HarlemCorner

The Harlem Corner From the book by Henry Clews: (copyright 1897) Twenty Eight Years in Wall Street With details from: The Book Of Daniel Drew Copyright 1910 by Doubleday & Company, Inc.
“The beginning of this story is somewhat romantic.” “The Commodore was sunning himself on a pile of logs on the Jersey side of the Hudson while his yacht lay in the stream, and he was in the mood for enjoying a long and well-earned vacation, attempting to lay aside for a time the toil and trouble of eking out a precarious existence in speculation. While basking in the noon-day sun and gazing with delight on the luxurious foliage that arose from the New Jersey bank of the river, he was aroused from his charming reverie by a messenger from Wall Street, who conveyed to him the important intelligence that a wicked and unregenerate clique of ‘bears’ had conspired to sell Hudson stock ‘short,’ and that it was declining with great rapidity under the repeated and unmerciful blows of their hammers.” “The Commodore arose and shook off his lethargy, as a lion may be supposed to shake the dew from his mane prior to his preparation for a spring upon his unfortunate foe.” “He got the ‘bulge’ completely on all the other parties connected with it,” “for he was not the aggressor in getting up the ‘corner’. The fighting at first was forced upon him, but he acted on the defensive in a way that made his opponents sorry for their rashness.” The unreconstructed state legislators, governor, and common council “were paralyzed.” They could expect no mercy from the Commodore. He owed them none, and though a good Christian prior to his death, he was then practically a stranger to the doctrine of the great Nazarene. ‘Return good for evil.’ or, ‘whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also.’ He was rather inclined to follow the maxim of that practical quaker, who, when smitten on the cheek and asked to turn the other, replied, ‘Friend, thou didst not read far enough. It is written, ‘pay what thou owest,’ and he knocked the fellow down.” “There was hardly any achievement of his life which he gloated over with such ineffable delight as the cornering of the Legislature. He would say, when referring to the matter afterwards: ‘We busted the whole Legislature, and scores of the honorable members had to go home’ (from Albany) ‘without paying their board bills.’ ” Daniel Drew wrote that moral lesson in this rhyme: “ He who sells, what isn’t his’n, Must buy it back, or go to pris’n.” “Commodore” Cornelius Vanderbilt began buying stock in the New York and Harlem Railroad as an investment in 1863. “When the Commodore went into Harlem (stock), it was selling for eight or nine dollars a share.” “The stock, however, gradually rose to 50, and speculators began to perceive that there was some inside movement going on. This was made apparent when one day in April, 1863, the common council ” of New York City “passed an ordinance authorizing the Commodore to build a street railroad down Broadway to the Battery.” The Mayor signed it, and the stock went soaring. The State Legislature up at Albany were mad as hornets. They saw all the good fat pickings going to the Aldermen and Councilmen of New York City, rather than to themselves. “The Common Council were not immaculate in those days either, though the Jaehnes and Waites escaped punishment. “They basely deceived the Commodore after taking his money; but he punished them severely. “As soon as the franchise was granted, Harlem (stock) advanced to 75 and the Aldermen began to sell it ‘short’, “They thought they had the Commodore fast in their clutches, and took their friends into the secret. “They expected to sell enough of the stock to make several millions. “ Their plan was to sell ‘short’ all that the market would take, and then repeal the ordinance, which would cause the stock to drop probably below 50.” Daniel “Drew was one of the great bears in this deal with the Aldermen.” He and Bill Tweed told the Aldermen to touch off the fireworks. Tweed was a master hand, anyhow, in manipulating a legislative body. He could make them do almost anything he wanted. They passed an ordinance reconsidering their former decision as to the Broadway franchise. Then, they rescinded the grant. Harlem (stock) dropped like a shot partridge. “The Commodore got wind of this scheme, went on buying, and got others to help him, taking all the ‘shorts’ that were offered. The operators had soon sold a great deal more Harlem stock than there was actually in existence. There were 110,000 shares of Harlem.” Judge Brady, in the Court of Common Pleas, at the same time issued an injunction prohibiting the laying of rails on the Broadway road.” “Everybody thought that the Commodore was hopelessly ruined.” Harlem stock, however, dropped three points only, to 72. This created a surprise among the Aldermen and the bears. They thought it should have dropped to 50. But— something happened. The court dissolved the injunction. The ‘shorts’ went into the market for the purpose of covering. Harlem ascended with amazing rapidity to 100, to 150, to 170, and finally to 179. The Common Council were obliged to make their final settlements at the last figure. The Commodore had all the stock. The Common Council lost a million, and their friends, whom they had advised to sell ‘short,’ lost several millions. The Commodore ‘raked in’ five or six millions, and went on his way rejoicing and improving Harlem,” Bill Tweed gave an oration over the life and death of Henry Clay, at his funeral. He had taken great pride in this sermon. This was the first public speech he had ever made. And it turned out to be his last. When he and the Aldermen passed Vanderbilt’s Broadway franchise ordinance, this had been in violation of Judge Duer’s injunction, and Duer got so mad that he put the entire common council, including Tweed, in jail. Something big on the Anvil,

The Harlem Corner
From the book by Henry Clews: (copyright 1897)
Twenty Eight Years in Wall Street
With details from: The Book Of Daniel Drew
Copyright 1910 by Doubleday & Company, Inc.

