after a walk of two blocks in an easterly direction, in a wide thoroughfare, called Centre street. His attention is at once attracted by a large, heavy granite building, constructed in the style of an Egyptian temple. This is the Tombs. The proper name of the building is “The Halls of Justice,” but it is now by common consent spoken of simply as the Tombs. It occupies an entire square, and is bounded by Centre, Elm, Franklin, and Leonard streets. The main entrance is on Centre street, through a vast and gloomy corridor, the sternness of which is enough to strike terror to the soul of a criminal. Within the walls which face the street, is a large quadrangle. In this there are three prisons, several stories high. One of these is for men, the other for boys, and the third for women. The gallows stands in the prison yard, when there is need for it, all executions of criminals in this city being conducted as privately as possible.
The prison is one of the smallest in America, and is utterly inadequate to the necessities of the city. It was built at a time when New York was hardly half as large as the metropolis of to-day, and is now almost always overcrowded to an extent which renders it fearful. It is kept perfectly clean, its sanitary regulations being very rigid. It is very gloomy in its interior, and is one of the strongest and securest prisons in the world.
[Illustration: The Tombs–City Prison.]
No lights are allowed in the cells, which are very small, but a narrow aperture cut obliquely in the wall, near the ceiling, admits the sunshine, and at the same time cuts off the inmates from a view of what is passing without. Besides these, there are six comfortable cells located just over the main entrance. These are for the use of criminals of the wealthier class, who can afford to pay for such comforts. Forgers, fraudulent merchants, and the like, pass the hours of their detention in these rooms, while their humbler, but no more guilty brothers in crime are shut up in the close, narrow cells we have described. These rooms command a view of the street, so that their occupants are not entirely cut off from the outer world.
THE BUMMER’S CELL.
The main cell in the prison is a large room, with a capacity for holding about two hundred persons. It is known as the “Bummer’s Cell.” It is generally full on Saturday night, which is always a busy time for the police. The working classes are paid their weekly wages on Saturday, and having no labor to perform on the Sabbath, take Saturday night for their periodical dissipation, comforting themselves with the reflection that if they carry their revels to too great an excess, they can sleep off the bad effects on Sunday.
From sunset until long after midnight on Saturday, the police are busy ridding the streets of drunken and disorderly persons. As soon as a person is arrested, he is taken to the Toombs, or one of the station houses. It is the duty of the captain in charge of the precinct to lock up every person thus brought in. He has no discretion, and he is often compelled to throw those of whose innocence he is satisfied, into the company of the most abandoned wretches for an entire night. Drunkenness, disorderly conduct, and fighting are the principal charges brought against the Saturday night inmates of the Bummer’s Cell. Many visitors to the city, by yielding to the temptation to drink too much liquor, pay for their folly by an acquaintance with the Bummer’s Cell. They lose their self control in the splendid gin palaces of the city, and when they recover their consciousness find themselves in a hot, close room, filled with the vilest and most depraved wretches. The noise, profanity, and obscenity, are fearful. All classes, all ages, are represented there. Even little children are lost forever by being immured for a single night in such horrible company. The females are confined in a separate part of the prison. No entreaties or explanations are of the least avail. All must await with as much patience as possible, the opening of the court the next morning.
THE TOMBS POLICE COURT.
The Court opens at six o’clock on Sunday morning. It is presided over by Justice Joseph Bowling, a short, thick-set man, with a handsome face, and a full, well-shaped head, indicating both ability and determination. Judge Dowling is still a young man, and is one of the most efficient magistrates in the city. His decisions are quickly rendered, and are generally just. He has a hard class of people to deal with, and this has made him not a little sharp in his manner. A stranger is at once struck with the quick, penetrating power of his glance. He seems to look right through a criminal, and persons brought before him generally find it impossible to deceive him. This has made him the terror of criminals, who have come to regard an arraignment before him as equivalent to a conviction, as the one is tolerably sure to follow the other. At the same time he is kind and considerate to those who are simply unfortunate. Vice finds him an unrelenting foe, and virtue a fearless defender. So much for the man.
As soon as the Court is opened, the prisoners are called up in the order of their arrival during the previous night. Here drunkenness without disorder, and first offences of a minor character, are punished with a reprimand, and the prisoners are discharged. These cases constitute a majority of the arrests, and the number of persons in the dock is soon reduced to a mere handfull. The more serious cases are either held for further examination or sent on trial before a higher court.
All classes of people come to the Justice with complaints of every description. Women come to complain of their husbands, and men of their wives. The Justice listens to them all, and if a remedy is needed, applies the proper one without delay. In most instances, he dismisses the parties with good advice, as their cases are not provided for by the law.
A SAD CASE.
Some of the cases which are brought up before the Tombs Court are deeply interesting. We take the following from the report of the General Agent of the New York Prison Association:
The case referred to is that of a woman indicted for burglary and grand larceny. She was guilty, and she felt and acknowledged it. She had lived in a neighboring city for the last six years, and for the last three years on the same floor with the complainant, and the consequence was they were very friendly and intimate. Her husband sustained a severe injury from a fall, and has since been in declining health, earning nothing for the last eighteen months. At length his mind gave way and his friends advised his removal to the Lunatic Asylum. He had been an inmate for six months, and his wife frequently visited him, always contributing to his wants and comforts. He improved so rapidly that the doctor informed his wife that on the following week, if the weather proved clear and fine, he should discharge him. The wife felt anxious to make her home more than ever cheerful and her husband happy, but she had no means. She thought of the abundance of clothing her neighbor possessed, and that some articles could be spared for a short time, probably without detection; and if she should be detected before she could redeem them, her friend would excuse her. She devised means to enter, and conveyed to the pawnbroker’s two parcels of clothing, upon which she realized nine dollars; she made some purchases for the house, redeemed a coat for her husband, and then started for the asylum for the purpose of fetching him to her home. But on her arrival there, the physician told her that he had left a few hours before, that he was well and happy, and that she must keep him so. On her return home the larceny had been discovered, and the property found at the pawnbroker’s; it had been pledged in her own name, and where she was well and favorably known. An officer was waiting, and she was taxed with the crime; she had destroyed the duplicate. The complainant gave her into the custody of the officer, but promised to forgive her if all the property was recovered. The husband went to his friends, and they advanced funds to redeem the property. It was returned, and also a hat paid for which had been taken. I carefully examined into this case and all its surroundings. The woman had sustained the reputation of being a sober, industrious, honest person; her state of mind was truly distressing, her greatest fear was that her husband would relapse, and she would be the cause of all his future misery. I submitted all these facts to the district attorney; he could not consent to any compromise, and again referred me to the county judge, who would not yield a tittle. Counsel having been assigned, a plea of guilty of grand larceny was put in by him, and she was remanded for sentence until Saturday. I felt very unhappy at her condition. On Friday evening I endeavored to find the district attorney, but failed; on Saturday morning I wrote him and asked him to concede that she could not be convicted of burglary, and then, was it not very doubtful whether she could be convicted of any thing more than petit larceny? If so, I urged him to consent to the withdrawal of the plea put in by her counsel, and then permit it to be substituted by one of petit larceny. My proposition met with favor; its suggestions were adopted, and the prisoner, instead of ignominy in the State Prison, was sent to the Penitentiary for three months. The woman is now in a situation at work, but her mind is ill at ease, as her husband has not been heard of since her imprisonment.
SAVED IN TIME.
“A member of an eminent firm in this city,” says the gentleman from whose report the above case is taken, “called upon me with a request that I would visit a youth, aged seventeen years, now in the Tombs, charged upon his complaint with embezzling various sums of money whilst in their employ as collecting clerk. He felt anxious I should see him, and then advise what should be done. The next morning I repaired to the prison, and had the youth brought from his cell, when he made the following statement: That he lived and boarded with his widowed mother and sisters in a neighboring city, where also he had taken an active part in all their religious meetings and enterprises. He thinks he experienced a great moral change when first he became a member, and until of late had made religious duties his greatest delight. He had regarded his family as one of the happiest that could be found. Some seven or eight months since he was introduced to the firm referred to, and they engaged his services, agreeing to give him five dollars per week. He was soon appreciated by his employers, and they advanced his salary to seven dollars a week, out of which he paid his mother for board five dollars, and one dollar for his weekly fare on the railroad. This left him but one dollar for his own use. He soon became acquainted with other collecting clerks, with whom he took lunch, first a sandwich and a cup of coffee, and then dinners and dessert. _In this way the money of his employers disappeared._ He could not charge himself with any one special act of extravagance. He felt, he said, ashamed of himself, and deeply pained before God, and wondered that he could not see and feel before that he has sinned greviously. I now urged him to conceal nothing, but tell the truth, and nothing but the truth, and to pause and consider before he answered the next question I should put to him, as it was a very serious one. ‘How long would it take to induce him, with solemn purpose of heart, to resolve, unalterably resolve, never to be guilty of a repetition of crime, never to spend a cent belonging to another?’ The penalty for his offence was from one year to five in a State prison. I then begged him to inform me how I should approach his honor the judge, before whom he must be brought if prosecuted. Should I ask the court to show him mercy, and send him but for two years? or would it require a longer sentence to effect a permanent change in his life? He wept distressingly, and said: ‘Oh, save me from such a fate, if not for mine, for my mother’s sake. Beg and pray of the firm to show me mercy, and I will be careful and honest for the future.’ One of the gentlemen called upon me and inquired if I had seen this youth.”
[Illustration: Scene in the Tombs Police Court]
I replied that I had. ‘Then what do you advise?’ I asked if it was known in the house that the lad was a defaulter. ‘To none but my partner’ he replied. Then, said I, the best advice I am capable of giving is, _forgive him, ask the court to discharge him, and take him back again into your office_. I am happy to say that my advice was adopted. The youth was discharged, forgiven, and taken back again into the house, and is now performing his duties with alacrity, very grateful to the Association, and more especially to the firm for their noble conduct in this matter. That young man has no doubt been saved from a career of crime.
RELIGIOUS SERVICES.
The prisoners confined in the Tombs are provided with the means of hearing divine service every Sunday. The Roman Catholic clergy have the exclusive privilege of ministering to the spiritual wants of the women and children, and for this purpose have quite a nice little chapel fitted up in the female department of the prison. The Sisters of Charity preside over this part of the prison at all times, and no one is permitted to interfere with them.
The Protestant clergy are permitted to preach to the male prisoners in the main corridor of the prison. The preacher stands on the platform at the upper end of the passage, and the prisoners in their cells can hear him without seeing him. They pay little or no attention to him, but receive their friends in their cells, or employ themselves according to their own fancies during the preaching. The bummers are grouped in the corridor just below the preacher, and are called out from time to time by the keepers, as they are wanted in the court room. The minister is frequently annoyed and embarrassed by the shouts; jeers, and imitations of the prisoners in their cells.
CHAPTER VII.
REFORMATORY ESTABLISHMENTS.
The principal reformatory establishments of New York city are the Penitentiary, on Blackwell’s Island, and the House of Refuge, devoted to juvenile criminals, on Randall’s Island.
