The Demise of the Beneficial Order of Earnest Workers

by Susan Zehnder, Education Director 

Every day when opening our social media accounts, we discover new scams aimed at tempting us to send money or provide personal information. Despite filters, and best intentions, it just seems to be part of doing business in the early 21^st century. A blessing and a curse, digital media have increased our risk, and artificial intelligence has made scams more sophisticated. But, is this different than before? A look back at newspapers from the late 19^th century proves that while the scale of scams may have increased, they are certainly nothing new.

One national scam with local impact took place in the spring of 1891. The Star-Gazette reported that over a period of four weeks, a group of citizens in Elmira lost a total of $1,500, or $50,000 in today’s money. The unfortunate group had joined a newly formed chapter of a national organization with the unlucky name of The Beneficial Order of Earnest Workers (BOEW).

Unidentified factory workers, 1890-1920, Elmira, NY

Headquartered in Philadelphia,  the BOEW boasted over 28,000 members nationwide, with the Elmira chapter counting for 128 members. The organization was one of a number of short-term beneficial societies that promised to pay investors $100 in return for their small investment in only nine weeks. At one time, the New Jersey branch took in over $25,000 in investments every week. Though not all beneficial societies were corrupt, this entire organization was.

Today, the name of the organization seems quaint, though it was a term used to describe a collective or cooperative financial group. Sometimes called friendly societies, benevolent societies focused on providing funds for a group financial or social purpose and were common before modern insurance or organized social services. Beneficial societies can still be found in countries where larger banks do not want to invest.

This society, however, wasn’t built on altruistic ideas. Instead, the officers schemed to extract hard-earned cash from anyone willing to risk their money. Men with titles like The Supreme President, The Supreme Treasurer, and The Supreme Secretary of the Beneficial Order of Earnest Workers enticed their unsuspecting victims.

When the scheme fell apart, after only a matter of weeks, various members were arrested in Philadelphia. At least one of these reportedly had his travel cases packed and tickets bought, knowing he needed to escape. One of the Elmira officers traveled to Philadelphia to recover money, but was unsuccessful. Sums lost ranged from $37 to nearly $700. Writing about the scandal, The Star-Gazette mentions a “prominent disinterested lawyer” in Philadelphia remarking that because the victims willingly invested, it would be hard to pursue justice.

It’s not clear if any of the victims ever recovered some or all of their investments. Certainly, the Elmira members were not the only ones, but for a few days in 1891, it made a dramatic story in the paper.

We like to think we’re smarter than that, but today’s schemes continue to lure unsuspecting victims. Below is information from the US government on ways to avoid being a victim of scams, and we encourage you to share it with anyone who might benefit. 

A Tale of Two Brothers: Catch Him if you Can

by Susan Zehnder, Education Director

This is a story about two brothers who made a name for themselves. One became a well-regarded member of the local community, while the other went on to make national headlines for fraud, larceny, and deception.

J. Bernard and J. Francis Toomey were born three years apart and grew up in Elmira around the turn of the 20^th century. Their parents were Margaret and John Toomey and their father worked as a trainman for the railroad. The family lived at East Fifth Street in Elmira. In 1906, another brother, J. Florence, was born.

The oldest son, Bernard, was full of ambition. When he graduated from Elmira Free Academy in 1915 his senior yearbook declared him to be one of the school’s most popular boys. In addition to his studies, he participated in class entertainments also known as school productions;

managed the baseball team for three years; and dated many girls one of whom was Marjorie Shaffer. 

Bernard attended the University of Buffalo to study dentistry. It was World War I and when the United States joined the war effort, he enlisted in the U.S. Navy. After the war, he returned to Elmira and opened his own dental practice at 243 Lake Street. A year later, Bernard married Marjorie Shaffer and the couple had a daughter, Judith.

For the next 38 years, Bernard was an active member of the community. He was president of the City Club, founding member of the Elmira Area University of Buffalo Alumni Association, a member of the Chemung County Dental Society and of the Torch Club, and director of the Chemung Valley Savings and Loan Association. Bernard promoted conservation through his work with Fur, Fin, and Feathers, Inc. He belonged to the Elmira Elks Lodge, the Harry B. Bentley Post of the American Legion. He was also an active congregant of Our Lady of Lourdes Church. In addition to his private dental practice, he was a dental consultant for the County Welfare Department.

In 1959, when he was 64, Bernard suffered an acute heart attack and died. Newspaper obituaries listed among the survivors his mother, his wife, his daughter, and only one brother, Florence.

