CHAPTER XXXIX.TRAVERS.
The Unique Character of Travers—His Versatile Attainments—Although of a Genial and Humorous Disposition, He Has Always Been a Bear—How He Was the Means of Preserving the Commercial Supremacy of New York—He Squashes the English Bravado, and Saves the Oratorical Honor of Our Country—Has the Oyster Brains?—It Must Have Brains. For it Knows Enough to Sh-sh-shut Up—The Dog and the Rat—I D-d-don’t Want to Buy the D-d-dog; I Will Buy the R-r-rat—Travers on the Royal Stand at the Derby—How He Was Euchred by the Pool-Seller—My Proxy in a Speech at the Union Club.—If You are a S-s-self-made Man, Wh-wh-y the D-devil Didn’t You Put More H-Hair on the Top of Your Head? Other Witticisms, &c.
Wm. R. Travers is one of the most notable men of Wall Street in our time.
His success in speculation has usually been on the bear side, which is rather singular, as he is a man of such a genial disposition, with a kind nature, an inexhaustible supply of sparkling wit, and always brimful of humor.
He is also fond of athletic sports of every description, and, in fact, is a kind of universal genius, so various and versatile are his attainments. Owing to his immense variety of qualities, tastes and pursuits, he has one of the most remarkable records in Wall Street; and the most singular thing about him, probably, is, that while having all the attributes usually inherent in a bull, he has always been a bear in his transactions.
This genial, benevolent and high spirited man has never been known to believe that there was any value in any property.
If he ever by chance happened to make any money onthe bull side of the market, it must have made him feel very uncomfortable—in fact, conscientiously miserable—as he could not realize that by any possibility it belonged to him.
It is due to Mr. Travers, however, that New York has been so highly classified in the catalogue of cities, in fact, as occupying the highest position in public estimation, and that it has attained full credit for being the largest in wealth and population of any city in the Union. This fact, now generally admitted, seemed to have been suspended in doubt until Mr. Travers came from Baltimore to reside in our midst.
It will be remembered by many Wall Street men that prior to the advent of Mr. Travers the rivalry among several of the seaboard cities on the Atlantic coast was very keen. Boston, Philadelphia and Baltimore were each in turn disposed to claim pre-eminence. Thanks to this Wall Street magnate, the matter is now no longer in dispute. It was finally decided in this way:
One day after Mr. Travers became one of ourselves, an old friend from Baltimore met him in Wall Street. As it had been a long time since they saw each other, they had a considerable number of topics to talk over. They had been familiar friends in the Monumental City, and were not therefore restrained by the usual social formalities.
“I notice, Travers,” said the Baltimorean, “that you stutter a great deal more than when you were in Baltimore.”
“W-h-y, y-e-s,” replied Mr. Travers, darting a look of surprise at his friend; “of course I do. This is a d-d-damned sight b-b-bigger city.”
That settled it. Since this famous interview, and this scientific explanation given by Mr. Travers to his old friend, no skeptic has had sufficient temerity to entertain any doubt regarding the financial and commercial supremacy of New York; its leading position as the great emporium of the Continent has never since been questioned; and there arefew cities outside of Ohio that can claim such power in politics.
It is due to Mr. Travers, also, that this country still retains the palm for oratory and volubility in speech, and has successfully resisted the intrusive and pretentious claims of Great Britain in regard to that great and somewhat limited accomplishment.
The destiny of this nation in that respect hung in the balance at one time.
A sort of go-as-you-please oratorical contest was being arranged to decide the question of championship between Great Britain and ourselves, and a vaunting and loquacious Britisher had appeared in our midst to dispute the claim of the national cup in oratory as Rowell had done for the belt in pedestrianism.
This English bravado had letters of introduction from Lord Randolph Churchill, Sir Charles Dilke, Lord Salisbury, Mr. Gladstone, and other British declaimers to Mr. Travers and other American gentlemen. It was in the yachting season, and the voluble champion was invited to accompany a party, of which Mr. Travers was the leading spirit, down the bay in Mr. Travers’ yacht. The orator had talked everybody within earshot of his voice almost deaf. When the party arrived at the dinner table it was hoped that he would cease for a short time; but when every other topic seemed exhausted, as well as the patience of his listeners, he started off with renewed fluency on the subject of oysters, which constituted the dish then at table.
