CHAPTER XX
THE CHRISTENING OF AMALGAMATED
My readers may recall the wave of indignation which swept over this country when the news came of the kidnapping of Miss Stone, the American missionary, by the bandits of Bulgaria, and how hot we all felt at the capture of Ion Perdicaris by Raissuli, the Morocco rebel. Only in remote and barbarous countries, we reflected, could such outrages occur, and we dwelt with high inward satisfaction on our own splendid American institutions and law-abiding civilization. If only these miscreants were on American soil so American justice could lay hands on them—what stern punishment would be meted out to them! Yet, under the panoply of these noble institutions and just laws of ours, one citizen of our commonwealth was enabled to seize from another millions of money and the ownership of a great enterprise—literally wrench it from the hands of men who had spent their lives in developing it—and the execution of the deed involved neither financial nor physical risk and carried with it no legal nor social consequences. Look on the picture, all ye free Americans rejoicing in vaunted liberty and the right to the pursuit of happiness—this able and successful merchant, head of a great business which it has been his life-work to rear, surrendering the splendid structure at the mere nod of one man, whose "I want it" is more potent, more irresistible, than family pride or Government decree. If Leonard Lewisohn, a millionaire many times over, rich in connections with the strongest financial houses of Europe, meekly submitted to the behest of "Standard Oil," what resistance could the average man oppose to such a power? The logic of the situation is inevitable. Can you free Americans absorb the details of this most extraordinary performance and not see the coming storm as clearly as the mariner does when all along the horizon creep the hosts of Boreas and the barometer drops like lead in a shot tower?
At last, in April, 1899, the first section of the much-heralded company was ready to step before the footlights to the plaudits of an awaiting financial world, and it was really a great moment when Mr. Rogers sent me word: "Come over, and be prepared to stay until the consolidation is formed and launched." I was at 26 Broadway next day, and we entered at once on our council of war. It was a momentous sitting and secret, for, until the entire programme was mapped out and decided upon, no one was a party to it or had knowledge of it but Mr. Rogers, his counsel, William Rockefeller, and myself. After we had finished the final details, Mr. Rogers said:
"This is a job on which we must not lose time, for if we give any one, even those who are to be directors, too long to think things over, there will be counterplots, and a cog may slip or jump and we shall all be crushed. We must all bear in mind that this thing has rolled up and up until it is unprecedented in business affairs, and if we slip up in any of the important details, we shall have a panic on our hands such as Wall Street has never witnessed."
On all sides for weeks there had been accumulating evidence, which we could see pointed to a monumental success or an avalanche failure. The copper market was literally boiling, and investors from one end of America to the other and throughout Europe were on the qui vive for the anticipated announcement. At intervals in history great "booms" are started, which bloom into iridescent bubbles, and for a moment dazzle the world with fairy dreams of sudden millions. Greatest of all these was the South Sea Bubble. Since then we have had the tulip craze in Holland, the Hooley excitement, and the Barney Barnato South African mining furor in England, the Secretan copper corner, and the tremendous bonanza delirium in California; but none of these, save the first, is comparable with the magnitude of the copper maelstrom of 1899. The tulip craze could have been thrust in and withdrawn again without diverting one of its currents; the Barney Barnato affair was little more than an eddy on the surface of English finance in contrast. We were dealing in hundreds and five hundreds of millions; shares rose and fell twenty to fifty points in a day; some had mounted to the giddy height of $900 each; thousands of the public had invested their savings in one copper property or another, and all awaited with bated breath and marvelling anticipations the launching of this copper monster with its freight of hopes and visions.
The programme as specifically arranged had several important clauses. The first involved the notification of James Stillman, President of the National City, the "Standard Oil" Bank, who was to be let into only as much of the secret as was necessary to enable him to handle his important end intelligently. To Leonard Lewisohn it was decided to intrust the French, English, and German end of the subscription, and he was at once to receive orders to lay his pipes. I may say here that this task was admirably executed through his son-in-law, Philip Henry, of the English branch of Lewisohn Brothers. The other directors of the company were then and there selected, but it was agreed that they should not be told of the distinction thrust upon them until the very eve of the company's formation.
This decision surprised me at the moment it was concluded, for with my Boston ideas I had regarded the gentlemen we had chosen to preside over the destinies of our great company—all men of the highest prestige and standing in American finance—as so powerful and so independent in their own fields as to be beyond either the coercion or the cajolery of "Standard Oil." It was because of this reputation for integrity and the confidence their names would inspire in the public mind that we had selected them; yet here was Mr. Rogers irreverently using them as the veriest pawns in his game, and taking absolutely for granted their immediate consent to the loan of their reputations and honor for any scheme he might put up. The possibility of one of these eminent financiers objecting to be used in any way "Standard Oil" might desire was a contingency evidently so remote as to be unworthy of consideration.
