"The idea of depicting Vanderbilt as a corsair because he establishes rival lines to successful steamboat companies is not consistent with experience or common sense," argued Harper's Weekly Harper's Weekly, in a direct counterblast to the Times's Times's famous editorial. "It is because competition is free-because it is encouraged in every branch of trade and enterprise-that this country has become rich and prosperous." famous editorial. "It is because competition is free-because it is encouraged in every branch of trade and enterprise-that this country has become rich and prosperous."102 On March 5, 1859, On March 5, 1859, Harpers Harpers published an adulatory profile of the Commodore in which it continued this argument. "It has been much the fashion to regard these contests as attempts on his part to levy black-mail on successful enterprises.... He must be judged by the results; and the results, in every case, of the establishment of opposition lines by Vanderbilt has been the published an adulatory profile of the Commodore in which it continued this argument. "It has been much the fashion to regard these contests as attempts on his part to levy black-mail on successful enterprises.... He must be judged by the results; and the results, in every case, of the establishment of opposition lines by Vanderbilt has been the permanent reduction of fares." permanent reduction of fares." It added, in a much-quoted line, "This great boon-cheap travel-the community owes mainly to Cornelius Vanderbilt." It added, in a much-quoted line, "This great boon-cheap travel-the community owes mainly to Cornelius Vanderbilt."
This defense of the Commodore sounds more logical to the mind-set of later centuries, but it, too, drew upon an earlier generation's political rhetoric-that of Jacksonian Democrats. Harpers Harpers argued that he had championed the fight against the aristocratic elite, against those artificial monsters the Whigs loved so much: "powerful corporations, who enjoyed a monopoly of the traffic, and whose wealth and obvious soullessness were a terror to steamboat men." It praised Vanderbilt, on the other hand, specifically as an argued that he had championed the fight against the aristocratic elite, against those artificial monsters the Whigs loved so much: "powerful corporations, who enjoyed a monopoly of the traffic, and whose wealth and obvious soullessness were a terror to steamboat men." It praised Vanderbilt, on the other hand, specifically as an individual individual, in battle against such devils. "We have heard it said that no man in this country gives employment directly or indirectly to so many persons," the Herald Herald wrote. "He began life by working to live, he now lives to work." wrote. "He began life by working to live, he now lives to work."103 The truth is that neither Andrew Jackson nor Daniel Webster, nor anyone else who had helped to create the Democratic and Whig parties, had imagined a man like Vanderbilt. Few previously had accumulated so much wealth, in either absolute or relative terms; and there was probably no one who had ever possessed such sway over public affairs-over the survival of a railroad, or a government, or over the great corridor to California. Nor did he exist in some kind of polar opposition with corporations and monopolies. By 1859, he operated almost entirely through corporations; he proved himself an expert at using the stock market to concentrate capital or avenge himself on his enemies, and emerged as a master of corporate structure. He saw the corporation as just another type of business organization. For many old Whigs and Democrats, on the other hand, the corporation remained a political animal. Whigs had approved of it as a means of harnessing private enterprise for the public good; since corporations remained few in number, they may not have imagined that they one day would become commonplace. On the other side, Democrats who praised Vanderbilt's competition failed to grasp that he was using the corporate form to create enterprises on an unprecedented scale, gaining control over vast channels of commerce. He represented a new creature on the American scene, and political language and logic had not yet come to terms with him.
Vanderbilt was clearly an unsurpassed competitor, and the good he thereby wrought was well described by Harper's Weekly Harper's Weekly. He was a fighter by nature, a cunning and proud warrior. He always felt that he could take care of himself, under any circumstances. He seems to have believed the Jacksonian rhetoric he so often repeated, a creed of laissez-faire individualism, a vision of a world in which any man might get ahead by his natural gifts rather than government favors. And yet, in pursuing his private interests wherever they took him, he felt no obligation to act in the public interest; when competition had served its purpose, he freely sold out or constructed new monopolies. As he operated on a vast new scale, he brought to a head the contradiction inherent in the private ownership of public works-a paradox that would grow starker when he moved from steamships into railroads in the climactic phase of his life.
Raymond's attack on Vanderbilt, for all its incoherence, spoke to a budding sense that this increasing concentration of wealth and power in the hands of one man posed a challenge to democratic, egalitarian society. Unions could not restrain Vanderbilt from slashing wages and firing strikers; no federal or state laws prohibited his inside trading on Wall Street; few taxes touched his wealth; no regulatory agencies examined his vast affairs or rendered them transparent. It is true that Vanderbilt created tremendous wealth in this environment; it is also true that the limited government deliberately crafted by the Jacksonians-staffed by political appointees, without any kind of professional civil service-lacked the means to check any abuse of his power. And his power would grow dramatically in the next decade and a half. But before Vanderbilt died, a new political matrix would begin to emerge.104 So much for the meaning; but there remains the man himself. In December 1859, a fierce Atlantic storm smashed the Ariel Ariel, threatening it with destruction. Its captain, a man named Ludlow, went out on deck to direct the construction of a drag, or emergency sea anchor, to save the ship. "A tremendous sea broke upon her forward deck," the Times Times reported. Ten feet of water swept over Ludlow, and "the heavy drag, composed of plank and timbers, struck him on the side." He lived long enough to gasp, "Tell the Commodore I died at the post of duty." reported. Ten feet of water swept over Ludlow, and "the heavy drag, composed of plank and timbers, struck him on the side." He lived long enough to gasp, "Tell the Commodore I died at the post of duty."105 Those words deserve to be the last about the Commodore as commodore. They call to mind Tolstoy's observation in The Sebastopol Sketches The Sebastopol Sketches, a soldier's view of the Crimean War. Discipline and obedience, he wrote, ultimately depend upon "the subordinate's recognition that those placed in authority over him are possessed of a higher degree of experience, military prowess, or-not to beat around the bush-moral development."106 But a superior who lacks real ability-or character-draws only scorn. In a quasi-military (or, more properly, quasi-naval) culture such as that of the merchant marine, a commander need not be sweet-tempered to be admired; rather, he had to be skilled, knowledgeable, fair, and preferably tough. But a superior who lacks real ability-or character-draws only scorn. In a quasi-military (or, more properly, quasi-naval) culture such as that of the merchant marine, a commander need not be sweet-tempered to be admired; rather, he had to be skilled, knowledgeable, fair, and preferably tough.
Beyond all analysis of Vanderbilt's historical role, it is worth remembering that men willingly followed this difficult, profane titan, even at the risk of their own lives. It was not because he was generous or kind, but because he was a man of genuine prowess. No one, they knew, understood steamships better; no one, they knew, was more willing to face personal danger; no one, they knew, was truer to his word. Vanderbilt was many things, not all of them admirable, but he was never a phony. Hated, revered, resented, he always commanded respect, even from his enemies.
* A Basque name, Yrisarri is also spelled with an initial I in Castillian Spanish. I am following the most common contemporary spelling, which followed the Basque custom. A Basque name, Yrisarri is also spelled with an initial I in Castillian Spanish. I am following the most common contemporary spelling, which followed the Basque custom.
Chapter Thirteen.
WAR.
They came to tell his secrets. Starting at the appointed hour of two o'clock in the afternoon on November 12, 1877, dozens of witnesses took the stand, one by one, week after week, in that courtroom in lower Manhattan. They included friends and relatives of the deceased Commodore, of course, as well as businessmen and acquaintances. But many of the men and women who took the stand were mediums, magnetic healers, and outright confidence artists. They told tales of seances, outbursts, and high emotion-and attorney Scott Lord tried to introduce even more, as he sought to undermine the last will and testament of Cornelius Vanderbilt. It was a burlesque parade of the marginal and untrustworthy (including one woman who had shot a druggist in Baltimore),1 whose stories left a nearly ineffaceable imprint on Vanderbilt's image. whose stories left a nearly ineffaceable imprint on Vanderbilt's image.
Most of the witnesses spoke of the Commodore's last years-years of triumph and of loss, years when he outlived so many of his contemporaries, years when he accumulated his greatest achievements. The testimony that best illuminated his final decade and a half, though, came on the first two days of the trial; and it was spoken not by a medium or mesmerist, but by Daniel B. Allen. He had managed the Commodore's businesses from the 1830s onward, tending to bills, organizing corporations, and relaying messages to presidents in Nicaragua and the White House. He was elderly now, and dignified. "A gentleman with silvery white hair and iron gray moustache," the New York Times New York Times described him; "a man who would be noticeable in any assemblage." described him; "a man who would be noticeable in any assemblage."2 As he looked out from the witness box at the high, inlaid ceiling, the fluted columns, the bearded faces of the attorneys, he named two years that defined the ultimate phase of Vanderbilt's life: 1864 and 1873. They marked the end of Allen's ties to the Commodore-first of their business, then of their personal relationship. Those two years also defined Vanderbilt's historical role and overarching significance.
The first was a year of transformation, the second of crisis. In 1864, at the age of seventy, Vanderbilt abandoned his lifelong career in shipping as he amassed a railroad realm. Nine years later, he faced the Panic of 1873, an economic cataclysm that forced him to call up all his aged strength and ingenuity to protect what he had built. How he handled these two moments defined his legacy. In the end, he would not only build an empire, he would found a dynasty And his family would never be whole again.
OUTSIDE, THE MASSES WERE MARCHING. Inside, the Commodore mourned.
On the evening of November 2, 1860, a procession of young men advanced on Union Square. They carried torches, waved lanterns, and fired rockets and Roman candles into the night sky. They were Wide Awakes, members of Republican Party clubs that marched in towns across the North as the presidential election approached. As the parade approached the New York Hotel on Broadway, Southern guests gathered on the sidewalk to hiss and make catcalls; across the street, cheers echoed from the Lincoln campaign headquarters. "The din was deafening," an observer remarked.3 That single scene captured the times: a panorama of mobilization and mutual hostility lit by fire. Everyone remarked on the gathering crisis, except when it seemed to require no comment at all. The Republicans had nominated the Illinois railroad lawyer Abraham Lincoln on a platform of firm opposition to any spread of slavery. The Democrats had splintered. The round-faced and wide-eyed Horace F. Clark stood by his friend, Senator Stephen A. Douglas, who infuriated Southern "fire-eaters" with his insistence on the right of settlers in Kansas to reject slavery; Douglas was nominated by a largely Northern fragment of the Democratic Party. Border-state Whigs and moderate Democrats had created the pro-slavery-yet-Unionist Constitutional Union Party running John Bell for president. The fire-eaters demanded the right to carry slaves into any federal territory; they nominated John C. Breckinridge, who ran on less a platform than an ultimatum. His supporters warned that the South would secede if Lincoln won; as Senator Robert Toombs of Georgia declared, they would "never permit this Federal government to pass into the traitorous hands of the Black Republican party." But Northern resolve arose in turn, as seen by the torch-waving Wide Awakes.4 Away from conventions and parades, inside the four-story brick mansion with brownstone trim at 10 Washington Place, Cornelius Vanderbilt was up to date about the irrepressible conflict. The crisis posed serious questions for the future of his shipping lines between New York and New Orleans, Havana, and Aspinwall. But never far from the front of his mind was a sense of mourning, a sense of loss. It had been six years-nearly seven-since his mother had died on January 22, 1854.5 Even for the steely Commodore, the pain endured. Even for the steely Commodore, the pain endured.
"That irreparable change a death makes in the course of our daily thoughts can be felt in a vague and poignant discomfort of mind," Joseph Conrad writes.6 This modest observation aptly describes Vanderbilt's response to the passing of the eighty-seven-year-old Phebe. Unquestionably he always had revered her, as shown by the rockets he fired in tribute from the This modest observation aptly describes Vanderbilt's response to the passing of the eighty-seven-year-old Phebe. Unquestionably he always had revered her, as shown by the rockets he fired in tribute from the North Star North Star in 1853. But after her death a vague and poignant discomfort compounded in his mind like interest on a debt, piling up year after year, until his love publicly manifested itself as it rarely had during her lifetime. Writers who interviewed him began to note his adoration of the flinty old woman who had educated him in the ways of the market. Over a meal in the dining room at 10 Washington Place, Vanderbilt would tell of how, back around 1820, he had invited his mother aboard the first steamboat he had built and owned entirely on his own. "I escorted her aboard and showed her the gay decks and the engine, and the galley," he would recall. "I was mighty proud of her, I tell you!" (Meaning the boat, not his mother.) Then he took her down to the saloon for a celebratory banquet. "Cornele," she snapped, "where the devil did you git this dinner?" Even amid the grandeur of his very own steamboat, the food had struck her as an extravagant waste of money in 1853. But after her death a vague and poignant discomfort compounded in his mind like interest on a debt, piling up year after year, until his love publicly manifested itself as it rarely had during her lifetime. Writers who interviewed him began to note his adoration of the flinty old woman who had educated him in the ways of the market. Over a meal in the dining room at 10 Washington Place, Vanderbilt would tell of how, back around 1820, he had invited his mother aboard the first steamboat he had built and owned entirely on his own. "I escorted her aboard and showed her the gay decks and the engine, and the galley," he would recall. "I was mighty proud of her, I tell you!" (Meaning the boat, not his mother.) Then he took her down to the saloon for a celebratory banquet. "Cornele," she snapped, "where the devil did you git this dinner?" Even amid the grandeur of his very own steamboat, the food had struck her as an extravagant waste of money7 Conrad also notes, "Action is consolatory.... Only in the conduct of our action can we find a sense of mastery over the Fates."8 Perhaps it is not surprising, then, that the long-bereaved Vanderbilt-with all his battles seemingly won, with virtual ownership of the America's sea lanes to Panama and Europe-should undertake a project that took him back to Staten Island. Both his brother Jacob and his son William had taken an interest in the thirteen-mile Staten Island Railroad, in which Billy served as treasurer. "They had very bad accommodations to get to it," Vanderbilt testified in 1861. "I said I would build a ferry.... It was a kind of hobby of mine." Perhaps it is not surprising, then, that the long-bereaved Vanderbilt-with all his battles seemingly won, with virtual ownership of the America's sea lanes to Panama and Europe-should undertake a project that took him back to Staten Island. Both his brother Jacob and his son William had taken an interest in the thirteen-mile Staten Island Railroad, in which Billy served as treasurer. "They had very bad accommodations to get to it," Vanderbilt testified in 1861. "I said I would build a ferry.... It was a kind of hobby of mine."
A hobby to the Commodore, of course, would have been a major investment to most other men. On June 1, 1860, he began construction at the Simonson shipyard of two new boats to connect with the railroad: the Clifton Clifton and the and the Westfield Westfield, costing roughly $90,000 apiece. By the end of the year he had them running from Whitehall Slip to a new railhead at Vanderbilt's Landing; soon he added a third boat, the Southfield Southfield. "They cost me an immense sight of money," Vanderbilt noted. "They run along and did very well; but I never made any money out of them.... The boats I built as a matter of pride."9 It was an inward turn of mind, this hobby of Vanderbilt's, for a man of transoceanic, transcontinental enterprises. It was, perhaps, the turn of a sixty-six-year-old mind increasingly attuned to family and home, to the places of birth and death. But the crisis enveloping the world around him would penetrate even here.
ON NOVEMBER 7, 1860, the New York Herald New York Herald announced, " announced, "END OF THE GREAT NATIONAL CONTEST." Abraham Lincoln was elected by a plurality of the popular vote, though without a single ballot from the South in the electoral college. Of course, the great national contest had only begun. Immediately the slave states began to convene special conventions to consider the question of departing from the Union. South Carolina voted to secede on December 20, followed by Mississippi on January 9, 1861, followed in rapid succession by Florida, Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana, and Texas. On February 4, delegates gathered for a constitutional convention at Montgomery, Alabama, in order to form the Confederate States of America.10 Lincoln would not take the oath of office until March 4. In the meantime, attempts to hold the Union together centered in the outgoing Congress and, to a considerable extent, in the ranks of the great merchants of New York. On both counts Vanderbilt found the storm swirling around him. Horace F. Clark (who had not stood for reelection) argued for a constitutional amendment to protect slavery, "to bribe the slaveholders to remain" in the Union, as the Chicago Tribune Chicago Tribune scornfully remarked. scornfully remarked.11 On January 7, 1861, Mayor Fernando Wood (who had returned to office after organizing Mozart Hall as a rival organization to Tammany) proposed that, if the South seceded, New York should too, and stand as a free city. No one of note supported him, but the very idea demonstrated how closely the city's economy was tied to the cotton trade, and why so many of its merchants and financiers fought for a compromise. In December, a group led by August Belmont, William Astor, William Aspinwall, Moses Grinnell, Hamilton Fish, and Richard Blatchford had gone to Washington to plead for appeasement. At the end of January, Aspinwall led another elite group to the capital, bearing a petition with thousands of merchants' signatures, asking that the South be placated. "We fear," Mayor Wood admitted, "that if the Union dies, the present supremacy of New York may perish with it." On January 7, 1861, Mayor Fernando Wood (who had returned to office after organizing Mozart Hall as a rival organization to Tammany) proposed that, if the South seceded, New York should too, and stand as a free city. No one of note supported him, but the very idea demonstrated how closely the city's economy was tied to the cotton trade, and why so many of its merchants and financiers fought for a compromise. In December, a group led by August Belmont, William Astor, William Aspinwall, Moses Grinnell, Hamilton Fish, and Richard Blatchford had gone to Washington to plead for appeasement. At the end of January, Aspinwall led another elite group to the capital, bearing a petition with thousands of merchants' signatures, asking that the South be placated. "We fear," Mayor Wood admitted, "that if the Union dies, the present supremacy of New York may perish with it."12 The division of the republic proceeded inexorably; but the question of whether it would result in war centered on Fort Sumter, a federal post on an island in Charleston Harbor. The South Carolinians wanted it. Soon after the new year, the aged General in Chief Winfield Scott dispatched men and supplies from New York to reinforce the slender garrison. The ship he chartered for the job was Vanderbilt's old Star of the West Star of the West. On January 9, the rebels opened fire on the steamer and drove it out of the harbor. On March 4, Lincoln delivered his inaugural address, appealing to the "mystic chords of memory stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone." The next day he learned that Fort Sumter had barely six weeks before its besieged men would run out of supplies.
General Scott and many in the cabinet argued that Lincoln should withdraw the garrison. Instead, the president decided to resupply the fort, but without blasting his way into Charleston. So far, no shots had been fired at Sumter; some border states still wavered between Union and secession. Lincoln wanted to force the Confederates to fight for the fort, but to place the onus of starting hostilities squarely on them.13 On April 5, New Yorkers observed an extraordinary bustle in the army and navy facilities around the harbor as the resupply expedition set sail. A week later, newsboys poured into the evening streets, crying, "Extra-a Herald! Herald! Got the bombardment Got the bombardment of Fort Sumter!" of Fort Sumter!" Walt Whitman, George Templeton Strong, and countless others anxiously read the freshly printed sheets in the glare of corner gaslights. War had begun. Walt Whitman, George Templeton Strong, and countless others anxiously read the freshly printed sheets in the glare of corner gaslights. War had begun.14 War deserves its reputation as the most serious event in national life. It is a grimly wasteful enterprise: the expenditure of resources on materiel that can only destroy, not create, wealth; the termination of lives, usually of young men, at the moment of their greatest energy and potential; the gradual, bitter realization that, as Wellington famously declared, the only thing worse than a battle won is a battle lost. But the Civil War was more extraordinary than most, and more horrible. It brought to a head decades of animosity that had grown into suspicion and flowered into paranoia. Perhaps most important, it was a war for national survival. For the people of the North, the republic they loved had been torn in two. When Virginia joined the Confederacy (along with North Carolina, Tennessee, and Arkansas), the enemy stood across a river from Washington, D.C. Seemingly as one, Northerners decided this could not stand.
On April 15, the day after Fort Sumter was forced to surrender, Lincoln called 75,000 state militiamen into national service to suppress the rebellion. It soon became clear that he would get many more. In New York, once the scene of so much sentiment for compromise, a patriotic frenzy seized the people. Recruiting offices opened, tents popped up at the Battery, rough wooden barracks rose in Central and City Hall parks. "The city seems to have gone suddenly wild and crazy," one man wrote. On April 20, platoons of recruits practiced marching up and down Broadway to the cheers of onlookers, under flags that hung from almost every building. Some 250,000 citizens packed Union Square for a rally. On Staten Island, Jacob and William Vanderbilt helped organize a mass Union meeting where Horace Clark spoke.15 But the seriousness of the crisis could not be denied. A panic seized Wall Street as stocks fell, banks called in loans, and depositors withdrew money and hoarded gold. "I believe my assets to be reduced fifty per cent, at least," Strong wrote in his diary. "But I hope I can still provide wholesome training for my three boys. With that patrimony they can fight out the battle of life for themselves."16 Soon the battle of life would seize Vanderbilt's own sons in ways that he could not have predicted in April 1861. For the time being, he had to attend in person to the battle with the Confederacy. Curiously, William C. Jewett (Cornelius Garrison's son-in-law) wrote to Vanderbilt about a "report you are disposed to aid the South."17 Quite the opposite was true-but purely selfish interests, not patriotism, first propelled him into wartime affairs. After consulting with William Aspinwall, Vanderbilt wrote to Secretary of the Navy Gideon Welles on April 16, under the letterhead of the Atlantic & Pacific Steamship Company, 177 West Street. "The shippers of specie by our line," he observed, "are apprehensive that our steamers may be seized or robbed on their voyage from Aspwinall to New York, unless some special provision be made for their safety." Vanderbilt wanted the government to equip each of the company's ships with a cannon, along with one hundred rifles. "These arms, in the hands of passengers such as ordinarily travel over this route, will be a sufficient protection against any pirate or privateer," he wrote, thinking perhaps of the hardened Californians who had gone straight from the gold fields to Walker's army. Quite the opposite was true-but purely selfish interests, not patriotism, first propelled him into wartime affairs. After consulting with William Aspinwall, Vanderbilt wrote to Secretary of the Navy Gideon Welles on April 16, under the letterhead of the Atlantic & Pacific Steamship Company, 177 West Street. "The shippers of specie by our line," he observed, "are apprehensive that our steamers may be seized or robbed on their voyage from Aspwinall to New York, unless some special provision be made for their safety." Vanderbilt wanted the government to equip each of the company's ships with a cannon, along with one hundred rifles. "These arms, in the hands of passengers such as ordinarily travel over this route, will be a sufficient protection against any pirate or privateer," he wrote, thinking perhaps of the hardened Californians who had gone straight from the gold fields to Walker's army.
