Fifty years in Wall Street
a hopeless task to convince the Commodore that there was anything wrong
in the expression, “Never tell nobody what yer goin’ to do, till you do
it,” or Drew that it was improper to say to his broker, “Gimme them
sheers,” when he desired his stocks reduced to possession. Both men
seemed to think with the character in Shakespeare, that reading and
writing, like their other attributes, came by nature. They evidently
thought that their abilities for financiering emanated solely from that
source, and results largely bore them out in that interpretation. Both
had supreme contempt for persons of less ability than themselves in the
speculative arena, yet they were terribly jealous of rivals who essayed
to compete with them in their own peculiar methods of making money.
Cunning and shrewdness were the leading characteristics of Drew. Though
illiterate himself, he, however, showed that he appreciated education in
others, by erecting and endowing a seminary in his native place.
Some people who were not inclined to give Drew any credit for the finer
and more generous and genial feelings of man’s nature, said that his
motive for this endowment was merely popularity, and a morbid desire,
like that of Vanderbilt, to perpetuate his name.
Another motive, however, less ennobling to man’s nature, seemed to be
the true one. He saw that the religious element in society was then
influential, and that many religious people of his acquaintance were in
good circumstances, and he sought to ingratiate himself with them in
order to make use of them in his speculations.
This appears clearly to have been at the bottom of his precious gift of
a seminary to his native county. It was a curious illustration of
retributive justice, if I am right about his motive, that he was obliged
to default in the payment of that gift, with the exception of the
interest.
Daniel Drew, at one time, could command more ready cash at short notice
than any man in Wall Street, or probably than any man in America. His
wealth was estimated at thirteen million dollars. He made a very large
part of this out of his speculations in Erie stock, of which corporation
he was then managing director and treasurer. Being thus on the inside,
he was enabled to leave everybody else on the outside in the ups and
downs of the market, which he himself generally engineered.
The Street was frequently amazed by fluctuations of 20 or 30 per cent.
in Erie stock, sometimes in the course of a day or two, through the able
manipulation of Mr. Drew.
It was a sorry day for Drew when Jay Gould took his place in the control
of Erie, and it was equally disastrous for the Erie property.
From this period Gould began to grow rapidly to the full stature of
speculative manhood, while Drew moved as quickly in a downward
direction, until he found himself again at the lowest rung of the
financial ladder. It was no wonder that he said of Gould, “his touch is
death.”
Drew’s losses followed one another in quick succession, until his
thirteen millions had melted away like snow off a ditch, and eventually
he died in debt and broken hearted. His last days stand out as a sad,
but eloquent warning to the avaricious. And this reminds me of a festive
event, the chief incidents of which, I think, are worthy of
reproduction.
I remember being at a dinner party ostensibly given to the old gentleman
when in the very zenith of his financial fame and prosperity. It was a
kind of mutual admiration society, Drew being the king-pin of the social
coterie. On account of his thirteen millions he was the centre of
cringing admiration, and was by a number of the assemblage almost
deified.
As is usual on such occasions, speechmaking was in order, the oratorical
talent being called out by the toasts as they went the round of the
board.
When it came my turn to speak, I followed suit, to some extent, in
picking up the thread of the general glorification extended to the
honored guest, to whom I paid marked deference.
“We are honored,” I said, “on this festive occasion, by a gentleman of
vast wealth, one who can control more ready money than any man in
America, and be it said to his honor, it has all been of his own
creation. He is a true representative of American thrift and enterprise.
His money and his genial disposition together combined make all men his
friends, and I know of only one antagonistic spirit to the continued
growth of this already marvellous fortune; but that one, in all
probability, may yet work his ruin. I refer to our honored guest, Mr.
Drew, and his one enemy which I have in mind is ‘Avarice.’”
In five years from that memorable dinner Daniel Drew was a ruined man,
and his thirteen millions had vanished like the baseless fabric of a
vision, leaving nothing but the miserable wreck of an avaricious spirit
behind.
The manner in which Drew was supposed to make religion the handmaid to
speculation was satirically touched in the following verses published in
the New York _Tribune_ about fifteen years ago:
He was a long, lank countryman,
And he stoppeth one of two.
“I’m not acquaint in these yeere parts,
An’ I’m a lookin’ fur Dan’l Drew.”
“I’m a stranger in the vineyard,
An’ my callin’ I pursoo
At the institoot at Madison,
That was built by Dan’l Drew.”
“I’m a stranger in the vineyard,
An’ my ’arthly wants are few;
But I want sum p’ints on them yer sheares,
An’ I’m a lookin’ fur Dan’l Drew.”
Again I saw that laborer,
Corner of Wall and New;
He was looking for a ferry boat,
And not for Daniel Drew.
Upon his back he bore a sack,
Inscribed “Preferred Q. U.”
Some Canton scrip was in his grip,
A little Wabash, too.
