Fifty Years in Wall Street

My advent in Wall Street was on the heels of the panic of 1857. That panic was known as the “Western blizzard.” It was entitled to the name, as its destructive power and chilling effects had surpassed all other financial gales that had swept over Wall Street. The first serious result of its fatal force was the failure of the Ohio Life and Trust Company, a concern of gigantic dimensions in those days.

The Company had an office in Wall Street, and on the announcement of the collapse, business became completely paralyzed. This failure was immediately followed by the suspension of many large firms that had withstood the shock of all ordinary collisions and had successfully weathered many financial storms.

The panic was due in part to excessive importations of foreign goods, and also to the rapid construction of railroads, to a large extent on borrowed capital. There were other contributing causes. The crops were bad that year, and the country was unable to pay for its imports in produce, and coin was brought to the exporting point. In October, the New York City banks suspended payments, and their example was followed throughout the country. Bank credits had been unduly expanded everywhere, and the time had naturally arrived for contraction. It came with a bound, and financial disaster spread like a whirlwind, becoming general.

One day, for instance, a man gave me an order to buy a thousand shares of Erie without limit. The order was executed at 94. I had no sooner bought it than the stock went down.

My customer returned in a short time and ordered the stock to be sold. It was then 92½.

In half an hour afterwards he returned again and ordered it bought back again, without any limit as before. It was bought back at 95.

After consulting with other friends for some time he ordered it sold again. The market by that time was 90.

He then came back the fifth time, and said: “I first saw one man who told me to buy, and then another who told me to sell. I understand one is called a ‘bull’ and the other a ‘bear.’ About these names I don’t know much, but I do know now that I am a — jackass.”

The beginning of this story of the Hudson “corner” is somewhat romantic. The Commodore was sunning himself on a pile of logs on the Jersey side of the Hudson while his yacht lay in the stream, and he was in the mood for enjoying a long and well-earned vacation, attempting to lay aside for a time the toil and trouble of eking out a precarious existence in speculation. While basking in the noon-day sun and gazing with delight on the luxurious foliage that arose from the New Jersey bank of the river, he was aroused from his charming reverie by a messenger from Wall Street, who conveyed to him the important intelligence that a wicked and unregenerate clique of “bears” had conspired to sell Hudson stock “short,” and that it was declining with great rapidity under the repeated and unmerciful blows of their hammers.

The Commodore arose and shook off his lethargy, as a lion may be supposed to shake the dew from his mane prior to his preparation for a spring upon an unfortunate foe.

The Commodore hastened down to Wall Street and instructed his brokers to take all the sellers’ options offered in Hudson. Cash stock was then taken as quickly as possible until the market was bare. A brief calculation showed that the buyers had secured either as cash or contract stock all the Hudson stock in existence with the exception of a small number of shares which were not expected to come upon the market.

I remember being at a dinner party ostensibly given to the old gentleman when in the very zenith of his financial fame and prosperity. It was a kind of mutual admiration society, Drew being the king-pin of the social coterie. On account of his thirteen millions he was the centre of cringing admiration, and was by a number of the assemblage almost deified.

As is usual on such occasions, speechmaking was in order, the oratorical talent being called out by the toasts as they went the round of the board.

When it came my turn to speak, I followed suit, to some extent, in picking up the thread of the general glorification extended to the honored guest, to whom I paid marked deference.

“We are honored,” I said, “on this festive occasion, by a gentleman of vast wealth, one who can control more ready money than any man in America, and be it said to his honor, it has all been of his own creation. He is a true representative of American thrift and enterprise. His money and his genial disposition together combined make all men his friends, and I know of only one antagonistic spirit to the continued growth of this already marvellous fortune; but that one, in all probability, may yet work his ruin. I refer to our honored guest, Mr. Drew, and his one enemy which I have in mind is ‘Avarice.’”

He was wonderfully prolific in resources for the purpose of getting advantage of those who attempted to overreach him.

A good story, illustrative of this trait in his speculative character, is told of the time that he was so severely squeezed in Northwestern stock. He was greatly grieved at his ill luck, while the brokers and operators who had been prosperous at his expense were highly elated. They considered it a great thing to have caught the wily old Daniel napping. He was accordingly made the victim of much ribaldry and jesting for several days in Wall Street. Some of the young men carried the joke so far as to meet him and laugh significantly and irritatingly in his face. He seemed to take it all in good part, for he had a happy flow of animal spirits, but he had a terrible rod in pickle for these young men who were making him an object of ridicule. He watched for his opportunity, and one evening as several of them were enjoying themselves in an uptown club, Uncle Daniel walked in, sans ceremonie. He appeared to be looking after some man, and though invited to remain, seemed to be in a great hurry to get away, and was apparently excited and warm. He seemed to have something important on hand. He drew a big white handkerchief out of his pocket a few times and wiped the perspiration from his heated brow. When he was about to depart there came out of his pocket with the handkerchief a small slip of white paper which floated around apparently unseen by him, and alighted at the feet of one of the bystanders, who quickly set his foot upon it.