The Baby Farmers

by Annie Cossins

  Juror: I think, your Worship, that steps should be taken to protect the young girl. She is in a very unpleasant position.

  Mr. Williamson: I don't think the jury have a right to take cognizance of what takes place out side the court.

  Juror: Well, it's a great shame the way the girl has beentreated.

  Since Clarice was spooked by her mother’s and sisters’ dramatics, why did she betray her parents, unlike Blanche and Florence, who had sought to protect them? At the age of 14, she must have been terrified about giving evidence in front of her stern father and volatile mother. Somehow Joyce had managed to reassure her, perhaps sensing in Clarice a vulnerability or resentment not evident in the Makins’ eldest daughters.

  One hint comes from the moment when Clarice ‘burst into tears’ as she was shown the clothing in which Baby 4 had been found. Perhaps she had bonded with Baby Mignonette, who at two weeks old was the youngest baby in Burren Street and the most bothersome, a child who ‘always seemed to be peevish, because it was incessantly crying’.

  When Clarice signed her deposition and walked back to her seat in the body of the courtroom, Blanche called out: ‘I hate the dress you’ve got on your back’. This insult and the rest of the family’s antics give us clues as to why Clarice was not fond of spending time at home. About a week later, Clarice attended Sydney Hospital to have her right arm dressed after she came out in painful white blisters the day after she gave evidence, the strain of giving evidence taking its toll in other agonising ways.

  After Clarice stepped down from the witness box, the Coroner called Daisy Makin. This was an excuse for even more family dramatics. As Clarice left the court to collect Daisy, ‘Mrs. Makin and her eldest daughter were greatly affected, and when [Clarice] returned leading her youngest sister who was crying, a terrible scene occurred’. According to one newspaper account, Daisy sobbed as soon as she saw her mother. Sarah then:

  stood up and exclaimed, ‘Oh! my child, my child, bring her to me,’ and attempted to rush across the court towards the child. She was held back by the constables, but struggled violently as if in a fit, and then fainted. The girl cried piteously, and exclaimed, ‘My poor mother. Let me go to her. She is dying.’

  Florence and Blanche shrieked and screamed at the sight of Daisy, who was crying loudly, ‘My mother will die’. The scene was so ‘heartrending’ that everyone in court was unnerved, including the jurymen, who were so affected ‘that a dry eye was scarcely visible’. For a few moments no-one seemed to know what to do, transfixed by the wailing Makin women.

  According to another newspaper, The Maitland & Hunter River General Advertiser:

  Mrs Makin jumped up and called ‘Come and take me out.’ The girls Blanche and Florence clasped each other and wept most bitterly, calling out ‘Oh, my mother’ and threatening their sister Clarence. Mrs Makin was removed from court very ill. Her daughters Florence, Blanche and Daisy followed crying most distressingly.

  Perhaps this dramatic scene was another ruse by the Makins to divert the court’s attention, since Daisy, a girl who could not read or write, would have been particularly vulnerable to the Coroner’s probing questions. Another journalist’s description of the scene suggests the Makins’ behaviour was akin to amateur theatre since ‘Mrs. Makin at once threw up her arms with a loud shriek, and fell upon her husband’s shoulder in a faint’, which was ‘the signal’ for Blanche and Florence to begin their ‘pitiful wailing intermingled with shrieks that their mother was dying, and with threats against Clariss [sic]’.

  John Makin played his part by remaining mute; he sat ‘without uttering a word’, his face white and his head bent down. When Sarah, Blanche and Florence were removed from the court along with Daisy, a juror asked the Coroner, ‘The scene which just occurred was a most painful one. Could you not postpone the child’s evidence? I am sure she must be unnerved. I know we are’.

  The Makins won the day since their antics persuaded the Coroner not to call their youngest daughter to give evidence.

  Another daughter gives evidence

  Instead of Daisy, the next witness was Mrs Minnie Helbi, Sarah’s daughter from her first marriage. Not much is known about Minnie, including her exact date of birth or whether she had been part of the Makin family after Sarah and John married in 1871.

