Chapter 36: An Ill Wind...

Now that Margaret's people had moved to Barrow-in-Furness, the Watsons stayed at home on Sundays. The exception was if the weather was very warm and sunny. Some summer Sundays were spent on the beach, at Morecambe or Heysham.

Margaret missed seeing her parents and hoped that she and Gordon would save enough to go and see them in August.

Henry or Gordon and sometimes both would take Michael and Gwyn out for an hour before dinnertime. "Out from under my feet while I prepare the meal!" Margaret said.

On their return, before he took his coat off, Michael went on his weekly errand to the little shop. It was just two houses down the street past Aunt Elsie's. His mother gave him an empty bottle of Tizer and tuppence-halfpenny, to go and buy a new big bottle. The Tizer cost threepence-halfpenny but there was a penny back on the bottle.

One Sunday, she gave him a shilling. "As well as the Tizer, ask Mrs. Hawes to let you have a tin of black shoe polish. Your Dad's run out of it and he needs to clean his boots for the morning."

Michael walked down to the shop. Joan was playing a skipping-game outside her house."Hello Michael," she said.

"Hello, Joan. I didn't know your mam let you play out on a Sunday."
"Well, she doesn't often. But she said I could today so long as I stay on my own and play near the house."

Michael went on to the shop. It should have been closed. Only newspapers were sold legally on Sundays, but the owner, Mrs. Hawes, risked it. You never saw any policemen down Edward Street and nobody thought about reporting her.

It was only a tiny shop. She sold stuff from what had been her front parlour. There was a counter with weighing scales on it and the door at the back of the shop led straight into her living room. She did her housework but kept one ear cocked for the bell ringing when someone opened the shop door. A few shelves held an assortment of tins and packets and balls of wool and reels of cotton. She kept crates of pop on the floor.

Mrs Hawes sold anything which she thought would sell. She avoided produce and any item which might rot or deteriorate quickly, because her place was no exception to all the other houses in the street. There were signs of damp everywhere. She could never guarantee a quick sale of anything, but sealed packs or strips of Aspirins and bottles of cough mixture sold steadily.

The shop doorbell rang as Michael opened it. Mrs Hawes came out of her living-room and lifted a section of the counter. She went behind it, greeted Michael and asked for his order.

"A bottle of Tizer and a tin of black boot polish please!"
"Cherry Blossom?" Michael knew his Dad used that make so he said, "Yes, please!" and handed over the empty Tizer bottle and received his goods and change.

Going back up the street, disaster struck! He was proud of going this errand and he always carried the full bottle carefully. He never ran. But today, he stumbled over an uneven flagstone. He was passing Next-door's empty house when it happened. He dropped everything he was carrying. The tin of polish rolled off the pavement into the gutter. His change went everywhere. The bottle fell to the pavement and smashed to smithereens. The Tizer was spilt and stained the pavement reddish-pink. He burst into tears.

He went into the house bawling, quite inconsolable. His pride was injured after his fall! Margaret went outside to sweep up all the glass fragments. Gordon went to the shop for a fresh bottle of pop. Gwyn cried in sympathy with Michael during the confusion. Margaret forgot the oven. The dinner burned.

Dad was all right about it, though. "Well our Michael, at least I can clean my boots now!" He'd found the tin and picked up all the change.

Much worse was to come the next weekend.

Michael had grown in confidence. He went across to the slide and swings on his own, soon after he arrived home from school. It still got dark early but sometimes he stayed there as long as an hour. He was friendly with some of the kids in his class and they came and played with him there.

Then one afternoon after school a stranger, a lad about twelve or thirteen, appeared on the playground. He was quite well-dressed and he had a pleasant smile as he approached Michael and his group. They were playing with marbles near the roundabout.

He was carrying a long poker. It was the sort that Michael's Dad used for poking their fire. He held it out towards the younger lads.

"Anybody want to learn a magic trick?"

The youngsters looked interested so he continued, "Somebody hang onto the other end of this and I'll show you." He was still smiling his disarming smile.

Gullible Michael grasped the end of the poker and felt a searing pain. There was a smell of his own flesh burning. The young lout had heated the poker in the fire at his home. It was nearly red hot. He'd come there with the sole intention of hurting someone. Michael screamed in agony and fled back home. The obnoxious youngster ran off down the street shouting, "The trick is, 'Never trust a stranger'!"

