Grandpa Bludgeons Easton Family With Axe

 

Elirio "Eli" Mantoni

Sixty-year-old Elirio Mantoni of Phillipsburg, New Jersey, adored his family, especially his grandchildren, who lived across the Delaware River outside the Northampton County city of Easton. In fact, the jovial Italian grandpa loved all children; every Christmas season, the little ones of Phillipsburg, and their parents alike, would marvel at the elaborate holiday decorations he built with his own hands in front of his Columbus Avenue home. In fact, one newspaper columnist for the Easton Express, Ben Kizer, had written several articles over the years about the Christmas decorations in front of the Mantoni home.

Elirio, who was known to friends and family simply as "Eli", was always good with tools, and he loved to keep busy. While most men his age contemplated retirement, he derived immense satisfaction from his job as a crane operator at the Ingersoll-Rand plant in West Easton, just a few blocks away from the home of his daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren. But then, in the summer of 1959, workers at the plant went on strike. As the weeks stretched into months, his family noticed a change in Eli. By November, with the Ingersoll-Rand strike approaching the 100-day mark, Grandpa Eli just didn't know what to do with himself. And just when the stress of unemployment threatened to drive Elirio Mantoni to the brink of insanity, his wife, Anna, was stricken with a gallbladder attack and was hospitalized in Easton.

 

While Anna was recuperating at Betts Hospital om Washington Street, Eli went to live with his daughter and grandchildren in Wilson. On Saturday, November 21, 1959, Eli went to visit his wife in the hospital. He seemed to be in good spirits; he told his wife that on Sunday the union was going to vote on a contract proposal that many believed would bring the long strike to an end. But on Sunday night, Eli telephoned his wife with bad news; the negotiations between Ingersoll-Rand and the union had broken down. "He was very downhearted when he called his wife Sunday afternoon," recalled Mrs. Willard Ihrie, a neighbor who lived two doors down from the Mantonis in Phillipsburg. "He was a family man. He and his wife were very much devoted to each other," she added.

But little did Mrs. Ihrie know that, behind closed doors, the private lives of the Mantonis weren't as happy as they made it appear. The long strike had put the Mantonis under a great deal of emotional and financial stress. Meanwhile, Eli's 30-year-old daughter, Lillian Gabert, had separated from her husband, Richard, and was struggling to raise her three children alone-- Four-year-old Elaine, three-year-old Raymond, and 21-month-old Paul. Things were so bad for the family that the county had threatened to remove the children from the home and place them in foster care. For Grandpa Eli, the thought of losing his beloved grandchildren was too much to bear.

Lillian Gabert

 

Slaughter on a Quiet Street

On the sunny morning of Monday, November 23, the strike entered its 102nd day. However, on Williamson Street-- a short, quiet thoroughfare on the edge of West Easton-- Eli Mantoni awakened to find himself in a dark place. Those of us with our sanity intact simply don't know what it's like to snap-- to have that last frayed thread holding our lives in the balance cut, sending us plummeting into an inescapable abyss. Few of us really know the depths of such terrible despair, we can only imagine. But Elirio Mantoni lived that nightmare, though no one can really say if he knew when he stumbled out of bed that morning, that it would be his last day on earth. In fact, no one can say for certain just what happened on that morning, since no one involved lived to tell about it.

Armed with an 18-inch, three-pound axe, Eli Mantoni had forced his daughter into the kitchen, where he struck her down with the dull edge of the axe. Then he brought each of the three children into the kitchen individually to repeat the act. There was no struggle, no angry words. The victims had no idea that their lives were in danger until the last moment.

At half past noon, Mrs. Kemp of 1204 Williamson Street heard a knock on her front door. She was expecting Lillian Gabert, as Mrs. Kemp had agreed to watch the children that afternoon while Lillian was at her appointment with Family Services in Easton. But when she opened the door she saw that it was Grandpa Eli.

"Don't worry about the kids," he said. "I'm going to take Lillian and the kids with me."

Next, he calmly wiped clean the blade of his axe, got into his car and drove to Betts Hospital, where his wife was recuperating. Hiding the weapon under his coat, he asked the receptionist for permission to see his wife, but before she could say anything, Eli ran upstairs to the second floor. According to the receptionist, he appeared "quite nervous".