His concern was well founded. The next day, a group of New York's merchants and bankers begged Treasury Secretary Salmon P. Chase to place guns on Vanderbilt's ships, noting that they carried "$40,000,000 of gold annually from San Francisco to this port.... The capture of even one of these steamers," they argued, "would stop shipments of gold from San Francisco, or at any rate divert the flow of treasure from New York to foreign countries."
The Commodore's quick response to the crisis prevented the capture of one ship, the Daniel Webster; Daniel Webster; he diverted it from its voyage to New Orleans, where the rebels had planned to seize it on April 22. But the danger remained. On April 17, Confederate president Jefferson Davis authorized Southern privateers to attack Northern merchantmen. In June, Captain Raphael Semmes escaped the blockade of Southern ports in the CSS he diverted it from its voyage to New Orleans, where the rebels had planned to seize it on April 22. But the danger remained. On April 17, Confederate president Jefferson Davis authorized Southern privateers to attack Northern merchantmen. In June, Captain Raphael Semmes escaped the blockade of Southern ports in the CSS Sumter Sumter, the first Confederate commerce raider. It would not be the last. Indeed, Semmes would become a personal problem for Cornelius Vanderbilt.18 Meanwhile, New York's wealthy men took in hand the problem of mobilization. Before the end of April, they organized the Union Defense Committee, with an office at 30 Pine Street. The members comprised a roster of the city's patriarchs: John J. Astor, Moses Taylor, Moses H. Grinnell, Alexander T. Stewart, Samuel Sloan, William E. Dodge, and nineteen others, of both parties. They raised regiments of volunteers; purchased arms, uniforms, and supplies; issued passes for travel to Washington; and generally assumed governmental functions.19 To a great extent, this was inevitable. The limited government inherited by Lincoln's administration lacked the financing, the manpower, even the organizational capacity to undertake a major war. The federal budget for 1860 had amounted to just $63 million. (The annual figure would grow to more than $1 billion by the end of the war.) Only sixteen thousand men filled the regular army, and they were dispersed across the western frontier. The navy floated just forty-two ships, not all of them ready for service. Though the army boasted some highly professional quartermasters, they had never dealt with the demands now imposed on them; as James McPherson writes, "The War Department slumbered in ancient bureaucratic routine." States and private citizens had had to assume responsibilities ordinarily reserved for the national government. to assume responsibilities ordinarily reserved for the national government.20 Vanderbilt did not join the Union Defense Committee. He never joined civic organizations or loaned his name to charitable bodies. In part, he hated the formality of the proceedings; in part, he was too proud to be a rank-and-file volunteer. "When the rebellion broke out in 1861 and Mr. Vanderbilt was waited upon by Moses Taylor to take some government bonds," Lambert Wardell recalled, "he declined to do so, but later on was a large purchaser of the bonds, purely from the standpoint of speculation. It is believed that had the idea originated with him he would have taken the bonds in the first instance, but he was averse to playing second fiddle to Mr. Taylor."21 And yet, his patriotism remained as real and deep as on the day when he had driven Lafayette through the streets of New Brunswick. His opportunity to serve came as the Union prepared amphibious expeditions against the Southern coast. But he grew dissatisfied-even angry-as the War Department and navy began to charter his ships. "The moment a man comes to New York he is surrounded by a lot of thieves all the time, and in every shape and direction," Vanderbilt told a committee of the House of Representatives later that year. Ship brokers swarmed around the federal officials in charge of the charters, inserting themselves as middlemen for either the government or the private owners.
"I am to give a man, one of these outside thieves," Vanderbilt stated increduously "two and a half percent commission on that charter."22 The idea offended both his patriotism and his sense of commercial justice-but he had a solution. On April 20, he wrote to Navy Secretary Welles, "I feel a great desire that the government should have the steamer The idea offended both his patriotism and his sense of commercial justice-but he had a solution. On April 20, he wrote to Navy Secretary Welles, "I feel a great desire that the government should have the steamer Vanderbilt Vanderbilt, as she is acknowledged to be as fine a ship as floats the ocean, and, in consequence of her great speed and capacity, that, with a proper armament, she would be of more efficient service in keeping our coast clear of piratical vessels than any other ship." He suggested that the sale price be determined by any three men with the rank of commodore (still the highest in the navy), recommending the eminent Robert Stockton as one of them. "If this will not answer," he added, "will the government accept her as a present from their humble servant?" In addition, he offered to sell the Ocean Queen Ocean Queen, the Ariel Ariel, the Champion Champion, and the Daniel Webster Daniel Webster on the same terms. on the same terms.23 "There is no such water craft afloat, and I know it," Vanderbilt later testified before Congress, speaking of the Vanderbilt Vanderbilt. "But he [Welles] would not hear it, and did not answer my letter." Instead, Welles wrote a note on May 2 to Captain Samuel L. Breese, commandant of the Brooklyn Navy Yard, saying he did not want the Vanderbilt Vanderbilt. "The complement originally ordered is full," he stated, and the great steamer was "of a larger and more expensive description than the service is supposed to require."24 Why turn down a gift-the most "princely and munificent" ever offered by an individual to the government, in the words of the New York Herald? New York Herald? Perhaps Welles expected the war to end soon, as many did, and did not want to be left with an unnecessarily large and expensive-to-run ship. The secretary was also a man with a great deal of pride. The idea that his fleet needed Vanderbilt's help may have insulted him. Perhaps most important, there was tension between the War Department and the navy. Much of the chartering of merchant ships was not conducted by naval personnel; and Welles seems to have viewed all transactions with commercial men with a bit of cynical distaste. Perhaps Welles expected the war to end soon, as many did, and did not want to be left with an unnecessarily large and expensive-to-run ship. The secretary was also a man with a great deal of pride. The idea that his fleet needed Vanderbilt's help may have insulted him. Perhaps most important, there was tension between the War Department and the navy. Much of the chartering of merchant ships was not conducted by naval personnel; and Welles seems to have viewed all transactions with commercial men with a bit of cynical distaste.
So the Vanderbilt Vanderbilt would would not not be "at the head of the navy, where she ought to be," as its owner believed. Instead, it would be chartered as a mere transport, along with most of the sidewheelers run by the Atlantic & Pacific Steamship Company, as the "outside thieves" collected their 2.5 percent and drove up the price. Vanderbilt received $2,000 a day for his great ship; in the end, the federal government would pay him a total of $303,589.10 for the use of that vessel alone-approximately one-third of its original cost. Yet even this fee was not as unreasonable as it might seem. Vanderbilt paid all costs of operation, which could amount to $600 a day under ordinary circumstances, and bore all risks except for actual combat; the peculiar demands of wartime operations could raise that operating cost far higher. (Boiler fires had to be kept burning at all times, for example, to allow for a quick escape or to avoid collision in a dense fleet.) The charge of extortionate pricing would prove persistent, but it was not well founded. In any case, he never wanted to charter his steamers in the first place. "The fact is, I would rather sell every ship I have," he testified. "I, myself, am not a fair criterion for other men. I would rather sell my ships than let them remain in the government employ until they earn their whole value and then have the ships and the money too." be "at the head of the navy, where she ought to be," as its owner believed. Instead, it would be chartered as a mere transport, along with most of the sidewheelers run by the Atlantic & Pacific Steamship Company, as the "outside thieves" collected their 2.5 percent and drove up the price. Vanderbilt received $2,000 a day for his great ship; in the end, the federal government would pay him a total of $303,589.10 for the use of that vessel alone-approximately one-third of its original cost. Yet even this fee was not as unreasonable as it might seem. Vanderbilt paid all costs of operation, which could amount to $600 a day under ordinary circumstances, and bore all risks except for actual combat; the peculiar demands of wartime operations could raise that operating cost far higher. (Boiler fires had to be kept burning at all times, for example, to allow for a quick escape or to avoid collision in a dense fleet.) The charge of extortionate pricing would prove persistent, but it was not well founded. In any case, he never wanted to charter his steamers in the first place. "The fact is, I would rather sell every ship I have," he testified. "I, myself, am not a fair criterion for other men. I would rather sell my ships than let them remain in the government employ until they earn their whole value and then have the ships and the money too."
He did finally sell two boats to the navy in 1861-two boats he did not want to let go: the Clifton Clifton and the and the Westfield Westfield, of the Staten Island Railroad ferry, for $90,000 each. The navy's agent was George D. Morgan, cousin to Governor Edwin D. Morgan of New York and brother-in-law to Gideon Welles-who took his 2.5 percent. As Vanderbilt wisely observed, New York had thieves in every shape and direction.25 WAR BROUGHT George Washington Vanderbilt home. George Washington Vanderbilt home.
On July 1, 1860, he had graduated from West Point after the standard five years. (George Custer graduated in 1861 in the first four-year class.) The regular army was stingy with promotions-so stingy that it did not even grant him the rank of second lieutenant, the very lowest for commissioned officers. Instead, it named him brevet (honorary) second lieutenant. He was dispatched to Fort Dalles in Oregon, where there recently had been hostilities with Indians. He had arrived on December 4, 1860, only to be recalled on January 28. Posted to Fort Columbus on Governors Island, he finally received the full rank of second lieutenant in the 10th Infantry Regiment on February 27, 1861. With the outbreak of war, the army assigned him to the unglamorous task of training the recruits who signed up by the thousands.26 Of the Commodore's three sons, George remains the most mysterious. William was dutiful, diligent, and dull, the colorless farmer and manager whose profile steadily rose higher without ever seeming any larger. Corneil flared fitfully into public view, with his epileptic fits, episodic gambling, and artful begging from prominent men. But George exists in the historical record as little more than a shadow, defined largely in contrast to his brothers. He was brave and strong and manly, legend tells us, the pride of a father who wanted so much to have a Vanderbilt to be proud of. This comes to us as more an impression than even an anecdote, but perhaps it is true; William named a son after his brother, after all. But hidden by the warm glow of the honored memory of a Civil War veteran is lurking disappointment.
For one thing, George seems to have struggled at the Military Academy, where he graduated thirty-ninth out of forty-one, only one step above his lowest point. Custer, of course, graduated last in his class and still went on to fame in the war. But the two Georges had different fates. Hardly had the hostilities begun than the Commodore's son found himself standing before a court-martial. On the afternoon of May 16, he had disappeared from his training duties at Fort Columbus. He had returned the next day without explanation. At his trial on May 29, he made no defense, and was sentenced to one month of confinement to the fort, after which he returned to duty.
The conviction seems to have marked him. Though it is always difficult to understand why a military bureaucracy treats any individual the way it does, the army shunted him aside, despite its need for every regular army officer it could find, as it created hundreds of new regiments of U.S. Volunteers (temporary units for the duration of the war). Men such as Ulysses S. Grant and William T. Sherman, West Pointers who had retired after rising no higher than captain or lieutenant, returned to service and rapidly became generals. But the army sent George to Boston. There, on September 1, he took charge of the recruiting station, replacing an officer who was given command of his own regiment. It appeared that if the Vanderbilts were to gain any glory in the Civil War, the aged Commodore would have to win it for himself.27 IT HAD BEEN A YEAR of defeat upon defeat. Bull Run, Wilson's Creek, Ball's Bluff, and Lexington, Missouri: such was the legacy that Edwin M. Stanton inherited when he took office as secretary of war in January 1862. Overbearing, incisive, and fiercely honest, this former U.S. attorney general brought a determination to reform a department demoralized by the inefficiency and corruption that had prevailed under his predecessor, Simon Cameron. "Stanton impresses me and everybody else most favorably," wrote Strong. That ubiquitous observer met Stanton in Washington on January 29. "Not handsome, but on the contrary, rather pig-faced. At lowest estimate, worth a wagon load of Camerons. Intelligent, prompt, clear-headed, fluent without wordiness, and above all, earnest." of defeat upon defeat. Bull Run, Wilson's Creek, Ball's Bluff, and Lexington, Missouri: such was the legacy that Edwin M. Stanton inherited when he took office as secretary of war in January 1862. Overbearing, incisive, and fiercely honest, this former U.S. attorney general brought a determination to reform a department demoralized by the inefficiency and corruption that had prevailed under his predecessor, Simon Cameron. "Stanton impresses me and everybody else most favorably," wrote Strong. That ubiquitous observer met Stanton in Washington on January 29. "Not handsome, but on the contrary, rather pig-faced. At lowest estimate, worth a wagon load of Camerons. Intelligent, prompt, clear-headed, fluent without wordiness, and above all, earnest."28 As his secretaryship began, Stanton could count a rising number of victories and advantages. Even before he came into office, amphibious expeditions had captured key fortifications along the Southern coastline. In February, General Ulysses S. Grant won rousing twin victories at forts Henry and Donelson in Tennessee. And General George B. McClellan now commanded the Army of the Potomac, which he organized, trained, and equipped superbly. McClellan planned a new offensive against the Confederate capital, Richmond, Virginia. He would land his army at Fortress Monroe, at the tip of the peninsula that extended east from Richmond between the York and James rivers. From Monroe (still in federal hands), he would strike west. In March, swarms of men loaded dozens of ships with arms and supplies as the great expedition prepared for departure.
On March 8, it seemed that the Confederates would stop McClellan's Peninsula Campaign before it could begin-indeed, that they would annihilate Union maritime power at will. That day, a strange craft steamed out of Norfolk harbor at the creeping speed of about four knots. It resembled a turtle or, as someone at the time described it, the roof of a submerged barn. It was the salvaged hull of the Merrimack Merrimack, a U.S. frigate scuttled at the Norfolk naval yard that the Confederates had salvaged, covered in iron plate, and renamed the CSS Virginia Virginia. (The Union persisted in calling it the Merrimack.) Merrimack.) It steamed straight for the Union blockade squadron at Hampton Roads, the waters at the mouth of the James River, where it sank two ships. A third, the It steamed straight for the Union blockade squadron at Hampton Roads, the waters at the mouth of the James River, where it sank two ships. A third, the Minnesota Minnesota, ran aground in shallows where the deep-draft Virginia Virginia could not go with its deadly ram. During the fight, solid shot ricocheted off its armor shell. The could not go with its deadly ram. During the fight, solid shot ricocheted off its armor shell. The Virginia Virginia suffered internal damage, but outwardly it seemed invincible. suffered internal damage, but outwardly it seemed invincible.29 "Stanton was the most frightened man that I ever saw," Gideon Welles afterward reflected in his diary. When news arrived of the Virginia's Virginia's rampage, "I called at once on the President, who had sent for me," he wrote a few years later. "Several members of the Cabinet soon gathered. Stanton was already there, and there was general excitement and alarm." The secretary of war, he recalled, "was almost frantic.... The rampage, "I called at once on the President, who had sent for me," he wrote a few years later. "Several members of the Cabinet soon gathered. Stanton was already there, and there was general excitement and alarm." The secretary of war, he recalled, "was almost frantic.... The Merrimac Merrimac, *1 *1 he said, would destroy every vessel in the service, could lay every city on the coast under contribution, could take Fortress Monroe-McClellan's mistaken purpose to advance by the Peninsula must be abandoned." Both Lincoln and Stanton, he added, "went repeatedly to the window and looked down the Potomac-the view being uninterrupted for miles-to see if the he said, would destroy every vessel in the service, could lay every city on the coast under contribution, could take Fortress Monroe-McClellan's mistaken purpose to advance by the Peninsula must be abandoned." Both Lincoln and Stanton, he added, "went repeatedly to the window and looked down the Potomac-the view being uninterrupted for miles-to see if the Merrimac Merrimac was not coming to Washington." was not coming to Washington."
Welles's spies had followed the progress of the Merrimack Merrimack turned turned Virginia Virginia all along. In fact, the navy secretary had multiple ironclads of his own under construction; one had just been completed in New York, and it departed immediately for Hampton Roads. It was a small, raft-like craft with a revolutionary rotating turret that mounted two guns. It was called the all along. In fact, the navy secretary had multiple ironclads of his own under construction; one had just been completed in New York, and it departed immediately for Hampton Roads. It was a small, raft-like craft with a revolutionary rotating turret that mounted two guns. It was called the Monitor Monitor. On March 9, it battled the Virginia Virginia to a standstill. to a standstill.30 So ends one of the set-piece stories of the Civil War: the historic first clash of ironclads, the tale of the Monitor Monitor steaming onto the scene just in time to prevent the complete destruction of the Union fleet. Certainly that was the story that set itself firmly in the memory of Welles, who felt a deep antipathy toward Stanton. But history went on after the indecisive battle of March 9. The steaming onto the scene just in time to prevent the complete destruction of the Union fleet. Certainly that was the story that set itself firmly in the memory of Welles, who felt a deep antipathy toward Stanton. But history went on after the indecisive battle of March 9. The Monitor Monitor had not defeated the had not defeated the Virginia; Virginia; it had merely stood off the enemy. The rebel ironclad still lurked. If the it had merely stood off the enemy. The rebel ironclad still lurked. If the Monitor Monitor simply suffered a breakdown-a commonplace occurrence in a newly launched ship-then nothing could stand in the simply suffered a breakdown-a commonplace occurrence in a newly launched ship-then nothing could stand in the Virginia's Virginia's way. way.
On March 14, five days after the clash between the two armored vessels, General John E. Wool, commander of Fortress Monroe, sent a frightened telegram to Stanton, arguing that the Virginia Virginia might "overcome the might "overcome the Monitor Monitor." The next day, Stanton had an aide telegraph Vanderbilt in turn: "The Secretary of War directs me to ask you for what sum you will contract to destroy the Merrimac Merrimac or prevent her from coming out from Norfolk-you to sink or destroy her if she gets out? Answer by telegraph, as there is no time to be lost." or prevent her from coming out from Norfolk-you to sink or destroy her if she gets out? Answer by telegraph, as there is no time to be lost."31 Welles later mocked Stanton's anxiety. "He had no faith in the Navy officers nor me, nor anyone else," he wrote long afterward, "but he knew Vanderbilt had big steamers." Welles apparently forgot that, on March 14, he himself assigned Gustavus V. Fox, the assistant secretary of the navy, to get the Welles later mocked Stanton's anxiety. "He had no faith in the Navy officers nor me, nor anyone else," he wrote long afterward, "but he knew Vanderbilt had big steamers." Welles apparently forgot that, on March 14, he himself assigned Gustavus V. Fox, the assistant secretary of the navy, to get the Vanderbilt Vanderbilt from New York. from New York.32 The Commodore seems to have been away from home, but William B. Dinsmore, president of the Adams Express Company, tracked him down. Vanderbilt wired Stanton, through Dinsmore, that he would come to Washington on March 17.33 On that Monday morning, "I called at the War Department, where I saw for the first time Mr. Stanton, the Secretary of War," the Commodore wrote four years later. "He requested me to accompany him to the Executive Mansion." Vanderbilt and Stanton were similar men in many ways, both tough-minded, demanding, and immensely capable. They clearly got on well as they walked together to the White House, "where," the Commodore went on, "I was introduced to Mr. Lincoln, to whom I was then personally a stranger." On that Monday morning, "I called at the War Department, where I saw for the first time Mr. Stanton, the Secretary of War," the Commodore wrote four years later. "He requested me to accompany him to the Executive Mansion." Vanderbilt and Stanton were similar men in many ways, both tough-minded, demanding, and immensely capable. They clearly got on well as they walked together to the White House, "where," the Commodore went on, "I was introduced to Mr. Lincoln, to whom I was then personally a stranger."34 Now approaching the age of sixty-eight, Vanderbilt experienced the rare sensation of meeting a much taller man. Lincoln asked if Vanderbilt could do anything to keep the enemy vessel from steaming out of Norfolk once more. "I replied to him," the Commodore wrote, "that it was my opinion that if the steamship Vanderbilt Vanderbilt was there properly manned, the was there properly manned, the Merrimac Merrimac would not venture to come out; or if she did, that the chances were ten to one that the would not venture to come out; or if she did, that the chances were ten to one that the Vanderbilt Vanderbilt would sink and destroy her." Then the president asked his price. "I at once informed Mr. Lincoln that I was determined that I would not allow myself to do anything by which I could be ranked with the herd of thieves and vampires who were fattening off the Government by means of army contracts," Vanderbilt recalled, "that I had no vessels to sell or bargains to make, except one." He would give the would sink and destroy her." Then the president asked his price. "I at once informed Mr. Lincoln that I was determined that I would not allow myself to do anything by which I could be ranked with the herd of thieves and vampires who were fattening off the Government by means of army contracts," Vanderbilt recalled, "that I had no vessels to sell or bargains to make, except one." He would give the Vanderbilt Vanderbilt to the government on the condition that he, the Commodore, should control its preparations for battle. Lincoln replied, "I accept her." to the government on the condition that he, the Commodore, should control its preparations for battle. Lincoln replied, "I accept her."
