Was Pooter Jack the Ripper?

The Diary of a Nobody, Pooter and Jack the Ripper

In an amusing and ingenious essay, "Charles the Ripper. . . ?" the crime writer Ivan Butler made a 'case' for Pooter being Jack the Ripper. He uses the conceit that the Diary is by a real Pooter, and was only 'edited' by the Grossmiths. But it is an interesting coincidence that the fictitious break in the Diary, with the entries between 30 August and 29 October 1888 'explained' as having been torn out and burnt, does actually encompass the dates of the first four of the canonical Ripper murders, though not that of Mary Jane Kelly on Friday 9 November 1888, which is assumed to have closed the Ripper's career. Most of Butler's dates are accurate. Some notes have been added.

The Press was vigorous in its denunciation of the British police's ineptitude in solving the Ripper murders.

I recently completed a study of the life and crimes of Jack the Ripper, the main purpose of which was to set the murders against the background of their surroundings and contemporary events. I had no intention of putting forward yet another 'solution' as to his identity: enough, I thought, was enough.

To create a pleasant and accurate picture of the ordinary daily life of the period, I decided to make use of the Diary of that industrious and respectable Everyman, Mr. Charles Pooter, the first entry of which appeared in the pages of Punch on 7 July 1888,[1] coinciding closely (by a lucky chance, as I thought) with the start of the murders. On reading through the Diary to see what the author was up to in his quiet way during the Autumn of Terror, I was disappointed to find that a large section had been 'wilfully torn out' by an unknown hand. It took some time for the true significance of this to dawn on me: when realisation came, it came like a thunderbolt. The missing pages covered the period, 30 August to 29 October -- the months of September and October 1888! During that very period -- when no record could be found of Mr. Pooter's activities -- occurred the murders of Mary Ann Nicholls,[2]Annie Chapman,[3] Elizabeth Stride[4] and Catherine Eddows[5] -- four crimes definitely attributed to the Ripper.

With a hand that, I admit, trembled slightly, I looked up an earlier date -- 6 August. The body of Martha Turner, thought by many to be the first Ripper victim, was found early on the 7^th.[6] 6 August, I discovered, brought Mr. Pooter a terrible shock. His son Lupin, to whom he was devoted but whose irresponsible behaviour had been causing him great concern, was staying with his parents in their new house. On the morning of the 6^th, the young man lay in bed and refused to come down until a quarter to three, despite repeated summoning. He then announced to his appalled father, 'Look here, Guv'nor, it's no use beating about the bush. I've tendered my resignation at the Bank'.

Let Mr Pooter continue in his own words. 'For a moment I could not speak. When my speech came again, I said: "How dare you, sir? How dare you take such a serious step without consulting me? Don't answer me, sir! -- you will sit down immediately and write a note at my dictation, withdrawing your resignation and amply apologising for your thoughtlessness." Imagine my dismay when he replied with a loud guffaw: "It's no use. If want the good old truth, I've got the chuck!" '

Such a calamity was enough to push any father over the edge, let alone so scrupulous a parent as Pooter. The entry for the following day is extremely brief, as if he was completely exhausted. He says he persuaded his employer to allow him to postpone his holiday at Broadstairs for a week because the usual rooms were not available. A more probable reason (in the light of what is to be revealed) is that he did not dare to leave the safety of his home, The Laurels, in the North London borough of Holloway, until he had recovered from the previous night's activities. There is then a gap in the Diary of four days -- as if the writer, suffering from delayed shock, felt unable (or too frightened) to put pen to paper.

By now I felt I was on a most sinister trail. I looked up the date for the murder of Emma Smith, a possible Ripper victim whose body was discovered on the morning of the previous 3 April.[7] Pooter started his Diary, as published in book form, on that very day, having just moved into The Laurels. He spent (if he can be believed) an innocuous day, the only noteworthy point being his friend Mr. Gowing's remark that there was 'an infernal smell of paint'. Emma Smith is generally regarded as being outside the Ripper canon, but I was now convinced that I was on to something pretty ominous. Then, as if to clinch matters, I came across the entry for 29 April, when Mr. Pooter suffered an experience so horrifying as to unbalance a mind far steadier than his own. Devotees of the Diary (now to be so rudely awakened) will remember that it was on this day that, having shown 'strong symptoms of a cold,' he decided to have a bath 'as hot as I could bear it'. He continues: '. . . very hot, but very acceptable. I lay still for some time. On moving my hand above the surface of the water, I experienced the greatest fright I ever received in the whole course of my life; for imagine my horror on discovering my hand, as I thought, full of blood.' And not only his hand. On stepping out of the bath, he found he was 'perfectly red all over, resembling the Red Indians I have seen depicted at an East End theatre'. (Note that he was familiar with the East End.) The unfortunate man had completely forgotten that a few days previously he had painted the entire bath red -- an odd thing to do, in itself.

