The Collection

(All extracts from DEAD & BURIED – see site’s shop)

JOHN KNATCHBULL (1793—1844) – Mutineer and Murderer.

Of all the criminals whose names appear in the legal records of early Sydney, none had a more remarkable career of crime than John Knatchbull. The latter was executed outside Darlinghurst gaol 81 years ago in front of an estimated 10,000 Sydneysiders. William Freame’s account is both revealing and chilling. (Evening News, 27 April 1929)

The son of an English baronet of political distinction, Knatchbull crowded into his 36 years of life an extraordinary amount of crime.

Alter leaving school he entered the Royal Navy and soon distinguished himself for his courage and proficiency. A brilliant career was predicted for him, but his evil passions soon manifested themselves. While yet very young, he was given command of His Majesty’s brig Linnet – he soon turned the ship into a floating hell. Eventually, he was court-martialled for repeated acts of tyranny and conduct unbecoming of a naval officer.

Disowned by his family, Knatchbull was at last left to his own dishonourable resources. A heartless swindler and libertine, he went through a mock marriage with the beautiful daughter of a wealthy merchant. Within three months, the young woman was robbed, disgraced, and deserted, and the concluding years of her life were passed in a madhouse. After victimising other females, Knatchbull became a highwayman, and during 1824 was convicted of highway robbery and was sentenced to transportation for a term of 14 years. Arriving in Sydney in the following year, he was sent to the Wellington district (NSW), where, after four years, he received his ticket-of-leave. Recognised as “a swell mags-man.” Knatchbull became a thief catcher but eventually was convicted of forgery and sent to Norfolk Island. While awaiting transhipment he became implicated in a plot to poison the guard of the Governor Phillip. This brig was to convey him to Norfolk Island, where soon after arrival, he took part in a mutiny. Although 13 men were hanged, Knatchbull, the brains of the outbreak, escaped the halter.

Having spent several years on Norfolk Island, Knatchbull was removed to Port Macquarie in 1842. Having obtained a ticket-of- leave, he was given command of a small coasting schooner. At that time The Rocks area in Sydney had its hectic nights, in which Captain Knatchbull played no mean part.

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During one of his characteristic escapades, he broke into the shop of Ellen Jamison and inflicted injuries to her head with a tomahawk, causing her death. The chief motive for this crime was to obtain sufficient money to pay his sweetheart’s board and lodging. He was arrested for the murder of Mrs Jamison and was defended at his trial by an old Winchester boy, Robert Lowe, afterwards Viscount Sherbrook, who sought to show that the sentence of death was illegal because the Judge omitted to direct that the prisoner’s body, should be dissected and buried within the gaol walls. With the hanging of John Knatchbull there passed away one of the most daring, astute, and plausible of scoundrels.

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This day we present to our readers the following particulars, which we have extracted from documents written by Knatchbull while in the Gaol, and which we were allowed to copy through the kindness of Mr Keck, who has on every occasion afforded us every facility to obtain the most authentic particulars touching the career of Knatchbull in this colony. In the first place, Knatchbull denies that he ever was at Wellington Valley. On his arrival on the Asia, he was assigned to Mills, a publican, at Penrith, where he remained for some time. Knatchbull alludes to the state of his mind at this period, and remarks that “formerly he was a Captain in the navy — now a slave.” He appears to have been very much discontented about this time, and accordingly, we find him changing his place of residence. On leaving Mr Mills’ house he went into the service of Mr M’Henry, at Emu Plains. About this time he was robbed of his clothes and box by bushrangers, and left with scarcely a rag to cover himself with. His next master was Mr Kinghorne, at Emu Plains, who behaved with great kindness to Knatchbull and allowed him to proceed to Sydney, where he wanted to go to receive some money which had been placed in the hands of the doctor of the Asia for his use. Archdeacon Scott, who was acquainted with his family, brought out letters about this time from Dr Knatchbull and his sister. He does not, however, allude to their contents. On his return to the country, Knatchbull took a situation as a postman, to carry the mail between Bathurst and Mount York, a distance of fifty-six miles. He received two shillings and ninepence a day for his services and filled the situation for two years. He states that he lived comparatively happy when he was engaged in conveying the mail, and it appears he was in tolerably comfortable circumstances. He does not state the reason for his losing this situation but proceeds to narrate that his next engagement was with Mr Fennell, in the year 1829, at which time he obtained his ticket-of-leave. Leaving his service, he engaged as a shepherd to Mr Everton, who, he states, paid him £50 per annum and was very kind to him. From this date, he appears to have filled numerous situations and to have made occasional visits to town, but the greater part of his time was passed in the country. Nothing of importance, likely to prove interesting to our readers, occurred up to the time of his committing the murder for which he suffered death. Mr Keck informs us there is not one word of truth in the report that Knatchbull either looked for or expected a reprieve; he had made up his mind to die from the moment he heard that the warrant for his execution had been placed in the hands of the Sheriff. On the night, before his execution, Mr Keck visited him in his cell and found him partaking of a hearty supper. On his entrance, Knatchbull said, ” You see I am enjoying myself.” Mr Keck replied that he could not have eaten anything had he been in his situation. Knatchbull then said he had made his peace with God, and he felt satisfied that the world would forgive him on account of his penitence.

Since our last edition appeared we have been informed that Mr and Mrs Latham, his two nephews, and Mrs Craig, followed his remains to the grave. He requested that the ring which was taken from him when he was apprehended might be given to Mr Craig, which, we understand, was complied with by the authorities.

EXECUTION OF JOHN KNATCHBULL. (Australian, 15 February 1844)

At the early hour of six on the morning of Tuesday last, swarms of human beings— men, women, and children — might be seen pressing across the Race Course from all parts of the town to the vicinity of the Darlinghurst Gaol. One intense desire to witness the awful tragedy was depicted on the countenances of nearly all here and there might be heard the heartless levity and unfeeling laughter of the unthinking, or the callous and reckless jeers of the hardened, but the majority appeared deeply impressed with the solemnity of the occasion; and as group after group swelled the thousands of spectators, many there were whose minds appeared thoroughly imbued with the respect, awe, and reverence due to the melancholy scene before them. Within the walls of the gaol, at the early hour of six, might be heard the clank of the gaoler’s hammer, unriveting the irons from the body of the prisoner, while at intervals the deep and solemn voice of the unhappy captive would swell upon the ear in the most piteous accents of earnest prayer. From that hour until nine o’clock, the hour appointed for the execution, the prisoner was in continual intercourse with those religious advisers who had so faithfully performed their duty since his condemnation. To them, he unfolded his heart in frank and open confession. He denied that the murder was premeditated — “the devil instigated me to do the deed, and I did it! ” —such were his words.

The following is the only written confession of his guilt that has yet appeared. It was written by himself, immediately after hearing the impressive sermon delivered on Sunday last, by the Rev. Mr Elder: “Condemned Cell, “Woolloomooloo Gaol, “10th February 1844. “In the name of the Almighty God, Amen. I am guilty of the horrid deed for which I am to suffer death; and may the Lord have mercy on my soul. Amen. ” J.Knatchbull”. The character of the unhappy culprit, from boyhood upwards, appears to have been brutally tyrannical. When in the Navy, his conduct in this respect was so fearfully exemplified that he was dismissed from the service. Tyranny, however, is not a capital offence; and, although the murderer was looked upon at this period of his life as a man whose principles were bad, there were very few whoever had the most distant idea that his life would be forfeited to satisfy the insulted laws of his country — that his earthly career would be closed on the scaffold. Such, however, has been the case. From tyranny, he passed to petty larceny, from larceny to forgery, from forgery to the blackest treachery, from treachery to murder, and from murder to the gallows! About twenty minutes before nine, the mounted police arrived and took up their position on the outside of the jail, at some distance from the foot of the scaffold; the foot soldiers arrived on the ground a few minutes after. By this time, the crowd gathered was immense, amounting in number, so far as could be judged, to about ten thousand. Still, the greatest decorum was observed, nor did we perceive one instance in which any attempt was made to create the slightest disturbance. As the terrible moment of execution approached, the prisoners’ prayers were distinctly audible even at the exterior of the gaol. He appeared to be deeply sensible of the awful position in which he stood. A dark and frowning eternity began to press itself with fearful force upon his mind, while his apparently sincere cries for mercy became more and more earnest as the tragic scene drew on. The unhappy man was attended in his last moments by the Rev. Messrs. Elder and Sharpe, the Rev. Dr Ross and Mr Threlkeld being also present. As the bell tolled the fatal hour, the prisoner emerged from his cell. His appearance was dreadfully altered his countenance was wan and deathlike and told loudly of the agonies under which his mind had been labouring. He passed on between Messrs. Elder and Sharpe, with whom he earnestly engaged in his religious exercises. His responses were made in an audible voice, and his step was firm and unwavering. He was drest in a mourning suit, and not that in which condemned criminals are usually executed. His coffin was covered with black cloth, and bore the following inscription: JOHN KNATCHBULL, Aged 56 Years.

A breathless silence prevailed during the last moments of the culprit. He was devout and in no one act did he evince any other demonstration of feeling than that of deep and heartfelt repentance. It is to be hoped that that repentance may have been as sincere as his bearing would indicate. He ascended the fatal scaffold without trepidation or fear and was launched into another world with a noble and fervent prayer trembling on his lips. The majesty of justice has now been satisfied, and Knatchbull has paid the just debt due to his many crimes. We were gratified that no demonstration of feeling was shown towards him by the multitude, as its only effect would have been to distract the last moments of his inglorious career. The number of females present to witness this awful scene was incredible. What! Can no other object afford gratification to the female portion of our community than the dismal tragedy of the scaffold? Is the mind of woman, which we have hitherto admired for its gentleness, purity, and innocence so utterly lost and debased as to delight in gazing upon the dying agonies of the condemned? We blush to have the unpleasant task to perform, but we owe it as a duty to ourselves to show our abhorrence of so polluted a taste as would lead these who pretend to the rank and title of ‘ladies” to sit in open carriages and gaze upon so awful and tremendous a scene as was that morning enacted upon the fatal drop. We mourn over the depravity of such conduct, for it tends to destroy these high sentiments which we have proudly entertained of the gentle and humane emotions which agitate the breast of woman. Sincerely, we hope that another occasion for such remarks as the above will never occur again.

