work of building the railroad. One of the persistent advocates of the
plan was Theodore J. Judah, the engineer of the Sacramento Valley and
other local railroads. He had convinced Mr. Stanford that the thing was
possible. The latter first talked with C. P. Huntington, a hardware
merchant of Sacramento; then with Mark Hopkins, Mr. Huntington's
partner, and later with Charles Crocker and others. A fund was raised to
enable Mr. Judah and his associates to perfect their surveys; and the
Central Pacific Railroad Company was formed, June 28, 1861, with Mr.
Stanford as president.
In Mr. Stanford's inaugural address as governor he had dwelt upon the
necessity of this railroad to unite the East and the West; and now that
he had retired from the gubernatorial office, he determined to push the
enterprise with all his power. Neither he nor his associates had any
great wealth at their command, but they had faith and force of
character. The aid of Congress was sought and obtained by a strictly
party vote, Republicans being in the majority; and the bill was signed
by President Lincoln, July 1, 1862.
The government agreed to give the company the alternate sections of 640
acres in a belt of land ten miles wide on each side of the railroad, and
$16,000 per mile in bonds for the easily constructed portion of the
road, and $32,000 and $48,000 per mile for the mountainous portions. The
company was to build forty miles before it received government aid.
It was so difficult to raise money during the Civil War that Congress
made a more liberal grant July 2, 1864, whereby the company received
alternate sections of land within a belt twenty miles on each side of
the road, or the large amount of 12,800 acres per mile, making for the
company nearly 9,000,000 acres of land. The government was to retain, to
apply on its debt, only half the money it owed the company for
transportation instead of the whole. The most important provision of the
new Act was the authority of the company to issue its own first-mortgage
bonds to an amount not exceeding those of the United States, and making
the latter take a second mortgage.
There is no question but the United States has given lavishly to
railroads, as the cities have given their streets free to street
railroads; but during the Civil War the need of communication between
East and West seemed to make it wise to build the road at almost any
sacrifice. Mr. Blaine says, "Many capitalists who afterwards indulged in
denunciations of Congress for the extravagance of the grants, were urged
at the time to take a share in the scheme, but declined because of the
great risk involved."
Mr. Stanford broke ground for the railroad by turning the first
shovelful of earth early in 1863. "At times failure seemed inevitable,"
says the New York _Tribune_, June 22, 1893. "Even the stout-hearted
Crocker declared that there were times when he would have been glad to
'lose all and quit;' but the iron will of Stanford triumphed over
everything. As president of the road he superintended its construction
over the mountains, building 530 miles in 293 days. On the last day,
Crocker laid the rails on more than ten miles of track. That the great
railroad builders survived the ordeal is a marvel. Crocker, indeed,
never recovered from the effects of the terrific strain. He died in
1888. Hopkins died twelve years before, in 1876."
With a silver hammer Governor Stanford drove a golden spike at
Promontory Point, Utah, May 10, 1869, which completed the line of the
Central Pacific, and joined it with the Union Pacific Railroad, and the
telegraph flashed the news from the Atlantic to the Pacific. The Union
Pacific was built from Omaha, Neb., to Promontory Point, though Ogden,
Utah, fifty-two miles east of Promontory Point, is now considered the
dividing line.
After this road was completed, Mr. Stanford turned to other labors. He
was made president or director of several railroads,--the Southern
Pacific, the California & Oregon, and other connecting lines. He was
also president of the Oriental and Occidental Steamship Company, which
plied between San Francisco and Chinese ports, and was interested in
street railroads, woollen mills, and the manufacture of sugar.
Foreseeing the great future of California, he purchased very large
tracts of land, including Vina with nearly 60,000 acres, the Gridley
Ranch with 22,000 acres, and his summer home, Palo Alto, thirty miles
from San Francisco, with 8,400 acres. He built a stately home in San
Francisco costing over $1,000,000, and in his journeys abroad collected
for it costly paintings and other works of art.
But his chief delight was in his Palo Alto estate. Here he sought to
plant every variety of tree, from the world over, that would grow in
California. Many thousands were set out each year. He was a great lover
of trees, and could tell the various kinds from the bark or leaf.
