Foul Deeds & Suspicious Deaths in South Yorkshire

Introduction

Long before the creation in 1974 of the short lived South Yorkshire County Council, there had been an area within the West Riding referred to as South Yorkshire. There has never been a South Riding — except in the eponymous work by Winifred Holtby, published in 1936, the year after her death — because riding means ‘a third part of’, and historically Yorkshire’s ridings have been the East, North and West.

Today, the modern county of South Yorkshire is divided into four major urban areas: the metropolitan boroughs of Barnsley, Doncaster, Rotherham and Sheffield. The principal towns and cities all have a rich history, but many smaller towns and villages within South Yorkshire have interesting histories, in some cases of greater significance in the affairs of the entire country. South Yorkshire, that centuries old enclave in the historic West Riding, has over the years seen many a foul deed committed within its boundaries. I have attempted to include a broad cross section of foul deeds from comparatively trivial crimes to the ultimate crime of murder, spanning the years between the reign of William IV and the 1950s. With regard to the wealth of crime history material available within South Yorkshire I have barely scratched the surface, or indeed moved beyond the tip of the proverbial iceberg. However, in an effort to provide the reader with as wide a breadth of foul deeds as possible, in as many different districts I have delved into countless documents and old newspapers in order to enable me to include some seriously disturbing cases as well as some lighter and more quirky crimes.

Conspiracy. Author’s collection

It is interesting to compare how the scales of justice worked in years gone by to deal with felons and petty criminals and those involved in crimes of violence, to the penalties imposed in today’s courts. Sometimes, or indeed one might almost say, more often than not, extreme poverty was at the root of crime and there is many a sad story to be told. Standards of morality, social prejudices and a person’s position within society all played their part with respect to the commission of crime and the administration of justice. Simply to be poor, was tantamount to some less charitably disposed both in thought and deed, to amount to being part of the criminal fraternity. Magistrates did not always deal fairly with miscreants, and sometimes what today seem inordinately harsh sentences were handed down for seemingly trivial crimes or indeed relative misdemeanours.

In writing this, my eighth True Crime title, I have tried to provide an interesting and accurate account based on available documentary evidence. I apologise unreservedly for any errors or omissions.

CHAPTER 1

A Miscellany of Crime from the Reign of William IV to Queen Victoria

The Swell Mob at Doncaster, 1834

. . . assured of a valuable booty, the three men determined to appropriate it for their own use on the last day of their visit.

On 6 October 1834, The Times wrote an article concerning the goings on at Doncaster’s famous September Race Week:

Doncaster, which at the season of the great St. Leger race is at all times the scene of desperate speculations, presented one at the meeting of a daring and successful description.

The report went on to say that on the first day of the race meeting three men of respectable appearance, dressed in the first style of fashion, went to the Falcon Inn, where they made inquiries about the availability of beds and other accommodation throughout the week. There being space available to accommodate these gentlemen, they were duly booked in, and their luggage conveyed to their respective apartments. The Times said this about the three gentlemen:

Their manners indicated a disposition to give freely, and to sustain the character which they had assumed. They ate and drank of the best, and expense seemed to be the last consideration in their minds. They every day visited the race course, with the apparent curiosity of strangers, and it was concluded that they were young men of fortune, who had no other pursuit, but that of pleasure. In the end, however, it turned out they were playing a deeper game.

The men paid particular attention to the movements of their host and discovered that he not only presided over their comforts at the Falcon Inn but also had a refreshment booth on the racecourse, to which a large body of people resorted during the course of each day’s racing. They also observed that after each day’s racing was over, their host, on his return from his booth, took the day’s receipts to what he believed to be a secure room upstairs in the inn. Thus assured of a valuable booty, the three men determined to appropriate it for their own use on the last day of their visit. To that end they managed to remove their own luggage, with the assistance of two others, to another house. While two of the men prepared to avail themselves of the landlord’s money, the third kept watch from the road outside, of the window that looked from the landlord’s room. Meanwhile, the two men inside gained entry to the room where the landlord’s valuables were kept, and broke open an escritoire, stealing more than £100. While the men were at their business, the landlord decided to visit his chamber, but upon finding some resistance when he attempted to open the door, supposed that some of his female intimates of the house were there, returning again downstairs. The two men inside being somewhat alarmed, decided to effect their escape by means of a window, the drop from which was not great. When the landlord returned downstairs he made inquiry of his servants as to which of his family was in his upstairs chamber. On being informed that none of them were, the landlord quickly returned upstairs, only to discover his loss, and that the ‘birds had flown’. The landlord looked out of the window just in time to see his three generous customers running off into the distance.