[Another account] This wretched criminal underwent the extreme sentence of the law on Tuesday morning, shortly after 9 o’clock, on the drop which was erected for the occasion, in front of the Gaol at Darlinghurst. The public excitement, which has been so long kept up with reference to the unfortunate circumstances connected with this affair, was particularly manifested on the present occasion. It was scarcely light when the spectators began to assemble, and shortly after 7 o’clock, continuous streams of people, on foot and in vehicles of various descriptions, were seen approaching the scene of execution, from every part of the city, up to 9 o’clock, by which time it is calculated that between four and five thousand persons had congregated; and we cannot help expressing our surprise at the peculiar character of the mass so assembled, which appeared to be comprised of individuals of all classes— amongst whom were many respectably dressed females—and of all ages, from the tender infant, nursed at its mother’s breast, to the almost equally helpless octogenarian. The Sheriff arrived at the Gaol about half-past 8 o’clock, and a few minutes before 9 went to the condemned cell, accompanied by Mr Keck, the Governor of the Gaol, and Captain Innes, whence the unhappy culprit issued, and proceeded towards the place of execution, between the Rev. Mr Elder, the Chaplain of the Goal, and the Rev. Mr Sharp, of Bathurst, the former of whom read the burial service, in the responses of which the prisoner joined with firmness and apparent devotion. On arriving at the scaffold, he knelt and prayed for five minutes with great fervency, when he ascended the fatal platform, preceded by the executioner, and attended by the two divines, still repeating a portion of the burial service, in which he joined, till the fatal rope was adjusted. The cap was then drawn over his face, and he was left alone on the platform when he was distinctly heard to utter the following supplicatory sentences: “Lord have mercy on my soul! Christ have mercy on my soul! Lord, do they have mercy on my soul! Christ have mercy ” ——when the bolt was suddenly withdrawn, and the wretched man ceased to exist.

The conduct of the populace was decorous in the extreme; no indications of bitter feeling were exhibited, nor any sounds heard except a slight murmur announcing the prisoner’s approach from the gaol. He had, ever since his incarceration, been supplied with every comfort the gaol regulations would allow by his two nephews, who likewise used every exertion to save their erring relative from his disgraceful end. He was attired, on the melancholy occasion, in a neat suit of mourning, and his coffin, covered with black cloth, bore a small plate, on which was inscribed ‘John Knatchbull, ret. 56.’ On his first entering the gaol, he commenced writing a circumstantial narrative of his life, which he continued up to, and finished, on the morning of his execution. The manuscript is in the possession of the Governor of the gaol, to whom he presented it. He had strongly denied all knowledge of the crime of which he had been found guilty up to Sunday last, when, after having heard the condemned sermon, during which he was most powerfully affected, he made a confession in writing, to the effect that he was guilty of the horrid deed for which he was about to suffer. Since that period his conduct has evinced signs of sincere penitence and contrition. One of the attendants of the gaol sat conversing with him until about half-past eleven o’clock on the night preceding his execution when he stated that he felt quite happy, and as well as a man could be in the awful situation in which he was placed. He felt assured he should die happy he had made his peace with the world and had forgiven everyone he trusted every one would forgive him, as he was going to a better world. He then wrote for about an hour, when he fell back on his bed and desired to be called in half an hour, which desire was complied with, but having expressed a wish for another half hour’s repose, he again slept. He afterwards prayed and wrote till about three, when, after again praying, he went to sleep, requesting to be called at five, after which he was engaged in prayer, and preparing himself for the awful event which was to take place. His body was given up to his friends for interment. Prior to this, a cast of his head and face was taken, for phrenological purposes, in the presence of most of the medical gentlemen of Sydney, by Messrs. Abrahams and Shaw.

THE STORY OF FRANK BUTLER, Australia’s first serial killer, makes for chilling reading. His method of procuring his victims through newspaper advertisements was, at the time, unique. The following graphic accounts show that his actions were pre-meditated and ghastly. 

Frank Butler (1861-1897). The Blue Mountain Murders. (Daily Telegraph, 8 December 1896) 

The unfortunate young man Preston, one of the victims of the Mountain murders, was buried yesterday in the Rookwood Cemetery, He was only 20 years of age. The body of Captain Lee Weller was found yesterday. It is believed now that two men are concerned in the murders. 

Penrith, Monday. The greatest excitement, mingled with a fierce sort of joy, was caused here yesterday when the discovery was made of the body of the missing Captain Lee Weller. The body was discovered by an old resident of the locality named Woods, who had been searching by himself since Wednesday. Yesterday morning Woods went along a track leading through his paddock, and three- quarters of a mile from his house and at a point close to the place in Glenbrook Creek known as Land-hole (it was in this hole that he and his family bathed) he found evidence of the ground having been disturbed and saw some twigs on top showing that it had been recently visited. He probed the soil with a stick and ascertained by the smell that a body was or had been buried there. He immediately communicated with the police. Wood secures the Government reward for finding the body. 

The grave was opened sufficiently to show that the human body was that of Weller, and this news was at once despatched to Sydney. A reply was soon to hand stating that a special train had left at 9.30, with doctors, the police, and several railway officials. A man named Champion was with Woods when the locality was fixed. The site is similar to that at Linden. It is not 10 feet from the pathway in a hollow between three large rocks, under one of those slightly overhanging boulders common on the mountains. 

Penrith, Tuesday. The inquest on the body of Captain Weller was opened at 6 a.m. yesterday and adjourned till today when it will be resumed conjointly with that on Preston’s body. The autopsy of the body of Weller was made early in the morning. The doctors found a bullet wound just behind the ear on the left side of the head. Death resulted from a laceration of the brain. It is now stated that a third man named Lessah is missing. He is known to have left Sydney with Butler on a prospecting tour about the middle of September. Warrants have been issued for the arrest of Butler for the murder of Preston and Weller. The warrants were ordered to be issued for the arrest of Frank Harwood, otherwise S. Burgess, otherwise Butler, otherwise Simpson, otherwise Clare, otherwise Weller. The man arrested near Port Macquarie a few days ago, on suspicion of being Butler, has been discharged. Detective Roche, armed with the necessary powers for the extradition of Butler, left last night to catch the mail steamer at Adelaide. 

A Way He Had With His “Mates”. Allan Brennan discusses the ‘wholesale butcher’, Butler. (World’s News (Sydney) 11 September 1935) 

There are lights and shades in crime. The passion-impelled murder, momentary in conception and instantaneous in execution, may even be meritorious. At the other end of the scale Blue Mountain Butler, the ice-blooded Dead Sea of a man whose story, unfolded in 1897, struck a high note in murder’s gory drama. 

In passing, it might be mentioned that it is probable that in the years 1892 to 1897, Australian criminal annals attained their heyday of horror. In that quinquennium, the baby-slaughterers Frances Knorr and the Makins’ carried on their terrible business. Cement-man Deeming ably upheld the record. In 1894 Martha Needle drew attention to herself. The Gatton tragedy in Queensland burst upon the country a mystery that only the Crack of Doom will solve. Finally, Butler – a grisly thing in human shape, whose heart surely was carved from a paving-stone whose doings gained for him a halo of atrocity which, after the passage of forty years, remains undimmed. 

It is said that every human being has a soul. If that is a fact then it is clear that some souls are constructed of better material. Indeed, the theme of Butler’s whole existence was murder, and he never lost sight of the plot. 

‘Butler, the author of the man-trapping newspaper advertisements’. Butler, the fiend, with whom mere acquaintance was a deadly disease. Butler, whose mates, without exception, died of a bullet in the back of the head. Butler, the man whose heart out adamant granite, and the recital of whose enormities concentrated upon him such a gale of hatred – hatred inexpressible in all the languages that ever were, or will be. If these observations cause Butler to squirm in his grave of nearly forty years, the writer will feel that he has not lived in vain. 

In the Sydney Morning Herald of October 24, 1896, a certain advertisement appeared: 

Metallurgist wants sociable young man, mate, prospect Western district; equal shares; experience unnecessary. Butler, Metropolitan Hotel, 401 Pitt Street, Sydney. 

Some months prior to that date, Captain Lee Weller, retired mariner, lost his wife. Consequently, he fretted considerably and possibly drank more than was good for him. The idea of a life of activity in the gold-hunt appealed to him, and he interviewed Butler. An agreement was reached, and on October 29, the pair took the train to Glenbrook. After that, deep obscurity enfolded Lee Weller. He had promised to communicate with his friend, J. T. Luckham, of The Bulletin newspaper; and he was not the kind of man to overlook a promise. 

On November 10, an advertisement for a similar post appeared in The Herald. Unfortunately, Luckham missed it, but he acted at once and communicated with the Police Department when his attention was drawn to it. The columns of the morning daily were subjected to scrutiny, and at regularly recurring and short intervals the sinister advertisement was noted. In most, the desirability of a little money was stressed. Inquiry at the Metropolitan Hotel elicited that Butler was missing. That anything untoward had happened to Lee Weller was as yet uncertain but conjectures were gory, and the country about Glenbrook was subjected to close scrutiny. Headed “The Glenbrook Mystery,” the newspapers published columns of material. 

While the search was on a letter was received from Brisbane. Therein the police detectives were informed that on October 14, a young man named Preston had answered a prospector’s advertisement and that he had not since been heard of. Speedy inquiry proved that the lad had indeed gone off with a man named Butler. 

