Chapter 3

Gang Warfare

or a variety of reasons, 1919 could not be said to be the finest year for London’s police; nor, indeed, for the rest of the country. The previous year, one third of the 18,000-strong personnel of the Metropolitan Police had gone on strike for the third time in the history of the Force; their pay was atrocious, police officers were in debt, their families were suffering from malnutrition. In fact, as a result of the strike, a constable’s pay was more than doubled, from £1 12s 6d per week to £3 10s 0d. And yet, in 1919, because the Prime Minister Lloyd George had said one thing but meant another, the police struck again; this time it was nationwide. There was fighting in the streets between striking and non-striking police officers, mobs smashed their way into department stores at night and actually switched the lights on to see what they were stealing, and in Liverpool the rioting was so bad that a signal was sent to the destroyers Venomous and Whitley, detaching them from their flagship and ordering them to make for Liverpool at maximum speed. This time the government did not accede to the strikers’ demands; the 1,056 Metropolitan Police officers who went on strike were immediately dismissed. Nor were police the only strikers; London’s Underground came to a standstill over a dispute about shorter working hours. Even more worrying was a massive meeting held in Glasgow on 31 January 1919 which sparked fears of a Russian-style revolution.

Nor was that all. A pandemic known as ‘Spanish Flu’ was sweeping the globe; it had commenced in 1918 and it did not abate until 1920. It is estimated that it claimed the lives of 100,000,000 people; five times that number were infected and 1,500 Metropolitan Police officers went sick, all on the same day. And on top of all that, the First World War had ended the previous year; a war in which one man in ten under the age of forty-five had perished. World trade had all but collapsed, inflation would more than double between 1919 and 1920 and unemployment (which would soon double, from one to two million) awaited the hundreds of thousands of returning servicemen. This, coupled with the existence of young men who had not known paternal guidance through the war years plus the hordes of immigrants who had been flooding unchecked into London, meant that violent and organised crime went through the roof.

A new and revolutionary concept of crime-fighting was needed, whereby groups of detectives could go from one hotspot of crime in the capital to another – fast. It heralded the birth of the Flying Squad, the brainchild of Detective Chief Inspector (later Chief Constable of the CID) Frederick Porter Wensley. Fortunately, Wensley was a career detective through-and-through, and during his career which by then had lasted thirty-one years, he got to know the East End underworld inside-out – and he knew detectives. He was given authority to pick twelve detectives from all over London to form the Flying Squad, and he knew exactly who he wanted. From ‘G’ Division, one of the toughest areas in London’s East End, he selected Detective Constable John Alec Rutherford. It was a wise choice.

Rutherford was born on 24 October 1892 in Eastbourne, Sussex and joined the Metropolitan Police on 4 August 1913, aged twenty; following a period as a ‘winter patrol’ (the forerunner of the aid to CID system), he was appointed as ‘permanent patrol’ (later, detective constable) on New Year’s Eve, 1917 – this was considered to be very quick work, indeed. One month later he married Elizabeth, two years his junior, at the Parish Church, St Pancras. By the time Wensley summoned him to the Yard in October 1919, Rutherford had been rewarded and commended on seven occasions; but more importantly, he had acquired an acute knowledge of the gangs in and around the area of ‘G’ Division.

It was early days for the Flying Squad; their initial patrols were made in the back of a horse-drawn wagon leased from the Great Western Railway and fitted with interchangeable boards displaying names of businesses to suit the area which they were patrolling; and the criminals simply did not know what had hit them. The trial period of the Squad was a success, and within a year the horse-drawn wagons were withdrawn and Crossley Tenders were brought into service. They were badly needed, to combat the growing menace of the ‘motor car bandit’.