  On 9 March 1886, at the age of 19, Minnie Josephine Edwards married Carl August Helbi, aged 30, an acrobat from Germany, at St Luke’s Church, Sydney. The marriage notice stated Minnie was the only daughter of the late Captain Charles Edwards.6 Since Minnie was under the age of 21, Sarah had given permission for the marriage.

  Now aged 25 and a married woman with four children and a husband who worked for the government, Minnie was able to give her evidence without interference, since her mother and sisters had been removed from the court. She told the Coroner she had not been on friendly terms with her parents since an argument three years earlier. She was not the only child to have been on bad terms with John and Sarah; their eldest son, William, had left home after an argument in August 1891.

  Minnie had not seen her parents again until 15 or 16 August 1892 when the Makins had moved hurriedly from Burren Street to 55 Botany Street, Redfern. She had not seen any children at the Botany Street house, although when her mother had been living in Wells Street, she had visited her daughter one evening ‘in a very excited state’, saying there ‘were men in her house’. While the conscientious Constable Joyce was patiently waiting to interview Sarah on the afternoon and night of 12 October at 6 Wells Street, it is likely Sarah stayed the night at her eldest daughter’s home in the nearby suburb of Alexandria.

  Minnie also revealed that, at the time of the inquests into the deaths of Babies A and B, Florence had visited one evening with a bundle of babies’ clothing, telling Minnie to keep the clothing or burn it. Her mother then turned up, ‘very angry’, saying the clothing belonged to her two-year-old son. Strangely, a few days later, Sarah sent Florence along with more babies’ clothing and the message that Minnie could keep it for her own children. But was Minnie telling the truth with her simple, non-incriminating tale or did she know more about her parents’ baby-farming business than she was willing to admit?

  When Minnie finished her evidence, the court adjourned until the following day, concluding what had been the most remarkable day of evidence so far. A large crowd of about 200 people was waiting outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Makins. This time, Constable Joyce was keen to ensure that his prisoners were not ‘ill-used’. He ordered his junior constables to clear the courtyard and close the gates then waited for the crowd to disperse. But they were were not so easily dismissed.

  With everyone waiting in suspense, Joyce decided a bit of subterfuge was required. He sent John out through another gate with his hat pulled well down over his eyes and accompanied by a plain clothes policeman. Sarah followed, escorted in the same way, while Joyce and the Makin girls slipped out through the front courtyard gate.

  Joyce and the girls mingled with the crowd and were able to escape unnoticed. But when Sarah and John were sighted, they were surrounded and jostled by the crowd. Even though there was no hostility or violence, John turned ‘deadly pale’ while Sarah, appearing indifferent, walked quickly and firmly ‘with her custodian’ across Hyde Park with people rushing from all directions to see them. Without the reach of the telescopic lens of today’s papparazzi, these crowds were eager to see and touch for themselves the most infamous couple in the Australian colonies.

  The evidence builds

  For the bored court reporters, the ‘protracted’ inquest into the death of Baby 4 continued for several more days.7 They would have realised this inquest was unlike previous ones since Constable Joyce had gathered many more witnesses. As the case became more and more sensational, it appears more and more witnesses came forward. Since the babies’ faces could not be identified, the whole case would turn on who had given the Makins particular clothing and what clothing the dead babies had been buried in.


  Daisy Makin gave evidence on day four of the inquest. Her mother had been taken to Darlinghurst Gaol Hospital the previous day after her apparent collapse. While Sarah was able to walk into the courtroom on this Wednesday morning, ‘her step was very feeble and during the whole of the day she sat with her head bowed and . . . her face partly hidden by her hat’. Outside, crowds of people again ‘thronged’ the yard around the court, although this time constables were stationed at the door of the courtroom to prevent the curiosity-seekers from invading.

  Little Daisy stood on her own in the witness box under the gaze of the whole court with her collapsed mother sitting nearby. In the temporary break that Sarah had orchestrated the day before, she, Florence and Blanche had probably tried to cajole Daisy into saying as little as possible. When asked to repeat the oath, Daisy said she did not understand it but ‘she would promise to tell the truth’. She then ‘commenced to sob, but by consoling terms of sympathy’ from the Coroner, Daisy calmed herself. She gave her name and said she thought she was 11 years old. She told the court she lived with her married sister, Minnie, and remembered the night the family moved to Burren Street.