"They asked what my plan was," Vanderbilt recollected, "and I said, to keep steam up and protecting my vessel as much as possible by various means; to run right into the rebel and drown him; that no vessel had been, or could be, made by the rebels that could stand the concussion or stand before the weight of the Vanderbilt Vanderbilt." Lincoln asked how soon he could have the great steamship at Hampton Roads. "The Vanderbilt Vanderbilt should be at Fortress Monroe properly equipped and officered, under my direction, within three or four days at the farthest," he answered. Vanderbilt then left immediately for New York. With the fate of McClellan's planned expedition in peril, with fears for the entire blockading fleet, he had no time to spare. should be at Fortress Monroe properly equipped and officered, under my direction, within three or four days at the farthest," he answered. Vanderbilt then left immediately for New York. With the fate of McClellan's planned expedition in peril, with fears for the entire blockading fleet, he had no time to spare.35 During those rushed few days, Vanderbilt directed the refitting of his flagship in the Simonson shipyard at Greenpoint. His primary effort was to equip it as a ram. Treasury Secretary Salmon P. Chase inspected it soon afterward. "She was already strengthened [about] the bow with timbers," he wrote, "so as to be little else for many feet (say 50) from the prow than a mass of solid timber plated outside with iron." On March 20, the Commodore telegraphed Stanton to ask for formal authority to hunt for the Virginia Virginia. "The ship leaves to-morrow," he wrote. The war secretary promptly wired back to Vanderbilt's office at 5 Bowling Green, "The President and this Department are highly gratified at your promptitude, and that you are so far forward." In the formal order, Stanton wrote, "Confiding in your patriotic motives and purposes, as well as in your skill, judgment, and energy, full discretion and authority are conferred upon you to arm, equip, navigate, use, manage, and employ the said steamship Vanderbilt Vanderbilt, with such commander and crew and under such instructions as you may deem fit." The next day, Vanderbilt departed for battle.36 "Commodore Vanderbilt," Stanton commented to General Henry Halleck on March 25, "is now at Norfolk to meet the Merrimac Merrimac, and although not armor-clad, he is very confident of being able to run her down." Many observers shared his optimism. "The immense size, great weight, and speed of the Vanderbilt Vanderbilt especially would seem to make her a terrible opponent in an encounter of that kind," remarked the especially would seem to make her a terrible opponent in an encounter of that kind," remarked the Journal of Commerce Journal of Commerce. "An unwieldy floating battery, lying low on the water, could not survive many blows from a vessel of her weight." The Vanderbilt Vanderbilt was "put in fighting trim," the London was "put in fighting trim," the London Times Times reported. "Her steam machinery has been protected by rails in the most ingenious way, and also by cotton bales and hay. Her prow has been armed with a formidable nose, with the intention to poke it right into the side of the reported. "Her steam machinery has been protected by rails in the most ingenious way, and also by cotton bales and hay. Her prow has been armed with a formidable nose, with the intention to poke it right into the side of the Merrimac.... Merrimac.... Its edge is made of steel, and very sharp." Its edge is made of steel, and very sharp."37 Vanderbilt steamed up to Fortress Monroe in his titanic vessel, its immense sidewheels churning the water, smoke billowing out of its twin funnels. On going ashore, he consulted with General Wool and Commodore Louis M. Goldsborough, commander of the squadron so badly beaten in the first battle with the Virginia Virginia. Goldsborough impressed Vanderbilt, who turned his ship over to the officer (under the immediate command of Vanderbilt's own captain), despite Stanton's wish to keep it in the War Department's control. Vanderbilt returned to New York, sick with a cold, and explained himself to Stanton. "As for Commodore Goldsborough," he wrote on March 31, "he is a trump "he is a trump. I think to be depended upon. He had given Captain Le Ferre directions, which accorded exactly with those that I had given him before leaving New York. So I left this matter undisturbed. My opinion is that the Merrimac Merrimac will not venture outside of Fortress Monroe. If she does, I am quite certain she never can return." will not venture outside of Fortress Monroe. If she does, I am quite certain she never can return."38 His enemies feared that he might be right. The rebels respected "the powerful steamer Vanderbilt Vanderbilt, fitted with a ram expressly to attack the Virginia" Virginia" as Confederate Flag Officer Josiah Tatnall reported on April 30. With its great speed, it could easily outmaneuver and run down the as Confederate Flag Officer Josiah Tatnall reported on April 30. With its great speed, it could easily outmaneuver and run down the Virginia Virginia (which could do no better than five knots), and sink it with its enormous weight, even if the ram did not carve open the rebel ship. As one Confederate officer recalled, "We were primed for a desperate tussle." (which could do no better than five knots), and sink it with its enormous weight, even if the ram did not carve open the rebel ship. As one Confederate officer recalled, "We were primed for a desperate tussle."39 By now McClellan had landed the Army of the Potomac on the peninsula and proceeded to waste week after week besieging Yorktown. In early May, Lincoln himself visited the front, accompanied by Treasury Secretary Chase. One day, he and his party saw the telltale trail of smoke that indicated the Virginia Virginia was coming to fight. On May 7, Chase wrote to his daughter of how "the was coming to fight. On May 7, Chase wrote to his daughter of how "the Merrimac Merrimac came down & out-how the came down & out-how the Monitor Monitor moved up & quietly waited for her-how the big wooden ships got out of the way, that the moved up & quietly waited for her-how the big wooden ships got out of the way, that the Minnesota Minnesota & & Vanderbilt Vanderbilt [might] have fair sweep at her & run her down-how she wdn't come when they cd-how she finally retreated to where the [might] have fair sweep at her & run her down-how she wdn't come when they cd-how she finally retreated to where the Monitor Monitor alone cd. follow her." The alone cd. follow her." The Vanderbilt Vanderbilt performed its task as Vanderbilt predicted: the Confederates refused to risk the performed its task as Vanderbilt predicted: the Confederates refused to risk the Virginia Virginia against his ship. Lincoln personally ordered an attack on Norfolk, and the retreating rebels scuttled their ironclad. against his ship. Lincoln personally ordered an attack on Norfolk, and the retreating rebels scuttled their ironclad.40 Vanderbilt did not win glory in battle, but he played a key role in bottling up the Virginia Virginia, allowing the federal authorities to regain their confidence and the Peninsula Campaign to proceed (though to ultimate failure in the Seven Days' Battles). His ship remained in the fleet, where he always had thought it belonged. It was indeed a magnanimous gift-and one that would be remembered by Captain Raphael Semmes.
IF WALL STREET HAD SAINTS, then the college of financial cardinals would surely canonize Elbridge G. Spaulding. Spaulding, chairman of a House subcommittee on emergency measures, performed a true miracle: he conjured money out of nothing, and so contributed more toward the Union victory (and the future of New York's financial sector) than any single battlefield victory.41 Though his eminently forgettable name is eminently forgotten today he was one of the most important architects of the invisible world of commerce that emerged in the nineteenth century. In the nation's darkest hour, he took the increasingly abstract economy and completely abstracted the most solid thing of all: the dollar. Though his eminently forgettable name is eminently forgotten today he was one of the most important architects of the invisible world of commerce that emerged in the nineteenth century. In the nation's darkest hour, he took the increasingly abstract economy and completely abstracted the most solid thing of all: the dollar.
In the opening months of the Civil War, the financial markets staggered along in doubt and fear. These "financial markets" included not only the stock exchanges, but also farmers in Missouri and Michigan, merchants in Danville and Davenport, who clutched the paper notes and deposit receipts issued by local banks; which in turn deposited much of their reserves in New York banks; which in turn made their surplus funds available as call loans to stockbrokers; who in turn provided credit to clients for purchases of securities on Wall Street. The uncertainty of war caused many across the country to withdraw deposits or return notes for gold, ultimately draining reserves in Manhattan. Then, too, Secretary Chase borrowed heavily in New York to finance the war. Following Jack-sonian treasury laws to the letter, Chase refused to open accounts with the banks; instead, he insisted that gold be carted from their vaults through the twisting streets of lower Manhattan to the federal subtreasury The specie lingered there, out of circulation, for weeks or even months before it was spent.
As banks struggled with reduced reserves, the Union suffered the string of setbacks that marked the fall of 1861: the loss of Lexington, Missouri, in September; defeat at Ball's Bluff, Virginia, in October; and McClellan's long refusal to advance on Richmond. When the navy seized two Confederate diplomats at sea, on their way to London, it seemed that war with Britain might ensue. Banknote holders rushed to redeem their paper money for gold, which they hoarded; banks called in loans; stock prices fell, causing panicked selling, causing prices to fall faster, erasing their value as collateral for borrowers. In short, a panic ensued. The banks of New York had no choice but to do the unthinkable (indeed, the illegal under state law): by mutual agreement, they ceased to pay note holders and depositors in specie on December 30.42 "There is no such thing as gold and silver coin circulating in the country," declared Senator John Sherman. "It is stowed away." Hoarding threatened to strangle the North. Gold was the stuff that made Americans comfortable with the imagined devices of economic life; when it disappeared from circulation, the public began to give the emperor's wardrobe a second look. Sherman warned that the economy might break down, that the government might find itself unable to secure funds from the private sector. The war would be lost. "We must have money or a fractured government."43 Congressman Spaulding found a solution. A banker in private life, he drafted a law to issue federal notes that could not be redeemed for specie. They would be legal tender, which meant that they had to be accepted as payment for any debt; only customs duties and interest on federal bonds would be paid in gold. Lincoln signed the Legal Tender Act on February 25, 1862, and the Treasury began to issue $150 million in "greenbacks," as the new bills were nicknamed. (In July came $150 million more.) "The new currency began to be seen in the Exchange brokers' offices early in April, first in large notes of $1,000, then of $500," recalled Wall Street speculator William W. Fowler. "In a fortnight, it was coming on in sums counted by the million.... From Washington, they came back to the sub-treasury in New York by the express-wagon load, in boxes and in bags, but generally done up in packages the size of small bricks, in brown paper, tied with red tape, sealed with the treasury seal, and numbered and marked; at the sub-treasury, they were paid out." The flood of money revived the markets, he wrote, "as if by magic."44 The greenback started a massive reconstruction and expansion of the invisible architecture of the economy, institutionalizing New York's existing centrality to the financial system. In 1863, the National Banking Act created a network of federally chartered banks, which were required to purchase federal bonds and to deposit their cash reserves with banks in reserve cities; banks in reserve cities had to deposit their own cash reserves with banks in New York. This sanctified in law the pyramiding of cash and credit in Manhattan that had occurred before the war, strengthening the mystic cord of money that stretched from the hearthstones of western farms to stockbrokers' offices in Wall Street. The act also allowed such banks to issue national banknotes, which were redeemable in greenbacks, not gold.45 The revolutionary nature of all this can scarcely be overestimated. On one hand, it suddenly overturned long-standing traditions concerning the role of the national government in the economy. Jackson had staked his presidency on the fight against the federal charter of one bank (albeit an enormous one); now Washington chartered hundreds of banks, dictated how they would structure and place their reserves, and even issued a national paper currency for the first time since the ratification of the Constitution. In addition, Congress enacted a federal income tax in 1861, also for the first time, extending the touch of the central government to individuals through an extensive new bureaucracy as never before. As one New Yorker wrote in his diary, "The direct tendency of all the acts of the administration and the great aim of the Republican party is toward a strong consolidated Govt overriding state constitutions or laws."46 It was not a party platform but a war for national survival that drove this process, and radically redefined what Americans accepted as legitimate federal activity. It was not a party platform but a war for national survival that drove this process, and radically redefined what Americans accepted as legitimate federal activity.
Perhaps the most revolutionary innovation of all was Elbridge Spaulding's greenback. The idea of "fiat money" (as economists call irredeemable legal tender) offended economists and businessmen, who believed that it would spark disastrous inflation. Old Jacksonians saw it as a dangerous step that opened the economy to political corruption and manipulation. Going deeper, the Legal Tender Act represented a direct attack on the ancient worldview that was rooted in the tangible and real, by declaring that mere markers, the product of imagination alone, would be the medium of exchange and store of value. Serious, knowledgeable men-men such as Hugh McCulloch, a future secretary of the treasury-argued, "Gold and silver are the only true measure of value. These metals were prepared by the Almighty for this very purpose." Now Spaulding made straight what God had made crooked.47 The greenback did lead to unforeseen complications. Since the Legal Tender Act did not not eliminate the gold dollar, it created two currencies-both denominated as dollars. The supply and demand for each varied, so the value of the greenback fluctuated against the gold dollar. An improvised currency exchange soon emerged in New York, later transformed into a formal trading floor called the Gold Room. There brokers determined the "gold premium"-the price in greenbacks of one hundred gold dollars (e.g., a gold premium of 115 meant $115 in greenbacks would buy $100 in gold coin). eliminate the gold dollar, it created two currencies-both denominated as dollars. The supply and demand for each varied, so the value of the greenback fluctuated against the gold dollar. An improvised currency exchange soon emerged in New York, later transformed into a formal trading floor called the Gold Room. There brokers determined the "gold premium"-the price in greenbacks of one hundred gold dollars (e.g., a gold premium of 115 meant $115 in greenbacks would buy $100 in gold coin).*2 Gold stayed out of circulation within the country for the most part (due to the effect known as Gresham's law), but it remained the exclusive form of payment in overseas trade; the Gold Room, then, became the international currency exchange, and thus essential to American foreign commerce. But the value of the greenback also fluctuated with the fate of Union arms on the battlefield. As an abstract unit, created by law, it represented only the strength of public confidence in the federal government. Defeats damaged the greenback; victories brought the two dollars closer in value. Whenever a military campaign began, speculators would gamble on the result by buying greenbacks or selling them short. Essential or not, the gold market began to look seditious. Gold stayed out of circulation within the country for the most part (due to the effect known as Gresham's law), but it remained the exclusive form of payment in overseas trade; the Gold Room, then, became the international currency exchange, and thus essential to American foreign commerce. But the value of the greenback also fluctuated with the fate of Union arms on the battlefield. As an abstract unit, created by law, it represented only the strength of public confidence in the federal government. Defeats damaged the greenback; victories brought the two dollars closer in value. Whenever a military campaign began, speculators would gamble on the result by buying greenbacks or selling them short. Essential or not, the gold market began to look seditious.48 "I never cared anything about your gold or paper money," Vanderbilt later testified. "I always considered it the same thing with me. If it had cost $1,000 in gold and I paid for it with $1,000 in paper... I say there is no difference."49 He spoke after the end of the war, when the gold premium had grown smaller and less volatile; during the worst of the conflict, when a gold dollar commanded as many as three greenbacks, he undoubtedly paid more attention to the difference. He spoke after the end of the war, when the gold premium had grown smaller and less volatile; during the worst of the conflict, when a gold dollar commanded as many as three greenbacks, he undoubtedly paid more attention to the difference.50 But his casual dismissal of this revolutionary development says much about his mind. After five decades on the forefront of economic change, he easily accepted this innovation. Flexible and pragmatic, he saw Spaulding's miracle as a minor change in the rules. But his casual dismissal of this revolutionary development says much about his mind. After five decades on the forefront of economic change, he easily accepted this innovation. Flexible and pragmatic, he saw Spaulding's miracle as a minor change in the rules.
More important was the sudden acceleration of the pace of the game. In 1861, he had continued his business life much as before. At sea, he had withdrawn his European line, but he remained the guiding spirit of the Atlantic & Pacific Steamship Company. He had received his last payment of $105,050.67 from Pacific Mail, in which he remained the largest stockholder (receiving 15 percent, or $15 per share, in annual dividends). On land, he continued to serve on the board of the Hartford & New Haven Railroad (now paying annual dividends of 12 percent), and he held his seat as a director of the Harlem Railroad, though he rarely attended meetings now that he had helped reduce its floating debt to a manageable $43,789. He also indulged in his own version of charity when he agreed to pay off a mortgage held by a Mrs. Herndon, at the request of Chester A. Arthur, a politically active lawyer and future president. "This will save her from being annoyed with a mortgage," he had written to Arthur on October 8, 1861, "& can pay at her pleasure." And, in a curious echo of the war in Nicaragua, Parker French, William Walker's one-handed confidence man, was arrested in November as an organizer of the Knights of the Golden Circle, a shadowy pro-Confederate conspiracy in the North. Then, in 1862, everything began to move much faster.51 The old commercial heart of the city had pulsed with cotton, beating in time to Southern harvests and exports. Seemingly overnight, a transplant gave New York a new, industrial, Northern heart of coal and iron and rifles and tents and shoes and uniforms. Greenbacks and military purchase orders flowed into New York and quickly revived business. Factories, workshops, and warehouses could not meet demand, so new factories, workshops, and warehouses opened. The wave of investment and confidence sped up life on Wall Street dramatically. In early 1862, the Open Board of Stock Brokers organized in a dark basement room on William Street. Known as the "coalhole," it was a literal trading pit into which unlicensed curbside brokers flowed to buy and sell shares from each other with an abandon not seen in the auctions at the older New York Stock and Exchange Board. A financier reportedly said, "The battle of Bull Run makes the fortune of every man in Wall Street who is not a natural idiot."52 The turn of New York's economy perfectly suited Vanderbilt, the maker and driver of ships, the financier and rescuer of railroads. New construction and repairs kept his Simonson yard in Greenpoint filled to capacity. The Commodore's Allaire Works employed eight hundred men in constructing gun carriages for Monitor-style Monitor-style turrets; building engines for passenger steamers, navy frigates, an ironclad warship, and various gunboats; and repairing machinery on dozens of ships. turrets; building engines for passenger steamers, navy frigates, an ironclad warship, and various gunboats; and repairing machinery on dozens of ships.53 Newspaper editors and political malcontents talked of making Vanderbilt the secretary of the navy or treasury, a chorus that grew louder whenever the Union had a nautical or financial setback. But the Commodore stuck to his long-standing policy, as he once put it, "to mind my own business." Perhaps he stuck to it a bit too closely. There was no sign of him when the income tax assessor of the new Internal Revenue Bureau made his rounds in 1862. At 38 Lafayette Place, the assessor found that William B. Astor owed taxes on three carriages, one billiard table, and 8,400 ounces of silver plate, in addition to an annual income of $617,472 (plus $64,850 in interest from federal bonds). At 10 Washington Place, he discovered nothing. The dry federal tax list reveals the bureaucratic equivalent of frustration; the assessor simply made up an income figure of $500,000 for Vanderbilt (on which he was taxed at the top rate of 5 percent), and added a 50 percent penalty, presumably for a failure to respond to inquiries. In fact, federal tax lists would prove to be a worthless source of information about him. His income increasingly consisted of stock dividends, which were taxed at the source. Even the most reliable individual income tax figure radically underreported his actual receipts.54 Perhaps he was at the Fashion Course on Long Island when the tax man knocked on the door, for it was there that Vanderbilt indulged in the latest phase of his rivalry with Robert Bonner, editor of the Ledger Ledger, for ownership of the fastest trotting horses in New York. After one race at the course in 1862, "it was whispered that Mr. Bonner would give his mares a trial of one mile," the Atlantic Monthly Atlantic Monthly later reported, "and his appearance on the course in his road wagon, driving the well-known beauties, detained the whole assembled multitude." Bonner and Vanderbilt's informal heats on Harlem Lane and Bloomingdale Road remained a topic of fascination in horse-mad New York, a city all the more crazed for racing as the wartime boom multiplied the men of leisure. Vanderbilt offered to bet $10,000 that his finest pair could beat Bonner's, but Bonner refused to bet as a matter of principle. Instead, he offered to stage a public time trial. later reported, "and his appearance on the course in his road wagon, driving the well-known beauties, detained the whole assembled multitude." Bonner and Vanderbilt's informal heats on Harlem Lane and Bloomingdale Road remained a topic of fascination in horse-mad New York, a city all the more crazed for racing as the wartime boom multiplied the men of leisure. Vanderbilt offered to bet $10,000 that his finest pair could beat Bonner's, but Bonner refused to bet as a matter of principle. Instead, he offered to stage a public time trial.