THE PENITENTIARY.
The large pile of buildings which forms such a prominent object on Blackwell’s Island, known as the Penitentiary, is familiar to most of the residents of New York City, though the every day life of its inmates is practically known only to that class to which they immediately belong.
The Penitentiary, which is under the wardenship of Mr. Fitch, is capable of accommodating about seven hundred and fifty prisoners, but at present their numbers are slightly under five hundred–about three hundred men, and ninety women. The prisoners are divided into classes, the particular dress of each indicating the nature and gravity of their offences, and though amenable to the same laws as to labor and discipline, they work in separate gangs and mess by themselves. They are under the control of twenty-four keepers, each keeper, who is heavily armed, having fifteen men in his charge, whose roll he calls, and for whose absence he is responsible. At six o’clock the prisoners are all paraded to call the roll, at half-past six they have breakfast, consisting of dry bread and a bowl of coffee, and at seven, those who are skilled workmen are told off to the blacksmiths’, carpenters’, tailors’, and weavers’ shops, where all necessary repairs to the building and its fittings are done, and the clothing for the prisoners is made; others to labor in the gardens and fields, while the remainder are marched off in two divisions, one to work in the stone quarries at home, the others to be conveyed by the Commissioners’ steam vessel Bellevue to the quarries on Ward’s Island. The female prisoners are principally occupied in the sewing-room, in the brush-manufactory, in washing clothes, and scrubbing out the cells.
The majority of the prisoners are committed for assault and battery or larceny, for terms varying from one month to four years and a half; those committed for graver offences are confined at Sing Sing; all drunkards, vagrants, and disorderly characters at the workhouse. During the past year two thousand three hundred and fifteen persons were incarcerated for different periods–two thousand one hundred and thirty-nine whites, one hundred and seventy-six blacks. Of these about one third were native Americans, one third Irish, one tenth German, and the remainder of various nationalities. The visitor to the Penitentiary cannot but be struck by the youth of the male prisoners compared with that of the females, the bulk of the males being between fourteen and thirty years of age, the females between twenty-five and fifty. Few young girls find their way here, as in their earlier career they are able to gain enough by a life of prostitution, without committing larceny, and consequently do not resort to it till their charms begin to wear, and the consequent diminution of their means of subsistence from such a source compels them to resort to some other. There is another fact which appears in these statistics of crime, one highly suggestive to the housekeeper. Of the four hundred and eleven female prisoners committed during the past year, no less than three hundred and two were domestic servants, and of these two hundred and forty-one were Irish girls and women.
At twelve o’clock the prison bell rings for dinner. It is a sad sight to stand on the terrace and see the various gangs of men and lads march home from their work, the greater proportion of them fine, sturdy looking young fellows; it is sadder still to see some of them carrying a heavy iron ball and chain slung over the shoulder and attached to a strong iron band locked round the leg immediately above the ankle. These men have tried to escape. Necessary as it may be to adopt such measures to prevent them from repeating the attempt, surely it is unnecessarily cruel to compel these poor creatures to wear their irons at night. Their dinner consists of a can of soup, a plate of meat, and ten ounces of bread. They are allowed one hour, and are then marched back again to their work in the quarries; they have supper, bread and coffee, at five o’clock, and at half-past five they are all locked in their cells, which, though scrupulously clean, are certainly too small (about the size of an ordinary clothes closet), considering that the prisoners have to pass twelve hours out of the twenty-four in them.
On Sunday the sewing-room of the female prisoners is used as a Chapel, the men attending services in the morning, the women in the afternoon; once a month there is service for the Roman Catholic prisoners. The convicts have no privileges; a sharp, intelligent lad may become a hall boy or get employed in the mess room; or a mechanic may be appointed to one of the workshops and so gain some slight relief from the monotony of their lives; but they get no reward, beyond a little tobacco once a week for chewing; smoking is strictly prohibited; once a month they are allowed to be visited by their friends. On entering the building the visitor is forcibly struck by the following inscription over the doorway.
‘The way of the transgressor is hard.’
‘Such is the greeting to the unfortunate criminal as he puts his foot, often for the first time, within the prison walls. If an inscription be necessary, surely the Department of Public Charities and Correction might have chosen one less harsh in character; one that breathes a larger amount of Christian charity to a poor fellow creature, one that may offer him some small portion of that encouragement which is so essential to his reformation. Some such epigram as ‘it is never too late to mend’ would be altogether more suitable and far more encouraging.
THE HOUSE OF REFUGE.
The Commissioners of Public Charities and Correction, in their last report, made the startling announcement that there are no less than thirty-nine thousand children in the City of New York, growing up in ignorance and idleness. These children, influenced from their cradles by the most terrible surroundings, have no alternative but to become beggars and thieves almost as soon as they can run alone. Thousands of them are orphans, or perhaps worse, for they are often the children of parents who, ignoring the laws of nature, use them for the purpose of furthering their own vicious ends. They live principally in a neighborhood which abounds in lodging-houses for sailors, the lowest class of liquor stores, dancing and concert rooms, and various other low places of amusement; a neighborhood swarming with brothels, whose wretched inmates are permitted to flaunt their sin and finery, and ply their hateful trade openly, by day and night; where at midnight the quarrels, fights, and disturbances, are so noisy and so frequent that none can hope for a night’s rest until they are inured by habit; where, night after night, they witness the most desperate encounters between drunken men and women, kicking, biting, and tearing one another’s hair out, as they roll together in the gutter, or, as is too often the case, using deadly weapons, and where the crowd, instead of interfering to stop these awful scenes, stand by in a brutal enjoyment of them, abetting and encouraging the principal actors therein. And their homes, what are they? Their fathers, often out of work, are unable to support their families; their clothes, their bedding, their furniture, all gone to the pawn-shop; father, mother, and children, are often compelled to sleep on the bare boards, huddling close together for warmth in one ill-built, ill-ventilated room. Amid their misery, this neglect of the common decencies of life, this unblushing effrontery of reckless vice and crime, what chance have these poor unhappy little children of becoming decent members of society. They are sickly from the want of proper nourishment, vicious from example, ignorant because they do not care to learn, and their parents take no trouble to compel them to do so, and must inevitably grow up only to swell the already fearful sum total of our criminal population. At ten the boys are thieves, at fifteen the girls are all prostitutes.
A system of State reformatories and State apprenticeships on an extensive scale is the only way of grappling with this terrible state of things. Such institutions as the House of Refuge on Randall’s Island have done and are doing much, but a dozen such institutions might be established with advantage in the State of New York alone. On Randall’s Island the young criminal has the opportunity of acquiring regular habits and learning a useful trade. They are subject to a humane, though strict discipline, and a very large per centage, especially of the boys, do undoubtedly become reformed. This reformatory, a wise combination of school and prison, can accommodate one thousand inmates. There are at present about eight hundred boys, and one hundred and fifty girls on the register. The boys’ building is divided into two compartments, the first division, in the one, is thus entirely separated from the second division, in the other compartment. The second division is composed of those whose characters are decidedly bad, or whose offence was great. A boy may, by good conduct, however, get promoted from the second into the first division. As a rule the second division are much older than the first. Each division is divided into four grades. Every boy on entering the Reformatory is placed in the third grade; if he behaves well he is placed in the second in a week, and a month after to the first grade; if he continues in a satisfactory course for three months, he is placed in the grade of honor, and wears a badge on his breast. Every boy in the first division must remain six months, in the second division twelve months in the first grade, before he can be indentured to any trade. These two divisions are under the charge of twenty-five teachers and twenty-five guards. At half-past six o’clock the cells are all unlocked, every one reports himself to the overseer, and then goes to the lavatories; at seven, after parading, they are marched to the school rooms to join in religious exercises for half an hour; at half-past seven they have breakfast, and at eight are told off to the work-shops, where they remain till twelve, when they again parade, previous to going to dinner. For dinner they have a large plate of excellent soup, a small portion of meat, a small loaf of bread, and a mug of water. At one o’clock they return to their work. When they have completed their allotted task they are allowed to play till four, when they have supper. At half-past four they go to school, where they remain till eight o’clock, the time for going to bed. Each boy has a separate cell, which is locked and barred at night. The cells are in long, lofty, well ventilated corridors, each corridor containing one hundred cells. The doors of the cells are all grated, in order that the boys may have light and air, and also be under the direct supervision of the officers, who, though very strict, apparently know well how to temper strictness with kindness. Before going to bed, half an hour is again devoted to religious exercises, singing hymns, reading the Bible, etc. There is a large chapel, where the services are conducted on Sunday, the girls having the gallery to themselves. There is, however, no Catholic service. This, surely, is not right. At the Penitentiary on Blackwell’s Island they have service once a month for the Catholics. Of the six hundred and eighty-two children committed from the Courts during the year 1867, no less than four hundred and fourteen were Irish, and in all probability a large proportion of these are Roman Catholics. Institutions of this character should certainly be made as unsectarian as possible.
