#bentonny

By Jonathan Monfiletto

It is ironic that the town of Torrey holds within its boundaries the site of the first permanent European settlement in present-day Yates County – started when the followers of the Public Universal Friend landed on the western shore of Seneca Lake at what is now known as Perry Point – yet the town of Torrey itself was the last of the nine towns in Yates County to be formally established as its own town.

Or, at least, I would make that statement, and yes, I realize I already have, if it weren’t for the fact that others have already made the same observation – notable among them former Yates County Historian Frances Dumas and longtime Torrey historian Betty Smalley. Formed from parts of the towns of Benton and Milo with the village of Dresden as its centerpiece, Torrey was incorporated as a town in 1851 even though it was first settled close to 75 years before that.

It all started in 1788, according to Smalley, when a committee of Thomas Hathaway, James Parker, William Potter, and Benedict Robinson – all prominent followers of the Public Universal Friend – purchased 14,000 acres on the western side of Seneca Lake from New York State, after visiting the Kashong area (located in the modern day town of Benton) a year or two before. That August, a group of 25 of the Friend’s followers returned to the area and – exploring the Keuka Lake outlet and coming across a waterfall – decided to settle there, about one mile south of present-day Dresden.

That first year, the settlers cleared the forest and planted 12 acres of wheat. The following year, they built a mill powered by the falls. In 1790, the Friend themself arrived in the area; with more and more followers coming and building homes, the census for that year showed 80 families and 260 people in the Friend’s settlement. After starting out in a log home, the Friend lived in a frame house in a site called City Hill; similarly, as Dumas notes, the Friend’s followers largely lived in log homes around City Hill, in the southern half of present-day Torrey. Their settlement was the largest at that time in the Genesee Country, and the Friend and their followers were the first group to settle western New York.

Those not members of the Friends also settled in the area after 1790. They set up homes both in the northern half of the present-day town and among the Friends south of the outlet.

The settlement continued to grow, with a trading post near present-day Dresden where the Friends traded grain and fruit with the Seneca in the area. And the area kept growing, with the establishment of the hamlet of Hopeton, just north of the outlet and about a half-mile inland just west of Dresden, in the early 1800s and the construction of more and more mills along the outlet. Hopeton faded away, however, and Dresden gained in prominence, particularly when the Crooked Lake Canal – with Dresden resting at the boundary of Seneca Lake and the outlet that served as the canal’s route – opened in 1833. Mills, warehouses, boatyards, and dry docks sprang up at Dresden with this canal-traffic prosperity.

Dresden became the grain market for the surrounding country, and the village included stores, a saw mill, a carriage shop, a plaster mill, two hotels, a brewery, and a distillery. Dresden also became a regular landing place for canal boats and steamboats later on. The area now known as Torrey had even been the site of the first road in Yates County, when a road was built from Smith’s Mill to the landing on Seneca Lake in 1792 – soon called Norris’ Landing after storekeeper Eliphalet Norris and now called Perry Point.

Despite these developments, however, the area held no official township but was split between the towns of Benton and Milo. In his 1873 “History and Directory of Yates County,” Stafford C. Cleveland recounts how Torrey came to be formed out of these two older towns – two of the five original towns of Yates County when the county was established from Ontario County in 1823. The motive for incorporating a new town, Cleveland states, was to increase the importance of Dresden as a social and municipal center and place the people of the community into their own political and civil association rather than the two larger towns to which they belonged. A notice in the September 24, 1851 edition of the Dundee Record set forth that an application would be made to the Yates County Board of Supervisors for the creation of a new town. The notice was signed by 12 residents of Benton and 12 residents of Milo.

On November 12, George W. Simmons appeared before the Board in favor of the new town while Benedict W. Franklin appeared in opposition. When a vote was taken, the proposition was defeated; however, when another vote was taken later that evening, only one supervisor opposed it. The new town was named after Henry Torrey, of Potter, who was the chairman of the board; it is this honor, according to Cleveland, that swayed the board’s vote and convinced the supervisors to favor a new town.

