{"id":1672,"date":"2024-02-22T08:54:07","date_gmt":"2024-02-22T13:54:07","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/jerrykuntz.org\/harryhill\/?p=1672"},"modified":"2024-02-22T08:54:10","modified_gmt":"2024-02-22T13:54:10","slug":"smart-people-of-new-york-and-their-fortunes-published-may-29-1881","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/jerrykuntz.org\/harryhill\/smart-people-of-new-york-and-their-fortunes-published-may-29-1881\/","title":{"rendered":"Smart People of New York and Their Fortunes [published May 29, 1881]"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"\"
Chinese-themed teapot<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

      Among the many young men I have met one way or another, and a very nice young fellow he is, is a man by the name of Pratt, who is livin\u2019 in New York now and makin\u2019 money. He is a relative of the great Zadoc Pratt, the tanner, who used to employ Jay Gould years and years ago. And by the by, they tell a story about Gould and Zadoc Pratt which is characteristic of Gould anyway, and shows that thirty years ago he was about the same smart, quick, unscrupulous Jay as he is to-day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 This Zadoc Pratt took Jay Gould as one of his clerks, and as he was buildin\u2019 and plannin\u2019 buildin\u2019s all the time, and as Jay Gould was a pretty good hand at drawin\u2019 plans on paper (as well as dealin\u2019 with \u201cpaper,\u201d as he showed afterward), why Pratt got to think a good deal of Gould, and got to dependin\u2019 a good deal upon his \u201cplans.\u201d Well, after a while Pratt and Gould quarreled. You see, they were both too smart, and two too smart men can’t get along well together; so they agreed to separate\u2013at least Gould did the separatin\u2019 and Pratt had to submit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"
Zadock Pratt<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Pratt could have stood just then the losing\u2019Jay Gould\u2013he could have eaten three square meals a day if he had never seen Jay Gould again\u2013but then he wanted, or thought he wanted, a lot of plans and specifications which Gould had drawn out. These plans and specifications, Pratt said, of right belonged to him, as they had been done in his time by his clerk. But Jay Gould claimed that as he did \u2018em he owned \u2018em; at any rate, he took \u2018em. Pratt demanded \u2018em back; Gould refused to give \u2018em up. Pratt swore he’d have \u2018em by force if he couldn’t get \u2018em by any other way. Gould didn\u2019t swear; he was too pious (!), besides swearin\u2019 was a waste of words; but he hired six or seven roughs, at a dollar a day and their whiskey, to defend him and his papers. And he held the fort. The six or seven roughs won the day for him then, just as Fisk and Gould used to win, years afterwards, with their \u201cErie Strikers.\u201d Pratt had to give in. Gould not only took, but kept, and has gone on takin\u2019 and keepin\u2019 ever since.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"
Jay Gould<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

      Before he went to Pratt’s, Jay Gould had been tryin\u2019 his hand at cattle dealin\u2019, and it is recorded of him that the only bein\u2019 on the face of the earth that really got ahead of Jay Gould was a cow. It seems that he was a buyin\u2019 some cows one day of an old farmer, and while the sale was goin\u2019 on, he heard the farmer’s wife go up to him and beg him not to sell one of the cows, as she wanted above all things to keep that one particular cow for herself. She had got attached to it, for some woman’s reason or other. For this very reason, of course, Jay Gould was all the more determined to have that cow, and insisted on the farmer bringin\u2019 her out for him to look at. The farmer kind of sided with his wife, but Gould persisted, the farmer gave in and the cow came out. She was real handsome cow to look at, and had a very good name for a cow, of \u201cOld Pailful.\u201d So Gould bought her and drove her home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      After supper the man for whom Gould was then workin\u2019 told him that he had better go to the barn and see what kind of milker that Old Pailful really was. So Gould took his milkin\u2019 pail and stool, and goin\u2019 to the barn sat down alongside of Old Pailful and began to milk her as hard as he afterward milked Erie. But Old Pailful didn’t stand it as well as Erie did. All of a sudden she up with her heels, like a mule, and kicked over Gould and his pail and his stool, the stool hittin\u2019 him on the head, and the milk spillin\u2019 over his clothes. Then she kind of tried to gore Gould with her horns, Gould meanwhile rollin\u2019 off to a corner to get out of the way of the beast. And then Old Pailful leaped over the fence and went back to \u201chome, sweet home.\u201d From that day on Gould took a cast-iron oath never to take what a woman wanted to keep.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      Russell Sage used to be a somewhat eccentric character, and his rooms on William street were as plainly furnished as a hermit’s cave, the furniture consisting of \u201ca spittoon, an oil cloth and an iron railin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The brokers used to have a way of \u201clayin\u2019 for\u201d Sage as he went in or out of his office, tryin\u2019 to get points of him, and one day, it is said, Sage came near gettin\u2019 arrested by a new policeman on the beat. The guardian of the peace saw a tall, slim chap with dark hair, movin\u2019 uneasily along William street, as if he expected every minute somebody to pounce on him, as he did, for he was tryin\u2019 to dodge anybody who wanted to pump him. So the policeman made up his mind he was a suspicious character, and bein\u2019 a new hand and dyin\u2019 for a chance to distinguish himself, he was just goin\u2019 to collar Sage, when somebody else, some distinguished speculator or other, collared him instead, and called him by his name.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"
Russell Sage<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

