The Power of the Press
The morning papers, in spite of the efforts of Cowperwood and his
friends to keep this transfer secret, shortly thereafter were full of
rumors of a change in "North Chicago." Frank Algernon Cowperwood,
hitherto unmentioned in connection with Chicago street-railways, was
pointed to as the probable successor to Onias C. Skinner, and Edwin L.
Kaffrath, one of the old directors, as future vice-president. The men
back of the deal were referred to as "in all likelihood Eastern
capitalists." Cowperwood, as he sat in Aileen's room examining the
various morning papers, saw that before the day was over he would be
sought out for an expression of opinion and further details. He
proposed to ask the newspaper men to wait a few days until he could
talk to the publishers of the papers themselves--win their
confidence--and then announce a general policy; it would be something
that would please the city, and the residents of the North Side in
particular. At the same time he did not care to promise anything which
he could not easily and profitably perform. He wanted fame and
reputation, but he wanted money even more; he intended to get both.
To one who had been working thus long in the minor realms of finance,
as Cowperwood considered that he had so far been doing, this sudden
upward step into the more conspicuous regions of high finance and
control was an all-inspiring thing. So long had he been stirring about
in a lesser region, paving the way by hours and hours of private
thought and conference and scheming, that now when he actually had
achieved his end he could scarcely believe for the time being that it
was true. Chicago was such a splendid city. It was growing so fast.
Its opportunities were so wonderful. These men who had thus foolishly
parted with an indefinite lease of their holdings had not really
considered what they were doing. This matter of Chicago
street-railways, once he had them well in hand, could be made to yield
such splendid profits! He could incorporate and overcapitalize. Many
subsidiary lines, which McKenty would secure for him for a song, would
be worth millions in the future, and they should be his entirely; he
would not be indebted to the directors of the old North Chicago company
for any interest on those. By degrees, year by year, as the city grew,
the lines which were still controlled by this old company, but were
practically his, would become a mere item, a central core, in the so
very much larger system of new lines which he would build up about it.
Then the West Side, and even the South Side sections--but why dream? He
might readily become the sole master of street-railway traffic in
Chicago! He might readily become the most princely financial figure in
the city--and one of the few great financial magnates of the nation.
In any public enterprise of any kind, as he knew, where the suffrages
of the people or the privileges in their possessions are desired, the
newspapers must always be considered. As Cowperwood even now was
casting hungry eyes in the direction of the two tunnels--one to be held
in view of an eventual assumption of the Chicago West Division Company,
the other to be given to the North Chicago Street Railway, which he had
now organized, it was necessary to make friends with the various
publishers. How to go about it?
Recently, because of the influx of a heavy native and foreign-born
population (thousands and thousands of men of all sorts and conditions
looking for the work which the growth of the city seemed to promise),
and because of the dissemination of stirring ideas through radical
individuals of foreign groups concerning anarchism, socialism,
communism, and the like, the civic idea in Chicago had become most
acute. This very May, in which Cowperwood had been going about
attempting to adjust matters in his favor, there had been a tremendous
national flare-up, when in a great public place on the West Side known
as the Haymarket, at one of a number of labor meetings, dubbed
anarchistic because of the principles of some of the speakers, a bomb
had been hurled by some excited fanatic, which had exploded and maimed
or killed a number of policemen, injuring slightly several others.
This had brought to the fore, once and for all, as by a flash of
lightning, the whole problem of mass against class, and had given it
such an airing as in view of the cheerful, optimistic, almost
inconsequential American mind had not previously been possible. It
changed, quite as an eruption might, the whole face of the commercial
landscape. Man thought thereafter somewhat more accurately of national
and civic things. What was anarchism? What socialism? What rights had
the rank and file, anyhow, in economic and governmental development?
Such were interesting questions, and following the bomb--which acted as
a great stone cast in the water--these ripple-rings of thought were
still widening and emanating until they took in such supposedly remote
and impregnable quarters as editorial offices, banks and financial
institutions generally, and the haunts of political dignitaries and
their jobs.
