reports he was trying to trade that instrument for a harp, with which
to pick his way into heaven--undoubtedly. He was a failure with the
pick in Nevada. Perhaps he will be more successful in heaven. If he
succeeds in gaining admission (and I ever get there) I'll try to steal
his harp!
Although I made but little money at Goldfield I was very greatly
attracted by its life; the utter abandon, the manhood, the disregard of
municipal laws, the semblance of honor which fooled so many, the codes
of right and wrong, the tremendous chances that were taken with a dice
box. It was as exciting as being a member of a suicide club!
Why do we court conflict with Fate when we know Fate is merciless?
I wonder.
Immediately after my unfortunate alliance with Brewer I formed an
association with two men who, with me, believed in going at the mining
game legitimately. By this I mean it is legitimate to buy options on
prospects and properties which look good and place them on the market
after they have been carefully examined by mining experts. Placing them
on the market involves forming stock companies in each of which we
must have the controlling interest. If the properties turn out well we
continue to develop them and work them for all they're worth. This was
the general idea of our new association.
I was the financial backer. One of my partners was a practical miner
who knew nothing about publicity work nor the art of promotion. The
other was a young man who had gone stranded in Reno and whom I had
known slightly in Goldfield as one of the boldest operators in that
roaring camp. He had failed for $3,000,000 in Goldfield (mentioned by
way of corroboration of this young gentleman's boldness!), and then
paid his creditors 100 cents on the dollar, quitting the camp broke.
In due time and with no little formality was launched the Nat C.
Goodwin Company, mine operators with headquarters in Reno. Presently
we secured control of a valuable property in the new mining town
Rawhide. The stock was worth most in Rawhide itself. All the mining
experts there knew the property. Thousands of shares were sold to the
inhabitants of the new mining camp who were loudest in their boasts
that we would soon prove that our property was the peer of the great
Goldfield consolidated.
So confident were we that we had a really valuable property that we
determined to go to New York and let the public in on the ground
floor. With no difficulty at all we listed our stock on the New York
Curb and with no manipulation that stock soared from 25 cents to $1.50
per share, almost over night. All we had to do with it was publishing
the mining experts' reports.
The gentlemen who call themselves brokers on the Curb banded themselves
together and conspired to work our ruin. In the end they succeeded.
But before they did we managed to mount fairly high in the business;
our legitimate methods and the unflagging industry of my partners
resulting in nine months in our acquiring the controlling interest in
Rawhide Coalition, owning outright another property in Rawhide, one
in Bovard, one in Fairview, one in Goldfield and the Ely Central. The
purchase price of Rawhide Coalition was $700,000 and of Ely Central,
$1,075,000. We had fine offices in New York in which we employed one
hundred and twenty-five stenographers! There we edited and published a
weekly newspaper, not to mention a daily and weekly market letter. Each
had a circulation of 60,000 copies weekly.
This was the time that the big promoters of Wall Street decided we had
been prosperous long enough. They "raided" our stocks--an interesting
process for which there is not room here. Their raids were followed by
the publication in two of the daily newspapers of the fact that one of
my partners had a Past. It was a youthful past--the event happened back
in 1894, just sixteen years before--but they dug it up to bludgeon the
market with.
What of it? In Nevada it's what a man is--not what he was--that counts.
They said our "mines" and "prospects" were fakes, my partners impostors
and I a willing tool. A burly police captain came to my apartments and
threatened me with all sorts of punishments unless I agreed to pay
for "protection." I was fearfully upset and insisted that my attorney
examine the books of the company to assure me that everything was being
conducted honestly. I knew the properties in Nevada were all we claimed
for them. I had spent months there and had panned gold on every yard of
these properties. My attorney made a rigid examination of the books and
assured me that everything was strictly legitimate.
Then it was I determined to continue for I knew we had the goods and
had been "on the level." But the market looters were inexorable and
showed no mercy. They broke our stock in one day from $1.50 to 60
cents. My partner, the man with a youthful Past, stood by his guns.
Instead of allowing the stock to tumble and against my advice, he
bought every share as fast as it was offered with the result that we
found ourselves owners of hundreds of thousands of shares of stock
bought at prices ranging from $1.50 downwards which we could not
readily dispose of again, because of the slanderous utterances of the
destroyers.
This sportsmanlike act of my partner was repeated on another occasion,
a few months later, during the marketing of Ely Central stock. The
conspirators finally used a "pull" in Washington and succeeded in
getting the Federal authorities to close-up the business. Rawhide
Coalition, according to latest information, is earning $200,000 a year
now (1913-14). Ely Central has been "grabbed" and will be merged with
the Rockefeller-Cole-Ryan owned Giroux, its neighbor.
I had learned months previously that there was a plot on foot to
put our firm out of business and the identity of the big interests
behind this scheme thoroughly impressed me. The suggestion that I "get
out" while the getting was good appealed to me strongly. But first I
acquainted my partners with the facts. The man with the past was as
stubborn as he was honest. He knew we were dealing honestly with the
public and he was bent on standing by his guns and proving it. I knew
the sword of Damocles was hanging by the slenderest of threads--and
resigned.
Eighteen months later the offices were the scene of a sure-enough,
wild-Western raid. All the staff was placed under arrest and indicted
by the grand jury. It cost the government several hundred thousands of
dollars to put that partner of mine in jail for six months, but they
did it by main force and broke him first. The combat was an uneven
one, and the "government" practically confessed before the trial was
finished that they had been unwittingly used to do a "job" for Wall
Street. The only crime my partner was guilty of was telling the truth
and trying to protect his customers.
I have set this down, not so much as autobiography as a vindication for
a man who insisted on being an honest man, no matter what the cost!
Also I have wished to disabuse some of my friends of an impression that
I made a fortune out of my adventure into the mining game. I didn't
make a fortune. I lost one!
_Chapter LXXII_
THE FIVE FATEFUL FISH CAKES AND NUMBER FOUR
Marriage for me had become an incident, not a conquest, now that I had
tried and tried again--three times! Ever since my earliest youth I
had loved the beautiful in nature. But I never sought these beautiful
creatures who sooner or later took my name. On the contrary, as I
have shown, my second and third wives were thrust upon me by force of
circumstances. Being human I allowed my bark of irresponsibility to
sail tranquilly into the harbor of intrigue.
If these two marriages were errors my fourth venture into matrimony was
a catastrophe! I fled from a Cleopatra to meet a Borgia.
And a dish of fish cakes proved my undoing!
I am passionately fond of the mixture of salt fish and potato--at least
I had been for twenty-five years. Now, for some reason, the mention of
the aforetime delicacy makes me shudder.
It was early one morning that I was hurrying to the ferry on my way to
Washington when I caught the indescribable odor of fish cakes wafted
toward me from the open door of the old Metropole Hotel. Instantly I
forgot everything. Fish cakes appealed to me more then than anything in
all the world--except only a cup of Child's "surpassing" and a plate
of butter cakes, colloquially known as "sinkers." Into the Metropole I
went and sat me down to await the execution of my order.
Hardly had I taken my seat when an ex-manager of an ex-champion prize
fighter approached me with a proposition which reduced to its simplest
terms meant that I become angel for a theatrical troupe. I had little
confidence in his managerial ability and knew enough of his past
environment to convince me that he was not the man to handle any part
of my money. When he told me the enterprise had already been launched
and had met with failure after a disastrous tour I was positive I
should never be induced to act as its reviver.
I arrived at this sane conclusion, however, before the fish cakes were
set before me!
The scenery, it seemed, was held by the sheriff in Jersey City for
unpaid debts. The young and handsome woman star was lying in hiding in
an apartment house nearby--in a hysterical condition promoted by her
discovery of the perfidy of her manager and of the syndicate of backers
who had "backed" with spontaneous unanimity at the crucial moment.
These gentlemen, my informer continued, had not only refused to rescue
the scenery from the vulgar Jersey sheriff, but had also refused to
redeem $20,000 worth of jewels which the young and handsome star had
pawned in Louisville that the attraction might remain on tour.