      One of the smartest human beings that ever lived in New York was more than man\u2013two letters more. She was a wo-man. I mean Miss Susan A. King. This lady was pointed out to me on the street one day, and I felt like takin\u2019 my hat off to her, just out of respect, for I do respect a smart, plucky woman, and this Miss King was both. She was a Yankee, of course\u2013all the \u201ccute\u201d people are Yankees, though they are smart enough to leave Yankee land as soon as possible. This King woman was the daughter of a shiftless sort of a man, who used to go peddlin\u2019 round, and his daughter used to tramp round with him, and proved herself the best peddler of the two. She was great on swappin\u2019 and tradin\u2019, and always got the best of every trade. That was what she traded for.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 At about eighteen years of age she reached New York with seventeen shillin\u2019s in her pocket, and an old guitar she had learned to play on in her hand. On this capital, and on pluck and industry, she managed to live and save money, and put her money out in sendin\u2019 out peddlers through the Southern States with Yankee notions\u2013bein\u2019 the first woman that ever went into this kind of business.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"
Woman’s Tea Company, Susan A. King, Treasurer<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

      She prospered, and, when the rebellion broke out, calculated she was worth, all told, about ten thousand dollars. But as soon as the war began she saw there was trouble ahead. So she sold everythin\u2019 she had in the world for just what she could get, cash, and put the cash, about two thousand dollars, in her pocket. With this money she tried to come up North, from Mississippi somewhere, but she had the deuce to pay before she could strike New York. She went through all sorts of adventures, but she was equal to \u2018em all, and reached New York at last, with her money safe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      After the war she started the Woman’s Tea Company, and got the tea herself. She went all the way to China after it, and not only went to China, but went through it, bein\u2019 the only American woman that ever did it. The American consul said he couldn’t do anythin\u2019 for her in the way of protection, so she said she would protect herself. A woman’s wit was as good as the star-spangled banner, and in this case it was better. She dressed herself up Chinese fashion, got some coolies for attendants and started for the great unknown; she penetrated into the very heart of China; chow-chowed with the natives and ate rats and puppies with \u2018em. That was the hardest part of all. Then she pretended to practice the Chinese religion; she couldn’t have lived a day if she hadn’t; she burned sticks in the joss-houses, offered up fire-crackers in honor of the Chinese gods, and wound up by climbin\u2019 the eight-story sacred pagoda\u2013all to get tea at the lowest prices.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      When she got back to New York she made money, as she deserved to, and did a lot of good with her money, too\u2013started the Midnight Mission and a home for old women, and helped in other good works. She was the strongest kind of a strong-minded woman, and it if half the females were like her it would be the men that would be \u201cthe weaker sex.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      She invested in real estate, and sold the ground where the Union Theological Seminary stands for about three times what anybody else could have got for it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      She wasn’t a bit handsome, just as ugly as Burdett-Coutts or Sarah Bernhardt, and it was her ugliness that helped her along. The men didn’t bother her, and she wasn’t all the time paintin\u2019 her face and paddin\u2019 her dresses. She carried her beauty inside of her head, not on top of it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      She was careless in her dress, havin\u2019 more important things to think about. As for her hair, she wore it in a heap or twist at the back of her head. But in one point she was a regular woman all over, and that was her tongue. She could talk the pennies out of a miser’s pocket, and everybody she ever talked at surrendered at discretion. It was discretion to do so.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      Altogether, New York is never likely to see a smarter woman in her line than was Susan A. King.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      Among the smart hotel men who have figured in New York durin\u2019 the last thirty years is Hollis L. Powers. They tell a story about the way he got ahead of Earle, the old hotel man, which would do credit to Jay Gould. Earle used to keep a small hotel near the Astor House, which did, in a quiet way, a very good trade. Earle engaged Powers as clerk to this house, and Powers, knowin\u2019 how to do two important things\u2013smile and hold his tongue\u2013got along very well with everybody, and watchin\u2019 things, got a chance to make a little outside money now and then.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      The time came around for Earle to renew his lease of the hotel, and of course he intended to renew it; but of course he didn’t want to seem too anxious about it; so when the owner asked him about renewin\u2019 his lease, he hemmed and hawed, and said he would see about it, and all that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      This was on a Tuesday, but Earle made up his mind that before Saturday he would close with the landlord all right. But bright and early on Wednesday mornin\u2019 Powers called on the owner and had a long talk with him, and went away with a paper in his pocket.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      All Wednesday and Thursday Powers was at his desk as clerk\u2013as well dressed, as polite, as quiet as ever. But on Thursday mornin\u2019, when the owner dropped in at the hotel, and Earle began to find that, after all, he was willing to renew his lease, the owner of the buildin\u2019 pointed to the quiet, dapper-lookin\u2019 clerk at the desk and said: \u201cIt is too late now. That young man there has leased the establishment for the next three years.\u201d And so Earle found himself ousted out of his own hotel by his own clerk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Almost all of the successful hotel men of New York are the outgrowth of poor but smart boys. There’s Darling, for example. He began life at an old tavern as hall boy, at ten dollars a month. Crockett was running the tavern then, and he took a fancy to the hall boy. One day he said to Darling\u201d \u201cYoungster, get up early to-morrow mornin\u2019, and I will take you with me and teach you how to market.\u201d At four o\u2019clock the next mornin\u2019, one hour before Crockett showed up, Darling was up and dressed, and went with Crockett on his rounds two or three different times. Then Crockett, bein\u2019 unwell one mornin\u2019, asked Darling to take his place, and next day, after resumin\u2019 his rounds, Crockett was told by one of the largest dealers in the market: \u201cIf you’re smart, Crockett, you’ll stay at home after this, and let that boy (Darling) do your buyin\u2019. He can beat you buyin\u2019 any day\u2013for money.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"
Alfred B. Darling<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

