The Most Remarkable Woman in England

Today in the Pace case: 22 February

2012-02-22T08:00:00.000+01:00

Wednesday,22 February, 1928: Rowland Ellis, Government Analyst for the City of Gloucester andthe County of Gloucestershire—who had been given Harry’s organs and bloodsamples by Bristol pathology professor Isaac Walker Hall—sends his own report to the coroner.

One thing you'll probably never see on Top Gear

2012-02-20T21:23:00.004+01:00

Something not case-related, but part of the atmosphere of late 1920s newspaper advertising.

Daily Herald, 8 April 1927, p. 5.

I think it's rather a shame that the concept of 'motoring chocolate' seems to have declined.

Perhaps it's time for a revival?

Context is always important

2012-02-18T18:46:00.004+01:00

As I've noted at various points before, photography played an important part in the presentation of the Pace case in the press.

In researching the case, I've used a variety of methods of looking through press sources. Recent advances have meant that an increasing number of newspapers have been digitised and are available online (if you're part of an institution that has a subscription to them). This sort of thing is very valuable, and has become a key part of my research in the last half decade or so.

On the other hand, I've also relied mostly on the old fashioned method of press research: i.e., just looking through all the issues of a given newspaper within a particular timespan. Since the Pace case occurrred within a relatively compact period of time, this has not proven to be too difficult.

In any case, it's occurred to me how important it is to see how the case was reported in context.

For example, here's an example of a typical photo of Beatrice that appeared in the papers in 1928 (click for larger image):

Sunday Pictorial, 2 Sept. 1928, p. 1

As I've noted before, this was an oft-printed photo of Beatrice and her dog, Rover, taken at Rose Cottage (a high-quality version of which will appear in the book).

To this image, a photo of Inspector Cornish has been added.

The occasion of this article, which appeared in September 2008, was a series of events (which take up a chapter of my book) that might have led to a reopening of the case in the months after Beatrice's acquittal.

However, what is also interesting is to consider what context this image was presented in.

I could, for example, note that this appeared on the front page of the Sunday Pictorial.

That provides some useful information.

Here, though, is the larger view (click for bigger image):

What to make of the juxtaposition of the possible reopening of the murder trial and the front-page treatment of the beauty-contest winners?

Well, that's a long story. Which I partly deal with in the book.

Today in the Pace case: 15 February

2012-02-15T08:00:00.000+01:00

Wednesday, 15 February, 1928: Inspector Bent goes to RoseCottage to confront Beatrice Pace about the rumours circulating locally that she wasinvolved with her husband’s death. Beatrice willingly makes an officialstatement (written out by the police and signed by herself). This is the firstof her three statements to police.

Today in the Pace case: 14 February

2012-02-14T08:00:00.000+01:00

Tuesday, 14 February, 1928: The nine jurymen of the coroner's inquest jury receive notice that the resumption of the inquest will bedelayed until 15 March due to a delay in receiving the report on the forensic analysis.

Girls these days

2012-02-11T17:34:00.000+01:00

Something not especially relevant to the Pace case but which is certainly part of the broader context of press narratives about women in the 1920s, which is an important aspect of the book.

It's also just very interesting....

Devil-May-Care Girls

“All the riskiest things are done by girls nowadays,” a traffic policeman told me the other day, as a girl motorist sailed through an apparently impassable block on two wheels without slackening speed. “And yet they have the fewest accidents. They have the nerve, that’s what it is.... All nerve, they are.”

It is no use inviting one of them to a quiet dinner to be followed by conversation. They will talk—also dangerously—only at lunch. There must be something with risks in it to be done afterwards. If there is nothing else, the motor-car must come out and be raced through a hundred miles or so in the darkness, with perhaps a river bathe, at the imminent risk of cramp, in the middle.

These girls find a private dance dull unless it is decked out with all kinds of extravagances. There is more “fun” to be found in a round of the night clubs with a chosen small party, particularly if any night club is forbidden ground.

The tragic part of it all—since the Empire needs risks to be taken—is that their dangerous living is of such an unproductive kind.

There is one consolation. These devil-may-care girls who must live dangerously, even if they have to manufacture the danger, will certainly be the mothers of no generation of mollycoddles. I think we may look forward with some confidence to great things to be accomplished by their sons.

Daily Express, 13 August 1926, p. 8

(Not so) secret admirer

2012-02-09T10:55:00.000+01:00

Beatrice's appearance was very much a feature of her celebrity.

A particularly (though not singularly) flowery example:

‘It would need the pen of a Zola to do justice to theamazing story which lies behind the life of this still young and attractivewoman. She is only 36* years of age, and although she has borne no fewer thanten children—five of them still living—and in her far from happy married lifehas suffered the most terrible experiences it is possible to imagine, she stillretains the fresh, rosy cheeks and smiling eyes which were one of her greatestcharms.’

Bernard O’Donnell, ‘Secrets of Mrs. Pace’s Life and Marriage’, World’s Pictorial News 15 July1928, p. 1.

(*Beatrice was in fact 38, but in the press stories of the time she was consistently described as being two years younger.)

'A strange new creature called woman'

2012-02-09T10:36:00.000+01:00

One of the most important aspects of the context in which the Pace case was discussed was the debate around women's roles.

