A CHAPTER OF ANECDOTES.
While it is true that Gould loved to envelope his transactions in
mystery, and was a master of the art of keeping silence, and though
during most of his life he was engaged in financial intrigues and
occult speculations, yet the main facts of his life can be found
in the official records of law cases and the numerous legislative
and congressional investigations that were held on many of his
transactions. The facts of this volume are not to be understood as
doing Mr. Gould an injustice, for almost the worst things that are said
about him are the ones to which he himself testified under oath.
The greatest financial transaction ever consummated in America is
believed by many people to have been the creation of the Union Pacific
Railway Company by Jay Gould. By a stroke of financial genius at once
bold and adroit, he consolidated into that corporation other great
railroad companies, assuming control of all. It will be remembered
that the Union Pacific Railroad Company and the Union Pacific Railway
Company are two distinct corporations. The former was the original
company.
It was in 1873 that Gould went into Union Pacific. He bought about
$10,000,000 of the stock, had it bound into a book and put it in a
safe, as he told a friend at the time, “for his wife and family as an
investment.” In 1878 Gould conceived the idea of a grand _coup_, and
this was carried out so successfully that in sixty days he had made
terms which netted him about $21,000,000 in profits.
He first ran over to Amsterdam from London, arriving there late in the
morning. At 10 A. M. that day he notified the Dutch bondholders of the
Denver Pacific that he would be pleased to meet them at 11 o’clock.
Promptly at that hour he met them, and at 12 he left Amsterdam with
his gripsack full of the securities of the Dutch bondholders. By this
means he captured control of the Denver Pacific. Inside of ten hours
he bought out Commodore Garrison’s interest in the Missouri Pacific.
He bought out ex-Governor Ames’ interest in the Central Branch of the
Union Pacific, and he had previously formed a pool by which he acquired
control of the Kansas Pacific.
One day the Union Pacific directors awoke to the alarming discovery
that Mr. Gould had dropped out of their organization and was surveying
a line from Denver to Salt Lake City. The Kansas Pacific was utterly
worthless, the Central Branch had not earned any money for years, the
Denver Pacific had been in very bad shape; but when the Union Pacific
directors discovered the extent of Mr. Gould’s combinations they lost
no time in boarding a special car in Boston and rushing over to New
York to see him about it. They went up to Mr. Gould’s house and were
there gathered in by him on the consolidation of the three roads,
all of their stock being exchanged at par and merged into the new
Union Pacific Railway Company as distinguished from the Union Pacific
Railroad Company.
This incident formed one of the subjects of inquiry committed to the
Pacific Railroad Commission in 1887. The members of the commission
appointed by President Cleveland consisted of Gov. Pattison, of
Pennsylvania; E. Ellery Anderson of this city, and David Littler, of
Illinois.
The Union Pacific railroad and the Kansas Pacific railroad companies
had received government subsidies in bonds and lands. The bonds were
received upon the stipulation that the companies would pay at par and
accumulated interest upon their maturity. The first of these bonds will
mature in 1895. An application had been made by the Pacific railroads
to Congress to extend the time of payment, and this commission was
appointed to report upon that matter and incidentally to furnish
Congress with information relative to these deals which had affected
the status of the corporations.
The commission began its sittings in this city, at No. 10 Wall street.
A large number of railway magnates intimately connected with the
Pacific railroads were first examined, including Russell Sage and
Sidney Dillon. They were examined particularly with a view to finding
out exactly what had taken place when the Union Pacific railway was
created. They seemed to know nothing about the matter. At every point
the well-directed questions of the inquirers were adroitly turned
aside. The witnesses did not know or could not remember. No light had
yet been thrown upon the subject under examination. But the great
witness of all was reserved for the last. This was Jay Gould. He knew
it all, but the great question was, “Would he tell?” Nobody believed
that he would tell voluntarily the facts relating to his connection
with the government interest in the matter, but it was believed that a
severe and searching cross-examination would compel him to divulge some
of the facts.
An immense amount of labor was gone through with in anticipation of the
time when Jay Gould should take his seat in the witness chair. Men on
the inside and familiar with the lines along which the inquiry should
be directed devoted weeks to the study of figures and the procurement
of papers upon which to base the questions which should be asked of Mr.
Gould. Dozens of questions on the same subject were prepared. If he
answered one question one way he was to be asked a certain question,
and if he answered another way he was to be asked another question.
In this way it was believed when Mr. Gould took his seat that the
beginning of a long struggle was at hand.
That was on May 17, 1887. Mr. Gould wore a plain pepper and salt
suit and a shabby silk hat. The examiners, all ready to level their
batteries of questions at him, were dumbfounded when the first
questions were asked and Mr. Gould blandly stated his willingness and
desire to afford all the information in his power. He seemed anxious to
withhold no facts, to evade no questions, and to help the members of
the commission in their work.
There being some uncertainty as to the exact route of some of the roads
in question, Mr. Gould even took out of his pocket a little map and
kindly enlightened the members of the commission as to the various
localities, and said: “I had anticipated that possibly you might want
to know what had been my holdings of various securities relating
to this transaction, and so I instructed my bookkeeper to draw off
a statement, which I now submit to you.” He then produced a little
memorandum covering about sixteen lines of writing, which covered all
the facts and gave the cue to every feature of the transaction. Mr.
