Frenzied Finance, Vol. 1: The Crime of Amalgamated

by Thomas William Lawson

This seemed such a serviceable arrangement that the originators soon had many imitators. Many "syndicates" were formed, and many so-called "bonds" were put on the market. In most cases the stocks were purchased at a low price, turned into "trusts" at double their cost, and then paid for by means of these certificates, dubbed "bonds." As one stock after another was converted into syndicate certificates—"bonds"—the familiarity of the procedure robbed it of its novelty and these "bonds" were quoted and dealt in much as other and more tangible securities bearing the same name. Perhaps this is why the startling announcement of the New York Life Insurance Company made about this time, that it proposed to sell all its stocks and thereafter hold nothing but bonds, created so much less of a sensation than was anticipated. The term "bond" had become vulgarized.

This excellent example would undoubtedly have had many followers but for the humor of the Tobacco Trust. This robust institution, with an immense amount of watered stock, audaciously poured it all but a small amount into bonds, $157,000,000 of them, and with a fine trumpet-blast proclaimed these "bonds" safe investments for widows, orphans, and insurance companies. Even Wall Street, with its frenzied votaries and its frenzied environment, was staggered. The culmination of these conversion performances was the brilliant plan evolved by George W. Perkins, the junior partner in the firm of J. Pierpont Morgan & Co., vice-president of the New York Life Insurance Company and expert investor of its vast surplus, to have the United States Steel Trust purchase some $200,000,000 worth of its own water-logged stock and convert the same into more "absolutely safe bonds"; for its most valuable services in the turning-over process the Morgan firm was to have a commission of some forty millions of dollars. At this juncture "frenzied finance" became gagged with its own froth, and I have not space here to go further into the subject.

The New York Life Insurance Company declares to its agents, policy-holders, and prospective policy-holders that it no longer holds stock securities. In its last report to the Insurance Commissioners there are set forth stock securities of the kind I have described above, to the amount of fifty millions of dollars. I will give one illustration:

"Northern Pacific—Great Northern—C., B. & Q. collateral 4s, book value—$12,057,132.59, market value—$11,375,000."—(From the official report to Insurance Commissioners.)

Now, these bonds are nothing more nor less than Chicago, Burlington and Quincy stock of a par value of $100 per share, which shares were purchased by individuals, and had "bonds" issued against them at $200 per share. (Northern Pacific and Great Northern stock in about the same proportion.) In the sense in which the public look upon the old bonds of railroads this "bond" is no more a bond than it is a Government bond. It is nothing more nor less than a stock security, and yet President McCall says in his letter printed above and sent by him to policy-holder DeRan that the New York Life does not and cannot invest its surplus in stock securities.

THE TRUE STORY OF HOW I WAS "BLACK-LISTED"

The publication of President McCall's letter and the charges which accompanied it attracted so much attention that the "Big Three" were flooded with letters from policy-holders demanding information. In the January, 1904, issue of Everybody's Magazine, I continued the controversy. After reviewing the conditions of the previous month's argument, I went on:

In entering upon the exposure of the most powerful body of men in the world, I knew quite well what I was "up against," and deliberately decided that in the conduct of my fight I would use such strategy as I believed proper to outwit so strong and so unscrupulous an adversary. One can hang a dog as well with a cord as with a hawser, and in proving my assertions I am quite willing that the insurance companies should believe each play is my best card. I decline, however, to show my hand.

In reply to the charge that I was attacking the New York Life because I had been refused insurance by that company, as positively stated in Mr. McCall's letter, I reproduced a letter written and signed by President John A. McCall, dated 1904, soliciting me to take out insurance in his company. I printed parts of three other letters, one directed to my office, also signed by Mr. McCall, another from the special agent, and a third from the Boston agent of the New York Life, supplementing Mr. McCall's letter and requesting the privilege of an interview.

This correspondence was put forth with a thorough understanding of its nature. The publishers of Everybody's Magazine and my own lawyers, to whom I submitted it, both pointed out that the insurance companies would undoubtedly take the ground that the McCall letter was no more than a circular that had been sent out to a number of capitalists and had gone to me by mistake. I replied that such a rejoinder would practically amount to an admission that the statement and signature of the highest officials of the New York Life were valueless and without significance, which would place President McCall in an untenable position. If his signature were valueless and without significance when appended to a letter addressed to me, why not in other instances if the interests of his corporation seemed to require such a disclaimer? Considering my argument, would not such a confession have a pregnant bearing on the proposition—is the "one man" honest, especially as I was equipped with additional documents to offset further attempts on the part of the insurance companies to show me up as a disappointed seeker after their policies?