_Chapter V_
FATHER AND SON
Mr. Horace Hanbury paced restlessly up and down his study, and presentlystopped before a huge map on the wall and carefully traced the longlines of the trans-continental railroads across the Rocky Mountains."Will Harriman sell? No, he'll buy, of course he'll buy; he'd be anidiot if he didn't. Of course he'll buy, and Gould and Stillman willbuy, too. Well, there'll be a fine tussle in Wall Street to-day." Thushe soliloquized, puffing thoughtfully at his short pipe. Then he pickedup the heap of narrow tape on his desk containing the latest news fromthe West, and read the reports once more as the paper slipped throughhis fingers.
"This fiendish plot of the yellow curs seems to be a pretty clever one,"he murmured; "they've simply cut off all railway connections. I can'thelp admiring the fellows--they've learned a lot since 1904." He threwhimself into his comfortable Morris chair, and after having carefullystudied the Stock Exchange quotations of Saturday, went once more to themap on the wall, and marked several spots with a blue pencil; these heconnected by means of a long line which cut off the Pacific States ofWashington, Oregon, and California, and large districts of Nevada andArizona from all communication with points to the East. He then lookedat his watch and pressed one of the electric buttons on his desk.
The door opened noiselessly, and an East Indian, dressed in the brightcostume of his native country, entered, and, crossing his arms, made adeep bow. "When Mr. Gerald Hanbury returns, tell him I want to see himimmediately." The Indian disappeared, and Mr. Hanbury sat down on hisdesk, folded his hands under his knees, and swung his feet to and fro,puffing out the smoke of his pipe from between his teeth. "If only theboy won't spoil everything with his ridiculous altruistic ideas-- Ah,Gerald, there you are!"
"Did you send for me, father?"
"Sit down, my boy," said the old gentleman, pointing to a chair; but hehimself remained sitting on the desk.
The son was the very image of his father--the same slender, muscularfigure, the same piercing eyes, the same energetic mouth. "Well, father,what do you think of it?"
"Think of it? What do _you_ think of it?"
"Isn't it awful, this sudden attack on our country? Isn't it awful theway we have been taken by surprise? Think of it, three of our States inthe enemy's hands!"
"We'll soon get them back, don't worry about that," said the oldgentleman calmly.
"Have you read the orders for mobilization?"
"I haven't read them, and don't intend to."
"Colonel Smiles told me just now that it will not be possible todispatch our troops to the West in less than three weeks. Fortunatelythere are about a dozen ships of the Pacific fleet off the west coast,and they will be able to attack the Japanese in the rear."
"If there's still time," supplemented his father. "Anyhow, we can leavethese matters to others. It's none of our business; they can attend toall that at Washington. War is purely and simply a question of financesso far as the United States is concerned, and it's as plain as day thatwe can hold out ten times longer than those yellow monkeys. That themoney will be forthcoming goes without saying; Congress will do all thatis needed in that direction, and the subscriptions for the war-loan willshow that we are fully prepared along that line. So let us drop thatsubject. The question is, what shall we do? What do you propose doingwith our factory during the war?"
"Go on working, of course, father."
"Go on working--that is to say, produce surplus stock. If we go onworking we shall have goods on our hands which no one will buy, and becompelled to store them. Ironclads, cannon, powder, uniforms, guns,these are the things for which there is a demand now; whisky, too, willbe bought and bread will be baked, and the meat trust will make moneyhand over fist; but do you suppose the United States Government is goingto buy our pianos to play tunes to the soldiers?"
"But what about our workmen?" interposed Gerald.
"Yes, our workmen," said the old gentleman, jumping energetically offthe desk and standing before his son with his legs wide apart and hishands in his pockets: "Our workmen--that brings us to your favoritesubject, to which you devote your entire time and interest!" Hetransferred his pipe into the right-hand corner of his mouth andcontinued: "I intend to dismiss our workmen, my boy, and shut up shop;we couldn't earn a cent more even if we kept the machines going.Besides, our Government needs soldiers now, not workmen. Let your dearworkmen shoulder their guns and march to the West. When I was your age,and starting in with one hundred and fifty dollars in my pocket, no oneoffered me pensions for sickness and old age or insurance againstnon-employment or whatever this new-fangled nonsense is called. Weought to increase the energy of the people, instead of stuffing pillowsfor them. A man who has anything in him will make his way even in thesetimes."
"Father!" The young man jumped up from his chair and faced his fatherwith all the idealistic enthusiasm of youth.
"Keep your seat, my boy, subjects of this nature can be better discussedsitting."
"No, father, I can't keep still. This question concerns four thousandworkmen and their families."
"Three thousand of whom I shall dismiss at noon to-day," interrupted theold gentleman decisively.
"What! You don't mean to say you'll send three thousand workmen, quiet,industrious, faithful, reliable workmen, begging to-day? Why, father!That would be perfectly barbarous, that would be a crime againsthumanity! The people have stuck by us in days of prosperity, and nowwhen our sales may perhaps," he emphasized the last word, "may perhapsbe diminished, you will stop the wheels and shut down the factory?"
