FOOTNOTES

“We are united. We believe in our cause. It is the cause of constitutional liberty, of personal rights, of a fraternity of States, of an economical government, of the financial credit of the nation, of one currency for all men, rich and poor, and of the political supremacy of the white race and protection of American labor.… [Hoffman] is the friend of the poor, the sympathizer with the naturalized citizen, and the foe to municipal oppression in the form of odious excise and all other requisitional laws.… Is not the pending contest preeminently one of capital against labor, of money against popular rights, and of political power against the struggling interests of the masses?”

Public addresses and pronunciamentos, however, formed but a small part of the Tammany program for 1868. For six weeks the naturalization mills worked with the greatest regularity in the Supreme, Common Pleas and Superior Courts, producing, it was estimated, from 25,000 to 30,000 citizens, of whom not less than 85 per cent. voted the Tammany Hall ticket. On October 30 Tweed announced to the general committee that “at 10 o’clock to-morrow the money for electioneering purposes will be distributed” and that those who came first would be served first. The chairman of the executive committee spread forth the glad tidings that there was $1,000 ready for each election district. There being 327 election districts, this made a fund of $327,000 from the general committee alone, exclusive of the sums derived in the districts themselves from the saloon-keepers and thetradesmen, whose fear of inviting reprisals by Tammany officials made them “easy marks” for assessments. Tweed personally suggested to the twenty-four leaders the stuffing of ballot boxes.[4]By fraudulent naturalization, repeating, the buying and trading of votes, and intimidation, Seymour secured a total of 108,316 votes, against 47,762 for Grant. The whole vote of the city was swelled to 156,288, of which, it was conclusively demonstrated, at least 25,000 were fraudulent.[5]Tweed himself confessed, nine years later, that he thought the Inspectors of Elections “lumped” the votes and declared them without counting, in order to overcome the result in the rest of the State and give the electoral vote to Seymour.[6]To prevent the Republicans from getting the use of certain telegraph wires on election night, Tweed sent out long, useless messages, and it was even proposed to telegraph the whole Bible if necessary.[7]

Hoffman was swept into the Governorship on the strength of the frauds. His election left vacant the Mayor’s chair, and a special election to fill it was called for the first Tuesday of December.

It was all essential to the “ring” that its candidate, A. Oakey Hall, should be elected. The candidacy of Frederick A. Conkling, the Republican nominee, was not feared, but John Kelly, who controlled a considerable part of the Irish vote, was a threatening factor. Disappointed at not receiving a new post at the close of his term as Sheriff, he had led a revolt against the “ring,” and had himself nominated for Mayor at the MasonicHall “reform” convention. “Influences” were soon set at work; and suddenly, after Kelly had appeared before the nominating convention and accepted the nomination, he withdrew from the contest, on the score of ill-health.[8]Hall won, receiving 75,109 votes, to 20,835 for Conkling. The degree in which Tammany fraudulently increased the vote at the November election is indicated in the fact that at the December election, despite a repetition of frauds, the Tammany vote declined 33,000.

The “ring” nominations, being equivalent to election, yielded a large price. There was no Democratic opposition, Mozart Hall having practically passed out of existence, through Wood’s resignation of its leadership. The revenues of the various city offices were constantly rising, and a keener competition for the places arose. In 1866, before the really extensive operations of the “ring” began, it was estimated that the offices of Sheriff and County Clerk were worth $40,000 a year each. Several years later it was found that the yearly revenue of the Register amounted to between $60,000 and $70,000, partly derived from illegal fees. It was well known that one Register had received the sum of $80,000 a year.[9]The yearly aggregate of the illegal transactions in the Sheriff’s office could not be accurately ascertained; but it was a well-authenticated fact that one Sheriff, about 1870, drew from the office the sum of $150,000 the first year of his term. He was a poor man when elected; upon retiring at the end of the two-years’ term, he did not conceal the fact that he was worth $250,000, clear of all political assessments and other deductions.

All nominations for city, county and, too often, State offices, and notoriously those for Judges, were dictatedby Tweed. He not only controlled all the local departments, but swayed every court below the Court of Appeals.[10]Judges were nominated partly with a view to the amount they could “put up,” and partly with a view to their future decisions on political questions. Fernando Wood had frankly presented the latter reason in his speech nominating Albert Cardozo, one of Tweed’s most useful puppets, for the Supreme Court.[11]At the Judiciary election of May, 1870, repeating was the order of the day, and the registry was swelled to an enormous extent. In one of the wards, about 1,100 negroes were registered; but when they went to the ballot boxes, they were amazed to learn that white repeaters had already voted upon nearly 500 of their names. Later, when a few of the negroes tried to vote, they were arrested as repeaters. The corrupt means used in selecting the Judiciary, and the hopelessness of securing just verdicts in any of the courts, prompted one writer seriously to discuss, in the pages of a standard magazine, the formation of a vigilance committee modeled upon that of San Francisco.[12]

Tweed had for some time recognized the importance of gaining a seat in the State Senate. That body could at any time create or abolish city departments or offices, or change the laws affecting them. The Tammany officials, realizing its potentialities, had already made terms with it, and the “ring,” which subsisted at first between the two factions of partizans in the Board of Supervisors, had grown into a compact “ring” betweenthe Republican majority at Albany, the Board of Supervisors and the Democratic officials of New York City. Tweed saw the necessity of being at the center of political bargaining and legislative manipulation, and accordingly had himself elected to the upper house.

Upon taking his seat, in 1868, he at once began to procure legislation increasing his power in New York City. His first measure was the “Adjusted Claims” act, which gave the City Controller power to adjust claims then existing against the city, and to obtain money by the issue of bonds. Payments under this act were first made by the Controller in July, 1868, and were continued to January, 1869. During this time, 55 per cent. of the claims paid were divided among the members of the “ring.” In July, 1869, payments under the act were resumed, but the percentage was increased to 60 per cent., and after November, 1869, to 65 per cent.

