This feeling was intensified in 1887 by a terrific battle between the oil producers and Standard forces in the Legislature of the state of Pennsylvania. Since the compromise of 1880 the body of the oil producers had been taking no concerted action against the Standard. But their inaction was not due to reconciliation to Standard domination. As a matter of fact they were almost as bitter in 1886 as they had been in 1878, when they formed the Union which for two years fought so good a fight. The specific complaint of the oil producers at this time was that they were being “robbed” by the National Transit Company—the big Standard pipe-line consolidation, which had secured by the series of manœuvres already outlined the monopoly of handling and transporting crude oil. If the oil producers had been making money at this time it is quite possible that they would have paid little attention to the profits of the National Transit Company. The service they got was about as perfect as any human machine could render, and they would probably have recognised this and been willing to pay high if they too had been prosperous. But the condition of the oil producer in these days was in glaring contrast to that of Mr. Rockefeller. They had piled up oil until there were in 1886 over 33,000,000 barrels on hand. Naturally this had driven prices down. The average price for the last years had been under a dollar a barrel. In 1886 it fell down to 71⅜, and everyone said it must go lower. Embittered and discouraged, the producers fell to comparing what they were getting out of the business with what Mr. Rockefeller was getting. It was not a consoling showing. The Standard Oil Trust had from its organisation in 1882 paid dividends on its $70,000,000 capital. In spite of the extraordinary outlay for tank building and seaboard pipe-lines made from 1881 to 1884—$30,000,000 it is computed to have been—the trust paid 10½ per cent. in 1885, ten per cent. in 1886, and Standard Oil stock stood near 200! In contrast, the oil producer, in 1886, is estimated to have lost about six per cent. on his expenditures, and oil property depreciated one-third in value.[[118]]
JOHN D. ROCKEFELLER
By Eastman Johnson
Something was wrong. They could not charge the Standard with the price of oil. As long as over 33,000,000 barrels in stock lay on the market it could not rise. But they could and did complain of what it cost them to handle this oil, of storage and carrying charges, of the deductions for shrinkage and for loss by fire. If the Standard had not forced out every competing line, there would have been sufficient competition to have lowered these items—which at the present prices soon ate up the value of oil. And they fell to rehearsing the raids by which the various transporting companies which had fought themselves into independent positions had been forced into combination, their chief grievances being naturally the affair of the Tidewater. In this state of mind, and incited by the Buffalo, the Payne, and the Rice cases, it was natural enough that when suddenly, at the opening of 1887, a bill evidently intended to strike a blow at the Standard was introduced into the Legislature of Pennsylvania, the oil producers rushed pell-mell to support it. The opening sentence was enough for them. It was “An act to punish corporations.”[[119]] This was what they had always sought, some way to punish Mr. Rockefeller for what they believed to be a conspiracy against their interests. The way in which the Billingsley Bill, as it was called from the name of its father, proposed to punish the Standard was to make it a criminal offence to charge in excess of certain rates it fixed—ten cents a barrel for gathering and delivering oil to storing points (the current rate was twenty cents); one-sixtieth of one per cent. per barrel a day for storage, with no storage charge for the first thirty days (one-half of one per cent. was the current rate); one-half of one per cent. shrinkage, instead of three per cent. Besides, the bill required the Standard to go to any well on application of the owner, it made the company liable for damage, and it required it to deliver oil of like kind and quality as that received.
The enthusiasm with which the bill was greeted was cooled a little by the announcement that as it stood it was unconstitutional—acts to punish being forbidden by the constitution of the state—as well as by an immediate realisation that the prices fixed for services were in nearly every case less than cost. The bill was immediately amended. When it came back it was at once apparent that, in spite of this preliminary hitch, a tremendous fight to carry it was being organised by the oil men. Then determination to push it grew in proportion to the Standard opposition. The Standard, indeed, realised immediately that unless a hard fight was made the bill would go through by popular clamour, and they turned their big lawyer, Mr. Dodd, against it, set their newspapers—the Oil City Derrick, Titusville Herald and Bradford Era, all of them by this time subsidised organs—to argue against it, and sent Mr. Scheide, one of the ablest of their pipe-line managers, to present their side at Harrisburg. They also secured the services of a well-known young Republican member of the Legislature, Wallace Delemater, of Crawford County, one of the counties in the Oil Regions, to organise an opposition to the bill in the Legislature.
In February a hearing was given the bill, Mr. Dodd presenting the Standard side. It is rare that so able a lawyer has to fight so weak a measure, and Mr. Dodd riddled it easily. As a matter of fact the Billingsley Bill was as bad as it could be. It was characterised by all sorts of constitutional, legal and practical difficulties. The pipe-line business was an interstate business, and this bill attempted to regulate it—which evidently it could not do. It could, of course, regulate Pennsylvania oil, but, by so doing, it created two classes of oil in the lines, a situation which would have been confusing and undesirable. It was evidently intended that the prices it fixed should apply to the 30,000,000 barrels of stocks on hand, but these were held under contract, and could not be touched. There were many other objections to the bill. Even Judge Heydrick, the able lawyer whom the oil men had engaged to defend it, was obliged to apologise for it at every point, and its most valiant supporter, Senator Lewis Emery, Jr., said frankly that the framer of the bill knew too little of the oil men’s needs to be able to make a bill, and that this would have to be thoroughly revised.
