The Don of Criminal Inquiries

One Scottish grain merchant preferred a life of crime - and set up a private detective office as a cover for his illegal activities...

In 1913, a private detective visited various shops and businesses to warn them that they had been the victims of theft. After he had had various stolen items left anonymously with him at his detective agency, he had investigated, and tracked down their legitimate owners. For a reward or fee, he would had the articles back, their owners grateful that he had found them and wanting to thank him for his efforts in bringing the goods back.

This private detective was well educated, well spoken with a Scottish burr. He stood out, tall at just over six feet in height, with blue eyes and dark hair that was turning grey. He had contacts and friends amongst the higher echelons of society, as well as being on first name terms with various solicitors and police officers. Those he visited, to hand back stolen goods, trusted this respectable, chatty, man in his early 30s.

There were two problems. The man was not really a private detective; and he had not had the stolen goods returned to him for him to take back to their owners. In fact, he had stolen the goods, or arranged for them to be stolen, in the first place. And his history of crime went back over a decade.

David Don Watson was the only child of a well respected Fife corn merchant of the same name. Born in Dairsie, Fife, in 1871, he was brought up by his parents David and Grace in Cupar. As a young man, he too set up as a corn merchant, but problems emerged in 1896, when the farm he was renting in Scotland mysteriously burned down. A year later, he was made bankrupt.

Dairsie, Fife: birthplace of the duplicitous David Don Watson (image by Osclay)

Alongside his Scottish interests, David had English ones too. He seems to have split his time between the two, for in 1895, he had married Londoner Amie Isabel Dare, a journalist's daughter, in the English capital. The marriage was difficult, probably due to Watson's many 'interests' and travel, but in 1900, the couple had their only child, a daughter who was originally named Olivia Amie Irene Dare Watson (she is recorded under a different name later on in the archival records). Olivia was named after her mother and two of her maternal aunts.

In the same year that Olivia was born, her father was convicted of obtaining £100 from a woman named Eva Goldring, with intent to defraud. This crime made headline news, with both David's and Eva's portraits being published in the London Star newspaper. Eva was described as a young woman who was living 'under a gentleman's protection' on the Charing Cross Road, and who had a substantial amount of money. The Morning Leader described it as a 'lurid romance' featuring three women: wife Amie, then Rose Waller, who called herself the Countess D'Almeida (who was another of David’s lovers), and finally, Eva Goldring.

Eva had stated that she had met Watson at Rose Waller's house, and had bought a horse and carriage from him for £400. She then gave him another cheque for £100, as they had agreed that she would buy his brougham carriage from him as well. But then Watson tried to woo her, offering to take her to France - by this point, they were sleeping together. They went on a whirlwind trip to Paris and Biarritz, with Eva paying for everything. Then she realised that her £500 necklace had been stolen from her jewellery box, and she had Watson arrested by the Paris police. When she returned to England, she discovered that the brougham she had arranged to buy was not Watson's - it was actually Rose Waller's. It emerged that Watson and Waller were in cahoots, having decided to try and fleece Eva Goldring for as much as possible. But then they fought over the proceeds of Watson's thefts, with Waller pulling off Watson's hat and jumping on it at one stage.

Watson was sent to Wormwood Scrubs for 15 months for defrauding Eva Golldring, with the 1901 census recording him as a prisoner there. At around this time, Amie appears to have sued David, and his father in his absence, for alimony and a maintenance order. David, in turn, falsely accused Amie of committing adultery. The marriage had ended for all practical purposes, but the couple did not divorce. Instead, David appears to have joined the army after being released from prison, and departed for South Africa.

In 1904, whilst in Cape Town, David Watson met Mary Elizabeth Dartington Stanhope, a widow with a child. He used his impressive communication skills to woo her, before, two years later, marrying her. The marriage was, of course, bigamous, although he had told Mary that his first wife was dead. David later returned to London, moving into a flat in Poplar. When Mary decided to follow him, she was shocked to find that he was living with two young women, one being a local typist. She asked him questions, and eventually found out that Amie Watson was very much still alive. Mary immediately reported David for bigamy. He was convicted and sent to prison.

He was freed, but in 1910 was convicted of fraud and false pretences, and sent to Wormwood Scrubs for a year - the 1911 census records him as a prisoner there. On his released, he was no reformed character; instead, he was emboldened by the friendships he had developed with long-term prisoners, and went straight back to his fraudulent activities. This time, he decided to create a new persona as a private detective, renting an office from a friendly solicitor in London that could serve as his detective headquarters. Now, David Watson was able to carry on a complex series of thefts. He had two accomplices in his crimes, both dealers by trade: 27-year-old Samuel Cohen and Barnard Bartlett, 38. As one example of their brazen thefts, Cohen had stolen a jade ornament from Liberty’s, the famous department store. He had given it to Barnett, working as his 'runner', who had then passed it to Watson.

Eventually, Watson's crimes caught up with him again. He, Cohen, and Barnett were all charged, but at trial, Watson tried everything to persuade the jury to acquit him. A well-educated man, he spoke well, and convincingly. He also had a good sense of humour. In court, he admitted to having lived with a countess (Rose Waller), and asked the jury, "Is there anything marvellous in that? I called myself an inquiry agent, and I don't set myself up as an emblem of moral rectitude." The court erupted in laughter, and Watson continued,

"The necessary stock-in trade of an inquiry agent is that he should be a man who has seen something in the world, and has known something about it."

Watson appealed to the jury "as sportsmen and Englishmen" to show their opinion of the mud-throwing in which he had been subjected by counsel for the prosecution, described a detective's evidence as "more like a story Conan Doyle might have told" and declared that there was no more truth in the statement that he had given a diamond skull to 'Lady Gordon' than that it came from a burglary at Birmingham.

However, his clever words and his comedy were not enough. He and his accomplices were all found guilty of conspiracy. Barnett received a nine month prison sentence, Cohen three years - and Watson, the ringleader, was sent back to prison for four years. He was released on 20 March 1916, back into the Greater London area. He was included in the Met Police's register of habitual criminals, which noted his many aliases and tall, gentlemanly appearance, together with his 'weaknesses':

Is well educated, has some legal knowledge, of gentlemanly appearance, good address, drinks heavily when in funds, is most unscrupulous, makes serious allegations against police and uses the names of police officers as references.

What did David Don Watson do on his release from prison, armed with his charm, contacts, and predilection for fraud? It is likely that he emigrated, and equally likely that he continued to defraud the vulnerable at least.