Doss Houses in Berner Street?

[Azarna]

Please forgive a rather random sort of question.

I have been searching for ages but still have not been able to confirm whether there were any doss houses operating in Berner Street in 1888.

Does anyone know of any that were? Any details of who owned/ran one would be very gratefully received.

Thank you.

[Joshua Rogan]

It's far from conclusive, but I can't see any on the 1890 insurance map. Apart from the IWEC and two Board schools, it appears to consist of private dwellings, with a couple of pubs, shops and an office. It's possible some (or all) of the houses were rented out as rooms, a la 29 Hanbury Street, but no large doss-houses as far as I can tell.

There's a few tenements in neighbouring Batty Street, if that helps?

[Rosella]

There may have been rooms for rent in private residences in Berner St as Joshua suggests. However, large licensed common lodging houses were, at least nominally, under police supervision and the list below doesn't show any in Berner St.

http://homepage.ntlworld.com/hitch/gendocs/lodging.html

[SirJohnFalstaff]

in Dew's memoirs, he speaks of Berner Street as being subjected of some kind of gentrification; meaning while it remained working class, the paupers had left. It used to have the Tiger's Den nickname, like other streets in different times.

[Azarna]

Thank you very much indeed.

[Joshua Rogan]

This contemporary description of Berner Stret seems to indicate it was fairly quiet but still mostly squalid; the courts leading off of it being difficult to police, and let out in tenements;

http://www.casebook.org/press_reports/boston_daily_globe/bg18881210.html

After another few minutes we were in what my companion tersely described as a beastly locality. A long, ill-paved, narrow, badly-lit street. The lamps are few and far between, and show a flickering, sickly, yellow light.

After the glare of Whitechapel road, the darkness seems trebly bad. The houses are small and squalid, and teeming with life. Late as it is, one must walk carefully for fear of falling over half-naked infants, who crawl about the broken pavements.

Soon we leave the groups of horrible children behind and the thoroughfare looks deserted, and is so quiet that our footsteps ring out startlingly distinct on the still night air.

We cross over, and Mr. B---- points out a door apparently leading into a house, but when he pushes it open I see to my astonishment that it encloses a court, or narrow alley.

I peep down it, and as well as I can see in the blackness - for there is no lamp in the entry - I notice that there are houses at each side. Filthy, ramshackle cottages, evidently let out in tenements, for they seem swarming with human beings.

"You see", says Mr. B----, "there are any amount of these alleys about, and while the police are patrolling the street the Lord only knows what goes on in the courts that branch from the man thoroughfare.

"For instance we passed a couple of constables a few minutes ago; well, they are not able to visit and properly inspect every alley in Berners street. Why, we should want at least a score of men for that duty alone. Look how dark the entries are. If a murder were committed in the street the murderer could easily escape observation by staying in one of the alleys till the first hue and cry was over, and then he could mix with the crowd and get off."

[Joshua Rogan]

It's possible there was a brothel at 62 Berner Street. I may be reading too much into it, but according to this news report, it was a house full of women with a landlady called Madame Munts.....

Morning Avertiser 13th Nov;
At the Marlborough-street Police Court yesterday, before Mr. Hannay, William Avenall, 26, chimney-sweep, Adam and Eve-court, Oxford-street; and Frederick W. Moore, 28, carver and gilder, Carlisle-street, Soho, were charged with being disorderly and with assaulting Henry Edward Leake, an oil and colourman, of Gilbert-street, Oxford-street, on Saturday night.

Leake said that on Saturday evening, about five o'clock, he went into a public-house at the corner of a street, when several persons accosted him. The prisoners accused him of being "Jack the Ripper," and told him that they were detectives in private clothes, and that they should arrest him as the Whitechapel murderer. They took him outside and dragged him in a brutal manner through Castle-street as far as Newman-passage. They struck him with a stick, and he implored them not to be so brutal. They would not let him go, they said, until they knew who he was and where he had been. He told them he had just delivered two gallons of oil at 62, Berners-street, whereupon they said they would take him back and ascertain if his statement were true. He resisted as best he could, and they struggled in the streets together for about three-quarters of an hour. Persons looked at them, and when the prisoners called out, "He's Jack the Ripper. We are detectives." they made off, and did not attempt to render him assistance. He got no protection, and was shaken and bruised until he felt quite disabled. When he got near 62, Berners-street he managed to get away from his assailants and spring down the stairs of that house into the basement, got into the kitchen, and momentarily lost sight of his pursuers. A number of young ladies were at tea, and when Avenall followed and told them they had a strange man in the house, and that he (Avenall) was a private detective, they became terribly frightened, and screamed loudly for the police. Avenall dragged him up the stairs, exclaiming "He's Jack the Ripper."

Madame Munts, the landlady of 62, Berners-street, deposed that the man Leeks had been in the habit of bringing oil, soap, wood, and other articles to the house, and she therefore knew him. Being unacquainted with the prisoner Avenall, she sent for a constable, and he was taken into custody. Leeke became so unwell after the affair that he had to take to his bed.

