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The Compelling Case of 'Mad Tom'

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  • The Compelling Case of 'Mad Tom'

    Ladies and Gentlemen, bored with Leander and all that?
    Then I present to you, for the first time in the world ever, the compelling case of 'Mad Tom', who just might have been Jack the Ripper.
    Please read and enjoy every word.

    'ARTHUR LATTEY . I now reside at Banstead, Surrey, and am medical officer of that Union—I am L.C.P. and M.R.C.S., and have been in practice twenty years—I was formerly medical officer of the south-western

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    district of the Maldon Union—in that capacity and in my private practice I have had to consider questions of mental disease, and to give certificates of lunacy as to persons under my charge—in January, 1887, I succeeded to the practice of Dr. Pearce—later in 1887, and also in 1888, I was frequently consulted by the prisoner for a continuation of that disease, and for more nervous disorders in 1888—the disease was in its secondary stage—he was very nervous for the first three months of 1888—he would come with some trifling little pimple, and want to know if that was not his malady coming back again, and when I told him it was nothing of the sort, he would dwell upon it, and insist upon it that it must be—then he had pains in his head, and restlessness, and sleeplessness—they were undoubtedly bond fide statements—I thought he was the most out-of-the-way curious tradesman I had ever met, because it was impossible to get him to pay attention when you wanted him to do anything; he came to my house to take orders for certain decorations, and instead of taking them he would talk about nothing but himself; at last one would apparently drive it into him, and a week afterwards you would meet him, and he had forgotten all about it—he would come again, and go over the same thing, and I had to take an extraordinary amount of trouble to get anything done; whenever he saw me be would talk about himself instead of my business—he had not a retentive memory, quite the reverse; he was most decidedly not a man of well-balanced mind; I should describe him as a most excitable, easily-upset man, a man who would greatly exaggerate any little ailment—I may give an instance: one of his children had an accident, and his state of distress was very pitiable; he would not be satisfied that the child was doing perfectly well, he would come worrying me three or four times about it, and was obviously distressed—where there is a latent hereditary mental taint, I have known marked cases of syphilis develop it—I have attended the prisoner's younger brother Richard; he is also very excitable, very wanting in self-control.

    Cross-examined. I would not say he was violent-tempered; he was 28 in January, 1888—I left the neighbourhood at the end of 1888—syphilis is a terrible disease in its results, especially to a married man, but the advice I gave the prisoner was not to be anxious about the pimple, I told him it would go away in due course, but not rapidly—I told him it had nothing to do with the malady—if a person is worried in business, sleeplessness often follows, and the nervous system becomes affected, pains in the head and such symptoms are common in many maladies.

    ERNEST FRY . I am an oil and colour man, at Haverstock Hill, next door to the prisoner's, where he lived with his wife and four children—I have known him twenty years—I have been very much struck by his eccentricity—I have on several occasions been away from home with him; once at Ramsgate, about three years ago, when I returned to the lodging about twelve at night he opened the door to me in his night-shirt, and instead of closing it he ran up the street in his night-shirt—I "spoke to him of it next day, and he remembered nothing about it—within the last twelve months or more I have noticed a marked differenceinhis manner—the walls between our houses are thin, and I have frequently heard him playing on the piano and shouting and singing; in feet, he would wake us up two or three times in the morning—I remonstrated with him next day, and he would apologise, and say he was very sorry, and

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    say, "I don't remember anything about it; I suppose it was me"—it was him, there was nobody else there to do it—I have heard him running up and down stairs in the dead of the night—I have heard him spoken of as "Mad Tom," more than once; I have referred to him myself in the same terms—he used to complain of pains in his head—I saw him a week before this occurrence, he then seemed very much down; he said he did not know what was the matter with him, his mind had been disturbed, he had not known what he was doing for a day or two—he did seem very cast down—he used to ring my bell very frequently at all hours, two, three, and four in the morning; I have spoken to him about it, and he said he did not remember it, he was very sorry if he had disturbed me—he was a very excitable man; as far as I know he was a sober man.