The search became intense. Not one gloomy gully of the ravine- scarred eastern slopes of the heaving mountains missed scrutiny. Literally, the searchers were in competition with an expert of long experience in the art of secret burial; and though the parties included many young constables who had graduated in the School of Bush Experience, for weeks, the everlasting hills refused to yield their dread secrets. On December 3, Constable Delaney, who hailed from the Clarence, noticed a little clay on the surface under an overhanging rock. His bush knowledge told him that the clay was misallocated that it was against the nature of things that even the smallest quantity should be on view thereabouts. Delaney probed with a stick but the result was definitely negative. Still, clay where clay shouldn’t be – couldn’t be – was not a clue to be disregarded. Within a few minutes, the unauthorised grave was discovered. It was Preston’s. The Glenbrook mystery had become the Glenbrook tragedy. On December 6, the reason for poor Lee Weller’s silence was uncovered. 

Meanwhile, what of Butler? Endowed with the average murderer’s lack of intelligence in good supply, he was busy blazing his track to the gallows. It might be remarked that no murderer ever thinks of the possibility of discovery, followed by an interview with a neck-breaking specialist. True, he notes that others end in a very awkward situation; but the professional also notes where they failed, and scorns any notion that a really competent man, such as himself, could have been guilty of such stupidity. 

Incredible though it sounds, Butler had assumed the name of his latest victim – poor Lee Weller, and gone to Newcastle. There he announced his intention of shipping for San Francisco. Lee Weller’s master mariner’s certificate assisted him to secure a berth before the mast; and on November 23, per barque Swanhilda, he sailed for the American port. When Lee Weller’s uncommon name commenced to be trumpeted forth, Newcastle officials recollected it, and came forth with statements. At once it was established that the alleged Lee Weller differed from the truth in all possible respects. 

The chase was on, and it extended around the world. New South Wales Detective Roche left for London, crossed the Atlantic to New York, called in at Washington, and finally arrived at San Francisco on January 26. Detective McHattie and Constable Conroy, who had narrowly escaped becoming one of Butler’s victims (a police appointment had got in the way of the “prospecting” expedition) and who knew Butler by sight, were already in attendance in the city of the Golden Gate. 

On February 2 the Swanhilda sailed into view and was stopped. At once suspicious, Butler watched the approaching boatload of men. In this crisis his hard nervous nature failed him. Had he snapped into action suddenly he might have engaged in a shooting match – the men in the boat were an easy mark – and taken a desperate chance in the water. But Butler had become used to viewing crises from the upper point of view, with time to consider them. On this occasion, the time factor was missing, and Butler was paralysed. In any case, he was not wholly certain of the object of the off-shore visit. The men came aboard. “That’s the man,” said one of them. It was Conroy! 

After considerable difficulty over the question of extradition, Butler sailed for Sydney, per steamship Mariposa. No man on board was more carefully looked after. A cabin was stripped of every furnishing, including electric light. On a bed on the floor, the prisoner slept, and, waking or sleeping, day and night, there was never a moment during which he hadn’t the company of two police officers. The police cabin was squarely opposite the prisoners. Butler had about the same chance of escape as a beetle in a deluge. 

The oft-repeated story of Butler’s ghastly method of existence had knocked Sydney literally into a pulp of horror. In a way of putting it, he had the country at his feet, and it is possible that no ship that ever sailed into Sydney Harbour received the welcome that greeted the Mariposa. 

The trial commenced on June 14, 1897. Chief Justice Darley took the case, and the terrific drama was staged at Darlinghurst. At the request of the Attorney-General, Mr Edmunds and Mr Broomfield undertook Butler’s defence; and let it be written that, undeterred by the hopeless nature of the case, these two able gentlemen fought every inch of the three day’s struggle. But it was as unavailing as pouring water down a volcano. 

Evidence has been described as facts cut to fit the occasion, but easily adducible facts “sat” like a porous plaster in Butler’s trial. A tramp named Farrel stated that at Emu Plains, on October 31, Butler had given him some tucker, and also drew for him a diagram of the location of the Lee Weller camp, and informed him that if he visited it, he would find a tent and sundries. That drawing lacked only one particular date of the artist’s hanging. 

On the third day of the trial, there was enacted one of the most dramatic scenes ever staged in such surroundings. At 10 a.m. the court was open, but there was “nothing doing.” An excited murmur was to the effect that Butler had attempted to cheat the rope by attending to his own decease. He had, and when failure followed, the accused man declared that no power on earth would drag him back into the court. At about 10.30, there came sounds of human conflict. “Let go my hand, you,” came a voice. It was Butler’s. Shortly afterwards a regular human earthquake erupted into the court. By sheer overpowering force, Butler was forced into the dock. There he sat, his head lolled forward in partial collapse. Following upon loss of blood, his terrific exertions had for the moment bankrupted his physical powers. His sides heaved like great bellows. 

Not yet technically “open,” the court continued in silence. “I think that he is not fit to proceed,” said the Chief Justice Mr Edmunds communicated with his client, but at first, Butler could not speak. In a choked whisper he then managed to intimate that he did not know when he would be fit to proceed. “Let Dr Paton have a look at me,” he said in a voice almost inaudible. “He will know.” Dr Paton examined him and stated that in his opinion Butler would be fit to go on by 2 p.m. the court was adjourned. 

At 2 p.m. the weaving of the web of hemp was resumed. Never was the rope more securely fastened. Near the end Butler spoke on his own behalf, attempting to prove that Lee Weller suicided. But it was a roofless sort of tale, without a door. Indeed, his explanatory lies were so transparent that it were better had he remained quiet. 

The jury was commendably prompt with a decision. The C. J. informed the man behind the spikes that this world had no forgiveness for him. He hoped that in the next, he might fare better and thereupon submitted him to the refining influence of the gallows. 

Nearing the execution date, with Eternity rushing at him, Butler confessed to many murders in Australian wilds. He was shown a photograph of a young man named Davis, a Victorian, who had gone missing. “Yes, I put him under,” he mumbled. By his confessions, those whom he had “put under” totalled forty. And on July 26, with his feet hanging loosely in the air, Butler expiated the most terrific series of crimes that Australia has known. 

Killer Known By Many Names. Butler’s Aliases. (The Australian Star, 3 February 1897) 

The man who murdered Arthur T. O. Preston, Captain Lee Weller and Charles Burgess was a person of many aliases. To a number of people, it seems almost impossible for one man to have followed so many names and not get mixed up. And yet Butler juggled some seven or eight titles with the alacrity of a sleight of hand artist, who can keep as many lemons in the air without letting one fall to the ground. When Butler first came to New South Wales he was known as Richard Ashe. This may be his right name, or it may be the name of a man that he knew before leaving England. He had not been in this country long before he began to be known as Frank Harwood, and it is presumed that he took that name in order that unsuspecting young men might confound him with a gentleman named Mr Horwood, who is a prominent mining engineer of West Australia. It was while travelling under the name of Harwood that he lured Charles Burgess to the Black Range, and killed him, and then he returned to Sydney and adopted his victim’s name. It may almost be presumed that while passing as Burgess, he made the acquaintance of a man named Butler, for Butler is the name he took after he cared to be known as Burgess no longer. This name will probably stick to him until the end, for by it, he has become known through the length and breadth of this country. In some way, it became associated with him more prominently than the others. He went by the name of Clare for a while, but for what reason, no one can ascertain. During his last days in Sydney, he took the name of Connolly for a week or so and then passed as Cochrane in the same place only a fortnight later. Finally, he went to Newcastle, and in order to temporarily escape the arms of justice, which were fast outstretching to claim him for her own, he took the name of another of his victims, Captain Lee Weller, and shipped on the Swanhllda to San Francisco. 

How many more names Butler may have taken during his peculiar career as a mining prospector in Sydney is not known just now, but with every opening that is made in the matter a new one pops out, showing that Butler was as full of appellations as a plum-duff is of raisins. 

The following account of Butler’s last hours on earth makes for extraordinary reading as the columnist, ‘Old Chum’ (Joseph Michael Forde 1840-1920), relates, in first-hand graphic detail, the execution history of Darlinghurst Gaol and its hangman, ‘Nosey’ Bob Howard. 

BUTLER! Criminal of the Century. An edifying exit. Stories of the scaffold. (Truth, 18 July 1897). 

On Friday morning at a few minutes past 9 o’clock, the curtain fell upon the last act of the Glenbrook tragedies, when on the scaffold at Darlinghurst, the ‘criminal of the century’ with the assistance of the New South Wales hangman, ‘Nosey Bob’ Howard, passed into eternity. As the early bird gets the worm (all very well for the bird, but how about the worm?) I determined to be early — the ‘worm’ in this instance meaning ‘copy’— amongst the crowd outside. On reaching the gaol I found that the excitement which commenced when the bodies of Preston and Lee Weller were discovered, which increased as the officers of the law were chasing their prey, and which had reached fever heat at the trial, had culminated now that the final act of the terrible drama was about to begin. Some thousands of persons, men, women, and children, were assembled at the gate of Darlinghurst Gaol. At the eastern side on Darlinghurst road and in Green Park, another large crowd gathered, attracted by the close proximity of the scaffold to that particular spot. One hundred feet of space and the massive stone wall alone intervene between the scaffold on which the condemned man will shortly suffer for his crimes and the anxious crowd. The trees in the little park are full of sightseers, and the wonder is that some of the branches do not give way under the weight. These people gain little from their point of vantage, as the trees, though full-grown, do not permit their occupants to view the awful proceedings going on behind that massive wall. They know, however, to the second when the trap has fallen, and ‘Nosey’ Bob’s job’s done, the armed Warders on the wall being the barometers. In the crowd in front and rear are men and women who have assembled at every execution for the last 20 years. They discuss the crime and the criminal in every aspect: they know the history of every malefactor who has been hanged within these walls for the past 50 years—or pretend they do. One old gentleman in the crowd saw Knatchbull hanged in February 1844; the first man hanged at Darlinghurst was even then standing on the very spot where the gallows stood. That was in the days when public executions were in vogue. The old gentleman vividly described the scene to me, but I must rehearse it at another time. But this old gentleman had seen executions prior to Knatchbull’s, but at another place; he witnessed the execution of the Jew Boy’s gang of bushrangers in the old gaol-yard in Lower George-street, just four years previous — March 16, 1840. I knew this old gentleman to be reliable; I am, indeed, indebted to him for many old-time incidents. 