Why wasn’t his middle brother mentioned? Apparently, Francis had been leading a very different life. The earliest mentions of him in local newspapers are positive, citing various elementary school achievements, like good attendance, or moving on to next grade. A few years later, his name appears as a participant in a public discussion “The Social Club as an Agency of Moral Uplift.” But soon after, Francis’s name started showing up in less flattering ways.

Apparently one evening, he and a couple of buddies broke into George Ells’ Machine and Bicycle Repair Shop on Lake Street, not far from where he lived. The boys ransacked the shop and took a number of electric flashlights, cigar packet lighters and other small items. Their identity must have been known --a year later, the police revealed their names when Francis was caught for another crime. This time he and a buddy had broken into Dr. F.B. Greene’s garage. After rifling through the garage, they stole a motorcar and went on a joyride. When it got stuck on West Church Street, they abandoned it, leaving $50 worth of damage--over $1,500 in today’s dollars. The boys were told to make amends.

That same year, 1912, Francis disappeared for three months. He had been involved in an accidental shooting and feared being arrested. According to the paper, the victim, only identified as an Armenian, “was not seriously hurt.” Regardless, Francis made his way to New York City and took a job with the railroad. He was injured on the job and in order to receive full pay, he was required to get his parents’ signature. Instead he listed J.P. Sullivan in Elmira as his guardian and misaddressed the envelope hoping it would never be delivered. A postal worker caught the “mistake” and the letter made its way to his folks. His father went and collected him.

A year later, he was working at Sullivan’s furniture store on East Water Street in Elmira, when a suspicious fire broke out. The fire was contained on the third floor of the Grand Theater Block and a larger crisis was averted. Damage to the building was estimated to be $15,000. While he was questioned, Francis was never charged.

In 1917, his name showed up more dramatically. Trying to follow in his brother’s footsteps and join the war effort, Francis headed to Fort Niagara Training School to enlist. He was denied because he was underage. Undaunted, he returned to Elmira wearing a military uniform and was greeted like a hero. But when people start to question details of his enlistment, he took off for Cleveland. For a while he passed as a lieutenant and was treated well. He was wined and dined and made himself popular with the ladies. He also cashed fraudulent checks. Again, before he was discovered, he left for Chicago and repeated his impersonation. This time it didn’t end well. When he was caught, nineteen-year-old Francis received a sentence of two-years and eleven months to be served at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. This was eventually reduced to 13 months when a judge felt the sentence was too harsh.

A few years later, he was connected to larcenies committed in Princeton, New Haven, and New York City. Then in 1923, Francis tried to pass himself off as the son of E. M. Statler, a man who had made millions in the hotel business. For a while he was living in luxury until once again he was caught this time in Boston. When arrested, he was wearing a tuxedo, and pennants from various colleges were found in his room. He was fined $25 and sentenced to a year.

In 1935, he was arrested when he tried to enroll in graduate school at the University of Tennessee using a bad check. Things quickly unraveled for him. Authorities discovered he had not received a degree from Tulane University, as he claimed. He admitted to using various aliases including Archie G. Glenn, Justin F. Toomey, Floyd Stranhan, Richard Forgan, Francis Sullivan, Jack Allen, Millard Jones, and F. J. Sullivan. He also admitted to committing felonies in California, Pennsylvania, and Georgia and to having spent time in jail in each of these states including San Quentin. He was sent off to prison again. He was thirty-two.

J. Francis Toomey Photo courtesy of National Archives of Kansas City

Little is known of his whereabouts between 1935 and 1960. In 1960, the newspaper published a notice in the newspaper that he had violated parole and was being held without bail, but no indication of what parole he had violated.

Francis outlived his younger and older brothers by more than a decade. On November 15, 1970, the Star-Gazette printed a death notice for him. He had died in New York City four days earlier. A High Mass was held for him at St. Cecelia’s and he was buried at St. Peter and Paul’s Cemetery. No survivors were listed.

Death of a Salesman: John N. Willys

 by Susan Zehnder, Education Director

 John North Willys

When an automotive tycoon and multi-millionaire died unexpectedly, leaving a highly unorthodox will, the stage was set for a scandal that would fascinate the public. In many national newspapers coverage would take up full pages, not so in Elmira. It was 1935, and the tycoon was John North Willys, a beloved former Elmiran, who had started his empire in Elmira before moving away. His will left 65 percent of his fortune to Florence, his bride of just one year, and the rest to his daughter, Virginia.  Virginia, a 24-years-old, socialite who had been married twice by this time, had expected to inherit her father's millions. Not a penny was left for his first wife, to whom he had been married for 37 years. Not a penny was left for his sister and their families, or any other relatives or business associates.

Moreover, his will had been revised only recently to exclude these relatives, while Willys lay in a hospital bed, recovering from a heart attack.

