Fifty years in Wall Street
_non est_, as he was nowhere to be found about the stand or on the
field. Travers made complaint to a policeman, who appeared perfectly
indifferent to the charge. Mr. Travers said: “W-w-we d-don’t d-d-do
th-th-that way in m-my c-c-c-country. I b-b-belong to America.” The
policeman turned impertinently and said: “You had better go back to your
own country, if that’s the case.” This was an indignity to which Mr.
Travers did not feel inclined to submit, and he at once exhibited his
badge, which admitted him to the royal stand. The policeman recognized
it with affright, and almost fell on his knees in making profuse
apologies and offers of service, showing the cringing spirit which
prevails in England to royalty and nobility, by the people who occupy
the position as servants to these high-born personages. Mr. Travers
overlooked this official rudeness, and submitted to his loss as
cheerfully as possible under the circumstances.
I met Mr. Travers on board the Newport boat immediately on his return,
and he told me this story. I replied, “that I was surprised that a man
of that character should have acted so villainously, as I had always
supposed that such men were influenced by the recognized principle the
world over, of honor among thieves.” Mr. Travers instantly replied: “No
one could have t-t-told him that I was a th-th-thief.”
I remember another instance, which was during the war period. I had
written a series of letters on national financial matters, which were
then before the country for discussion, and they were published in the
New York _Times_. Mr. Travers was met on his way down town by a Wall
Street friend on the morning that one of these letters appeared in the
paper, who asked Mr. Travers if he had seen Mr. Clews’ last letter. Mr.
Travers said, “I h-h-hope so.”
Shortly after this I was a guest at a dinner party at the Union Club,
and was late in presenting myself. When I reached the entertainment
(which was a sort of mutual admiration gathering), the speeches had
commenced, and I no sooner had taken my seat than Mr. Lawrence Jerome
proposed my health. While it was being drank, Mr. Travers, who sat
immediately opposite, came over and whispered in my ear, “Clews, you
d-d-don’t w-want t-to speak so soon after c-c-oming in here, d-d-do
you?” “No, I do not,” I replied. “I’ll t-t-tell th-th-them so, will I?”
“Yes, I wish you would,” I said. He went back to his place and said,
“Gentlemen, I have talked with Mr. Clews, and he d-d-desires me t-to ask
you t-to excuse him f-from making a speech on th-th-this occasion and
i-if you w-will d-d-do so, he w-will w-write you a l-letter.”
To show the rapid fluctuations that take place in Wall Street, and how
even the best judges of the market are often mistaken in their
prognostications, I will note an instance in connection with Mr.
Travers. On his return from Europe, which was early in July, 1885, when
the market on this side was weak, cables prior to his departure
evidently indicated to him that much lower figures were in order. Just
prior to the arrival of the steamer, in conversing with an associate
member of the Exchange, he said, “B-b-barnes, I’ll make a l-l-little
b-b-bet with you; I’ll b-b-bet you L-l-lackawanna will b-b-be under
six-ty when we r-reach New Y-York.” Barnes was not willing to make the
bet, however, but on their arrival, which was two days after, nothing
surprised Mr. Travers so much as to find Lackawanna 110 instead of the
figure 60 or less which he had predicted, especially as its advance did
not cease thereafter until it sold at 130.
It has been justly said, that if a man will wear a good looking hat, and
good, well polished boots, the head and feet being the parts which first
catch the eye of an observer, it matters very little what kind of
material the coat, vest and trousers may be made of, if they are whole
and kept clean. Though they may be threadbare the man will appear to be
fairly dressed, and will look much younger than if he were careless
regarding the covering of his extremities. If the latter are fairly
adorned he can pass muster.
Knowing this fact, I had always been in the habit of posing before the
public as a youth. In this I was materially assisted by having no hair
on the top of my head, in the place where other people’s hair usually
grows. I had been this way for twenty years, just presenting about the
same appearance as when I was born, and it has always been a matter of
remark how youthful I looked.
I have often been asked what I did to keep myself looking so young. My
truthful answer always has been that, “Virtue is its own reward.” This
theory invariably passed as sound in my case until it was knocked into a
cocked hat by Travers. One unlucky day he removed the mask, and changed
the current of public opinion against me on the much cherished subject
of my perpetual bloom of youth.
It occurred in this way. Frank Leslie’s _Illustrated Weekly_ had
published a number of pictures of the active business men of New York,
who were known in the community as self-made men, and mine was among
them.
A few days after the appearance of my picture in this paper, I happened,
one afternoon, on my way uptown, to drop into the Union Club, and as
usual, went into the main room. It was full of members, largely composed
of a scattering of Wall Street bankers and brokers.
Travers was present, and when he is on hand on such occasions, it always
means laughter for the multitude at some one’s expense. In this instance
it happened to be at mine.
As I entered the room, Travers said, in an audible voice: “Hallo, boys!
here comes Clews, the self-made man.” Then, addressing himself to me, he
said: “I s-s-say, Cl-Cl-Clews, as you are a s-s-self-made man, wh-wh-why
the d-d-devil didn’t you p-put more h-h-hair on the top of your head?”