The little spot at the eastern side of the gaol, known as Green Park, has a history nearly connected with the prison. In a hut, where the fountain now stands, lived the executioner of Knatchbull and others. His name was Green, and, like his successor of the present day, he led a lonely life in that hut. Whether the park was named after Green the executioner or Green the alderman is unclear. Perhaps both may be set down as godfathers.

Very few persons assemble in the courtroom; the Sheriff has kept to the rule that only pressmen with absolute right shall be present. Passing through the gaol governor’s well-kept garden, with not an ounce of superfluous dust about the place, one is struck by the dead silence which prevails, the steady tread of the warder on the walls and our own hushed voices alone breaking the stillness, One would scarcely credit that six hundred criminals, men and women, are confined within these walls. The silence is explained by the courteous official who points the way. All the prisoners are shut up in their cells during an execution. Our little crowd passes on, leaving the main gate on the left, and by the great wall which bounds the gaol grounds at Burton-street; presently we turn to the right, and come into full view of the ‘’engine of death’, B wing, the largest in the prison, is in the north-east corner of the 51⁄2 acres on which the gaol is built. In this wing are the dark and solitary cells. The wing, as explained, is shaped like the letter Y. At the lower point of the letter, Butler was housed in a special cell awaiting trial on the ground floor. On the first floor, the middle tier, the condemned cells, six in number, are located. On the same floor is the door leading to the scaffold, a fixture in the upper angle of the letter Y, and facing east. A few paces bring the condemned man from the cell, where he slept his last sleep on earth, to the gallows. Looking up, we see an ordinary stage-like structure, with something resembling a pump handle in one corner. Overhead is a stout, plain beam, with a noosed rope hanging from it, the whole roofed in with corrugated iron. On the beam are inscribed the names of those who have been shot through the floor of the platform into eternity. When I saw that scaffold first there was but one name on the beam, that of Thomas Kelly executed for a felonious assault on Mr Wm. B. McLaren, an overseer in Parramatta Gaol, where Kelly was serving a sentence of seven years for robbery near Deniliquin. This was in 1872, on the second day of the new year. Now the beam records over 30 names, although four of that number were not executed on that scaffold. On January 7, 1887, the four Mount Rennie lads were strangled upon specially made gallows erected in E wing. Kelly’s offence was a terrible assault with a stone-breaking hammer, which nearly killed the victim. The scene on the scaffold was of the most horrible description. Kelly was resigned and penitent until he saw Bull, the hangman, approach, then all the tiger’s ferocity came into play. He planted a kick in the most sensitive part of Bull’s anatomy, completely doubling up the old man, and rendered him hors de combat. The assistant, Franks (Bull’s successor as chief), sprang upon Kelly, and bore him down to the floor of the scaffold, fighting, biting, kicking, and exclaiming, ‘I’ll not be hanged, the man is not dead.’ Some warders came to the assistance of Franks, the pinioning was completed and Kelly held down while Franks rushed to the lever. It was then found that the rope was too long. Much delay ensued while it was shortened; the condemned man was still shrieking that he ‘would not be hanged.’ In the scuffle, the rope shifted, and as the trap fell, it was seen that Kelly was hanging by the chin, the knot having shifted round. Eyewitnesses describe the scene as something horrible. The wretched man struggled in his horrible agony, fully 15 minutes before death ensued and the law was satisfied. Thus the ‘model scaffold,’ as its architects termed it, had its baptism in blood. After Bull’s trouble, every criminal hanged dies in slippers, not hob- nailed boots. A quarter of a century has elapsed since I last stood on the spot, my first visit being to witness a double execution, on the 18th June 1872, when Nichols and Lester were hanged for the brutal murders of John Bridger, a wardroom steward of H.M.S. Rosario, and W. P. Walker, a catechist from Victoria. Those men were lured to their deaths on the Parramatta River by bogus advertisements, much in the same manner that Butler led his victims on. One would almost imagine that Butler had posted himself up in the methods adopted by his precursors in crime, Nichols and Lester. The last occasion on which I stood here was also to witness a double execution, in April. 1873, when William Macrow was hanged for the murder of Mrs Ward, wife of a butcher, who kept a shop at the corner of Stanley and Crown-streets, Woolloomooloo, and Thomas Scource, a waterman, who was convicted of murdering Mrs Bedelia Lee while conveying her to North Shore in a waterman’s boat. I have not seen this spot since, but the memory of those four executions have not faded, and the surroundings are as familiar as if they occurred but yesterday, To those executions persons having cards were admitted through the front or main gate. On the occasion of the execution of Nichols and Lester the crowd outside nearly equalled that of Friday morning. Many devices were used to obtain admission. I remember one gentleman got in by assuring the janitor that he was the Sub-Sheriff, I knew that he was not, but it was none of my business. The ‘Sub,’ Mr Temple Nathan, was already inside and assisting his chief, Harold McLean, who combined the dual offices of Sheriff and Comptroller-General of Prisons. Assembled in front of the gallows are some sixteen persons: Mr Fred Penny, the licensing magistrate, Sub-Inspectors Hyam and Robinson, Mr Sheriff Maybury, with his deputy (Mr Stephen Guy), the Governor of the Gaol (Mr Peter Herbert), Dr Paton, and three or four private citizens. Mr Penny is a constant attendant at executions— in fact, I believe holds the record. It is, perhaps, only natural that a gentleman whose trade is butchering should have a hankering after such shows. Dick Ireland, Q.C., of Melbourne, attended every execution, though he was always squeamish while the work was being done. As the gaol clock strikes nine, a movement is heard overhead, and the gruesome work of the morning commences. 

The sun disdains to shine this morning, and Butler goes to his doom under lowering clouds. The voice of the Rev George Lane Wesleyan minister, who has been in constant attendance on Butler since the criminal refused the ministrations of Canon Rich, is heard reciting the prayers for the dead. The footfalls of those forming the procession sound hollowly along the gallery as they move towards the scaffold. 

The first to come into view is Mr Lane, in sober black. Under the rule now in force the clergyman does not enter upon the platform but stands on one side, which permits the condemned man, Frank Butler, to enter upon the last stage of his life’s journey. Butler, who was allowed to retain his heavy moustache, and had a month’s growth of beard on, was ghastly pale. Naturally sunburnt, his face was milk-white, but he took his place on the trap, without a tremor. On his entry on the platform, he was supported by ‘Nosey’ Bob on the left and Assistant Godkin on the right. The latter is a short, stout, robust man, evidently up to his business. The chief actors in the morning’s tragedy, only occupy the stage, Mr Lane stands by the doorway, still reciting prayers, the front forming a striking picture. Bob methodically places his man on the trap, fixes the hideous- looking knot under the left ear pulls the cap down, and in a loud voice says, ‘Let go,’ an order Butler repeats, also in a loud voice. Godkin pulls the lever, the trap doors snap open with a sound like the spring of a man-trap, Butler’s body shoots through, is brought up with a terrible jerk at the end of a 7ft 6in rope, and ‘Butler knows the grand secret’. Weller, Preston, and Burgess are avenged, and the law satisfied. The body hung still without a quiver, the criminal dying instantly. Butler was dressed in gaol costume with slippered feet and was apparently anxious to assist Howard in his fearful function. 

After hanging the usual 20 minutes Dr Paton certifies that Butler is dead, and Howard and his mate cut down the body, which is placed in a wicker basket and removed by two alien prisoners to the dead house, and the morning’s work is ended. Mr Lane says that Butler died penitent, having admitted that he ‘deserved hanging a dozen times’. He made a confession of a very vague sort to Mr Herbert the night before the execution, in which he admitted having killed Weller, Preston, and Burgess, as well as a man in Victoria named Davis. In his later case, he refused particulars, as he said there were others in it, and he did not want to get them into trouble. He was anxious that things should be hurried on as quickly as possible, as he was afraid he would go mad. He was permitted to make his will, in which document he left little presents to Mr Herbert. Mr Jay (the deputy-governor), Mr Henry Hillier (a clerk on the gaol staff), Warders Crotty and Crowley. The presents consist of a watch, razors, pipes, and such like. The balance of his property, whatever it may be, he left to his sister in England. His right name is not any of those printed. The gaol authorities are in possession of it, but as his people occupy good positions at home no good purpose could be served by publishing it. 

Sarah Jane Makin (1845-1918) and John Makin (1845-1893) – The ‘Baby Farmers’. 

One of the most chilling crimes of the nineteenth century concerned a baby farm in the Newcastle suburb of Macdonaldtown and, later, Sydney’s Redfern. The bodies of seven babies were discovered in the murderer’s home. Eventually, it was discovered thirteen children had been buried in properties in Macdonaldtown and Redfern. 

HORRIBLE DISCOVERY AT MACDONALDTOWN. Five more bodies unearthed. Extensive baby farming operations. (Daily Telegraph 4 November 1892) 

The police yesterday found the bodies of five more infants buried in the yard at the back of house No. 25 Burren street. This discovery discloses the fact that a horrible system of the most heartless kind of baby farming was at no very distant date carried on in the house, and points to the suspicion that wilful murder has been committed in a wholesale manner. Some four weeks ago it was reported that two bodies had been found in the yard, and the discovery of these remains was surrounded by peculiar circumstances. The house is a two-storeyed brick building, erected on a narrow allotment about 120ft. deep, which runs back to the railway line. The frontage is not much more than 15ft., and the only entrance to the backyard is through the house, the enclosure being strongly fenced with close palings and topped with wire netting to a height of about 12ft. The premises are owned by a Mr Mulvey, who for some time prior to June last occupied the house. Then it was vacant for some weeks, and subsequently, on June 29, a man named John Makin, with his wife and family, two girls and two younger children, moved in. They occupied the place for some six weeks and four days, and it was again empty for a considerable time, after which other people were in at various periods until a day or two subsequent to the finding of the first two bodies, about October 14. 