As Adrian Bingham, in his excellent book Gender, Modernity and the Popular Press in Inter-War Britain, notes:

‘Flapper’ has often been described as ‘one of the defining words of the Twenties; equally pervasive was the visual image of modern femininity, slim, short-skirted with cropped hair. ... ‘In the old days,’ [an article from Newspaper World in August 1927] claimed, ‘a two-page account of a murder...was the great attraction; now it seems to be what some well-known man or woman thinks of the modern girl.’ ... ‘If a future chronicler were to study the files of our newspapers,’ speculated the novelist Rose Macaulay in 1925..., ‘he would get the impression that there had appeared at this time a strange new creature called woman who was receiving great attention from the public.’ (pp. 48-49)

Mrs. Pace, who was 38 at the time of her trial and idealised as a traditional wife and doting mother, hardly fit the image of the 'flapper': nonetheless, her presentation in the press was influenced by the discussions around the 'modern woman'.

That's a long story (to which I devote a whole chapter in the book).

However, as is well known, 1928 was the year in which women's voting rights were equalised with those of men.

There was a lot of discussion around the 'flapper vote', but I think my favourite contribution to it was the following advert, which appeared shortly before the 1929 general election, the first in which women could vote on equal terms as men:

Daily Herald, 20 May 1929, p. 3

Key figures: G. Trevor Wellington

2012-02-08T10:27:00.003+01:00

Over the months that the 'Fetter Hill Mystery' occupied headlines in the Gloucester area and throughout Britain, Beatrice Pace's fate was in the hands of a variety of people, the vast majority of them men: detectives, journalists, lawyers, magistrates, the coroner, politicians, etc.

Perhaps the most important figure in her life during this time -- at least with regard to the matter of her husband's death -- was G. Trevor Wellington, who acted as Beatrice's solicitor throughout the case.

We'll be hearing a bit more about Wellington as time goes on (and he plays an important role in the book), so I thought it would be a good moment to introduce him.

Although Wellington provided remarkably dedicated and effective legal assistance to his impoverished client, he was ultimately overshadowed by some of the legal heavyweights brought into the case at the trial stage, which is unfortunate.

The best introduction, perhaps oddly enough, comes via his obituary, which appeared upon his death in 1963. He had a long -- and very full -- life.

Interestingly enough, the Pace matter is not mentioned, although it was undoubtedly the most high-profile criminal case of his career.

Death of Mr. G. Trevor Wellington
Long Record of Public Service for Glo’ster

City Coroner for a great many years, Mayor of Gloucester and City Controller during the critical war period, a former City High Sheriff and a leading figure in local legal circles, Mr. Gilbert Trevor Wellington died yesterday at the age of 80.

Mr. Wellington, founder of the Gloucester firm of solicitors Wellington and Clifford, was active in business until late last year. He had been in hospital for several weeks.

Born in the Gloucester area, Mr. Wellington became Mayor during what must have been the most strenuous period in which any holder of that office has ever served, and he was only prevented by ill-health from serving as long as, or even longer, than any other mayor.

As it was, only the late Sir James Bruton, who served during the period of the first world war, from 1912 to 1919, held the mayoralty longer than Mr. Wellington, who was in office for six years.

He was made a member of the City Council as far back as 1907, and he represented the Tuffley ward until 1910. He was first elected Mayor in 1937, after serving as City High Sheriff the previous year, and was still in office when war broke out.

He assiduously took on the many extras duties which the war brought, the most onerous being that of City A R P Controller.

Giving unstintingly of his time to both the mayoralty and the chief controllership, Mr. Wellington drew heavily on his reserves of energy, and earned the gratitude of the city for the efficiency with which he carried out his many tasks.

His services to the city in this and over a much longer period were recognised in 1942, when he was awarded the C B E.

Throughout the most trying period of the war and including the time when the city suffered under enemy attack, Mr. Wellington was at the heart of Gloucester’s affairs. It was the unanimous wish that he should “see the job through,” but ill health forced him to resign in 1943.

His mayoralty was distinguished by his clarity of vision, his unquestioned powers of persuasion and his firm, but courteous hand in time of trouble.

SOLICITOR NEARLY 60 YEARS

Mr. Wellington was admitted a solicitor in 1904 and with the exception of the years of the first world war, had practised in the city ever since.

A senior partner in his firm, he became extremely well known and respected in legal circles throughout Gloucestershire.

In his legal activities he rendered great service not only to his clients but also to the public, for over a considerable period he conducted criminal and civil proceedings on behalf of the Chief Constable and local authorities.

He was for many years clerk of the magistrates at Stroud and Newent, offices which are now held by his son and partner in the firm, Lt.-Col. Brian Wellington.

Mr. Wellington first became the City Coroner in 1921, but relinquished the post when elected Mayor. He took up the Coroner’s duties again in 1944.

OTHER OFFICES

He was for some considerable time honorary solicitor to the former Gloucestershire Royal Infirmary. He was vice-chairman of the Cheltenham and Gloucester Building Society and in 1938 was elected president of the Three Counties Show. He was a former president of the Gloucestershire and Wiltshire Law Society and a vice-president of the Gloucestershire British Legion.

He saw considerable active service during the first world war and was in the Royal Gloucestershire Hussars Yeomanry.

Afterwards he was attached to the 6th (subsequently the 2nd) Reserve Regiment of the Cavalry, the Curragh, Co. Kildare, the 1/3 County of London Yeomanry in Egypt and Palestine and the 103rd (City and 3rd County of London Yeomanry) Battalion Machine Gun Corps in France and Belgium.

Mr. Wellington had lived for many years at the Bear Hotel, Rodborough Common, Stroud. He was predeceased by his wife and is survived by his son and two grandchildren, one of whom went to Canada.

The other was a practising solicitor in this country for some years before her marriage.

At Mr. Wellington’s request the funeral is to be private.