A week later, the November 19, 1851 edition of the Dundee Record celebrated the creation of the new town. The newspaper report noted the Supervisors, upon the adjournment of the meeting, traveled from Penn Yan to Dresden, “where they were cordially received by the citizens, and a grand christening and burning of tar barrels took place,” along with a supper at the Eagle Hotel where toasts were made and the Dresden Bass Band performed.

The newspaper report also pointed to the practical necessity for a new town, stating many Benton residents had to travel nine or 10 miles (a lengthy distance in horse-and-buggy days) for town meetings and town business in Benton Centre. Thus, many residents lodged “well founded complaints” that the interests of those who lived on the east side of town were neglected in favor of those on the west side. The creation of a new town, then, was a matter of convenience for the county and an act of justice for residents along the lake. And it was not a political movement, as residents of opposing political leanings came together to work toward achieving the objective of a new town.

By Jonathan Monfiletto

(The following essay is the script I - Jonathan Monfiletto - presented while portraying Frank Crozier during the Yates County History Center’s annual Walk Through History cemetery tour at Benton Rural Cemetery in August 2022. Frank, the only son of George and Fannie Crozier, believed his father was innocent of murdering his mother; nevertheless, George was convicted of the crime and eventually sentenced to life imprisonment. The bulk of the material for this script came directly from YCHC’s archival collection, which includes transcripts of the trial, newspaper articles from the time, and George Crozier’s letters.)

Hello, everyone, my name is Frank Crozier, and I want to welcome you all to the Crozier family plot here in Benton Rural Cemetery. Here, you’ll find my parents, George and Fannie, my grandparents, Adam and Amy, my uncle David and aunt Dolly, me of course, and a few other family members. I was born here in Benton in 1857, just two years after my parents got married, and I was George and Fannie’s only child. I’m sure they wanted more children, but for whatever reason it just didn’t happen. My great-grandfather, Adam Crozier Sr., was born in Scotland and came to New York State from England in 1801. In 1817, for just under $2,000, he purchased the Crozier family farm in Benton and settled on the homestead here, and my grandfather, Adam Jr., took it over with his brother a few years later. Later, Dad and Uncle David – my grandparents’ only surviving children – made their living and raised their families on the homestead. It was on what is now Route 14A near the intersection with Ferguson Corners Road. Here we are today.

But you’re probably more interested in hearing about something that happened to our family in the spring of 1876 – my father was convicted, wrongly in my opinion, of murdering my mother by poisoning her with arsenic. See, Mom took sick in the summer of 1875, just before my first wife, Emma, and I got married; Mom had stomach problems on and off throughout her life and she feared she had some sort of stomach cancer. In fact, she told me that she would rather kill herself than suffer such agony. I told her not to say such a thing and not to even do such a thing; certainly, if she did kill herself, people would blame Dad or me, I told her. Sure enough, on the Monday before she died, after she had been sick for close to two weeks, I witnessed Mom put some white powder in a tumbler, pour some water into it, and then drink it. Now, Mom had asked Dad to buy some arsenic to kill rats earlier that spring – when you live on a farm, you’re going to get rats in the farmhouse from time to time – so I knew exactly what that white powder was and what it could do. Mom vomited soon after she took this dreadful concoction. I saw her take some more of this powder the next day, and again she vomited almost right after. Then, she just got worse and worse until she died a couple of days later on July 29, 1875. We had Mom’s funeral shortly afterward and buried her in the family plot here, and then just a week after Mom died, Emma and I got married on August 5. It was a bittersweet occasion, of course, and I wasn’t sure if we should go through with the wedding right away, but we had everything planned and we had our families together. And Dad said it’s what Mom would have wanted, and it would give our family something happy to think about through the sadness over Mom’s death.

