Early owners of Abington: sharp-dealing merchants

Quakers could be very good people, with benevolent religious beliefs, but they could also be sharp merchants. Most of them believed that there was no contradiction between being a good Quaker and being successful in business.  Samuel Cart was an active member of Abington monthly meeting, one of the trustees for the meeting house, and prominent in the early meeting minutes. Yet he was willing to cut a harsh deal with a poor man seeking to emigrate. In 1699 Samuel Hadden went before the Council and complained that Samuel Cart had encouraged him to immigrate, saying that if he could procure seventeen passengers, then his own passage would be free and his wife and four children would come for £15. So Hadden sold his effects, travelled 70 miles to Bristol with his family and the agreed-upon seventeen passengers, and loaded his goods on board, only to face a demand from Cart that he pay another £25. Hadden tried to remove his goods from the ship but Cart would not let him. He only had three pence left, and was forced to sell two of his children into indentured servitude or “stay in England, when his whole substance was Caried elsewhere”.  He petitioned the Council to return his children to him. Cart appeared and debated the issue with Hadden, and in the end the Council ruled that Cart had to return Adam Hadden to his father and pay £10 for the passage, while Hadden had to pay £8 to Cart.

Another of Cart’s neighbors also got into trouble with the Council for his business dealings. William Powell was a cooper from Southwark, Surrey. He immigrated, and did not live on his Abington land, but leased it out and lived on the Schuylkill River. The Council had granted Philip England the rights to ferry people and horses across the river, and erect landing places on both sides. Powell bought a boat and muscled into the business, violating the monopoly granted to England. The Council reprimanded him in the summer of 1693, and he tried to evade the restriction by selling the boat to a group of local Welshmen who hired Nathaniel Mullinax to be their ferryman. In 1694 England complained to the council again. The Council read Powell the minutes of the previous reprimand and made him promise to get out of the business; they threw Mullinax in gaol until he gave security for his good behavior.

The early merchants were often over-extended financially, with their money died up in land or ships. If they happened to die early, as William Stanley did in 1689, they could leave substantial debts. Stanley had grand hopes for his 500 acres in Abington, calling it Mount Stanley. But he died before March 1690 when Walter King took Stanley’s widow Rebecca to court for a debt of £128. The sheriff according to the custom took twelve honest men and appraised Stanley’s various lands, awarding Mount Stanley to King to cover the debt. King promptly sold it to Peter Baynton, a scoundrel who cared more for his fortune than his family, and who specialized in marrying wealthy widows. Baynton first married Rebecca Stanley, but she died in childbirth in 1691. The next year he married Anna Keen, widow of James Sandelands, a merchant of Uplands. Baynton absconded to England in 1694 with the moveable proceeds of Sandelands’ estate, leaving Anna and the children in Pennsylvania. In 1698 he wrote a letter to her saying that he did not intend to return, that he had taken another wife in England, and that he planned to remove the remainder of the estate to England. She promptly went to the Council and pleaded to be allowed to sell the Pennsylvania properties in order to support herself and the children, which the Council granted. Baynton later returned to Pennsylvania, outlived Anna, and left his fortune to his daughter Rebecca.

Early owners of Abington: the women

There were four women who owned land in Abington in their own names: Catherine Martin, Sarah Fuller, Mary Broadwell, and Elizabeth Shorter. Three of them were widows, one was unmarried. At that time married women did not own property; any property a woman owned became her husband’s when they married. Widows, on the other hand, had some economic freedom if they inherited land at the death of their husband. In most cases they could dispose of it as they pleased, buying and selling in their own name.

Catherine Martin arrived in September 1682 with her husband Isaac and daughter Elizabeth. Isaac, a felt-maker from London, died the following May, leaving his land to Catherine. She shared it with their daughter Elizabeth, giving Elizabeth the tract in Abington. Elizabeth married Joseph Farrington, but died soon afterward, possibly in childbirth, and he sold the land.