In defense Avenall said that he and his friends were in the public-house, when they saw Leeke sitting in a corner. He had his head down, and was mumbling something to himself. As he seemed strange in his manner they asked him what was the matter, and he replied, "Don't bother me; I'm in serious trouble." They asked him if they should see him home, and when he told them he lived at 62, Berners-street he (Avenall) doubted it, as he did the chimney-sweeping there, and knowing that it was only occupied by females he expressed his intention of taking him there to ascertain if that statement was correct. On reaching the house Leeke ran down the steps into the basement and shouted to the inmates, "There's a strange man in the house." He (Avenall) followed, and finding Leeke crouching in the cellar, dragged him out. Madame and all the young ladies screammed until one of them, recognising the prosecutor, exclaimed, "Why it is our little oil man," and then they became less excited.

The prisoner Moore said that when he descended the steps he tried to pacify the ladies, telling them that it was only a foolish joke.

Constable Downey, 364 D, said that he saw Avenall holding the prosecutor outside the house in Berners-street. He (Avenall) called out, "Here he is; I have got him. This is 'Jack the Ripper' ; I mean to take him to the police-station. If the b____ police can't do their duty, I can." Being asked who he was, Averall said he was a private detective. The prisoner Moore rushed out of the house, but was pursued and taken into custody. Eventually both the men were conveyed to the police-station. The prosecutor was sober, but the prisoner Averall had been drinking.

A witness for the defense was called, who stated that when the prosecutor entered the public-house, someone exclaimed. "Here's a funny little man; perhaps he's Jack the Ripper." On being questioned, Leeke said his name was Smith, and that he was a tinplate-worker. That statement being doubted, it was resolved to ascertain who and what he was, and in this way the affair commenced.

Mr. Hannay said it was a very dangerous thing for people to personate detectives, and directed Inspector Ettridge to see whether the prisoners could not be further charged with that offence. Very serious results might have arisen out of the affair, which required further inquiry, and he would therefore adjourn the case for a week, allowing bail in the sum of 10£. For each of the prisoners.

[Pcdunn]

Hello, Joshua,

A house full of women in the Victorian age might not be a brothel; I think it is entirely possible it was a female only boarding house for single and widowed women, probably of respectable station and occupations.

Interesting article, thank you for sharing it.

[Simon Wood]

Hi All,

Report of the Medical Officer of Health for Whitechapel 1888—



Regards,

Simon

[Robert]

Hi Joshua

This was #62 Berners St in the west end. This building housed a group - or maybe a circle - of embroideresses (Swiss and French born) headed by Mlle Munz, with one female domestic servant. Munz is neither employer nor employed, while the other embroideresses are employed and listed under relationship to Head as servants. All are single.

The #62 Berner St in the east end housed families.

[Joshua Rogan]

Great info Simon!

Interesting that Fashion Street isn't on the list. I'd always assumed, like Thrawl St and Flowers, that it was full of lodging houses. But checking the maps, sure enough there don't appear to be any, although it is heavily tenemented.

I don't think I'd fancy my chances staying at the one lodging house in Heneage St...

[Joshua Rogan]

This was #62 Berners St in the west end....

The #62 Berner St in the east end housed families.

Ah, thanks Robert for the correction. I didn't realise there were two such similarly named streets.
Still, it's interesting to note that incidences of Ripper panic wasn't just confined to the East End.

And you're right PCDunn, I probably was being a bit cheeky suggesting it was a brothel. It may well have been a perfectly innocent embroidery circle.

[Robert]

Hi Joshua

it's quite interesting. In 1881 the sewing circle was headed by another woman, but Munz was there, this time given as married. In addition, there were several small families living there including what looks like our oilman friend Henry E Leake, his wife and young daughter.

In 1891 just after the census (during which Leake was at another address) Munz married Frederic Huss(e)y, a Swiss grocer.

By 1901 the sewing circle had switched to 55 Poland St and there were embroideresses but also two uniform makers - Annie Leak widow and her daughter Annie age 21. A Henry Edward Leake of roughly the right age died in 1893 and I think this was the Leakes back again with Munz/Hussy. Munz/Hussy had started a family by now and her six-year-old daughter Matilda was on the premises, which would be odd if it were a brothel.

In 1911 the sewing circle was still going strong at 55 Poland St.

[Joshua Rogan]

That is indeed quite interesting. So Leake did actually live at that address at some time, although perhaps not an the time of his attack.

And the Madame became a hussey!

[Joshua Rogan]

I'm not sure it will be of any interest to people, but using Simon's data, I have plotted the locations of the common lodging houses in Whitechapel. As I haven't got any fancy mapping software, I used a paper copy with a grain of corn for each lodging house.....Well, it kept me amused for a while.