A Week in Wall Street: By One Who KnowsJackson, Frederick
General
A Week in Wall Street: By One Who Knows
Jackson, Frederick
Wall Street (New York, N.Y.)
The habit of merchants leaning on a Bank credit, and considering it
better than their own, with the dependence growing out of it, has
enabled the latter, by common consent, to throw around it a sacredness
of character that does not attach to credit in any other place or
form; and instances are of daily occurrence, where men do injustice
to a neighbor, to enable them to pay a note at the Bank; while the
latter, to protect themselves, will sacrifice a score or two of their
customers, without mercy or compunction. When men become necessitous,
they are afraid to let it be known out of doors, because it will injure
their credit; and they will make almost any sacrifice in private, to
save such a mortification. And to this fact, designing and unprincipled
men, who, in times of pressure, convert the capital of a Bank into a
means of preying upon their customers, owe their security in doing
it; when, if the undisguised particulars could be known, they would
immediately lose their charter and their reputation.
The way these things worked a few years since, in the Stork Bank and
the Water Works Bank in this city, is worthy of being told by way of
illustration.
HUNGRY BEGGARS.
The cashiers of these banks thought themselves so firmly seated in
power, that nothing could move them. By way of brevity, I will call
them Jack and Bob; but let no one suppose that the impudent familiarity
of using these barbarous corruptions of a Christian name, was ever
permitted to any but themselves. The bad times—which in business
parlance, in its proper construction, means, that period of time when
the mischiefs designed by one party, or arising from the follies and
imprudences of the other, are in course of developement—brought crowds
of anxious applicants daily to the counter of the bank. They arranged
themselves in rows along the walls, or by the side of the counter, with
anxious faces, each one waiting for his turn, and as each received
a negative, his eye flashed with anger, or his cheek blanched with
despair; and while others would march up, to prefer their own claims,
in the vain hope of better success, those behind occasionally peered
out from the long line in which they stood, and cursed the gravity
and self-possession of the cashier, while he held a long parley with
his customer; and the last in the line sometimes betrayed, by the
uneasiness of his limbs, that the vulgar saying of “the d——l take
the hindmost,” was uppermost in his thoughts.
MONEY MADE BY FEEDING BEGGARS.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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