Henry Julius Jacoby

I didn't go for jewellery. I went for money. They can't swear to money.

I struck her at least twice, because I heard her moaning.

I am a pantryman at Spencer's Hotel, where I have been employed about three weeks. Prior to that I worked for and lived with my grandmother who had a farm at St Albans, near Hatfield. She died about seven weeks ago and I had to look for a job. I commence duty at 7am and work till 4pm when I have two hours rest, then work till about 8.30pm or 9pm.

I did not know any of the residents in the hotel as my work is confined to the pantry in the basement. My bedroom is in the basement which I share with the day porter. I went to bed last night about five past eleven. The day porter was undressing at the same time. I went to sleep and was awakened at about half past one in the morning, pains to my stomach woke me up. I got out of bed and went towards the basement lavatory. To get to it I had to pass through the kitchen and as I entered the kitchen I heard voices as though two persons were talking in a low tone, the voices seem to be gruff like men’s.

In consequence I turned back and went up to the night porter whom I found in the hall. I said to him, 'I have heard voices in the kitchen'. He said, 'Was it me, I was down there a minute or two ago'. I said, 'No, I don't think so because there were two of them'.

I had a torch and we went together to the basement kitchen where the night porter picked up a poker from the grate. We searched the whole of the basement but could find no one, so after going to the lavatory I returned to bed. I heard nothing unusual during the remainder of the night although I was rather restless, and did not sleep very much.

The voices I heard might have been in the basement or in the street. When I first heard them I turned towards the window looking towards the street, as the sound seemed to come from that direction.

On Tuesday 14th March, 1922 I made a statement to the Police respecting the murder of Lady white at that hotel. Part of the statement is true and the other part is untrue, and that is where I said I was brought up at a farm at St Albans with my grandmother. I now wish to tell the truth about it. I was born the 28th June 1903 in or near City Road, London. I do not remember the name of the street. My father was a barman by trade and lives at No 22 Powell Street, Goswell Road. My mother is dead. She died some nine or ten years ago. My grandmother who is my father's mother, rents the house, and my father lodges with her. She looks after him. My father is a barman at the 'Bull and Pump' Public house, High Street, Shoreditch. He goes home every night. I have been two or three times to this public house at night to wait for him leaving off work. I once went into the public bar. I went to school first in the neighbourhood of City Road where I was born. I forget the name, but after my mother died I went to live with my aunt at Sheperdess Walk. I cannot remember the number, she lived there for years and then went to live at Marlborough Road, Dalston. I think it was No 60 almost next door to a big public house. My aunt's husband was a walking stick maker, working for Howell's walking stick maker, Old Street. I believe he is out of work now. He had some relations living in Childerick Road, New Cross (Clifton Hill) I forget the number, but it was the last house on the left from Clifton Hill. The woman at that address died about October last year, the others in the meantime removed from Dalston to 22 Powell Street, City Road and just before Christmas last they went to live with a relative at Childerick Road.  I lived with them until they left Powell Street, I went to Moreland Street Schools (LCC) and stayed there until I had finished schooling at the age of 14 years. That is five years this June.

After leaving school I got a situation at Harris Plating Works, in Goswell Road, but they have since removed and are now at Glasshouse Yard, Aldersgate Street. My foreman was a Belgian. I stayed there some two or three months and was working as a metal polisher at 10/- or 12/- per week. I left Harris's because I was not getting enough money. My next job was at Cork and Apthorpe Silversmiths and Metal Polishers, Northampton Square, Goswell Road. I was a metal polisher there and remained for about eight months. I can't remember the foreman's name. I left there about the middle of 1918. I think I went to work at Reynolds Barometer Makers in Percival Street, Northampton Square as a metal polisher and stayed there about four months. I was dismissed from there for not doing my work properly. After that I sold newspapers running the streets with them near Fleet Street and Ludgate Circus for about eighteen months, from about the middle of 1918 after I left Reynolds to the end of 1919. I then went back to Harris's my first situation as a metal polisher and stayed there for about seventeen months, finally leaving there about seven weeks ago. I was out of work between my situations which would bring my time up to the present date.

I was living all this time at 22 Powell Street, with the exception of the time I was selling papers when I lived in a furnished room in White Lion Street, Islington, which is a Common Lodging House. During the time I was selling papers I was known in the name of Harry Clifton, but other times I have always used my proper name. Before getting the situation at the Spencer hotel I was out of work for about five weeks and was living at 22 Powell Street until the 27th February 1922.