Oh, how Dad loved Mom so much. He worked so hard on the family farm to make sure Mom and I were provided for. He always took such good care of her, especially when she was sick. In fact, he took such good care of her he didn’t want any help from anyone and tried to turn away anyone who offered a hand. People in our town used Dad’s devotion to Mom against him by accusing him of plying her with the poison I saw her consume with her own hand. Dad just wanted to keep a close eye on the medicine the doctor gave Mom for her stomach trouble, to make sure it was given to her properly. People in this town can be such savage gossipers, I tell you.

Anyway, Emma and I moved in with Dad after we got married, so we could look after him after Mom died. Emma suggested she and I see if we could get a hired girl to do the housework, which Mom used to do of course, and one day a local girl by the name of Minerva Dutcher showed up to be that hired girl. Now, that didn’t sit too well with Emma because at that time – and even before Mom’s death – there were rumors going around town that Dad was carrying on an affair with Minnie. She being 18 years old, he being 42 years old and married. Well, of course Dad and Minnie knew each other; they sang in the church choir together at the Baptist church in Benton Center. They were friendly when they saw each other along the road, and sometimes they walked to church together to talk about the songs they were singing and whatnot. Was there anything more going on between them? Other than a friendship, I don’t think so. Dad was a devoted husband to Mom – OK, maybe not as devoted as he should have been, but if there was anything going on between Dad and Minnie, he certainly didn’t need to kill Mom to cover it up. And it’s not like Dad and Minnie ran away together or anything; he went to prison, obviously, and she married John Henry Calhoun a couple of years later. But I’m getting ahead of myself. So, Emma got Minnie out of the house and Emma and I handled the housework for Dad instead; with Minnie kicked out, that really started the rumors flying around town. People really began suspecting Dad poisoned Mom, as some people knew there was arsenic in our house and spread the word around. Before we knew it, the county coroner was having Mom’s body dug up so he could test her stomach for arsenic. Sure enough, he found evidence of arsenic in her stomach – no kidding, I could’ve told you that, but nobody asked me of course. Heck, I saw Mom drink water with arsenic in it!

The next thing we know, Dad was arrested and thrown in the county jail on suspicion of committing murder. Things got pretty awkward between Emma and me by that point, which isn’t good for newlyweds or any married couple for that matter. She had her suspicions about Dad’s acquaintance with Minnie and was of the belief that Dad murdered Mom. I knew the truth, of course, so I knew Dad was innocent of the poisoning. We continued to live in Dad’s house on the homestead next to Uncle David and Aunt Dolly, with Emma’s parents, David and Emma Armstrong, just down the road from the farm. When the trial finally got going in March 1876, Uncle David and I sat by Dad’s side throughout the whole ordeal because we really believed Dad was innocent and that he loved Mom and wouldn’t have killed her. Emma actually testified against Dad for the prosecution while I testified in Dad’s defense – did I mention things got awkward between us? I told the court everything I have just told you, so you tell me – would a son who loved his mother as much as I did betray her like that to defend a murderous man? I don’t think so. But apparently the jury didn’t agree; the 12 men found Dad guilty of first-degree murder, and then the judge sentenced Dad to hang before God and everybody for this crime.

Now, Dad had a cousin on his mother’s side, John Southerland, who was the New York State Assemblyman at the time. Dad thought cousin John might be able to get the governor’s attention and plead for clemency on Dad’s behalf. So, Dad wrote cousin John some letters from prison, expressing his devoted love for Mom and professing his honest innocence. Uncle David and I got some people together to sign petitions proclaiming Dad’s innocence too and showing we believed him and his story. But that didn’t do any good either. Or maybe it did; Dad had his life sentence commuted and spent the rest of his days at Auburn Prison. Like Mom, though, he probably would’ve rather died than to suffer the rest of his life agonizing over losing Mom and being blamed for a crime he didn’t commit and that never was committed. Ironically, perhaps, Dad ended up outliving all of us here except for Aunt Dolly.

