situation at any time and advise me. About me was an unbearable pressure
from friends and foes; I stood it until I could stand it no longer.
There was not a minute of relief, not a minute to think. Coming after
two years spent in the Arctic, at a time when nature was paying the debt
of long starvation and hardship, the stress of events inevitably
developed a mental strain bordering on madness. Where could I go to get
rest from it all? This was my last thought at night and my first thought
in the morning.
During my second day at the Waldorf I had to read proofs of the
narrative to be printed in the _Herald_, go over the plans of my book
with the New York publishing house with whom I had signed a contract,
and examine hundreds of films to select photographs. There were hundreds
of letters and telegrams; scores of reporters demanding interviews;
hundreds of callers, few of whom I was able to see. An army of
publishers, lecture managers, and even vaudeville managers sent up their
cards.
The chief event of the first day in New York was the inquisition by
newspaper reporters. They both interested and amused me. I had gone
through the same ordeal in Copenhagen, and I knew that American
interviewers are famed for their wolfish propensities.
Before I saw the sensation-hungry press men, I got certain news that
shocked my sense of the fairness of the American press. Someone
interested in my case had sent me unsolicited copies of all telegrams,
cables and wireless messages passing between New York and the Peary
ship. These messages now continued to come daily, and thus I was
afforded a splendid opportunity to watch an underhand game of deceit
wherein Mr. Peary was shown to be in league with a New York paper
aiming secretly to further his claims and to cast doubt upon mine.
Among these was a message asking a certain editor to meet Peary at
Bangor, Maine, to arrange for the pro-Peary campaign of bribery and
conspiracy which followed. In another, and the most remarkable message,
Mr. Peary first showed the sneaking methods by which the whole
controversy was conducted. A long list of questions had been prepared by
Mr. Peary at Battle Harbor, covering, as rival interests dictated, every
phase of Polar work. These questions were sent to the New York _Times_
with instructions to compel answers from me on each of a series of catch
phrases.
When the _Times_ reporter came to me with these, I recognized the Peary
phraseology at once. I afterwards compared the copy of Peary's telegram
with that of the _Times_, and found in it nearly every question asked by
the reporters. While the questions were being read off, it required a
good deal of patience to conceal my irritation, as I knew Mr. Peary was
talking through the smooth-faced, smiling press cubs, none of whom knew
that he was Peary's mouthpiece. Every one of the Peary questions,
however, was amusing, for I had answered each a dozen times in Europe.
But if Mr. Peary must question me, why did he stoop to the hypocrisy of
doing it through others? The other reporters asked many questions, the
reports of which I have not seen since. But the duplicity of this little
trick left a strong impression of unfairness.
At about this time I began to examine critically the many efforts which
Mr. Peary had begun to make to discredit my achievement. In going over
such of his reports of his own claims as had gotten to me, I was at once
struck with the statements parallel to mine which he had sent out, and
since these so thoroughly proved my case I felt that I could be liberal
and patient with Mr. Peary's ill-temper.
I now learned that after Mr. Peary got the full reports of my attainment
of the Pole at the wireless station at Labrador, he withdrew behind the
rocks to a place where no one was looking, and digested that report. His
own report came after the digestion of mine. In the meantime, his delay
in proceeding to Sydney, Nova Scotia, and his silence, were explained by
the official announcement that the ship was being washed and cleaned.
This was manifestly absurd. No seaman returning from a voyage of a year,
where sailors have no occupation whatever except such work, waits until
he gets to port before cleaning his decks. Furthermore, this hiding
behind the rocks of Labrador continued for weeks. What was the
mysterious occupation of Mr. Peary? The _Roosevelt_, as described by
visitors when she arrived at Sydney, was still very dirty. When Mr.
Peary's much-heralded report was finally printed, every Arctic explorer
at once said the astonishing parallel statements in Mr. Peary's
narrative either proved my case or convicted Mr. Peary of plagiarism. My
story, by this time, had got well along in the New York _Herald_. To
help Mr. Peary out of his position, McMillan later rushed to the press.
