“The answer to all that is money,” he said, calling his secretary. “Bring me a check for a thousand dollars,” and then to me, “Now run away and do your best work.”
In regard to questions of gambling debts, Canfield was inexorable if he was dealing with crooks (which are not always to be found in the lower strata of society, by any means), but for a young man who had made his first mistake he had nothing but kindness. A friend of mine was taken (when a bit alcoholic), by an older man, to Canfield’s one night. After a short time he found himself in debt to the house for several thousands of dollars. He wrote out a check for the amount and went home. In the morning he realized what he had done and that he did not have anything like the amount to meet it. Bracing up, he groomed himself carefully and called upon Mr. Canfield. That gentleman had not yet breakfasted and seemed in no hurry to do so, for my friend waited several hours in the reception room. I suspect that the astute gambler was giving him a chance to show his mettle. When Canfield appeared, the boy (for he was very young) made a clean breast of affairs, saying that neither himself nor his family were in a position to meet the obligation, but that he was there to offer all he had—his skin. Canfield listened attentively, turned to his desk, picked up a paper, and said:
“Is this the check?”
My friend nodded.
“Well, don’t ever do this again,” he advised, tearing it up and throwing it into the fire.
I once asked Canfield about an account in the papers of a young man in one of our western cities whom he had sued for the payment of a bad check of $45,000. It seemed to me foolish, for of course he could not collect.
“Oh, I just did that to let you fellows know what a rotter the boy was, that’s all,” he said. “The night he lost it he had turned up at my place with his older brother and the manager of his father’s business here in New York. When the young fellow began to lose heavily, my man came to me for instructions. I asked his companions what to do. They said to let him plunge, that the firm was good for it. Of course, the next day they refused to pay. That is why I sued.
“But a few weeks later they needed me. The young man had got into serious trouble which required a large amount of instant cash. It was early Sunday morning and there was at that time no place in New York where one could get money after banking hours. So the manager and the young man’s brother turned up at my house, bringing with them a man whose name, on paper, was good for millions. Here was my chance. They needed $25,000 cash. I gave it to them in exchange for a check, signed by the brother and backed by the rich man, for $70,000.”
I rather imagine that certain people had to leave for Montreal that morning and did not stay upon the manner of their going.
When politics and the fine arts meet, there is sometimes a clash. Senators and aldermen may be good lawmakers, but they are not always judges of decorative painting. The funniest time I ever had was in trying to decorate the Baltimore Law Courts building. La Farge and Vedder had both refused the order, and I could easily see why, after my own experience. There were seven rhomboidal panels in the entrance. The first suggestion made to me was to have a representation of Francis Scott Key finding that the “flag was still there.” As he must have been below deck in a British war vessel at that moment, looking out of a porthole, the only way to do him would have been from the back view, while in the distance the flag would have been about the size of one of his ears. I might have been able to vary this seven times, but I doubt it.