“I’ll tell you how it is, Judah,” one bank president confided to him, in great secrecy. “We owe Timothy Arneel at least three hundred thousand dollars that we only have to pay three per cent. for. It’s a call-loan. Besides, the Lake National is our main standby when it comes to quick trades, and he’s in on that. I understand from one or two friends that he’s at outs with Cowperwood, and we can’t afford to offend him. I’d like to, but no more for me—not at present, anyhow.”
“Why, Simmons,” replied Addison, “these fellows are simply cutting off their noses to spite their faces. These stock and bond issues are perfectly good investments, and no one knows it better than you do. All this hue and cry in the newspapers against Cowperwood doesn’t amount to anything. He’s perfectly solvent. Chicago is growing. His lines are becoming more valuable every year.”
“I know that,” replied Simmons. “But what about this talk of a rival elevated system? Won’t that injure his lines for the time being, anyhow, if it comes into the field?”
“If I know anything about Cowperwood,” replied Addison, simply, “there isn’t going to be any rival elevated road. It’s true they got the city council to give them a franchise for one line on the South Side; but that’s out of his territory, anyhow, and that other one to the Chicago General Company doesn’t amount to anything. It will be years and years before it can be made to pay a dollar, and when the time comes he will probably take it over if he wants it. Another election will be held in two years, and then the city administration may not be so unfavorable. As it is, they haven’t been able to hurt him through the council as much as they thought they would.”
“Yes; but he lost the election.”
“True; but it doesn’t follow he’s going to lose the next one, or every one.”
“Just the same,” replied Simmons, very secretively, “I understand there’s a concerted effort on to drive him out. Schryhart, Hand, Merrill, Arneel—they’re the most powerful men we have. I understand Hand says that he’ll never get his franchises renewed except on terms that’ll make his lines unprofitable. There’s going to be an awful smash here one of these days if that’s true.” Mr. Simmons looked very wise and solemn.
“Never believe it,” replied Addison, contemptuously. “Hand isn’t Chicago, neither is Schryhart, nor Arneel. Cowperwood is a brainy man. He isn’t going to be put under so easily. Did you ever hear what was the real bottom cause of all this disturbance?”
“Yes, I’ve heard,” replied Simmons.
“Do you believe it?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Yes, I suppose I do. Still, I don’t know that that need have anything to do with it. Money envy is enough to make any man fight. This man Hand is very powerful.”
Not long after this Cowperwood, strolling into the president’s office of the Chicago Trust Company, inquired: “Well, Judah, how about those Northwestern ‘L’ bonds?”
“It’s just as I thought, Frank,” replied Addison, softly. “We’ll have to go outside of Chicago for that money. Hand, Arneel, and the rest of that crowd have decided to combine against us. That’s plain. Something has started them off in full cry. I suppose my resignation may have had something to do with it. Anyhow, every one of the banks in which they have any hand has uniformly refused to come in. To make sure that I was right I even called up the little old Third National of Lake View and the Drovers and Traders on Forty-seventh Street. That’s Charlie Wallin’s bank. When I was over in the Lake National he used to hang around the back door asking for anything I could give him that was sound. Now he says his orders are from his directors not to share in anything we have to offer. It’s the same story everywhere—they daren’t. I asked Wallin if he knew why the directors were down on the Chicago Trust or on you, and at first he said he didn’t. Then he said he’d stop in and lunch with me some day. They’re the silliest lot of old ostriches I ever heard of. As if refusing to let us have money on any loan here was going to prevent us from getting it! They can take their little old one-horse banks and play blockhouses with them if they want to. I can go to New York and in thirty-six hours raise twenty million dollars if we need it.”
Addison was a little warm. It was a new experience for him. Cowperwood merely curled his mustaches and smiled sardonically.
“Well, never mind,” he said. “Will you go down to New York, or shall I?”
It was decided, after some talk, that Addison should go. When he reached New York he found, to his surprise, that the local opposition to Cowperwood had, for some mysterious reason, begun to take root in the East.
“I’ll tell you how it is,” observed Joseph Haeckelheimer, to whom Addison applied—a short, smug, pussy person who was the head of Haeckelheimer, Gotloeb & Co., international bankers. “We hear odd things concerning Mr. Cowperwood out in Chicago. Some people say he is sound—some not. He has some very good franchises covering a large portion of the city, but they are only twenty-year franchises, and they will all run out by 1903 at the latest. As I understand it, he has managed to stir up all the local elements—some very powerful ones, too—and he is certain to have a hard time to get his franchises renewed. I don’t live in Chicago, of course. I don’t know much about it, but our Western correspondent tells me this is so. Mr. Cowperwood is a very able man, as I understand it, but if all these influential men are opposed to him they can make him a great deal of trouble. The public is very easily aroused.”
“You do a very able man a great injustice, Mr. Haeckelheimer,” Addison retorted. “Almost any one who starts out to do things successfully and intelligently is sure to stir up a great deal of feeling. The particular men you mention seem to feel that they have a sort of proprietor’s interest in Chicago. They really think they own it. As a matter of fact, the city made them; they didn’t make the city.”
Mr. Haeckelheimer lifted his eyebrows. He laid two fine white hands, plump and stubby, over the lower buttons of his protuberant waistcoat. “Public favor is a great factor in all these enterprises,” he almost sighed. “As you know, part of a man’s resources lies in his ability to avoid stirring up opposition. It may be that Mr. Cowperwood is strong enough to overcome all that. I don’t know. I’ve never met him. I’m just telling you what I hear.”
This offish attitude on the part of Mr. Haeckelheimer was indicative of a new trend. The man was enormously wealthy. The firm of Haeckelheimer, Gotloeb & Co. represented a controlling interest in some of the principal railways and banks in America. Their favor was not to be held in light esteem.
It was plain that these rumors against Cowperwood in New York, unless offset promptly by favorable events in Chicago, might mean—in the large banking quarters, anyhow—the refusal of all subsequent Cowperwood issues. It might even close the doors of minor banks and make private investors nervous.
Addison’s report of all this annoyed Cowperwood no little. It made him angry. He saw in it the work of Schryhart, Hand, and others who were trying their best to discredit him. “Let them talk,” he declared, crossly. “I have the street-railways. They’re not going to rout me out of here. I can sell stocks and bonds to the public direct if need be! There are plenty of private people who are glad to invest in these properties.”
At this psychological moment enter, as by the hand of Fate, the planet Mars and the University. This latter, from having been for years a humble Baptist college of the cheapest character, had suddenly, through the beneficence of a great Standard Oil multimillionaire, flared upward into a great university, and was causing a stir throughout the length and breadth of the educational world.