The Quadruple Life of Frederick Monks

By day an accountant’s clerk and by night, a professional bicycle rider, debonair man-about-town and a burglar, the highly versatile Frederick Monks was sentenced to twelve months’ imprisonment for robbery in 1904. At the time he was the only man ever known to the London Police who had lived a ‘quadruple life’ and his story is a romance of roguery. He lived four widely divergent lives, mingled in four different classes of society, had four sets of friends, and maintained four characteristics. He was arrested in his lodgings in Kilburn Park Road (no number was given in the reports).

The Clerk

In the morning Frederick Monks, dressed like all the other clerks, took a seat at his desk in Wilson and Co. a firm of accountants at Nos.37 and 39 Essex Street, Strand. His demeanor was modest and unassuming. He was deferential to his employers and congenial with his colleagues. He ate his modest lunch alongside them, chatting about girls and sport - subjects which clerks often talked about. ‘That bicycle rider?’ he would say in response to the good-natured banter of his friends who asked him about the professional athlete who had won the three-mile race at the ring the evening before. ‘No, I don’t know him. He’s no relative of mine, even if his name is Frederick Monks. If I could win £50 for riding around a race track in eight minutes, do you think I would add up figures for 35 shillings a week? Not me!’ At the end of the work day Frederick Monks would close his ledgers, carefully hang his threadbare office coat on a peg, and leave the office to catch a bus to Kilburn Park Road where he rented a single room.

The Athlete

Fred trained at a gymnasium, where he put himself through an hour’s hard exercise with dumbbells, weights and pulleys, and Indian clubs. Then after a shower bath and a rub down, he would don a suit of riding tights, put on his outer clothes and a heavy sweater, and go to the Paddington Recreational Ground. There he would ride his bicycle for an hour. A sponge bath, another rub down, this time by his trainer, a substantial supper, and Frederick Monks, professional rider, was ready for a race. At the gymnasium and in the riding rink Frederick Monks was no longer the modest, unassuming clerk. He was loud-voiced, hearty, bluff and a good fellow. He swore much, drank nothing, and smoked a little. No one dreamed that he could and did transform himself into a humble bookkeeper during the working day. Frederick Monks was well known in sporting circles in London and his name often appeared on the sports pages. He won many races and was undisputed champion of his class.

Man about Town

On the evenings when Monks was not riding in a race or training he adopted his third persona. His dress suit, top hat, and patent leather shoes fitted him as well as his racing togs, and he wore them with the easy grace of a society idler. He had a wide circle of friends in Haverstock Hill and other parts of London who were ignorant of his life in Kilburn Park Road and on the cycling track. This Frederick Monks was known as a man of means, from a good family background and with a lucrative position in the city. As such, he was frequently invited to parties and receptions.

Monks was especially fond of the company of young women. In turn he attracted them: as he was very good looking with an athletic build, always fashionably dressed, well-educated and refined. Frederick was such a success with the opposite sex, that at the time of his arrest he was engaged to marry not one but four women, living at Salisbury, Fulham, Lambeth and Maida Vale. Their photographs were found in his rooms at Kilburn Park Road and with each photograph was a packet of love letters. After his arrest Monks boasted that he had made ardent love to many women, giving them presents and promising to marry a number of them. Monks was well able to maintain his role as a man of leisure from his winnings as a professional bicycle rider; but he had another and far more sinister source of income.

A Burglar by Night

In the early hours of the morning Frederick Monks became a burglar - and the police testified that he was as skillful and daring a man who ever wore a mask and used a jimmy. He disguised himself: slouching through the darkness, he passed unknown, friends who knew him well during his day periods of respectability.

For two years there were a series of unsolved burglaries in Hampstead, Paddington and Kilburn. Detective Inspector Pollard of X-division carried out the investigations with DS Gill and DS Burrell. In almost every instance the houses were entered between 2 and 3 o’clock in the morning, just a few days after the family had given a party. This coincidence, however, did not occur to the London detectives until DS Burrell took a list of guests who had been at a party in a house robbed the following evening. All the names seemed to be those of men above suspicion. But when he obtained guest lists from a dozen or so other householders who had been robbed under similar circumstances, the detective realized the name ‘Frederick Monks’ appeared on all of them and he was the only common link. Seemingly Frederick Monks, whoever he was, was on intimate terms with a dozen different social circles.

