Captains of Industry

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[Illustration:

Very Truly Yours
Ichabod Washburn]

CAPTAINS OF INDUSTRY

OR

MEN OF BUSINESS WHO DID SOMETHING
BESIDES MAKING MONEY

_A BOOK FOR YOUNG AMERICANS_

BY

JAMES PARTON

FIFTH THOUSAND

[Illustration]

BOSTON
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY
New York: 11 East Seventeenth Street
The Riverside Press, Cambridge
1890

Copyright, 1884,
By JAMES PARTON.

_All rights reserved._

_The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A._
Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Company.

PREFACE.

In this volume are presented examples of men who shed lustre upon
ordinary pursuits, either by the superior manner in which they exercised
them or by the noble use they made of the leisure which success in them
usually gives. Such men are the nobility of republics. The American
people were fortunate in having at an early period an ideal man of this
kind in Benjamin Franklin, who, at the age of forty-two, just mid-way in
his life, deliberately relinquished the most profitable business of its
kind in the colonies for the sole purpose of developing electrical
science. In this, as in other respects, his example has had great
influence with his countrymen.

A distinguished author, who lived some years at Newport, has expressed
the opinion that the men who occupy the villas of that emerald isle
exert very little power compared with that of an orator or a writer. To
be, he adds, at the head of a normal school, or to be a professor in a
college, is to have a sway over the destinies of America which reduces
to nothingness the power of successful men of business.

Being myself a member of the fraternity of writers, I suppose I ought to
yield a joyful assent to such remarks. It is flattering to the self-love
of those who drive along Bellevue Avenue in a shabby hired vehicle to be
told that they are personages of much more consequence than the heavy
capitalist who swings by in a resplendent curricle, drawn by two matched
and matchless steeds, in a six-hundred dollar harness. Perhaps they are.
But I advise young men who aspire to serve their generation effectively
not to undervalue the importance of the gentleman in the curricle.

One of the individuals who has figured lately in the society of Newport
is the proprietor of an important newspaper. He is not a writer, nor a
teacher in a normal school, but he wields a considerable power in this
country. Fifty men write for the journal which he conducts, some of whom
write to admiration, for they are animated by a humane and patriotic
spirit. The late lamented Ivory Chamberlain was a writer whose leading
editorials were of national value. But, mark: a telegram of ten words
from that young man at Newport, written with perspiring hand in a pause
of the game of polo, determines without appeal the course of the paper
in any crisis of business or politics.

I do not complain of this arrangement of things. I think it is just; I
know it is unalterable.

It is then of the greatest possible importance that the men who control
during their lifetime, and create endowments when they are dead, should
share the best civilization of their age and country. It is also of the
greatest importance that young men whom nature has fitted to be leaders
should, at the beginning of life, take to the steep and thorny path
which leads at length to mastership.

Most of these chapters were published originally in "The Ledger" of New
York, and a few of them in "The Youths' Companion" of Boston, the
largest two circulations in the country. I have occasionally had reason
to think that they were of some service to young readers, and I may add
that they represent more labor and research than would be naturally
supposed from their brevity. Perhaps in this new form they may reach and
influence the minds of future leaders in the great and growing realm of
business. I should pity any young man who could read the briefest
account of what has been done in manufacturing towns by such men as John
Smedley and Robert Owen without forming a secret resolve to do something
similar if ever he should win the opportunity.

