________________________________________________
_ It is needless to say that the solemn rage of Hand, to say nothing
of the pathetic anger of Haguenin, coupled with the wrath of Redmond
Purdy, who related to all his sad story, and of young MacDonald
and his associates of the Chicago General Company, constituted an
atmosphere highly charged with possibilities and potent for dramatic
results. The most serious element in this at present was Hosmer
Hand, who, being exceedingly wealthy and a director in a number
of the principal mercantile and financial institutions of the city,
was in a position to do Cowperwood some real financial harm. Hand
had been extremely fond of his young wife. Being a man of but few
experiences with women, it astonished and enraged him that a man
like Cowperwood should dare to venture on his preserves in this
reckless way, should take his dignity so lightly. He burned now
with a hot, slow fire of revenge.
Those who know anything concerning the financial world and its
great adventures know how precious is that reputation for probity,
solidarity, and conservatism on which so many of the successful
enterprises of the world are based. If men are not absolutely
honest themselves they at least wish for and have faith in the
honesty of others. No set of men know more about each other,
garner more carefully all the straws of rumor which may affect the
financial and social well being of an individual one way or another,
keep a tighter mouth concerning their own affairs and a sharper
eye on that of their neighbors. Cowperwood's credit had hitherto
been good because it was known that he had a "soft thing" in the
Chicago street-railway field, that he paid his interest charges
promptly, that he had organized the group of men who now, under
him, controlled the Chicago Trust Company and the North and West
Chicago Street Railways, and that the Lake City Bank, of which
Addison was still president, considered his collateral sound.
Nevertheless, even previous to this time there had been a protesting
element in the shape of Schryhart, Simms, and others of considerable
import in the Douglas Trust, who had lost no chance to say to one
and all that Cowperwood was an interloper, and that his course was
marked by political and social trickery and chicanery, if not by
financial dishonesty. As a matter of fact, Schryhart, who had
once been a director of the Lake City National along with Hand,
Arneel, and others, had resigned and withdrawn all his deposits
sometime before because he found, as he declared, that Addison was
favoring Cowperwood and the Chicago Trust Company with loans, when
there was no need of so doing--when it was not essentially
advantageous for the bank so to do. Both Arneel and Hand, having
at this time no personal quarrel with Cowperwood on any score, had
considered this protest as biased. Addison had maintained that
the loans were neither unduly large nor out of proportion to the
general loans of the bank. The collateral offered was excellent.
"I don't want to quarrel with Schryhart," Addison had protested
at the time; "but I am afraid his charge is unfair. He is trying
to vent a private grudge through the Lake National. That is not
the way nor this the place to do it."
Both Hand and Arneel, sober men both, agreed with this--admiring
Addison--and so the case stood. Schryhart, however, frequently
intimated to them both that Cowperwood was merely building up the
Chicago Trust Company at the expense of the Lake City National,
in order to make the former strong enough to do without any aid,
at which time Addison would resign and the Lake City would be
allowed to shift for itself. Hand had never acted on this suggestion
but he had thought.
It was not until the incidents relating to Cowperwood and Mrs.
Hand had come to light that things financial and otherwise began
to darken up. Hand, being greatly hurt in his pride, contemplated
only severe reprisal. Meeting Schryhart at a directors' meeting
one day not long after his difficulty had come upon him, he remarked:
"I thought a few years ago, Norman, when you talked to me about
this man Cowperwood that you were merely jealous--a dissatisfied
business rival. Recently a few things have come to my notice which
cause me to think differently. It is very plain to me now that
the man is thoroughly bad--from the crown of his head to the soles
of his feet. It's a pity the city has to endure him."
"So you're just beginning to find that out, are you, Hosmer?"
answered Schryhart. "Well, I'll not say I told you so. Perhaps
you'll agree with me now that the responsible people of Chicago
ought to do something about it."
Hand, a very heavy, taciturn man, merely looked at him. "I'll be
ready enough to do," he said, "when I see how and what's to be
done."