DS Burrell copied the names and addresses of dozens of ‘Frederick Monks’ listed in the Post Office directory and began a discreet investigation into all of them. At the accounting firm, his employers gave Monks the best of character references. The detective watched the clerk at work at his desk, followed him to his lodgings in Kilburn Park Road and found nothing suspicious. Then Monks’ complicated life began to fall apart when Burrell spotted an advert for a 100-mile bicycle race. Frederick Monks was listed as competing, so Burrell secured a seat near the rail at the Princess track. For a long time he was unable to get a clear view of Monks, but when he did, he became convinced that Monks the rider and Monks the clerk were one and the same. The detective’s next discovery was that Frederick Monks, of Kilburn Park Road, frequently came home late at night. When his landlady complained about his late hours, Frederick told her he could not refuse invitations. I am out at so many parties, balls and dances, it is the result of being so popular. Burrell kept watch and followed his suspect to a private house in Maida Vale, where, in evening dress, he made a social call on a young woman. The evening clothes identified Monks as the society man who appeared on the party lists, and from that time on he was carefully shadowed by the team from X-division.

Kilburn Park Road, 
with the spire of St Augustine's in the distance

The detectives soon learned that Monks was engaged to more than one young woman. DS Burrell spoke to the girl in Maida Vale who gave him a letter she had received from Freddie only the day before.

Dearest: I am thinking of you always, and your ‘good little talks’ are influencing me in the right direction. Never have I realized so much as last night the power for good possessed by one who is blameless. I cannot see you tomorrow night, as I promised, for I have an invitation, which I cannot refuse, to a party at Haverstock Hill. With love and kisses, - Freddie

The Real Frederick Monks

The police learned that Frederick Monks was an assumed name, and that the man with four lives was in reality the twenty-year old son of a wealthy, well-respected and prominent tradesman in Paddington. To protect his family, the press reports only gave his real name as Frederick S. Incredibly, he was even charged in the name of Frederick Monks, and despite considerable effort, we have not been able to work out who he really was.

Frederick was well-educated at a private school in Westbourne Park, receiving every care and attention at home, but he carried out a series of petty thefts as a young man. In April 1902 the police arrested him on a charge of handling a silver cigarette case and other items stolen during a Maida Vale burglary, but he was released because there was insufficient evidence against him.

On 16 June 1904 some knives and an ornamental writing desk were stolen in a burglary at 98 Shirland Road. The desk was found in the possession of one of Frederick’s young ladies, who said her sweetheart had given it to her. Following another burglary at 178 Portsdown Road, Monks was arrested by Detective Sergeants Burrell and Gill at 2am on 21 September 1904 in his Kilburn Park Road lodgings. A case of mother of pearl knives taken from Portsdown Road was found in his room. At first Monks tried to brazen it out, but finally admitted he was Frederick S, and that he had committed the two burglaries. The police described him as a stubborn, crafty and skilful burglar, responsible for over a dozen crimes. They charged him with the two burglaries and at the Clerkenwell magistrates court he pleaded guilty and was sentenced to 12 months imprisonment.

Frederick served his time with hard labour at Wormwood Scrubs, but after that he disappeared and we don’t know what happened to him, as he probably changed his name again.

The Murder of the Merry Widow of Willesden

On 31 Oct 1967, 59 year old Doreen Flintham was murdered at her home 62 Chambers Lane Willesden Green by Maldwyn Robert Gordon. Although there are many books about London murders, for some unknown reason this one has not been covered before.

Doreen was the widow of George Henry Flintham. He started as a plumber and became a very successful building contractor who was better known as the ‘Aga Khan’ of greyhound racing. He bought his first greyhound in 1929 and went on to become the owner of the largest number of dogs in the country and serve as the Chairman of the British Greyhound Breeders’ and Owners’ Association. When he died on 31 May 1964 aged 71, he left Doreen and the family £526,365, (worth over £10M today). 

White City Greyhound Track, 1927

In the 1940s and 50s, George would get his usual taxi to the White City stadium to watch his dogs race and then dash across town to other tracks. In 1959 when his dog Dunston Warrior won at Catford he was given the prize by film star Diana Dors. Puffing on a cigar, he told a reporter he loved dogs and had spent £200,000 on greyhounds. Doreen said they had about 400 cups in the house, ‘I wish he spent a tenth of what he spent on dogs on me!’ They married in Willesden in 1943 and for many years lived at 102 Clarendon Court in Sidmouth Road NW2.

