Fifty years in Wall Street
Cruger proposed a fishing party. Mr. Gould declined to go. He
had concluded, he said, not to take an interest in young
Livingston’s brickyard, and would return to the city on the
afternoon train. A business engagement, involving quite a sum of
money, had to be kept. His host argued with him, but for a time
to no purpose. The saturnine little man had a tremendous amount
of determination in his composition. Finally a compromise was
effected, it being agreed that he should put Gould off at a
station in time to catch the train. That he must catch it
without fail, he most emphatically declared.
“The day passed on and we were off Sing Sing, when we saw the
smoke of the coming train. We had been running free before the
wind, but immediately Mr. Cruger, who was at the stick, shoved
it down; we hauled in on the sheets and headed for the Eastern
shore. Mr. Gould was by this time on his feet, clinging to the
windward coaming, the deepest anxiety pictured on his face. Just
there the water shoals rapidly. We were within fifty feet of the
shore, opposite the railroad depot. The time had now come for
Mr. Cruger’s revenge.
“‘Let go the main and jib sheets!’ he shouted. ‘Down with your
board!’
“Never was order more eagerly obeyed. The sheets whizzed through
the blocks, ready hands slipped out the pin and jammed down the
centre-board, and in a second the yacht, with a grating shock
and shaking sails, came to a stand, fast on the sandy bottom.
There she was bound to stay until the obstructing board was
lifted again.
“‘What’s the matter?’ exclaimed Mr. Gould, anxiously. Of course
he had not detected the ruse, for he knew no more about the
working of a yacht than a sea cow does about differential
calculus.”
“‘I’m afraid we’re aground,’ replied Mr. Cruger, with a fine
assumption of sadness. ‘Boys, get out the sweeps and push her
off.’
“We struggled with the long oars in a great show of ardor, while
Gould watched us in breathless suspense, between hope and fear.
But as we had taken care to put the sweeps overboard astern, the
harder we shoved the faster we stuck. The little man’s
suspicions were not in the slightest degree aroused and he
turned in despair to Mr. Cruger.
“‘What shall I do!’ he almost wailed. ‘I’ve got to catch that
train!’
“‘Then,’ replied the joker, solemnly, ‘you’ll have to wade or
swim.’
“Already the train was in sight, two miles away, and whatever
was to be done had to be done quickly. As I have said, there was
plenty of grit in the embryo railroad king, and quick as a wink
he was out of his sable clothes and standing before us clad only
in his aggressively scarlet undergarments. Holding his precious
broadcloth suit above his head, he stepped into the water,
which, shallow as it was, reached to the armpits of the little
gentleman. Then he started for the shore, his short, thin legs
working back and forth in a most comical fashion as he strove to
quicken his pace. The station platform was crowded with people,
and very soon the strange figure approaching them was descried.
A peal of laughter from 500 throats rolled over the water to us,
the ladies hiding their blushes behind parasols and fans. The
men shouted with laughter. Finally the wader reached the base of
the stone wall, and for a moment covered with confusion—and but
little else—stood upon the rock, one scarlet leg uplifted,
looking for all the world like a flamingo on the shore of a
Florida bayou, while the air was split with shrieks of laughter,
in which we now unreservedly joined. Then came the climax of the
joke, which nearly paralyzed the unfortunate victim.
‘Haul on your sheets, boys, and up with the board!’ was Cruger’s
order. As the yacht gathered headway and swept by within ten
feet of the astonished Mr. Gould, we laughingly bade him
good-bye, advising a warm mustard bath when he got home.
“Then his quick mind took in the full force of the practical
joke we had worked upon him and his dark face was a study for a
painter. But the train had already reached the station, taken on
its passengers and the wheels were beginning to turn again for
its run to the city. As Gould scrambled up the wall, his glossy
black suit still pressed affectionately to his bosom, the ‘All
aboard!’ had sounded and the cars were moving. Every window was
filled with laughing faces as he raced over the sand and stones
and was dragged by two brakemen on to the rear platform, panting
and dripping. The last glimpse we caught of him was as the train
entered the prison tunnel. Then, supported on either side by the
railroad men, he was making frantic plunges in his efforts to
thrust his streaming legs into his trousers as the platform
reeled and rocked beneath him.”
“Did he ever return Mr. Cruger the two shillings?” the writer
inquired.
“Return the two shillings!” echoed the club man. For a moment he
was silent. Then, as a retrospective gleam crept into his eyes,
he slowly shook his head and, with seeming irrelevancy, said:
“I—guess—you—are—not—very—well—acquainted—with—Mr.—Jay—Gould.”
The above story was submitted to Mr. Eugene Cruger at his
residence, No. 1211 Livingston Avenue, together with the inquiry
as to its accuracy. Mr. Cruger made the following reply: “I must
say that I can’t imagine who can have furnished these
particulars, for most of those who took part in the incidents
related have gone forever. Whoever the informant may be,
however, it cannot be denied that you have received a true
account of what occurred. I enjoyed the affair at that period,
but time has softened things and the recollection is not without
its unpleasant side.”