A little later Schryhart, meeting Duane Kingsland, learned the
true source of Hand's feeling against Cowperwood, and was not slow
in transferring this titbit to Merrill, Simms, and others. Merrill,
who, though Cowperwood had refused to extend his La Salle Street
tunnel loop about State Street and his store, had hitherto always
liked him after a fashion--remotely admired his courage and
daring--was now appropriately shocked.
"Why, Anson," observed Schryhart, "the man is no good. He has the
heart of a hyena and the friendliness of a scorpion. You heard
how he treated Hand, didn't you?"
"No," replied Merrill, "I didn't."
"Well, it's this way, so I hear." And Schryhart leaned over and
confidentially communicated considerable information into Mr.
Merrill's left ear.
The latter raised his eyebrows. "Indeed!" he said.
"And the way he came to meet her," added Schryhart, contemptuously,
"was this. He went to Hand originally to borrow two hundred and
fifty thousand dollars on West Chicago Street Railway. Angry? The
word is no name for it."
"You don't say so," commented Merrill, dryly, though privately
interested and fascinated, for Mrs. Hand had always seemed very
attractive to him. "I don't wonder."
He recalled that his own wife had recently insisted on inviting
Cowperwood once.
Similarly Hand, meeting Arneel not so long afterward, confided to
him that Cowperwood was trying to repudiate a sacred agreement.
Arneel was grieved and surprised. It was enough for him to know
that Hand had been seriously injured. Between the two of them
they now decided to indicate to Addison, as president of the Lake
City Bank, that all relations with Cowperwood and the Chicago Trust
Company must cease. The result of this was, not long after, that
Addison, very suave and gracious, agreed to give Cowperwood due
warning that all his loans would have to be taken care of and then
resigned--to become, seven months later, president of the Chicago
Trust Company. This desertion created a great stir at the time,
astonishing the very men who had suspected that it might come to
pass. The papers were full of it.
"Well, let him go," observed Arneel to Hand, sourly, on the day
that Addison notified the board of directors of the Lake City of
his contemplated resignation. "If he wants to sever his connection
with a bank like this to go with a man like that, it's his own
lookout. He may live to regret it."
It so happened that by now another election was pending Chicago,
and Hand, along with Schryhart and Arneel--who joined their forces
because of his friendship for Hand--decided to try to fight
Cowperwood through this means.
Hosmer Hand, feeling that he had the burden of a great duty upon
him, was not slow in acting. He was always, when aroused, a
determined and able fighter. Needing an able lieutenant in the
impending political conflict, he finally bethought himself of a
man who had recently come to figure somewhat conspicuously in
Chicago politics--one Patrick Gilgan, the same Patrick Gilgan of
Cowperwood's old Hyde Park gas-war days. Mr. Gilgan was now a
comparatively well-to-do man. Owing to a genial capacity for
mixing with people, a close mouth, and absolutely no understanding
of, and consequently no conscience in matters of large public
import (in so far as they related to the so-called rights of the
mass), he was a fit individual to succeed politically. His saloon
was the finest in all Wentworth Avenue. It fairly glittered with
the newly introduced incandescent lamp reflected in a perfect world
of beveled and faceted mirrors. His ward, or district, was full
of low, rain-beaten cottages crowded together along half-made
streets; but Patrick Gilgan was now a state senator, slated for
Congress at the next Congressional election, and a possible successor
of the Hon. John J. McKenty as dictator of the city, if only the
Republican party should come into power. (Hyde Park, before it
had been annexed to the city, had always been Republican, and since
then, although the larger city was normally Democratic, Gilgan
could not conveniently change.) Hearing from the political discussion
which preceded the election that Gilgan was by far the most powerful
politician on the South Side, Hand sent for him. Personally, Hand
had far less sympathy with the polite moralistic efforts of men
like Haguenin, Hyssop, and others, who were content to preach
morality and strive to win by the efforts of the unco good, than
he had with the cold political logic of a man like Cowperwood
himself. If Cowperwood could work through McKenty to such a
powerful end, he, Hand, could find some one else who could be made
as powerful as McKenty.
