armchairs, and a well stocked bar. Porters with white serving coats were busying themselves with routine chores. And there was the distinct aroma of expensive cigars. Other cars in the station bore numbers on each end to distinguish them from their dull brothers.
But numbers were not needed for this beauty. On the center of each side was a small plaque bearing but a single word: ALDRICH.
The name of Nelson Aldrich, senator from Rhode Island, was well known even in New Jersey. By 1910, he was one of the most powerful men in Washington, D.C., and his private railway car often was seen at the New York and New Jersey rail terminals during frequent trips to Wall Street. Aldrich was far more than a senator. He was considered to be the political spokesman for big business. As an investment associate of J.P. Morgan, he had extensive holdings in banking, manufacturing, and public utilities.
His son-in-law was John D. Rockefeller, Jr. Sixty years later, his grandson, Nelson Aldrich Rockefeller, would become Vice-President of the United States.
When Aldrich arrived at the station, there was no doubt he was the commander of the private car. Wearing a long, fur-collared coat, a silk top hat, and carrying a silver-tipped walking stick, he strode briskly down the platform with his private secretary, Shelton, and a cluster of porters behind them hauling assorted trunks and cases.
No sooner had the Senator boarded his car when several more passengers arrived with similar collections of luggage. The last man appeared just moments before the final "aaall aboarrrd." He was carrying a shotgun case.
While Aldrich was easily recognized by most of the travelers who saw him stride through the station, the other faces were not familiar. These strangers had been instructed to arrive separately, to avoid reporters, and, should they meet inside the station, to pretend they did not know each other. After boarding the train, they had been told to use first names only so as not to reveal each other's identity. As a result of these precautions, not even the private-car porters and servants knew the names of these guests.
Back at the main gate, there was a double blast from the
engine's whistle. Suddenly, the gentle sensation of motion; the excitement of a journey begun. But, no sooner had the train cleared the platform when it shuttered to a stop. Then, to everyone's surprise, it reversed direction and began moving toward the station THE JOURNEY TO JEKYLL ISLAND
5
again. Had they forgotten something? Was there a problem with the engine?
A sudden lurch and the slam of couplers gave the answer. They had picked up another car at the end of the train. Possibly the mail car? In an instant the forward motion was resumed, and all thoughts returned to the trip ahead and to the minimal comforts of the accommodations.
And so, as the passengers drifted off to sleep that night to the rhythmic clicking of steel wheels against rail, little did they dream that, riding in the car at the end of their train, were seven men who represented an estimated one-fourth of the total wealth of the entire world.
This was the roster of the Aldrich car that night:
1. Nelson W. Aldrich, Republican "whip" in the Senate, Chairman of the National Monetary Commission, business associate of J.P.
Morgan, father-in-law to John D. Rockefeller, Jr.;
2. Abraham Piatt Andrew, Assistant Secretary of the United States Treasury;
3. Frank A. Vanderlip, president of the National City Bank of New York, the most powerful of the banks at that time, representing William Rockefeller and the international investment banking house of Kuhn, Loeb & Company;
4. Henry P. Davison, senior partner of the J.P. Morgan Company; 5. Charles D. Norton, president of J.P. Morgan's First National Bank of New York;
1
6. Benjamin Strong, head of J.P. Morgan's Bankers Trust Company; and
7. Paul M. Warburg, a partner in Kuhn, Loeb & Company, a representative of the Rothschild banking dynasty in England and France, and brother to Max Warburg who was head of the Warburg banking consortium in Germany and the Netherlands.
1. In private correspondence between the author and Andrew L. Gray, the Grand Nephew of Abraham P. Andrew, Mr. Gray claims that Strong was not in attendance. On the other hand, Frank Vanderlip—who was there—says in his memoirs that he was. How could Vanderlip be wrong? Gray's response: "He was in his late seventies when he wrote the book and the essay in question.... Perhaps the wish was father to the thought." If Vanderlip truly was in error, it was perhaps not so significant after all because, as Gray admits: "Strong would have been among those few to be let in on the secret." In the absence of further confirmation to the contrary, we are compelled to accept Vanderlip's account.
6 THE CREATURE FROM JEKYLL ISLAND
CONCENTRATION OF WEALTH