Annie Beekman, Strangled. Part Two

The home of Jacob Johnson, Hillsborough, NJ, Sunday, September 15, 1895.  Annie Beekman, a twenty-three-year-old former Hillsborough resident visiting the area for the first time in two years lies in the backroom of Jacob Johnson's modest cabin on the Elmendorf estate.  She is dead.

16 September 1895 New York Herald

In the front room are Johnson and his wife, along with the Somerset County Prosecutor, Constable Moore, and railroad flagman Joseph Gorman.  It was Gorman who alerted authorities that he could positively identify the dark-skinned black man and lighter-skinned woman who he saw crossing the tracks of the South Branch Railroad near the Raritan River late the previous evening - and that is what he has just done.

16 September 1895 New York Telegram

Annie Beekman's body was discovered by local laborer Peter Dow earlier that same morning.  It was obvious as he approached the body lying in a wooded area between the wagon road and the river that the woman was dead - and that she had been murdered. Her bodice was torn, corset wire ripped out, and finger marks were about her throat.  Coroner Brady, one of the first officials at the scene, ordered the body be taken to the nearest house, that of Jacob Johnson - a laborer employed on the estate of James B. Duke, and a preacher of some renown in the local black community.

Despite the failure of Coroner Brady to adequately secure the crime scene - evidence including footprints was trampled by curiosity seekers - it was obvious that the murder had taken place on the road, and the body had been dragged into the woods.  An empty purse lying nearby pegged the motive as robbery.

Somerset County Courthouse, 1891

The prosecutor confronted Johnson: hadn't he been seen all over Somerville the previous evening with the deceased, drinking in at least two different establishments?  How could he answer the accusation of Joe Gorman, who saw him and the deceased together not far from the site of the murder after 10 pm last evening?

Johnson insisted that he left Annie Beekman alive in the company of two white men at around 10 pm, and immediately returned home.  Johnson's son later admitted in court that his parents had argued that night upon Johnson's return, his mother demanding an explanation as to why he had been out all evening with Annie, instead of home with his family.

19 September 1895 New York Herald

Overwhelming circumstantial evidence which placed Johnson at the scene of the crime with motive and opportunity was enough for a grand jury and eventually a trial jury conviction.  He was convicted of murder and sentenced to death.

Johnson went to the gallows in Somerville on May 5, 1897.  In an ironic twist, he was cut from the scaffold after seven minutes but was not yet dead. As doctors felt for a pulse and listened for a heartbeat, the noose, still tight about his neck, continued to do its work.  A few minutes later, he was pronounced dead - cause of death: strangulation.

Annie Beekman, Strangled, Part One

Somerset County Fairgrounds, Somerville NJ, Thursday, September 12, 1895.  Jacob Johnson hadn't seen young Annie Beekman in more than two years.  Some people said that she was dead or hospitalized - others, that she had married a much older man and was living in Newark.  In any event, she was there at the Somerset County Fair, standing at his peanut and soda-water stand.  By the end of the week, Johnson would be in the Somerset County Jail, accused of her murder.

Somerset County Fairgrounds, Somerville, NJ - 1891

Annie Beekman had indeed been living in Newark.  She told Johnson that she had returned to Somerset County to visit her brother in Hillsborough and to collect $45 that was being held in trust for her by Calvin Corle of Neshanic.  Annie and her brother, both of biracial descent, had been bound by their mother to Neshanic farmer Edward Horner.  Upon reaching the age of maturity, each was given $50.  Her brother had taken the full amount directly, but Annie withdrew just $5, leaving the rest with Corle.


The Elmendorf House on the Duke Estate, 2018

Jacob Johnson worked as a laborer on the estate of James B. Duke.  He lived with his wife, son, and daughter in a cabin on the Elmendorf property near the banks of the Raritan River, not far from the tracks of the South Branch Railroad.  He was well-liked and admired, especially in the black community around Hillsborough, where he was well known as a preacher with a particularly strong religious fervor.

Johnson suggested that Annie stay with them while she was visiting in the area.  She spent the day Friday visiting with her mother, and upon returning that evening, asked Johnson to accompany her on Saturday to Neshanic in order to recover her money from Mr. Corle.  She explained that she did not feel comfortable traveling alone with such a large sum.



