Tweed neglected no means whatever to avert popular criticism. A committee composed of six of the leading and richest citizens—Moses Taylor, Marshall O. Roberts, E. D. Brown, J. J. Astor, George K. Sistare and Edward Schell—were induced to make an examination of the Controller’s books, and hand in a most eulogistic report, commending Connolly for his honesty and faithfulness to duty. So highly useful a document naturally was used for all it was worth.[14]
But it was in his tender providence over the newspapers that his greatest success in averting public clamor was shown. Both in Albany and in this city he showered largess upon the press. One paper at the Capital received, through his efforts, a legislative appropriation of $207,900 for one year’s printing, whereas $10,000 would have overpaid it for the service rendered.[15] The proprietor of an Albany journal which was for many years the Republican organ of the State, made it a practice to submit to Tweed’s personal censorship the most violently abusive articles. On the payment of large sums, sometimes as much as $5,000, Tweed was permitted to make such alterations as he chose.[16] Here, in the city, the owner of one subservient newspaper received $80,000 a year for “city advertising,” and to some other newspapers large subsidies were paid in the same guise. Under the head of “city contingencies,” reporters for the city newspapers, Democratic and Republican, received Christmas presents of $200 each. This particular practice had begun before Tweed’s time,[17] but in line with the expansive manner of the “ring,” the plan was elaborated by subsidizing six or eight men on nearly all the city newspapers, crediting each of them with $2,000 or $2,500 a year for “services.”[18]
The proprietor of the Sun, a newspaper that, from supporting the Young Democracy, veered suddenly to an enthusiastic devotion to the “Boss,” proposed, in March 1871, the erection of a statue to Tweed. The “Boss’s” adherents jumped at the idea; and an association for the purpose was formed by Edward J. Shandley, a Police Justice, and a host of other men of local note, in professional, political and social circles, among whom were not only ardent friends of Tweed, but also those who, having opposed him, sought this opportunity of ingratiating themselves into his favor. The statue was to be “in commemoration of his [Tweed’s] services to the commonwealth of New York”—so ran the circular letter.
In a few days the association had obtained nearly $8,000, some politicians giving $1,000 apiece. Other men pledged themselves to pay any amount from $1,000 to $10,000, and were on the point of making good their word when a letter from Tweed appeared, discountenancing the project. It was printed in the Sun of March 14, 1871, under the heading:
“A GREAT MAN’S MODESTY.
“THE HON. WILLIAM M. TWEED DECLINES THE SUN’S STATUE—CHARACTERISTIC LETTER FROM THE GREAT NEW YORK PHILANTHROPIST—HE THINKS THAT VIRTUE SHOULD BE ITS OWN REWARD—THE MOST REMARKABLE LETTER EVER WRITTEN BY THE NOBLE BENEFACTOR OF THE PEOPLE.”
“Statues,” wrote Tweed in part, “are not erected to living men, but to those who have ended their careers, and where no interest exists to question the partial tributes of friends.” Tweed hinted that he was not so deficient in common sense as not to know the bad effect the toleration of the scheme would have, and, ever open to suspicion, he broadly asserted that the original statue proposition was made either as a joke or with an unfriendly motive.
One of the signers of the circular has assured the author that it was a serious proposal. The attitude of the Sun confirms this. On March 15 that newspaper stated editorially that it thought “Mr. Tweed had acted hastily,” and inquired whether it was too late “to realize so worthy and so excellent an idea.” In the same issue appears an interview with Justice Shandley, who says:
“We had contemplated eventually making a public proposition that the testimonial finally take the form of the establishment of a grand charitable institution, bearing Mr. Tweed’s honored name, and so overcome the prejudices that the statue proposition have engendered, and passing the fame of that statesman, philanthropist and patriot down to future generations. Mr. Tweed has willed otherwise, and we must submit.”
A Chicago clergyman, reading of the suggestion, publicly declared that Tweed was “more dangerous than were the ancient robber kings.” Copying this expression, the Sun urged editorially on May 13: