Show Transcript
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December 8th 1826.
The snow was falling heavily now, covering the freshly dug earth of his father’s grave with a soft white shroud. Joseph Cooper’s horn lantern cast a pitiful light, and the surrounding graveyard was becoming less distinct; the tombs softened by a veil of snow. Only the old, twisted yew tree remained dark and untouched, as if from some inner heat it kept the snow from settling.
Joseph Cooper could barely keep his eyes open. He was sitting on a box; he’d brought with him two days ago. He had barely moved in those 48 hours. He’d stayed awake for most of that time only napping when he had company in the day.
A gun rested across his stiff knees. He wasn’t even sure if it would fire in this cold temperature. He wondered if a dagger would have been better protection.
He wasn’t afraid to keep vigil in the graveyard, he wasn’t afraid of the dead at any rate. Not at first. He was still too angry. But as the hours wore on his sleep deprived mind began to fray and unravel.
Joeseph’s wife Hannah, had pleaded with him to come home. In her opinion it was all rumour and gossip. And the town was feverish with fear about these resurrection men. But Joseph knew there’d been bodies snatched from Dunstable in recent weeks. Some spoke of a broker, a dealer in the dead, making his way up the north road, then sending the bodies he plundered back down to London. It was said this shadowy King of the resurrectionists was in the Catherine Wheel pub this week, whispering with the young lads who drank there.
Joseph’s chin rested on his chest, heavy, weary. He jerked his head back upright, furious at drifting off to sleep momentarily. He would not allow anyone to steal his father’s body and cut it up like meat. He thrust his shoulders back, shook his head. His father had been a strict man but fair. A man who Joseph could laugh with once he had left home and had a family of his own. But most of all his father had been a god-fearing man. A man who knew his bible and tried to live honestly and simply as the Lord taught. He didn’t deserve to be defiled after death, no honest person did.
The fancy folk in the big towns and cities could afford mort cages to stop these despicable resurrection men. They placed these heavy iron cages over their loved one’s graves. But in a town like Biggleswade the likes of the Coopers could not afford such precautions.
Eventually the snow stopped and a kind of muffled hush fell on the grave yard. Joseph thought how he must resemble a ghost himself sitting there, still as the dead, cloaked in a white film of ice. He shook his head and shoulders clear of the stuff. He stood up from his box, stamping his feet to get some feeling back into them.
Then he froze again.
He’d heard a rustling, possibly a small animal his movements had distrubed? But it had sounded loud, distorted.
Then a water bird called from the river that flowed just behind the church. He still didn’t move. He listened for any crunch in the snow any muffled noise.
Nothing.
He relaxed a little. Turned his mind over the gossip he’d been told. How this blue-eyed Londoner, dressed smartly, something of a military bearing about him had arrived at the Catherine Wheel on Monday. Sitting in the shadowy corners of the inn with the shadiest characters of the town. But then befriended some of the local lads, the ones who liked a drink, the ones who liked the girls a little too much, the ones who were restless to get away and leave the fields and labouring behind them. It was just a suspicion that this smart, stiff man from London was after something secret, something sinister. He’d been asking about Joseph’s dad’s funeral arrangements.
Joseph had told the vicar what he heard, and the reverend listened patiently with a frown on his face. He’d rubbed his whiskery cheeks and told Joseph to not worry about it, he would speak with the constables. But Joseph didn’t trust the constables. No, if you needed a job doing you did it yourself.
Then his thoughts were interrupted again. This time the noise was indescribable. Coming from the yew tree halfway along the path to the church. Its long thick trunk snaked over the path in a most peculiar angle. He’d never liked walking beneath that tree as a child on his way to Sunday school. Was it a bird he’d heard?
The noise came again, it was not human, and it was no bird that he recognised. It was coming from above him. The warning of his wife rang in his ears.
“You’ve told the constable’s Joe, leave it to them. You shouldn’t be hanging around the church yard at this time of year, not at night. We’re approaching yule, things are unsettled and unquiet until we get to Christmas. It’s not a good time to be out amongst the dead, Joe. It’s a witching time of year.”
He’d dismissed it as superstitious nonsense but as the noise came again and the shadow of the dark yew loomed amongst the white of the grave yard he longed to be at home.
The clock struck two.
He hesitated for what felt like hours but was just a few minutes.
The thought of Hannah warm in bed at home was comforting. But the shape of the dark yew crowded in on his thoughts. This was day two of his vigil. Surely the resurrection men would not strike now?
He hunched over and looked down at the snow-covered mound of earth beneath which his father lay and he whispered.
“I’m going now dad, you’ll be alright. I’ll be back tomorrow and every night until this villain has left town or been caught. I promise dad. I’ll be back tomorrow look I’m leaving my box ready to sit on it again on the morrow.”
He turned slowly and trudged away, his head hung low but thoughts of his warm bed at the front of his mind.
The clouds had thinned, and a brittle moonlight splintered through the yew trees branches as he walked beside it. He would not walk under it, not tonight.