Somerville Train Station - 1891

On Saturday afternoon, they boarded the train at the Roycefield Depot near Johnson's home for the short trip to Neshanic.  Annie received $45 from Mr. Corle, which she placed in a small purse and tucked into the bosom of her corset.  On the return trip, she suggested to Johnson that they get off the train at Somerville, and celebrate with a drink.

 



Commercial Hotel, Somerville, NJ - 1891

They went first to the Commercial Hotel, where Annie bought them a couple of rounds of beer.  She then suggested Cawley's restaurant, where they dined on sandwiches and wine - Annie carefully removing her purse, paying the bill, and returning it safely to its hiding place.

 



Cawley's Restaurant, Somerville, NJ - 1891



Johnson later told police that Annie had wanted to continue drinking, but he begged off, on the account of the lateness of the evening - it was already close to 10 pm.  Johnson claimed that before he left Annie near the Somerville Station, he saw her with two white men, one tall, one short and that she had gone off with them.

 

That's not the story told by Joseph Gorman, a railroad flagman working near the Somerville Depot that Saturday evening.  Gorman told police that he clearly saw the pair cross the tracks in the vicinity of Bridge Street, and head towards the Raritan River.

 

more tomorrow...

Elmer Clawson, Boy Murderer, Part Two

May 12, 1897, 7 o'clock.  Elmer Clawson, 19, sits down to his final meal - steak, coffee, cake, and strawberries.  His stomach is queasy, and he picks at the strawberries.  He is just three hours away from becoming not only the youngest person ever to be executed in Somerset County but also the first white man to go to the gallows in that place in over a century.

Just one week earlier, the only other death row inmate in the Somerset County jail - black Methodist minister Jacob Johnson - was hung by the neck for eight minutes, then cut down still alive while the doctor waited another eight minutes for him to expire.  Several weeks earlier, Johnson, convicted of robbing and killing Annie Beekman, had foiled Clawson's escape attempt by telling the guard that Clawson had hidden an iron bar in his mattress straw, and had been fashioning a key out of a piece of metal from the leg of the iron bed frame.

The Old Somerset County Courthouse complex, circa 1905.
The executions took place in the basement of the jail.

No doubt  Clawson was desperate.  Convicted of killing Pluckemin farmer Harry Hodgetts on August 29 of the previous year, all appeals were exhausted and entreaties by leading Somerset County residents to commute the boy's sentence because of his age were unsuccessful.  On the witness stand, Clawson freely admitted that he had discharged his pistol three times, striking his former employer twice in the chest before fleeing on his bicycle.  In fact, Clawson had admitted his crime from the start - even going so far as to tell his family on his way out that fateful morning, that he was going out to kill Harry Hodgetts.

12 May 1897 New York Evening Telegram

It was this bizarre behavior, and the subsequent testimony of Clawson family members as to the family's history of mental illness, that caused defense attorneys to be hopeful of an acquittal, or at least a sentence of life imprisonment.  Jurors heard from six mental health experts.  Unsurprisingly, the three put on by the prosecutor pronounced Clawson perfectly sane.

After breakfast, Clawson - dressed in black jacket, white shirt, and black tie - had a final meeting with his attorney, and is reported to have said, "I would rather go to state prison for life, but am not afraid and will go through it all right."

12 May 1897 Courier News

At precisely 10 o'clock, Sheriff Wyckoff, accompanied by Hangman Van Hise, retrieved the prisoner - Van Hise slipping behind Clawson and tying his hands while Wyckoff proceeded with final instructions.  They walked to the basement gallows.  Clawson stood on the spot inscribed by a chalk mark on the floor while Van Hise adjusted the silken rope about his neck and lowered the hood over his face.  The execution, including nineteen minutes in the noose, was completed by 10:26.

Elmer Clawson, Boy Murderer, Part One

August 29, 1896.  Farmer Harry Hodgetts of Pluckemin, an Englishman who emigrated to America in 1885, had just finished breakfast with his wife and three small daughters and was heading outside to begin his day's work at his 64-acre farm on what today is Route 206.  He was met unexpectedly by eighteen-year-old Elmer Clawson, a lad who had worked for him the previous season, but who he hadn't seen in over a year.