Before I had finished the first fish cake I discovered with mild
surprise that the ex-champion prize fighter's ex-manager had a hitherto
concealed attractive manner of speech and was altogether a magnetic
sort of chap. As my digestive processes began work on that first
fish cake I found myself interested not a little in this recital of
the young woman's sufferings. I must have shown it for my companion
waxed more and more enthusiastic and concluded an especially colorful
description of her anguish with the whispered statement that she had
been ruined!
In response to my sympathetic query he replied that he had intended to
qualify the remark with the word financially!
In order further to test the truthfulness of his tale I asked the
names of the syndicate of backers. They included a notorious _roué_,
a wealthy stock broker and the ex-champion prize fighter--a versatile
trio. It took but a short time for me to discover also the name of the
attraction and of the young and handsome star. Fate was again at my
elbow. I had heard of both play and player weeks before. The play had
been suggested to me for my own use. I had refused to negotiate for
it as I was then under the management of Charles Frohman and had no
wish to make a change. But I knew that it was a very clever farce. Its
failure, I was convinced, was the fault of inadequate acting and bad
booking.
This conclusion was not reached until I had masticated five fish cakes!
By the time I had finished the fifth my blood was fairly boiling and
the whole universe seemed to me to be calling aloud for a man to step
forward and right the wrongs the young and handsome star had suffered.
The treatment she had received was inhuman, I was sure of it!
Impulsively I telegraphed the young lady in Washington on whom I had
started to call that I was detained in New York on most important
business. Then we jumped into a cab and were on our way to the abode of
the young and handsome (not to forget hysterical) star.
Oh why did I not go to Washington? Why, oh why, did my mad passion for
fish cakes cause me to tarry at the Metropole? Perhaps Demon Fate will
answer that when posterity turns gray.
[Illustration: EDNA GOODRICH
_My young and handsome star_]
Arrived at our destination we were first, and speedily, ushered
into the presence of the mother of our heroine-in-distress. She
was a middle aged woman of the modern, alert type--who enjoyed
cigarettes when her dear daughter was not in evidence. As we chatted
inconsequentially I fancied I had seen her somewhere previously; but as
she launched forth on her distracted tale of her daughter's ruin (she
did not qualify it!) my truant thoughts were squelched.
Then came radiantly the daughter. She was submerged in sables!
Resplendent jewels covered her! Evidently the aspiring Juliet had not
left everything in Louisville. I was sure I had to deal with a very
thrifty and provident, yes, and young and handsome star!
All the ex-manager had told me was quickly verified by the daughter and
her astute mama. As was to be expected I let all my doubts dissolve in
pity. Also I felt a combined desire to be philanthropic and heroic.
I was almost as quick a thinker in those days as I was rapid as a
spender. I was 47 years old! Perhaps, gentle reader, you know how
susceptible are we clever men at that time of life, how tranquilly we
sit back on the cushions of our thoughts and say to ourselves we are
proof against the blandishments of women. We are sure that all the
favors we bestow emanate from the bigness of our hearts! We are proof
against all temptation. We know that December and May can not mate!
Believe me, my dear reader, I was convinced when I made up my mind that
I would assist this young woman I was doing an act of simple charity,
combined with a little business tact. It was to be merely a business
transaction. Fate might have nudged my elbow, at least once, that I
might have foreseen the cost of my vanity.
Within four hours from the moment the young and handsome star appeared
on my horizon I had financed this worthy trio to the extent of
releasing the scenery and redeeming the jewels. Also and by way of
security (!) I found myself owner of the play.
Oh I was some business man in those days!
Five days later I sailed for London.
Alone?
Oh no.
With me I took the just-released scenery, the play (which I had never
read but which I "knew" was a clever farce) and a promise from the
young and handsome star that she would follow on a steamship three
weeks later.
