When Labor Day celebrates American laborers, what if we turn the holiday on its head?
Chronicling the lives of influential and often forgotten figures.
Labor for ill intent
Dear History Lover:
Summer travels having concluded, History At Play embraces the autumn and returns to our regularly scheduled monthly e-newsletter. We cherish the unique opportunity to share historical anecdotes and food for
thought and as the USA prepares to celebrate Labor Day this weekend, we find ourselves fascinated by the concept of labor and how it is used. Whereas the holiday honors the social and economic achievements of the American worker, it is fascinating to play devil’s advocate to discuss what happens when organized labor is used for ill-intent.
Imagine you are the conductor of a freight train, traveling well past the midnight hour, with rail cars carrying the equivalent of more than $50,000,000 in bank notes. With each passing mile, the night grows darker; your mind wearies with fatigue. Suddenly, a red light cuts through the static of night, ordering a halt. The fireman beside you climbs from the train to investigate, leaving you and your growing suspicions all alone.
Silence... and no sign of the fireman. There is suddenly the sound of shuffling of boots. Relief flows through you... until shock overcomes you. Those shuffling boots are not those of the fireman. They are those of black-masked attackers, wielding iron clubs.
This is the beginning of one of the most successful organized heists in contemporary history:
The Great Train Robbery
On the 8th of August 1963, a team of more than 15 thieves, hailing from various London gangs,
coordinated the robbery of a 12-carriage train on its way to Euston Station, London, departing from from Glasgow, Scotland. The postal train transported High Value Packages (HVP), and there were 126 carrier bags holding bank notes worth nearly £3 million pounds sterling (more than $50,000,000 in today’s USD). Jack Mills, the conductor, along with fireman David Whitby, and approximately 70 postal workers, were scattered through the 12 carriages on what should have been a routine journey. There had been no major incidents on board a postal train for the prior century until
an organized gang masterminded a notorious criminal operation.
Having departed Glasgow, the train arrived at Sears Crossing on August 8th at 3:00am. At the crossing, about 36 miles from the train’s intended destination, Conductor Jack Mills observed a red signal light, mandating an unscheduled stop. Alarmed by the signal, David Whitby, the train’s onboard fireman,
climbed from the locomotive to inspect the scene. Once he disembarked, Whitby noticed that telephone wires had been severed. Before he could inform the conductor of the discovery, Whitby was attacked by assailants and thrown down a steep railway embankment.
The train signal had been manipulated by the thieves. Covering the green light bulb with a black glove, they utilized multiple 6-volt batteries to alter the signal to the desired red light by
tampering with the wires. Inside the locomotive, Conductor Mills, aged 57, was concerned for the safety of his fireman, when a man wearing a black mask, holding a bar wrapped with cloth, climbed into the locomotive. A fight ensued as Mills defended himself and his train. The masked attacker bludgeoned
Conductor Mills who fell to the floor unconscious. While the other assailants detached carriages
from the locomotive, excluding the first two, where the HVP notes were found, the organized heist came to a halt, when the robbers discovered that not one of them knew how to operate the Union Pacific Special (aka "Up Special); a 12-car, single-diesel locomotive. Desperate, the thieves awakened the unconscious Conductor Mills and forced him to operate the train until it stopped on Bridego Bridge a few miles away. There, Land Rovers were awaiting in the underpass. The gang stole 120 of the 126
carrier bags of bank notes, tossing them to their accomplices in the Land Rovers. Then, the thieves hopped into the vehicles and they drove off together toward a hideout, where they planned to “lay low.” The gang had stolen £2.6 million in 20 minutes.
Leatherslade Farm, an unkempt, uninhabited plot in Buckinghamshire, with only a few homes in the vicinity, had been bought by the crime gang in preparation for the heist. A criminal investigation was immediately initiated and led by: the Flying
Squad of Scotland Yard; a branch of the Serious and Organized Crime Command in London’s Metropolitan Police Service; and senior detectives of Buckinghamshire Police. Detective Chief Jack Slipper was the Superintendent.
The investigation yielded a cattle call of potential suspects. When a local herdsman called in a tip that there had been suspicious activity at Leatherslade Farm, police arrived to find they had missed the gang by about 8 hours. The gang’s increasing paranoia forced them to forgo the original “lay low” plan. Instead,
they divided the money and parted ways. During their rushed egress, they left a mess of food, banknote wrappers, and an abandoned Monopoly game board, from which detectives pulled their fingerprints.
Five arrests were made on August 16th, in Bournemouth, with the help of a tip from a nearby resident. The Monopoly board fingerprints
sealed the fate for these assailants, who were charged with the crime. Rubberface Mary, another member of the gang, who altered her appearance and accent with ease, appeared at a police station to cooperate with authorities. With Rubberface Mary ratting out her accomplices, there were three more arrests, including that of criminal mastermind Bruce Reynolds on August 23rd. The story itself would make for a great movie (which it did, in 1967. Robbery). However, while imprisoned, a couple gang members managed to escape,
including Bruce Reynolds and Ronnie
Biggs. Reynolds smuggled his family to Mexico, before then migrating to Canada, France, and then back to England. He used different passports to enter each country, and was ultimately arrested, within sight of his family, in England, where he was forced back to prison. Ronnie Biggs’ escape was facilitated by a different gang, members of which waited outside Wandsworth Prison, as Biggs scaled a wall via a rope ladder before
dropping onto as awaiting getaway van. Biggs fled across Europe, and around the world. When he returned to England, it was seeking medical attention in 2001. He spent 36 years on the lam, and was finally captured. Biggs suffered strokes and other ailments while incarcerated, and was released on the basis of “compassionate leave.”
In response to the 1963 Great Train Robbery were nationwide appeals for improvements in security; considered vital in the
United Kingdom amidst Cold War tension. The Postal Service increased security measures by installing robbery/bandit alarms and coordinated with railway security for additional support.
If you would like to learn more about The Great Train Robbery of 1963 and the folks who were involved, visit Smithsonian Magazine and Gale.
Is there a true crime story that is of interest to you? Reply here, let us know, and we may select your idea for a deeper dive down the history rabbit hole.
We wish you a peaceful Labor Day Holiday weekend. We, at History At Play, are putting our labor to good use.
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