One of the most interesting, and at the same time, one of the most important features of the Refuge, is the workshop. On entering the shop, the visitor is amused by finding a lot of little urchins occupied in making ladies’ hoopskirts of the latest fashionable design; nearly 100 are engaged in the crinoline department. In the same long room, about 50 are weaving wire for sifting cotton, making wire sieves, rat traps, gridirons, flower baskets, cattle noses, etc. The principal work, however, is carried on in the boot and shoe department. The labor of the boys is let out to contractors, who supply their own foremen to teach the boys and superintend the work, but the society have their own men to keep order and correct the boys when necessary, the contractors’ men not being allowed to interfere with them in any way whatever. There are 590 boys in this department. They manage on an average to turn out about 2,500 pairs of boots and shoes daily, which are mostly shipped to the Southern States. Each one has a certain amount of work allotted to him in the morning, which he is bound to complete before four o’clock in the afternoon. Some are quicker and more industrious than others, and will get their work done by two o’clock; this gives two hours’ play to those in the first division, the second division have to go to school when they have finished till three o’clock, they only being allowed one hour for recreation. The authorities are very anxious to make arrangements to have a Government vessel stationed off the island, to be used as a training-ship for the most adventurous spirits. If this design is carried out it will be a very valuable adjunct to the working of the institution, and will enable the Directors to take in many more boys, without incurring the expense of extending the present buildings. The girls are also employed in making hoop skirts, in making clothes for themselves and the boys, in all sorts of repairing, in washing linen, and in general housework. The girls are generally less tractable than the boys; perhaps this is accounted for by their being older, some of them being as much as five or six and twenty. The boys average about 13 or 14, the girls 17 or 18 years of age. Nearly two thirds of the boys have been boot-blacks, the remainder mostly what are technically known as ‘wharf rats.’ Some of them are now in the house for the third time; one, a lad only 15 years of age, has passed one year in a juvenile asylum, four years in a reformatory, and is now at Randall’s Island. Another has been three times convicted of horse stealing; he would, late at night, ask permission to sleep in a stable; he is a complete cripple, and by attracting sympathy his request was often granted; when every one had left the place he would quietly open the door and lead out the horses. On each occasion that he was convicted he managed to get off with three horses. Another little fellow, only six years old, with a chum, broke into a pipe store, and stole 150 meerschaum pipes; he was however detected while trying to dispose of them. There is a colored lad, about eighteen, who is very amusing; he is a great orator, and addresses the others on all subjects, both general and political. On one occasion, when the Principal ventured to ask him whom he had adopted as his model for speaking, he grandly replied, ‘I will have you to know, sir, that I am no servile imitator.’ Some of the boys cannot overcome their thieving propensities, but will, even in the Refuge, purloin things that can be of no earthly use to them, if they get the chance. They are very quick and expert. Only a few days ago one of the boys fell down in a fit in the schoolroom; some of the others assisted the teacher to carry him into the open air. The poor fellow had a collection of nick-nacks in one pocket, and about 20 penny pieces in the other, but during the moment that passed in carrying him out both pockets were emptied. The Directors of the house of Refuge, while having a due regard for the well-being of its inmates, very properly take care that they are not so comfortable or so well fed as to lead them to remain longer in the reformatory than necessary. As soon as the boys appear to be really reformed they are indentured out to farmers and different trades. In the year 1867 no less than 633 boys and 146 girls were started in life in this way. Any person wishing to have a child indentured to him, has to make a formal application to the Committee to that effect, at the same time giving references as to character, etc. Inquiries are made, and if satisfactorily answered, the child is handed over to his custody, the applicant engaging to feed, clothe, and educate his young apprentice. The boy’s new master has to forward a written report to the officer, as to his health and general behavior from time to time. If the boy does not do well, he is sent back to the Refuge, and remains there till he is 21 years of age. Most of the children, however, get on, and many of them have made for themselves respectable positions in society. The annals of the Society in this respect are very gratifying and interesting. Many young men never lose sight of a Refuge which rescued them in time from a criminal life, and to which they owe almost their very existence. Instead of alternating between the purlieus of Water street and Sing Sing, they are many of them in a fair way to make a fortune. One young man who was brought up there, and is now thriving, lately called at the office to make arrangements for placing his two younger brothers in the House, they having got into bad company since their father’s death. A very remarkable occurrence took place at the institution not long ago. A gentleman and his wife, apparently occupying a good position in society, called at the Refuge and asked to be allowed to go over it. Having inspected the various departments, just before leaving, the gentleman said to his wife, ‘Now I will tell you a great secret. I was brought up in this place.’ The lady seemed much surprised, and astounded all by quietly observing ‘And so was I.’ So strange are the coincidences of human life.
“The last financial report issued by the Managers is certainly encouraging, and might be studied with advantage by the Directors of other public institutions. The total expenditures for the year 1867, for an average of nine hundred and ninety inmates, was $115,036; but the earnings of the work-shops amounted to $55,090, making the net expenditures $59,946. In 1864, the net cost of each child was $83; in 1865, $80; in 1866, $74, and in 1867, $61. In 1864, the net earnings of each child were $39; in 1865, $42; in 1866, $49, and in 1867, $56, showing every successive year a better result. At the Red Hill Reformatory in England, the net cost of each child for the year 1867, was $135, and the net earnings of each child $30. The total expenditure of the Penitentiary on Blackwell’s Island for last year was $93,966 for an average of five hundred and thirty three-inmates; deducting $15,175, the value of convict labor, the net expenditure was $77,791, making the net annual cost of each convict $146. After making all allowances for difference of age, etc., there is a very wide margin between $146 and $61. The Principal of the Refuge, Mr. Israel C. Jones, has been occupied for seventeen years in Reformatory work, and no doubt the successful results attending the operations of this society are mainly due to his great experience. Mr. Jones takes great pleasure in receiving visitors who are desirous of seeing the practical workings of his system.”
CHAPTER VIII.
LINES OF TRAVEL.
In a city so vast as New York, one of the greatest considerations is to provide ample means for rapid and sure passage from one part of the corporate limits to another. Persons who live at the upper end of the island cannot think of walking to their places of business or labor. To say nothing of the loss of time they would incur, the fatigue of such a walk would unfit nine out of ten for the duties of the day. For this reason all the lines of travel in the City are more or less crowded every day. The means of transportation now at the command of the people are the street railways and the omnibusses, or stages; as they are called.
THE STREET CARS.
The majority of the street railways centre at the Astor House and City Hall. From these points one can always find a car to almost any place in the city. The fare is six cents to any part of the City below 62nd Street, and seven to any point above that and below 130th Street. The cars are all more or less crowded. With the exception of a few lines, they are dirty. An insufficient number are provided, and one half of the passengers are compelled to stand. The conductors and drivers are often rude and sometimes brutal in their treatment of passengers. One meets all sorts of people in these cars. The majority of them are rough and dirty and contact with them keeps a person in constant dread of an attack of the itch, or some kindred disease. Crowded cars are a great resort for pickpockets, and many valuable articles and much money are annually stolen by the light-fingered gentry in these vehicles.
The wages paid to employees by the various companies are not large, and the drivers and conductors make up the deficiency by appropriating a part of the fares to their own use. Some are very expert at this, but many are detected, discharged from the service of the company, and handed over to the police. The companies exert themselves vigorously to stop such practices, but thus far they have not been successful. Spies, or “Spotters,” as the road men term them, are kept constantly travelling over the lines to watch the conductors. These note the number of passengers transported during the trip, and when the conductors’ reports are handed in at the receiver’s office, they examine them, and point out any inaccuracies in them. They soon become known to the men. They are cordially hated, and sometimes fare badly at the hands of parties whose evil doings they have exposed. As all the money paid for fares is received by the conductor, he alone can abstract the “plunder.” He is compelled to share it with the driver, however, in order to purchase his silence. In this way, the companies lose large sums of money annually.
There is either a car or stage route on all the principal streets running North and South. There are, besides these, several “cross town” lines, or lines running across the City. East and West, from river to river. The fare on these is five cents. They cross all the other railways, and their termini are at certain ferries on the North and East Rivers.
THE STAGES.
The stages of New York are a feature of the great city which must be seen to be appreciated. They are fine, handsome coaches, with seats running lengthways, and capable of seating from twelve to fourteen persons. They are drawn by two horses, and have all the lightness and comfort of a fine spring wagon. Their routes begin at the various ferries on the East river, from which they reach Broadway by the nearest ways. They pass up Broadway for over a mile, and turn off from it to other sections of the city at various points between Bleecker and Twenty-third streets. The fare in these vehicles is ten cents, and is paid to the driver, who communicates with the passenger by means of a hole in the upper and front end of the coach. The checkstring passes from the door through this hole, and is fastened to the driver’s foot. By means of this, a passenger can at any moment stop the stage. In order that the driver may distinguish between a signal to stop the coach and one to receive the passenger’s fare, a small gong, worked by means of a spring, is fastened at the side of the hole. By striking this the passenger at once commands the driver’s attention.
The stage drivers are entirely exposed to the weather, and suffer greatly from the extremes of heat and cold. They can not leave their seats, and are oftentimes terribly frozen in the winter, before reaching the ends of their routes. They are constantly on the watch for passengers, and it is amusing to watch the means to which they resort to fill their coaches. In the early morning, and towards the close of the day, they have no need to solicit custom, for then both stages and cars are crowded to their utmost capacity. During the rest of the day, however, they exert themselves to fill their coaches. They are called upon to exercise no little skill in driving. Broadway, and the cross streets along their routes, are always crowded with vehicles, and it requires more dexterity than one would at first suppose, to avoid accidents.
Good drivers are always in demand. Their wages are fair, and they are allowed the greater part of Saturday, or some other day in the week, and as the stages do not run on Sunday, they are always sure of two “off-days” out of the seven. Like the street railway men, they consider it perfectly legitimate to fill their own pockets at the expense of the owners of the vehicles. The writer of these pages once had a long conversation upon this subject with the driver of a stage. Jehu endeavored to justify the practice of robbing his employers by a number of very ingenious arguments, and finally closed with the remark:
“Well, you see, Mr. Martin, where the boss is a sensible man, he don’t object to a driver’s making a few dollars for himself, for he knows that a man who can make a plenty of stamps for himself will always make a plenty for the boss, to keep from being found out; and it is a fact, sir, that them as makes most for themselves always makes the biggest returns to the office.”
The drivers are frequently in trouble with the police. They have a holy horror of falling into the hands of these limbs of the law, and this feeling renders them more careful in their driving, and general conduct while on duty.
Owing to the high rate of fare demanded by the stages, the rougher and dirtier portion of the community are seldom met in them. The passengers are generally of the better class, and one meets with more courtesy and good breeding here than in the street cars. Ladies, unaccompanied by gentlemen, prefer the stages to the cars. They are cleaner, and females are less liable to annoyance.
[Illustration: Scene on Broadway–Dangers of crossing]
Like the cars, however, they are the favorite resorts of pickpockets. At night they are patronized to such an extent by streetwalkers seeking custom, that the city press has styled them “perambulating assignation houses.”
THE FERRIES.
Including the Harlem and Staten Island lines, there are twenty-three lines of ferries plying between New York and the adjacent shores. Of these, nine are in the North or Hudson river, and fourteen in the East river. The boats are large side-wheel vessels, capable of carrying both foot-passengers, horses, and vehicles. Early in the morning they are crowded with persons and teams coming into the city, and in the afternoon the travel is equally great away from the city. On some of the lines the boats ply every five minutes; on others the intervals are longer. The Harlem and Staten Island boats start hourly–the fare on these lines is ten cents. On the East river lines it is two cents, on the North river three cents.
The boats are large and handsome. Nearly all of them are lighted with gas, and at least a score of them are seen in the stream at the same moment. At night, with their many colored lights, they give to the river quite a gala appearance. The travel on them is immense. Over fifty millions of persons are annually transported by them. Many often carry from 800 to 1000 passengers at a single trip.
