Flood said that he would not make the trip again for the whole Consolidated Virginia mine. Fair said that he should never again place himself upon an equality with timber and wood, and Hereford said he was sorry that he ever built the flume. As for myself, I told the millionaires that I had accepted my last challenge. When we left our boats we were more dead than alive. The next day neither Flood nor Fair were able to leave their beds. For myself, I have only the strength to say that I have had enough of flumes.
HORACE GREELEY.
In the history of journalism, Horace Greeley must, for all time, hold a position in the front rank. As it is well-known he is a self-made man, being born of poor parents at Amherst, New Hampshire, on the 3rd day of February, 1811. His father was a farmer. The Greeley ancestors enjoyed a reputation for 'tenacity,' which was clearly shown in the pale-faced, flaxen-haired but precocious lad of fifteen, who presented himself and was employed at the office of the _Northern Spectator_, at Poultney, Vermont, in 1826; having walked from West Haven, his home, eleven miles distant. He was to remain an apprentice until twenty, and received in money the princely sum of forty dollars a year 'with which to buy clothes and what was left he might use for spending money.' Why he lived to found a great paper the reader can easily guess, when it is learned that Greeley used the greater part of said forty dollars each year for buying books.
He joined a local debating club where he became the 'giant' member, a tribute paid to his intellect. Most of the members were older than Greeley, but knowledge proved a power in that society and he was invariably listened to with marked attention despite his shabby appearance. Especially was he fond of political data; he followed the exchanges in the _Spectator_ office with increasing interest. His parents removed to Pennsylvania, where he visited them during his apprenticeship as "printers' devil," and general assistant at Poultney, walking the most of the way, a distance of about 600 miles. The _Spectator_ having collapsed, young Greeley, with his entire wardrobe done up in a handkerchief, once more visits Pennsylvania, but not to remain idle; he soon obtained a place in a printing office near his home, at eleven dollars per month, and later still he obtains employment at Erie where he receives fifteen dollars per month. Soon after this, not yet content, he is enroute for New York, where he arrived August 17, 1831.
His appearance in the metropolis was ludicrous in the extreme. One can imagine from accounts given of him how prepossessing he must have looked; flaxen locks, blue eyes, his hat on the back of his head as if accustomed to star gazing, must have given him the appearance of one decidedly 'green,' to say the least. As is a noted fact he was, to his death, exceedingly indifferent as to his dress and what are known as the social demands of society. Indeed he could be seen on the street almost any day with his pockets stuffed full of papers, his hat pushed back on his head like a sailor about to ascend the rigging, his spectacles seemingly about to slip off his nose, his boot heels running over, and we doubt not that he was as likely to have one leg of his pantaloons tucked into his boot top while the other was condescendingly allowed to retain its proper place. In fact it is hardly probable that he would have impressed any one with the idea that he was indeed a great editor of that city. But we return to his first visit; office after office was visited without avail but that hereditary 'tenacity' did not forsake him, and at last he met an old friend, a Mr. Jones whom he had first met in Poultney. This friend, although not a 'boss,' printer fashion set him at work on his own case. When the proprietor came in he was dumbfounded at the specimen of a printer he beheld, and declared to the foreman that he could not keep him. Fortunately, however, for young Greeley, the job that he was on was setting small type,--a most undesirable one. The foreman shrewdly suggested that as Jones, who was a good workman, knew him it would be a good policy to wait and see the result. As it was a very difficult job no wonder that Greeley's proof looked as though it had the measles, but as he was retained he must have done as well if not better than was expected. When the job was finished he was thrown out of employment, and he shifted about for some time doing odd jobs; in fact it must have been very discouraging, but finally he obtained employment on the _Spirit of the Times_, and afterward formed a business partnership with Mr. Story who, with Mr. Greeley, invested about $240.
They established a penny paper, and were moderately successful, but Mr.
Story was drowned and his place was filled by another. His connection with the _New Yorker_ was his next business venture. While on this paper he was also editor of a paper in Albany, and a regular contributor to the _Daily Whig_. When we think that he gave himself only four hours sleep out of the twenty-four, we can realize how he could find time to edit two papers and write for the third, but despite this assiduousness his enterprise failed and he thereby lost $10,000.