“It is now a debatable point among scientists,” he began, “as to whether or not the oyster has brains.” Travers, who up to this time had endured the infliction of his loquacious guest, with the calmness of Job, said, “I think the oyster must have b-b-brains because it knows enough when to sh-sh-shut up.”
By this satiric stroke the English orator was dumbfounded and almost paralyzed; his fluent tongue ceased to wag withits usual volubility, and when requested to name his time for the international contest, he begged to be excused until cured of his cold. He took the next steamer for Liverpool, and has not been heard of since. Mr. Travers’ incisive remark about the mental attributes of the oyster thoroughly squashed him, and saved the oratorical honor of our country.
Mr. Travers started in life in the grocery business in Baltimore, but disaster overtaking him there, he came to New York, and soon thereafter formed a co-partnership with Leonard W. Jerome, the firm being Travers & Jerome. Mr. Travers met with fair prosperity from the start, and soon accumulated wealth. The worst set-back probably that he ever received during his residence in this city was on one occasion on his way home after the business day was over. Being attracted by the display in the window of a bird fancier and dog dealer, from curiosity he was tempted to enter the place. One of the conspicuous objects that met his eye was a very large sized parrot. Mr. Travers inquired of the proprietor of the establishment who was in attendance “i-i-if th-th-th-that p-p-parrot c-c-could t-t-talk?”
Its owner quickly replied, “If it couldn’t talk better than you, I’d cut its damned head off.”
Mr. Travers for a long time afterwards made up his mind some time or other to get even with this dealer in animals and birds, and succeeded most effectually. His coachman made a complaint to him that the stable was overrun with rats. Mr. Travers said, “Well, you m-m-must hunt for a r-r-rat dog.” The coachman made it known that Mr. Travers wanted a dog, and all those engaged dealing in dogs overran Mr. Travers’ house as ferociously as the rats had overrun the stable, to get him to buy a dog. Among the rest who responded was this identical man who kept the store where the parrot was. Mr. Travers recognized him at once, and told him, “I-i-if he w-w-would b-b-b-be d-d-down at the s-s-stable in the m-morning with t-th-the d-d-dog, he would g-g-give him a tr-tr-trial, and if he p-pr-proved to b-b-be a g-g-good r-rat c-c-catcher, would b-b-buy him.”
Mr. Travers sent for his coachman and told him to catch three or four rats and put them in the bin, and he would be down in the morning to try the dog. So, good and early next morning Mr. Travers was on hand at the stable, and also the dog man and his terrier. Three rats having already been put into the bin, Mr. Travers ordered the dog put inside, as the man said he was ready for the fray, and the rats were so ferocious, and showed such determined fight, that they kept the dog at bay, and he took to the corner of the bin for protection. By and by the owner pushed him right on the rats, and after a pretty fierce tussle he did secure one of them and shook him until dead. This success encouraged a tussle with another, which, after a long fight, shared the same fate. The third rat, however, was determined to resist the dog, and did so nobly and fiercely, making a prolonged fight, which resulted in a draw, and it was hard to tell which was the worst hurt, the dog or the rat.
The owner of the dog then turned to Mr. Travers and said: “Now you see what a fine dog that is, won’t you buy him?” Mr. Travers replied: “I d-d-don’t w-w-want t-t-to b-b-buy the d-d-dog, b-b-but I’ll b-b-b-buy the r-rat.”
Mr. Travers, when he first saw the owner of this dog, remembered him in connection with the parrot. Since the rat fight, however, this same man has never ceased to remember Mr. Travers, so that honors remain easy between them. Mr. Travers has never been known to be at a loss for wit to meet an emergency, and it is recognized that it flows as freely from his lips and in as perfectly natural a way, as ordinary conversation does from most people.