After the jockeys cleared off the track, the audience watched the Commodore walk onto the turf with a watch in hand. "When Mr. Bonner brought out his team there was a murmur of admiration," the Atlantic Monthly Atlantic Monthly wrote. He started his horses, Lady Palmer and Flatbush Maid, on a fast first mile round the track, then whipped them to an even faster second mile. As Vanderbilt kept time, his competitor drove the team to a speed of 2 minutes and 28 seconds per mile, and the crowd roared. "It was entirely unprecedented," the wrote. He started his horses, Lady Palmer and Flatbush Maid, on a fast first mile round the track, then whipped them to an even faster second mile. As Vanderbilt kept time, his competitor drove the team to a speed of 2 minutes and 28 seconds per mile, and the crowd roared. "It was entirely unprecedented," the Atlantic Monthly Atlantic Monthly observed. "After learning the time in which his horses had trotted, Mr. Bonner publicly declared that, while it was a rule with him never to make a bet, he would present ten thousand dollars observed. "After learning the time in which his horses had trotted, Mr. Bonner publicly declared that, while it was a rule with him never to make a bet, he would present ten thousand dollars as a gift as a gift to any gentleman who owned a team, if he would drive them in the time just made." Vanderbilt took his horses as seriously as he did his business; he would work very hard to earn that gift. to any gentleman who owned a team, if he would drive them in the time just made." Vanderbilt took his horses as seriously as he did his business; he would work very hard to earn that gift.55 There was nothing really new about Vanderbilt's day on the Fashion Course, but it hinted at how he and the world around him were coming into closer alignment. On one hand, the old mercantile aristocracy continued to treat him as a worthy business partner but a bit of a vulgarian. His status as a social outsider among the elite has been exaggerated-his poor manners and ignorant speech even more so-yet there was undoubtedly an inner sanctum of patrician life in which he was still not welcome. In April 1860, for example, Strong had informed his diary that he had been asked to join a "committee of twenty which is hereafter to take charge of polite society regulate its interests, keep it pure.... It is to pass on the social grade of everybody, by ballot-one blackball excluding." The other members included "Hamilton Fish, Anson Livingston, John Astor, William Schemerhorn, and others of the same sort"-but not, of course, Commodore Vanderbilt. "His wealth is unquestioned," R. G. Dun & Co. had reported in 1860, but "his over-reaching disposition makes people shy of him."56 On the other hand, Vanderbilt socialized with another set that came rapidly to the fore in the volatile atmosphere of the war years: the aggressive, enterprising, risk-taking "fast men" of Wall Street. These men-Vanderbilt's circle-raced trotters, played whist at Saratoga, and bought and sold stocks with an avidity never seen before.57 The cultural appeal of exclusivity would persist; in some eyes, the social strength of old family names only grew stronger, and new families sought to mingle and marry with them. Still, the economic and cultural reorientation of the Civil War undoubtedly created a sense that new growth was crowding out the old. Dixiecentric cotton merchants declined, and the geographical center of business shifted north. What historian Sven Beckert calls an emerging industrial bourgeoisie was not so much a new class, perhaps, as the triumph of a new The cultural appeal of exclusivity would persist; in some eyes, the social strength of old family names only grew stronger, and new families sought to mingle and marry with them. Still, the economic and cultural reorientation of the Civil War undoubtedly created a sense that new growth was crowding out the old. Dixiecentric cotton merchants declined, and the geographical center of business shifted north. What historian Sven Beckert calls an emerging industrial bourgeoisie was not so much a new class, perhaps, as the triumph of a new outlook outlook among the wealthy, one that had long existed but now came to the fore. It was an ease with the abstract economy, the intangible commerce of stocks and bonds and clearinghouse transactions, the impersonal corporations that began to supplant old family firms. This was the mind-set of the rising generation of rich New Yorkers. To them, the aged Commodore would be seen not as a barbarian but as a hero, an esteemed elder who saw far beyond the men of his time. In 1870, for example, when William W. Fowler published among the wealthy, one that had long existed but now came to the fore. It was an ease with the abstract economy, the intangible commerce of stocks and bonds and clearinghouse transactions, the impersonal corporations that began to supplant old family firms. This was the mind-set of the rising generation of rich New Yorkers. To them, the aged Commodore would be seen not as a barbarian but as a hero, an esteemed elder who saw far beyond the men of his time. In 1870, for example, when William W. Fowler published Ten Years in Wall Street Ten Years in Wall Street, a memoir of his decade as a player on the stock market, he dedicated the book to Vanderbilt.58 In 1862, the Commodore had not yet performed the miracles that would make him a messiah to many on Wall Street. Despite his past financial warfare, the new men who rushed into the "coalhole" where the Open Board met, who lurked in the offices of brokers on Broad Street or Exchange Place, hardly gave him a thought. A year would pass before he forced the entire financial community to rethink what a man could do with those stocks, bonds, and greenbacks with which their invisible world was built. In the meantime, the secretary of war called him back into the service of his country.
AT FIFTEEN MINUTES AFTER NINE in the morning on July 29, 1862, a sleek, bark-rigged sailing ship weighed anchor at the Laird shipyard in Birkenhead, England, and proceeded down the Mersey River on a trial trip. Various ladies and gentlemen, friends and relatives of the builders, enjoyed a party on deck to celebrate. It was a fine ship, 220 feet in length (210 at the keel), with two steam engines (horizontal, to remain belowdecks); a propeller that could be raised or lowered, depending on whether it was powered by steam or sail; and, curiously enough, a collapsible funnel. Stranger yet, it had been fitted for cannons, though none were currently on board. Strangest of all, it was called simply "hull No. 290." in the morning on July 29, 1862, a sleek, bark-rigged sailing ship weighed anchor at the Laird shipyard in Birkenhead, England, and proceeded down the Mersey River on a trial trip. Various ladies and gentlemen, friends and relatives of the builders, enjoyed a party on deck to celebrate. It was a fine ship, 220 feet in length (210 at the keel), with two steam engines (horizontal, to remain belowdecks); a propeller that could be raised or lowered, depending on whether it was powered by steam or sail; and, curiously enough, a collapsible funnel. Stranger yet, it had been fitted for cannons, though none were currently on board. Strangest of all, it was called simply "hull No. 290."
The "trial trip" and celebratory party were all part of a ruse. Thomas H. Dudley, the U.S. consul at nearby Liverpool, had spied on the 290 all through its construction, and learned that it was, in fact, a commerce-raiding cruiser being built for the Confederacy. Already he had taken legal steps to prevent delivery, forcing the South's naval agent in England, James D. Bulloch, to rush his ship to sea. The hastily planned trial run took place immediately after Bulloch received word that the British authorities were about to seize the vessel. "In the evening transferred our visitors to a steam tug," wrote sailor George Townley Fullam in his journal. On board came the full complement of crewmen for a long cruise in search of Union ships. To evade British law, the 290 sailed to the Canary Islands to receive its armament of eight guns.
Its commander was Raphael Semmes. The dashing Semmes had served in the U.S. Navy decades before going over to the Confederacy, seemingly training all the while to be the perfect pirate. Already he had shown his prowess as captain of the CSS Sumter Sumter, which had seized eighteen merchantmen before the Union fleet trapped it in Gibraltar. Now, in his custom-built cruiser, he embarked on a far more destructive voyage. He also gave the 290 a new, more resonant name: Alabama. Alabama.59 ON JULY 17, 1862, PRESIDENT LINCOLN sent a formal message to Congress. "I have inadvertently omitted so long to inform you that in March last Mr. Cornelius Vanderbilt, of New York, gratuitously presented to the United States the ocean steamer 'Vanderbilt,' by many esteemed the finest merchant ship in the world," he wrote. sent a formal message to Congress. "I have inadvertently omitted so long to inform you that in March last Mr. Cornelius Vanderbilt, of New York, gratuitously presented to the United States the ocean steamer 'Vanderbilt,' by many esteemed the finest merchant ship in the world," he wrote.60 Despite Welles's initial refusal to accept the great sidewheeler, many of the navy's senior officers now considered the Vanderbilt Vanderbilt "the most formidable war vessel afloat in our waters," as "the most formidable war vessel afloat in our waters," as Harper's Weekly Harper's Weekly reported. On July 31, for example, General David Hunter wrote to Stanton from Port Royal on the Southern coast, "I have just had an interview with Flag-Officer [Samuel] DuPont, who considers it extremely important to the safety of his fleet that the reported. On July 31, for example, General David Hunter wrote to Stanton from Port Royal on the Southern coast, "I have just had an interview with Flag-Officer [Samuel] DuPont, who considers it extremely important to the safety of his fleet that the Vanderbilt Vanderbilt should be sent here immediately." Admiral David D. Porter informed Congress after the war, "We never had a vessel that could run down a blockade-runner during the whole war, except the should be sent here immediately." Admiral David D. Porter informed Congress after the war, "We never had a vessel that could run down a blockade-runner during the whole war, except the Vanderbilt Vanderbilt and two others." Its combination of speed and size made it formidable. and two others." Its combination of speed and size made it formidable.61 During the Merrimack Merrimack scare, the untrusting Stanton had learned to trust both the ship and its builder. Accordingly, new orders went forth from the War Department to the office at 5 Bowling Green. "The scare, the untrusting Stanton had learned to trust both the ship and its builder. Accordingly, new orders went forth from the War Department to the office at 5 Bowling Green. "The Vanderbilt Vanderbilt is to be fitted out for cruising in the West Indies to run down the privateers that our Navy cannot catch," Assistant Secretary of War Peter H. Watson wired the Commodore on September 3. "You are authorized to fit her up as well and as speedily as possible for the service.... Captain [Gustavus V.] Fox will correspond with you about fitting her out and arming her. The Navy are very anxious to obtain the aid of the is to be fitted out for cruising in the West Indies to run down the privateers that our Navy cannot catch," Assistant Secretary of War Peter H. Watson wired the Commodore on September 3. "You are authorized to fit her up as well and as speedily as possible for the service.... Captain [Gustavus V.] Fox will correspond with you about fitting her out and arming her. The Navy are very anxious to obtain the aid of the Vanderbilt Vanderbilt, for without it they cannot maintain the blockade against the Nashville, Ovieta Nashville, Ovieta, No. 290, and other fast vessels."62 Once again, the federal government gave this private individual great public responsibilities, as if the title "Commodore" were a formal rank. Once again, Vanderbilt carried out his duties swiftly and capably. "The Vanderbilt Vanderbilt is now in first-rate condition," Lieutenant C. H. Baldwin reported to Fox from New York on November 7. Baldwin, the ship's new commander, wanted to sail to the Caribbean, where he thought the is now in first-rate condition," Lieutenant C. H. Baldwin reported to Fox from New York on November 7. Baldwin, the ship's new commander, wanted to sail to the Caribbean, where he thought the Alabama Alabama (or 290, as Union officials persisted in calling it) might try to capture the Atlantic & Pacific steamers as they returned from Panama, laden with gold. He hoped to meet the rebel cruiser in battle, writing, "I pray I may have the opportunity of doing something worthy of so splendid a command." (or 290, as Union officials persisted in calling it) might try to capture the Atlantic & Pacific steamers as they returned from Panama, laden with gold. He hoped to meet the rebel cruiser in battle, writing, "I pray I may have the opportunity of doing something worthy of so splendid a command."63 While the Vanderbilt Vanderbilt was still refitting, the Commodore received a telegram from Stanton, asking him to come to Washington. He arrived late in the evening and went directly to Stanton's office in the War Department, where the secretary was still at his desk. As was the custom with each of these two men-who were getting to know each other quite well-they immediately proceeded to business. Stanton peered through his little round glasses and said something about appointing Vanderbilt to a position as quartermaster in New York. "We'll stop right there, Mr. Stanton," the Commodore replied. "There is no position in this government that I want, and none that I will take; no place of emolument that I can take." This brought the secretary to a halt. "He was delicate on that point," Vanderbilt recalled. Given the late hour, Stanton said he would explain in the morning why he had called him to Washington. was still refitting, the Commodore received a telegram from Stanton, asking him to come to Washington. He arrived late in the evening and went directly to Stanton's office in the War Department, where the secretary was still at his desk. As was the custom with each of these two men-who were getting to know each other quite well-they immediately proceeded to business. Stanton peered through his little round glasses and said something about appointing Vanderbilt to a position as quartermaster in New York. "We'll stop right there, Mr. Stanton," the Commodore replied. "There is no position in this government that I want, and none that I will take; no place of emolument that I can take." This brought the secretary to a halt. "He was delicate on that point," Vanderbilt recalled. Given the late hour, Stanton said he would explain in the morning why he had called him to Washington.
At nine o'clock the next day, October 27, Vanderbilt returned to Stan-ton's office. "I have thought this thing over and made up my mind," the secretary said. "Come and get into the carriage." The two rode to see General Nathaniel P. Banks, a former speaker of the house turned unsuccessful general (against Confederate general Thomas T. "Stonewall" Jackson, against whom almost everyone was unsuccessful). Stanton spoke privately with Banks for a few minutes, then called in Vanderbilt. Stanton explained that Banks was to lead "a secret expedition, and no one else is to know it but us three."
"No one will know it from me," Vanderbilt replied. "I will assure you that."
"I want you to assist General Banks in New York in fitting it out," Stanton said. He asked Vanderbilt to charter steamships as transports and see that they were adequately prepared and supplied; he also briefly discussed with him a system of inspectors. ("His interviews were short," Vanderbilt recalled, much to his liking.) Then Vanderbilt and Banks took the afternoon train to New York.64 Banks went on to Boston to organize the new recruits who formed most of his expeditionary force, and Vanderbilt began to charter steam ships. He tried to deal directly with ship owners to avoid brokers, and bargained fiercely to keep the cost as low as possible. "I believe religiously that he has saved the government fifty percent in fitting out these vessels," said Commodore George J. Van Brunt, the naval inspector assigned to the expedition. "My intercourse with Commodore Vanderbilt throughout this whole matter has been of the most pleasant kind; he was acting, as I thought, with great patriotism, in serving the government for nothing."65 Banks wired Vanderbilt from Boston that he would need transportation for fifteen thousand men, as well as a large number of horses. The Commodore chartered twenty-seven steamers, all that were available, and still he needed more. Transporting the horses was the real problem; sailing ships suited them best, he thought. "Then a man from down east came to me with a letter from General Banks," Vanderbilt later testified before Congress. He was a shipbuilder from Richmond, Maine, named Thomas J. Southard. "When he gave me this letter of introduction from General Banks I talked with him, and I found he understood more about a horse-ship than I did, a heap more. He said he had been in it a good deal in his life, fitting up different horse-vessels for the West Indies, &c." Vanderbilt thought to himself, "This is just the man I want."
"Mr. Southard," the Commodore said, "I want you to understand that I feel a strong interest in this controversy that we have got into, and I feel it to be a duty to my country to do it all the service I can. I am going to do it voluntarily, without any pay-how do you feel on that?"
Southard sat mute.
"Think it well over," Vanderbilt added. "We ought to find patriotism enough in our country to do something for it without everybody making money out of the funds of the government." Finally Southard agreed to take no pay. He assumed the duty of finding and fitting out sailing ships to carry the horses, chartering a total of thirty-five.66 Unfortunately for the Commodore, Southard did not leave ship owners with the impression that he would take no compensation. The Mainer seems to have been a very smart man, in the old Yankee sense. He had family ties to ship chandlers and brokerages in New York, and-without ever explicitly demanding it-he implied that the ship owners must do business with his relatives, at a rate of 5 percent per charter. When Congress learned of the charges, Vanderbilt's handling of the Banks expedition took on the dimensions of a scandal-one that grew larger when one of the twenty-seven steamers, the Niagara Niagara, turned out to have rotten timbers which had been disguised by new planking that had fooled the inspectors. An impression formed that the entire fleet consisted of unseaworthy vessels chartered at exorbitant rates. The Senate convened an investigation, and a motion was made to censure Vanderbilt.
The motion died with the so-called scandal. Southard may have fooled the Commodore (and Banks, who recommended him) with his indirect commissions, but Congress concluded that the affair had been handled economically overall. As for the Niagara Niagara and two other ships with boiler troubles, such mishaps were to be expected in a large military expedition that was organized and launched in little more than a month. and two other ships with boiler troubles, such mishaps were to be expected in a large military expedition that was organized and launched in little more than a month.67 Banks had no misgivings about Vanderbilt's conduct. On the afternoon of December 4, the general joined the Commodore, Mayor George Opdyke, and other prominent men in a celebratory excursion into New York Bay aboard a Treasury cutter, in tribute to Banks and his mysterious expedition. A toast was then made to Vanderbilt, who typically replied (according to the New York Tribune) New York Tribune) that "he was not a speechifier; he would speak by proxy, through Gen. Banks." Banks informed the distinguished guests "that Commodore Vanderbilt was the only man who knew where the expedition was going." Vanderbilt kept the secret. that "he was not a speechifier; he would speak by proxy, through Gen. Banks." Banks informed the distinguished guests "that Commodore Vanderbilt was the only man who knew where the expedition was going." Vanderbilt kept the secret.68 Banks, it turned out, would not make a grand attack on a Confederate stronghold. He was bound for New Orleans, which the Union navy had captured earlier. There his army would be able to cooperate with Union forces under General Grant, now driving south toward Vicksburg. The secrecy, of course, served to keep the rebels in doubt about where he might land. But Stanton may have thought to protect Banks from a serious danger, one he had asked Vanderbilt to help thwart. Somewhere at sea lurked Captain Raphael Semmes and the CSS Alabama. Alabama.69 ON THE MORNING OF DECEMBER 7, 1862, Captain Semmes went out on the deck of the Alabama Alabama and put his telescope to his eye. He looked every inch the pirate, in his long double-breasted coat with twin rows of bright brass buttons, his fierce moustache pointing to either side of his face like cannons run out of gunports on a man-of-war. He swept the horizon with his spyglass, looking for a wisp of smoke. Nothing. He turned and went back into his cabin, where he sat down to breakfast, "hopeless for that day of my California steamer," he wrote in his memoirs, "and my millions of dollars in gold." and put his telescope to his eye. He looked every inch the pirate, in his long double-breasted coat with twin rows of bright brass buttons, his fierce moustache pointing to either side of his face like cannons run out of gunports on a man-of-war. He swept the horizon with his spyglass, looking for a wisp of smoke. Nothing. He turned and went back into his cabin, where he sat down to breakfast, "hopeless for that day of my California steamer," he wrote in his memoirs, "and my millions of dollars in gold."
For more than three months, the Alabama Alabama had burned or ransomed one Yankee merchantman after another. But what Semmes wanted more than anything else was to capture a Vanderbilt steamer on its way to New York, laden with California gold. The Confederate government would allow Semmes and crew to share in the prize; more important, such a capture might cripple the flow of gold to New York, just as specie shippers had warned the federal government at the start of the war. It would also saddle Vanderbilt's company with expensive claims for the losses. had burned or ransomed one Yankee merchantman after another. But what Semmes wanted more than anything else was to capture a Vanderbilt steamer on its way to New York, laden with California gold. The Confederate government would allow Semmes and crew to share in the prize; more important, such a capture might cripple the flow of gold to New York, just as specie shippers had warned the federal government at the start of the war. It would also saddle Vanderbilt's company with expensive claims for the losses.
"We had accurate time-tables of the arrivals and departures of the California steamers in the files of the New York papers that we had captured," Semmes recalled. He loitered now in the windward passage east of Cuba, where he expected the iron sidewheeler Champion Champion to pass on its way from Aspinwall to New York. Today, Semmes thought, would not be the day. The boatswain ordered the crew into their white frocks and trousers for Sunday services on deck, as the captain sipped coffee in his cabin. to pass on its way from Aspinwall to New York. Today, Semmes thought, would not be the day. The boatswain ordered the crew into their white frocks and trousers for Sunday services on deck, as the captain sipped coffee in his cabin.
"Suddenly the prolonged cry of 'S-a-i-l h-o!' came ringing, in a clear musical voice, from aloft," Semmes wrote, "the look-out having at length descried a steamer." George Fullam, a sailor on the Alabama Alabama, recorded the ensuing frenzy. "Steam was immediately got up, the propellor lowered, sails taken in and furled," he wrote in his journal. "All hands called to quarters, the battery loaded with shell and run out.... Everybody in the best possible spirits and eager for a fray" Semmes knew that the steamships of the Atlantic & Pacific company were fast, so he hauled up a United States flag to lull suspicions until he got closer.70 From the deck of the Vanderbilt steamer, Captain A. G. Jones peered through his own telescope at the approaching steam sloop as it emerged out of the sun glare. He could see it flew the Stars and Stripes, but he surveyed it with suspicion. Suddenly he exclaimed, "If that isn't an English rig, you may shoot me!" He was certain it was the English-built commerce raider, the Alabama Alabama. He ordered the engineer to put on all steam in an attempt to outrun the predator.71 Jones's ship was not the Champion Champion, but the Ariel Ariel. The aging sidewheeler had steamed out of New York Harbor on December 1, bound for Aspinwall, and it carried no chests of gold. "The boat crowded to capacity with human beings, and some scarcely human," wrote passenger George Willis Read. "The confusion and discomfort on board surpassed anything by far I have ever before experienced. The cooking was filthy filthy beyond my powers of description. The smell and filth, with the rough sea, has kept me seasick most of the time." Read was so disgusted that he interrupted the story of the beyond my powers of description. The smell and filth, with the rough sea, has kept me seasick most of the time." Read was so disgusted that he interrupted the story of the Alabama Alabama's appearance to write that he ate only a baked potato that day. By the time he reached the deck, the Alabama Alabama had fired a blank cartridge and run up the rebel ensign. had fired a blank cartridge and run up the rebel ensign.