This story having gone the rounds, as it soon did, drew attention to my
summer-appareled head, which before that time had enabled me to pass
myself off as a youngster just striking out at the commencement of life.
That stroke of Travers’ wit, however, has been the cause of consigning
me ever since to the ranks of the old “fogies.” Now, everybody is
convinced that my hair, now _non est_, had already come and gone, and
that my head represents the work of ages.
This is another vivid instance illustrating the saying that “many a
truth is spoken in jest.”
When Travers thus removed my mask of adolescence, it made me feel
unhappy for some time, as it really transformed my entire identity, and
deprived me of that luxury so dear to all the fair sex, and to many of
my own, of sailing under false colors in reference to my age.
Still, as Travers is such a righteous, good fellow, I have had to
forgive him, notwithstanding the gravity of the offense in having hurt
the most tender part of my sensitive nature. So we can make up and
become friends again, as I value the renewal of his friendship even at
the cost of such a great personal sacrifice as the deprivation of my
supposed youthfulness.
On the principle that misery loves company, and as Mr. Travers had
brought misery to my lot by drawing public attention to my bare head, I
found consolation, shortly afterwards, in a huge joke that the same
facetious individual perpetrated upon another member of the Club, who
happened to be one of New York’s most celebrated lawyers. This
gentleman, it is well known, has been connected with some of the largest
and most remunerative railroad cases in our courts for many years, and
being considered a great authority in that branch of legal lore, he was
accustomed to exact his own terms from his wealthy clients, which meant,
in most instances, a very fat fee. This gentleman was standing on the
side of the street opposite the Club one afternoon, while Travers was
surrounded by a cluster of club men on the other side. “Look across the
way, boys,” observed Travers, “th-th-there’s B-B-Barlow with his hands
in his own p-p-pockets at last.”
On another occasion, when Travers, who resides at Newport in the summer,
and is the possessor of a small-sized yacht there, which he obtained
some years ago in lieu of a debt, was taking a refreshing sail on his
yacht in the bay one morning, it happened that a squadron of yachts
appeared in his vicinity, and there was going to be a race. Travers
having been made acquainted with the fact, invited a party of friends to
go to see the race. As soon as it became known to the yachtsmen that the
renowned Travers had appeared on the deck of his yacht, a committee was
assigned to convey to him the respects of the members of the squadron.
When they came alongside his craft he invited them on board, and saw at
a glance that they nearly all happened to be bankers and brokers.
Casting his eyes across the glittering water, he beheld a number of
beautiful white-winged yachts in the distance, and finding, by inquiry,
that they all belonged to Wall Street well known brokers, he appeared
thereby to be thrown momentarily into a deep reverie, and, without
turning his gaze from the handsome squadron, finally asked his
distinguished visitors, “wh-wh-where are the cu-cu-customers’ yachts?”
Comment would be entirely superfluous.
A. T. Stewart, the world renowned retail dry goods merchant, was
elected, on one occasion, to preside at a meeting of citizens during the
war period, Travers being amongst the number present. When Mr. Stewart
took his gold pencil case from his pocket and rapped with its head on
the table for the meeting to come to order, Travers called out, in an
audible tone, “C-cash!” which brought down the house, and no one laughed
more heartily than Mr. Stewart, although it was a severe thrust at
himself.
As it is sometimes said of a stranger who comes from a foreign country,
Travers came to New York well recommended, bringing letters of
introduction with him from the first families of Baltimore, and
credentials which at once established his status and reputation. So it
was not necessary for him to remain long on probation in New York.
Coming here was not a new birth to him, although, in some measure, he
may be said to have risen, Phœnix-like, from the ashes of his former
self, as business misfortunes had overtaken him in Baltimore.
Travers had not only to start in a new place and in a new business when
he came here, but he had to begin the ascent of his prosperous career at
the very bottom of the financial ladder. Owing to his incomparable
geniality he met with hosts of friends from the very start, and he
prospered from the word “go.”
Travers formed several partnerships at various times. After making
considerable money in the one above alluded to with Mr. Jerome, the
partnership was dissolved, and Travers then continued business alone as
a Wall Street operator, and as I have formerly stated, usually acted on
the bear side of the market, which was remarkable for a person of such a
buoyant and hopeful disposition.
In his business operations Mr. Travers has always shown great sagacity,
mingled with caution, and his prestige as a leader became so great that
he soon attracted a numerous following of operators, who, with their
eminent leader, formed a set widely known in speculative circles all
over this country as the “Twenty-third Street Party.” Of this party, Mr.
Addison Cammack, the celebrated bear, was a prominent member, and a
great admirer of Mr. Travers.
Mr. Travers was well-born and received a good education, with an
excellent training for a business career. He married a daughter of the
Hon. Reverdy Johnson, who was United States Minister to England during
the administration of Andrew Johnson, and who was one of the most
prominent members of the Bar.
Mr. Travers has always been famous for his attachment to out-door sports