Early in the Spring of last year, on the advice of his physician, Mr. Travers took his maiden trip to Europe, and would not have gone but for the urgency of the case, always regarding that this country was big enough for him without leaving its shores. When he reached England, however, he found, when his arrival was announced through the medium of the papers, that he was as well known amongst the nobility,sporting world and other distinguished people there as he was in his own country, owing to his connection with the turf and athletic sports, together with his widely published witticisms which had preceded him. He consequently was overpowered by attention and hospitality, and participated to as full an extent as his health would permit. He attended the Derby, and took an interest in a pool which resulted in his favor. As soon as he ascertained his good fortune, he went to bag his money, but found that the pool man had decamped with the funds. This was a sad disappointment. He could scarcely believe his eyes or the various statements which went to corroborate this man’s disappearance, but it was evident that he wasnon est, as he was nowhere to be found about the stand or on the field. Travers made complaint to a policeman, who appeared perfectly indifferent to the charge. Mr. Travers said: “W-w-we d-don’t d-d-do th-th-that way in m-my c-c-c-country. I b-b-belong to America.” The policeman turned impertinently and said: “You had better go back to your own country, if that’s the case.” This was an indignity to which Mr. Travers did not feel inclined to submit, and he at once exhibited his badge, which admitted him to the royal stand. The policeman recognized it with affright, and almost fell on his knees in making profuse apologies and offers of service, showing the cringing spirit which prevails in England to royalty and nobility, by the people who occupy the position as servants to these high-born personages. Mr. Travers overlooked this official rudeness, and submitted to his loss as cheerfully as possible under the circumstances.
I met Mr. Travers on board the Newport boat immediately on his return, and he told me this story. I replied, “that I was surprised that a man of that character should have acted so villainously, as I had always supposed that such men were influenced by the recognized principle the world over, of honor among thieves.” Mr. Travers instantly replied: “No one could have t-t-told him that I was a th-th-thief.”
I remember another instance, which was during the war period. I had written a series of letters on national financial matters, which were then before the country for discussion, and they were published in the New YorkTimes. Mr. Travers was met on his way down town by a Wall Street friend on the morning that one of these letters appeared in the paper, who asked Mr. Travers if he had seen Mr. Clews’ last letter. Mr. Travers said, “I h-h-hope so.”
Shortly after this I was a guest at a dinner party at the Union Club, and was late in presenting myself. When I reached the entertainment (which was a sort of mutual admiration gathering), the speeches had commenced, and I no sooner had taken my seat than Mr. Lawrence Jerome proposed my health. While it was being drank, Mr. Travers, who sat immediately opposite, came over and whispered in my ear, “Clews, you d-d-don’t w-want t-to speak so soon after c-c-oming in here, d-d-do you?” “No, I do not,” I replied. “I’ll t-t-tell th-th-them so, will I?” “Yes, I wish you would,” I said. He went back to his place and said, “Gentlemen, I have talked with Mr. Clews, and he d-d-desires me t-to ask you t-to excuse him f-from making a speech on th-th-this occasion and i-if you w-will d-d-do so, he w-will w-write you a l-letter.”
To show the rapid fluctuations that take place in Wall Street, and how even the best judges of the market are often mistaken in their prognostications, I will note an instance in connection with Mr. Travers. On his return from Europe, which was early in July, 1885, when the market on this side was weak, cables prior to his departure evidently indicated to him that much lower figures were in order. Just prior to the arrival of the steamer, in conversing with an associate member of the Exchange, he said, “B-b-barnes, I’ll make a l-l-little b-b-bet with you; I’ll b-b-bet you L-l-lackawanna will b-b-be under six-ty when we r-reach New Y-York.” Barnes was not willing to make the bet, however,but on their arrival, which was two days after, nothing surprised Mr. Travers so much as to find Lackawanna 110 instead of the figure 60 or less which he had predicted, especially as its advance did not cease thereafter until it sold at 130.
It has been justly said, that if a man will wear a good looking hat, and good, well polished boots, the head and feet being the parts which first catch the eye of an observer, it matters very little what kind of material the coat, vest and trousers may be made of, if they are whole and kept clean. Though they may be threadbare the man will appear to be fairly dressed, and will look much younger than if he were careless regarding the covering of his extremities. If the latter are fairly adorned he can pass muster.
Knowing this fact, I had always been in the habit of posing before the public as a youth. In this I was materially assisted by having no hair on the top of my head, in the place where other people’s hair usually grows. I had been this way for twenty years, just presenting about the same appearance as when I was born, and it has always been a matter of remark how youthful I looked.