Early in February one Sunday night I was out for a walk as usual about eight o'clock on Sunday. I should think the 12th February. I was on the Victoria Embankment near Cleopatra's Needle looking into the Thames, no one was near me. A young Jewish man came up and got into conversation with me about the weather. He asked me if I was in work and when I said, 'Yes', he said, 'You are one of the lucky ones'. He asked me where I lived and when I told him Powell Street he said that he also lived near there and would come with me. We walked together towards my home and we parted near my house. Our conversation on the way was quite general. At his request on parting we arranged to meet again the following Sunday at 8.30pm at the same spot where I first met him. I kept that appointment and saw him and we had a chat and walked towards my house. On the way he spoke to me about a lot of burglaries which had been taking place lately and when we got quite near my house he saw a man who lodges with my grandmother go in. I said, 'That's our lodger'. He had told me the first time we met what his name was and that he lived at 30 Church Street, Brick Lane. I never went there or wrote to him at this address. After the lodger went into our house, the Jew said to me, 'he looks a swell sort of chap, doesn't he?'. The lodger is a clerk in a Stationers Warehouse in St John Street, Clerkenwell. The Jew then said, 'I wouldn't mind having some of the money he's got'. I said, 'Yes, he's got a lot'. I know he had because I had frequently been into his bedroom which was a bed sitting room on the back ground floor and on about three occasions I saw him take money from his cash box which he took out of a trunk in his room and put it into his pocket and therefore noticed that he had a lot of money. I told the Jew this and he said, 'Can't you pinch some of it?'. I said, 'I don't know'. He said, 'I will try'. I thought he was joking. Nothing further was said about it that night, and we parted arranging to meet the next Sunday night on the embankment as before.

I met him as arranged on Sunday the 26th February 1922 (the day before I stole the money). We had a chat and again walked towards my home. He asked me on the way, 'Haven't you got that money yet', (meaning the lodger's money). I said, 'No'. He said, 'I'll tell you what. We'll try to get that money and we might get some more another time'. I said, 'I don't know, I might be able to'. He asked me where the money was kept and finally said, 'I'll leave it to you to get it'. That was all that was said and when we parted we arranged to meet the following night at 7pm (Monday) at the corner of Powell Street and Central St, St Lukes. I went indoors about ten o'clock leaving the Jew to go home. My father was up. The lodger was away at Bury St Edmunds for the week and the others had gone to bed. Soon after I got in my father went to bed leaving me up alone. About half an hour afterwards about 11 o'clock I went into the lodgers room. The door was locked but the key was in the lock. I went over to the trunk and that was locked. I then looked round and found three keys lying on his desk. I picked them up and tried them in the lock and found that one of them fitted the trunk. The cash box was in the trunk. I took it out of the trunk and it was locked. I took it into the kitchen and prised it open with a pair of scissors. I found in it 29 £1 notes and two 10/- notes. I put the money in my pocket and threw the box over the back yard into the backyard of the Jubilee Grocery Stores. That was the same night. I locked the trunk in the bedroom, and left the keys where I found them. I then went to bed and it was then about half past eleven.

The next morning I got up as usual about quarter to eight and went to work at Harris's and gave my notice in, leaving there about 12.30. I had the money on me in my pocket. About 12.30 I returned home and let myself in with my key. I told my grandmother I had got the sack. I stayed indoors till about three o'clock. During this time nothing was said about the loss of the money. I left the house about three o'clock and walked around the neighbourhood of Goswell Road and looked at the shops till about half past six and then I went to the bottom of our street. I waited for about half an hour when I saw the Jew come along from the direction of Old Street, up Central Street. He said, 'You've turned up then'. I said, 'Yes'. He asked me if I had the money. I told him I had. He didn't say any more but just laughed. We then went to the Angle Picture Palace at the Angel, Islington, and stayed there about three quarters of an hour. Whilst in there he said, 'I thought you were going to give me half'. I said, 'Why should I, I have taken the risk to get it', and he said, 'Well, it might lead to bigger things'. I then gave him £15 in one pound notes.

We left the picture house and stood outside and he said he would meet me tomorrow night (Tuesday) at the end of the street at 7pm. I agreed to this and we parted. I went home to Powell Street and let myself in with my key. I got home about nine o'clock. No one mentioned anything about the theft of money. My grandmother was up. I had my supper and went to bed at about half past nine. I still had the money in my pocket except for the two shillings I had spent for the pictures. The next day (Tuesday) I told my father and grandmother I was going to St Albans to look for a job. On the Tuesday I went to Golders Green and took an 84 bus to St Albans. I arrived there about half past five and stayed at 233 Hatfield Road. I had stayed there before the year before, during a time I was put off for slackness from Harris's and I had got a job there at Mr Neal's, a metal worker at Hatfield Road. I returned to London on or about the third of March and I got a situation at Spencer's Hotel the next day through Harry's agency in Edgeware Road.

