Funny Little Games E-Book

Philip Davies

• Herausgeber: Clink Street Publishing
• Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Seitenzahl: 278

Beschreibung

A sensational and ground breaking expose revealing a wealth of new information confirming the identity and modus operandi of Jack the Ripper, a senior Freemason with Royal connections, and founder of a local Vigilance Association based in St Jude's Church in the heart of Whitechapel, providing the perfect cover for night time operations. Suffering from a lifetime obsessional hatred of prostitutes, he exorcised his trauma by composing secret anagrams of his own name from the names of his selected victims and the murder locations. Irrefutable evidence based on indisputable facts. ONE OF THE BEST RESEARCHED AND ILLUMINATING BOOKS ON THE INFAMOUS MURDERER. A COMPELLING READ. Robert Smith. Owner of The Diary of Jack the Ripper.

Leseprobe

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FUNNY LITTLE GAMES

PHILIP DAVIES

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Jack the Ripper achieved worldwide notoriety, not only for his nefarious activities on the streets of London, but also for the fact that he was never caught. Countless suspects have been named, plausible theories have been promulgated by self-styled experts, conjecture has metamorphosed into likelihood, but all to no avail. For over 130 years, the identity of the Whitechapel Murderer has been shrouded in mystery.

Yet all along, the unequivocal answer to this mystery has been hiding in plain sight, enticingly awaiting discovery, encoded by the killer within self-styled ‘funny little games’, a personal riposte to his pursuers, a secret declaration of invincibility, fuelled by a subliminal craving for self-fulfilment, frustratingly suppressed by the need for anonymity.

In 1992, an old Victorian diary was discovered in Liverpool, confessing to the Whitechapel Murders of around 110 years previously. Referred subsequently as the ‘Maybrick Diary’, or ‘The Diary of Jack the Ripper’, the author declares himself to be James Maybrick, a cotton broker from Liverpool. The authenticity of this journal has been the subject of controversy to the present day, but in the light of the ensuing revelations, the diary may now be viewed from an entirely different perspective, providing a chilling insight into the complex and ruthless mindset of a schizophrenic killer, prepared if needs be to sacrifice his own brother to escape justice.

This is the story of Michael Maybrick, born in Liverpool, family motto ‘Tempus Omnia Revelat’, Time Reveals All.

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CHAPTERS

Title PageVictimsPART ONEWhitechapelThe Poste HouseThe Museum Of AnatomyOrpheus And EurydiceA Warrior BoldMartha TabramEmma SmithSir Charles WarrenMary Ann NicholsAnnie ChapmanFunny Little GamesMary Ann KellyLong LizOn The SquareThe Writing On The WallReward And SpeculationJack The RipperS.E. MibracJohn LardyJames MaybrickEmily MarshResignationAdieu MarieAshes in the FireplaceM. BaynardGrand OrganistAcknowledgementsBibliographyChronologyIndexCopyright

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VICTIMS

EMMA SMITHMARTHA TABRAMMARY ANN NICHOLSANNIE CHAPMANLIZ STRIDEMARY ANN KELLY (CATHERINE EDDOWES)MARY JANE KELLYALICE MACKENZIE

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PART ONE

3

Whitechapel

ALondonaboutwhichtheordinaryLondoneristotallyignorant …the Londonbeyond theAldgate pump.’

J.R. Green.

With the growth of the British Empire and a virtual dominance of global trade, Victorian London had become one of the wealthiest cities in the world, but beneath the affluence was a strata of deprivation and poverty, epitomised by London’s East End, where an influx of outcasts from the industrial revolution and the arrival of immigrant ethnic groups had created a drastic increase in population, resulting in an inherent undercurrent of crime, associated with the need to simply stay alive. Violence and robbery were commonplace, life expectancy was low, child mortality was high, and living conditions were grossly overcrowded and insanitary. The Irish had arrived in the 1840’s after the Great Potato Famine, and by the 1880’s these communities were second and third generation, well established as part of the East End community, which also included descendants of French Huguenots from the late seventeenth century. This was a melting pot of humanity, which in the 1880’s attracted a further influx of Jewish refugees, fleeing from persecution in Europe and Russia, focusing on Spitalfields and Whitechapel, and bringing with them their own religion, ethical lifestyle, and inherent disposition to hard work and productivity.