  Although Daisy revealed little information, what she did say was incriminating. When the family moved to Burren Street, her mother had taken two baby girls with her, one in long clothes, the other in short clothes, indicating that one of them was less than two months old. She used to nurse the younger baby, who she identified as the child of Minnie Davies and Horace Bothamley. She also remembered the baby had worn pink and white bootees but when shown the bootees that had been found on Baby 4, Daisy said she had not seen those ones before.

  She was also unsure about the other clothing found on Baby 4—after staring intently at a blue and white striped dress and a coloured shirt for a few seconds she said she did not recognise them. The Coroner was suspicious:

  Coroner: Has any one spoken to you about coming here and giving evidence?

  Daisy: No, sir.

  Coroner: Nobody has told you what to say?

  Daisy: No.

  When asked what had happened to the child of Minnie and Horace, Daisy replied that the child died and was laid out in the house for its parents to see. Later, she was told by her mother that an undertaker had taken it away. Under further questioning, Daisy revealed that a white shawl had been accidentally burnt in Burren Street after being left to dry on the oven door, and that pieces of it had been found wrapped around two of the buried babies.

  Mr Williamson objected to this evidence because it had nothing to do with the inquiry into the death of Baby 4. But the Coroner had lost his patience.

  Coroner: I have overruled that objection several times. I wish you would sit down and not interrupt me again . . .

  [Mr. Healy, representing the Crown, agreed.]

  Coroner: Are you satisified Mr. Williamson?

  Mr. Williamson: Well, with all due respect to——

  Coroner: Oh, sit down, please, Mr. Williamson.

  With that dismissal, the Coroner turned to Daisy and continued to ask questions about the burnt shawl. This shawl had belonged to Minnie Davies, who had given it to the Makins. Daisy was then shown pieces of the burnt shawl that had been found on Babies 3 and 5. When asked whether she recognised them, she stared at them then replied, ‘I think so.’

  It was now the turn of Williamson to cross-examine Daisy, although as he got to his feet, the Coroner remarked, ‘I hope you will be considerate, Mr. Williamson’. When Williamson replied that he thought ‘it’s a cruel thing to have the child brought here to give evidence against her parents’, the Coroner told him off while Daisy burst out crying. Williamson retorted that ‘the girl had not cried because of any remark [I have] made, but because of the suspense’. While Mr Williamson was allowed to ask Daisy a few questions, he failed to change any of her previous answers.

  The indenture which apprenticed nine-year-old Sarah Bolton, sister of Ellen Bolton, to her brother-in-law in 1831. The date on the indenture is incorrect. (State Records NSW)

  The gallows at Darlinghurst Gaol were located inside the gaol walls in the corner of the Y-shaped E Wing which faced the rising morning sun. (The Bulletin, 31 January 1880, p. 5)

  A treadmill operating in Brixton Prison, London, 1822, was similar to the ones used to punish convicts in Australia. (American Antiquarian Society)

  A sketch of the house at 25 Burren Street, Macdonaldtown, where seven dead babies were discovered in the backyard. (The Evening News, 10 November 1892, p. 4.)

  A sketch of the backyard at 25 Burren Street. The crosses show where each of the seven babies was dug up by the two drainlayers (1A and 2A) and the police (1–5). (The Evening News, 10 November 1892, p. 4.)

  An 1889 trade card promoting Mrs Winslow’s Soothing Syrup, another name for Godfrey’s Cordial. The syrup was advertised as a remedy for children’s teething, wind, colic and diarrhoea. (Lithography by J Ottman. Scanned and digitised by the Miami University Libraries Digital Collection)

  Sketch of Sarah Makin. (Sketches from The Evening News, 10 November 1892, p. 4.)

  James Joyce.

  John Makin.