He turned on to the street and glanced about, everything was silent, and still, no footprints in the snow were visible other than his own. His own footsteps crunched but the sound was muffled it made him think of the earth hitting his father’s coffin. He walked through the market square and peered at the Catherine Wheel pub. All was dark and silent there.
***
Little did Joseph know that Rawlins the inn keeper had only just extinguished the lamps and candles, having been assured earlier in the evening, by four of his guests still awake and in the bar, that he needn’t wait up for them. They sat huddled around the glowing embers of the fire, a single candle flickering between them, they were whispering. Rawlins didn’t like it, didn’t like it one bit but he was shattered from an extremely busy day of work and was due to rise in less than 4 hours’ time. So, he’d dragged his weary body up to bed closing his door and his mind to what the four men were up to that night.
Welcome
Welcome to Weird in the Wade, I’m Nat Doig and on today’s episode we’re going to look at more ghost stories associated with crime, criminals, and victims of crime.
Our first case is that of the Biggleswade body snatchers. A story notorious about the town and as we’ll learn, not all about the story is as it seems. And I believe I’ve uncovered a far more interesting angle to the story than the murky rumours generally remembered.
Then we’ll look at a story where it is a victim of crime who haunts a location. And I recorded in the very location that spirit is said to haunt, Green Park in London. On a freezing winter’s dusk I recorded in the park, telling the strange story of the sorrowful spectre as sat beneath the park’s mournful trees.
Before we crack on with the episode, just some news! First of all a huge thank you to you all for listening. And welcome to my new listeners. You are very welcome in this weird corner of the podcasting world. The last episode about ghostly crime had the most downloads in its first week of any of my episodes so thank you! Do keep telling others about the show and sharing on social media if you can. As always reviews and ratings on your podcast app of choice always help other people to find the show.
And I have a date for your diary. Believe it or not it’s almost a year since Weird in the Wade launched. To celebrate I’m going to hold a live online event, including a live story and Q&A. It will be held on Wednesday 1st May at 7pm British Summer Time, that’s 2pm EST and apologies to my Ausie and NZ listeners it’ll be the middle of the night for you! But I will make the event available afterwards. There’s a link in the show description to find out more and how to attend! I’ll remind you in the next episode too.
You’ll also find in the show descriptions links to the show social media and the podcast’s ko-fi page where if you are able, you can buy the podcast a coffee. I’m currently running a special fundraiser because my second piece of news is that in early April, I will be spending the night in not only one of the countries most haunted apartments but also another night in what is often described as the countries most haunted pub! I’ll be by myself and recording for the show! So, if you’d like to contribute to my travel costs for completing this challenge head over to my ko-fi page to support. Thank you!
Now back to the body snatchers.
Resurrection Men
Before we head back to Biggleswade lets have a quick look at what these resurrection men were and what they did.
The first thing to say is that disturbing graves appears to have been taboo for a very long time indeed. Think of the Egyptian tomb curses for example and the lengths the pharaohs went to hiding their tombs in the desert, placing them deep inside pyramid fortresses. Think of the lengths ancient Europeans went to, to protect their dead in stone and earth barrow tombs. In many parts of the world the dead were venerated, ancestors revered and still are. And Christianity brought to the UK its own rules about death and burial. Yet sometimes graves were disturbed by those ignoring these rules or by those who felt enough time had passed to make the disturbance less dangerous or unacceptable.
The robbing of fresh graves for jewellery and the like could be an issue. Remember the trouble at St Mary’s Old church up on the lonely hill at Clophill, way before any black magic stories. It’s lonely position once most services had been moved into the new church in the village, left the graves on the hill targets for jewellery thieves in the mid-19th century.
But actually, removing bodies, now that seems to be a much more modern phenomena and for our story is tied to a very particular period of time.
We’re talking about the late 18th and early 19th century when the science of medicine and anatomy was growing. To train as a doctor, the students needed to understand the human body in all it’s details, inside and out. Yet there was no legal way to acquire the number of bodies they needed for dissection and training. Supply was not meeting demand. The 1752 Murder Act allowed for the dissection of execution victims. But there were not enough of them especially by the 1810s.
It’s not surprising then that a shady underground trade began in sourcing dead bodies for these doctors at their universities. This murky trade would continue until 1832 some six years after the incident in Biggleswade, when the anatomy act was passed allowing for those who died and were unclaimed in workhouses, hospitals and prisons to be used for dissection. Universities were issued licences to procure these bodies.
The law was passed in response to some high profile and repugnant cases including the Westport Murders as they were known, committed by Burke and Hare in 1828 in Edinburgh and copycat murders known as the London Burkers in 1831. Where instead of stealing recently buried bodies, these men murdered victims to sell to the anatomists.
But in 1826 in Biggleswade it was the fear of grave robbers, snatching bodies away for dissection in London universities that had the town in a state of fear.
Biggleswade body snatchers the rumours
Before I tell you what the newspapers of the time reported actually happened back in 1826 I’ll let you know what generally gets reported now around the town.