    Cross-examined, I have seen him drunk once or twice, I should not like to say more; I don't mean that he was drunk and incapable of taking care of himself; I never saw him incapable or unable to walk; I have not seem him very drunk, it did not strike me that he was drunk on the occasion of ringing the bell and playing the piano; I thought he was a little bit light-headed—he was not drunk at Ramsgate when he ran in his night-shirt; I led him back to the house, and said, "Come, Tom, this won't do"—he only ran a few doors down the road—I told him to go to bed—my opinion was that he was not quite responsible for his actions, because he did such a ridiculous thing—that was two or three years ago; that was the first time in my experience of such eccentric conduct of his—I think we returned home a day or two afterwards; he did not show any further sign—I did not mention this to anybody—I know his wife; I did not mention it to her or to anyone; I did not think it my business to do so; the first time I mentioned it was when I gave my evidence—I have mentioned it to my wife.

    Re-examined. Except once or twice I have never seen the prisoner under the influence of drink; his wife has spoken to me about him more than once, as a neighbour.

    ARTHUR SMITH . I live at 8, Orchard Road, Highgate, and am a commercial traveller—I have known the prisoner fifteen or eighteen months—I met him often, and have asked him what was the matter; his appearance struck me as extraordinary—on the 19th May, two days before this occurrence, he accused me of a breach of contract in not taking a house of him, which I had promised to do, but owing to circumstances I had declined it—I endeavoured to explain the reason to him, but he appeared to take no heed to what I was saying, and he suddenly said, "I posted the letter myself"—I said, "I have had no letter"—he continued talking in aloud tone, and suddenly seized me by the collar and said, "If you did not show me that letter, who did?"—I flung him off, and said, "I don't know what you mean"—he looked at me in a curious manner, and said, "I was not talking to you, I thought I was talking to somebody else"—I was astonished when I heard of the murder—I saw the report in the paper, and I sat down and wrote to Mr. Harding, sen., at twelve o'clock that night, and in that way the defendant's solicitor came to see me, and took my evidence—the prisoner was talking as if there was a third person present—I had no knowledge of his affairs, and the conversation did not relate to anything I knew of—his conduct attracted the attention of passers-by, and people stopped and watched us—he asked me to come to the corner; having

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    been with him before to the Victory, I supposed he referred to that; I refused to go with him—at the very same moment I was about to make some excuse, when a girl who had been walking some distance ahead turned round as if to ask her way, when the prisoner darted after her; and when he got within a yard of her he suddenly came back to where he started from—we were going in the direction of the Victory; I left him standing there in the centre of the road—I offered to shake hands, but he took no notice of me—my impression was that he was out of his mind—I left him purposely, to avoid him; under other circumstances I should have gone with him to the Victory.

    Cross-examined. This was about half-past eight in the evening; quite light enough to distinguish any features—he got within a few yards of the girl—he might have got near enough to distinguish her features.

    JOHN STAPLES . I am a retired tradesman, and live at 42, Adelaide Road—I have known the prisoner between three and four years-his manner is generally very excitable, that was my impression from the first time I had business transactions with him—the first remarkable thing that attracted my attention was that he was always being taken for a detective; he told me so—about twelve months ago I had a tenant who left, shutting up the house and taking the key with him; I appointed the' prisoner to meet me there, to pick the lock—he said, "I will show you how to get into the house," and he went into the forecourt, and dashed his fist through the window of the breakfast parlour, and cut his hand severely, then he drew the catch back, threw up the window, and ultimately let me in, and said, "You will have to pay for this"—on another occasion, some few months afterwards, I was having some repairs done to the roof of a house in Manchester Square, and he said, "Would you like to go up and see what they are doing to the roof?"—I said, "No"—he said, "I will show you how to do it"—there was a ladder there, reaching from the ground to the roof, about forty feet, and he ran up the ladder, and sat on the parapet, swinging his legs for two or three minutes, and then came down again, and said, "It's all right; won't you come up and have a look?"—I said, "Certainly not"—on the Monday before the 21st May he came to my house, which he was decorating; the next door was empty, and he said, "I want to go next door, and take the blossom off those trees, or they will only rot;" he jumped to the top of a small fowl-house, and went through it—I said, "For goodness sake, take care what you are doing!"—he said, "I am only seventeen stone"—he asked me for a knife; I lent him my small pocket-knife, and he said, "I am going to cut off some of these, and take them home to my dad"—instead of cutting off the blossoms, he pulled them off recklessly, and never used the knife at all—my wife was there, and she shouted out, "If Mr. Harding is not a madman I never saw one before"; he was. acting like a madman.'

    And there's a lot more where that come from. Tom Harding hung for the murder of a woman in 1890.

