Kentish Gazette Canterbury & District
Did zoo owner take secrets o
On June 29, 2000, Kent zoo owner John Aspinall died, potentially taking to his grave secrets surrounding the infamous disappearance of missing peer Lord Lucan. Twenty years on, looks at how the extroverted animal lover came to be embroiled in the police h
On November 16, 1974, it was reported in newspapers across the country how police hunting for the missing peer Lord Lucan had conducted a search of what, today, is one of the county’s most popular tourist attractions. After a request by officers in London, Kent Police sent officers to probe the grounds of Howletts in Bekesbourne - a pretty village a few miles outside Canterbury.
It was part of a global initiative to try and track down the fugitive who police feared could flee the country in a bid to escape justice.
Reports at the time suggest officers were despatched to keep an eye on up to 30 properties around the world, including in the US, Europe and the Caribbean, where it was felt he could take refuge.
The Howletts mansion and ground had been owned, since the late 1950s, by John Aspinall - a man who had turned his back on a university education in pursuit of making his fortune in the world of gambling.
He had used money generated by his running of various betting establishments to fund the purchase of the sprawling estate and allow him to create his very own private zoo.
Cash had flowed in with gusto when, in 1962, he opened the Clermont Club in an 18th century, Grade I-listed building in Berkeley Square in London’s Mayfair; an exclusive gambling venue which catered for those with ample money to fritter on the luck of the cards. Legend has it that when the venue first opened its doors, its clientele comprised five dukes, five marquises, 20 earls and two cabinet members.
And among them was John Bingham - better known as Lord Lucan.
The two became good friends and formed part of a close-knit group who enjoyed the finer things in life – not to mention the thrill of a sizeable bet. They were the sort of band of men who would cover up each other’s indiscretions; to protect one another at all costs.
Back in those heady days, neither man could have possibly imagined how their names would become synonymous with a story which has captivated the British public for almost 50 years. Before events overtook them, the pair would brush shoulders at the card tables with the likes of James Bond author Ian Fleming, who had a house in St Margaret’s Bay, near Dover, and comedy legend Peter Sellers.
It was through the success of the club that Aspinall could fund the purchase of Howletts, then a country house set in some 70 acres of countryside.
It was there he would indulge his love of animals and create a private zoo (something of an upgrade from keeping wild cats at his London pad). It has become his lasting legacy, having opened to the public in 1975, followed a year later by its sister site Port Lympne, near Hythe. But back in 1974 that legacy seemed a distant dream as officers hunted the outbuildings and grounds in the hope of locating the missing Lord Lucan. The then-39-year-old had not been seen since the murder of his children’s nanny, Sandra Rivett, and the attempted killing of his wife, Lady Lucan, in a bloody attack at her home in Belgravia on November 7 - some nine days before the Howletts search took place.
The couple had become
‘I think he genuinely believed a mistake had been made, he was innocent, and he was doing the best he could to help him’
estranged, with Lucan becoming increasingly obsessed about regaining custody of his children. The blood of both women attacked was found in a car driven by Lord Lucan and found abandoned in Newhaven several days after the incident. His wife identified him as the assailant. In a phone call to his mother after fleeing the scene, he claimed to have walked past his family home to witness his wife being attacked and had run to her rescue, before Lady Lucan accused him of hiring a hitman to try and kill her.
He is reported to have driven the Ford Corsair first to the family home of a friend, Susan Maxwell-scott, in Uckfield, in East Sussex, a little over 15 miles from Tunbridge Wells. There he wrote two letters to friends (saying to one he was going to “lie doggo for a bit”), signing them ‘Lucky’ the nickname he had earned after a 48-hour spell of gambling in 1960 had seen him win the equivalent of £600,000 - although his gambling subsequent to that had seen him build up heavy debts. After leaving the Uckfield house, he was never seen again. It was widely reported at the time that many thought he had boarded a cross-channel ferry or a smaller vessel in Newhaven and then gone overboard. Nobody has ever been found. That disappearance has enthralled many.
Where could such a high profile peer go? Was he dead or alive? If he was in hiding, where was he? Who had helped him? Was he guilty or innocent? More often than not, our fascination obscured the brutal murder of the 29-year-old Sandra Rivett - a young mother - which he had committed just prior. In the last verdict of its kind, a coroner’s court the following year declared him guilty by murder in his absence.
It had heard that Ms Rivett was not expected in the home at the time of the attack, and her death had been a case of mistaken identity by her husband, before, in his panic, he attempted to bludgeon his intended victim - Lady Lucan. Convincing him he could spare her and escape, he left her, wounded on a bed for a moment before she seized her chance and ran to a nearby pub to raise the alarm.
A death certificate in his name was finally released in 2016. Yet his fate continues to baffle police. So why the connection to Howletts?
The day after Ms Rivett was killed, John Aspinall and a group of his closest confidants from the Clermont gathered at Aspinall’s London home to discuss how they could help their friend during his time of need. Exactly what was discussed at this meeting will be forever unknown.
Speaking to the media in the week following the murder, Aspinall said: “I find it difficult to imagine him in Brazil or Haiti as a fugitive.
“I don’t think he has the capacity to adapt. He is a man of enormous virtue and honour. He could rely on many friends to help with advice.”
Given their power and financial clout, many of the most popular theories suspect Lucan’s friends helped mastermind his getaway.
And Aspinall lies at the heart of all of them.
Perhaps the most dramatic is a claim by Clermont regular Philippe Marcq.
Four years ago, he revealed fellow club member Stephen Raphael had confided in him that ‘Lucky’ Lucan had been secretly smuggled to Howletts by Aspinall and his chums. Speaking to the Daily Mail, Mr Marcq said: “They told him: ‘Look, it is absolutely terrible what happened. You are a murderer. You tried to kill your wife