<h2 class='c007'>IV</h2>
<p class='c013'>Philip D. Armour’s Business Career</p>
<p class='drop-capa0_25_0_675 c014'>I MET Mr. Armour in the quiet of the Armour
Institute, his great philanthropic
school for young men and women. He
was very courteous, and there was no delay.
He took my hand with a firm grasp—reading
with his steady gaze such of my characteristics
as interested him,—and saying, at the same
time, “Well, sir.”</p>
<p class='c011'>In stating my desire to learn such lessons
from his business career as might be helpful to
young men, I inquired whether the average
American boy of to-day has equally <i>as good a
chance to succeed in the world</i> as he had, when
he began life.</p>
<p class='c011'>“Every bit and better. The affairs of life are
larger. There are greater things to do. There
was never before such a demand for able men.”</p>
<p class='c011'>“Were the conditions surrounding your
youth especially difficult?”</p>
<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span>“No. They were those common to every
small New York town in 1832. I was born at
Stockbridge, in Madison county. Our family
had its roots in Scotland. My father’s ancestors
were the Robertsons, Watsons, and McGregors
of Scotland; my mother came of the
Puritans, who settled in Connecticut.”</p>
<p class='c011'>“Dr. Gunsaulus says,” I ventured, “that <i>all
these streams of heredity set toward business
affairs</i>.”</p>
<p class='c011'>“Perhaps so. I like trading well. My father
was reasonably prosperous and independent for
those times. My mother had been a schoolteacher.
There were six boys, and of course
such a household had to be managed with the
strictest economy in those days. My mother
thought it her duty to bring to our home some
of the rigid discipline of the school-room. We
were all trained to work together, and everything
was done as systematically as possible.”</p>
<p class='c011'>“Had you access to any books?”</p>
<p class='c011'>“Yes, the Bible, ‘Pilgrim’s Progress,’ and a
History of the United States.”</p>
<p class='c011'>It is said of the latter, by those closest to Mr.
Armour, that it was as full of shouting Americanism
as anything ever written, and that Mr.
Armour’s whole nature is yet colored by its
<span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span>stout American prejudices; also that it was read
and re-read by the Armour children, though of
this the great merchant did not speak.</p>
<p class='c011'>“Were you always of <i>a robust constitution</i>?”
I asked.</p>
<p class='c011'>“Yes, sir. All our boys were. We were
stout enough to be bathed in an ice-cold spring,
out of doors, when at home. There were no
bath tubs and warm water arrangements in
those days. We had to be strong. My father
was a stern Scotchman, and when he laid his
plans they were carried out. When he set us
boys to work, we worked. It was our mother
who insisted on keeping us all at school, and
who looked after our educational needs; while
our father saw to it that we had plenty of good,
hard work on the farm.”</p>
<p class='c011'>“How did you enjoy that sort of life?” I
asked.</p>
<p class='c011'>“Well enough, but not much more than any
boy does. Boys are always more or less afraid
of hard work.”</p>
<p class='c011'>The truth is, I have heard, but not from Mr.
Armour, that when he attended the district
school, he was as full of pranks and capers as
the best; and that he traded jack-knives in
summer and bob-sleds in winter. Young Armour
<span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span>was often to be found, in the winter,
coasting down the long hill near the schoolhouse.
Later, he had a brief term of schooling
at the Cazenovia Seminary.</p>
<h3 class='c015'>FOOTING IT TO CALIFORNIA</h3>
<p class='c016'>“When did you leave the farm for a mercantile
life?” I asked.</p>
<p class='c011'>“I was a clerk in a store in Stockbridge for
two years, after I was seventeen, but was engaged
with the farm more or less, and wanted
to get out of that life. I was a little over seventeen
years old when the California gold excitement
of 1849 reached our town. Wonderful
tales were told of gold already found, and the
prospects for more on the Pacific coast. I
brooded over the difference between tossing hay
in the hot sun and digging up gold by handfuls,
until one day I threw down my pitchfork and
went over to the house and told mother that
I had quit that kind of work.</p>
<p class='c011'>“People with plenty of money could sail
around Cape Horn in those days, but I had no
money to spare, and so decided to walk across
the country. That is, we were carried part of
the way by rail and walked the rest. I persuaded
<span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span>one of the neighbor’s boys, Calvin Gilbert,
to go along with me, and we started.</p>
<p class='c011'>“I provided myself with an old carpet sack
into which to put my clothes. I bought a new
pair of boots, and when we had gone as far as
we could on canals and wagons, I bought two
oxen. With these we managed for awhile, but
eventually reached California afoot.”</p>
<p class='c011'>Young Armour suffered a severe illness on
the journey, and was nursed by his companion
Gilbert, who gathered herbs and steeped them
for his friend’s use, and once rode thirty miles
in the rain to get a doctor. When they reached
California, he fell in with Edward Croarkin, a
miner, who nursed him back to health. The
manner in which he remembered these men
gives keen satisfaction to the friends of the
great merchant.</p>
<p class='c011'>“Did you have any money when you arrived
at the gold-fields?”</p>
<p class='c011'>“Scarcely any. I struck right out, though,
and found a place where I could dig, and I
struck pay dirt in a little time.”</p>
<p class='c011'>“Did you work entirely alone?”</p>
<p class='c011'>“No. It was not long before I met Mr.