By the time Margaret examined Michael's hand blisters were already appearing on the palm. The stranger had disappeared down Lodge Street. She spread butter very gently on the burns and wrapped the hand in a clean bandage. Michael cried for a long time. It really hurt. He wasn't kidding. There was no play-acting.

Gordon arrived home for his meal half-an-hour later. Margaret demanded he go straight to Lancaster Police Station and report what had happened. PC Bracewell was on duty. He was sympathetic. He wrote notes down in the incidents' book. He said he could not promise anything, but he'd look into it.

"I'll have someone visit the Boys' National School down St. Leonardgate and see if we can find the culprit. He might be a pupil there."

They never found the strange boy. After that, Margaret wouldn't let Michael go to the playground on his own. She took Gwyn there and kept an eye on Michael at the same time.
"I'm here to be with Gwyn, not you. Nobody's going to call you 'Mummy's Boy' if I'm not with you." Michael agreed because he enjoyed being with his new school friends. Every day Margaret won some time from doing her chores. Before they went she made most of the preparations for the evening meal. The man of the house in from a hard day's work expected his meal to be ready on time! It was their only hot meal of the day and they all sat down together for it.

"Speak when you're spoken to!" was the rule.
"Your eyes are bigger than your stomach," was the comment, if Michael's plate was not cleared of all the food which he'd requested.

Any unasked for comment about adult conversation was dismissed with, "Little pigs have big ears! Children should speak when they're spoken to!"

Gordon seemed to have an apt saying for every possible occasion. The best thing to do was to shut up and eat up!

It was a Monday evening not long after the hot poker incident. Gordon came home from work bursting with news. He took Margaret into the kitchen. The children did not hear what he had to relate.

"Have you heard about Celia Wilkinson?" he whispered.

"No,"said Margaret. All she knew was that Celia had not stopped to have a word that day. The last time she had seen her had been before the weekend on Friday. She'd was her usual talkative, friendly self.

Margaret asked, knowing from Gordon's faccial expression that it was something serious, "What's happened?"

"She's dead!"
"No! I don't believe it!"

"It's true enough. Talking about nothing else at work. And look!" Gordon had bought a Lancashire Evening Post on his way home. It was on the front page, 'Mysterious Deaths of Lancaster Man and Woman'.

Margaret read on, 'Walking her dog, early yesterday morning, along the Canal Banks at Lancaster, June Gable saw two bodies floating under Penny Street Bridge. Miss Gable went to Lancaster Police Station and reported what she had seen. The bodies were retrieved from the water and are understood to be those of Celia Wilkinson and Keith Townsend both of Lancaster. Both persons were employed at Moor Lane Mill. There is to be a post mortem.'

There had to be an inquest. The deaths caused quite a stir. Not on the scale of the Ruxton murders but everyone locally wondered what had happened. At the inquest, it was ascertained that both had died by drowning. Fatty Townsend had a big bruise on the back of his head. It could have been sustained when he fell in the water and hit his head on the stone-banking under the bridge.

Miss Wilkinson's coat pockets had been filled with heavy stones and this seemed to point in a certain direction.

The inquest produced an open verdict, but there were many opinions about what had happened. The women at the mill were sure that Celia had killed Fatty and then drowned herself.

Not long afterwards, Margaret Watson had a visit from Cornhill's clerk. Could she go and see Mr. Cornhill the solicitor?

She left Gwyn with Elsie and went immediately. Mr. Cornhill showed her into his office. His manner was professional but very pleasant and polite. Margaret had no idea what it was all about.

Very worried, she asked, "Is it serious? Am I in trouble? Is it my husband's politics?" Gordon had been to Manchester recently for a demonstration against Mosley's Blackshirts and there had been a riot and arrests. Gordon had sworn to her that he'd kept well away from the centre of the trouble.

The old man quickly reassured her. "Nothing like that at all Mrs. Watson. It's something to your advantage."

Celia Wilkinson had left her two hundred pounds!

The only condition was that Margaret must take care of Celia's four cats which she had deposited with a local vet the day before she died.

Two hundred pounds and four cats! What a curious and entirely unexpected legacy!

Chapter Eight: The Trial of Buck Ruxton

The Ruxtons
(A Drama About A Lancaster Othello)

Red stains in the sunset,
Red stains on the knife,
Old Dr. Ruxton you murdered your wife.

The maid came and caught you,
You murdered her too,
Now Dr Ruxton what are we to do?

They'll hang you tomorrow,
They'll not spare you 'tis sure,
And then Dr Ruxton will murder no more.

