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“A Dangerous Liaison 1880”
Image by brizzle born and bred
image above: Although it was not directly on the route of the new dual-carriageway road running from Bond Street up to the M32 motorway, Wellington Road seemed to partake of the fate of neighbouring Newfoundland Road, which was. Most of its houses and other buildings had been demolished. In the distance can be seen The church tower is St Agnes, off Newfoundland Road.
www.flickr.com/photos/fray_bentos/243467425/
In 1880 Jane Gillard occupied a house in Wellington Road, St Paul’s which ran parallel to Newfoundland Road. Later the road extended to include what was then the Rope Walk.
At the time of the incident it was just a terrace of houses fronting on to the river. Mrs Gillard had settled down for the night when one of her lodgers, a woman she knew as Mrs Eliza Distin, stumbled in.
She was in a distraught state and was bleeding profusely from a wound in her left shoulder. She cried ‘He have stabbed me. He have done it again. Go and see what he is doing’.
She then staggered back to her own room with Jane Gillard in her wake.
The attacker, William Distin, usually, it appears, known as Joe, was later described as being in ‘a stupid state’.
By this time Eliza was collapsing and Mrs Gillard screamed at him ‘You have stabbed your wife and she is dying. What have you done, you villain?’.
As Eliza sank to the floor Distin rose from his chair and advanced towards the injured woman saying ‘Eliza, dear, what have I done? What is the matter?’ to which she replied, ‘You have stabbed me. You have done for me this time.’
Mrs Gillard, concerned at the amount of blood Eliza was losing, ordered Distin to fetch a doctor but when he put on his hat and coat Eliza said ‘You want to go away now you have done it, but you must not’. With this Jane Gillard ran downstairs and fetched George Tilling, landlord of the Holly Branch tavern, also in Wellington Road, who brought a friend along.
Also present was Mrs Emma Bave, a shoemaker’s wife from number 8.
When Mr Tilling saw the extent of Eliza’s injuries he sent his pal to fetch a policeman and tried to staunch the flow of blood by means of applying wet rags to the wound. He found a bloodstained knife on the floor near where the woman lay. He demanded of Distin ‘What made you do this?’ and was told ‘Oh, through jealousy’.
Eliza was clearly alarmed when she realised there was going to be police involvement. She said ‘Oh, don’t fetch a policeman; let me lie and die happy’
Her wish was not to be granted for the police arrived as she spoke. PC John Payne from nearby Trinity Road police station arrived with another officer and George Tilling handed over one bloodstained knife and Emma Bave produced another, also covered in blood which she said had been on the table.
PC Payne informed Distin that they would have to take him into custody at which stage he became very aggressive and swore at them saying that it would take a better man than Payne to do so and he kicked the officer.
When he eventually arrived at the police station he exhibited another show of violence. He was clearly intoxicated and pretended to know nothing of the offence on which he was being charged. He was remanded in custody for a week.
Meanwhile, the police built up their case and pieced together the events leading up to the events of that evening, 27 September 1880. Eliza’s name was not, in fact, Distin but Daniels and her life had been far from ordinary. Born Emily Eliza Tamlin, she had been married to a steward of an ocean-going steamer and she had sometimes travelled with him as a stewardess.
Her husband had died in China in 1866 and she had returned to Bristol and had helped her sister run a public house. For whatever reason she changed careers and became a nurse at the Bristol Royal Infirmary but after about a year she decided to return to working as a stewardess on a route between England and America.
Eventually she decided her travelling days were over and she took up residence with her mother. It was while she was living there that her path disastrously crossed that of William Distin.
He persuaded her to move in with him and pass herself off as his wife. In August 1879 she moved in with him. Her new home was in Philadelphia Street, a thoroughfare which ran from Broad Weir to Water Street and was demolished for the redevelopment of Broadmead in the 1950s-1960s.