Croarkin at a little mining camp called Virginia.
<span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span>He had the next claim to mine, and we became
partners. After a little while, he went away,
but came back in a year. We then bought in
together. The way we ran things was ‘turn
about.’ Croarkin would cook one week, and I
the next, and then we would have a clean-up
every Sunday morning. We baked our own
bread, and kept a few hens, which kept us supplied
with eggs. There was a man named Chapin
who had a little store in the village, and we
would take our gold dust there and trade it for
groceries.”</p>
<h3 class='c015'>THE DITCH</h3>
<p class='c016'>“Did you discover much gold?” I asked.</p>
<p class='c011'>“Oh, I worked with pretty good success,—nothing
startling. <i>I didn’t waste much, and
tried to live carefully.</i> I also <i>studied the business
opportunities</i> around, and persuaded some
of my friends to join me in buying and developing
a ‘ditch,’—a kind of aqueduct, to convey
water to diggers and washers. That proved
more profitable than digging for gold, and at
the end of the year, the others sold out to me,
took their earnings and went home. I stayed,
and bought up several other water-powers, until,
in 1856, I thought I had enough, and so I sold
out and came East.”</p>
<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>“How much had you made, altogether?”</p>
<p class='c011'>“About four thousand dollars.”</p>
<p class='c011'>This was when Mr. Armour was twenty-four
years old,—his capital for beginning to do
business.</p>
<h3 class='c015'>HE ENTERS THE GRAIN MARKET</h3>
<p class='c016'>“Did you return to Stockbridge?”</p>
<p class='c011'>“A little while, but my ambition set in another
direction. I had been studying the
methods then used for moving the vast and
growing food products of the West, such as
grain and cattle, and I believed that I could
improve them and make money. The idea and
the field interested me and I decided to enter it.</p>
<p class='c011'>“My standing was good, and I raised the
money, and bought what was then the largest
elevator in Milwaukee. This put me in contact
with the movement of grain. At that time,
John Plankington had been established in Milwaukee
a number of years, and, in partnership
with Frederick Layton, had built up a good
pork-packing concern. I bought in with those
gentlemen, and so came in contact with the
work I liked. One of my brothers, Herman,
had established himself in Chicago some time
before, in the grain-commission business. I got
<span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>him to turn that over to the care of another
brother, Joseph, so that he might go to New
York as a member of the new firm, of which I
was a partner. It was important that the Milwaukee
and Chicago houses should be able to
ship to a house of their own in New York,—that
is, to themselves. Risks were avoided in
this way, and we were certain of obtaining all
that the ever-changing markets could offer us.”</p>
<p class='c011'>“When did you begin to build up your Chicago
interests?”</p>
<p class='c011'>“They were really begun, before the war, by
my brother Herman. When he went to New
York for us, we began adding a small packinghouse
to the Chicago commission branch. It
gradually grew with the growth of the West.”</p>
<h3 class='c015'>MR. ARMOUR’S ACUTE PERCEPTION OF THE COMMERCIAL CONDITIONS FOR BUILDING UP A GREAT BUSINESS</h3>
<p class='c016'>“Is there any one thing that accounts for the
immense growth of the packing industry here?”
I asked.</p>
<p class='c011'>“System and the growth of the West did it.
Things were changing at startling rates in those
days. The West was growing fast. Its great
areas of production offered good profits to men
<span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span>who would handle and ship the products. Railway
lines were reaching out in new directions,
or increasing their capacities and lowering their
rates of transportation. These changes and the
growth of the country made the creation of a
food-gathering and delivering system necessary.
Other things helped. At that time
(1863), a great many could see that the war
was going to terminate favorably for the Union.
Farming operations had been enlarged by the
war demand and war prices. The state banking
system had been done away with, and we
had a uniform currency, available everywhere,
so that exchanges between the East and the
West had become greatly simplified. Nothing
more was needed than a steady watchfulness
of the markets by competent men in continuous
telegraphic communication with each other,
and who knew the legitimate demand and supply,
in order to sell all products quickly and
with profit.”</p>
<h3 class='c015'>SYSTEM AND GOOD MEASURE</h3>
<p class='c016'>“Do you believe that system does so much?”
