Capital and Public Rights
Between the passage on June 5, 1897, of the Mears bill--so christened
after the doughty representative who had received a small fortune for
introducing it--and its presentation to the Chicago City Council in
December of the same year, what broodings, plottings, politickings, and
editorializings on the part of all and sundry! In spite of the intense
feeling of opposition to Cowperwood there was at the same time in local
public life one stratum of commercial and phlegmatic substance that
could not view him in an altogether unfavorable light. They were in
business themselves. His lines passed their doors and served them.
They could not see wherein his street-railway service differed so much
from that which others might give. Here was the type of materialist
who in Cowperwood's defiance saw a justification of his own material
point of view and was not afraid to say so. But as against these there
were the preachers--poor wind-blown sticks of unreason who saw only
what the current palaver seemed to indicate. Again there were the
anarchists, socialists, single-taxers, and public-ownership advocates.
There were the very poor who saw in Cowperwood's wealth and in the
fabulous stories of his New York home and of his art-collection a
heartless exploitation of their needs. At this time the feeling was
spreading broadcast in America that great political and economic
changes were at hand--that the tyranny of iron masters at the top was
to give way to a richer, freer, happier life for the rank and file. A
national eight-hour-day law was being advocated, and the public
ownership of public franchises. And here now was a great
street-railway corporation, serving a population of a million and a
half, occupying streets which the people themselves created by their
presence, taking toll from all these humble citizens to the amount of
sixteen or eighteen millions of dollars in the year and giving in
return, so the papers said, poor service, shabby cars, no seats at
rush-hours, no universal transfers (as a matter of fact, there were in
operation three hundred and sixty-two separate transfer points) and no
adequate tax on the immense sums earned. The workingman who read this
by gas or lamp light in the kitchen or parlor of his shabby flat or
cottage, and who read also in other sections of his paper of the free,
reckless, glorious lives of the rich, felt himself to be defrauded of a
portion of his rightful inheritance. It was all a question of
compelling Frank A. Cowperwood to do his duty by Chicago. He must not
again be allowed to bribe the aldermen; he must not be allowed to have
a fifty-year franchise, the privilege of granting which he had already
bought from the state legislature by the degradation of honest men. He
must be made to succumb, to yield to the forces of law and order. It
was claimed--and with a justice of which those who made the charge were
by no means fully aware--that the Mears bill had been put through the
house and senate by the use of cold cash, proffered even to the
governor himself. No legal proof of this was obtainable, but
Cowperwood was assumed to be a briber on a giant scale. By the
newspaper cartoons he was represented as a pirate commander ordering
his men to scuttle another vessel--the ship of Public Rights. He was
pictured as a thief, a black mask over his eyes, and as a seducer,
throttling Chicago, the fair maiden, while he stole her purse. The
fame of this battle was by now becoming world-wide. In Montreal, in
Cape Town, in Buenos Ayres and Melbourne, in London and Paris, men were
reading of this singular struggle. At last, and truly, he was a
national and international figure. His original dream, however,
modified by circumstances, had literally been fulfilled.
Meanwhile be it admitted that the local elements in finance which had
brought about this terrific onslaught on Cowperwood were not a little
disturbed as to the eventual character of the child of their own
creation. Here at last was a public opinion definitely inimical to
Cowperwood; but here also were they themselves, tremendous
profit-holders, with a desire for just such favors as Cowperwood
himself had exacted, deliberately setting out to kill the goose that
could lay the golden egg. Men such as Haeckelheimer, Gotloeb, Fishel,
tremendous capitalists in the East and foremost in the directorates of
huge transcontinental lines, international banking-houses, and the
like, were amazed that the newspapers and the anti-Cowperwood element
should have gone so far in Chicago. Had they no respect for capital?
Did they not know that long-time franchises were practically the basis
of all modern capitalistic prosperity? Such theories as were now being
advocated here would spread to other cities unless checked. America
might readily become anti-capitalistic--socialistic. Public ownership
might appear as a workable theory--and then what?
"Those men out there are very foolish," observed Mr. Haeckelheimer at
one time to Mr. Fishel, of Fishel, Stone & Symons. "I can't see that
Mr. Cowperwood is different from any other organizer of his day. He
seems to me perfectly sound and able. All his companies pay. There
are no better investments than the North and West Chicago railways. It
would be advisable, in my judgment, that all the lines out there should
be consolidated and be put in his charge. He would make money for the
stockholders. He seems to know how to run street-railways."