He was under contract not to write or talk to the press, nor to lecture,
write magazine articles or books, as were all of Peary's men. But this
prohibition was waived temporarily. Then McMillan made the statement
that Dr. Cook must have gotten the "parallel data" and inside
information from Mr. Peary's Eskimos. Everyone acquainted with
Greenland, including McMillan, knows that such inter-communication was
impossible. I had left for Upernavik by the time Peary returned to Etah.
Therefore, McMillan and Peary both were caught in a deliberate lie, as
were also Bartlett[23] and Borup later. These were Mr. Peary's witnesses
in the broadside of charges with which I was to be annihilated.
A few days after my arrival in America I learned for the first time of
the strange death of Ross Marvin. We were asked by Mr. Peary to believe
that this young man of more than average intelligence, a graduate of
Cornell University and of the New York Nautical School, a man of
experience on the Polar seas, stepped over young ice alone, without a
life-line, and sank through a film of ice to a grave in the Arctic
waters.
An idiot might do that; but Marvin, unless he went suddenly mad, would
not do it. To cross the young ice of open leads, like that in which
Marvin is said to have perished, is a daily, almost hourly, experience
in Arctic travel. To safeguard each other's lives, and to save sledges
and dog teams, life-lines are carried in coils on the upstanders of the
sled. When about to risk a crossing, a line is always fixed from one to
the other and from sled to sled. When this is done, and an accident
happens such as that which is alleged to have befallen Marvin, the
victim is saved by the pull of his companions on the line. This is done
as unfailingly as one eats meals. Would a man of Marvin's experience and
intelligence neglect such a precaution? I knew such an accident might
have happened to the inexperienced explorers of the days of Franklin,
but to-day it seemed incredible. Furthermore, Peary was boasting of what
he styled the "Peary system," for which is claimed such thoroughness
that without it no other explorer could reach the Pole. If Marvin's
death was natural, then he is a victim of this system.
But let us read between the lines of this harrowing tragedy. After
learning of my attainment of the Pole, Peary rushed to the wireless.
With a letter in his pocket from Captain Adams which gave the news that
started the ire of envy, and which also gave the news that convicted
Peary of a lie, he thereafter for a week or more kept the wires busy
with the famous "gold brick" messages.
Marvin's death, and the duty to a bereaved family, which ordinary
humanity would have dictated, were of no consequence to one making
envious, vicious attacks. For a week all the world blushed with shame
because of the dishonor thus brought upon our country and our flag. In
New York there was a happy home, a loving mother, a fond sister; anxious
friends were all busy in preparing surprises for the happy homecoming of
the one beloved by all. It was a busy week, with joyous, heart-stirring
anticipation. There was no news from the Peary ship. Not a word came to
indicate that their expected returning hero had been lost in the icy
seas. To that mother's yearning heart her boy was nearing home--but
alas! no news came! A week passed, and still no news!
At last, after Peary had digested my narrative, the carefully prepared
press report was put on the wires. Ross Marvin's family, engrossed in
preparations for a reception with flowers and flags, was about to see,
in cold, black print, that he for whom their hearts beat expectantly was
no more. At the last moment, Peary's conscience seemingly troubled him.
A long message was sent to a friend to break the news and to soften the
effects of the press reports on that poor mother and sister. That
message was sent "Collect." A man who had given years of his time and
his life to glorify Peary was not worthy of a prepaid telegram!
Later, an important letter from Marvin reached his own home. In it the
stealing of my supplies is referred to in a way to show that Marvin
condemned Peary. The public ought to know the wording of this part of
the letter. Why has it been suppressed? Marvin's death, to my
understanding, does not seem natural. With a good deal of empty verbiage
the sacrifice of this unfortunate young man is explained; but two
questions are forced at once: Why was Marvin without a life-line? Why
were conveniently lost with him certain data that might disprove Peary's
case?
If Marvin sank into the ice, as Peary said he did, then Peary is
responsible for the loss of that life, for he did not surround him with
proper safeguards. The death of this man points to something more than
tragedy. Since Marvin's soundings were made under the authority of the
Coast and Geodetic Survey, the American Government is, therefore,
answerable for this death.
