|
William
Foy and “Old Sloppy”. |
With special thanks to Monty Dart for this article.
Not the most flattering nickname ‘Old Sloppy’, though it was
derived from her profession, that of a prostitute. (photo).
Mary Ann Rees had a pimp called William Joseph Foy and she
plied her trade around
Thus came to light a tragedy which horrified the population
of Merthyr and sent a shudder throughout Wales, a tragedy but for the
declaration of Foy, (which he later retracted) would probably have been a
mystery to this day.
The police followed Foy to the old Ynysfach
Iron Works, picking up Police Constable Jones from his beat on the way. Ynysfach had a
number of disused coke ovens, these were popular amongst itinerants and
prostitutes. They provided rudimentary shelter for those without a home,
especially if a small fire could be made in an old bucket and dry kindling
could be found. Mary Ann was certainly without a home, her friend, also Mary
had been released from
The only access to
the furnaces was a 30ft plank, above a 40ft drop, not something undertaken
lightly, sober or drunk. ‘That's where I caught hold of her and I swung her
round and dragged her to the hole and dropped her in’.
The policemen were
trying to shine their lanterns into the hole. They couldn’t see Mary Ann, when
Foy suggested he throw a lighted bucket down there for illumination. He then
went into another coke oven and the policemen were staggered to find a couple
in there, warming their hands by the fire. These two were John Edward Bassett
and Mary Greaney. On being asked if they had seen
Mary Ann that night Bassett said that Foy had already confessed to him that he
had thrown her to her death. It was decided that Foy would be taken back to the
police station, leaving the other police to search for her.
As soon as daylight
set in, the scene of the tragedy was carefully inspected by Chief Inspector
Wilson, and he noted well-defined marks on the ground, showing that a struggle
had taken place close to the edge of the furnace, and that someone had been
dragged by the heels to that spot. The body of Mary Ann was discovered by
making an opening into the base of the furnace, so that they were able to get
at the corpse. It was lying face downwards, the head resting on a piece of
projecting iron, and the fact that it was not got quite cold showed that the
murder had taken place very shortly before. The face was considerably swollen
and bruised, but there were no bones broken. However, Dr Chisholm, who examined
the body immediately after its discovery, and who made a, post-mortem
examination, had no difficulty in saying that the woman had met her death by
violence, due to the fall.
How Foy and the
murdered woman came to go to the kiln was told by Bassett and Greaney. Their story was that after drinking together
during the greater part of the day on the Wednesday, the four of them went to
the kilns to sleep, and some time after they had laid down a quarrel arose
between Mary Ann and Foy, the former, in a fit of jealousy, saying: ‘It's not
me you want; you want Polly Gough’, alluding to another woman of the same
profession as Mary Ann. She left the kiln in a huff, and Foy went after her,
telling the other two that he would fetch her back. No cries were heard and no
noise to indicate that anything out of the way was happening, but after the
lapse of about quarter of an hour Foy returned alone and told Bassett: ‘I have
shot Mary down the hole.’ He took him to the same furnace as he pointed out to
the police-officers, and said, ‘That's where I shot, her down.’ Bassett glanced
into the cavity, but failed to discern anything, and paid no heed to the
confession, but Foy gave it emphasis by saying: ‘As sure as my mother is in the
clay shot her down.’
Foy’s trial did not
go well, his admission that he had thrown Mary Ann down the shaft and a
confession to his fellow coke oven neighbour Edward Bassett that he had dragged
Mary Ann some 16 yards before throwing her down, sealed his fate. When before
the coroner Foy preserved an unconcerned demeanour. Whilst the woman Greaney was giving evidence he angrily exclaimed, ‘Don't
tell lies, anyhow,’ and had he not been sharply pulled up by the coroner he
would probably have gone to greater lengths in the use of some colourful
language. Foy presented the same attitude of indifferent stolidity at the
police-court until the close of the magisterial hearing, when his poor old
father applied that his wayward son should have legal aid under the Poor
Prisoners Act. Then, for the first time, Foy relaxed and showed some sense of
the seriousness of his position.