Gould said he had kept books of all his transactions.
Q. Where are the books? A. I have them.
Q. Where? A. In my possession.
Q. Are they at the service of the commission? A. If they desire them,
with the greatest of pleasure.
This willingness to show the books created a profound sensation.
Railway magnates worth many millions and controlling thousands of miles
of road had one after another followed each other to the stand only to
show that Gould was the one who pulled the strings, that they did not
know what his intentions were in regard to the commission, and that he
made up his mind upon a certain line of policy without consulting them.
Many of these magnates were in the room and they sat with open mouths
and plainly evinced their astonishment when they saw Mr. Gould giving
up the hitherto carefully guarded facts. Nothing more plainly showed
the absolute mastery of Jay Gould over all the other railway magnates
of the country.
Mr. Gould had several “doubles” who were constantly being mistaken for
him.
Broker Sam Leopold, of No. 84 Broadway, for several years was known as
Gould’s double, but about a year ago he got tired of the distinction
and had his beard cut to a point. During the campaign of 1884 he was
offered $20,000 to impersonate Mr. Gould. Conspiring brokers proposed
that he smear blood on his face and roll on the sidewalk near the
corner of Broad and Wall streets. Confederates were to be on hand to
keep the crowd back till an ambulance arrived, and to say at intervals:
“That’s Jay Gould; he’s fatally injured.”
Further details of the plan were to have a carriage near Chambers
street hospital for the purpose of taking “Mr. Gould” to his house.
Of course Leopold’s remarkably close resemblance to Gould would be
sufficient to make the scheme work well, especially as a man was to
have been posted at Irvington to telegraph that the millionaire was in
his country home. Then the telegraph wires were to be “grounded” for a
few hours. The tremendous excitement would naturally depress the Gould
stocks, and, in sympathy, about everything would go down with a rush.
The schemers were to take advantage of this by selling short, and they
expected to have at least from 10 to 2 o’clock in which to work this
peculiarly daring manipulation of the market.
By the time the truth would be known the bold plotters would turn and
go long of the market, on the recovery from the temporary shock, and at
least two or three good-sized fortunes were expected to be realized by
the double deal. Sam reluctantly declined the tempting offer. Although
he wanted the $20,000 awfully bad, he feared that he might be mobbed
after the fright was over, and so the scheme fell through.
Leopold knew Gould very well, and they delighted to meet and look at
each other. It is related that whenever Sam discovered a new gray
hair in his whiskers he would hurry to Mr. Gould, only to find that
the millionaire was also keeping tab on his white hairs, and the two
accounts tallied exactly.
Some years ago Mr. Gould went to the Rocky mountains, where he wanted
some surveying done in the neighborhood of Black Hawk in Colorado. He
employed a surveyor and described the work he wanted done. The Indians
were rather troublesome at that time and the surveyor said:
“I will have a good chance of getting scalped.”
“Well,” replied Mr. Gould, “I want this work done, and I want to know
if you will do it.”
“It will be a bad thing for my family if I am killed,” said the man,
“but I’ll undertake the work.”
“How much money would it take to make you independent out here?” asked
Mr. Gould.
“I’d be well off if I had $5,000,” replied the surveyor.
The surveying was done, and one day, some months later, Mr. Gould asked
Mr. Morosini what the surveyor’s name was and directed him to send the
man a check for $5,000, with the remark:
“We’ll make him the richest man in Colorado.”
One of the stories told of Mr. Gould to illustrate his determination
to die a rich man whatever happened was this: In 1884, when it was
ascertained that Mr. Gould was in financial danger, he took from his
safe $11,000,000 worth of stock of the Manhattan and the Missouri
Pacific railroads and stowed it away in an iron box, which he locked
and sealed.
He resolved that that box should never be opened until after his death,
and that no matter what happened the securities should not be touched.
He carried the box, it was said, to the vaults of a safe deposit
company, where it was locked up, and the particular vault in which it
was placed was sealed, too. Instructions were given to the officers of
the company that the seal on the vault was not to be broken until after
his death, and then only in the presence of all of his executors.
Ex-Judge John F. Dillon knew Mr. Gould intimately. He first met
the financier in 1879, and was his legal adviser in many of his
undertakings.
“There were many distinct characteristics about Mr. Gould,” said
Mr. Dillon. “I never knew him to utter a profane word, and he was
as delicate and sensitive in temperament as a woman. Mr. Gould
wrote and spoke capital English, but he never wrote a word that was
not necessary. Judge Usher, who was Secretary of the Interior under
Lincoln, an able and great lawyer, once said to me that he had bought
a railroad for Mr. Gould, or in his interest, and had written out a
contract covering two or three pages of foolscap. The judge, in telling
of the incident, said: ‘I sent the contract, which I considered a
thorough document, to Mr. Gould, and he almost immediately returned it
written out on a half page of paper of the same size. When I got the
document and found it perfect in its condensed form, I felt ashamed
of myself.’ Mr. Gould was so self-reliant that he had little use for
lawyers. He was his own negotiator and contract maker. When he bought
the Iron Mountain road he showed me, the next day, a contract for that
great purchase. It was a contract written out in his own handwriting on
less than two pages of social note paper.