I have often been asked what I did to keep myself looking so young. My truthful answer always has been that, “Virtue is its own reward.” This theory invariably passed as sound in my case until it was knocked into a cocked hat by Travers. One unlucky day he removed the mask, and changed the current of public opinion against me on the much cherished subject of my perpetual bloom of youth.
It occurred in this way. Frank Leslie’sIllustrated Weeklyhad published a number of pictures of the active business men of New York, who were known in the community as self-made men, and mine was among them.
A few days after the appearance of my picture in this paper, I happened, one afternoon, on my way uptown, to drop into the Union Club, and as usual, went into the main room. It was full of members, largely composed of a scattering of Wall Street bankers and brokers.
Travers was present, and when he is on hand on such occasions, it always means laughter for the multitude at some one’s expense. In this instance it happened to be at mine.
As I entered the room, Travers said, in an audible voice: “Hallo, boys! here comes Clews, the self-made man.” Then, addressing himself to me, he said: “I s-s-say, Cl-Cl-Clews, as you are a s-s-self-made man, wh-wh-why the d-d-devil didn’t you p-put more h-h-hair on the top of your head?”
This story having gone the rounds, as it soon did, drew attention to my summer-appareled head, which before that time had enabled me to pass myself off as a youngster just striking out at the commencement of life. That stroke of Travers’ wit, however, has been the cause of consigning me ever since to the ranks of the old “fogies.” Now, everybody is convinced that my hair, nownon est, had already come and gone, and that my head represents the work of ages.
This is another vivid instance illustrating the saying that “many a truth is spoken in jest.”
When Travers thus removed my mask of adolescence, it made me feel unhappy for some time, as it really transformed my entire identity, and deprived me of that luxury so dear to all the fair sex, and to many of my own, of sailing under false colors in reference to my age.
Still, as Travers is such a righteous, good fellow, I have had to forgive him, notwithstanding the gravity of the offense in having hurt the most tender part of my sensitive nature. So we can make up and become friends again, as I value the renewal of his friendship even at the cost of such a great personal sacrifice as the deprivation of my supposed youthfulness.
On the principle that misery loves company, and as Mr. Travers had brought misery to my lot by drawing public attention to my bare head, I found consolation, shortly afterwards, in a huge joke that the same facetious individual perpetrated upon another member of the Club, who happened to be one of New York’s most celebrated lawyers. Thisgentleman, it is well known, has been connected with some of the largest and most remunerative railroad cases in our courts for many years, and being considered a great authority in that branch of legal lore, he was accustomed to exact his own terms from his wealthy clients, which meant, in most instances, a very fat fee. This gentleman was standing on the side of the street opposite the Club one afternoon, while Travers was surrounded by a cluster of club men on the other side. “Look across the way, boys,” observed Travers, “th-th-there’s B-B-Barlow with his hands in his own p-p-pockets at last.”
On another occasion, when Travers, who resides at Newport in the summer, and is the possessor of a small-sized yacht there, which he obtained some years ago in lieu of a debt, was taking a refreshing sail on his yacht in the bay one morning, it happened that a squadron of yachts appeared in his vicinity, and there was going to be a race. Travers having been made acquainted with the fact, invited a party of friends to go to see the race. As soon as it became known to the yachtsmen that the renowned Travers had appeared on the deck of his yacht, a committee was assigned to convey to him the respects of the members of the squadron. When they came alongside his craft he invited them on board, and saw at a glance that they nearly all happened to be bankers and brokers. Casting his eyes across the glittering water, he beheld a number of beautiful white-winged yachts in the distance, and finding, by inquiry, that they all belonged to Wall Street well known brokers, he appeared thereby to be thrown momentarily into a deep reverie, and, without turning his gaze from the handsome squadron, finally asked his distinguished visitors, “wh-wh-where are the cu-cu-customers’ yachts?”
Comment would be entirely superfluous.
A. T. Stewart, the world renowned retail dry goods merchant, was elected, on one occasion, to preside at a meeting of citizens during the war period, Travers being amongst thenumber present. When Mr. Stewart took his gold pencil case from his pocket and rapped with its head on the table for the meeting to come to order, Travers called out, in an audible tone, “C-cash!” which brought down the house, and no one laughed more heartily than Mr. Stewart, although it was a severe thrust at himself.