The conspiring contractors were led by Andrew J. Garvey, Ingersoll & Co. and Keyser & Co. At first, 25 per cent. of the spoils went to Tweed, 20 to Connolly and 10 to Sweeny. When the rate was subsequently increased, others were permitted to share in the harvest, and Watson, the County Auditor; Woodward, the clerk of the Board of Supervisors, and the recognized go-betweens for the “ring” members, received 2½ per cent. Five per cent. was reserved for “expenses”—in other words, the sums necessary to bribe the requisite members of the Legislature. The division of the spoils was a matter of daily occurrence when Tweed was in town, and took place in the Supervisors’ room in the County Court House. After Watson’s warrants had been cashed, Garvey would carry Tweed’s share of the plunder to the “Boss” at the office of Street Commissioner George W. McLean. On one such visit Garvey found McLean present. In trying to hand the parcel secretly to Tweed, it fell on the floor. Tweed quickly coveredit with his foot, and later, with apparent carelessness, picked it up and threw it into a drawer. The too-ingenious Garvey was thereafter instructed to “do business” with Woodward.[13]

Tweed soon reached a position of general control in the State Legislature. But it cost him hundreds of thousands of dollars. Often he had to pay for what he wanted quite as heavily as did the corporations who maintained lobbies there. “It was impossible to do anything there without paying for it,” were his own words; “money had to be raised for the passing of bills.”[14]A well-known lobbyist of the time stated that for a favorable report on a certain bill before the Senate $5,000 apiece was paid to four members of the committee having it in charge. On the passage of the bill a further $5,000 apiece, with contingent expenses, was to be paid. In another instance, when but one vote was needed to pass a bill, three Republicans put their figures up to $25,000 each. One of them, it is needless to say, was secured. A band of about thirty Republicans and Democrats, shortly afterwards becoming known as the “Black Horse Cavalry,” organized themselves under the leadership of an energetic lobbyist, with a mutual pledge to vote as directed.[15]Naturally their action exercised a strong “bull” influence on the market for votes; and the sums paid by Tweed and other “promoters” grew to an enormous aggregate.

Honesty among legislators was at a discount. There were some honest men in both houses who voted for several of the bills alluded to, on their merits. The lobbyists entered these men in their memoranda to their corporations as having been “fixed,” put the money in their own pockets and allowed the honest members to sufferunder the imputation of having been bribed. Any corporation, however extensive and comprehensive the privileges it asked, and however much oppression it sought to impose upon the people in the line of unjust grants, extortionate rates or monopoly, could convince the Legislature of the righteousness of its requests upon “producing the proper sum.”[16]The testimony before the Select Committee of the New York Senate, appointed April 10, 1868, showed that at least $500,000 was expended to get legislation legalizing fraudulent Erie Railway stock issues.

In 1869 the “ring” opened operations in the Legislature and in the municipal bodies on a greater scale than ever. Tweed began to concern himself in Erie and other railroads, and to compel different corporations to give tribute for laws passed in their interest or for providing against hostile measures. He ordered the passage of the Erie Classification bill, at the suggestion of “Jim” Fisk, Jr., and Jay Gould, who for that service made him a director of the Erie railroad.[17]At this juncture Fisk and Gould were engaged in great stock frauds and in breeding a disastrous panic, which caused widespread ruin and suffering. Tweed abetted their schemes. One of his most servile tools, Judge George G. Barnard, of the Supreme Court, did whatever Tweed directed him, especially in favor of Gould and Fisk. One biographer of Fisk wrote quite innocently: “Jay Gould and Fisk took William M. Tweed into their [Erie] board, and the State Legislature, Tammany Hall and the Erie ‘Ring’ were fused in interest and have contrived to serve each other faithfully.”[18]Once Tweed complainedthat a friend “had gone back on him,” and when asked in return how it was that he could stand such drains on his check-book, he laughed and showed a slip of paper on which he had calculated his Erie profits for the foregoing three months; they amounted to $650,000.

During the campaign of 1869, for the election of members of the Common Council and certain State officers, a legal question arose as to whether Mayor Hall had been elected for two years or merely for the unexpired year of Hoffman’s term. Hall claimed a two-years’ term, and the best lawyers supported the claim. But to make sure of the matter, Tammany, in the late days of the campaign, instructed its members and followers to cast ballots for him, and the Police Commissioners distributed special ballot boxes for the Mayoralty vote. As no proclamation on the subject had been issued, the Republicans and other opponents of Tammany Hall had no opportunity to make nominations. Mayor Hall consequently received nearly the entire number of votes cast—65,568, out of a total of 66,619.

After entering the Board of Supervisors, Tweed had boasted that he would soon be among the largest real-estate owners in the city. He made good the boast. A comparatively poor man in 1864, he was reputed five years later to be worth $12,000,000. This was an exaggeration, for he was not worth anything like that sum at any one time; but he was, nevertheless, an enormously rich man. He had investments in real estate and iron mines; he was interested in every street opening and widening scheme; he had a hand in all city, and in some State, contracts, and he held directorships in many railroad and gas companies and other corporations. Connolly, who some years before had left a position as a book-keeper, at a moderate salary, to engage in politics “as a financial speculation”; Sweeny, and the rest of the “ring,” suddenly became millionaires. Many other politicians shared in the sacking of the city.