On 15 September 1920 Rutherford was one of a number of detectives in a tender who set off on a patrol to catch a gang of south London villains, who with the use of motor vehicles had been carrying out a series of smash and grab raids. On the third night’s patrol the Squad ambushed the gang, who were about to break into a clothier’s shop, and there was a tremendous fight, the villains using a variety of weapons and the Squad their truncheons. There were severe injuries on both sides but the Squad – particularly Rutherford, who at five feet nine-and-a-half inches possessed a sturdy build – acquitted themselves well. They were commended by the Magistrate at Westminster police court and by Sir Henry Dickins, the trial judge at the Old Bailey, who sentenced the seven-man gang to varying periods of penal servitude and hard labour. Rutherford was one of twelve Squad officers commended by the commissioner and given monetary – in Rutherford’s case, £1 5s 0d – awards. In 1920 alone, Rutherford received nine more commendations.

However, there was a menace to society far more prevalent than the ‘motor car bandit’; what were known as ‘the Racetracks Gangs’ were perpetuating violence not only at the racetracks but also on the streets on Britain. And what was more, the violence was escalating at a frightening rate.

Following the end of the First World War, there were a large number of gangs running protection rackets among the bookmakers at racecourses nationwide. Two gangs stood out head and shoulders above the rest: the Italian Mob and the Birmingham Boys, also known as the Brummagem Hammers.

In charge of the Italian Mob was Charles ‘Darby’ Sabini. He and his brothers – George, Fred, Harryboy and Joseph – hailed from Saffron Hill, Clerkenwell. Darby was a sly, illiterate, charismatic tough, who had boxed professionally as a middleweight, and he had formed a coalition with Jewish bookmakers from the East End. The Italian Mob ran the protection rackets at the racecourses in the south of England.

On the opposing side, Billy Kimber from Bordesley, Birmingham, was the head of the Birmingham Boys. He was an intelligent strategist, had formed some useful alliances with other gangs and was running the racecourses in the Midlands and the north of England. Kimber had set up headquarters in Islington and formed a further fruitful (if uneasy) partnership with the Hoxton Gang, the Finsbury Boys and the Camden Town Gang; the common denominator was that these gangs shared a hatred for Sabini and his associates. Kimber’s principal lieutenants were Fred Gilbert, who had boxed as a welterweight under the ring name of George Langham (principally because he was an army deserter) and George ‘Brummy’ Sage. But in addition, Kimber reinforced the Birmingham Boys with some of the local colour who originated from south of the River Thames, and the waters were further muddied when a number of the combatants changed sides.

In 1921 there was a pitched battle between the two factions at Alexandra Park; shots were fired and severe injuries were inflicted on both sides. On 23 February that year Darby Sabini was attacked by the Birmingham Boys, led by ‘Brummy’ Sage, at Greenford Trotting Track; Sabini fired a shot at his attackers and although he was arrested for possessing a firearm with intent to endanger life, he was acquitted after he pleaded self-defence, and for unlawfully possessing a pistol he was bound over. Fred Gilbert, who was also present, had the charges against him dismissed. When Billy Kimber endeavoured to broker a deal with Darby Sabini, he was found shot outside Sabini’s address; Kimber survived, and Alfie Soloman, a Jewish bookmaker, was acquitted of the shooting a month later. But while he was awaiting trial, two Birmingham bookmakers’ touts were beaten up, and in retaliation two Jewish taxi-drivers working for the Sabinis were attacked and one of them was shot. No one was convicted of these offences and it was not until Derby Day, after the Leeds Mob were attacked by their allies the Birmingham Boys (who had mistaken them for the Italian Mob), that there were successful prosecutions, in which much of the evidence was given by the police. In February 1922 two of the Birmingham Boys were slashed with razors in London’s Coventry Street by Sabini’s gang, led by Alfie Soloman, and in April Fred Gilbert was slashed in the legs, again by Alfie Soloman, but he refused to press charges. However, this did not herald the end of the violence – not by any means.

