The Worst Street in London: Foreword by Peter Ackroyd (25 page)

As Hall turned with the lit candle, he caught Kitty with her hand in his jacket pocket and immediately grew incensed as not long before he had been robbed of £30 whilst in a similar situation. According to Hall’s story, he grabbed his pocket knife and plunged it into Kitty’s neck, killing her almost instantly. Realising what he had done, he fled the cottage leaving the bloodstained murder weapon lying on the floor beside the bed. That night, he walked to Limehouse where he got a bed at the Sailor’s Rest lodging house under the name of Johnson.

The police felt that Hall knew an awful lot of details about the story and decided it was worth remanding him in custody and sending him to London. Once back in the capital, Hall was put into an identity parade and one of the witnesses picked him out as the man he saw with Kitty on the night of the murder. Hall was charged with murder and imprisoned pending the trial.

The police were no doubt relieved to have seemingly solved this dreadful murder but by the time of the trial, they had grave doubts as to whether they had the right man. Under cross-examination by the defence counsel, the witness who had picked Hall out in the identity parade admitted that he had been suffering from a severe hangover at the time and was now unsure that Hall was the man he had seen with Kitty. Another witness was called who claimed that the penknife allegedly used in the murder was exactly the same as one that he and Hall had found whilst working in a paper sorting warehouse. The man claimed the blade was distinctly damaged and this was how he could identify it without doubt. The only problem with this testimony was that it was never conclusively established that the penknife was indeed the murder weapon.

Despite very flimsy evidence, Hall was found guilty. The judge sentenced him to death but the sentence was never carried out and it is unknown what eventually became of Harold Hall. Miller’s Court was once again the venue for a murder for which the motive and the perpetrator would be unclear. At the trial it was discovered that Harold Hall was a lonely drifter without friends or close family who had been deserted by his parents at an early age. Did he really kill Kitty Ronan or was he a troubled, lonely man desperate to gain acknowledgement through notoriety?

Despite Duval Street’s terrible reputation, the fact that the crumbling properties stood on land in such close proximity to the City meant that they were still worth a considerable amount of money to their owners. In 1910, the Government decided to assess the capital appreciation of real estate by individually surveying every property in every street in every town. This mammoth undertaking was known as ‘Lloyd George’s Domesday’ and never got completely finished. However, the vast majority of London was surveyed and Duval Street was no exception. By this time, Jack McCarthy owned or leased huge tracts of the road including numbers 2, 3, 4, 8 on one side and numbers 26, 27 (including Miller’s Court,) 28, 29, 30, 31 and 31a on the other. In total, these properties were valued at £6,170 – a very substantial sum of money despite the fact that most of them were falling to pieces. It transpired that the Valuation Survey was timely. In 1914, the City of London (Various Powers) Act was passed which granted the Corporation of London the power to finally widen the streets around Spitalfields Market that had been causing problems for so many years.

The freeholders and leaseholders of properties in Duval Street were all contacted to ascertain whether or not they were in favour of the proposed extension even though there was a good chance that their property would be subject to a compulsory purchase. Jack McCarthy voted in favour of the extension. This might on the surface sound surprising because of his long-standing business interests in the area, not to mention that fact that Duval Street had been his home for nearly 40 years and the place in which he had raised his children. But Jack McCarthy was not a stupid man. He realised that trade was in decline and that the market expansion would go ahead despite any reservations he may have had. His decision to support the expansion was finally cemented when, on 18 February 1914, his wife Elizabeth succumbed to bronchitis and died at home in the upstairs rooms of 27 Duval Street.

Elizabeth’s death marked the end of an era for Jack McCarthy. His children were grown up and able to look after themselves and his old friend and colleague William Crossingham was dead. He was also getting old himself and in his mid-60s, no longer had the energy to assert the constant control one had to wield over the unruly ruffians and gangs that proliferated the area. It was time to retire and Duval Street was about to lose its most influential resident.

Jack McCarthy’s retirement from the day-to-day running of his businesses was swiftly followed by an event that would have a much greater effect on Duval Street than any number of gangs or town planners could ever hope to achieve. On 4 August 1914, the Prime Minister announced that German troops had invaded Belgium. A bloody and devastating world war was about to begin that would change the face of Duval Street, Spitalfields, London and all the towns beyond forever.

Chapter 25

World War 1

Following the declaration of war, it soon became clear to the Government that more men were needed to fight. In August 1914, the British Army comprised approximately 250,000 regular troops. In contrast, the German Army had 700,000 soldiers and was considered the most efficient war machine in the world.

On 7 August, the War Minister, Lord Kitchener, began a massive recruitment campaign where he tried to persuade male civilians between the ages of 19 and 30 to join up. Keen to defend their country from the fearsome Hun and ignorant of the horrors that war could inflict, many young men complied with Kitchener’s request and by mid-August, an average of 33,000 men were joining the army every day. This initial flurry of enthusiasm was encouraged further when, at the end of August, the age limit was raised to 35 and by mid-September, half a million men had volunteered.

The casual labourers and market workers that resided in Duval Street and its surrounds were extremely keen to sign up as it offered them an opportunity to do something far more constructive with their lives than their current employment could ever offer them. However, at first many were thwarted in their attempts to join the army, which had certain regulations regarding who could enlist. All new recruits had to be at least 5’6” tall with a chest measurement no less than 35 inches. Many of the poor Spitalfields dwellers had been raised on a very bad diet and consequently were undernourished and small in stature. However, they received a second chance when, in 1915, volunteers began to reduce so the army relaxed its regulations to allow men over 5’3” to sign up.