Mr. Peary's treatment of Marvin wearied me of all the Peary talk at the
time; and, furthermore, all of Mr. Peary's charges, of which so much
fuss was made, carried the self-evident origin of cruel envy and
selfishness. First, the Eskimos, put through a third degree behind
closed doors, were reported to have said that I had not been more than
two sleeps out of sight of land. This was easily explained. They had
been instructed not to tell Mr. Peary of my affairs, and they had been
encouraged to believe themselves always near land. Then this charge was
dropped, and the next was made, the one about my not reporting the
alleged cache at "Cape Thomas Hubbard." That assertion, instead of
injuring me, convicted Peary of trying to steal from Captain Sverdrup
the honor of discovering and naming Svartevoeg. For it was shown that by
deception "Cape Thomas Hubbard" had been written over a point discovered
years earlier by another explorer. For this kind of honor Hubbard had
contributed to Peary's expeditions. But is not the obliteration of a
geographic name for money a kind of geographic larceny?
Then was forced the charge that I had told no one of my Polar success in
the North, and therefore the entire report was an afterthought. Whitney
and Prichard later cleared this up, but at the very time when Peary made
this charge he had in his possession a letter from Captain Adams, of the
whaler _Morning_, which he had received in the North, wherein my
attainment of the Pole was stated. When Peary got the Adams letter he
put on full steam, abandoned his plan to visit other Greenland ports,
and came direct to Labrador, to the wireless. Why was the Adams letter
suppressed, when it was charged that I had told no one? And,
furthermore, why had Mr. Peary told no one on his ship of his own
success until he neared Battle Harbor?
All of these charges betrayed untruthful methods on the part of Mr.
Peary in his own method of presentation. Automatically, without a word
of defence on my part, each charge rebounded on the charger.
Then there came the page broadside of rearranged charges printed by
every American paper. It contained nothing new in the text, but with it
there was a faked map, copied from Sverdrup, which was made to appear
as though drawn by Eskimos. The best answer to this whole problem is
that from the same tongues with which Mr. Peary tried to discredit me
has come a much more formidable charge against Mr. Peary. For these same
Eskimos have since said, without quizzing from me, that Mr. Peary never
got to the Pole and that he never saw Crocker Land.
This part of the controversy was thoroughly analyzed by Professor W. F.
Armbruster and Dr. Henry Schwartz in the St. Louis _Mirror_[24].
While this controversy early began to rage, the tremendous offers of
money which came in every hour contributed to my bewilderment. They
seemed fabulous; the purport was beyond me. I imagined this as part of
a dream from which I should awake. Were I the calculating monster of
cupidity which some believe me, I suppose I should have been more
circumspect in making my financial arrangements.
I should hardly, for instance, have sold my narrative story to Mr. James
Gordon Bennett for $25,000 when there were single offers of $50,000,
$75,000, $100,000, and more, for it. While I was in Copenhagen, and
before the _Herald_ offer was accepted, Mr. W. T. Stead had come with a
message from W. R. Hearst with instructions to double any other offer
presented for my narrative. Had I accepted Mr. Hearst's bid he would
have paid $400,000 for what I sold for $25,000. Here is a sacrifice of
$375,000. Does that look as if I tried to hoax the world for sordid
gain, as my enemies would like the public to believe? What Mr. Bennett
asked and offered $25,000 for was a series of four articles on
adventures in the North, for use in the Sunday supplement of the
_Herald_. I had no such articles prepared at the time, nor, as I knew,
should I have time to write these. I did have the narrative story of my
trip, which consisted of twenty-five thousand to thirty thousand words,
complete. I decided, when I heard the first reports of doubt cast on my
claim, to publish my narrative story as an honest and sincere proof of
my claim as soon as possible. So I gave this to Mr. Bennett for the sum
offered purely for Sunday articles.
[Illustration: GOVERNOR KRAUL IN HIS STUDY
ARRIVAL AT UPERNAVIK]
[Illustration: POLAR TRAGEDY--A DESERTED CHILD OF THE SULTAN OF THE
NORTH AND ITS MOTHER]
Mr. Bennett offered me $5,000 additional for the European rights of this
story. To this offer I made no reply, giving Mr. Bennett the sole news
rights of the story for the entire world.