In the face of this, however, Cowperwood was not disturbed. He did not
believe in either the strength of the masses or their ultimate rights,
though he sympathized with the condition of individuals, and did
believe that men like himself were sent into the world to better
perfect its mechanism and habitable order. Often now, in these
preliminary days, he looked at the large companies of men with their
horses gathered in and about the several carbarns of the company, and
wondered at their state. So many of them were so dull. They were
rather like animals, patient, inartistic, hopeless. He thought of
their shabby homes, their long hours, their poor pay, and then
concluded that if anything at all could be done for them it would be
pay them decent living wages, which he proposed to do--nothing more.
They could not be expected to understand his dreams or his visions, or
to share in the magnificence and social dominance which he craved. He
finally decided that it would be as well for him to personally visit
the various newspaper publishers and talk the situation over with them.
Addison, when consulted as to this project, was somewhat dubious. He
had small faith in the newspapers.
He had seen them play petty politics, follow up enmities and personal
grudges, and even sell out, in certain cases, for pathetically small
rewards.
"I tell you how it is, Frank," remarked Addison, on one occasion. "You
will have to do all this business on cotton heels, practically. You
know that old gas crowd are still down on you, in spite of the fact
that you are one of their largest stockholders. Schryhart isn't at all
friendly, and he practically owns the Chronicle. Ricketts will just
about say what he wants him to say. Hyssop, of the Mail and the
Transcript, is an independent man, but he's a Presbyterian and a cold,
self-righteous moralist. Braxton's paper, the Globe, practically
belongs to Merrill, but Braxton's a nice fellow, at that. Old General
MacDonald, of the Inquirer, is old General MacDonald. It's all
according to how he feels when he gets up in the morning. If he should
chance to like your looks he might support you forever and forever
until you crossed his conscience in some way. He's a fine old walrus.
I like him. Neither Schryhart nor Merrill nor any one else can get
anything out of him unless he wants to give it. He may not live so
many years, however, and I don't trust that son of his. Haguenin, of
the Press, is all right and friendly to you, as I understand. Other
things being equal, I think he'd naturally support you in anything he
thought was fair and reasonable. Well, there you have them. Get them
all on your side if you can. Don't ask for the LaSalle Street tunnel
right away. Let it come as an afterthought--a great public need. The
main thing will be to avoid having the other companies stirring up a
real fight against you. Depend on it, Schryhart will be thinking
pretty hard about this whole business from now on. As for
Merrill--well, if you can show him where he can get something out of it
for his store, I guess he'll be for you."
It is one of the splendid yet sinister fascinations of life that there
is no tracing to their ultimate sources all the winds of influence that
play upon a given barque--all the breaths of chance that fill or desert
our bellied or our sagging sails. We plan and plan, but who by taking
thought can add a cubit to his stature? Who can overcome or even assist
the Providence that shapes our ends, rough hew them as we may.
Cowperwood was now entering upon a great public career, and the various
editors and public personalities of the city were watching him with
interest. Augustus M. Haguenin, a free agent with his organ, the
Press, and yet not free, either, because he was harnessed to the
necessity of making his paper pay, was most interested. Lacking the
commanding magnetism of a man like MacDonald, he was nevertheless an
honest man, well-intentioned, thoughtful, careful. Haguenin, ever
since the outcome of Cowperwood's gas transaction, had been intensely
interested in the latter's career. It seemed to him that Cowperwood
was probably destined to become a significant figure. Raw, glittering
force, however, compounded of the cruel Machiavellianism of nature, if
it be but Machiavellian, seems to exercise a profound attraction for
the conventionally rooted. Your cautious citizen of average means,
looking out through the eye of his dull world of seeming fact, is often
the first to forgive or condone the grim butcheries of theory by which
the strong rise. Haguenin, observing Cowperwood, conceived of him as a
man perhaps as much sinned against as sinning, a man who would be
faithful to friends, one who could be relied upon in hours of great
stress. As it happened, the Haguenins were neighbors of the
Cowperwoods, and since those days when the latter had attempted
unsuccessfully to enter Chicago society this family had been as
acceptable as any of those who had remained friendly.