"You know," replied Mr. Fishel, as smug and white as Mr. Haeckelheimer,
and in thorough sympathy with his point of view, "I have been thinking
of something like that myself. All this quarreling should be hushed
up. It's very bad for business--very. Once they get that
public-ownership nonsense started, it will be hard to stop. There has
been too much of it already."
Mr. Fishel was stout and round like Mr. Haeckelheimer, but much
smaller. He was little more than a walking mathematical formula. In
his cranium were financial theorems and syllogisms of the second,
third, and fourth power only.
And now behold a new trend of affairs. Mr. Timothy Arneel, attacked by
pneumonia, dies and leaves his holdings in Chicago City to his eldest
son, Edward Arneel. Mr. Fishel and Mr. Haeckelheimer, through agents
and then direct, approach Mr. Merrill in behalf of Cowperwood. There
is much talk of profits--how much more profitable has been the
Cowperwood regime over street-railway lines than that of Mr. Schryhart.
Mr. Fishel is interested in allaying socialistic excitement. So, by
this time, is Mr. Merrill. Directly hereafter Mr. Haeckelheimer
approaches Mr. Edward Arneel, who is not nearly so forceful as his
father, though he would like to be so. He, strange to relate, has come
rather to admire Cowperwood and sees no advantage in a policy that can
only tend to municipalize local lines. Mr. Merrill, for Mr. Fishel,
approaches Mr. Hand. "Never! never! never!" says Hand. Mr.
Haeckelheimer approaches Mr. Hand. "Never! never! never! To the devil
with Mr. Cowperwood!" But as a final emissary for Mr. Haeckelheimer and
Mr. Fishel there now appears Mr. Morgan Frankhauser, the partner of Mr.
Hand in a seven-million-dollar traction scheme in Minneapolis and St.
Paul. Why will Mr. Hand be so persistent? Why pursue a scheme of
revenge which only stirs up the masses and makes municipal ownership a
valid political idea, thus disturbing capital elsewhere? Why not trade
his Chicago holdings to him, Frankhauser, for Pittsburg traction
stock--share and share alike--and then fight Cowperwood all he pleases
on the outside?
Mr. Hand, puzzled, astounded, scratching his round head, slaps a heavy
hand on his desk. "Never!" he exclaims. "Never, by God--as long as I
am alive and in Chicago!" And then he yields. Life does shifty things,
he is forced to reflect in a most puzzled way. Never would he have
believed it! "Schryhart," he declared to Frankhauser, "will never come
in. He will die first. Poor old Timothy--if he were alive--he
wouldn't either."
"Leave Mr. Schryhart out of it, for Heaven's sake," pleaded Mr.
Frankhauser, a genial American German. "Haven't I troubles enough?"
Mr. Schryhart is enraged. Never! never! never! He will sell out
first--but he is in a minority, and Mr. Frankhauser, for Mr. Fishel or
Mr. Haeckelheimer, will gladly take his holdings.
Now behold in the autumn of 1897 all rival Chicago street-railway lines
brought to Mr. Cowperwood on a platter, as it were--a golden platter.
"Ve haff it fixed," confidentially declared Mr. Gotloeb to Mr.
Cowperwood, over an excellent dinner in the sacred precincts of the
Metropolitan Club in New York. Time, 8.30 P.M. Wine--sparkling
burgundy. "A telegram come shusst to-day from Frankhauser. A nice man
dot. You shouldt meet him sometime. Hant--he sells out his stock to
Frankhauser. Merrill unt Edward Arneel vork vit us. Ve hantle
efferyt'ing for dem. Mr. Fishel vill haff his friends pick up all de
local shares he can, unt mit dees tree ve control de board. Schryhart
iss out. He sess he vill resign. Very goot. I don't subbose dot vill
make you veep any. It all hintges now on vether you can get dot
fifty-year-franchise ordinance troo de city council or not.
Haeckelheimer sess he prefers you to all utters to run t'ings. He vill
leef everytink positifely in your hands. Frankhauser sess de same.
Vot Haeckelheimer sess he doess. Now dere you are. It's up to you. I
vish you much choy. It is no small chop you haff, beating de
newspapers, unt you still haff Hant unt Schryhart against you. Mr.
