However, by the time of the infant’s death, they had moved to No.2 Tewkesbury Buildings, Whitechapel
5
, and they were still there when the census was taken on 5 April 1891. The couple then emigrated to the United States
6
and settled in New Jersey. However, Klosowski was acting violently towards his wife and, in February 1892, Lucy returned to the UK and gave birth to a girl, Cecilia, on 15 May.
7

Klosowski returned from the US shortly after the birth of Cecilia and was re-united with his wife.
8
It was Klosowski who registered the baby’s birth, on 20 June, and at that time the family were residing at No.26 Scarborough Street, Whitechapel.
9
However, by November 1893, Klosowski was living with a woman named Annie Chapman (no connection to the Ripper victim). They lived together as Mr & Mrs Klosowski in West Green Road, Tottenham, but Annie left him about a year later. She was to claim later that she had a child by him.
10
It seems that, from this point, Klosowski adopted the name George Chapman, so from here on I will refer to him as that.

In 1895, Chapman met a Mrs Mary Isabella Spink (neé Renton) in Leytonstone. Mrs Spink’s husband, Shadrach, had deserted her, taking their son (also named Shadrach) in 1890; shortly after the desertion, Mrs Spink gave birth to a second son, William.
11
By October 1895, the couple were telling people that they were married, though both were still married to others, and no record exists of a marriage ceremony.
12
Mrs Spink had been left £500-600, by her grandfather,
13
and it was not long before this money found its way into Chapman’s pockets. In early 1897, he used it to buy the lease on a small barber’s shop in George Street, Hastings.
14
The family of three – Mrs Spink, Chapman and young William – lived in Hastings and by May of that year, Mrs Spink was frequently vomiting. It is likely that Chapman was also subjecting her to physical violence. They left Hastings in September 1897, and Chapman, making a career change, became the licensee of the Prince of Wales Pub in St Bartholomew Square, just off the City Road in London. Mrs Spink’s health rapidly deteriorated; she had lost a good deal of weight and suffered frequent bouts of sickness and diarrhoea. A Dr J.F. Rodgers was in attendance, and on Christmas Day 1897, this unfortunate woman died an agonizing death, aged forty-one years. Dr Rodgers gave the cause of death as phthisis (tuberculosis).
15

Chapman played the grieving husband, but one month later, he applied for young William to be taken into a Dr Barnardo’s Home. He was not admitted to the home, but at a later date he had him taken into the Shoreditch Workhouse.
16

By Easter 1898, Chapman had appointed a new barmaid at the Prince of Wales: Elizabeth (Bessie) Taylor. They soon entered into a relationship and, just like the previous Mr & Mrs Chapman, they were telling people that they were married. Around the middle of 1898, Chapman bought The Grapes public house in Bishops Stortford.
17
During their brief stay there, Bessie became ill and spent sometime in the hospital in the town. She was suffering abuse at the hands of Chapman and by March, 1899, the couple had sold The Grapes and moved on to another pub, The Monument Tavern, No.135 Union Street in Southwark. Just like her predecessor, Bessie’s health was deteriorating. She was suffering from exhaustion and pains in her stomach; she consulted a Dr James Morris Stoker several times at his surgery. However, her condition worsened; she was now suffering from vomiting and diarrhoea and complained of a burning sensation in her throat. Dr Stoker was in attendance almost daily, from 1 January 1901, and asked three other doctors to give their opinions: ‘womb trouble’, cancer, and ‘a severe form of hysteria’ were all suggested! Bessie died on 13 February 1901; she was thirty-six years old. On the death certificate, Dr Stoker gave the cause of death as ‘intestinal obstruction, vomiting and exhaustion.’
18
This time Chapman displayed a callous indifference to his ‘wife’s’ death. Interestingly, in the April 1901 census, Chapman is recorded as the publican of The Monument public house; he described his marital status as ‘single’ and place of birth as ‘United States’.

In August 1901, Chapman employed eighteen-year-old Maud Marsh. Again, within a short period of time they were telling people that they were married; having told Maud’s parents that Chapman was a widower.
19
In December 1901, the couple moved to a nearby pub, The Crown, following a serious fire in which The Monument burnt down. In June 1902, a young barmaid, Florence Rayner, was employed at The Crown. Within a fortnight of Florence’s arrival, Chapman was making advances towards her and suggested that they go to America together; Florence would go first, Chapman would sell his business and then follow her. When Florence protested that he had a wife, Chapman replied, ‘If I give her that [snapping his fingers], she would be no more Mrs Chapman.’ Florence left The Crown after three or four weeks.
20
The relationship between Chapman and Maud had become violent, and Maud confided in her sister Louisa that Chapman ‘had beaten her more than once, taking hold of her hair and banging her head.’
21
Just like the two previous ‘Mrs Chapman’s’ Maud became ill, suffering from severe vomiting, diarrhoea and abdominal pains. She was admitted to Guys Hospital on 28 July,1902, where her illness confused her doctors; she remained there until 20 August.
22
However, she improved during her time in hospital and returned to The Crown, but then her symptoms rapidly returned. On 10 October she too consulted Dr Stoker.
23
Maud’s mother, Eliza, arrived at the pub on 20 October to nurse her daughter
24
and Maud’s father, Robert, very concerned for his daughter’s health, arranged for his own doctor, Dr Grapel, of No.282 London Road, Croydon, to visit Maud at The Crown, on 21 October.
25
Dr Grapel was initially baffled by Maud’s condition, but on his way back to Croydon, he came to the conclusion that this could well be a case of repeated arsenic poisonings, but he was reluctant to communicate this to Dr Stoker as he had no proof. He fully intended to get in touch with Dr Stoker the following day, but before he could do so, Mr Marsh showed him a telegram he had received, telling him of his daughter’s very sudden and agonising death, at 12.30 p.m. that day, 22 October 1902. On hearing this distressing news, Dr Grapel sent Dr Stoker a telegram, in which he conveyed his suspicions.
26
The following day at The Crown, Mrs Marsh, her daughter Alice, and Maud’s aunt were having tea with Chapman, unaware of the storm gathering over his head. Not letting the grass grow under his feet, Chapman said to Alice, ‘There is a chance for you as barmaid now. Will you come?’ Naively she replied, ‘No thanks, London does not suit me.’
27