The Diary—Old Hoax or New?

[Herlock Sholmes]

Yes, it is surprising, but, as Ike earlier pointed out, that is exactly what the forger must have hoped, which one has to reconcile with the forger having apparently gone to the trouble of finding and using a like-Victorian ink.Mind you, a lot depends on how many examples of James Maybrick's handwriting there are, where they are located, and how easy it is/was to find them. And, of course, whether anybody would go to the trouble of looking. One of the reasons that makes and old forgery attractive is that a forger maybe didn't make any effort to fool anyone, but used the pen and ink in common use at the time he wrote, making no effort to get a sample of Maybrick's handwriting because (a) none were commonly or easily available, or (b) he knew nobody would go to the trouble of looking for any.

I was just wondering if anyone has ever made the suggestion that the diary might have been written by Maybrick but that he wasn’t the ripper?

[Graham]

All of the discussion and arguments on this thread are, of course, simply circular, and have been going on for years without anyone getting any closer to the true origins of the 'Diary'. However, if I may I'd like to make a couple of points:

1] The Chief Chemist of Diamine Inks, Liverpool, Mr Alec Voller, examined the 'Diary' at the offices of Smith Gryphon, and stated that in his opinion the 'Diary' ink was not Diamine ink. He also stated that, in his opinion, the ink did not go on the paper within recent years; and that the document was at least 90 years old (in 1995) and could be older. He added that if he had thought it was a modern ink, he would have said so.
(Ref: The Ripper Diary, Linder, Morris and Skinner, page 206). Diamine Inks was a customer of mine prior to my retirement, and I did actually meet Mr Voller, but very briefly and we had no discussion about the 'Diary', even though it was 'in the news' at the time. Not long afterwards, I also met two former employees of Diamine Inks, who had started their own ink-manufacturing business, and I did discuss the 'Diary' with them. (In fact, one of their ink products was labelled 'Jack The Ripper Ink'!) They were absolute in their belief that Voller was perfectly correct in his assessment of the age of the ink in the 'Diary', visual only that it was, and that if anyone could identify when, approximately, an ink had been put on a paper, then it was Alec Voller.

2] It has occurred to me that anyone hand-writing a document on paper, which is a very absorbent material, would without even being aware of it deposit upon that paper sufficient body fluid, skin-cells, etc., for an accurate DNA trace to be taken. Can anyone advise if the paper of the 'Diary' has ever been subjected to such an analysis? If so, I don't recall reading about it. It could well be that obtaining the DNA of James Maybrick may be impossible, as I believe his family line has died out; but the DNA of other, more modern, people who were, actually or by rumour, associated with the 'Diary', might be available. Just a point to ponder, no more.

Graham

[Eliza]

A couple of observations here, if I may, Eliza.

Firstly, I'd have thought the most common form of forgery in the late 20th century would have been signatures on documents such as cheques, which the fraudster could then cash. So no, I disagree that most forgers 'don't bother to try' to mimic their victim's handwriting. They wouldn't get very far, would they?

Secondly, if you want to apply Occam's Razor, there was no obligation on a forger's part to write a 'fairly lengthy' anything, never mind 'such a long document' as you describe the diary, knowing they couldn't even make a stab at copying Maybrick's handwriting. You say that even a professional would find it difficult, so why would an amateur risk doing much more than just a few lines and a signature, if the only purpose was to make a quick buck from a signed Jack the Ripper confession which could only be disproved by an alibi for the real James Maybrick?

Whoever made the scratches in the watch did manage to mimic James Maybrick's signature, as it appears on his marriage licence. But I guess this could have been because it wasn't a lengthy confessional piece but more of a companion piece, featuring just a few scratched initials and words. Much more sensible for any amateur forger to attempt - more like a forged cheque in fact.

We have been led to believe that Anne could have disguised her handwriting successfully over the diary's 63 pages, while not trying to copy Maybrick's. Whether this would also be 'unthinkably arduous, especially for an amateur', I am not qualified to guess. But if even a professional would find it difficult to produce a disguised hand throughout, which bore no similarity to their own and could not be positively identified from any characteristics in common, would this suggest Anne had to be ambidextrous if she held the pen? If so, did she also possess the uncanny foresight to keep the fact to herself, or at least "in the family", just in case she ever wanted to put this useful but uncommon skill to good effect in a fairly lengthy fake diary?