Sarah Fuller and her stepfather John Barnes were from Sussex, two miles from Penn’s estate of Warminghurst. They probably worshipped with Penn there. Barnes was a tailor in Sussex and a farmer in Abington. He must have done well and is sometimes referred to as the wealthy tailor. He bought land for himself and for Sarah, perhaps as a dowry, She married a saddler, William Dillwyn, in 1687 and lived in the city with him. Barnes later donated part of his Abington land to Abington Meeting.

Another tract in Abington was owned by a woman at the time the map was finished, although the name on the map was William Chamberlin. He owned the land for a few years, and sold it to Mary Broadwell in 1685. She owned it for ten years. Mary Broadwell was remarkable. When she died on January 2, 1730 it was claimed that she was aged one hundred years and one day. The Pennsylvania Gazette noted that “Her Constitution wore well to the last, and she could see to read without Spectacles a few Months since”. At a time when many people did not live to see grandchildren, she named great-grandchildren in her will! A midwife, she also kept a shop in Philadelphia.

Elizabeth Shorter was a widow and a glover from London, who immigrated and settled in Abington. Her son-in-law John Rush also bought 250 acres, laid out in Abington adjoining her land. In the spring of 1687, he brought her a paper to sign, purporting to be a letter of attorney, but actually an extraordinary deed of gift conveying everything she owned to “my beloved son John Rush”. It read in part, “For my special naturall favour which I bear toward John Rush of Philadelphia my beloved son and for divers other good causes. I do grant all my lands, goods, chattells, leases, deeds, ready money, plate, household stuff, appearall, utensills, brass, pewter, bedding and all other my substances whatsover, moveable and immoveable, quick and dead, of what kind nature quality or condition … freely and quietly without any manner of challenge claim or demand.”  She signed with her mark.

It must have been a shock to her when she found out what she had signed. But she knew exactly how to deal with it. She went straight to the governing body for the province, the Council in Philadelphia. At their meeting on 3rd month 1687, she appealed for help. “The Petition of Elizabeth Shorter, Widdow, was read, complayning that John Rush, her son in Law, instead of a Letter of Attorney that shee was to signe, prepared a Deed of gifft of all her Estate, with power of Atturney, to one Samll Atkins, to acknowledge the same in Court. The Wittness to ye Deed were severally examined; They all Confest the writing was not Read to her, nor Could shee Ever write or Read herselfe, so yt it appeared to this board to be an Absolute Cheat.”  It is clear that she was able to get the fraudulent deed anulled, since later that year she sold one of her city lots, and she owned her Abington land until 1699. [1] There was a large family of Rush in Byberry, starting with John Rush, “the Old Trooper”, who had fought with Cromwell and who emigrated with his wife and sons about 1683. He apparently had a son John, and it is possible that John Rush of Abington was the son of the Old Trooper, but there are no records connecting them.

Rush had been accused of a serious crime several years before. In 1683 Charles Pickering and two accomplices were brought before the Council and questioned about counterfeiting—coining Spanish silver bits with copper added. They admitted to adding more copper alloy than usual, but said their money was “as good Silver as any Spanish money”. Pickering added that he heard John Rush swear that he spent half his time making bits. Rush was a blacksmith, who would have the skills to work with metal. When sent for and examined, Rush positively denied this, and he was not punished by the Council. Pickering was found guilty by a jury, and sentenced to make full restitution to anyone who brought in one of his “base and counterfitt coynes”, and fined forty pounds toward the building of a court house.