The success of Mr. Gould in securing the Baltimore and Ohio Telegraph to
be consolidated with Western Union, has placed him at the head of the
greatest telegraph monopoly in the world, practically beyond
competition. It remains to be seen whether or not Congress will take any
action towards the creation of a Government telegraph that will afford a
guarantee of protection against extortionate rates. It is true that
Western Union has lowered its rates, but this is generally regarded as a
conciliatory move of a temporary character on the part of Mr. Gould for
the purpose of showing that Government telegraphy is not a necessity,
and that as soon as the attention of Congress is turned away from the
question rates will go up again.
While I should not approve of the Government going so far as to condemn
Western Union property, and making a purchase thereof on an appraised
valuation, still I do believe that proper Congressional action should be
taken to provide supervision and protective control over the telegraphic
communication throughout the country. My idea is that the Government
should interfere rather as a regulator than an owner, being careful to
avoid everything that could be construed into monopoly on its own part,
any more than in connection with our railroad system.
Mr. Gould went to Europe late in the fall, and visited several places
there ostensibly for health, pleasure, and recreation. What his secret
and ultimate designs may be has not yet transpired, although they have
been a leading topic of much conjecture among financiers and Wall Street
magnates since his arrival on the other side. One of the best things got
off on this subject was, that when Mr. Gould sent in his card to one of
the Rothschilds, the latter requested the messenger to inform the
gentleman that Europe was not for sale.
He returned about the end of March to find some of his railroads,
especially in Missouri Pacific system, in a somewhat crippled condition.
With a feeling of deep humility that I have made many important
omissions in Mr. Gould’s variegated career, although I have surrendered
all the space to him that I can very well afford, I now beg to take my
leave of him, at least so far as the present edition is concerned.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER LIX.
MEN OF MARK.
CYRUS W. FIELD—HON. STEPHEN V. WHITE—AUSTIN CORBIN—PHILIP D. ARMOUR—HON.
LEVI P. MORTON—JOHN A. STEWART—ANTHONY J. DREXEL—THE JEROME
BROTHERS—ADDISON CAMMACK—RUSSELL SAGE—CHAUNCEY M. DEPEW—JAMES M.
BROWN—STEDMAN THE POET—VICTOR H. NEWCOMBE—MOSES TAYLOR—FORMER GIANTS
OF THE STREET—HENRY KEEP—ANTHONY W. MORSE.
CYRUS W. FIELD.
Cyrus W. Field has been termed a locomotive in trousers. The simile
illustrates the indefatigable energy of the man. His indomitable
resolution and his energy of character have placed him high among the
distinguished men of the age. He was born at Stockbridge, Mass., in
1819. His father was a clergyman. At fifteen years of age, Cyrus W.
Field came to New York with a trifling sum in his pocket. For three
years he was in the employ of A. T. Stewart, the dry goods merchant, and
then went to Lee, Mass., to work in his brother’s paper mill. Two years
later he became a partner in the paper firm of E. Root & Co., in Maiden
Lane, but the co-partnership was not successful. Later on he again went
into the paper business, and by 1853 had acquired a competence,
whereupon he partially withdrew from mercantile pursuits, and his health
having failed he took a trip to South America. He was about to withdraw
entirely from business, when he was induced, with considerable
difficulty, to look into a project for laying a telegraphic cable to
England. Frederick N. Gisbourne had interested Matthew D. Field, a civil
engineer, and a brother of Cyrus W. Field, in a project for establishing
a telegraph line between New York and St. John’s, Newfoundland, partly
on poles, partly under ground, and partly under water. At St. John’s,
the fastest steamers ever built were to sail for Ireland, and the time
between the two countries was to be shortened to six days or less. A
company had attempted to carry out this project, and had become
bankrupt. The idea was un-American; it was unsatisfactory; much quicker
communication was needed. It was not till Mr. Field conceived the idea
of laying a cable direct from Newfoundland to Ireland, that he became
really interested in the enterprise. He was assured by high scientific
authority that the idea could be carried out. In March, 1854, Mr. Field
went to St. John’s, Newfoundland, and obtained from the legislature a
charter, granting an exclusive right for fifty years, to establish a
telegraph line from the Continent of America to Newfoundland and thence
to Europe. Then, with considerable difficulty, he obtained in New York
subscriptions amounting to $1,500,000, which he thought would be
sufficient. The line really cost $1,834,500, being more than 2,600 miles
long. His first attempt failed in 1857. He succeeded in the following
year, and then the cable became silent, and the incredulous public
thought that this would end all attempts to do something that seemed
miraculous. For seven years no attempt was made to lay a cable, as the
Civil War intervened, but in 1865 Mr. Field again took up the
enterprise, in which he had never lost faith. By this time sub-marine
telegraphy had been greatly improved, a better cable was constructed,
and a better machine for laying it was invented. The famous steamer
_Great Eastern_ took the cable, but after going some 1,200 miles, the