Although Rutherford would later say that on the night of 28 July 1922 he was ‘off-duty’ in the Red Bull Public House, Gray’s Inn Road, it is more likely that he was meeting an informant and the ‘off-duty’ remark was made to distance himself from that suggestion. But whatever the circumstances, at 10.30 that evening Rutherford saw William Edwards, a forty-year-old labourer from Hoxton, enter the premises, together with Arthur Phillips, a fruiterer aged twenty-four from Clerkenwell and a man named Tobin. Suddenly they ran into the street followed by some other men and Rutherford heard a shot fired.

So too did a gang member who was in Gray’s Inn Road and who made his way towards the sound of the shot until he was stopped by Fred Gilbert, who told him, “Go the other way or I shall blow your fucking brains out.” Running into the street, Rutherford saw that the three men were in possession of revolvers, as was Joseph Jackson, a thirty-four-year-old dealer from Bermondsey and a number of other men. Tobin fired a shot at a group of men, Rutherford advanced towards him and Tobin shouted, “There’s Rutherford – let him have one!” With that, he took a few steps backwards and from a distance of fifteen yards fired at Rutherford. The men then backed away down the adjacent Portpool Lane for twenty yards before Jackson took aim at the detective and fired. Jackson ran off towards Leather Lane chased by Rutherford and a colleague, and when the men had reached a spot about forty yards away from the junction with Gray’s Inn Road, Edwards and Phillips stopped and turned in the middle of the road. There was a shout of “Go back, Rutherford!” and both men opened fire. Rutherford avoided injury, as he had all the way through the chase by dodging into doorways. Meanwhile, Jackson had turned into Hatton Garden and then faced Rutherford and, pointing his revolver at him, shouted, “Go away or I’ll do you in!” But before he had a chance to do so, Rutherford dashed up, punched him in the face and, as Jackson fell to the ground, relieved him of his revolver. Upon examination, it was found to contain four used cartridge cases. Also arrested was George Fagioli, a twenty-one-year-old labourer from Wakefield Street who was charged with possessing a firearm with intent to injure. Jackson was charged with shooting at Rutherford with intent to murder him, and within a week more of the gang were rounded up and charged, including George Baker, a labourer. It was madness that they had shot at Rutherford, whom they obviously knew, and they were highly fortunate that no one was hit; one of the shots struck a tramcar in Gray’s Inn Road, the bullet entering one side of the car and burying itself in a panel at the rear of the tram – it had missed one of the passengers by about twelve inches.

Fred Gilbert was not arrested on that occasion; however he was, three weeks later. The day started early for violence and intimidation on 22 August. A fleet of taxis drew up in Mornington Crescent and men got out and opened fire on George ‘Brummy’ Sage and Fred Gilbert who was walking with his wife. This time, Gilbert did prosecute. Members of the Italian Mob – George West, Paul Boffa, Simon Nyberg, Tommy Mack, Alf White and Joseph Sabini – were all arrested. But this inspired piece of grassing by Gilbert could not pass unnoticed or unpunished.

The Italian Mob retaliated; on the same day, a Jewish bookmaker told the police that three days previously, on 19 August, whilst he was waiting for a train at Waterloo station to convey him to Brighton for the racing, he was confronted by George ‘Brummy’ Sage who told him, “You Jew bastard. You’re one of the cunts we’re going to do. You’re a fucking bastard Jew and we’re going to do you and the Italians and stop you going racing.” And the same day, again at Waterloo in a pub, another Jewish bookmaker stated that he was approached by Fred Gilbert, Jim Brett and Sage; grabbing hold of the bookmaker, Sage said, “This is one of the bastards; do him Fred, through the guts.” Pressing a revolver into the bookmaker’s side, Gilbert allegedly said, “Give us a tenner and you can go.” Pulling out a butcher’s knife on a second bookmaker, Brett asked, “Shall I do him?” This meant that as well as the Gilbert family’s attackers being locked up, so too were Gilbert, Brett and Sage.