The scandal that erupted, lasted throughout the fall and into the spring. The first lawsuit challenging the will was filed by Willys's former secretary and was followed by others from his daughter, one of his sisters, a nephew, and finally a niece. Newspapers across the nation picked up on the story and covered the legal proceedings in great detail. Papers posted headlines like “Two Strong-Willed Women,” “War Over Willys’ Will,” and “Why the Barber’s Daughter Must Fight for her Cinderella Millions,” and filled entire pages with text and photographs of the family’s lavish lifestyle. It was the height of the Great Depression.

In addition to his business investments, Willys’s fortune included a notable collection of priceless paintings, tapestries, expensive jewelry, and properties in a variety of locations, including Toledo, OH, New York, NY, and Palm Beach, FL.

Casa Florencia, Palm Beach. House is no longer standing

It was a long way from where the fledgling bicycle shop owner from Canandaigua, NY, had begun his career.

The skill that guided John North Willys throughout life was his sharpened ability to see opportunities and make sales. He married his hometown sweetheart Isabel and the two moved to 311 Grove Street, in Elmira. At 19, after seeing how popular bicycles were, he started a sales and repair shop.

Willys soon realized that automobiles, not bikes, were the future, and he took over a car dealership. Frustrated when he couldn’t get automotive parts fast enough, he convinced others to help finance his purchase of the struggling Overland car division of the Standard Wheel Company. Once that was secured, he rebuilt the company, increased production, and renamed it the Willys-Overland Company. 

Looking to increase sales, Willys reconnected with Alexander P. Morrow, a friend from his Elmira bicycle days. Morrow agreed to his company helping produce additional parts for cars. In 1916, the Morrow Company became the Willys-Morrow Company and was churning out car parts that would make Willys-Overland the nation’s second largest producer of automobiles during the early twentieth century. When the Willys-Morrow company went into receivership, Willys took over as chairman of the board, and despite ups and downs, Willys’s personal wealth grew into millions of dollars.

Isabel van Wie Willys

In 1911, the couple had Virginia, their only child. Growing up, she wanted for nothing, and her parents doted on her. When it came time for Virginia to be presented in society, not content with the ordinary, her father arranged for her debut before the Queen of England at the Court of St. James. It was 1929.

Virginia Willys

En route by boat, Virginia fell in love with Luis Marcelino De Aguirre, a recently divorced, older, and very wealthy Argentinian rancher. Over her parents’ objections, the two made plans to marry in England. Back in the states, her parents booked passage to England on the next boat. It was during this crossing, that Willys started a friendship with 32-year-old Florence Dingler Dolan, a socialite from New York City. Looking for a fresh start, Florence was heading to Europe to escape an abusive husband.

Florence Dingler Dolan

That same spring, in 1929, Willys sold his Willys-Overland shares and retired from business. Selling months before the stock market crashed, he made a substantial amount of money and now looked for something new to do. He gave generously to the Republican Party, and in 1930, President Herbert Hoover appointed him as the first US ambassador to Poland. He would hold the post for two years, and during this time, he took the opportunity to set up and maintain a house in Paris for his young mistress.

In 1932, Willys announced that he was going back into business. He resigned his ambassadorship and returned to the states. By now, Florence, had divorced her husband.

In January 1935, stockholders elected Willys President of Willys-Overland. He was tasked with reorganizing the company, which had experienced financial difficulties.

After 37 years of an outwardly pleasant marriage, his wife Isabel filed for divorce under Florida’s 90-day quickie divorce law, blaming Willys for extreme cruelty. Her divorce was granted July 30^th. Two hours after the divorce was finalized, Willys married his now 37-year-old mistress and they promptly left for an extended European honeymoon. They returned to the States the following May.

Florence, who had a passion for horse racing, insisted they leave immediately to attend the Kentucky Derby. During the races, Willys experienced a major heart attack. While recovering in a Kentucky hospital, Willys changed his last will and testament to exclude his ex-wife and limit his daughter’s inheritance, and deny anyone who contested it.

The couple returned to New York where Willys suffered an embolism and died on August 26, 1935.

The multiple lawsuits contesting his will took up much of the next nine months until the disputed will went to probate. In May 1936, all challenges were denied.

In his obituary, The New York Times listed three maxims that guided the businessman:

1.       Profits are in goods delivered—not in orders.

2.    . Tell the truth to your banker—and make him believe in you.

3.      Let your men know that you work harder than they do.

Seventy-three years after he died, salesman John North Willys was inducted into the Automotive Hall of Fame in Dearborn, Michigan, for having one of the most acute business minds of his time.