Elmer Clawson, before his execution in 1897

Clawson set his bicycle down by the road and strode up to meet Hodgetts by the door of his home.  Clawson asked for work, and when Hodgetts refused, Clawson demanded to be paid wages that Hodgetts had withheld the previous year - an amount equal to what Hodgetts suspected the boy had been skimming from produce sales to local merchants.

Harry Hodgetts
(Photo Courtesy of Amy Bell Johnson)

When Hodgetts again rebuffed the youth, Clawson drew a pistol and fired three times - two of the shots hitting the farmer in the chest.

As Clawson sped away on his bike, the Powelsons, who occupied the neighboring farm and had heard the gunshots, arrived on the scene in time to hear the last words of the victim - "Be quick". They immediately took to their farm wagons and their own bicycles and followed the track of Clawson's tire clearly visible on the dusty Bedminster Township roads.

Although it was drawn 40 years after the incidents,
this 1935 map of the bridle paths and byways of the
Somerset Hills is useful to locate the scenes of the murder and chase.

By the time the pursuers reached Far Hills four miles away, their numbers had grown to include more men on bicycles, wagons, and buggies.  

The Far Hills train station circa 1890s

At the Far Hills train station, Clawson overheard the station agent repeating a phone message that included his description, and regaining his bicycle made a mad dash for Bedminster.

New York Times, 30 August 1896

The closing vigilantes forced Clawson to ditch his bike and take to the underbrush at the side of the road, but the posse cajoled him out of his hiding place.  Word of Hodgetts death having reached the mob, they considered lynching him on the spot.  Only Constable Thomas Moore, riding up through the crowd at a full gallop, dissuaded the men from committing an act that would surely leave a black mark on Somerset County.

more tomorrow....

Clement Clawson "Capitalist", Part Three

Imagine you had a wicked stepmother who so opposed your romantic relationship with a former employee that she secretly changed her will, adding a provision that would deny you your father's inheritance - a small fortune that you had acquired in your father's name through your own toil - should your liaison ever culminate in marriage.  Sounds like the plot of a Jennifer Aniston comedy, or with a few songs thrown in, a Disney film.

19 May 1903 New York Herald

In actuality, this was the real-life drama of prolific inventor and entrepreneur Clement C. Clawson, Sr.

Clement Clawson, Sr.

Beginning in North Carolina in the 1870s, and eventually moving to Newark, NJ, Henry T. Clawson and his son Clement built an enormously successful business based on the younger Clawson's invention of the coin-operated vending machine, or "coin-in-the-slot" machine as it was originally named.  These highly profitable machines were the first of their kind, and very desirable to tavern and store owners who placed them on their counters and practically minted money.

Clawson Penny Drop Fortune Teller

The machines typically cost less than five dollars to produce at the Newark factory owned by Henry.  Machines were then purchased at a set price by the Clawson Slot Machine Company controlled by Clement, thereby guaranteeing Henry any amount of profit they wished.  And there was no shortage of profits, as machines could either be leased, put into stores with the take being split between the Clawsons and the store owner, or ultimately sold outright for around $65.

Despite the complex business arrangement, Henry Clawson always acknowledged that the business would be nothing without his son's genius and that upon his death, anything in his name would be left to his son.  Somewhere along the line Henry Clawson had a change of heart, and at the reading of his will in 1897, it was found that he had instead left everything to his second wife, Aurelia.  A justifiably upset Clement was able to exact a compromise with his stepmother - in exchange for not contesting his father's will, she would agree to make a will leaving everything to her stepson upon her death.

It didn't take long for Aurelia Clawson to have second thoughts.  When Clement's wife died in 1900, Aurelia suspected that Clement had taken up with Ella Hood, a young woman who had lived with the Clawsons and was employed as their child's nanny.  It is unknown exactly what the widow Clawson's objection was to this relationship, but her feelings were so strong that she made a new will on July 17, 1900, adding the provision that all of the property previously promised to Clement by first his father, and later herself, would be forfeit were he to live with or marry Ella Hood.

The Flagtown house purchased by Clement Clawson before 1900 as a country home,
which later became his full-time residence when he married his second wife Ella Hood in 1901.
Photo from 8 March 1991 Courier News

No doubt this would have caused quite a dilemma for Clement had he known of it!  In the event, he indeed did marry Miss Hood in February 1901, moving permanently to Flagtown, and becoming estranged from his stepmother who remained in the Newark house with her grandniece Aurelia Lee.