I ventured.</p>
<p class='c011'>“System and good measure. <i>Give a measure
heaped full and running over, and success is</i>
<span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span><i>certain.</i> That is what it means to be the intelligent
servants of a great public need. We believed
in thoughtfully adopting every attainable
improvement, mechanical or otherwise, in the
methods and appliances for handling every
pound of grain or flesh. Right liberality and
right economy will do everything where a public
need is being served. Then, too, our</p>
<h3 class='c015'>METHODS</h3>
<p class='c017'>improved all the time. There was a time when
many parts of cattle were wasted, and the
health of the city injured by the refuse. Now,
by adopting the best known methods, nothing
is wasted; and buttons, fertilizers, glue and
other things are made cheaper and better for
the world in general, out of material that was
before a waste and a menace. I believe in finding
out the truth about all things—the very
latest truth or discovery,—and applying it.”</p>
<p class='c011'>“You attribute nothing to good fortune?”</p>
<p class='c011'>“Nothing!” Certainly the word came well
from a man whose energy, integrity, and business
ability made more money out of a ditch
than other men were making out of rich placers
in the gold region.</p>
<div>
<span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>
<h3 class='c015'>THE TURNING POINT</h3></div>
<p class='c016'>“May I ask what you consider the turning-point
of your career?”</p>
<p class='c011'>“The time when I began to save the money
I earned at the gold-fields.”</p>
<h3 class='c015'>TRUTH</h3>
<p class='c016'>“What trait do you consider most essential
in young men?”</p>
<p class='c011'>“Truth. Let them get that. Young men
talk about getting capital to work with. Let
them get truth on board, and capital follows.
It’s easy enough to get that.”</p>
<h3 class='c015'>A GREAT ORATOR, AND A GREAT CHARITY</h3>
<p class='c016'>“Did you always desire to follow a commercial,
rather than a professional life?”</p>
<p class='c011'>“Not always. I have no talent in any other
direction; but I should have liked to be a great
orator.”</p>
<p class='c011'>Mr. Armour would say no more on this subject,
but his admiration for oratory has been
demonstrated in a remarkable way.</p>
<p class='c011'>It was after a Sunday morning discourse by
the splendid orator, Dr. Gunsaulus, at Plymouth
<span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>Church, Chicago, in which the latter had set
forth his views on the subject of educating children,
that Mr. Armour came forward and
said:—</p>
<p class='c011'>“You believe in those ideas of yours, do
you?”</p>
<p class='c011'>“I certainly do,” said Dr. Gunsaulus.</p>
<p class='c011'>“And would you carry them out if you had
the opportunity?”</p>
<p class='c011'>“I would.”</p>
<p class='c011'>“Well, sir,” said Mr. Armour, “if you will
give me five years of your time, I will give you
the money.”</p>
<p class='c011'>“But to carry out my ideas would take a
million dollars!” exclaimed Gunsaulus.</p>
<p class='c011'>“I have made a little money in my time,”
returned Mr. Armour. And so the famous Armour
Institute of Technology, to which its
founder has already given sums aggregating
$2,800,000, was associated with Mr. Armour’s
love of oratory.</p>
<p class='c011'>One of his lieutenants says that Gerritt Smith,
the old abolitionist, was Armour’s boyhood’s
hero, and that to-day Mr. Armour will go far
to hear a good speaker, often remarking that
he would have preferred to be a great orator
rather than a great capitalist.</p>
<div>
<span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span>
<h3 class='c015'>EASE IN HIS WORK</h3></div>
<p class='c016'>“There is no need to ask you,” I continued,
“whether you believe in constant, hard labor?”</p>
<p class='c011'>“I should not call it hard. I believe in close
application, of course, while laboring. Overwork
is not necessary to success. Every man
should have plenty of rest. I have.”</p>
<p class='c011'>“You must rise early to be at your office at
half past seven?”</p>
<p class='c011'>“Yes, but I go to bed early. I am not burning
the candle at both ends.”</p>
<p class='c011'>The enormous energy of this man, who is too
modest to discuss it, is displayed in the most
normal manner. Though he sits all day at a
desk which has direct cable connection with
London, Liverpool, Calcutta, and other great
centers of trade, with which he is in constant
connection,—though he has at his hand long-distance
telephone connection with New York,
New Orleans, and San Francisco, and direct
wires from his room to almost all parts of the
world, conveying messages in short sentences
upon subjects which involve the moving of vast
amounts of stock and cereals, and the exchange
of millions in money, he is not, seemingly, an
overworked man. The great subjects to which
<span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>he gives calm, undivided attention from early
morning until evening, are laid aside with the
ease with which one doffs his raiment, and outside
of his office the cares weigh upon him no