During the summer it is pleasant enough to cross either of the rivers which encircle the island; but in the winter such travelling is very dangerous. Storms of snow, fogs, and floating ice interfere greatly with the running of the boats, and render accidents imminent. Collisions are frequent during rough or thick weather, and the ice sometimes carries the boats for miles out of their course. The East river is always more or less crowded with vessels of all kinds, either in motion or at anchor, and even in fair weather it is only by the exercise of the greatest skill on the part of the pilot that collisions can be avoided. The following incident from one of the city journals for November 14, 1868, will show how terrible these accidents are:
“Early this morning, when the Brooklyn boats are most crowded, chiefly with workmen and girls coming to the city just before working hours, a frightful collision took place as one of the Fulton ferry boats was entering the New York slip, resulting in the wounding of probably twenty persons, many of them fatally. At that hour four boats are run on the Fulton ferry, the Union and Columbia running on a line, as also the Hamilton and Clinton. The Clinton being slightly detained on the New York side, the Hamilton, waiting for her, remained longer than usual at the Brooklyn slip, and received therefore an immense load of passengers, probably over a thousand. At this time in the morning, it being flood tide, a strong current sets up the East river from Governor’s Island, which is just now further strengthened by the freshet on the Hudson. The Hamilton, therefore, after being carried up on the Brooklyn side, and turning in the centre of the river, steamed down some distance below the New York slip, as usual, in order not to be carried beyond by the upward tide. Turning, she then came up to the slip, where the Union was laying, chained up, at the southern or lower ferry-way. Close in by the piers an eddy from the main current which strikes New York about Beekman street, sets strongly down stream. As the Hamilton came into the slip from below, aiming at the upper ferry- way, her bow was caught by this eddy and swung around with great force toward the end of the Union. The Hamilton having a full load and the Union having just discharged hers, the former was much the lower in the water. The projecting guard of the Union therefore entered the front part of the ladies’ cabin at about the height of the seats, and also smashed the rails on the outer deck. This particular part of the boat was, of course, the most densely crowded, and the consequences of the shock were frightful. One boy, George Brewer, who was said to have been outside the chain, was caught by the foot and instantly killed, his head and a good part of the body being mashed to a jelly. Several had their feet cut off below the knee, and a dozen others were seriously injured. The following is the list of those known to be hurt. It is probable that several cases have not yet been discovered, and one or two may have fallen overboard and not yet been missed. People looking anxiously for missing friends, supposed to have been on the fated boat, have been calling in great numbers during the morning at the ferry- house and the police station.”
Efforts have been made to span the East river with a bridge, for the purpose of affording sure and safe communication between this city and Brooklyn, but the plan has always met with the sternest and most uncompromising hostility from the ferry companies, who wish to retain their present enormous business.
CHAPTER IX.
STREET MUSICIANS.
Street musicians in New York are as plentiful as the leaves in Vallambrosa. One cannot walk two blocks in the entire City, without hearing from one to half a dozen street instruments in full blast. A few of the instruments are good and in perfect tune, but the majority emit only the most horrible discord.
THE ORGAN GRINDERS.
Only a few of the organ grinders own their organs. The majority hire them from parties who make a business of letting them. The rent varies from two to twenty dollars per month, according to the quality of the instrument; the French flute-organ commanding the best price. The owners of the organs generally manage to inspire the “grinders” with a wholesome terror of them, so that few instruments are carried off unlawfully, and after all, the organ grinders are generally more unfortunate than dishonest.
The men are generally Italians. Occasionally a German or Swiss is seen, but Italy contributes the great majority. Women are not often seen on the streets in such capacities, except in company with their relatives or lovers, and then they accompany the organ with the tambourine.
In good weather, a man with a good flute-organ can generally make from two to five dollars a day. Those who have the best instruments seek the best neighborhoods in the upper part of the city. There they are always sure of an audience of children, whose parents pay well, and some of these seemingly poor fellows have made as much as from ten to fifteen dollars in a day and evening. In bad weather, however, they are forced to be idle, as a good organ cannot be exposed with impunity at such times. The “grinders” pay from five to eight dollars per month for their rooms, and sustain their families entirely upon maccaroni. They use but a single room for all the purposes of the family, and, no matter how many are to be accommodated with sleeping arrangements, manage to get along in some way. They are very exclusive, and herd by themselves in a section of Five Points. Baxter and Park and the adjoining streets are taken up, to a great extent, with Italians.
The better class of Italians keep their apartments as neat as possible. Children of a genial clime, they are fond of heat, and the temperature of their rooms stands at a stage which would suffocate an American.
As a general rule, the organ grinders are better off in this country than in their own. Their wants are simple, and they can live with comfort on an amazingly small sum.
There are, however, many who are not so fortunate as those to whom we have referred. These are the great majority of the organ grinders, the owners, or renters of the vile, discordant instruments which are the bane of city people. They earn comparatively little but kicks and curses. They are ordered off by irate householders, and receive but little or no consideration from the police. They live in wretchedness and want. Their homes are vile and filthy, and they are the perpetrators of a great many of the crimes that disgrace the city. They are frequent visitors at the Tombs, and are ready to be employed for any dirty job for which unscrupulous men may wish to engage them.
THE WANDERING MINSTRELS.
Any one who can turn a crank can manage a street organ. The arrangement of the instrument being entirely automatic, no knowledge of music on the part of the grinder is necessary. Another class of street minstrels are required to possess a certain amount of musical skill in order to perform creditably. These are the strolling harpers and violinists. Like the organ grinders they are chiefly Italians, but they are not so fortunate in a pecuniary sense. Their earnings are very slender, and they live lives of want and misery. A very few are excellent performers, but the great mass have not the faintest idea of music.
CHILD MINSTRELS.
It is said that there are several hundred child minstrels in the City of New York, by which we mean children below the age of sixteen or seventeen years. They are chiefly Italians, but there are a few Swiss and some Germans amongst them. They are generally to be found in the streets in pairs; but sometimes three “travel” together, and sometimes only one is to be found.
Mr. Nathan D. Urner, of the _Tribune_, whose experience of city life has made him a valuable authority in such matters, has recently contributed an article on this subject to _Packard’s Monthly_ for November, 1868, from which we make the following interesting quotations:
“As a general rule, the little ones have parents or relatives–mostly engaged in the same business–to whose support they contribute; but there are both men and women in the city–and most heartless, worthless wretches they are–who import orphan children from Naples and Tuscany, for the purpose of turning their childish talents, both as musicians and beggars, to practical account. Indeed, a number of years ago, there was a villain, living in Baxter street, who employed at one time fourteen children, mostly girls, in this manner. His name, if my memory serves me correctly, was Antonelli. At any rate, by a cruel system of punishment and semi-starvation, he reaped considerable profit from the unfortunates–compelling them to steal as well as beg, and converting the girls into outcasts at the earliest possible age–until his arrest and imprisonment in the penitentiary of a neighboring State released them from their bondage, though only, it is to be feared, to fall into hands quite as bad. But they are seldom much better off, even if they have parents. A detective police officer told me that he knew of half- a-dozen cases where Italian fathers of this class had made a regular business of hiring out their children for the purposes of prostitution; and the precocity of development and expression frequently betrayed by the girls, still young in years, is mournful evidence of the truth of his statement.”
It is astonishing to see how little musical talent is exhibited by these little ones, whose natures are drawn from the land of music. We have repeatedly seen them sawing away patiently at a violin, or jerking the strings of a harp, but could detect no semblance of melody in the noise they made. Not a few of the little ones endeavor to make up in dancing what they lack in musical skill. Their parents or proprietors are harsh and stern with them, and endeavor to beat some slight knowledge of their art into them, but it is a long time before they succeed. Sometimes death steps in to end the troubles of the child before success has crowned the efforts of the parent. Let us hope the little voices will be more melodious in the unseen world.
Sometimes these children will be found in pairs on the streets, consisting of a boy with a small harp, and a girl with a violin; or sometimes two girls; one with an old, broken guitar, and the other with a tambourine; or, again, of two boys, with harp and violin. Their music, at the best, is but worthless, and their voices have a cracked, harsh, monotonous cadence, but they also possess a sadness which rarely fails to bring a penny or two into the outstretched hat. They are dirty, ragged, and more like monkeys than children, but they have a wistfulness and weariness about their gaze and manner that make one’s heart ache. It is so sad to see young children condemned to such lives. They are very young, the average age being eight years, but they do not seem like children. You think they are little old men and women.
At all hours of the day, and until late at night, you may hear their music along the streets, and listen to their sad, young voices going up to the ear that is always open to them. They are half fed and half clothed, and their filthiness is painful to behold. They sleep in fair weather under a door step, in some passage-way or cellar, or in a box or hogshead on the street, and in the winter huddle together in the cold and darkness of their sleeping places, for we cannot call them homes, and long for the morning to come. The cold weather is very hard upon them. They love the warm sun, and during the season of ice and snow are in a constant state of semi-torpor. You see them on the street, in their thin, ragged garments, so much overpowered by the cold that they can scarcely strike or utter a note. Sometimes they are permitted by the keeper of some saloon to approach his stove for a moment or two. These are the bright periods of their dark lives, for as a general rule, they are forced to remain in the streets, plying their avocations until late in the night, for blows and curses are their reward should they fail to carry to those who own them a fair day’s earnings. Give them a penny or two, should they ask it, reader. You will not miss it. It is more to them than to you, and it will do you no harm for the recording angel to write opposite the follies and sins of your life that you cast one gleam of sunshine into the heart of one of these little minstrels.
AN INCIDENT.
During one of the heavy snows of the last winter, one of these child harpers was trudging wearily down Fifth Avenue, on his way to the vile quarter in which he was to spend the night. It was intensely cold, and the little fellows strength was so much exhausted by the bleak night wind that he staggered under the weight of his harp. At length he sat down on the steps of a splendid mansion to rest. The house was brilliantly lighted, and he looked around timidly as he seated himself, expecting the usual command to move off. No one noticed him, however, and he leaned wearily against the balustrade, and gazed at the handsome windows through which the rich, warm light streamed out into the wintry air. As he sat there, strains of exquisite music, and the sounds of dancing, floated out into the night. The little fellow clasped his hands in ecstacy and listened. He had never heard such melody, and it made his heart ache to think how poor and mean was his own minstrelsy compared with that with which his ears were now ravished. The wind blew fierce and keen down the grand street, whirling the snow about in blinding clouds, but the boy neither saw nor heard the strife of the elements. He heard only the exquisite melody that came floating out to him from the warm, luxurious mansion, and which grew sweeter and richer every moment. The cold, hard street became more and more indistinct to him, and he sat very still with his hands clasped, and his eyes closed.
The ball ended towards the small hours of the morning, and the clatter of carriages dashing up to the door of the mansion, gave the signal to the guests that it was time to depart. No one had seen the odd-looking bundle that lay on the street steps, half buried in the snow, and which might have lain there until the morning had not some one stumbled over it in descending to the carriages. With a half curse, one of the men stooped down to examine the strange object, and found that the bundle of rags and filth contained the unconscious form of a child. The harp, which lay beside him, told his story. He was one of the little outcasts of the streets. Scorning to handle such an object, the man touched him with his foot to arouse him, thinking he had fallen asleep. Alas! it was the eternal sleep.
A SAD STORY.
Mr. Nathan D. Urner, from whose interesting paper in _Packard’s Monthly_ we have already quoted, draws the following touching picture of minstrel life:
A horrible murder had been committed. All engaged in it, including the victim, were foreigners. There was not a redeeming feature, not even the rather equivocal one of passion’s frenzy, connected with the deed. It was deliberate, long-concerted, mercenary, atrocious, and bloody. The murderers–there were two–were shortly afterwards arrested; tried, convicted, and sentenced to death, with a dispatch and inexorableness which–probably owing to their friendlessness–was somewhat unusual under the statutes of this State. The most affecting incident connected with the condemned–both of them desperate villains–was the parting scene between the Italian criminal (his comrade was a Spaniard) and his child. This was a little girl, scarcely ten years of age; I doubt if she numbered so many. The man was low-browed, narrow-templed, and of a generally brutal, repulsive aspect. They were about to lead him into the dungeon of the condemned, the studded door of which would not open again save to admit his passage to the gallows-tree; and his poor child was beside him. Hardened, sin-stained as he was, the father was himself visibly affected; but the tempest of wild, passionate grief that agitated the little girl, so soon to be left an orphan, was something remarkable in one of her years.