  • #2
    Silly 'ol me, I forgot the best bit:

    ' JAMES GIRDLER . I am a traveller, and live at Burton Villa, Willesden—I have known the prisoner eight or nine years—I have seen more of him the last three or four years—in the last eighteen months I have noticed a great change in him—I should describe it that his intellect has not increased, it has diminished—he showed the change first by the look of his face especially, also by his actions, the way he conducted the

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    business, formerly so smart, now so dull—occasionally he would be talking to an imaginary party, when I have been with him, distinct from anything we were saying—I am no relation of his—I have known him more than once break off in conversation and speak of a different thing altogether—about 5th of May I called at his place and rang the bell, he came and opened the door and asked me to come in—my attention was drawn to a part of a gun on the table that had been gilded or burnished up—I asked him what it was—he said it was part of an old Waterloo gun, which was valuable—I said, "What have you gilded it up for?"—he said, "It gets rusty"—I asked where the other parts were—they were not produced—the conversation went on in the same strain, nothing important, but several times he spoke to himself, and suddenly he turned, round, took out a gun with a bayonet, and said, "You can be accommodated"—I jumped back as far as I could, and said, "Drop that, Tom, Bayonet wounds are bad to heal"—he said, speaking to some other man, not to me, "You shan t," or something; I did not take much notice of it at the time; if I had not moved back quickly, in my opinion the bayonet would have struck me full in the chest—he seemed to treat it as a light matter, more of a laugh—I was thunderstruck—I then looked at him and I noticed that his face had changed, his eyes protruded, and were staring out of his head—he seemed to be talking, not to me, but to some other man beside me—there was then a conversation about revolvers and saloon pistols, he fetched a small saloon pistol to show me, and he offered to show me a revolver upstairs, for which he said he had cartridges—he was perfectly sober; I did not notice the slightest sign of drink—he did not conduct himself like a sane man—that was the last time I saw him, and right glad was I to get downstairs—I have heard him called several names, but nothing particular that I can remember.

    Cross-examined. I have known him by calling at my house for trade purposes, and in social life as well—I have known him to have a glass, but nothing more than that, not a glass too much—I have never seen him take enough to excite him—he took the gun from behind the chimney, and said, "You can be accommodated here"—that was not following any observation of mine as to the inutility of the old gun.'

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    • #3
      Sounds like he needed the Pimple Blaster lotion from a certain Ameriquacktor.

      Seriously, Cap, thank you. A man who went mad from syphilis if I read it right. And murdered. Is part of the transcript missing, please?

      Roy
      Sink the Bismark

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      • #4
        The full transcript is here, Roy



        I'm interested in this case as the murder site is very close to where I live.

        Harding was sentenced to death but his name doesn't appear on the list of people hanged in Britain.
        allisvanityandvexationofspirit

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        • #5
          Originally posted by Stephen Thomas View Post
          Harding was sentenced to death but his name doesn't appear on the list of people hanged in Britain.
          Hi Stephen,

          That's because he wasn't. Here is the notice of his reprieve as published in Trewman's Exeter Flying Post or Plymouth and Cornish Advertiser on 12 July 1890.

          Click image for larger version

Name:	Thomas Harding.jpg
Views:	1
Size:	52.2 KB
ID:	657389

          Regards,

          Mark

          Comment


          • #6
            Just for jolly, here's where this sad case was discovered and discussed four years ago including a photo of the pub where the murder took place. Just out of historical interest there were three pubs in close proximity called Victory, Nelson and Trafalgar in honour of Lord Nelson who as a child spent his summers in a large house that used to occupy the site. The Nelson and Trafalgar are now apartments and the Victory is now, I believe, a biker pub that one has to be fool-HARDY to enter. Sorry to divert the thread slightly, AP, as I can see where you're going with this other Mad Tom.

            allisvanityandvexationofspirit

            Comment


            • #7
              Originally posted by m_w_r View Post
              That's because he wasn't. Here is the notice of his reprieve as published in Trewman's Exeter Flying Post or Plymouth and Cornish Advertiser on 12 July 1890.

              Many thanks for that info, Mark.

              I imagined that this was what must have happened.
              allisvanityandvexationofspirit

              Comment


              • #8
                the compelling case of 'Mad Tom', who just might have been Jack the Ripper
                Apologies if I am being extremely brainless today and that part of A.P's was a joke but why would this murder suggest that Tom Harding could have been the Ripper?? Again, if that was intended as a joke, call me dumb!!
                Best regards,
                Adam


                "They assumed Kelly was the last... they assumed wrong" - Me

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                • #9
                  And I thought he was making a joke about Wescott....silly me!!
                  Cheers,
                  cappuccina

                  "Don't make me get my flying monkeys!"