Once again, I am left to wonder how the person who held the pen could fail to be aware, before the ink was dry, that they would inevitably come under suspicion, purely by association, when the first person questioned the diary's authenticity, as they surely would. It would take a hugely naive and deluded forger, in 1992, to imagine its authenticity would not be doubted, especially knowing they had made no attempt to copy Maybrick's handwriting - because they couldn't!

Love,

Caz
X

Thanks for this, Eliza.

I wouldn't say that Mike was typical of 'most people' when his world collapsed in early 1994, but how about:

His real or perceived intimidation by Paul Feldman?
His perceived fleecing by all those in control of the royalty purse strings?
His compromised reasoning ability, due to paranoia and perceived intimidation [everyone is out to get him and snatch the diary from him]?
His substance use and abuse [alcohol]?
His mental instability?
His limited abilities with spelling, grammar, handwriting and typing [fully acknowledged by himself and on painful display in much of his correspondence with various parties]?
His pathological attention-seeking [including phoning Shirley and co at all hours to spout palpable nonsense about what he has achieved in his fantasy world]?
Fear, on the part of the suspect, that the only option he has left to take back control of the diary is to claim he wrote it himself - and, when that doesn't work, to claim he was part of a gang of four: his housebound friend and his father-in-law, now both deceased, and the estranged wife he blames for taking his daughter away from him?

Still not sure anything on your list applied to Barrett?

Love,

Caz
X

I don't think the researchers in question, that compiled the list of most common reasons for false confession, were referring to alleged "intimidation" by a private individual--but rather very real, and potent, intimidating tactics from law enforcement. If some regular individual, with no legal or other authority, were pestering one of us about an interesting find we came upon--how would that trigger a detailed confession-- one that could land the confessor in legal jeopardy, not to mention social condemnation and ridicule? A request for a restraining order would be a more appropriate and expected response, especially if the "intimidated' party has retained a lawyer. It would, in fact, be standard legal advice.

If Barrett were perceiving himself as "fleeced" and victimized, why would he open himself to even more victimization by an admission of fraud/forgery? He would also be killing the goose that might keep laying his golden eggs.

If Barrett were truly a "pathological attention seeker," who wanted attention by way of false confession of forgery--why did he wait so long to confess? The short answer is: he tried for as long as he could to keep the truth hidden, but ultimately broke down and confessed-like so many amateurish miscreants.

Finally, I don't think one "takes back" an allegedly monumental and historic find by claiming it was all a hoax.

[PaulB]

And I still find it surprising, to say the least, that the forger apparently didn’t anticipate anyone finding out very quickly that the handwriting didn’t match Maybrick’s own. Or did he just hope that no one would notice?

Yes, it is surprising, but, as Ike earlier pointed out, that is exactly what the forger must have hoped, which one has to reconcile with the forger having apparently gone to the trouble of finding and using a like-Victorian ink.Mind you, a lot depends on how many examples of James Maybrick's handwriting there are, where they are located, and how easy it is/was to find them. And, of course, whether anybody would go to the trouble of looking. One of the reasons that makes and old forgery attractive is that a forger maybe didn't make any effort to fool anyone, but used the pen and ink in common use at the time he wrote, making no effort to get a sample of Maybrick's handwriting because (a) none were commonly or easily available, or (b) he knew nobody would go to the trouble of looking for any.

[Sam Flynn]

Completely and utterly wrong, Gareth!

Sorry you think like that, but I don't believe I'm remotely wrong.

Back then, to "give someone a call" was inevitably to pay that person a visit

Ordinary people have long been able to "call" someone by shouting their name, or to "call on" someone in the sense of visiting them... but we don't talk about "giving" someone a visit, do we, and I doubt that many people ever have.

However, ordinary people have been able to speak of "giving someone a call" since that phrase passed into everyday parlance after telephones had become widely used.