FOOTNOTES[1]Documents of the Board of Aldermen, 1877, part 2, No. 8, pp. 15-16. This document, embodying the full confession of Tweed before a special investigating committee, will be frequently referred to in this and the following chapter. Its value as a support to many of the statements made in the text of this work rests upon the credibility of Tweed’s word. The best opinion is that Tweed told the approximate truth. He was not a vengeful man; he was, at the time, old, and broken in power and health; he had no reason for concealment or evasion, and it is unlikely, considering his moral temperament, that he would have made false statements for the purpose of involving innocent men, or of adding to the sum of venality already proved against the guilty.[2]New YorkHerald, September 10, 1867.[3]“I heard that Peter B. Sweeny paid $60,000 for his confirmation as City Chamberlain by the Board of Aldermen”—Tweed’s testimony,Document No. 8, p. 105.[4]Document No. 8, p. 225.[5]It was probably at this election that a certain amusing incident in the swearing in of the Election Inspectors occurred. No Bible being at hand, they were sworn on a copy of Ollendorf’sNew Method of Learning to Read, Write and Speak French. The courts subsequently upheld the substitution of Ollendorf for the Bible, deciding that it was not such an act as would vitiate the election.Documents of the Board of Supervisors, 1870, Vol. II, No. 12.[6]Document No. 8, pp. 133-34.[7]Document No. 8, p. 226.[8]Kelly left rather hastily for Europe, where he remained three years.[9]Report of the Bar Association Committee on Extortions, March 5, 1872.[10]Tilden:The Tweed Ring, J. Polhemus, 1873.[11]“The Ermine in the ‘Ring,’”Putnam’s Magazinesupplement (about 1869). It happened that a singular suit brought by Wood against the city came before this very Judge, when Wood obtained by his decision a judgment for $180,000 for the rent of premises owned by him, not worth, for any use of the city, over $35,000. The buildings, in great part, were so unfit for use that the city, although paying rent for them for years, established its departments elsewhere. Wood re-leased these unused offices, collecting a double rent.[12]Ibid.[13]Garvey’s testimony,Tweed Case, etc., Supreme Court, 1876, Vol. I: pp. 814-16.[14]Document No. 8, p. 29.[15]Document No. 8, pp. 212-13.[16]New YorkSun, February 6, 1871.[17]Q.—“Did you ever receive any money from either Fisk or Gould to be used in bribing the Legislature?”A.—“I did, sir! They were of frequent occurrence. Not only did I receive money, but I find by an examination of the papers that everybody else who received money from the Erie Railroad charged it to me.” Tweed:Document No. 8, p. 149.[18]A Life of James Fisk, Jr., New York, 1871.

[1]Documents of the Board of Aldermen, 1877, part 2, No. 8, pp. 15-16. This document, embodying the full confession of Tweed before a special investigating committee, will be frequently referred to in this and the following chapter. Its value as a support to many of the statements made in the text of this work rests upon the credibility of Tweed’s word. The best opinion is that Tweed told the approximate truth. He was not a vengeful man; he was, at the time, old, and broken in power and health; he had no reason for concealment or evasion, and it is unlikely, considering his moral temperament, that he would have made false statements for the purpose of involving innocent men, or of adding to the sum of venality already proved against the guilty.

[2]New YorkHerald, September 10, 1867.

[3]“I heard that Peter B. Sweeny paid $60,000 for his confirmation as City Chamberlain by the Board of Aldermen”—Tweed’s testimony,Document No. 8, p. 105.

[4]Document No. 8, p. 225.

[5]It was probably at this election that a certain amusing incident in the swearing in of the Election Inspectors occurred. No Bible being at hand, they were sworn on a copy of Ollendorf’sNew Method of Learning to Read, Write and Speak French. The courts subsequently upheld the substitution of Ollendorf for the Bible, deciding that it was not such an act as would vitiate the election.Documents of the Board of Supervisors, 1870, Vol. II, No. 12.

[6]Document No. 8, pp. 133-34.

[7]Document No. 8, p. 226.

[8]Kelly left rather hastily for Europe, where he remained three years.

[9]Report of the Bar Association Committee on Extortions, March 5, 1872.

[10]Tilden:The Tweed Ring, J. Polhemus, 1873.

[11]“The Ermine in the ‘Ring,’”Putnam’s Magazinesupplement (about 1869). It happened that a singular suit brought by Wood against the city came before this very Judge, when Wood obtained by his decision a judgment for $180,000 for the rent of premises owned by him, not worth, for any use of the city, over $35,000. The buildings, in great part, were so unfit for use that the city, although paying rent for them for years, established its departments elsewhere. Wood re-leased these unused offices, collecting a double rent.

[12]Ibid.

[13]Garvey’s testimony,Tweed Case, etc., Supreme Court, 1876, Vol. I: pp. 814-16.

[14]Document No. 8, p. 29.

[15]Document No. 8, pp. 212-13.

[16]New YorkSun, February 6, 1871.

[17]Q.—“Did you ever receive any money from either Fisk or Gould to be used in bribing the Legislature?”A.—“I did, sir! They were of frequent occurrence. Not only did I receive money, but I find by an examination of the papers that everybody else who received money from the Erie Railroad charged it to me.” Tweed:Document No. 8, p. 149.

[17]Q.—“Did you ever receive any money from either Fisk or Gould to be used in bribing the Legislature?”

A.—“I did, sir! They were of frequent occurrence. Not only did I receive money, but I find by an examination of the papers that everybody else who received money from the Erie Railroad charged it to me.” Tweed:Document No. 8, p. 149.

[18]A Life of James Fisk, Jr., New York, 1871.

Urged by various motives, a number of Tammany leaders combined against Tweed: Some sought more plunder, others felt that their political aspirations had not been sufficiently recognized, and a number were incensed against Sweeny. They were led by Henry W. Genet, John Fox, John Morrissey, James O’Brien, “Mike” Norton and others, and called themselves the “Young Democracy.” Tweed had used these men in building his power; now, combined, they believed they could retire him. The dangerous classes joined them. Heretofore, these had stood by Tweed under a reciprocal agreement valuable to both sides. But the “Boss” had recently yielded to the public indignation over the leniency shown to an influential murderer, and had given orders to the Judges to deal more severely with flagrant criminal cases. This act constituted a virtual breaking of the compact, and the lawbreakers with one accord turned against him. There were at this time in the city, it was charged, about 30,000 professional thieves, 2,000 gambling establishments and 3,000 saloons.[1]

The plan of the Young Democracy leaders was to induce the Legislature to pass a measure known as the Huckleberry charter, the object of which was to abolish the State commissions governing the city and to obtain arelegation of their powers to the Board of Aldermen. The disclosure was made, many years later, that Richard Croker and seven other members of the Board of Aldermen had signed an agreement before a notary public, on March 20, 1870, pledging themselves to take no official action on any proposition affecting the city government without first obtaining the consent of Senator Genet and four other Young Democracy leaders.[2]These latter boasted that they would “put the charter through” if it took $200,000 to do it. To save himself, Tweed opened a half-way understanding with the Young Democracy chiefs, by which he was to join them and abandon Sweeny. Tweed even offered—though vainly—one of the most formidable young leaders $200,000 outright if he would swerve the Young Democracy to his interest.

