A boot and shoe fraud exposed by the fear of terrorism

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While I was born and live in London I teach history at the University of Northampton, so I’m always on the lookout for stories which link the capital to the east Midlands. Not surprisingly – well at least not surprisingly to someone that knows Northampton’s history – this case from Westminster concerns the boot and show trade, for which Northampton was (and remains) mostly famous.

Three people appeared in the dock at Westminster Police court on the 15 May 1883, two women and a man. They were charged with ‘unlawfully conspiring with other persons to obtain goods … by false and fraudulent representations’.  The ‘goods’ in question was a quantity of leather and boots and the trio were apprehended as the result of a targeted police investigation into fraud.

Detective sergeant Arthur Standing was on watch outside the Life Guards barracks in Knightsbridge (which had recently been the subject of a bomb threat) watching a house opposite.  The house was rented in the name of Edmund O’Connor, a commercial traveller in the boot trade. His Irish surname may also have raised suspicions given the proximity of the barracks and the spectre of the ‘dynamitards’.

Between 8 and 9 at night DS Standing and another officer waited as two women approached the house, each carrying a large bundle. Standing stopped the women and searched their bags. These were found to contain leather, which was later traced to wholesalers in Northampton and Leicester. Both women – Mary O’Connor and her daughter Elizabeth were arrested and Edmund followed soon afterwards.

The magistrate, Mr St John Poynter, was told by the police that they were investigating a number of other thefts connected with this case and asked for the three prisoners to be remanded. Poynter complied with their request and committed them to trial at Old Bailey and sent them back into custody in the meantime.

When it came to trial a couple of weeks later it became clear that Mary was the mother of the two other defendants, not Edmund’s (or indeed Edward as the Old Bailey court recorded his name) wife. Edward was the principal here and the goods stolen were in fact a large number of boots. O’Connor had apparently been trying to establish a boot and shoe shop on Knightsbridge High Street   and had obtained the lease to rent the premises from a solicitors in Jermyn Street at £120 a year. However, when he didn’t pay the money as agreed the solicitor’s cashier went looking for him in Knightsbridge, finding only his mother who said he was travelling on business.

Meanwhile O’Connor had been busy ordering samples under the name of ‘Andrews’ and placing an order with a manufacturer in Bethnal Green.  A succession of creditors and unhappy traders gave evidence and Matthew O’Brien of CID reported that he’d entered the premises (searching for the elusive explosives they’d been tipped off about) and found it empty, dirty and with ‘no sign of business’. This must have rung alarm bells and prompted him to alert DS Standing.

In the end it was a complex case in which it seems that O’Connor was possibly trying to set up a legitimate business in town based on his wider contacts but was short of ready cash. That’s the generous explanation of course. He may well have been conducting a sort of ‘long firm’ scam where he pretended to be a genuine businessman in order gain credit and goods before clearing out before he paid a penny for anything he’d obtained.

That was what the jury thought although the element of doubt possibly worked in his favour as he only received a twelve-month prison sentence. His mother and sister fared better; found guilty of conspiracy by recommended to mercy by the jurors they were sent down for two months’ each.

The name ‘O’Connor’ would have chimed with the secret services of the day; a James O’Connor had been a prominent member of Clan na Gael who had been arrested in 1881. Special Branch was formed later in 1883 to combat Fenian terror and anyone with an Irish name would have aroused suspicion that close to a military target. In October 1883 Clan na Gael planted a bomb on a District Line underground train heading for Gloucester Road station. Thankfully no one was hurt and little damage was done but more attacks on the network followed.

We forget that London was targeted by terrorism in the 1880s but this case, of a fairly mundane if ambitious fraud, reminds us that the capital’s police (like their colleagues today) had to fight and political violence at one and the same time, with limited resources.  Who knows, if O’Connor’s name really had been ‘Andrews’ he may not have aroused suspicion and his gamble might have paid off.

[from The Standard, Wednesday, May 16, 1883]

A ‘trumpery’ case of dogs and a broken umbrella

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Most of those occupying the dock at the London Police courts were, broadly defined, members of the city’s working classes. When persons of a ‘higher station’ did appear it was usually (but not always) as complainants or witnesses (sometimes to the defendants’ character). However, in May 1869 two gentlemen were involved in an action against each other.

Mr Ripley, of Jermyn Street, charged Sir Frederick Johnson with ‘unlawfully allowing a ferocious dog to go at large unmuzzled’. It was a specific offence and the sitting justice, Mr Tyrwhitt, had to decide on the balance of the evidence presented whether their was case to answer.

Ripley presented his own side of things in court while Sir Frederick was represented by his counsel, Mr Edward Lewis. Mr Ripely told the court that he was walking his dog in Piccadilly when an unaccompanied dog attacked his own animal ‘in a violent manner’. The attack was unprovoked and he was obliged to beat the other dog off with the only thing he had to hand, which was his umbrella. In the process the ‘brolly was damaged.

He walked on and asked if anyone owned the stray animal, no one did but one person informed him that the dog belonged to Sir Frederick Johnson, who lived at Arlington Street. a smart address just off Piccadilly. Ripley called at the Sir Frederick’s home but was not received. Frustrated he returned hime and , like all good Englishmen, penned an angry letter of complaint.

He soon received a reply, which said that Sir Frederick was sorry that Ripley’s dog had ‘been maltreated by his dog, who, being a very quiet animal, must have been first attacked, and therefore…had got what it deserved’.

This presumably infuriated Ripley further who wrote an immediate response, telling the knight that while his dog ‘was not wanting in pluck, it had never attacked another dog except in self-defence’.

The affair was embarrassing to both parties and showed the ‘better sort’ in a bad light. Mr Lewis said his client was disappointed that Ripley had not accepted his apology but had preceded to law by way of a summons. It was unnecessary and unproven on the evidence presented. He brought several witnesses who testified that Sir Frederick’s dog was not ‘ferocious’ and not uncontrolled. The dog itself was exhibited and seems, to the court reporter at least, to be ‘a good-tempered and docile animal’.

The magistrate was equally cross that this trivial affair had reached his courtroom. He concluded that it was ‘too much to say that because Sir F. Johnson’s dog came into collision with another dog, that it was a ferocious dog within the meaning of the act’. The case was ‘a trumpery one’ he finished, Sir Frederick had apologised and that was all a gentleman could be expected to do. The ‘dog had received a good character’ and so he dismissed the case.

[from The Morning Post, Wednesday, May 12, 1869]