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

PAGE
David Maydole, Hammer-Maker 9

Ichabod Washburn, Wire-Maker 18

Elihu Burritt, the Learned Blacksmith 27

Michael Reynolds, Engine-Driver 36

Major Robert Pike, Farmer 43

George Graham, Clock-Maker, buried in Westminster Abbey 51

John Harrison, Exquisite Watch-Maker 58

Peter Faneuil, and the Great Hall he built 65

Chauncey Jerome, Yankee Clock-Maker 79

Captain Pierre Laclede Liguest, Pioneer 89

Israel Putnam, Farmer 96

George Flower, Pioneer 104

Edward Coles, Noblest of the Pioneers, and his Great Speech 117

Peter H. Burnett, Banker 126

Gerrit Smith 133

Peter Force, Printer 140

John Bromfield, Merchant 148

Frederick Tudor, Ice Exporter 156

Myron Holley, Market-Gardener 163

The Founders of Lowell 170

Robert Owen, Cotton-Manufacturer 180

John Smedley, Stocking-Manufacturer 188

Richard Cobden, Calico Printer 195

Henry Bessemer 206

John Bright, Manufacturer 212

Thomas Edward, Cobbler and Naturalist 224

Robert Dick, Baker and Naturalist 232

John Duncan, Weaver and Botanist 240

James Lackington, Second-Hand Bookseller 247

Horace Greeley's Start 254

James Gordon Bennett, and how he founded his "Herald" 264

Three John Walters, and their Newspaper 275

George Hope 288

Sir Henry Cole 294

Charles Summers 300

William B. Astor, House-Owner 307

Peter Cooper 313

Paris-Duverney, French Financier 332

Sir Rowland Hill 342

Marie-Antoine Careme, French Cook 349

Wonderful Walker, Parson of all Work 355

Sir Christopher Wren 363

Sir John Rennie, Engineer 372

Sir Moses Montefiore 379

Marquis of Worcester, Inventor of the Steam-Engine 385

An Old Dry-Goods Merchant's Recollections 392

PORTRAITS.

PAGE
ICHABOD WASHBURN _Frontispiece._

CHAUNCEY JEROME 79

GERRIT SMITH 133

MYRON HOLLEY 163

JOHN BRIGHT 212

JOHN DUNCAN 240

PETER COOPER 313

SIR ROWLAND HILL 342

CAPTAINS OF INDUSTRY.

DAVID MAYDOLE,

HAMMER-MAKER.

When a young man begins to think of making his fortune, his first notion
usually is to go away from home to some very distant place. At present,
the favorite spot is Colorado; awhile ago it was California; and old men
remember when Buffalo was about as far west as the most enterprising
person thought of venturing.

It is not always a foolish thing to go out into the world far beyond the
parent nest, as the young birds do in midsummer. But I can tell you,
boys, from actual inquiry, that a great number of the most important and
famous business men of the United States struck down roots where they
were first planted, and where no one supposed there was room or chance
for any large thing to grow.

I will tell you a story of one of these men, as I heard it from his own
lips some time ago, in a beautiful village where I lectured.

He was an old man then; and a curious thing about him was that, although
he was too deaf to hear one word of a public address, even of the
loudest speaker, he not only attended church every Sunday, but was
rarely absent when a lecture was delivered.

While I was performing on that occasion, I saw him sitting just in front
of the platform, sleeping the sleep of the just till the last word was
uttered.

Upon being introduced to this old gentleman in his office, and learning
that his business was to make hammers, I was at a loss for a subject of
conversation, as it never occurred to me that there was anything to be
said about hammers.

I have generally possessed a hammer, and frequently inflicted damage on
my fingers therewith, but I had supposed that a hammer was simply a
hammer, and that hammers were very much alike. At last I said,--

"And here you make hammers for mankind, Mr. Maydole?"

You may have noticed the name of David Maydole upon hammers. He is the
man.

"Yes," said he, "I have made hammers here for twenty-eight years."

"Well, then," said I, shouting in his best ear, "by this time you ought
to be able to make a pretty good hammer."

"No, I can't," was his reply. "I can't make a pretty good hammer. I make
the best hammer that's made."

That was strong language. I thought, at first, he meant it as a joke;
but I soon found it was no joke at all.

He had made hammers the study of his lifetime, and, after many years of
thoughtful and laborious experiment, he had actually produced an
article, to which, with all his knowledge and experience, he could
suggest no improvement.

I was astonished to discover how many points there are about an
instrument which I had always supposed a very simple thing. I was
surprised to learn in how many ways a hammer can be bad.

