Stories of a Coroner's Officer

STORIES OF A CORONER'S OFFICER.
MY FIFTY-FOUR THOUSAND INQUESTS.

(By THOMAS CHIVERS.)

As coroner's officer for East London for forty-five years, I have served with three coroners and made the arrangements for 54,000 inquests.
I began at a time when inquests were held in any convenient place - generally in public-houses. I remember one which, through lack of other accommodation, took place in front of a bar.
When the change was made which necessitated the removal of bodies to public mortuaries, I had several exciting experiences. Relatives who wanted to hold all-night "wakes" over their dead objected to the latter being taken away, and some of them threatened me with sticks. But they had to give way in the end.
Many people associate the position of coroner's officer with all that is gloomy and tragic. But one has all kinds of curious experiences, especially in connection with the summoning of juries. Most people try all sorts of dodges to escape service - unless the inquest is out of the ordinary. If it is a murder case men often volunteer to serve on the jury. The same thing happened at the inquests on German spies who were shot in the Tower of London.
I attended all the inquests on these men, and was told how Carl Lody refused to have his eyes bandaged and went to his death like a man. Only formal evidence by the Governor and doctor was given at these inquiries, and the verdict in each case was "Death from gunshot wounds."
I have known several extraordinary coincidences. One Sunday morning a man came to see me about the death of his child. He was overcome with grief, and I tried to cheer him up, telling him that all things worked together for a wise purpose.
A day or two later came the news of the sinking of the "Princess Alice" a pleasure steamer, off Woolwich.
When I saw the bereaved father again, he said, "I've thought of your words. If it had not been for the death of that child my whole family would have been on the Princess Alice." Probably all would have been drowned."
In connection with the same disaster, a relative of a man who was missing went to Woolwich to view the victims. On the way he saw a body floating up the Thames. It was recovered, and found to be that of the missing man.
Often I have had to arrange inquests on men I had been talking to just previously. Many people will remember the Southend murder, and the trial of Canham and Harry Read for the crime. I met Read, who was acquitted, some time afterwards. He seemed very downhearted, and said, "I can't get work. Everybody is pointing at me as a murderer." A few days afterwards he committed suicide by drowning himself in my district.
A man I knew fairly well always made a fuss when I asked him to serve on a jury. He didn't want to be bothered. But he evidently did not consider the trouble given to other people, for he committed suicide himself one day.
Perhaps the most sensational case with which I had anything to do was the inquest on the bodies of the women murdered by Jack the Ripper. A good deal of morbid curiosity was excited, and there was always a big crowd anxious to be admitted to the proceedings.

Source: Gippsland Times, Monday 27 February 1922, page 4