Since that time a placard denoting that the house is to let has been on one of the front windows. As has already been reported, a coroner’s inquest followed the discovery of the two bodies. These, it will be remembered, were unearthed by some drain-layers who were digging in the yard for the purpose of laying pipes in connection with a sewer that runs outside the lane. 

When the first body was found it was thought to be that of a cat and was thrown aside, and it was not until the next day when another body wrapped in some pieces of calico was turned up by the spade, that it was suspected that the bodies were human. 

This proved to be the case, and a medical examination showed that one of the children had lived and that the other had evidently been dead for some two or three months. The evidence included a statement that some sewing on a piece of calico wrapped around the male body was similar in some respects to that on a pinafore worn by one of the Makin daughters, Blanche. In his summing up the Coroner referred to the fact as suspicious, but said that it was not in itself important. The jury returned an open verdict, and there the matter, for the time, ended. The publicity given to the circumstances of the disinterment of the infants led Senior-constable Joyce, of Newtown, who had charge of the case, to procure the assistance of Constable Brown and commence a systematic search of the yard. 

Pickaxes and spades were procured, and the police set to work at the railway end of the yard. They dug steadily onward, and after a few feet had been turned over they found a third body almost in the centre of the yard. It was greatly decomposed and very much in the same state as the bodies previously discovered. They found this body on Wednesday night, but it was deemed inadvisable to make the matter public, as suspicion had hastened in certain quarters. Yesterday morning Senior-constable Joyce and Constable Brown reported, before they had been digging long they came across another body in a direct line with the one they had taken up on the previous night and a few feet nearer the house. During the forenoon two more dead infants were taken out, making a total of seven bodies, the last body found being a particularly well-developed one, and which apparently had not been in the ground as long as the other. The bodies seemed to have been buried in two rows down a portion of the yard which had been used as an enclosure for poultry, they were wrapped in pieces of blanket and calico and were removed to the South Sydney Morgue, where they lie awaiting a medical examination and the Coroners instructions. Simultaneously with the searching operations, Senior-constable Joyce was watching the movements of certain people who had resided in the house and who figured as witnesses at the recent inquest were John Makin, a labourer, 45 years of age, and his wife, before referred to, who after leaving 25 Burren street removed to No. 6 Wells-street, Redfern. Early on last Monday morning, Makin removed his furniture from Wells street, and with his family took up his abode at Chipman Street, Chippendale. The family have been moving about, in this manner in the suburbs for the past two years. Yesterday Senior-constable Joyce decided to arrest the Makin family on suspicion of being concerned in the deaths of the infants whose bodies were found under the circumstances above detailed. In the afternoon he, in company with Constable Brown, noticed Mrs Makin on the Parramatta road and they at once took her into custody and lodged her in the Newtown lockup, after acquainting her of the details on the suspicion which was the warrant for her arrest. The police then proceeded to the house of Makin, in Chipman street, when they found John Makin, whom they also arrested on suspicion, and locked him up at Newtown. Two daughters, Blanche (17 years of age) and Florence (14) were found at the house, and these were also taken into custody on suspicion. The scene at the police station was a pitiful one yesterday evening when the children found themselves and their father and mother taken into custody on such a suspicion, and they wept bitterly when placed in the cells. The family will be present in custody and give evidence at the Coroner’s inquest, which will take place at a date to be fixed by the Coroner. Mrs Makin is 43 years of age, and while resident in the house at Macdonaldtown advertised herself as a lady’s nurse and midwife. 

THERE IS no underestimating the public’s interest in ghoulish news reports and, in the nineteenth century, hangings, especially of major criminals, were extensively and graphically reported. The newspaper readers relished in such accounts. After John Makin’s execution, the body was claimed by sympathetic relatives and buried at Rookwood without ceremony.

No case has occupied so much public attention since the colony was founded as that of John and Sarah Makin, the baby-farmers, who carried on operations in several of the suburbs, and who have been convicted of the murder of at least one of the many infants which it is morally certain they cruelly did to death. It was on October 12 last year that the public was first shocked at hearing of the discovery of infantile remains in the backyard of No. 25 Burren street, Macdonaldtown. A man named James Mahoney was digging in the yard for the purpose of laying a service pipe when he came on what he at first thought was the decomposed body of a buried cat, but soon found it was that of a human infant. About 30 yards away he found another, and the police were at once made acquainted with the facts. Drs. Milford and Paton pronounced the bodies to be one male and one female, and to have been buried about six weeks. It was ascertained that the Makin family occupied the house about the time at which the deaths must have occurred and they were at once placed under the surveillance of Sergeant Joyce. The Makins now lived at 6 Wells-street, Redfern, but it was shown, that they lived in Burren street from June 29 to August 16. 

An inquest was commenced and evidence given, that the Makins brought an infant with them when they came to Burren street. Mrs Hill, a neighbour, deposed to hearing it cry up to a few days before they left, also to lending Makin a pick and shovel. Both John and Sarah Makin gave evidence at this inquiry. The latter swore that she took no child with her to Burren street, but took one in to nurse the day after her arrival, which had since been taken away by its parents whom she did not know. In this case, the jury returned an open verdict, there not being evidence in their opinion to warrant any expression of belief as to cause of death. 

The police considered the circumstances surrounding the case so suspicious that a careful search of the Burren street premises was made and five more bodies were dug up in the yard on November 3. The Makins were at once sought for, and found to have again moved. They were arrested, as were also two of their daughters, Blanche, aged 17, and Florence, aged 14. Of the bodies found the third was that of a female child, aged 14 months, which was wrapped in a piece of white flannel with red and blue stripe, and with napkin attached; fourth, of a male child, 6 months old, dressed in a coloured shirt and wrapped in a piece of white flannel and napkin; fifth of a male child about 3 months old, wrapped in white calico and white napkin, with letter ‘F’ worked in the corner; sixth body of a female child about 2 months old, dressed in a white flannel dress, fancy worked, striped pinafore, and striped petticoat, which appears to have been buried fully dressed; seventh of a female child, about 2 weeks old, dressed in a flannel wrapper, twisted tightly around the body, and a portion of a thick woollen shawl. A peculiarity about the shawl, which was found to be an important link in the chain of evidence, was that it had only been buried a few weeks, and could be identified by one of the mothers. 

On November 3 also the police discovered the parents of the child which the Makins swore was taken away. The father stated that the child died in Makin’s house and that he saw the body, and paid Makin £2 to defray the burial expenses. This disproved the evidence of the Makin family. At the inquest on November 7, Sarah Makin, 43, John Makin, 45, Blanche Makin, 17, and Florence Makin, 14, were before the court in custody, charged on suspicion with causing and being concerned in the death of the infants. At the morgue, the Makins were asked if they could identify any of the remains. Each of the family answered that they knew nothing at all about them. A Miss Wilson was called, and in reply to the coroner said she could identify a shawl found on one of the bodies as being her property. Senior-constable Joyce, plainclothes officer, stationed at Newtown, deposed that he and Constable Brown proceeded to the yard of the house, 25 Burren street, Macdonaldtown, on the 2nd, and commenced trenching the ground. At about 5.20 in the afternoon Constable Brown unearthed the first body. It was about a foot under the surface. He then gave particulars as to the other finds, and the admissions and contradictory denials of all four Makins respecting the children entrusted to them. Additional horror was added on November 10 by the discovery of the bodies of four more babies in the yard of a house in George-street, Redfern. The premises, No. 109 are situated only one door from the Redfern Police Station. Senior- constable Joyce and Constable Brown began digging at a distance of about 10ft from the back verandah, and at the side of a small paved path. The patch excavated was once a garden, and measures about 14ft by 12ft. After digging for half an hour a body was found. It was apparently that of a very young baby and was much decomposed. Further, search towards the corner of the patch resulted in the discovery of two more bodies, larger than the first, and well wrapped up. These wrappings were not opened by the police but seemed to consist of shawls or skirts. The corpses were taken to the South Sydney Morgue. The smell from the turned-up earth was horrible, and during the digging in the afternoon, resort had to be had to disinfectants. At 2 p.m. another body was unearthed immediately under the kitchen window. The smell was so bad that those looking on had to retire. Ever since these residents had occupied the house they had complained of the bad smells about the place and had intended for some time to leave the house, as they thought it must be unhealthy. The last baby unearthed was not a very large one. A portion of the wrapping was removed, and the partially decomposed flesh was visible underneath. Particulars of the horrible discoveries very quickly spread around the neighbourhood, and during the afternoon about 200 people gathered round the spot, intently watching the police in their researches. The police next commenced digging at No. 11 Alderson street, Redfern, and very speedily unearthed the remains of two more infants. The first that was discovered consisted simply of small human bones, and shortly after a decomposed body wrapped in some cloth, similar to those already found, was discovered. Senior-constable Joyce succeeded in tracing the Makin family to Bay Street, Glebe, where they lived some months, about 18 months ago. A neighbour asserted that during their stay in the house they had several infants in their care, which, were heard to be continually crying. Shortly after the Makins moved into the house an unpleasant smell was detected from the yard, but no notice was taken of it, and after they moved out of the house the odour was particularly noticeable. Makin was one day asked shortly after he moved into the house whether he noticed the strange smell. ‘Oh, yes,’ said Makin, ‘I buried a little dog there the other day and I expect the fowls have been scraping up the dirt.’ Each day mothers of children were communicating with the police, asserting that children had been placed in the care of Mrs Makin, and in each case, the child is reported to have died within a month of being handed to the Makins. Consequently, the police became confident that the Makins had been carrying on their work for at least two years. Senior- constable Joyce and his assistant, Constable Brown, commenced digging in the yard of 28 Levey Street, Chippendale, which runs off Abercrombie-street, on the 12th. A great crowd of people watched the police at work, and about 5 o’clock Joyce unearthed the remains of an infant. All the flesh had disappeared, and although only the bones remained, they were clearly recognisable as human. The bones were all detached, but the hair still adhered to the skull. The digging was resumed, and about a foot from where those bones were found another parcel of bones was discovered. They resembled the previous bones and had been buried about 2ft under the surface for almost 12 months. The skeletons were placed in a box and removed to the South Sydney Morgue shortly after 6 o’clock. The digging up of yards and gardens continued some time longer, but no sensational discoveries were made. 