(The Gloucester Citizen, Monday, 4 February 1963, p. 1)

Period feel: advertising

2012-02-07T10:52:00.001+01:00

In researching The Most Remarkable Woman in England, I spent a lot of time reading newspapers from the late 1920s.

There are many things that I enjoyed about that experience, but one of them relates to something that had nothing to do with the main topic of my book: advertising. Not all newspaper adverts were interesting, clever, amusing or silly. But many of them were. And, in looking through my records on the case, I have run across several that are, I think, worth sharing.

So, based on the argument that they might provide a little late 20s atmosphere (and on the fact that I just like them), I thought I'd start a new occasional series here on adverts.

The first one is, at least thematically, somehow related to the Pace case: it features the police.

(Daily Herald, 7 April 1927, p. 8)

Of course, I do not advocate the purchase or use of any of the products advertised....

Britain's first serial murderer?

2012-02-07T10:34:00.001+01:00

A bit belatedly, I note that there was an interesting article by David Wilson at the Daily Mail on Mary Ann Cotton, who was executed in 1873 for killing several people with arsenic.

There are many fascinating details about the case, as there are in many of the sensational nineteenth-century murder trials. (For those interested in mainly Victorian poisoning cases, I would recommend Katherine Watson's Poisoned Lives.)

However, I was a bit surprised by this:

Here is not just the first British serial killer – someone who has killed more than three people in a period greater than 30 days – but the first to exploit and abuse the anonymity of a new industrial age.

Going by this definition, I can think of at least one other case which preceded Cotton's spree and would meet the definition of 'serial murder' provided here: the well-known Burke and Hare murders.

Burke and Hare killed (at least) sixteen people over the period of a year (famously, for the purpose of selling their bodies to Edinburgh's corspse-hungry medical schools) and were hanged in 1829.

Furthermore, having recently reviewed a very worthwhile book on that case -- Lisa Rosner's The Anatomy Murders -- it was also apparent that the killers made great use of urban 'anonymity' to get away with their murders as long as they did.

In any case, I'm not sure that we'll ever know who the 'first' serial murderer in Britain (or anywhere else) was; in the end, we can only talk about the people who were caught.

Relevant things elsewhere

2012-02-04T21:19:00.000+01:00

An interesting series of posts related to inter-war crime fiction (and therefore relevant to the broader context of the Pace case) was posted in the last few days.

Deborah Blum considers Agatha Christie's The Mysterious Affair at Styles and strychnine poisoning.

Ann Finkbeiner writes about post-traumatic stress, the First World War and Dorothy Sayers’s Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club.

Jennifer Ouellette examines another of Sayers's books, Gaudy Night from the perspective of the physics of music.

Relief and joy

2012-02-02T22:06:00.002+01:00

These are actually a couple of my favourite photos from the case; unfortunately, I was only able to find them on microfilm, hence the relatively poor quality.

Still, I think the combination of emotions is very striking, and shines through.

They were taken in the wake of Beatrice Pace's acquittal, and the joy and the relief is quite plain. (Click for larger version.)


Sunday Pictorial, 8 July 1928, p. 26.

Left, we see Beatrice Pace herself; right, Doris and Leslie Pace, two of her five children.

Reasonable cause to suspect...

2012-01-31T22:27:00.000+01:00

Having described the context in which the coroner's inquest into Harry Pace's death got under way, here a couple of more related details.

One of them is the relevant passage on the duties of the coroner from what was the main guide for coroners, known as Jervis on Coroners.

The duties of coroners were regulated by the Coroners Act of 1887, as modified by subsequent legislation (the most recent amendments before the Pace case had been in 1926, which had necessitated a new edition of Jervis the following year).

‘Where a coroner is informed that the dead body of a person is lying within his jurisdiction, and there is reasonable cause to suspect that such person has died either a violent or an unnatural death, or has died a sudden death of which the cause is unknown, or that such person has died in prison, or in such place or under such circumstances as to require an inquest in pursuance of any Act, the coroner, whether the cause of death arose within his jurisdiction or not, shall, as soon practicable issue his warrant for summoning not less than seven nor more than eleven good and lawful men to appear before him at a specified time and place, there to inquire as jurors touching the death of such person as aforesaid.’

-- F. Danford Thomas, M.A. Sir John Jervis on the Office and Duties of Coroners with Forms and Precedents (Seventh Edition, London: Sweet and Maxwell, 1927), pp. 20-21

There were, in the event, nine jurors on the inquest jury.

To accompany this passage: a photo of the coroner who would handle the Pace inquest, Maurice Carter. (This is the only picture of him that I managed to find.)

Maurice Carter
Sunday Dispatch, 8 July 1928

Some aspects of the way that he handled the case became very controversial indeed.

At this point in our timeline, however, he was still waiting for a forensic report.

Cornish...of the Yard

2012-01-30T22:21:00.002+01:00

It's nice when friends get the attention they deserve: our copy of the London Review of Books arrived today, and what should I find but a review by John Pemble of The Ascent of the Detective: Police Sleuths in Victorian and Edwardian England by Haia Shpayer-Makov.

Having long been an admirer of Haia's work (like this co-edited collection here), I'm very much looking forward to reading her book, which in some ways can be seen as describing one important part of the pre-history of the Pace case: the rise of the detective.

By the inter-war period, the mystique around those magical words 'Scotland Yard' was fairly firmly in place, and there was something of a craze for detectives' memoirs in the period.

Among them we would find one by Chief Inspector George Cornish, the lead detective in the Pace case.

Here is he is, rather living up to the image of the detective, I would think.