"I knew it was the 290 at first sight," Read added. "When I first saw her she was coming up behind us, a mile and a half in the rear, as near as I could guess. She is a splendid ship, and could sail around us with ease. The Capt. put on all steam, and hoped he could get off, but she [the Alabama] Alabama] turned broadsides, and shot two heavy balls. I stood on deck, close to the aft, or back, mast. Saw the smoke rise, the balls leave the guns and come tumbling and whizzing towards me." One round neatly severed the forward mast. At the urging of a marine officer on board, Jones surrendered. turned broadsides, and shot two heavy balls. I stood on deck, close to the aft, or back, mast. Saw the smoke rise, the balls leave the guns and come tumbling and whizzing towards me." One round neatly severed the forward mast. At the urging of a marine officer on board, Jones surrendered.72 "I was very anxious to destroy this ship," Semmes wrote, "as she belonged to a Mr. Vanderbilt of New York, an old steamboat captain who had amassed a large fortune in trade, and was a bitter enemy of the South." After Captain Jones went aboard the Alabama Alabama, Semmes told him that "Vanderbilt had given one of the finest steamers in the world to the Government with which to run him down, and he would destroy everything of his he fell in with," according to the London Times Times. "Capt. Jones says the only ship that Semmes fears is the Vanderbilt," Vanderbilt," the the Chicago Tribune Chicago Tribune reported. "He [Semmes] made many inquiries regarding her speed and armament, but obtained no information whatever. He laughs at all the other ships we have." reported. "He [Semmes] made many inquiries regarding her speed and armament, but obtained no information whatever. He laughs at all the other ships we have."
Semmes planned to burn the Ariel Ariel after landing the passengers in Jamaica, but reports of a yellow fever epidemic there caused him to change his mind. Instead, he had Jones sign a bond obliging Vanderbilt to pay $261,000 to the Confederacy thirty days after the United States extended it formal recognition. Then he let the steamship go. Not only had Semmes captured a Panama steamer headed in the wrong direction, his preoccupation with the after landing the passengers in Jamaica, but reports of a yellow fever epidemic there caused him to change his mind. Instead, he had Jones sign a bond obliging Vanderbilt to pay $261,000 to the Confederacy thirty days after the United States extended it formal recognition. Then he let the steamship go. Not only had Semmes captured a Panama steamer headed in the wrong direction, his preoccupation with the Ariel Ariel caused him to miss the caused him to miss the Champion Champion, which arrived safely in New York with a million dollars in gold.73 The fate of the Ariel Ariel, on the other hand, remained unknown in New York. Vanderbilt and the specie shippers waited with growing anxiety for its return from Panama. A report that it had encountered the Alabama Alabama reached the city but not word of the ultimate outcome. As the reached the city but not word of the ultimate outcome. As the New York Times New York Times reported, they were "prepared to mourn her." Then, on December 28, it finally arrived unharmed, "and cut short the several obituaries that were in preparation for the occasion." reported, they were "prepared to mourn her." Then, on December 28, it finally arrived unharmed, "and cut short the several obituaries that were in preparation for the occasion."74 "It strikes me that the rebel steamer Alabama Alabama is now looking for a homeward-bound California steamer," Vanderbilt wrote to Welles the next day. "If the steamer is now looking for a homeward-bound California steamer," Vanderbilt wrote to Welles the next day. "If the steamer Vanderbilt Vanderbilt, or some other of sufficient speed, could be placed in the Caribbean Sea to convoy the steamers on leaving Aspinwall for two and one-half or three days up to the west end of Cuba, then returning to Aspinwall to be ready for the sailing of the next steamer, which is ten days apart, it would give ample security and would give her a better chance to fall in with the 290." He said he would order his ships to sail by way of the western end of Cuba; he anticipated little trouble north of the island, given the presence of a U.S. blockading squadron in the Florida Keys. Welles agreed, and forwarded Vanderbilt's letter to the captain of the USS Connecticut Connecticut with orders to carry out his instructions. with orders to carry out his instructions.75 Semmes considered Vanderbilt not only a symbol of Union power and resolve, but a major force in his own right for the South's defeat. The rebel captain would not get a second chance at the Atlantic & Pacific liners, now that the Commodore had arranged for a naval convoy, but he did see a chance to strike at another enterprise organized by "the bitter enemy of the South." From the newspapers he captured, he learned about Banks's expedition. The press did not know where it was headed, but Semmes sifted through the various guesses and came to a wise conclusion. He accordingly set his course for the Gulf of Mexico; with any luck, he would descend on the vulnerable transports and blow them out of the water, along with their thousands of Union troops and countless tons of arms.
On the evening of January 11, 1863, Semmes closed in on a line of ships off the Gulf Coast. It turned out not to be Banks's expedition, but a blockade squadron. Semmes had guessed wrong, sailing to Galveston, Texas, rather than the mouth of the Mississippi. One of the Union ships, a side-wheeler named Hatteras Hatteras, pulled out of formation and gave chase. Semmes ordered the Alabama Alabama about and ran, firing all the while with a large gun mounted on a pivot at the stern, throwing eighty-five-pound explosive shells. In a battle of just fifteen minutes, the about and ran, firing all the while with a large gun mounted on a pivot at the stern, throwing eighty-five-pound explosive shells. In a battle of just fifteen minutes, the Alabama Alabama sank the sank the Hatteras Hatteras.
It was, in many respects, a lucky victory. Semmes's business was to avoid Northern warships, not fight them. And the hardest to avoid was the biggest and fastest, the one specially assigned to hunt him down. "He thinks the Vanderbilt Vanderbilt much too heavy for him," a South African newspaper reported on September 13, 1863. "In commenting upon the probable consequences of an encounter with the much too heavy for him," a South African newspaper reported on September 13, 1863. "In commenting upon the probable consequences of an encounter with the Vanderbilt Vanderbilt, Captain Semmes spoke with much modesty about the power of his own ship.... His opinion is, that the Vanderbilt Vanderbilt has much greater speed than the has much greater speed than the Alabama Alabama, and that it will be impossible for him to get away from her." Referring to each ship's broadside, Semmes fretted that the Vanderbilt Vanderbilt "threw twice my weight in metal." "threw twice my weight in metal."
For a few days near the Cape of Good Hope, the Vanderbilt Vanderbilt came close to catching the famous Confederate commerce raider-even passing close by in a fog bank-but the prey slipped away. In June 1864, the USS came close to catching the famous Confederate commerce raider-even passing close by in a fog bank-but the prey slipped away. In June 1864, the USS Kearsarge Kearsarge finally destroyed the finally destroyed the Alabama Alabama in battle off the French port of Cherbourg. By then, the rebel cruiser had captured or destroyed sixty-four merchant ships, nearly crippling the U.S. commercial fleet. in battle off the French port of Cherbourg. By then, the rebel cruiser had captured or destroyed sixty-four merchant ships, nearly crippling the U.S. commercial fleet.76 VANDERBILT'S INSTRUCTIONS for convoying the Panama steamers marked a virtual end to his direct involvement in the Civil War. Cynicism would color later assessments of his efforts, growing out of the deep suspicion of nineteenth-century Americans-particularly newspaper editors-toward wealthy and powerful men. Cynicism, of course, always seems to be the most sophisticated position to take; yet it is also the laziest (along with hero-worship, its direct opposite). for convoying the Panama steamers marked a virtual end to his direct involvement in the Civil War. Cynicism would color later assessments of his efforts, growing out of the deep suspicion of nineteenth-century Americans-particularly newspaper editors-toward wealthy and powerful men. Cynicism, of course, always seems to be the most sophisticated position to take; yet it is also the laziest (along with hero-worship, its direct opposite).
An honest reading of the evidence shows a proud, prickly, and highly capable man of immense personal force-one who was also deeply patriotic. Welles's refusal to accept the Vanderbilt Vanderbilt as a gift, or any of Vanderbilt's steamers at a fair purchase price, essentially forced the Commodore to take enormous sums of money from the federal government in charters fixed by brokers who had every interest in running up the rates. When given the chance, he served his country to the utmost while refusing any remuneration. The notion of a scandal surrounding the Banks expedition does not stand scrutiny. Just one ship out of the entire fleet slipped through inspection when it clearly should not have-and this at a time when Vanderbilt was chartering every steamer available in New York under a tight deadline. Southard exacted a commission (on the sailing ships only) through methods so indirect that Vanderbilt can hardly be blamed. Furthermore, Southard did his job, fitting out the vessels with the expertise expected of him. Vanderbilt's prompt and capable response to the as a gift, or any of Vanderbilt's steamers at a fair purchase price, essentially forced the Commodore to take enormous sums of money from the federal government in charters fixed by brokers who had every interest in running up the rates. When given the chance, he served his country to the utmost while refusing any remuneration. The notion of a scandal surrounding the Banks expedition does not stand scrutiny. Just one ship out of the entire fleet slipped through inspection when it clearly should not have-and this at a time when Vanderbilt was chartering every steamer available in New York under a tight deadline. Southard exacted a commission (on the sailing ships only) through methods so indirect that Vanderbilt can hardly be blamed. Furthermore, Southard did his job, fitting out the vessels with the expertise expected of him. Vanderbilt's prompt and capable response to the Merrimack Merrimack scare throws new light on this oft-told tale, for he played an important part in a strategic victory that usually is credited to the scare throws new light on this oft-told tale, for he played an important part in a strategic victory that usually is credited to the Monitor Monitor alone. And the gift of his eponymous steamship was an unprecedented act of patriotic charity, worth nearly $1 million. alone. And the gift of his eponymous steamship was an unprecedented act of patriotic charity, worth nearly $1 million.
Vanderbilt needs no special pleading. A man of his unfathomable wealth, obsessed with maintaining the power to defend himself against his enemies, could (and did) withstand a great deal of cynicism. But perhaps his elemental humanity requires a few words of defense. Derided by the most sneering of his contemporaries, he remains unreasonably fixed in the historical imagination as lacking all sensitivity, as an iron-hearted man of money. A man of money he most definitely was, often harsh and profane. But he possessed a tenderness that had become more and more visible in the years after the cruise of the North Star North Star in 1853. Here we read a comment of how he and Sophia enjoyed their trip together to Washington; there we read Vanderbilt's truly warm letters to the family of his daughter-in-law, Ellen Williams Vanderbilt. Such signs would continue to accumulate. in 1853. Here we read a comment of how he and Sophia enjoyed their trip together to Washington; there we read Vanderbilt's truly warm letters to the family of his daughter-in-law, Ellen Williams Vanderbilt. Such signs would continue to accumulate.
This emotional inner life was certainly affected by the fate of that other member of his immediate family who was called to national service during the Civil War. Lieutenant George W. Vanderbilt commanded the inglorious recruiting station in Boston until April 1, 1862. On April 17, the regular army promoted him to the rank of captain, and named him aide-de-camp to General John C. Fremont, commander of the Mountain Department. But it seems unlikely that George ever saw duty beyond the Back Bay. He fell sick and went on a leave of absence even before his promotion. The illness-consumption, by one account-was clearly serious. At some point in 1862 or 1863, he traveled to Nice, France, to recover his health. Curiously, another George W. Vanderbilt from New York fought in the war, a doppelganger to the Commodore's son, winning glory as a cavalry officer that the George of West Point and Washington Place would never earn.77 It was a bitter twist for Vanderbilt, who dearly loved both his country and his youngest boy. He offered his son as a sacrifice to the nation in its hour of greatest need, and the nation took it. But the sacrifice was wasted, without purpose, without honor, leaving George only the pain and humiliation of a body that refused to function.
If Vanderbilt suffered as his son departed for Europe with a doubtful future, he also maintained that single-minded strength of will that had carried him to such heights. As the Civil War continued to rage in 1863, he went into battle to protect his private interests with a cunning and ferocity that would astonish the world-and seal his place in history.
*1 Merrimack Merrimack was commonly spelled without the final "k." was commonly spelled without the final "k."*2 Writers often mistakenly describe the gold premium as the price of gold Writers often mistakenly describe the gold premium as the price of gold per ounce per ounce, which only would be true if the weight of a gold dollar was 1/100 of an ounce. (It was, in fact, more than five times that amount.) Setting the price of gold by the ounce emerged far later. The distinction is important, for it speaks to the true nature of the gold market in the 1860s as a currency exchange.
Chapter Fourteen.
THE ORIGINS OF EMPIRE.
Few men in wartime New York were better known than Cornelius Vanderbilt-or so often misjudged. Thousands recognized him as he drove his fast horses through the streets each day, sitting erect on a light racing wagon with reins in hand, long white sideburns flowing down his cheeks, keen eyes squinting ahead. The fastidious Commodore always dressed in black and wore a white cravat typical of a passing generation, now affected largely by clergymen. One afternoon he left his office on Bowling Green and caught a stage headed north on Broadway. In front of him sat two young men dressed in the street finery favored by New York thugs. "I looked them over rather sharply, as I am accustomed to do," Vanderbilt recounted to a friend. One of the pair turned and looked back; he did not recognize the dignified old man in the white cravat, but assumed that he was a minister of the gospel. "I suppose you think I'm going to hell?" the rough asked. "No," Vanderbilt replied. He told the youth (as he later related) that "he seemed pretty badly off just then, but he appeared to have good stuff in him, and I guessed he'd come out all right." The stranger turned to his friend and exclaimed, "Universalist, by God!"1 Individuals far better informed than this one came to wrong conclusions about the clerical-looking Commodore (who spent very few of his many days in any kind of church, Universalist or otherwise). They still do. Even in retrospect, it is difficult to appreciate the true dimensions of his wealth and the power it gave him. The American economy grew rapidly but unevenly. New York towered over the rest of the developing nation as would be impossible in later centuries; wealth concentrated there, and financial markets matured there, far faster than anywhere else. It was the preeminent American port, the preeminent banking center, the home of the preeminent stock exchange. Securities held in New York could be liquidated or hypothecated rapidly. Vanderbilt was not only far richer than most rich men, he also occupied a strategic location in which he could use his fortune as a lever to move even greater masses of wealth and personally affect the economy nationwide.2 Vanderbilt himself struggled to describe his role as his financial capacities grew. "I... am connected with shipping," he vaguely told a Senate committee on December 30, 1862. Then he felt obliged to add, "I run steamship lines." Then he qualified again, observing, "Some would call me a merchant." In some ways, this old-fashioned and highly general term remains the best description. Shipper? Financier? Industrialist? Railroad director? He was all these things. He guided the Atlantic & Pacific Steamship Company, and managed its strategic relations with Pacific Mail. His engine works and shipyard produced pistons, boilers, and steamers. He purchased half a million dollars in Connecticut state bonds. He served on the boards of the Harlem, Erie, New Jersey Central, and Hartford & New Haven railroads.3 The very diversity of his activities makes it difficult to understand his true significance, for it is often impossible to know where he placed the lever of his fortune. He made an art out of hiding his hand, having risen with the original generation of New York and New England's smart men, the wily pioneers of free-for-all commerce who knew how to speak and say nothing. He would make this connection himself in dodging an inquiry from a New York State Assembly committee. "Let me answer your question by asking another," he would say, "as the Yankee does."4 In 1863, much of the mystery would disappear. That year he embarked on a new course, the last in his long business career. The results would cast a shadow over millions of people, if not the entire nation; indeed, Vanderbilt's historical importance would become apparent to all, rising above his furtive methods like a mountain peak above the clouds. In step with an increasingly specialized economy, he would concentrate his resources in a single industry, the most important of the nineteenth century: the railroads. So great would be his impact that a leading business journal could eulogize him, without fear of contradiction, as "the most striking figure in the American railroad world."5 Vanderbilt was striking enough already, with his vast wealth and control over major steamship lines, but his transformation from Commodore to railroad king would give him a significance that was cultural as much as economic. He would lead a revolution in American life, one that was terribly obvious to his contemporaries but perhaps less so to later generations. The lingering image of post-Civil War railroads is one of construction-think, for example, of the Chinese and Irish work crews who laid the transcontinental lines through mountains and wilderness-and it is an image with a solid basis in fact. After a wartime pause in new building, U.S. railroad mileage would more than double, from about thirty thousand in 1860 to seventy thousand by 1873, as the loose net of tracks that overlaid the American map became a fine mesh. But Vanderbilt would play little role in this process. Though he would build critical (and lasting) new infrastructure, he would lay few new lines and take no interest in the West, where construction through virgin land was most pronounced.
Vanderbilt, rather, would pioneer the rise of the truly gigantic business corporation. This process would leave an imprint on American society every bit as deep as the expansion of the physical railroad network itself. His role in this revolution would prove more startling in his own day than the mere fact of his riches. As the Railroad Gazette Railroad Gazette would write of him in 1877, would write of him in 1877, His early career as a railroad manager [i.e., starting in 1863] was distinguished by a series of bold, startling, revolutionary measures which attracted universal attention and had an effect reaching far beyond the lines and companies with which he dealt directly. The Vanderbilt era was the first great era of consolidations. That it was created by Vanderbilt would be too much to say; but he was the first great actor in it, and apparently hastened its coming.6 Consolidations. The word seems quaint, an old-fashioned version of the eye-glazing phrase "mergers and acquisitions," yet it was fraught with portentous meaning in the 1860s. Vanderbilt's consolidation of one railroad company into another into another into an empire would mark a profound change in the nature of the corporation itself. As late as the Civil War, a strong sense lingered that corporations were public bodies, chartered to channel private capital toward public ends-specific, limited ends. Early business corporations even operated under time constraints. The Richmond Turnpike Company had expired on schedule, and even the New York & Harlem Railroad had had to renew its charter in 1859 before it lapsed. Most corporations had come into existence during the life-spans-indeed, the active careers-of their stockholders and managers, who did not necessarily imagine that their companies would outlast their own involvement in them. The Pacific Mail directors had tried to sell out to the Commodore in order to pay off the stockholders and shut down permanently.
Starting in 1863, Vanderbilt would progressively destroy the last vestiges of this long-held conception. Drawing on his extensive experience with the corporate form, he would strip it of its remaining public character as he finished the long process of converting it into a vehicle for private gain alone. His consolidations would submerge older railroad companies into a behemoth to serve the requirements of efficiency and profitability; in so doing, he also would drown the original public purpose of these companies' charters, to serve specific localities over well-defined routes. Often these consolidations would prove highly beneficial for the public-though only incidentally because it was good business. And his takeovers would heighten the growing distinction between corporations and their flesh-and-blood shareholders and managers. He would separate companies from the individuals originally associated with them, transforming them into impersonal and permanent, or very long-lived, institutions.7 Historian Alfred D. Chandler Jr. famously referred to the rise of the large business enterprise-a rise led by the railroad corporation-as a "managerial revolution" in American business. The demands of a geographically sprawling railroad with thousands of employees necessitated the creation of a bureaucracy of salaried, professional managers; these managers imposed a "visible hand" on economic decisions that remade the smaller, simpler market economy of old. By creating one of the largest railroad companies the world had ever seen, Vanderbilt would directly shape this business transformation. But the sheer size of his enterprises would give him a larger cultural significance. He operated on an unprecedented scale, amassing some of the first interstate corporations in American history, which gave him a chokehold over the nation's arteries of commerce. The gigantic entities he helped pioneer would overshadow forever after the old landscape of individuals and small partnerships. They would also infuse American life with an institutional, bureaucratic business culture-what scholar Alan Trachtenberg calls the "incorporation of America."8 Vanderbilt would emerge as the first great icon of this revolution. This self-taught native of the eighteenth century would masterfully play the instruments of the corporation to gather unparalleled power in his own hands and contribute to a stark polarization of American society. Yet his ascendancy can hardly be dismissed as a curse. He would also create vast new wealth and forge one of the most efficient, lowest-cost transportation routes in the world, speeding American economic growth and opening new opportunities for investors and consumers. His contemporaries would have good reason to mark his rise as the start of a new era-and to give his name to it.
How did he do it? Why Why did he do it? Observers typically have accepted the simplistic formula that he suddenly realized that railroads, not steamships, were the technology of the future. did he do it? Observers typically have accepted the simplistic formula that he suddenly realized that railroads, not steamships, were the technology of the future.9 In truth, what he started in 1863 emerged naturally from his earlier career. He had been embroiled in railroads since the 1830s, served as the Stonington's president in the 1840s, and his involvement in the industry had increased in the 1850s. But too often writers have credited him with deep-laid plans of conquest, a systematic scheme to build an iron Rome. In truth, what he started in 1863 emerged naturally from his earlier career. He had been embroiled in railroads since the 1830s, served as the Stonington's president in the 1840s, and his involvement in the industry had increased in the 1850s. But too often writers have credited him with deep-laid plans of conquest, a systematic scheme to build an iron Rome.10 There is another interpretation that better fits the unknowability of the future before it becomes the past, an interpretation more complimentary, perhaps, of the Commodore's abilities. Though he was an excellent planner, he was still more accomplished as an improviser, a master of the unpredictable rough-and-tumble of business combat. He possessed a keen eye for strategic opportunities in his opponents' tactical errors, for turning successful skirmishes into full-blown campaigns. When he first started, he had little inkling of what he eventually would accomplish. There is another interpretation that better fits the unknowability of the future before it becomes the past, an interpretation more complimentary, perhaps, of the Commodore's abilities. Though he was an excellent planner, he was still more accomplished as an improviser, a master of the unpredictable rough-and-tumble of business combat. He possessed a keen eye for strategic opportunities in his opponents' tactical errors, for turning successful skirmishes into full-blown campaigns. When he first started, he had little inkling of what he eventually would accomplish.11 The irony of this, the most successful phase of Vanderbilt's career, is that he would resist each of the battles that brought him to new heights of wealth. He would consistently pursue diplomacy with connecting railways, accepting war only as a last resort. Contented with his realm, he would conquer a neighbor in order to eliminate its harassment of his domain. New conflicts with new neighbors would follow, leading to further conquests, until he gained a vast, consolidated kingdom-much as the Caesars pressed their boundaries forward to pacify the barbarian tribes that always lay beyond.