“He concluded the contract of the purchase of the Missouri Pacific
without consulting his lawyers. When shown the contract the next day,
his counsel told him he had bought a big lawsuit, and that title to
the whole property was in question in the Supreme Court of the United
States. He simply said, ‘I have given my check for $3,700,000, and
the thing is closed. The seller would laugh at me if I went back and
expressed a desire to rescind.’ He thereupon directed his attorneys to
take charge of the case and try to sustain the title of the property
bought, which after years of litigation they did.
“But great as Mr. Gould was as a financier and railway manager, he
would, if bred to the bar, have made a greater lawyer. That is a fact.
I have seen him greatly provoked, but never saw him lose his temper or
utter a threat. Nevertheless, he had a good memory, both for benefits
received and injuries done. He was probably, in the language of Dr.
Johnson, ‘a good hater without loquacity and pomposity.’”
A popular error about Jay Gould is the notion that he was invincible.
In 1866 a promissory note for $500 with his name went a-begging round
Wall street at a heavy discount, yet he left a fortune estimated at
$100,000,000. If Gould had died poor, what would have been the general
verdict on his career? And yet, only eight years ago he was on the
verge of failure. This was after the panic of May, 1884, one of the
few times that he was tempted into the stock market as a speculator in
order to hold up the price of stocks with which he was burdened.
The late Charles F. Woerishoffer, Henry N. Smith, and other operators
were united in a combined effort to bear the securities which Gould was
carrying. He had supported them for a time by obtaining sterling bills,
giving his securities as collateral and then converting the bills into
cash. But sterling loans, like all others, come to maturity; the bears
were as unscrupulous as himself, bold and skillful and persistent.
Gould’s Western Union fell to 49 and his Missouri Pacific to 62. He
was beaten. One morning he had his lawyers execute an assignment
of his property, and on the following day--a beautiful Sunday
morning--his yacht went down to Long Branch, where the bear operators
were summering. Gould’s emissaries landed and held a conference with
his foes. They bore his ultimatum--a copy of the assignment and the
statement that unless the bears made terms with him he would on the
following morning file the assignment and give public notice that he
was unable to meet his engagements.
At that time he was supposed to be borrowing some $20,000,000, and
his failure would create a bigger panic than the one the street had
just passed through. Many of the firms with which the bear combine
had “short” contracts outstanding would doubtless fail, and in the
general crash the successful bears themselves might be heavy losers.
After a protracted conference the bears agreed to “let up” on Gould on
condition that he should turn over to them 50,000 shares of Western
Union at the current market price, $50 per share. This enabled them to
make delivery of the shares they had sold at high prices. In speaking
of this “deal” the following day, one of the bears expressed his
confidence that Gould would have to fail anyhow--the help he received
would be transient in its effect as a glass of brandy given to a dying
man.
He was wrong. He underestimated the fertility of resource in Gould and
his associates.
Many of the men in the financial quarter of New York City the day
of his death devoted their time to forming estimates of Mr. Gould’s
character as a man and relating anecdotes of his life. In reference to
the general subject under discussion, Col. Henry T. Chapman, the art
connoisseur of the Stock Exchange, said:
“Gould’s art collection was little known, for he rarely ever figured
personally in buying pictures, and went so little into social life
that the public had no knowledge of his gallery. It is very choice,
however, consisting of about one hundred paintings. Many of them are
representative works of the Barbizon and modern French school. He has
one of the finest examples of Corot in the country, and masterpieces by
Rousseau, De Neufville and others.
“I purchased for him at the Stewart sale the finest example of Knaus
in the country. It is a famous work known as ‘Knaus Children,’ and
cost $25,000. Works by that artist have brought higher prices in this
country, but no one has a finer example. This illustrates one thing
that I would like to say about Mr. Gould. He did not buy a painting
on account of its price, but because he appreciated its beauties. He
had a fine, a highly cultivated artistic sense, and showed a wonderful
appreciation of color, tone and treatment in a picture.
“He knew the inspirational works of an artist from the mediocre
productions, and showed a nice discrimination in his selections. He
never bought a picture for a household decoration nor to fit a recess
in the wall, but for the love of the art it displayed and the enjoyment
it gave him. His was the true artistic spirit.”
“The quality for which I most greatly respected Mr. Gould,” said an
acquaintance, “was his consideration for others. This may seem a
strange quality to attribute to a man who is esteemed a ‘wrecker’ by
nine-tenths of Wall street men, but it was the thing that I often
remarked in a long personal acquaintance with the man.
“It was once my pleasure to accompany him and some members of his
family to Florida. His son George and a young companion were of the
party. When we arrived at Palatka, Fla., Mr. Gould found that a suite
of apartments had been reserved in Orvis’ hotel for each member of the
party.
“This was not unusual on the trip, but it happened that at Palatka
there were many tourists arriving by the same train who were unable to
obtain accommodations in consequence of the allotment of rooms to the
Gould party. Mr. Gould took in the situation at once. ‘See here,’ said
he to the proprietor, ‘why do you give me all these rooms? Others need
accommodation as well as I.’ ‘But,’ said the man, I----’ ‘That’s all
right,’ replied Mr. Gould, ‘I know all about that. These people need
rooms and should have them, and if there are not enough here for the
ladies just send those boys of mine over to the barn.’