This image comes from his autobiography, Cornish of the ‘Yard’: His Reminiscences and Cases (London: John Lane, 1935).

We'll be hearing more about him, don't worry.

Harry Pace's funeral

2012-01-25T11:21:00.000+01:00

While I'm laying out the initial order of events, I thought it might be appropriate to post this image, which is the only published picture that I found of Harry Pace's funeral, which took place in Clearwell, Forest of Dean, Gloucestershire.

Dean Forest Guardian (20 January 1928), p. 5

In search of lost timelines

2012-01-25T11:16:00.000+01:00

One of the things that I thought might be an interesting feature to pursue on this blog is to lay out the actual series of events that composed the 'Pace case'.

Since the main occurences and key dates occurred from early January (with the death of Harry Pace) through August (with the final installment of Beatrice Pace's 'life story' in the Sunday Express), it occurs to me that this fits in quite nicely with the publication schedule of the book, which is due to be published on 20 August this year.

Of course, like most of my good ideas, I'm getting on this one a bit late.

But, better late than never, as the saying goes.

I won't be giving detailed discussions of each of the events on the blog (that's what the book's for, after all!), but I will be marking -- 84 years to the day -- some of the key milestones in the case as we go along this year.

As I think about it, this process might help to provide a sense of the scale of the case in 'real time'. As with any historical event, reading about it in retrospect makes it too easy to lose sense of the actual 'feeling' of the time as it went by. For instance, one of the key complaints of Beatrice's supporters was that she had been subjected to an 'ordeal' of grinding suspense as a result of a lengthy coroner's inquest. Perhaps pointing out some key signposts (or, perhaps 'timeposts') as we go along this year, might help to regain that sense of what they meant.

All the posts in this series can be called up by clicking on the 'timeline' label at the bottom of each post.

So, at first, a little catching up, as there was a flurry of activity in mid-January (that is, in a manner of speaking, over the last couple of weeks):

Tuesday, 10 January 1928: Harry Pace -- a quarryman and sheep farmer -- dies at his home ('Rose Cottage') in Fetter Hill, a small hamlet in the Forest of Dean, Gloucestershire, after a long and mysterious illness that began the previous summer. His physician, Dr. Du Pré, confirms a death from natural causes.

Wednesday, 11 January: several of Harry's suspicious family (i.e., his side of the family) meet and decide to take their doubts about the naturalness of Harry's death to the police. The local police, stationed in the nearby market town of Coleford and led by Inspector Alan Bent, begin their investigations.

Inspector Alan Bent

Thursday, 12 January: Inspector Bent and Sergeant Charlie Hamblin visit Beatrice at Rose Cottage and inform her of their inquiries.

Friday, 13 January: Sgt. Hamblin tells Beatrice that Harry's funeral (planned for Sunday, 15 January) will have to be postponed.

Saturday, 14 January: A post mortem examination is carried out on Harry Pace (at his home) by Dr. Charles Carson. Blood samples are taken and several organs are removed and sent to Professor Isaac Walker Hall at the University of Bristol for analysis.

Sunday, 15 January: Several mourners, who were not informed about the delayed funeral, arrive in Fetter Hill, resulting in 'considerable consternation'.

Monday, 16 January: The inquest into Harry's death, led by the coroner, Maurice Carter, opens at the nearby 'George Inn'. A few necessary formalities are taken care of. Carter then adjourns the inquiry for a month, pending the results of the forensic analysis.

Tuesday, 17 January: Harry Pace is buried in the nearby village of Clearwell.

Wednesday, 18 January: Bent resumes his investigations, visiting a chemist in Coleford, who -- among many other things -- sold 'sheep dip'.

What followed was a bit of an official pause, as the inquest could hardly get going in the absence of forensic results.

But, as we shall see, this case was only getting started.

Fame, Fleet Street and the tragic widow

2012-01-19T10:38:00.001+01:00

Along with being a book about crime and justice history, The Most Remarkable Woman in England explores aspects of the 1920s version of what today is known as 'celebrity culture'.

In many ways, clearly, the last couple of decades have seen a dramatic expansion in the ways for people to become 'celebrities', even if only briefly: 'reality' TV, casting shows and the Internet.

But while there is much that has changed in how unknown people now become well-known 'celebrities' overnight, the phenomenon itself is far from new. For example, the second half of the nineteenth century witnessed the emergence of a 'new journalism' which focused on dramatic, emotionally reported 'human interest' stories. This style was pioneered by the Daily Telegraph (founded in 1855) and the later growth of tabloids such as the Daily Mail, Daily Express and Daily Mirror. Here lay the origins of Britain's sensationalist (and prurient) press culture that has often gone under the shorthand term of 'Fleet Street'.*

The 1920s and 30s were in some sense a 'golden age' of press reporting: newspaper circulations were growing rapidly (especially among women readers) and the press did not as yet face competition from radio and television news. By this time photography had become a common feature in the papers, which may have helped to establish a more immediate (though imagined) connection between readers and those reported upon. Crime -- the more sensational the better -- was a favourite topic, and probably the main vehicle whereby 'ordinary' people became nationally-known figures. This is, of course, something that remains true.

Whether the subjects of these stories became popular or merely notorious depended a great deal on the specific circumstances of the case as well as the ways that journalists decided to spin the case. Beatrice Pace was fortunate in that, although suspected of (and then charged with) murder, she was consistently depicted as a sympathetic figure, even before her eventual acquittal and the sale of her life story to the Sunday Express.

Why and how that was so is a rather long tale and a major focus of my book.

