The Titanic Plan (11 page)

“
Friends…comrades…” Emma started. “Good to see so many familiar faces here tonight.” A serious expression then spread over her face. “Now we all know the history of human development is the history of the terrible struggle of every new idea heralding the approach of a brighter dawn. In its tenacious hold on tradition, the Old has never hesitated to make use of the foulest and cruelest means to stay the advent of the New, in whatever form or period the latter may have asserted itself.”

Emma quickly enthralled Archie. She was absolutely magnetic. He had never seen a woman so unattractive and yet so self-assured. “Today we have with us a man who is at the vanguard of the New,” Emma said. “He is a champion of working people everywhere. His inspiring words serve as a clarion call to fight the injustice of an unequal society. He is a giant among men and it is my honor to introduce a great friend and comrade, Bill Haywood.”

The crowd rose in unison and broke into shouts and loud applause. Haywood got up from a chair and shambled his large frame to the lectern. He did not wave or smile; he just stoically surveyed the crowd with his one good eye. The other eye was dead – a dull black marble covered with a thick, milky film. Haywood didn’t bother to wear a patch over it; rather, he exposed it for all the world to see, knowing full well it would only add to his image as one tough-as-nails sonuvabitch. Not that he really needed to bolster his reputation: Big Bill Haywood
was
one tough-as-nails sonuvabitch. Six foot five, two hundred and fifty pounds, forced to work in the Idaho silver mines at age nine just so his family could eat, Bill Haywood grew to become as fierce as a human being could be. His life was one single-minded furious fight against what he saw as his oppressors. And he backed down from no one.

Haywood glared at the worshipful crowd. He cared nothing for the adoration. The balm for his soul was his indignant fury. He opened his mouth and began thundering: “Comrades – In the United States 30 million people work for other people. These people produce more wealth in one year than was ever produced in the world’s history. But these workers are becoming thinner, shorter, weaker and have less a lifespan than the American people of fifty years ago.”

For all his explosive passion, Haywood did not impress Archie the way Emma did. She had a quick mind and eloquent tongue. He was a sledgehammer that pounded away.

“
In the United States, 750,000 workers are killed and wounded in the shops and mines and on the railroads every year. The vast majority of the toilers in the United States die premature deaths of diseases caused by overwork, by underfeeding, by dirt in the air, dirt in the drinking water, dirt and poison in the workers’ food.”

Loud applause broke out. Haywood held up his hands for quiet. “Meanwhile… meanwhile the idle rich of the United States waste more wealth than any other idle rich class have wasted in the history of the world. For all their money they produce nothing! Their time is occupied spending the millions others have produced!! The working people are sweating, starving and dying while the great wealth of the United States is being wasted by its idlers!!”

The crowd at the Liberal Club stood and roared its approval. Haywood may not have been the most gifted speaker, but he knew how to breathe fire. Archie squirmed in his seat. What at first seemed like a quaint and curious evening with some eastern radicals was becoming increasingly ugly listening to Haywood’s wrath.

Haywood pointed a finger out toward the audience. “And for all the traitors here tonight. Yes, we know you are here. You vermin spies, you representatives of the ruling elite who are at every venue I speak, I want you to note down these words: the time will come when the working people will rise up and take what is rightfully theirs. And I promise you will have to answer for all the injustices you and your rotten capitalist system have wrought!”

The crowd leapt up again, hollering and clapping. Archie clenched his jaw; his teeth were grinding and the muscles in his face twitched with tension. Mick leaned over and whispered, “Let’s get out of here.”

As the crowd’s frenzy grew and Haywood began calling for a new revolution in America, Mick and Archie slipped out the rear door and hurried down the stairs into the foggy night. They walked in silence for a long block until Mick muttered, “I’m sorry, Archie.”

“
Why did you bring me here?!” Archie shot back angrily.

“
I wanted you to meet these people. They want to build a better world than what we have now.”

“
No. They want to destroy what I…and you…risked our lives for in battle. Did you tip them off I was there?”