[caz]

Thankee, Caz

Indeed, but "he will call" could be used in both the "visiting" and the "telephone" sense, which can't be said of "I'll give her/him/you a call", which is heavily shifted towards the "telephone" end of the spectrum.

Completely and utterly wrong, Gareth! This is really, really simple if you can just tear yourself away from your phone for five seconds.

In the late 20th century, we can use "he will call" in both senses, but we often need another clue to indicate whether he will call using his phone or the doorbell.

In the late 20th century, to "give someone a call" would usually imply by telephone, unless otherwise indicated. But - and it's a big one [all that sitting around on my phone I'm afraid] - the opposite would have applied in the late 19th century, when 'Sir Jim' is meant to be showing Victoria his knife, getting knotted, sorry, knighted by her, and taking away all [to rhyme with 'tonight he will call'] from some unknown place or person. Back then, to "give someone a call" was inevitably to pay that person a visit. No ifs, buts or maybes. It just was - and the diary reflects this usage.

I fail to understand why you can't simply acknowledge the fact with good grace.

Love,

Caz
X

[caz]

The point is this. On the face of it, the "diary" had no intrinsic value, so why keep it? Why not throw it away? In this respect it's not at all like a medal, which clearly does have value. And if they thought it had value, why was it not sold or taken to an auctioneers or antique shop to be valued.

Hi John,

You make an interesting and useful observation. You seem to be allowing for people to have different opinions on the diary's potential value and what should be done with it [which I suppose applies to the posters here too!]. So in principle, an electrician finding this "old book" under floorboards, even though it is signed Jack the Ripper, might think it had no intrinsic value and might have little interest in it personally, and might therefore sell it on for a modest sum down his local, reasonably confident that the owner of the floorboards didn't know it was there and wouldn't miss it?

But the bloke who buys it for this modest sum, on a "no questions asked" and "no telling tales" basis, might be a very different kettle of fish, impulsively thinking of his next move and how quickly he might capitalise on his funny little bargain and turn it into a giant windfall? He wouldn't have been told where the book came from or when, so he'd have to come up with a workable tale from Liverpool, but he'd worry about that later. Hadn't the fella reassured him that no other bugger alive knows anything about it, so he can afford to be a bit creative with his story telling, as long as it leaves him as the legitimate owner, with nobody rushing to contradict him?

Yes, I can certainly see the possibilities you raise here.

Considering that the "one-off " problem effectively destroys any legitamacy the diary may have had, it's legitimate to consider how a hoax diary ended up in the possession of the Barretts.

It's perfectly legitimate to explore how the diary might have ended up in the possession of the Barretts, regardless of any other considerations. In fact, I don't think you can legitimately put a date on the diary, or identify its creator(s), or guess the motivation behind it, without doing so.

And I never said Tony Devereaux was given the diary in a pub! I stated that he gave Mike the diary in a pub.

Mike may have been given the diary in a pub by someone, and I am inclined to believe it. But he never claimed that someone was Tony Devereux [no a] and he never claimed he was given it in a pub.

His story remained consistent and insistent, when he wasn't trying to make his forgery claims stick. He claimed Tony gave it to him, but claimed it was when he called round his house, in the same road where one of the Battlecrease electricians lived.

It's rather hard to explore how the diary ended up with anyone, without knowing what was claimed by whom.

Love,

Caz
X

[Sam Flynn]

Okay, Gareth... don't let me stop you.

Thankee, Caz

But here again is what Sir Jim wrote about himself earlier in relation to calling:

tonight he will call...

Isn't that also like wot we say when we talk about phoning somebody?

Indeed, but "he will call" could be used in both the "visiting" and the "telephone" sense, which can't be said of "I'll give her/him/you a call", which is heavily shifted towards the "telephone" end of the spectrum.

[caz]

But he's not talking about Queen Victoria there... of whom he says he might "give a call". Like wot we say when we talk about phoning somebody, Caz.

Okay, Gareth. If you are so determined to split hairs and still hear those phones ringing, while the diary itself remains silent on the matter, don't let me stop you.

But here again is what Sir Jim wrote about himself earlier in relation to calling:

tonight he will call...

Isn't that also like wot we say when we talk about phoning somebody?