Gaoled for Shooting Gamekeeper, Wath-upon-Dearne, 1864

. . . the other poacher was striking Broadhead with a hedge stake and the other fellow swore he would knock his brains out with another bludgeon.

William Broadhead was on duty in Low Wood at Wath-upon-Dearne, when he saw three men, of whom the prisoner was one, engaged in ferreting for rabbits. Broadhead went up to Moxon and placed his hand on his shoulder, upon which the prisoner and a second fellow not in custody commenced beating him over the head with a hedge stake. Broadhead and Moxon then struggled for the possession of Broadhead’s gun, which was double-barrelled and at half cock. The poachers subsequently kicked Broadhead over the hands and stamped all over them, and at length Moxon got hold of the stock of the gun, the barrels being then directed at Broadhead. The struggle lasted about a quarter of an hour, and the prisoner during the greater part of the time had his hand on the trigger, after having pulled up both the hammers.

Broadhead was laid upon his back when Moxon pulled the gun forward a little, and discharged one barrel. The charge of heavy shot, fortunately for the gamekeeper, went into the bank upon which he was lying, and just missed his side. Moxon and the other poacher then got possession of the gun, and Moxon pointed the gun at Broadhead, who cried out:

For God’s sake don’t shoot me.

That being said, the prisoner then uttered an oath and declared he would ‘blow him through’, then made an effort to let off the other barrel, which had a defective trigger end upon it. While this was going on the other poacher was striking Broadhead with a hedge stake and the other fellow swore he would knock his brains out with another bludgeon. Broadhead prayed that they would not take his life, upon which they asked him if he intended to follow them up, to which he replied that he would not if they didn’t kill him, and then they backed away into the wood, keeping their faces towards him in an attempt to intimidate him from following them. But Moxon was in the act of crossing the fence, having one hand on the back trigger and the other half way down the barrel. The left hand barrel, which had become stuffed with mud during the struggle, suddenly exploded, and the gun appeared to jump out of Moxon’s hands. The three poachers then concealed themselves in the wood. Broadhead subsequently ascertained that both the barrels of his gun had burst.

The assistant to Dr Clarke of Wentworth, said that the prisoner went to the surgery on 4 June, saying that he had got his right hand hurt whilst shooting at small birds, the barrel of his gun having burst. The prisoner was subsequently sent to Sheffield Infirmary, where he was identified by Broadhead as the man who had shot at him, and he was also spoken of by several witnesses as having been seen on the Wentworth Road shortly after the struggle in the company of three other men. The description of Moxon’s clothing, furnished by these independent witnesses exactly tallied with the articles of clothing found in the prisoner’s home.

At his trial at the Assizes, Moxon, who was undefended, declared that the wound was caused by the bursting of his own gun, nine weeks previously, whilst shooting at birds in his own garden. After a brief consultation the jury found Moxon guilty. His Lordship told the prisoner:

You are one of those men who beginning simply by what was called poaching, had gone on until you got into a crime as serious as that which you have now been convicted. If the shot had taken effect, as I much fear you intended, you would have been standing on trial for your life, and if a similar verdict had been returned I would have been obliged to send you for execution. The expressions that were used by yourself and your fellow poachers were of the most shameful kind and the keeper was treated very disgracefully. This case is one of a most serious character and I cannot sentence you to a lower sentence than four years’ penal servitude.

Shocking Assault and Robbery, Barnburgh, February 1867

It is impossible to pass an offence of this kind over without a very severe punishment, for it is worse than robbery on the highway.

On the morning of Saturday 9 February 1867, a widow, Elizabeth Dawson, living at a small farm at Barnburgh, near Doncaster, was in her bedroom, when her attention was drawn by the barking of her dog in the kitchen. She went downstairs to see why the dog was barking and as she entered the kitchen she saw a man at the kitchen door. She asked him what was his business, and he said he had come to ask her to let him spread some manure over one of her fields. She told the man that she had given the job to another man by the name of Marshall. He then asked for a drop of beer, which Mrs Dawson gave him, and the man kept her in conversation for about twenty minutes, with the purpose, it is believed, to ascertain if there was anyone else present in the house. The man continued with his conversation, and, having satisfied himself that Mrs Dawson was alone, when she asked him to leave, he threw himself upon her, and seized her by the shoulders, forcing her into the middle of the kitchen. He then demanded her money. Mrs Dawson said she had no money, but he threatened her to such an extent that she handed him her purse, containing seven half-sovereigns, two half-crowns and several groats (silver fourpenny pieces). The man then knocked her down on the floor, and, taking a knife or razor out of his pocket, he drew it across her throat without touching her; and when she let out a scream for help, he dragged her to the cellar head and threw her down a flight of thirteen steps.

