INFERNAL MACHINES

by Rory Morgan

INFERNAL MACHINES

‘Infernal machines” was a phrase widely used in newspapers to describe bombs that were hidden or disguised, so as to explode unexpectedly, much like today’s IEDs. It wasn’t a new term; it dated back to the 16th Century. In late 1931, infernal machines came to Easton.

Turmoil in Italy lay behind the events. Anti-Fascists, Socialists, anarchists and Communists fought in the streets against the “Black Shirt” squads of aspiring dictator Benito Mussolini. Thousands upon thousands of Italians sought to escape the tumult in their country by coming to America; among them were radicals who were willing to use violence for their causes.

Easton’s encounter with infernal machines began at about 8:30 in the morning of December 30, 1931. An olive-green coupe pulled up in front of the Post Office on Ferry Street. Witnesses said that one man stayed in the car. Two men got out of the car and carried a box into the building. They went to a counter, removed six (or seven, depending on the source) packages from the box, stood at the counter to address them, and then carried them to the clerk for mailing. There was a discussion between them and the clerk about the postage rate and insurance value. (In light of the events that followed, the reason for insuring the packages is difficult to determine.) The two men left the building and got into the car where the driver was waiting.

The clerk who handled the transaction was Edward Werkheiser, age 28. He, his wife Beatrice, and their three young children lived with his mother on North Delaware Drive. He was a graduate of Easton High School, had worked at the Post Office for eight years, and was active in Masonic organizations. Decades later, his daughter Mabel remembered him as a “happy and friendly man” who enjoyed playing music.

Werkheiser noticed that the packages were all the same size – 5” x 10” x 5” – and all weighed the same – six pounds. Yet, they all had different descriptions of the contents. They were mostly addressed to various prominent Italian publishers and diplomats. All carried the same return address, in Dover, NJ.

The situation seemed suspicious to Werkheiser. Prohibition was still in effect; perhaps the packages contained illicit liquor. He opened one of them. There was an immediate explosion. Although he was still alive, he was very badly injured; among other things, he had lost an arm. He was taken to the Betts Hospital and died there an hour or two later - but before then, he was able to provide some description of the events and the two men; he described them as “foreigners”.

Werkheiser was not alone in the Post Office. When the bomb exploded, his colleague, 56-year-old John B. House, was standing nearby. He also suffered very severe injuries, including a fractured skull, and died that afternoon at Easton Hospital. He left a wife and a grown son. Two other clerks, Clarence Keller and Arlington Albert, were injured, but not fatally.

Meanwhile, the remaining packages sitting in the damaged building presented a problem. Fortunately, there was an explosives expert in Easton, Charles V. Weaver, of McCartney Street, who was employed by the DuPont Powder Company. He supervised the careful removal of the packages, and the transportation of them to an old quarry down Delaware Drive. He recognized that opening the lid triggered the explosion of the bombs, so with the assistance of County Detective George Ryan, Weaver used a long pole, with a knife attached to the end, and opened the lid of one of them. It exploded harmlessly, just as he had planned. He opened the second one; it  initially didn’t explode. Weaver began to walk toward it and then it did explode. He suffered grievous injuries and died the next day at Easton Hospital; Detective Ryan was seriously injured, but survived.

The infernal machines had now claimed three lives in Easton. Other cities were alerted; bombs were found in several, although no other fatal incidents occurred. It was difficult, in some cases, to determine whether a particular bomb was part of a conspiracy or whether someone used the opportunity to settle local political or personal disputes. Investigators focused on various Italian Socialists, Communists and anti-Fascists, but failed to produce any viable leads.

Not surprisingly, the return address in New Jersey was phony. Fingerprints from the packages did not match any others on file. The explosive used had apparently been stolen. Eyewitnesses could not identify any of the suspects brought in by law enforcement, including the 21 “underworld characters” who were "rounded up" and held in Easton’s City Hall.

The Italian government denied any involvement; its consul in Philadelphia attended two of the Easton funerals, visited the third family and donated money to all three families. The anti-Mussolini groups also denied participation. They pointed out that misspellings in the packages’ addresses should cast some doubt on whether the two men were even Italian. A monetary donation to the victims’ families also came from wealthy New York business owner and newspaper publisher Generosa Pope, who was one of the intended recipients. Two of the planned recipients had no obvious involvement in the disputes between the Fascists and anti-Fascists.

Werkheiser, House and Weaver were all buried in Easton Cemetery. In 1932, on the one-year anniversary of the incident, a newspaper published a short article recalling the events of that day and noted that the case was not yet solved.  That still remains true today. We are no closer to learning who mailed those packages than we were 88 years ago.