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I think it unlikely that any of the letters were from JTR, and the Lusk Letter is no exception. It's such an obvious piece of grand guignol that it was probably nothing more than a macabre prank.
Spot on. But more a cash grab than a prank, I' reckon.
Mr Albert Backert, Chairman of the so called Whitechapel Vigilance Association, has been writing himself fearsome letters again signed 'Jack the Ripper.' At the time of the original scare, Mr Backert, who is a consequential small tradesman in the murder neighborhood, recognised a glorious opportunity for self-advertise-ment. He instituted the Vigilance patrol, discovered all sorts of strange facts and circumstances which the police had somehow overlooked, and crammed those scores of hungry reporters and amateur detectives who then infested the neighborhood with his unique experiences. As a result the name of Albert Backert became familiar to our ears as household words. He positively permeated the Whitechapel tragedies, and claimed increased importance and notoriety with each new assassination. Unfortunately even murder scares don't last for ever.
After a time the memory of Jack the Ripper began to fade, and Mr Backert, horrified, saw himself sinking back gradually into black obscurity. Obviously something must be done. Better a sham Jack the Ripper than no Jack the Ripper at all. Mr Backert's first little comedy consisted of a mysterious interview with an unknown and untraceable female who knew Jack well ; and was a great success till the Star made fun of it. Since then Mr Backert has not been, to use Whitechapelese, 'so much thought on.' He still, however, remains the local authority on the murders ; and all the curious Americans and Australians who venture to the scene of the fabled Ripper's exploits are referred to him. When sober, or merely 'a little on,' the great man's narratives are highly entertaining, but on Mondays and Tuesdays, according to the police, he is ' mostly boozed.' This fact transpired at the Thames Police Court on Wednesday, whither Mr Backert was haled for being (drunk and disorderly. The police are long suffering with rowdiness in Whitechapel, but on Monday the Chairman of the Vigilance Committee tried them too far. After being forcibly ejected four times from the shop of an unbelieving butcher, who threw doubts on his 'Ripper rot,' Mr Backert got up a fight in the street. This was too much, and that night the great man made acquaintance with the cells, to which he has so often in imagination consigned ensanguined murderers.
Mr Albert Backert, Chairman of the so called Whitechapel Vigilance Association, has been writing himself fearsome letters again signed 'Jack the Ripper.' At the time of the original scare, Mr Backert, who is a consequential small tradesman in the murder neighborhood, recognised a glorious opportunity for self-advertise-ment. He instituted the Vigilance patrol, discovered all sorts of strange facts and circumstances which the police had somehow overlooked, and crammed those scores of hungry reporters and amateur detectives who then infested the neighborhood with his unique experiences. As a result the name of Albert Backert became familiar to our ears as household words. He positively permeated the Whitechapel tragedies, and claimed increased importance and notoriety with each new assassination. Unfortunately even murder scares don't last for ever.
After a time the memory of Jack the Ripper began to fade, and Mr Backert, horrified, saw himself sinking back gradually into black obscurity. Obviously something must be done. Better a sham Jack the Ripper than no Jack the Ripper at all. Mr Backert's first little comedy consisted of a mysterious interview with an unknown and untraceable female who knew Jack well ; and was a great success till the Star made fun of it. Since then Mr Backert has not been, to use Whitechapelese, 'so much thought on.' He still, however, remains the local authority on the murders ; and all the curious Americans and Australians who venture to the scene of the fabled Ripper's exploits are referred to him. When sober, or merely 'a little on,' the great man's narratives are highly entertaining, but on Mondays and Tuesdays, according to the police, he is ' mostly boozed.' This fact transpired at the Thames Police Court on Wednesday, whither Mr Backert was haled for being (drunk and disorderly. The police are long suffering with rowdiness in Whitechapel, but on Monday the Chairman of the Vigilance Committee tried them too far. After being forcibly ejected four times from the shop of an unbelieving butcher, who threw doubts on his 'Ripper rot,' Mr Backert got up a fight in the street. This was too much, and that night the great man made acquaintance with the cells, to which he has so often in imagination consigned ensanguined murderers.
I wonder if it was not for the kidney would anyone be talking about this letter now? It was certainly an attention grabber but in terms of content, not massively different from the hundreds of other letters sent. Am I correct in assuming that the bulk of the letters received come after 'Dear Boss' and that by mid October there was a steady flow?
Thinking about it, I am surprised that more random pieces of offal were not sent through the post!
This gets discussed here a lot. My opinion is that the fact that the writing reads exactly like Englishmen of that era trying to write an Irish accent suggests that this is exactly what happened: an Englishman was trying to write that letter in an Irish accent.
ive always seen dear boss as written by someone who was drunk, and not pretending to be anything.
I think the misspsellings look a bit too contrived (kidne, nise, knif, wate, whil), especially as he knew of the silent k. Personally I think the two supposed irish words are nothing of the sort and follow the same pattern of being misspelt but basically phonetically correct - I think sor is actually sur and prasarved is prasurved.
Openshaw is similar but has even more comedy misspelings: rite, kidny hoperate, agin, ospitle, dror, nife, awil, devle, mikerscope. And yet the author managed to spell pathological and curator correctly on the envelope. This makes sense to me as you want to make sure the letter actually gets to the correct place. Shame we don't have the from hell envelope as I wouldn't mind betting the address was neater without mistakes.
I think the misspsellings look a bit too contrived (kidne, nise, knif, wate, whil), especially as he knew of the silent k. Personally I think the two supposed irish words are nothing of the sort and follow the same pattern of being misspelt but basically phonetically correct - I think sor is actually sur and prasarved is prasurved.
Openshaw is similar but has even more comedy misspelings: rite, kidny hoperate, agin, ospitle, dror, nife, awil, devle, mikerscope. And yet the author managed to spell pathological and curator correctly on the envelope. This makes sense to me as you want to make sure the letter actually gets to the correct place. Shame we don't have the from hell envelope as I wouldn't mind betting the address was neater without mistakes.
ugg i meant to say saucy jack, not dear boss. but yes i see your point on contrived. but to me saucy jack seems to be written by someone who was drunk.. the big flourishes, overall sloppyness and even tje misspellings. but i get your idea. still to me seems someone ill educated who was wasted, who knew how to spell some of the idiosyncratic words of the english language but not others. no big wup.
"Is all that we see or seem
but a dream within a dream?"
-Edgar Allan Poe
"...the man and the peaked cap he is said to have worn
quite tallies with the descriptions I got of him."
-Frederick G. Abberline
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