Red Stains on the carpet,
Why Dr. Ruxton did you murder your wife?

Those were the verses on the broad-sheet which was circulated when Dr. Ruxton was tried, at Manchester, in 1936.

 The Trial

For the Defence: Norman Birkett K.C.
 
For the Prosecution: Mr. Jackson K.C.

The Judge: Mr. Justice Singleton

The Deceased: Isabelle Ruxton, wife of the accused.
Mary Rogerson, the live-in maid.

Other Victims: The Three Orphaned Ruxton Infants.

The Evidence: Circumstantial.

Important Witnesses:

Forensic Professor Glaister
Lancaster's Chief Constable Vann
Dentist, Lovers? Friends, Trades People and Employees of the Ruxtons

Inside and outside the court, in the pubs, on the doorsteps and in the market a cast of thousands of Lancastrians, all with a story to tell, or rumours to spread, about the strange goings-on of Buck and Isabelle Ruxton and the tragedy of the murders.

Buck Ruxton, described in the local press as a Mohammedan, of mixed French and Indian blood, was an exotic figure in a Lancaster unused to seeing people other than whites, all speaking with the distinctive local or regional accent.

Curiously, Gordon's wife, British but Welsh-born, had been seen as a weird foreigner when she first moved to Morecambe. She had been humiliated by her teacher, because of her accent, and ridiculed by some of her class-mates at Balmoral School, when she first arrived. Perhaps they thought that she was Irish, who were all, usually without justification, disliked and distrusted.

Nobody worried about Dr. Ruxton's background. With over two thousand patients on his panel, cheap fees, pleasant bedside manner, many friends amongst the workers he served, Buck Ruxton quickly became something of a local hero. He claimed to be the most progressive doctor in the area and the only people who disliked him were some of his colleagues, rivals for panel patients. Maybe, he exaggerated when boasting of his medical prowess but there was some truth in his extravagant claims. Certainly, he had the trust of his patients.

The Watsons had plenty of reason to be grateful to him. He had delivered their two children safely and skilfully despite two difficult births.

"Best doctor in the world!" was Margaret's verdict.

His care of their little, delicate Gwyn, during the first winter of her life, was meticulous and affordable. The doctor had never given up when Gordon and Margaret had despaired and begun to think that the child had no hope of surviving something very close to the dreaded pneumonia.

Soon, he was to be fighting for his own life. Although both of Watsons thought that he was probably guilty, they did not want him to die. But why had he killed the housemaid? That was not easy to understand or forgive.

Rumours had been rife in Lancaster about "goings-on" amongst some of the local Authority figures. The finger was pointed at Bobby Edmondson, a solicitor in the Town Clerk's Office. Many believed that he and Isabelle had been having an affair.

A bizarre rumour even suggested there had been a lesbian relationship with Bobby's sister, Barbara. "Why did they have rooms next to each other when they went as part of a group to Edinburgh for a weekend?"

There were dark hints about "Isabelle's masculine looks and thick ankles! Farcical fantasies were on many gossips' lips.

Mixed parties, including Isabelle, visiting places like Edinburgh and Blackpool were known about and viewed with intense suspicion. There were many witnesses, like Gordon, who had seen Buck beside himself with rage, after his wife had returned from one of her jaunts. She liked going away without him for a weekend and often stayed out late at night. Twice, she sought police protection after he had threatened her life during one of his jealous rages.
Lancaster Footlights, in China Street, was under suspicion.

"Actors are a funny lot, aren't they? Wasn't Isabelle Ruxton an active member there?"

Someone else said that their brother-in-law's brother's wife's sister was a waitress at the Conservative Club in Church Street. The distant relative of the rumour-monger had allegedly worked in a noisy mill and could lip-read. She said she'd observed two prominent local Freemasons discussing some of the disturbing evidence against a local solicitor. She insisted she'd seen them agree that any nasty publicity, arising from the murder case, could be held back with the help of a few weird handshakes and a nod to the judge.

People reported mixed bathing, cavorting and assignments at Cable Street Baths.
Afterwards, Isabelle was seen going home in another man's car!

There were dozens of reported sightings of the Ruxton or Edmondson car, parked at the end of lonely lanes or on quiet sea shores.

If only a fraction of the stories came to poor Buck's ears, it must have driven him to distraction because he loved Isabelle dearly. Certainly his outbursts from the dock were very convincing. He stated again and again that he was being victimised by the police.