But this is a good example of how the case was presented to the public at the more sensationalist end of the press spectrum, in the World's Pictorial News. (Click on the image for a larger version.)

To give some context: this article appeared in the midst of the lengthy coroner's inquest into Harry Pace's death: Beatrice at this point was (officially) not a suspect in the case. As was often true, the papers didn't get everything right: for example, the caption referring to the lad feeding the lamb refers to 'Kenneth' Pace when his name was actually Selwyn (often called 'Teddy'). This sort of error recurred often across the year or so that the case was in the news. The story about the 'suddenly' interrupted funeral is also not entirely accurate (as I explain).

I aim to present further such images in the future, but I thought this time around I'd also give some background.

My research into the newspaper reporting on the case was one of the most enjoyable parts of writing the book, and it led me to other projects that I've been working on in recent years, such as a study of police powers, civil liberties and the term 'the third degree' in the 1920s: a couple of these articles can be seen here and here.

---
*Interesting overviews of this history can be found in Kevin Williams, Get me a murder a day! A history of mass communication in Britain (London, 1998) and Adrian Bingham, Family newspapers?: Sex, private life, and the British popular press 1918-1978 (Oxford, 2009)

Family history

2012-01-18T19:09:00.002+01:00

One of the nicer experiences I had while writing The Most Remarkable Woman in England was having the chance to personally get to know -- first via email then in person -- a few of Beatrice Pace's descendants. I found them quite by chance via the Internet (how does anyone find anything these days otherwise?) when one of her...wait, let me get this right...great-granddaughters had made an offhand comment about her family history at a web forum on a completely different topic (a popular television game show, as I recall).

This is what led me to writing her.

(After I became the member of an internet forum regarding a show I'd never at that point watched. My devotion to historical research, clearly, knows no bounds.)

In any case, emails were passed along and exchanged, and I was soon communicating with one of Beatrice's grandsons. After years of research via newspapers and official files, it was quite an experience to finally be in touch with someone who had personally known the main person profiled in my book. As 'Gran'. (Beatrice had a long life after her trial.)

A couple of trips of mine to Gloucestershire and the Forest of Dean followed, and I am very grateful, both for the information I received and the hospitality I enjoyed there.

Later, I corresponded with another grandson who provided me with a few of the pictures used in the book.

As to the information about Beatrice's post-trial life, you'll have to, as they say, read the book.

However, I thought I would share an aspect of how it came to be written.

When I first decided to get in touch, I had, I must admit, some qualms. In fact I debated with myself for some weeks before making initial contact. Of course, I wanted to find any relevant information for my book: most of all, I was aiming at filling in the story of what happened to Beatrice Pace after she disappeared from the headlines...and therefore from the historical record.

On the other hand, I wasn't quite sure what reaction to expect.

I mean: someone shows up out of the blue and says he's writing a book about your grandmother who was accused of murder? How would you react?

I am pleased to say that the family members I have dealt with have been nothing but friendly and have all been very supportive of the project, providing me with helpful details about the later life of the 'Tragic Widow of Coleford', as she was known in the late 1920s. In return, I am pleased to have been able to fill in many details for them about a striking aspect of their own family history.

That was nice enough.

However, a couple of weeks ago this story took another twist.

While we were on holiday, I was contacted by another of Beatrice's descendants: the grandson of a different one of her children than the people I had to this point spoken to. He had heard rumours of this book online last year and then found this blog.

Very kindly enough he sent me a few family photos that I hadn't yet seen, and, even more kindly, he said I could share them here on the blog.

Although I have very few details about either of them, I estimate that they're both from the mid-to-late 1930s. The first is of Beatrice with her youngest daughter 'Jean' (actually Isobel Jean). Jean, sadly, was a sickly girl and died during the Second World War aged 14. She had, as I describe in the book, been a prominent focus of coverage of the Pace case in 1928 and was frequently mentioned in letters Beatrice received from her supporters and admirers. (One of the aspects of the case that I consider was the way the public responded to press reporting of it.)

Along with any information that I received through getting to know the family the experience very much helped to bring something home to me: that history is about real people. This may sound banal, but when you spend large amounts of time getting to know people through reading documents (and even printed pictures) their reality becomes a bit abstract.

Speaking to people who had known Beatrice Pace personally -- had seen her, heard her voice, touched her -- certainly helped to give my own perspective on the case a new vividness.

One that I hope I have been able to impart.

Distant early warning

2011-12-28T16:19:00.003+01:00

A couple of weeks ago, I received an advance copy of Manchester University Press's 'New titles, Spring/Summer 2012' catalogue. I was very pleased to see The Most Remarkable Woman in England make its first appearance in a catalogue of this kind.

The book is coming out a bit later than I expected: late summer (August) rather than late spring. All the more time for some anticipation...

I also noted that the book has made its appearances at Amazon in the UK, USA and Germany (and perhaps elsewhere as well).

So, we're one step closer. Keep watching this space for further details!

Mid-week trio: Mystery writers, Major Armstrong and arsenic eating

2011-12-28T15:48:00.000+01:00

In a recent post at her interesting blog on the science of poisoning, Deborah Blum mentioned a few things that caught my eye, as they were also relevant to the Pace case.

First, she comments on the use of poisoning in the crime fiction of the inter-war period, particularly that by Dorothy L. Sayers and Agatha Christie. I refer to that background in The Most Remarkable Woman in England, as the case was often styled by the press as something on a par with the murder mysteries of the age.

My own use of one of the books Blum cites -- Christie's The Mysterious Affair at Styles (1920) -- is however to highlight the sensationalist (and often intrusive) role of the press in reporting crime in this period. (The recent follies involving The News of the World et al. would not have surprised the crime reporters of the 1920s: if they could have hacked phones, many of them would have.)

