Harlem again began to rise, and went from 75 to 150. This was early in 1864.
The members of the Legislature employed to pass the bill pocketed the money of the Commodore and then hatched a conspiracy, after the manner of the Common Council, to ruin him and make millions by his fall. He had a shrewd lobbyist in the Legislature, however, who attentively watched his interests while he came down to New York to purchase stock for the rise that must have necessarily followed the passage of the bill. He had not been long in Wall Street when he was informed that the Legislature were imitating the game in which the Common Council had been so signally defeated the previous year. The Commodore sent him word to keep close watch at Albany, and he went on buying stock in Wall Street.
The bill was defeated. Harlem stock had a slump from 150 to 90. The Commodore was in a dilemma, and would have been dreadfully embarrassed only for the intense avarice of the Legislature. If they had bought and delivered at 90, they would have made millions, which the Commodore would have lost; but, like the horse leech’s daughter, they cried out for more. Nothing would satisfy them until the stock should be depressed to 50. Then they could “scoop” in several millions and the Commodore would be wound up. This was probably the darkest hour in the Commodore’s life. He hardly knew which way to turn. He was on the ragged edge. He has often pathetically described his feelings at this crisis to his intimate friends. He was almost on the brink of despair. He sent for old John Tobin, who had been a gate keeper at the ferry-house at Staten Island. Tobin had made quite a haul in the former deal in Harlem, and was worth over a million. He told Tobin what the perfidious members of the Legislature had done. John had been buying Harlem also in prospect of a rise.
“They stuck you too, John,” said the Commodore. “How do you feel about it?” John sighed, and replied that his feelings were not the most enviable. “Shall we let ’em bleed us?” queried the Commodore.
John sighed again, but did not know what reply to make.
“John, don’t them fellows need dressing down?” emphatically queried the Commodore. John answered in the affirmative, but did not see how it was to be accomplished, as “them fellows” at that moment seemed to hold the fort.
After a pause of deep reflection, the Commodore, again addressing John with intensified emphasis in his tone, said: “John, let us teach ’em never to go back on their word again as long as they draw breath. Let us try the Harlem ‘corner’ once more.”
It was agreed to try and repeat the Harlem “corner.”
John put up a million. Leonard Jerome also went into the deal. It took five millions to face the Legislature in this game, in which they had every opportunity of packing all the cards. It was virtually, at first, a silent game of whist, at which the Commodore was a noted player. He never played with greater skill than this time, except in the Hudson “corner,” and in both instances he almost manifested the skill of inspiration.
The members of the Legislature completely lost their heads. The old classic maxim, “whom the gods devote to destruction, they first make mad,” appeared to apply peculiarly to them, in the manipulation of the Harlem “corner.” Some of them mortgaged their houses and lands to get money to sell Harlem “short.” They advised all their friends that it was such a sure thing that failure was impossible, and brought all of their acquaintances whom they could influence into the speculative maelstrom of Harlem.