“George Gould and his companion,” said the man in conclusion, “slept
that night in an outbuilding, scarcely a barn, but little better.”
“Mr. Gould,” said President Norvin Green, of the Western Union
Telegraph Company, “was a man who, while he governed a corporation
carefully, was always ready to reward merit and the faithful
performance of duty. I remember at one of our annual meetings one of
our department men, in making his report, appended thereto a request
that his salary be raised. He asked for a large increase--fifty per
cent. I think, from $2,400 to $3,600 a year. The Committee on Expenses
was not inclined to grant the request. They were willing to give him a
slight increase, but nothing like he asked.
“There was something peculiar about his work--I don’t recollect what
now--but it led to a somewhat long debate. This was terminated by Mr.
Sage, who said as he always did when in doubt: ‘Well, we will leave the
matter to Mr. Gould.’ When Mr. Gould came in the matter was referred to
him with the explanation of the debate and the points of difference.
Mr. Gould took up the report and read it through. Then he read the
request for an increase. When he had finished he turned and said:
‘Gentlemen, is there any of you who would like to do the work that man
has done for $2,400 a year?’
“Every man shook his head. ‘Neither would I,’ remarked Mr. Gould. ‘If
he can do all this work he is certainly entitled to this $3,600 he
asks, and we get off cheaply at that in having a faithful, honest and
most capable employe.’”
Among other stories told of Mr. Gould are the following:
Some years ago he was tendered the nomination of Rex, the king of the
Mardi Gras carnival in New Orleans. He declined this, of course, and
when asked jokingly by a friend why he had put ambition away, remarked
dryly:
“Well, I don’t think the nomination was entirely disinterested or that
I would have reigned supreme. I have always heard that there was ‘a
power behind the throne,’ and in this case I am sure of it.”
With this he thrust his hand into his pocket and drew forth the letter
notifying him of his selection to the high office. Enclosed in it was a
bill for $1,000, the price of the honor. The functions of Rex that year
were performed by a St. Louis brewer.
Mr. Gould could never accustom himself to take with equanimity the
criticism and abuse that were heaped upon his head. He was exceedingly
sensitive of ridicule and loathed the term “Little Wizard,” by which he
was not infrequently designated by the Wall street men and the papers.
He often heard himself most grossly abused. Once, it is related,
during a particularly vexatious series of delays to a crowded elevated
railroad train in which Mr. Gould happened to be, a tall, muscular
individual broke out into a torrent.
“It’s ridiculous,” he shouted. “The accommodations on this road.
Absurd! Scandalous! That man Gould won’t put on an extra car. Valuable
franchise for a song, but an extra train means a dollar less or so in
profits. It’s a shame, and I’d like to have that little rat Gould here
to tell him and then pull his nose.”
Mr. Gould stood by the blusterer’s side almost crushed in the crowd.
He said nothing, however, and the man continued his outburst until he
reached a station, where he left the car, after pronouncing a final
malediction upon Gould’s head.
“Well, well,” said Mr. Gould, turning to an acquaintance, “that was
hot, wasn’t it? I was very much annoyed at the delays and crowds myself
and I did want to tell the man that I was not responsible for the
limited number of trains. If he had not been so abusive, I would have
told him that it was all Sage’s doings. He advised taking the extras
off and I suffer for it. I do wish Sage could have been here, for I
think I would have told that fellow all about it and let Sage get his
deserts.”
An illustration of the rush and hurry of Jay Gould’s life is told among
the Pennsylvania mountaineers in the region round about Gouldsboro.
Mr. Gould’s father was superintendent of the tannery at Canadensis,
which was the property of his son, and received therefor the salary
of $20 per week, which in those parts placed him high up in the
category of the well to do. Canadensis is four and a half miles from
the railroad station at Cresco on the Delaware, Lackawanna and Western
railroad, and the road between is a rough mountain road not fitted for
fast speeding.
When the old man died Jay Gould was summoned by telegraph. He reached
Cresco in a great hurry. Business matters were pressing and he had no
time to waste. He hired a rig and told the owner to drive him over to
Canadensis and back in time to catch the next train back to New York.
The owner shook his head.
“Go ahead,” said Gould. “I’ll pay the damage.”
The horse was put to its utmost speed and Gould had just one hour and a
half to devote to preparations for his father’s funeral. Then he drove
back to Cresco and caught his train, but he drove so fast that the
horse died from overexertion. Gould made good the value to the owner
without complaint.
Pacific Mail was always one of Mr. Gould’s speculative favorites. He
had been more or less directly identified with it ever since the time
when A. B. Stockwell was its picturesque controller. Stockwell is
the historic gentleman who, in reciting the story of his Wall street
career, has graphically put in this way:
“When I first came to Wall street I had $10,000, and the brokers called
me ‘Stockwell.’ I scooped some profits, and it was ‘Mr. Stockwell.’ I
got to dealing in a thousand shares at a time, and they hailed me as
‘Captain Stockwell.’ I went heavily into Pacific Mail, and folks lifted
their hats to ‘Commodore Stockwell.’