She was evidently a child of the streets. Her dress was ragged and foul, and even her face so unclean as to be barely redeemed by the large, beautiful black eyes which would alone have betrayed the sunny clime of her origin. While the wretched criminal stood, shame-facedly and with drooping crest, before her, she fell upon his manacled hands, kissing them wildly, and betraying in her childish grief all the deep, sensitive, despairing sorrow of a woman. The villain before her might have often beaten her, debased her immeasurably, but the mysterious cord that linked their beating hearts was unbroken, though it sang like a bowstring in the gusty horror that swept between, and stretched to attenuation as the elder spirit sank, groaning, into the abyss of its own wickedness. Hot tears gushed from her eyes, her little throat was swollen with the choking sobs, and her narrow, rag-covered chest heaved with tumultuous agony. But after he was taken away, when the iron door which to her was, indeed, the door of the tomb, had closed between them forever, she became quickly calm, and her face soon wore an air of quiet resignation.
As she was about leaving the court-room she stooped and picked up a weather-stained guitar. I guessed her vocation, and was resolved to speak to her.
‘What is your name, little one?’
‘Angela, sir.’ It was a sad voice, but very sweet.
‘And do you play on this for a living?’
‘I play and sing also, sir.’
The court had been dismissed, and the crowd were confusedly dispersing.
‘I say, little gal, can’t you give us a song ‘afore you go?’ said an inconsiderate policeman, meaning to be good-natured.
‘I shall not sing to-day, sir!’ said the little girl, decisively; and then, with a dignity of grief which sat well upon her, despite her rags, she passed out of the room with her dingy guitar, while the large man who had accosted her so rudely shrank back, abashed, before the glance with which the black eyes reproached him to the heart, ere they vanished in the crowd.
Here was a chance for me. I happened to be the only reporter present at the scene–‘sensation’ was my forte–a ‘beat’ upon all the other dailies had come directly to my hand. It was late in the week, and I was also afforded the chance of cooking the thing up remuneratively for two or three weekly papers. But the whole thing stood before me like a picture which it seemed a sacrilege to copy. So I cheated the _Tribune_ with the rest, and, for the first time in my life, let the opportunity for a sensation slip my hand. No credit to either heart or head, however, for a relapse into my chronic state of impecuniosity, on the following week, caused me to curse a squeamishness whose absence might have earned a score of dollars.
But I soon forgot the incidents in the court-room in the manifold and hum-drum duties of my profession.
Several months afterward, however, I was passing down Park Row, when my attention was attracted to a little girl playing a guitar and singing an Italian song in a plaintive, monotonous air. Her dress and voice attracted my attention on the instant, and, when I saw her face, I recognized Angela, the girl of the trial-scene. It was her father whom, at that very moment, I was going to see hanged. I stood stock-still with amazement, the coincidence was so startling.
When she had finished her song, and had garnered up the few coppers placed in her hand by the careless and uncritical crowd, I stepped up to her and said:
‘Angela, do you remember me?’
‘Yes, sir,’ she replied, her dark face lighting up with a gleam of recognition.
‘Do you know what day this is?’
‘It is the morning of my father’s death–how should I forget it?’
‘You refused to sing on the day of his sentence–can you find heart, then, to do so in this dreadful hour?’
The dirty little fingers fluttered nervously over the music-strings–as the creative hand might do with a human heart of whose destiny there was a doubt. For an instant a pang of agony wreathed the young face to the depth of its expressions, but she resumed her sorrowful complacency immediately.
‘I am singing to my mother across the sea,’ she said, quietly.
“Then, resuming her guitar, she swept out a yet more plaintive air, and lifted her young, shrill voice in song. The crowd around her did not increase, the interest was not enhanced, and the chary pennies of approbation were as few as before. But to me there was a wild, desolate melancholy in the melody that fell so unheedingly upon the ears of the crowd. They did not see nor hear what I did. They merely saw a dusky foreign girl using her voice for a scanty livelihood. I saw a patient, suffering, religious spirit, singing out its agony to a kindred spirit beyond the eight hundred leagues of heaving brine (I would wager my life that the mother heard that song, were she buried in the bosom of the Appenines); and the deep melancholy of those large, dark eyes, uplifted so plaintively, the saintly refinement of sorrow that lingered in the soft, olive face which spoke of far Italy, the ‘divine despair’ of the mellow voice, haunted me strangely and unpleasantly as I hurried away to the scene of death.”
WHAT BECOMES OF THESE CHILDREN.
It is very sad to think of the future of these little ones. Without education, with an early familiarity with want, misery, brutality, and crime, the little minstrels rarely “come to any good.” The girls grow up to lives of shame, and fortunately die young. The boys become vagrants, thieves, and often assassins. They soon find their way to the reformatory establishments and prisons of the city. The police watch them closely, and never overlook one of their offences. Everybody condemns them, and no one reflects that they are irresponsible for their sins. “As the twig is bent the tree is inclined.”
CHAPTER X.
THE PRESS.
The press of New York is a subject which requires more time and space in its treatment than can be given to it in this volume, and we must therefore confine ourselves to a brief glance at it. It is divided into two branches, the secular and religious, and in the former we include all the political and literary journals of the City.
THE MORNING PAPERS.
The daily journals of New York are the ablest and best conducted in America, and among the most brilliant in the world. Their power is immense, and they generally shape and direct the tone of the provincial journals. They are conducted upon a most excellent system as far as their internal arrangements are concerned, and the persons employed upon them are men of ability and experience. As pecuniary investments, they pay handsomely. The stock is very valuable, and it is impossible to purchase it at any price, the present owners being unwilling to sell. Nearly all the principal journals have handsome printing houses of their own. The new Herald office is one of the most magnificent edifices in the City, and in its internal arrangement is the most convenient in the world.
The morning papers are the _Herald, Tribune, Times, World, Sun, Democrat, Journal of Commerce, Staats Zeitung_, and _Commercial Advertiser_.
THE HERALD
The Herald is regarded as the model newspaper of the United States. Its office is located at the corner of Broadway and Ann Streets, and is built of white marble, in the modern French style. Below the sidewalk are two immense cellars, or vaults, one below the other, in which are two steam engines of thirty-five horse power each. Three immense Hoe presses are kept running constantly from midnight until seven in the morning, printing the daily edition. The rooms and machinery are kept in the most perfect order. Nothing is allowed to be out of place, and the slightest speck of dirt visible in any part, calls forth a sharp rebuke from Mr. Bennett, who makes frequent visits to every department of the paper.
On the street floor, the main room is the public office of the journal. Its entrances are on Broadway and Ann street. It is paved with marble tiles, and the desks, counters, racks, etc., are of solid black walnut, ornamented with plate glass. Every thing is scrupulously clean, and the room presents the appearance of some wealthy banking office.
On the third floor are the editorial rooms. The principal apartment is the “Council Room,” which overlooks Broadway. Every other branch of the editorial department has its separate room, and all are furnished with every convenience necessary for doing their work with the utmost precision and dispatch.
Each day, at noon, the editors of the _Herald_, twelve in number, assemble in the “Council Room.” Mr. Bennett, if he is in the City, takes his seat at the head of the table, and the others assume the places assigned. If Mr. Bennett is not present, his son, James Gordon Bennett, Jr., presides at the council, and, in the absence of both father and son, the managing editor takes the head of the table.
The council is opened by Mr. Bennett, or his representative, who presents a list of subjects. These are taken up, seriatim, and discussed by all present. The topics to be presented, in the editorial columns of the _Herald_ the next day, are determined upon, and each editor is assigned the subject he is to “write up.” All this is determined in a short while. Then Mr. Bennett asks the gentlemen present for suggestions. He listens attentively to each one, and decides quickly whether they shall be presented in the _Herald_, and at what time; and if he desires any subject to be written upon, he states his wish, and “sketches,” in his peculiar and decisive manner, the various headings and the style of treatment.
There are twelve editors and thirty-five reporters employed on the _Herald_. They are liberally paid for their services. Any one bringing in news is well rewarded for his trouble.
The composing rooms are located on the top floor, and are spacious, airy, and excellently lighted. A “dumb waiter,” or vertical railway, communicates with the press room; and speaking tubes, and a smaller “railway,” afford the means of conversation and transmitting small parcels between this room and the various parts of the building. Five hundred men are employed in the various departments of the paper.
THE OTHER JOURNALS.
The _World, Tribune, Times_, and other journals, have fine establishments of their own, that of the _Times_ ranking next to the one just described. The advantages of the _Herald_ system are so manifest that the other City dailies are adopting it as rapidly as possible.
THE EVENING PAPERS.
The evening papers are a noticeable feature of the great city. They are the _Evening Post_, the _Evening Mail_, the _Express_, the _Telegram_, the _News_, and the _Star_. These issue their first editions at one o’clock in the afternoon, and their latest at five or six o’clock. On occasions of more than usual interest, extras are issued hourly as late into the night as eleven or twelve o’clock. The evening papers contain the latest news, gossip, and a variety of light and entertaining matter, and are bought chiefly by persons who wish to read them at home, after the cares and fatigues of the day are over.
THE WEEKLIES.
The weeklies are too numerous to mention. The principal are the _Round Table_, the _Nation_, the _Ledger_, the _Mercury_, the _New York Weekly_, the _Sunday Mercury_, the _News_, the _Dispatch_, the _Leader_, the _Examiner and Chronicle_, the _Courier_, the _Clipper_, _Wilkes’ Spirit_, the _Turf, Field and Farm_, _Harper’s Weekly_, _Frank Leslie’s Newspaper_, the _Bazaar_, the _Albion_, the _Citizen_, the _Irish Citizen_, _Irish American_, etc., etc. All of these journals display more or less ability, and each one has its specialty. Some are devoted to politics, some to literature alone, some to sporting matters, some to police items, and some to general news.
THE RELIGIOUS PAPERS.
The principal religious papers are, the _Observer_, the _Independent_, the _Protestant Churchman_, the _Church Journal_, the _Methodist_, etc., etc. They are devoted principally to denominational and sectarian matters, but too frequently dabble in politics to an extent that renders them more partisan than laymen care to see religious sheets.
PRINTING HOUSE SQUARE.
Opposite the City Hall, at the junction of Nassau and Spruce streets and Park Row, is a large open space, known as “Printing House Square,” so called because the offices of the leading journals of the city are either immediately on this square, or within a couple of blocks of it. Standing in the Park at this point, one may count the signs of at least thirty first-class journals of various kinds.
A PRESS CURIOSITY.
