Bidwell's Travels, from Wall Street to London Prison: Fifteen Years in Solitude
Delmonico's, at the same time stating that they wished to make me a
business proposition.
The next evening White came in and said we would dine at a restaurant at
Sixth avenue and 31st street, instead of at Delmonico's; then he left
me, upon my promise to be on hand.
At eleven I arrived, and entering the restaurant was at once recognized
by a waiter, evidently on the lookout, and ushered into a private room
upstairs. Only White had arrived, but soon Irving and Stanley came, and
supper was ordered. With such gentry as these wine is always in order.
Then they became confidential, and the conversation turned to the
subject of making money. Very skillfully they extracted the confession
that I had none. When excited by the talk and the wine I cried out, "By
heaven, I want money!" Stanley grasped my hand and said: "Of course you
do; a man's a fool without it." Irving interjected: "Are you game to do
us a favor and make ten thousand for yourself?" "But how?" I gasped. "Go
to Europe and negotiate some stolen bonds we have, will you?"
For $10,000 to become accessory to a crime!
It was an appalling proposition, and I shrank from it with an aversion I
could not conceal any more than he and his confederates could conceal
their chagrin over the way I took it, and over the fact that their
secret had been imparted to another. More wine was ordered, and before
we parted I had promised not only secrecy, but, worse still, I had also
promised to consider the proposition and give my answer the following
night.
As my evil genus would have it, that very morning I had a visit in my
office from the agent of my landlord, requesting arrears of rent, and
from a tradesman whom I was owing, demanding immediate payment of an
overdue bill.
Pressed for money as I was, the $10,000 seemed a large sum and offered
an easy way out of my difficulties. I shall never forget that day nor
how its slow minutes dragged during the mental struggle. Time after time
I said: "What could I not do with $10,000?" How vast the possibilities
before me with that sum at my command! Then, after all, had not the
owner of these bonds lost them forever, and why should not I have a
share instead of letting these villain detectives keep all? And through
all I kept saying to myself: "This, of course, is only speculation. I
will never do this thing."
At last the stars came out, and I started for a long walk alone up
Broadway to Fifth avenue and into the Park. Since that Park was formed
few men have ever passed its walks in whose bosoms raged such a tumult
as in mine. I was young, in love with pleasure, and poverty seemed a
fearful thing. I kept saying; "I cannot do this thing!" and then I would
add: "How am I to keep up appearances, and how am I to pay my debts?"
Unhappily, I had taken an enemy into the citadel. In the misery of the
struggle I drank heavily.
In my excitement I exaggerated my poverty until it seemed impersonated
and assumed the guise of an enemy threatening to enslave me. From 8
o'clock to 11 I paced that mall, and then left it to keep my appointment
with Irving & Co., with one thought surging through my brain, and that
was that I dared not be poor, the result being that before we parted, to
their renewed question: "Will you do this for us?" "Of course I will!" I
cried, and my feet had slipped a good many steps further down the
Primrose Way to death.
CHAPTER IV.
FOOLS STUMBLING ON FORTUNES.
The present generation has become tolerably familiar with defalcations
and robberies involving enormous sums. Previous to 1861 they were
comparatively unknown, the reason being that the currency of the country
was strictly limited. There were absolutely no Government bonds or
currency, while the few bonds issued by corporations were not usually
made payable to bearer, and, therefore, were not negotiable, and were of
no use to the robber. But in 1861, to meet the expenses of the war, the
State banks were taxed out of existence and our present national
currency system came into being. In addition to the enormous issue of
greenbacks, bonds payable to bearer, amounting to hundreds of millions,
were issued by the general Government, by the individual States,
counties, towns and cities, all becoming popular investments.
Patriotism, and profit as well, led banks, corporations and individuals
all over the world to invest surplus funds in bonds, those of the
Government being most popular of all. The various issues authorized by
act of Congress were known as "seven-thirties," "ten-forties,"
"five-twenties," etc., these terms denoting either the rate of interest
or the period of years, dating from the first issue, wherein it was
optional with the Government to redeem them. Everywhere, at home, in the
theatres and public resorts not less than on the Exchange, were heard
animated discussions about "seven-thirties" and "ten-forties." The
business of the express companies of the United States took a new phase,
and for the first time in their history they began to be the carriers of
vast sums from city to city.
Then it was that those gentlemen who work without the pale of the law
discovered new prospects of wealth, and realized that even to crack a
safe or vault of a private firm would be rewarded by a find of bonds
that might amply repay all risks of robbery under police protection,
while to execute a successful raid on a car or even an express delivery
wagon on the street would mean wealth. To burglarize the vaults of a
bank meant, if undetected, anything from opening a magnificent bar or
hotel in New York to a steam yacht and Winter cruises in the tropics and
Summer nights on the Mediterranean.
The first coup in this line, which at once became famous, was startling
in its ease and magnitude. It was known, and still is, as "The Lord Bond
Robbery." Lord was a very wealthy man, who had inherited his millions.