Things never were the same between Emma and me after that, which actually breaks my heart to say out loud. We grew up right next door to each other – she was literally the girl next door for me – and we knew each other from school and church and everything. It didn’t take us long to go from becoming friends to falling in love. Oh, we really and truly loved each other and looked forward to a long, happy life together with lots of children. But, after I took Dad’s side and she turned against him, our relationship grew kind of cold. Then, a little more than two years after the trial, Emma died of consumption, just 21 years old. One day she was fine, the next day she was sick, and the next day she was gone, just like that. She never got the chance to be a mother or really much of a wife either. We were married just less than three years. But I found love again pretty quickly and married Miss Addie Edmonston, of Phelps, on January 15, 1879. We were both still just 22 years old; I had gotten to know Addie’s father – well, and Addie herself – through some of my business travels in my work related to the farm. We got pregnant pretty quickly, and our daughter, Nettie, was born that November. The three of us lived on the Crozier family homestead in Benton; Addie was my pride and joy, and Nettie was daddy’s little princess.

As much as I loved and missed Emma, marrying Addie and having Nettie just seemed like a fresh start for me, a way for me to finally get past Mom’s death and Dad’s ordeal. Sadly, though, I left them pretty early on when I was just 30 years old. I don’t know what happened to be honest with you. One Friday, I was out doing business in Halls Corners and feeling great physically and feeling good about where our life was going. On Saturday, January 29, 1887, I woke up at 6 in the morning – a little later than I’m just to, being a farmer and all – and I asked Addie what time it was. Next thing I know, boom, I drop dead of paralysis of the heart – a heart attack, I think you people call it nowadays. Nettie was just seven years old. Well, that's where my story ends.

By Jonathan Monfiletto

To the auto racing fan in me, Memorial Day weekend means one thing: three of the world’s most prestigious and most spectacular races taking place on the same day, the Monaco Grand Prix, the Indianapolis 500, and the Coca-Cola 600, all on the Sunday of the weekend.

To the American patriot in me, Memorial Day weekend means I get to do all of those fun things – sitting around watching races all day, eating too much good food, enjoying the first taste of summer with the late spring sunshine, hanging out with friends – because many men and women have served and sacrificed in the U.S. military to defend our freedoms, protect our way of life, and keep our world safe.

Naturally, then, as Memorial Day draws near, I am thinking about those who have answered Uncle Sam’s call of duty and been willing to lay down their lives for their fellow Americans. For this article, I am particularly honoring and remembering the men and women from the Yates County town of Benton who served their country and community during World War I.

You ask, why do I focus on this specific group of veterans? That’s because I recently helped provide research for local history projects for the fourth-graders of St. Michael School in Penn Yan. One of the students chose Yates County World War I veterans for their topic and then decided to home in on veterans from Benton, where this student and their family live.

In 1921, shortly after what was then called the World War or the Great War, E.D. Harrison, of Penn Yan, compiled and published a book titled “Yates County in the World War, 1917-1918.” This book details the stories of the men and women from Yates County who took part in World War I, including the units in which they served and the battles in which they fought and other aspects of their service.

As I gathered research for the student, I perused this book and learned the stories of the, by my count, 55 people who at the time called Benton home and served in some capacity during the war. This group includes Corporal Arthur Allen Lee, who enlisted in the 3rd New York Infantry in June 1916 prior to the United States’ entry into the war. In April 1917, he was recalled and assigned to the 108th Infantry, 27th Division; in May 1918, he was sent overseas and appeared in battles in France at Arras, St. Quentin, Cambrai, and Ypres.

Twelve men from Benton enlisted in the U.S. military once America entered the war. Among these men was Private Alfred Williams, who joined the Marine Corps in April 1917 and subsequently landed in France that November. Serving with 73rd Company, 6th Regiment, 4th Brigade, 2nd Division, he appeared in the Battle of Soissons, where he was instantly killed by machine gun fire on July 19, 1918. He was posthumously awarded two Battle Clasps on the Victory Medal.