Thirty-six-year-old Distin was a cabinet maker by trade. He was employed by a Mr Payne whose workshop was in Castle Ditch. Eliza, who was 39, was said to be ‘devotedly attached to him’ despite the fact their relationship seems to have been a stormy one.
They had moved the short distance to Wellington Road, where they occupied a single room, a week before the attack. There was a reason for this, of which more later.
On the day in question, Monday 27 September, Distin appears to have decided he had had enough of work for the day and persuaded a young workmate, one George Ferris, to go to a pub with him. At a little after 1 o’clock they repaired to the Old Castle. At 5.15 Eliza went to his workplace, discovered he was not there and went to find him.
There was later some dispute as to what was said when she did catch up with him although, at the time, young George said ‘no angry words passed between them’. They sat down together and had a glass of beer but it was noted that, while Distin was not drunk, he was certainly ‘the worse for liquor’.
They stayed in the pub, with George Ferris, until 8.45 when they all walked back to the house in Wellington Road and had some supper. They had brought back a quart of beer which they shared and when George Ferris left them he said they were ‘perfectly good friends’.
So what happened to cause the outbreak of violence?
As it transpired, Distin had a long history of aggressive behaviour and alcoholism caused by, if his counsel at the trial was to be believed, a severe blow to the head when he was working as an apprentice.
Over the years he had made eight or nine suicide attempts.
He had numerous convictions for being drunk and disorderly and as far back as 1866 he had been bound over for ‘violently assaulting his father’. In June 1870 he had tried to kill himself by taking a quantity of ‘Hunter’s Vermin an Insect Destroying Powder’ at his father’s house in Church Lane, Temple.
He was treated at the General Hospital. In September 1872 he was charged with being drunk and disorderly and fighting in Rosemary Street and committed a similar offence in Corn Street 2 months later.
At his trial this behaviour was blamed on a head injury and sunstroke he had suffered while young for, it was said, his early years were full of promise and he was a gifted musician when, while attending the Counterslip school, he was billed as ‘The Distin Prodigy’ performing as one of ‘Dr Mark’s Little Men’.
By 1873 he was becoming more antagonistic towards the police and, as well as being drunk and disorderly he was also charged with resisting arrest and assaulting the police.
By the September of that year his behaviour seems to have spiralled out of control and he was imprisoned for 21 days, with hard labour, for attacking his mother, Maria, and assaulting the police who came to arrest him. The experience did nothing to curb his vicious nature or his dependence on alcohol for, on 11 November, he was again arrested for being drunk, assaulting his mother and Elizabeth Brown and attacking the police when they arrived on the scene.
This time he had to serve 3 months in gaol, again with hard labour. A little over a month after his release he was back inside again following a drunken show of violence towards his sister Emily.
In 1876 he received another three-month sentence for destroying pictures and ornaments at 2 Church Lane, the property of his long-suffering mother.
This time another sister, Rose, bore the brunt of his drunken rage. His life was a series of attacks and arrests, all the incidents being drink-fuelled and most of his aggression seems to have been directed at his family.
In May 1880, by which time he was co-habiting with Eliza, his behaviour had become more extreme and he was arrested for being ‘drunk and disorderly and exposing his naked person in Temple Street’. A little over a month later he was committed to prison for ‘unlawfully cutting and wounding Eliza Daniels at 25 Philadelphia Street by stabbing her in the face with a knife with intent to do her grievous bodily harm’.
This may well be why the pair had to seek alternative accommodation when he was released.
And then, in September 1880, came the final assault. After Eliza was admitted to the infirmary, where once she had worked as a nurse, the surgeon found a deep wound which began in the upper part of the arm and passed through the muscles connecting the chest with the shoulder and ‘was turned by a large vein under the collar bone’. It was from this large vein that the rush of blood emanated.
At first doctors were hopeful that she would make a full recovery but, sadly, an injury had been done to the covering of the lungs and inflammation there led to an infection causing her to go downhill fast.
