Frank Hague

About twenty five years ago, former Associated Press Trenton Bureau Chief John Kolesar wrote a story for New Jersey Monthly listing the biggest political scandals in New Jersey history. Among the best: the scam in which some Burlington County Republican leaders, including former Acting Governor Clifford Powell, bought two Delaware River bridges for $8 million and sold them the same day to the county for $12 million; the 1872 scandal when the Assembly Speaker forged an amendment to a bill the legislature had passed that would have broken the Pennsylvania Railroad's mainline monopoly in New Jersey; the 1899 gubernatorial election when Hudson County produced a 14,000-vote margin for the successful Democratic candidate, including 10,000 votes from people were deceased or non-existent. (67 Democratic election workers went to jail); in 1871, the Jersey City Treasurer was found to have looted the city treasury, but law enforcement officials could nail him, he beat it to Mexico, where a bandit relieved him of his booty; and Jersey City Mayor Frank Hague's entire career, in which he never made a salary higher than $7,500 but left an estate worth a couple of million dollars.

Just a few end-of-the day observations:

What would Frank Hague have thought of a Mayor of Jersey City (who is also the Hudson County Democratic Chairman) who could not deliver most of the key Hudson party leadership and elected officials to his candidate for President?  And could the gullible Brad Abelow be the only one who believes Bob Menendez is no longer involved in Hudson County politics?

An impressive list of finance committee members, led by Lewis Eisenberg, has raised just $100,000 for Anne Evans Estabrook’s bid for the Republican U.S. Senate nomination; that’s about half what Dennis Shulman, the blind Rabbi/Psychologist, has raised for his fledgling congressional campaign against Scott Garrett.  Luckily for Estabrook, she put $1.6 million of her own money into the race.  Estabrook still won’t say how much she’ll invest to unseat Frank Lautenberg.

The race for Governor of New Jersey in 1919 centered around the national debate on prohibition, with Democrats running as the wet party and Republicans taking the dry position.  One week before the election, the Republican-controlled Congress passed the National Prohibition Act, overriding Woodrow Wilson's veto.  

The winner was Democrat Edward Edwards, a 56-year-old former banker who had been elected to represent Hudson County in the State Senate two years earlier.  He defeated Republican State Chairman Newton Bugbee by a 49%-46% margin.  Edwards called himself "as wet as the Atlantic Ocean," while Bugbee said he was personally wet but politically dry.  (He even drank a beer at a public event in Clifton to demonstrate his point.

About twenty years ago, former Associated Press Trenton Bureau Chief John Kolesar wrote a story for New Jersey Monthly listing the biggest political scandals in New Jersey history. Among the best: the scam in which some Burlington County Republican leaders, including former Acting Governor Clifford Powell, bought two Delaware River bridges for $8 million and sold them the same day to the county for $12 million; the 1872 scandal when the Assembly Speaker forged an amendment to a bill the legislature had passed that would have broken the Pennsylvania Railroad's mainline monopoly in New Jersey; the 1899 gubernatorial election when Hudson County produced a 14,000-vote margin for the successful Democratic candidate, including 10,000 votes from people were deceased or non-existent. (67 Democratic election workers went to jail); in 1871, the Jersey City Treasurer was found to have looted the city treasury, but law enforcement officials could nail him, he beat it to Mexico, where a bandit relieved him of his booty; and Jersey City Mayor Frank Hague's entire career, in which he never made a salary higher than $7,500 but left an estate worth a couple of million dollars.

But the best scandal, Kolesar says, involved Governor Harold Hoffman. President Franklin Roosevelt had established the unemployment compensation system while Hoffman was Governor in the 1930's. Hoffman appointed the State Unemployment Compensation Commission and places his political allies as commission members. They established an $18,000-a-year annual salary, which at the time was 80% higher than the Governor's salary. The commission took a long time in their search for a Director, and when Hoffman's term expired, he got the job. Hoffman made a deathbed confession that he stole hundreds of thousands of dollars in that job.