more. His mind takes up new and simpler
things.</p>
<p class='c011'>“What do you do,” I inquired, “after your
hard day’s work,—think about it?”</p>
<p class='c011'>“Not at all. I drive, take up home subjects,
and never think of the office until I return to it.”</p>
<p class='c011'>“Your sleep is never disturbed?”</p>
<p class='c011'>“Not at all.”</p>
<h3 class='c015'>A BUSINESS KING</h3>
<p class='c016'>And yet the business which this man forgets,
when he gathers children about him and moves
in his simple home circle, amounts in one year,
to over $100,000,000 worth of food products,
manufactured and distributed; the hogs killed,
1,750,000; the cattle, 1,080,000; the sheep,
625,000. Eleven thousand men are constantly
employed, and the wages paid them are over
$5,500,000; the railway cars owned and moving
about all parts of the country, four thousand;
the wagons of many kinds and of large number,
drawn by seven hundred and fifty horses. The
glue factory, employing seven hundred and fifty
<span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span>hands, makes over twelve million pounds of
glue. In his private office, it is he who takes
care of all the general affairs of this immense
world of industry, and yet at half-past four he
is done, and the whole subject is comfortably
off his mind.</p>
<h3 class='c015'>TRAINING YOUTH FOR BUSINESS</h3>
<p class='c016'>“Do you believe in inherited abilities, or that
any boy can be taught and trained, and made a
great and able man?”</p>
<p class='c011'>“I recognize inherited ability. Some people
have it, and only in a certain direction; but I
think men can be taught and trained so that
they become much better and more useful than
they would be, otherwise. Some boys require
more training and teaching than others. There
is prosperity for everyone, according to his
ability.”</p>
<p class='c011'>“What would you do with those who are
naturally less competent than others?”</p>
<p class='c011'>“Train them, and give them work according
to their ability. I believe that life is all right,
and that this difference which nature makes is
all right. Everything is good, and is coming
out satisfactorily, and we ought to make the
most of conditions, and try to use and improve
<span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>everything. The work needed is here, and
everyone should set about doing it.”</p>
<p class='c011'>When asked if he thought the chances for
young men as good to-day as they were when
he was young. “Yes,” he said, “I think so.
The world is changing every day and new fields
are constantly opening. We have new ideas,
new inventions, new methods of manufacture,
and new ways to-day everywhere. There is
plenty of room for any man who can do anything
well. The electrical field is a wonderful
one. There are other things equally good, and
the right man is never at a loss for an opportunity.
Provided he has some ability and good
sense to start with, is thrifty, honest and economical,
there is no reason why any young man
should not accumulate money and attain so
called success in life.”</p>
<p class='c011'>When asked to what qualities he attributed
his own success, Mr. Armour said: “I think
that thrift and economy had much to do with
it. I owe much to my mother’s training and to
a good line of Scotch ancestors, who have always
been thrifty and economical. As to my
business education, I never had any. I am, in
fact, a good deal like Topsy, ‘I just growed.’
<span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>My success has been largely a matter of organization.</p>
<p class='c011'>“I have always made it a point to surround
myself with good men. I take them when they
are young and keep them just as long as I can.
Nearly all of the men I now have, have grown
up with me. Many of them have worked with
me for twenty years. They have started in at
low wages, and have been advanced until they
have reached the highest positions.” Mr. Armour
thinks that most men who accumulate
a large amount of money, inherited the money-making
instinct. The power of making and
accumulating money, he says, is as much a
natural gift as are those of a singer or an artist.
“The germs of the power to make money must
be in the mind. Take, for instance, the people
we have working with us. I can get millions
of good bookkeepers or accountants, but not
more than one out of five hundred in all of those
I have employed has made a great success as an
organizer or trader.”</p>
<p class='c011'>Mr. Armour is a great believer in young men
and young brains. He never discharges a man
if he can possibly avoid it. If the man is not
doing good work where he is, he puts him in
some other department, but never discharges
<span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>him if he can find him other work. He will
not, however, tolerate intemperance, laziness or
getting into debt. Some time ago a policeman
entered his office. In answer to Mr. Armour’s
question, “What do you want here?” he replied:
“I want to garnishee one of your men’s
wages for debt.” “Indeed,” said Mr. Armour,
“and who is the man?” Asking the officer
into his private room he sent for the debtor.