The legal aspects of the problem were considered, but as we felt sure of our ground it was agreed to avoid all delays in this direction. As a matter of form and habit, however, Mr. Rogers said that at the last moment, when the papers were ready to issue, he would have the wise lawyers in charge of the legal department of 26 Broadway run over them, but whether they approved or not, he would allow no technicalities to hold up the flotation. This was certainly a departure from the well-ordered rule of "Standard Oil," but the urgency of the situation seemed to require it.
After our council adjourned, not a moment was lost. The organization was quickly shaped up and got ready, and the time was ripe to broach to Mr. Stillman the part that he and the funds deposited in the National City Bank were to play in the forthcoming engagement. This was a crucial point, and I saw that Mr. Rogers approached the task with no gusto. Before he went off that night he spoke about the interview which was to occur after dinner, and he said:
"I don't mind giving Fewer or Olcott or even Morgan but a minute's notice, for every one of them will do about what I ask him to, but I shall feel better when I get through with Stillman."
"But Mr. Stillman would never dare to refuse what you and Mr. William Rockefeller asked, any more than he would the request of John D., would he?" I asked.
"I don't know about that," Mr. Rogers replied. "Stillman has been growing fast of late, and it is not nearly so easy to get him to consent to run deals blindly as it was formerly. Of course, if he were in on the bottom floor with us, it would be different. All I fear is, he may ask questions, and if he does, it will not do for me to refuse an answer. And too many answers may be dangerous to our plans."
"Why not take him in with us—you, Mr. Rockefeller, and myself?" I suggested. "The profits will stand it, and as far as my share goes I am willing."
"Not by a jugful, Lawson," said Mr. Rogers emphatically. "Stillman will only get what fairly belongs to him. He has had none of the risk or work, and we do not need him in any way except through the bank, and the bank is 'Standard Oil's,' not his. He is lucky to get what I am going to give him."
It is interesting to note in passing the authoritative manner in which 26 Broadway speaks of the so-called institutions of the people that it controls—the banks, trust companies, and insurance companies, having deposits of hundreds of millions of the public's money. Familiarly they are alluded to as "our bank" or "our insurance company," as the case may be. We are all apt to feel we own the things we use, and that Mr. Rogers should speak of the millions of the National City Bank as "our funds" is not surprising when he possesses the power and the privileges of doing with them as he pleases. I was too fascinated at that time by the ready magic of "Standard Oil" to observe all the anomalous conditions my relation with it revealed. Such things all seemed a natural attribute of the despotic and all-powerful institution that I served.
I was vastly relieved when Mr. Rogers reported, the following morning, that at the dinner with Stillman everything had slipped through very smoothly. Not only would the National City Bank take charge of the subscription, but through the institution Mr. Stillman would furnish the millions necessary to form the company. This meant supplying the paraphernalia in loans, checks, and cash necessary to pay in the seventy-five millions capital, thirty-nine millions of which must at once be "book-keepingly" available to pay for the property bought from Daly, Haggin, and Tevis, and purchased by the company.
"It couldn't have gone through easier, Lawson," Mr. Rogers said quietly, "for the fact is, Stillman seems to have got the copper fever as badly as any one else and is as anxious to take a hand as we are to have him. It will be plain sailing now unless we strike some snag with Sterling or Elliott"—referring to the principal "Standard Oil" lawyers.
By this time such substantial progress had been made with the plans that they were formulated on paper and the time had come when it seemed advisable to try them on the "Standard Oil" law-department. We arranged that night that next morning Mr. Rogers should himself go over the matter with Mr. Sterling. I was waiting in his office when he returned from this consultation, and the expression of his face as he entered indicated plainly that a real snag had been struck. His jaw and the droop of the upper corners of his eyelids gave a curiously sinister aspect to his face.
"Well," said he, "Sterling says if we carry out that plan there may be h—l to pay some day."
"Wherein does he say it is wrong?" I asked, not over-surprised.
"Everywhere. He says if there is any slip-up in the future Mr. Rockefeller and myself may have to pay back a lot of money."
"Well, what are you going to do?" I said.
"Just what we started to do." No lawyer's warnings could hold him back from the bursting barrels now in sight. He went on:
"I told Sterling to forget I had asked him to pass on the matter, and that I would have my own counsel take the responsibility. So we go right ahead, and nothing is to be said to any one, not even to William Rockefeller. I have always argued that it is fool business to go to a lawyer with a scheme that depends entirely on how it is carried through as to whether it is perilous or not. I could have told Sterling there is apt to be more danger in a deal in which one makes thirty-five to forty million dollars without turning a hair, than in furnishing staid advice from an office-chair for a fixed sum per diem."
