by Peter Krass
Not long after the appearance of Bridge’s book, John Milholland, White-law Reid’s canvassing manager from the 1892 election who had approached Frick about resolving the Homestead strike, wrote Carnegie explaining he had been asked to write a short piece on Homestead from his perspective, and he was letting him know as a courtesy. There would be nothing discreditable or slanderous, he assured.
Bertram responded for Carnegie, relaying that his boss had no objection. He then added, “Perhaps you do not know that Mr. Carnegie had received a cable from the Committee of the men, as follows, ‘Kind master, tell us what you wish us to do; will do anything for you.’” At first, Milholland was confused by the mention of this mysterious cable, but Bertram was referring to the period when union leader Hugh O’Donnell had approached Reid about contacting Carnegie to negotiate an end to the strike. In his mind, Carnegie had twisted the story, fabricating the cable; when Milholland realized this was an attempt at revisionism he was incredulous. “No, I did not know,” he replied sharply, “when I cabled you O’Donnell’s terms for the settlement for the Homestead Strike, that you had already received a cable from the Committee of the men, whom he represented, begging you to make known your wishes to them. I never imagined such a thing at the time; I am unable to do so now. . . . If you look up your private cable book, I think you will find that you had no such message from the men up to the time I opened correspondence with you by O’Donnell’s consent and on behalf of the National Committee.” There was no such message in the cable book, of course. In his reply, Carnegie lamely quibbled with Milholland over when he first heard from Reid. He did not mention the mysterious cable again.49
The Bridge book stirred to life more skeletons in the closet. Captain Jones’s son-in-law, D. D. Gage, concluded his family was owed millions more than the paltry sum of $35,000 that was paid them for the patents in the days immediately after the Captain’s death, and he wrote Carnegie for restitution. When there was no response to his first letter, he wrote a second demanding the injustice be corrected. Carnegie either refused to accept any responsibility in the matter or couldn’t bear to dredge up more memories, so he asked Dod to deal with Gage. Dod did so in a perfunctory manner, claiming Jones was lucky to have gotten even $35,000—a stark contradiction to what Dod had told Schwab, who recalled, “Jones was not very much impressed with his mixer. He seemed to think it was just part of the day’s work. But ‘Dod’ Lauder, who used to sit in my office and tell me he was ‘lending dignity’ to my administration, was the man most enthusiastic. He knew its full import and although it was costly—well, it meant revolution in the business.”50
Carnegie was still haunted by the Frick suit, too, as were his old friends. When Miller visited him at Lucy’s Dungeness estate in early 1903, he mentioned that Callie Wilson, the widow of Original Six member John Wilson and once the holder of Frick Coke Company stock, was anxious about Carnegie’s being angry with her for not publicly denouncing Frick during the conflict. She was well aware of his demands for absolute loyalty, but Carnegie insisted he was not upset. Miller wrote her immediately: “Yesterday we had a chat when out sailing about your good self which other matters bro’t up—He expressed surprise that you think that he felt aggrieved that you did not join him in the Frick matter—He said—‘Tell Callie, if you see her, that I have nothing but the warmest feelings for her and for her family, and there is nothing I would not do for her’—So, you see, Andy is all O.K. in his friendship for you.”51
If there was any question about Carnegie’s sentimentality over boyhood friends and alliances, it was put to rest by a chance encounter on the HMS Baltic during his 1905 Atlantic crossing. The grandson of Edwin Bennett, whose brother James had met the Carnegie family when they arrived in Pittsburgh almost sixty years earlier, was on board. He was surprised by how approachable the multimillionaire was and immediately wrote his grandfather:
He [Carnegie] said that several weeks ago his sister [sister-in-law Lucy] had come across a box of old letters which she sent him to go over—among them he found a letter from James Bennett to him telling him what a grand, good woman his mother was and how they had appreciated her services in their trouble—it appears that Mrs. Carnegie went to help out at the home of James Bennett when Mrs. B was sick. . . . Mr. Carnegie is an unusually small man. . . . Has blue eyes and whether it was the subject or not I found him a most unassuming conversationalist—wears a yellow flannel shirt and has a huge rough overcoat with a hood—he is quite spry in his movements and has a good grip—for when he parted he shook hands and said how glad he was that I had given him the chance of talking about his early days.
Still aboard the Baltic, Carnegie took the time to write to Edwin Bennett, age eighty-seven, living in Baltimore, and an astonished Bennett replied, “I have your letter of April 30th written in mid ocean. I could scarce realize I was reading a letter from the beloved and renowned millionaire whose unparalleled donations have astonished the world. . . . I well remember your parents and the two boys when they arrived in Pittsburgh, PA. about 60 years ago.”52
While Carnegie cherished such memories evoked by the chance meeting with the Bennett boy, he, like Shakespeare’s Macbeth, still lived with the ghosts of the past. Carnegie would continue to attempt to slay those ghosts with an increasing mania for philanthropy and by breaking from his gospel in pursuing a self-imposed mission to achieve world peace that would bring him into increasing conflict with the Roosevelt administration.