The narrator in Styles captures the mood: ‘The papers, of course, had been full of the tragedy. Glaring headlines, sandwiched biographies of every member of the household, subtle innuendoes, the usual familiar tag about the police having a clue’. ‘Screaming headlines in every paper in the country’, one character complains: ‘damn all journalists, I say! Sort of Madame Tussaud’s chamber of horrors business that can be seen for nothing’.[1]

(Interestingly enough, Christie's fellow mystery writer from the period, Dorothy Sayers, is one of the things that connects my work hitherto on crime history with my developing research interests in Christian social thinking in Britain in the inter-war period. Along with murder mysteries, she wrote articles and books like this.)

Second, Blum refers to what was probably the most famous poisoning trial of the early 1920s, that of Major Herbert Rowse Armstrong for the murder of his wife and the attempted murder of a fellow solicitor. (Armstrong remains, I believe, the only solicitor hanged for murder in British history. Which actually strikes me as rather surprising.)

Major Armstrong

The Armstrong case was raised many times during the Pace case in a variety of contexts both inside and outside the courtroom. One of the more striking connections was that William Willcox -- a pioneering forensic expert -- testified in both cases. (Willcox had also testified in the famous Crippen trial.)

Willcox's testimony had been crucial in convicting Armstrong, and, as the main expert witness appearing for the Crown in the Pace case, he did his best to put the case that Beatrice Pace had poisoned her husband Harry. In that case, though, he was unsuccessful.

(The account of the Pace case given in a biography of Willcox gives a rather one-sided version of the trial: Willcox apparently remained convinced of her guilt until his death.)

The ghost of the Armstrong case definitely haunted the proceedings in Gloucester; happily for Mrs. Pace, however, her own trial turned out quite differently.

Third, Blum makes a brief reference to 'arsenic eating'. Arsenic, though highly poisonous, has a long history of being associated with various positive, healthful properties; one of them was its allegedly aphrodisiacal nature.

In a book written in the early 1930s on the history of poisoning, there is a short section on the Pace matter (which would have then still been recent and well remembered). It raises the curious issue of 'arsenic eating' in the region where the Paces lived, the Forest of Dean in Gloucestershire.

A suggestion was made after the trial, that Pace might have been in the habit of taking arsenic and a lady living at Newport wrote to the Home Secretary, stating that she know of people living in the Forest of Dean who were addicted to the habit of eating arsenic.

She stated, that she knew that the dangerous habit prevailed in the neighbourhood of Coleford and around Tintern. “People get fascinated with the idea that arsenic taken in small quantities at regular intervals will benefit them. They become known as arsenic eaters, and knowing that the habit is condemned by doctors, they try to keep it as quiet as possible.”

Another person living in the district corroborated this statement and stated that arsenic eating was a habit well-known in the Forest of Dean. Her aunt, she declared, used to make up a secret preparation of herbs and poison. “In the district arsenic is believed to have wonderful powers and people get gripped with the idea of its potency.”

There was, however, no evidence to show that Pace had been addicted to arsenic so the suggestion that he met his death through taking an over-dose can hardly be entertained.[2]

On this latter point, my own research on the case is in agreement.

Nonetheless, speculations were rife at the time about what 'really' happened in the case, so this kind of notion was anything other than unusual.

Sadly, though, I never did find the alleged letter to the Home Office from 'a lady living at Newport'....

**

[1] A. Christie, The Mysterious Affair at Styles (London: HarperCollins, 1994 [1920]), pp. 120-1, 135.

[2] C. J. S. Thompson,Poisons and Poisoners: With Historical Accounts of Some Famous Mysteries in Ancient and Modern Times (London: Harold Shaylor, [1931]), p. 350

A family in the spotlight

2011-11-30T21:01:00.001+01:00

One of the many photos of the Pace family that featured in the press coverage on the case. (There were dozens more, some of which will be making their appearance here in the months to come.)

This would have appeared even before the inquest into Harry Pace's mysterious death properly began.

From left: Leslie, Dorothy, Selwyn, Beatrice and Doris Pace.

(World's Pictorial News, 5 February 1928.)

"Hustling Horridge" and the "Ladies"

2011-11-27T16:15:00.001+01:00

One of the things I’ve tried to do in this book is to trace some of the key figures beyond their roles in the 1928 murder trial of Beatrice Pace.

A number of them were figures of some public renown both before and after the trial.

For instance, the Daily Mirror mentioned the Pace case in its report on the death of High Court Judge Sir Thomas Horridge in July 1938, almost exactly ten years after he presided over Beatrice’s trial in Gloucester.

Judge Told Jury “Free Mrs. Pace”

High Court Judge twenty-seven years, Sir Thomas Gardner Horridge died at Hove yesterday, aged eighty.

Sir Thomas figured in the trial of Mrs. Pace, tragic widow of Coleford, Glos, acquitted on his direction on the charge of murdering her husband. He was also one of the Judges who tried Roger Casement.

In the Divorce Court he was known as “Hustling Horridge,” because of his speed in dealing with cases.

On one occasion he remarked: “If women cannot get their lunch in three-quarters of an hour, they are not fit to be jurors.”

Here are other [sic] of his views on women: --“The word ‘woman’ is disappearing from the English language. A charwoman is no longer a charwoman, but a ‘charlady.’ There are lady typists, lady hairdressers, lady shop assistants and lady everything else.”
Daily Mirror, 25 July 1938, p. 18

Science against criminality

2011-11-26T22:53:00.001+01:00

I ran across this image today and downloaded the image. Unfortunately, I can't now recall where I found it.