The Young Democracy succeeded in winning over a majority of the general committee, and influenced that majority to call a meeting to be held in the Wigwam, on March 28. But the plotters had overlooked the society, whose Sachems, being either in, or subservient to, the “ring,” now exercised the oft-used expedient of shutting out of the hall such persons as happened to be obnoxious to them. When the members of the general committee appeared before Tammany Hall, on the night of March 28, they found to their surprise that the “ring” had caused to be placed a guard of 600 policemen about the building, to prevent their ingress. The gathering convened in Irving Hall, nearby, where by roll call it was found that 187 members of the committee, later increased by about a dozen—a clear majority of the whole number—were present. Fiery speeches were made, and the set purpose of dethroning and repudiating the “ring” Sachems was emphatically declared.

But the Young Democracy failed to distribute among the members of the Legislature the sum promised, and the country members, by way of revenge, voted downthe Huckleberry charter. Greatly encouraged by his enemies’ defeat, the “Boss” went to Albany with a vast sum of money and the draft of a new charter. This charter, supplemented by a number of amendments which Tweed subsequently caused the Legislature to pass, virtually relieved the “ring” of accountability to anybody. The State commissions were abolished, and practically the whole municipal power was placed in the hands of a Board of Special Audit, composed of himself, Connolly and Mayor Hall. No money could be drawn from the city without the permission of this board. The powers of the Board of Aldermen, moreover, were virtually abolished.[3]

The charter, which immediately became known as the “Tweed charter,” was passed on April 5. The victory cost every dollar of the sum Tweed took with him. Samuel J. Tilden testified that it was popularly supposed that about $1,000,000 was the amount used.[4]Tweed stated that he gave to one man $600,000 with which to buy votes, this being merely a part of the fund. For his services this lobbyist received a position requiring little or no work and worth from $10,000 to $15,000 a year.[5]Tweed further testified that he bought the votes of five Republican Senators for $40,000 apiece, giving one of them $200,000 in cash to distribute.[6]The vote in the two houses was practically unanimous: in the Senate, 30 to 2, and in the Assembly, 116 to 5. The state of the public conscience in New York City may be judged from the fact that the charter received the support of nearly all classes, “large numbers,” according to the AnnualCyclopedia for 1871, “of the wealthiest citizens signing the petition” [for its passage].

Tweed’s enemies were now crushed. At the election (April 18) of the Sachems of the society the opposition could poll only a paltry 23 votes, against the 242 secured by Tweed’s candidates; and even this minority was a factitious one, Tilden declaring that Tweed had arranged for it, to furnish the appearance of a contest.

Tweed’s organization was wonderfully effective. The society stood ready at a moment’s notice to expel from the Wigwam any person or group obnoxious to him. The general committee was now likewise subservient. In every ward he had a reliable representative—a leader, whose duty was to see that his particular district should return its expected majority. Under the leaders there were sub-leaders, ward clubs and associations, and captains of every election district. The organization covered every block in town with unceasing vigilance, acquainting itself with the politics of every voter. The moment a leader lost his popularity, or hesitated at scruples of any sort, Tweed dismissed him; only vote-getters and henchmen were wanted. So large was his personal following, that he not only caused thousands to be appointed to superfluous offices, but had a number of retainers, to whom he paid in the aggregate probably $60,000 a year, “letting them think they were being paid by the city.”[7]Opposition he had no difficulty in buying off, as in the case of one “Citizen’s Association,” whose principal men he caused to be appointed to various lucrative positions in the city government.[8]

The Registry law having been virtually repealed at Tweed’s order, election frauds were made easier, and as a result of the abolition by the “Tweed charter” of the December city election, and the merging into one day’s polling of national, State and city elections, the “ring”was in a position to resume the old practise of trading candidates, if all other resources failed.

With the passage of the “Tweed charter” and the City and County Tax Levy bill[9]of 1870, the stealing expanded to a colossal degree. At a single sitting—on May 5, 1870—the Board of Special Audit made out an order for the payment of $6,312,500 on account in building the new County Court House. Of this sum barely a tenth part was realized by the city.[10]From the 65 per cent. levied on supplies, at the end of 1869, the rate was swelled to 85 per cent. “Jobs” significant of untold millions lurked in every possible form. Great projects of public improvements were exploited to the last dollar that could be drawn from them. A frequent practise of Tweed was to create on paper a fictitious institution, jot down three or four of his friends as officers, put a large amount for that institution in the tax levy and pocket the money. Asylums, hospitals and dispensaries that were never heard of, and never existed except on paper, were put down as beneficiaries of State and city. The thefts were concealed in the main by means of issues of stocks and bonds and the creation of a floating debt, which the Controller never let appear in his statements.

A new reform movement appeared during the Summer and Fall of 1870. Republicans, independents and disaffected Democrats combined forces and nominated Thomas A. Ledwith for Mayor. The reform ticket was apparently received with great public approval, and hopes began to be entertained of its success at the polls. Tweed, however, had already secured, by ways knownbest to himself, assurance of Republican assistance; he had large numbers of Republican officials, Election Inspectors, and the like, in his pay, and therefore knew that he had nothing to fear. Besides this, Tammany was united and enthusiastic. Its candidates, Hall, for Mayor, and Hoffman, for Governor, had seemingly lost none of their popularity with the rank and file. A few days before the election a popular demonstration, perhaps the largest in Tammany’s history, was held in and about the Wigwam. August Belmont presided, and addresses were made by Seymour, Hoffman, Tweed and Fisk (who had now become a Democrat). All the speakers were received with boisterous enthusiasm.

Tweed won, Hall receiving 71,037 votes, to 46,392 for Ledwith. But the indications were plain that a reaction against the “ring” had begun, for Hoffman’s vote exceeded that of Hall by 15,631, while Ledwith’s vote exceeded that of Stewart L. Woodford, the Republican candidate for Governor, by nearly 12,000.