On 14 October a deposition was taken. Initially she had insisted it was an accident but when it was read back to her she said ‘How can I say it was an accident?’. She died on 16 October.
Meanwhile William Joseph Distin had been remanded in custody. Now he had to face the magisterial enquiry and the inquest. The whole process was somewhat drawn out as a postmortem had to be held and several adjournments had to be made.
At the inquest, which was held at the infirmary, the first to be called was Eliza’s mother, Sarah Tamlin, who lived in Tucker Street which ran off the Rope Walk. She stated that after the incident in June when Distin had attacked Eliza she had begged her daughter to leave him, offering her food and shelter but Eliza would not be swayed.
The clerk to the magistrates, who had taken down the dying woman’s deposition which she had given in front to Distin. During the procedure Distin had challenged her, accusing her of cutting him above one eye but Eliza had averred ‘I had not the heart to hurt a human being, certainly not you’.
Her version of the events on the fateful night were that they had been in a pub on the Rope Walk and that several persons ‘sat down to supper’ with them. She admitted that when he had partaken of too much liquor he had difficulty remembering what events had taken place.
At the hearings Distin was voluble when he disagreed with witness statements. He challenged Eliza’s mental state at the time she made her deposition saying ‘I say she was not right when that evidence was taken. A woman in her right mind would never ask for tea at such times as that’.
He became extremely hot under the collar when Thirza Bryant, their former landlady, was being cross-examined. She is described as being ‘the wife of a labourer, living at 25 Philadelphia Street’.
She testified that the couple had quarrelled frequently when they had been drinking and mentioned the previous occasion when Distin had attacked Eliza. He began to shout at her, saying ‘You’re a liar. Don’t you stand there and tell such **** lies.
You were the one that set her on; you were the one that got her to go and drink and come home and abuse me, and you were the one that struck me and cut my head open you **** ****. You told her to go out on the streets and bring you the money’. The usher then tried to calm him down but Distin refused to be halted.
‘Everyone in the street knows what she is’ he declared. ‘I owe her 2 or 3 shillings and because she won’t get it she comes against me, I suppose.’
On being advised that he was only making things worse for himself he retorted ‘It don’t trouble me. There’s nothing like having your name in the newspapers and giving them something worth the penny. It makes the paper sell better’.
He continued to contradict every word Thirza Bryant uttered insisting ‘It was through her beautiful daughter the row happened’, and I think we are to assume the adjective was used in an ironic sense.
And so it went on, Thirza doggedly giving her evidence, Distin refuting every word, referring to her as ‘the nuisance of Philadelphia Street’ and taunting her with the words ‘I suppose you’re going to have a bob for this lot. It’ll buy you a pint of rum at the King Billy in Philadelphia Street. Oh! She can look fearful and she’s had part of my wages many a time’.
Thirza described the earlier attack when ‘there was blood all over the place. The prisoner was on top of the woman and had almost strangled her, her being black in the face’. She said he had said many times that he would never be happy until he had killed her, adding that the children had heard his threats.
The mention of the children brought forth another rash of venom ‘it’s a pretty lot from the youngest to the oldest’; and he shouted ‘That woman swears and drinks and yet she pretends to go to mothers’ meetings. What does she get there? Why, tea and snacks’.
When asked if he wanted to question her he retorted: ‘Me! Do you think I’m mad?’ to which the rejoinder came from the witness ‘You’re not right’ and a slanging match ensued in which sarcastic reference to Thirza’s attendance at St Barnabas church.
Distin was then committed for trial at the Gloucester Assizes. He was represented by a Mr Valpry who was to struggle to counter the prosecution’s case set out by Messrs Hooper and Poole.
The account of the day’s events leading up to the assault varied little from the inquest evidence although one incident which was mentioned only in passing previously was used by the defence in a vain attempt to explain Distin’s actions.
