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Norman ELLIOTT
By Chris LLoyd - TheNorthernEcho.co.uk
Wednesday 12th November 2008
Echo Memories delves into the history of a murder – and could be on the
verge of solving the mystery.
THE death of a onelegged cobbler was officially
recorded as “wilful murder against some person or persons unknown”.
The Northern Echo concluded its short report of the
inquest in 1924 with the enigmatic sentence: “The circumstances
surrounding the death of Philip Nash Gee still remain a complete mystery.”
The murder of the 47-yearold boot repairer in his
shop at 9 Whitworth Terrace is one of only three in County Durham in
eight decades that are unsolved.
But today, Echo Memories is on the verge of cracking
the case.
Mr Gee was discovered at 2.45am on Sunday, January
13, 1924 when a patrolling policeman noticed that his shop door was open.
“On an examination of the shop being made, the dead
body was found on the floor behind the counter,” says the police log.
“His skull was fractured in several places both back and front.”
He had been struck four times by a three-cornered
implement – believed to be a bar from the fire.
Mr Gee was single and lived with his sister, Mrs
Ramshaw, and her husband in Durham Road, Spennymoor.
The Ramshaws were not unduly worried when he didn’t
return home on the Saturday evening as he regularly stayed open late “to
oblige customers calling for repairs”, or he toured town making his
deliveries.
“He was well know throughout Spennymoor as an amiable,
inoffensive and religious man who paid great attention to his business,”
said the Echo.
Mr Gee also stood out from the crowd because he had a
wooden limb. Apparently, there was a little hole in the floor behind the
counter in which he rested his peg leg while he did his cobbling.
“It is considered remarkable that such a tragedy
should have been enacted in a shop in the main thoroughfare when in all
probability numbers of pedestrians would be passing by,” said the Echo.
Apart from the dead body behind the counter, the shop
was said to be in “perfect order”.
The only missing item was a metal watch with a
distinctive chain in which the links were alternately large and small.
Police initially hunted a deaf and dumb man who was
found in Sunderland. When he was eliminated from inquiries, attention
turned on Thomas McGowan, “a tramping labourer”.
According to the Echo, he was “a well-known character
in the town. He had not fixed abode and frequented some disused houses
in the vicinity of Tudhoe Grange”.
After a week in custody, McGowan too was released
without charge.
“When first interrogated regarding his movements on
the night of the murder, McGowan made two conflicting statements,” said
the Echo, “but subsequent inquires have failed to produce any evidence
of an incriminating nature against him.”
Mr Gee’s funeral was at St Charles Roman Catholic
Church, Tudhoe, and he was buried at York Hill cemetery.
“There were many beautiful floral tributes, and the
large concourse of people at the graveside testified to the general
respect in which Gee was held,” said the Echo.
And that was that.
“Then, to complete the deed,” said the Echo, the
murderer “plunged a cobbler’s knife into Abbey’s throat, inflicting
another terrible wound.”
The cobbler’s knife was found in the blood beside the
bank clerk’s body. It was most unusual. On its black handle were stamped
the words: “Made in U.S.A., South Bridge, Mass.”
Norman Elliott, 22, was charged with the bank clerk’s
murder. He was a male nurse, living and working at Winterton asylum at
Sedgefield, who was setting up home with his new bride in Kelloe, five
miles from Ferryhill.
Elliott, who liked to gamble on the horses, had not
had the easiest of childhoods as he was orphaned at 12. His mother had
died, which plunged his police constable father into such deep
depression that he took his own life on the railway line at Easington
Lane.
Elliott and his sister had been taken in by his
grandparents who lived in Beaumont Terrace, Spennymoor. His grandpa,
Joseph, had been Spennymoor’s respected police inspector.
After school, Elliott had become an apprentice
cabinet-maker at Kenmir Bros in the town, before leaving Beaumont
Terrace and moving to Winterton when he was about 20.
At his trial, his defence barrister made much of the
fact that police had failed to connect Elliott with the distinctive
murder weapon – the cobbler’s knife.