  Sir Julian Salomons, the eminent barrister who appeared for the Makins at their first appeal. (Mitchell Library, State Library of NSW – GPO1 – 11619)

  Police lined up outside the Newtown courthouse, circa 1912. (The Jubilee Souvenir of the Municipality of Newtown, 1865–1912, p. 53; scanned and digitised by the City of Sydney Archives, Newtown Project)

  The imposing gates of the Darlinghurst Gaol, now the National Art School. (User: Sardaka, Wikimedia Commons, licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 licence)

  An aerial view of Darlinghurst Gaol, 1936. (National Art School Archives)

  Map of Newtown, circa 1885 (City of Sydney Archives)

  The Benevolent Asylum, corner of Pitt and Devonshire streets, Sydney, 1901. (State Records NSW: NRS 4481, Government Printing Office, Glass Negatives)

  In the nurses’ room, Alexandria baby clinic, c. 1914. By now the state was beginning to play a more active role in monitoring the health and welfare of infants. (Mitchell Library, State Library of NSW – GPO1 – 16188)

  Sarah Makin, unknown photographer, taken in December 1892 in Darlinghurst Gaol. (State Records NSW: Gaol Description and Entrance Books, 1818–1930, Record for Sarah Makin, No. 5568)

  John Makin, unknown photographer, taken in December 1892 in Darlinghurst Gaol. (State Records NSW: Gaol Description and Entrance Books, 1818–1930, Record for John Makin, No. 5567)

  Letter written by Sarah Makin after she was released from prison. (State Records NSW: Letter 11/8853, filed in Register 10/11136)

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The mysterious Mr and Mrs Wilson give evidence

  16–28 November 1892

  The inquest into the death of Baby 4 was the first one to hear evidence from two people who might have been the parents of the child who was the subject of the inquest.

  It was inevitable that Minnie’s and Horace’s baby daughter, the child who had kept John up ‘all night’, would not last long in the Makin household. Although they would lose the weekly nursing fee of ten shillings, the baby’s death was the only way the Makins could extract Minnie and Horace from their lives as the Makins readied themselves for their next move, and, with money running out, their next batch of babies. By the time Mignonette died there were six other babies interred in the backyard of Burren Street, including those of two other mothers who were also keen on visiting the Makins.

  After taking the oath, Minnie Davies told the inquest that she and Horace chose to call themselves Mr and Mrs Wilson to hide the fact they had an illegitimate child although they eventually registered their baby’s birth in the name of Bothamley since Horace had wanted to ensure his daughter took his name. But Minnie was determined that her identity would remain secret and gave her surname as Wilson rather than Davies on her daughter’s birth certificate.1

  She also explained that she knew the Makins as Mr and Mrs Burt
, who had given them their new address at 25 Burren Street after adopting Baby Mignonette in George Street. While this behaviour was unusual for the Makins, Mignonette was the Makins’ nursing baby—the one they displayed to the world and who was to be kept clean, fed and healthy, at least initially, since she was bringing in a regular income.

  Minnie and Horace made their weekly visits to the Makins until August. On their first visit to Burren Street, they delivered clothes for their daughter. Some of the clothing included a white shawl with a fringe. On their arrival, they were surprised to find their daughter was not dressed in any of the clothes they had previously given the Burts and that they were required to pay ten shillings for the short clothes Mrs Burt said she had purchased.

  Minnie testified that on 4 November she and Horace had accompanied Constable Joyce to the South Sydney morgue where she identified two pieces of material which had been cut from the shawl she gave Mrs Burt. These wrappings had been found on Babies 3 and 5 and when she was shown them again in the courtroom Minnie was certain they had come from her shawl.

  Minnie also identified two babies’ gowns she had purchased at a draper’s shop in Oxford Street, Paddington. Along with other clothing, these gowns had been found by Constable Joyce at Mr Burke’s Pawnshop at 155 George Street, Redfern. One of the gowns recognised by Minnie had been worn by her dead daughter when she and Horace arrived with their bunch of flowers to see her one last time. Minnie told the court she had not authorised the Makins to sell or pawn this clothing.

  When Mr Burke later gave evidence he stated that on 8 August 1892, ten babies’ gowns had been pawned in the name of Mrs Makin, although he did not recognise Sarah in the courtroom. Instead, he had seen Blanche Makin in his shop several times. On 9 August more babies’ clothing was pawned at his shop by someone who signed their name as Wilson of George Street West.