Early owners of Abington: the lecher, the surveyors, and the secretary

Samuel Clarridge owned the largest single tract, over 2500 acres, almost a quarter of the township. He never came to Pennsylvania. A wealthy Dublin merchant, he became a Quaker and was thrown into prison more than once, along with other Dublin Friends like Robert Turner and Thomas Holme. When Penn opened up the land in Pennsylvania for purchase Clarridge bought 5000 acres, as a gesture of support and in hopes of  a profit. With properties and a family in Dublin he probably did not consider emigrating. His good standing with Friends was seriously threatened when his maid became pregnant and he sent her to England to have the child, earning him a sharp reprimand. Clarridge sold his Pennsylvania land to Thomas Holme. 1

Thomas Holme, the map-maker and Surveyor General, was a colorful character, with a different background than many of the emigrants. As a soldier in Cromwell’s army he helped to conquer Ireland. One of his services was to rebuild a castle devastated in the fighting; he also surveyed the county of Kerry. After the war he bought land in Waterford and raised his family there instead of returning to England. Perhaps repelled by the devastation he became a Quaker. As a Quaker he was persecuted for his beliefs; he was fined and thrown into prison like so many others. But in 1682 he set off for Pennsylvania to be Surveyor General for William Penn’s new province. Holme came in September 1682 on the Amity, along his grown children, several indentured servants, and William Crispin’s son Silas. William Crispin, a cousin of Penn, had been Penn’s first choice for Surveyor General, but he died on the voyage and was replaced by Holme. Silas Crispin inherited his father’s lands, including two large tracts in Abington.

Another tract belonged to Thomas Fairman, a contentious and difficult man, whose services were valuable to Penn and Holme in the early days. When Penn and his commissioners arrived in 1682 Fairman rented out his house, billing Penn for the cost of putting them up. While Holme was staying with Fairman he must have recruited Fairman as one of his surveyors, since there was too much work for one man. Fairman incurred Holme’s anger for some sharp dealings as a surveyor, but Holme needed him even though he distrusted him. Thomas’ brother Robert invested in Pennsylvania land, including a tract in Abington, but he never immigrated, and Thomas sold his lands for him.

William Penn knew Thomas Holme and Silas Crispin personally, and he certainly came to know Thomas Fairman. But there was one Abington purchaser whom he relied upon and worked with intimately. This was his private secretary Philip Theodore Lehnmann. Lehnmann probably came with Penn on the Welcome in 1682. He attended the Council sessions, handled correspondence, and stayed behind when Penn returned to England in 1685? to defend his colony against the boundary claims of Lord Baltimore. But when Penn arrived in London and looked for the evidence he needed, he made a discovery that gave him a shock. Lehnmann had forgotten to pack the all-important depositions. As Penn put it, “Phil Lemain has most carelessly left behind ye York papers [that] Lloyd brought and should have come as the ground and very strength of my coming so yt I am now here with my finger in my mouth, he could not have done me a worse injury nor Balti[more] a greater service, if he had had ye bribe of 10000 to do it.” 2 Needless to say Penn fired Lehnmann after that. Lehnmann died, a widower and childless, in 1687. He left many debts and part of his Abington tract was seized by the sheriff and sold to pay them.

Next: the women of Abington

  1. Dublin’s Quaker Merchant, by Richard Greaves, a biography of Clarridge’s associate Anthony Sharp.
  2. Papers of William Penn

Early owners of Abington township

When the English Quakers came over in fifty boats in 1682 and 1683 they settled in Philadelphia and in an arc of rural townships, from Chester County through Philadelphia County and eastward to Bucks County. Abington township lay in the middle of this arc. It was good farmland, well-watered by streams and creeks, and not too far from Philadelphia, an important feature for farmers who might take their surplus to the market to sell. It was also the seat of Abington Monthly Meeting, one of the earliest, largest, and most influential of the Quaker meetings.

Abington was typical of the townships settled early by English Quakers. It was not a “linear village” like Germantown or a proprietary manor like Springfield. It was not owned by a single purchaser like Nicholas More’s Manor of Moreland, nor was it dominated like a single family like the Growdens in Bensalem. Instead Abington, like many townships in lower Bucks and Chester Counties, was cut up into tracts for the first purchasers, most of whom bought their land in England from William Penn in 1681. At first the land in the township was owned by these early purchasers, but as the years passed, it was divided into smaller tracts. Some of the early purchasers did not settle on their tracts, but bought them as speculation. They settled instead on lots in the city, if they came to Pennsylvania at all. Of those who immigrated, some lived on their city lots; some sold them and lived in the country. As we will see, the early owners of Abington were a mix of immigrants and speculators.

