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The Romance and Tragedy

W >> William Ingraham Russell >> The Romance and Tragedy




A trifle over a quarter of a century ago--in February, 1866--Mr.
Stowe entered the office of John Derham as a clerk fresh from
school, in which capacity he served for just four years, and then
succeeded to the business of this firm as a broker on his own
account. A broker in those days was an altogether different sort
of cogwheel in the machinery of commerce from the broker of to-day;
success depending primarily on geniality of manner, industry and
intelligence in the execution of commissions intrusted to him by
the jobbing houses; all of which qualifications, Mr. Stowe possessed
in an eminent degree, and devoting himself particularly to dealing
in * * * advanced rapidly to a position in which the major part
of such transactions as were not made directly by importers to
consumers, passed through his hands. But his business ability was
of a broader type than was needed for such services only, and in
the process of evolution, through which the old-fashioned broker
was practically eliminated, his place being taken by a new type
of dealer, who although not always or even usually trading for his
own account, yet makes most of his transactions in his own name,
and is chiefly differentiated from the jobber only from the fact
that he buys and sells in round parcels and does not break them
up to shop out into smaller lots. As this change took place, Mr.
Stowe developed into a dealer of a newer and more progressive type
than the * * * trade had hitherto known. To-day he stands rather
as an importer, the entries to his firm's credit having steadily
climbed the list of percentages until they are now far ahead of
those belonging to any other house; and with his intimate relations
with A. * * S. * * * & Co., of London, it would be making no
invidious comparison to say that he is the recognized leader of
the * * * trade of America.

For all his remarkably prosperous career, Mr. Stowe has been in no
way spoiled by success, and is to-day the same quiet, unassuming
gentleman as when these characteristics attracted the good will
of older men in the trade and secured to him the beginning of a
business which has since grown so largely. He was a late comer to
the membership of the Exchange, which he joined only in 1886; but
has served on its board of managers for four years past, and since
the first of April has held the position of vice-president. Outside
of his business, his life is a thoroughly domestic one, for which he
has abundant excuse in his beautiful home, "Redstone," at Knollwood,
N.J., where he is one of the most popular residents of that charming
suburb and where he has a particular claim to distinction in the
fine stable which he maintains, his chief hobby being horse flesh,
though not on the sporting side, with which we are most likely to
associate such a passion. In short, the [name of paper] has every
reason to be proud of its parentage, and like all good children
delights in doing filial honor and wishing its founder all possible
prosperity in the future as in the past.




CHAPTER XXXI

TWO SIDES TO THE QUESTION



It was the afternoon of a day in the first week of January, 1893.
I sat in an easy chair in front of the open fire in my private
office deep in thought. In my hand was the balance-sheet for 1892,
showing a profit of over seventy thousand dollars. I was considering
both sides of a momentous question. It was whether or not to retire
from business.

I had for years looked forward with delightful anticipation to the
time when I could do this. I wanted to travel extensively. In my
library were many books of travel, all of which had been read with
great interest. I had an eager longing to see for myself all parts
of the civilized world; not in haste, but at my own leisure. I
wanted to devote years to a journey that should cover the globe.

My affairs were in excellent shape. Within a period of sixty days
I could liquidate my business and retire with about three hundred
thousand dollars. I had my home, complete in its appointments;
my library; my stable, with all that it could contribute to our
pleasure and comfort; my health, and I was but forty-two years
of age. That was one side, now for the other. The largest income
I could expect with my capital securely invested would be fifteen
thousand dollars. My balance-sheet showed that in 1892 I had drawn
forty-four thousand. I considered where my expenditures could be
cut down. There was the long list of pensioners, relatives, and
friends who for years had been receiving regularly from me a monthly
cheque on which they depended for their comfort. Could that be cut
off? Surely not.

There was a still longer list of people, many of whom I knew
but slightly, who from time to time called on me for help, always
as loans but rarely returned. I kept no record of such things and
never requested repayment. Could that item be cut out? No, for
when a man appealed to me for assistance, I knew not how to refuse
him. He always received it.

There were all the charities, St. John's Guild, Fresh-Air Funds,
hospitals, home for crippled children, and the personal charities
of my wife amongst the poor--could these be dropped? Again, no.