      About five years or so after I came to New York, everybody believed the Fifth Avenue Hotel was just too far up-town, and it was called \u201cEno’s Folly.\u201d Just then Paran Stevens took a lease of it, and guaranteed to open it as a hotel within a certain time. Everybody said \u201cSilly Stevens,\u201d and one man in a \u2018bus said aloud one mornin\u2019 to a friend alongside of him, \u201cI’d like to bet a hundred dollars to ten that Stevens will bankrupt himself in less than one year.\u201d \u201cI’ll take that bet,\u201d said a third party in the \u2018bus. \u201cWho are you, sir?\u201d asked the fellow who wanted to bet so bad. \u201cMy name is Paran Stevens,\u201d was the reply.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      Well, the man couldn’t well back out after his brag, so the bet was taken, and one year afterwards the man who bet the hundred dollars stepped up to the cashier’s desk of the Fifth Avenue Hotel and paid his hundred dollars.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      Hotel men have pretty level heads, and they generally keep what money they once get. In this respect they differ from some other once celebrated men around New York. There was \u201cDr.\u201d Townsend, for instance\u2013\u201dSarsaparilla Townsend\u201d as they once used to call him. He could make money, but he couldn’t keep it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 He made his money, too, by a mere accident. He was poor, and his old mother had nothin\u2019 to give him but an old recipe she picked up somewheres. One day he took it into his head, in his little room on the top of a tenement house, to see whether this recipe of the old woman’s was worth anythin\u2019. He set to work, invested about one dollar in materials, and made some sarsaparilla. He drank some himself, and liked it. Then he gave some to an Irish family in the next room, and they liked it. In fact, the whole tenement house liked it. So Townsend pawned all he had to pawn, raised about five dollars, and took to peddlin\u2019 sarsaparilla. It took, and he stopped peddlin\u2019 pretty soon and took to manufacturin\u2019 and supplying other people. In a few years he was rich, off an old woman’s recipe. He built a magnificent brownstone front house on Fifth avenue, and furnished it splendidly. Then his troubles began. He made the mistake of thinkin\u2019, because he was lucky, that he was smart and couldn’t make mistakes, and so he made mistakes all the time. He had an idea that he knew everythin\u2019 about real estate, whereas he didn’t know anythin\u2019, and as there is nobody so pig-headed as a fool, nobody could advise him except those who advised him wrong. So in a few years he wasn’t worth a dollar, hadn’t any sarsaparilla or energy to fall back on, and went to the dogs, and A. T. Stewart bought his \u201cpalace\u201d for a song.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"
Townsend’s mansion, Fifth Avenue, NYC<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

