Chapter V
In her desire to forget, to put all the past behind her, Louella even tried to forget her home, her mother and father, and her brother, Templeton.
Not too successfully—as far as her father and mother were concerned. Templeton she had no difficulty in forgetting. He had never been much to her, or in her young life; their interests had never been the same, and there had been that ten years difference in age between them.
Still Louella would not have been surprised to have been told of her brother's success—far away from her. The surprise would have been if he had not been successful.
It was decidedly so—almost from the start. In fact, the career of Templeton Blaine is a story in itself, a story of determination, will power, success. Horatio Alger would have gloried in its unfolding. To make it a perfect Alger it would only have been necessary for him to have started as a bootblack. However he began in the next-best manner—a farm boy, albeit a farm boy who had no interest in the farm.
From almost his earliest days, as soon as he was able to understand what it was all about, Templeton was interested in economics, in banking, law, railroads, in big business generally. He had been born during the Civil War and his childhood was spent in the period of reconstruction. His father had been an out and out Northerner.
Templeton had a quiet, serious nature. He had practically no childhood. Children with their pranks and silly games bored him. But he was respected by the other boys of Galvey because he was a terrific fighter. Only the valiant were willing to come to blows with Templeton Blaine.
His sister, Mary, was about eight years old when Templeton won his Harvard scholarship. He studied law, economics, banking. All his work he found easy. He absorbed knowledge as though his mind were a sponge. He never forgot an important tact after he had read it. At college he did not go in for athletic events nor was he particularly popular with the other students. He did not mind. He wanted to be popular only with those who could be of use to him.
When he cared to exert himself he could win friends. He succeeded in getting into several important fraternities. This he reasoned might give him good background when he started his career in Wall Street. Not for a moment did he doubt that he was going to work in New York. He had no intention of practicing law. He merely studied it so that he would never be victimized, so that he would understand the intricacies of big business, bonds, contracts, options and things of similar nature.
When he graduated he secured a position with a Wall Street banking house, Brown Brothers and Company. Their offices were only a short distance away from those of J. P. Morgan. Morgan was his god. He would willingly have worshipped him if there had been a Morgan Temple. Brown Brothers was a fine old conservative house, a credit to the banking world. Despite his education, Templeton had taken a position as a runner in their bank and his salary was very small. He roomed with the superintendent of the building of 71 Wall Street. It was an old brownstone and red brick building which still had open fireplaces in the offices.
The superintendent lived in an apartment on the roof, a veritable penthouse in the days before the modern expression had been invented. Sometimes at night Templeton walked up and down the roof, absorbed in figures and plans. A short distance away the Wall Street Ferry was still plying to Brooklyn and steamer docks were strewn with merchandise. On the air floated the fragrance of spices from the warehouses on Water Street and Front and occasionally the pungent smell of roasting coffee blotted out every other odor.
Templeton's room was small but the rent was cheap and the broad expanse of roof and sky made up for its lack of space. Besides he was only a few hundred feet from his office, so there was no expense for carfare. He was able to go back to his room for lunch, which also was a saving. During those first few months in town every penny counted. Despite this fact, every day he bought several papers, The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal and The Journal of Commerce. And all evening he would pore over the financial news. He knew the price of wheat and other commodities, the fluctuations in the various exchanges, and the monetary condition of many foreign banks. But most of all he was interested in railroads.
One evening he wrote a technical article on railroad management. To his surprise it was purchased by The New York Times. It was an excellent way to help out his income. After that he wrote for newspapers regularly and most of his articles sold. When his employers at Brown Brothers discovered that he was a writer, they advanced his position. He was too clever simply to be a runner. For awhile he was an assistant-teller. Then once more he was advanced. He became secretary to one of the managers.
By 1893 Templeton was well on his way to success. He had accumulated a tidy sum of money by judicious investing. His boss had taken an extraordinary interest in him and was a constant adviser. Most of his money was invested in Great Northern stock which was paying heavy dividends. At last the road had completed its trackage through to the Pacific.
When the Northern Pacific Railroad went into receivership during the panic of 1893 Templeton was one of the few who reasoned that the stock was a buy because he knew that Morgan and Hill were anxious to affiliate it with the Great Northern. Should this dream materialize he believed that the stock would go up by leaps and bounds. Quietly he bought at ridiculous figures. There is no better time to make money than during a period of depression.
And at that memorable time when Northern Pacific stock shot up a hundred points, Templeton Blaine sold out at an enormous profit.
Three years before, he had married Helen Dane who had been a stenographer in his office. He moved from 71 Wall Street to rooms in the Stevens House on lower Broadway where he took his young bride. He was too busy with his endless plans to think of buying a house just then.
"Wait a few months," he told Helen, "and well go off for a trip to Europe. When we return we'll settle down in the suburbs."
Helen smiled. She knew that they would never go to Europe. She also knew that they would never move out of town. Templeton dwelt in Wall Street. He lived it, he breathed it. Wall Street was New York to him.
However she wouldn't have changed him one iota. She loved him as he was, even though he pored over newspapers and reports all through his meals and sometimes passed a whole evening in her company without ever knowing she was with him.
That year was an important one for Templeton, for not only did he get married, but he decided to go into business for himself. With a pang of regret he severed his connections with Brown Brothers. The years he had spent with them had been splendid ones. He had been happy. He had learned much. It had been a liberal education. They wanted to keep him with them. They pleaded and argued, offered him an increase in wages but he shook his head. The time had come for him to strike out for himself. He longed for position, wealth, power.
He took a small suite of offices over Hazeltine's Restaurant on Broad Street. Helen had helped him to select the furniture for it.
"After all," she said, "a man's office is a sort of second home, and it ought to be as comfortable as possible."
She had insisted that he include in the furniture several bookcases and a mahogany library table, huge leather chairs and a smoking cabinet. Her own contribution was a few of the latest books, The Crisis by Winston Churchill, Kim by Rudyard Kipling, The Octopus by Frank Norris, The Making of an American by Jacob A. Riis and The First Men in the Moon by Herbert G. Wells.
"The books are fine," he drawled, "but who's going to read them?"
"I can help supply the setting," she laughed, "but I certainly can't supply the customers."