“
No, that spy talk had nothing to do with you. There are always spies at the meetings. We know they’re there. We don’t fear the government. The government fears us.” Mick paused for a long moment, then said pointedly, “And that’s why you are going to report back everything about this evening to Finch at the Justice Department.”

Archie stopped in his tracks.

“
Oh, don’t be so surprised,” Mick continued. “I know you wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t cleared. Of course you’re going to tell your superiors about everything you’ve seen and heard. It’s all part of the game, soldier.”

“
And what game is that, Mick? What kind of silly game are you playing?”

Mick leaned close. “It’s not silly at all, Captain. It’s the one for America’s soul.”

Two days later Archie went to the Justice Department and did tell Finch what transpired. He reported that Emma Goldman impressed him. “She is very smart and it’s her brains that make her a leader in that crowd.” He also told Finch that he thought Bill Haywood was a dangerous fanatic. He didn’t tell him about Belle. Nor did he relate Mick’s knowledge that he’d be reporting back to Finch. Archie let it be known that he had no desire to visit that world again.

Finch didn’t thank Archie. He just said that he would be back in touch soon.

CHAPTER 11

B
y 1909, J. Pierpont Morgan was officially in retirement. He was seventy-two years old and had turned over all his business concerns, including the chairmanship of
J. Pierpont Morgan & Company
, to his son Jack. Pierpont Morgan had no official job; he was a retiree whose passion was purchasing art. He had a wife he had hardly seen in years, preferring to spend his time with his long-time mistress, Adelaide Townsend Douglas – a formidable society matron whose attraction lay not in her beauty (she wasn’t very good looking), or her age (she was almost as old as Morgan), but that she was his equal – a mirror with whom he could relax and be himself.

Despite his formal retirement, Morgan wielded more power than he ever had. Free from the day-to-day activity of running his financial empire, he was holding court (and sway) with Presidents, kings, and power brokers. Now he was playing on the grandest scale he could design for himself, controlling entire industries and influencing policy in order to forge the world into his vision of capitalism and profit, still mostly for himself.

For all his grandness, Morgan continued to be, at heart, a conservative banker. He weighed all his decisions carefully, taking every factor into account and accessing their risks versus potential reward. And he was, above all else, still a magician with numbers.

It was the magician George Vanderbilt and John Astor marveled at as they watched Morgan pour over the plan they had worked on since their summer meeting at Newport. Now they needed partners. They presented their project to Morgan as the most ambitious civic undertaking since the founding of the Republic.

Outside Morgan’s office an occasional firecracker and shouts of “Happy Halloween” and “Trick or Treat” floated through the chilly New York night. The firecrackers set Astor’s nerves on edge, triggering frightful memories of his New Year’s Eve Ball, even though it was almost two years since that debacle. Astor dug his manicured nails into the heavy armrest of his chair as another small explosion went off outside. He looked down to notice the delicate carvings that crowned the armrests: lions, their manes thick, their gaping mouths frozen in a carved wooden roar.
How appropriate for Morgan
. He wanted to light a cigarette. But no, now was not a good time. He stroked his mustache to calm himself, glanced to Vanderbilt, who was looking on in wide-eyed wonder at the legend as he worked.

Morgan’s power of concentration was astonishing. He twitched his massive nose and his eyes beamed like twin headlights as they riveted onto the pages that were spread before him. There were graphs and charts, columns for monetary outlays and projected revenues. Morgan worked his own page, scraping his fountain pen against the paper. His penmanship was neat and precise: seventy million for construction, forty-two million for transportation, ninety-seven million for materials. Watching Morgan work numbers was like watching a master alchemist measure out simple elements to transmute into gold. And there was no doubt that, in his way, Morgan was the master alchemist of the age, a modern Midas.

Morgan coughed then lifted his look from the page. “It doesn’t add up, gentlemen,” Morgan spoke bluntly. “Too much capital, too many obstacles, too much risk.”

