MONDAY, OCTOBER 17, 2011 LAST UPDATED: MONDAY OCTOBER 17, 2011, 4:04 PM
THE RECORD
Cyn Bird always suspected her family was hiding something, but it took a deathbed confession by her mother three years ago to confirm the shocking truth:
The Emerson artist and mother of two is part of a cluster of adults sprinkled throughout America who have recently learned from their aging parents or other family members that they are "Cole babies" — infants delivered by Coral Gables-based naturopathic physician Dr. Katherine Cole, who profited from falsifying birth certificates and selling babies to infertile couples up and down the Eastern Seaboard.
"For years, they told me I was their child, and I believed them," said Bird, who is still searching for her birth parents. "I wanted to believe them.
"My father had already died, and my mother's memory was foggy; she was sick," Bird said. "She died four months later. … It was a shock — at 46 — to find out you came from somewhere else."
Bird said the entire family knew she was bought on the black market, and no one ever let it slip. Her mother told Bird "she was afraid every time there was a knock on the door, because she thought she was going to get busted."
Her search has turned up few leads. So far, she's only been able to locate a distant cousin through a DNA ancestry firm.
"There was no original birth certificate," Bird said. "My birth certificate is a 'falsified original.' Cole put down my adoptive patents as the birth parents."
Josette Marquess, a retired Florida adoption official, has guided dozens of Cole babies through mostly fruitless state searches, and has become the state's expert on Cole.
Marquess said most of the Cole babies she helped found out about their origins quite accidentally.
"There was a rift in the family, and somebody got mad with somebody else, and, in revenge, said, 'Oh by the way ... I have something to tell you.' "
Marquess said working with Cole babies was "heartbreaking, because I knew there was really nothing I could do to help them.
"In order to have a reunion, you really need a paper trail to follow and the particular nastiness of Dr. Cole was, she made sure there was no paper trail."
Cole — known throughout the Coral Gables community as "Granny Doc" — operated an illegal abortion clinic and a legal adoption center from the mid-1930s to the late 1960s. Young pregnant girls who "got in trouble" would visit her clinic, and Cole convinced them to give their babies up for adoption, Marquess said.
Marquess said the doctor owned a number of apartment buildings within a three-block radius of her clinic. Both the pregnant girls and the adopting couples would stay there until the delivery.
Cole would assess each infertile couple individually, charging anywhere from $25 to $10,000 for a baby.
"All you needed was a wedding ring and $5,000 and you were good to go," Marquess said. "She probably placed, at a minimum, 200 babies a year and she operated in Florida for more than 30 years — even with a little prison stint in there. That's thousands of people who will never know their true identity."
While it is typically hard for legally adopted people to track down their birth parents, Cole — who died in 1981 — left no factual records behind, making it almost impossible for the babies she sold to find the truth.
"There is nothing — no records," Bird said. "Cole orchestrated it as if my parents were living in an apartment in Florida and gave birth to a baby — me."
Bird said there was even a birth announcement placed in a local Florida paper, naming her adoptive father as her natural father. "Oddly, there's no mention of my mother in the announcement," Bird said.
Bob Rooks, director of the Florida Adoption Information Center, which for free provides adoption information and referral services to adoptive parents, adult adoptees, birth relatives and pregnant women, said authorities didn't catch on to Cole for so long because doctors at the time always filled out birth certificates.
Florida doctors still fill out birth certificates. In New Jersey, parents fill out a form at the hospital that is eventually certified by a physician, according to state officials.
But doctors today don't handle adoptions, Rooks said.
"That ended in Florida in 2007. In Cole's day, physicians legally did adoptions, adding to the confusion."
Rooks said many Cole babies — and most adults who were placed through what he called black market adoptions — likely will never find their birth parents.
"The adoptive family was listed on the certificate," which were often written in red or green ink, "and the birth mother was not, so with that, there is no paper trail. These weren't legal adoptions, so these people are left out in the cold."
Rooks said the Florida Adoption Information Center — which fields more than 10,000 calls a year — has not been contacted by any of Cole's birth mothers, as far as he knows. Marquess has had no contact with any of them either.
"These children completely lost their identities, and now they're getting older and starting to show some symptoms," Rooks said, adding that he does get calls from Cole babies as well as children sold by other doctors around that same time. "They've lost their medical and social history."
Marquess said more than anything else, Cole babies want information. "They wanted a good health history, and I don't think Florida is unusual in that we historically did not do a very good job of gathering family medical history ... even though we had access to the birth mothers."
For Bird, she will never give up the search, even though she acknowledged, "I think there's a huge chance I will never know."
But she's hopeful for her children's sake. A recent medical scare made her even more determined to dig into the past. Bird underwent surgery to remove skin cancer from her hand.
"I don't think about the fact I was sold every day anymore, but once in a while, stuff will come up," she said. "I go to the doctors and they want family history, and I have none. I used to think I did, because I was lied to all my life."
Bird retreats to her art to help deal with the pain and the betrayal.
"I started this series [of paintings] pretty soon after I found out about it, and it's very cathartic for me," Bird said.
The paintings feature vibrant splashes of color, interwoven with words like "lies," "secrets" and "sin."
Bird keeps in touch with other Cole babies through a Facebook group and e-mail. She understands why her parents did what they did, but she still harbors some resentment toward them.
"Intellectually, I get it," Bird said. "They couldn't have children; they didn't qualify for the typical agency adoption, because they didn't have enough bedrooms. They didn't have enough money. I see why they did it. But I do get pissed off about it."
Bird is hoping that someone will read her story, visit her website, see her picture, and that something will trigger a memory or inspire someone to come forward. At this point, she said it is really only hope.