In any case, somehow relevant to the topic of this blog (click for a larger image).

Though I wouldn't for a moment claim that I'm better than Sherlock...

[UPDATE:] Thanks to Ray at the Gloucestershire Local History group, I found the source. Apparently the archives of Popular Science are fully available and searchable. There're rather a lot of references to Sherlock Holmes. This one was this top result...

Images of the Past

2011-11-24T14:31:00.001+01:00

One of the things that I'm glad about with this book as opposed to my first one is that this time around I'll have images in it.

One of the sources I used was the company Mirrorpix, which found a great photo of Mrs. Pace and the family's sheepdog (inevitably named...I kid you not...'Rover') in their collection.

Mirrorpix had a blog going for a while, but it then went dormant (which I noted before on my other blog).

So I'm pleased to see that they've gotten active again, via Twitter. There are some gems in there, such as this picture of the Ministry of Information...well, informing people about something in late 1940.

Lots more to be discovered there.

Selling the story: 'Eighteen Years of Hell'

2011-11-22T15:26:00.001+01:00

Starting from the period in mid-January 1928 when the name 'Pace' hit the headlines in connection with the mysterious death of Beatrice's Husband Harry, the case remained a fixture in the sensation-hungry press of inter-war Britain.

The high point in press and public interest was, however, the trial itself in early July and the period immediately following it. I'll be posting more images and descriptions related to those events at some point. But for now something slightly different.

On the day after Beatrice's acquittal, the rights to her 'life-story' were sold to the Sunday Express (The story of how this came about features in one of the chapters of the book.)

This image shows an advertisement for the serialised autobiography which appeared in the Daily Mail.

Daily Mail 13 July 1928, p. 19.

Not only did '18 years of Hell' become one of my chapter headings, but the text in the opening paragraph contained the phrase which is now the book's main title, 'the most remarkable woman in England'.

The early word is in

2011-11-16T10:38:00.001+01:00

About half a year before the resease of The Most Remarkable Woman in England, a first review has appeared!

Andrew Hammel, Assistant Professor for American Law at Heinrich-Heine University in Düsseldorf and the author of Ending the Death Penalty: The European Experience in Global Perspective (and, in the interests of full disclosure, a good friend of mine) noted this blog on his own, commenting:

I had the pleasure of reading an early draft of the book, which is a fascinating history of a poisoning case that gripped England during the 1920s: Did Beatrice Pace slowly murder her husband with arsenic? John's book is written in crisp, accessible prose and studded with priceless quotations from contemporary news reports and court documents. It has as many plot twists as any detective story, and also casts fascinating sidelights on everything from early forensic science to press ethics to the status of women in inter-war England. Highly recommended!

Many thanks for the kind words to Andrew, whose own book is also highly recommended!

Sense and Sensibility...and arsenic?

2011-11-15T11:48:00.001+01:00

Since the Pace case revolved around a death caused by arsenic (this was not in question though how the poisoning took place definitely was), some of my researches took me into the broader history of this type of poisoning.

(The book I'd recommend for those interested in the more general history of poisoning and, specifically, the nineteenth century, is Katherine Watson's, Poisoned Lives.)

In any case, the Guardian today reports on claims by crime novelist Lindsay Ashford that Jane Austen may have died from arsenic poisoning.

I have no idea whether this might be true or not, but I can imagine it might make for a good plot....

'Besieged' by admirers

2011-11-12T16:22:00.001+01:00

One of the things that came up again and again during the various ‘trials’ of Beatrice Pace -- the inquest, her appearance at the magistrates' court, the trial at the assizes -- was the fascination that not only she but also her children held for the public. This became something of a public order problem during the trial in Gloucester, as these excerpts from the Daily Mirror suggest.

The first:

When the police attempted to smuggle Mrs. Pace out of a back exit she was surrounded by hundreds of cheering people, and it was with difficulty that her taxi was able to move off.Later an hotel to which the Pace children had been taken was besieged, and the crowd would not disperse till the children had shown themselves. An attempt to mob the car was foiled by the mounted police. [...]

As the Pace children, Doris, Leslie and the little boy known as Kenny, were taken to an hotel for tea they were followed by a large crowd which waited outside. The place was besieged, and on several occasions people forced an entrance.At last, to satisfy their curiosity, Doris and her brothers went out to the entrance and showed themselves to the people, who cheered them loudly. Doris was carrying a doll which had been presented to her by sympathisers.[...]

Visitors have thronged Gloucester from all parts of the country in the hope of hearing Mrs. Pace tried, and the hotels are full.
‘Pace Children Besieged in Gloucester Hotel’, Daily Mirror, 3 July 28, p. 3

The second:

Doris, the pretty little daughter of the accused woman, was again the centre of attraction after her mother had been taken to the prison. The hotel where she has her meals was besieged by thousands of people.There was a demonstration against the police, whose task was one of great difficulty.

The superintendent of the mounted police, in trying to clear the pavements, was almost thrown from his horse, and even the tactful efforts of the constables on foot aroused much resentment.So difficult was the situation that the superintendent appealed to the hotel proprietor to keep the girl out of sight as much as possible and to get her away quickly.

Doris herself is blissfully unconscious of the seriousness of the situation, and regards the whole thing as a great adventure.“I think it is very funny,” she said. “I am enjoying myself very much, and everyone is so kind to me.”’
‘Heart Attack of Woman Juror at Pace Trial’, Daily Mirror, 5 July 1928, p. 2

And, yes, as the title of the second report suggests, and as if the near riot outside the courtroom wasn't exciting enough, one of the 'elderly' women on the jury had a heart attack.