Foy came to trial
at
William Joseph Foy (25), labourer, was convicted on March
31st 1909 of the murder of Mary Ann Rees, and was later in the day brought from
Cardiff to Swansea Prison by the 3.40 G.W.R. tram. The arrangements for his
transfer were made hurriedly, to prevent any demonstration, that there was no
time to utilise the prison van, and he was conveyed to the Oystermouth
Road Prison in a cab. Few people were about when he arrived, and no one seemed
to know when he arrived at the station who he was. On being taken to the prison
he was placed in the condemned cell which is situated near the shed where he
was to be executed. He was guarded night and day by two warders.
Foy was entirely confident that his appeal would be a
success - when it was denied, a change came over his manner. From being
diffident and self-collected, Foy afterwards became stolid, and though entering
into conversation with his warders, there were evidences that he was deeply
meditating upon his position and that the verdict was preying upon his mind.
Now and again he chatted freely to his warders and was keen to know who the
Welsh champions were in the football world but he would relapse into fits of
depression, in which it was plain he was thinking of his fate.
The Monmouthshire Merlin stated:
‘Foy's brief life of 25 years was a chequered one. He was
born at Rhymney, but the family at an early date removed to Merthyr, where the
remaining members of it still reside. Young Foy was a handful, and for some
time was at a truant school. Then he became a soldier, enlisting in the Brigade
in his later teens. Leaving the Army, he became a collier, and lodged for some
time with his sister at Merthyr. He later gave way to drink, neglected his
work, and consorted with low characters, spending his nights at the Ynysfach Old Ironworks, where was enacted the tragedy.’
He received visitors, in particular his father and married
sister. On the night of his arrest he had pressed 10 pennies into the palm of
Sergeant Hunter, asking him to assure that his sister’s children would receive
the money. The last interview with his family took place the night before his
execution. Foy said he had given himself up to God, and he was ready to meet
his doom. He asked his sister to bear up and look after her children well. He also gave her a favourite book to keep in
remembrance. Both Foy's father and his sister (Mrs. Norby)
broke down from the strain of the interview. During the last two weeks of his
life, in fact, shortly after he knew there was no hope of appeal, Foy had
listened attentively to the ministrations of the prison chaplain, Rev. J. H
Watkins Jones and the two curates, who also officiated. He frequently asked
questions, and gave the impression that he was a thoroughly converted man. On
Friday morning the rite of Holy Communion was administered to Foy in the
condemned cell by the chaplain (Rev. J. H. Watkins Jones) and one of his
curates (Rev. S. Griffiths).
During the day one of H.M. inspectors visited the gaol and
examined the arrangements. Those who had been in attendance on the condemned
man state that the change in his demeanour since entering the prison had been
most marked. At first he appeared somewhat indifferent, but as time wore on he
changed, and towards the end readily and heartily embraced the Christian faith.
His manner had been quiet and very often reserved.
The Evening Express reporter, present at the hanging, wrote
a piece for the newspaper:
‘William Joseph Foy's short life of 25 years ended at 8. 04
this morning, when he was executed at Swansea Gaol for the murder of Mary Ann
Rees, a woman ten years his senior, at Yynysfach
Ironworks, Merthyr, on December 24th 1908.
The executioner was Henry Pierrepoint, assisted by John
Ellis. The condemned man was hanged in the presence of Mr. George Isaac, under-sheriff,
representing the high sheriff, Major David Lewis; Mr. Gibson, the gaol
governor; The Rev. Watkin Jones, chaplain of the
prison, Dr Thomas, medical officer, and four representatives of the press,
including the representative of the Evening Express.