"I'm hoping someone will recognize my eyes or my smile," Bird said. "I just want to know who I am."
E-mail: harrisc@northjersey.com
She had been bought on the black market as a baby for $2,500 cash. Her birth mother was a college student. And her parents traveled from Queens to Coral Gables, Fla., to make the transaction.
The Emerson artist and mother of two is part of a cluster of adults sprinkled throughout America who have recently learned from their aging parents or other family members that they are "Cole babies" — infants delivered by Coral Gables-based naturopathic physician Dr. Katherine Cole, who profited from falsifying birth certificates and selling babies to infertile couples up and down the Eastern Seaboard.
"For years, they told me I was their child, and I believed them," said Bird, who is still searching for her birth parents. "I wanted to believe them.
Bird said the entire family knew she was bought on the black market, and no one ever let it slip. Her mother told Bird "she was afraid every time there was a knock on the door, because she thought she was going to get busted."
Her search has turned up few leads. So far, she's only been able to locate a distant cousin through a DNA ancestry firm.
"There was no original birth certificate," Bird said. "My birth certificate is a 'falsified original.' Cole put down my adoptive patents as the birth parents."
Josette Marquess, a retired Florida adoption official, has guided dozens of Cole babies through mostly fruitless state searches, and has become the state's expert on Cole.
Marquess said most of the Cole babies she helped found out about their origins quite accidentally.
"There was a rift in the family, and somebody got mad with somebody else, and, in revenge, said, 'Oh by the way ... I have something to tell you.' "
Marquess said working with Cole babies was "heartbreaking, because I knew there was really nothing I could do to help them.
"In order to have a reunion, you really need a paper trail to follow and the particular nastiness of Dr. Cole was, she made sure there was no paper trail."
Operated a clinic
Cole — known throughout the Coral Gables community as "Granny Doc" — operated an illegal abortion clinic and a legal adoption center from the mid-1930s to the late 1960s. Young pregnant girls who "got in trouble" would visit her clinic, and Cole convinced them to give their babies up for adoption, Marquess said.
Marquess said the doctor owned a number of apartment buildings within a three-block radius of her clinic. Both the pregnant girls and the adopting couples would stay there until the delivery.
Cole would assess each infertile couple individually, charging anywhere from $25 to $10,000 for a baby.
"All you needed was a wedding ring and $5,000 and you were good to go," Marquess said. "She probably placed, at a minimum, 200 babies a year and she operated in Florida for more than 30 years — even with a little prison stint in there. That's thousands of people who will never know their true identity."
While it is typically hard for legally adopted people to track down their birth parents, Cole — who died in 1981 — left no factual records behind, making it almost impossible for the babies she sold to find the truth.
"There is nothing — no records," Bird said. "Cole orchestrated it as if my parents were living in an apartment in Florida and gave birth to a baby — me."
Bird said there was even a birth announcement placed in a local Florida paper, naming her adoptive father as her natural father. "Oddly, there's no mention of my mother in the announcement," Bird said.
Role of doctors
Bob Rooks, director of the Florida Adoption Information Center, which for free provides adoption information and referral services to adoptive parents, adult adoptees, birth relatives and pregnant women, said authorities didn't catch on to Cole for so long because doctors at the time always filled out birth certificates.
Florida doctors still fill out birth certificates. In New Jersey, parents fill out a form at the hospital that is eventually certified by a physician, according to state officials.
But doctors today don't handle adoptions, Rooks said.
"That ended in Florida in 2007. In Cole's day, physicians legally did adoptions, adding to the confusion."
Rooks said many Cole babies — and most adults who were placed through what he called black market adoptions — likely will never find their birth parents.
"The adoptive family was listed on the certificate," which were often written in red or green ink, "and the birth mother was not, so with that, there is no paper trail. These weren't legal adoptions, so these people are left out in the cold."
Rooks said the Florida Adoption Information Center — which fields more than 10,000 calls a year — has not been contacted by any of Cole's birth mothers, as far as he knows. Marquess has had no contact with any of them either.
"These children completely lost their identities, and now they're getting older and starting to show some symptoms," Rooks said, adding that he does get calls from Cole babies as well as children sold by other doctors around that same time. "They've lost their medical and social history."
Health history
Marquess said more than anything else, Cole babies want information. "They wanted a good health history, and I don't think Florida is unusual in that we historically did not do a very good job of gathering family medical history ... even though we had access to the birth mothers."
For Bird, she will never give up the search, even though she acknowledged, "I think there's a huge chance I will never know."
But she's hopeful for her children's sake. A recent medical scare made her even more determined to dig into the past. Bird underwent surgery to remove skin cancer from her hand.
"I don't think about the fact I was sold every day anymore, but once in a while, stuff will come up," she said. "I go to the doctors and they want family history, and I have none. I used to think I did, because I was lied to all my life."
Bird retreats to her art to help deal with the pain and the betrayal.
"I started this series [of paintings] pretty soon after I found out about it, and it's very cathartic for me," Bird said.
The paintings feature vibrant splashes of color, interwoven with words like "lies," "secrets" and "sin."
Bird keeps in touch with other Cole babies through a Facebook group and e-mail. She understands why her parents did what they did, but she still harbors some resentment toward them.
"Intellectually, I get it," Bird said. "They couldn't have children; they didn't qualify for the typical agency adoption, because they didn't have enough bedrooms. They didn't have enough money. I see why they did it. But I do get pissed off about it."
Bird is hoping that someone will read her story, visit her website, see her picture, and that something will trigger a memory or inspire someone to come forward. At this point, she said it is really only hope.
"I'm hoping someone will recognize my eyes or my smile," Bird said. "I just want to know who I am."
E-mail: harrisc@northjersey.com
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