In spite of all the reasonable, indeed overwhelming, objections to the Billingsley Bill, the oil men clung to it. Mass-meetings were held nightly from one end of the region to the other, petitions flooded the Legislature, a big delegation was kept constantly in Harrisburg lobbying for it. The support was intemperate, bitter, unreasonable. In March it was intensified by the knowledge that a self-constituted committee of leading oil men were in New York treating with the Standard in regard to certain of the abuses the bill aimed to cure. These men felt that the Standard was unjust in its dealings with the oil men, excessive in its charges, and arbitrary in its service, but they felt that the confusion the Billingsley Bill would bring into the business more than offset the grievances it righted, and they had gone to Mr. Rockefeller to see if matters could not be compromised. Now nothing could have more effectually added to the warlike spirit abroad in the Oil Regions at that moment than the suggestion of a compromise. Their cause was being “sold.” It was “compounding with felony,” and when, after a three days’ sitting in New York, the committee came home with an agreement from the National Transit Company, making certain concessions—as two per cent. instead of three for shrinkage, twenty-five cents a day per 1,000 barrels, instead of forty, for storage, and with a promise that certain other points should be settled by joint committees—two of the leading members were hung in effigy in Titusville!
In April the final vote on the Billingsley Bill came. Harrisburg was alive with oil men determined that the bill should go through. The Standard was present, and if it had less of a claque, it had more of the “sinews of war.” Indeed, it was charged later by Senator Lewis Emery that the leader of the Standard forces in the Senate received $65,000 for his services—a charge which, so far as the writer knows, has never been either proved or disproved. The bill came to a vote after a passionate wrangle. It was defeated eighteen to twenty-five. A storm of violent protest from the oil men’s representatives followed the defeat, and the lobbies, the hotels, and even the streets of Harrisburg were scenes in the next hours of bitter quarrels and excited gatherings. When finally the oil men withdrew from the town it was with the understanding that they were to meet two weeks later in Oil City to organise a new protective association. The protests and resolutions passed at their final gatherings foreshadowed no intention of reviving the Billingsley Bill. Indeed, the bill itself had received scant attention from them in the violent campaign over its passage which they had carried on for three months. All their passion had been expended on the Standard. This was a question of whether the Standard Oil Company ruled the Legislature of Pennsylvania or whether the people ruled it—so declared the oil men; and when their bill was defeated they charged it was by bribery, and henceforth quoted the defeat of the Billingsley Bill along with the Payne case as proof of the corrupt power of the Standard Oil Company in politics. Their outbreak, for it was nothing else, was the culmination of their indignation and resentment at fifteen years of unfair play on the part of the Standard Oil Company, of resentment at the South Improvement Company, at forced combination of refineries and pipe-lines, at railroad rebates and drawbacks, at the immediate shipment outrages, at the Tidewater defeat. It was revolt against the incessant pressure of Mr. Rockefeller’s pitiless steel grip. It was bitterness at the idea that it was he who was reaping all the profit of a business in which they were taking the chief risks, and if things went on as they were that it was he who always would. Out of their burst of passion was to grow a solid determined effort, but for the moment they were defeated, and the defeat, which really was merited, was another added to their series of just and unjust complaints against Mr. Rockefeller.
All of these bitter and spectacular struggles aroused intense public interest. The debate on the Interstate Commerce Bill was contemporaneous with them—the bill was passed in 1887, and had its effect. The feeling grew all over the country that whatever the merits of these specific cases, there was danger in the mysterious organisation by which such immense fortunes and such excessive power could be built up on one side of an industry, while another side steadily lost money and power. A new trial was coming to Mr. Rockefeller, one much more serious than any trial for overt acts, for the very nature of his great creation was to be in question. It was a hard trial, for all John D. Rockefeller asked of the world by the year 1887 was to be let alone. He had completed one of the most perfect business organisations the world has ever seen, an organisation which handled practically all of a great natural product. His factories were the most perfect and were managed with the strictest economy. He owned outright the pipe-lines which transported the crude oil. His knowledge of the consuming power of the world was accurate, and he kept his output strictly within its limit. At the same time the great marketing machinery he had put in operation carried on an aggressive campaign for new markets. In China, Africa, South America, as well as in remote parts of Europe and the United States, Standard agents carried refined oil. The Standard Oil Company had been organised to do business, and if ever a company did business it was this one. From Mr. Rockefeller himself, sitting all day in his den, hidden from everybody but the remarkable body of directors and heads of departments which he had “acquired” as he wiped up one refinery and one pipe-line after another, to the humblest clerk in the office of the most remote marketing agency, everybody worked. There was not a lazy bone in the organisation, nor an incompetent hand, nor a stupid head. It was a machine where everybody was kept on his mettle by an extraordinary system of competition, where success met immediate recognition, where opportunity was wide as the world’s craving for a good light to cheer its hours of darkness. The machine was pervaded and stimulated by the consciousness of its own power and prosperity. It was a great thing to belong to an organisation which always got what it wanted, and which was making money as no business in the country had ever made it.
What more, indeed, could Mr. Rockefeller ask than to be let alone? And why not let him alone? He had the ability to keep together the wide-spread interests he had acquired—not only to keep them together, but to unify and develop them; why not let him alone? Many people even in the Oil Regions were inclined to do so, some because they feared him—rumour said Mr. Rockefeller was vindictive and never forgot opposition; others because they were canny and foresaw that they might want his help one day; still others because criticism of success is an ungracious business and arouses a suspicion that the critic may be envious or bitter. But there were a few people, as there always are, whom no cowardice, no self-interest, no fear of public opinion could keep quiet, and these people insistently urged that the Standard Oil Company was a menace to the commerce of the country. We have been and are being wronged, they repeated. We have a right to do an independent business. Interference to drive us out is conspiracy. Let Mr. Rockefeller succeed in the oil business and he will attack other industries; he will have imitators. In fifty years a handful of men will own the country.