Partly to quiet his conscience, it was suspected, and in part to make himself appear in the light of a generously impulsive man, Tweed gave, in the Winter of 1870-71, $1,000 to each of the Aldermen of the various wards to buy coal for the poor. To the needy of his native ward he gave $50,000. By these acts he succeeded in deluding the needier part of the population to the enormity of his crimes. Abstractly, these beneficiaries of his bounty knew he had not amassed his millions by honest means. But when, in the midst of a severe Winter, they were gladdened by presents of coal and provisions, they did not stop to moralize, but blessed the man who could be so good to them. Even persons beyond the range of his bounty have hailed him as a great philanthropist; and the expression, “Well, if Tweed stole, he was at least good to the poor,” is still repeated, and furnished, in its tacit exoneration, the prompting for like conduct, both thieving and giving, on the part of his successors.

One of Tweed’s schemes was the Viaduct Railroad bill, which virtually allowed a company created by himself to place a railroad on or above the ground, on any city street. The Legislature passed, and Governor Hoffman signed, the bill, early in 1871. One of its provisions authorized and compelled the city to take $5,000,000 of stock;[11]another exempted the company’s property from taxes or assessments, while other bills allowed for the benefit of the railroad the widening and the grading of streets, which meant a “job” costing the city from $50,000,000 to $65,000,000.[12]Associated with Tweed and others of the “ring” as directors were some of the foremost financial and business men of the day. The complete consummation of this almost unparalleled steal was prevented only by the general exposure of Tweedism a few months later.

In the Assembly of 1871 party divisions were so even that Tweed, though holding a majority of two votes, had only the exact number (65) required by the constitution as a majority. In April “Jimmy” Irving, one of the city Assemblymen, resigned, to avoid being expelled for having assaulted Smith Weed. But Tweed was equal to the occasion, for the very next day he obtained the vote and services of Orange S. Winans, a Republican creature of the Erie Railroad Company. It was charged publicly that Tweed gave Winans $75,000 in cash, and that the Erie Railroad Company gave him a five-years’ tenure of office at $5,000 a year.[13]

Tweed neglected no means whatever to avert popular criticism. A committee composed of six of the leading and richest citizens—Moses Taylor, Marshall O. Roberts,E. D. Brown, J. J. Astor, George K. Sistare and Edward Schell—were induced to make an examination of the Controller’s books, and hand in a most eulogistic report, commending Connolly for his honesty and faithfulness to duty. So highly useful a document naturally was used for all it was worth.[14]

But it was in his tender providence over the newspapers that his greatest success in averting public clamor was shown. Both in Albany and in this city he showered largess upon the press. One paper at the Capital received, through his efforts, a legislative appropriation of $207,900 for one year’s printing, whereas $10,000 would have overpaid it for the service rendered.[15]The proprietor of an Albany journal which was for many years the Republican organ of the State, made it a practice to submit to Tweed’s personal censorship the most violently abusive articles. On the payment of large sums, sometimes as much as $5,000, Tweed was permitted to make such alterations as he chose.[16]Here, in the city, the owner of one subservient newspaper received $80,000 a year for “city advertising,” and to some other newspapers large subsidies were paid in the same guise. Under the head of “city contingencies,” reporters for the city newspapers, Democratic and Republican, received Christmas presents of $200 each. This particular practice had begun before Tweed’s time,[17]but in line with the expansive manner of the “ring,” the plan was elaborated by subsidizing six or eight men on nearly allthe city newspapers, crediting each of them with $2,000 or $2,500 a year for “services.”[18]

The proprietor of theSun, a newspaper that, from supporting the Young Democracy, veered suddenly to an enthusiastic devotion to the “Boss,” proposed, in March 1871, the erection of a statue to Tweed. The “Boss’s” adherents jumped at the idea; and an association for the purpose was formed by Edward J. Shandley, a Police Justice, and a host of other men of local note, in professional, political and social circles, among whom were not only ardent friends of Tweed, but also those who, having opposed him, sought this opportunity of ingratiating themselves into his favor. The statue was to be “in commemoration of his [Tweed’s] services to the commonwealth of New York”—so ran the circular letter.

In a few days the association had obtained nearly $8,000, some politicians giving $1,000 apiece. Other men pledged themselves to pay any amount from $1,000 to $10,000, and were on the point of making good their word when a letter from Tweed appeared, discountenancing the project. It was printed in the Sun of March 14, 1871, under the heading:

“A GREAT MAN’S MODESTY.“THE HON. WILLIAM M. TWEED DECLINES THE SUN’S STATUE—CHARACTERISTIC LETTER FROM THE GREAT NEW YORK PHILANTHROPIST—HE THINKS THAT VIRTUE SHOULD BE ITS OWN REWARD—THE MOST REMARKABLE LETTER EVER WRITTEN BY THE NOBLE BENEFACTOR OF THE PEOPLE.”

“A GREAT MAN’S MODESTY.

“THE HON. WILLIAM M. TWEED DECLINES THE SUN’S STATUE—CHARACTERISTIC LETTER FROM THE GREAT NEW YORK PHILANTHROPIST—HE THINKS THAT VIRTUE SHOULD BE ITS OWN REWARD—THE MOST REMARKABLE LETTER EVER WRITTEN BY THE NOBLE BENEFACTOR OF THE PEOPLE.”

“Statues,” wrote Tweed in part, “are not erected to living men, but to those who have ended their careers, and where no interest exists to question the partial tributes of friends.” Tweed hinted that he was not so deficient in common sense as not to know the bad effect the toleration of the scheme would have, and, ever open to suspicion, he broadly asserted that the original statueproposition was made either as a joke or with an unfriendly motive.

One of the signers of the circular has assured the author that it was a serious proposal. The attitude of theSunconfirms this. On March 15 that newspaper stated editorially that it thought “Mr. Tweed had acted hastily,” and inquired whether it was too late “to realize so worthy and so excellent an idea.” In the same issue appears an interview with Justice Shandley, who says:

“We had contemplated eventually making a public proposition that the testimonial finally take the form of the establishment of a grand charitable institution, bearing Mr. Tweed’s honored name, and so overcome the prejudices that the statue proposition have engendered, and passing the fame of that statesman, philanthropist and patriot down to future generations. Mr. Tweed has willed otherwise, and we must submit.”