It was a lovely, warm morning, and the courtyard of the gaol
blazed in sunshine (wires our reporter who attended the execution) when the
little procession started from the condemned cell. The four pressmen who were
permitted to see the execution were located in the gallery of the weaving
house, in which operations had been suspended since the condemnation. On the
floor of this house the scaffold had been erected. It was of a substantial,
even enormous structure, and was used for the first time at
From the huge black cross beam was suspended a rope, which
had been coiled up at the top so as to allow the noose, which was neatly
covered with leather, to just about reach the head of the man. The prisoner
rested well during the night, and he partook of a breakfast of beefsteak and
onions. The chaplain was with him for some time before he was pinioned. The man
walked without a tremor to the place assigned for him, and the whole scene was
over within a minute.
When the prisoner entered the execution chamber the pressmen
noticed with surprise that he held a cigarette in his mouth, and this he kept
firmly fixed between his lips until the cap was put on. It appeared afterwards
that this did not betoken any callous demeanour, but that someone had suggested
it to him before he left the condemned cell, thinking it would be an aid to
fortitude. At about two minutes past eight the voice of the chaplain could be
heard reading the Burial Service, as the little procession walked down the
gravel path in the open air for about twenty or twenty-five yards between the
condemned cell and the execution chamber.
Then immediately the little group poured in through the open
door. The man walked firmly between two warders, but did not need their
assistance. He was almost thrust on to a cross (chalked “T”) which figured in
the centre of the trap-doors. Pierrepoint at once pulled the noose of the thick
rope over his head. The noose seemed scarcely large enough to admit it. Then
the white cap, which also seemed extremely tight, was pulled hard down to the
chin. The chaplain was reading the words of the beautiful Litany, ‘By Thy cross
and death, by Thy blessed death and burial,’ and the last words had scarcely
left his mouth when the man's soul had fled, for Pierrepoint had stepped aside,
moved a lever, the trap-doors fell inwards, and in a moment nothing was to be
observed but a taut rope, with a human body stretched motionless at the end of
it. The man appeared to have died on the instant, and the rope did not even
sway after the drop. Immediately the drop had occurred the chaplain commenced
the Lord's Prayer, which was fervently taken part in by those present in the
execution chamber, and at its conclusion the chaplain started a special prayer
for the forgiveness of the soul of the deceased, who had died at the hand of
justice. A fervent "Amen" followed from those present, and the whole
scene was over. The chaplain turned away and left the place, and the few
present, after a glance at the pendent body beneath their feet, also turned to
leave the chamber. The prisoner, whose neck was bared as low as possible, was
dressed in a brown suit, and he actually had in his button-hole a sort of green
leaf or frond of a fern. It transpired that he asked for the cigarette, and had
it lighted in his mouth when pinioned before parting. The cigarette was held
firmly between his lips when the cap, which seemed too small, was being drawn
down over his face’.
Another report, describing the scene, says ‘The doomed man's
lips, still gripping the cigarette, gave no indication of a quiver. No tremor
detectable in the limbs. Pierrepoint, having strapped the legs together,
sharply forced the white cap over the head, down the face, and over the
cigarette, which bent, but did not break. Adjusting the leather-clad loop, and
stepping back, he gave the signal to Ellis, who stood at the right side of the
lever. The proceedings from the time they entered the chamber to the drop could
not have exceeded one minute. There was a complete absence of ceremony on the
part of the executioners, who evidently had their minds simply fixed on the
job, which they accomplished with great rapidity. The glimpse obtained by the
reporters of the prisoner's face was only momentary, for the scaffold is
situated not more than two yards from the door by which he had to exit. To the
observant pressman in the gallery his face appeared somewhat livid and
discoloured as he came in behind the warders. He was not left a minute in doubt
as to where he had to go, there being hands to direct him into position, and he
readily placed his feet together when Ellis dropped to one knee to fix the
strap round his ankles. This was swiftly done, and Pierrepoint's
part as swiftly followed. The rapidity of the doom might be judged by the fact
that the chaplain had not got through a complete verse of the Litany from the
time he entered the room before the soul of the condemned man was launched into
the unknown. The clock in the chamber marked only four minutes past eight when
the drop occurred. The admission of the press to executions such as these, at
any rate, will result in the public mind ease that the end of the man was
absolutely instantaneous and merciful, and the real elements of harm are the
preparations leading up to it.