The inquests continued to be held, and the evidence against the Makins became increasingly powerful. The most interest attached to that of Clarice Makin, one of their daughters, who gave evidence as to several children being taken in to nurse at different times, and identified Mrs Sutherland and Mr Bothamley as two of those who saw her parents respecting them. Mrs Makin theatrically cursed this poor girl after her evidence had been taken, shrieking out, ‘A mother’s curse on you!’ several times as she left the court. In addition to Minnie Davis, Agnes Todd deposed to entrusting a child to the Makins’ care in George-street, they then going by the name of Leslie, Mrs Sutherland taking it to the house for her. The one assumed by the Makins in Miss Davis’ case was Burt. Edward Jordan, locked up in the same cell as Makin on November 3, deposed that the latter on being asked what he was in for, said, ‘Over those babies that have been buried in Burren street. They have found seven, and there is another one to find, and I’ll never see daylight anymore. I don’t care for myself, but my children are innocent. When my daughters made that statement at Newtown Station I knew I was gone— me and the old woman. They knew no better. They’ll have me for perjury and illegally burying; but no doctor can say I poisoned them, because I never went to a chemist for anything.’ 

When leaving the cell the next morning Makin said, ‘Don’t say anything to anybody about what I have been speaking to you.‘ The first and second inquests resulted in open verdicts, but the third, on Minnie Mavis’s child, the jury found a verdict of manslaughter against John and Sarah Makin, but the two girls, Blanche and Florence, were discharged. The elder Makins were committed for trial, bail being refused. 

The Attorney-General then took the case in which John and Sarah Makin were committed for trial for the manslaughter of the child known as ‘infant No. 4,’ which was identified as the child of Minnie Davis and Horace Bothamley, and decided that the charge should be altered to the graver one of murder. 

Another inquest was begun on a baby supposed to be that of a domestic servant named Clara Risbey, which was entrusted to Makin to take care of, he then going by the name of Mason. The inquiry also concerned a child left with them by a girl named Mary Stacey, they then being known as Ray. In each case the child was to be adopted for life, the premium being £3 or £3 10s. Clarice Makin gave important evidence at this inquiry having been sent to bring Stacey’s child home. It was, however, yet another child that was the most important of all as far as the criminals were concerned, and this was one adopted for £3 — the child of a young woman named Amber Murray. Makin then called himself Hill, and promised to adopt the child and give it a parent’s love, &c. Mrs Makin selected for it the name Horace Amber Murray. This child was proved to have been healthy and strong. The mother positively identified some of the clothing found on one of the bodies as that given by her to the Makins with the child, and some also was proved to have been pawned by the Makins. Clarice Makin deposed to her parents adopting Amber Murray’s child, there being five others in the house at the time. Daisy Makin, a younger child, also deposed to six babies being taken with them when they moved to Burren street. The jury found in the case of Amber Murray’s child that it came to its death by ‘some foul means,’ and that John and Sarah Makin were guilty of wilful murder. The girls, Blanche and Florence, were again left out of the finding. 

John and Sarah Makin were placed upon their trial at the Central Criminal Court on Monday, March 6, before his Honour Mr. Justice Stephen, on an indictment charging them with the murder of an infant named Horace Amber Murray, at Redfern, on June 29, 1892, and on a second count with murdering a certain male infant whose name was unknown. Mr Healy prosecuted for the Crown, and Mr T. M. Williamson defended the accused, who pleaded not guilty. Thirteen jurors were challenged by Makin, the female prisoner sitting all through the preliminary proceedings with her handkerchief to her eyes. 

‘The Verdict’. The trial lasted three days, and the jury finally found a verdict of guilty against both prisoners, with a strong recommendation to mercy in the case of Sarah Makin. Mrs. Makin, on the announcement of the verdict, uttered a low cry and fell back on the seat sobbing most piteously. Makin did not appear to be much moved. His Honour said that, under the particular circumstances of the case, he would defer sentence until the application was made to the Full Court on points reserved by Mr Williamson. If the court held that the evidence he had received was admissible and that there was sufficient evidence to convict the prisoners, he would pass sentence, feeling assured that the prisoners had been convicted on legal evidence. Should the court hold otherwise he would then be spared the painful reflection of having passed a sentence that should never have been passed. Mrs Makin, still sobbing bitterly and uttering repeated cries of ‘Oh! Clarie, Clarie, Clarie!’ (the name of her daughter who gave evidence in support of the Crown case), had to be assisted by her husband and a constable down the narrow stairs leading from the dock, her sorrowful and reproachful cries of ‘Oh! Clarie, Clarie, Clarie,’ gradually fading away in the distance. 

‘The Death Sentence’. The deferred sentence was passed on the afternoon of March 30. On being called on in the usual way prisoners said nothing; but Mr Williamson, on their behalf, thanked his Honour the impartiality and fairness he had manifested throughout the trial and the assistance he had given them to enable the Full Court to decide on the points of law which had been reserved, and he trusted that his Honour would further assist them by enabling them, if advised, to appeal to the Privy Council. His Honour replied that he needed no thanks for any impartiality and fairness he had shown in the case. As to the question of the appeal to the Privy Council that did not lie with him in any way, but with the Executive Council. Addressing the prisoners, his Honour said they had been asked if they had anything to say why the judgment of the court should not be passed upon them, and they had said nothing. Makin (somewhat affected): “All I can say is that we are innocent”. (After a pause) “I hope you will have some consideration for our children”. His Honour: “The jury have tried your case and convicted you, and the Full Court having the whole of the evidence before it, has decided that that conviction was justified and must be sustained. You stand convicted of the crime of murder — murder accompanied by almost every incident that could possibly add to its wickedness. You took the money from the mother of the child, beguiled her with promises you never intended to perform, misled her by false statements as to your name, deceived her as to your address, and by that way eluded her inquiries as to your whereabouts, and finally, to avoid detection you buried the child in your back yard as you would bury the carcass of a dog. You were engaged in baby-farming in its worst phase and most forbidding aspect. Your three backyards testified that you carried on that most hellish trade. I say that no one can but believe that the bodies— that is, the other bodies of infants found in George and Burran streets — are those of Misses Ward, Risby, and Storey’s babies. If they are not, then the bodies of those children are still to be accounted for to their mothers. They testified against you and gave evidence. They called on you with the cry, ‘Where is my child ?’ You never gave them an answer, nor did you ever intend to. Why? Simply because they met their deaths through your criminal neglect, and for the paltry sums of £5 and £3. What the poor little babies’ lives and sufferings were God only knows. It is almost incredible to think that two persons as you should have hearts as hard as adamant, utterly dead, and you must not expect any mercy at the hands of him for the lives you have taken away. I only trust that you will remember and think of the lives of the 13 little babies that you took away, and pray to God. It only remains for me to say that the sentence of the court is that you both shall be taken to the place from whence you came and thence to the place of execution, at a time to be appointed, and there be hanged by the neck till your bodies are dead. In your case, Sarah Makin, I shall forward the recommendation of mercy by the jury to the proper place, and it will receive the consideration it deserves, but to what effect I am not able to say. May God have mercy on your souls. Remove the prisoners.” 

‘Appeal to the Petty Council’. As intimated, an appeal was made to the Privy Council. The Executive had considered the sentences, confirmed that on John Makin, and commuted that of Sarah Makin to imprisonment for life. John Makin was respited for three months to allow the appeal to be made. The case came first before the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council on July 1. There were present the Lord Chancellor, Lord Hobhouse, Lord Habsberry, Lord McNaughton, Lord Morris, Lord Shand, and Sir Richard Couch. The petition was one praying their lordships for special leave to appeal against the conviction for murder. Mr Fullarton Q.C. (instructed by Mr T. M. Williamson, of Sydney) appeared for the petitioner; Sir Edward Clarke, Q.C, Mr A. H. Cluer, and Mr B. H. Long Innes were counsel for the respondent. Mr Fullarton recited at length the incidents of the case, and said that the questions which, Mr Justice Stephen had left to the Supreme Court were whether the evidence objected to was admissible; and if not were the prisoners rightly convicted; and even if admissible was the evidence enough to sustain the conviction? The case as submitted involved the interpretation of section 423 of the New South Wales Criminal Law Amendment Act, which provides that, in the case stated to the Supreme Court, raising questions of law in criminal cases, the conviction or judgment thereon shall not be reversed, arrested, or avoided unless for some substantial wrong or for miscarriage of carriage.’ Sir Edward Clarke said that he was instructed by the Attorney-General of New South Wales, and if their Lordships were of opinion that the case was not important he would not contest it. At the same time the Government were very anxious to have a decision on the matter, because there was much difficulty in the colony on the question, and respite being granted for the purpose of appealing to their lordships. He was ready to proceed in the appeal on any day their lordships might fix. Their lordships were of opinion that under the circumstances leave to appeal should be granted, and fixed Monday, July 17, as the day of the hearing. On that day, as we have learned by cable, they decided to dismiss the appeal for reasons to be hereafter given. 

A deputation, consisting of Makin’s relatives and others, waited on the Premier on Friday last and obtained a promise that the whole case should be carefully considered once more. This was done yesterday, with the result that the Cabinet decided there was no reason why the course of the law should be interfered with. 

Makin has hoped for a reprieve all through, and after the deputation on Friday his hope increased. Throughout his stay in gaol, he behaved remarkably well and showed little or no fear of being hanged. He ate well and enjoyed his rest. On Thursday he saw his wife for the last time, Mrs Makin being brought from Bathurst Gaol. The parting between man and wife was not a painful one, the woman’s unfeeling disposition not appearing to have changed. Makin, if affected, showed no trace of it. When the day was fixed for his execution he complained of not having had enough notice but had not since referred to it. He had been visited by his two daughters, Florence and Blanche, and his spiritual welfare was studied by Canon Rich, in whose ministrations Makin infested much interest. 