His office was in Broad street, where he managed his estates. He had
invested $1,200,000 in seven-thirty bonds, all payable to bearer. For
the thief, if he had any knowledge of finance, and knew how to negotiate
them, such a sum as this in bonds was better than the same amount in
gold, it being more portable. One million two hundred thousand dollars
in gold would weigh upward of a ton, and would be difficult to handle,
but that sum in bonds would hardly fill a carpet-sack. In our day, with
safety deposit vaults everywhere, it seems strange that any sane man
would keep so vast a sum in an old-fashioned vault in his private
office, but Lord did so. His office was a very quiet one, with but few
visitors, there being no business transacted in it but that of his
estate.
At this time there were three or four gangs in New York, all well known
and friendly with the police--that is, some or all were more or less
under "protection," and had pulls at Police Headquarters. But the pull
could not be depended upon at all times, particularly if the robbery
made a noise and the press took it up. Then there would be violent kicks
at Headquarters, and a general all-around scramble to get the thieves,
and so far as safe, stick to more or less of the plunder. The gang that
got Mr. Lord's bonds was what in police and thieves' slang was known as
"On the Office," so named because they went around visiting offices in
the business part of the city, one of the gang going in on pretense of
making some inquiry and so engaging the attention of one of the clerks.
Then the second member would come in and endeavor to attract the
attention of any remaining clerks, while the third would try to get in
without attracting attention, and, if unnoticed by those now busy
talking, would slip around behind the counter to the money drawer or
vault and carry off any cash box or package visible which appeared to be
of value. This gang consisted of three men, Hod Ennis, Charley Rose and
a man by the name of Bullard, afterward made notorious by engineering
the Boylston Bank robbery in Boston.
In the absence of Lord the office was under charge of two men,
old-fashioned fellows, who had grown gray in the service of the Lord
estate. The bonds were all in a tin box something larger than a soap
box. The interest on the bonds being due, the box had been taken out in
order to cut off the coupons, and was left in the door of the open
vault. None of these circumstances was known to these men; in fact,
while "looking for chances," they stumbled on the prize. The night
previous they had spent at a well-known faro game and had lost their
last dollar. At 9 o'clock in the morning they met at a saloon on Prince
street, where none but crooks consorted, and, borrowing a dollar from
the barkeeper, they took a South Ferry stage and started downtown on one
of many similar piratical expeditions. Of course, each paid his own
fare, as from the moment of starting until their return they appeared to
be strangers. Alighting at the ferry, they started up Front street, Rose
in lead, he being pilot-fish. From Front they turned into Broad, and up
Broad to No. 22, where there were a number of offices. Rose mounted the
staircase, it now being five minutes to 10, Bullard coming close behind.
Rose entered the first office to the left at the head of the stairs,
which was Lord's, and at once inquired by name for a member of a
well-known firm located a few doors down across the street. Lord was
away. The clerk, in his desire to serve the gentleman, went to the front
windows to point out the location of the firm. Bullard, who had lingered
in the hall, entered, leaving the office door open behind him, and at
once engaged the attention of the remaining clerk with a letter. Ennis,
seeing the coast clear, slipped in, went softly to the vault, and
perceiving the tin box, seized and carried it out, unseen by all save
his companions. They, seeing him safely off, found a quick pretext to
follow without any suspicion arising in the minds of the clerks. As a
matter of fact, they did not miss the box for nearly an hour.
Ennis carried it to Peck Slip, closely followed by his chums, and there
the three boarded a Second avenue car, all unsuspecting as to what a
prize they had. At the corner of the Bowery and Bayard street they got
out and entered that old red brick hotel on the corner--I forget the
name. They were acquainted and occasionally rendezvoused there, hiring
and paying for the room. They speedily opened the box, and were amazed
to find it packed full of bonds--five hundreds, thousands,
five-thousands, all payable to bearer. The very magnitude of their
plunder terrified them, and, knowing as much as I do about such men, I
am free to affirm that if a buyer of stolen property had appeared on the
scene and said: "Here, I'll give you $10,000 apiece," they would have
closed the deal at once and turned over the bonds, glad to get them off
their hands. What they did was this: Rose went out and bought a
second-hand carpet bag and put the bonds into it, save sixty
five-hundreds, which they divided, and Bullard resolved to leave the bag
with a friend of his. This friend, strangely enough, was the widow of a
policeman and sister of two others. But she knew nothing of Bullard's
character, believing him to be a workingman. Ennis and Rose were two
ignorant fellows, without the remotest idea of how to negotiate bonds,
but Bullard had, and, realizing how important it was to get some cash
before the thing was noised around, he started out to sell some,
agreeing to meet Rose and Ennis at No. 100 Third avenue, a large beer
saloon then, as now.
Going to different brokers' offices, he disposed of ten for $5,000