The sheer volume of people in an already deprived area had the inevitable result of lowering the standard of living to pitiable levels of squalid survival. The mortality rates for Whitechapel were twice those elsewhere in London, and 60 per cent of all deaths were of children under five years old, reflecting an environmental nightmare. Children who survived were expected 4to earn their own living, selling flowers or matches, blacking shoes, running errands, begging, or stealing.

The elderly and infirm were particularly vulnerable to starvation. Many were homeless, and most lived in fear. Women had a particularly hard time, with many forced into prostitution, simply to afford a roof over their heads for the night.

Whitechapel was an area to avoid, distasteful and largely ignored, but in 1888 a series of events occurred which brought worldwide attention to the area. A devious and ruthless psychopathic serial killer was on the loose, possessed of a dual personality, and a pathological hatred of his victims. The population of London was terrified, the police proved to be powerless, and mass fear 5and insecurity threatened the credibility of the very Establishment. Who was this mystery man? Did he really possess anatomical knowledge, as believed by contemporary doctors and later criminologists? Were the murders spontaneous, or meticulously planned? How was he able to move around the streets of London, fearlessly and seemingly at will, without detection? Intelligence, self-confidence and physical capability would have been paramount, together with an intimate knowledge of the locality, effectively eliminating the great majority of suspects named over the years, most of whom would never have dreamed of entering Whitechapel in the dead of night.

A visitor walking up Whitechapel Road would little dream of the horrible dens within a stone’s throw of the brilliantly lighted shops. It was but a few minutes after turning off the road that we found ourselves in a dark crevice like lane, with the most forbidding buildings of the slums rising on every side of us. The streets are as well paved as Broadway or New York, but some of them are no more than five feet wide. The lanes are the headquarters of the most dangerous thieves in Europe. Every class and nation is represented. At every few steps were passageways leading out of the lane, like tunnels in a mine. You could see that Dickens did not exaggerate. People unfamiliar with these districts think that Dickens drew his characters from his imagination. The man was right, Oliver Twist and Fagin were here as thick as flies. An ordinary American child would live about three days in such a place, yet there are hundreds of children that darted in and out of the passageways like rats. These are the little thieves, soon to become the big thieves of London. The atmosphere was thick and fetid, the fog hung over the alleys like lead, and the few scattering jets of gas burning along the lanes were barely visible ten steps away. Women with streaming hair and babies in their arms followed, with piteous tales and cries for money. We turned and entered one of the thousand lodging houses of the Whitechapel district. There sat 6the same women with somebody’s babies, blaspheming and drinking spirits with the bullet-headed infants hanging over their shoulders like bundles of rags. In the presence of all the intricacies of the Whitechapel slums, the thousands of winding passageways, the tiers of bedrooms no larger than cells in a prison, the scene gave one an idea why the Whitechapel assassin has not been discovered. One might as well look along the docks of London for the rat that stole your cheese, than hunt for a criminal in this place.

7

The Poste House

St. Peter’s Church, Liverpool.

London was a prosperous city, but two hundred miles further north the thriving port of Liverpool, bolstered in the eighteenth and early nineteenth century by the slave trade, came a close second, yet it would not be until 1904 that the city witnessed the laying of the foundation stone of its first cathedral. Prior to that, Liverpool’s main place of worship was St. Peter’s Church, in Church Street, built in 1700. All that now remains to mark its whereabouts is a brass Maltese Cross on the pavement in busy Church Street, outside a department store. In 1856, the organist at St. Peter’s Church was a musical child prodigy by the name of Michael Maybrick. Born in 1841, Michael was one of five brothers living in the family home at No.8 Church Alley, a terraced house enjoying a delightful open aspect over the church graveyard. Next door at No.9 Church Alley was the Windsor Castle public house, with rear access to the Old Post Office Place. Postal workers would come and go at will, officially or otherwise, participating in liquid breaks throughout all hours; 8after all it was safer to drink beer than water, and much more enjoyable. A thriving little business, but not particularly conducive to a good night’s sleep in the Maybrick household next door. This print by William Herdman depicts the rear of the Old Post Office Building, with the back of the Maybricks’ terraced house in the background. Just out of sight to the left of the Maybricks’ house would be the rear entrance to the beerhouse, giving direct access for the postal workers.