The remains of two bodies had been found in a ravine in Scotland, wrapped in pages of a newspaper which had had a limited edition circulated in the Lancaster and Morecambe area.
Who were the missing persons from that area? Isabelle and Mary!

Forensic evidence, and new methods used to identify victims, proved that the body parts were the two women's.

Blood in the drains at Ruxton's! Bloody clothing burned there! Bloody carpets incinerated! Dustbins filled with bits of burned fabric! Bloodstains here and there in the house! Employees bore witness to a variety of frenzied and prolonged efforts to dispose of what might have been evidence.

The theory was that he had probably strangled one and stabbed the other victim. Using his surgeon's skills, including removal of some finger-tips, to prevent identification by finger-prints, he had cut the bodies up, using ordinary household knives, parcelled them, put them in the boot of his car and driven to Scotland, thrown the parcels down a ravine and driven back to Lancaster at breakneck speed, anxious to establish an alibi.
Dental evidence helped to establish that Isabelle and Mary were definitely the victims.
Chief Constable Vance had sat in the Police Station on one side of Dalton Square. Buck Ruxton had sat in his house directly opposite. The Police Station was fully visible from the Doctor's House. The detective could see the lights on late at night at Ruxton's. Dalton Square was like a stage with characters in a life-or-death drama. The main players strutted across it, playing their roles of hunter and hunted. Both used their considerable brain-power, trying to outwit the other. Both pondered the lack of concrete evidence. The new art of detection using a forensic expert was to be crucial.
Vance ordered sudden action and accompanied unexpected visits to the Doctor's House and searched everywhere thoroughly, even taking the floorboards up.
Anxious and restless, Doctor Ruxton crossed Dalton Square, visited the Police Station and said, "Look here Vann, haven't you found my wife yet? It's outrageous. They're trying to say these two bodies in Scotland are my wife and Mary Rogerson. It's ruining my practice. You must stop the newspapers from publishing such lies."
"What makes you so sure it isn't true, Doctor?" asked Vann.
"Well, here it says the younger of the two dead women, found in Scotland, has a full set of teeth in the lower jaw and I know from my own knowledge that both my wife and Mary Rogerson had teeth missing."
Slowly but surely, convincing circumstantial evidence was building up against the doctor. The police became convinced that he was guilty and that it could be proved.
Vann spoke to his men, "I think it's time we had him over here again."
Detective Inspector Bill Thompson agreed, "I think chummie across the Square is getting a bit desperate. Take care! Remember he has a revolver in that house, sir."
Vann picked up the 'phone, "Doctor Ruxton? Vann here. Those newspaper stories you complained about. I think we can put a stop to that sort of nonsense. Why not come to see me tonight?"
Buck rushed across the Square again, for another of their little chats, each man wary of the other, trying to detect what was in the other's mind.
The Doctor protested that he was the victim of jealous professionals. Lancaster's middle-class was ganging-up against him. Many workers, especially amongst his patients, believed his loud protestations of innocence and agreed with his objections, that he was being persecuted on very little, or no evidence. He had lots of letters of support from local people.
Gordon and Margaret read the notice on his surgery door, in the middle of October.

"To all my patients.
I appeal to you most humbly to remain loyal to me in this hour of trouble. I am an innocent victim of circumstances. Please do not leave my panel list as well as private list. My deputy will conduct business as usual.
Thanking you in anticipation for loyal support.
Signed,
B. RUXTON."

Many did stay loyal to the accused. For a time, Margaret went along with Buck's conspiracy theory. She thought he was the scapegoat, that there was a cover-up. It was Them behind it and they were getting at one of Us.
Gordon wasn't so sure, "You didn't see his face that night when I went for him to help you. He was out of his mind."
"It doesn't follow he really meant to hurt her," she said. "Anyone can lose their temper. You said he soon calmed down."
"Maybe only because he saw me standing there, watching him."