“How long have you been in debt?” asked Mr.
Armour. The clerk replied that he had been
behind for twenty years and could not seem to
catch up. “But you get a good salary, don’t
you?” “Yes, but I can’t get out of debt.”
“But you must get out, or you must leave here,”
said Mr. Armour. “How much do you owe?”
The clerk then gave the amount, which was
less than a thousand-dollars. “Well,” said Mr.
Armour, handing him a check, “there is
enough to pay all your debts, and if I hear of
you again getting into debt, you will have to
leave.” The clerk paid his debts and remodeled
his life on a cash basis.</p>
<h3 class='c015'>PROMPT TO ACT</h3>
<p class='c016'>In illustration of Mr. Armour’s aptitude for
doing business, and his energy, it is related that
<span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span>when, in 1893, local forces planned to defeat
him in the grain market, and everyone was crying
that at last the great Goliath had met his
David, he was all energy. He had ordered immense
quantities of wheat. The opposition had
shrewdly secured every available place of storage,
and rejoiced that the great packer, having
no place to store his property, would suffer immense
loss, and must capitulate. He foresaw
the fray and its dangers, and, going over on
Goose Island, bought property at any price, and
began the construction of immense elevators.
The town was placarded with the truth that
anyone could get work at Armour’s elevators.
No one believed they could be done in time, but
three shifts of men working night and day, often
under the direct supervision of the millionaire,
gradually forced the work ahead, and when, on
the appointed day, the great grain-ships began
to arrive, the opposition realized failure. The
vessels began to pour the contents of their immense
holds into these granaries, and the fight
was over.</p>
<h3 class='c015'>FORESIGHT</h3>
<p class='c016'>The foresight that sent him to New York in
1864, to sell pork, brought him back from Europe
<span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span>in 1893, months before the impending
panic was dreamed of by other merchants. It
is told of him that he called all his head men to
New York, and announced to them:—</p>
<p class='c011'>“Gentlemen, there’s going to be financial
trouble soon.”</p>
<p class='c011'>“Why, Mr. Armour,” they said, “you must
be mistaken. Things were never better. You
have been ill, and are suddenly apprehensive.”</p>
<p class='c011'>“Oh, no,” he said, “I’m not. There is going
to be trouble;” and he gave as his reasons certain
conditions which existed in nearly all countries,
which none of those present had thought
of. “Now,” said he to the first of his many
lieutenants, “how much will you need to run
your department until next year?”</p>
<p class='c011'>The head man named his need. The others
were asked, each in turn, the same question, and,
when all were through, he counted up, and,
turning to the company, said:—</p>
<p class='c011'>“Gentlemen, go back and borrow all you
need in Chicago, on my credit. Use my name
for all it will bring in the way of loans.”</p>
<h3 class='c015'>FOREARMED AGAINST PANIC</h3>
<p class='c016'>The lieutenants returned, and the name of
Armour was strained to its utmost limit. When
<span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>all had been borrowed, the financial flurry suddenly
loomed up, but it did not worry the great
packer. In his vaults were $8,000,000 in
gold. All who had loaned him at interest then
hurried to his doors, fearing that he also was
imperiled. They found him supplied with ready
money, and able to compel them to wait until
the stipulated time of payment, or to force them
to abandon their claims of interest for their
money, and so tide him over the unhappy period.
It was a master stroke, and made the
name of the great packer a power in the world
of finance.</p>
<h3 class='c015'>SOME SECRETS OF SUCCESS</h3>
<p class='c016'>“Do you consider your financial decisions
which you make quickly to be brilliant intuitions?”
I asked.</p>
<p class='c011'>“I never did anything worth doing by accident,
nor did anything I have come that way.
No, I never decide anything without knowing
the conditions of the market, and never begin
unless satisfied concerning the conclusion.”</p>
<p class='c011'>“Not everyone could do that,” I said.</p>
<p class='c011'>“I cannot do everything. Every man can do
something, and there is plenty to do,—never
more than now. The problems to be solved are
<span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>greater now than ever before. <i>Never was there
more need of able men. I am looking for
trained men all the time.</i> More money is being
offered for them everywhere than formerly.”</p>
<p class='c011'>“Do you consider that <i>happiness</i> consists in
labor alone?”</p>
<p class='c011'>“<i>It consists in doing something for others.</i>
If you give the world better material, better
measure, better opportunities for living respectably,
there is happiness in that. You cannot
give the world anything without labor, and
there is no satisfaction in anything but such
labor as looks toward doing this, and does it.”</p>
<div class='pbb'>
<hr class='pb c004' /></div>
<span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />