PARTNERS, BOOKS, AND TRAVEL
When Mr. Kloman had severed his connection with us there was no
hesitation in placing William Borntraeger in charge of the mills. It
has always been with especial pleasure that I have pointed to the
career of William. He came direct from Germany--a young man who could
not speak English, but being distantly connected with Mr. Kloman was
employed in the mills, at first in a minor capacity. He promptly
learned English and became a shipping clerk at six dollars per week.
He had not a particle of mechanical knowledge, and yet such was his
unflagging zeal and industry for the interests of his employer that he
soon became marked for being everywhere about the mill, knowing
everything, and attending to everything.
William was a character. He never got over his German idioms and his
inverted English made his remarks very effective. Under his
superintendence the Union Iron Mills became a most profitable branch
of our business. He had overworked himself after a few years'
application and we decided to give him a trip to Europe. He came to
New York by way of Washington. When he called upon me in New York he
expressed himself as more anxious to return to Pittsburgh than to
revisit Germany. In ascending the Washington Monument he had seen the
Carnegie beams in the stairway and also at other points in public
buildings, and as he expressed it:
"It yust make me so broud dat I want to go right back and see dat
everyting is going right at de mill."
Early hours in the morning and late in the dark hours at night
William was in the mills. His life was there. He was among the first
of the young men we admitted to partnership, and the poor German lad
at his death was in receipt of an income, as I remember, of about
$50,000 a year, every cent of which was deserved. Stories about him
are many. At a dinner of our partners to celebrate the year's
business, short speeches were in order from every one. William summed
up his speech thus:
"What we haf to do, shentlemens, is to get brices up and costs down
and efery man _stand on his own bottom_." There was loud, prolonged,
and repeated laughter.
Captain Evans ("Fighting Bob") was at one time government inspector at
our mills. He was a severe one. William was sorely troubled at times
and finally offended the Captain, who complained of his behavior. We
tried to get William to realize the importance of pleasing a
government official. William's reply was:
"But he gomes in and smokes my cigars" (bold Captain! William reveled
in one-cent Wheeling tobies) "and then he goes and contems my iron.
What does you tinks of a man like dat? But I apologize and dreat him
right to-morrow."
The Captain was assured William had agreed to make due amends, but he
laughingly told us afterward that William's apology was:
"Vell, Captain, I hope you vas all right dis morning. I haf noting
against you, Captain," holding out his hand, which the Captain finally
took and all was well.
William once sold to our neighbor, the pioneer steel-maker of
Pittsburgh, James Park, a large lot of old rails which we could not
use. Mr. Park found them of a very bad quality. He made claims for
damages and William was told that he must go with Mr. Phipps to meet
Mr. Park and settle. Mr. Phipps went into Mr. Park's office, while
William took a look around the works in search of the condemned
material, which was nowhere to be seen. Well did William know where to
look. He finally entered the office, and before Mr. Park had time to
say a word William began:
"Mr. Park, I vas glad to hear dat de old rails what I sell you don't
suit for steel. I will buy dem all from you back, five dollars ton
profit for you." Well did William know that they had all been used.
Mr. Park was non-plussed, and the affair ended. William had triumphed.
Upon one of my visits to Pittsburgh William told me he had something
"particular" he wished to tell me--something he couldn't tell any one
else. This was upon his return from the trip to Germany. There he had
been asked to visit for a few days a former schoolfellow, who had
risen to be a professor:
"Well, Mr. Carnegie, his sister who kept his house was very kind to
me, and ven I got to Hamburg I tought I sent her yust a little
present. She write me a letter, then I write her a letter. She write
me and I write her, and den I ask her would she marry me. She was very
educated, but she write yes. Den I ask her to come to New York, and I
meet her dere, but, Mr. Carnegie, dem people don't know noting about
business and de mills. Her bruder write me dey want me to go dere
again and marry her in Chairmany, and I can go away not again from de
mills. I tought I yust ask you aboud it."