As it is sometimes said of a stranger who comes from a foreign country, Travers came to New York well recommended, bringing letters of introduction with him from the first families of Baltimore, and credentials which at once established his status and reputation. So it was not necessary for him to remain long on probation in New York. Coming here was not a new birth to him, although, in some measure, he may be said to have risen, Phœnix-like, from the ashes of his former self, as business misfortunes had overtaken him in Baltimore.
Travers had not only to start in a new place and in a new business when he came here, but he had to begin the ascent of his prosperous career at the very bottom of the financial ladder. Owing to his incomparable geniality he met with hosts of friends from the very start, and he prospered from the word “go.”
Travers formed several partnerships at various times. After making considerable money in the one above alluded to with Mr. Jerome, the partnership was dissolved, and Travers then continued business alone as a Wall Street operator, and as I have formerly stated, usually acted on the bear side of the market, which was remarkable for a person of such a buoyant and hopeful disposition.
In his business operations Mr. Travers has always shown great sagacity, mingled with caution, and his prestige as a leader became so great that he soon attracted a numerous following of operators, who, with their eminent leader, formed a set widely known in speculative circles all over this country as the “Twenty-third Street Party.” Of this party, Mr. Addison Cammack, the celebrated bear, was a prominent member, and a great admirer of Mr. Travers.
Mr. Travers was well-born and received a good education, with an excellent training for a business career. He married a daughter of the Hon. Reverdy Johnson, who was United States Minister to England during the administration of Andrew Johnson, and who was one of the most prominent members of the Bar.
Mr. Travers has always been famous for his attachment to out-door sports and amusements, and on the principle that water finds its level, so did Mr. Travers in the sporting world. He soon became President of the Jerome Jockey Club, President of the Racquet Club, President of the Athletic Club, and was thoroughly identified as a leader in the large majority of manly and out-door sports, in which the youth of New York city and its suburbs were interested.
It is due both to Mr. Travers and his quondam partner, the renowned Leonard W. Jerome, to state that the efforts of these two men have been chiefly instrumental in elevating the social and moral tone of the race-course in this part of the country, and raising it to a standard of respectability, to which before their reformatory efforts it was partially a stranger. It was, in a great measure, through their exertions that the race-track became a fashionable resort, in the North, for ladies, as it had been in the South for many years, especially in Kentucky. The ladies of the present day can now talk horse at Jerome Park, Sheepshead Bay and Long Branch with a volubility that twenty years ago would have shocked their mothers, and would still cause their grandmothers to have epileptic fits. So the ladies of the present generation are greatly indebted to these two gentlemen for having removed the social stigma from the turf, in this section, thus enabling the fair sex to enjoy, in common with the lords of creation, and without compunction and loss of dignity, one of the greatest pleasures in the whole range of out-door recreations.
The breed of horses has been improved to an extent thatleaves the famous Arabian steed of yore, that outstripped the flight of the ostrich, far in the distance. This development in speed has been brought to its highest pitch in Harry Bassett, and Wm. H. Vanderbilt’s fondly cherished Maud S., now the property of Mr. Robert Bonner. For this immense evolution in speed and staying powers the patrons of the turf are largely indebted to Jerome and Travers.
One of Travers’ bestbon motswas inspired by the sight of the Siamese Twins. After carefully examining the mysterious ligature that had bound them together from birth, he looked up blankly at them and said, “B-b-br-brothers, I presume.”
Among Travers’ contemporaries, Mr. Charles L. Frost was very well known a few years ago. His specialty was purchasing the junior securities of foreclosed railroads which were supposed to be wiped out, so far as any visible element of value was concerned.
Then, at a time when it was quite inconvenient for the reorganized companies, he would pounce down upon them with some sort of vexatious litigation, and would often levy on the bank balances of these corporations as a part of his proceedings and peculiar methods of management. He was enabled to take such action as they were foreign corporations. In this way he made it exceedingly difficult for these corporations to defend the various suits in law engineered by him, and rendered their existence exceedingly uncomfortable by placing their money in a tight place and cutting off the interest.