And so, when Cowperwood arrived one day at the office of the Press in a
blowing snow-storm--it was just before the Christmas holidays--Haguenin
was glad to see him. "It's certainly real winter weather we're having
now, isn't it?" he observed, cheerfully. "How goes the North Chicago
Street Railway business?" For months he, with the other publishers, had
been aware that the whole North Side was to be made over by fine
cable-tracks, power-houses, and handsome cars; and there already was
talk that some better arrangement was to be made to bring the
passengers into the down-town section.
"Mr. Haguenin," said Cowperwood, smilingly--he was arrayed in a heavy
fur coat, with a collar of beaver and driving-gauntlets of dogskin--"we
have reached the place in this street-railway problem on the North Side
where we are going to require the assistance of the newspapers, or at
least their friendly support. At present our principal difficulty is
that all our lines, when they come down-town, stop at Lake Street--just
this side of the bridges. That means a long walk for everybody to all
the streets south of it, and, as you probably know, there has been
considerable complaint. Besides that, this river traffic is becoming
more and more what I may say it has been for years--an intolerable
nuisance. We have all suffered from it. No effort has ever been made
to regulate it, and because it is so heavy I doubt whether it ever can
be systematized in any satisfactory way. The best thing in the long
run would be to tunnel under the river; but that is such an expensive
proposition that, as things are now, we are in no position to undertake
it. The traffic on the North Side does not warrant it. It really does
not warrant the reconstruction of the three bridges which we now use at
State, Dearborn, and Clark; yet, if we introduce the cable system,
which we now propose, these bridges will have to be done over. It
seems to me, seeing that this is an enterprise in which the public is
as much interested almost as we are, that it would only be fair if the
city should help pay for this reconstruction work. All the land
adjacent to these lines, and the property served by them, will be
greatly enhanced in value. The city's taxing power will rise
tremendously. I have talked to several financiers here in Chicago, and
they agree with me; but, as is usual in all such cases, I find that
some of the politicians are against me. Since I have taken charge of
the North Chicago company the attitude of one or two papers has not
been any too friendly." (In the Chronicle, controlled by Schryhart,
there had already been a number of references to the probability that
now, since Cowperwood and his friends were in charge, the sky-rocketing
tactics of the old Lake View, Hyde Park, and other gas organizations
would be repeated. Braxton's Globe, owned by Merrill, being
semi-neutral, had merely suggested that it hoped that no such methods
would be repeated here.) "Perhaps you may know," Cowperwood continued,
"that we have a very sweeping programme of improvement in mind, if we
can obtain proper public consideration and assistance."
At this point he reached down in one of his pockets and drew forth
astutely drafted maps and blue-prints, especially prepared for this
occasion. They showed main cable lines on North Clark, La Salle, and
Wells streets. These lines coming down-town converged at Illinois and
La Salle streets on the North Side--and though Cowperwood made no
reference to it at the moment, they were indicated on the map in red as
running over or under the river at La Salle Street, where was no
bridge, and emerging therefrom, following a loop along La Salle to
Munroe, to Dearborn, to Randolph, and thence into the tunnel again.
Cowperwood allowed Haguenin to gather the very interesting traffic
significance of it all before he proceeded.
"On the map, Mr. Haguenin, I have indicated a plan which, if we can
gain the consent of the city, will obviate any quarrel as to the great
expense of reconstructing the bridges, and will make use of a piece of
property which is absolutely without value to the city at present, but
which can be made into something of vast convenience to the public. I
am referring, as you see"--he laid an indicative finger on the map in
Mr. Haguenin's hands--"to the old La Salle Street tunnel, which is now
boarded up and absolutely of no use to any one. It was built
apparently under a misapprehension as to the grade the average loaded
wagon could negotiate. When it was found to be unprofitable it was
sold to the city and locked up. If you have ever been through it you
know what condition it is in. My engineers tell me the walls are
leaking, and that there is great danger of a cave-in unless it is very
speedily repaired. I am also told that it will require about four
hundred thousand dollars to put it in suitable condition for use. My
theory is that if the North Chicago Street Railway is willing to go to
this expense for the sake of solving this bridge-crush problem, and
giving the residents of the North Side a sensible and uninterrupted
service into the business heart, the city ought to be willing to make
us a present of this tunnel for the time being, or at least a long
lease at a purely nominal rental."