“Then one day Jay Gould came along, smash went Pacific Mail and I went
with it. They did not call me ‘Commodore Stockwell’ after that. Then it
was: ‘The red-headed son of a gun from Ohio.’”
In the course of his Pacific Mail campaigning Mr. Gould was much more
frequently a bear, than a bull. He used to say he had never found but
one unerring bull point on Pacific Mail, and that was to report that
the company had lost one of its ships. Perhaps his biggest drive at
this stock was when he discomfited Leonard Jerome and played smash with
the uptown corps of speculators who made up what was a dozen years ago
known as “the Fifth Avenue Hotel party.”
Just after that famous clean-out Leonard Jerome went abroad. In the
course of his meanderings he came upon the famed Temple of Karnak.
“There, Mr. Jerome,” quoth a companion, “are the most remarkable ruins
in the world.”
“No; oh, no; don’t tell that to me,” answered Leonard Jerome feelingly;
“you ought just to have seen Pacific Mail last summer!”
Mr. Gould did not have any of that quality which descriptive persons
call “presence.” No stranger would have ever been impressed by any mere
look at him that he was much of a man. He was courteous always. In
public he was never known to get mad, or, indeed, even to say a rude
thing, except it be on one occasion, when, with more or less quietness,
he remarked to an ambitious young gentleman who more recently became a
figure in Wall street:
“You make me feel very sorry that I am so busy. If I had time I’d
really enjoy taking a day off to send you to State prison.”
Of course, Mr. Gould was in lots of scenes where passion ran high.
Everybody in Wall street recalls the historic day after Black Friday
when Mr. Gould’s old partner, Henry N. Smith, shaking his finger in Mr.
Gould’s face, shouted:
“I’ll live to see the day, sir, when you have to earn a living by going
around this street with a hand organ and a monkey.”
“Maybe you will, Henry, maybe you will,” was the soothing response.
“And when I want a monkey, Henry, I’ll send for you.”
In the book of Mr. Clews quoted before, is found the following: “There
is a story told with several variations, in regard to a sensational
interview between Mr. Gould and Commodore Vanderbilt. The scene is laid
in the parlor of the commodore’s house. It was about the time that
the latter was making desperate efforts to get a corner in Erie, and
at that particular juncture when having been defeated in his purpose
by the astute policy of the able triumvirate of Erie, Gould, Fisk and
Drew, he had applied to the courts as a last resort to get even with
them.
“They had used the Erie paper-mill to the best advantage, in turning
out new securities of Erie to supply the Vanderbilt brokers, who vainly
imagined that they were getting corner in the inexhaustible stock. Mr.
Vanderbilt was wild when he discovered the ruse, and had no remedy
but law against the perpetrators of this costly prank. These adroit
financiers usually placed the law at defiance, or used it to their own
advantage, but this time they were so badly caught that they had to
fly from the state, and take refuge in Taylor’s hotel in Jersey City.
“It seems that during their temporary exile beyond the state, Gould
sought a private interview one night with the commodore, in the hope of
bringing about conciliatory measures.
“The commodore conversed freely for some time but in the midst of his
conversation he seemed to be suddenly seized with a fainting spell,
and rolled from his seat onto the carpet, where he lay motionless and
apparently breathless.
“Mr. Gould’s first impulse was to go to the door and summon aid, but
he found it locked and no key in it. This increased his alarm and he
became greatly agitated. He shook the prostrate form of the commodore,
but the latter was limp and motionless. Once there was a heavy sigh and
a half-suffocated breathing, as if it were the last act of respiration.
Immediately afterward the commodore was still and remained in this
condition for nearly half an hour. Doubtless this was one of the most
anxious half hours that ever Mr. Gould has experienced.
“If I were permitted to indulge in the latitude of the ordinary
storyteller, I might here draw a harassing picture of Mr. Gould’s
internal emotions, gloomy prospects in a criminal court and dark
forebodings. His prolific brain would naturally be racked to find a
plausible explanation in the event of the commodore’s death, which had
occurred while they were the sole occupants of the room; and at that
time, in the eyes of the public, they were bitter enemies.
“I can imagine that, in the height of his anxiety, he would have been
ready to make very easy terms with his great rival, on condition of
being relieved from his perilous position. It would have been a great
opportunity, if such had been possible, for a third party to have come
in as a physician, pronouncing it a case of heart disease. No doubt Mr.
Gould would have been willing to pay an enormous fee to be relieved of
such an oppressive suspicion.
“The object of the commodore’s feint was evidently to try the courage
and soften the heart of Mr. Gould, who never seemed to suspect that
it was a mere hoax. His presence of mind, however, was equal to the
occasion, as he bore the ordeal with fortitude until the practical
joker was pleased to assume his normal condition and usual vivacity. If
Mr. Gould had been a man of common excitability, he might have acted
very foolishly under these trying circumstances, and this doubtless
would have pleased his tormentor intensely.