Then I looked at home. The education of our children--my elder son
was at Harvard with a liberal allowance; my eldest daughter at Miss
Dana's expensive school at Morristown; the rest of the children
taught at home by a visiting governess; the girls taking music
lessons--nothing could be done here. The education item was bound
to increase materially as the children grew older.

Then I thought of the monthly bills from Altman, Arnold, Constable
& Co., Lord & Taylor, and others. How about those? Oh no; I loved
to see my wife in her beautiful gowns and as the girls developed
into young ladies those bills would grow.

There seemed nothing left but the entertainment of our friends. A
large expense, but essential to our pleasure and position in society.

I carried a very large life insurance, but did not for a moment
think of reducing that.

Then my thoughts carried me farther. Suppose I could get my expenses
down to my income, how about the people we were helping in another
way, whose income would be seriously affected by my retiring?

There was one of our friends at Knollwood. He was employed on a
moderate salary, and when his wife inherited nine hundred dollars
he brought it to me and asked me to make some money for him. Now,
as a result, he was living in a house he had bought for eleven
thousand dollars and to cancel the mortgage of a few thousand he
relied upon me. There were those three old gentlemen in Connecticut
whose income from their investment with us was allowing them to
pass in comfort their declining years. Could I cut this off? No;
and there were many others.

It was clear to my mind that my labor was not yet at an end. I must
still keep at the helm, but I made a resolution that on my fiftieth
birthday I would retire.




CHAPTER XXXII

THE PANIC OF NINETY-THREE



In the year 1893 there was one great controlling feature in our
market that was to culminate on July first.

For years the commodity in which we dealt had been duty free. The
McKinley Tariff Bill imposed a duty of four cents per pound, to
go into effect on July 1, 1893, for a period of two years. It was
the one senseless clause in an otherwise excellent bill and had been
inserted as the only means of securing the necessary votes in the
Senate. The sole object of the clause was to influence the speculative
value of shares in a certain corporation which is now in the hands
of a receiver.

When this corporation was first organized I subscribed for some
stock and was in its first board of directors and its vice-president.
If there was to be a new source of supply of the commodity I dealt
in so largely, it was important I should know of it. As soon as
I became satisfied that it was nothing but a scheme to make money
by the sale of stock, I resigned and disposed of my holdings to
one of the promoters at a profit of eight dollars per share.

Efforts to have the clause repealed had been unsuccessful, and as
the duty was certain to be imposed, we thought it wise to import
largely prior to July first. Others did the same, and when that
date arrived the stock in New York was very large. We held on our
own account about one-third of the entire stock and in addition a
very large quantity which we had sold to our customers for delivery
in July.

Of course, our purchases had been made of our London friends, and
during this period our remittances were unusually large, running
into several millions. An incident of our correspondence at that
time was a postscript in one of their letters calling our attention
to the fact that the letter from us, to which they were then
replying, had been underpaid in postage and cost them six pence.
They requested us to see to it in future that our letters were
properly stamped. Think of that, from a concern with whom we were
doing a business of millions!

Early in July came the panic. It seemed as if over night all the
money in the country had disappeared. In Wall Street fabulous rates
were bid for money. Banks and bankers said they had none. Where
was it?

When the stock market collapsed and values had depreciated hundreds
of millions, money was found by the large insurance companies and
the powerful factors of Wall Street to pick up the bargains in
shares, but it was some time before merchants could get it. Meanwhile,
this class all over the country, after a long period of good times,
were caught by the panic with their lines greatly extended. Great
houses rating "a million and over" had no actual cash. Property?--Lots
of it. Solvent?--Absolutely so, but they could not pay their
obligations, nor take deliveries on contracts that required payments
against delivery.

Our sales for July delivery amounted to nearly a million of dollars;
less than fifty thousand was taken according to contract. The rest
we had to carry and our bankers had to carry us. We shall never
cease to be grateful for the generous help they gave us in that
critical period.

Under these financial conditions it was only natural that all
merchandise markets should be greatly depressed.

