Crime Immemorial

Thirty-seven-year-old Ernest Melville was a familiar figure in the North Hill area of Swansea, Wales, living with his parents at 11 Watkin Street, just a short walk from where his life would end. Described as a slight man, standing at about five feet five inches tall, Ernest was the youngest of six children. He suffered from chronic stomach issues and ill health, which led to his discharge from the Army on medical grounds. Despite his frail constitution, he was known for his friendly and cheerful demeanor, often finding joy in the company of others. In his twenties, Ernest took on various casual jobs before securing a position as a chainman in the Borough Surveyors Department of the Swansea Corporation, a role he held at the time of his death.

Ernest’s personal life, however, was not without scrutiny. He was openly homosexual at a time when such an identity was criminalized in the United Kingdom, with homosexual acts remaining illegal until the Sexual Offences Act of 1967. Ernest had a prior arrest in December 1945 for gross indecency, though he was acquitted at the Merthyr Borough Quarter Sessions in January 1946. His reputation for approaching men in public spaces, including doorways and lavatories, made him known to the local police, and this aspect of his life would later influence how his murder was perceived by some investigators and the public.

The events leading up to Ernest’s death began on the evening of Friday, January 21st, 1949. Following his usual routine, Ernest left home between seven and seven-thirty p.m. to spend the evening socializing. He was first seen at the Red Cow public house on High Street, where he stayed for about half an hour before moving on. By around eight p.m., he had made his way to the Full Moon pub, a popular spot opposite the bomb site where his body would later be found. There, Ernest was known to frequent the “singing room,” where he played the piano, entertaining patrons with tunes like “My Happiness,” which was reportedly his final performance that night.

Witnesses noted that Ernest was in deep conversation with a man in a raincoat at the Full Moon, and he appeared to be drunk by the time he left the pub around ten p.m. Two burglars, known to the police, reported seeing Ernest speaking with men in Merchant Navy uniforms near Watts’ butcher shop on High Street at around ten-forty p.m. Additionally, staff at a mobile snack wagon opposite the High Street railway station confirmed the presence of merchant seamen in the area around eleven p.m. These sightings would later form a critical part of the police investigation, though they yielded no definitive leads.

Ernest’s father, Lewis Melville, grew anxious when his son failed to return home by his usual time of eleven p.m. At five-thirty the following morning, Lewis visited the police station to check if Ernest had been detained, a reasonable concern given his son’s past encounters with law enforcement. When there was no sign of him, Lewis returned to the police station at midday, still worried. Tragically, it was around two p.m. that same day, January 22nd, that two young girls playing hide-and-seek on a bomb site near Croft Street stumbled upon the battered body.

Ernest’s remains bore the marks of a vicious assault. His trousers had been ripped open, and he had sustained severe injuries, including a fractured skull, a broken nose and jaw, and his scalp split open. A post-mortem conducted at Swansea General Hospital on January 23rd revealed additional details: his nose was bruised and partially flattened, his upper lip split, and there were deep wounds under his chin and along his jawline. Both eyelids were blackened, and there was blood effusion in his left eye. The right side of his head showed a ragged scalp wound, and three linear excoriations marked his neck, suggesting possible strangulation or throttling before the fatal blows. Pathologists estimated that Ernest had died around midnight, and suggested that he had been struck with bricks or a heavy object, possibly after being incapacitated.

The ferocity of the attack shocked the community, and the location—a bomb site littered with post-war debris, including corrugated iron sheets—added to the grim atmosphere. Some residents reported hearing banging noises, possibly from the iron sheets, on the night of the murder, but these accounts led to no concrete evidence.

The murder sparked a major police investigation, led by Detective Inspector Reginald Spooner of Scotland Yard, who described it as one of the most challenging cases of his career. The inquiry focused on several leads, including witness statements from the night of January 21st. A mother and daughter from Mayhill, who were leaving the Lower Lamb pub near Croft Street around ten p.m., reported seeing two men—one tall, one short—near the entrance to Dyfatty Park. The daughter, familiar with Ernest, confirmed that neither man was him, but the police were unable to identify these individuals. Similarly, the man in the raincoat seen with Ernest at the Full Moon remained untraced, as did the merchant seamen spotted later that night.

The presence of merchant seamen in Swansea, a bustling port city, prompted an extensive effort to track down sailors who had been in the docks that night. Police obtained crew lists from ship owners and the shipping registry in Cardiff, following leads to distant locations like Cuba and New Zealand as ships departed Swansea in the days following the murder. Despite this global pursuit, the interviews yielded only denials and alibis, with no breakthroughs.

Investigators also explored a Displaced Persons Camp in Morriston, home to approximately 400 men, but this line of inquiry produced no results. Anonymous letters, including one from Motherwell, and local rumors added to the speculation but offered no actionable evidence. Door-to-door inquiries around Dyfatty Park revealed little, with residents reluctant to share information, possibly due to fear or the stigma surrounding Ernest’s lifestyle.

The investigation was obviously colored by the societal attitudes of the time. Homosexuality was heavily stigmatized, and some investigators and community members viewed Ernest’s death as a consequence of his “sleazy lifestyle.” Descriptions of him as “effeminate” and “neurotic” by the family doctor and police reports reflected the era’s prejudices, with some implying that Ernest had been “asking for it” due to his behavior. This bias likely influenced the investigation’s direction, with a focus on his personal life rather than a broader examination of potential motives or perpetrators. The lack of forensic technology, such as DNA analysis, further limited the police’s ability to solve the case, as they relied heavily on witness statements and circumstantial evidence.

Despite the extensive efforts of the police, the murder of Ernest Melville remains one of Swansea’s most enduring mysteries, and is still unsolved, more than seventy-five years later.