CHAPTER I.
AN INTRODUCTION TO THE GREAT CITY.
“Give me the best morning paper you have, please.”
“The Tribune costs the most, if that is the one you want.”
“The price will be no objection providing the paper contains what I wish to find.”
“You want work, I s’pose.”
“Yes, I am looking for employment.”
“I knew it—just in from the country too,” said the newsboy, comically. “Well, what you want is the Herald or World. They are just loaded with wants.”
“Thank you, you may give me both.”
“Both! Whew, you must be well fixed!” replied the young metropolitan, handing over the papers, as he regarded his new customer curiously.
“What does that mean?” asked the latter, seriously.
“You don’t know what well fixed means? You must have come from way back! Why it means—it means that you’re solid, that you’ve got the stuff, don’t you see?”
“I’m solid enough for a boy of my age, if that is the idea,” replied the lad from the country, rather sharply, as a tinge of color rose to his cheeks.
“Shucks! That ain’t the idea at all,” said the street boy, in a tone that seemed apologetic. “What I mean is that you’re a kind of boodle alderman—you’re rich. Do you see now?”
“Oh! That’s it. Well, you see, I didn’t know what you meant. I never heard those terms up in Vermont. No; I’m not rich, but on the contrary have so little money that I must commence work at once.”
“And that is why you bought two papers, so you can take in the whole business. You’ve got a big head, Vermont, any way, and would do stunnin’ on mornin’ papers.”
“Thank you. Do you mean at selling them?”
“Yes, of course. You wouldn’t give ’em away, would you?”
“Well, no, I should not be inclined to do so.”
“That sounds more like it. Perhaps I’ll give you a job, if you can’t find anything else.”
“Thank you, I may be very glad to get a chance to sell papers even.”
“’Tain’t a bad business anyhow. Me and lots of fellers makes plenty of money at it. But I s’pose you’re hungry, hain’t you? If you be I’ll take you round to a boss place and it won’t cost nothin’ hardly.”
“I am very much obliged to you, but I had my breakfast soon after leaving the boat.”
“you evidently know all about propriety,
so here is my hand,” said herbert.
“And I bet they done you up on the price. I tell you what it is, it takes a fellow a good while to learn to live in this city. You don’t know nothin’ about what it costs. Why I know a plenty of boys that spend more—yes, I’d say so, twice as much as what I do, and they don’t throw no style into their livin’ either. You see they don’t know how and hain’t got no taste, any way. But I like your looks, Vermont, and ef you want any points—and you’re liable to want ’em in this city, I’ll bet you—why you just call on me and I’ll fix you out in big shape.”
“Thank you, sincerely,” said the Green Mountain lad, a broad smile playing over his fine face, as he regarded the drollery of his new acquaintance. “I shall need many suggestions, no doubt, for I feel almost lost in this great city. I had no idea it was so large. I was never here before, and do not know where to go for a room or meals.”
“So I thought, and that’s why I offered to put you into the right track. My name is Bob Hunter—I hain’t got no business cards yet, but all the boys knows me, and my place of business is right round here in City Hall Park. You’ll find me here ’most any time durin’ business hours.”
“Bob Hunter! Well, you may be sure I shall remember your name and place of business, for I want to see you again. But what are your business hours?”
“Oh, yes; I forgot that. Everybody must have business hours, of course. Well, say from five to ten in the mornin’, and three to eight in the afternoon, you can find me in.”
“In! You mean out, don’t you—out here?”
“Shucks! don’t be so schoolmastery. Everybody in business says in. I guess I know what’s proper!”
“All right, Bob Hunter, I’ll give it up. You know all about propriety in New York, and I know nothing of it, so here is my hand. I’ll say good by till tonight, when I will call upon you again. I must look over these papers now, and hunt for a situation.”
“I hope you’ll have luck, and get a bang up place. I’ll be in when you call tonight; and if you hain’t no objections, I’d like to know your name. It would be more handy to do business, you see. How could my clerks announce you so I’d know you, if I don’t know your name? You see, I might think it was some one that wanted to collect a bill,” continued Bob, dryly, “and I’d be out. Don’t you see how it’s done? I’d just tell my clerks to say ‘Mr. Hunter is not in;’ so, you see, you would get left. Why, business men do it every day!”
“My name is Herbert Randolph,” replied the other, laughing heartily at his comical friend—I say friend, for he already felt convinced that he had found one in Bob Hunter.
“Herbert Randolph! that’s a tony name—some old fellow I read about in school was called Randolph; most likely he was some of your relations.”
The day was too cold for him to remain out in the park and read; so Herbert, acting on the advice of Bob Hunter, hurried to the great granite post office, and there, in the rotunda, ran his eye over the “wants” in his two papers.
Many columns of closely printed matter in each paper offering every conceivable position were spread out before him—a bewildering display of flattering prospects.
Young Randolph soon learned that if he stopped to read every advertisement in both journals it would be very late in the day before he could apply for any position. But should he only read a few of the wants he might fail to notice the best openings. This was a misfortune, for he was ambitious to get the right position—the position that would enable him to advance the fastest; and like all inexperienced boys, he hoped and even expected he might get it the very first time trying.