"Look here, my son, I'm not a socialists' meeting. Such sentiments maysound very nice from the platform, but there's no need of your tryingyour speeches on me. The question at issue is, shall we suffer theconsequences or shall they, and I don't mind telling you that I preferthe latter. Do you suppose that I've worked hard all my life and wornmyself out for the express purpose of turning our factory into aworkingmen's home? No, my boy, I can't support you in your littlehobby."
"But, father, capital and labor----"
"O, cut out those silly phrases," interrupted the old gentlemanirritably, "Karl Marx and Henry George and all your other stand-bys maybe all right in your library, and help to decorate your bookshelves, butI prefer to settle our practical problems on the basis of my experienceand not of your books. As manager and proprietor of our plant I want totell you that when the whistle blows at noon to-day I shall notify ourworkingmen that in consequence of the totally unforeseen breaking out ofhostilities--here I shall insert a few words about the sacred duty ofpatriotism and of defending one's country--we are unwillingly forced todismiss three thousand of our workmen. We'll pay wages for, let's say, afortnight longer, but then good-by to the men; we'll shut up shop, andthe thousand men that are left can finish the standing orders and anynew ones that may come in. And if no new ones turn up, then theremaining workingmen will be dismissed at once. In the meantime I'llsubscribe one hundred thousand dollars to the war-loan, and then engagepassage on a Lloyd steamer, the most expensive cabins with everypossible luxury, for your mother, your two sisters, myself, and I hopefor you, too, and we'll be off to old Europe. Shall we make it theRiviera? We've been there before, and, besides, it's a little too hotthere now--let's say Norway or Switzerland. In my humble opinion we hadbetter watch developments from a distance, and, as I said, I earnestlyhope that my only son and heir will join our party, unless he shouldprefer to remain here and become a lieutenant in our glorious army anddraw his sword against the enemy? This is my final decision and the lastword I have to say on the subject, unless you think that some friend ofours in the financial world may have a better suggestion to offer."
"I should never have thought, father, that you could be so hard-heartedand unfeeling, that you could be capable of ruining the lives ofthousands with one stroke of your pen. Your attitude towards therelations between employer and employee is absolutely incomprehensibleto me; the socialistic conscience----"
"Listen, my boy," said the old
gentleman, going over to his son andlaying his hand gently on his shoulder: "I've always allowed you anabsolutely free hand in your schemes, and you know we've always tried tomeet our employees more than half way in all their wishes, but now it'sa question of who's to suffer--we or they? In times of peace there maybe some excuse for these nice socialistic ideas: they give a man acertain standing and bring him into the public eye. There's a good man,they say; he understands the demands of the times. But there's a limitto everything. One man rides one hobby, and some one else another. Onekeeps a racing-stable, another sports a steam-yacht, and still anotherswears by polo or cricket, but these things must not be carried toexcess. The minute the owner of the racing-stable turns jockey, heceases to be a business man, and the same is true of the man who keeps aracing-yacht and spends all of his time at the start, and, after all issaid and done, it's our business we want to live on. You've selected theworkingman as your favorite sport, and that also has its limits. If wesquander our hard-earned millions on socialistic improvements now, we'llhave to begin over again in about two years' time. I doubt whether Ishould have sufficient genius left to discover a new piano-hammer, and Ientertain still more serious doubts as to your ability to invent apanacea that will render the whole world happy and make you richerinstead of poorer. _Ergo_, we'll shut up shop. In Hoboken we'll singYankee Doodle and as we pass the Statue of Liberty The Star SpangledBanner, in token of farewell, and then off we go! If things turn outbetter than we anticipate, we can come back, but this is my last wordfor the present: At noon the following notice will be posted at all theentrances and in all the rooms of our factory: 'Three thousand workmenare herewith dismissed; wages will be paid for a fortnight longer, whenthe factory will be closed indefinitely.' By the way, are you going tothe Stock Exchange to-day?"
"I'm not in a mood for the Stock Exchange, father. If that is your lastword, then my last word is: I am your partner----"
"So much the worse," said the father.
"--and therefore have a right to dispose as I please of my interest inthe business. I therefore demand the immediate payment of so much of myinheritance as will be required to pay the wages of the workmen you'vedismissed for at least another year, with the exception of the singlemen who enter the army."
"No, my boy, we won't do anything of the sort. Don't forget that I'mrunning this business. According to the contract made when you came ofage, you may demand a million dollars upon severing your connection withthe firm. This sum will be at your disposal at the bank to-day at noon,but not a cent more. What you do with it is a matter of completeindifference to me, but let me remind you that ordinarily when a manthrows money out of the window, he at least likes to hear it drop."
"That surely cannot be your last word, father, otherwise we must part."
"All right, my boy, let's part till dinner-time. I hope to find you in amore sensible frame of mind when the family assembles this evening. I'vetold you what will be done in the factory in the meantime, and as forour trip, we'll discuss that to-night with your mother. Now leave me, Imust get ready for Wall Street."
The door closed noiselessly after Mr. Hanbury, Junior. "The scamp," saidthe father to himself, "I can't help admiring him. Thirty years ago Ientertained just such ideas, but what has become of them!" He thought amoment, passed his hand over his forehead, then jumped up quickly andexclaimed: "Now to work!" He pressed a button on the desk, his secretaryentered, and the conversation that ensued dealt exclusively with comingevents in Wall Street.
Banzai! by Parabellum Page 7