And in his defence, Elliott himself made much of the
fact that the dying bank clerk had failed to identify him, even though
they knew each other. Mr Abbey’s last words had been: “It was a tall man
that did it.” Why, asked Elliott, given their acquaintanceship, hadn’t
he been more precise?
Nevertheless, Elliott was found guilty and he was
hanged on August 10, 1928, at Durham Gaol.
Yet Mr Abbey had been stabbed in the neck with a
cobbler’s knife. He was in no position to enunciate clearly.
Perhaps his last words weren’t about “a tall man”.
Perhaps he really gurgled: “It was Norman that did it.”
And what if Norman Elliott murdered Mr Abbey with the
distinctive cobbler’s knife that he had stolen as he murdered Mr Gee the
cobbler four years earlier?
The two crimes were very similar. Both Mr Abbey and
Mr Gee were assailed on the head with a blunt instrument. Both Mr Abbey
and Mr Gee had been alone in their premises, behind their counters.
And both Mr Abbey and Mr Gee and their premises were
known to Elliott. He used his acquaintanceship with Mr Abbey in his
defence and, as Detective Inspector Tom Barnaby would quickly realise,
he lived close enough to Mr Gee to be on nodding terms with him, too:
the cobbler’s shop was in Whitworth Terrace; the grandparents’ house was
in Beaumont Terrace.
In this part of Spennymoor, differently-named
terraces lined the same road, causing postmen great confusion. So since
the murder, the names have been simplified.
Beaumont Terrace, for example, has taken on the name
of its neighbour. It is now part of Whitworth Terrace – and although
modern Whitworth Terrace is a good quarter-of-a-mile long, it surely is
close enough for the cobbler’s shop to have been known intimately to the
18-year-old Elliott.
And that’s the story that has been passed down the
branches of the Gee family.
They’ve been told that Elliott was always in and out
of the one-legged cobbler’s shop on the look-out for money.
When the opportunity arose, as it did four years
later in Ferryhill, he seized it quite brutally.
This is not just shoehorning the facts to fit the
crime. Echo Memories can reveal – apparently for the first time – the
addendum at the foot of the police record of the murder of Philip Nash
Gee – Crime No 7/24.
In beautiful copperplate script, it says: “NOTE.
Norman Elliott, who was executed at Durham Jail on
the 10/8/28 for the murder of Byland Abbey, a bank clerk at Ferryhill,
was thought might have been connected with the murder of Gee. The Home
Office was communicated with on the matter. For correspondence in
connection herewith, see Assize File for August 1928.”
The “Assize File” appears not to have survived. But
surely, after 80 years, we have enough evidence to close both these
cases?
OF course, there’s another side to the story. In
January 1928, a month before William Abbey’s murder, Norman Elliott had
married Elizabeth, the daughter of the landlord of the Turk’s Head pub
in Kelloe. While Elliott was on trial in June 1928, she gave birth to
his child, who she took to show him in his cell on Death Row.
“I was told that she went to visit Norman once
because he wanted to see the baby,”
says a relative. “When she got home, she burned all
the clothes the child had on.”
That child grew up in central Durham. He emigrated to
Australia shortly after he married a lass from Stockton.
“He couldn’t go out on a Saturday night without being
told: ‘Thy father was a murderer’,” explains the relative.
We are pleased to report that, now 80 and a
grandfather, he has had a successful life Down Under, running his own
business.
Only last year, he returned to County Durham to visit
relatives.
His mother, Elizabeth, widowed by the hangman,
remarried and had other children, some of whom still survive in the
Sedgefield constituency. The Northern Echo reported that she was
“prostrate with grief” when her husband of just five weeks was arrested
and charged with murder. Her father collapsed on the floor of the Turk’s
Head when he heard the news and required medical assistance. He later
had to move out of the pub and find work down the pit.
“I remember when I first went to Kelloe nearly 60
years ago,” says the relative who married into the family. “At the bus
stand, this man just said ‘it’s so many years to the day that they
hanged Norman Elliott’, and he knew who I was, that’s why he said it.
This murder affected all their lives. It made things so difficult for
all of them.”