Here’s some of Biggleswade’s hot takes on the body snatchers:
- There were gangs of body snatchers operating in Biggleswade.
- They hung out at the Catherine Wheel pub.
- They used the tunnels to take the bodies from the church to the pub.
- The vicar was in on it.
In 1970, Boots the chemist moved from the High Street to the site of the old Catherine Wheel pub. The pub had closed some years before and it’s building demolished to make way for the modern Boots. Sometime earlier the Woolworths also opened next door also in a modern building. The Biggleswade Chronicle ran a short article about the new purpose-built Boots building, mentioning that the Catherine Wheel had been the haunt of body snatchers.
This wasn’t the only time that the story of the Biggleswade body snatchers was covered by local press. In 1943 the Bedfordshire Times ran a diary column about the body snatchers. In 1958 the Beds and Herts Pictorial ran a short story like article about the resurrection men as well.
So, it’s not hard to see why the community have held on to this story.
And this knowledge of the body snatchers activity in the Catherine Wheel pub has led to some stories being shared about the strange atmosphere and goings on in both Boots and Woolworths in the past. More on these spooky goings on later.
What really happened
However, thrilling it might sound to have a gang of body snatchers operating out of Biggleswade. This story also still causes distress for those whose ancestors are buried there. When asking a local facebook group about what they knew of the story, at least one person got in touch concerned that her ancestors grave may have been disturbed. I was able to reassure her that was not the case. But I think it illustrates that the disturbance of graves even 200 years ago is an emotive subject still. Currently the vagueness of the rumours and accepted story mean that the problem of grave robbing can seem bigger than it actually was. And what I have discovered about the body snatchers in Biggleswade is really far more reassuring and exciting in a way than the current rather vague narrative.
Firstly, I can find only one case of body snatching in Biggleswade, so the problem was not rife in the town. It appears to have been a one off. And when you learn how this case was handled by the town, I think you’ll see why other body snatchers may have been put off from visiting again.
So, lets return to December 7th 1826 …
During the day, whilst Joseph Cooper kept his vigil at his father’s grave side, others in the town were busy.
Two young lads, George Lester age 21 and William Smith 22 were on a series of errands. First, they called at the house of Caleb Malden, a carpenter.
“Hallo Mr Malden” they greeted Caleb in unison
“Morning George, Morning Will what can I do for you lads?”
Malden was surprised to see the young men in front of him. They were usually working by the mill or out in the fields, even at this time of year. They weren’t the sort of lads usually sent on errands.
“We’re err after a box” George said
“Yeah a trunk.” William squeaked
The one they chose was not a very big trunk, less than 3 feet long.
“We need it to be half full of sawdust Mr Malden.” George informed.
“Really?” Malden asked confused.
“Yeah, you have enough of the stuff lying around here right. It’s not a problem?”
“No, no” Caleb Malden agreed, and the two young men left, with a bit of a swagger to their step. They were heading in the direction of the iron mongers Caleb noted.
Once the two lads had left the iron mongers, Caleb wandered over to his friend’s shop.
“So, what did those two daft lads want?” Caleb asked without checking who was behind the counter he just assumed it would be his friend James. But it was Mrs Goldthorpe Jame’s mother at the counter, and so the response he got was more guarded.
“What business is it of yours Caleb Malden?” Old Mrs Goldthorpe asked, as she mopped an old rag over some candle sticks.
“Sorry Mrs Goldthorpe, I thought you were James.”
“Hm did you now. My son is out back but it was I who dealt with those two, ninnies. Why d’you wanna know?”
“They have just bought from me an old chest, half filled with sawdust. I am suspicious of them, not of you mrs Goldthorpe.”
Goldthorpe stopped her cleaning, her pale blue eyes crinkled as she frowned in thought.
“Hmmm well that puts a different complexion on it. A trunk from you, a shovel from me, from those two lads who don’t have penny between them usually. And they asked me if I knew the time of the early goods waggon from Carringtons, they’re off to see him now. Up to no good I’ll wager.
By all accounts they’ve been talking with London folk in the Catherine Wheel this last week or so, Betsy Albone said. And Joseph Cooper is keeping a vigil at his father’s grave, as we speak. He says it’s going to be interfered with. I just thought he was being an old goose but I’ll call James, you and he can go and find the constable. If I tells him what I know he’ll say it’s just gossip but from you master Malden he’ll take it seriously.”
“If they are up to something, they’ve not been too bright about it.” Caleb pondered.
He wasn’t wrong.
Caleb and James found the constable and all three of them went to Mr Carrington’s waggon office.
“Well, here’s a thing.” Mr Carrington explained “Those lads Lester and Smith were in here just now. They wanted me to carry a trunk of there’s on tomorrow’s early coach. So I asked them to bring it to me by 5pm this evening. That they said they could not do.