But, first, let me tell you how he came to think of hammers.

There he was, forty years ago, in a small village of the State of New
York; no railroad yet, and even the Erie Canal many miles distant. He
was the village blacksmith, his establishment consisting of himself and
a boy to blow the bellows.

He was a good deal troubled with his hammers. Sometimes the heads would
fly off. If the metal was too soft, the hammer would spread out and wear
away; if it was too hard, it would split.

At that time blacksmiths made their own hammers, and he knew very little
about mixing ores so as to produce the toughest iron. But he was
particularly troubled with the hammer getting off the handle, a mishap
which could be dangerous as well as inconvenient.

At this point of his narrative the old gentleman showed a number of old
hammers, such as were in use before he began to improve the instrument;
and it was plain that men had tried very hard before him to overcome
this difficulty.

One hammer had an iron rod running down through the handle with a nut
screwed on at the end. Another was wholly composed of iron, the head and
handle being all of one piece. There were various other devices, some of
which were exceedingly clumsy and awkward.

At last, he hit upon an improvement which led to his being able to put a
hammer upon a handle in such a way that it would stay there. He made
what is called an adze-handled hammer, the head being attached to the
handle after the manner of an adze.

The improvement consists in merely making _a longer hole_ for the handle
to go into, by which device it has a much firmer hold of the head, and
can easily be made extremely tight.

With this improvement, if the handle is well seasoned and well wedged,
there is no danger of the head flying off. He made some other changes,
all of them merely for his own convenience, without a thought of going
into the manufacture of hammers.

The neighborhood in which he lived would have scarcely required half a
dozen new hammers per annum. But one day there came to the village six
carpenters to work upon a new church, and one of these men, having left
his hammer at home, came to David Maydole's blacksmith's shop to get
one made.

"Make me as good a hammer," said the carpenter, "as you know how."

That was touching David upon a tender place.

"As good a one as I know how?" said he. "But perhaps you don't want to
pay for as good a one as I know how to make."

"Yes, I do," replied the man; "I want a good hammer."

The blacksmith made him one of his best. It was probably the best hammer
that had ever been made in the world, since it contained two or three
important improvements never before combined in the instrument.

The carpenter was delighted with it, and showed it, with a good deal of
exultation, to his five companions; every man of whom came the next day
to the shop and wanted one just like it. They did not understand all the
blacksmith's notions about tempering and mixing the metals, but they saw
at a glance that the head and the handle were so united that there never
was likely to be any divorce between them.

To a carpenter building a wooden house, the mere removal of that one
defect was a boon beyond price; he could hammer away with confidence,
and without fear of seeing the head of his hammer leap into the next
field, unless stopped by a comrade's head.

When all the six carpenters had been supplied with these improved
hammers, the contractor came and ordered two more. He seemed to think,
and, in fact, said as much, that the blacksmith ought to make _his_
hammers a little better than those he had made for the men.

"I can't make any better ones," said honest David. "When I make a thing,
I make it as well as I can, no matter who it's for."

Soon after, the store-keeper of the village, seeing what excellent
hammers these were, gave the blacksmith a magnificent order for two
dozen, which, in due time, were placed upon his counter for sale.

At this time something happened to David Maydole which may fairly be
called good luck; and you will generally notice events of the kind in
the lives of meritorious men. "Fortune favors the brave," is an old
saying, and good luck in business is very apt to befall the man who
could do very well without it.

It so happened that a New York dealer in tools, named Wood, whose store
is still kept in Chatham Street, New York, happened to be in the village
getting orders for tools. As soon as his eye fell upon those hammers, he
saw their merits, and bought them all. He did more. He left a standing
order for as many hammers of that kind as David Maydole could make.

That was the beginning. The young blacksmith hired a man or two, then
more men, and made more hammers, and kept on making hammers during the
whole of his active life, employing at last a hundred and fifteen men.