A Chicago clergyman, reading of the suggestion, publicly declared that Tweed was “more dangerous than were the ancient robber kings.” Copying this expression, theSunurged editorially on May 13:

“Now, let the friends of Mr. Tweed combine together and answer this clergyman by erecting and endowing the Tweed Hospital in the Seventh Ward of this city. A great monument of public charity is the best response that can be made to such accusations.”

Tweed aimed at a high social place. He had removed from his modest house on Henry street to a pretentious establishment on Fifth Avenue. His daughter’s wedding was among the marvels of the day; from her father’s personal and political friends she received nearly $100,000 worth of gifts. Among the wedding presents were forty complete sets of silver and fifteen diamond sets, one of which was worth $45,000. Her wedding dress cost $4,000, and the trimmings were worth $1,000.

All of his expenditures showed a like disregard of cost. In the construction of the stables adjoining his Summer place at Greenwich, Conn., money “was absolutelythrown away.” The stalls were built of the finest mahogany. All told, these stables were said to have cost $100,000.

The Americus Club was his favorite retreat, and there his satellites followed him. Scores of them were only too glad to pay the $1,000 initiation fee required, in addition to the $2,000 or so charged for sumptuously fitting the room to which each was entitled. The grandeur of their club badges well illustrated their extravagance. One style of the badges was a solid gold tiger’s[19]head in a belt of blue enamel; the tiger’s eyes were rubies, and above his head sparkled three diamonds of enormous size. Another style of badge was of solid gold with the tiger’s head inpapier-machéunder rock crystal. It was surrounded by diamonds set in the Americus belt. Above was a pin with a huge diamond, with two smaller diamonds on either side. This badge was estimated to be worth $2,000. A third style showed the tiger’s head in frosted gold, with diamond eyes.

Everywhere the prodigal dissipation of the plunder was visible. Sums of a few thousand dollars Tweed professed to hold in utter contempt. A city creditor once appealed to him to use his influence with Controller Connolly to have a bill paid. Twenty times he had asked for it, the creditor said, and could get it only by paying the 20 per cent. demanded. (This 20 per cent., it should be explained, was the sum extorted from all city creditors by the officials in the Controller’s office as their portion after the chiefs of the “ring” had taken the lion’s share.) Tweed looked at the man a moment and then wrote hastily to Connolly:

“Dear Dick: For God’s sake pay ——’s bill. He tells me your people ask 20 per cent. The whole d——d thing isn’t but $1,100. If you don’t pay it, I will. Thine. William M. Tweed.”

The “Boss’s” note being virtually a command, the bill was paid in full.

FOOTNOTES[1]Statement of Rev. Dr. H. W. Billings, in Cooper Union, April 6, 1871.[2]TestimonySenate Committee on Cities, 1890, Vol. II, pp. 1711-12.[3]The amendments to the charter of 1857 had abolished the Board of Councilmen and reinstituted the Board of Aldermen and the Board of Assistant Aldermen, the two constituting the Common Council. The “Tweed charter” continued these two boards, legislating the then incumbents out of office, and ordering a new election in May. The “ring,” of course, secured a large majority in this new Council.[4]The Tweed Case, etc., Supreme Court, 1876, Vol. II, p. 1212.[5]Document No. 8, p. 73.[6]Ibid., pp. 84-92.[7]Document No. 8, p. 212.[8]Ibid., pp. 223-25.[9]For the passage of this bill Tweed paid “in the neighborhood of $50,000 or $100,000.”Document No. 8, p. 154.[10]While this was going on Tweed maintained the most benevolent attitude in public. At the Fourth of July celebration in the Wigwam he “called the vast assemblage to order, and with coolness, but delighting (sic) modesty, welcomed brothers and guests.”Celebration at Tammany Hall of the 94th Anniversary, etc., by the Tammany Society or Columbian Order.Published by order of the Tammany Society, 1870.[11]Senate Journal, 1871, pp. 482-83.[12]SeeA History of Public Franchises in New York City, by Gustavus Myers.[13]Winans was unfortunate in his bargain, for after rendering the service agreed upon, his employers failed to keep their promises. Tweed gave him only one-tenth of the sum promised, and the Erie Railroad Company gave him no office, nor, so far as can be learned, any compensation whatever.[14]John Foley stated to the author that the six members of this committee were intimidated into making this report under the threat that the city officials would raise enormously the assessments on their very considerable holdings of real estate.[15]Document No. 8, pp. 215-18.[16]Ibid.[17]It was city money which the reporters frequenting the City Hall and court buildings received. The Aldermen passed in 1869 a resolution giving them (sixteen in all) $200 apiece, for “services.” Mayor Opdyke vetoed the resolution, but it was passed over his veto. (Proceedings of the Board of Aldermen, 1862, Vol. LXXXVIII, p. 708.) The grant was made yearly thereafter.[18]Statement of Mr. Foley.[19]The tiger as the symbolic representation of Tammany Hall doubtless dates from this time. This animal was the emblem of the Americus Club, and in Mr. Nast’s cartoons it frequently appears, with the word AMERICUS on its collar. In all probability Mr. Nast was responsible for the transference of the symbol from the club to the organization. The author has been unable to find any earlier reference to the Tammany tiger.

[1]Statement of Rev. Dr. H. W. Billings, in Cooper Union, April 6, 1871.

[2]TestimonySenate Committee on Cities, 1890, Vol. II, pp. 1711-12.

[3]The amendments to the charter of 1857 had abolished the Board of Councilmen and reinstituted the Board of Aldermen and the Board of Assistant Aldermen, the two constituting the Common Council. The “Tweed charter” continued these two boards, legislating the then incumbents out of office, and ordering a new election in May. The “ring,” of course, secured a large majority in this new Council.

[4]The Tweed Case, etc., Supreme Court, 1876, Vol. II, p. 1212.

[5]Document No. 8, p. 73.