"Mr. Gilgan," said Hand, when the Irishman came in, medium tall,
beefy, with shrewd, twinkling gray eyes and hairy hands, "you don't
know me--"
"I know of you well enough," smiled the Irishman, with a soft
brogue. "You don't need an introduction to talk to me."
"Very good," replied Hand, extending his hand. "I know of you,
too. Then we can talk. It's the political situation here in
Chicago I'd like to discuss with you. I'm not a politician myself,
but I take some interest in what's going on. I want to know what
you think will be the probable outcome of the present situation
here in the city."
Gilgan, having no reason for laying his private political convictions
bare to any one whose motive he did not know, merely replied: "Oh,
I think the Republicans may have a pretty good show. They have
all but one or two of the papers with them, I see. I don't know
much outside of what I read and hear people talk."
Mr. Hand knew that Gilgan was sparring, and was glad to find his
man canny and calculating.
"I haven't asked you to come here just to be talking over politics
in general, as you may imagine, Mr. Gilgan. I want to put a
particular problem before you. Do you happen to know either Mr.
McKenty or Mr. Cowperwood?"
"I never met either of them to talk to," replied Gilgan. "I know
Mr. McKenty by sight, and I've seen Mr. Cowperwood once." He said
no more.
"Well," said Mr. Hand, "suppose a group of influential men here
in Chicago were to get together and guarantee sufficient funds for
a city-wide campaign; now, if you had the complete support of the
newspapers and the Republican organization in the bargain, could
you organize the opposition here so that the Democratic party could
be beaten this fall? I'm not talking about the mayor merely and
the principal city officers, but the council, too--the aldermen.
I want to fix things so that the McKenty-Cowperwood crowd couldn't
get an alderman or a city official to sell out, once they are
elected. I want the Democratic party beaten so thoroughly that
there won't be any question in anybody's mind as to the fact that
it has been done. There will be plenty of money forthcoming if
you can prove to me, or, rather, to the group of men I am thinking
of, that the thing can be done."
Mr. Gilgan blinked his eyes solemnly. He rubbed his knees, put
his thumbs in the armholes of his vest, took out a cigar, lit it,
and gazed poetically at the ceiling. He was thinking very, very
hard. Mr. Cowperwood and Mr. McKenty, as he knew, were very
powerful men. He had always managed to down the McKenty opposition
in his ward, and several others adjacent to it, and in the Eighteenth
Senatorial District, which he represented. But to be called upon
to defeat him in Chicago, that was different. Still, the thought
of a large amount of cash to be distributed through him, and the
chance of wresting the city leadership from McKenty by the aid of
the so-called moral forces of the city, was very inspiring. Mr.
Gilgan was a good politician. He loved to scheme and plot and
make deals--as much for the fun of it as anything else. Just now
he drew a solemn face, which, however, concealed a very light heart.
"I have heard," went on Hand, "that you have built up a strong
organization in your ward and district."
"I've managed to hold me own," suggested Gilgan, archly. "But
this winning all over Chicago," he went on, after a moment, "now,
that's a pretty large order. There are thirty-one wards in Chicago
this election, and all but eight of them are nominally Democratic.
I know most of the men that are in them now, and some of them are
pretty shrewd men, too. This man Dowling in council is nobody's
fool, let me tell you that. Then there's Duvanicki and Ungerich
and Tiernan and Kerrigan--all good men." He mentioned four of the
most powerful and crooked aldermen in the city. "You see, Mr.
Hand, the way things are now the Democrats have the offices, and
the small jobs to give out. That gives them plenty of political
workers to begin with. Then they have the privilege of collecting
money from those in office to help elect themselves. That's another
great privilege." He smiled. "Then this man Cowperwood employs
all of ten thousand men at present, and any ward boss that's
favorable to him can send a man out of work to him and he'll find
a place for him. That's a gre-a-eat help in building up a party
following. Then there's the money a man like Cowperwood and others
can contribute at election time. Say what you will, Mr. Hand, but
it's the two, and five, and ten dollar bills paid out at the last
moment over the saloon bars and at the polling-places that do the
work. Give me enough money"--and at this noble thought Mr. Gilgan
straightened up and slapped one fist lightly in the other, adjusting
at the same time his half-burned cigar so that it should not burn
his hand--"and I can carry every ward in Chicago, bar none. If I
have money enough," he repeated, emphasizing the last two words.