These epic wars of conquest began humbly, with what might be called a hobby. In 1863, he cocked an eye at the most bedraggled railroad in New York: the Harlem, the benighted line that he twice had rescued from bankruptcy. His initial interest in the company need not have concerned the public at all, except that it led him into a conflict with one of the great perils that plagued American democracy in the 1860s, that of government corruption. The elected officials of New York flapped around what they assumed to be the mere corpse of a company, each looking to tear off a piece for himself. Vanderbilt would not let them. The origins of his empire, then, lay not in his godlike foresight, but in his determination to punish the greed of a few foolish men.
ON FEBRUARY 16, 1863, Cornelius Vanderbilt wrote to former governor Edwin D. Morgan to decline a request to stand as an incorporator of a hospital for invalid soldiers. "I feel it a duty I owe myself to keep my name aloof from any association with public acts granted by legislative bodies," he wrote, "inasmuch as whenever my name has appeared before such bodies, without any regard to the justice of the object, it has been looked upon as a speculation, and with an eye of jealousy." Vanderbilt's concern for his personal honor is striking, and his wish to reduce his visibility even more so. "At this late day," he added, "I am desirous of keeping myself aloof from any public transaction of any kind or nature."12 This sentiment typified the Commodore's attitude toward both charitable bodies and his public image; and perhaps it reflected his desire to avoid any connection with the disreputable state legislature. But this attempt to distance himself from speculation would prove highly ironic. Even as he dictated this letter, the current of events carried him into an operation that would launch his career as a railroad tycoon through the greatest speculation to date.13 It would center on the New York & Harlem Railroad. It would center on the New York & Harlem Railroad.
"It is not so big a road," Vanderbilt remarked six years later. "It is a small thing, with a little capital of only about $6,000,000" ($5,772,800, actually). A small thing! Only in comparison to other railways could a business worth several million in the 1860s be considered "not so big."14 And only in comparison to the Commodore's fortune, of course. But Wall Street agreed with his judgment, on the grounds of Harlem's potential as well as its size. New York State's two largest railroads dwarfed it, the Erie having a capital stock of just under $20 million at par, the New York Central just over $24 million. Its business suffered grave weaknesses, for it carried almost no through freight from the West, apart from some cattle, due to steep grades north of Manhattan. Even though Vanderbilt had helped reduce its floating debt, it still had trouble meeting expenses. "Of all the active railway shares dealt in at the board, the Harlems probably possess the least intrinsic value," wrote the And only in comparison to the Commodore's fortune, of course. But Wall Street agreed with his judgment, on the grounds of Harlem's potential as well as its size. New York State's two largest railroads dwarfed it, the Erie having a capital stock of just under $20 million at par, the New York Central just over $24 million. Its business suffered grave weaknesses, for it carried almost no through freight from the West, apart from some cattle, due to steep grades north of Manhattan. Even though Vanderbilt had helped reduce its floating debt, it still had trouble meeting expenses. "Of all the active railway shares dealt in at the board, the Harlems probably possess the least intrinsic value," wrote the New York Herald New York Herald on March 25, 1863. "The net earnings last year-which was an extraordinarily good one for all roads-were $473,401," about equal to the interest on its $6.7 million in bonds. "No one believes that the road can, for ten years to come, pay anything" in dividends. on March 25, 1863. "The net earnings last year-which was an extraordinarily good one for all roads-were $473,401," about equal to the interest on its $6.7 million in bonds. "No one believes that the road can, for ten years to come, pay anything" in dividends.15 The Harlem was a peculiar line in many ways, in part because it had been chartered in 1831, when railroads were still regarded as an unproven experiment. For example, the par value of each share was set at $50, half the standard $100 for an American corporation (though the press still reported changes in its price as 1 "percent" for each dollar, as with other stocks). It was a hybrid road, both a horse-drawn streetcar line and a steam-locomotive railway. Trains ran down the Harlem 130 miles from Chatham Four Corners or came in from New England over the New York & New Haven Railroad, crossed the Harlem River on a bridge, and rolled down Fourth Avenue to Forty-second Street. They entered a tunnel dug under Murray Hill (and covered over with parks, all at the expense of the railroad), rolled out ten blocks south, and continued into the Harlem depot at Twenty-sixth Street, a structure with crenellated walls that rather resembled a castle. There the trains interchanged passengers with the horse-drawn streetcars, which went as far down as the city hall via the Bowery. For years the company had fought city ordinances, passed at the urging of wealthy Murray Hill residents, to stop the locomotives north of the tunnel. Fearing an uptown creep of this sentiment, on April 16, 1859, the Harlem had secured from the state legislature the right to use steam engines as far south as Forty-second Street (though it was forced to haul its cars between the depot and Forty-second Street with horses).16 This undersize hermaphrodite road attracted the Commodore's renewed attention amid the Civil War boom in railway shares on Wall Street. "In 1862 he was known to be buying a large amount of the stock," recalled William Fowler. According to rumor, Vanderbilt foresaw a great day in Harlem. "The idea that he was buying it for investment investment seemed intensely funny to the brokers," Fowler wrote. Vanderbilt's purchases had no effect on the negative view of the railroad among financial men, even though he drove the share price from a few dollars a share to over 50. Most brokers said "the certificates were only good for wrapping paper." seemed intensely funny to the brokers," Fowler wrote. Vanderbilt's purchases had no effect on the negative view of the railroad among financial men, even though he drove the share price from a few dollars a share to over 50. Most brokers said "the certificates were only good for wrapping paper."17 Wall Street was at all times a waterfall of rumors, few of them accurate. In this case, the tales muttered over fillet of sole at Delmonico's proved to be true: Vanderbilt was, in fact, buying because he believed in the Harlem's prospects. "I recollect... hearing him say that this railroad property, if properly managed," Horace Clark later remarked, "will be as good property as there was in the state."18 What did he see in it that no one else did? From the very beginning of Vanderbilt's career, he had focused on transportation routes that had decisive strategic advantages over competitors. The Stonington railroad, for example, ran from a convenient port inside Point Judith over a direct line to Boston with easy grades that he made into the fastest and cheapest to operate at the time of his presidency. Likewise, the Nicaragua route to California had possessed a permanent superiority in coal consumption over Panama, thanks to shorter steamship voyages. The Harlem's fixed strength was its penetration of the center of New York, down Fourth Avenue and through its streetcar line. This was something that no other railroad possessed-not even the only other steam railway to enter Manhattan, the Hudson River, which was restricted to the far west side. The Harlem provided the only portal for direct rail traffic with industrial New England, a rich trade that Vanderbilt knew well from his directorship of the Hartford & New Haven. And, as with the Stonington, he moved in after after the company's debts had been starkly reduced. Once in control, he could reduce the Harlem's operating costs (a science he practiced most effectively), and then he thought it would prove very profitable. the company's debts had been starkly reduced. Once in control, he could reduce the Harlem's operating costs (a science he practiced most effectively), and then he thought it would prove very profitable.19 But there was something more personal driving Vanderbilt's interest in the Harlem. Perhaps the most important element in his character-even more than his economic calculation-was pride. We know he prized his reputation (as shown by his letter to Governor Morgan, among many other examples) and cherished his status as a man of honor. Most of all, he took pride in his abilities. Competitive to the core, he had spent his life outdoing other men, whether sailing New York Bay or navigating the Nicaraguan rapids; fighting with his fists or waging rate wars; racing his steamboats or running his four-footed trotters; designing steamships or planning sprawling enterprises. Now he would show the world that he could revive the most necrotic of companies. "Here is a man," the Commodore would remark in 1867, "who has taken a road when its stock was not worth ten dollars a share, and had not been for years. He has had a little pride; he said he would bring up that road, and make the stock valuable."20 Of course, Vanderbilt's pride mattered little to anyone else. He had been an important Harlem stockholder for almost a decade, and his slowly increasing stake changed nothing for the public (except those few who also owned stock and saw the value rise). But his purchases led him into a confrontation with one of the great evils that worried civic-minded New Yorkers: the corruption of their government.21 During the Civil War, Americans began to fear that rampant corruption threatened democracy itself. The head of the New York Custom House alone could scoop in as much as four times the salary of the president (which, at $25,000, was many times larger than that of railroad presidents or other extremely well-paid men). As the federal budget grew, the scope of graft seemed to swell as well. Profiteering off military contracts seemed to run rampant, particularly under Lincoln's first secretary of war, Simon Cameron, who did without competitive bidding. Manufacturers delivered cheap, flimsy shoes and uniforms made of recycled wool, or "shoddy," that soon fell apart. Conflicts of interest abounded as businessmen filled new government posts; for example, Thomas A. Scott, the superintendent of the Pennsylvania Railroad, served as assistant secretary of war with jurisdiction over military transportation.22 Crooked dealing within the federal government seemed almost tame compared to its rapacity in New York. George Templeton Strong, like many, complained of "our disgraceful, profligate legislature." Harper's Weekly Harper's Weekly reported late in 1863, "Last winter, it became evident to all discerning observers that a combination of adventurers had bought up a majority of both branches of the Legislature." And city government looked worse. At war's end, the Union League Committee on Municipal Reform would admit a "longing for a temporary dictator who would sweep these bad men from our municipal halls and cleanse this Augean stable of its accumulated corruption." reported late in 1863, "Last winter, it became evident to all discerning observers that a combination of adventurers had bought up a majority of both branches of the Legislature." And city government looked worse. At war's end, the Union League Committee on Municipal Reform would admit a "longing for a temporary dictator who would sweep these bad men from our municipal halls and cleanse this Augean stable of its accumulated corruption."23 As Vanderbilt steadily purchased Harlem stock, the company fell afoul of a past master of bribery, one of the Commodore's oldest enemies, George Law. New York's merchant community smelled sulfur wherever he went. "It is impossible for outsiders to estimate his worth, & it is doubtful if he can do it himself," R. G. Dun & Co. reported in 1859. The next year it added, "He is reported to be sharp & over-reaching in his transactions & dealt with accordingly." He had spread his money freely in the fallow fields of Washington during his years in the U.S. Mail Steamship Company and the Panama Railroad. Now he devoted himself to transportation in Manhattan, with a stake in various ferries and the Eighth Avenue Railroad, a horse-drawn streetcar line, so his bribes flowed upstream to Albany24 Sometime around March 1863, Law reportedly began to twitch and tweak the state legislature into granting him a charter for a streetcar railroad down Broadway. "Reportedly" is as conclusive as any account can be; though the press blamed him for pushing this bill, direct evidence of his involvement is hard to find.25 But no doubt exists over the furious reaction that erupted in late April when Manhattanites learned that the most famous avenue in America might be bound with iron rails. As the bill advanced toward passage, a long list of New York's patriarchs-among them William B. Astor, Moses Taylor, Peter Lorillard, and Royal Phelps-signed a petition to the new governor, Horatio Seymour, to protest "bestowing a franchise of immense value upon individuals, many of whom are unknown.... Its effect will be to injure immensely if not almost destroy the most beautiful thoroughfare on this continent." The But no doubt exists over the furious reaction that erupted in late April when Manhattanites learned that the most famous avenue in America might be bound with iron rails. As the bill advanced toward passage, a long list of New York's patriarchs-among them William B. Astor, Moses Taylor, Peter Lorillard, and Royal Phelps-signed a petition to the new governor, Horatio Seymour, to protest "bestowing a franchise of immense value upon individuals, many of whom are unknown.... Its effect will be to injure immensely if not almost destroy the most beautiful thoroughfare on this continent." The New York Herald New York Herald declared that New Yorkers were "wonderfully unanimous" in "disgust and anger at the shameless corruption of the Albany scheme." declared that New Yorkers were "wonderfully unanimous" in "disgust and anger at the shameless corruption of the Albany scheme."26 One might well wonder why the state should intervene in a purely municipal matter. The answer is that the Broadway bill, and the corruption that surrounded it, reflected a long-standing struggle for power between city and state, and within the Democratic Party. In 1857, in an effort to weaken then-mayor Fernando Wood, the Republican legislature had passed a series of measures to strip New York of authority over its own affairs. This had strengthened Wood's Democratic opponents more than the city's Republicans, as one of his leading rivals, William Tweed, gained an independent power base in the enhanced New York County Board of Supervisors. By 1863, the city's Democratic Party had divided into three fiercely alienated factions: Tammany Hall, Wood's Mozart Hall, and a splinter group led by former U.S. attorney John McKeon. Even Tammany itself was split between Tweed's crowd and the wealthy circle around Horace Clark, Augustus Schell, and August Belmont.27 The "George Law" bill threatened to further erode the city's power over its own streets, and deny it any revenue from a potentially lucrative franchise. City hall, torn by its internal feuding, looked unlikely to come up with an effective response. But there was one force that could unite the bitterest enemies in New York: money.
Someone conceived a plan to have the city preempt the Law company, by granting the Harlem the right to run a streetcar line down Broadway. If the city fathers must have a Broadway railroad, they thought, they should at least keep control of it-and its proceeds. According to Harper's Weekly Harper's Weekly, the aldermen and councilmen demanded that, in return for this gift, the Harlem pay roughly $100,000 in bribes. ("We don't pretend to know exactly," Harper's Harper's wrote.) What's more, rumors began to fly about unusual purchases-and purchasers-of Harlem stock. "Men with strongly Celtic faces were seen on Wall Street," recounted Fowler, with the unblushing anti-Irish prejudice of the day, "sixth-warders by the cut of their jib, and said to belong to the Ancient and Honorable Board of Aldermen." wrote.) What's more, rumors began to fly about unusual purchases-and purchasers-of Harlem stock. "Men with strongly Celtic faces were seen on Wall Street," recounted Fowler, with the unblushing anti-Irish prejudice of the day, "sixth-warders by the cut of their jib, and said to belong to the Ancient and Honorable Board of Aldermen."
On April 21, this farce turned into slapstick when a deputy sheriff appeared at a meeting of the aldermen, bearing an injunction on behalf of Broadway's stage and omnibus lines. "He was ordered to retire," the New York Herald New York Herald reported, "but not seeming inclined to go, the President directed the Sergeant-at-Arms to remove him." Once the deputy had been wrestled out and the door locked, the honorable gentlemen voted to give the Harlem the Broadway streetcar franchise. Two days later the railroad's workmen began to lay tracks. Meanwhile the "George Law" company went to work on reported, "but not seeming inclined to go, the President directed the Sergeant-at-Arms to remove him." Once the deputy had been wrestled out and the door locked, the honorable gentlemen voted to give the Harlem the Broadway streetcar franchise. Two days later the railroad's workmen began to lay tracks. Meanwhile the "George Law" company went to work on another another section of Broadway, in anticipation of victory in the well-greased legislature. section of Broadway, in anticipation of victory in the well-greased legislature.28 Even with General Grant attacking Vicksburg from the rear, with General Joseph Hooker in motion against Robert E. Lee, the people of New York could talk of little else but the battle of Broadway. "The coup d'etat coup d'etat of the Common Council" was "the great theme of conversation in the city yesterday," the of the Common Council" was "the great theme of conversation in the city yesterday," the Herald Herald reported on April 24. "The deepest interest was expressed by all classes, and a high state of excitement prevailed in Wall Street, about the City Hall, and around the newspaper bulletins." Finally a fresh injunction halted both sides. Strong wrote that the "only visible sign" of the Harlem's Broadway line "is a strip of lacerated pavement between 13th and 14th Streets, and a few sleepers and rails lying out in the rain." Then Governor Seymour vetoed the George Law bill. The city-and the Harlem Railroad-had won. reported on April 24. "The deepest interest was expressed by all classes, and a high state of excitement prevailed in Wall Street, about the City Hall, and around the newspaper bulletins." Finally a fresh injunction halted both sides. Strong wrote that the "only visible sign" of the Harlem's Broadway line "is a strip of lacerated pavement between 13th and 14th Streets, and a few sleepers and rails lying out in the rain." Then Governor Seymour vetoed the George Law bill. The city-and the Harlem Railroad-had won.29 Where was the Commodore? True to his word, "at this late date" he chose to keep "aloof from any public transaction," particularly the mass corruption of New York City and State. Though he held a seat on the Harlem board, he did not bother to attend meetings with any regularity until the beginning of May (though Horace Clark helped fight the George Law bill in Albany). The first overt sign of Vanderbilt's intentions came on May 13. With the Harlem's annual election five days away, he asked Erastus Corning, president of the New York Central Railroad, to serve as a director on the new board.30 (Corning declined.) On May 18, Vanderbilt swept the election, winning directorships for himself and his circle, including Clark, Daniel Drew, Augustus Schell, and a vice president of the Bank of New York named (appropriately enough) James H. Banker. The next day the board unanimously elected the Commodore president. (Corning declined.) On May 18, Vanderbilt swept the election, winning directorships for himself and his circle, including Clark, Daniel Drew, Augustus Schell, and a vice president of the Bank of New York named (appropriately enough) James H. Banker. The next day the board unanimously elected the Commodore president.31 The final phase of the Commodore's career now commenced. If the Harlem was "not so big a road," it was a beginning. And the measures he enacted upon assuming power set the pattern for what he would do with every railroad that later fell into his hands. "Mr. Vanderbilt replied that he would accept the office of President of the Co. upon the condition that he receive no compensation for his services," the secretary recorded, "& that the Board appoint a vice president who shall discharge the executive duties of the office." It was a declaration of a sweeping new policy of reform: he would save the company every penny-including the president's $6,000 salary-but he would not be an operational manager. Rather, he would be a railroad leader leader, a distinction critical to understanding his role.
The board ratified his terms, of course, and elected William E. Morris vice president. Other reforms appeared in swift succession. The same day the board created an executive and finance committee, a tighter, more efficient group to act on behalf of the full board. It consisted entirely of Vanderbilt's assistants and allies: Clark, Schell, Banker, A. B. Baylis, and John Steward. The committee promptly restructured the company's debt by issuing $6 million in new consolidated mortgage bonds "for the liquidation, adjustment, & settlement of all debts & liabilities of the company." In a stark departure from past expediency, the bonds were not to be sold for less than par. It was a bold decision given the railroad's miserable reputation.32 By emerging from the shadows to publicly take charge of the Harlem, the Commodore staked his prized reputation on his ability to revive the ailing railroad. His failure to save the Accessory Transit Company had cut deeply into his muscular pride; he would never let the same thing happen again. But this personal project immediately came under attack. The two tales of Harlem-the comedy of public corruption and the heroic saga of its rescue-now converged.
Just as Vanderbilt assumed the presidency of the railroad, the Harlem came under attack by New York's corrupt officials. Those officials were not not its original enemies, the state legislators, but its erstwhile allies, the city councilmen. The elected elders of Gotham had bought as many shares of Harlem as their good credit would allow before giving the railroad the Broadway franchise. As soon as Governor Seymour vetoed the George Law bill, the price of Harlem soared to 105-nearly twice the market price of 58 recorded when this affair began. "In comparison with the thousands thus made in a day or two," its original enemies, the state legislators, but its erstwhile allies, the city councilmen. The elected elders of Gotham had bought as many shares of Harlem as their good credit would allow before giving the railroad the Broadway franchise. As soon as Governor Seymour vetoed the George Law bill, the price of Harlem soared to 105-nearly twice the market price of 58 recorded when this affair began. "In comparison with the thousands thus made in a day or two," Harper's Harper's declared, "street-cleaning schemes, by which a few hundreds were filched, or the sale of votes at $100 a piece, seemed petty and contemptible." But their grand profit in this most inside of inside trading led them, en masse, to a grave miscalculation: "If they could create, could they not also destroy?" declared, "street-cleaning schemes, by which a few hundreds were filched, or the sale of votes at $100 a piece, seemed petty and contemptible." But their grand profit in this most inside of inside trading led them, en masse, to a grave miscalculation: "If they could create, could they not also destroy?"33 "The City Hall junta, like many other men, are smart in their own sphere, but children out of it," Harper's Harper's continued. "In a sweetly innocent way, they 'sold Harlem short' all the way from 85-to which point the Commodore let it drop-to 72." Their plan was simple: to sell Harlem short, continued. "In a sweetly innocent way, they 'sold Harlem short' all the way from 85-to which point the Commodore let it drop-to 72." Their plan was simple: to sell Harlem short, revoke revoke the Broadway franchise, then buy in at a profit after the price tumbled. They would use their official powers to destroy the share value of one of the city's largest companies and most important transit lines. The result would devastate the railroad's shaky credit as the price of its securities collapsed. the Broadway franchise, then buy in at a profit after the price tumbled. They would use their official powers to destroy the share value of one of the city's largest companies and most important transit lines. The result would devastate the railroad's shaky credit as the price of its securities collapsed.