They were mightily disappointed by this I can tell you. They attempted to strike a bargain. They said they could get the trunk to me by 4:30 am in the morning and no sooner, but that they’d pay me more for my trouble, which to me seemed a likely story. When have those two lads ever had any spare coins But I let them think that I would carry the trunk on the wagon, and I was about to come to you constable and tell you all this. You just got here first”
The four men huddled together, and a plan was hatched. Before they parted Caleb asked
“What of Joseph Cooper, he’s a simple fellow but an honest one. Should we tell him?”
“No” Carrington exclaimed “No, he is unsettled enough as it is. I heard that he has borrowed a gun from Isaac the game keeper and is to keep vigil there at the grave side tonight still. We thought he was mad. Delirious with the grief. But it seems he was right.
But if we tell him, he will attempt to apprehend Lester and Smith or worse. And we will have no evidence. Is that not right Constable?”
The constable agreed.
And so Joseph Cooper kept his lonely vigil that night at the graveside until 2 am, with no idea that there was a trap set for the resurrectionists.
In the Catherine Wheel pub Lester and Smith were making ready to leave. There companions from London encouraging them to make haste.
George Lester had the iron shovel in his hands, weighing it thoughtfully.
“Won’t the ground be too frozen to dig though? It’s snowed heavy this night.” Lester enquired hopefully.
“Nonsense boy, look my man Enoch here will go with you to the church and he will help you carry the trunk to the wagon office. Do as he says and all will go well. You’ll have your pay and I’ll be on my way back to London.”
So, the two lads and Enoch a stooped but broad man who said little made their way to the churchyard which they found empty, save for an owl and a fox returning home to his den.
George Lester’s teeth were chattering, his legs trembling, not with cold but with fear of the grave yard. With fear of what they were about to do.
“Where’s Joseph Cooper gone? I thought he was keeping vigil?” George asked.
“We paid someone to scare him off earlier with monstrous bird calls. And it worked.”
Lester glanced at his accomplice Smith who was also shivering though Lester could not tell if it was with fright or with the cold.
“Ha, that fool Cooper has left a box for me to sit on lads. Get busy then we don’t have all night.” Enoch brushed the top of the box with a bony hand and sat on it.
Lester’s fears were unfounded the freshly fallen snow and dug earth moved easily and it wasn’t long until the coffin was visible.
“How do we get it out?” Lester asked pointing into the grave at the coffin.
“Are you daft lad? You don’t. We aint after the coffin we want what’s inside it. That’s why you brought the trunk.”
Lester still looked confused as Smith used the back of a hammer to prize up the nails on the coffin lid.
“But won’t the body be all stiff like, how will we fit it in the trunk?”
“Nah, nah the body goes all pliable like, after a couple o days. Don’t you worry.”
So it wasn’t long until Lester was tasked with filling up the grave again, whist Smith and Enoch folded the body into the trunk, making sure it was covered by the saw dust and then bound and tied the trunk shut with thick chords.
“Now we take this to that fool Carrington.” Said Enoch.
As the three of them arrived at Carringtons with the trunk, Lester and Smith carrying it, Enoch directing them with grunts and curses, Carrington attempted to proceed as if all was normal.
“Good morning gents. The early bird catches the worm eh? Here let me help you with that trunk.”
“Nah, they can manage.” Enoch spat.
But Carrington wrestled the trunk from Lester so he could get a sense of its weight. He directed Smith where to leave it.
“What’s in the trunk then lads?”
“Nothin’ important” Enoch spoke up again.
“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced, I’m Carrington I run this carriage and waggon office” he said holding out his hand to be shook.
Enoch waved his hand away “I have no time for pleasantries.”
“Fair enough, but I am in my rights to ask what you’re wanting transported you know that? And I will be satisfied before I allow it to be loaded on to the wagon.”
“Sawdust” Squeaked Smith “It’s just a trunk of sawdust.”
Enoch’s face fell, crumpled like a screwed up old rag. He slunk nearer to the door. He didn’t like this one bit.
“Well then lad, why on earth would anyone be transporting sawdust in a trunk down to London at this time in the morning? Let’s have a look at what’s really in here shall we!”
Carrington produced a large knife for cutting the chords.
Enoch snuck out the door as soon as he saw the gleam of the blade.
Lester was protesting “no no don’t do that Mr Carrington you’ll damage all my good handy work securing it.”
As the knife slit through the first chord, Smith turned to run. His sudden movement shocked the constable who darted after him realising that the old cockney had also left. The constable blew his whistle and made off after Smith calling out for others around to take up the chase with him.
Meanwhile Maldon the carpenter grabbed Lester and held him tight, binding his wrists with rope.
Goldthorpe now joined Carrington in removing the chords that bound the trunk.
The constable strode back through the door.
“My men are in pursuit of Smith, they’ll catch him and that cockney fella as well. Here let me see, I must be witness to this trunk being opened.”
Lester was now silently weeping as the men crowded around the box. He’d come so close to getting away with it. They’d come so close to escaping. Now he could hear outside the towns folk rousing, calling, a hue and cry was raised to find his accomplice Smith. His friend. But Smith had left him here. So had that old fella Enoch.