“The beginning of this story is somewhat romantic.”
“The Commodore was sunning himself on a pile of logs
on the Jersey side of the Hudson while his yacht lay in the stream, and he was in the mood for enjoying a long and well-earned vacation, attempting to lay aside for a time the toil and trouble of eking out a precarious existence in speculation. While basking in the noon-day sun and gazing with delight on the luxurious foliage that arose from the New Jersey bank of the river, he was aroused from his charming reverie by a messenger from Wall Street, who conveyed to him the important intelligence that a wicked and unregenerate clique of ‘bears’ had conspired to sell Hudson stock ‘short,’ and that it was declining with great rapidity under the repeated and unmerciful blows of their hammers.”
“The Commodore arose and shook off his lethargy, as a lion may be supposed to shake the dew from his mane prior to his preparation for a spring upon his unfortunate  foe.”
“He got the ‘bulge’ completely on all the other parties connected with it,” “for he was not the aggressor in getting up the ‘corner’. The fighting at first was forced upon him, but he  acted on the defensive in a way that made his opponents sorry for their rashness.”
The unreconstructed state legislators, governor, and common council “were paralyzed.” They could expect no mercy from the Commodore. He owed them none, and though a good Christian prior to his death, he was then practically a stranger to the doctrine of the great Nazarene. ‘Return good for evil.’ or, ‘whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also.’ He was rather inclined to follow the maxim of that practical quaker, who, when smitten on the cheek and asked to turn the other, replied, ‘Friend, thou didst not read far enough. It is written, ‘pay what thou owest,’ and he knocked the fellow down.”
“There was hardly any achievement of his life which he gloated over with such ineffable delight as the cornering of the Legislature. He would say, when referring to the matter afterwards:   ‘We busted the whole Legislature, and scores of  the honorable members had to go home’ (from Albany) ‘without paying their board bills.’ ”
Daniel Drew wrote that moral lesson in  this rhyme:
“ He who sells, what isn’t his’n,
Must buy it back, or go to pris’n.”

“Commodore” Cornelius Vanderbilt began buying stock in  the New York and Harlem Railroad as an investment in 1863. “When the Commodore went into Harlem (stock), it  was selling for eight or nine dollars a share.”   “The stock, however, gradually rose to 50, and speculators began to perceive that there was some inside movement going on. This  was made apparent when one day in April, 1863, the common council ” of New York City “passed an ordinance authorizing the Commodore to build a street railroad down Broadway to the Battery.” The Mayor signed it, and the stock went soaring. The State Legislature up at Albany were mad as hornets. They saw all the good fat pickings going to the Aldermen and Councilmen of New York City, rather than to themselves.
“The Common Council were not immaculate in those days either, though the Jaehnes and Waites escaped punishment. “They basely deceived the Commodore after taking his money; but he punished them severely. “As soon as the franchise was granted, Harlem (stock) advanced to 75 and the Aldermen began to sell it ‘short’, “They thought they had the Commodore fast in their clutches, and took their friends into the secret. “They expected to sell enough of the stock to make several millions. “ Their plan was to sell ‘short’ all that the market would take, and then repeal the ordinance, which would cause the stock to drop probably below 50.” Daniel  “Drew was one of the great bears in this deal with the Aldermen.”   He and Bill Tweed told the Aldermen to touch off the fireworks. Tweed was a master hand, anyhow, in manipulating a legislative body. He could make them do almost anything he wanted. They passed an ordinance reconsidering their former decision as to the Broadway franchise. Then, they rescinded the grant. Harlem (stock) dropped like a shot partridge.
“The Commodore got wind of this scheme, went on buying, and got others to help him, taking all the ‘shorts’ that were offered. The operators had soon sold a great deal more Harlem stock than there was actually in existence. There were 110,000 shares of Harlem.” Judge Brady, in the Court of Common Pleas, at the same time issued an injunction prohibiting the laying of rails on the Broadway road.”
“Everybody thought that the Commodore was hopelessly ruined.” Harlem stock, however, dropped three points only, to  72.   This created a surprise among the Aldermen and the bears. They thought it should have dropped to  50. But— something happened. The court dissolved the injunction. The  ‘shorts’ went into the market for the purpose of covering. Harlem ascended with amazing rapidity to  100, to  150, to  170, and finally to  179. The Common Council were obliged to make their final settlements at the last figure. The Commodore had all the stock. The Common Council lost a million, and their friends, whom they had advised to sell ‘short,’ lost several millions. The Commodore ‘raked in’ five or six millions, and went on his way rejoicing and improving Harlem,”   Bill Tweed gave an oration over the life and death of Henry Clay, at his funeral. He had taken great pride in this sermon. This was the first public speech he  had ever made. And it turned out to be his last.
When he and the Aldermen passed Vanderbilt’s Broadway franchise ordinance, this had been in violation of Judge Duer’s injunction, and Duer got so mad that he put the entire common council, including Tweed, in jail.

Something big on the Anvil,