Wood had spent an enormous amount in his political schemes. He himself admitted, according to the testimony of A. W. Craven, Chief Engineer of the Croton Aqueduct Department, before a committee of Aldermen, “that his object in removing heads of departments was to get control of the departments, so that he could put in those who would cooperate with him and, also, could pay off his obligations.”[9] It is possible to give only an outline of the “jobs” stealthily put through the Common Council. Newspaper criticism was, in a measure, silenced by appropriations of from $10,000 to $20,000 a year for “advertising,” though occasional exposures were made in spite of this. One of these related to the appropriation of $105,000 in July, 1860, for a few days’ entertainment of the Japanese Embassy in New York. Of this sum only a few thousand dollars were used for the purpose, the rest being stolen.[10] Never more than now was patriotism shown to be the last refuge of scoundrels. Taking advantage of the war excitement, the most audacious designs on the city treasury were executed under color of acts of the purest patriotism. At a special meeting of the Common Council, on August 21, 1861, called ostensibly to help the families of the poor volunteers, a measure providing for the appointment of twenty-two Street Opening Commissioners was hurriedly passed, upon motion of Alderman Terence Farley, against whom several untried indictments were pending. Without entering into details, it can be said that this action represented a theft of $250,000, in that the Commissioners were superfluous, and their offices were created merely to make more places for a hungry host of political workers. If the city was a richer prize than ever to the politicians, the Legislature was no less desirable. Alien members of both branches of that body were under the complete domination of political managers. It was notorious that the Democratic and the Republican lobby lords exchanged the votes of their respective legislative vassals, so that it mattered little to either which political party had the ascendency in the Legislature. One celebrated lobbyist declared that it was cheaper to buy, than to elect, a Legislature. The passage of five franchises by the Legislature, on April 17, 1860, over Gov. Morgan’s veto, cost the projectors upwards of $250,000 in money and stock.[11]