The Courier & Advertiser (Fife Edition)
Judge’s legal blunder saved murderer from the noose
Our series of stories from The Courier archives continues today with a visit to quiet Kingennie, the scene of a murder in 1872 that shocked Angus and moved newspaper reporting into a new age. We also witness a delirious riot fought out across the centre of Dundee
A man of horror, possessed of a determined bloodlust, shattered community cohesion in Kingennie, Angus, in 1872.
Those who gazed at him were left speechless by his repulsive appearance. He stole and murdered before leaving Kingennie a broken village.
This ogre-like being slipped into the woods on a thieving spree on Tuesday, September 24 1872 igniting a chain of events that would focus UK-wide attention on Kingennie.
Less than 24 hours after the arrival of this repugnant brute, the broken body of gamekeeper George Spalding was found under a hedge near what is now Grange Road, yards from Ethiebeaton farmhouse.
The case made headlines in the Dundee press but, according to former Dundee librarian Alexander Hastie Millar, the murder propelled journalism into the modern age. Newspapers sensed an appetite for the sensational and the Kingennie case drew an audience from across Britain.
Spalding, 42, lived with his father Richard, 82, sisters Jean and Susan and nephew George, 11. In late afternoon, Susan noticed shirts were missing from the clothes lines shortly after she had seen a tramp pass.
George, his retriever Juno and his nephew went in pursuit. Young George returned saying his uncle had found someone. Jean saw her brother on his way to Monifieth police station with the man.
About 8.30pm, Juno returned alone. The family were used to George working overnight so were untroubled. But by 8am with no sight of George, they became alarmed.
Susan and young George went to look for the gamekeeper. They followed a path to the North Grange and South Grange estates boundary where Juno became excited.
As they turned for home, the dog let out a great yowl. This led them to a bush where they found George lying with grass over his face. He had been strangled and his head was smashed by a rock.
Suspicion fell on the tramp but the police had to find him. The one clue was his appearance. He was so hideously ugly that one field worker who saw him was rendered speechless.
Police homed in on a man in Dundee of such appearance — Thomas Scobbie, known as Bonnie Scobbie. His trunk was searched. Trousers pierced by a dog’s teeth and blood-stained clothing were found.
Scobbie was taken to Kingennie where he was identified before the old Scottish legal form of confronting the accused with his victim was evoked. Spalding’s coffin was prised open but Scobbie declared he was no murderer.
A jury thought otherwise and Scobbie was found guilty.
The jury asked for mercy but Lord Deas ordered Scobbie to be hanged on Tuesday April 29.
A petition of 4,321 people was raised in Dundee demanding mercy. On April 25 1873 mercy was shown and Scobbie was jailed.
But compassion was not the motivation — it was to cover up a legal blunder. Lord Deas had failed to realise there would not be a Tuesday April 29 for six years.
Swaying crowd of roughs
The Dundee fruit riot of 1906 had no political or social purpose.
Unlike the meal riot of 90 years earlier, it was not a reaction to hunger or rising prices.
Instead, the fruit riot was simply the product of indolence and holiday boredom.
It resulted in a swaying crowd of thousands of roughs overrunning stalls at Lady Mary Fair, using melons as footballs and trampling apples underfoot.
The crowd had sensed there was going be trouble that August day but when it did not prove to be as exciting as hoped, they created their own.
The background was a stand-off between shopkeepers and itinerant market traders.
Shopkeepers did not like losing trade to the “hucksters” so bought up the market stances outside their premises in High Street and began selling goods.
When the marketmen arrived they were told to set up shop elsewhere.
Some complied but police considered the alignment of their stalls constituted an obstruction. Scuffles broke out and police arrested three of them.
One unoccupied stall remained and as the market superintendent waited for the owner to return, a vast crowd gathered to watch the showdown. He did not turn up so the stall was wheeled away.
Denied of so action, “a desire for mischief suddenly seized them” The Courier reported.
As one body, the crowd turned on the stalls of shopkeepers. The first belonged to a chemist and bottles of tooth-cleaning liquid were stolen and showered on the crowd. The stall was levelled and the rioters targeted a jeweller’s booth next.
Shop staff managed to rescue the valuables and this incensed the crowd which was propelled into a savage delirium.
The full force of its combined anger was then directed at a greengrocer’s stall. It was stripped of melons, apples and grapes. Melons were purloined and used as footballs while apples were ground into the dirt.
Police tried to guard the stall but could do little to quell a crowd in the grip of such heightened frenzy.
While urchins threaded their way through the crowd to gather fallen fruit, a Salvation Army made a vain call for calm.
“Spalding’s coffin was prised open but Scobbie declared he was no murderer