The age limit was also raised to 40 and by July 1915, the army decided to create what were colloquially known as ‘Bantam Battalions’, which consisted of men measuring between 5’ and 5’3” in height. Many men from Spitalfields and the surrounding areas joined battalions of the City of London Royal Fusiliers. Local boy Arthur Harding later remembered seeing inebriated new recruits gathering at Columbia Road Market before marching off to Waterloo Station bound for training camps in Aldershot. Many of these men were destined never to return.

Although Spitalfields became caught up in the fervent patriotism that was universally prevalent during 1914 and the early months of 1915, there were many men who did not rush to join the queue at the recruitment office. These men had many reasons for not joining their friends and colleagues. Some were fearful of fighting, others objected to war in principle. Most thought it irresponsible to leave their families as they were often the sole wage-earner whose job it was to care not only for their young families, but also for elderly and sick parents. This reluctance by a large proportion of eligible men to join up was country-wide and so the Government hatched an elaborate plan to change these men’s views.

The War Propaganda Bureau was set up and amongst other tasks, was assigned the job of persuading more civilian men to join the army. The Propaganda Bureau responded with a highly sophisticated PR campaign that centred on the promotion of fervent patriotism combined with dissemination of terrible stories citing the horrific barbarism of the German army. Popular writers of the time were invited to produce pamphlets that were distributed around the streets. This resulted in the production of persuasive tracts from eminent authors such as Rudyard Kipling, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Arnold Bennett. A highly effective poster campaign was also launched and large businesses were encouraged to set up their own recruitment drives. The
Manchester Guardian
newspaper for example offered the following privileges to employees who decided to sign up:

Four week’s wages from date of leaving.

Re-engagement on discharge from service guaranteed.

Half pay during absence on duty for married men from the date when full pay ceases, to be paid to the wife.

Special arrangements for single men who have relatives entirely dependent on them.

Most of the recruitment drives organised by the Propaganda Bureau were successful but some of their schemes were heavily criticised. One such scheme was the creation of the Order of the White Feather. This organisation was set up in August 1914 by Admiral Charles Fitzgerald who believed that he could shame men into signing up. Young, attractive girls were encouraged to patrol the streets and hand out white feathers (signifying cowardice) to any man who looked the right age to fight. The main problem with the concept of the Order of the White Feather was that the young girls had no idea of their victims’ backgrounds. Many men that were given white feathers had previously failed the army physical. Many others had resisted joining because of personal tragedy, for example the death of a wife or child. The delivery of the white feather simply added to their misery by making them feel guilty.

Of course, these recruitment drives and PR campaigns cost money and with a hugely increased number of new soldiers to pay, the Government coffers soon began to look decidedly depleted. In a bid to significantly increase their funds, the Treasury introduced the War Loan scheme, a savings plan designed to prop up the economy for the duration of the war. Local businesses, unions, friendly societies, clubs and even private individuals were encouraged to invest money in the scheme. Following a national appeal, the Costermongers’ and Street Sellers’ Union, whose headquarters were in Spitalfields, generously invested virtually all its funds – £800 – in the fund. However, not all Spitalfields workers were quite as keen to help the war effort. Some time later, Joseph Goldberg, Joseph Coen and Abraham Applebrook were summoned before a judge accused of selling potatoes at a rate above the fixed price. It is not clear whether the three men were members of the union.

The army recruitment drives also had their detractors. In August 1917, Myer Gritzhandler Smerna, a 27-year-old warehouseman from Spitalfields, was arrested with two associates for using ‘insulting words and behaviour’.
The Times
reported that, ‘The evidence of two constables was that the men formed part of a crowd of 150 outside the Aliens’ Registration Office in Commercial Street at 10 o’clock on Tuesday night.’ Mr Smerna’s friend cried ‘**** the army, I am not going to join’ and Smerna concurred loudly and enthusiastically. The crowd didn’t take too kindly to the men’s outburst and in the words of
The Times
reporter, ‘became very hostile towards the prisoners. The Police had considerable trouble getting them to the station.’ Smerna and his associate were subsequently bound over to keep the peace, the judge sagely noting that they could have found themselves in a very dangerous situation had the police not intervened.

Following the massive recruitment drives of 1914 and 1915, London’s demographic changed considerably. A vast number of men aged between 19 and 40 vanished from the streets. In some areas, the entire male population vanished. Consequently, businesses that relied on these men suffered considerably and none more so than the common lodging houses.

The average age of a male common lodging house resident in Spitalfields before 1915 had been 35. By 1916, the lodging houses had been emptied of virtually all their labouring clientele and were left with older men and women. The landlords tightened their belts and hoped that the war would soon be over.

In Spitalfields, the landlords were not the only people to be affected by the sudden disappearance of the younger men. The prostitutes also found their trade was severely affected. They had no choice but to lower their prices and find trade where they could. Now with much more time on their hands, they sat and drowned their sorrows in the pubs alongside the lodging-house deputies, the old men and the wives and girlfriends of men away at the front.

As pubs increasingly became a place of refuge for those affected by the sudden disappearance of all the younger men, the Government became concerned at the level of alcohol consumed by the remaining proletariat. Work at munitions factories (which were essential to the war effort) was being constantly disrupted as the beleaguered workers turned up either drunk or severely hung over.