One of the curiosities of Printing-House Square is the huge engine which runs so many presses. This is owned by a firm in Spruce street between William and Nassau, and occupies the basement of their building. There is a large one hundred and fifty horse-power engine which runs during the day, and a seventy-five horse-power which relieves it at night. From this shafting and belting distribute the power in every direction. One shaft runs to and across Frankfort street, supplying THE MAIL and other offices, another crosses William street and runs the six cylinder presses which pile the three hundred thousand copies of the _Ledger_ in its beautiful press-room. Another shaft crosses Spruce street, runs through and across Beekman, and even supplies presses in Ann street.
Altogether these engines supply over one hundred and twenty-five presses–each being estimated and charged so much per horse-power according to this estimate. It runs three quarters of a mile of main shafting, beside a mile or more connecting shafts and as much belting. One of these belts, an india-rubber one, one hundred and twenty feet long, connects a fifth-story press on Nassau street with the main shafting on Spruce, across the intervening yards, and another leather one on Beekman street, one hundred and forty feet long, perfectly perpendicular, connects the sub-cellar and attic.
“This engine prints all McLaughlin’s toy books, runs the immense establishments of Bradstreet and J. W. Oliver, besides many other job printers, a hoop-skirt manufactory and several binderies, and prints nearly fifty papers, besides magazines and books innumerable; among them, the ‘_Mail_,’ the ‘_Independent_,’ ‘_Dispatch_,’ ‘_Leader_,’ ‘_Star_,’ ‘_Examiner and Chronicle_,’ ‘_Observer_,’ ‘_Courier_,’ ‘_Clipper_,’ ‘_Wilkes’ Spirit_,’ ‘_Turf, Field and Farm_,’ ‘_Police Gazette_,’ ‘_La Crosse Democrat_,’ ‘_Ledger_,’ ‘_New York Weekly_,’ ‘_Literary Album_,’ ‘_Sunday Times_,’ ‘_New Yorker Democrat_,’ ‘_Commonwealth_,’ ‘_Scottish American_,’ ‘_Freeman’s Journal_,’ ‘_Tablet_,’ ‘_Emerald_,’ ‘_Irish American_,’ ‘_Irish People_,’ etc., etc. Truly a power in the world.”
[Illustration: View of Wall Street.]
CHAPTER XI.
WALL STREET.
If you pass down Broadway to the main entrance to Trinity Church, and then turn abruptly to your left and cross the street, you will find yourself at the head of Wall street, the great financial centre of America. It is a narrow street, extending from Broadway to East river, and lined with handsome brown stone, marble, and granite buildings. Scarcely a house has less than a score of offices within its walls, and some have very near three times that number. Space is very valuable in Wall street, and some of the leading firms in it have to content themselves with a narrow, small, dark hole, which a conscientious man would hardly call an office. The rent demanded for these “offices” is enormous, and the buildings bring their owners princely fortunes every year. The houses are all covered with signs, the names on which one will immediately recognize as famous in the financial world. The streets running into Wall street, for the distance of one or two blocks, on the right hand and the left, are also occupied with the offices of bankers and brokers, and are included in the general term, “Wall street,” or “the street.”
ITS HISTORY.
Wall street has always been famous in the history of New York. It was originally used as a sheep pasture. Its natural condition being partly rolling upland and partly meadow of a swampy character. The name of the street originated thus: In 1653, the Dutch settlers, being threatened with an attack by their New England neighbors, resolved to fortify the town by constructing a wall or stockade across the island just beyond the northern limits of the settlement. The line selected was drawn across the old sheep pasture. In the course of a few years, the anticipated hostilities having passed over, the settlers began to build houses along the line of the city wall, and the new street, when laid off, received by common consent the name of “the Wall street,” which it has since borne. The wall, having fallen into decay, was demolished about the year 1699, and the stones were used in building the first City Hall, which stood at what is now the corner of Nassau and Wall streets, the site of the Sub-Treasury of to-day. This building was used for the various purposes of the city government until the close of the Revolution. It contained, besides the council and court rooms, a fire engine room, a jail for the detention and punishment of criminals, and a debtors’ prison, which was located in the attic, a cage, and a pillory. A pair of stocks were set up on the opposite side of the street, wherein criminals were exposed to the indignant gaze of a virtuous public.
After the close of the Revolution, the building was enlarged and improved for the use of the Federal Government. The first Congress of the United States assembled within its walls in the year 1789, and upon its spacious portico George Washington took the oath to support and defend the Constitution, as President of the United States.
The street was originally taken up with private residences, but at length monetary institutions commenced to find their way into it. The Bank of New York was located here in 1791, at the corner of William street. Other institutions, and private bankers, soon followed it, and the work of improvement went on until the street of to-day is the result. Famous lawyers have also had their offices in this street. Alexander Hamilton’s sign might once have been seen here, not far from where his humble monument now stands in Trinity churchyard, and the name of Caleb Cushing is now to be found just a little below Broadway.
The street fairly began its present career in the days of Jacob Little, “the great bear of Wall street.” He opened an office here in 1822, and, in twelve years, by dint of such labor as few men are capable of performing, placed himself at the head of American operators. His credit was good for any amount, for his integrity was unimpeachable. He could sway the market as he pleased, and his contracts were met with a punctuality and fidelity which made “his word as good as his bond.” Efforts were made to ruin him, but his genius and far-sightedness enabled him to defeat all his enemies with their own weapons. His gains were enormous, and so were his losses. He met the latter cheerfully. The late war, however, brought his reverses so rapidly upon him that he had not the time to meet one before another stared him in the face. Still, he was calm and undismayed. He gave up his last dollar without repining, saying that he would willingly sacrifice even life itself for the perpetuity of the Union and the Constitution. He died early in the year 1861, honored by all, and leaving his life an example to those of us who are left behind him. He was a devout member of the Episcopal Church, but he extended his charities, which, though quiet, were unusually large, to all denominations.
THE SUB-TREASURY.
The Sub-Treasury is a handsome white marble building, located at the corner of Wall and Nassau streets. The Treasury is built in the Doric style of architecture; and its massive flight of steps and handsome portico present a striking appearance. It is built in the most substantial manner, and has an entrance at the rear on Pine street. The interior is tastefully arranged, and massive iron gratings protect the employees from surprise and robbery. The vaults are burglar-proof. This is the principal depository of the Government, and millions of dollars are always in its vaults.
THE CUSTOM HOUSE.
The Custom House was built for and formerly used as the Merchants’ Exchange. It is situated at the corner of Wall and William streets, and is a large, handsome, granite edifice. The colonade at the front entrance and the rotunda are well worth seeing.
BANKING HOUSES.
Just below the Custom House is the handsome marble building of Brown Brothers, bankers, one of the model houses of New York, as regards both the firm and the edifice. The Messrs. Brown are regarded as the most reliable and accomplished operators in the street. Across the way, in a dingy granite building, is the office of August Belmont & Co., the American agents of the Rothschilds, and bankers on their own account. Jay Cooke & Co. occupy the fine marble building at the corner of Wall and Nassau streets, opposite the Treasury, and there conduct the New York branch of their enormous business. Fisk & Hatch, the financial agents of the great Pacific Railway, are a few steps higher up Nassau street. Henry Clews & Co. are in the building occupied by the United States Assay Office. Other firms, of more or less eminence, fill the street. Some have fine, showy offices, others operate in dark, dingy holes.
THE STOCK EXCHANGE.
The Stock Exchange is located on Broad street, to the south of Wall street. It is a fine white marble edifice, extending back to New street, which is also taken up with brokers’ offices. There is an entrance on Wall street, but the main building is on Broad street. It contains the “Long Room,” the “The New York Stock Exchange,” the “Mining Board,” the now obsolete “Petroleum Board,” and the “Government Board.” All sorts of stocks are bought and sold in this building. “Erie” and “Pacific Mail” are the most attractive to the initiated, and the most disastrous as well.
The Chamber of the Board of Stock Brokers is a large, handsomely furnished apartment, somewhat like a lecture room in appearance. Each broker has a seat assigned to him. Outsiders are not admitted to the sessions of the board, but any one may communicate with a member by handing his card to the doorkeeper, who will at once call out the gentleman. The sessions of the Board are presided over by a President, but the work is done by a Vice-President, who from ten o’clock until one, calls over the list of stocks, and declares the sales. Each day a list of stocks to be put in the market is made out, and no others can be sold during the sessions. The Board has the right to refuse to offer any stocks for sale, and a guarantee is required of the party making the sale. The members of the Board are men of character, and their transactions are fair and open. They are required to fulfil all contracts in good faith, however great the loss to themselves, on pain of expulsion from the Board, and an expelled member cannot be reinstated. The entrance fee is three thousand dollars. Persons wishing to become members are required to make their applications at certain times. This is publicly announced, and if any one can bring and sustain an accusation affecting the integrity of the applicant, he is not admitted.
Ordinarily the sale of the stocks offered, proceeds in a monotonous, humdrum manner, but when “Erie,” or “Pacific Mail,” or any other favorite stock is called, each man springs to his feet. Bids come fast and furious, hands, arms, hats, and canes are waved frantically overhead to attract the attention of the presiding officer. The most intense excitement prevails throughout the room, and the shouts and cries are deafening. Sales are made with the utmost rapidity, and the excitement is kept up at the highest point as long as any thing of interest is offered. If a sale is contested, the president names the purchaser, and his decision is final, unless revoked by an instantaneous vote of the Board.
THE OPEN BOARD.
The Open Board of Stock Brokers meet in the second story of a handsome brown stone building adjoining the Stock Exchange. Their sessions are from ten until one. The business of the Board is similar to that of the Stock Exchange, and is dispatched with as much precision, quickness, and clamor.
THE GOLD ROOM.
Descending from Broad street to the basement of the building used by the “Open Board,” we find ourselves in a long, dimly lighted passage- way, which leads us into a small courtyard. As we emerge into this yard, we hear a confused hum above our heads, which grows louder as we ascend the steep stairway before us. Passing through a narrow, dirty entry, we open a side door, and our ears fairly ache with the yells and shrieks with which we are startled. For a moment we think we are about to enter a company of lunatics, but we pass on reassured, and the next instant stand in the Gold Room.
This is a handsome apartment, in the style of an amphitheatre, with a fountain in the centre. A gallery runs around the upper part, and several telegraph offices are connected with the room. There are but few benches. The members of the Board are always too much excited to sit, and seats are only in the way. Though the main entrance is on Broadway, the Gold Room really fronts on New street. During the sessions of the Board, it is filled with an excited, yelling crowd, rushing about wildly, and, to a stranger, without any apparent aim. The men stamp, yell, shake their arms, heads, and bodies violently, and almost trample each other to death in the violent struggle. Men, who in private life excite the admiration of their friends and acquaintances by the repose and dignity of their manner, here lose their self- possession entirely, and are more like maniacs than sensible beings.