The township was not originally called Abington. When Thomas Holme made his map in 1687, it had no name. In early deeds it was described as “the county of Philadelphia” or sometimes “Pemmapecca” (by any of several creative spellings). Holme drew a dotted line across his map dividing it into a northern and southern half, suggesting that it was originally meant to be two townships. The upper half was sometimes called Hilltown, and the lower half was sometimes called Dublin. When the township boundaries were finally laid out, Abington was formed from Hilltown and the northern part of Dublin, while the remainder of Dublin became Lower Dublin.[1] Abington township is quite large compared to other townships, over 10,000 acres. It touches Cheltenham, Upper Dublin, Moreland, and Lower Dublin, and touches (or almost touches) Springfield, Horsham and Oxford at the corners.

Pennypack Creek flows south through much part of Abington, crossing from Moreland and flowing south and southeast on its way to Lower Dublin and the Delaware River. It is a strong flowing stream and in the 1700’s was dotted with mills. Frankford or Tacony Creek also flows through Abington, on a path parallel to the Poquessing and west of it, through Cheltenham and so down to the Delaware. One large tract in the middle of Abington, originally Sarah Fuller’s land, had streams that drained into both the Frankford and the Poquessing Creeks.

Who were the first purchasers in Abington? They were an interesting mix—Wasey  the sea captain captured by Barbary pirates, Clarridge the Irish lecher, Lehnmann the careless secretary, Mary Brodwell the midwive who lived to be a hundred, Elizabeth Shorter the glover, John Rush her deceitful son-in-law, the good Quaker farmers and the sharp-dealing Quaker merchants. By studying early records—land deeds, Penn’s letters, minutes of the Council, and more—we can find the stories hidden behind the names on the map. The next post will begin to tell those stories.

[1] The township of Upper Dublin lies north of Abington and, confusingly, does not touch Lower Dublin. The two Dublins were not derived from subdivision of one township, and currently lie in two different counties. When Montgomery County was split from Philadelphia County in 1784, the county line was run between Abington (in Montgomery) and Lower Dublin (in Philadelphia).

Matthew and the practical joke

A group of people from Maryland were drinking at the house of Henry Hollingsworth. Some of them knew Matthew Risley and fell into conversation with him about marriage. They heard that he had married a couple in Maryland and asked whether he would marry a couple now. He told them yes, for twenty pounds. Then he agreed to do it for two pieces of eight. When they asked him, what if she was an heiress, he agreed to do it for a pot of beer. Whereupon they called for two pots of beer to give him and he told them that she must get up very early in the morning and take him with her on the horse and he would do the marriage. But they were in earnest to be married that night, so he went and got a Bible and so proceeded as far as they thought they could well let him, and then one of the company untied the morning gown that the “woman” had on and so discovered him to be a man.

Matthew was hauled into the court for presuming to marry a couple against the laws of the province, and severely punished. 1

  1. Court records of Chester County, 10th month 1698.

He said. She said. An x-rated story from 1693.

A sensational case came before Chester County Court in 4th month 1693. Philip Yarnell sued Moses Musgrave for spreading a scandalous story about him. Musgrave brought witnesses to show that the story was true. Elizabeth Woodyard testified that Philip Yarnell came to her father’s house and asked whether she was a woman. She answered that she was all on as other women, she thought. He said that he would feel and she said that he should not, and he said, “How should he know whether she was all on as other women if he did not feel, since she was to be his wife.” And then he took her hand, being stronger than she, and put into his codpiece and would have her to feel his members how they went limber or stiffer.