For Vanderbilt, the potential losses may have been less important than the attack on his pet project, the intended showcase of his abilities as a businessman. It was said that friends of the aldermen and councilmen informed Vanderbilt of the impending revocation of the Broadway grant. "Rumor states," the New York Herald New York Herald wrote, "that the President of the Company, Commodore Vanderbilt, warned the members of the Council of the folly of their trick, and predicted that they would lose more than they would make by it." wrote, "that the President of the Company, Commodore Vanderbilt, warned the members of the Council of the folly of their trick, and predicted that they would lose more than they would make by it."34 On June 25, the battle of Harlem began. The price began the day at 83 , but orders to sell poured out of city hall. At four o'clock, the board of councilmen voted to repeal the Broadway grant, and Harlem fell rapidly to 72 at the Open Board. But the Commodore had laid a trap. He intended to corner the market-to buy every share offered by the brokers working for aldermen and councilmen, even if they surpassed the total in existence. When the short-sellers went into the market to buy shares in order to deliver them to Vanderbilt's brokers, they would find none-and still less mercy.
The corner was hardly a new maneuver on Wall Street (Vanderbilt may have carried one out in late 1852), but the Commodore proposed to conduct this one on a far larger scale than ever before. The dangers were immense. He had to buy on credit, for he had to buy quickly. Anything short of complete victory would prove disastrous; he had to control all all the shares or he would be unable to extort money from the short-sellers. But Vanderbilt, as Lambert Wardell later explained, "was a bold, fearless man, very much a speculator, understanding all risks and willing to take them." the shares or he would be unable to extort money from the short-sellers. But Vanderbilt, as Lambert Wardell later explained, "was a bold, fearless man, very much a speculator, understanding all risks and willing to take them."35 On the morning of June 26, news of a Confederate invasion of Pennsylvania filled the pages of the newspapers. On Wall Street, nervous traders expected Harlem's rapid retreat after the repeal and the losses of the night before. "Instead of declining, however, it advanced, rather to the astonishment of the shorts," reported the Herald Herald. "It rose today to 97, a difference rarely witnessed in a single day and a more severe punishment than the bears have suffered for some time." Vanderbilt's credit stretched as his brokers bought and bought, fighting the bears who sold in a desperate attempt to break down the price. Some of the short-sellers panicked and borrowed stock to deliver (rather than buy in at a loss); they paid interest of as high as 2 percent per day 2 percent per day for its use. Still Harlem rose, to 101 on June 27, then 106 on June 28. "The bear campaign in Harlem proves the most disastrous on record," the for its use. Still Harlem rose, to 101 on June 27, then 106 on June 28. "The bear campaign in Harlem proves the most disastrous on record," the Herald Herald observed. observed.
As Harlem marched upward, the bears realized that they were borrowing stock, through third-party brokers, from Vanderbilt. He had slyly lent out his own stock for delivery to himself, to both fool and squeeze his opponents. Those opponents were cornered; they could not fulfill their contracts by delivering the stock they had promised. Each day that the situation persisted, they paid interest. "It is understood that the short sellers have acknowledged their defeat, and endeavored to make terms with their triumphant antagonists without success," the Herald Herald wrote. wrote.36 The "triumphant antagonists," of course, were Commodore Vanderbilt and a tight clique of friends and advisers who wisely followed his directions. He had directed his campaign from his office at 5 Bowling Green without ever going near Wall Street, ruthlessly gambling his fortune on complete victory. It was a chilling display of nerve. According to Harper's Weekly Harper's Weekly, the councilmen called to beg for mercy, and the Commodore graciously replied that "he knew not who had sold the stock he had bought. If the gentlemen present were the sellers, he feared they had parted with valuable property at a low price. For his part he didn't see that he had had, or was likely to have, any dealings with them; and wished them a very good morning."
For New York's famously corrupt councilmen, Vanderbilt's vengeance proved a grand humiliation. He had caught them in their game of twisting public power to private ends, and drove them to the brink of bankruptcy. They "slunk back to Wall Street" and found that Harlem had risen $2 per share. Even more devastating, Harper's Harper's added, was that "the public had come to understand the game.... No member of the City Hall party could show himself in public without exciting a roar of laughter." added, was that "the public had come to understand the game.... No member of the City Hall party could show himself in public without exciting a roar of laughter."37 Finally Vanderbilt granted a (stiff) price to let them out of their contracts. On June 29, the humbled Common Council restored the Broadway grant. Vanderbilt let the price down after he had squeezed the most he deemed prudent out of his foes. "It may seem anomalous to outsiders that Harlem should rise 30 percent on the repeal of the grant and fall on the repeal of the repeal," the Finally Vanderbilt granted a (stiff) price to let them out of their contracts. On June 29, the humbled Common Council restored the Broadway grant. Vanderbilt let the price down after he had squeezed the most he deemed prudent out of his foes. "It may seem anomalous to outsiders that Harlem should rise 30 percent on the repeal of the grant and fall on the repeal of the repeal," the Herald Herald wrote on July 1. "But people who sold the stock short understand the reason." wrote on July 1. "But people who sold the stock short understand the reason."
Two days later the Union army at Gettysburg held the line against Pickett's charge. The battered Army of Northern Virginia retreated, leaving the battlefield to the Army of the Potomac. "A memorable day" Strong wrote on July 5, "even if its glorious news prove but half true.... This may have been one of the great decisive battles of history." So too on Wall Street, if the reporting was only half true. Vanderbilt enriched himself by forcing greedy men to pay for selling him what was his all along.38 The Harlem corner proved significant in many ways. For one, Vanderbilt's punishment of the famously corrupt city government resonated with disgruntled New Yorkers, especially the elite who resented the rise of the Irish to office. For another, the sheer volume of money in play attracted unprecedented attention to Wall Street. Some were charmed by the romance of this financial warfare; others were alarmed that the public highways should be gambled in financial markets that few Americans fully understood. Perhaps most important, the corner greatly increased Vanderbilt's stake in the Harlem Railroad. In a typical corner, the victorious bulls would try to unload the stock they had acquired; in this case, Vanderbilt held on to many of the additional shares he had bought, lifting his official holdings from less than one-tenth to almost one-third. He had pursued the corner to avenge himself, but it may have led him to make an even more serious commitment to the railroad. It transformed the Harlem into the foundation of his railroad kingdom.39 In July, the annual wave of heat and humidity and dirt and stench rolled over New York. It was time for Vanderbilt to move on, as he did every summer, to Saratoga. His victory secure, he could remove himself two hundred miles to the Springs. Everywhere people declared that Gettysburg had effectively ended the rebellion. "My cheerful and agreeable but deluded friends," Strong wrote in his diary, "there must be battle by the score before that outbreak from the depths of original sin is 'ended.'"40 MANY MYSTERIES SURROUND the Harlem corner. How much stock did Vanderbilt really keep in the end? How much did he make? Who were his collaborators? Perhaps most important, who were his enemies? The councilmen and aldermen? In the last case, this was petty individual graft. The famously corrupt Tweed Ring did not yet exist. Nor was it a Tammany Hall operation. Contrary to historical myth, Tammany had never been an all-powerful machine, especially not now, when it comprised only one wing of the Democratic Party the Harlem corner. How much stock did Vanderbilt really keep in the end? How much did he make? Who were his collaborators? Perhaps most important, who were his enemies? The councilmen and aldermen? In the last case, this was petty individual graft. The famously corrupt Tweed Ring did not yet exist. Nor was it a Tammany Hall operation. Contrary to historical myth, Tammany had never been an all-powerful machine, especially not now, when it comprised only one wing of the Democratic Party41 Historian Mark Wahlgren Summers convincingly refutes the long-held idea that the Civil War gave rise to "exceptional rascality." It was not corruption that was new, he writes, but the corruption issue-a fever for reform that would grow with the coming of peace. As we've seen, graft arrived on the American scene long before 1861; as Summers notes, the "argot of corruption," with such terms as "borers," "strikers," and "dummies," first emerged in the antebellum years. The source might be traced back to the Jacksonian revolution in politics, with the rise of professional politicians who treated elections and officeholding as a business. Some were simply greedy, but even the most public-spirited needed money to fund campaigns, partisan newspapers, and party rallies. As Tweed ascended to power in the months ahead, he would not pioneer graft, but rationalize rationalize it to serve the purpose of governing the decentralized, anarchic city. In that sense, the Common Council's bear raid on Harlem represented a transitional moment in New York's rich history of corruption-a frenzy of profiteering before the rise of the more systematic (but equally greedy) Tweed. it to serve the purpose of governing the decentralized, anarchic city. In that sense, the Common Council's bear raid on Harlem represented a transitional moment in New York's rich history of corruption-a frenzy of profiteering before the rise of the more systematic (but equally greedy) Tweed.42 A more personal mystery surrounds Daniel Drew. The banker Henry Clews would later write in his influential memoir (Twenty-eight Years in Wall Street (Twenty-eight Years in Wall Street, updated later as Fifty Years in Wall Street) Fifty Years in Wall Street) that "Drew was one of the great bears in this deal with the aldermen." Clews and other Wall Street men of the 1860s depicted Drew as Vanderbilt's natural rival-the bear who fought the bull, a skulking fiend who undercut stock prices and refused to fulfill his contracts when he lost money that "Drew was one of the great bears in this deal with the aldermen." Clews and other Wall Street men of the 1860s depicted Drew as Vanderbilt's natural rival-the bear who fought the bull, a skulking fiend who undercut stock prices and refused to fulfill his contracts when he lost money43 Unfortunately, Clews was a wildly unreliable rumormonger with a taste for the most colorful version of any story; his oft-quoted tales are mostly worthless as historical evidence. More than that, this dark picture of Drew was projected through the lens of events yet to occur. In 1860, by contrast, R. G. Dun & Co. had made a more nuanced report: "His stock firm stands high at the Board. Drew is pretty well liked & not very grasping in his disposition, but takes care that he gets his own. Altho he is [responsible], his contracts would be better interpreted in writing." Unfortunately, Clews was a wildly unreliable rumormonger with a taste for the most colorful version of any story; his oft-quoted tales are mostly worthless as historical evidence. More than that, this dark picture of Drew was projected through the lens of events yet to occur. In 1860, by contrast, R. G. Dun & Co. had made a more nuanced report: "His stock firm stands high at the Board. Drew is pretty well liked & not very grasping in his disposition, but takes care that he gets his own. Altho he is [responsible], his contracts would be better interpreted in writing."44 He was a bit slippery, then, but not dishonorable-quite popular, in fact, and well respected. True, he had a taste for short-selling (his inside trading in Erie stock had come to light as early as 1857), but that did not make him Vanderbilt's enemy. No evidence exists to indicate a departure from their long years of close cooperation in business operations and speculation, let alone their friendship. "Uncle Daniel" was far more likely to have joined the Harlem corner. He was a bit slippery, then, but not dishonorable-quite popular, in fact, and well respected. True, he had a taste for short-selling (his inside trading in Erie stock had come to light as early as 1857), but that did not make him Vanderbilt's enemy. No evidence exists to indicate a departure from their long years of close cooperation in business operations and speculation, let alone their friendship. "Uncle Daniel" was far more likely to have joined the Harlem corner.45 A final enigma surrounds Vanderbilt's intentions, now that he controlled the Harlem. He had turned sixty-nine on May 27, an age generally associated with retirement-or death-rather than beginnings. He himself had written of "this late day" in his life. Yet he showed every sign of embracing his new role as chief executive despite his insistence on a vice president to run daily affairs. Over the ensuing months he would correspond with everyone from the Harlem's chief engineer to Edwin D. Stan-ton about everything from machine shops to individual locomotives.46 His long-term plans, on the other hand, remain shrouded. More than likely, he had little notion of the epic wars to come. His long-term plans, on the other hand, remain shrouded. More than likely, he had little notion of the epic wars to come.
THE HARLEM CORNER was perhaps the most spectacular sign of the vast quantities of wealth now being handled by the men of Wall Street. Vanderbilt kept his profits secret, but they surely ran into the hundreds of thousands of dollars. It was a harvest that reflected an increasingly stark polarization of society. When the income tax assessors drew up their lists that year, they found that the top 1 percent, a group of 1,600 families, earned 61 percent of the was perhaps the most spectacular sign of the vast quantities of wealth now being handled by the men of Wall Street. Vanderbilt kept his profits secret, but they surely ran into the hundreds of thousands of dollars. It was a harvest that reflected an increasingly stark polarization of society. When the income tax assessors drew up their lists that year, they found that the top 1 percent, a group of 1,600 families, earned 61 percent of the taxable taxable income of Manhattan's more than 800,000 souls. Were dividends (which were taxed at the source) included, that percentage would prove far larger. Department-store magnate Alexander T. Stewart earned $1,843,637 in 1863; when one of his clerks was promoted that year, he received a salary of only $500, and many clerks received as little as $300. Wartime inflation punished the city's poor. Retail prices had risen 43 percent since 1860, and rents had climbed as much as 20 percent, but wages had increased only 12 percent. The resentment felt in such slums as Corlears Hook and Five Points began to boil. income of Manhattan's more than 800,000 souls. Were dividends (which were taxed at the source) included, that percentage would prove far larger. Department-store magnate Alexander T. Stewart earned $1,843,637 in 1863; when one of his clerks was promoted that year, he received a salary of only $500, and many clerks received as little as $300. Wartime inflation punished the city's poor. Retail prices had risen 43 percent since 1860, and rents had climbed as much as 20 percent, but wages had increased only 12 percent. The resentment felt in such slums as Corlears Hook and Five Points began to boil.47 On Saturday, July 11, a typically suffocating New York summer day, the lottery for the draft began, as mandated by the Conscription Act, passed by a Congress desperate for men to fight the increasingly costly war. At the corner of Third Avenue and Forty-seventh Street, "an area of vacant lots and isolated buildings," as two historians of the city write, "the provost marshal read off names drawn from a large barrel." Some of the 1,236 men drafted belonged to Black Joke Engine Company No. 33. Largely Irish and working-class, the firemen had always enjoyed an exemption from the state militia; being called up for federal service enraged them. On Monday, when the lottery was scheduled to resume, the Black Joke men sparked a citywide inferno known as the Draft Riots. Mobs stormed buildings and battled police; arsonists started fires from river to river, from Fiftieth Street to the Battery. The violence took a savagely racist turn. Rioters attacked black-owned homes and businesses, lynched black men and women, and ransacked the Colored Orphan Asylum on Fifth Avenue and Forty-second Street, shouting "Burn the niggers' nest!" Troops rushed back from Gettysburg; they charged barricades and battled lines of armed and organized civilians. By Thursday night, six thousand soldiers patrolled the smoldering city. On Friday, the omnibuses rolled once again.
A man could avoid the draft by paying a $300 fee, a provision that inflamed class tensions-indeed, that drove much of the riot's fury. "There goes a $300 man!" the rioters bellowed when they spotted (and attacked) a prosperous-looking fellow on the streets. "Down with the rich men!" they cried, as they looted fine houses on Gramercy Park.48 But the Commodore did not feel their wrath, nor did he have any feeling for it. But the Commodore did not feel their wrath, nor did he have any feeling for it.
The city's response was typically divided. The Republican mayor Opdyke had appealed for troops. Democrats came up with a more sympathetic and expedient solution. With Tweed's guidance, the county board of supervisors created a committee to pay for exemptions and substitutes for the poor. Governor Seymour, a Democrat, also convinced Lincoln to reduce New York's quota.
Somewhere amid this crisis moved Horace Clark and Augustus Schell. Along with August Belmont, they led the "silk-stocking sachems" of Tammany Hall, a faction of wealthy Democrats who eyed Tweed warily as his influence grew in the wake of the riot. The time would come when Clark and Schell moved openly against Tweed, whom they considered a dangerous demagogue; but for the moment, they devoted themselves to the service of the Commodore as he worked to reform the Harlem Railroad. They would rebel against him one day as well, with disastrous consequences for all.49 ON AUGUST 20, 1863, a small, slender, reserved young man with a great black sack of a beard composed a letter on the stationery of the Rutland & Washington Railroad, addressed to Erastus Corning, president of the New York Central. "I was informed to day," he wrote, "that a party in intent with the Hudson River [Railroad] clique had been made up for the purpose of purchasing controll [sic] of the NY. Central." An "informant" in the office of the ring's leader, Leonard W. Jerome, had overheard a conversation among its members, "[and] I thought it proper to advise you."50 Curiously, the writer of the letter shared a birthday with Cornelius Vanderbilt, though he was born in 1836, making him only twenty-seven. A former surveyor and local historian from the heart of the Catskill Mountains, he had set up as a leather merchant in Manhattan, where he was not very popular. Recently he had purchased a large quantity of the securities of the little Rutland & Washington at a steep discount and had gone into railroading, albeit on a very small scale. His name was Jay Gould.51 Less than five years later, Gould would emerge as the most dangerous enemy of Vanderbilt's long life, but the plot that Gould now uncovered would bring them onto the same side. For Vanderbilt-only weeks into his presidency of the Harlem Railroad-Jerome's scheme posed a test: How would he conduct himself on the treacherous battlefield of New York's railways? The answer would prove surprising, given his reputation, but it would be characteristic of his career as a railroad executive. More than that, his handling of this plot spoke to the strategic geography of the nation's railways, a reality that would define the rest of his life.
If one word could describe the railroad system, it would be fragmented be fragmented. By 1860, a total of 30,626 miles of track draped the American landscape; hundreds of companies made up that network, which had as many as seven different gauges (widths between tracks), from 4 feet 8 inches (standard in New England, New York, and Pennsylvania) to 6 feet (used on the Erie Railway and some thirteen smaller lines). This confusion dated back to the origins of the system in the 1830s and 40s. Rather like the old turnpike companies, railroad corporations had been created by the merchants of various cities and towns to funnel trade toward themselves. Local communities fiercely resisted the integration of the network for fear that business would roll right past them; they wanted breaks between railroads, despite the inefficiencies imposed on long-distance commerce. The original charter of the Erie actually prohibited it from linking to railroads that led into neighboring states. By the start of the Civil War, such legal restrictions largely had been eliminated, but the profusion of incompatible gauges and the fragmentation into scores of companies persisted, with consequent costs from "breaking bulk" (loading freight from one car into another) and outbreaks of hostilities between connecting lines.52 In the 1850s, four giant railroads rose to dominance over these mismatched pieces. As early as 1854 they were dubbed the "trunk lines"-defined as the primary routes between the eastern seaboard and the West, reaching from the main Atlantic ports to the heads of river and lake navigation across the Appalachians. They were the Baltimore & Ohio, the Pennsylvania (often called the Pennsylvania Central), the Erie, and the New York Central.*1 The latter two were New York lines, though the Erie now terminated in Jersey City The New York Central had emerged in 1853 from the consolidation of ten railways that paralleled the Erie Canal from Buffalo to Albany; it and the Erie were far larger, in capitalization and length, than any other line in the state. The latter two were New York lines, though the Erie now terminated in Jersey City The New York Central had emerged in 1853 from the consolidation of ten railways that paralleled the Erie Canal from Buffalo to Albany; it and the Erie were far larger, in capitalization and length, than any other line in the state.53 It was the New York Central that overshadowed the smaller lines run by Gould and Vanderbilt. The Erie ran through barren mountains, but the Central connected a chain of agricultural and manufacturing centers from Buffalo to Rochester to Syracuse to Albany. From its terminus in the latter city it had a choice of three paths into Manhattan: Daniel Drew's People's Line steamboats, the Hudson River Railroad, or (through a short link) the Harlem. The Central's long-standing policy was to pit the three against each other to keep down costs. It routinely gave most of its New York-bound freight to the steamboats, except when ice closed the river during the winter; then it delivered to the Hudson River line. Very little ever went over the Harlem.54 Vanderbilt sorely wanted the long-distance passengers and through freight that came from the West via the Central, no matter how little revenue he received. Unlike a steamboat and steamship line, a railroad suffered from high fixed costs. It was an immovable piece of infrastructure. Whether trains ran or not, the tracks, bridges, buildings, locomotives, and cars had to be maintained; conductors, engineers, firemen, and laborers had to be paid. At least two-thirds of a railroad's expenses remained constant no matter how much or how little traffic it carried. If the Commodore could get additional business, even at losing rates, it would improve the Harlem's outlook.55 To gain access to that rich flow of freight from the West, Vanderbilt decided to pursue diplomacy with the Central. He made this choice as a matter of policy, but he liked and respected the Central's president, Erastus Corning, whom he hailed as "a man of business and a gentleman." Corning, who was only a few months younger than the Commodore, also had risen to wealth through his wits. At thirteen, he had moved from Connecticut to upstate New York and set up as a merchant in Albany. Though he had served as the Central's president from its creation, he remained alert to his own interests, and ordered the railroad to buy its ironware from a foundry he owned. Corning was also a political power broker-a former congressman and leader of the state's Democratic Party (along with the Central's vice president, Dean Richmond of Buffalo). Corning had thin gray hair, a prominent lower lip, and large, dark, deep-set eyes. Clark and Schell knew him well; indeed, Vanderbilt took Clark with him when he opened talks with Corning in late summer. On September 16, Vanderbilt called on Corning again, and dispatched to him James Banker, who was emerging as a favorite subordinate.56 Unfortunately for Vanderbilt, Corning believed the Harlem offered the Central few advantages. But then came Leonard Jerome's plot to oust Corning from the Central's presidency, offering the Commodore an unexpected opportunity for leverage.