As the men slowly lifted the lid and the constable leaned over, it appeared that the trunk was indeed full of sawdust. But after brushing to one end a few handfuls of the course wood shavings and dust, a foot emerged, and the sweet cloying smell of death crept out into the waggon office.
A young police officer struggled through the door some time later, with a cowering William Smith.
“They’re after his blood sir. All the town knows, and they’ll tear them both to pieces if they can!”
All could hear the mob outside Carrington’s yard, yelling and calling for the resurrectionists to be sent out to them.
The constable shook his head. Determined to see the law respected he bundled the two resurrection men on to one of Carrington’s wagons, choosing two of his fastest and strongest horses and sitting up front with the driver, the constable made sure they had a hasty getaway to Bedford Gaol where the two Biggleswade labourers were admitted before trial.
Meanwhile unaware of the excitement at Carringtons wagon yard, Joseph Cooper trudged through the snow back to his father’s grave. He found the grave disturbed just as he had feared and fell to his knees weeping for the first time since his father’s passing.
He was found some minutes later by the vicar and given the news that his father’s body was recovered and to be reinterred that very morning. The two dark figures stood out against the white of the snow, one now weeping with relief.
The trial and aftermath
The trial of Lester and Smith was held during the last week of January at Bedford. Cooper gave moving evidence of his 2 day vigil at his father’s grave side. The constable, Carrington, Malden the carpenter, the iron monger, and Rawlins the Catherine Wheel’s inn keeper all gave evidence. It was noted how hot feelings ran in the town against these resurrection men.
But the law had no suitable sentence for such crimes. The theft of a body was classed as “interference with a grave” which carried with it the lightest of sentences. Lester and Smith pleaded guilty and were sentenced to three months imprisonment in the “new house of correction” and were fined £10 each.
For those of you interested in prison history, Bedford has a rich history of gaols and prisons. This new house of correction was built in a hurry when the 1801 County Gaol on Bromham Road, designed by the architect Vincent John Wing, was found too small for the rapid increase in prisoners during the first half of the 19th century. The New House of Correction did not last long though as it was eventually demolished in 1849 when the county gaol was expanded.
I have seen the ledger recording Lester and Wing’s sentence but sadly it provides little more than their ages and details of crime and punishment.
One thing we do know for sure is that when released these two young men did not resettle in Biggleswade. There is no record of them in the area at all after 1827. It is very likely that although not an official sentence as such, Biggleswade’s anger and disgust at these young men, and probably their own shame means that they were effectively banished from their home town.
And what of the third man who escaped? The chap I named Enoch. Well he was never caught. No suspect was named. It is probable that he was the fixer or broker for the transaction or tied to him. The body was destined to be dissected at a London university hospital. Although I’d like to think that Lester and Smith were Biggleswade home grown criminal geniuses, all evidence suggests otherwise. There had to be a middleman. Neither lad had been in trouble with the law before. Though Lester may have had a name’s sake cousin who was always in trouble, but we know he isn’t our George Lester as he was in prison at the time of the body snatching and not the right age. It may just be a coincidence and they’re not related.
Joseph Cooper was able to rebury his father the very same day the resurrectionists were foiled.
Legacy
It fascinates me that this story has been remembered in the town for nearly 200 years. Especially which aspects of the story are remembered, and which aren’t, and where the tale has been embellished.
The years have cast a murkier hue over the story. Its a vague tale that’s remembered about gangs of body snatchers operating out of the Catherine Wheel pub and using the tunnels to transport the bodies.
The Catherine Wheel pub was where the conspirators met, and Rawlin’s witness testimony was important. But the tunnels are not mentioned at all in the contemporary sources. In fact, Smith is located hiding in a nearby garden shed to Carrington’s yard, when he is caught after running. Surely if he was aware of the tunnels, he’d have used them to escape? But not mentioning the tunnels at the time doesn’t mean they weren’t involved, it’s just unlikely.
What surprises me though is that this story is not remembered for what it actually is. Which is a story about townsfolk triumphing over criminals. The carpenter, the iron monger, and Carrington at the wagon yard, all do their bit to assist in the capture of the resurrectionists. Cooper is a tragic but heroic figure keeping vigil with a borrowed gun, at the grave of his father. He’s there for 2 whole days.
I wonder if part of the reason the story isn’t remembered quite like this is because some in the town were split in their feelings about what happened. A large section of Biggleswade was angered by the resurrectionists, ready to “tear them to pieces.” But once it sunk in that these were two local lads baptised at St Andrews Church, the very church yard robbed, maybe it all became a bit more complicated. I’m sure for some it wasn’t. Some would have been just as resolute in despising these lads for their deeds. But others will have known them, cared for them, been friends with them, family to them.
Maybe its always easier to think that the criminals and wrong does come from outside the community. A shady gang from London using tunnels underground. Rather than two of our own lads, who until this gruesome act had never been in trouble with the law.