Charles Lister assaulting widow Mrs Elizabeth Dawson at her farmhouse at Barnburgh. Illustrated Police News

The man then took to his heels and proceeded to jump from whence he had come, where he saw his sweetheart and gave her three guineas of the money he had stolen, to prepare for their wedding, which had been arranged for the following Monday. Meanwhile, Mrs Dawson remained in an insensible condition in the cellar and when she came round, she found that her assailant had fastened her in. A fourteen-year-old youth who called at Mrs Dawson’s house heard her calls for help. He entered the house and located where the noise was coming from, then unlocked the cellar door and freed Mrs Dawson, who was severely injured. The police were summoned and medical help was sent for.

A man answering the culprit’s description had been seen in the vicinity and the police were soon hot on his trail, which led them to one Charles Lister, of Jump, and on Friday 15 February he was brought up before West Riding magistrates Dr Scholfield and Sir Issac Morley, at Doncaster’s Guild Hall. Charles Lister was a tall, rough-looking fellow, and he stood in the dock charged with having violently assaulted and robbed Mrs Elizabeth Dawson.

During the course of the proceedings:

Sir Isaac Morley: I should like to ask whether there was anyone in the house at the time.

Mrs Dawson, replied: No.

Sir Isaac: Where was the servant?

Mrs Dawson: I don’t keep one.

Mr Astwood: The house is a very lone one, and lays some distance from the road.

The Bench decided that there was sufficient evidence against the accused and he was committed to take his trial at the Assizes.

On Friday 29 March, Lister’s case was heard before Mr Justice Lush.

Jane Hodgson, of Jump, said she was engaged to the prisoner and on 9 February she met him at Elsecar, between five and six o‘clock in the evening when he gave her about £3, of which part was in silver and the rest comprised four half-sovereigns. John Battersby, a fourteen-year-old youth, of Barnburgh, said he was near Mrs Dawson’s house at eleven o’clock on the morning the attack took place. He heard her calling out and he was able to release her from the cellar. She was very shaken and was severely wounded.

Mr Blytheman, surgeon, stated that Mrs Dawson had sustained very serious injuries from violence and from being confined in a damp atmosphere. The whole of Mrs Dawson’s spine was in a contused state, from the neck downward. The lower part of her body was very much swollen, the right side being black and double the natural size, caused by some blow that she had received.

The jury found the prisoner guilty. When addressing Lister, His Lordship told him:

In my opinion this is a very bad case indeed. I do not know when I have heard a worse case. To think that a lonely woman, living in a lonely house, in a quiet neighbourhood, should be assaulted by such a ruffian as yourself, in that manner seems almost incredible, and especially that being so near a village. That you should have inflicted such injuries that the poor woman will suffer from them during the remainder of her days. It is impossible to pass an offence of this kind over without a very severe punishment, for it is worse than robbery on the highway.

His Lordship then passed sentence, giving Lister ten years’ penal servitude.

Two Lovely Black Eyes, Assault at Doncaster, May 1867

Black struck him a violent blow between the eyes, the force of which knocked Mr Grayson off his feet and he fell to the ground.

Joseph Black, described as being a respectable looking resident of Hexthorpe, was brought up before the Mayor, H Woodmansey, Esquire, the Ex Mayor, R E Clark, Esquire and Sir Isaac Morley, at the Guild Hall, Doncaster, on Friday 31 May 1867, charged with having assaulted another Hexthorpe resident, William Grayson, a carter.

An early twentieth-century view of St Sepulchre Gate, Doncaster. Old Barnsley

Mr Grayson appeared in the witness box with two black eyes. The Bench heard that on Saturday 25 May, Mr Grayson was coming down St Thomas Street with his daughter. He was having a few words with her and, when they arrived at St Sepulchre Gate, they met Joseph Black, who took it upon himself to interfere between father and daughter. When Mr Grayson expressed his displeasure at such effrontery, Black struck