When I reached New York, needing ready money, I wired Mr. Bennett for an
advance on my story. He cabled back an immediate order for the entire
sum of $25,000. This gave me a sudden glow, a feeling of pleasure at
what I regarded as a display of confidence.
With my lecture work and traveling I was kept so busy that I did not
have time to go over the story, typewritten from my almost illegible
notes, which was sent to the New York _Herald_. When I did go over the
proofs and found many grievous errors, the _Herald_ had already
syndicated the story. It was too late for any corrections, and thus many
errors appeared.
I made a contract with a New York publishing house, while in Copenhagen,
with the idea of getting out my book and all proofs possible as soon as
the presses would allow, in view of the imminent controversy. For the
English and American rights to my book I was to receive $150,000 in a
lump sum and an additional $150,000 in royalties. Although papers were
signed for this, later on, when things seemed turning against me and I
saw the publishers were getting "cold feet," I voluntarily freed them
from the contract.
By the time I left Copenhagen, as I figured later, offers for book and
magazine material and lectures had aggregated just one and one-half
million dollars. A prominent New York manager made me an offer of
$250,000 for a series of lectures. During the first few days I had
absolutely no system of caring for this correspondence, hundreds of
important cablegrams remained unopened, and huge offers of money were
ignored. It was only after Minister Egan sent Walter Lonsdale, in
response to my request for a competent secretary, that some intelligible
information was gleaned from the mass of correspondence. Most of it, as
a matter of fact, was read only when we were on the _Oscar II_, bound
for home.
After making my arrangement with Mr. Bennett, the _Matin_ of Paris had
sent me an offer of $50,000 for the serial rights of a French
translation of the story to appear in the _Herald_. This included a
lecture under the auspices of the paper in Paris. My anxiety to get home
prevented a consideration of this; and it was only after I sailed on
the _Oscar II_ that I realized I could have gone to Paris, delivered the
lecture, and returned to New York by a fast boat.
On the _Oscar II_ a wireless had reached me of a large offer for a
lecture during the convention in St. Louis. This I decided to accept,
the simple reason being that I needed money.
Much criticism has been hurled at me because I started on a lecture
campaign when I should have prepared my data and submitted proof. At
that time I was in no position to anticipate or understand this
criticism. Every explorer for fifty years had done the same thing, all
had delivered lectures and written articles about their work after a
first preliminary report. Supplementary and detailed data were usually
given long afterwards, not as proof but as a part of the plan of
recording ultimate results. I had the precedents of Stanley,
Nordenskjoeld, Nansen, Peary, and others.
Had I anticipated the furore that was being raised about proofs, I
probably should have taken public opinion into my consideration. So firm
was my own conviction of achievement that the difficulty of supplying
such absolute proof as the unique occasion afterwards demanded never
occurred to me. My feeling at the time was that I was under no
obligation to patrons, to the Government, to any society, or anyone, and
that I had a right to deliver lectures at a time when public interest
was keyed up, and to prepare my detailed reports at a time when I should
have more leisure.
My family needed money. Huge sums were offered me hourly; I should have
been unwise indeed had I not accepted some of the offers. I am advised
that stories of enormous lecture profits have been told. I am informed
that the newspapers said I was to receive $25,000 for going to St.
Louis. The truth is that I got less than half that, though I believe St.
Louis probably spent more than $25,000 in preparing for my appearance
there. All told, I delivered about twenty lectures in various large
cities, receiving from $1,000 to $10,000 per lecture. My expenses were
heavy, so that in the end I netted less than $25,000. When I determined
to stop the lecture work and prepare my data, I canceled $140,000 worth
of lecture engagements.
Each day there was a routine of lunches with speeches, dinners with
speeches, suppers with speeches. The task of devising speeches was ever
present; with me it did not come easy. But speeches must be made, and I
felt a tense strain, as if something were drawing my mentality from me.
Everywhere I went crowds pressed about me. I shook hands until the flesh
of one finger was actually worn through to the bone. Hundreds of people
daily came to see me.