But I’d like to propose a new spin on this story a more accurate take. I wish this story to be remembered like this. That Biggleswade town’s folk came together and prevented the body of old Thomas Cooper being snatched away for dissection. They acted as detectives, each thinking something suspicious was going on, they got their heads together, and alerted the authorities. Remember this was before Bedfordshire Police. The police force would not be formed until some 12 years later. The local constable needed all the help he could get.
I haven’t found any evidence of other bodies being snatched from Biggleswade. And I can see why. The London brokers organising these thefts would think twice about coming back to Biggleswade after being foiled by a carpenter, ironmonger, and wagon office man. Biggleswade should be proud that it foiled the gang and caught the two local culprits, but especially proud that they prevented the body of Thomas Cooper being stolen away. Joseph and his family must have been extremely relived and grateful.
But what of the ghost stories?
I am very grateful that those who used to work in the old Woolworths or Boots buildings who have come forward to share their memories with me. The majority say that they did not experience anything unsettling working there. But a handful have reported uncanny goings on.
The most common reports are of feelings of not being alone, when out at the back in the stock room by themselves. Feelings of unease or just uncomfortableness. There being an atmosphere near to the window in the stock room. But there has been little more reported than that.
But these feelings of unease or a presence have in the past been linked to the tales of the Catherine Wheel being haunted by the body snatchers.
One topic that always gets linked to the body snatchers, and ghostly goings on is that of the tunnels.
As I’ve mentioned before on the show, the buildings around Biggleswade’s market square and along the High Street have cellars, and most of these cellars include bricked up entrances. The bricking up of these entrances was in living memory and some have shared stories about actually exploring the tunnels as a child. Reporting that they linked the cellars together and ran quite far underground. Speculation is that they led to the church and to the river.
Although there are theories that the tunnels are not purpose built but instead remnants of older longer cellars of the buildings destroyed in the great fire of 1786. Which I covered in the haunted pound stretcher and subsequent bonus episodes.
I think it’s probably a bit of both. There are tunnels and there are additional cellars.
But a lot of people who have worked in the pubs and shops which have these now bricked up tunnel entrances have reported feeling deeply uncomfortable when near to them. We’ve had reports of strange smells like cooking coming from them, strange atmospheres, and even shadowy figures being seen.
I’ll be sharing a video from one of these cellars on social media and the blog for you to have a look at. It’s taken below the brilliant Dee Dee’s vagan café. The café and the shop above Lola Bon, are definitely worth a visit when you’re in Biggleswade. They sell dreamy cakes and gifts. Dee Dees have been kind enough to let me go down into the cellar to explore which I plan to do in April! The cellar is entered by a ladder through a trap door!
But back to the body snatchers. It seems the tunnels have been associated with the body snatchers in more recent years. And I think the link is a logical one to make. The Catherine Wheel was rightly identified as the hangout of Lester and Smith and their shadowy companions before the raid on Coopers grave. The Catherine Wheel pub had a large cellar that linked to the tunnels. The story of the body snatchers was shared at different times through out the 20th century along with curiosity about what the tunnels were for. I can totally see why two and two were put together and 5 was made with the body snatchers.
There is no evidence that the resurrectionists used the tunnels. But we don’t know that they didn’t either. I suspect though that if they had used the tunnels and this was discovered, then it would have made the newspaper reports and court evidence.
So, although it makes sense to link the tunnels with the resurrection men and with the uncomfortable atmosphere in the cellars. I think we need to find another reason for why the tunnels or old cellars feel so uncomfortable. And I’ll be tackling that in April after my visit to one of the cellars!
If you believe that ghosts or paranormal experiences are caused by the spirits of the dead, I think its unlikely that the tunnels or the shops on the site of the Catherine Wheel are haunted by anyone connected with the resurrection men. The body of Thomas Cooper was reburied straight away. The body snatchers themselves seem to have never returned to Biggleswade so I can’t imagine their spirits are haunting the town still.
But what I think has definitely happened is that a crime was committed in Biggleswade that shocked the town. The effect of the crime was to create fear, and maybe for some residents a conflicted sense of shame if they were connected to the two lads who committed the grisly acts. As the years rolled on the act of stealing a body was remembered but some of the details slipped and shifted. The town forgot that some of its own residents had been brave and had foiled the robbery.
The crime became more shadowy, murky, outside gangs hiding in tunnels, smuggling the dead down to London. Their evil deeds lived on in explanations for feelings of uncomfortableness or fear in the back rooms and cellars of the site of where the resurrection men drank and plotted.
I believe the women who say they felt a presence with them in the stock rooms. I just don’t think it was anything connected with the body snatchers. Which leaves a bigger mystery for us to investigate in the future!
Linking paranormal activity or feelings of unease to the body snatchers I think is an example of a history driven haunting story rather than a phenomenon driven one. And is another example of how crimes particularly the most taboo of crimes, live on and mutate in our consciousness. Hauntings are associated with crimes because they are shocking and we hold on to them as a lesson to deter others, or because we feel there’s still unfinished business. The resurrection men were let off lightly for one, with just three months prison sentence.
But sometimes hauntings associated with crimes are about the victims and our complicated feelings about how we remember victims and how we deal with crimes which go unpunished.