Few members of either the Stock or Gold Boards operate for themselves. They generally buy and sell for outside parties, from whom they require a guarantee at the outset, and charge a fair commission on the sale for their services. Members have confidence in each other, for they know that no one can afford to be dishonest. Expulsion and financial ruin and disgrace are the swift and inflexible punishments of bad faith.
There are many persons, whose transactions in the stock and gold markets amount to millions of dollars each year, who cannot enter these boards as members. They are regarded as unsafe, and their petitions are invariably rejected. They usually operate through regular members.
CURBSTONE BROKERS.
Any one who can pay one hundred dollars a year for the privilege, is allowed to operate in the “Long Room,” as the lower floor of the Stock Exchange is called. His capital may be one, one hundred, or one thousand dollars, but if he pays his dues regularly, no one is allowed to molest him. No rules or regulations bind these operators. The honest man and the rogue mingle freely together. Persons dealing with them have no guarantee of their good faith, and must look out for rough treatment at their hands. They overflow the hall, crowd the steps and sidewalks, and extend out into the street. From this circumstance they are termed “curbstone brokers,” a name which will probably cling to them. A few of these operators are men of integrity, who being unable to enter the regular boards, are compelled to conduct their business in this way. They have regular places of business in some of the neighboring streets, and are as fair and upright in their dealings as any member of either of the boards; but the great majority are simply sharpers, men who will not meet their losses, and who will fleece any one, who falls into their hands, out of his last cent.
STOCK GAMBLING.
It has been remarked that the men who do business in Wall street have a prematurely old look, and that they die at a comparatively early age. This is not strange. They live too fast. Their bodies and minds are taxed too severely to last long. They pass their days in a state of great excitement. Every little fluctuation of the market elates or depresses them to a fearful extent, even though they may not be conscious of it at the time. At night they are either planning the next day’s campaign, or hard at work at the hotels.
[Illustration: United States Sub-Treasury.]
On Sunday their minds are still on their business, and some are to be seen hard at work in their offices, where they think they are safe from observation. Body and mind are worked too hard, and are given no rest.
The chief cause of all this intense excitement, is the uncertainty which attends such operations. No man can tell one week whether he will be a beggar or a millionaire the next, the chances being decidedly in favor of the former. Nine out of ten who speculate in stocks or gold, lose. Like all gamblers, they are undismayed by their first reverse, and venture a second time. They lose again, and to make their loss good venture a third time, risking in the end their last dollar. The fascination of stock gambling is equal to that of the card table, and holds its victims with an iron hand. The only safe rule for those who wish to grow rich, is to keep out of Wall street. While one man makes a fortune by a sudden rise in stocks or gold, one thousand are ruined. Even the soundest and best established firms fall with a crash under these sudden reverses. The safest are those who buy and sell on commission. If the profits go to other parties, in such cases, the losses fall upon outsiders also, so that under all circumstances a legitimate commission business is the safest, as well as the most profitable in the end. This is proved by the fact that there are very few old firms in “the street.” Houses supposed to be well established are failing every day, and new ones springing up to take their places. Nothing is certain in Wall street, and we repeat it, it is best to avoid it. Invest your money in something more stable than speculations in stocks.
A KEEN GAME.
Some years ago, the famous Jacob Little resolved to bring down the market value of Erie stock, which was then selling readily at par. He contracted with certain parties to deliver to them an unusually large amount of this stock on a certain day. A combination was immediately formed in the street to ruin him. The parties concerned in this league took his contracts as fast as they were offered, and bought up all the stock in the market. In doing this, they firmly believed they were placing all this paper to be had out of the reach of Mr. Little, who would be ruined by being unable to deliver the stock at the time, and in the quantities agreed upon. His friends shook their heads ominously, and declared that his enemies had been “one too many” for him this time; but the “Great Bear,” as he was called, kept his own counsel. When the day for the delivery of the stock arrived, his enemies were jubilant, and all Wall street was in a fever of excitement; but he was as calm and as smiling as ever. Repairing to the office of the Erie Railway Company he laid before the astonished officers of the road a number of certificates of indebtedness. The faith of the Company was pledged to redeem these certificates with stock, upon presentation. Mr. Little demanded a compliance with this contract. The Company could not refuse him, and the stock was issued to him. With it he met his contracts promptly. The result was fearful to his enemies. This sudden and unexpected issue of new stock brought “Erie” down with a rush, and the sharp witted operators who had bought either at par or at a premium, solely to ruin their great rival, were ruined themselves, almost to a man.
A “DEAR” SALE.
But a short while ago, a house in Wall Street, which had ventured too far in its speculations, failed. It settled its liabilities honestly, but had not a penny left. One of the partners had used U.S. bonds to the amount of fifteen thousand dollars, belonging to a relative, and these had been swept away. Whether for the purpose of replacing this amount, or for his own benefit, the broker resolved to get possession of a similar amount in bonds at once. The failure of his house had not become generally known, and he determined to lose no time in his operations.
Proceeding to the office of a well known house, one morning just as business hours opened, he asked for fifteen thousand dollars worth of Government bonds, and offered the cheque of his firm in payment for them. Being well and favorably known to the parties, his request (which was based upon the falsehood that he wished the bonds to fill an order for a countryman who was in a hurry to leave town, and that he had not the amount in his own safe), was complied with. The bonds were delivered to him, and his cheque taken in payment. He at once departed, and the banker, feeling no uneasiness at the transaction, did not send the cheque to bank at once. Several hours passed away, and he heard rumors of the failure of the house to which he had sold the bonds. The cheque was at once sent to the bank; payment was refused, on the ground that the house had failed, and had no funds in the bank. The fraud was plain now, and the banker, repairing to the office of the unfortunate firm, was informed by the partner of his friend that the transaction was a swindle. The detectives were at once set on the track of the swindler, who had made his escape immediately after getting possession of the bonds.
HOW FORTUNES ARE MADE AND LOST.
Fortunes are made quicker and lost more easily in New York than in any other place in the world. A sudden rise in stock, or a lucky speculation in some other venture, often places a comparatively poor man in possession of great wealth. Watch the carriages as they whirl through Fifth Avenue, going and returning from the Park. They are as elegant and sumptuous as wealth can make them. The owners, lying back amongst the soft cushions, are clad in the height of fashion. By their dresses they might be princes and princesses. This much is due to art. Now mark the coarse, rough features, the ill-bred stare, the haughty rudeness which they endeavor to palm off for dignity. Do you see any difference between them and the footman in livery on the carriage-box? Both master and man belong to the same class–only one is wealthy and the other is not. But that footman may take the place of the master in a couple of years, or in less time. Such changes may seem remarkable, but they are very common in New York.
See that gentleman driving that splendid pair of sorrels. He is a fine specimen of mere animal beauty. How well he drives. The ease and carelessness with which he manages his splendid steeds, excites the admiration of every one on the road. He is used to it. Five years ago he was the driver of a public hack. He amassed a small sum of money, and being naturally a sharp, shrewd man, went into Wall street, and joined the “Curbstone Brokers.” His transactions were not always open to a rigid scrutiny, but they were profitable to him. He invested in oil stocks, and with his usual good luck made a fortune. Now he operates through his broker. His transactions are heavy, his speculations bold and daring, but he is usually successful. He lives in great splendor in one of the finest mansions in the city, and his carriages and horses are superb. His wife and daughters are completely carried away by their good fortune, and look with disdain upon all who are not their equals or superiors in wealth. They are vulgar and ill bred, but they are wealthy, and society worships them. There will come a change some day. The husband and father will venture once too often in his speculations, and his magnificent fortune will go with a crash, and the family will return to their former state, or perhaps sink lower, for there are very few men who have the moral courage to try to rise again after such a fall, and this man is not one of them.
In watching the crowd on Broadway, one will frequently see, in some shabbily dressed individual, who, with his hat drawn down close over his eyes, is evidently shrinking from the possibility of being recognized, the man who but a few weeks ago was one of the wealthiest in the city. Then he was surrounded with splendor. Now he hardly knows where to get bread for his family. Then he lived in an elegant mansion. Now one or two rooms on the upper floor of some tenement house constitute his habitation. He shrinks from meeting his old friends, well knowing that not one of them will recognize him, except to insult him with a scornful stare. Families are constantly disappearing from the social circles in which they have shone for a greater or less time. They vanish almost in an instant, and are never seen again. You may meet them at some brilliant ball in the evening. Pass their residence the next day, and you will see a bill announcing the early sale of the mansion and furniture. The worldly effects of the family are all in the hands of the creditors of the “head,” and the family themselves are either in a more modest home in the country, or in a tenement house. You can scarcely walk twenty blocks on Fifth Avenue, without seeing one of these bills, telling its mournful story of fallen greatness.
The best and safest way to be rich in New York, as elsewhere, is for a man to confine himself to his legitimate business. Few men acquire wealth suddenly. Ninety-nine fail where one succeeds. The bane of New York commercial life, however, is that people have not the patience to wait for fortune. Every one wants to be rich in a hurry, and as no regular business will accomplish this, here or elsewhere, speculation is resorted to. The sharpers and tricksters who infest Wall Street, know this weakness of New York merchants. They take the pains to inform themselves as to the character, means, and credulity of merchants, and then use every art to draw them into speculations, in which the tempter is enriched and the tempted ruined. In nine cases out of ten a merchant is utterly ignorant of the nature of the speculation he engages in. He is not capable of forming a reasonable opinion as to its propriety, or chance of success, because the whole transaction is so rapid that he has no chance to study it. He leaves a business in which he has acquired valuable knowledge and experience, and trusts himself to the mercy of a man he knows little or nothing of, and undertakes an operation that he does not know how to manage. Dabbling in speculations unfits men for their regular pursuits. They come to like the excitement of such ventures, and rush on madly in their mistaken course, hoping to make up their losses by one lucky speculation, and at length utter ruin rouses them from their dreams.
Although New York is the chief business centre of the country, fortunes are made here slowly and steadily. Great wealth is the accumulation of years. Such wealth brings with it honor and prosperity. One who attains it honestly, has fairly won the proud title of “merchant;” but few are willing to pursue the long life of toil necessary to attain it. They make fifty thousand dollars legitimately, and then the insane desire seizes them to double this amount in a day. Nine lose every thing where one makes his fortune.
The reason is plain. The speculation in stocks is controlled by men without principle, whose only object is to enrich themselves at the expense of their victims. The _Herald_ recently presented the following picture of the transactions in the stock market:
Within the past few days we have seen the most gigantic swindling operations carried on in Wall street that have as yet disgraced our financial centre. A great railway–one of the two that connect the West with the Atlantic seaboard, has been tossed about like a football, its real stockholders have seen their property abused by men to whom they have entrusted its interests, and who, in the betrayal of that trust, have committed crimes which in parallel cases on a smaller scale would have deservedly sent them to Sing Sing. If these parties go unwhipped of justice, then are we doing injustice in confining criminals in our State prisons for smaller crimes.