Cowperwood paused to see what Haguenin would say.
The latter was looking at the map gravely, wondering whether it was
fair for Cowperwood to make this demand, wondering whether the city
should grant it to him without compensation, wondering whether the
bridge-traffic problem was as serious as he pointed out, wondering,
indeed, whether this whole move was not a clever ruse to obtain
something for nothing.
"And what is this?" he asked, laying a finger on the aforementioned
loop.
"That," replied Cowperwood, "is the only method we have been able to
figure out of serving the down-town business section and the North
Side, and of solving this bridge problem. If we obtain the tunnel, as
I hope we shall, all the cars of these North Side lines will emerge
here"--he pointed to La Salle and Randolph--"and swing around--that is,
they will if the city council give us the right of way. I think, of
course, there can be no reasonable objection to that. There is no
reason why the citizens of the North Side shouldn't have as comfortable
an access to the business heart as those of the West or South Side."
"None in the world," Mr. Haguenin was compelled to admit. "Are you
satisfied, however, that the council and the city should sanction the
gift of a loop of this kind without some form of compensation?"
"I see no reason why they shouldn't," replied Cowperwood, in a somewhat
injured tone. "There has never been any question of compensation where
other improvements have been suggested for the city in the past. The
South Side company has been allowed to turn in a loop around State and
Wabash. The Chicago City Passenger Railway has a loop in Adams and
Washington streets."
"Quite so," said Mr. Haguenin, vaguely. "That is true. But this
tunnel, now--do you think that should fall in the same category of
public beneficences?"
At the same time he could not help thinking, as he looked at the
proposed loop indicated on the map, that the new cable line, with its
string of trailers, would give down-town Chicago a truly metropolitan
air and would provide a splendid outlet for the North Side. The
streets in question were magnificent commercial thoroughfares, crowded
even at this date with structures five, six, seven, and even eight
stories high, and brimming with heavy streams of eager life--young,
fresh, optimistic. Because of the narrow area into which the
commercial life of the city tended to congest itself, this property and
these streets were immensely valuable--among the most valuable in the
whole city. Also he observed that if this loop did come here its cars,
on their return trip along Dearborn Street, would pass by his very
door--the office of the Press--thereby enhancing the value of that
property of which he was the owner.
"I certainly do, Mr. Haguenin," returned Cowperwood, emphatically, in
answer to his query. "Personally, I should think Chicago would be glad
to pay a bonus to get its street-railway service straightened out,
especially where a corporation comes forward with a liberal,
conservative programme such as this. It means millions in growth of
property values on the North Side. It means millions to the business
heart to have this loop system laid down just as I suggest."
He put his finger firmly on the map which he had brought, and Haguenin
agreed with him that the plan was undoubtedly a sound business
proposition. "Personally, I should be the last to complain," he added,
"for the line passes my door. At the same time this tunnel, as I
understand it, cost in the neighborhood of eight hundred thousand or a
million dollars. It is a delicate problem. I should like to know what
the other editors think of it, and how the city council itself would
feel toward it."
Cowperwood nodded. "Certainly, certainly," he said. "With pleasure. I
would not come here at all if I did not feel that I had a perfectly
legitimate proposition--one that the press of the city should unite in
supporting. Where a corporation such as ours is facing large
expenditures, which have to be financed by outside capital, it is only
natural that we should wish to allay useless, groundless opposition in
advance. I hope we may command your support."
"I hope you may," smiled Mr. Haguenin. They parted the best of friends.