Church Alley No.8, Maybrick Family. No.9, Windsor Castle. 27 School Lane, Margaret Farrer. (Liverpool Ordnance Map 1848)

Intriguing reference is made to the ‘Poste House’ in the 9‘Maybrick Diary’, and its whereabouts and very existence have been widely contested, leading some to doubt the authenticity of the diary. The alehouse next door to the Maybricks’ family home, however, has never been named, and should be regarded as the prime contender for the title. Over the years the Windsor Castle public house came to be listed in the Liverpool Street Directory as Rachel Falder, Licenced Victualler, 9, Church Alley.

National Census 1851. Nos. 8 and 9 Church Alley, Liverpool.

Liverpudlians have always had a penchant for pub nicknames, and there are still examples of such colloquialisms in Merseyside, the most well-known of which being ‘The Vines’ in Lime Street, Liverpool, known locally as ‘The Big House’. In Birkenhead on the opposite side of the River Mersey, only two miles away, a notoriously rough drinking den, the ‘New Dock’, is known only as the ‘Blood Tub’, whilst the ‘Vittoria Vaults’ is ‘The Piggy’, named after an old pig farm on the site of which the pub had been built many years previously. Needless to say, none of these names are recorded in the Street Directory, and in a hundred years time those names will have disappeared into obscurity. For a beerhouse used as an informal dropping-off point for the locals’ mail, the generic ‘Poste House’, frequented by the postal workers, was a scouse certainty, whilst in earlier years the 10alien ‘Windsor Castle’, evidently named after a ship, had always been a non-starter. The name ‘Poste House’ may well have been displayed over the entrance to the beerhouse, but unfortunately, whilst inns and taverns were named in the Liverpool Directories, victuallers and beerhouses remain nameless in the records.

The beerhouse ceased trading in 1860, when the premises, together with the Maybrick home next door, were converted into warehouse use. However, one enterprising local, Margaret Farrer, listed in the 1859 Street Directory simply as the resident of No.27 School Lane, saw a lucrative opportunity to continue serving the post office regulars, and in the 1860 Directory became listed as Margaret Farrer, Victualler, Post Office Tavern, 27 School Lane, 11feted by the locals as saviour of their ‘Poste House’. At the same time as the old ‘Poste House’ closed, the Post Office Tavern opened for trade, and in the 1870’s and 80’s, all the old locals, and undoubtedly Michael Maybrick, former next door neighbour of the original beerhouse, returning after a long absence, would still have referred to it as the ‘Poste House’, while the name lingered on. A generation later, the name association would have disappeared from usage, although the early provenance from No. 9 Church Alley is irrefutable.

12

The Museum Of Anatomy

In Church Alley in the 1850’s, the pub next door would have been little more than a nuisance to the Maybricks. The devoutly religious family had been dedicated musicians for at least three generations, with the boys’ grandfather and father serving as parish clerks to St. Peter’s Church. Young Michael was a highly intelligent and gifted musician, readily adept at composing sacred music and performing organ recitals, and, at the age of fifteen, the child genius was honoured by the appointment as organist to St. Peter’s Church, a prestigious but solitary position for one so young.

The boys first attended Manesty’s Lane School, which was diametrically opposite the church in School Lane, and the short walk straight after school to the solace of the church organ would have been a daily routine for Michael. Even more time was spent there at weekends, when, at meal times, mother Susannah would send one of the other boys across the church yard to call him home. Michael’s capacity for composition and creativity singled him out from other children. Michael was different, enjoying the solitude of the church, where on Sundays the congregation would openly express their adulation, bolstering his self-belief in an otherwise lonely world, which, strangely enough, suited him. All his time was spent close to home and church, and even his sheet music came from just over the road at No. 63 Church Street, where Stephen Adams ran the local booksellers and stationery 13business. Stephen was ten years older than Michael, and evidently quite a rapport was built up between the two. Neither would have known at the time that the name of Stephen Adams would eventually achieve national renown and international acclaim. Not for Michael the confines of a small room at home, with ill-fitting sash window overlooking a noisy post office yard, but lofty stained glass windows, and hours of solitary single- minded dedication. The church organ was his private sanctuary, his seat of meditation, where he would privately share deep thoughts with guiding spirits, his divine inspiration. Michael was very special, and knew it.