                  Comment


                  • #10
                    I thought the same thing. Would have been a good one, too.

                    Yours truly,

                    Tom Wescott

                    Comment


                    • #11
                      Originally posted by Stephen Thomas View Post
                      Just for jolly, here's where this sad case was discovered and discussed four years ago including a photo of the pub where the murder took place. Just out of historical interest there were three pubs in close proximity called Victory, Nelson and Trafalgar in honour of Lord Nelson who as a child spent his summers in a large house that used to occupy the site. The Nelson and Trafalgar are now apartments and the Victory is now, I believe, a biker pub that one has to be fool-HARDY to enter. Sorry to divert the thread slightly, AP, as I can see where you're going with this other Mad Tom.

                      http://www.casebook.org/forum/messages/4922/21488.html
                      I am afraid the info given is not correct and wrong pictures have been posted in respect of the Nelson and the Victory. The Victory was at 41 Clarence Road at the time of the murder of the landlord's daughter in 1890. The address of the Victory is not in doubt as the landlord (William Collier) and his wife (Elizabeth) are shown in the 1891 census as being resident at the Victory at 41 Clarence Road.

                      The building remains at what is now 41 Clarence Way and is at the south east corner of the intersection of Castlehaven Road and Clarence Way. On the thread linked to your post on 29 July 2009, this building is referred to erroneously as the Nelson Tavern. But it is without doubt the old Victory building at 41 Clarence Way - note the number "41" to the left of the scaffolding.

                      The picture you have linked to your belief that it is the Victory Tavern is in fact what was the Royal Exchange, later the Fake Club and then the 1949 Bar. Its address is 57 Hartland Road which intersects with Clarence Way by the railway bridge. Viewing via Google Street View shows that the building bears the number "57" on the Clarence Way side.

                      The Nelson Tavern no longer exists. Its address was 49 Victoria Road. Victoria Road became, at some time, Castlehaven Road and some renumbering must have occurred since in its latter years the Nelson had an address at 83 Castlehaven Road. closedpubs.co.uk tells us that the Nelson was demolished and that the site is occupied by 1960's/1970's social housing. Reference via Google Street View shows that No. 83 would have been close to the south-west corner of the intersection of Castlehaven Road and Castle Road. The social housing referred to is clearly seen there on Street View. Note that the odd numbers are on the west side of Castlehaven Road, leaving the even numbers on the east side. Thus 41 on the Victory Tavern building could not be attributed to a Castlehaven Road address as it is on its east side at the intersection of Clarence Way.

                      I hope that this helps.

                      You are correct in saying that Thomas Harding (Mad Tom) was reprieved from the death sentence. On Saturday 28 June 1890, he was told that the sentence would be carried out on Tuesday 15 July, There is a London Morning Post cutting which mentions this. However, the press reported around 9/10 July that 135 petitions containing 7,500 signatures had been delivered to the Home Secretary. These included two declarations from two "lunacy specialists" who ventured a strong opinion that Mad Tom was insane when he committed the murder. As has been correctly reported in this thread a reprieve was given only a matter of a couple of days before 15 July.

                      The 1891 census finds him at Gillingham (Kent) gaol, whilst the 1901 census sees him at Parkhurst Gaol on the Isle of Wight. He was released some time between 1901 and 1911 because the 1911 census shows him at Bury Road, Wood Green, North London. Incredibly, he is back living with the wife he deserted in the 1880's for the woman he killed in 1890! He died about 1917/1918.

                      And how do I know all this? I am the great grandson of Mad Tom Harding!

                      Comment


                      • #12
                        Now there's a quite unbeatable entrance!

                        Welcome to the boards Sawney Bean!

                        All the best

                        Dave

                        Comment


                        • #13
                          Welcome

                          Originally posted by Cogidubnus View Post
                          Now there's a quite unbeatable entrance!

                          Welcome to the boards Sawney Bean!

                          All the best

                          Dave
                          My sentiments exactly, Dave. The post was interesting anyway, but the last line was a real turn-up. Sawney*, I add my own welcome to that of my learned friend.

                          Regards, Bridewell.

                          P.s. *I thought it best to address you as Sawney, rather than Mr Bean.
                          I won't always agree but I'll try not to be disagreeable.

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