To such a disgusting degree of depravity do we see those stock operations carried that members of the Church of high standing offer, when ‘cornered,’ to betray their brother ‘pals,’ and, in their forgetfulness of the morality to which they sanctimoniously listen every Sunday, state that ‘all they care about is to look out for number one.’ A manager of a great corporation is requested to issue bonds of his company without authority, offering ‘to buy the bonds if you are caught, or buy the bonds with the understanding not to pay for them unless you are caught.’ This attempted fiscal operation, however, did not work, and resulted in a good proof of the old adage that it requires ‘a rogue to catch a rogue.’
A railroad treasurer boldly states that he has without authority over- issued stock of the company to a large amount. He offers it to a broker for sale, with the understanding that all received over a fixed value is to go into his (the treasurer’s) pocket. From the fact that this man is not arrested for mal-administration of the company’s property we judge this to be a legitimate operation, and that this may hereafter serve as a model or standard of morals to all presidents, directors, treasurers and managers of railway and other great corporations. It is evident that the world has made a great mistake on the question of morals, and that as we progress in civilization with our modern Wall street system of ethics we shall be able to have a new and more exact translation of the Bible–Wall street edition–for the benefit of stock gamblers and stock thieves of all descriptions. Upon the great banking house facing Wall street we will have in letters of gold upon a green back-ground the following commandments:
1. Steal largely or not all; for is it not preached in Gotham that he who steals largely and gives donations to the Church shall enter the kingdom of heaven, while to him who confines his stealings to modest peculations shall be opened the doors of Sing Sing?
2. Steal largely! for in proportion to the magnitude of thy stealings shalt thou prosper and wax respectable throughout Gotham.
3. Steal largely! for as ye steal so shall ye show your fitness for the high places in the land; so shall ye be invited to exercise your talents in the numerous positions of trust and profit thereby; so shall ye add honor and glory to the government of your fathers, and your days shall be long in the land.
4. Steal largely! for by thy stealings shalt thou create a new morality; and so shalt thou build up a great people who shall prosper beyond all other nations.
This is the new code we offer–a code taught to us by the times and by the facts that assail us. When we see an ‘honest’ Judge ‘Iago’ rise from his bed at midnight to pander to the contemptible rascality of stock thieves we have but little hope for even what we dignify by the name of law. When we see our churches allowing a host of gamblers to gather for false worship at their shrines and pander to them, that they may share their plunder for the ‘benefit of the Lord,’ we have still less hope in our future. When we see great criminals respected and lesser criminals imprisoned we believe that the American mind is sadly out of a proper moral pathway.
“The operations now carried on in Wall street, be they of any stock, or of gold, call for the interference of some power sufficient to crush them. If the City or the State is powerless, let the general government take the matter in hand for the general good. Take gold, for example. There are not over two millions of the solid coin used as a basis for the operations which in a single month represent a sum twice the amount of our national debt. The harpies who gather around the Gold Rooms in their mad shoutings are at the same time shouting ‘Death to the republic!’ They unsettle all values, and are, as a mass, a public calamity, and should be dealt with as such. As with gold, so with stocks, and no nation can long afford to let its future hang upon the will of a mass of unprincipled men who daily bleed its prosperity beyond all calculation.”
These things are well known in New York, but no one heeds them. Each one thinks he is shrewd enough to avoid the dangers which have ruined others, and only discovers his mistake when it is too late to repair it. Men of all classes, even ministers of the Gospel, and frequently women, rush into Wall street in pursuit of sudden wealth, where, to use an old adage, “if they are not gored to death by the Bulls, they are sure to be devoured by the Bears.”
Persons who wish to succeed in New York, or elsewhere, should shun speculation. Legitimate business offers brilliant rewards here, but speculation means ruin. If you wish this assertion enforced, go into Stewart’s or Claflin’s stores, and see how many salesmen on small salaries you will find there who were once wealthy merchants doing business on their own account. They succeeded in their legitimate pursuits, but were not satisfied with their success. They wanted more, commenced speculating, and lost every thing. Men to succeed here must be energetic, cautious, enterprising, and economical.
BOGUS STOCK COMPANIES.
On fine afternoons visitors to the Park do not fail to notice a handsome equipage driven by a stylish young man, with rosy cheeks and light curly hair. His face is the perfect picture of happy innocence. He is very wealthy, and owns a great deal of real estate in the city. The manner in which he made his money will show how other persons enrich themselves.
A few years ago he, in company with several others, organized a scheme for working certain gold mines said to be located in a distant territory. A company was made up, the country was flooded with flaming descriptions of the valuable mine, and stock was issued which sold readily. The bonds were soon taken up, and in a month or two the so- called company commenced paying handsome dividends. A number of gold bars, bearing the stamp of the mint, were on exhibition in the company’s office, and were triumphantly exhibited as amongst the first yields of the valuable mine. For several months the dividends were paid regularly, and the company’s stock rose to a splendid premium. It could hardly be bought at any price. No one doubted for an instant the genuineness of the affair, and the lucky company was the envy of all Wall street.
In a few months, all the stock being disposed of, the company ceased paying dividends. This excited the suspicion of some of the shrewdest holders of the stock, and the affair was investigated. It was found that the wonderful mine had no real existence. The gold bars were simply gold coins melted into that form at the Mint, and stamped by the Government as so much bullion. The dividends had been paid out of money advanced by the company, who were simply half a dozen unprincipled sharpers. The stockholders were ruined, but the company made a profit of a clear half million of dollars out of the infamous transaction. Legal proceedings are expensive and tedious when instituted against such parties, and the stockholders, rather than increase their losses by the outlay necessary for a lawsuit, suffered the swindlers to go unmolested.
A certain stockbroker, anxious to increase his wealth, purchased twenty acres of land a few years ago in one of the Western States, and commenced boring for oil. After a few weeks spent in this work, he discovered to his dismay that there was not the slightest trace of oil on his land. He kept his own counsel, however, and paid the workmen to hold their tongues. About the same time it became rumored throughout New York that he had struck oil. He at once organized a company, and had a committee appointed to go West and examine the well. In a few weeks the committee returned in high glee, and reported that the well contained oil of the very best quality, and only needed capital and improved machinery to develop its capacity. In support of this assertion they brought home numerous bottles containing specimens of the oil. This report settled the matter in Wall street, and the stock issued by the company was all sold at a handsome premium. When the sales ceased, it was rumored that the well had ceased flowing. This was true. There was no oil anywhere on the land. That in the well had been bought in Pennsylvania and poured into the well by the agents of the owner, and the examining committee had been paid large sums for their favorable report. The owner of the well was enriched, as were his confederates of the bogus company, and the holders of the stock were swindled, many of them being ruined.
A PETROLEUM PRINCE.
We take the following from a work recently published in Paris. It contains the observations of an intelligent French gentleman during a residence in New York:
An Irishman, thirty years ago, arrived in Philadelphia. He was a mason by trade, industrious and sober, which is not often the case with natives of the Emerald Isle. He managed to save a few hundred dollars, and then married.
He had enjoyed the blessings of matrimony over ten years, when, on going to his work, early one morning, he found, a short distance from his house, a basket covered with a linen cloth. He carried it home, opened it, and a handsome baby appeared before his view. To the child’s clothes was pinned a paper bearing a few lines, asking, in the name of the Almighty, the person into whose hands the basket might fall, to take charge of the new-born infant, for the sake of a poor fellow- creature. The Irishman and his wife, not having any children, at once adopted the little one, regarding it as a gift sent by Providence. A few years later, the Irishman, who had by his savings amassed quite a handsome sum of money, purchased a small farm in a thinly settled county of Pennsylvania, and there lived quietly and contentedly, until, one day, in cutting down a tree, it fell upon him, and he was crushed to death beneath its weight. After this sad occurrence, his widow, with the help of the adopted child, carried on the business of the farm, often regretting she could not give the boy an education; but they were so far from any school, she could not think of sending her son such a distance from home.
One day a rumor circulated throughout Pennsylvania that, by boring into the earth to a moderate depth, in some parts of the State, oil was found to spring forth. Startling as this rumor was, many persons were forced to believe it, when they saw, with their own eyes, a black liquid, giving a bright light, issuing from certain holes bored for experiment. After this, all persons began experimenting on their own property. The Irish widow imitated her neighbors, and with the help of her adopted son, bored a hole in her garden. After a few day’s work, they struck oil–a flowing well rewarded their enterprise!
Meanwhile speculators, wild with the excitement of this discovery, besieged Pennsylvania, and that State soon swarmed with them. The desire to possess a portion of those marvellous lands took possession of every mind. Throughout the States every one was affected with the new disease, denominated ‘oil on the brain;’ and soon the value of the oleaginous districts went up to wonderful figures. In many instances, as much as fifty thousand dollars were paid for an acre of land. And, availing herself of the general infatuation, the Irish widow sold her farm, for two millions of dollars, to a Boston company, which thought it was very cheap to give not quite seven thousand dollars per acre for petroleum land. The three hundred acres of the widow’s farm had cost three hundred dollars a few years before, that is to say, one dollar an acre! Besides the two millions of dollars, the Irish widow had stipulated that one half of the flowing well in her garden should belong to her. That well yielded from five to six hundred barrels of oil per day. You may be sure the old lady doted on it. She visited it a hundred times a day, always surveying it with amazement, and ascertaining whether it was as productive as ever. Even at night she left her bed to go and view the marvellous spring. During one of these nocturnal excursions, she imprudently drew too near the well with a light–the spring fired up with lightning-like rapidity, and the poor woman, becoming wrapped in the flames, was burned to death. The coroner was summoned to hold an inquest. When it was over, the widow’s neighbors, desiring to ascertain whether she had sold her farm for as large an amount as was rumored, prevailed upon the coroner to open her safe. It contained two hundred thousand dollars in gold, which, no doubt, represented the widow’s profits for her reserved rights in the well; and also bonds of the United States to the amount of two millions of dollars, the said bonds registered in the name of Peter Crazy, the widow’s adopted son, and only heir and legatee, according to her will, that was also found in the strong-box.
Now, the young man, whose large stakes a few minutes ago caused such a sensation, is the same Peter Crazy, the widow’s adopted son; and he came here to-night to complete his ruin. But I must now relate what became of him after becoming possessed of a princely fortune.
At the time he came into possession of this fortune, Crazy did not know the difference between one thousand and one hundred thousand dollars. He could hardly write his name; and, unfortunately, he had nobody to warn him against the dangers that beset the youth of this world, and to make of him, instead of a spendthrift, a man useful to society.
Suppose a philanthropist, a good-hearted, high-minded man, should suddenly come into possession of two millions of dollars, what a benefactor he might prove to his fellow-creatures! What useful and benevolent institutions he might found! What improvement might every branch of human labor receive if he chose to apply to it a portion of his wealth.
As soon as it became known that Crazy had inherited a large fortune, many adventurers, with whom the new Eldorado swarmed, pounced upon him like birds of prey upon a carcass; and then commenced for Crazy a life of prodigality and vice, the end of which is near at hand.
In Philadelphia, he stopped with his cronies at one of the most elegant