He loved animals, especially the horse, and had the largest horse farm
for raising horses in the world. Some of his remarkable thoroughbreds
and trotters were Electioneer, Arion, Palo Alto, Sunol, "the flying
filly," Racine, Piedmont that cost $30,000, and many others. He spent
$40,000, it is said, in experiments in instantaneous photography of the
horse; and a book resulted, "The Horse in Motion," which showed that the
ideas of painters about a horse at high speed were usually wrong. No one
was ever allowed to kick or whip a horse or destroy a bird on the
estate. Mr. George T. Angell of Boston tells of the remark made to
General Francis A. Walker by Mr. Stanford. The horses of the latter
were so gentle that they would put their noses on his shoulder, or come
up to visitors to be petted. "How do you contrive to have your horses so
gentle?" asked General Walker. "I never allow a man to _speak_ unkindly
to one of my horses; and if a man _swears_ at one of them, I discharge
him," was the reply. There were large greenhouses and vegetable gardens
at Palo Alto, and acres of wheat, rye, oats, and barley. But the most
interesting and beautiful and highly prized of all the charms at Palo
Alto was an only child, a lad named Leland Stanford, Jr. He was never a
rugged boy; but his sunny, generous nature and intellectual qualities
gave great promise of future usefulness. Mrs. Sallie Joy White, in the
January, 1892, _Wide Awake_, tells some interesting things about him.
She says, "His chosen playmate was a little lame boy, the son of people
in moderate circumstances, who lived near the Stanfords in San
Francisco. The two were together almost constantly, and each was at home
in the other's house. He was very considerate of his little playfellow,
and constituted himself his protector."
When Mrs. Sarah B. Cooper was making efforts to raise money for the free
kindergarten work in San Francisco suggested by Felix Adler in 1878, she
called on Mrs. Stanford, and the boy Leland heard the story of the needs
of poor children. Putting his hand in his mother's, he said, "Mamma, we
must help those children."
"Well, Leland," said his mother, "what do you wish me to do?"
"Give Mrs. Cooper $500 now, and let her start a school, then come to us
for more." And Leland's wish was gratified.
"Between this time, 1879, and 1892," says Miss M. V. Lewis in the _Home
Maker_ for January, 1892, "Mrs. Leland Stanford has given $160,000,
including a permanent endowment fund of $100,000 for the San Francisco
kindergartens." She supports seven or more, five in San Francisco, and
two at Palo Alto.
A writer in the press says, "Her name is down for $8,000 a year for
these schools, and I am told she spends much more. I attended a
reception given her by the eight schools under her patronage; and it was
a very affecting sight to watch these four hundred children, all under
four years of age, marching into the hall and up to their benefactor,
each tiny hand grasping a fragrant rose which was deposited in Mrs.
Stanford's lap. These children are gathered from the slums of the city.
It is far wiser to establish schools for the training of such as these,
than to wait until sin and crime have done their work, and then make a
great show of trying to reclaim them through reformatory institutions."
Leland, Jr., was very fond of animals. Mrs. White tells this story: "One
day, when he was about ten years of age, he was standing looking out of
the window, and his mother heard a tumult outside, and saw Leland
suddenly dash out of the house, down the steps, into a crowd of boys in
front of the house. Presently he reappeared covered with dust, holding a
homely yellow dog in his arms. Quick as a flash he was up the steps and
into the house with the door shut behind him, while a perfect howl of
rage went up from the boys outside.
"Before his mother could reach him he had flown to the telephone, and
summoned the family doctor. Thinking from the agonized tones of the boy
that some of the family had been taken suddenly and violently ill, the
doctor hastened to the house.
"He was a stately old gentleman, who believed fully in the dignity of
his profession; and he was somewhat disconcerted and a good deal annoyed
at being confronted with a very dusty, excited boy, holding a
broken-legged dog that was evidently of the mongrel family. At first he
was about to be angry; but the earnest, pleading look on the little
face, and the perfect innocence of any intent of discourtesy, disarmed
the dignified doctor, and he explained to Leland that he did not
understand the case, not being accustomed to treating dogs, but that he
would take him and the dog to one who was. So they went, doctor, boy,
and dog, in the doctor's carriage to a veterinary surgeon, the leg was
set, and they returned home. Leland took the most faithful care of the
dog until it recovered, and it repaid him with a devotion that was
touching."
