He must be made to succumb, to yield to the forces of law and order.
It was claimed—and with a justice of which those who made the charge were by no means fully aware—that the Mears bill had been put through the house and senate by the use of cold cash, proffered even to the governor himself. No legal proof of this was obtainable, but Cowperwood was assumed to be a briber on a giant scale.
By the newspaper cartoons he was represented as a pirate commander ordering his men to scuttle another vessel—the ship of Public Rights. He was pictured as a thief, a black mask over his eyes, and as a seducer, throttling Chicago, the fair maiden, while he stole her purse.
The fame of this battle was by now becoming world-wide.
In Montreal, in Cape Town, in Buenos Ayres and Melbourne, in London and Paris, men were reading of this singular struggle.
At last, and truly, he was a national and international figure.
His original dream, however, modified by circumstances, had literally been fulfilled.
Meanwhile be it admitted that the local elements in finance which had brought about this terrific onslaught on Cowperwood were not a little disturbed as to the eventual character of the child of their own creation.
Here at last was a public opinion definitely inimical to Cowperwood; but here also were they themselves, tremendous profit-holders, with a desire for just such favors as Cowperwood himself had exacted, deliberately setting out to kill the goose that could lay the golden egg.
Men such as Haeckelheimer, Gotloeb, Fishel, tremendous capitalists in the East and foremost in the directorates of huge transcontinental lines, international banking-houses, and the like, were amazed that the newspapers and the anti-Cowperwood element should have gone so far in Chicago.
Had they no respect for capital?
Did they not know that long-time franchises were practically the basis of all modern capitalistic prosperity?
Such theories as were now being advocated here would spread to other cities unless checked.
America might readily become anti-capitalistic—socialistic.
Public ownership might appear as a workable theory—and then what?
“Those men out there are very foolish,” observed Mr. Haeckelheimer at one time to Mr. Fishel, of Fishel, Stone & Symons.
“I can’t see that Mr. Cowperwood is different from any other organizer of his day.
He seems to me perfectly sound and able.
All his companies pay.
There are no better investments than the North and West Chicago railways.
It would be advisable, in my judgment, that all the lines out there should be consolidated and be put in his charge.
He would make money for the stockholders.
He seems to know how to run street-railways.”
“You know,” replied Mr. Fishel, as smug and white as Mr. Haeckelheimer, and in thorough sympathy with his point of view, “I have been thinking of something like that myself.
All this quarreling should be hushed up.
It’s very bad for business—very.
Once they get that public-ownership nonsense started, it will be hard to stop.
There has been too much of it already.”
Mr. Fishel was stout and round like Mr. Haeckelheimer, but much smaller.
He was little more than a walking mathematical formula. In his cranium were financial theorems and syllogisms of the second, third, and fourth power only.
And now behold a new trend of affairs.
Mr. Timothy Arneel, attacked by pneumonia, dies and leaves his holdings in Chicago City to his eldest son, Edward Arneel.
Mr. Fishel and Mr. Haeckelheimer, through agents and then direct, approach Mr. Merrill in behalf of Cowperwood.
There is much talk of profits—how much more profitable has been the Cowperwood regime over street-railway lines than that of Mr. Schryhart.
Mr. Fishel is interested in allaying socialistic excitement.
So, by this time, is Mr. Merrill.
Directly hereafter Mr. Haeckelheimer approaches Mr. Edward Arneel, who is not nearly so forceful as his father, though he would like to be so.
He, strange to relate, has come rather to admire Cowperwood and sees no advantage in a policy that can only tend to municipalize local lines.
Mr. Merrill, for Mr. Fishel, approaches Mr. Hand.
“Never! never! never!” says Hand.
Mr. Haeckelheimer approaches Mr. Hand.
“Never! never! never!
To the devil with Mr. Cowperwood!”
But as a final emissary for Mr. Haeckelheimer and Mr. Fishel there now appears Mr. Morgan Frankhauser, the partner of Mr. Hand in a seven-million-dollar traction scheme in Minneapolis and St. Paul.
Why will Mr. Hand be so persistent?
Why pursue a scheme of revenge which only stirs up the masses and makes municipal ownership a valid political idea, thus disturbing capital elsewhere?
Why not trade his Chicago holdings to him, Frankhauser, for Pittsburg traction stock—share and share alike—and then fight Cowperwood all he pleases on the outside?
Mr. Hand, puzzled, astounded, scratching his round head, slaps a heavy hand on his desk.
“Never!” he exclaims. “Never, by God—as long as I am alive and in Chicago!”
And then he yields.