1923: Albert Edward Burrows, Simmondley pit shaft horror

Albert Edward Burrows hanged at Bagthorpe (aka Nottingham) Gaol on this date in 1923.

The 52-year-old — at the time of his death — laborer with a few felonies to his name found himself more than ordinarily in-demand on the dating market of an England whose young male population had been ravaged by World War I. Making time in the Derbyshire town of Glossop with 28-year-old — at the time of her death — Hannah Calladine, Burrows fathered a son.

The party most inconvenienced by this at first was Burrows’s lawful, never-divorced wife. In time, it was Burrows himself in a tight spot.

The bigamous marital arrangements were exposed, landing Burrows another stint in jail. Meanwhile, both wives had what amount to child support orders for their respective families. With the end of the Great War, Burrows’s lucrative munitions factory work had disappeared, leaving him stretched to pay. According to a profile from Peaklandheritage.co.uk, matters came to a head around the holiday season of 1919-1920, when Calladine defied her parents’ good counsel and moved in with the devious tomcat, bringing with her Albert’s young son — also named Albert — and an older daughter from a previous relationship, Elsie Large.

Burrows took her in despite his wife’s protests, saying that she could hardly be sent back on such a night. His wife left next day and Hannah stayed for three weeks.

Burrows’ wife was suing him for maintenance and he was behind with the rent, but he had solved his problems by the time he appeared in court on the 12th of January. He told the justices that Hannah and the children had gone. At first Mrs. Burrows refused to return but four days later she relented, Burrows having told her that Hannah had obtained a good job in Seymour Meads in Stretford Road and that the children were staying in a creche during the day. On the day after Hannah and her son were last seen, Burrows was seen walking down Hollincross Lane at six o’clock in the morning with Elsie Large. A couple of hours later he was alone. A neighbour who enquired as to the whereabouts of the child received the following reply:

“Yes, I was taking Elsie to her mother.”

“Why, where has she gone?” persisted the neighbour.

“I am not telling anyone, we have made it up not to let anyone know. We are keeping it a secret.”

The reader of such a site as this might well guess the secret: Hannah and little Albert had been murdered during a day outing on Symmondley Moor and dumped into a deep, abandoned mine shaft; Elsie was taken to join them the next day.

Amazingly, Burrows got away with this crime. The good thing being caught out keeping separate rival families has to be that the neighbors are more likely to think it natural when one of them vanishes without warning. In time, his first wife moved back in too. Burrows kept up a false correspondence with his absent other family for three years.

It did not out until 1923, when a four-year-old neighbor of Albert Burrows named Tommy Woods disappeared. Burrows’s shifting stories aroused suspicion and investigators zeroed in on the mineshaft where he, too, had been deposited. His body’s retrieval culminated in a wild chase across the moor as Burrows, spying his danger, attempted to flee with most of his neighbors at his heels. The crowd was in the process of fashioning an impromptu noose for a bit of summary justice when police intervened to take Burrows into custody.

And this case naturally aroused fresh interest in that former family whose “secret” disappearance took on a far more sinister cast. Further dredging of the flooded mine shaft turned up those bodies, too.

“The old custom of hoisting a black flag to signify that the extreme penalty of the law has been suffered by a man or woman under sentence of death has been abandoned,” wrote a press-man on the day that Albert Burrows swung. “And today when the faint, solemn notes of the tolling prison bell were heard, ‘finis’ had been written to the last chapter of the Simmondley pit shaft horror.”

On this day..