Another night he came to her father’s house and asked her sister Mary to keep her up, and Mary said that she would do what she could. When Elizabeth saw him come in, she ran out into another room and caught hold of the bed post. He followed her and caught hold of her and lifted her on the bed and they lay down on the bed. She being awake three nights before was very sleepy, and she fell asleep and thought she might sleep near an hour or thereabouts. As she was sleeping she thought she felt her clothes to go up and her feet to move, and she awakening asked him how he could be so wicked and come from such a good meeting. And then she cried bitterly and at last he wept and asked her for forgiveness, and she said she did not desire any such thing and would never have anything to do with him any more. Further when she did awake she did happen with her arm to strike him and with her hand unawares she felt his members, which did afright her very much. 1

John Jones said that when he was at Yarnell’s house, Yarnell asked what people George Woodyard and his wife was, and Jones said they were civil people for ought he knew. Yarnell said he would go try his daughter Elizabeth, and see what he could do with her, and that if he could not prevail with her he would serve such a trick that she was never served in her life before.

Mary Woodyard said that the plaintiff did force her sister upon the bed. She went away because she thought that he was an honest man. Sarah Smedley said that she heard Yarnell confess that he had been foolish, insomuch as something scattered from him which was his seed.

Finally it was Yarnell’s turn to call witnesses. John Worrolow said that he and Yarnell came to George Woodyard’s house together, and saw the two girls. They asked Elizabeth whether Yarnell had forced her or not,  and she replied that it was odds between a man’s breaking a house and attempting to do it. (Was she implying that he had not succeeded in actually raping her?)

Francis Yarnell said he went along with his brother Philip to George Woodyard’s house, and he asked Woodyard to let them come face to face. But the old woman (George’s wife?) said Elizabeth should not talk to them unless an officer came, because he came to ensnare them. But they did come out of the house and George Woodyard said he wished his daughter had not made words about it. (Did he think her story was false?)

The jury must have believed that Elizabeth’s story was untrue, since they found for Yarnell. Moses Musgrove, thinking himself aggrieved, asked for an appeal. At the same court Yarnell sued Elizabeth and Mary Woodyard for scandal and defamation, but he withdrew the case. The following year Elizabeth married John Turner under the auspices of Chester Meeting, but she died a year later.  Philip Yarnell married Dorothy Baker, also at Chester Meeting.

  1. An Elizabeth Woodyard was found guilty of fornication with Thomas Eaveson in June 1688, and forced to marry him. This Elizabeth was still alive and married to Eaveson in 1693. She may have been a cousin of the Elizabeth in the Yarnell story.

Witchcraft!

Margaret Mattson was hauled before the Provincial Council in 12th mo 1683, accused of being a witch. 1 Penn presided over the case and a grand jury was called. They found enough evidence to bring her to trial and a parade of witnesses came forward. Margaret did not speak English and Lasse Cock was called to interpret. Henry Drystreet testified that he was told 20 years before that she could bewitch cows. James Sanderland’s mother said that her cow was bewitched, but later said that it was someone else’s cow that would die. Charles Ashcom testified that Mattson’s daughter sent for him one night because she saw an old woman with a knife in her hand standing at the foot of the bed.

Annakey Vanculin and his husband John believed that their cattle were bewitched, and in order to prove it took a heart of a dead calf, and boiled it. (There was a superstition that this made the witch feel the burning pain, and that she would have to come to them to break the spell.) In fact Mattson did come in and asked them what they were doing. When they told her, she said “they had better they had boiled the bones,”  which was considered “unseemly”. Mattson in her defense denied going into their house, said she was never out of her canoe. She also pointed out that the other evidence against her was hearsay, saying, “Where is my daughter? Let her come and say so.”

The jury went forth and on their return brought in a verdict that she was guilty of having the fame of a witch but not of witchcraft. Her husband posted bond for her good behavior for six months, and that was the end of it.

  1. This was the only trial for witchcraft in Pennsylvania. But in Bucks County Court in 1690 Thomas King was tried for defaming Joan Searle. King had spread a report that there was a witch nearby. Being asked who it was, he said he suspected Francis Searl’s wife for she was an ugly ill favored woman. The jury found King guilty of defaming her.

The loss of Captain Stiles

5th June, 1693. Minute of the Provincial Council.

