"Piccadilly Algy"; Meets His Waterloo

Auckland Star, Volume LXIX, Issue 286, 3 December 1938, Page 9 (Supplement)

"Piccadilly Algy"; Meets His Waterloo

FOR the next few years a prison cell will once more be the home of that glib adventurer known to international police and crookdom as VPiccadilly Algy," the "Monocle Man," "Pentonville Percy" and "The Bounder." Details of his astonishing career of (Inception and fraud were revealed in Court, but it was not told how he once 111 tide ail impudent attempt to interview the King at Balmoral, and, on another occasion, duped the officers of the Cuards' Depot at Caterham by posing ns an American millionaire. This time, the sentence passed on him was five years' penal servitude. He was charged at Stoke-v>n-Trent Quarter Sessions in the name of John "Baring Could, 35, of St. John's Wood, London, with the theft of diamond rings worth £J. r )00. Hin real name was John Simpson Mitchell, but in his time he assumed ninny others. Some of his more resoundingl aliases were: Sinclair Ixnvis, the American novelist; the Hon. John Stewart; Mr. Rockefcller-McCorrnack, son of an American millionaire; Captain Victor Orloff McDonald, of the Polish Army; and F. Algernon Katoii Dallas Ynrko. Born in Aberdeen about 40 years ago, Mitchell was the illegitimate son of a Scotswoman and a coloured man. He was brought up by his grandmother, who doted upon him. When only a lad of 12, Mitchell stole a spool containing hundreds of feet of cinematograph film. The police visited tho house, and to shield him the grandmother threw the film on the fire. It set the house ablaze, and the grandmother and Mitchell'* aunt were burned to death. Mitchell, on that occasion, was sent to an industrial school. There followed, nfter a brief period in the Ariny, terms of prison and Borstal for offences in Kd in burgh and Banff. His plausibility was first revealed on hi* release from Borstal when, in his mi five city of Aberdeert, he passed himself off as a solicitor carrying on business at Braomar. He made a will leaving

his estate to his mother, and various legacies, including one of £1000 to a children's hospital. At the same time, he was not able to pay 1/0 for a bottle of perfume which he obtained by fraud, and again he went to prison. After another sentence at York, Mitchell transferred his activities to London, but he did n-ot long escape attentions of the police. In 1921 he went back to gaol once again for fraud at a West End restaurant, where he said he was a friend of the Prince of Wales. At the restaurant he actually arranged a dinner irienu and wine list "for the Prince and myself." Then came the crowning act of his career—an audacious attempt in October, 1923. to gain an audience with King George V. at Balmoral. Under the name of "Mr. George Eaton Cavendish," he called on a farmer at Milltimber, near Aberdeen, and explained that he had come post-haste from Berlin, flying as far as Ostend and making the journey from London to Scotland by car. His well-cut clothes, his air of assurance, and his monocle carried complete conviction. "My car has broken down," he told the farmer. "I must have another to take me on to Balmoral to see the King on important affairs of State." The "affairs of State," he declared, were that he had information of an alleged plot to assassinate the King, and wished to communicate this to His Majesty. . The farmer took him to a garage proprietor, who was impressed to such an extent that he drove him to the front door of the castle. There "Mr. Cavendish" was received, not by the King, but by the police officer in charge, who turned out to be a sceptical person. His questions soon stripped "Mr. Cavendish" of his disguise, and the sequel came at Aberdeen when, on a charge of defrauding the garage proprietor, Mitchell was sent to prison for 15 months. Mitchell rivalled his Balmoral exploit by descending on the Guards' Depot at Caterham and posing as an American millionaire who had lost a near relative

