Chapter XI
It was while the war was on, and after it was perfectly plain that it was not
to be of a few days'
duration, that Cowperwood's first great financial
opportunity came to him. There was a strong demand for money at the time
on the part of the nation, the State, and the city. In July, 1861, Congress
had authorized a loan of fifty million dollars, to be secured by twenty-year
bonds with interest not to exceed seven per cent., and the State authorized a
loan of three millions on much the same security, the first being handled by
financiers
of Boston, New York, and Philadelphia, the second by
Philadelphia financiers alone. Cowperwood had no hand in this. He was not
big enough. He read in the papers of gatherings of men whom he knew
personally or by reputation, "to consider the best way to aid the nation or
the State"; but he was not included. And yet his soul yearned to be of them.
He noticed how often a rich man's word sufficed—no money, no certificates,
no collateral, no anything—just his word. If Drexel & Co., or Jay Cooke &
Co., or Gould & Fiske were rumored to be behind anything,
how secure it
was! Jay Cooke, a young man in Philadelphia, had made a great strike
taking this State loan in company with Drexel & Co., and selling it at par.
The general opinion was that it ought to be and could only be sold at ninety.
Cooke did not believe this. He believed that State pride and State patriotism
would warrant offering the loan to small banks and private citizens, and
that they would subscribe it fully and more. Events justified Cooke
magnificently, and his public reputation was assured. Cowperwood wished
he could make some such strike; but he was
too practical to worry over
anything save the facts and conditions that were before him.
His chance came about six months later, when it was found that the State
would have to have much more money. Its quota of troops would have to be
equipped and paid. There were measures of defense to be taken, the
treasury to be replenished. A call for a loan of twenty-three million dollars
was finally authorized by the legislature and issued. There was great talk in
the street as to who was to handle it—Drexel & Co. and Jay Cooke & Co., of
course.
Cowperwood pondered over this. If he could handle a fraction of this great
loan now—he could not possibly handle the whole of it, for he had not the
necessary connections—he could add considerably to his reputation as a
broker while making a tidy sum. How much could he handle? That was the
question. Who would take portions of it? His father's bank? Probably.
Waterman & Co.? A little. Judge Kitchen? A small fraction. The Mills-David
Company? Yes. He thought of different individuals and concerns who, for
one reason and another—personal friendship, good-nature,
gratitude for
past favors, and so on—would take a percentage of the seven-percent. bonds
through him. He totaled up his possibilities, and discovered that in all
likelihood, with a little preliminary missionary work, he could dispose of one
million dollars if personal influence, through local political figures, could
bring this much of the loan his way.
One man in particular had grown strong in his estimation as having some
subtle political connection not visible on the surface, and this was Edward
Malia Butler. Butler was a contractor, undertaking
the construction of
sewers, water-mains, foundations for buildings, street-paving, and the like.
In the early days, long before Cowperwood had known him, he had been a
garbage-contractor on his own account. The city at that time had no
extended street-cleaning service, particularly in its outlying sections and
some of the older, poorer regions. Edward Butler, then a poor young
Irishman, had begun by collecting and hauling away the garbage free of
charge, and feeding it to his pigs and cattle. Later he discovered that some
people were willing to pay a small charge for this service.
Then a local
political character, a councilman friend of his—they were both Catholics—
saw a new point in the whole thing. Butler could be made official garbage-
collector. The council could vote an annual appropriation for this service.
Butler could employ more wagons than he did now—dozens of them, scores.
Not only that, but no other garbage-collector would be allowed. There were
others, but the official contract awarded him would also, officially, be the
end of the life of any and every disturbing rival. A certain amount of the
profitable proceeds would have to be set aside to assuage the feelings of
those who were not contractors. Funds would have to be loaned at election
time to certain individuals and organizations—but no matter. The amount
would be small. So Butler and Patrick Gavin Comiskey, the councilman (the
latter silently) entered into business relations.
Butler gave up driving a
wagon himself. He hired a young man, a smart Irish boy of his
neighborhood, Jimmy Sheehan, to be his assistant, superintendent,
stableman, bookkeeper, and what not. Since he soon began to make
between four and five thousand a year, where before he made two thousand,
he moved into a brick house in an outlying
section of the south side, and
sent his children to school. Mrs. Butler gave up making soap and feeding
pigs. And since then times had been exceedingly good with Edward Butler.
He could neither read nor write at first; but now he knew how, of course. He
had learned from association with Mr. Comiskey that there were other forms
of contracting—sewers, water-mains, gas-mains, street-paving, and the like.
Who better than Edward Butler to do it? He knew the councilmen, many of
them. Het met them in the back rooms of saloons, on Sundays and
Saturdays at political picnics, at election councils and conferences, for as a
beneficiary of the city's largess he was expected to contribute not only
money, but advice. Curiously he had developed a strange political wisdom.
He knew a successful man or a coming man when he saw one. So many of
his bookkeepers, superintendents, time-keepers had graduated into
councilmen and state legislators. His nominees—suggested
to political
conferences—were so often known to make good. First he came to have
influence in his councilman's ward, then in his legislative district, then in
the city councils of his party—Whig, of course—and then he was supposed
to have an organization.
Mysterious forces worked for him in council. He was awarded significant
contracts, and he always bid. The garbage business was now a thing of the
past. His eldest boy, Owen, was a member of the State legislature and a
Do'stlaringiz bilan baham: 