A total of 36 men from Benton were inducted, or drafted, into the military as part of the war effort. Private Ledwith Robert Poole, who was assigned to the Medical Corps and served with the 306th Field Hospital, 77th Division, was one of these men. He sailed for France in March 1918 and arrived that May; his entry notes the 306th’s work included first aid in the battle lines. Poole is one of three World War I veterans both mentioned in Harrison’s book and buried in Benton Rural Cemetery (the student was particularly interested in World War I veterans buried there).

Three men from Benton enlisted in the Students’ Army Training Corps, a unit the U.S. War Department specially created in early 1918 to allow students to both take college courses and train for the military. Private Sidney Elliot Ayres served at Cornell University, while Private Gerald Howard Fisher and Private Clyde Benjamin Gelder served at Hobart College. Two other men from Benton, Donald R. Comstock and George T. Collin, are listed in a section of Harrison’s book titled “Other Service Men.” This section appears to cover men from Yates County whose wartime service was credited to other locations. Comstock’s service was credited to New York City, while Collin’s service was credited to Elmira.

Two women from Benton were active parts of the war effort. Louise Kipp served as a dietitian with the Red Cross, while Flora Belle Pierce served as a nurse. Though details of Pierce’s service are recorded in Harrison’s book, it is noted Kipp enlisted in March 1918, was called to active service in August 1918 at Camp Sherman, Ohio, and was transferred to Letterman General Hospital in San Francisco in July 1919.

Another World War I veteran – and possibly a 56th veteran to serve from Benton – is Allen Eugene Scutt; Scutt is buried in the Benton Rural Cemetery (Collin is the third veteran both listed in the book and buried there, by the way) but curiously is listed in Harrison’s book without a hometown. Enlisting in July 1917, Scutt was assigned to the 340th Infantry, Medical Detachment and later transferred to 170th Infantry Brigade Headquarters. He arrived in France in August 1918 as a member of 85th Division, Brigade Headquarters and then transferred to Division Headquarters, 38th Division.

Though Williams appears to be the only World War I veteran from Benton to be killed in action during the conflict, two other soldiers – Private Valentine P. Allen, who enlisted in July 1917, and Private Ross Mathew Conley, who was inducted in July 1918 – died of disease. Remember, the World War coincided with what was called the Spanish flu pandemic (because Spain, not involved in the conflict, reported on it more heavily than the countries waging the war; it is now believed the pandemic may have originated in soldiers at Fort Riley, Kansas). Harrison’s book lists Allen’s cause of death as bronco-pneumonia on October 5, 1918 and Conley’s as pneumonia on October 12, 1918.

Allen served with Co. I, 23rd Infantry from July 1917 until March 1918 and with Headquarters Co., 3rd Brigade, 2nd Division until October 1918, serving overseas from September 1917 until his death. Conley was assigned to 154th Depot Brigade and then to Co. C, 211th Field Signal Battalion, and he was stationed at Camp Meade, Maryland at the time of his death.

Happy Memorial Day, everyone, and to military veterans everywhere, thank you for your service and sacrifice for your community, our country, and our world.

By Jonathan Monfiletto

If you read Stafford C. Cleveland's “History and Directory of Yates County,” published in 1873, then you might think the Crozier family was a normal and ordinary, happy and healthy family – and you would probably be correct, at least for the time.

According to Cleveland's entry on the Crozier family, George E. Crozier was born in 1833 and married Fannie H. Becker in 1855. The couple lived on George's family homestead in Benton, which George's father, Adam Crozier Jr., and uncle, John, had inherited from their father, Adam. In turn, Adam Crozier had purchased the farm on lot 51 in Benton after immigrating to the area from England.

George and Fannie are described as having one son, Frank, who was born in 1857.