These peculiar methods of financiering identified Mr. Frost in a measure with Wall Street men, as a character whom most of the bankers and brokers who had any dealings with him have had good reason to remember feelingly. Frost had bushy, white curly hair, a beardless, full face, and a very red nose, which could only be acquired at considerable expense or as the result of chronic dyspepsia. There is no evidence, however, that he was a victim of this naturalmalady, so his highly-colored proboscis must be accounted for in some other way.
Mr. Travers met this gentleman one morning by accident in a Fourth Avenue railroad car going down town. Although formerly acquainted, they had not met in years, and time, as indicated by his white locks, was beginning to tell upon Mr. Frost.
This attracted the attention of Mr. Travers, who cordially shook hands with the old gentleman, and after making a rapid survey of his person, said, “Wh-why, Mr. Frost, wh-wh-what beautiful white hair you have; what a su-su-superb blue n-n-necktie you wear; what a m-m-mag-magnificent red nose you have got. If I had s-s-seen you as I do now in w-w-war times, I should have taken you for a p-p-perfect p-p-patriot, red white and blue.”
The foregoing reminiscences of Travers were written and stereotyped while the great wit and financier was still alive. I have, therefore, not deemed it necessary to recast the matter, but consider it sufficient to add a few of the salient points in Mr. Travers’ character and career, with morebons motswhich the death of this popular man brought out. He died in Bermuda, March 19, 1887. He had gone there in the previous November, where he had a residence of his own, in the hope that the climate might restore him to health, but the malady, diabetes, had got too far ahead, and, in spite of the best medical skill, carried him over to the majority. His wit, like that of Tom Hood, did not forsake him even in his last hours.
While on his death-bed at Bermuda a friend called to see him, and said, “What a nice place Bermuda is for rest and change.” Travers replied: “Y-y-yes, th-the waiters g-g-get th-th-the ch-change and th-the h-h-hotel k-k-keepers th-the r-r-rest.”
Among Travers’ famous hits the following is one of the best: Jim Fisk’s zenith of glory and grandeur was in the vicinity of its height when he secured the control of the Boston & Providence line of steamboats. He constituted himself Commodore, and was always on the deck as they departed each day, dressed in a Commodore’s attire, and was evidently very much elated in being supreme in command in connection with these magnificent steamboats. Jay Gould was, financially, equally interested with him in the venture, and Commodore Fisk, in his usual splurgy manner, had a large likeness of both Gould and himself hung up at the head of the stairs leading to the large saloon cabin on each of these steamboats. Travers and others, who at that time were leading magnates of the street, were invited to inspect one of these large boats that had been newly fitted up, gilded, and put in magnificent shape, with a band of music on board, etc. Fisk met Travers as he went on board, and volunteered to escort him over the boat to show him its magnificence and superb appointments. As they went up the stairs and came to the first landing, he pointed out the likenesses of Fisk and Gould that were hung there, and asked Travers if he didn’t think they were good. Travers replied: “I th-think th-th-they are v-v-very good, b-b-b-but t-to m-make th-th-them c-c-complete, th-there sh-sh-should b-b-be a p-p-picture of our S-S-S-Saviour in th-th-the m-middle.”
The last time I saw Mr. Travers down town he called at my office. After he ran his eye over the stock quotations, I said: “The market is pretty stiff, Travers.” He said: “Y-yes, it is th-the st-st-stiffness of d-d-death;” and, sure enough, in the course of two or three days afterwards, a big smash took place.
Mr. Travers once said to a friend: “C-come and see me in S-September. If y-you wish I will give you a p-point that will m-make m-money. He wished to do the man afavor in return for a kindly office. Late in the month mentioned the friend dropped into Travers’ office.
“C-come for that p-point?” asked Mr. Travers.
“Certainly,” replied the friend.
“Well, y-you are the luckiest d-dog I know. I p-played that p-point two weeks ago myself and lost a pile of money. Y-you st-stick to m-me l-long enough and c-close enough, and I’ll l-land y-you in the p-poorhouse, sure.”
When “Plunger” Walton was in the height of his prosperity on the turf he met Travers at Saratoga.