The Lieut. Governor and Council being informed of the arrival
of the Brigantine Ann from Barbados, and that the Master George Stiles was Lost at sea, did call before them the brigantine’s Company, and passengers, to give an account of his death, whether it was casual, or whether any on board was instrumental therein.

Emanuell Marius, a Spaniard, deposed that being sailor aboard the brigantine, came out from Barbados about five weeks ago, their Company consisting of the Master, another seaman, who was pressed from them by a man of war three days after they came thence, Christopher Hodges and the deponent; when they were in sight of Land, eight leagues southward of the capes of Delaware, wind southeast, they gybed, and the boom knock’t the Master overboard, and the deponent saw him in the sea, and immediately they cut the boat lashes and got out after the Master and saw the sharks bite his hat, and as they came up to him with the boat, he sunk. Marius said that the Master had no wife, and nothing on board but a few old clothes and instruments, and that he, the deponent, cannot take an observation, and knows only the North Star.
Christopher Hodges deposed that this accident happened of the
25th day of May last, between the hours of 4 and 5 in the afternoon,
after they had made land and ran to it, and came below the Inlet, and then the Master did bid us get ready the anchor and drop it,
thinking it was the Whorekill. Ned Burch, a passenger, and shoe-
maker by trade, being at the helm where the Master, as he was showing him which wind to keep, brought the sail to gybe and struck
Burch, whose head was a little above the deck in the steerage, and
struck the Master, who was standing aloft, quite overboard; and that
this deponent saw his heels turn over his head, and so fell overboard
and cried to bring the vessel to, which they did, and got out the
boat, and flung out a barrel, and the passengers flung out ropes, but
he could get hold of none of them; they saw him swim, and at
last sunk, just as they got to him.

Later that month, Edward Burch petitioned that when the Master was knocked overboard and lost, to the hazard of the ship, goods and passengers, the people on board desired him to go ashore, which he did, at great hazard of his life, and agreed with a person to pilot the ship to a safe harbor for £20. After an easy and speedy passage into the Whorekills, the pilot was willing to take £10, which Burch paid him. Now Burch wanted the owner or present Master of the ship to repay him and to allow him some reasonable reward for his extraordinary service and danger. Jasper Yeats, to whom the vessel was consigned, agreed to repay the ten pounds. The Council could not help with Burch’s assertion that the passengers had promised him 40s each for his care. They told him to take his remedy at law for it.

Streams of blood upon the wall

In the spring of 1692 a stranger was found dead near the mouth of Neshaminy Creek. The Bucks County coroner held an inquest and determined that he was murdered. The only clue was  a large quantity of blood on the wall and bed in the house of Derrick Johnson (or Claesson) that appeared about the supposed time of the murder. The coroner saith that when he went to view the blood on the wall he perceived that it had run in several streams down the boards on the wall, which streams continued until they went behind the planks that lay on the ground floor. 1

In court Johnson said that he showed the blood on the wall to Edward Lane and his brother Claus Jonson and to his neighbor Mary Boyden. He also said there was no blood on the bed but was bled by a man that came to thrash for him three years ago.  The evidence of his wife Brita seemed to contradict his story, though the record leaves out crucial information. She said that the blood was discovered between day and sun rising [which day?] and that there was a sheet hanged on the outside of the bed as a curtain and that there was no blood on the bed [when?]. Being asked when they put fresh straw in the bed she said she was not certain but she thought about the latter end of March or beginning of April. [Was there blood on the straw or not?]

The following month, 8th month 1692, Clawson asked to be let out on bail until his trial. It had been supposed at the beginning of the court session that he would be tried quickly, but the judges, “believing it to be more discretional to defer the trial until spring to see if some thing further might not be discovered”, and since it was the winter season, ordered that bail be posted for his and his wife’s appearance at the next Quarter session. He posted bail of £100 and Claus Jonson and Peter Rambo each posted £50. 2

In March 1693, Clawson and his sureties did not appear at he court. He did come the following month to hear the grand jury present him for murdering an unknown person. He pleaded not guilty and asked for more time for his trial. The grand jury also presented his wife Brita and sister Elizabeth Jonson for aiding and assisting in the murder. They also pleaded not guilty.