I now wish to make a voluntary statement and tell you the whole truth about the murder of Lady White at the Spencer Hotel during Monday night 13th March 1922. I have made two previous statements to the police but they are false.

I have been employed at the Spencer Hotel as a pantry boy for about ten days before the murder. On Monday morning 13th March 1922 I took two Beecham’s Pills. About twenty minutes past one on the morning of the Tuesday 14th March I had to get up and go to the lavatory because of taking the pills. I got up and put on my trousers, jacket and socks, left my bedroom which is in the back basement of No 17, walked through the passage and kitchen to the lavatory which is just inside the basement door of No 19. As I was passing through the Cook's kitchen of No 19 on my way to the lavatory I thought I heard someone talking quietly but that might have been from people in the street. I have a small torch and I carried it with me, this light shining it in front of me from my bedroom to the lavatory as all the lights in the basement of the building were out. After I had heard the whispering I shone my light round the kitchen but saw nobody there. I then went to the lavatory and when I left I went upstairs to the Night Porter. This would be as near as possible half past one on Tuesday morning. I found the porter standing between the lift and his telephone box.

As I had no boots on and he had his back towards me he did not see me or hear me until I got quite close to him although I called his name quietly twice before he heard me. I said to him, 'I have heard somebody speaking downstairs'. He said, 'Was it me, I was down there a minute or two ago'. I said, 'No I heard two of them'. He said, 'Come downstairs and let's have a look'. We went downstairs together. He switched on the lights. We went into the kitchen together where he picked up a long iron rod which is used  for cleaning the donkey boiler out, and together we searched the basements of the whole four houses. We did not search every corner but had a general look around, but we did not see anybody or find anything unusual. We examined all the area doors as we went through and they were all locked and everything appeared to be in order. After we had searched he said, 'You are mistaken', and we parted at the foot of the stairs towards my pantry. I said, 'Good night', he answered, 'Good night', and I went back to my bedroom. The day porter sleeps in the same bedroom as I do. He was asleep when I got up and asleep when I returned.

I sat on my bed for a little while until about ten minutes to two. I know the time because I looked at my watch which was on the drawers by the side of my bed. Whilst I was sitting on the bed I made up my mind to go upstairs to the visitors bedrooms to go and try to get some money to steal it if there was any there. It occurred to me to prepare for emergency in case I got caught up there, so I thought I would take a hammer with me and use it if I was caught, and if I did use it to blame the affair on to the men whose voices I thought I heard in the kitchen.

I left my room as near as possible two o'clock and walked, dressed as I have already described, with my torch in my hand and flashing it to a room in the basement where the workmen employed in the hotel leave their tools. I examined a small chisel and I believe a pair of pliers which I first thought I would take to protect myself but on second thoughts I put these tools down and picked up from off the dresser a hammer about a foot long. If you give me a piece of paper I will draw a sketch of it as near as I possibly can. (he was handed a piece of paper and in our presence drew a sketch which he also signed and dated in our presence). After selecting the hammer I put the head of it into my right hand jacket pocket the handle sticking out, and left that room and went up the stairs of No 19 house. I did not see or hear the porter on the way.

When I reached the bedroom corridor of the first floor I tried a door facing the staircase. It was not locked. The corridor was in darkness. I quietly opened the door and walked in, left the door ajar, then turned my torch on and saw two beds and some papers on the one nearest the window. The person awoke and I saw it was a woman. She gave a silent shriek and I then got the 'Wind up' and hit her on the head with the hammer. My torch was in my left hand showing a beam of light. I was then standing between her bed and the window, near her head. She partly raised herself in her bed when she screamed and at that moment I struck her again. I then left the room and went back to my bed. I took the hammer back to my bedroom with me and then considered what I was going to do with it, and a few minutes later I went and washed it under a tap in the basement. The hammer was covered with blood. I washed all the blood off the hammer and wiped it with my handkerchief.

The case is a very serious one. It would be of ill example if youths of 18 or 19 can commit murder and then hope to escape the death penalty. There is no suggestion of insanity. But he is still of course quite young. Jacoby is an intelligent young man. He is plainly a youth of certain criminal instincts. He does not seem to feel his position. He seems rather to like the notoriety of the case.