Clawson Machine Shop 2008

In the months before her death in February 1902, relations between stepmother and stepson improved somewhat, with Clement often visiting Aurelia in Newark.  How shocked he must have been upon her death to find out that he had once again been cheated out of what was rightfully his, the entire estate going to Aurelia's grandniece and other of her relatives.

19 May 1903 New York Herald

 

This time Clawson went to court.  The Clawsons and their two young sons - Clement, born 1902, and Robert, born 1903 waited for more than two years for the case to be decided.  Finally, on June 28, 1904, the Court of Chancery of New Jersey ruled in their favor, awarding them everything that Henry Clawson had originally promised Clement before his death, valued at around $50,000.

16 July 1904 Raleigh Morning Post

In subsequent years, Clement Clawson, Sr. moved the entire operations of the Clawson Machine Company to Flagtown, building Hillsborough's first modern factory, and establishing a lasting legacy in our town.

Might make a good movie someday!

Clement Clawson "Capitalist", Part Two

When his father and business partner, Henry T. Clawson, passed away on August 15, 1897, Newark-based inventor Clement Clawson might have had better luck consulting one of his own coin-operated fortune-telling machines than relying on the promises made by first his father, and then his stepmother Aurelia.

Clawson Fortune Telling Machine, circa 1890



"Business partner" might be too kind an attribution for the senior Clawson, as it was later proved in court that by the mid-1890s he had little to do with the running of the business.  The profitable factory where the Clawson Slot Machine Company could barely keep up with the demand for its coin-operated vending and gambling machines was in Henry Clawson's name, as was the Newark home that he and his second wife shared with Clement and his young family and nanny Ella Hood - but all of the success of the business was due to the inventions and business acumen of his son.

The Clawson home today, 79 Halsey Street, Newark, NJ

On several occasions during the last decade of his life, Henry acknowledged this - promising to leave the factory, all of the equipment, and the Clawson homestead to Clement.  Imagine the son's surprise then to find that his father had made a will in 1893, four years before his death, leaving all to Clement's stepmother - with the provision that Clement would be allowed to occupy the factory at a rent she determined.

The "Three Jack Pot" -
one of the Clawson Slot Machine Company's huge early successes 

Foreshadowing what would happen upon his stepmother's death five years later, the young Mr. Clawson demanded satisfaction, refusing to leave the attorney's office where the will was read until all agreed that he had been done wrong.  He threatened to contest the will and bring immediate legal action to prevent the dissemination of any property, and to recover other monies owed to him by his father through their business dealings - a not inconsiderable sum of perhaps $7,000 or more.

Part of the patent application for Clawson's "Three Jack Pot"

The widow Clawson assured Clement that in exchange for his not pressing the matter, she would make a will leaving everything to him upon her death - which she did in March 1898.

Clawson's unique coin-operated bicycle tire pump.
"The Wheel" magazine, 23 March 1899

All was well for about a year.  The family was joined by Aurelia Clawson's grandniece, Aurelia Lee, and by all accounts, everyone got on well at their Halsey Street residence, and at the recently purchased country house in Flagtown - even after the death of  Clement's wife Lillie on March 10, 1900.

Henry, Clement, and both of Clement's wives
are memorialized at this elaborate marker - designed by Henry - 
in Newark's Fairmount Cemetery.
The figure of the child at the top is in honor of
Clement and Lillie's infant son, who died at just past one year of age in 1885.

It was around this time that Clement moved permanently to Flagtown, and Aurelia Clawson suspected that he had taken up with former nanny Ella - who presumably continued to reside with the Clawsons for years after the death of their young son in 1885.  Mrs. Clawson disapproved very strongly of this relationship - so strongly that she secretly changed her will on July 17, 1900, including the new provision stating that if Clement and Ella should marry, all the property promised to Clement by his father would instead go to her niece!


to be concluded tomorrow.....

Clement Clawson, "Capitalist", Part One

Although the 1900 United States Federal Census for Newark's Second Ward boldly lists Aurelia Clawson's occupation as "Capitalist",  the irony of this declaration wouldn't be made clear until after her death less than two years later. 