There was a series of trials at the Old Bailey; on 1 November the three men were acquitted of demanding money with menaces from the Jewish bookmakers. Nor were they alone in their good fortune; a number of other men in both the shootings in Mornington Crescent and Gray’s Inn Road were similarly found not guilty. But others were not so fortunate, and on 3 November 1922 all the men were brought up for judgement before Mr Justice Roche, who before passing sentence told the court:

I am going to teach people to act through the police and rely on them for protection, and as far as I can, to stop people taking the law into their own hands.

For shooting at Rutherford and being in possession of firearms, Joseph Jackson was sentenced to seven years’ penal servitude and George Baker to five years’ penal servitude. George Fagioli, for being in possession of a firearm, was sentenced to nine months’ hard labour.

When Alf White was sentenced to five years’ penal servitude for the Mornington Crescent shooting, women screamed at the back of the court, White put his hand to his forehead and groaned, “My God!” and one of the women advanced towards the judge in the well of the court, appealing for clemency. His Lordship directed that she be ‘gently removed’. In fact, White was later cleared on appeal; not so Joseph Sabini, who was sentenced to three years’ penal servitude, or Simon Nyberg (who during the past ten years had been convicted on sixteen occasions), who was sentenced to twenty-one months’ hard labour for riot. Thomas Mack was sentenced to eighteen months’ hard labour for riot, with six months concurrent for wounding a woman in a tramcar. Not that it can be said that Mack learnt a salutary lesson; following his release, he was sentenced to a month’s hard labour for an incident at Wye races, and twelve years after that, for his part in ‘The Battle of Lewes Racetrack’, he was sentenced to three years’ penal servitude.

Chief Inspector Brown, the officer in charge of the case, castigated Jackson, convicted of shooting at Rutherford, as ‘having the character in the neighbourhood of Bermondsey of a man who blackmailed tradesmen and bookmakers’; and when Mr J. D. Cassells for the defence pointed out that Rutherford had stated that Jackson was not connected with any of the racing parties, Brown stated emphatically that Cassells’ client was ‘a confirmed and dangerous thief’. But it was clear whose side the police were on. White, Chief Inspector Brown stated, had given information to the police previously in connection with racing matters and dangerous criminals who frequented race courses; he also said that Joseph Sabini ‘had never been in conflict with the police before’. Former Detective Chief Inspector Tom Divall (now an official of the Jockey Club) echoed Brown’s commendation of White; he also later applauded Billy Kimber as being ‘one of the best’ and praised him and George Sage for being ‘generous and brave fellows … who would rather die than send those men to prison’.

Divall had previously been Fred Wensley’s divisional detective inspector and Wensley hated him. It is easy to understand why. With men like Divall – to all intents and purposes, an upright and well-respected former senior police officer – championing the cause of both the Italian Mob and the Birmingham Boys, it is only slightly amazing that the Racetrack wars did not last longer than they did.

In Police Orders dated 1 January 1923 Rutherford, together with Detective Constable Cory and Police Constables 204 ‘E’ Rauscher, 594 ‘E’ Underwood and 378 ‘E’ Ackerman were all highly commended by the commissioner, and each (with the exception of Rutherford) was awarded £2; in addition, all were commended by the magistrate at Clerkenwell Police Court and the judge and the grand jury at the Old Bailey. Rutherford was also awarded £10 from the Bow Street Reward Fund for his courageous conduct.

In the London Gazette dated 1 January 1924 it was announced that Rutherford’s courage was to be recognised with a very well merited King’s Police Medal, and the medal was awarded to Rutherford personally by His Majesty King George V at Buckingham Palace on 28 February 1924.