Our market was weak at eighteen cents, although not a pound could
now be imported below twenty-two cents. The large stock seemed to
hang as a wet blanket, but as a fact most of it was concentrated
in three strong hands. We were the largest holders. I called on
the other two and told them it was absurd to sell at the ruling
price, and if they would assure me we would not have to take their
stock--in other words, if they would hold it off the market--we
would buy the floating lots and advance the price close to the
importing point. I further offered to give them an equal share of
the purchases if they so desired. They asked how much I thought we
would have to buy? To which I replied, "Not over five hundred tons."

The agreement was made on the basis of an equal division of the
purchases. Slowly but steadily we raised the price, and when the
end we sought was accomplished we had bought four hundred and ninety
tons. The operation and consequent advance in the market made a
difference in the value of our holdings of seventy thousand dollars.




CHAPTER XXXIII

FAREWELL TO "REDSTONE"



All through the summer of 1893 we had been discussing the advisability
of leaving "Redstone" and taking up a permanent residence in New
York.

Our children were now at a period when good schools were imperative
for their proper education, and such did not exist at Knollwood.
Our social life was almost entirely with our New York friends, and
though two families of the "Immortal Ten" had become residents of
Knollwood they were to leave at the end of the term for which they
had rented. The Banfords occupied "Sunnyside," while George Lawton,
who had removed to Orange, rented his house to the Todds.

While we were fond of all the New York friends and especially so
of Will Curtice and his wife, for George and Charlotte Todd we had
a tender spot in our hearts that none of the others quite reached.
George, in a way, reminded me of my former friend, Frank Slater;
not that he resembled him in feature, but in his possession of a
charm of manner that won everybody with whom he came in contact.
Versatile, witty, and brilliant in his entertaining power, he was
easily the most popular man in our circle. Entering the employment
of New York's greatest life insurance company as an office boy,
he is today one of its vice-presidents, and this proud position is
the well-deserved reward of wonderful ability. His wife is one of
those sweet, pretty, clever women that everybody loves.

Ned Banford had met with disaster. He was one of many who were
unable to weather the panic. At the time of his failure he was
indebted to me five thousand dollars. A day or two before the event
he brought me a package of unset pearls which he valued at eight
thousand dollars and requested me to hold them as security.

Mr. Viedler, who also was a creditor, was abroad. As soon as
he learned of the failure he returned to New York and advanced a
considerable sum of money to enable Ned to make a settlement with
his merchandise creditors. This took considerable time, and meanwhile
I required in my own business the use of all my resources. I told
Ned if he could not arrange to repay me I would be forced to sell
the pearls, and suggested taking them to Tiffany, where I was
well known, and asking them to make an offer. To this he strongly
objected, and much to my surprise, in view of all that I had done
for him, exhibited a good deal of ill-feeling toward me for taking
such a position. I remained firm, however, and fixed a date beyond
which I would not wait. The day before the specified time Ned
brought to my office Mr. Viedler's cheque to my order for five
thousand dollars.

[Illustration: EIGHTY-SIXTH STREET AND WEST END AVENUE]

Throwing the cheque on my desk he said, with a smile, "Here's your
money, old man; now I want you to do something for me. Just give me
your note for five thousand dollars payable to Viedler." I said,
"Why should I do that, Ned? I am not borrowing this money of Viedler.
This is not to benefit me--it is to help you and save those pearls."

"Yes, I know," he replied, "but Viedler is a queer sort of chap.
He has been putting up a lot of money for me. He wants this done
this way and I want to humor him. It will help me and won't hurt
you. Payment will never be demanded of you." I asked him if Mr.
Viedler was fully informed on the matter and knew what my position
was. He replied, "Yes, I have told him all about it." I then gave
him the note. The sequel to this incident will come in a later
chapter.

As a final result of our summer's deliberation we leased a house at
Eighty-sixth Street and West End Avenue and by the first of October
had become settled in our new home; the horses we took with us but
the ponies were sold. The children had outgrown them. "Redstone"
we closed for the winter. In the spring I offered it for rent and
quickly found a good tenant in the agent of the Rhinelander estate.
Our four daughters were entered at the school of the Misses Ely on
Riverside Drive and made rapid and satisfactory progress in their
studies.