John & Sarah Makin. Illustrated Sydney News 1892 Execution of Makin. (Evening News, 15 August 1893) 

In the Darlinghurst Gaol this morning John Makin was executed, and in consequence of the extra precautions by the Sheriff and the gaol authorities, the execution was effected without the slightest hitch. Precisely at 9 o’clock the Sheriff (Mr Cowper) and his officials proceeded to the condemned cell and directed the execution to take place. Makin was quite prepared and allowed his arms to be tied across his back from elbow to elbow in the usual way. In the meantime, Mr Cowper and Mr Maybury (the under-sheriff) closely inspected the scaffold and saw that all the arrangements were in perfect order. At five minutes past 9nine the procession started from the condemned cell. On reaching the door of the scaffold a halt was made, and Canon Rich stood repeating the prayers appropriate to the occasion. Makin was then conducted onto the scaffold, having previously shaken hands with the clergyman alone. When asked if he had anything to say he simply muttered ‘No.’ In consequence of the regulations prepared by the sheriff, a new kind of white cap was affixed on the condemned man’s head before leaving the cell. The cap simply fitted over the head. In front of the face was a large flap, which covered the features. The old style of cap was an ordinary white bag, which fitted completely over the head. The rope was then  adjusted, and the noose placed around the man’s neck by Howard, the hangman, who evidently took special precaution that the knot should remain in its right place on this occasion. Howard was some seconds tightening the noose, and the condemned man clenched his hands and shifted as if he was choking. The assistant hangman was ready at the lever, and when the sign was given by Howard the lever was pulled, the doors now open, and a second later Makin’s lifeless body was swaying in the air. It was a very quiet execution, and death was instantaneous. Evidently, the neck was broken, and there was not a perceptible move of the body. After the body had been hanging about seven minutes it was examined by Dr O’Connor (the gaol surgeon), and Drs Hodgson, M’Donagh, and Brownlees. Death was pronounced to have been instantaneous, and the body was then cut down and conveyed to the gaol morgue, where, on being examined by the doctors, no external mark around the neck could be seen, but it was plainly noticeable that the vertebrae had been dislocated. Makin was a thick-set man, and very hirsute. He weighed exactly 12 st., was 5ft 6in in height, and was given a drop of 8ft. After having tea last evening he expressed a desire to write a statement; and pen and paper having been supplied him, it was about half-past 9 before he had finished. The statement was written on a side of foolscap, and although its exact contents are not yet known, it is believed it related to the child Amber Murray, for whose death he was convicted. It was similar to the previous statement which Makin sent to the Premier, and contended that he was convicted on the wrong child altogether. Makin retired at 9 o’clock last night and slept soundly till 7 o’clock this morning. After having eaten a fairly good breakfast, expressed his readiness for the execution. He was quite resigned to his fate, and after he rose this morning was very earnest in his attention to the religious ministrations of Canon Rich. The only alteration in the arrangements as compared with previous executions was that the gaol chaplain was not allowed on the scaffold. The persons so privileged were the sheriff, deputy governor (Mr Jackson), and the two executioners. The only persons present at the execution were four representatives of the press, the gaol officials, and the gentlemen above mentioned. At 9.30 the customary inquest was held in the gaol by the acting city coroner, Mr W. T. Pinhey, J.P., and after hearing the evidence the usual verdict of death, by judicial hanging was recorded. 

When the decision of the Privy Council was received and made known to the gaol authorities, the leg irons, which had been removed from Makin, were replaced. The gaol chaplain, Canon Rich, had been daily attending the condemned man, and from that time Makin had been very attentive to the religious ministrations of the clergyman and expressed his opinion daily that he was perfectly resigned to his fate. 

Although he was informed on Friday that as a result of the deputation the Executive was going to reconsider his case, he did not appear relieved — in fact, he looked on the matter as a foregone conclusion, and was heard to mutter, “I don’t suppose it will be of any use.” 

THE MAN-WOMAN CASE. One of Australia’s most sensational crime mysteries. 

Eugene Falleni (1875-1938) 

The following story is one of the most sensational cases in Australian crime. It is certainly one of the most unusual and it dominated newspaper and magazine headlines for years. It was a story with many twists and turns – each one as surprising as the last. Eugene Falleni, born 1875 in Italy, was a transgender man convicted of murdering his first wife, Annie Birkett, in 1917. The trial consumed Australian society and dominated Sydney newspapers throughout the early twenties. 

Falleni, the eldest of 22 children, migrated to New Zealand with her parents in 1877, at age 2. Assigned as female at birth and named Eugenia, he later, as a teenager, commenced dressing as a man, presumably to get work. He then took a position as a cabin boy on a ship and worked for two years. According to hearsay, during a drunken conversation with the ship’s captain, he revealed he had been raised female. During his tenure, he was consistently raped by the captain and, eventually, pregnant, put ashore at Newcastle, NSW. Falleni gave birth to a daughter, Josephine Crawford Falleni, and put the child into care with an Italian-born woman, Mrs de Angelis, in Double Bay. Falleni then took the name of Harry Leo Crawford and lived as a man. In 1912 he was working in Wahroonga as a general- useful and sulky driver for Dr G. R. C. Clarke. It is at this time he met Dr Clarke’s widowed housekeeper, Annie Birkett. The following year, after Birkett and her son, Harry, had moved to Balmain, Annie and Falleni married. 

According to witnesses at his later trial, Birkett was not aware that he was transgender until 1917 when a neighbour told her. When challenged by his wife they quarrelled and she threatened to take the matter to the police. According to Falleni’s court statements that during the argument “she slipped and fell backwards, hitting her head on a rock.” He said he had tried to save her but, fearing his gender would be exposed, he attempted to burn the body beyond identification. Her charred body was found in scrubland near Lane Cove. It was impossible to identify as Annie Birkett and was subsequently buried in a coffin at Rookwood marked as ‘unknown woman’. 

Two year’s later, in 1919, Falleni met Elizabeth King Allison, a woman over fifty, and married her that same year. A year later, Annie Birkett’s son, Harry Birkett, commenced investigating his mother’s disappearance and, eventually was able to identify some of her jewellery from the fire. Falleni was arrested on 5 July 1920 and, at his request, placed in the women’s cells of the jail. He asked the police not to tell his wife that he was transgender. 

Falleni’s trial at Darlinghurst courthouse created a press sensation, with the accused appearing in the dock first as a man and then as a woman. 

FALLENI PLEADED NOT guilty to the murder, but the jury decision came down in two hours and he was convicted and condemned to death. Later that year Falleni submitted an appeal and the Court of Criminal Appeal dismissed the case on legal technical grounds. His sentence was commuted to imprisonment for life. The media continued to ‘trial’ him claiming he was a monster and a pervert. In the meantime, Falleni, released from Long Bay Gaol, took the name “Mrs Jean Ford” and became the proprietor of a Paddington boarding house. On 9 June 1938, he was struck by a motor car on Oxford Street and died the following day at Sydney Hospital. Falleni was buried with his newly acquired name in the Church of England section of Rookwood Cemetery. 

AS A SENSATIONAL STORY that simply would not go away, the pursuit of Falleni by police, family and newspapers continued for years as new angles and discoveries were revealed. The Man-Woman. Grave Found at Rookwood. (Evening News, 9 July 1920) 

Assisted by the 17-year-old son of the missing Mrs. Annie Birkett. The police are still making investigations regarding the case in which Eugene Falleni, the man-woman stands charged with murder. 

Young Birkett is stated to be working in a tailors’ shop in the city, and is considered at police headquarters to be a bright and intelligent lad. He assisted the police in the search for information that will connect the disappearance of his mother with the finding of the charred remains at Lane Cove in October 1917. The police are confident that their inquiries will lead to an identification being established. 

The grave in which the body was burled has been traced at Rookwood, and as soon as the application has been granted the exhumation will take place. It is stated that the moist nature of the soil at Rookwood has been known to preserve bodies in a remarkable manner. That was the experience of the police some years ago when a body was exhumed after it had been buried for over five years. 

‘Post Mortem Examinations’. When the body was first discovered it was removed to the City Morgue, where a post-mortem examination was made. No traces of poison or bullet were then found. When the body is exhumed, Dr Palmar and Dr Sheldon will examine it, and, if they recommend it, the Government analyst will also be asked to give an opinion. Then the police will probably apply for a reopening of the inquest. 

The police state that they have now got into touch with the man who is said to have bought the furniture when Mrs. Birkett’s home at Balmain was broken up, and she and Falleni went to live at Drummoyne. They are still trying to trace the dentist who made a full set of upper teeth for the missing woman. It is thought that this work was done by a dentist either at Beecroft or Balmain. 

‘The Second ‘Wife’’ – The woman with whom Falleni is alleged to have gone through the ceremony of marriage after Mrs Birkett’s disappearance was at police headquarters yesterday afternoon, and was there, viewed by several detectives. She adhered to her statement that Falleni is her husband. She says Falleni has been an ideal husband and tells of a very happy married life. This woman has been so pestered by calls and sensation seekers after the arrest of her husband that she has been forced to change her address. 

Man Woman, Murderess. Falleni revelations should not be misplaced sympathy for despicable human monster. (Truth, 16 March 1930) 

What is the secret behind the attempt to obtain freedom from gaol for Eugene Falleni, that murderous human monster whose ugly career has filled one of the most nauseating pages of Australian criminal history? This harsh voiced, obscene tongued, evil featured person, will be remembered as the ‘man-woman’ in one of the world’s most sensational murder trials ten years ago. In the plea of ‘Smith’s Weekly’ on her behalf the murderess is permitted to besmirch the name of the poor woman she so cruelly murdered. 