In 1860 there arrived in Liverpool a flamboyant American showman by the name of ‘Dr.’ Joseph Woodhead, master of chicanery and purveyor of snake oil remedies for all ills, bringing with him ‘The Museum of Anatomy’, which he located at 29 Paradise Street, less than one minute’s walk away from St. Peter’s Church.

14Amongst items of morbid interest displayed in the museum were realistic wax models of naked young women, with innards exposed to reveal the structure of the internal organs, which at set times would be taken apart and re-assembled by an assistant, accompanied by a medical dialogue. Ladies were admitted for a three hour period on Tuesdays and Fridays, and, needless to say, objections were raised by some as to the pornographic nature of the displays.

Joseph Woodhead had clearly anticipated this hurdle, and complemented the ‘medical’ displays with puritanical religious references relating to the purification of the soul, allowing patrons to adhere to the narrow path of righteousness, whilst savouring the prurient delights on offer. ‘If any man defile the Temple ofGod, him will God destroy.’

Wax model with moveable viscera.

Graphic displays were for the enlightenment of the soul, rather than titillation. In an age when the display of a bare ankle was 15regarded as risqué, the wax ladies of the museum proved a great success, and the spiritually enlightened male population of Liverpool, young and old, ensured a regular income for Joseph Woodhead. Further along the corridor from the anatomical displays were graphic sections relating to venereal disease and masturbation, referred to as ‘onanism’. The graphic dialogue reads as follows:

Would there be no necessity of speaking on this delicate subject, but must we, for the sake of mere delicacy, or even from higher consideration of interest or self-applause, conceal from ourselves and others, the latent cause of misery and death to tens of thousands?Thefrightfulconsequences of self- pollution whocandepict?Continuedweariness, weakness,aversiontoexercise and business, dimness and dizziness of sight, paleness, impotency, barrenness, palpitation of the heart, trembling, loss of memory, are they not fearful, anddotheynotproceedfrom thiscause?

Wax model with moveable viscera.

Commencing in youth, continued at school, and persevered in maturity, this dreadful pernicious habit makes its inroads on the constitution just when the powers of life would otherwise have beenfullyandhappilydeveloped.Howsedulouslyshould 16parents – the guardians of youth – our teachers – and all concerned in the future welfare of society, keep their guard over this evil.In many respects it is several degrees worse than common whoredom.It excites the power of nature to undue action; hence the muscles becomeflaccidandfeeble,the toneandnaturalactionofthe nerves are relaxed and impeded, the judgment perverted, the will indeterminate and wholly without energy; the eyes appear languishing and without expression, and the countenance vacant; appetite ceases, for the stomach is incapable of performing its proper office.Nutrition fails, tremors, fears and terrors are generated, and thus the wretched victim drags out existence, till even before his time to arrive at man’s estate, with a mind often debilitated, even to a state of idiotism, his worthless body tumbles into the grave, and hisguilty soul is hurled into the awfulpresence of God.

Could the above explain the high male mortality rate in Liverpool? A visit to the museum must have put the fear of God into the minds of young men living within the pious moral constraints of Victorian England. Many a sleepless night would have been spent by the more impressionable of the museum’s younger clientele, educated in the principals of religion, yet torn by the primaeval need to procreate …. or even to kiss a girl?

‘Worse than common whoredom’? Was this not tacit acknowledgement that common whoredom was more acceptable than the tempting alternative of ‘onanism’? Did Michael visit the museum in early adulthood, purely for educational purposes, of course, befriending the assistant and even being allowed the 17opportunity of intimately examining the internal parts, dissembling and reassembling, familiarising himself with the anatomy of the lifeless female forms? Had he taken seriously Woodhead’s nonsensical rhetoric on onanism? Did he venture forth late one night to taste the forbidden fruit of a Maggie May, strolling under the gas lights of Lime Street in the city centre, or loitering around the dark dockland honeypots of Brick Street and Jamaica Street. He would certainly not have been the first young man to give it a try, followed a few days later by another visit the Museum of Anatomy, only this time to study the terrifying consequences of venereal disease.

261. – Face of an old bachelor: a confirmed onanist. He became idiotic, and rapidly sank into second childhood. (What a fearful account he will have to give of himself at the judgement day).