As soon as we had become thoroughly accustomed to life in New York
I think every member of the family was glad of the change. The
children made many pleasant friends, enjoyed their school life,
their Saturday matinees and drives in the park, and not one of them
would have liked to return to Knollwood.

As for my wife and myself, our enjoyment of the life was beyond
question. We had always been fond of the theatre and now we saw
everything worth seeing. We had a delightful circle of friends whom
we were meeting continually. Our home was handsome and spacious.
Our appointments fitted it beautifully and every room in the house,
from the billiard-room in the basement, up through the four stories
was very attractive.

Every pleasant morning I drove the T-cart or tandem through the park
to the Fifty-eighth Street Elevated station, and in the afternoon,
with the brougham, after calls or shopping, my wife would meet me.
When there was sufficient snow to permit it we would have out the
large sleigh, and with four-in-hand or three abreast derive keen
pleasure from our drive.

For clubs I had little use, though a member of several. For many years
I went to the Down-Town Association for luncheon and occasionally
after the theatre took my wife to the ladies' dining-room in the
Colonial Club for a supper; as a rule, however, we went for these
suppers to the Waldorf, where we usually met friends.

With our life in New York commenced a closer intimacy with the
Caines, though not of our seeking. They lived nearer to us than
any of our friends and their informal calls became very frequent.
In a way we liked them. They were chatty, sociable people, though
a little too much inclined to gossip. They were not well mated.
Both had tempers and the wife had some money, the husband, little
or none; consequently there was friction and they lacked the good
taste to confine their differences to the privacy of their own
apartments. This was a great drawback to our enjoyment of their
society.




CHAPTER XXXIV

A SUMMER ON THE SOUND



The winter of 1893 and 1894, crowded with its social pleasures,
was soon over, and with the approach of warm weather we sought a
summer home.

We had passed so many summers inland, we longed for the water--ocean
or sound, preferably the latter. Many places on the Connecticut
and Long Island shores were looked at without finding just what we
wanted, and it was not until the middle of June that we decided on
the W. H. Crossman place at Great Neck, L. I.

The place had many attractions, not the least of which was its
accessibility by boat. A sail of an hour twice a day was in itself
a great rest for me, and combined with this was a commodious,
well-furnished house; fine stable; ample grounds, handsomely laid
out; good kitchen garden, planted; plenty of fruit; gardener, and
Alderney cows on the place, and best of all a fine bathing beach
at the foot of the lawn, with the open Sound before us.

As I sat at dinner I could see the Sound steamers go by on their
way east, numerous yachts passing constantly, the Sands Point Light,
and across the Sound the New York shore.

We drove to Great Neck from New York on the drag, crossing the
Ferry to College Point.

On one side of us was King's Point, on the other the beautiful
residence of Hazen L. Hoyt. The neighbors were friendly and cordial,
all very pleasant people; the drives through the surrounding country
delightful, over good roads and under great trees that afforded
effectual shade from the sun. Later we experienced a few weeks of
torment with the mosquitoes, when out of doors, though the house
was kept free from the pests. There were days when my poor horses,
though coal black, appeared gray, so thickly were they covered with
those ravenous mosquitoes.

We entertained many of our friends during the season and I had
some good fishing. When we returned to our home in the fall, taking
everything into consideration, we voted the summer's experience a
success.

At this time we decided to give our horses a well-earned rest. They
were in perfect condition, but we thought it would be a good idea
to winter them on a farm, and as I had an acquaintance at Boonton,
N. J., who made a business of that sort of thing, I sent them to
him, bringing them back to town in the spring. They were well cared
for and came back to us like young colts.

During the winter of 1894 and 1895 we saw more of the Caines than
ever. One evening early in the season, while on our way to the
theatre together, Albert, as he sat back in the carnage, remarked,
"I wish I could afford to go to the theatre once a week all winter."
I said, "Albert, I will tell you how to fix that. You put in five
hundred dollars and I will do the same. I will do a little operating
in our market with it and we will devote the profits entirely to
amusement."