The whole dreadful picture was now clear. Mr. Pooter, a typical convention-bound, frustrated, over-genteel product of his times, had taken a step up the ladder of respectability by moving into his new house. That respectability meant everything to him. Beneath that apparently fastidious exterior, however, seethed a monstrous madness. Close scrutiny of the Diary, with eyes opened by this appalling realisation, reveals a dozen details of aberrant behaviour. Take, as only one example, his insane obsession with enamel paint. In three days he painted, in addition to the bath, the flower-pots, the servant's washstand, towel-horse and chest-of-drawers (the servant Sarah, according to her master, 'evinced no sign of pleasure'), the coal-scuttle, the backs of his Shakespeare, the fender, picture-frames, an old pair of boots, and his friend Gowing's walking-stick.

Here, at last, lies the truth. Pooter may well have murdered Emma Smith (though it is not essential to the theory) as a mark of disapproval of her calling, a sign of his final emancipation from the lower rungs of Society. Shortly afterwards, he had the appalling experience of finding himself marked -- as he thought, literally -- as a man of blood, totally immersed in it. This starts to topple his already unsteady insanity, which then collapsed completely under the weight of Lupin's disgrace. On August Bank Holiday night, he creeps out of the Laurels unheard by his wife Carrie (who was obviously a heavy sleeper, for he remarks that the noise of the trains at the bottom of the garden never disturbed her), making his way quickly through the three miles or so of deserted streets -- perhaps indulging in a hansom for part of the way -- to Whitechapel, and there kills poor Martha Turner. His blood-lust aroused, increasingly distracted by worry over Lupin and by such infuriating mysteries as finding a large brick flung into his geraniums, he starts on the orgy of September and October. Doubtless he confided veiled hints of his activities to the Diary -- and then, realising they might incriminate him, tore out (note how, in his earlier reference to the incident, Mr. Pooter carefully -- perhaps subconsciously -- avoids the use of the more graphic verb 'ripped') the whole two months, and tried to blame the charwoman for their disappearance by pretending he had found a torn piece of paper in the grate, and accusing her of using the pages to light the fire.

On 31 October the Diary proper recommences -- practically the whole of the previous day's entry is given over to the 'loss' of the vital section. Significantly, the entries start with a piece of good news: a job has been found for 'our dear boy, Lupin'. Perhaps at last, Mr. Pooter hopes, things will quieten down -- sanity will return. He even has the nerve to declare, the following day, that he would willingly give ten shillings to find out who 'tore' his Diary.

Worse, however, much worse, was in store. To his utter dismay, on 5 November, Lupin, 'without consulting us or anything', announced that he was engaged to a Miss Daisy Mutlar -- a woman seemingly about eight years his senior.

On 8 November (a fatal date) Mr. Pooter met, not Daisy herself, but her younger brother, a 'gawky youth' who spent most of the evening playing tricks that 'sent Carrie into fits' and eventually took Lupin out with him --'to my utter disgust' --although it was well past midnight. The emotions surging through Mr. Pooter's mind can well be imagined. It was enough to drive even a reasonably sane man beyond the reach of moderation, and it was only too clear what followed. Mr. Pooter went after his son --to what dreadful dens of vice we do not know -- keeping himself well hidden, and later, in a frenzy of despair, committed his climactic murder, that of the young prostitute Mary Jane Kelly, in the filthy Court off Commercial Street.[8]

The Diary entry for the following day is extremely brief and non-committal. He dared not risk pretending to lose more pages from it: in fact, most significantly, the entry starts with a reference to the previous 'loss'.

The Miller's Court horror was in all probability Mr. Pooter's last effort. He had, in his own self-justifying mind, struck a blow against the fleshly temptations that might destroy his easily-led son, and played a small part in sustaining the pillars of respectable society. He had, at a deeper level of the subconscious, purged himself of his blood-bath. There were many troubles ahead, with Lupin and others, but he learned to live with them and -- his Ripper days behind him -- found a measure of peace, and even prosperity.

So there it is at last. If there is one definite fact among all the shifting mysteries of Jack the Ripper, it is that the murderer must have been an unnoticeable man – someone able to walk the East End streets without attracting attention. He was not the dark, looming sinister figure of legend, or he would very quickly have been recognised and apprehended. He was, in fact, to all appearances, a Nobody.

[1] The first episode in Punch actually appeared on 26 May 1888. The first dated entry in the Diary is [ Tuesday] 3 April 1888. It is not clear whether this is a slip or whether Butler intentionally changed the date. It serves no obvious purpose.

[2] Murdered in the early morning of Friday 31 August 1888.

[3] Murdered in the early morning of Saturday 8 September 1888.

[4] Murdered Sunday morning, 30 September 1888.

[5] Murdered Sunday morning, 30 September 1888.

[6] Martha Turner (Tabram) was murdered some time in the night of Monday/Tuesday 6-7 August 1888. The Monday was the Bank Holiday. There is a reasonably good case for her being the Ripper's first victim, but this is not generally accepted.

[7] Emma Smith was attacked in the night of Easter Monday/Tuesday 2/3 April 1888. She died later. Her murder is almost universally rejected as being the Ripper's work.

[8] Mary Jane Kelly was murdered indoors early in the morning of Friday 9 November. This savage murder and dismemberment is usually assumed to have closed the Ripper's career.