Eli Mantoni met his wife in the hallway. "Come into the bathroom," he said. "I have something important to tell you." He followed his wife into the women's restroom.

Outside in the hallway, nurse Madeline Bombay heard a blood-curdling scream. She ran to restroom, but Eli was frantically attempting to lock it. The nurse forced her way in and grabbed Eli by the arm, but he broke away and raced out of the room and down the corridor like a man possessed. "Help!" cried Nurse Bombay. "Someone grab that man!" But Eli was gone in the blink of an eye.

The nurse found Anna Mantoni on the bathroom floor in a pool of blood. The axe was found on the floor next to the unconscious body. Another nurse, attracted by Madeline's cry, came into the restroom with lab technician James Dennis, and they carried Anna to her room.

The former Gabert home as it appears today

 

Don't Call This a Murder

Eli Mantoni abandoned his car near Betts Hospital and proceeded on foot a short distance to the Lipkin Furniture Company warehouse at 16th and Jefferson Streets in Wilson. After climbing to the top of a four story fire escape, he took one final look at the world that he believed had treated him so cruelly; from this vantage point he could see the hospital, the Ingersoll-Rand plant, the home he had shared with his daughter and grandchildren. A mile to the east, across the Delaware River, he could make out the rooftops of Phillipsburg in the distance. He spread his arms, then fell backwards. 

The body was found by truck driver James Prime. Eli had landed on his back, his skull was fractured. He had died instantly, but police found a suicide note next to the body, written partly in English, partly in Italian:

Don't call this a murder. Call it a mercy killing. I know that it's wrong, but I must do it and I know God will forgive me... I went through lots of trouble and can't take it any longer. They were going to take the children away from Lillian... We would all be divided. This way, we will be together and our suffering will be over. We suffered more than Christ did-- a hundred times over! I did not lose my head. I did this because I love my family and grandchildren. Sorry I cannot put up my Christmas lights this year. But I wish everyone a merry Christmas.

In his note, Eli Mantoni also included his "last will and testament", directing that his property and money be equally divided between the Phillipsburg Grace Lutheran Church and the Good Shepherd Home in Easton, a facility for the mentally and physically handicapped. There was also a strange post-script to the note intended for Ben Kizer, the newspaper editor who had written so many articles about Eli's impressive holiday decorations. "I'm sorry to do this," he wrote. "Forgive me and best to all. Good times. God bless you all."

 
At the Scene of the Crime

Once the body had been identified, police tried to notify Lillian Gabert by telephone. When nobody answered, officers were dispatched to 1202 Williamson Street. Corporal Thomas Cavanaugh of the State Police, along with detectives John Mazzeo and Vincent Rammunni, tried to enter the home but found the door locked. They were soon joined by Reverend Neubauer of Good Shepherd Lutheran Church, County Detective Curtis Seltzer, and Officer Erwin Hunt of the Wilson Borough police department. They managed to unlock the door, and then they stepped into a slaughterhouse.

"I never saw anything like it in my life," said Officer Hunt. "There was blood all over the floor." Lillian was lying on her side near the kitchen door, her three children nearby. Toys were scattered around the kitchen and living room. Evidently, the little ones had been playing when their grandfather appeared, brandishing the axe. And surprisingly, all four victims, though unconscious, were still clinging to life.

"As soon as we saw them, we sent word for all the help we could get," said Detective Mazzeo. Within minutes, Dr. Robert Stein was on the scene, administering first aid, while paramedics used aspirators to suck the blood from the throats and lungs of the victims. It appeared to Dr. Stein that the wounds had been inflicted with the blunt side of the axe, but there was so much blood that it was impossible to determine the full extent of their injuries.

At Easton Hospital, a team of neurosurgeons leaped into action to save what remained of Lillian Gabert's life. Doctors Robert Jaeger, David Tilly and James Gay performed surgery to relieve pressure on Lillian's brain. Her four-year-old daughter, Elaine, unfortunately, had died shortly after her arrival. As for Eli's grandsons, Paul and Raymond, little hope was held for their recovery.

Not far away at Betts Hospital, Mrs. Anna Mantoni had regained consciousness after undergoing surgery. The decision was made to keep Eli's death a secret until she managed to recover some of her strength. "She doesn't know what happened," said Reverend Harding of Grace Lutheran Church, who had visited Anna on Monday night. "She wants to know where he is and where her daughter and children are. She will be told when it is felt she is able to understand the general revelation of what has happened."