“I have been anxious to see you for some time,” said Walton. “I think we can do business together,” he added. “I’ve got good judgment on horses and horse racing, and you have the same on stocks and stock speculation. I’ve made $350,000 on horse races in the last two years. Now, you give me points on stocks, and I’ll give you points on races. Is it a go?”
“Y-you’ve made three h-hundred and f-fifty th-thousand dollars on h-horse racing?” Travers repeated.
“Yes.”
“And you want m-me to g-give you p-points on st-stocks?”
“In exchange for my points on horses. Yes.”
“Well, I’ll give you a f-first rate p-point. If you’ve made that much in two y-years, st-stick to your b-b-business. It is a f-first-rate p-point.”
One day, many years ago, Mr. Travers was standing on the curb of New street, opposite the Exchange, buying some stock from a gentleman whose aspect was unmistakably of the Hebrew stamp.
“Wh-wh-what is your name?” asked Travers.
“Jacobs,” responded the seller.
“B-b-but wh-what is your Christian name?” reiterated Travers.
The Hebrew was non-plussed, and the crowd was convulsed with laughter.
The first time Mr. Travers attempted to find Montague street, in Brooklyn, he lost his way, although he was near the place. Meeting a man he said:
“I desire to r-reach M-montague st-street. W-will you b-be kik-kind enough to pup-point the way?”
“You-you are go-going the wrong w-way,” was the stammering answer. “That is M-montague st-street there.”
“Are y-you mimick-mimicking me, making fun of me-me?” asked Mr. Travers sharply.
“Nun-no, I assure you, sir,” the other replied. “I-I am ba-badly af-flict-flicted with an imp-impediment in my speech.”
“Why do-don’t y-you g-get cured?” asked Travers, solemnly. “G-go to Doctor —, and y-you’ll get c-cured. D-don’t y-you see how well I talk? H-he cu-cured me.”
The fortune left by Mr. Travers has been estimated at $3,000,000. He left three sons, William B. Travers, John Travers, and Reverdy Travers, and five daughters, four of whom are married. His only sister is Mrs. Prince, mother of the late John D. Prince, of Prince & Whitely.
Mr. Travers assisted a large number of young men to go into business, and helped to give the start in life to several of the most successful men in Wall Street.
He was charitable, and his secret beneficences are said to have been numerous. He enjoyed the wealth he had made in a way that should make the majority of millionaires blush with shame at their parsimony. He was abon vivantof the first water. He maintained five domestic establishments on a first-class and luxurious scale, not like a Caligula, merely for his personal gratification or the pride of ostentation, but rather for the development of those social traits of character in which he had few equals, and no superior. The great social pride of his life was to make his friends feel happy. He had one of the best cellars in New York. His table at any of his residences was not only bountiful, but exhibited a menu equal to that at Delmonico’s.His favorite wine was Madeira, of which he was a perfect judge. He was very moderate, however, both in eating and drink, but would have the best of everything despite the cost.
He was a kind and indulgent father, but was pleased to see his boys manifest ample pluck like himself. Apropos of this characteristic, one of his boys came home one day with a big blackened eye.
“W-w-w-where d-d-did you g-g-g-get th-th-that?” inquired the father, anxiously.
“In a f-f-fight, sir,” replied the son, who has a similar impediment in his speech.
“D-d-d-did y-y-you w-w-w-whip the other f-f-fellow?”
“Y-y-yes, sir.”
“Q-q-q-quite r-r-right. H-h-h-here’s a d-d-dollar f-f-for y-you. Always w-w-whip the other f-f-fellow.”
Travers himself was courageous, tall, and sinewy, and in his younger days a great athlete. He was 68 years of age at the time of his death. He was a member of twenty-seven clubs, social, political, and athletic. He was a Democrat in politics. As to his religious belief, I expect if he had been questioned on that he would have given the same answer as another eminent man who cut a great figure in this country: “The world is my country; to do good is my religion.” Travers might have added: “I also wish to be the means of creating and diffusing the greatest amount of social happiness and enjoyment of which humanity is capable.”
I may conclude by saying of Travers, as an eminent author observed of his namesake the divine William, the Bard of Avon, “We ne’er shall see his like again.”