"He will call tonight" or "I'll call later". That would typically imply a phone call these days, without further qualification, wouldn't it? If we meant a visit in person, surely we'd be much more likely to say: "He will pop round tonight", or "I'll see you later", or even "I'll call on her at the weekend".

Fortunately, the above example goes on to make it crystal clear that Sir Jim did not mean he would phone anyone tonight, from the comfort of his study or office, but would physically take himself off in a 19th century gentleman's way, to where he could fill his boots.

...and take away all.

In the days before phones became an everyday convenience, let alone an absolute necessity, a call was a call, whether you were paying a call, making a call, giving a call or simply calling. Even a calling card was left by a personal caller in the absence of the person they came to see. Almost all calls would have referred to visits in 1888, so there was not yet much call for making the modern linguistic distinction between a physical call and a call made via the newfangled blower.

If the simpler explanation also works better in a late 19th century setting and context, it ain't broke, so the only alarm bell sounding off is of your own making.

Love,

Caz
X

[John Wheat]

The diary is clearly a modern hoax.

[caz]

Actually, false confessions are not particularly common. Most people can come through even a lengthy police interrogation just fine, without making a bogus confession (if the interrogation is conducted properly.)

Here are some of the main causes of false confessions, according to researchers (Innocence Project: Cooley, M., Craig, and Turvey E. Brent. Miscarriages of Justice: Actual Innocence, Forensic Evidence, and the Law. 1st ed. Academic Press, 2014. p116):

• Real or perceived intimidation by law enforcement
• Compromised reasoning ability of the suspect, due to fear or intimidation, substance use, mental instability, or limited education. Young people who do not understand their rights and are taught to please authority figures are particularly vulnerable.
• Pathological attention-seeking.
• Devious interrogation techniques, such as untrue statements about the presence of incriminating evidence
• Fear, on the part of the suspect, that failure to confess will yield a harsher punishment.

Not sure any of these apply to Barrett.

Thanks for this, Eliza.

I wouldn't say that Mike was typical of 'most people' when his world collapsed in early 1994, but how about:

His real or perceived intimidation by Paul Feldman?
His perceived fleecing by all those in control of the royalty purse strings?
His compromised reasoning ability, due to paranoia and perceived intimidation [everyone is out to get him and snatch the diary from him]?
His substance use and abuse [alcohol]?
His mental instability?
His limited abilities with spelling, grammar, handwriting and typing [fully acknowledged by himself and on painful display in much of his correspondence with various parties]?
His pathological attention-seeking [including phoning Shirley and co at all hours to spout palpable nonsense about what he has achieved in his fantasy world]?
Fear, on the part of the suspect, that the only option he has left to take back control of the diary is to claim he wrote it himself - and, when that doesn't work, to claim he was part of a gang of four: his housebound friend and his father-in-law, now both deceased, and the estranged wife he blames for taking his daughter away from him?

Still not sure anything on your list applied to Barrett?

Love,

Caz
X

[caz]

A forger might "make an effort" at forging handwriting, but it would take a real expert to succeed. It's one matter to change or modify handwriting (though even this would not be easy for most of us) but quite another to mimic the specific writing of another individual, in all its subtleties and complexities. That's why, as far as I know, most forgers don't bother to try. I think Occam's Razor applies here: the reason the diarist did not try to copy Maybrick's handwriting is because he couldn't. The diary is fairly lengthy--and trying to copy Maybrick's real handwriting in such a long document would be unthinkably arduous, especially for an amateur. Even a professional would find it difficult.

A couple of observations here, if I may, Eliza.

Firstly, I'd have thought the most common form of forgery in the late 20th century would have been signatures on documents such as cheques, which the fraudster could then cash. So no, I disagree that most forgers 'don't bother to try' to mimic their victim's handwriting. They wouldn't get very far, would they?

Secondly, if you want to apply Occam's Razor, there was no obligation on a forger's part to write a 'fairly lengthy' anything, never mind 'such a long document' as you describe the diary, knowing they couldn't even make a stab at copying Maybrick's handwriting. You say that even a professional would find it difficult, so why would an amateur risk doing much more than just a few lines and a signature, if the only purpose was to make a quick buck from a signed Jack the Ripper confession which could only be disproved by an alibi for the real James Maybrick?