[6]Ibid., pp. 84-92.

[7]Document No. 8, p. 212.

[8]Ibid., pp. 223-25.

[9]For the passage of this bill Tweed paid “in the neighborhood of $50,000 or $100,000.”Document No. 8, p. 154.

[10]While this was going on Tweed maintained the most benevolent attitude in public. At the Fourth of July celebration in the Wigwam he “called the vast assemblage to order, and with coolness, but delighting (sic) modesty, welcomed brothers and guests.”Celebration at Tammany Hall of the 94th Anniversary, etc., by the Tammany Society or Columbian Order.Published by order of the Tammany Society, 1870.

[11]Senate Journal, 1871, pp. 482-83.

[12]SeeA History of Public Franchises in New York City, by Gustavus Myers.

[13]Winans was unfortunate in his bargain, for after rendering the service agreed upon, his employers failed to keep their promises. Tweed gave him only one-tenth of the sum promised, and the Erie Railroad Company gave him no office, nor, so far as can be learned, any compensation whatever.

[14]John Foley stated to the author that the six members of this committee were intimidated into making this report under the threat that the city officials would raise enormously the assessments on their very considerable holdings of real estate.

[15]Document No. 8, pp. 215-18.

[16]Ibid.

[17]It was city money which the reporters frequenting the City Hall and court buildings received. The Aldermen passed in 1869 a resolution giving them (sixteen in all) $200 apiece, for “services.” Mayor Opdyke vetoed the resolution, but it was passed over his veto. (Proceedings of the Board of Aldermen, 1862, Vol. LXXXVIII, p. 708.) The grant was made yearly thereafter.

[18]Statement of Mr. Foley.

[19]The tiger as the symbolic representation of Tammany Hall doubtless dates from this time. This animal was the emblem of the Americus Club, and in Mr. Nast’s cartoons it frequently appears, with the word AMERICUS on its collar. In all probability Mr. Nast was responsible for the transference of the symbol from the club to the organization. The author has been unable to find any earlier reference to the Tammany tiger.

The downfall of the “ring” was inevitable. No such stupendous series of frauds could reasonably be expected to continue, once the proper machinery for their exposure and for the awakening of the dormant public conscience was put in motion. Protests and complaints and even concerted opposition might for the time prove futile, as indeed they did; but the wind had been sown for the reaping of the whirlwind, and it could not be averted. One conspicuous instance of apparently futile criticism of the “ring” was the action of the New York City Council of Political Reform. This body, but recently organized, held a mass-meeting in Cooper Union, April 6, 1871, to consider “the alarming aspects of public affairs generally,” and to agree upon means for arousing the public to some remedial action. Speeches were made by Henry Ward Beecher, Judge George C. Barrett, William F. Havemeyer, William Walter Phelps and William M. Evarts. It was pointed out that the city debt had increased from about $36,000,000 in 1868 to over $136,000,000 at the close of 1870. But amazing as were the facts, the meeting produced no direct effect.

The immediate causes of the exposure were fortuitous and accidental. In December, 1870, Watson, who had become one of the chiefs in the Finance Department, was fatally injured while sleigh-riding, and died a week later. In the resultant change, Stephen C. Lyons, Jr., succeeded Watson, and Matthew J. O’Rourke succeeded Lyons asCounty Book-Keeper. Mr. O’Rourke gradually came upon the evidence of the enormous robberies. In the meantime some of the evidence had also come into the possession of James O’Brien, one of the Young Democracy leaders. Controller Connolly was on the point of paying out the $5,000,000 called for by the Viaduct Railroad act, as well as other sums, but learning of O’Brien’s knowledge of the situation, resolved to defer the payments. In the Summer of 1871 Mr. O’Rourke presented his evidence to the New YorkTimes.

This newspaper published the figures in detail, producing fresh disclosures day after day, and showing indisputably that the city had been plundered on a stupendous scale. In two instances alone—in the printing bills and the bills for the erection and repairing of the County Court House—theTimesaverred that over $10,000,000 had been illegally squandered. Tweed had bought an obscure sheet, theTranscript, and had made it the official organ for city and county advertising. He had also formed the New York Printing Company, which not only did the city printing, but claimed the custom of many persons and corporations whom he was in a position either to aid or injure. These two properties served as the highly usefulmediawith which to extort millions from the city treasury. TheTimesgave the incontestible figures, disclosing that the sum of nearly $3,000,000 was squandered for county printing, stationery and advertising during the years 1869, 1870 and 1871.

But the new County Court House, theTimesdemonstrated, was the chief means of directly robbing the city. All told, so far as could be learned, the sum of $3,500,000 had been spent for “repairs” in thirty-one months—enough, theTimessaid, to have built and furnished five new buildings such as the County Court House. Merely the furnishing, repairing and decorating of this building, it was shown, cost $7,000,000. One firm alone—Ingersoll & Co.—received, in two years, the gigantic sum of$5,600,000 “for supplying the County Court House with furniture and carpets.” In brief, the County Court House, it was set forth specifically, instead of costing between $3,000,000 and $5,000,000, as the “ring” all along had led the public to believe, had actually cost over $12,000,000, the bulk of which was stolen.

The members of the “ring” affected an air of unconcern regarding the disclosures. When Tweed was questioned as to the charges, he made his famous reply: “What are you going to do about it?” He professed not to care for newspaper attacks. Yet Thomas Nast’s terribly effective cartoons pierced him to the heart. “If those picture papers would only leave me alone,” he lamented, “I wouldn’t care for all the rest. The people get used to seeing me in stripes, and by and by grow to think I ought to be in prison.” Mayor Hall put on an air of jocose indifference, occasionally replying to the charges by references to the alleged frauds in the Federal Government,[1]but oftener by wondrously facetious jests such as: “Counts at Newport are at a discount”; “shocking levity—the light-ship off Savannah has gone astray”; “these warm, yet occasionally breezy days, with charmingly cool mornings and evenings, are an indication that we are likely to have what befell Adam—an early Fall.”[2]