At the ferry gate I saw him late,
With his white hat askew,
Paying his fare with a registered share
Of that “Preferred Q. U.”
And these words came back from the “Hackensack:”
“Ef yew want ter gamble a few,
Jest git in yer paw at a game o’ draw,
But don’t take a ’and with Drew.”
Mr. Drew was negligent in his attire, even to the verge of slovenliness.
He dressed like a drover, having originally been employed in that
capacity. By the way, the significant term of “watering stock”
originated in the practice of Uncle Daniel giving his cattle salt in
order to create a thirst in them that would cause them to imbibe large
quantities of water, and thus appear bigger and fatter when brought to
market. Until he met with Gould and Fisk, it was difficult for anybody
to get the best of him in a deal.
He was wonderfully prolific in resources for the purpose of getting
advantage of those who attempted to overreach him.
A good story, illustrative of this trait in his speculative character,
is told of the time that he was so severely squeezed in Northwestern
stock. He was greatly grieved at his ill luck, while the brokers and
operators who had been prosperous at his expense were highly elated.
They considered it a great thing to have caught the wily old Daniel
napping. He was accordingly made the victim of much ribaldry and jesting
for several days in Wall Street. Some of the young men carried the joke
so far as to meet him and laugh significantly and irritatingly in his
face. He seemed to take it all in good part, for he had a happy flow of
animal spirits, but he had a terrible rod in pickle for these young men
who were making him an object of ridicule. He watched for his
opportunity, and one evening as several of them were enjoying themselves
in an uptown club, Uncle Daniel walked in, _sans ceremonie_. He appeared
to be looking after some man, and though invited to remain, seemed to be
in a great hurry to get away, and was apparently excited and warm. He
seemed to have something important on hand. He drew a big white
handkerchief out of his pocket a few times and wiped the perspiration
from his heated brow. When he was about to depart there came out of his
pocket with the handkerchief a small slip of white paper which floated
around apparently unseen by him, and alighted at the feet of one of the
bystanders, who quickly set his foot upon it. When Mr. Drew made his
exit the white scrap of paper was instantly scanned. It contained these
ominous words in his own handwriting: “Buy me all the Oshkosh stock you
can at any price you can get it below par.”
Here was a speculative revelation for the boys, for everybody believed
at the time that Oshkosh had already gone too high, and the point had
been circulated to sell it “short.” The mysterious words written on this
erratic slip of paper, however, convinced these operators that there
must be a new deal to give Oshkosh another “kiting.” There was no time
to be lost in taking advantage of the unexpected and highly valuable
information. They formed a pool to purchase 30,000 shares the next day.
They bought the stock according to pre-arrangement, and a new broker of
Daniel Drew’s was the man who sold it to them. They only discovered how
badly they themselves had been sold by Mr. Drew’s handkerchief trick
when Oshkosh began to decline at the rate of a dozen points a day, and
Uncle Daniel soon raked in from the jokers and their friends more than
he had lost in Northwest.
Mr. Drew first entered the Board of Directors in Erie about the year
1852, and remained there until he was squeezed out, and almost ruined,
in 1868. He held the office of treasurer to the corporation.
Drew was born in the town of Carmel, Putnam county, in the year 1797,
and was three years younger than Vanderbilt. As I have intimated above,
in early life he drove cattle from his native town to New York. He
afterward became proprietor of the Bull’s Head tavern in this city.
He never changed his style of dress from that to which he was accustomed
to wear when he was a drover, and when he was worth thirteen millions,
instead of sporting a gold headed cane, he went around Wall Street with
the handle of an old broken umbrella in his hand. While treasurer of
Erie he used every opportunity to manipulate the stock to his own
advantage, irrespective of the rights or interests of any other person.
He was the leading bear of the market for many years. Like Vanderbilt,
he was interested to some extent in steamboats, but he made Erie stock
the great medium of acquiring his vast wealth. He got the name of the
speculative director, and at the outbreak of what was known as the Erie
war he was supposed to be almost financially impregnable.
The “corner” of 1866 was the beginning of Uncle Daniel’s troubles. Up to
that period all had gone merry as a marriage bell with him, and he was
piling up the millions at a rate which no other financier or speculator
had ever dared to imitate. Erie stock was selling at 95 in the spring of
that year. The company was badly off for money. It made application to
its treasurer for the needed relief. He was ready to serve it in that
way at all times, but he wanted security for the loan. There were then
28,000 shares of unissued Erie stock. The company also claimed the right
to raise money by the issue of bonds convertible into stock at the
option of the holder.
This was an old trick in the management of Erie matters. It had saved
Jacob Little on one occasion, as I have mentioned in a former chapter,
during the earlier history of speculation in Wall Street. It was,
therefore, not original with the Drew management of Erie, as some people
have supposed.
The 28,000 shares of unissued stock then, and three millions of dollars