During the first twenty years, he was frequently experimenting with a
view to improve the hammer. He discovered just the best combination of
ores to make his hammers hard enough, without being too hard.

He gradually found out precisely the best form of every part. There is
not a turn or curve about either the handle or the head which has not
been patiently considered, and reconsidered, and considered again, until
no further improvement seemed possible. Every handle is seasoned three
years, or until there is no shrink left in it.

Perhaps the most important discovery which he made was that a perfect
tool cannot be made by machinery.

Naturally, his first thought, when he found his business increasing, was
to apply machinery to the manufacture, and for some years several parts
of the process were thus performed. Gradually, his machines were
discarded, and for many years before his retirement, every portion of
the work was done by hand.

Each hammer is hammered out from a piece of iron, and is tempered over a
slow charcoal fire, under the inspection of an experienced man. He looks
as though he were cooking his hammers on a charcoal furnace, and he
watches them until the process is complete, as a cook watches mutton
chops.

I heard some curious things about the management of this business. The
founder never did anything to "push" it. He never advertised. He never
reduced the price of his hammers because other manufacturers were doing
so.

His only care, he said, had been to make a perfect hammer, to make just
as many of them as people wanted, and _no more_, and to sell them at a
fair price. If people did not want his hammers, he did not want to make
them. If they did not want to pay what they were worth, they were
welcome to buy cheaper ones of some one else.

For his own part, his wants were few, and he was ready at any time to go
back to his blacksmith's shop.

The old gentleman concluded his interesting narration by making me a
present of one of his hammers, which I now cherish among my treasures.

If it had been a picture, I should have had it framed and hung up over
my desk, a perpetual admonition to me to do my work well; not too fast;
not too much of it; not with any showy false polish; not letting
anything go till I had done all I could to make it what it should be.

In telling this little story, I have told thousands of stories. Take the
word _hammer_ out of it, and put _glue_ in its place, and you have the
history of Peter Cooper. By putting in other words, you can make the
true history of every great business in the world which has lasted
thirty years.

The true "protective system," of which we hear so much, is _to make the
best article_; and he who does this need not buy a ticket for Colorado.

ICHABOD WASHBURN,

WIRE-MAKER.

Of all our manufactures few have had a more rapid development than
wire-making. During the last thirty years the world has been girdled by
telegraphic wires and cables, requiring an immense and continuous supply
of the article. In New York alone two hundred pianos a week have been
made, each containing miles of wire. There have been years during which
a garment composed chiefly of wire was worn by nearly every woman in the
land, even by the remotest and poorest.

Who has supplied all these millions of miles of wire? A large part of
the answer to this question is given when we pronounce the name at the
head of this article, Ichabod Washburn. In the last years of his life he
had seven hundred men at Worcester making wire, the product of whose
labor was increased a hundred fold by machinery which he had invented or
adapted.

It is curious to note how he seemed to stumble into the business just in
the nick of time. I say, _seemed_; but, in truth, he had been prepared
for success in it by a long course of experience and training. He was a
poor widow's son, born on the coast of Massachusetts, a few miles from
Plymouth Rock; his father having died in early manhood, when this boy
and a twin brother were two months old. His mother, suddenly left with
three little children, and having no property except the house in which
she lived, supported her family by weaving, in which her children from a
very early age could give her some help. She kept them at school,
however, during part of the winter, and instilled into their minds good
principles. When this boy was nine years of age she was obliged, as the
saying was, "to put him out to live" to a master five miles from her
house.

On his way to his new home he was made to feel the difference between a
hard master and a kind mother. Having a quick intelligent mind, he
questioned the man concerning the objects they passed. At length the boy
saw a windmill, and he asked what that was.

"Don't ask me so many questions, boy," answered the man, in a harsh,
rough voice.