He put his cigar back in his mouth, blinked his eyes defiantly,
and leaned back in his chair.
"Very good," commented Hand, simply; "but how much money?"
"Ah, that's another question," replied Gilgan, straightening up
once more. "Some wards require more than others. Counting out
the eight that are normally Republican as safe, you would have to
carry eighteen others to have a majority in council. I don't see
how anything under ten to fifteen thousand dollars to a ward would
be safe to go on. I should say three hundred thousand dollars
would be safer, and that wouldn't be any too much by any means."
Mr. Gilgan restored his cigar and puffed heavily the while he
leaned back and lifted his eyes once more.
"And how would that money be distributed exactly?" inquired Mr.
Hand.
"Oh, well, it's never wise to look into such matters too closely,"
commented Mr. Gilgan, comfortably. "There's such a thing as cutting
your cloth too close in politics. There are ward captains, leaders,
block captains, workers. They all have to have money to do with
--to work up sentiment--and you can't be too inquiring as to just
how they do it. It's spent in saloons, and buying coal for mother,
and getting Johnnie a new suit here and there. Then there are
torch-light processions and club-rooms and jobs to look after.
Sure, there's plenty of places for it. Some men may have to be
brought into these wards to live--kept in boarding-houses for a
week or ten days." He waved a hand deprecatingly.
Mr. Hand, who had never busied himself with the minutiae of politics,
opened his eyes slightly. This colonizing idea was a little
liberal, he thought.
"Who distributes this money?" he asked, finally.
"Nominally, the Republican County Committee, if it's in charge;
actually, the man or men who are leading the fight. In the case
of the Democratic party it's John J. McKenty, and don't you forget
it. In my district it's me. and no one else."
Mr. Hand, slow, solid, almost obtuse at times, meditated under
lowering brows. He had always been associated with a more or less
silk-stocking crew who were unused to the rough usage of back-room
saloon politics, yet every one suspected vaguely, of course, at
times that ballot-boxes were stuffed and ward lodging-houses
colonized. Every one (at least every one of any worldly intelligence)
knew that political capital was collected from office-seekers,
office-holders, beneficiaries of all sorts and conditions under
the reigning city administration. Mr. Hand had himself contributed
to the Republican party for favors received or about to be. As a
man who had been compelled to handle large affairs in a large way
he was not inclined to quarrel with this. Three hundred thousand
dollars was a large sum, and he was not inclined to subscribe it
alone, but fancied that at his recommendation and with his advice
it could be raised. Was Gilgan the man to fight Cowperwood? He
looked him over and decided--other things being equal--that he was.
And forthwith the bargain was struck. Gilgan, as a Republican
central committeeman--chairman, possibly--was to visit every ward,
connect up with every available Republican force, pick strong,
suitable anti-Cowperwood candidates, and try to elect them, while
he, Hand, organized the money element and collected the necessary
cash. Gilgan was to be given money personally. He was to have
the undivided if secret support of all the high Republican elements
in the city. His business was to win at almost any cost. And as
a reward he was to have the Republican support for Congress, or,
failing that, the practical Republican leadership in city and county.
"Anyhow," said Hand, after Mr. Gilgan finally took his departure,
"things won't be so easy for Mr. Cowperwood in the future as they
were in the past. And when it comes to getting his franchises
renewed, if I'm alive, we'll see whether he will or not."
The heavy financier actually growled a low growl as he spoke out
loud to himself. He felt a boundless rancor toward the man who
had, as he supposed, alienated the affections of his smart young
wife. _
Read next: chapter XXXV - A Political Agreement
Read previous: chapter XXXIII - Mr. Lynde to the Rescue
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