"Of course you can go again. Quite right, William, you should go. I
think the better of her people for feeling so. You go over at once and
bring her home. I'll arrange it." Then, when parting, I said:
"William, I suppose your sweetheart is a beautiful, tall,
'peaches-and-cream' kind of German young lady."
"Vell, Mr. Carnegie, she is a leetle stout. If _I had the rolling of
her I give her yust one more pass_." All William's illustrations were
founded on mill practice. [I find myself bursting into fits of
laughter this morning (June, 1912) as I re-read this story. But I did
this also when reading that "Every man must stand on his own bottom."]
Mr. Phipps had been head of the commercial department of the mills,
but when our business was enlarged, he was required for the steel
business. Another young man, William L. Abbott, took his place. Mr.
Abbott's history is somewhat akin to Borntraeger's. He came to us as a
clerk upon a small salary and was soon assigned to the front in charge
of the business of the iron mills. He was no less successful than was
William. He became a partner with an interest equal to William's, and
finally was promoted to the presidency of the company.
Mr. Curry had distinguished himself by this time in his management of
the Lucy Furnaces, and he took his place among the partners, sharing
equally with the others. There is no way of making a business
successful that can vie with the policy of promoting those who render
exceptional service. We finally converted the firm of Carnegie,
McCandless & Co. into the Edgar Thomson Steel Company, and included my
brother and Mr. Phipps, both of whom had declined at first to go into
the steel business with their too enterprising senior. But when I
showed them the earnings for the first year and told them if they did
not get into steel they would find themselves in the wrong boat, they
both reconsidered and came with us. It was fortunate for them as for
us.
My experience has been that no partnership of new men gathered
promiscuously from various fields can prove a good working
organization as at first constituted. Changes are required. Our Edgar
Thomson Steel Company was no exception to this rule. Even before we
began to make rails, Mr. Coleman became dissatisfied with the
management of a railway official who had come to us with a great and
deserved reputation for method and ability. I had, therefore, to take
over Mr. Coleman's interest. It was not long, however, before we found
that his judgment was correct. The new man had been a railway auditor,
and was excellent in accounts, but it was unjust to expect him, or any
other office man, to be able to step into manufacturing and be
successful from the start. He had neither the knowledge nor the
training for this new work. This does not mean that he was not a
splendid auditor. It was our own blunder in expecting the impossible.
The mills were at last about ready to begin[34] and an organization
the auditor proposed was laid before me for approval. I found he had
divided the works into two departments and had given control of one to
Mr. Stevenson, a Scotsman who afterwards made a fine record as a
manufacturer, and control of the other to a Mr. Jones. Nothing, I am
certain, ever affected the success of the steel company more than the
decision which I gave upon that proposal. Upon no account could two
men be in the same works with equal authority. An army with two
commanders-in-chief, a ship with two captains, could not fare more
disastrously than a manufacturing concern with two men in command upon
the same ground, even though in two different departments. I said:
"This will not do. I do not know Mr. Stevenson, nor do I know Mr.
Jones, but one or the other must be made captain and he alone must
report to you."
[Footnote 34: The steel-rail mills were ready and rails were rolled in
1874.]
The decision fell upon Mr. Jones and in this way we obtained "The
Captain," who afterward made his name famous wherever the manufacture
of Bessemer steel is known.
The Captain was then quite young, spare and active, bearing traces of
his Welsh descent even in his stature, for he was quite short. He came
to us as a two-dollar-a-day mechanic from the neighboring works at
Johnstown. We soon saw that he was a character. Every movement told
it. He had volunteered as a private during the Civil War and carried
himself so finely that he became captain of a company which was never
known to flinch. Much of the success of the Edgar Thomson Works
belongs to this man.
In later years he declined an interest in the firm which would have
made him a millionaire. I told him one day that some of the young men
who had been given an interest were now making much more than he was
and we had voted to make him a partner. This entailed no financial
responsibility, as we always provided that the cost of the interest
given was payable only out of profits.