Greeley's opinion on economy was clearly defined when he said: "For my own part, and I speak from sad experience, I would rather be a convict in States Prison or a slave in a rice swamp, than to pass through life under the harrow of debt. If you have but fifty cents and can get no more for the week, buy a peck of corn, parch it, and live on it rather than owe any man a dollar." He next started the _Log Cabin_. It was started in the beginning of 1840, designed to be run six months and then discontinued. Into this undertaking Horace Greeley threw all his energy and ability, guided by his experience. In those days a journal with a circulation of ten thousand was a big concern. When an edition of nearly fifty thousand of its first issue was called for, the publishers were beside themselves, and later when the _Log Cabin_ ran up a circulation of eighty and even ninety thousand, the proprietors were frantic as to how they should get them printed. It is needless to say that the _Log Cabin_ outlived its original expectations.
Ultimately the _Log Cabin_ and the _New Yorker_ were merged into the _New York Tribune_. As is a recognized fact, Greeley was stronger in a fight than in peace, and the attacks which this new enterprise received soon run its circulation from the hundreds into the thousands. Of course new presses had to be bought and Greeley, who by the way preferred to discuss the financial policy of a great nation than that of his own office, soon found himself obliged to get a business man as a partner.
He was exceedingly fortunate in securing Mr. Thomas McElrath, who soon brought order from chaos, and the _Tribune_ became not only an ably conducted paper but a paying one as well.
Mr. Greeley next became a lecturer, and in this field he was also fairly successful. He traveled in Europe and wrote such books as "Hints About Reform," "Glances at Europe," "History of the Slavery Extension,"
"Overland Journey from New York to San Francisco," "The American Conflict," "Recollections of a Busy Life," "Essays on Political Economy," and just before his death, "What I Know About Farming."
While Mr. Greeley must ever be regarded among journalists as one of their brightest stars; he was one of the most peculiar writers it has ever been our pleasure to read. In fact he must be regarded as a kind of literary gymnast. While conducting a political paper he at one time devoted page after page to the theory of reorganizing society after the plan of Fourier; that is to divide society up into small communities to live in common. After wearying the readers on this and numerous other 'isms,' it was discontinued. He went into a political frenzy over Clay and protection; next his paper was full of the 'Irish Repeal,' 'Advocacy of the Water Cure,' 'Phrenology,' 'Mesmerism,' 'Opposition to Capital Punishment,' 'Trinitarianism' and the 'Drama.'
He was finally elected to Congress to fill an unexpired term. While here he caused some amusement by his eccentricities. He refused to sit up at night sessions, abruptly leaving when his hour for retiring arrived.
Possibly his letter addressed to the managers of his party in his State was one of the greatest surprises that he ever sprung upon the country.
It was addressed to Mr. Seward personally, but upon mention being made of it by that gentlemen's friends, it was made public by Greeley's demand. It ran something as follows: "The election is over, and its results sufficiently ascertained. It seems to me a fitting time to announce to you the dissolution of the political firm of Seward, Weed and Greeley by the withdrawal of the junior partner, said withdrawal to take effect on the morning after the first Tuesday in February next. I was a poor young printer, and editor of a literary journal--a very active and bitter Whig in a small way, but not seeking to be known outside of my own ward committee. I was one day called to the City Hotel where two strangers introduced themselves as Thurlow Weed and Lewis Benedict, of Albany. They told me that a cheap campaign paper of peculiar stamp at Albany had been resolved on, and that I had been selected to edit it. I did the work required to the best of my ability.
It was work that made no figure and created no sensation; but I loved it and I did it well."
"When it was done you were Governor; dispensing offices worth three to twenty thousand to your friends and compatriots, and I returned to my garret and my crust and my desperate battle with pecuniary obligations heaped upon me by bad partners in business and the disastrous events of 1837. I believe it did not occur to me then that some one of these abundant places might have been offered to me without injustice. I now think it should have occurred to you. In the Harrison campaign of 1840 I was again designated to edit a campaign paper. I published it as well and hence ought to have made something out of it despite its low price.
My extreme poverty was the main reason why I did not."
"Now came the great scramble of the swell mob of coon minstrels and cider suckers at Washington, I not being counted in. I asked nothing, expected nothing, but you Governor Seward ought to have asked that I be Post Master at New York."
