Secret diary of an underworld gunman

One of Melbourne’s most ruthless killers chronicled his exploits with an eloquence and insight rarely seen among criminals, and it brought him a new level of fame.

Underworld gunman James Robert Walker, whose secret memoir was released after his death in Pentridge Prison. Pictures: Trove, State Library of Victoria

James Robert Walker was a cold bastard.

At least that’s how it seemed after he murdered five people, wound up in Pentridge, tried to escape with a smuggled pistol and a bottle of whisky, only to fail and shoot himself dead.

A grifter and thief from boy to man, Walker was once considered the most ruthless gun of the Melbourne underworld.

But it was after his death in 1954 the public got to know him.

When his corpse was barely cool, his secret writings were discovered.

Pieced together on scraps of paper torn from exercise books or stolen from here and there, written with pens smuggled to him by fellow crims, the writing formed the story of Walker’s criminal life.

Underworld gunman James Robert Walker, whose secret memoir was released after his death in Pentridge Prison. Pictures: Trove, State Library of Victoria

Written with an eloquence and insight hardly seen among criminals, the gripping story was gobbled up by newspaper editors, who serialised it, barely edited.

What it showed was a man whose inner demons often won, whose better qualities sometimes triumphed and lifted his finger from the trigger; whose conscience gnawed at him until the very end.

THE ICE CREAM HIT

Wayward and wild from a young age, Walker experienced one solitary man in his youth who tried to help him.

In his secret memoir, Walker referred to the man only as “the Brain”.

He was a mentor, philosopher and father figure. He lent the young Walker money when he was low, convinced him to give up drinking and smoking, and put him on the straight and narrow.

But the Brain wasn’t everything he seemed.

Rita Walker, estranged wife of gangster James Robert Walker, and Tom ‘Slasher’ Fogarty, shot dead by Walker. And (right) a newspaper article about Walker’s writings. Pictures: Trove

He mixed with underworld figures and was caught up in all sorts of illicit activities, from money laundering to murder.

Eventually Walker fell afoul of his old friend and, now an established underworld gunman, decided to kill him.

Walker travelled to Sydney where the Brain was staying on holiday.

He rang the doorbell and his mentor answered. Walker forced him at gunpoint into a car and told him to drive to the cliffs.

But, as Walker put it, “we didn’t even get started”. The Brain’s soothing voice and persuasive philosophy brought Walker around.

He put the gun away.

To make him feel better, the Brain took him for ice cream.

It was one of the few times Walker’s better side won.

A newspaper image of the scene of Fogarty’s death in Barkly St. Picture: Trove

PAYBACK

Back in Melbourne Walker went about his life of crime as a gunman and thief.

Before long an opportunity came up through an acquaintance named Johnny Devine, who hung around in St Kilda.

Johnny knew a horse trainer who was planning to commit insurance fraud by staging a break-in and the theft of expensive saddling gear.

Johnny wanted Walker to helped him commit the fake burglary. It would be an easy 75 pounds.

Walker agreed, but lost sleep over why a man he barely knew would trust him with such a task.

Was it a trap? Had the Brain hired Johnny Devine to kill him as payback for the failed ice cream hit?

Just to be safe, Walker took a loaded pistol when he met with Johnny and they drove to Caulfield to do the deed.

A 1954 newspaper article about Walker’s sensational life story, published after his death in prison. Picture: Trove

When Walker asked if Johnny was armed, he looked surprised and said no.

Devine even invited Walker to check his pockets.

But as Walker was frisking his criminal acquaintance from the passenger seat, he noticed a gun stashed in a pocket on the driver’s door.

Without hesitation, convinced Devine had betrayed him, Walker shot him in the neck.

His pistol jammed on the second bullet so he grabbed Devine’s own gun and chased him from the car.

The loss of blood saw Devine slump on the road where Walker shot him again.

As lights came on all along the street, Walker fled, romping through backyards to make his escape.

Devine survived, barely, and never told police who shot him.

THE FINAL SHOWDOWN

Walker’s criminal career was hampered by a conscience that he could never completely strangle.

A deep thinker who loved his mother and struggled endlessly with his criminal tendencies, Walker’s exploits led him to be shot and nearly killed although, like Devine, he never divulged his attacker to police.

A criminal who hated crime, he preferred to live and socialise among people with no criminal record.

He also loved his wife, Rita.

The pair shared an intense mutual fondness although they were long separated.

Walker wandered overseas, including to the US, for almost ten years, during which the pair never spoke.

A headline about James Robert Walker after he sensationally requested the death penalty in 1954, and items found in his possession after his death, including a pistol and ammunition smuggled into Pentridge. Pictures: Trove

Rita’s mixing with other men in the underworld was perhaps too much for Walker.

He saw in them everything he hated in himself.

On his return to Melbourne in early 1953, aged 43, Walker sought out his wife, who was in an on-off relationship with 33-year-old Tom “Slasher” Fogarty, another underworld crim.

His nickname came from his tendency to strike out with a razor blade during arguments about money.

Rita sometimes lived with Fogarty in Barkly St, St Kilda, but often fled during harsh mistreatment.

It was on such an evening Rita ran from the house on Barkly St, Fogarty pursuing her.

He grabbed her by the wrist and threatened to shoot her with a little American derringer her pulled from his pocket, right there on the street.

But somebody else was about to do the shooting.

James Robert Walker approached from the darkness and raised a loaded shotgun.

According to some, Fogarty fired first and missed.

Either way, he copped a stomach full of pellets at close range. He died soon afterwards on the footpath.

Despite an attempt to flee, Walker was arrested and locked up.

Rita brought him cigarettes and fresh handkerchiefs in prison.

When they were allowed to speak to each other, the warden was astonished at how long they stared at each other without talking.

When he was charged with Fogarty’s murder, Walker expected the death penalty.

“Don’t worry,” the police told him. “The Labor Party will never hang you.”

That was true. Under Premier John Cain Sr, the death penalty was out of fashion.

But that pained Walker. His internal torment had gone on for too long and he politely asked the judge to hang him.

It wasn’t to be. Walker was sentenced to life and thrown in Pentridge where he scribbled letters and penned his story, describing the hell of prison life and his enduring fondness for Rita.

When his demons were dominant, he plotted to kill eight men from behind bars, but had no wherewithal to do it.

Instead he planned to escape, smuggling in a pistol. In May 1954 he surprised two guards and held them at gunpoint, but when cornered, he turned the gun on himself.

Until then, the public knew James Robert Walker as a menace who lived in headlines and nightmares.

After his writings were published, they knew a man who, doused in fear and self loathing, hosted a lifelong inner battle between hopeful good and intoxicating evil.

Originally published as Secret diary of an underworld gunman