No shortage of drama here.

And we will be hearing more about little Doris (Beatrice's youngest daughter) and her dolls.

The Most Remarkable Woman

2011-11-11T19:58:00.001+01:00

Beatrice Pace, 1928 (Family photo: Thanks to Tony Martin for this image.)

This is the person around whom this book revolves: Beatrice Annie Pace.Tried (and acquitted) for the murder of her husband Harry in 1928.

Police history recommendation

2011-11-11T18:34:00.001+01:00

As noted, I intend this blog to also deal with broader issues relevant to crime, policing, justice and the media in the 1920s and 1930s. Coincidentally, I just received a notice that my review of Joanne Klein's Invisible Men: The Secret Lives of Police Constables in Liverpool, Manchester,and Birmingham, 1900–1939 (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2010) has been published.

Regardless of a few minor criticisms, I recommend the book highly.

A couple of excerpts from my review:

A key issue—which takes up three of the book’s ten main chapters—concerns police relationships with the public. These were characterized by patterns of conflict and comity that varied by class and gender. The working classes were most likely to respond to police interference with violence, while the middle and upper classes were more prone to be “patronizing” and send letters of complaint. Klein sees a general improvement in police and public interactions, noting an increased civilian willingness to assist constables in trouble and, more generally, to cooperate with investigations. Constables had friendly relations with the public through gossip, assistance, favours, perks, and charity. Such contacts show, Klein argues, that constables “remained part of the working-class community” (221). One tricky issue, however, involved police relationships with women, which took both consensual and coercive forms. One of the book’s most interesting aspects concerns the multifaceted relationship between policing and new transportation and communication technologies, particularly the growth of motoring and the expanding use of the telephone. Both sorts of tasks—whether directing traffic and ticketing motorists or responding to telephone requests for assistance with a myriad of (often petty) problems—not only interfered with what officers saw as their main duty (i.e., fighting crime) but also contributed to tensions between police and public: notably, the growth of motoring meant the “higher classes” had more encounters with (working-class) police officers. [...]

If one of Klein’s goals was to break down the public’s view of the police (perhaps held as much now as then) as a “monolithic entity” (110), she has succeeded magnificently by offering a complex portrait of how everyday policing was experienced as a mixture of boredom, excitement, violence, humour, tragedy, and, at times, absurdity. In a strikingly original chapter, the extensive institutional supervision to which constables were subjected even allows Klein to provide insight into police officers’ domestic lives. An effective combination of detailed research and clear writing, Invisible Men joins the ranks of the must-read books about British policing.

John Carter Wood, review of Joanne Klein, Invisible Men: The Secret Lives of Police Constables in Liverpool, Manchester,and Birmingham, 1900–1939 in the Journal of British Studies, Vol. 50, No. 4 (October 2011), pp. 1016-1017 .

First things first

2011-11-11T16:16:00.001+01:00

Those who know me personally are aware of what working on this book has meant to me, and they also have an idea about the ups and downs that I've encountered while seeing it through.

Thus, it is a great pleasure to be able to say that the final manuscript of my second book, The Most Remarkable Woman in England: Poison, Celebrity and the Trials of Beatrice Pace, left my desk a few months ago and is now very definitely wending its way through the production process at Manchester University Press. Last week I returned the first batch of responses to the copy-editing queries and, if all goes well, the next couple should be coming through this month. (According to my copy editor, I haven't made many of the 'usual' mistakes. This, of course, has not kept me from making some rather unusual ones. Ah well.)

For specifics about the book and the case it was written about, you can consult the links just below the title. In short: it's about a mysterious death and a trial for arsenic poisoning in 1928 that turned into one of the most remarkable--though today almost forgotten--press sensations of early twentieth-century Britain.

Given the book's likely appearance in MUP's Spring/Summer catalogue, I thought it was a good time to begin introducing it not only to other historians but also to a wider public. This is because--although the book is certainly of high-grade academic quality--I have definitely aimed from the beginning to write a book that would appeal to people who are not historians but who are interested in the history of crime, the media, and the culture of the 'inter-war' period in general and that of Britain in particular (i.e., the 1920s and 1930s).

This was, as is well known, the 'golden age' of British crime fiction associated with Agatha Christie, Dorothy L. Sayers, Edgar Wallace, Margery Allingham and many others, and the story of the 'Pace case' (also known as the 'Fetter Hill Mystery') had more than a touch of some of the creations of such authors. This period was also an era of relentlessly sensationalist press reporting and a time in which issues such as women's roles, the nature of marriage and threats to civil liberties were incessantly discussed.

I've aimed to use this specific case--the trial of Beatrice Pace for the alleged murder of her husband Harry--as a way into understanding various aspects of the late 1920s: the worlds of Scotland Yard, the courts, Fleet Street, and Parliament. For the amazing thing is that the death of this otherwise obscure man and the tribulations of his impoverished widow became a matter of pressing interest in all these contexts. The late 1920s already had an extensive and well functioning 'celebrity culture' that--often in the context of crime and justice--transformed 'ordinary' people into household names within a matter of days.

This book is about many things, and I hope, over the coming months, to introduce you to some of those things. Furthermore, I'll be using this blog to post other things related to the themes of the book, particularly about the inter-war period, whether with relation to crime, media or the broader culture of the time, things that have come to fascinate me since I (almost literally) stumbled over the Pace case several years ago.

I hope you will find it as interesting as I do!