Piecing Together a Puzzle

Eli's body was released to the Doyle Funeral Home in Phillipsburg, while Elaine Gabert's body was taken to the Fisher Funeral Home in Wilson. Meanwhile, detectives were determined to piece together the puzzle of just what had happened on the morning of November 23, 1959. Inside Eli's abandoned car on South 15th Street they found two more axes, one on the front seat, another in the trunk. Friends and neighbors were questioned and it was learned that Eli had gone to Phillipsburg that morning and asked a neighbor if he could borrow a pistol to shoot rats. When the neighbor said that he only had a shotgun, Eli shook his head and said that it was too big for the job.

Residents of the predominantly Italian neighborhood were stunned by the tragedy. Elirio Mantoni was the last person they would ever suspect of harming a child. "I found him to be an ideal fellow," said neighbor Nicholas Conti. "We're pretty much surprised and disturbed by it." Another neighbor from Columbus Avenue, Mrs. Frank Lanshe, recalled how generously Eli had treated her when she herself was a child. 

"He used to help us out," said the young housewife. "He'd send us to the movies because Mom couldn't afford it." In fact, it was impossible for authorities to find anyone who had a bad word to say about Grandpa Eli.

Reverend Harding of Grace Lutheran Church, of which the Mantonis were devout members, blamed Eli's actions on the emotional strain he had been under. "These things pile up so high," he said. "He saw no way out. His wife being in the hospital, the daughter and the children involved, the marital problems, divorce, no work-- no way out."

Photo of Mantoni's grandchildren, taken on Christmas Day, 1958.

 

Death Claims Two More Victims

Early on Tuesday morning, November 24, two-year-old Raymond Gabert died from his injuries at Easton Hospital. His mother, Lillian, remained in critical condition, as did his younger brother, Paul. All five victims had suffered fractured skulls. At Betts Hospital, Anna Mantoni's condition was much improved, but she still had no knowledge of her husband's actions or his suicide leap from the Lipkin Furniture Company warehouse. 

 

Dina Mantoni, a daughter from Asheville, North Carolina, flew to Pennsylvania to make funeral arrangements for the three victims. The funerals for Raymond and Elaine Gabert were held on Friday, and their bodies laid to rest at Northampton Memorial Shrine Cemetery. Elirio Mantoni was also consigned to the earth in the same hallowed ground, but in a different section of the cemetery. In the back of their minds, many of the mourners in attendance wondered who would be next to join them in eternal rest.

The question was answered the following day, when Lillian Gabert became the third victim claimed by Eli Mantoni's axe. Private services were held at the Morello Funeral Home in Easton, and she was buried beside her two children. 

The Last to Learn

It wasn't until December 4 when 59-year-old Anna Mantoni was told about the death of her husband and the murder of her daughter and two grandchildren. It was the hospital's chief surgeon, Dr. Glenn Elder, who broke the news. Anna, quite naturally, was visibly upset by the revelation, but Dr. Elder told reporters that it did not affect her recovery. Sadly, she never enjoyed good health after her release; she would pass away just two years later.

 

Just a few blocks away at the Easton Hospital, 21-month-old Paul Gabert continued to fight for his life, despite unbelievable odds. When Anna Mantoni was finally released from Betts Hospital on December 12, Paul was still in critical condition, with virtually no chance of recovery. Weeks passed. Paul had regained consciousness, but it was clear that he could never live a normal life; the attack had left him blind and brain damaged.

In March of 1960, Paul, now two years of age, was released from the hospital into the custody of his father, Richard Gabert, who placed him in the Good Shepherd Home-- the same facility to which Eli Mantoni had bequeathed half of his estate. There Paul remained until the winter of 1973, when he was admitted to Doylestown Hospital. Paul Gabert died at Doylestown on December 27, at the age of 15, ultimately becoming the final victim of the sad tragedy.

 

Sources:

Allentown Morning Call, Nov. 24, 1959.
Allentown Morning Call, Nov. 25, 1959.
Allentown Morning Call, Nov. 26, 1959.
Allentown Morning Call, Nov. 29, 1959.
Allentown Morning Call, Dec. 5, 1959.
Allentown Morning Call, Dec. 13, 1959.