Unless I've missed it, no one has mentioned that Maurice Chittenden has just come out with his memoirs: Exclusive!The Last Days of Fleet Street. What an odd coincidence that the electrician story should be re-aired after all these years in two different books coming out at virtually the same time. Lightening strikes twice.
It looks like a damn good read, and a few pages are devoted to l'affaire Maybrick. Chittenden spent three weeks on the story and twice traveled to Liverpool to personally question Mike Barrett. A thoroughly professional journalist, it sure looks like he made all the rounds. It's interesting therefore, that he writes:
"Meanwhile, the boss of the building firm that did the rewiring at Battlecrease, Maybrick's former home, had had the time to quiz his workforce. To a man they denied finding anything under the floorboards, but two said they went drinking in the Saddle, where they might have talked about their work in a house famous for its murderous history."
It's very curious. Very curious.
I suppose this cuts 'both ways.' On one hand, a sensible person might conclude (textual difficulties aside) that this is more direct evidence that the journal didn't come out of Battlecrease; on the other, the possibility that a certain blood-and-bone fixture at the Saddle might have overheard the electricians mentioning their renovations can't be entirely dismissed. But if the electricians didn't find anything what was Barrett supposed to have overheard? The difficulty of tearing up floorboards with a crow bar? Every electrician I have ever known, and I've know quite a few, wouldn't be caught dead tearing up floorboards. They usually bring in the "grunt" to do the hard work, and then they show up, two days later than usually planned, to start stringing the wiring. I dunno. Obviously I wasn't there and have no idea what the arrangements were.
Very curious.
Then, if you look at the Diary itself, almost the last line reads:
"My thoughts will remain in tact [sic], for a reminder to all how love does destroy. I place this now in a place where it shall be found."
But, according to Smith's new provenance it WASN'T FOUND. Not for a 103 years, anyway, but the text obviously raises the possibility that it WILL be found. Which seems a bit of a superfluous thing to write, since if it wasn't found, no one would be reading it in the first place. A false note. [Aside: A few years back, the company I worked for was having email trouble. To the test the system, a new and youngish secretary sent out the following message: "This is a test. Let me know if you don't receive this email." Uh…okay…my dear…thanks! I think!]
Anyway, the date 3 May 1889 (the last line of the Diary) can't be a coincidence. The writer is obviously aware that this was the last day that James Maybrick left the house, went into work in the Knowsley Buildings as per usual, and, later that night, had a dip and an arsenic snort at the Turkish Baths. Afterwards he went home to Battlecrease and, like Jim Morrison once sang, "never made it out alive."
So the writer, to my mind, is either hinting in the text that the provenance lies outside of Battlecrease or is deliberately distancing herself/himself from any potential Battlecrease provenance that is threatening to derail the pet project. Idle speculation, of course. I don't know if one can really draw any conclusions whatsoever from this; it's just me indulging in the futile task of trying to read A.N. Other's mind.
Although I've always agreed with Melvin Harris's view that the Diary's text suggests a very modern creation (post 1988) I admit that I no longer see the Devereux/Kane "solution" as very probable. Devereux is the standard forger's "I got it from a dead guy" provenance that deliberately defies examination. (Mark Hoffman used this on occasion). Yet Barrett is still looking for a blank diary many many months after Devereux's demise, so, unless there is a more direct connection between Barrett and Citizen Kane (the alleged Special K penman), then this wouldn't hold much water. Curious.
It looks like a damn good read, and a few pages are devoted to l'affaire Maybrick. Chittenden spent three weeks on the story and twice traveled to Liverpool to personally question Mike Barrett. A thoroughly professional journalist, it sure looks like he made all the rounds. It's interesting therefore, that he writes:
"Meanwhile, the boss of the building firm that did the rewiring at Battlecrease, Maybrick's former home, had had the time to quiz his workforce. To a man they denied finding anything under the floorboards, but two said they went drinking in the Saddle, where they might have talked about their work in a house famous for its murderous history."
It's very curious. Very curious.
I suppose this cuts 'both ways.' On one hand, a sensible person might conclude (textual difficulties aside) that this is more direct evidence that the journal didn't come out of Battlecrease; on the other, the possibility that a certain blood-and-bone fixture at the Saddle might have overheard the electricians mentioning their renovations can't be entirely dismissed. But if the electricians didn't find anything what was Barrett supposed to have overheard? The difficulty of tearing up floorboards with a crow bar? Every electrician I have ever known, and I've know quite a few, wouldn't be caught dead tearing up floorboards. They usually bring in the "grunt" to do the hard work, and then they show up, two days later than usually planned, to start stringing the wiring. I dunno. Obviously I wasn't there and have no idea what the arrangements were.
Very curious.
Then, if you look at the Diary itself, almost the last line reads:
"My thoughts will remain in tact [sic], for a reminder to all how love does destroy. I place this now in a place where it shall be found."
But, according to Smith's new provenance it WASN'T FOUND. Not for a 103 years, anyway, but the text obviously raises the possibility that it WILL be found. Which seems a bit of a superfluous thing to write, since if it wasn't found, no one would be reading it in the first place. A false note. [Aside: A few years back, the company I worked for was having email trouble. To the test the system, a new and youngish secretary sent out the following message: "This is a test. Let me know if you don't receive this email." Uh…okay…my dear…thanks! I think!]
Anyway, the date 3 May 1889 (the last line of the Diary) can't be a coincidence. The writer is obviously aware that this was the last day that James Maybrick left the house, went into work in the Knowsley Buildings as per usual, and, later that night, had a dip and an arsenic snort at the Turkish Baths. Afterwards he went home to Battlecrease and, like Jim Morrison once sang, "never made it out alive."
So the writer, to my mind, is either hinting in the text that the provenance lies outside of Battlecrease or is deliberately distancing herself/himself from any potential Battlecrease provenance that is threatening to derail the pet project. Idle speculation, of course. I don't know if one can really draw any conclusions whatsoever from this; it's just me indulging in the futile task of trying to read A.N. Other's mind.
Although I've always agreed with Melvin Harris's view that the Diary's text suggests a very modern creation (post 1988) I admit that I no longer see the Devereux/Kane "solution" as very probable. Devereux is the standard forger's "I got it from a dead guy" provenance that deliberately defies examination. (Mark Hoffman used this on occasion). Yet Barrett is still looking for a blank diary many many months after Devereux's demise, so, unless there is a more direct connection between Barrett and Citizen Kane (the alleged Special K penman), then this wouldn't hold much water. Curious.
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