Leland, knowing that he was to be the heir of many millions, was already
thinking how some of the money should be used. He had begun to gather
materials for a museum, to which the parents devoted two rooms in their
San Francisco home. He was fitting himself for Yale College, was
excellent in French and German, and greatly interested in art and
archæology. Before entering upon the long course of study at college, he
travelled with his parents abroad. In Athens, in London, on the
Bosphorus, everywhere, with an open hand, his parents allowed him to
gather treasures for his museum, and for a larger institution which he
had in mind to establish sometime.
While staying for a while in Rome, symptoms of fever developed in young
Leland, and he was taken at once to Florence. The best medical skill was
of no avail; and he soon died, March 13, 1884, two months before his
sixteenth birthday. His parents telegraphed this sad message home, "Our
darling boy went to heaven this morning."
The story is told that while watching by the bedside of his son, worn
with care and anxiety, Governor Stanford fell asleep, and dreamed that
his son said to him, "Father, don't say you have nothing to live for;
you have a great deal to live for. Live for humanity, father," and that
this dream proved a comforter.
The almost prostrated parents brought home their beloved boy to bury him
at Palo Alto. On Thanksgiving Day, Thursday, Nov. 27, 1884, the doors of
the tomb which had been prepared near the house were opened at noon, and
Leland Stanford, Jr., was laid away for all time from the sight of those
who loved him. The bearers were sixteen of the oldest employees on the
Palo Alto farm. The sarcophagus in which Leland, Jr., sleeps is eight
feet four inches long, four feet wide, and three feet six inches high,
built of pressed bricks, with slabs of white Carrara marble one inch
thick firmly fastened to the bricks with cement. In the front slab of
this sarcophagus are cut these words:--
BORN IN MORTALITY
MAY 14, 1868,
LELAND STANFORD, JR.
PASSED TO IMMORTALITY
MARCH 13, 1884.
Electric wires were placed in the walls of the tomb, in the doors of
iron, and even in the foundations, so that no sacrilegious hand should
disturb the repose of the sleeper without detection. Memorial services
for young Leland were held in Grace Church, San Francisco, on the
morning of Sunday, Nov. 30, 1884, the Rev. Dr. J. P. Newman of New York
preaching an eloquent sermon. The floral decorations were exquisite; one
bower fifteen feet high with four floral posts supporting floral arches,
a cross six feet high of white camellias, lilies, and tuberoses,
relieved by scarlet and crimson buds, and pillows and wreaths of great
beauty.
"Nature had highly favored him for some noble purpose," said Dr. Newman.
"Although so young, he was tall and graceful as some Apollo Belvidere,
with classic features some master would have chosen to chisel in marble
or cast in bronze; with eyes soft and gentle as an angel's, yet dreamy
as the vision of a seer; with broad, white forehead, home of a radiant
soul.... He was more than a son to his parents,--he was their companion.
He was as an angel in his mother's sick room, wherein he would sit for
hours and talk of all he had seen, and would cheer her hope of returning
health by the assurance that he had prayed on his knees for her recovery
on each of the twenty-four steps of the Scala Santa in Rome, and that
when he was but eleven years old....
"He had selected, catalogued, and described for his projected museum
seventeen cases of antique glass vases, bronze work, and terra-cotta
statuettes, dating back far into the centuries, and which illustrate the
creative genius of those early ages of our race."
Such a youth wasted no time in foolish pleasures or useless companions.
Like his father he loved history, and sought out, says Dr. Newman, the
place where Pericles had spoken, and Socrates died; "reverently pausing
on Mars Hill where St. Paul had preached 'Jesus and the Resurrection;'
and lingering with strange delight in the temple of Eleusis wherein
death kissed his cheek into a consuming fire."
