Meyer’s career was colourful. Peter, as a mere lad, had a clerkship in the two rooms on the ground floor occupied by Adrian H. Muller & Son, one of the oldest and most reliable real estate auctioneers in New York. By sheer ability he gradually rose to be its head. Through Croker’s influence, the Supreme Court transferred the public auction rooms back to 111 Broadway, from whence they had been shifted to the Real Estate Exchange, 59 Liberty Street. Meyer, with gratitude for such past favours, and perhaps with a lively anticipation of favours yet to come, took Croker into partnership; the firm of Peter F. Meyer & Company resulted. Peter wanted the Tammany nomination for Mayor, was disappointed when he did not get it, and scornfully refused the post of Sheriff as a stepping-stone. That his new association profited him in other directions was, nevertheless, soon evident.
As I remained long one of the firm’s best customers I had the entrée to their inner office and so was in frequent contact with the silent partner. It was an instructive but not always an encouraging experience. Croker’s real estate office was also his political headquarters; in fact, as I saw him at work there, I realized that politics was far more his business than was the earning of the real estate commissions. It was as his business that he treated the Democratic Organization of the City of New York. Again and again I have seen this keen, forever busy man, economic with his words, but always speaking to the point, demonstrate that he felt he owned that organization just as much as any man controls a concern in which he has a substantial majority of the stock.
Generally as I passed through the outer room, there were district leaders waiting there, to report to their commanding-general and receive his orders. Beside them, and on much the same mission, there would frequently be sitting men of considerable importance in other affairs than those generally esteemed strictly political; but though these included certain lawyers who later graced—and many of whom still grace—the Supreme Court, I feel bound to add that Croker always respected the sanctity of the Courts.
In any case, I have rarely seen a leader of whatever sort held in such awe or so sought after for favours. Once, at a reception of the National Democratic Club, Croker asked me to sit next to him, and talked to me for a half-hour and more of real estate prospects and reminiscences; from the corner of my eye I could see the guests watching him with interest and me with envy; when I got up, several of my friends adroitly tried to learn from me what political position I had just been promised—they could not understand how anybody would be given thirty minutes of Richard Croker’s time unless asking for, or being offered, an important office! Many years later, I sat in Warsaw beside Pilsudski, dictator of the new Poland; the glances that I then received were exactly of the sort bestowed on me at that Fifth Avenue reception by the citizens of our own Republic.
Croker’s withdrawal from the Tammany leadership was voluntary and due largely to his recognition of his own limitations. During his incumbency, political conditions gradually changed; they so shaped themselves that Tammany—which, ever since Tweed’s downfall, had been relegated to municipal affairs—would soon be called upon to play an active part in State matters. To protect his organization, the boss would have to control or check legislation at Albany affecting the City of New York, and also endeavour to influence the New York delegations to the National Conventions so as to secure federal patronage. To Croker, these were unexplored fields; he knew municipal organization politics as few men of his time, but he appreciated the proverb about teaching an old dog new tricks. Partly through his connection with Andrew Freedman of the Interborough System, and partly through that with Peter Meyer, he had become rich beyond all his early hopes; he had the good sense, unusual in champions, to quit the ring before losing his title to a younger man.
Perhaps with some lingering desire to retain some hold on the affairs of the organization which he had so long governed, Croker arranged to be succeeded by a triumvirate—Charles F. Murphy, Thomas F. McManus, and, to give the Bronx a voice, Louis F. Heins—but that arrangement did not last long. Murphy had the nominal leadership and soon made it real. He attached to himself a majority of the district leaders, fought the remainder, and replaced all who were irreconcilable by creatures of his own. He went further and accomplished what Croker had not dared to attempt: the Cleveland Democrats in the up-state organization had gradually lost their hold on that machine, and the many excellent men who later became devotees of the Wilsonic teaching lacked the propensities necessary to assuming control; they were men of affairs who devoted thought to politics only during a campaign, whereas, the professional element was “on the job” for three hundred and sixty-five days in the year; in that element Tammany found its own type, and converted these into its willing tools.
Within a comparatively short time, Murphy, who had begun as a humble leader in the Gas House District of Manhattan, was both the head of the City and State machine in New York. It has been most depressing for Independents to see him absolutely control the Empire State delegation in the last three National Democratic Conventions, casting the vote of the ninety-six delegates, the largest vote possessed by any state—“as though,” in Bryan’s phraseology, “he owned them.”
My personal experiences with him have been few, but they have served to confirm my first impressions. In 1910 there was to be an election for Borough President of the Bronx; Arthur D. Murphy, the Tammany leader of the district, but not related to Charles F. Murphy, aspired to the position. George F. and Frederick Johnson and I called on the Chief.
He is a large man, with a huge round face and heavy jowl. His eyes have not the piercing quality that Croker’s had; they are blue and kindly and his manner is altogether conciliatory. He knew our mission, but his reception was cordial.
We put our case frankly. We were among the largest investors in the Bronx. We wanted that section to be a desirable home-centre for the over-flow of New York’s population. We, therefore, felt justified in discussing with him the necessity of having a proper administration with a respected citizen at its head.