iv
After 1896 the flood tide began to swell and roar. Galt was astride of it,—a colossus emerging from the mist.
The Great Midwestern was finished. He had rebuilt it from end to end. And now for that campaign of expansion which was adumbrated on the map I had studied in his room at home. For these operations he required the active assistance of Mordecai, Gates and Potter. He persuaded them privately and bent them to his views.
I began to notice that he went more frequently to the stock ticker. His ear was attuned to it delicately. A sudden change in the rhythm of its g-n-i-r-r-r-i-n-g would cause him to leave his desk instantly and go to look at the tape. He was continually wanted on those telephones with the unknown terminals. Speaking into them he would say, “Yes,” ... or ... “No,” ... or ... “How many?” ... or ... “Ten more at once.”
One afternoon he turned from the ticker and did a grotesque pirouette in the middle of the floor.
“Pig in the sack, Coxey. Pig in the sack. Not a squeal out of him.”
“What pig is that?” I asked.
He looked at me shrewdly and said no more.
Under his direction they had been buying control of the Orient & Pacific Railroad in the open market, so skillfully that no one even suspected it. He had not been a speculator all his life for nothing. What set him off at that moment was the sight of the last few thousand shares passing on the tape.
Valentine was in Europe for his annual vacation. Galt called a special meeting of the directors. He talked for an hour on the importance of controlling railroads that could originate traffic. The Great Midwestern did not originate its own traffic. The Orient & Pacific was a far western road with many branches in a rich freight producing area. The Great Midwestern had been getting only one third of its east bound freight, and it was a very profitable kind of freight, moving in solid trains of iced cars at high rates; the other two thirds had been going to competitive lines.
It would be worth nearly fifteen million dollars a year for the Great Midwestern to own the Orient & Pacific and get all of its business. A syndicate had just acquired a controlling interest in Orient & Pacific stock and he, Galt, had got an option on it at an average price of forty dollars a share. The Great Midwestern could buy it at that price. What was the pleasure of the board?
The substance was true; the spirit was rhetorical. The formal pleasure of the board was already prepared. Four members, listening solemnly as to a new thing, had assisted in the purchase. Galt, Potter, Gates and Mordecai were the syndicate. Potter as usual called for the vote, and voted aye. The rest followed.
A brief statement was issued to the Wall Street news bureaus. It produced a strange sensation. An operation of great magnitude had been carried through so adroitly that no one suspected what was taking place, not even the Orient & Pacific Railroad Company’s own bankers. They were mortified unspeakably. More than that, they were startled, and so were all the defenders of wealth and prestige in this field of combat, for they perceived that a master foeman had cast his gage among them. And they scarcely knew his name.
Twenty minutes after our formal statement had been delivered to the Wall Street news bureaus the waiting room was full of newspaper reporters demanding to see the chairman.
“But what do they want?” asked Galt, angry and petulant. “We’ve made all the statement that’s necessary.”
“They say they must talk to somebody, since it is a matter of public interest. The bankers have referred them here. There’s nobody but you to satisfy them.”
“Tell them there’s nothing more to be said.”
“I’ve told them that. They want to ask you some questions.”
It was his first experience and he dreaded it.
“We’ll have a look at them,” he said. “Let them in.”
As they poured in he scanned their faces. Picking out one, a keen, bald, pugnacious trifle, he asked: “Who are you?”
“I’m from the Evening Post.”
He put the same question to each of the others, and when they were all identified he turned to the first one again.
“Well, Postey, you look so wise, you do the talking. What do you want to know?”
Postey stepped out on the mat and went at him hard. Why had control of the Orient & Pacific been bought? What did it cost? How would it be paid for? Would the road be absorbed by the Great Midwestern or managed independently? Had the new management been appointed? What were Galt’s plans for the future?
To the first question he responded in general terms. To the second he said: “Is that anybody’s business?”
“It’s the public’s business,” said Postey.
“Oh,” said Galt. “Well, I can’t tell you now. It will appear in the annual report.”
After that he answered each question respectfully, but really told very little, and appeared to enjoy the business so long as Postey did the talking. When he was through the Journal reporter said: “Tell us something about yourself, Mr. Galt. You are spoken of as one of the brilliant new leaders in finance.”
“That’s all,” said Galt, repressing an expletive and turning his back. When they were gone he said to me: “Don’t ever let that Journal man in again. Postey, though, he’s all right.”
All accounts of the interview, so far as that went, were substantially correct. In some papers there was a good deal of silly speculation about Galt. The Journal reporter went further with it than anyone else, described his person and manners vividly, and went out of his way three times to mention in a spirit of innuendo that there was a stock ticker in Galt’s private office, with sinister reference to the fact that before he became chairman of the Great Midwestern he had been a Stock Exchange speculator.
I called Galt’s attention to this.
“Yes,” he said. “We’re out in the open now where they can shoot at us.”