      Then there was Horace H. Day. He once made a big stir in New York, and passed through two stages in his career\u2013a hero and a jackass.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Goodyear sold him a license to make India rubber goods, gave him a part of his patent and he got rich by it. Then people all over the country interfered with his rights, and he went to law about \u2018em. Things seemed very dark ahead of him for a while, and law was mighty expensive, but Day believed in Davy Crockett’s maxim: \u201cBe sure you’re right, then go ahead,\u201d and he went ahead, and came out ahead at last. He risked pretty near all he was worth in his legal fights, but he won all his cases, and was at one time worth nearly two millions of dollars. That was his reward for bein\u2019, after his own fashion, and in his own line of business, a hero.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"
Horace D. Day<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

      Then he got bitten with the \u201cinvestment\u201d mania, which is worse than the hydrophobia, for the man who is bitten by a mad dog is afraid of water, but the man bitten with the investment mania isn’t afraid of anythin\u2019. You couldn’t stop Day from investin\u2019. He invested in everythin\u2019, and the more you argued against an investment the more money he would put into it. Then not finding as many livin\u2019 people to agree with his ideas as he expected, he began to believe in spiritualism, and he consulted the dead. After Harry Clay died he consulted his spirit about West Side property. He took Harry’s advice, too, and lost every dollar he invested. Then he summoned the spirit of Ben Franklin, and was equally unfortunate. Well, to cut it short, Horace H. Day wound up in a Tenth avenue tenement house, and his story shows how a first-class hero can get to be a first-class jackass.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      And, in windin\u2019 up this chapter about smart people, let me say that although, of course, in my line of biz I don’t meet clergyman very often, yet I have noticed that most ministers of any account are very much like other men, and keep their weather eye open for No. 1. Rev. Dr. Tyng makes a good thing out of life insurance; Re. Dr. Deems made a good thing out of old Commodore Vanderbilt, and I have heard a good story of the way Rev. Dr. Morgan Dix got to be rector of Trinity Church, which would do credit for \u201csmartness\u201d to Roscoe Conklin, or Garfield, or any other politician.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Old Dr. Berrian used to be rector of Trinity Church, and although a very good man, he was a rather lazy one, and didn’t like work for its own sake a bit. Well, through the influence of his father, ex-Governor Dix, young Morgan Dix was appointed one of the assistant ministers of Old Trinity. Now, there are lots of assistant ministers, and of course they all want to be rectors some day. So naturally they all watched each other pretty closely, just like rival professors, or politicians, or belles, or cardinals.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"
Rev. Dr. Morgan Dix<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

      Young Dix didn’t care about the other assistants watchin\u2019 him; he didn’t expect anythin\u2019 from \u2018em. He knew where the butter on his bread was to come from. So he kept his eyes fixed on Dr. Berrian, and he kept his tongue goin\u2019 to old Dr. Berrian, and he made himself useful day and night to old Dr. Berrian, and he coddled old Dr. Berrian till old Dr. Berrian felt he couldn’t do without him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      So one day the old doctor and the young assistant minister got hold of the laws and regulations and charter of Trinity Church, and looked all over it carefully. The old rector wanted to see if there wasn’t some extra favor he could do for the young assistant minister, so as to show his good feelin\u2019 toward him, and so as to fix it that the young assistant minister could after this do all the work, leavin\u2019 only the old rector the drawin\u2019 of his salary, an idea which suited the young assistant minister exactly, as he was one of those men who only need a chance to get their foot in a place to follow it with the rest of their body.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      The old rector found that there was one place vacant that he had a right to fill. For twenty-five years there hadn’t been any assistant rector of Trinity Parish, but still there was such a place provided for, and a salary was provided for it, and it seemed to be especially provided for young Dix, who would thus, as assistant rector, have the right to do all the rector\u2019s work.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      So all of a sudden old Dr. Berrian appointed young Morgan Dix assistant rector of Trinity. How astonished the other poor assistant ministers all were, and then how mad. They knew what was comin\u2019, and saw that young Dix had euchred the whole caboodle of \u2018em. But it couldn’t be helped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      So young Dix was made assistant rector, and then he became actin\u2019 rector, and at last he became rector altogether. The vestry one day handed him the keys of the church on the northern porch. He took \u2018em, turned on his heel, and walked away the real head of the richest church corporation in America.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      Now that would have been smart in Jay Gould or W. H. Vanderbilt, and I don’t see why it wasn’t just as smart in the Reverend Morgan Dix.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

      Among the many young men I have met one<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[33,26],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1672","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-churches","category-entrepreneurs"],"yoast_head":"\nSmart People of New York and Their Fortunes [published May 29, 1881] - Harry Hill's Gotham<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/jerrykuntz.org\/harryhill\/smart-people-of-new-york-and-their-fortunes-published-may-29-1881\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Smart People of New York and Their Fortunes [published May 29, 1881] - 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