On the very evening of the day of his investiture, Rutherford was part of a Flying Squad team assisting ‘D’ Division officers under the command of Detective Chief Inspector George Cornish (‘The murder wizard of Scotland Yard’, as the press liked to call him) who were keeping observation on the offices of Messrs Ewart & Son, Euston Road. They had received information that a four-man gang was going to break into the safe using explosives. The four men entered the premises and bolted the door behind them. Two hours later, one of the men, Edward Wood, left the building and, standing in the street opposite, ostentatiously wiped his face with his handkerchief, obviously a signal to the others waiting in the offices. Then he walked off, only to be grabbed by Rutherford, who relieved him of his raincoat and bowler hat. As Wood was taken to Albany Street police station, so Rutherford, now suitably disguised in Wood’s coat and hat, took his place in the street. A second man, Harris, was similarly arrested as he left the premises, and two more, James and Russell, were found hiding in the office. The safe had been drilled, the lock was packed with explosives and a fuse was held in place with a piece of soap; this had been thought the most viable way of cracking the safe, although a number of other items of the safe cracker’s armoury were laid out in front of the safe. Wood and Harris both pleaded not guilty, rather improbably claiming a case of mistaken identity, but it did them little good; at the Old Bailey two of the gang each received three years’ penal servitude, another fifteen months’ hard labour and the fourth six months’ – and Rutherford had his twenty-third commendation.

But still the Racetrack warfare continued, not only in London, but nationwide. In 1924 a bookmaker in Cardiff was attacked in his office, a man was murdered in Sheffield, in London a man was severely wounded in Tottenham Court Road and on a Doncaster to London train there was a pitched battle between the gangs. There was also a gang fight on the streets of Brixton and bystanders were caught up in the violence. In 1925 the violence on the streets actually escalated, with ten riots in London and other major cities. It was high time that decisive action was taken, and it prompted the often controversial Home Secretary, Sir William Joynson-Hicks Bt PC, DL – he was known as ‘Jix’ and had been appointed the previous year – to inform Parliament:

I intend to break up the race gangs. These fights show the existence of a state of affairs which cannot be tolerated in a civilised community. It may be difficult to break these gangs all at once, but give me time. The responsibility is mine; I mean to discharge it. It is monstrous that in a civilised country, this kind of rowdyism should take place. I shall take the necessary steps to put an end to this particular kind of atrocity.

He was supported by Edward Shortt KC who, as Secretary of State for the Home Department, had helped bring the police strike to an end and had earned the respect of the police. He had brought in a bill for the licensing of firearms and believed that the Racetrack gangster was as dangerous as a mental patient and should be treated as such. He stated:

In his case, I would remove the prison limit of ten years’ jail and substitute an indeterminate sentence confining him to an institution as a criminal lunatic during the King’s pleasure.

But despite this impressive rhetoric, it would be a decade before the gangs were brought under control. The Racetrack gangs were largely defeated following ‘The Battle of Lewes Racetrack’ on 8 June 1936. Opponents of the Italian Mob carried out an attack on Alfie Soloman (who had been acquitted of the attempted murder of Billy Kimber in 1921 and had been sentenced to three years’ penal servitude for manslaughter after stabbing one Barnett Blitz in the back of his head with a stiletto at the Eden Social Club in 1924), sixteen gang members appeared at Lewes Assizes and were sentenced to a total of forty-three-and-a-half years’ penal servitude, hard labour and imprisonment. Not that Rutherford was around to witness or take part in the proceedings.

Five years previously, on 17 April 1931, after less than eighteen years’ service and aged thirty-eight, Rutherford voluntarily retired. His conduct was described as ‘very good’ and he received a pension of £79 16s 9d – annually; his weekly pension amounted to just £1 10s 1d. It seems strange that a married man aged eight with a weekly wage which (including rent allowance) amounted to £5 5s 6d, who to all intents and purposes was very much on top of his job and who had been honoured by a succession of commissioners, judges and magistrates – and his Sovereign – should walk away from a well-paid job. That, however, was what he did, and little else is known about him; his pension was sent to him at 30 Howard House, Cleveland Street, London W1 until his death, aged seventy-two, on 26 February 1965.

But whatever the circumstances of the retirement of John Rutherford there is no denying that he was an intrepid detective – and a very brave one.