ii
Law suits, as such, never worried Galt. He was continually engaged in litigation and kept a staff of lawyers busy. His way with lawyers was to tell them baldly what he wanted to do and leave it to them to evolve the legal technique of doing it. Then if difficulties followed he would say: “That’s your own bacon. Now cure it.” Only, they were always to fight, never to settle.
But now he became silent and brooding. He paced his office for hours together. When spoken to his eyes looked out of a mist. It was necessary to bring his attention to matters requiring decision. He had Mordecai in two or three times a day. They conferred endlessly in low tones and watched the ticker anxiously. So far as I could see he did nothing to support the pride of Great Midwestern stock. I wondered why. Later I knew. At this juncture he was selling it himself. He was selling not only his stock but enormous amounts of his own bonds, thereby converting his wealth into cash. That is to say, he was stripping for the fray.
For three days Great Midwestern stock had been falling in a leaden manner and Wall Street was distraught with a sense of foreboding when one morning the big shell burst. First the news tickers flashed this bulletin:
“The recent extraordinary weakness of Great Midwestern is explained by the rumor that the Government is about to bring suit under the Anti-Trust Act against the Galt Railroad System. There is talk also of criminal proceedings against Mr. Galt.”
Galt read it with no sign of emotion. Evidently he was expecting it.
Events now were moving rapidly. Half an hour later the news tickers produced a bulletin as follows:
“Washington—It is announced at the Attorney General’s office that the government has filed suit against the Galt Railroad Trust praying for its dissolution on the ground of its being an oppressive conspiracy in restraint of trade.... No confirmation of rumors that criminal proceedings will be brought against Henry M. Galt as a person.”
Details followed. They ran for an hour on the news printing machines, to the exclusion of everything else, while at the same time on the quotation tickers the price of Great Midwestern was falling headlong under terrific selling.
The government’s complaint set out the history of the Galt Railway System, discussed at length its unique power for evil, examined a large number of its acts, pronounced adverse judgment upon them, and ended with an impassioned arraignment of Galt as a man who set his will above the law. Wherefore, it prayed the court to find all his work illegal and wicked and to decree that the Galt Railway System be broken up into its component parts, to the end that competition, peace and happiness might be restored on earth.
The outer office was soon in the possession of reporters clamoring to see Galt. He obstinately refused to meet them. They demanded a statement, and while they waited we prepared one as follows:
“No step in the formation of the Great Midwestern Railway System was taken without the approval of eminent counsel. If, as it stands, it is repugnant to the law, as the law shall be construed, then of course it will have to be dissolved. If that comes to pass all those securities in the Great Midwestern’s treasury, representing ownership and control of other properties, will have to be distributed pro rata among Great Midwestern stockholders—either the securities as such or the proceeds of their sale. In either case the profit will amount to a dividend of not less than $150 a share for Great Midwestern stockholders. That is the extent to which these securities have increased in value since the Great Midwestern bought them.
“(Signed) Henry M. Galt.”
All of that was obvious, only nobody had thought of it. The statement was received with utter amazement. On the strength of it Great Midwestern stock advanced suddenly ten points.
Now occurred the strangest incident of the chapter. To imagine it you have to remember that public feeling was extremely inflamed. That afternoon a New York Grand Jury indicted Galt under an old forgotten statute making it a crime to circulate false statements calculated to advance or depress the price of shares on the Stock Exchange.
A huge broad-toe came to our office with the warrant. Galt was under arrest. His lawyers were summoned. They communicated with the District Attorney. Couldn’t they appear for Mr. Galt and arrange bail? No. The District Attorney believed in social equality. Mr. Galt would have to appear like any other criminal.
Though it was a very hot afternoon and Galt was tired he insisted that we should walk.
“Do you want to handcuff me?” he asked.
Broad-toe was ashamed and silent.
So we went, Galt and the officer leading,—past the house of Bullguard & Co., up Nassau Street, dodging trucks, bumping people, sometimes in the traffic way, sometimes on the pavement; to the Criminal Courts Building in City Hall Park, up a winding stairway because Galt would not wait for the elevator, and to the court room where the District Attorney was waiting. There was some delay. The judge could not be found at once.
Galt sat on the extreme edge of a chair, one hand in his trouser’s pocket, the other fiddling with his watch chain, staring at the clock over the judge’s bench as if he had never seen one before. The searing emotions of chagrin and humiliation had not come through. Word of our presence there spread swiftly and the court room began to fill up with reporters and spectators.
The court arrived, adjusting its gown, read the paper that was handed up by the District Attorney, then looked down upon us, asking: “Where is the defendant?”
Galt stood up. The court eyed him curiously until the lawyers began to speak. The District Attorney wanted bail fixed at one million dollars. The court shook its head. Galt’s lawyers asked that he be released on his own recognizance. The court shook its head again. After a long wrangle it was fixed at $100,000, which the lawyers were prepared to provide on the spot.
Getting out was an ordeal. By this time the court room was stuffed with morbid humanity. Reporters surrounded Galt, adhered to him, laid hands upon him to get his attention. He made continually the gesture of brushing away flies from his face. The stairway and corridors were jammed. As we emerged on the street screaming newsboys offered us the evening papers with eight-column headlines: “Galt Indicted”—“Galt Arrested”—“Galt May Go To Jail.” From the steps across the pavement to a cab I had in waiting an open aisle had been broken through the mob by photographers, who had their cameras trained to catch Galt as we passed. He looked straight ahead, walking rapidly, but not in haste.
“Where to?” he asked, as the door of the cab slammed behind us.
“Anywhere first, to get out of this,” I said.
“Let’s go to the club,” he said.
I knew which one he meant. Though he was a member of several clubs he went always to one.
As we entered the big, quiet red lounging room, five bankers, three of whom had been counted among Galt’s supporters, were seated in various postures of ease, their minds absorbed in the evening papers. Galt’s emotions were those of a boy who, having outrun the cops, lands with a whoop in the arms of his gang. He tossed his hat aside and shouted:
“Wh-e-e-e! Wo-o-ow!”
The five bankers looked up, rose as one, and stalked out of the room.
For a minute Galt did not understand what had happened. He saw them rise as he sat down and evidently thought they were coming to him. When they did not arrive he turned his head casually, then with a start he looked all around at the empty space. His eyes had a startled expression when they met mine again and his face was an ashen color. He made as if to ring the bell, hesitated, looked all around once more, and said:
“Well, Coxey, let’s go home.”