A number of persons assembled outside the doors of the gaol
long before eight o'clock. There was quite a large crowd drawn, either by the
morbid feelings inseparable on these occasions, far beyond the expectation of
the posting up of a little square of paper there was nothing they could
possibly see. The notice of the man's death ‘was put up’ less than ten minutes
after the execution, and was read with great curiosity.’ Photo
here.
It ran: We. the undersigned, hereby declare that the
judgment of death was this day executed on William Joseph Foy in H.M. Prison at
The inquest was held in the prison at 9.30, before Mr. F. H.
Glynn Price, county coroner for the district, who explained at the outset that
their duty was to ascertain the identity of the body, what was the cause of
death, and whether justice had been duly executed. Frank Walker Gibson,
governor of the prison, said the body which the jury had viewed was that of
William Joseph Foy, aged 25, a labourer. He was convicted on the 31st of March
at Glamorgan Assizes of the wilful murder of Mary Ann Rees, and sentenced to
death. He was executed this morning in witness's presence. David Howell Thomas,
M.B., medical officer of the prison, also identified the body, and said he was present
at the execution, which was duly carried out, and death was instantaneous. He
had since examined the body, and he was of opinion that death was due to
dislocation of the cervical portion of the spinal column, due to hanging. The
Foreman (Mr. Harry Rogers): ‘That means, of course, that the sentence was
expeditiously and humanely carried out?’
The Coroner said the inquiry was necessarily short, but they
had in the evidence all the information they required for their purpose. They
had heard from the governor and the medical officer, evidence which identified
the body and proved the cause of death. They would have no difficulty in
signing the necessary verdict, namely, that the body was that of William Joseph
Foy, and that he had been duly executed that morning, A formal verdict was
returned in accordance with the evidence, and the Coroner, in the presence of
the jury, filled up the regulation forms for the governor.
Foy's last letter written on eve of
execution.
Mrs. Korbury, sister of Foy,
received this morning a letter from her brother, dated May 7, which reads as
follows:- My dear Sister, just one last line to let you know that I am
perfectly happy, having taken Holy Communion and made my peace with God.
Therefore, I beg of you not to grieve for me, but rejoice, for I shall be in
Heaven above waiting for you. My dear sister, give my best and last wishes to
Con (her husband) and father, and tell them that it is my wish that you should
walk the peace of God as I have done. I wish to remind you that I have been
treated with great kindness by the officers who have been looking after me.
They have helped me in all ways to find the peace of God, and I have found it,
so, therefore, you will see, dear sister, that I am quite happy, and will meet
my fate like a man, so I, therefore, wish, dear sister, that you will not
grieve, but try and live a good life for my sake. Anything further you would
like to know you will get it from the chaplain, and you will get the silver
cross which I have now from him on Saturday. My dear sister, give my best
respects to Jenkin and Annie Lloyd (two friends), for
I now conclude by sending my best and last wishes to you all. God bless you
all. From your penitent brother, Joe. WILLIAM JOSEPH FOY.
P.S. My dear Sister, Just a few lines about
the children. It is my earnest wish that you should teach them to
grow up in God's way, and worship Him always, for His name's sake, Amen. Wait
on the Lord, be of good courage, and He shall strengthen thine
heart.
Another P.S. My dear Sister, I hope to God that you arrived
home safe, and that you are all in good health and always will be with the help
of God. Wherever you go always speak good of the Rev. Mr. T. H. Watkin Jones, chaplain, for me. Good-bye, and God bless you
all.
Then followed a large number of arrases (kisses) in the
shape of a heart and containing the words, For all, Mizpah.
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