He sent me his cheque a day or two later, and out of the profits of
that little account we certainly derived a great deal of pleasure.
Every Saturday night a carriage conveyed us to the theatre, and
after the performance to the Waldorf, where we had supper. Then in
the Moorish room we took coffee and liqueurs while smoking a cigar
and chatting with our wives and the friends we frequently met.
Those little affairs cost about thirty dollars an evening, and I
so managed the account that there was always a balance on hand.

On one of these evenings an incident occurred that gave me a new
light on the character of Albert. It had its humor and I relate
it:

The Caines and ourselves were in the Moorish room. We had finished
our coffee and I had paid the check. While chatting, we were joined
by Mr. and Mrs. Curtice, Mr. and Mrs. Todd, and two other friends,
making now, with us, a party of ten. Albert, with just a little
undue haste, called a waiter and ordered liqueurs for the party.
When the check was brought him, he paid for six and sent the waiter
to me to collect for our four, the amount being eighty cents. He
wanted the amusement fund to stand part of his hospitality. The
others of the party noticed it and smiled significantly. They knew
the man better than I did.




CHAPTER XXXV

MONMOUTH BEACH



Another winter had gone, leaving in its wake agreeable memories
of many happy reunions with the friends we had learned to love so
well, and once again we faced the problem that comes to so many
New Yorkers who do not own their summer home--where shall we go
for the heated term?

We were considering whether we would risk another encounter with
the mosquitoes and try Great Neck once more, when we heard the
Crossman place had been rented, and there was no other place there,
in the market, that we cared to take.

Our thoughts turned to the ocean. With my wife I searched the Jersey
coast from Seabright down to Asbury Park. Farther than that we did
not want to go on account of the length of the trip to and from
the city.

On our first visit we cut out every place except Monmouth Beach
and Seabright, and on the second took a lease of the Brent Wood
Cottage at Monmouth Beach. It was delightfully situated, directly
on the beach, a spacious and comfortably furnished house with a
large stable.

The house was in good repair, except that it needed painting. As I
had taken the lease for two seasons and the owner would do nothing,
I had it painted at my expense. We also did some redecorating in some
of the rooms, and when the work was finished had a very attractive
place.

The grand sail down the harbor and across the lower bay to the
Highlands was a source of daily delight to me. I had my own large
and nicely furnished stateroom with its private deck, rented by
the season, and we were very glad that we missed taking the place
at Great Neck.

On the first and second stories there were wide piazzas running
around the house, and for hours at a time with my marine glasses
at hand to look at passing steamers, I sat and enjoyed, what has
always been a fascination to me, watching the magnificent surf
crashing and dashing on the beach below. The house was protected
by a formidable bulkhead, but it was no uncommon occurrence to have
great showers of spray come dashing over it.

To watch the moon rise out of the sea, to listen to the roaring of
those ceaseless waves, the last thing before I slept at night and
the first thing on awakening in the morning, had for me a charm
unequalled by anything in Nature's wonders. And those September
storms, particularly severe that year, awe-inspiring in their mighty
grandeur.

Oh! there is nothing like the ocean.

On July first, the two years having expired, the commodity in which
we dealt again went on the free list. Naturally, stocks in this
country had been reduced to a very low point. With four cents per
pound duty removed, no one wanted any of the old stock, which had
paid the duty, on hand. Every consumer and dealer in the country
was bare of supplies and a very active demand from all sources set
in immediately.

When we abandoned the brokerage business to become importers and
dealers, our relations with our London friends changed. We bought
of them all that we imported and they sold to no other American
firm. If they bought in this market, their orders came to us. With
their movements we worked in sympathy. If they advanced the price
in London we did the same in New York and vice-versa. We were in
constant cable communication, informing each other from hour to
hour of the market movements.


There were times, however, when they entered into market campaigns
that extended over a long period. In these we did not fully
participate. Our market was too narrow to permit of it, and it
involved the locking up of too much capital.

In August, in accordance with our London advices, we began quietly
to accumulate stock in expectation of a much higher market late in
the fall. We remained persistent though quiet buyers until October,
meanwhile doing our utmost to hold the market down that we might
buy cheaply. We looked to see the operation completed by the end of
the year, with a very handsome profit. Early in October our stock
was sufficiently large to make it an object to advance the price,
and our buying became more aggressive.

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