Clement C. Clawson
(Newark NJ Illustrated, 1893)

It was in February 1902, in an attorney's office in Newark for the reading of the will, that prolific inventor and entrepreneur Clement Coleridge Clawson first learned how his widowed stepmother Aurelia had "capitalized" on his good nature, reaching out from the beyond to cheat him out of his father's inheritance.

Henry T. Clawson
(Newark NJ Illustrated, 1893)

Henry T. Clawson and his only child Clement began their business partnership in their native North Carolina in the 1870s.  The elder Clawson had manufactured tools and implements for the Confederacy during the Civil War - but it was his son's inventive prowess that brought the business to a whole new level.

15 March 1872 Raleigh News

One of his first inventions was a mechanical device to automatically measure and cut paper in one step.  He followed this up with a machine to shave ice.  Things really started to take off when he delved into solving more complicated problems with more complex contraptions.

1883 Ad for the Clawson Automatic Weighing and Filling Machine Co.
(Collection of Gillette on Hillsborough)

The launch of their Automatic Weighing and Filling Machine Company in the early 1880s necessitated a move to New York City, and their most successful venture, The Clawson Slot Machine Company, found the family - Henry, second wife Aurelia, Clement and wife Lillie - living and working near their new factory in Newark.

Clawson's Newark Factory
(Newark NJ Illustrated, 1893)

In a later interview with the New York Evening Telegram, Clawson told the paper that the key to his financial success was to first invent and then manufacture his own machines - to not rely on outside investors who invariably reap most of the rewards.  He certainly took his own advice, being the first to invent coin-operated vending machines for items such as pencils or gum, a fortune-telling machine, and most notably the gambling slot machine.  Machines were manufactured in Newark at a plant ostensibly owned and managed by Henry Clawson and then sold at a set price to Clement.

A peek inside the Clawson factory.
(Newark NJ Illustrated, 1893)

Sounds like a good setup - until you realize that father Henry had practically no role in any part of the business other than having his name on the books. 

More tomorrow...

The Clement Clawson, Jr. Building, Part Two

When Hillsborough Township's first municipal building was dedicated on September 22, 1934, there was no formal acknowledgment of the man without whose help the project would have never gotten off the ground.  Perhaps it's time to rectify that.

Circa 1940s



It was in January of that year that township resident Clement Clawson, Jr. realized he could use his connections as the local administrator for the Civil Works Administration to get the federal government to pay for the construction of a municipal building for Hillsborough - the first in its history.  This was just the type of "shovel ready" project the CWA was looking for to combat depression-era unemployment, and the Township Committee readily agreed to the plan.

When interviewed by the Somerset Messenger Gazette in 1971, Clawson remembered what he told the committee when he showed up at a subsequent meeting and learned that they hadn't fulfilled their commitment to the project - acquiring the land and hiring an architect.  In fact, they had done nothing at all for two months:

"Now look, today is Monday, and come Friday morning I will receive a wire appropriating the necessary funds.  And I must reply immediately to confirm we will begin the following Monday morning!"

Some fruitless discussion followed concerning a location for the building with the committee favoring the site of the old Poor Farm - the only available property owned by the township.  Clawson insisted that the feds would never approve a location so far from the center of the township, and set out, the committee in tow, to look at more centrally located sites.

Their first and last stop was the Mikula farm on the original Amwell Rd. - now renamed East Mountain Rd. - near the intersection with South Branch Rd.  Coincidentally, or maybe not considering its prime location, this was very near the old Jacob Flagg tavern, one of the town fathers' favored meeting places of the 18th century.

After some explanation at Mrs. Mikula's front door and a visit to the Johns-Manville plant to see her husband - who thought he was headed to the boss's office to be fired when he was called off the line - the site was secured.

The original architect's plan was cut by about 50% by a frugal township committee - who was responsible for materials cost - a move that was regretted within a year or two when they ran out of space for records storage and a larger garage had to be added.

Despite reducing the overall size of the building, an engineer's error put ten feet of the building over the property line (!), necessitating a property swap with the cooperative Mikulas, who gave up the ten-foot strip in exchange for regaining some acreage at the rear of the property.

The humble building, which now serves as the home of Hillsborough's Department of Public Works, has served Hillsborough well for over 80 years.  And it was mostly due to the vision of one young man, Clement Clawson, who prodded and pushed until it was done.