"No," he said, "I don't want to have my thoughts running on business.
I have enough trouble looking after these works. Just give me a h--l
of a salary if you think I'm worth it."
"All right, Captain, the salary of the President of the United States
is yours."
"That's the talk," said the little Welshman.[35]
[Footnote 35: The story is told that when Mr. Carnegie was selecting
his younger partners he one day sent for a young Scotsman, Alexander
R. Peacock, and asked him rather abruptly:
"Peacock, what would you give to be made a millionaire?"
"A liberal discount for cash, sir," was the answer.
He was a partner owning a two per cent interest when the Carnegie
Steel Company was merged into the United States Steel Corporation.]
Our competitors in steel were at first disposed to ignore us. Knowing
the difficulties they had in starting their own steel works, they
could not believe we would be ready to deliver rails for another year
and declined to recognize us as competitors. The price of steel rails
when we began was about seventy dollars per ton. We sent our agent
through the country with instructions to take orders at the best
prices he could obtain; and before our competitors knew it, we had
obtained a large number--quite sufficient to justify us in making a
start.
So perfect was the machinery, so admirable the plans, so skillful were
the men selected by Captain Jones, and so great a manager was he
himself, that our success was phenomenal. I think I place a unique
statement on record when I say that the result of the first month's
operations left a margin of profit of $11,000. It is also remarkable
that so perfect was our system of accounts that we knew the exact
amount of the profit. We had learned from experience in our iron works
what exact accounting meant. There is nothing more profitable than
clerks to check up each transfer of material from one department to
another in process of manufacture.
The new venture in steel having started off so promisingly, I began to
think of taking a holiday, and my long-cherished purpose of going
around the world came to the front. Mr. J.W. Vandevort ("Vandy") and I
accordingly set out in the autumn of 1878. I took with me several pads
suitable for penciling and began to make a few notes day by day, not
with any intention of publishing a book; but thinking, perhaps, I
might print a few copies of my notes for private circulation. The
sensation which one has when he first sees his remarks in the form of
a printed book is great. When the package came from the printers I
re-read the book trying to decide whether it was worth while to send
copies to my friends. I came to the conclusion that upon the whole it
was best to do so and await the verdict.
The writer of a book designed for his friends has no reason to
anticipate an unkind reception, but there is always some danger of its
being damned with faint praise. The responses in my case, however,
exceeded expectations, and were of such a character as to satisfy me
that the writers really had enjoyed the book, or meant at least a part
of what they said about it. Every author is prone to believe sweet
words. Among the first that came were in a letter from Anthony Drexel,
Philadelphia's great banker, complaining that I had robbed him of
several hours of sleep. Having begun the book he could not lay it down
and retired at two o'clock in the morning after finishing. Several
similar letters were received. I remember Mr. Huntington, president of
the Central Pacific Railway, meeting me one morning and saying he was
going to pay me a great compliment.
"What is it?" Tasked.
"Oh, I read your book from end to end."
"Well," I said, "that is not such a great compliment. Others of our
mutual friends have done that."
"Oh, yes, but probably none of your friends are like me. I have not
read a book for years except my ledger and I did not intend to read
yours, but when I began it I could not lay it down. My ledger is the
only book I have gone through for five years."
I was not disposed to credit all that my friends said, but others who
had obtained the book from them were pleased with it and I lived for
some months under intoxicating, but I trust not perilously pernicious,
flattery. Several editions of the book were printed to meet the
request for copies. Some notices of it and extracts got into the
papers, and finally Charles Scribner's Sons asked to publish it for
the market. So "Round the World"[36] came before the public and I was
at last "an author."
[Footnote 36: _Round the World_, by Andrew Carnegie. New York and
London, 1884.]
A new horizon was opened up to me by this voyage. It quite changed my
intellectual outlook. Spencer and Darwin were then high in the zenith,
and I had become deeply interested in their work. I began to view the
various phases of human life from the standpoint of the evolutionist.