The concentrated incisiveness of these sentences! Opposition, the mere suggestion of danger, had stimulated his determination to proceed rather than enjoined caution. Himself convinced of the expediency of our deal, no power on earth could make him deviate or face about. Truly a man of blood and iron, as Bismarck or Moltke was, his erected will is a sword and a vise. To gain a predetermined goal Henry H. Rogers will go through hell, fire, and water, swing about and make the return trip, and then repeat, until death interferes or his object is attained. Such men as he in other days subjugated kingdoms or made deserts where they operated; in religion they became St. Pauls or Savonarolas.
It may occur to my readers that in depicting Henry H. Rogers I use more whitewash than tar, and that if he is half as determined and relentless as my characterization of him, he will surely exact a terrible reprisal for what I have written here. In describing the man I adhere to the facts, and before I began this crusade I weighed well the consequences. From the implacable wrath of Henry H. Rogers and his associates, from a thirst for vengeance which grows more bitter as it is deferred, nothing can save me, nothing but—myself.
And now events flew. Mr. Rogers took the forenoon to notify Governor Flower, President Frederic P. Olcott, of the Central Trust Company; Marcus Daly, and J. P. Morgan, that they, in connection with William Rockefeller, himself, his counsel, and James Stillman, were to constitute the directors of the new company.
"There, Lawson," he said, when he returned to 26 Broadway, "that job is done, and I am glad it's off my hands. It was all pleasant enough but the Morgan part. I wish it were possible for us to get along without having his assistance, but it isn't. Leaving him out would create comment, from which it would be only a short step to Wall Street's nosing around and manufacturing something uncomfortable, even if they didn't discover it. I don't like Morgan a bit, and he likes us less. It won't be long before one or the other of us will be able to do business without knowing what the other's about, much less consulting him—not very long."
As the "not very long" shot out from between his lips much as the tail-end of an up-chimney wind switches itself around the angle of the fireplace, I felt there was little doubt in his mind who would be left to do business after the final drag-out and clean-up. At the same time it did not dissipate a sort of come-and-go confidence I had that the old terrapin around whom so many of Wall Street's eddies have swirled would cause the 26-Broadway crowd many a broken knife-blade before crawling or being pushed into his shell. Turtles are not much good as sprinters, but they're blue-ribbon winners when it comes to the staying class.
"You didn't meet with any set-back with Morgan, did you?" I asked.
"Oh, no," Mr. Rogers replied; "he simply said it would be best, everything considered, for us to put in his right-hand man, Robert Bacon, instead of himself, and I agreed with him; in fact, I think it much better, as Bacon is a rattling good fellow who takes no interest in the other fellow's business, even when he does happen to be a director in the other fellow's company, and he will recognize that this copper affair is mine, not Morgan's." He stopped abruptly. "Now, Lawson, let us settle upon what in this case is an important point, the name of the company." He had asked me the day before to think of a suitable title for our organization, and I had put in some time with a pad and pencil experimenting. I had several names ready for him, but after I had run over them and given my reasons, he said:
"There is nothing more important than to have just the right name for a company which is going to make history, is there?"
I agreed; in fact, even more than he I was impressed with the desirability of a suitable name for a corporation whose stock was bound to become a great market star, and I was not satisfied with any I had dug up. Give a stock or a book a good name, and it is sure to be numbered among the best sellers.
Mr. Rogers continued:
"Lawson, we want something as good as 'Standard Oil,' if it is possible to find it. Now"—and he drew over one of his little writing-pads and taking a slim gold pencil from his pocket slowly wrote something and handed it to me—"how do you like this?"
I read "'Amalgamated Copper Company.' Perfect!" I exclaimed.
"I thought you would say so"; and he reached over and wrote underneath the name, "A second Standard Oil." It was an impressive moment for both of us. I folded the slip, and putting it in my pocket said: "You will see this again, Mr. Rogers, when its stock sells for as much as Standard Oil."
Surely an adder crawled from that tiny golden cylinder and upon the smooth white paper distilled its subtle venom. I, poor fool, exulting in the splendid throes of accomplishment, never dreamed that the real christening of my bantling was the toast the Master of Hell drank as the name "Amalgamated" was slowly traced upon the pad before my eyes; never dreamed that this cherished offspring on whose rearing I had lavished all I possessed of dollars, of ideals, of generous hopes and high expectations—whose growth I had literally watered with my sweat—was an imp of darkness. My fool's paradise I had planted with all manner of fair flowers and lordly trees, and in my folly believed that those who had been my friends were forever after assured of pleasant places, lovely perfumes, and grateful shade; but like the Grecian in the ancient fable, I found I had sown dragon's teeth, and the crop I reaped was of hatred and envy, passion and revenge.