Now the case was becoming serious. In April 1693 Derick petitioned the Provincial Council, complaining that he, his wife, and sister, were committed in close prison, upon suspicion, where he had continued for twelve months, without the benefit of a trial. (This seems to contradict the Bucks County court record that he had been released on bail.) In any case, his strategy was not successful. The Council ordered an immediate trial. He was found guilty and condemned to death.

His relatives, friends and neighbors petitioned the Council, casting some aspersions on how the trial was conducted. The Council rejected the petition. “The petition, containing in it reflecting matter…, was rejected, which the Lieutenant Governor and Council imputed to the drawer of the petition (supposed to be John White) and not to the petitioners, whom the Lieutenant Governor and Council excused, because of the ignorance.” They were more favorable to Brita’s petition asking for some support for herself and her children.

By the end of July, Clawson had been hanged, and the focus now shifted to the seizure of his estate. The Council summoned Israel Taylor, sheriff of Bucks County, to account for the estate and whether he had observed the law relating to persons executed for murder. “And why he left town without taking full instructions about the said estate. And why he had disposed of some parts of the estate contrary to his instructions.”

Taylor did not respond well to the questions. “To all which he answered, that he had not inventoried the said whole estate; and that he had taken some part of it, but had not meddled with the widow and children’s half part; and that he had disposed of some of the movables; and that he had paid no fees but conditionally, to be repaid him if demanded; and that he had great trouble about it; And that he had procured to himself many enemies on the account of his office; and after a peremptory manner, desired to be dismissed from the same.”

He was promptly dismissed, and ordered to bring in an inventory of the estate and a detailed account of how he had disposed of it. He promised to do so. Brita married John Enoch the following year and had more children with him. 3 The identity of the stranger or motive for the crime were never found out.

  1. Derrick was the son of John Claessen, the “paerde cooper” or horse trader. Derrick was sometimes called by his patronymic Johnson and sometimes by Claessen.
  2. There is a story that the judges were hoping he would simply run away and save them the trouble of a trial. See Davis’ History of Bucks County.
  3. Craig, 1693 Census of Swedes

Richard Crosby the fortune teller

Richard Crosby was a thorn in the side of the Chester County courts for years. In the summer of 1687 he was found drunk and unruly. Philip Denning testified that he was disordered by drink and very abusive. William Goforth said that while he was drunk Crosby challenged the Swedes or English or any other man at cudgels, wrestling or any other such violent exercise, and furthermore did strike him upon the head and did trip up his heels twice. Johannes Friend heard Crosby say that the Swedes were rogues and did take part with the Indians against the English. Before the jury went out Crosby submitted himself to the court and was fined 5s.

He appeared regularly in lawsuits between 1689 and 1693.

Late in 1696 he was in serious trouble again. At the house of James Cooper in Darby, Crosby called the magistrates knaves and rogues, adding that they “bought and sold us”. He called many of the people beggarly dogs and fools. He boasted that he and his son “knew more of the mathematical arts than any of us”. He claimed that he could tell fortunes and who had stolen goods and where they were. He said James Cooper’s kinswoman Sarah Cooper had drunk herself blind. The foreman of the grand jury said that this was gross abuse of the living and dead, some of whom bore “no small figure in this province.”

At the next court session even more testimony emerged. Crosby had called Justice Blunston a pitiful sorrowful fellow who “sold us and now was going to redeem us again”. This abuse of a magistrate was taken seriously and Crosby was fined for his words. But the grand jury had a new crime to present. Crosby had ranted, at the house of Joseph Wood, that the grand jury were all perjured rogues, and that if the sheriff came to get the fine from him “he would be the death of him”. For this Crosby was found guilty. But he was not finished. He menaced the justices and called them all felons and threatened to “make Pennsylvania shake again before he had done”. After all that he was committed to prison for a year.  (It hardly seems necessary to add that Crosby was not a Quaker.)