been given specific clearance by an American admiral.
One imagines that a meeting between a U.S. treasury secretary going, hat in hand, to a civilian being sued by the U.S. government must have been very interesting. Be that as it may, and it would have been most improper to insist that the U.S. drop its lawsuit as part of the deal, Girard readily agreed to help. He imposed no conditions on his adopted country.
There was another obstacle, however, unsaid by both parties: $8.1 million was more than Girard’s net worth. To get the deal done, he would have to raise money from others. He would have to achieve what a brilliant treasury secretary, backed by a popular president and the entire U.S. government, had been unable to do.
But Girard had not become America’s first tycoon for no reason. He signed an agreement with Gallatin. Putting his considerable credibility on the line, he went to work identifying potential fellow investors and restructured the deal so that payments could be made in installments and interest collected at the beginning or at the end, depending on the investor’s circumstances. Within seven days Girard had put $2.5 million of his own money up front and raised the full balance from others. It was the first investment banking deal ever done in the United States, and it saved America.
“Many are willing to risk their lives for their country, but few are willing to risk their fortunes,” observed one historian. Girard understood the urgency of the moment, that “there could be no victory, no war, without money.” Money for war was desperately needed at the time. When Gallatin submitted his $19 million annual budget to President Madison, he allocated $17.9 million—94 percent—for the War and Navy departments, and only $1.1 million for running the government.
After the war, Girard received no more thanks than had Haym Salomon (though he did get repaid). He was still being hounded by Treasury customs officials over his ship’s alleged violation, this time in the form of a penalty. Congress stepped in and absolved Girard from the penalty, but required him to pay double duty plus interest on his cargoes. Congress also failed to make this ruling automatic, meaning that Girard had to go to court to get the ruling enforced. He finally succeeded, but it tookhim six years. So much for risking his fortune for his country.
J. Pierpont Morgan would not make the same mistake. When the U.S. Treasury came to him during the Panic of 1895 to bail out the government, he made sure he would be repaid in full and have no lingering problems thereafter. Especially since he was quite angry.
Ignored by politicians and journalists after warning that the nation was printing too much money, Morgan got his satisfaction when he got called for an emergency meeting by President Grover Cleveland. After cooling his heels for a day—Morgan was not a man who liked being kept waiting—he finally had his meeting at the White House. Informed there was only $9 million of gold left in the Treasury’s vault in New York City, Morgan said, “Mr. President, the Secretary of the Treasury knows of one check outstanding for twelve million dollars. If this is presented today, it is all over.”
The treasury secretary confirmed Morgan’s statement. The president was cornered—and he knew it. Like Albert Gallatin eight decades earlier, he had no choice but to acquiesce to the financier who sat on the opposite side of the political fence. These were the times of populism and the fiery rhetoric of William Jennings Bryan (“You shall not crucify mankind upon a cross of gold!”). American farmers, burdened by falling agricultural prices, wanted the government to inflate the money supply so they could repay their loans with cheaper dollars. Arrayed against them were the bankers of the East, who wanted a strong, gold-backed dollar to maintain the value of dollar-denominated bonds sold to foreigners. When European investors became nervous
Stella Price, Audra Price, S.A. Price, Audra