As will be remembered, two knives were found in the room on the night in question. Valpry pointed out that Eliza had admitted she often used a knife to cut sticks for the fire and his suggestion was that was the explanation for the stabbing – seeing her struggling with the wood he went forward with a knife in his hand in an attempt to help her but being very drunk he stumbled and the knife entered her shoulder.
Much of the earlier evidence relating to past misdemeanours was ruled as inadmissible and so Thirza Bryant’s account of the incident in June and her comments on his treatment of Eliza were cut short.
Mr Justice Denman then summed up, emphasising that committing such a brutal act under the influence of drink was no reason to absolve the man. He said ‘It was no more a defence for him to say that he was at the time drunk, as long as he had the mind to do these things, than if he was to say that he was a man whose name began with John or anything of that nature’.
The jury were out only for a period of 25 minutes and returned a verdict of guilty of wilful murder with a recommendation to mercy on the grounds that they did not believe it was premeditated.
Distin was asked if he had anything to say but did not answer. The judge, donning the black cap, ignored the plea for mercy. Although Distin’s previous history had been ruled as inadmissible it clearly influenced the judge.
He pronounced the death sentence, urging Distin to spend what time was left to him ‘repenting of his conduct’. Distin is reported to having ‘walked firmly from the dock’.
The execution took place on 22 November 1880 and a gallows was erected on a lawn on the west side of the gaol ‘at a point between Cumberland Road and the Floating Harbour’, the first hanging there for 4 years. It seemed he was penitent and stoical during his last days on earth although his fortitude forsook him at the end and, ironically, ‘It was found necessary to administer a stimulant’.
Death was instantaneous and the black flag was raised at 8.04, for the benefit of the crowd, including women and children, shivering by the river bank.
038/365 | Carlinville IL – Macoupin County Jail (Erected 1869) | Project 365/2010
Image by myoldpostcards
This morning, moments before I took this photo of the old Macoupin County Jail, I was approached by a middle-aged woman who asked how to get into the building. The woman had been pounding and tugging on the steel front door, but the the door wasn’t opening and her pounding had not been met with a response. It was clear she was frustrated, so I explained the building was usually locked and, perhaps, she could contact someone regarding a tour. It was at this point I learned she wasn’t interested in a tour; her purpose on this Sunday morning in early February was to bail her son out of jail!
Quickly gathering myself, I explained the building was no longer an active jail. That role ended in 1988 (yes, this really was used as the county jail up until 1988.) I could tell my interest in local history was not shared. She asked if I was certain this small, medival building was no longer a jail. "Yes," was my reply, to which she responded: "So where, then, is my son?"
At this point, I knew not only did I have a photo for my 365 photo-a-day project, but I had a story to go along with it. I suggested she drive a few blocks downtown and ask one of the local shop owners about the location of the jail. Shortly after she drove away, waving as she passed, I learned the new jail was just south of the old one. Although the odds are against my ever having to help another mother find her incarcerated son again, I know that if déjà-vu happens, I’ll be ready with an answer (provided I’m in Macoupin County.) I do hope her son was sprung in time for the Super Bowl.
The Macoupin County Jail has been listed on the National Register of Historic Places since 1976. It was designed by E.E. Meyers, the same architect responsible for the beautiful Macoupin County Courthouse (a.k.a. "The Million- Dollar Courthouse") opposite the jail. The Photoshop poster edges effect has been lightly applied in the processing of this image.
Carlinville is the seat of Macoupin County, and is located about 40 miles south of Springfield on Illinois Rt. 4. The population of Carlinville was 5,685 at the 2000 Census.
For more images of Carlinville, visit my "Carlinville IL" (Set).
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Central Illinois (except Springfield): Central Illinois (except Springfield): Photos relating to the middle section of the "Land of Lincoln" (except for the Capital City of Springfield) may be found in this collection. Every city and town I’ve photographed is contained within its own set, and rural (as in "counrtyside") photographs are grouped by county.
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