Before I sailed, with what seemed to me unnecessary foresight I cabled
Tom Ryley, then lessee of the Shaftesbury Theatre, announcing my coming
and asking that he prepare for the opening of my young and handsome
star and me in "The Genius." When I reached London I found Ryley had
obtained the rights to "The Lion and the Mouse" and was enthusiastic
over its production. Charles Frohman had cabled him to endeavor to
induce me to play the leading rôle. But I never for one moment believed
London would accept "The Lion and the Mouse" and refused to appear in
it. (My opinion of London's acceptance of "The Genius"--now that I had
read it--was not much more optimistic!) We compromised on a production
of "A Gilded Fool." This ran one week. Ryley again approached me with
the leading part in "The Lion and the Mouse" and again I refused. And
now I urged him to put on "The Genius."
Ryley, ordinarily a brainy chap, showed unexpected lack of appreciation
of talent and refused point blank to produce the farce if the young
woman from America appeared in it. He seemed not at all impressed by my
eloquent description of her ability as an actress. (Later he told me he
had seen her on the stage!) (Much later I confided to him that I never
had!)
Back I came to New York--bringing with me a young woman I had
discovered in London. (I am always "discovering" young women. It's a
habit.) This young woman, however, has since made history for herself.
The wife of an automobile salesman and earning pin money as an "extra
woman" at the Shaftesbury Theatre, she volunteered one day to type
extra copies of "A Gilded Fool" which were needed quickly. She did
the work so well I engaged her as my secretary. One day she read me a
speech from the play and so impressed me with her intelligence I gave
her the leading parts in both "A Gilded Fool" and "An American Citizen"
to study. Her readings of these two parts led me to engage her then and
there as my leading lady--in place of the young and handsome star whom
Ryley couldn't "see." (In passing I may say I paid her five pounds per
week!) After the opening night's performance I engaged her for three
years at a salary of $150 per week!
Thus began the career of Alexandra Carlisle, to-day the highest
salaried leading lady in London!
I had a most trying experience with Miss Carlisle. On the railway trip
from London to Southampton we had as fellow travellers her father and
mother and husband--and we made a very happy quintette. But directly
we were aboard the ship Miss Carlisle fell victim to an attack of
homesickness. Perhaps it was her sense of loss of her husband, perhaps
_mal de mer_ was at the bottom of it. In any event she spent the entire
trip in tears and in borrowing all my spare cash to send love messages,
via wireless, to the husband for whom she had shown no affection
at all--up to the time of our leaving. Of course all the old lady
passengers glared at me the first day out! The rumor literally flew all
over that ship that I was either abducting the young woman--or, equally
heinous offense, was neglecting her!
But to return to the mundane fish cakes--and the consequences thereof!
The ex-champion's ex-manager had remained in London after the departure
of the discomfited young and handsome star and her mama--to watch over
me! Instructions had been cabled to him later to be especially watchful
now that I was at my old game of "discovering" leading ladies. The trio
of conspirators were very, very busy those days! The purpose of the
ex-manager's presence at my elbow, constantly shown, was to have me
land in New York fancy free. In spite of my susceptible nature there
was no cause for alarm this time! I was intensely respectable! As yet I
had not even thought of divorcing Maxine Elliott.
My idea was to combine two types of beauty, English and American, and
with good press work make both my leading women popular favorites. But
the hopeless state of mind of Miss Carlisle put rather a damper on my
plan. I turned her over to the care of the ex-manager and remained
in my stateroom during the entire trip. On our arrival in New York I
loaned Miss Carlisle the cost of her passage home and the following
week she started back to London--much to the satisfaction of my
American beauty, pardon, my young and handsome star.
It struck me as an odd coincidence that on the same ship with Miss
Carlisle, also bound for London, was Miss Maxine--who always found
it convenient to go to England within a day or two of my arrival in
America!
Fate was a busy bee these days, I can tell you. He was weaving his net
well--and tightly.
Of course the young and handsome star and her mama met me at the pier.
They drove me to a most luxurious flat in Twenty-sixth Street--in a
landau drawn by two spanking bays. Truly my young and handsome star was
going some! After a hearty luncheon prepared by Martin I went to my
hotel and spent the evening with my friends, who were, are and always
have been--men!
The next day I arranged a tour for "The Genius."