262. – Face of a man shewing the evil effects of secondary symptoms of syphilis.

263. – Syphilis case. This model of the head represents the final and most severe form of secondary symptoms, with the palate lost, the bones of the nose destroyed, and the whole system a perfect mass of corruption.

Inside the hyper-active mind of the young musical genius exploded the worst trauma imaginable. Curse the whore! The family doctor would invariably have been a member of the congregation, and certainly not one whose confidentiality could be trusted on this delicate subject. Various forms of sexually transmitted disease were on offer from the seductive street-corner sirens of late night Liverpool, resulting in severe discomfort and impotency, and whilst antibiotics and psychotherapy are readily available now, in the 1850’s neither was an option. Unbeknown to the victims of the day, syphilis would sometimes lie dormant within the body only to cause severe psychological trauma in 18later life.

Symptoms of neurosyphilis can appear decades after infection,and can cause lasting issues including general paresis, leading to health problems including paranoia, mood swings, emotional troubles and personality changes.

Teresa Burger. University of Illinois. College of Medicine.

Best pack the bags and seek discreet treatment on the continent, rather than face possible discovery at the Seaman’s Mission in Liverpool. It was 1865, and time for a career move in any event. Damn the whore! So Michael, 24 years old, and a recently qualified Professor of Music, left Liverpool to further his career in Germany. Whilst Michael’s future looked promising, that of his friend Stephen Adams went into severe decline. In July 1863, Stephen had been declared bankrupt, and news of Michael’s imminent departure was a further blow. Had Michael’s late night dalliance caused friction between the two? Theirs was a very special relationship which no-one else 19understood, given the strictures of Victorian England. The good old days were over, and life would never be the same. The Museum of Anatomy survived for another seventy years in Liverpool, following which the business was moved to a more lucrative site in the holiday resort of Blackpool, and thence to nearby Morecambe, as part of Madam Tussaud’s, where in the 1960’s one young man admitted to spending many an hour in the museum, where the displays had changed little since the 1850’s.

It was a rare visit when he didn’t find time to call in at Tussaud’s to see if there was ‘owt fresh in’.There rarely was.TheMuseum of Anatomy is a grandiose title for the two rather small, dimlylitandmustychambersthatthetitleembraces. Negotiating the sort of frosted glass ‘modesty’ screen oftenerected at the entrance to public lavatories, the visitor finds himself standing in a room whose first assault is on the nostrils. Being Victorian and therefore much prized by the Museum’s owner for their ‘antique’ value, the exhibits here are fashioned of ordinary candlewax.Stepping out of the ‘Museum of Anatomy’, the visitor is confronted with a full scale replica of Christ on the cross, whose brightness, after the half-dark, seems almostblinding.

Somebody’s Husband, Somebody’s Son. Gordon Burn.

The young man was Peter Sutcliffe, who in the 1970’s contracted a venereal disease from a local prostitute, and, as the Yorkshire Ripper, wreaked personal vengeance by murdering at least thirteen more, inspired by a controlling ‘voice’ which told him to rid the streets of prostitutes. His father wrote of him, ‘Peter was just a quiet little lad, that’s all. He didn’t have any sort of affectations. None at all. No affectations whatsoever.’

20

Orpheus And Eurydice

MICHAELMAYBRICK

Michael Maybrick duly embarked on a musical venture across Europe, travelling alone to Leipzig, where he studied musical composition under Hans Richter, followed by a period at the Milan Conservatory under Giatano Nava, during which time the virtuoso discovered Michael’s potential as a baritone singer, which soon became his new vocation. After appearances at minor theatres in Northern Italy, he returned to England, touring with the acclaimed Carl Rosa Opera Company, and performing alongside the eminent baritone Charles Santley, also from Liverpool. The pair bonded immediately, and Charles introduced Michael to the renowned impresario, music publisher, and lover 21of fine wines, John Boosey, who would later prove instrumental to his career. Michael next appeared in London to great acclaim as the leading role in Mendelsohn’s ‘Elijah’, at the culmination of which, with black beard and flowing robes, he was whisked away to the theatrical heavens in a fiery chariot.

The production ranked second only to Handel’s ‘Messiah’ in public acclaim at the time, and Michael Maybrick’s performance was greeted enthusiastically. Energy and adulation drawn from rapturous audiences, culminating in Elijah’s transformation into a spiritual entity, had a profound effect on this deeply intense young man, steeped in a religious background, alone with his thoughts and ‘voices’.