In China I read Confucius; in India, Buddha and the sacred books of
the Hindoos; among the Parsees, in Bombay, I studied Zoroaster. The
result of my journey was to bring a certain mental peace. Where there
had been chaos there was now order. My mind was at rest. I had a
philosophy at last. The words of Christ "The Kingdom of Heaven is
within you," had a new meaning for me. Not in the past or in the
future, but now and here is Heaven within us. All our duties lie in
this world and in the present, and trying impatiently to peer into
that which lies beyond is as vain as fruitless.
All the remnants of theology in which I had been born and bred, all
the impressions that Swedenborg had made upon me, now ceased to
influence me or to occupy my thoughts. I found that no nation had all
the truth in the revelation it regards as divine, and no tribe is so
low as to be left without some truth; that every people has had its
great teacher; Buddha for one; Confucius for another; Zoroaster for a
third; Christ for a fourth. The teachings of all these I found
ethically akin so that I could say with Matthew Arnold, one I was so
proud to call friend:
"Children of men! the unseen Power, whose eye
For ever doth accompany mankind
Hath looked on no religion scornfully
That men did ever find.
Which has not taught weak wills how much they can?
Which has not fall'n in the dry heart like rain?
Which has not cried to sunk, self-weary man,
_Thou must be born again_."
"The Light of Asia," by Edwin Arnold, came out at this time and gave
me greater delight than any similar poetical work I had recently read.
I had just been in India and the book took me there again. My
appreciation of it reached the author's ears and later having made his
acquaintance in London, he presented me with the original manuscript
of the book. It is one of my most precious treasures. Every person who
can, even at a sacrifice, make the voyage around the world should do
so. All other travel compared to it seems incomplete, gives us merely
vague impressions of parts of the whole. When the circle has been
completed, you feel on your return that you have seen (of course only
in the mass) all there is to be seen. The parts fit into one
symmetrical whole and you see humanity wherever it is placed working
out a destiny tending to one definite end.
The world traveler who gives careful study to the bibles of the
various religions of the East will be well repaid. The conclusion
reached will be that the inhabitants of each country consider their
own religion the best of all. They rejoice that their lot has been
cast where it is, and are disposed to pity the less fortunate
condemned to live beyond their sacred limits. The masses of all
nations are usually happy, each mass certain that:
"East or West
Home is best."
Two illustrations of this from our "Round the World" trip may be
noted:
Visiting the tapioca workers in the woods near Singapore, we
found them busily engaged, the children running about stark
naked, the parents clothed in the usual loose rags. Our
party attracted great attention. We asked our guide to tell
the people that we came from a country where the water in
such a pond as that before us would become solid at this
season of the year and we could walk upon it and that
sometimes it would be so hard horses and wagons crossed wide
rivers on the ice. They wondered and asked why we didn't
come and live among them. They really were very happy.
Again:
On the way to the North Cape we visited a reindeer camp of
the Laplanders. A sailor from the ship was deputed to go
with the party. I walked homeward with him, and as we
approached the fiord looking down and over to the opposite
shore we saw a few straggling huts and one two-story house
under construction. What is that new building for? we asked.
"That is to be the home of a man born in Tromso who has made
a great deal of money and has now come back to spend his
days there. He is very rich."
"You told me you had travelled all over the world. You have
seen London, New York, Calcutta, Melbourne, and other
places. If you made a fortune like that man what place would
you make your home in old age?" His eye glistened as he
said:
"Ah, there's no place like Tromso." This is in the arctic
circle, six months of night, but he had been born in Tromso.
Home, sweet, sweet home!
Among the conditions of life or the laws of nature, some of which seem
to us faulty, some apparently unjust and merciless, there are many
that amaze us by their beauty and sweetness. Love of home, regardless
of its character or location, certainly is one of these. And what a
pleasure it is to find that, instead of the Supreme Being confining
revelation to one race or nation, every race has the message best
adapted for it in its present stage of development. The Unknown Power
has neglected none.