Showdown at the Red Lion by Charles Van Onselen

Author:Charles Van Onselen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jonathan Ball Publishers
Published: 2015-01-12T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The Spectres of Success

JOHANNESBURG TO LOURENÇO MARQUES

— 1895 —

Success has ruined many a man.

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN

After Joe Byrne had walked up to the front door of the cottage of the newly married Aaron Sherritt, waited for the door to open and blasted the police informer to kingdom come, Ned Kelly’s gang had neither the desire nor the time to celebrate. But within hours of the Red Lion shootings Jack McLoughlin, brimming with confidence, was back in town ready to link up with McCann for a pre-arranged meeting. The two were swopping notes when, according to Lobb, he happened to chance upon the pair chatting in the street near the Central Hotel. Every busy corner, every pub on Commissioner was by then abuzz with talk not only about the shootings, but also ‘the list’ of death that had been recited at the Oddfellows’ Arms. Lobb was concerned about being seen as an accomplice if the police arrested the wanted man. He rushed up to McLoughlin and, by his own account, said to him: ‘There is a rumour in town that you have shot Stevo.’ McLoughlin laughed as if he thought it a joke and said: ‘Come and have some supper.’ The three then set off for a late-night dinner at Rosenthal’s Café.1

Rosenthal’s was a favoured underworld hangout. The celebration there, which went on for hours, exceeded McLoughlin’s expectations. Shortly after ten o’clock, Henry Higgins’s partner, Morry Hollander, walked into the café – only to flee back down Commissioner Street the moment that he caught sight of McLoughlin. He knew who to run to; his friend Higgins’s name was on the list.2 But the real triumph remained hidden at the time and had to be savoured later. ‘Revenge,’ they say, ‘is a dish best served cold.’ And it was.

While the meal was still in progress one of Ferguson’s informants spotted the suspect and rushed off to tell the detective that the man the police wanted was out dining, in full view, at Rosenthal’s. Ferguson’s name, too, was on the list. He claimed later that he received the tip-off long after McLoughlin had left the café, but nobody believed him.3 Ferguson had any number of reasons for not wanting to tangle with McLoughlin, or to help his new professional rival – Andrew Trimble – apprehend the man. Indeed, within hours it was reliably reported that, on being told about the celebration at Rosenthal’s, Ferguson had stated that he ‘did not avail himself of the information, not caring to poach on Mr Trimble’s preserve, and in view of the treatment he has received from Pretoria, is not particularly anxious to distinguish himself in any way’.4 Robert Ferguson was in serious trouble.

The meal ended around midnight and the trio dispersed. Lobb and McCann headed off in separate directions and McLoughlin left for his hideout, which was either on the Robinson property, as most believed, or he may already have switched to a house close to the police station in Marshall’s Town. It was a frustrating long Sunday with no newspapers.

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