Did Michael Maybrick come to believe he had a spiritual link with Elijah? There are well documented examples of such effects on behavioural patterns, one of the most striking examples in recent years being that of the actor Jeremy Brett, who played Sherlock Holmes in the Granada Television series, produced between 1984 and 1994. During the course of the series, the actor became increasingly drawn to the title role, slowly developing a dual personality disorder, and ultimately succumbing to severe psychological problems as a consequence.

SomeactorsfeariftheyplaySherlockHolmesforalongrun, the original character will steal their soul, leaving no corner for the original inhabitant … Holmes has become the dark side of the moon for me.He is moody, solitary, and underneath I am really social and gregarious.

Jeremy Brett.

In similar vein, Michael Maybrick may well have nurtured self-belief as a disciple of Elijah, the source of ‘voices’ which he believed controlled his destiny. Three religious figures in the scriptures experienced the fiery whirlwind and accompanying 22flight to the heavens, or the ‘New Jerusalem’, namely Elijah, Ezekiel and St. John the Divine, living centuries apart. Coming as he did from a devoutly religious family, all would have been familiar to Michael Maybrick from an early age, and would soon play a major part in the increasingly dark side of his psyche.

And it came to pass, as they still went on and talked, that behold there appeared a chariot of fire, and horses of fire, and parted them both asunder, and Elijah went up by a whirlwind intoheaven.

Kings 2.11.

And I saw a likeness as the beholding of fire …. andthe likeness of a hand was sent out and took me by the hair of my head, andthe spirit raised me up betwixt heaven and earth, and brought me into Jerusalem.

Ezekiel 8.13.

After these things I saw, and a door was opened in heaven, andthe first voice that I heard was as a trumpet speaking with me …. andatonceIwasinspirit,andaseatwassetinheaven.

Revelation 4. 1-2.

And I saw a new heavenanda newearth, and I, John, sawthe holy cityJerusalem coming down from heaven, made ready as a wife adorned to her husband.

Revelation 21. 1-2.

As well as prophesies of doom, Ezekiel reserved drastic punishment for whores, a trait of which Michael Maybrick thoroughly approved, creating an even greater affinity with his icon. Women were no part of his world, and he could well do without them. With every passing year, his public persona metamorphosed into one of self-importance and pomposity, and were it not for sycophantic admirers of his musical talents, he would have attracted few friends. Although content in his own company, in the late 1870’s he developed a close rapport with barrister Frederick Weatherly, and the duo discovered a flair for composing musical ditties, sea shanties and ballads. Initially, 23this was alien to the operatically trained and inherently serious baritone, but opposites attract, and the genial Fred must have sparked a fire within, resulting in a musical chemistry which would transform Michael’s career yet again. Soon he was equally as adept in the music hall as in the opera house, gaining a reputation as one of London’s most eligible bachelors, rendered even more attractive by his resistance to the ladies’ charms.

Intriguingly, before publishing any of their works, Michael adopted a change of identity for the purpose of composing ballads, using the pseudonym of his boyhood friend Stephen Adams, bankrupted in 1863, shortly before Michael left for the continent. Did Michael feel responsible for the demise of his friend, more than a friend, the only person who really understood him, who appreciated he was different? Stephen had lost heart at Michael’s departure from his life, and as business declined, had to leave behind his prestigious Church Street premises for a humble location in West Derby, on the outskirts of Liverpool. The bookseller’s life had been the complete antithesis of Michael’s, and by the mid 1870’s Stephen’s health had failed. Were the couple still in touch, was Michael helping to support him, empathising with his fall from high street profile to back-street obscurity? Did Michael Maybrick have an affectionate side to his character, strictly reserved for male friends in private? Distinctly possible, if not highly likely.