“There is a humorous story told of Mr. Gould’s first yachting
experience, which was recently published in the Philadelphia _Press_,
and its veracity vouched for by a living witness to the event. It is
characteristic of Mr. Gould in some special respects, and runs as
follows:
“At the residence of a club man, whose reputation as a _raconteur_ is
nearly as great as that of his Burgundy, I noticed a pretty model of a
jib and mainsail yacht. Replying to my admiring inquiry the club man
explained:
“‘That is the model of a boat upon which were passed some of the
sunniest hours of my life. She was owned by one of the Cruger family,
of Cruger-on-the-Hudson, and has an added interest from the fact that
upon her Jay Gould acquired his first yachting experience, and so
eventful a one that I’ll bet he remembers it to this day.
“‘Crugers--one of the oldest and best known families in the state,
intermarried as they are with other Knickerbockers like the Schuylers,
Livingstons and Van Rensselaers--owned all the land in the neighborhood
of the station subsequently named after them. A portion of this
property consisted of a brick-yard, which was rented to the son of old
Schuyler Livingston. It was in 1853 or 1854, and Jay Gould had just
failed in the tannery business in Pennsylvania.
“Young Livingston’s leased brick-yard wasn’t paying, and he concluded
that he needed a shrewd business man at his head. He advertised for
a partner, and one day there appeared in response a small, dark
gentleman, looking scrupulously neat in his black broadcloth. He gave
his name as Jay Gould. Pending negotiations, Mr. Gould became the guest
of the Crugers at the old mansion on the hill. Every effort was put
forth to entertain him during his stay, the more as he seemed to regard
favorably a partnership with their young friend.
“One day Mr. Cruger invited Gould to a sail to Newburgh, and got
ready his yacht, of which that model is the reduction. Several of us
youngsters were taken along to help work the boat. Eugene Cruger, a
nephew of the yacht’s owner, was one of us. Peekskill was reached, and
the whole party went up to the hotel.
“All the way up the river we had noticed that Mr. Gould was uneasy,
shifting about constantly on the deck, where he sat, and squirming
and twisting as if to find a softer spot. Nothing was said about
it, of course, but when we landed Mr. Gould himself furnished the
explanation. From the heat of the sun, the yellow paint on the boat’s
deck had become baked and chalky, and it was not long before the little
man discovered that the dry powder was coming off on his trousers.
Hence his uneasiness. He concluded by saying that he was afraid his
broadcloth nether garments would be, if they were not already, ruined,
and was determined to abandon the trip and return by rail. This Mr.
Cruger would not hear of, and promised to obviate the difficulty. We
all adjourned to a general store, and Cruger bought for two shillings
and a half, a pair of jean overalls. These Mr. Gould put on when we
went aboard the boat, and expressed his unqualified satisfaction with
the result.
“On our trip back from Newburgh, we again called at Peekskill, and once
more the party started for the hotel. This time Mr. Gould declined the
invitation to take something, and preferred to remain on board. About
an hour was spent in the hotel, when suddenly Mr. Cruger remembered
that he wanted some white lead, and young Eugene Cruger and I went
with him to the store to carry it down to the boat.
“‘How’d the overalls work, Mr. Cruger?’ was the salutation of
the storekeeper. Then before answer could be returned, he added,
admiringly: ‘That friend o’ yourn is purty shrewd.’
“‘Who, Mr. Gould? Yes, he appears to be a thorough business man.’
“‘Well, I sh’d say so! He can drive a mighty sharp bargain.’
“‘Drive a sharp bargain?’ repeated Cruger, all at sea. ‘What do you
mean?’
“‘Why, don’t you know he was in here ’bout three-quarters of an hour
ago and sold me back the overalls you bought for him?’
“‘Thunder, no!’ roared Cruger in astonishment.
“‘Well, sir, he jest did that. He kem in here, tole me he’d no fu’ther
use for ’em, that they was as good as when I sold ’em, an’ after we’d
haggled awhile he ’greed ter take two shillin’ fur ’em, which I paid
him. Here’s the overalls.’
“I can shut my eyes now,” went on the jolly club man, with a hearty
laugh, suiting the action to the words, “and call up Mr. Cruger’s face
with its mingled expression of amazement and incredulity. He left the
store in silence. Not until we had nearly reached the boat did he
speak. Then he only said, ‘Boys, I’ll fix him for that!’ We reached
home without any reference to the incident. On the way back Mr. Gould
sat upon his pocket handkerchief.
“The same night Mr. Cruger perfected his plan. Next day Mr. Cruger
proposed a fishing party. Mr. Gould declined to go. He had concluded,
he said, not to take an interest in young Livingston’s brick-yard, and
would return to the city on the afternoon train. A business engagement,
involving quite a sum of money, had to be kept. His host argued with
him, but for a time to no purpose. The saturnine little man had a
tremendous amount of determination in his composition. Finally a
compromise was effected, it being agreed that he should put Gould off
at a station in time to catch the train. That he must catch it without
fail, he most emphatically declared.
“The day passed on and we were off Sing Sing, when we saw the smoke
of the coming train. We had been running free before the wind, but
immediately Mr. Cruger, who was at the stick, shoved it down; we hauled
in on the sheets and headed for the Eastern shore. Mr. Gould was by
this time on his feet, clinging to the windward coaming, the deepest
anxiety pictured on his face. Just there the water shoals rapidly. We
were within fifty feet of the shore, opposite the railroad depot. The
time had now come for Mr. Cruger’s revenge.
“‘Let go the main and jib sheets!’ he shouted. ‘Down with your board!’