He had already marked a dozen or two advertised situations which, it seemed to him, would do very well, in fact were quite desirable, but of course they were the high priced positions which would naturally be most sought after by thousands of other applicants—rivals whom the young Vermonter did not take into consideration. He saw before him a demand for four or five thousand people to help move the wheels of commerce. He knew of course that he could only accept one position, so he was desirous that that one should be the best.
Any smart boy would feel as he did in this respect.
Some boys would even be so thoughtful of the interest of others as to feel sad that the four thousand nine hundred and ninety nine employers should be deprived of their services.
But young Randolph was more selfish. He had come here from the country with buoyant hopes and splendid courage. He proposed to make his way in New York—to become what is known as a successful man, to make a name for himself—a name that would extend to his native State and make his parents proud of their brilliant son.
Feeling thus, how natural it was that he should linger over the attractive columns much longer than was wise. Yet he did not think of this, or at least he did not give it any serious consideration, for were there not a vast number of positions to be filled? The question then was not whether he could get anything to do, but rather which one he should accept. When talking with young Bob Hunter, the newsboy, he had intimated that he might be glad even to get a chance to sell papers; but it must be remembered that he had not at that time seen a New York paper, and knew nothing of the tremendous demand for help.
herbert randolph in the post office.
Such a proposition from Bob now, however, would doubtless have been scorned, notwithstanding Herbert’s usual good sense. And such scorn would have been very natural under the circumstances. Selling papers is an employment vastly inferior to clerking, to book keeping, to banking, to writing insurance policies, all of which positions were now open to him, as he supposed, else why should they be advertised? And why could not he fill them—any one of them? He was honest, ambitious, willing to work hard, wrote a splendid hand, had had some experience in clerking in a country store, and, best of all, he knew he would be faithful to his employer—all excellent qualifications in a general way—qualifications that probably seemed to him irresistible. Then, too, might he not lend a degree of intelligence, of thought to the business that would be helpful? This was a point that did not occur to him at first—not till his mind became inspired with the subject; but now the idea seemed to him a good one, and he wondered that he had not thought of it before. At any rate, he decided not to lose sight of it again, for he knew—his common sense told him, and he had read also, that the men who move things in this world are men of brains—men who think, who lend ideas to business, to inventions, to anything and everything with which they have to deal.
Thus another complication was added, for now he must consider in determining if the position he accepted would give him the widest scope for thought, and the broadest play for genius, ideas, originality and enterprise. His imagination ran fast. He was dead to the busy scenes about him. Great questions pressed home upon him for decision, and he did not decide quickly and without thought, as a light headed boy would have done. No, he pondered long and hard over the subject which meant so much to him, and perhaps to the entire commerce of the city and even the finances of the nation. What might not grow out of his start in life—the start of a thoughtful, industrious, original man? How important, then, that it should be a right start! What might not come of a false venture? How the possibilities of the future might be dwarfed by such a move!
These were momentous questions for this young ambitious boy to solve. He grappled with them bravely, and with flushed cheeks and dilated eyes knitted his brows and thought. He thought hard, thought as one with the responsibilities of a nation resting upon him—this young untried, untrained boy from old Vermont.
“No, I will not take it,” he broke out suddenly and with striking determination in his face. “Simply because I write a good hand they would keep me writing policies all the time, and then I believe the insurance business is run like a big machine. No, I do not want it and will not take it, for I am not going to make a mistake this time. I want to show the folks down home who said I would make a failure here that they didn’t know me—they counted on the wrong man. No, insurance is good enough for any one without ambition or ideas, who always wants to be a clerk, but I’m not that kind of a man.”
He was actually calling himself a man now.
“But I think mercantile business or manufacturing or banking would do for me and would be suited to me. I wonder which is the best! Mercantile business gives one a good chance to show what he is made of. A man with ideas ought to succeed in it; that is, if he is pushing and has plenty of originality. A. T. Stewart, what a fortune he made! He was original, he did things in a new way, advertised differently, got up new ideas, and pushed his business with close attention. He started without any money. I have no money. He was a hard worker, a thinker, an originator, a pusher. Why shouldn’t I be a hard worker, a thinker, an originator and a pusher? I think I will. But these qualifications will win just as well in the manufacturing and banking business as in mercantile pursuits, and if I have them I shall succeed anywhere. I wonder why those people in Vermont thought I would not succeed here. I wish they could see the chances I have.
“Well, I do not think I’ll take to manufacturing, though here are a dozen or so first class situations in that line. I might like it well enough, but I believe banking would suit me better—that is, banking or the mercantile business, and I don’t care much which. Of course banking will be easier at first than clerking, so I should have more time for thought and study—time to get right down to the science of the business. Yes, I believe I’ll try banking. Here are four banks that want a young man. I’ll take a look at each, for I want the best one.”
Thus young Randolph reasoned, feeling no uneasiness about procuring a situation, though he had wasted in building foolish air castles so much valuable time that he had really almost no chance of obtaining a situation of any kind that day. This he learned to his sorrow a little later, when he commenced in earnest the very difficult undertaking of getting employment in a great city.