The Green Park Phantom Fiddle Player
On a bitterly cold day in January I visited London’s Green Park on the hunt for old ghosts. I also visited nearby Shepherd Market which has a highway man spectre, but maybe more on that in a future episode. Green Park and neighbouring St James’ Park are probably my two favourite parks in London, and they’re very different but both have unusual ghost stories.
As you’ll hear on the recording I made whilst sitting in Green Park I was in search of a ghost and a terrifying tree. It was dusk, and I was bundled up in winter coat, hat and scarf. The recording opens with geese flying over head. There’s a lot of wildlife in London’s parks as you’ll hear! Some of it with their own myths and legends.
Green Park recording
It’s a cold January evening and I’m sitting in Green Park in London and. If you’ve never been to Green Park. It’s between Buckingham Palace and Piccadilly and it’s a big open green space with lots of trees. No formal flower beds, but during the spring there are lots of daffodils.
So, one of the rumours that I’ve read about Green Park is that no flower will grow here. But that’s not true because I have photographs of the swathes of daffodils that definitely grow here in the spring.
It’s about 4:30. Not quite 4:30. About 4:15 in the afternoon. And the sun is about to set in about 15 minutes time, and the park is still busy. Lots of people making their way from one part of London to the other. It really is a kind of thoroughfare at this time of year. Green Park is a place that people go through rather than visit in of itself, but in the summer, there are deck chairs and people sitting out and enjoying the sun. It has sort of Criss crossing paths running through it. Everyone walking past is bundled up in big, thick coats and scarves and hats because it is really, really, bitterly cold today.
There’s something of. The video game Bloodborne to this park, I think it’s the lamps. It’s got old fashioned Victorian lamps, iron railings, big, tall, twisty trees and at this time of night with the sunset being a kind of orangey yellow colour, it really gives off those kind of bloodborne vibes. That’s probably one of the reasons why I like it. It’s quite a gothic park.
But today I came here in search of two things. One is a tree known as the Death Tree, and the story goes that no bird will rest on a branch on that tree. No bird will forage for food underneath that tree. (Ah, there’s a magpie.) But also that apparently homeless people who sleep in the park will shun that tree. There are a number of legends about what has happened to people who have been foolhardy enough to sleep beneath that tree, including a really bizarre story about a sort of half pig, half woman cryptid. Now I found an earlier version of this story which claims that the death tree is actually in Saint James’s Park, which is just over the road from here. So, I’m not sure whether it really is in Green Park or whether it is over in Saint James’s Park. But I think green park’s are better contender just because there’s more trees here.
Now the reason why there is a death tree, it is said, is because Green Park was built on the site of a hospital for people with leprosy in mediaeval times. So, I’m going to look into that and find out whether that is true. Is there any truth in that or was this a burial ground? That’s the other rumour that this park was built on a burial ground.
So, I had a look around at the trees and have taken lots of photographs that you’ll be able to see on the podcast blog. Weird in the wade dot blog. And I haven’t really found one that would be a contender. The trees here are beautiful. There is one tree which is fenced off, and I had high hopes as I approached it because it was glowing, a kind of ghostly red in the sunset, and it looked like it had growths on it. But as I got closer to it there was a plaque written at the bottom of the railings. And the plaque said that the tree had been planted to commemorate Queen Mary and King George’s wedding. I think so. I’m guessing that was about 100 years ago at least I’ll have to go back and have a look and brush up on my British royal history. But I’m guessing we’re talking at least 100 years ago that that tree was planted. If it was Queen Mary and King George. So I don’t think that could be the death tree.
The other interesting thing now in not just Green Park, but many of the parks in London is that there are as well as the. Magpies that you can hear. Parakeets. Green parakeets. There’s a lot of rumour and mystery around how these parakeets ended up in the London parks. One of the stories is they escaped from a film set. Errol Flynn’s film set, but apparently that’s not true. Which is a shame, because it’s such a great story. I think that it’s one of his pirate films and they had some green parakeets that escaped. I used to see them in my garden in Catford and back then, 20 years ago they hadn’t quite colonised the centre of London but now they seem to be everywhere and moving steadily north. I really love them. They’re very gregarious and noisy, and they’re great fun to watch. But obviously they do compete with our native birds.
There was one other story about Green Park that I’ve read. I’m sure I will find more, but the other story that I came here today to think about, is the story of a Phantom who plays a fiddle. He’s a violinist. And the story goes that he used to busk in the park maybe 100 to 200 years ago, but one day he fell asleep and in some of the stories it says he fell asleep under the death tree, which you must never do, and when he awoke, someone had stolen his fiddle. And obviously that instrument was his livelihood. And anyone who plays an instrument will know how heartbreaking it would be for someone to steal your instrument. But for him, doubly so, because this was how he made a living and he couldn’t afford to buy a new fiddle. So, the story goes that he searched the park for weeks and weeks, asking people have you seen why violin? Do you know anything about it? But he never found his violin, and no one was ever caught for stealing it. Now some accounts say that he just died of a broken heart. Others say that he took his own life because he was so distraught at the loss of his income and the loss of his beloved instrument. But in death, he was reunited with the ghostly fiddle and on dark winter’s night. Or late into the evening in the summer, you can hear him playing his violin. So if anyone listening. Plays the fiddle and fancy a bit of busking. Green park’s the place to come and do it. You might just scare a few people in the know, so I’m going to sit here for a bit longer and just sort of take in the ambience of the park.
