Could a chilling tale of infanticide have erased an entire Sydney suburb from existence? The legend of Macdonaldtown’s disappearance has captivated locals for decades, but separating fact from fiction isn’t as straightforward as it seems. And this is the part most people miss: the story isn’t just about a gruesome crime—it’s about how society grapples with its darkest chapters.
Macdonaldtown, once a bustling inner-city suburb, now exists only in whispers—its name replaced by Erskineville, its legacy marked by a forgotten train station and a handful of plaques. But here’s where it gets controversial: Was its renaming a bureaucratic formality, or a desperate attempt to bury a scandal that shocked the nation?
In the early 1890s, Macdonaldtown became synonymous with horror. The discovery of infant remains in the backyard of Sarah and John Makin’s Burren Street home exposed a chilling scheme: the couple had been paid to foster unwanted children, only to murder them to make room for more victims. Dubbed the ‘baby farmers’, their crimes sent shockwaves across Australia. By October 1892, police had recovered the remains of 15 infants, sparking a media frenzy and a trial that ended with John Makin’s execution in 1893. Sarah, controversially, was spared the noose and later released in 1911, living until 1918.
But did their heinous acts truly lead to the suburb’s renaming? The timing is suspiciously neat: the NSW Parliament approved the change to Erskineville just five months after the bodies were found. Yet, a deeper dive into archives complicates the narrative. A 1892 Evening News article reveals the Macdonaldtown Council had proposed the change months before the discovery, citing a potential 5% increase in property values. So, was it scandal or shrewd urban planning?
City historian Laila Ellmoos argues the connection is ‘a long bow drawn over the years’. She highlights that ‘baby farming’ wasn’t uncommon in the 1890s, with unmarried women often paying to surrender their infants. ‘It’s tied to a shifting moral compass,’ Ellmoos explains. ‘Cases like Ellen Batts in Woollahra, just years earlier, barely made headlines. The Makins became a catalyst for broader conversations about child protection, culminating in new legislation.’
But here’s the lingering question: If the name change wasn’t directly linked to the Makins, why does the legend persist? Perhaps it’s because Macdonaldtown’s erasure feels like poetic justice—a community wiping its hands clean of unspeakable evil. Or maybe, as Ellmoos suggests, it’s a myth that’s simply too tantalizing to abandon.
What do you think? Was the renaming a reaction to scandal, or just coincidence? And does society still struggle to confront its darkest truths? Let’s debate in the comments—this story isn’t over yet.