Yes, from that information, the Crozier family seems like a regular, everyday family, perhaps a late-nineteenth century version of the Cleaver family from “Leave It to Beaver.” Yet, as anyone who is familiar with Yates County history might know, the Crozier family's story turned upside down just two years later.

The Penn Yan Express reported on October 10, 1875 that the body of Fanny Crozier – who died nearly three months before – was exhumed on the suspicion that her death came by a criminal, rather than natural, means as a result of poisoning. According to the article, the coroner would perform a chemical analysis on the body. Later, the analysis found evidence of arsenic in the stomach and the liver. Then, George Crozier was indicted – and convicted – of his wife's murder, yet he proclaimed his innocence until he died in prison 20 years after the trial.

Crozier went on trial in March 1876, and following an almost two-week trial, he was found guilty and sentenced to death by hanging. The New York governor later commuted the sentence to life imprisonment. In between the sentencing and commutation, Crozier wrote two letters – which are in the Yates County History Center's collection – to a “Cousin John” to adamantly proclaim his innocence and urgently seek the governor's help in his situation.

I came across these letters during my internship at the History Center in the summer of 2021 while cataloging boxes of archival documents. I actually didn't know what the first letter was, only that it didn't have an accession number and I needed Bill Murray's help to identify the document. From the moment Bill told me about Crozier and the murder trial, I have been fascinated by the story.

While the first letter was simply addressed to Cousin John, the second letter included the envelope it was sent in – addressed to John Southerland, member of Assembly. It turns out Cousin John was in fact the Assemblyman at the time, so he likely would have been able to get the governor's attention on Crozier's behalf if he felt so inclined.

Was Southerland actually Crozier's cousin, or was Cousin John just a term of endearment Crozier used for his Assemblyman? I'm not certain on that, although an article by Herbert A. Wisbey Jr. a century after the trial points out that Crozier's mother was Amy Southerland. Perhaps Crozier and Southerland were cousins on Crozier's mother's side.

What I am certain of is the fervent tone of these rambling letters. If you believe Crozier did indeed murder his wife, then this is the incomprehensible spewing of a madman covering up his guilt. If you believe Fanny died naturally and not by murder, then this is the desperate plea of an innocent man trying to set himself free.

As the story goes, according to Wisbey, Fanny became ill on July 15, 1875, and the family doctor prescribed medicine for food poisoning and made house calls. Fanny had severe stomach pains and vomiting again on July 26 and gradually weakened until she died on July 29. Coincidentally, George had allegedly been having an affair with 18-year-old Minerva Dutcher; George maintained it was innocent flirtation, but local gossip claimed it was a serious affair. The affair was reported as the motive for Crozier to kill his wife, though Wisbey indicates George “enjoyed the company of young girls” and Fanny simply put up with it and turned her eyes.

On March 8, March 15, and March 22, 1876, the Penn Yan Express carried weekly synopses of the trial. For the prosecution, various physicians and medical experts described the symptoms of arsenic poisoning, which seemed to be in line with Fanny's illness. Neither Fanny's apparent stomach ailment nor the medicine prescribed for it would have caused these symptoms, the doctors said. Other prosecution witnesses testified to Crozier's suspicious behavior during Fanny's illness and after her death and his equally suspicious encounters with Minnie Dutcher.

Defense witnesses – Crozier's son, Frank, and his brother, David, among them – attested to George and Fanny's good marriage and pleasant life throughout their 20 years together and his care for his wife during her illness. Witnesses also claimed Fanny had suffered from stomach pains for several years, believed she had cancer in her stomach, and told people she would kill herself before allowing herself to suffer. The defense brought doctors of its own to suggest arsenic could have been in the medicine prescribed to Fanny, enough poison to cause death.

Despite – or perhaps because of – Crozier's pleas and the work of others on his behalf (about 800 people signed petitions supporting his innocence), he spent the rest of his life confined at Auburn Penitentiary. Frank – described by Wisbey as “his loyal son” – died at age 30, nine years before Crozier died in 1896.