in the Guards during the war. He announced that he would like to subscribe to a (iuards' nioniorial, and invited the colonel and other officers to dinner at a local hotel. Before the dinner hour arrived the pseudo-millionaire asked to look at the hotel safe to see if it were suitable for storing his jewellery. While the proprietor's back was turned the visitor emptied the safe and drove furiously away in a motor car which he had hired in the name of "Mr. RockefellerMcO'jrmack," of Park Lane. — This feat earned the "Monocle Man" another six months. His native city of Aberdeen saw him again in 1924. when he posed as an American novelist. He ingratiated himself with the assistant librarian, whom he visited and regaled with fanciful stories of his experiences in America. He asked to borrow £2, but the assistant librarian was so impressed that he lent him £6. This led Mitchell once more to the dock in Aberdeen Sheriff Court and another term of imprisonment. There followed frauds and more gaol sentences in various |>arts of Britain, culminating, in 1934, with a term of five years' penal servitude at the Old Bailey for stealing- post office mail-bags. Mitchell was still a ticket-of-leave man, with 15 months of that sentence to run, when he committed his latest crime, at Hanley. Entering a jewellers' shop, he asked to see some rings, snatched the pad from the counter, and jumped into a motor car, which flashed away. He was arrested in London. A woman, who gave her name as Kathleen Gould, and her occupation as a dress designer in the West End, gave evidence on his behalf. • He told the Court of his love for this woman. "I was a fugitive from justice when I met her," he declared. "I disclosed that I was a crook, but it made no difference to her love. It was ordained, 1 suppose, that we should meet. X went to penal servitude for five years. 'She was waiting for me when I came out. It must have been real love, for it stood the acid test of five years' waiting." The Recorder, Sir Reginald Coventry, K.C., said he understood the woman was respectable and hard working, and she had been foolish 'to associate with Mitchell. The girl, who was sitting in Court, called out: "You don't understand. We ?ove each other. I have worked hard for my husband to keep him straight and I have suffered for him, too." In the flat in St. John's Wood in which Mitchell lived, the woman whose outburst electrified the Court, told a Pressman an astonishing story of her meeting with Mitchell and n<-r determination to wait once apain for him. Her real name is Kathleen Barry. Dark and vivacious, she was born in yuetta, India. 27 years ago. She is the only daughter <>f a former Army noncommissioned officer, whose home was in Suffolk. "He came out of prison only last January, and he committed this other offence in July." she said. "But we had six months of happiness, and though I know this time I must wait nearly six years for him, I mean to do it. "I work and save, for I think I can still make something of him. Perhaps we will get married then, and I will have a little home ready for him. "It is six years since I first met* John. I ran away from home at.the age of 17 and married a man whom I had known since childhood. We had nothing in common and.l ( left him in the middle of the night and came to London. "I shall always remember meeting John. I was waiting outside a shop when I saw him; Good-looking and welldressed, there was something about him that acted like a magnet and drew me to him. "With both of us it was a ease of love at first sight. Yet when we parted that day he knew me only by my Christian name of Kitty just this district where I worked.

"I thought I should never see him again, but he found me in the shop where I worked about a fortnight later. "After this we hardly left each other. I was not happy, however, because I was married and had not told him so. Eventually I told him, thinking I shouldnever see him again, but he said: 'Will you marry me if I give you your freedom through divorce?' "I knew nothing about him, except that he said he yas a free-lance journalist, and that he appeared to have plenty of money." Continuing her story, Kathleen Barry said: • "My divorce was on the *>oint of being .made absolute and we were arranging to be married, when -one night he seemed upset and said that he wanted to tell me something. "'I am a crook,' he told me. 'The world's worst.' "I pleaded with him to go straight for my sake and before it was too late, j

He said it was already too late, that the police were 011 his trail. He asked me to leave him, but I loved him too much to let him go, an,d I believed that I could make him go straight. .Then one day he was arrested. "I had given up my job to be married, and I had to start all over again. When he was sentenced to five years I said I would wait, and I did. "That was a real day of reunion in January when he was released. We could n6t say anything, only cry for joy at being together again. "As the days and months went by John looked for work, but without avail. I knew I had to.be the breadwinner. "We made fresh friends, tried to burv his past, but tlie call of the underworld was too strong for him and he committed his latest offence. "I was with him when he was arrested. T could not believe it. He had sworn to me on his bended knees that

he would never commit another crime. Jt is still a nightmare—more so when I remember all the dreadful things that came out about him in Court. I had never heard of them before. "I saw him in the cells before he started his new sentence, and once again he has sworn to go straight. I told him that he was no good to me or to himself unless he did, and that I would sooner poison him than see him continue in crime. "To-day I have had a letter from him in which he thanks me for the promise to wait for him. it be marvellous when he comes out and we can start life afresh ? "Even now I think fate has been kind to me in providing me with the few happy hours I have had with John. Perone day I shall find the continued happiness for which I am looking when he comes back to me again."'