“Never was order more eagerly obeyed. The sheets whizzed through
the blocks, ready hands slipped out the pin and jammed down the
centerboard, and in a second the yacht, with a grating shock and
shaking sails, came to a stand, fast on the sandy bottom. There she was
bound to stay until the obstructing board was lifted again.
“‘What’s the matter?’ exclaimed Mr. Gould, anxiously. Of course he had
not detected the ruse, for he knew no more about the working of a yacht
than a sea cow does about differential calculus.
“‘I’m afraid we’re aground,’ replied Mr. Cruger, with a fine assumption
of sadness. ‘Boys, get out the sweeps and push her off.’
“We struggled with the long oars in a great show of ardor, while Gould
watched us in breathless suspense, between hope and fear. But as we had
taken care to put the sweeps overboard astern, the harder we shoved the
faster we stuck. The little man’s suspicions were not in the slightest
degree aroused and he turned in despair to Mr. Cruger.
“‘What shall I do!’ he almost wailed. ‘I’ve got to catch that train!’
“‘Then,’ replied the joker, solemnly, ‘you’ll have to wade or swim.’
“Already the train was in sight, two miles away, and whatever was to
be done had to be done quickly. As I have said, there was plenty of
grit in the embryo railroad king, and quick as a wink he was out of
his sable clothes and standing before us clad only in his aggressively
scarlet undergarments. Holding his precious broadcloth suit above his
head, he stepped into the water, which, shallow as it was, reached to
the armpits of the little gentleman. Then he started for the shore, his
short, thin legs working back and forth in a most comical fashion as
he strove to quicken his pace. The station platform was crowded with
people, and very soon the strange figure approaching them was descried.
A peal of laughter from 500 throats rolled over the water to us, the
ladies hiding their blushes behind parasols and fans. The men shouted
with laughter. Finally the wader reached the base of the stone wall,
and for a moment covered with confusion and but little else, stood upon
the rock, one scarlet leg uplifted, looking for all the world like a
flamingo on the shore of a Florida bayou, while the air was split with
shrieks of laughter, in which we now unreservedly joined. Then came the
climax of the joke, which nearly paralyzed the unfortunate victim.
“‘Haul on your sheets, boys, and up with the board!’ was Cruger’s
order. As the yacht gathered headway and swept by within ten feet of
the astonished Mr. Gould, we laughingly bade him good-bye, advising a
warm mustard bath when he got home.
“Then his quick mind took in the full force of the practical joke that
we had worked upon him, and his dark face was a study for a painter.
But the train had already reached the station, taken on its passengers,
and the wheels were beginning to turn again for its run to the city.
As Gould scrambled up the wall, his glossy black suit still pressed
affectionately to his bosom, the ‘All aboard’ had sounded and the cars
were moving. Every window was filled with laughing faces, as he raced
over the sand and stones, and was dragged by two brakemen onto the
rear platform, panting and dripping. The last glimpse we caught of him
was as the train entered the prison tunnel. Then, supported on either
side by the railroad men, he was making frantic plunges in his efforts
to thrust his streaming legs into his trousers, as the platform reeled
and rocked beneath him.”
It was once suggested to Mr. Gould that he had been fairly successful
in life, and the inquirer wanted to know if Mr. Gould wouldn’t tell the
secret of it.
“There isn’t any secret,” said Mr. Gould. “I avoid bad luck by being
patient. Whenever I am obliged to get into a fight I always wait and
let the other fellow get tired first.”
Any student of the history of Mr. Gould’s career in the corporation
world will appreciate how again and again he found this quality of
patience a prime investment. He never seemed to be in a hurry about
anything. One of his enemies has remarked that during the last twenty
years Jay Gould spent $1,000,000 hiring lawyers and paying court fees
to accomplish nothing except to have lawsuits postponed.
And now the great man is dead. For days after his demise the public
press was full of tales of his career. On every editorial page have
been resumes of his life, and judgment upon him, either for or against.
Much has been found to say of him that was good, and much that was
evil. As a fitting close to this biography, it is good to quote from
the New York _World_, which has published much of interest regarding
him. The paper indeed was not his friend, but we have had much from his
friends, and this opinion probably agrees with that of more persons
than does any other:
“Look back upon his wonderful career. As sometimes an assassin is
tracked by his footsteps in the snow or by the drops of crimson that
have fallen from his fingers, dripping with the life blood of his
victim, so the life of Jay Gould can be traced by the dark, deep stains
it has left on the records of his time. We see him leaving his father’s
farm a penniless but determined lad, clerking in a country store by
day and studying mathematics at night. We follow him as he becomes a
map-maker and goes forth to survey his own and adjoining counties. We
see him hungry and unable to purchase a meal, kneeling down by the
roadside and repeating his sister’s prayer. We see him strike his
first bargain. We see him win the confidence of Zadock Pratt, the
tanner. We follow him into the forests of Pennsylvania and hear the
sound of his ax as he fells the first tree for a great tannery. We see
him scheming for the control of the property and finally forcing out
of the concern the man who had set him up in the business. We follow
him in his partnership with Leupp, the old-fashioned and honorable
merchant, of New York, and see him again scheming to gain control of
the entire business. We see him entering, even at this early day,
into wild speculations that involved his partner and threatened him
with ruin. We hear the click of the pistol with which Leupp in his
despair shot himself. We see Gould still scheming and endeavoring to
drive a sharp bargain with Leupp’s daughters and heirs. We see him
leading a gang of ruffians to drive out of the tannery the men who
were endeavoring to protect it in the interests of Leupp’s daughters.