The first musical composition by Stephen Adams to achieve a modicum of success was the patriotic ballad, ‘A Warrior Bold’, credited to a lyricist named Edwin Thomas, of whom there is no record in the musical chronicles. The man seemingly does not exist, and it begs the question as to whether this is another pseudonym, based on the names of Michael’s two younger brothers, Edwin and Thomas? All royalties to Michael, thank 24you. Did Michael Maybrick divert the occasional modest royalty cheque from other compositions, made payable to Stephen Adams, to arrive in the post in West Derby, Liverpool, with nobody the wiser except the pair from Church Alley and Church Street? An invisible bond, a hand of friendship, and a gesture of re-assurance over the miles, delivered by post. This would explain the otherwise unaccountable change of name, well before fame would permanently and irreversibly seal the arrangement.

In later years, the following article appeared in ‘The New Penny Magazine’, recounting Maybrick’s lame and implausibly contrived explanation of the name change.

Michael Maybrick has always had a great success in singing his own compositions.It was to avoid any invidious remarks on the subject that he assumed a nom de plume.The selection of the one he adopted came about in the most casual manner whilst discussing his earliest publication with the house of Chappell. ‘What name will you take?’‘What’s in a name?Call me anything you like.’‘No, choose one for yourself – any, the first you think of will do.’‘Well then, Adam, the first of all names, is the one I select.’ ‘Make it Adams, and put something before it.’‘Now, who shall be called upon to stand godfather to this child oftheimagination?Stephen Heller?Why not, since I love his music.SoletmebeStephenAdams.

New Penny Magazine.

The music sheet for the ‘Midshipmite’ illustrates the dual yet separate entities of 25the singer ‘Mr. Maybrick’ and the composer Stephen Adams, believed by the general public in the early days to be two separate people. Could the need for an alter ego have been an early sign of a split personality? Only when Nancy Lee was published in 1876, and the duo achieved national fame, did it become known that Michael Maybrick and Stephen Adams were one and the same person. Stephen Adams was definitely here to stay.

It will not have been forgotten that Mr. Maybrick displayed early talent for composition, but it is not until 1876 that it was reserved for ‘Stephen Adams’ to produce a ballad that is probably the most successfuleverwritten.Nosonghasevergainedsuchenormous popularity as NancyLee.Everyonewas singing it, humming it, or whistling it in the street, drummed into every ear, morning, noonandnight.Mr.Maybrickhasmuchtoanswerforin havinggivenforth this inspiration to the world, for it seems to have fallen like a spell on every individual capableof making musical sounds.

New Era, 14 September 1878.

In February 1878, the mortal remains of the late Stephen Adams were laid to rest in the obscurity of a West Derby cemetery, whilst the name lived on, rising swiftly to international fame. By the early 1880’s Stephen Adams and Fred Weatherly were as renowned as their operatic contempories, Gilbert and Sullivan, and whilst Fred shunned the limelight, Michael Maybrick basked 26in glory, spending many a social hour mingling with the rich and famous, including his now close friend, Sir Arthur Sullivan.

Nowhere in London was better suited for such occasions than the gentleman’s club, offering ‘home from home’, where gentlemen would socialise and dine in fine surroundings in a totally male environment, ideally suited to the confirmed bachelor. The London clubs varied immensely in status, dependent on the calibre of membership, and a select number were particularly renowned, including the exclusive and unconventional Savage Club in Adelphi Terrace, into whose portals Michael Maybrick gained admission in 1880. The club revelled in pushing the boundaries of accepted propriety, and raucous behaviour in controlled measure was ever such fun behind closed doors.

As to the many explanations as to the name, my brother Robert suggested ‘Savage Club’ as we are all Bohemians and assembled intheprecinctswhereRichard Savage,princeof Bohemians died.Besides, said my brother,wecan call ourselves savages becauseweareoutsidethepaleofcivilisation.

William Brough. Founder Member.

On occasions, the club would hold entertainment evenings dedicated to the serious business of smoking, drinking, and general frivolity, as depicted in the following scene in the Illustrated London News. No less a 27figure than HRH Edward, Prince of Wales, was a regular at the Savage, on the top left of the picture, whilst second right, middle row, on the piano, is Michael Maybrick, exploiting every opportunity to advance his position in the highest circles of London society. The boy organist from Church Alley, Liverpool, was now very well connected indeed. Amongst fellow club members at the time were Sir Frederic Leighton, the greatest living artist and sculptor of the Victorian era, Sir Arthur Sullivan, of Gilbert and Sullivan fame, and Dr. Frederick Gordon Brown, City of London Police Surgeon, who was soon to figure in the impending Whitechapel murders.