Sheila Douglas | Letters to Ambrose Merton # 24, 2000

Peter Manual, who was hanged in the 1950s, was what is nowadays called a serial killer. He operated in the Glasgow area, from his home in Bellshill in Lanarkshire. During the time he committed his murders, and before he was arrested and tried, Glasgow was enveloped by a miasma of fear, that bred rumour, apprehension and security consciousness, rivalled only by the Second World War. People buying newspapers in the street were seen to open them and read them on the spot. Even in “No Mean City” this was unprecedented. It is, however, understandable, for the situation changed from day to day, and new deaths were announced before the shock of the previous ones had abated. People in the northern and eastern suburbs of the city, in particular, bought big guard dogs and locks, chains and alarms for their houses.

Before Manual was arrested – he had been long suspected, but evidence was lacking – the facts were as fantastic as the legends which blossomed after the case had been dealt with in court. Manual came from a housing scheme in which most of the men were or had been in trouble with the law. This made the police’s job even more difficult. That he became a hero of the Glasgow underworld was brought home to me personally by an experience I had with a friend, when we tried to get into the public gallery of the court, when he was on trial. We cut through some back streets near the High Court, and found ourselves in a world of Dickensian characters, who leered and nudged and winked, “Are ye gaun tae see Pe’er, then? Are ye gaun tae see Pe’er?” The atmosphere was one of hysterical excitement and sinister glee. My friend and I fled in terror and gave up our bid to see the trial. We would never have got in, anyway, as the queue was a mile long.

Manual conducted his own defence in court, after having fired his defence counsel. I had a teaching colleague, whose neighbour was one of the jury. This person said that everyone could see that the witnesses were all terrified of Manual and lied through their teeth. The turning point of the trial was when his own mother refused to give him an alibi for one of his crimes. One of the most widespread and potent legends that were circulated, after justice had been done, was that he had been arrested after a priest broke the seal of the confessional and phoned the police. This may or may not have been possible, but as neither the church nor the constabulary are likely to confirm it, then a legend it has to remain.
Another group of legends arose because Manual was speculatively connected with a William Watt, who had been convicted of the murder of his wife, daughter and sister-in-law. His alibi was that he had been on a fishing trip when the murders occurred and only discovered them on his return. The case hinged on proving that he could have come home and committed the killings, then returned to his fishing. In retrospect, many people believe Manual, a “business associate” of Watt’s, committed these murders too, but it was never proven. I had a neighbour who regularly drove his mother-in-law home to Scotstoun after visiting him and his family in Renfrew, which meant crossing the Clyde by the Renfrew Ferry (now a trendy concert venue!) in the small hours of the morning. He was absolutely convinced he saw William Watt in his car on one of these trips, at a time, when he would have been between his home and the fishing locale.

Stories which are hardly legends but proven facts abound in the evidence presented in court, which nevertheless add to the aura of horror surrounding the character of the killer. In one house, where he murdered the mother, father and young son, he sat down and enjoyed a meal of bread, tea and sardines from their larder before departing. After having killed a young woman on a golf course, he thumbed a lift from a passing car and was transported on his way by members of the Glasgow Constabulary, who were investigating his previous murders. People began to get the idea that he was enjoying a macabre game at their expense.

If you scratch the surface in Glasgow even today, you will still find many stories about this very ordinary-looking “wee hard man”, an image that has become a legend in itself. The huge amount of publicity the case generated and the widespread fame that came to be attached to the name, shows how a kind of dark glamour can be created around such an individual and how time can increase this.