The death of a beloved father, a respected sailor, and devoted husband would cast ripples in the waters in which he died for many years to come. A century later, his great-granddaughter would spend hours, even years, staring at a computer screen, sifting through records, emailing archivists in London, and asking any remaining family who might recall the smallest detail about him.
In between it all was a life snuffed out somehow long before his time. And the words, the actions, the silence that all weighed so heavily over his children and generations to come remain baffling.
“It’s amazing what you learn after everyone is gone. Nobody ever talked about their family. Weird,” my mother recently said to me.
Indeed, it’s that silence which confounds me the most. The type that leaves gaping holes mere records cannot fill in.
Mom and I talk about this mystery often; discussing theories, possibilities, the fleeting snippets she recalls, and the bits and bobs I find along the way. We have talked in circles about the third person to enter into Theresa and Frederick’s lives. We have come to one agonizing conclusion: we know nothing about John Walker: the other man to enter the picture.
Somewhere, somehow, John walked into Theresa and Frederick’s lives. He was around when Frederick died, and stayed in Theresa’s life in the aftermath. I have searched records and pages and anything I can on Ancestry.ca and elsewhere. John Walker was such a maddeningly common name, and with no middle name to go on, it leaves so many possibilities.
What I do know is that John was born on or around Sept. 18, 1887. His father’s name was George Walker - also frustratingly common, and no middle name to go on. John was a Ship’s Steward, and his father was in the Seaman Merchant Service. George was deceased before the wedding. Those are the only concrete details I have of Theresa’s mysterious second husband.
She and John married on October 8, 1924. Any information I have for John has been gathered from the marriage certificate and the 1939 Registry. For a woman in Theresa’s position, marrying quickly after being widowed isn’t suspicious in itself. The certificate lists no employment for her at the time. She had four kids to take care of, and her first husband was gone.
Despite this being the “Roaring Twenties,” a decade during which women had much more independence and freedom following the strict gender roles of the Victorian Era, it would have been difficult for a widowed mother to join the ladies shattering societal norms and entering careers without obtaining childcare she likely couldn’t afford. Not all women had the luxury of pursuing new careers and paths to blaze. It seems Theresa was one of the less fortunate ones who remained stuck in the days of old and still reliant on a man’s income.
That is, of course, presuming she had nothing to do with Frederick’s death, and we must give her the benefit of the doubt.
What I know even less of is what happened at the time of Frederick’s death, and the period following. But I can attempt to piece it together with a few theories. First, I’ll try to piece together John Walker’s life with what little I have.
John Walker: A faceless ship steward
His location of birth is unknown, but the 1939 Registry states his date of birth as Sept. 18, 1887. However, on the marriage certificate, John listed his age was 34, which would place his year of birth at 1890 instead. However, since Sept. 18, 1887 is a date he bothered to remember later in life, I’ve leaned towards that being the accurate birthday.
I also found a record of a John Walker who’s father’s name was George. He was born on August 7, 1887 and baptized on Sept. 18, 1887. In some cases, baptisms were recognized more so than birthdays. This would have been a bit unusual in that time, as Civil Registration became law in 1837, making birth registrations mandatory. But it’s possible that some families still used baptism dates instead of actual birth dates. Finding a John Walker born on that day with a father named George who died in or before 1924 proved futile. I couldn’t narrow a search down to just one man under those specifications.
FamilySearch also adds that sometimes, baptisms happened several years after one’s actual birth. Therefore, finding John Walker’s birth may be impossible. Without knowing his death date (only that he died sometime in the sixties before Theresa), I can’t work backwards. Then, knowing less about his father, and without a mother’s name, I can’t even work back from his parents.
I reviewed crew lists for John Walkers born in 1887, and of course, there were numerous. This man is lost to time, and to the overwhelming amount of men who shared the same name. Perhaps this worked in his favour.