The public, however, was at last aroused, and the impudent flippancy of Tweed, Hall and others only added to the public indignation. Though theTimeswas but imperfectly armed with proofs, each day’s revelations brought the citizens to a keener realization of the unprecedented enormity of the thefts, and the resolve was made by leading members of both parties in the city to unite and crush the “ring.” A call for a mass-meeting, to be held in Cooper Union, September 4, was met by a tremendous outpouring of citizens. William F. Havemeyer, theformer Mayor, presided, and 227 vice-presidents and 15 secretaries were chosen from among the foremost names in the community. Among the speakers were Robert B. Roosevelt and Judge Edwards Pierrepont. Now, for the first time, the public obtained a really definite idea of the magnitude of the sum stolen by the “ring” and its followers. Resolutions were reported by Joseph H. Choate, stating that the acknowledged funded and bonded debt of the city and county was upward of $113,000,000—over $63,000,000 more than it was when Mayor Hall took office—and that there was reason to believe that there were floating, contingent or pretended debts and claims against the city and county which would amount to many more millions of dollars, and which would be paid out of the city treasury unless the fiscal officers were removed and their proceedings arrested. The resolutions concluded by directing the appointment of an Executive Committee of Seventy, to overthrow the “ring,” abolish abuses, secure better laws, and by united effort, without reference to party, obtain a good government and honest officers to administer it.

The first move decided upon by the Committee of Seventy was to make a thorough examination of the city’s accounts. A sub-committee was on the point of doing this when, on the morning of September 11, it was reported that the Controller’s office, in the City Hall, had been broken into on the previous night and the vouchers, more than 3,500 in all, stolen. The “ring” confederates pretended that the vouchers had been abstracted from a glass case—an absurd explanation considering that after spending $400,000 for safes the city officials should have chosen such a flimsy receptacle. Later, the charred remains of these vouchers were discovered in an ash-heap in the City Hall attic.

As if to yield to public opinion, Mayor Hall at once asked Connolly to resign as Controller. Connolly refused, on the ground that such a step without impeachmentand conviction on trial would be equal to a confession of guilt. Secretly, however, fearing that the other members of the “ring” intended to make a scape-goat of him, he was disposed to make terms with the Committee of Seventy to save himself. Upon the advice of Havemeyer, he appointed Andrew H. Green, Deputy Controller. With Mr. Green in that post, the Committee of Seventy could expect a tangible computation of the “ring’s” thefts. Alive to their danger, the other members of the “ring” in terror tried to force Connolly to resign, so as to end the powers he had delegated to the new Deputy Controller. Mayor Hall insisted that in making Mr. Green Acting Controller, Connolly’s action was equivalent to a resignation, and with much bluster said he would treat it as such.

In October the sub-committee made a hasty examination of such of the city accounts as were available, and were enabled to report that the debt of the city was doubling every two years; that $3,200,000 had been paid for repairs on armories and drill rooms, the actual cost of which was less than $250,000; that over $11,000,000 had been charged for outlays on the unfinished County Court House,[3]the entire cost of building which, on an honest estimate, would be less than $3,000,000; that safes, carpets, furniture, cabinet-work, painting, plumbing, gas and plastering, had cost $7,289,466, the real value of which was found to be only $624,180; that $460,000 had been paid for $48,000 worth of lumber; that the printing, advertising, stationery, etc., of the city and county had cost in two years and eight months, $7,168,212; that a large number of persons were on the payrolls of the city whose services were neither rendered nor needed; and that figures upon warrants and vouchers had been altered fraudulently and payments made repeatedly on forged endorsements.

These figures, though presenting nothing more than an outline of the immensity of corruption, gave the Committee of Seventy a foundation upon which to proceed legally. It at once obtained an injunction from Judge Barnard, restraining for the time the payment of all moneys out of the city treasury.[4]The order was modified subsequently to permit the necessary payments. The city treasury had been sacked so completely that it was found necessary to borrow nearly a million dollars from the banks to satisfy the more pressing claims.

The Committee of Seventy next presented Mayor Hall before the Grand Jury for indictment. Anticipating this, the “ring” had “packed” the Grand Jury; but such was the public outcry on this fact becoming known, that Judge Barnard was forced to dismiss the jury and order a new panel. The second jury, however, did not indict the Mayor, giving, as a reason, the lack of conclusive evidence. Later, Hall was tried, but the jury disagreed. The Committee of Seventy next procured the appointment of Charles O’Conor as assistant to the Attorney-General, and then engaged, as O’Conor’s assistants, William M. Evarts, Wheeler H. Peckham and Judge Emmott, with the express view of driving the “ring” men into prison. Through their energy, Tweed was arrested, on the affidavit of Samuel J. Tilden, on October 26, and held to bail in the sum of $1,000,000.

But Tweed was not yet crushed. In a few days—on November 7—an election for members of the Legislature, State officers, Judges of the Supreme Court, and Aldermen and Assistant Aldermen, was to be held. Mostof the “ring” men, in the very face of the revelations of their stupendous thefts, forgery, bribing and election frauds, came forward as candidates for renomination and election. Once elected, they reckoned upon their “vindication.” The Committee of Seventy naturally aimed at the defeat of the Tammany candidates, both for political and moral effect, and placed candidates in the field for all local, legislative and judicial offices.

As Grand Sachem and chairman of the Tammany General Committee, Tweed was still “boss.” He arranged to win by his oft-used weapons of bribery and intimidation, if not by violence. The two Republican Police Commissioners were his hirelings, owing their offices to him. They could be depended upon to aid their Tammany colleagues into making the police a power for his benefit. How well, otherwise, the “ring” was fortified, was shown when theTimes[5]charged that sixty-nine members of the Republican General Committee, which assumed to direct the counsels of the Republican party in the city, were stipendiaries of Tweed and Sweeny. One of them was quoted as saying, “I go up to headquarters the first of every month and get a hundred dollars, but I don’t hold no office and don’t do no work.”

Tammany feigned to regard Tweed as a great benefactor being hounded. Tweed carried out the comedy to his best. On September 22 a “great Tweed mass-meeting” assembled in “Tweed Plaza.” Resolutions were vociferously adopted, that,

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