When the Republicans met at Chicago he 'paid' Mr. Seward off by checkmating his chances of the nomination, and placing Lincoln at the head of the ticket. Mr. Greeley had always been an uncompromising opponent of slavery, and once had all but asked for the impeachment of Buchanan, hence the South expected little sympathy from him; yet, this great editor dismays his friends while his enemies are dumbfounded when they read, "Let the South go," but no sooner do the 'erring sisters' act upon his suggestion than this political ranchman is out with his literary lasso vainly trying to keep them in. He next raises the war-whoop of "On to Richmond," and thereby aids in precipitating the terrible disaster of Bull Run. Time goes on--the Union cause looks gloomy enough--all seems lost; yet, when once more the nation needs his powerful support he rushes off to Canada unauthorized, to negotiate a treaty with Southern Envoys which, to say the least, would have been disgraceful to the Union Government. When the cause is won he flees to Washington to sign the bail-bond of the arch traitor, and is thus instrumental in his release from justice. Yet, for all this the _Tribune_ prospered.
He was regarded by many of his readers as a kind of moral law-giver, and if, per chance, one person journeyed to New York and returned to state that their beau ideal had used undue profanity in his common conversation, the indiscrete individual was ostracised.
If Mr. Greeley's previous career had surprised the country and disappointed some of his friends, it remained for the last political act of his life to completely paralyze the country at large, and plunge some of his most ardent supporters into the deepest gloom. This was when they beheld him the nominee of Republicans, 'who were anything to elect Greeley,' and endorsed by Free Traders and Democrats whom he had so bitterly denounced all his life. Had he been nominated by the straight Republican party it might have been considered as a somewhat extravagant reward for party service for this position could not have been regarded otherwise than consistent; but the position he now assumed was inconsistent, not to say ludicrous. The result was he carried only six States against the successful Grant.
He was a Universalist in belief, but educated his daughters at a Catholic school. He refused to get his brother, who actually needed assistance, a position worth perhaps $1,000 a year; yet, he could lend Corneel. Vanderbilt about eight hundred thousand dollars without security. His early friend, Mr. Jones, once sent a friend to him bearing a note requesting Greeley's aid to a subordinate position in the custom-house. No sooner had Greeley glanced it over than he astonished the gentleman, who was aware of Mr. Greeley's early obligation to Mr.
Jones, by the volley of oaths and vituperation which he heaped upon him because he did not go West instead of hanging around there seeking office. No wonder the gentleman, who was a reputable middle-aged man, fled from the presence of this famous expounder of 'Moral Ideas.'
However, when all this has been said we cannot help but admit that a great and good man died on December 29th, 1872. Certain it is that Journalism lost one of its brightest and most successful stars.
THURLOW WEED.
Who indeed has not heard of Thurlow Weed, "The king maker," born at Cairo, Greene County, New York, November 15, 1797. His father was a teamster and farmer. The reader can get some insight into the seemingly mysterious power he held for so many years, when it was known that so great was his thirst for knowledge that he was glad to wrap bits of a rag carpet about his feet and thus shod walk through the snow two miles to borrow a history of the French Revolution, which he mastered at night, stretched before 'the sap bush fire.'
The more one investigates the character and lives of those men whom we so often envy, the more we are forced to see that it was will-power rightly directed that overcame all obstacles. Certain it is to this that Thurlow Weed owes his everlasting fame as the 'American Warwick'; for knowledge is power. He first left the farm work as a cabin boy on a Hudson river steamboat bound for New York, but being born a journalist he soon drifted into a printing office where he became a good journeyman.
When the second war with Great Britain broke out he enlisted, and served on the Northern frontier, where by faithfulness he became Quartermaster Sergeant. When the war was over he returned to the printing office, being at one time in the same establishment with the late James Harper.
Finally he started a paper at Oxford, New York, in 1818. He afterward became connected with the _Onondaga Times_, which he finally changed to the _Republican_. For the next few years he is connected with several different papers until we find him in Rochester at the head of the _Anti-Masonic Enquirer_.
About this time the body of a man who had drowned in Lake Ontario was found, and it was claimed that his name was Morgan; if so, he was a renegade mason. A question of identity was raised, but as his murder was boldly asserted to have been the work of Masonry, it caused a great excitement for the time being. This excitement divided the political parties into Mason and Anti-Mason factions. Anti-Masonry was the political fertilizer which produced the astonishing growth of the assiduous Weed, he being sent to the Assembly twice, mainly on that issue. While at Albany his ability as a party leader becoming so apparent he was decided upon as the proper person to assume the party leadership against the obnoxious 'Albany Regency,' the great Democratic power in New York State at the time. He accordingly moved to Albany and assumed the editorship of the _Albany Evening Journal_. Weed was one of the men who consolidated the Anti-Jackson, Anti-Mason and old Federal factions into the Whig party. The 'Regency' with which he had to deal consisted of such men as Martin Van Buren, Silas Wright, Willian L.
