Many are the stories told of the late James Gordon Bennett. One, more than any other, reveals one of his weaknesses—a disinclination to acknowledge an error.
Before taking up his residence abroad he frequently breakfasted at Delmonico's, then downtown. One Christmas morning he gave the waiter who always served him a small roll of bills. As soon as opportunity offered the waiter looked at the roll, and when he recovered his equilibrium took it to Mr. Delmonico. There were six $1,000 bills in the roll. The proprietor, sensing that a mistake had been made, put them in the safe.
When the publisher next visited the café Mr. Delmonico told him the waiter had turned the money in. He added he would return it as Mr. Bennett departed.
"Why return it? Didn't I give it to him?"
"Yes. But, of course, it was a mistake. You gave him $6,000."
"Mr. Delmonico," replied Bennett, rising to his full height, "you should know by this time that James Gordon Bennett never makes a mistake."
A pressman had just returned to work after a protracted spree. His face was battered, an eye was blackened, and an ear showed a tendency to mushroom. The night of his return was one on which Mr. Bennett visited the pressroom. He saw Mr. Bennett before Mr. Bennett saw him, and, daubing a handful of ink on his face, he became so busy that Bennett noticed him.
"Who is that man?" he asked the foreman. "What do you pay him?"
The foreman gave him the information.
"Double his salary," replied Mr. Bennett. "He's the only man in the place who seems to be doing any work."