The little fellow was silenced, and he vividly remembered the event, the
tone, and the scene, to old age. His employer was a maker of harness,
carriages, and trunks, and it was the boy's business to take care of a
horse and two cows, light fires, chop wood, run errands, and work in the
shop. He never forgot the cold winter mornings, and the loud voice of
his master rousing him from sleep to make the fire, and go out to the
barn and get the milking done before daylight. His sleeping-place was a
loft above the shop reached by a ladder. Being always a timid boy, he
suffered extremely from fear in the dark and lonely garret of a building
where no one else slept, and to which he had to grope his way alone.

What would the dainty boys of the present time think of going to mill on
a frosty morning astride of a bag of corn on the horse's back, without
stockings or shoes and with trousers half way up to the knees? On one
occasion the little Ichabod was so thoroughly chilled that he had to
stop at a house to get warm, and the good woman took pity on him, made
him put on a pair of long black stockings, and a pair of her own shoes.
Thus equipped, with his long black legs extending far out of his short
trousers, and the woman's shoes lashed to his feet, he presented a
highly ludicrous appearance, and one which, he thought, might have
conveyed a valuable hint to his master. In the daytime he was usually
employed in the shop making harnesses, a business in which he became
expert. He served this man five years, or until he was fourteen years of
age, when he made a complete harness for one of his cousins, which
rendered excellent service for many years, and a part of it lasted
almost as long as the maker.

Thus, at fourteen, he had completed his first apprenticeship, and had
learned his first trade. The War of 1812 having given a sudden start to
manufactures in this country, he went to work in a cotton factory for a
while, where, for the first time in his life, he saw complicated
machinery. Like a true Yankee as he was, he was strongly attracted by
it, and proposed to learn the machinist's trade. His guardian opposed
the scheme strongly, on the ground that, in all probability, by the time
he had learned the trade the country would be so full of factories that
there would be no more machinery required.

Thus discouraged, he did the next best thing: he went apprentice to the
blacksmith's trade, near Worcester, where he was destined to spend the
rest of his life. He was sixteen years of age when he began this second
apprenticeship; but he was still one of the most timid and bashful of
lads. In a fragment of autobiography found among his papers after his
death he says:--

"I arrived at Worcester about one o'clock, at Syke's tavern where we
were to dine; but the sight of the long table in the dining-room so
overpowered my bashful spirit that I left the room and went into the
yard without dinner to wait till the stage was ready."

On reaching his new home, eighty miles from his mother's house, he was
so overcome by homesickness that, the first night, he sobbed himself to
sleep. Soon he became interested in his shop and in his work, made
rapid progress, and approved himself a skillful hand. Having been
brought up to go to church every Sunday, he now hired a seat in the
gallery of one of the churches at fifty cents a year, which he earned in
over-time by forging pot-hooks. Every cent of his spending money was
earned in similar ways. Once he made six toasting-irons, and carried
them to Worcester, where he sold them for a dollar and a quarter each,
taking a book in part payment. When his sister was married he made her a
wedding present of a toasting-iron. Nor was it an easy matter for an
apprentice then to do work in over-time, for he was expected to labor in
his master's service from sunrise to sunset in the summer, and from
sunrise to nine o'clock in the winter.

On a bright day in August, 1818, his twentieth birthday, he was out of
his time, and, according to the custom of the period, he celebrated the
joyful event by a game of ball! In a few months, having saved a little
money, he went into business as a manufacturer of ploughs, in which he
had some little success. But still yearning to know more of machinery he
entered upon what we may call his third apprenticeship, in an armory
near Worcester, where he soon acquired skill enough to do the finer
parts of the work. Then he engaged in the manufacture of lead pipe, in
which he attained a moderate success.

At length, in 1831, being then thirty-three years old, he began the
business of making wire, in which he continued during the remainder of
his active life. The making of wire, especially the finer and better
kinds, is a nice operation. Until Ichabod Washburn entered into the
business, wire of good quality was not made in the United States; and
there was only one house in Great Britain that had the secret of making
the steel wire for pianos, and they had had a monopoly of the
manufacture for about eighty years.

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