Who in the world was this man? One so mundane, normal, that he vanished into obscurity as so many of us do decades after we die? Was he a man with something to hide, and that’s why facts of his life are so hard to find? What was he hiding? I had many thoughts… a criminal on the run whose name isn’t even John Walker? Maybe he wasn’t even from Essex. Maybe he wasn’t even from England. Maybe he had killed someone before. Maybe, maybe, maybe. My head was spinning from the possibilities.
At one point, during a rant to my mother, I made an offhanded remark that made me realize how far off the path I had gone.
“For all I know, he was Jack the Ripper!”
Of course, John was not, in fact, Jack. (Or was he?) I had to get it together. Think logically. Like a detective.
So, when it comes to John, this is where my road of facts ends, and the unruly path of speculation begins; speculation I can only build around the known facts of Frederick’s disappearance and death.
Frederick: the missing sailor
After searching through newspaper archives with no luck, I emailed a London library to ask if archives existed there someone could perhaps find for me. The archivist emailed me back, most intrigued, and began a hunt. She got back to me with two articles from the Stratford Express she found about Frederick’s disappearance.
The first was published on June 23, 1923, four days after his body was found. It states that he had been missing since June 8. In October, he had been admitted to the Seaman’s Hospital with a “compound fracture of the left arm,” and had been an outpatient at the hospital to continue treating the injury.
(The Stratford Express via the London Library archives. June 23, 1923)
Medical problems had plagued Frederick over the years. Life at sea wasn’t easy. A record from the Seaman’s Hospital revealed he was admitted with a hernia on Sept. 18, 1909. He was discharged in October, with the record stating he was “healed.”
On June 8, 1923, Frederick was last seen leaving the Seaman’s Hospital at noon. A few days prior, he had “complained of pains in the head.” Investigators at first apparently believed he suffered a loss of memory, “for he was living on the happiest terms with his wife and four children, of whom he was very fond.” He was last seen wearing “a fawn raincoat, a brown soft hat, brown boots, and a gray suit. His left arm was in a splint.”
The Stratford Express reported on June 30 that Frederick’s body had been recovered. The National Probate records that his body was found on June 19, 1923 from the King George V dock on the River Thames.
(The Stratford Express via the London Library archives. June 30, 1923)
“Medical evidence showed that death was due to drowning, and the Coroner entered an open verdict of found drowned,” the Express stated.
Britannica Dictionary defines an “open verdict” as “an official statement or decision saying that a crime has been committed but not naming a criminal or saying that there has been a death but not naming the cause of death.”
Well, the Coroner did rule on a cause of death for Frederick. Something suspicious remained in the air about his untimely demise, but proving it was another story.
Indeed, Frederick’s death certificate from the June 22, 1923 autopsy backs this up. After years of hearing the old family story that Frederick allegedly shot himself on a ship, I found the information for the certificate and ordered it. The day it came in the mail, I opened it immediately upon getting back into my car. Shock and confusion came over me upon reading the Coroner’s note:
“Drowning, not sufficient evidence to show how he got in the water p.m.”
No mention of a gunshot wound. No bullet recovered from his body. For the Coroner to leave such a note indicated to me that they thought something more was afoot. This wasn’t simply the case of a man who lost his memory and wound up dead off the dock, it seems. While it remains possible Frederick’s death was all a tragic accident, it doesn’t appear that authorities were convinced enough to rule his death as such.
(Frederick's death certificate. Photos by Lavinia Thompson)
So, where did Frederick go after he left the Seaman’s Hospital that fateful day? How is it people didn’t see or notice him on the streets he’d called home for so long in broad daylight? Had he been suffering memory loss, would someone not have noticed him acting peculiarly? Would he not have asked someone for help? How is it Theresa didn’t see him after he left the hospital? Why didn’t he go home? Or did Theresa lie to police about the last time she saw her husband alive?
Next, I’ll explore what possibly happened to Frederick. Was it a suicide, an accident, or a sinister murder by an unhappy housewife and her lover?
Sources
FamilySearch
Linsley, K., Schapira, K., & Kelly, T. (2001). Open verdict v. suicide – importance to research. The British Journal of Psychiatry, 178(5), 465-468. doi:10.1192/bjp.178.5.465
Ancestry.ca records