COONTOWN MINISTER SERVES
THREE YEARS IN STATE PEN
[From Warren History, Volume Four, No. 10, Spring-Fall 2009]

     The life and career of the Rev. George Washington Bowers (1843-1932) reads like a late Victorian-era novel. Brought to American by his parents when he was three, he studied for the ministry, became pastor at age 29 of the church his father helped found, then after seven successful years in the pulpit he suddenly resigned, is convicted of a crime and thrown into jail. Fifteen years after his disgrace he returns to the same pulpit, his youthful transgressions forgiven, and serves honorably until his death at age 89, a pillar of the community. What may sound like fiction is in truth a remarkable chapter in Warren history.

     On Feb. 14, 1872, the Coontown Congregational Church on King George Rd. welcomed George Bowers to the pulpit. He was the 29-year-old son of John Bowers (originally Johannes Bauer), one of the founding members of the congregation. For seven years Bowers preached to the faithful in German at the morning service and in English in the evening, establishing a reputation as a man of abiding faith and good works. He married and had several children.

     Rumors that young Bowers was in some kind of trouble began spreading in early 1879. When he was absent from his post for several weeks, all of Warren took notice. Then on April 23 the larger world became aware of the Rev. Bowers when nearly identical stories appeared in the New York Sun and New York Times.

     “A Preacher in Trouble,” read the Times’ headline. “The Rev. George Bowers…was arrested in [Boston] to-day, at the request of a detective from Newark, N.J., who has been tracing him for a fortnight,” wrote the Times. “The charge against Mr. Bowers is forgery, committed on several occasions while in charge of his church in Coonville [sic], and the gross amount of his forgeries is said to be nearly $7,000. Bowers was found,” continued the Times, “in company with a married woman named Mrs Leecroft, who fled from Coonville at the same time that he disappeared, and who belonged to his congregation…for about two years.”

     The paper described Coontown as “a very quiet place, the inhabitants being mostly German or of German descent, and following the calling of farmers. Constables are a thing unknown, and crime is of so infrequent occurrence that there is no need of any legal officers.” Bowers’ salary, said the newspaper, was $1,000 per year, which combined with the numerous presents he received “was a large income in a place like Coonville.”

     “Under his ministrations the church grew and prospered. Farmers drove in on Sundays from a distance of 10 mile to hear his discourses. He was a fine musician, was accustomed after reading the hymn to step from his pulpit and play the organ for the singing.”

     “The first warning of the approaching fall of their Pastor which the members of his congregation received was the development of a passion for fast horses,” reported the Times. “They remonstrated with him, and he promised to renounce this passion. Then it became known that he was running heavily in debt. He was warned of his danger, and he promised amendment. Mrs. Leecroft, who is said to be the wife of a utility actor in New York, became a member of his congregation a little over two years ago. She, too, was a good musician, and she often sang with Bowers in private concerts. An intimacy sprang up between them, causing some gossip, but his congregation refused to believe any evil of him until about two months ago when he suddenly disappeared from Coonville without even telling his wife he was going. Then his irregularities began to appear. A farmer accused him a buying a horse from him for $80, giving his note in payment. He sold the horse the next day, receiving cash for it, but failed to take up his note. He was found to be heavily in debt, too. Three weeks ago he returned to Coonville. He said that he did not know where he had been in the interval since his departure. He had been insane. He told so pitiable a story and professed so much repentance that he received the hearty sympathy of the whole community. Then he went to his wife’s sister and represented his needs I so strong a manner that she lent him $150, all of her savings. The next day he disappeared, and with him disappeared Mrs. Leecroft, who is a prepossessing young woman of 25. Then it became known that he had forged his brother’s name, and the name of other farmers of his congregation to notes aggregating some $7,000 which he had had discounted. Detectives were at once put on his track, and he, with his paramour, was found to-day in [Boston]….

     In its issue of April 24, 1879, the Somerset Gazette broke the story to local residents, devoting seven columns to news it said it found distasteful to report but necessary “as a moral to Christian men, young and old, if they would but heed it.” The newspaper said it could have told the story in February but withheld reporting “partly because it was the wish of the public prosecutor and the pastor’s friends, but also because it was deemed best to await until all of the facts were developed.”

     According to the Gazette, Bowers was indicted for forging five notes worth $750 over a period of two years, although other notes totaling a much larger sum were also involved. Those whose names Bowers forged, among others, were George Friday, Peter Friday, William Dealman, George Wolpert, Nicholas Bowers (his brother), Martin Miller (his father-in-law) and Peter Wilhelm, all from Coontown. The paper identified his lady friend as Mrs. Annie E. Leighcraft, the 23-year-old daughter of John Davis of Liberty Corner. “She married at 16, her husband being many years older, and their wedded life, we learn, has not been happy.”

     It was five weeks before his arrest that Bowers apparently learned that he had been found out. He and Mrs. Leighcraft first went to her home in Brooklyn, then to Boston, where she sang at the Variety Theater and he solicited employment from a Congregational church there. In the boarding house they stayed in, they passed themselves off as Mr. and Miss Hamilton, brother and sister.

     Local authorities discovered their whereabouts when Mrs. Leighcraft wrote a letter to her father postmarked Dorchester, Mass. A detective was sent north, learned where the couple was staying and arrest warrants were issued. When Bowers was arrested by the Boston police, he “was humble, confessed fully, and desired to be brought to Somerville speedily.”

     Reaching Somerville on Thursday morning, April 24th, Bowers was brought directly into court, where he pled guilty to the five indictments. Later that afternoon “the prisoner was brought up and read a statement to the effect that he had done wrong and was willing to bear punishment, but asked on behalf of his family, whom he loved, and his aged mother with gray hairs, to be lenient. He said his life had been hell on earth since this crime…. Tears filled his eyes and those of many in the audience as he closed his brief, pointed and sorrowful speech.” Many from Coontown were among the large crowd in the courtroom that day which heard the judge sentence Bowers to three years hard labor at State prison.

     In a letter published in the Gazette, Bowers admitted his crimes but denied the amount embezzled was $7,000, or that he had ever earned more than $300 a year from the church or that his relationship with Mrs. Leighcraft was other than honorable. She had, he said, accompanied him to Boston for the sole purpose of giving concerts. He had, he wrote, always intended to pay back the money. “I have done wrong, which I confess, and the parties interested in the matter know it and have known it for some time. I am sorry it is done. I was not myself when I did it. Being financially embarrassed and my mind confused, I adopted measures which were wrong, but not with evil intent. I always meant well…. Luck always seemed to go against me.”

     Some time after his release from prison (the historical record is murky) Bowers returned to Warren and resumed at least part time his ministerial duties. In 1894 he accepted a call from his old church in Coontown, where he preached until his death in 1932. His 45 years in the pulpit is a township record that is unlikely ever to be broken. [Ref: NY Times, 4/23/1878; Somerset Gazette, 4/24/1878; Warren History, Vol. III, No. 5, Vol. IV, No. 3]



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