Inspector Stuart Robson figured prominently in the trial of Falleni. In that plea raised by ‘Smith’s Weekly’ the horrible fiend that is Eugene Falleni, gross, treacherous, cunning and foul, is allowed to tell the world that the poor victim of her frightful deceit and murderous hand ‘drank too much and stayed at home drinking.’ In Sydney, there are relatives of the murdered woman, Annie Birkett. One is her son, who has been revolted and shocked by the slander of his mother by the loose-lipped ‘man-woman,’ who murdered her. To the police and to ‘Truth’ young Birkett, now happily married himself, voiced his protest against the attempt to gain liberty for Eugene Falleni, the same woman, who three times sought to murder him when he was but a boy. In the pleading for mercy on Falleni’s behalf, this human she-monster is shown as a frail, crushed bundle of timid femininity. The description would afford a laugh were the circumstances not so grim. Telling of the fluttering of a little pink handkerchief, neatly ironed, carefully folded, delicate, essentially feminine, the paper presses her plea that she does not wish to die in gaol. Convicted on circumstantial evidence, as she reiterates herself, Falleni mouths her arguments of innocence and says her conviction by jury and on the police and injustice generally. Telling her story in pleading terms and in phrases that indicate a crushed and broken spirit in a martyred woman, Falleni shows a different side of her character to that known ten years ago. It was her habit then to speak without humility to anyone, and more than one detective has listened to words so vile and filthy as to remain indelible on his memory. Yes, Falleni has evidently changed her choice of vocabulary, even though she has no rights reveals sufficient ugliness smouldering in her nature to vilify the name of Annie Birkett whom she ‘married,’ savagely murdered, and burnt. Since the attempt has been made to appeal to public sympathy on behalf of Eugene Falleni, ‘Truth’ states, in the interests of justice, that Falleni has no right whatever to be again allowed loose among society. The unravelling of the sensational murder of Annie Birkett by Falleni was one of the hardest cases ever attempted by the C.I.B., and there are stories behind the story of that murder, some of which ‘Truth’ now reveals to the public for the first time. Those hitherto unpublished facts will give the public an idea of how unjust is the attempt to influence public sympathy on behalf of this monstrous creature. Falleni was born in Florence, one of a large family of fourteen, and arrived in New Zealand when she was still but a child. Still in her early teens, Eugene Falleni went to sea as a cabin boy, and, according to police investigations at that time, she remained at sea for two years. 

Her life on the ocean came to an abrupt close when she had to be left behind in Newcastle by the Norwegian captain, who had discovered the sex of the ‘cabin-boy.’ Falleni’s child was born in Newcastle, a little girl of remarkable beauty, whom Falleni afterwards deserted. Just here it might be stated that the girl was located by the police when she was sixteen years old, when she was then living in an attic room of a three-storied building at Pyrmont. At that time the girl was associating with a gunner in the Australian Navy, and her brown-haired, dark-eyed beauty was a vivid and pleasing contrast to the heavy-featured coarseness of her mother. There was nothing of feminine softness about Eugene Falleni, and though police sought assiduously to trace every day of her life, there are large gaps in their investigations which they have been unable to fill. The only person who could tell them of these gaps, several years in some cases, is Falleni, and she prefers to curse the police rather than satisfy their curiosity. So far from manifesting softness and delicate femininity, Falleni it was found preferred to don man’s apparel and do a man’s work, thus getting in touch with the women on whom she practised her nauseating deceit and mocked before the altar in a marriage that was but a cruel jest. In a laundry at Double Bay, she worked with a black woman, whose disappearance the police have never been able to account for, and Falleni was then known as Harry Crawford. Posing as an Edinburgh-born Scotch- man, Falleni worked under the same name at Perdriau’s rubber factory, and as a bottle-washer and ‘useful’ in various hotels. It was while she was acting as ‘coach-man’ to Dr Clarke, of North Sydney, who was afterwards killed at the war, that Falleni first associated with the unfortunate Annie Birkett, then a young widow employed by the doctor as a domestic. With what ironic earnestness Falleni, under the name of Harry Crawford, made his wooing of young Mrs Birkett only Falleni could speak. The widow had a little son by her former marriage, and perhaps she thought that the ghoulish masquerader in man’s attire would prove a fond and affectionate husband. No need to dwell on the ugly details surrounding Falleni’s success in hiding her real sex from the woman she had ‘married.’ Such details are for the mind of the scientist, the alienist, and the criminologist. With the little boy ‘Harry Crawford’ and his ‘wife’ went to live at Balmain, where they kept a small shop, later moving to Drummoyne. It was while living at this latter suburb that Falleni planned with such cunning the bestial murder and destruction of its evidence that she afterwards carried into effect. It was three years after she had committed the murder that the police machinery was first set into operation, and for those three years, Falleni posed as a man and as stepfather, of the little Birkett boy. On one morning Falleni proposed to his ‘wife’ that she accompany him upon a picnic, and the scene for the picnic was one at Chatswood, near the Cumberland paper mills. Falleni had already looked over the ground and chosen the spot with the murder in her mind, and her plans were complete to the last detail. Purchasing a bottle of a well- known brand of whisky, she took Mrs Birkett (then known as Mrs Crawford) to the spot and drugged her with whisky. Having succeeded in placing the woman in a stupor, Falleni smashed in the skull of Mrs Birkett with a large stone. Next, she saturated her victim’s clothing with kerosene and set alight to the body. When the charred remains of the poor woman were found no one came forward to identify them, and the body was interred on Rookwood as that of an unknown woman. The murderous Falleni then moved to Woolloomooloo, where she and her ‘step-son’ lived for some time, and where she made three brazen attempt to murder the boy. Twice the little fellow’s instincts saved him from her attempts on his life, and it may have been that his murdered mother’s spirit communicated to him the timely warnings. On one stormy, inclement eight Falleni took the boy to South Head, and persuaded him to get through the fence with her. Having got him near the cliffs she encouraged him to throw stones over the edge, a fall from which meant certain death. Turning suddenly, warned by quick instinct, the boy found the murderous Falleni rushing at him, and he fled through the fence and ran for hie home. It was after that occurrence that the actions of Falleni caused suspicion to arise in the mind of an old German woman named Mrs Schebicke, one of the principal witnesses for the police when Falleni finally faced her trial. But though the public may see the dark and murderous depths of Falleni’s mind in that fearful and terrifying incident on the cliffs there is yet worse to learn of her cold-bloodedness. On another night, still more horrible to the little Birkett boy, she made him accompany her to Bellevue Hill, where she told him she intended to dig for gold. What Falleni really planned was that the boy should dig his own grave, and she made the little fellow dig until he had made a hole over two feet deep in the loose, sandy soil. This took place not far from the home of Mr Mackay, the wealthy owner of the famous Beauford but still too far for the boy to run for help should the woman have carried out her attempt then and there. But instinct, or something stronger than instinct, warned the sweating little fellow in the shallow pit of his danger. Whimpering that he could dig no more for a time, he besought Falleni to allow him rest. ‘Come out of it then, you clumsy little ——!” was the gruff command, and Falleni herself clambered down and commenced to dig. The boy again ran for his life and told Mrs Schebicke what had happened, and the old woman’s suspicions became more alert than ever. Falleni, still using the name of Harry Crawford, married again, this time to a Scotch-woman, who disappeared during the Falleni trial, and has never been heard of since. But ‘marriage’ did not cause Falleni to cease attempts on the boy’s life, and shortly afterwards he nearly died of poisoning. Now grown to manhood, young Birkett still remembers with horror the fiendish attempts this horrible creature made upon his life. 

Three years drifted by since his mother had been done to death by Falleni in the scrub at Chatswood, but from an unexpected source, the police machinery was set in motion. It was at a time when several frantic inquiries were being made for missing persons, and the suggestion of a sinister reason for their disappearance put the police on their mettle. From this prosaic starting point Inspector Stuart Robson, Det.-Sergeant Robson, and Detective Watkins, of the Sydney C.I.B., took up a trail that led them over thousands of miles of investigation. Having reached a point which suddenly swept them over the trail of the ‘Harry Crawford’ unknown woman, whose burned remains had been burled in Rookwood they commenced to amass the evidence which resulted in the conviction of Falleni. But first of all, they had to find Falleni, and after exhaustive inquiries, she was located in a cellar of a hotel, where she was employed as a ‘useful.’ Taken to the C.I.B., ‘Harry Crawford’ obscenely told the two detectives she was a ‘respectable married man.’ then Dr Palmer arrived to carry out an examination of this remarkable and murderous creature and it was revealed that ‘Harry Crawford’ was the woman Falleni. 

Of the long trial that followed little need be said. Over thirty witnesses were called for the Crown, and, link by link, the chain of evidence was forged, and Falleni was sentenced to death. Her appeal to the Full Court was dismissed, and the death sentence was afterwards commuted to imprisonment for life, a fitting sentence for this terrible human monster. The murderous instincts of this woman should be a warning to the public against misplacing its sympathy in such an undeserving quarter. The son of the murdered woman and her other relatives have every reason for being appalled and shocked by such an attempt to free the cruel and murderous Eugene Falleni. With great patience, the detectives who handled the case picked up the minute threads of evidence, and gradually was woven around Eugene Falleni – a web from which she could not escape. 

THE TICHBORNE CLAIMANT

The Tichborne case set England and Australian gossip exploding in the 1860s and 70s. It concerned the claims by a man sometimes referred to as Thomas Castro or as Arthur Orton, ( “the Claimant”), to be the missing heir to the Tichborne baronetcy a hell of a lot of money. Despite his claims and insistence he failed to convince the courts and was convicted of perjury and served a long prison sentence.

Roger Tichborne, heir to the family’s title and fortunes, was presumed to have died in a shipwreck in 1854 at age 25. His mother clung to a belief that he might have survived, and after hearing rumours that he had made his way to Australia, she advertised extensively in Australian newspapers, offering a reward for information. In 1866, a Wagga Wagga butcher known as Thomas Castro came forward claiming to be Roger Tichborne. Despite looking nothing like the deceased – and was a massively overweight gent – and his manners and bearing were definitely unrefined, he gathered support and travelled to England. He was instantly accepted by the near desperate Lady Tichborne as her son, although other family members were dismissive and sought to expose him as an impostor. The case promoted several songs, numerous jokes and cartoons.