Whoever made the scratches in the watch did manage to mimic James Maybrick's signature, as it appears on his marriage licence. But I guess this could have been because it wasn't a lengthy confessional piece but more of a companion piece, featuring just a few scratched initials and words. Much more sensible for any amateur forger to attempt - more like a forged cheque in fact.

We have been led to believe that Anne could have disguised her handwriting successfully over the diary's 63 pages, while not trying to copy Maybrick's. Whether this would also be 'unthinkably arduous, especially for an amateur', I am not qualified to guess. But if even a professional would find it difficult to produce a disguised hand throughout, which bore no similarity to their own and could not be positively identified from any characteristics in common, would this suggest Anne had to be ambidextrous if she held the pen? If so, did she also possess the uncanny foresight to keep the fact to herself, or at least "in the family", just in case she ever wanted to put this useful but uncommon skill to good effect in a fairly lengthy fake diary?

Once again, I am left to wonder how the person who held the pen could fail to be aware, before the ink was dry, that they would inevitably come under suspicion, purely by association, when the first person questioned the diary's authenticity, as they surely would. It would take a hugely naive and deluded forger, in 1992, to imagine its authenticity would not be doubted, especially knowing they had made no attempt to copy Maybrick's handwriting - because they couldn't!

Love,

Caz
X

[Herlock Sholmes]

I not up-to-speed with th "diary" anymore, but it does bother me that the forger seems to have made some effort to create a fake that would pass examination - after all, Shirley went straightaway to the British Museum and a leading antiquarian bookseller and would in due course take the diary for other tests. Would the forger have anticipated this and taken the necessary action? After all, Melvyn Fairclough got a book published about the alleged Abberline diaries without the publisher apparently asking to see the diaries or seeking any independent opinion, so why would someone imagine that the Maybrick "diary" would be different? Yet apparently the forger did try to use a Victorian-like ink, obtain a period book in which to write, and do goodness-knows what else.

And I still find it surprising, to say the least, that the forger apparently didn’t anticipate anyone finding out very quickly that the handwriting didn’t match Maybrick’s own. Or did he just hope that no one would notice?

[PaulB]

Good point about the ink. I'm not certain what the motive would have been but, as you suggest, as an innocent hoax, simply intended to give Mike a project to work on, why go to the trouble of trying to fake the age of the diary at all?

Anne's account doesn't make any sense to me at all. Thus, as I understand it, the diary had supposedly been in her family's for decades, implying it was treated like some old and important family heirloom. And yet, no one, until Anne, appears to have even read it, let alone taken steps to get valued, or to find out more about it etc.

And when Anne decided to give the diary to Mike- apparently because she'd hoped he'd write a book about it, because he apparently had literary ambitions (this seems a bit bizarre to me)- she doesn't just hand it to him, but arranges a convoluted plot, whereby he receives the diary via a third party in a pub! Very odd indeed.

I not up-to-speed with th "diary" anymore, but it does bother me that the forger seems to have made some effort to create a fake that would pass examination - after all, Shirley went straightaway to the British Museum and a leading antiquarian bookseller and would in due course take the diary for other tests. Would the forger have anticipated this and taken the necessary action? After all, Melvyn Fairclough got a book published about the alleged Abberline diaries without the publisher apparently asking to see the diaries or seeking any independent opinion, so why would someone imagine that the Maybrick "diary" would be different? Yet apparently the forger did try to use a Victorian-like ink, obtain a period book in which to write, and do goodness-knows what else.

[caz]

Pillar of Sand is the title? David must be growing soft. I would have guessed Society's Pillock.

Morning R.J,

Now that was funny.

In fact, Society's Pillock is a better and wittier way of putting it than my own weak contribution of a Bore of Very Little Brain.

That is exactly how the jumped-up, talentless 'Sir Jim' of the diary has always appeared to me, and I just can't see a hoaxer giving that impression by accident. It's writ large throughout the text: 'Tis I - Societys Pillock. Oh costly bollox, I meant to write Pillar. That bastard Lowry will pay for this.'

Love,

Caz
X