Chief Constable Vann had Buck arrested at five o'clock one morning, convinced that he'd got his man. There was plenty of sympathy for him in the town but all the evidence was against him during his police court appearances in Lancaster.
After his arrest, the kitchen staff of the cafe, where he had often eaten, sent a message with a meal he was allowed in the cells, "Good luck from the kitchen staff."
He wrote back on the serviette, which came with the food, "Thanks for the wishes and luck. It is surely coming my way, B. Ruxton."
During his trial, at Manchester, he took the oath on the New Testament although he was thought to be a Mohammedan or Parsee. He was said to be calm until he went into the witness box at the Assizes.
His relaxed manner was not to last. It was reported, "I most devoutly hope that I shall never again see a man or a woman or a child behave as Doctor Buck Ruxton did during the hours of his examination, cross-examination and re-examination. He cried, was excited, voluble, almost hysterical. Denunciations poured from him like water bursting out of a dam. Then he would beg forgiveness for his bad behaviour in court. His voice varied from beautiful modulation to shrieks."
When Professor Glaister maintained that he should never have worn the dirty suit which he wore during confinements, he shook with rage and beat his hands up and down in anger.
"I can only give one answer. Out of 230 confinements in Lancaster, Doctor Ruxton has never given a death certificate. You can verify that from the L.C.C. Authority. I will give £500 for it. I go by results, not theories. 230 cases and not a death certificate given!"
It was a remarkable demonstration of his professional pride. Sometimes he addressed Professor Glaister as , "Dear fellow" or "valued colleague". Next, he was protesting that everything and everyone was against him.
He pleaded with the judge to forgive his outbursts with, "I am sorry, very sorry sir. It is my fault. But I am fighting for my life. FOR MY LIFE! I must humbly, most humbly, beg your pardon for interrupting."
The report went on, "It was terrible to see an educated man go through such an ordeal and I pitied him."
He stated that he would have had to drive at over 100 m.p.h., on dangerous roads, to dispose of the body-parts in distant Scotland and be back by the hour he was next seen in Lancaster.
Just before and during the judge's summing up, his left arm was doubled on his knees, his face was cupped in the palm of his right hand. At one stage he even yawned, feigning boredom. The judge emphasised that any doubt must go to the prisoner.
The jury returned after an hour. Guilty! Was their verdict. The judge sentenced him with the words, "You have been convicted on evidence which could leave no doubt in the mind of anyone."
Ruxton seemed dazed and beaten. He muttered to himself. He smiled and nodded.
The judge pronounced a sentence of death.
Surrounded by four warders, Ruxton raised his right hand and said, "Don't fuss. I am alright. Don't fuss!"
There was a petition for clemency in Lancaster. More than 16,000 signed it.

One patient expressed the general feelings for the man, "Ruxton was clever, generous and helpful and I cannot but join in the general sympathy for him despite the fact that he has been proved guilty of a very terrible crime."

The fingers were still being pointed at Authority, "He was never allowed access or facilities at Lancaster Royal Infirmary."

His well-known adoration of his and other people's children was mentioned by many. People wondered what would become of his poor little children. After his execution, it was said that they went to the old workhouse, then to Buck's parents or were adopted. No-one knew for sure but their ordeal must have been terrible.

His trial had lasted 11 days in March, 1936. In the May, he was hanged by the neck until he was dead in Strangeways Prison, Manchester. It was stated that before his execution he admitted that he was guilty of the two murders.

The day after Buck was hanged, Gordon met his best friend Brian Howson. Brian had a black eye.

"Who gave you the shiner?" asked Gordon.

"Got into an argument about whether Buck Ruxton should be hanged. Bloke disagreed with me. He came on strong about him being a nasty, filthy wog. I said my bit back. And the bloke hit me. Bloody Fascist!"

The arguments, rights and wrongs of the case, raged for years in Lancaster. Amongst many, there remained an uneasy feeling that there were things going on in their town which only a few were privileged to know about.

Yes, he was guilty all right, but he'd been treated badly at times by some of his own colleagues and others in their circle. He had definitely been very severely provoked by his wayward wife. 

Web Links


• A tour of Buck Ruxton's House on virtual-lancaster

• A newspaper article in The Guardian on the Natural History Museum’s forensic entomologists on their role in solving murders revealed that the Museum holds the Ruxton maggots, vital evidence in one of the most celebrated murder cases of the 20th century that convicted Dr Buck Ruxton of the murder of his wife and the family maid.

• Glasgow University Archives holds the Buxton Case File [Ref. GUAFM/2A/25] which contains notebooks, correspondence, anatomical reports, witness reports, extracts from Ruxton’s diary, photographs, and lantern slides relating to the legal case. The material forms part of the important Glasgow University forensic medicine resource whiich contains a wide range of research material relating to a variety of fields including the history of medicine, criminology, sociology, and medical ethics. The records consist of teaching materials, correspondence, press cuttings, personal papers, photographs, and detailed case notes relating to some of Glasgow and Scotland’s most notorious crimes.