At the close of Dr. Newman's memorial address the favorite hymn of young
Leland was sung, "Tell Me the Old, Old Story." From this crushing blow
of his son's death Mr. Stanford never recovered. For years young
Leland's room in the San Francisco home was kept ready and in waiting,
the lamp dimly lighted at night, and the bedclothes turned back by
loving hands as if he were coming back again. The horses the boy used to
ride were kept unused in pasture at Palo Alto, and cared for, for the
sake of their fair young owner. The little yellow dog whose broken leg
was set was left at Palo Alto when the boy went to Europe with his
parents. When he was brought back a corpse, the dog knew all too well
the story of the bereavement. After the body was placed in the tomb, the
faithful creature took his place in front of the door. He could not be
coaxed away even for his food, and one morning he was found there dead.
He was buried near his devoted human friend.
"Toots," an old black and tan whom young Leland had brought from Albany,
was much beloved. "Mr. Stanford would not allow a dog in the house save
this one," says a writer in the San Francisco _Chronicle_. "'Toots' was
an exception, and he had full run of the house. He was the envy of all
the dogs, even of the noble old Great Dane. 'Toots' would climb upon the
sofa alongside of Mr. Stanford, and forgetting a well-known repugnance
he would pet him and say, 'There is always a place for you; always a
place for you.'"
The year following the death of young Leland, on Nov. 14, 1885, Mr.
Stanford and his wife founded and endowed their great University at Palo
Alto. In conveying the estates to the trustees, Mr. Stanford said,
"Since the idea of establishing an institution of this kind for the
benefit of mankind came directly and largely from our son and only
child, Leland, and in the belief that had he been spared to advise us as
to the disposition of our estate he would have desired the devotion of a
large portion thereof to this purpose, we will that for all time to come
the institution hereby founded shall bear his name, and shall be known
as the 'Leland Stanford, Jr., University.'"
Mr. Stanford and his wife visited various institutions of learning
throughout the country, and found consolation in raising this noble
monument to a noble son--infinitely to be preferred to shafts or statues
of marble and bronze.
This same year, 1885, Mr. Stanford's friends, fearing the effect of his
sorrow, and hoping to divert him somewhat from it, secured his election
by the California Legislature to the United States Senate. He took his
seat March 4, 1885, just a year after the death of his son. He did not
make many speeches, but he proved a very useful member from his good
sense and counsel and kindly leaning toward all helpful legislation for
the poor and the unfortunate. He was re-elected March 3, 1891, for a
second term of six years.
He will be most remembered in Congress for his Land-Loan Bill which he
originated and presented to the Senate. "The bill proposed that money
should be issued upon land to half the amount of its value, and for such
loan the government was to receive an annual interest of two per cent
per annum."
"Whatever may be thought by some of the practical utility of his
financial scheme," says Mr. Mitchell, a senator from Oregon, "which he
so earnestly and ably advocated, and which was approved by millions of
his countrymen, for the loaning of money by the United States direct to
the people at a low rate of interest, taking mortgages on farms as
security, all will now agree it indicated in unmistakable terms a
philanthropic spirit, an earnest desire to aid, through the
instrumentality of what he regarded as constitutional and proper
governmental influence, not the great moneyed institutions of the
country, not the vast corporations of the land, with several of which he
was prominently identified in a business way, but rather the great
masses of producers,--the farmers, the planters, and the wage-workers of
his country."
In this connection the suggestion of Professor Richard T. Ely in his
book on "Socialism and Social Reform," page 334, might well be heeded.
After showing that Germany and other countries have used government
credit to some extent in behalf of the farming community, and that New
York State has been making loans to farmers for a generation or more, he
says, "A sensible demand on the part of farmers' organizations would be
that Congress should appoint a commission of experts to investigate
thoroughly the use of government credit in various countries and at
different times, in behalf of the individual citizen, especially the
farmer, and to make a full and complete report, in order that anything
which is done should be based upon the lessons to be derived from actual
experience."