Conclusions
I think I’ll revisit the death tree of Green Park in a future episode, so if anyone listening knows anything about that story please do get in touch!
Green Park does have a peculiar atmosphere of its own. Peter Underwood the renowned expert in all things ghostly, described it’s “stillness, an air of expectancy, and a sensation of sadness” I might describe it as both sombre yet gothic at the same time.
It seems that the rumours of Green Park being built on the site of a burial ground could hold truth. St James hospital for Lepers run by monks, was on the site until the dissolution of the monasteries in the 16th century by Henry VIII. I’m surprised there aren’t more sightings of spectral monks!
The land was swampy and part of it was used as brick works as well.
It was Charles II who acquired the land for a garden and enclosed it in the 1680s. Charles II kept an ice house in the garden for keeping his royal drinks nicely cooled.
Through out the 18th century it was known as a rather shady area of London, literally and metaphorically. The haunt of highwaymen and dualists. It wasn’t until 1820 that the Park was landscaped by John Nash.
I found a letter written to the London Chronicle in 1840 despairing at plans to convert Green Park into more formal gardens. The letter writer does not object to a few more trees being planted for the pleasure of those who live a hundred years hence but does object to taming this beautiful spot. I am glad that plans for making formal gardens did not go ahead. As almost 200 years later, Green Park still is an unusual and beautiful feature within London.
Although the story of the ghostly violinist appears in collections of ghost stories for London and is included in some London ghost walks. I can not find an origin for the story. I tried to find any reports of it in the news papers and also for any unusual deaths or thefts reported. But could not find anything obvious. There is much more digging to do.
But hearing ghostly music especially from violins is a common in many ghost stories and folktales. In fact the next episode of this podcast is about a phantom violinist, more on that later.
There were definitely deaths within Green Park over the years, duals were held in the Park, there were robberies too and sadly it was associated with suicides.
So it doesn’t seem that surprising that an ancient site like Green Park, with its solemn trees and baleful atmosphere attracts so many strange stories including the one of the phantom violinist.
Victims of Crime
And finally, it’s another case relating to a crime. In this case a victim of crime. A spirit found repeating behaviour he performed in life. The playing of his music, and in some versions, his spectre still approaches people asking them if they have seen his violin.
There’s a lot of complicated reasons for stories like this to be remembered.
They’re a warning to the young and unwary to keep their belongings safe – don’t let your violin or work tools be stolen.
A warning to not sleep rough in the park. To be careful in the park after dark.
It’s a warning to the criminal and the community who frequent the park that crime leads to restless spirits. That crimes like theft have wider consequences.
There’s that fear that those wronged in life can not move on, can not rest and find peace.
There’s also something of preserving the memory of this poor young man. If the theft had not happened no one would remember him today. He is defined by the theft of his instrument but by that he lives on forever.
Victims of crime haunt us quite literally when as a community we can’t give them justice. And maybe that haunts us through the stories we tell about them. Our collective guilt won’t let them rest.
Next time
Next time on Weird in the Wade will be the first Weird Wanders episode, you should see a slightly different podcast artwork and hear a remixed theme at the start. Don’t worry standard Weird in the Wade episodes are still going to happen every month. Weird Wanders episodes are extra! They’ll cover stories that are geographically further away from Biggleswade, and explore different themes tied to history and the paranormal.
In the first weird wander we only travel just over the county border into Hertfordshire as I tell the story of Blind George the fiddle player who haunts the village of Anstey. It also gives me an opportunity to explore blindness in myth, folklore and the paranormal. As you probably know I am visually impaired and in the next episode I speak with a friend of mine who is blind. Fans of Uncanny might know the shows catch phrase “I know what I saw.” But what if you don’t see or know not to trust what you see because you know how unreliable human sense really are? We’ll also discuss a common neurological condition that affects blind people and could hold the answers to at least some ghost sightings. I’m really looking forward to this episode and it should be released on Easter Monday as a special Easter treat! You can listen as you wallow in chocolate.
Thank you
Thank you so much for listening to Weird in the Wade. I have some special thank yous to say to:
Trudi, Abi, Fiona, Lesley, Anthony, John and Julie
Thank you so much for your support through buying the show a coffee or two. It really means a lot to me and keeps the show’s running costs manageable.
Remember put the 1st May at 7pm BST in your diaries for what will be a live YouTube Stream where I’ll share stories about my stay in the haunted apartment and pub as well as answering any questions you have about the podcast and the stories I’ve covered so far. You can find weird in the wade on youtube, there’s a link in the show description.
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