Marcy and others of equal ability. Such were the men with whom he was pitted, but they soon found him in every way worthy of their steel. No one, when speaking of this great political warrior ever thought or spoke of him as a millionaire. Seemingly no one cared how much he was worth; but what did worry them was,--what will be the outcome of this secret conclave which we now suspect to be in progress at the headquarters of the opposition of the 'Albany Regency.'
He went to battle fearlessly, and his terse pen dealt stinging blows straight in the face of the opponent. Indeed, as an editor he has been rarely equaled. While Greeley would devote a column to an article, he would take the same subject and in a few words put the argument in such shape as to carry far more conviction. His two terms in the State Assembly wound up his career as a legislator, although he could have had any place within the gift of his party from 1830 to 1860. His ambition was not to hold office but to rule men, and it is well-known that his desires were accomplished. He was a great dictator, being largely instrumental as an independent advisor in the selection of Harrison, Taylor and Scott. His first trial of personal strength in this line was when he secured the nomination and election of his personal friend, William H. Seward, as the first Whig Governor of New York. Mr. Seward, who was an unobtrusive man, was one time riding with the driver on a stage when that dignitary asked the stranger his name and business, as was customary when people did not volunteer the information. The answer was, "Why, I'm William H. Seward, Governor of the State." This was too good for the driver, whose answer was a loud laugh, plainly implying that he considered that the gentleman had given a most cute but evasive answer. "Don't you believe me?" asked Seward. "Of course not," replied the driver. Mr. Seward, who was acquainted with the proprietor of the next hotel they came to, agreed to leave it to him. In time they arrived and the driver, calling out the landlord, immediately said, "This man says he is Governor of New York State and we have left the matter to you." "Yes," broke in Seward, "am I not Governor of this State?" The answer came quick and sharp; "No, but Thurlow Weed is." "There,"
exclaimed the ignorant driver, who could not see the point at once; "I knew you weren't Governor of New York State."
In 1864 Mr. Weed sold the _Journal_, but never entirely suspended literary work. He afterward assumed the editorship of the _New York Commercial Advertiser_, and often sent letters to the _Tribune_. In 1882, shortly before his death, the country was set in a flutter by his publishing the whole details relating to the Morgan matter, which he had kept all this time claiming it would injure certain parties, but as the last had died, it was now made public. On November 23rd of the same year one more great journalist passed away. He left a large estate, but a larger host of friends.
GEORGE W. CHILDS.
No one can read the life of George W. Childs without a feeling slowly coming over him that the possibilities of our country are indeed very great. Certain it is that when we see so many examples showing what has been done by poor boys from the farm, we are forced to exclaim that we live in a free country; despite what some say we reiterate, our country is free.
George W. Childs, at the age of ten, became an errand boy in a book-store in Baltimore, and after a period of over a year in the Navy which he served later, he removed to Philadelphia and once more entered a book-store--his natural calling. After four years' apprenticeship, when less than twenty, with his savings he opened a small book-store on his own account.
"Where there's a will there's a way," so believed young Childs. He determined to one day be proprietor of the _Philadelphia Public Ledger_.
"Aim high that you may not strike low,"--how true that adage is. When you see a boy make up his mind to do something; if he makes his actions correspond with his words, you can rest assured that it will be done.
Sickness may come; disappointments will follow, but all must be overcome.
Jerome B. Rice determined to succeed in the seed business, but just as success seemed about to crown his efforts that terrible disease, rheumatism, came and deformed him. He lost the entire use of his lower limbs, but his brain was spared, and his determination was unshaken. An invalid chair was bought, a colored man wheels him every morning to his office door where loving hands gently lift him, chair and all, up the steps of the beautiful building now occupied and owned by Jerome B. Rice & Co. Nearly thirty years have passed and Jerome B. Rice has not taken a step, but during that time, despite all obstacles, the firm of Jerome B.
Rice & Co. has become one of the leading seed-growing concerns of America. Young men with the same chance he had are apt to say, "It's no use." We answer, "Where there's a will there's a way." "To think a thing impossible is to make it so."