Mr. and Mrs. Stanford were much beloved in Washington for their
cordiality and generosity. They gave an annual dinner to the Senate
pages, with a gift for each boy of a gold scarf-pin, or something
attractive, and at Christmas a five-dollar gold-piece to each. Also a
luncheon each winter, and gifts of money, gloves, etc., to the telegraph
and messenger boys. Every orphan asylum and charity hospital in
Washington was remembered at Christmas. Mr. Sibley, representative for
Pennsylvania, relates this incident showing Mr. Stanford's habit of
giving. "My partner and myself had purchased a young colt of him, for
which we paid him $12,500. He took out his check-book, drew two checks
of $6,250 each, and sent them to two different city homes for friendless
children; and with a twinkle in his eye, and broadly beaming benevolence
in his features, said, 'Electric Bell ought to make a great horse; he
starts in making so many people happy in the very beginning of his
life.'"
Mr. Daniels of Virginia tells how Mr. Stanford was observed one day by a
friend to give $2,000 to an inventor who was trying to apply an electric
motor to the sewing-machine. Mr. Stanford remarked, "This is the
thirtieth man to whom I have given a like sum to develop that idea."
After Mr. Stanford had been in the Senate two years, on May 14, 1887,
he and Mrs. Stanford laid the corner-stone of their University at Palo
Alto, on the 19th anniversary of the birthday of Leland Stanford, Jr. In
less than four years, on October 1, 1891, the doors of the University
were opened to receive five hundred students, young men and women; for
Mr. Stanford had written in his grant of endowment "to afford equal
facilities and give equal advantages in the University to both sexes."
In his address to the trustees he said, "The rights of one sex,
political or otherwise, are the same as those of the other sex, and this
equality of rights ought to be fully recognized."
Mrs. Stanford said to Mrs. White as they sat in her library at Palo
Alto, "Whatever the boys have, the girls have as well. We mean that the
girls of our country shall have a fair chance. There shall be no
dividing line in the studies. If a girl desires to become an
electrician, she shall have the opportunity, and that opportunity shall
be the same as the young men's. If she wishes to study mechanics, she
may do it."
Mr. Stanford said in his address on the day of opening, "I speak for
Mrs. Stanford as well as for myself, for she has been my active and
sympathetic coadjutor, and is co-grantor with me in the endowment and
establishment of this University."
They had been urged to give their fortune in other directions, as some
persons believed that much education would unfit people for labor. "We
do not believe," said Mr. Stanford, and the world honors him for his
belief, "there can be superfluous education. As man cannot have too much
health and intelligence, so he cannot be too highly educated. Whether
in the discharge of responsible or humble duties he will ever find the
knowledge he has acquired through education, not only of practical
assistance to him, but a factor in his personal happiness, and a joy
forever."
Mr. Stanford desired that the students should "not only be scholars, but
have a sound practical idea of commonplace, every-day matters, a
self-reliance that will fit them, in case of emergency, to earn their
own livelihood in an humble as well as an exalted sphere." To this end
he provided, besides the usual studies in colleges, for "mechanical
institutes, laboratories, etc." There are departments of civil
engineering, mechanical engineering, electrical engineering, besides
shorthand and typewriting, agriculture, and other practical work.
He wished to have taught in the University "the right and advantages of
association and co-operation. ... Laws should be formed to protect and
develop co-operative associations. Laws with this object in view will
furnish to the poor man complete protection against the monopoly of the
rich; and such laws, properly administered and availed of, will insure
to the workers of the country the full fruits of their industry and
enterprise."
He gave directions that "no drinking saloons shall be opened upon any
part of the premises." He "prohibited sectarian instruction," but wished
"to have taught in the University the immortality of the soul, the
existence of an all-wise and benevolent Creator, and that obedience to
His laws is the highest duty of man." Mr. Stanford said, "It seems to us
that the welfare of man on earth depends on the belief in immortality,
and that the advantages of every good act and the disadvantages of
every evil one follow man from this life into the next, there attaching
to him as certainly as individuality is maintained."
The object of the University is, he said, "to qualify students for
personal success and direct usefulness in life." Again he said, "The
object is not alone to give the student a technical education, fitting
him for a successful business life, but it is also to instil into his
mind an appreciation of the blessings of this government, a reverence
for its institutions, and a love for God and humanity."
Mr. Stanford wished plain and substantial buildings, "built as needed
and no faster," urging the trustees to bear in mind "that extensive and
expensive buildings do not make a university; that it depends for its
success rather upon the character and attainments of its faculty."