About this time, too, my bewildered brain began to realize that I was
also the object of most ferocious attacks from many quarters. I had no
time to read the newspapers, and these charges and suspicions filtered
in to me through reporters and friends. Usually they reached me in an
exaggerated or a distorted form.
There began at this time the publication of innumerable fake interviews
and stories misrepresenting me.[25] One interviewer quoted me as saying
that Dagaard Jensen had seen my records, and therefore confirmed my
claim to the people in Copenhagen; another that I said Governor Kraul of
Greenland had reported talking with my Eskimos, who had confirmed my
report. Dagaard Jensen justly denied this by cable, as I had made no
such statement. That about Governor Kraul was absurd on the face of it,
as he was a thousand miles away from my Eskimos. I have no means of
knowing the embarrassing statements attributed to me--things which were
variously denied, and which hurt me. There was not time for me to
consider or answer them.
Then came the blow which almost stunned me--the news that Harry Whitney
had not been allowed by Peary to bring my instruments and notes home
with him.
During the long night at Cape Sparbo I had carefully figured out and
reduced most of my important observations. The old, rubbed, oily, and
torn field notes, the instrumental corrections and the direct readings
were packed with the instruments, and these were mostly left with Mr.
Whitney. The figures were important for future recalculation, but
otherwise had not seemed materially important to me, for they had served
their purpose. I had with me all the important data, such as is usually
given in a traveler's narrative. No more had ever been asked before.
Under ordinary circumstances, these instruments and papers would not
have been of great value, but under the public excitement their
importance was immensely enhanced.
I had publicly announced that Mr. Whitney would bring these with him on
the boat in which he was to return. Had there been no notes and no
instruments, I hardly should have said this were I perpetrating a fraud,
for I should have known that the failure of Mr. Whitney to supply these
would provoke widespread suspicion. This is just what happened. Had I
foreseen the trouble that resulted, I should have taken my instruments
with me to Upernavik, and have supplied my observations and notes at
once.
As I have said before, I believed in an accomplishment which I felt was
largely personal, for which a world excitement was not warranted and in
which I had such a sure confidence that I never thought of absolutely
accurate proof. This was my folly--for which fate made me pay. Imagine
my dismay, the heartsickness which seized me when, through the din of
tumult and excitement, in the midst of suspicion, came the news that Mr.
Whitney had been forced by Mr. Peary to take from the _Roosevelt_ and
bury the very material with which I might have dispelled suspicion and
quelled the storm of unmerited abuse.
The instruments carried on my northern trip, and left with Mr. Whitney,
and which he had seen, consisted of one French sextant; one aluminum
surveying compass, with azimuth attachment, bought of Keuffer & Essen,
New York; one glass artifical horizon, set in a thin metal frame,
adjusted by spirit levels and thumbscrews, bought of Hutchinson, Boston;
one aneroid barometer, aluminum, bought of Hicks; an aluminum case with
maximum and minimum spirit thermometer; other thermometers, and one
liquid compass.
Other instruments used about stations were also left. With these were
papers giving some instrumental corrections, readings, and comparisons,
and other occasional notes, and a small diary, mostly loose leaves,
containing some direct field reading of instruments and meteorological
data. These took up very little space; and, if I remember correctly,
all were snugly packed in one of the instrument cases.
Mr. Whitney especially asked, as a personal favor, the honor of caring
for my flag. Later, after his return, he said that as Mr. Peary had
refused to let him take aboard my things, he had no alternative but to
bury them at Etah. I have no complaint to make against Mr. Peary about
this. He was at liberty to pick the freight of his own ship. But he
later said: "His [Dr. Cook's] leaving of his records at Etah was a
scheme by which he could claim that they were lost." If Mr. Peary knew
this, why did he not bring them?
At the time I felt crippled; my feeling of disgust with the problem,
with myself, and with the situation began. It would be impossible to
give in my report a continuous line of observations. I had no
corrections for the instruments. I knew they might vary. I had no means
of checking them. I had some copies of the original data, but they were
not complete. I should have to rest my whole case on a report with
reduced observations, for I knew it would not be possible to send a ship
to Etah until the following year. And I also knew that if Eskimos were
not given strong explicit instructions all would be lost.