The other publishers, guardians of the city's privileges, were not
quite so genial as Haguenin in their approval of Cowperwood's
proposition. The use of a tunnel and several of the most important
down-town streets might readily be essential to the development of
Cowperwood's North Side schemes, but the gift of them was a different
matter. Already, as a matter of fact, the various publishers and
editors had been consulted by Schryhart, Merrill, and others with a
view to discovering how they felt as to this new venture, and whether
Cowperwood would be cheerfully indorsed or not. Schryhart, smarting
from the wounds he had received in the gas war, viewed this new
activity on Cowperwood's part with a suspicious and envious eye. To
him much more than to the others it spelled a new and dangerous foe in
the street-railway field, although all the leading citizens of Chicago
were interested.
"I suppose now," he said one evening to the Hon. Walter Melville
Hyssop, editor and publisher of the Transcript and the Evening Mail,
whom he met at the Union League, "that this fellow Cowperwood will
attempt some disturbing coup in connection with street-railway affairs.
He is just the sort. I think, from an editorial point of view, his
political connections will bear watching." Already there were rumors
abroad that McKenty might have something to do with the new company.
Hyssop, a medium-sized, ornate, conservative person, was not so sure.
"We shall find out soon enough, no doubt, what propositions Mr.
Cowperwood has in hand," he remarked. "He is very energetic and
capable, as I understand it."
Hyssop and Schryhart, as well as the latter and Merrill, had been
social friends for years and years.
After his call on Mr. Haguenin, Cowperwood's naturally selective and
self-protective judgment led him next to the office of the Inquirer,
old General MacDonald's paper, where he found that because of
rhuematism and the severe, inclement weather of Chicago, the old
General had sailed only a few days before for Italy. His son, an
aggressive, mercantile type of youth of thirty-two, and a managing
editor by the name of Du Bois were acting in his stead. In the son,
Truman Leslie MacDonald, an intense, calm, and penetrating young man,
Cowperwood encountered some one who, like himself, saw life only from
the point of view of sharp, self-centered, personal advantage. What
was he, Truman Leslie MacDonald, to derive from any given situation,
and how was he to make the Inquirer an even greater property than it
had been under his father before him? He did not propose to be
overwhelmed by the old General's rather flowery reputation. At the
same time he meant to become imposingly rich. An active member of a
young and very smart set which had been growing up on the North Side,
he rode, drove, was instrumental in organizing a new and exclusive
country club, and despised the rank and file as unsuited to the fine
atmosphere to which he aspired. Mr. Clifford Du Bois, the managing
editor, was a cool reprobate of forty, masquerading as a gentleman, and
using the Inquirer in subtle ways for furthering his personal ends, and
that under the old General's very nose. He was osseous, sandy-haired,
blue-eyed, with a keen, formidable nose and a solid chin. Clifford Du
Bois was always careful never to let his left hand know what his right
hand did.
It was this sapient pair that received Cowperwood in the old General's
absence, first in Mr. Du Bois's room and then in that of Mr. MacDonald.
The latter had already heard much of Cowperwood's doings. Men who had
been connected with the old gas war--Jordan Jules, for instance,
president of the old North Chicago Gas Company, and Hudson Baker,
president of the old West Chicago Gas Company--had denounced him long
before as a bucaneer who had pirated them out of very comfortable
sinecures. Here he was now invading the North Chicago street-railway
field and coming with startling schemes for the reorganization of the
down-town business heart. Why shouldn't the city have something in
return; or, better yet, those who helped to formulate the public
opinion, so influential in the success of Cowperwood's plans? Truman
Leslie MacDonald, as has been said, did not see life from his father's
point of view at all. He had in mind a sharp bargain, which he could
drive with Cowperwood during the old gentleman's absence. The General
need never know.
"I understand your point of view, Mr. Cowperwood," he commented,
loftily, "but where does the city come in? I see very clearly how
important this is to the people of the North Side, and even to the
merchants and real-estate owners in the down-town section; but that
simply means that it is ten times as important to you. Undoubtedly, it
will help the city, but the city is growing, anyhow, and that will help
you. I've said all along that these public franchises were worth more
than they used to be worth. Nobody seems to see it very clearly as
yet, but it's true just the same. That tunnel is worth more now than
the day it was built. Even if the city can't use it, somebody can."