The less said about that tour--
With my marriage to Edna Goodrich, the young and handsome star,
forsooth, the mere mention of fish cakes caused me to shudder!
At the end of that first tour I knew that the end was at hand.
Perhaps I was influenced by the fact that my friends told me at every
conceivable opportunity of the record of the young woman and her mama.
Of course I indignantly refused to listen to these allegations; but
the fact that there existed grounds for such allegations may possibly
have disturbed me. However, we went along, producing "When We Were
Twenty-One," "An American Citizen," one act of "The Merchant of Venice"
(thank God it was only one act!) and an original play written by George
Broadhurst, which made a tremendous hit in the South but was a failure
in the East.
My star-wife complained of being ill at the end of the season and
I sent her to a famous specialist in Minnesota for a series of
treatments. Her recovery was almost instantaneous! In five days, from
the day she left me, she wired me in California that she was in New
York about to start for Europe! She asked that I follow her. I replied
I had just reached Los Angeles and had business that would keep me
there--at least over night.
This was the beginning of the end indeed.
One night at dinner, a month or so later, I received an anonymous
letter containing charges against my absent bride. These general
allegations interested me less than the statement that the writer could
show me a watch which I had mourned as lost for many months. You see I
wanted the watch!
I arranged for an interview with my unknown correspondent, by putting
a club in the pocket of my dressing gown. Two men appeared. One, a
very common sort of person, I kept in my drawing room and the other,
a young, respectable looking chap I took into my den. There I began my
cross-examination. After promising to show me the long-lost watch the
following morning he called in his companion who proved to be a waiter
in a _café_ in which my wife had enjoyed her clandestine meetings. His
description of the man immediately served to identify him as one of
my wife's former admirers--a gentleman-about-town who had squandered
$20,000 on her, proposed and been accepted (before our marriage) and,
fortunately, gone broke before the ceremony could be performed! My
discovery that he was the gentleman in the case made me wonder. I had
not heard that his fortunes had been repaired--before this!
The following morning we visited a pawn broker's shop and there in the
window, hanging on a line, was my watch. I recognized it, not only from
its engraved initials but also because it was one of three which were
never duplicated. I had bought all three in Paris years before and
given two of them to my two best friends. When it disappeared I was
sure it had been stolen and did my best to trace it with the aid of the
police. I did not suspect my wife!
The young man had discovered the facts when the man-about-town in a
moment of drunken braggadocio boasted of his friendship with my wife
and displayed my watch as proof of it!
[Illustration: AS SHYLOCK
_One of my successful failures_]
In the frenzy of the moment my impulse was to drop all else and find
this whelp--to drive him at the point of a revolver into that pawn
shop and there make him redeem and return to me the property which I
could not accuse him of stealing! On second thought I realized that if
I ever laid eyes on him I could never refrain from taking just one pop
at him--and if the sound appealed to me I was afraid I might continue
popping. So I counted ten and my reason returned. To be locked up
for murder even if for only a few minutes is not a thing to be courted.
Besides there were always my mother and father to consider. Altogether
it would have been the act of a fool and for once I determined to play
another rôle. In following out this resolve I hastily left Los Angeles
and started for London.
Loving wife and fond mama had no intimation of my discovery. They
were awaiting me at the station and never did a husband get a warmer
greeting! Why, even mama seemed to have absorbed much of loving
daughter's excess of affection for me! And thus they conducted me to a
snug apartment in the Savoy Hotel. To interrupt such tender solicitude
for my well being by vulgar references to other men who yesterday had
been the recipients of all I was getting then would have put me too far
out of the picture! So I sat tight and waited for morning.
After breakfast the next day I opened the ball by remarking that I had
finally come across the trail of the thief who had stolen my watch.
Also I added with seeming irrelevancy that I had heard about the
clandestine meetings my wife had been indulging in with a gentleman I
named.
Her denials were not only positive; they were indignant. The fact that
I had absolute proof of all I had thus far said was the only thing that
saved me from becoming thoroughly convinced that I was mistaken.
Why is it so many women are such consummate actresses off the stage and
such impossible amateurs on?