It was not the answer Astor was hoping to hear. He and Vanderbilt had worked for months on this proposal. It was his grand vision and, after all, he was the Architect of the Future. Astor blinked his soft eyes and croaked, “But…”

“
But…” was never response a good response to J. P. Morgan. “No, Jack, it’s just impractical. First off, you’d have to invest a massive outlay of cash without any guarantee that people would move to these new cities. And why should businesses relocate there? They would have to spend millions to move without any good reason; their workforce is already populated around them. What incentive is there for U.S. Steel to move from Pittsburgh or Ford from Detroit? And you’d have to buy the land, prepare building plans, coordinate the construction, create the infrastructure. It’s a hundred year project. And even if it were successful, there would be no return on investment for at least that long. That’s not even mentioning the government cooperation you would need. No, it’s too big a project to even contemplate. The only thing I can offer is to wish you good luck.”

Morgan hoisted his imposing frame up from the chair when George Vanderbilt’s reedy voice piped up, “You’re wrong, Mr. Morgan.”

Morgan stopped before he was even fully standing. His ears grew red, as if they couldn’t quite believe what they had just heard. “Excuse me, sir?” Morgan said, searing a hard look into Vanderbilt’s delicate face. If nothing else, Vanderbilt had awakened the lion.

“
Forgive my impudence, Mr. Morgan, but I find it hard to believe that a man as distinguished as you would retreat from the greatest challenge he could ever face.”

“
What are you talking about, Mr. Vanderbilt? This isn’t a challenge, this is a recipe for disaster. I thought I made that clear.”

Vanderbilt rose to his feet. “With all due respect, let me relate why our plan is so important and why the involvement of J. Pierpont Morgan is essential.” Morgan assented with a slight nod. Vanderbilt began slowly: “We are a decade into the new century, Mr. Morgan, and from what I see, the great days of America are behind her. We are a country being strangled by fear. Where is the boldness of the men who created the railroads? Where is the courage of the visionaries who opened the west? Where is the foresight of the men who built our industries?”

Vanderbilt paused, seeming to surprise himself with his soaring words. “America must not be allowed to slide into the morass it is heading for. And I’m afraid we can’t trust those in government to stop the slide. Our plan is not just about real estate, it’s a way to ignite the fire of free enterprise again. We businessmen, as caretakers of the American way of life, must take action. We have no choice, sir. We cannot leave it to the politicians in Washington. I believe if your legacy is to survive as one of the most distinguished Americans who has ever lived, you must join us in this enterprise to reenergize our ship of state. It is not a battle the great J. P. Morgan should run from, but rather, should run toward. Thank you, sir.”

Silence, cold and heavy, descended over Morgan’s office. Morgan didn’t move a muscle. His mighty stare stayed fixed on Vanderbilt until, after what seemed like an eternity, he spoke: “All well and good, Mr. Vanderbilt, but no matter how eloquently you might say it, your vision as presented is still mortally flawed.”

Morgan looked at the papers strewn over his desk then peered back at Vanderbilt and Astor. “Now, I will offer you both some basic business advice. The key to success of any venture is adaptability. Your proposal is much too unwieldy, as I have pointed out. Can this problem be rectified? Perhaps, but not if your thinking is rigid. I would look at the goal of your proposed enterprise. Is it for financial gain? Or is it, as you have so grandly stated, to reignite the great engine of American enterprise? Let us assume that it is both. Firstly, building a city from scratch is absolutely impossible. But if you scaled down versions of those centers, then it could be financially feasible to build. But what would be the purpose to create them if not for new development? And how would one make a profit and also serve American industry? It certainly wouldn’t make its money as a major population center. Looking at it logically, the only place where physical location is important to American business is in commerce. So, if you created new centers in desirable locations of commerce, then perhaps you could make a healthy profit and have significant impact on American business. In fact…” Morgan glanced down at the presentation again. His words began to grow spirited, “…in fact, if you could create efficient hubs of commerce throughout strategic locations across the country, you would probably be able to replace the inefficient modes of commerce that have evolved to date with each different industry. You would make inordinate profits and you would also, in essence, be able to improve and grow American business with your efficient system.”