In 1967 Maldwyn Robert Gordon was aged 22 and unemployed. He was living at Queens Park Court, Ilbert Street Kensal Green, when he met Doreen in a local cinema and she invited him home. They had sex and he told his friends all about the wealthy ‘merry widow’ and said he was going to rob her. Soon afterwards Doreen was found battered to death with a statuette. Neighbours said she was well known in the area as a keen gambler in the West End clubs, who made frequent trips abroad. Police conducted a four hour reconstruction of the crime, and Detective Superintendent Alfred Napier of Willesden Green police station, said they were keen to trace her young men friends who had stayed at the house in Chambers Lane.

Maldwyn Robert Gordon, 1970

From their enquiries, the police arrested Maldwyn Robert Gordon on 8 November 1967. In February 1968 at the Old Bailey he said he had hit Doreen to knock her out so that he could rob her, but had not meant to kill her. The jury found him guilty of murder and he was sentenced to life imprisonment in Wormwood Scrubs. His friends were found guilty of receiving a diamond ring and other stolen property belonging to Mrs Flintham.

While serving his sentence, in October 1970, Gordon was escorted from prison to the Hammersmith Hospital, after he had complained of stomach pains. When he finished dressing after the X-ray, he suddenly pushed the two guards aside and ran out of the building. After crossing a railway line, he disappeared in a row of back gardens and stayed on the run for three weeks until he was re-captured in Notting Hill and sent back to prison. It is not known when he was released.

Where was Kilburn Wells?

Today, No.42 Kilburn High Road at the corner of Belsize Road is a branch of the Franco Manca pizza chain. The London and South Western Bank opened here on 31 December 1874, and next door were two small shops, numbered 44 and 46, now reunited as a single premise, No.44, Rush Hair Salon. When the bank was expanded and rebuilt in 1898 to form the present building, a stone plaque was placed at first floor level saying this was the site of Kilburn Wells.

Kilburn High Road today, 
showing the Wells plaque, (May 2018)

The exact location of the Kilburn Wells has long been disputed, but after considerable research we now believe it was situated behind today’s pizza restaurant and Rush hair salon. The best evidence we have is that when local builder Henry Oldrey was demolishing some old houses to build a new photographic studio for George Nesbitt in April 1891, he found the remains of a brick arch and a tiled passage way behind what was then No.46 Kilburn High Road.

The corner with Belsize Road showing 
the Bank and an advert for Nesbitt's studio, (c1895)

In the 18^th century, Kilburn gained a reputation among Londoners as a pleasure resort, known as Kilburn Wells. It grew up around a medicinal spring of fresh water in Abbey Fields, near the site of the old Kilburn Priory and in the grounds of The Bell, or Kilburn Wells public house as it was called at the time.

The Gardens and the Well were 
entered through the archway

On a 1762 map drawn by James Ellis, The Bell and the Wells are owned by Holton Vere. Successive generations of the Vere family held the land and rented out the pub. Soon after he became landlord, Joseph Errington, placed an advert in The Public Advertiser in July 1773 which lists its many attractions:

‘Kilburn Wells, near Paddington. The waters now are in the utmost perfection: the gardens enlarged and greatly improved; the house and offices re-painted and beautiful in the most elegant manner. The whole is now open for the reception of the public, the great room being particularly adapted to the use and amusement of the politest companies. 

Fit either for music, dancing or entertainments. This happy spot is equally celebrated for its rural situation, extensive prospects, and the acknowledged efficacy of its waters; it is most delightfully situated near the site of the once famous Abbey of Kilburn, on the Edgware Road, at an easy distance, being but a morning’s walk, from the metropolis, two miles from Oxford Street; the foot-way from the Mary-bone across the fields is still nearer. A plentiful larder is always provided, together with the best of wines and other liquors. Breakfasting and hot loaves.’

Cover of Handbill

He commissioned the French artist François Vivares (1709 to 1780), to draw the Long Room (the great room mentioned above), and Errington produced a handbill to promote the sale of the Waters which cost 3d a glass.

But despite his efforts to publicise the Wells, Errington went bankrupt in May 1795 and the Kilburn Wells with its tea gardens and medicinal springs was put up for sale. After further renovations, the Bell Tavern -‘usually known as Kilburn Wells’, was put up for sale again in 1807 and had a succession of landlords over the years.

Kilburn Wells viewed from behind the High Road across the footpath from Abbey Road. The white building on the right could be the Long Room, (c1800s)

At its height it rivalled the more famous Hampstead Wells. In 1801 Dr John Bliss analysed the water from both Kilburn and Hampstead Wells. Writing about Kilburn he said:

‘The spring rises about twelve feet below the surface and is enclosed in a large brick reservoir, which bears the date of 1714 on the key stone of the arch over the door. The water collected in the well, is usually of the depth of five or six feet, but in a dry Summer it is from three to four, at which time its effect as a purgative is increased. When taken fresh from the well a few inches under the surface it is tolerably clear, but not of a crystal transparency: at first it is insipid but leaves an evident saline taste on the tongue. At rest, and even on slight agitation, no smell is produced but on stirring the water forcibly from the bottom of the reservoir, it becomes turbid from impurities which have been collected in it, and a considerable odour is emitted like that from the scouring of a foul gun barrel.’