He was meaning to indicate a rival car line.
Cowperwood bristled internally.
"That's all very well," he said, preserving his surface composure, "but
why make fish of one and flesh of another? The South Side company has a
loop for which it never paid a dollar. So has the Chicago City
Passenger Railway. The North Side company is planning more extensive
improvements than were ever undertaken by any single company before. I
hardly think it is fair to raise the question of compensation and a
franchise tax at this time, and in connection with this one company
only."
"Um--well, that may be true of the other companies. The South Side
company had those streets long ago. They merely connected them up.
But this tunnel, now--that's a different matter, isn't it? The city
bought and paid for that, didn't it?"
"Quite true--to help out men who saw that they couldn't make another
dollar out of it," said Cowperwood, acidly. "But it's of no use to the
city. It will cave in pretty soon if it isn't repaired. Why, the
consent of property-owners alone, along the line of this loop, is going
to aggregate a considerable sum. It seems to me instead of hampering a
great work of this kind the public ought to do everything in its power
to assist it. It means giving a new metropolitan flavor to this
down-town section. It is time Chicago was getting out of its swaddling
clothes."
Mr. MacDonald, the younger, shook his head. He saw clearly enough the
significance of the points made, but he was jealous of Cowperwood and
of his success. This loop franchise and tunnel gift meant millions for
some one. Why shouldn't there be something in it for him? He called in
Mr. Du Bois and went over the proposition with him. Quite without
effort the latter sensed the drift of the situation.
"It's an excellent proposition," he said. "I don't see but that the
city should have something, though. Public sentiment is rather against
gifts to corporations just at present."
Cowperwood caught the drift of what was in young MacDonald's mind.
"Well, what would you suggest as a fair rate of compensation to the
city?" he asked, cautiously, wondering whether this aggressive youth
would go so far as to commit himself in any way.
"Oh, well, as to that," MacDonald replied, with a deprecatory wave of
his hand, "I couldn't say. It ought to bear a reasonable relationship
to the value of the utility as it now stands. I should want to think
that over. I shouldn't want to see the city demand anything
unreasonable. Certainly, though, there is a privilege here that is
worth something."
Cowperwood flared inwardly. His greatest weakness, if he had one, was
that he could but ill brook opposition of any kind. This young
upstart, with his thin, cool face and sharp, hard eyes! He would have
liked to tell him and his paper to go to the devil. He went away,
hoping that he could influence the Inquirer in some other way upon the
old General's return.
As he was sitting next morning in his office in North Clark Street he
was aroused by the still novel-sounding bell of the telephone--one of
the earliest in use--on the wall back of him. After a parley with his
secretary, he was informed that a gentleman connected with the Inquirer
wished to speak with him.
"This is the Inquirer," said a voice which Cowperwood, his ear to the
receiver, thought he recognized as that of young Truman MacDonald, the
General's son. "You wanted to know," continued the voice, "what would
be considered adequate compensation so far as that tunnel matter is
concerned. Can you hear me?"
"Yes," replied Cowperwood.
"Well, I should not care to influence your judgment one way or the
other; but if my opinion were asked I should say about fifty thousand
dollars' worth of North Chicago Street Railway stock would be
satisfactory."
The voice was young, clear, steely.
"To whom would you suggest that it might be paid?" Cowperwood asked,
softly, quite genially.
"That, also, I would suggest, might be left to your very sound
judgment."
The voice ceased. The receiver was hung up.
"Well, I'll be damned!" Cowperwood said, looking at the floor
reflectively. A smile spread over his face. "I'm not going to be held
up like that. I don't need to be. It isn't worth it. Not at present,
anyhow." His teeth set.
He was underestimating Mr. Truman Leslie MacDonald, principally because
he did not like him. He thought his father might return and oust him.
It was one of the most vital mistakes he ever made in his life.