Jerome, the younger brother of Wall Street giant Addison G. Jerome, exemplified the flowering of wealth on wartime Wall Street and the resulting flourish of conspicuous consumption. Strong derided as "a sign of the times" Jerome's "grand eighty-thousand-dollar stable, with the private theatre for a second story." Social observer Matthew Hale Smith observed that Jerome became "the leader of fashions."*2 According to William Fowler, Jerome was "a tall man, fashionably but somewhat carelessly attired, having a slight stoop, a clear olive complexion, a tigerish moustache, and a cerulean eye." According to William Fowler, Jerome was "a tall man, fashionably but somewhat carelessly attired, having a slight stoop, a clear olive complexion, a tigerish moustache, and a cerulean eye."57 Jerome's belligerence, like Vanderbilt's diplomacy, was a response to the fragmentation of the railroad system. He had come onto the Hudson River board only recently, and he and his fellow directors resented the Central's custom of delivering its freight to Drew's steamboats. To solve this conflict, he organized "a large combination... to control NY Central RR affairs at the next election" in December, as banker Watts Sherman warned Corning, with the aim of "forcing the immense eastward traffic over the road of the [Hudson River]," according to Gould. The game began on October 20 when the Hudson River directors voted to loan Jerome $400,000 for his operation.58 Vanderbilt had personal ties to both Corning and the Jerome brothers, but he calculated his strategic interests clearly and coldly. A takeover of the great trunk line by his rival, the Hudson River Railroad, would permanently deny the Harlem any through freight and passengers from the West. Furthermore, if Vanderbilt helped Corning he would put the Central's president in his debt. On November 11, Vanderbilt scratched a note to Corning in his own hand, a significant fact for a man who loathed writing. "Is their any feair of their success," he asked, referring to Jerome and his allies. "I feal a little anxious, if I can be of any servis say so." He wrote that he just had purchased a thousand shares, and had had a total of 5,250 transferred under his name. He offered to obtain "proxys" for many more. "If J. H. Banker ask you for information you can giv it to him he is true & will not deceive us this is certain," he concluded-revealing how heavily he relied on the honey-smooth vice president of the Bank of New York. (As Watts Sherman told Corning, Banker was well known as Vanderbilt's personal agent. "He holds a position here of great influence in many quarters & is class in all respects.")59 On Vanderbilt's orders, Banker ferreted out information about Jerome's plot at brokers' offices and gentlemen's clubs. "They are making great exertions," he wrote to Corning. "I believe they have gone to the extent of sending to Geo. Peabody & Co. to influence foreign proxies," referring to the American banking house in London where many shares of key railroads, including the New York Central, were held by British investors. The fight for proxies (the right to the votes of those shares) often was more important than stock purchases, especially in a big corporation in which it was prohibitively expensive to buy majority control.60 And the fight was fierce. The And the fight was fierce. The New York Herald New York Herald wrote on November 19, "The excitement has now reached a pretty high point, and hard words are resorted to on both sides, instead of argument." wrote on November 19, "The excitement has now reached a pretty high point, and hard words are resorted to on both sides, instead of argument."61 "I sea by the New York Times of this morning that the opposition has used my name" on their ticket of proposed directors, Vanderbilt wrote to Corning on November 20. The letter that followed constitutes a piece of found poetry, a free verse of the Commodore's approach to Wall Street's shadow warfare.
this is without athority They do not understand how I feal in this matter I keep them in the dark I in close you the two proxies I tell Mr Banker to keep you posted with what is doing here & get all proxy possible-let them say what they will I want you to understand I will have nothing to do with them in any form-overI want you to feal that you air at liberty to use me in this matter in any honorable way you may think adviseable62 Shrewdly, Vanderbilt declined Banker's suggestion that he stand for election to the board on Corning's ticket, for he wished to avoid alienating Jerome. Indeed, one week before the election, he met with Jerome in private to propose a compromise. "I don't believe it is worthwhile to say anything more about what we talked about last night," Jerome wrote to him the next morning. "I appreciate your views and feelings in the matter and in the main think you are perfectly correct. But you see I have been acting with other parties.... I guess we had better let the thing take its course."63 Was that a tone of resignation? Certainly the Commodore now acted as if he were certain of Corning's victory-and of the material benefits to flow from it. On December 2, for example, he convened a special meeting of the Harlem's stockholders. They approved the sale of the unissued $2,139,950 in stock authorized by the corporation's charter to double-track and extend the line to Albany. The stated reason was to accommodate "anticipated connections with other railroads."64 It was a dangerous game, especially now that Vanderbilt had revealed his position-dangerous because Jerome not only had taken power in the Hudson River, but also in Pacific Mail, the partner of the Commodore's steamship line. But Vanderbilt was as sure of his strength now, at sixty-nine, as he had ever been. On December 7, with the Central election two days away, he went down to his stables and ordered a fast team harnessed to his racing wagon. He drove up Broadway to where it became Bloomingdale Road, and looked for a "brush." He found one. He and a challenger rattled their rigs alongside each other at top speed, Vanderbilt whipping his horses ahead as he tried to edge out his rival. Then the Commodore's powers failed him, and the wagons cracked into each other. "His carriage was broken," the Chicago Tribune Chicago Tribune reported, "and the Commodore thrown over the dashboard to the ground"-more specifically, "head foremost and violently to the ground," according to the reported, "and the Commodore thrown over the dashboard to the ground"-more specifically, "head foremost and violently to the ground," according to the New York Times New York Times. "He was picked up insensible, but soon recovered consciousness, and was conveyed to a house nearby, where he received every attention."65 The Commodore overcame his injuries, but he could not go to Albany as he had intended. Corning and his party triumphed regardless. "No election of this kind has ever produced such an extended & warm excitement," longtime Central director John V. L. Pruyn noted in his journal. "The result has been most gratifying." Banker dined at Corning's house on December 11 as his patron's representative.66 In the first crisis of Vanderbilt's new career as a railroad president, he had displayed masterful statecraft, adroitly turning a battle between two far stronger companies to his advantage. As soon as he was able to go to his office, he addressed a letter to Corning. "In consequence of the severe fall I had I have been prevented from visiting you," he wrote. He then specified how the Central could repay him. "It would suit the Harlem Road to have your agents... make their tickets in such a form that the holder should be entitled to pass either, at his option, over the Harlem or Hudson River Rail Road. I can see no good reason why this should not be." Even more important, he insisted that his man Banker should have a seat on the Central's board. Corning obliged by forcing the resignation of one of his directors.67 Hardly had Vanderbilt secured Corning's hold on power than he attempted to collect the debt. But time would show how difficult that would be. The structural conflicts stemming from the fragmentation of the railroad landscape-the same problem that gave rise to this particular battle-would continue to grow. As the Commodore would learn, they had only one solution.
AT SEVEN O'CLOCK ON SATURDAY EVENING, December 19, 1863, a visitor who stepped out of a carriage in front of 10 Washington Place naturally might have paused in the cold winter air and looked up to the windows of the second floor. Scores of well-dressed people would be seen through the glass as band music drifted down from that nearly twenty-year-old mansion, twice the width of a regular brownstone. If a visitor proceeded up the stoop to the entrance, where one of the Irish servants would open the door, into the great hall where one's coat would be taken, then up the stairs and to the right, through the small library and into a large sitting room, twenty by twenty-five feet, the reason for all the revelry could be seen.68 There, surrounded by the Commodore's milling siblings and children and grandchildren and nieces and nephews, was a table filled with gifts in celebration of Cornelius and Sophia Johnson Vanderbilt's fiftieth wedding anniversary. "There was a profusion of bracelets, porte-mounnales [sic], gold plate, exquisitely carved chess-men, superbly bound Bibles, brooches, and feminine ornaments of every kind," wrote Mrs. Ann S. Stephens, a popular "authoress" and friend of the wealthy pair, who described the event for the New York Tribune New York Tribune. At the center perched the Commodore's gift to his wife, a miniature steamship crafted of gold, specially ordered from Europe. "It is twenty inches long and five wide, with exquisitely wrought revolving towers," Stephens wrote, "which filled the room with fairy music whenever the delicate machinery was set in motion." After a formal review of the ship, the bride presented the golden groom with "a collection of gold-headed canes [and] driving-whips, mounted in some costly manner." Then the party descended to the main-floor parlors, where Stephens observed two striking sculptures: the marble bust of Vanderbilt, carved by Hiram Powers in Italy in 1853, and in the opposite corner of the room-in line with the stone Commodore's stare-a statue of the son of William Tell.69 The family swarmed around Vanderbilt-dressed "in quiet black... unpretending and gentlemanly as he is everywhere"-and his wife, who wore "a head-dress of Brussels point, wreathed with gold-tinted roses and marabout feathers," perched on her "thick and scarcely silvered curls," as Stephens wrote. Sons-in-law all appeared: Nicholas La Bau, who had often served as Vanderbilt's attorney; George Osgood, a rising stockbroker who handled some of Vanderbilt's trades; Daniel Torrance and James Cross, who had helped to manage Vanderbilt's steamship lines; Horace Clark, growing ever more important as a lieutenant in all capacities; and Daniel Allen, the longest-serving of Vanderbilt's daughters' husbands. R. G. Dun & Co. would deem Allen "a high minded man of 1st rate [business] qualifications," an accurate assessment of the man who had learned how to run a shipping line in Vanderbilt's office, only to stand up to him when Allen believed he had violated the Accessory Transit Company's charter. Now, after nearly thirty years in business together, they began to sever their ties. On November 27, Allen and Cornelius Garrison had incorporated the Atlantic Mail Steamship Company, with an authorized capital of $4 million. Within a year, the new corporation would buy out the old Atlantic & Pacific Steamship Company, along with Vanderbilt's remaining stake in shipping. The Commodore was leaving the ocean behind.70 Despite the profusion and importance of sons-in-law, Vanderbilt's sons by blood-the Vanderbilt princes, as it were-stepped forward to take command of the celebration. The teeming family assembled in one of the parlors, in front of a grand floral display, and the murmur of conversation died away. "Here and there," Stephens wrote, "half-hidden by flowing robes of gossamer, tulle, brocade, or velvet, a little fairy child would peep into the front ranks to learn why all the stillness had come on so suddenly." Then the ceremony formally began with a speech by Cornelius Jeremiah.71 Corneil, the victim of disease and the degenerate gambler, had been the subject of concern and scorn poured out in unpredictable measure by his father. Once he collapsed in a severe seizure during a visit by his father. "While he was lying there," recalled Corneil's servant, Margaret Massy who went to work in his Hartford house around 1862, "the Commodore came in, and, pointing his cane at the ship Vanderbilt Vanderbilt, a picture in the room, said, 'I would have given that ship to have cured Cornelius if it were possible.'" In the moneymaking frenzy that came with the war, Corneil had fallen back into his gambling habit. "Many times," Jacob J. Van Pelt recalled, the Commodore "spoke very disrespectfully about him. He said he would lie and steal. He said, 'I wouldn't let him go into my office if there was anything there he could lay his hands on.'" This mix of compassion and disdain-what Sophia called her husband's "stubborn inconsistency" toward his namesake-made Corneil self-conscious as he stood before the gathering. But his mother had always been his defender.72 And so, before his judge and his protector, Corneil began to speak. And so, before his judge and his protector, Corneil began to speak.
"Kindred and friends," he said, "the joyful yet solemn anniversary to which we have so long and anxiously looked forward, has at length brought us together. Let us be thankful that it finds so many links in our family circle still bright and unbroken." After this auspicious beginning, Corneil's address took an awkward and painfully solipsistic turn. "For myself, having tested in a larger measure, perhaps, than others, the unwearying patience and unfailing love of those around whom we are gathered tonight," he continued, "I feel sure that they will yet remain with us for many years, if only that I may be enabled to prove, by devotion and watchful care, through the long bright autumn of their days, that their long-suffering goodness was exercised in behalf of one who is neither insensible nor ungrateful." A ripple of cringing around the room can be imagined at this wordy display of self-absorption and self-loathing.
As if to break the crust of discomfort, La Bau brought in a six-foot "tree" of ivy wrapped around a trellis that spelled out the names of Vanderbilt's children in tiny flowers. "The Bible tells us that to everything there is a season," he said. "I insist that it is not time in which to cast away stones, because, alas for poor humanity we all dwell in glass houses." This was an appropriate occasion for such reflections. "Could you, sir, fifty years ago, have predicted that steam would have been encased in a steel jacket, placed on wheels, and sent off, puffing fire and smoke, through this land, upon iron roads?" La Bau asked. "And could you, madam, have predicted that men of this day, thousands of miles apart, would converse by lightning?"
The Commodore declined to speak, as always. Rather, he and Sophia thanked their offspring through their oldest son, William. Billy, as Vanderbilt still called him, had earned his father's almost begrudging affection during the North Star North Star excursion and its aftermath, in large part by winning his respect. "He was slow and clumsy in his movements," the excursion and its aftermath, in large part by winning his respect. "He was slow and clumsy in his movements," the New York Sun New York Sun later remarked. "His face was red and rough-skinnned and he had very small, dull eyes, so that he had the appearance, not justified by the facts, of a slow-witted man." Unjustified indeed. The former treasurer of the Staten Island Railroad became the bankrupt line's receiver, revived its fortunes during the wartime boom, and now served as its president. This dull-looking farmer had emerged as a leading man of Richmond County and stood now as his parents' mouthpiece. later remarked. "His face was red and rough-skinnned and he had very small, dull eyes, so that he had the appearance, not justified by the facts, of a slow-witted man." Unjustified indeed. The former treasurer of the Staten Island Railroad became the bankrupt line's receiver, revived its fortunes during the wartime boom, and now served as its president. This dull-looking farmer had emerged as a leading man of Richmond County and stood now as his parents' mouthpiece.73 At ten o'clock, after Billy spoke, the band played a march to accompany the family into the dining room, in a procession led by the Commodore and Sophia. They ate; La Bau sang; the grandchildren sang; the 7th Regiment Band marched up outside and serenaded the famous couple; and near midnight the band indoors played "Home, Sweet Home," as arms slid into coats and coachmen drove up carriages. It was a glorious evening for the Vanderbilts and their children-except for the two who did not attend. One was Frances Lavinia. She was described as an "invalid," a term so general and all-encompassing that it could have included anything from mental retardation to multiple sclerosis, though clearly her ailment had left her unable to care for herself since her birth in 1828. She lurked somewhere out of view, a vivid yet completely obscured fact in Vanderbilt's life.74 The other missing child was George. On September 19, the regular army had promoted him to captain of the 10th Infantry Regiment, but it appeared increasingly likely that it would be a purely honorary appointment. Soon after the horses pulling the last carriage had clopped away from the front of 10 Washington Place on the night of the golden anniversary, Billy resigned the presidency of the Staten Island Railroad to go to his brother in Nice. Whether he was prompted by news of his brother's decline is unclear. Whether he was prompted by news of his brother's death is unclear as well. George died on December 31, 1863. About the end of January, Billy returned to New York with his corpse.75 At half past ten in the morning on Thursday, February 4, not quite two months after the golden gathering, the family again assembled at 10 Washington Place, along with army comrades and friends of the deceased. By one report, George was engaged to a Miss Hawley, on whom the Commodore bestowed a house in upper Manhattan; most likely she attended as well. The funeral procession trailed in black behind teams of horses down to the Staten Island Ferry, rolled onto a boat that steamed across the bay, and drove up the drive from Vanderbilt's Landing to the cemetery, where the statue of Grief presided over the family tomb. "How wavering are the scenes of earth," wrote Rev. Samuel Kissam, Billy's father-in-law, "our kindred pleasures, too."
Now, now that circle we behold In sorrow deep and wide, Weeping o'er son and brother cold, Long, long their joy and pride- Embalmed, and ready for the tomb.
Vanderbilt buried his youngest son. Now he looked to his oldest. William would speak for him not merely on ceremonial occasions, but with the full authority of the Commodore's tens of millions of dollars in his voice. At the next Harlem election in May, Vanderbilt made William vice president of the company. He brought him all the way into Manhattan, in fact, giving him a gift of a house on Thirty-eighth Street, on the west side of Fifth Avenue, two blocks south of the massive stone walls of the Egyptian-style reservoir between Forty-second and Fortieth streets. As dutifully as when William had left East Broadway for the farm twenty years before, he moved his family back to New York, into a house much like its new owner, substantial but unostentatious. "The interior was richly and not showily furnished," the New York Sun New York Sun wrote, "and the drawing room was surpassed in elegance of decoration and furnishing by hundreds in the city." wrote, "and the drawing room was surpassed in elegance of decoration and furnishing by hundreds in the city."76 As for Corneil, he seems to have left George's funeral with a determination to plummet as swiftly as he could.
ON JANUARY 28, 1864, the Congress of the United States passed a resolution thanking Cornelius Vanderbilt for his "unique manifestation of a fervid and large-souled patriotism," the gift of the steamship Vanderbilt Vanderbilt to his country. It further resolved that President Lincoln be requested to "cause a gold medal to be struck, which shall fitly embody an attestation of the nation's gratitude." Congress may have waited nearly two years before extending its thanks, but its timing was appropriate: it celebrated the finest act in the long career of perhaps the single most important figure in the history of American steam navigation, at the very moment he left the sea behind. to his country. It further resolved that President Lincoln be requested to "cause a gold medal to be struck, which shall fitly embody an attestation of the nation's gratitude." Congress may have waited nearly two years before extending its thanks, but its timing was appropriate: it celebrated the finest act in the long career of perhaps the single most important figure in the history of American steam navigation, at the very moment he left the sea behind.77 On the rivers, bays, and oceans, he had acted like a Viking prince, taking his fleet wherever trade or plunder seemed most promising, freely abandoning markets for a price. Railroads, on the other hand, were fixed properties, geographical entities by their very nature-often compared to nation-states by contemporaries and historians. The Commodore understood this intimately, having been involved in the industry for three decades. Though famous as a warrior, he demonstrated statecraft in the New York Central election, offering no hint of aggressive intent.
Diplomacy, unfortunately, did not seem to work on the management of the Hudson River Railroad. "When I first went into the Harlem road, I did not want to have anything to do with the Hudson River," Vanderbilt said later. "I took the Harlem when it was down to nothing, and I got it up along by degrees; but I found that there was a continual clashing with the Hudson River. I said this is wrong; these roads should not clash." For one thing, competition between the parallel lines kept fares dangerously low78 For another, their friction could be felt in relations with their mutual partner, the New York Central. Even after the Hudson River's directors failed to oust Corning, they demanded preference in through traffic. It was a conflict made nearly inevitable by the fragmentation of the railroad net into multiple companies. "In a hundred miles," the For another, their friction could be felt in relations with their mutual partner, the New York Central. Even after the Hudson River's directors failed to oust Corning, they demanded preference in through traffic. It was a conflict made nearly inevitable by the fragmentation of the railroad net into multiple companies. "In a hundred miles," the Railway Times Railway Times observed, "we have two or three corporations with their conflicting interests, conflicting time tables, and different organizations, likely at any moment to be at war with each other as interest or personal feelings may dictate." observed, "we have two or three corporations with their conflicting interests, conflicting time tables, and different organizations, likely at any moment to be at war with each other as interest or personal feelings may dictate."79 Now began the second phase of the founding of Vanderbilt's empire: his campaign against the Hudson River Railroad. He began with an attempt to undermine it by changing the physical railway net itself-by outflanking the enemy in a double envelopment. First, on January 27, the Harlem board authorized him to sell (to himself, if he wished) the additional $2,139,950 in stock approved by the stockholders for the purpose of double-tracking the line to Chatham Four Corners. Second, he threatened to build down the western shore of the Hudson River, filing for incorporation of a line from Albany to the vicinity of New York City And he accepted Daniel Drew's proposal to build a short railroad from a point on the Central's line at Schenectady to Athens, a town on the Hudson River south of Albany where the People's Line steamboats would face fewer weeks of ice each winter. Officially known as the Saratoga & Hudson River Railroad (more commonly as the Athens road), it received a charter on April 15. Vanderbilt took a quarter of the $1.5 million in stock and went on the board with such well-known Wall Street figures as Henry Keep and Azariah Boody with Drew as the president. The two lines would be weapons against the Hudson River Railroad, threatening to strip it of what little freight it received from the Central.80 The Commodore also had a spy among the enemy: John M. Tobin, whom Vanderbilt had hired years before as a fare collector on the Staten Island Ferry. Matthew Hale Smith reported a popular story that, when Tobin first went to work for the ferry, Vanderbilt strictly instructed him to allow no one to ride for free; the first time Tobin saw the Commodore come aboard, he demanded the fare, saying, "No dead-heads on this line" (using the common slang for those who rode boats and trains for free). "Tobin became the delight of the Commodore," Smith wrote. Tobin later had gone into the liquor business in Manhattan in the 1850s, and was considered to be "of gd [character] & [habits], hard-working & [industrious], careful & reliable," according to R. G. Dun & Co.