Fifty years in Wall Street

by Henry Clews

There was one clever transaction in the Black Friday affair that should be put on record to the credit of the able management of that great deal. One prominent individual connected therewith was personally responsible for $4,500,000. This was a pretty heavy load at that time even for him to carry, but it did not weigh very heavily upon him for any appreciable length of time. He adroitly managed to shift it over on to the shoulders of that broad-backed, soulless creature called the Erie Corporation, making it responsible by simply signing himself “T. R.,” instead of “J.G.,” the large letters representing the ordinary contraction “Tr.” for Treasurer. By this simple and ingenious device this shrewd gentleman got rid of the burthensome legacy on the negative side, bequeathed to him by the “Black Friday corner.”

There is a story told, with several variations, in regard to a sensational interview between Mr. Gould and Commodore Vanderbilt. The scene is laid in the parlor of the Commodore’s house. It was about the time that the latter was making desperate efforts to get a corner in Erie, and at that particular juncture when, having been defeated in his purpose by the astute policy of the able triumvirate of Erie—Gould, Fisk and Drew—he had applied to the courts as a last resort to get even with them.

They had used the Erie paper mill to the best advantage, in turning out new securities of Erie to supply the Vanderbilt brokers, who vainly imagined that they were getting a corner in the inexhaustible stock. Mr. Vanderbilt was wild when he discovered the ruse and had no remedy but law against the perpetrators of this costly prank. These adroit financiers usually placed the law at defiance, or used it to their own advantage, but this time they were so badly caught in their own net that they had to fly from the State and take refuge at Taylor’s Hotel in Jersey City.

It seems that during their temporary exile beyond the State Gould sought a private interview one night with the Commodore, in the hope of bringing about conciliatory measures.

The Commodore conversed freely for some time, but in the midst of his conversation he seemed to be suddenly seized with a fainting spell, and rolled from his seat unto the carpet, where he lay motionless and apparently breathless.

Mr. Gould’s first impulse was to go to the door and summon aid, but he found it locked and no key in it. This increased his alarm and he became greatly agitated. He shook the prostrate form of the Commodore, but the latter was limp and motionless. Once there was a heavy sigh and a half suffocated breathing, as if it were the last act of respiration. Immediately afterward the Commodore was still and remained in this condition for nearly half an hour. Doubtless this was one of the most anxious half hours that ever Mr. Gould has experienced.

If I were permitted to indulge in the latitude of the ordinary story teller, I might here draw a harassing picture of Mr. Gould’s internal emotions, gloomy prospects in a criminal court and dark forebodings. His prolific brain would naturally be racked to find a plausible explanation in the event of the Commodore’s death, which had occurred while they were the sole occupants of the room; and at that time, in the eyes of the public, they were bitter enemies.

I can imagine that, in the height of his anxiety, he would have been ready to make very easy terms with his great rival, on condition of being relieved from his perilous position. It would have been a great opportunity, if such had been possible, for a third party to have come in as a physician, pronouncing it a case of heart disease. No doubt Mr. Gould would have been willing to pay an enormous fee to be relieved of such an oppressive suspicion.

The object of the Commodore’s feint was evidently to try the courage and soften the heart of Mr. Gould, who never seemed to suspect that it was a mere hoax. His presence of mind, however, was equal to the occasion, as he bore the ordeal with fortitude until the practical joker was pleased to assume his normal condition and usual vivacity. If Mr. Gould had been a man of common excitability he might have acted very foolishly under these trying circumstances, and this doubtless would have pleased his tormentor intensely.

The modus operandi of Mr. Gould, in the purchase and sale of railroads, has been to buy up two or more bad roads, put them together, give the united roads a new name, call it a good, prosperous line, with immense prospects in the immediate future, get a great number of people to believe all this, then make large issues of bonds and sell them at a good price, for the purpose of further improving and enhancing the value of the property. After these preliminaries had been gone through, if profitable purchasers came along, they could have the road at a price that would amply compensate Mr. Gould for all his labor and acute management. If these purchasers should be unable to run the road profitably and were obliged to go into liquidation after a year or two, as frequently happens, then Mr. Gould or his agents would very likely be found on hand at the sale to take back the road at a greatly reduced price. Mr. Gould would then get a fresh opportunity of showing the superiority of his management. He would be able to demonstrate that the road had left his possession in excellent and progressive condition, but through loose management had been run down. He would then set about the work of reorganization again and go through the same role substantially, with slight variations, as before, realizing a handsome profit on each successive reorganization.