ADOLPH SUTRO'S TUNNEL
William C. Ralston's Bank of California had become the great financial
institution of the West. Ralston was the Rothschild of America. Through
him Central Pacific Railway promoters borrowed $3,000,000 with less
formality than a country banker uses in mortgaging of a ten-acre farm.
Two millions took their unobtrusive wing to South America, financing
mines he had never seen. In Virginia City William Sharon directed a
branch of the Bank of California and kept his eye on mineral investment.
Benito sat in Ralston's office one morning, smoking and discussing the
Montgomery street problem when a clerk tapped at the door.
"A fellow's out here from Virginia City," he said nervously. "Wants to
see you quickly 'and no bones about it.' That's what he told me."
"All right, send him in," said Ralston laughing. "Stay, Benito. He won't
take a minute...." Ere he finished there stalked in a wild-eyed
individual clad in boots, the slouch hat of the mining man, a suit of
handsome broadcloth, mud-bespattered and a heavy golden watch chain with
the usual nugget charm. He was a clean-cat type of mining speculator
from Nevada.
"Sit down," invited Ralston. "Have a smoke."
The intruder glared at Windham; then he eased himself uncomfortably into
a spacious leather-covered seat, bit off the end of a cigar,
half-viciously and, having found the cuspidor, began.
"I've something for your ear alone, Bill Ralston...."
"Meet Benito Windham," Ralston introduced. "Speak out. I have no
secrets from my friends."
The other hemmed and hawed. He seemed averse to putting into words some
thought which troubled him beyond repression. "Do you know," he burst
out finally, "that your partner, Sharon, has become the most incurable
and dissolute gambler in Nevada?"
"You don't say." Ralston did not seem as shocked as one might have
expected. "Well, my friend, that sounds quite serious.... What's poor
Bill's particular kind of--vice?"
"Poker," said the visitor. "By the Eternal, that man Sharon would stake
his immortal soul on a four-card flush and never bat an eye. Time and
time again I've seen it."
Ralston leaned back comfortably, his folded hands across his middle. His
speculative stare was on a marble statue. At length he spoke. "Does
Sharon win or lose?"
"Well," the other man admitted, "I must say he wins...."
"Then he's just the man I want," Ralston spoke with emphasis. He rose,
held out his hand toward the flustered visitor. "Thanks for telling
me.... And now we'll all go for a drink together."
* * * * *
"That's Bill Ralston!" said Benito to his wife. They laughed about the
anecdote which Windham had related at the dinner table. Robert, in his
new letter-carrier's uniform, spoke up. "I saw him at the bank this
afternoon.... There was a letter from Virginia City and he kept me
waiting till he opened it. Then he slapped me on the shoulder. 'If the
contents of that letter had been known to certain people, son,' he told
me, 'they'd have cleaned up a fortune on the information.' Then he
handed me a gold-piece. But I wouldn't take it. 'Don't be proud,' he
said and poked me in the ribs. 'And don't forget that Bill Ralston's
your friend.'"
"Everybody calls him 'Bill,'" his mother added. "Washerwomen,
teamsters, beggars, millionaires. If ever there was a friend of the
people it is he."
"Some day, though, he'll overplay his game," Benito prophesied.
Ralston had been euchered out of a railroad to Eureka, planned by
Harpending and himself and opposed by the Big Four; "Montgomery to the
Bay" was meeting with a host of difficulties; the Grand Hotel was
building and Kearny street, where he owned property, was being widened.
Ralston's genial countenance showed sometimes a little strained pucker
between the eyes.
* * * * *
Now and then Benito met a man named Adolph Sutro. They called him "The
Man With a Dream." Stocky, under average height, intensely businesslike,
he was--a German Burgomeister type, with Burnside whiskers and a
purpose. He proposed to drive a tunnel four miles long from Carson
valley, and strike the Comstock levels 1800 feet below the surface.
An English syndicate was backing him. The work was going on.
Much of Sutro's time was spent in Virginia City, superintending the work
on his tunnel. But he fell into the habit of finding Benito whenever he
came to town--dragging him from home with awkward but sincere
apologies to Alice.
"You will lend me your husband, Hein?" he would say. "I like to tell him
of my fancies, for he understands ... the others laugh at me."
Alice smiled into his broad, good humored face. "That's very silly of
them."
"Donnerwetter! Some day they will laugh the other way around," he
threatened.
* * * * *
Benito and Sutro usually drove or rode through the Presidio and out
along a road which skirted cliffs and terminated at the Seal Rock House.
There they dined and watched the seals disporting on some sea-drenched
rocks, a stone's throw distant. And there Sutro indulged in more dreams.
"Some day I shall purchase that headland and build me a home ... and
farther inland I shall grow a forest out of eucalyptus trees. They come
from Australia.... One can buy them cheap enough.... They grow fast like
bamboo in the Tropics." He clapped a hand upon Benito's knee. "I shall
call it Mount Parnassus."
Benito tried to smile appreciatively. He felt rather dubious about the
scheme. But he liked to see the other's quiet eyes flash with an
unexpected fire. Perhaps his genius might indeed reclaim this desolate
region. Inward from the beach lay the waste of sand-hills known as
Golden Gate Park. There was talk among the real estate visionaries of
making it a pleasure ground.
So regularly did they end their outings with a dinner at the Seal Rock
House that Alice always knew where to find her husband in case some
clamorous client sought Benito's aid. And tonight as an attendant called
his name he answered with no other thought than that he would be asked
to make a will or soothe some jealous and importunate wife who wanted a
divorce without delay. They usually did want them that way. He rose,
leisurely enough, and made his way to the door. There, instead of the
usual messenger boy, stood Alice.
"You must come at once," she panted. "Robert has been robbed of an
important letter to the bank. They talk of arresting him.... Ralston
wants you at his office."