Haeckelheimer askt me to pay his complimends to you unt to say vill you
dine vit him next veek, or may he dine vit you--vicheffer iss most
conveniend. So."
In the mayor's chair of Chicago at this time sat a man named Walden H.
Lucas. Aged thirty-eight, he was politically ambitious. He had the
elements of popularity--the knack or luck of fixing public attention.
A fine, upstanding, healthy young buck he was, subtle, vigorous, a
cool, direct, practical thinker and speaker, an eager enigmatic dreamer
of great political honors to come, anxious to play his cards just
right, to make friends, to be the pride of the righteous, and yet the
not too uncompromising foe of the wicked. In short, a youthful, hopeful
Western Machiavelli, and one who could, if he chose, serve the cause of
the anti-Cowperwood struggle exceedingly well indeed.
Cowperwood, disturbed, visits the mayor in his office.
"Mr. Lucas, what is it you personally want? What can I do for you? Is
it future political preferment you are after?"
"Mr. Cowperwood, there isn't anything you can do for me. You do not
understand me, and I do not understand you. You cannot understand me
because I am an honest man."
"Ye gods!" replied Cowperwood. "This is certainly a case of
self-esteem and great knowledge. Good afternoon."
Shortly thereafter the mayor was approached by one Mr. Carker, who was
the shrewd, cold, and yet magnetic leader of Democracy in the state of
New York. Said Carker:
"You see, Mr. Lucas, the great money houses of the East are interested
in this local contest here in Chicago. For example, Haeckelheimer,
Gotloeb & Co. would like to see a consolidation of all the lines on a
basis that will make them an attractive investment for buyers generally
and will at the same time be fair and right to the city. A twenty-year
contract is much too short a term in their eyes. Fifty is the least
they could comfortably contemplate, and they would prefer a hundred.
It is little enough for so great an outlay. The policy now being
pursued here can lead only to the public ownership of public utilities,
and that is something which the national Democratic party at large can
certainly not afford to advocate at present. It would antagonize the
money element from coast to coast. Any man whose political record was
definitely identified with such a movement would have no possible
chance at even a state nomination, let alone a national one. He could
never be elected. I make myself clear, do I not?"
"You do."
"A man can just as easily be taken from the mayor's office in Chicago
as from the governor's office at Springfield," pursued Mr. Carker.
"Mr. Haeckelheimer and Mr. Fishel have personally asked me to call on
you. If you want to be mayor of Chicago again for two years or
governor next year, until the time for picking a candidate for the
Presidency arrives, suit yourself. In the mean time you will be
unwise, in my judgment, to saddle yourself with this public-ownership
idea. The newspapers in fighting Mr. Cowperwood have raised an issue
which never should have been raised."
After Mr. Carker's departure, arrived Mr. Edward Arneel, of local
renown, and then Mr. Jacob Bethal, the Democratic leader in San
Francisco, both offering suggestions which if followed might result in
mutual support. There were in addition delegations of powerful
Republicans from Minneapolis and from Philadelphia. Even the president
of the Lake City Bank and the president of the Prairie National--once
anti-Cowperwood--arrived to say what had already been said. So it
went. Mr. Lucas was greatly nonplussed. A political career was surely
a difficult thing to effect. Would it pay to harry Mr. Cowperwood as
he had set out to do? Would a steadfast policy advocating the cause of
the people get him anywhere? Would they be grateful? Would they
remember? Suppose the current policy of the newspapers should be
modified, as Mr. Carker had suggested that it might be. What a mess
and tangle politics really were!
"Well, Bessie," he inquired of his handsome, healthy, semi-blonde wife,
one evening, "what would you do if you were I?"
She was gray-eyed, gay, practical, vain, substantially connected in so
far as family went, and proud of her husband's position and future. He
had formed the habit of talking over his various difficulties with her.
"Well, I'll tell you, Wally," she replied. "You've got to stick to
something. It looks to me as though the winning side was with the
people this time. I don't see how the newspapers can change now after
all they've done. You don't have to advocate public ownership or
anything unfair to the money element, but just the same I'd stick to my
point that the fifty-year franchise is too much. You ought to make
them pay the city something and get their franchise without bribery.
They can't do less than that. I'd stick to the course you've begun on.
You can't get along without the people, Wally. You just must have
them. If you lose their good will the politicians can't help you much,
nor anybody else."
Plainly there were times when the people had to be considered. They
just had to be!