The description of the well given by Dr Bliss matches the remains which Oldrey found in 1891. The use of the water for curative purposes appears to have generally ceased in the early part of the 19^th century. 

The popularity of the Wells suffered a further blow after the London and North Western Railway from Birmingham to Euston cut through the pleasure gardens in 1838. The area where the well existed, across the rail tracks and only accessible from the High Road, was made into a kitchen garden.

After the London and North Western Railway cut through the grounds. The Bell is on left, the Wells on right, (c1838)

Although the tea gardens were now confined to the grounds behind the public house, it continued to attract visitors. There were several tea gardens on the fringes of the London, offering a day’s outing and entertainment in the country just a short walk from its congested city streets. Dickens in his ‘Sketches By Boz’ includes an essay called ‘London Recreations’, first published in the Morning Chronicle 15 April 1835, which describes a visit to a tea garden. He mentions Kilburn, but the essay is probably an amalgam of various gardens.

There was a shooting butt in the grounds of the Kilburn Wells pub, hired to volunteer corps who would spend a day there, to practice or shoot for a prize, before dining and then marching back to town.

The Wells attracted other visitors, seeking a secluded location. Although frowned upon by the authorities, numerous duels of honour took place in the 18^th century and were well publicised; (duelling was only made illegal in 1819). Duels were particularly prevalent among young military men who often selected isolated neighbourhoods just outside Town, and Kilburn Wells was a favourite venue.

At 7am on 2 July 1792, James Maitland the 8^th Earl of Lauderdale and General Benedict Arnold met here after Lauderdale made an insulting remark about Arnold in the House of Lords and had been challenged to a duel. It was agreed they would both fire their pistols together. Arnold fired and missed, but Lauderdale declined to return Arnold’s shot saying he had no desire to kill Arnold. After consulting their seconds, the duel was considered over.

Benedict Arnold has been called, ‘America’s first traitor.’ He was an officer in the American Army in the war against the British, and George Washington promoted him to Colonel in 1775. Arnold achieved some military success but made enemies in Congress. He and his wife lived well beyond their means and Arnold entered into some shady deals that included the use of government supplies for his own personal needs, for which he was court martialled. Arnold had fought gallantly for his country and felt hurt by the way he had been treated. 

In retaliation, he secretly approached Sir Henry Clinton, the British commander-in-chief in America and asked for £20,000 if he was successful in surrendering West Point and its garrison (where Arnold was now in command), to the British, and £10,000 if he failed. Clinton agreed to pay £20,000 but only £6,000 if Arnold was unsuccessful. The plan went wrong and Arnold defected to the British in New York, where he received the promised £6,000 (today worth about £750K), followed by later payments from King George. In December 1791 the Arnold family sailed for England and lived comfortably in London.  

Arnold received good publicity after the duel with Lauderdale at Kilburn Wells. He tried but failed to get a government post, so in 1794 he returned to his maritime trade, working for the British in the West Indies against the French. But in 1801 he became ill and died in London on 14 June while living at 62 Gloucester Place, where a plaque to his memory describes him as an ‘American Patriot.’

Pugilism, sometimes called ‘the science of boxing’, was also very popular and ‘mills’ or fights were frequently held at Kilburn Wells. At this time there were no timed rounds, the men fought until they were knocked down and the fights lasted for hours. In August 1781 George Ring ‘a battling baker from Bath’, beat a butcher called Edwards in a fight where ‘no bottom was wanting on either side, and a great number of knock down blows were given’. In 1783 Daniel Mendoza beat John Matthews at Kilburn Wells after fighting for two hours. Mendoza was the first Jewish prize-fighter to become a champion and he was England’s Heavyweight Champion from 1792 to 1795.

Daniel Mendoza (on the right) fighting Richard Humphries, 
(1788, NPG)

In 1863 the Old Bell was pulled down and the present public house was erected on the site. The Ordnance Survey map published a few years later shows the development of the area, and it is now impossible to find any remains of the once famous Kilburn Wells, which disappeared in the Victorian building boom, giving us today’s Kilburn streets. However, 1a West End Lane is called Wells Spa House.