The Clement Clawson, Jr. Building, Part One

Maybe it's time to rename Hillsborough's first Municipal Building, the seat of our township government for six decades, in memory of the young man whose singular effort made the building possible.



Hillsborough Township's first Municipal Building photographed in 2012.

It was during Great Depression in 1934 that twenty-eight-year-old Clement Clawson, Jr. - son of the mechanical genius vending machine pioneer and a successful businessman in his own right - found himself in the enviable position of being able to do a great good for Hillsborough Township. 

As Somerset County supervisor of emergency relief, he was also the federal administrator for local Civil Works Administration (CWA) projects.  The CWA was a depression-era federal program designed to fund "shovel-ready" projects and put the unemployed to work.  It occurred to Clawson that there was a project right here in Hillsborough - the construction of a much needed municipal building.

From the time of Hillsborough's charter in 1771 - and indeed since the first settlement in the area decades earlier - the town's governing body met wherever it was convenient.  For most of the early period, that meant an annual meeting at the home of a township committeeman, or at a local tavern or inn.  In the later years, space was rented as needed at the Neshanic Hotel or elsewhere.

Full and part-time employees, such as the tax collector and township clerk, simply worked out of their homes.  Township owned road equipment was stored anywhere space could be found.

Clawson realized that the CWA would pay all of the labor costs for a town hall.  All the township had to do, he explained at the next monthly committee meeting, was provide the land and building materials, and hire an engineer and architect.  Clawson would file the paperwork and wait for the funds to come in.  The three-person Township Committee readily agreed to the plan.

But after a couple of months had passed with no update from the township committee on their progress, Clawson went to the next public meeting to find out what was going on.  Incredibly, the committee had completely forgotten about the plan, and hadn't done a thing!

To be continued.....

"Who Was Peter J. Biondi?"

In a 1988 feature story in the Somerset Messenger Gazette, Pete Biondi listed his favorite television program as Jeopardy.  With Saturday's dedication ceremony in his honor, the title of this blog post now becomes the answer, in the form of a question, to this clue: Hillsborough's Municipal Building, opened in 1991, was renamed for this former mayor on September 15, 2012.

The plaque will be placed at the entrance to the building.

But there is nothing trivial about Pete's longstanding commitment to the residents of Hillsborough and the town he loved.



Mayor Carl Suraci

It has often been said that Hillsborough is a big town with a small town feel.  That is something that Pete always believed.  Although many of the planning decisions that have shaped Hillsborough were already decided before the Biondi's moved to town in 1976, and certainly before Pete was elected to the Township Committee in 1983, Pete remained committed to that small town feel.



Lt. Governor Kim Guadagno

Hillsborough acquired the property for the municipal complex in the mid 80s as part of the development project that brought the Rohill Estates development and the paving of Beekman Lane. 

Congressman Leonard Lance

By all accounts, it was Pete who pushed to have the new municipal building - just the second in Hillsborough's 200 year history - house not just township offices, but to also provide facilities for the police and courts, the school district offices, a modern library, and a senior citizens center.

State Senator Christopher "Kip" Bateman

While other townships, Branchburg for instance, were creating palaces for their municipal departments, Hillsborough built an efficient, workable complex to serve the residents first.  And nothing says "small town feel" better than the general store that doubles as the post office and ticket agent, or the local tavern that serves as the town meeting hall.

Former mayor Anthony Ferrera reads the proclamation.

Pete was duly proud of this accomplishment, stating at the 1989 groundbreaking ceremony, "This building symbolizes an era of cooperation in Hillsborough Township which results in diverse township functions being centrally located for the benefit of our residents." At the grand opening ceremony on May 19, 1991 he said of the $10.7 million, 82,000-square-foot complex, "I believe it marks the coming of age for our community. It's truly a 21st century facility."

Pete's grandchildren cut the ribbon as family and dignitaries look on.

About 200 of Pete's friends, family, and Hillsborough neighbors came out on Saturday to witness the dedication ceremony, which included guest speakers, the reading of the proclamation, and the unveiling of a plaque and a new sign over the main entrance to the building.

The new sign over the main entrance

At the close of ceremonies, Mrs. Joan Biondi spoke eloquently about her husband, who is missed by all.

Mrs. Joan Biondi