George W. Childs determined to own the _Public Ledger_. He determined to own the leading paper of the great city of Philadelphia, and he was a poor boy. Was this presumption? If it was he has proved its practicability. If he was building an air-castle he has since placed a firm foundation under it. He labored hard in this little store of his; he built his own fires; he did his own sweeping,--it was the same old story; he hired done nothing that he could himself do. He made some money--not very fast--but a good average profit, and he saved what he did earn. He mastered the publishing business, and he developed a marked business capacity in that line. A man usually fills the notch for which he is fitted: I was about to say--I will say that he fits himself to the notch which he does fill. Sometime we see men in subordinate positions who apparently are capable of the best, but a careful study reveals a screw loose somewhere; there is a weak point, and invariably that point is the one thing which stands between them and victory. "Neither do men light a candle and put it under a bushel, but on a candle stick, and it giveth light to all that are in the house." So said Christ eighteen hundred years ago; is it not so to-day? As young Childs had ability, and it was apparent, what matter it how old he was or where he came from?
All the world asks is, "What can he do"?
The publishing firm of R. E. Peterson & Co. sought his alliance, and the firm of Childs and Peterson became known far and near. Do our readers call this luck? He now became a successful publisher, and seemingly his cup was running over, so far as this world was concerned, but it will be remembered that years ago he determined to own the _Public Ledger_, provided he lived. He was alive and his purpose still remained. He was waiting and watching. The _Ledger_ was a penny paper--the war broke out--stock went up--the management was weakened by death and other complications, the _Public Ledger_ was losing nearly $500 every time it went to press. The paper, great as it was, was losing $3,000 a week--at the rate of $150,000 a year. Now was Mr. Child's chance. In vain did friends entreat; in vain did wise business men shake their heads; Mr.
Childs felt that his time had come, and he bought the paper, paying for it nearly $150,000. The new proprietor changed things; the paper was made a two cent issue, and into the _Public Ledger_ he now threw his whole soul. "There is a tide in the affairs of men, which taken at the flood leads on to fortune." It is even so; he had purchased the _Ledger_ at the right time.
Not one man in a hundred can successfully edit a newspaper; not one editor in twenty could edit the _Public Ledger_ with success. Yet, Mr.
Childs is one man out of the hundreds--he is the _one_ editor out of that twenty. He determined to publish only the truth; all claim to do that, but Mr. Childs does it. The paper grew, and on the 20th of June, 1867, the _Public Ledger_ took possession of its new building. This new building cost half a million of dollars, and is one of the finest in the city. At its formal opening many of the most distinguished men in the country were present.
Mr. Childs has been largely instrumental in establishing a small city at Wayne Station. He owns a large tract of land which he has divided into building lots of about an acre each. Any one desiring a home can get one by paying one-third down, and he is also furnished plans from which to select his ideal of a home. The houses built from these plans cost from $2,000 to $8,000 each. Mr. Childs and his partner, Mr. Drexel, have expended about $2,000,000 exclusively for beautifying the city.
Years ago Mr. Childs told a gentleman that he meant to prove that a man could be at once liberal and successful as a man of business, and the princely hospitality of this good man has demonstrated, beyond doubt or contradiction, its practicability. Dinners to newsboys and life insurance policies given to the wives of his employes; such acts make up the history of his life. The late Chief Justice of Pennsylvania once said in a speech: "Some men pursue military glory, and spend their time and energies in the subjugation of nations. Caesar and Napoleon may be named as types of this character. But the tears and blood which follow violence and wrong maculate the pages of history on which their glory is recorded. Others erect splendid palaces for kingly residences, and costly temples and edifices for the promotion of education and religion in accordance with their particular views. But views of education and religion change, buildings waste away, and whole cities, like Herculaneum and Pompeii, are buried in the earth. Others again win public regard by the construction of means of communication for the furtherance of commerce. The canals, railroads, and telegraph are glorious specimens of their useful exertion for the public good. But the marts of commerce change. Tyre and Sidon, and Venice are no longer commercial centres. The shores of the Pacific are even now starting in a race against the great commercial emporium of our continent. But Mr.
Childs has planted himself in the human heart, and he will have his habitation there while man shall dwell upon earth. He has laid the foundation of his monument upon universal benevolence. Its superstructure is composed of good and noble deeds. Its spire is the love of God which ascends to Heaven." Such a monument is, indeed,
"A Pyramid so wide and high That Cheops stand in envy by."