We hear the groans of those who were wounded in that battle. We follow
the young adventurer to New York. We see him buy his first railroad on
credit and clear a handsome fortune out of the operation. We follow
him into Wall street, where for twenty years he was to reign as a king
and master. We see him in Erie, first as a follower of Daniel Drew
and afterward as president. We see him at Albany bribing senators.
We see him in New York purchasing judges, defying the law, issuing
millions of securities, not a dollar of which represented legitimate
expenditures. We see him plundering the great property of which he was
nominally the trustee. We see him and his companion, James Fisk, Jr.,
the gambler and defaulter in a series of wonderful stock operations,
cornering even their former leader, Daniel Drew, and fighting with
desperation Commodore Vanderbilt. We see him organizing the greatest
and most dastardly financial conspiracy the world has ever seen, laying
its foundation in the actual bribery of a member of the President’s
family, and in an attempt to involve in the speculation the President
himself--America’s greatest captain. We hear the awful crash of Black
Friday’s earthquake, from which Gould, the arch conspirator, saved
himself, but in which hundreds were involved in ruin and the nation
in dishonor. We see him now driven out of Erie by the indignant
stockholders, headed by Gen. Sickles, Gen. Dix and Gen. McClellan.
We see him arrested for appropriating the property of the company of
which he was president, and to save himself we see him make a pretended
restitution of the misappropriated millions. We see him cornering
Northwest and raking in the wealth of his recent Wall street partner.
We can see him now fastening his fingers on the great Union Pacific
railroad, which for ten years he controlled. We can see him betraying
his trust as trustee for Kansas Pacific mortgages, for which he was
obliged years after to plead the statute of limitations in order to
save himself from prosecution. We see him securing control of the
Pacific Mail, the chief American steamship line. We see him buying for
a few million dollars from Commodore Garrison the Missouri Pacific,
‘just as a plaything,’ but which he afterward developed into a great
railroad system covering thousands of miles of territory. We see him
repeating his old Erie tactics in Wabash and we can hear the stinging
words of an unpurchasable judge as he turns his dummy receivers from
power. We see him organizing an opposition against Western Union until,
the favorable moment arriving, he secures control of the company and
by a series of extraordinary consolidations make himself the head of
a telegraph monopoly with a system covering the United States and
crossing the Atlantic Ocean. We hear the crash of another panic. There
are moments when we think the great speculator will fall--when, lo! we
see him calmly exhibiting his millions of securities to his friends.
Others fail, among them men who had been his partners and agents, but
he is safe. We see him living in a palace on the Hudson and ploughing
the waters of the river and the ocean with the most splendid yacht
ever constructed. We see him at home, the personification of domestic
honor and purity, a faithful husband and a kind father, and we see him
abroad, hated, feared and detested. Despite his record, we find the
power of his millions and of the great properties he controlled felt
in every direction. He is a factor in elections. Candidates seek him
for favors. He dictates appointments to high offices. Honorable men
who would not repeat his methods sit with him in boards of direction
and are identified with some of his enterprises. Nothing that the
fertile imagination of Balzac, Dumas or Gaboriau ever conceived equals
in dramatic incidents and sensational developments the career of this
extraordinary man.
“It will be observed that there were two Goulds--Gould the man of
affairs and Gould the man of family. In all his domestic relations his
life was pure, his nature affectionate. No criticism can touch him in
his home life. There he was above reproach. Toward the end of his life
his dual nature seemed to blend into one. He became more conservative
in business, more solicitous, apparently, of the good will and good
opinion of his fellowmen, more careful to keep within the bounds of
strict business morality, less audacious in his methods. For should
it be forgotten that however much Gould’s public career may be justly
subject to criticism, much that he did was indirectly for the public
benefit? For instance, he developed properties that enriched wide
sections of the country. No review of his career would be complete
without this acknowledgement.”
Jay Gould will be remembered not for the good that he has done, not
for the happiness he has given, but for the enormity of the fortune
that he acquired. If his heirs apply to better ends than he did, the
wealth that they have received from him, they may be better remembered.
If they should dissipate the fortune, it might then fall into the
possession of those who would do good with it. As it has been before,
the life and fortune of Jay Gould have been a constant example always
in readiness to be brought forward by those who find evil in our
financial system. It is to be hoped that better things will now come
from it.
FINIS.
Transcriber’s Notes
Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a
predominant preference was found in the original book; otherwise they
were not changed.
Simple typographical errors were corrected; unbalanced quotation
marks were remedied when the change was obvious, but several remain
unbalanced.
Illustrations in this eBook have been positioned between paragraphs
and outside quotations. In versions of this eBook that support
hyperlinks, the page references in the List of Illustrations lead to
the corresponding illustrations.
Page 68: “The ‘legal account, was of an india-rubber character” was
printed that way, with a single quote mark and a comma. Transcriber
believes the comma may be a misaligned closing single quote mark.