Notes
1. Frank C. Harper, Pittsburgh: Forge of the Universe (New York: Comet Press, 1957), p. 191.
2. AC to Oswald Villard, December 8, 1905, quoted in Wall, Carnegie, p. 799.
3. Charles Schwab to AC, January 26, 1902, ACLOC, vol. 90.
4. Hessen, pp. 134–135.
5. Charles Schwab to AC, January 28, 1902, ACLOC, vol. 90.
6. Whipple, pp. 90–91.
7. Hessen, p. 137.
8. AC to George Lauder Jr., July 1, 1902, ACLOC, vol. 89.
9. AC to Elbert H. Gary, March 14, 1904, ACLOC, vol. 104.
10. AC to Hew Morrison, December 18, 1900, ACLOC, vol. 80.
11. AC to Hew Morrison, March 11, 1902, ACLOC, vol. 88.
12. Hendrick, Carnegie, vol. 2, p. 154.
13. Ibid., p. 157.
14. AC to Herbert Spencer, September 14, 1903, quoted in David Duncan, Life and Letters of Herbert Spencer (London: Methuen, 1908), p. 472.
15. Herbert Spencer to AC, September 18, 1903, quoted in Duncan, p. 472.
16. Edith Hartley Fowler, The Life of Henry Hartley Fowler (London: Hutchinson, 1912), p. 634.
17. AC to James Donaldson, March 20, 1904, ACLOC, vol. 104.
18. Hendrick and Henderson, pp. 197–198.
19. AC to John Morley, June 29, 1904, ACLOC, vol. 105; Hendrick and Henderson, p. 174.
20. AC to George Lauder Jr., June 4, 1905, ACLOC, vol. 117; AC to John Morley, quoted in Hendrick, Carnegie, vol. 2, p. 170.
21. Hendrick, Carnegie, vol. 2, p. 170.
22. AC to John Morley, August 29, 1905, ACLOC, vol. 119; John Morley to AC, September 1, 1905, ACLOC, vol. 119.
23. John Morley to AC, April 19, 1902, ACLOC, vol. 88.
24. AC to John Morley, September 26, 1901, quoted in Hendrick, Carnegie, vol. 2, p. 165; AC to George Lauder Jr., June 4, 1905, ACLOC, vol. 117.
25. Hendrick, Carnegie, vol. 2, p. 211.
26. Reprinted in Burton J. Hendrick, ed., Miscellaneous Writings of Andrew Carnegie, vol. 2 (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, Doran, 1933), pp. 291–319.
27. Reprinted in Hendrick, Miscellaneous Writings of Andrew Carnegie, vol. 1, pp. 78–125.
28. AC to John Morley, September 26, 1901; AC to George Lauder Jr., July 1, 1902; AC to John Morley, October 18, 1902; AC to George Lauder Jr., November 7, 1902, all quoted in Hendrick, Carnegie, vol. 2, pp. 164–165.
29. AC to George Lauder Jr., January 9, 1903, ACLOC, vol. 93.
30. New York Daily Tribune, November 29, December 5, December 12, and Decembe
r 30, 1904.
31. New York Daily Tribune, December 19, 1902.
32. Rosamond Gilder, ed., Letters of Richard Watson Gilder (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1916), p. 374.
33. John Morley to AC, September 6, 1904, ACLOC, vol. 106.
34. John Morley to AC, November 6, 1904, ACLOC, vol. 108.
35. Forbes, p. 43.
36. Edward J. Renehan, John Burroughs: An American Naturalist (Post Mills, Vt.: Chelsea Green Publishing, 1992), pp. 229–231.
37. New York Daily Tribune, December 6, 1905.
38. Renehan, p. 258.
39. Hendrick, Carnegie, vol. 2, pp. 273–274.
40. See letters dated April 26, 28, and 30, 1906, reproduced in Gilder, pp. 373–375; AC to Theodore Roosevelt, November 24, 1909, ACLOC, vol. 171.
41. Melvil Dewey to AC, 1 April 1903, ACLOC, vol. 95.
42. Goodenough, p. 222; AC to Theodore Roosevelt, August 8, 1906, ACLOC, vol. 132.
43. Hendrick, Carnegie, vol. 2, p. 262; Goodenough, p. 223.
44. New York Daily Tribune, March 25, 1906; see also Goodenough, pp. 222–225.
45. James Bridge to AC, June 27, 1901, ACLOC, vol. 83; James Bridge to AC, July 23, 1901, ACLOC, vol. 83.
46. Thomas N. Miller to AC, May 21, 1903, ACLOC, vol. 96.
47. Thomas Miller to the Pittsburgh Leader, September 23, 1903.
48. Quoted in Carnegie, Autobiography, pp. 219–220.
49. John E. Milholland to AC, July 1, 1904, ACLOC, vol.106; P. Secretary to John E. Mil-holland, July 5, 1904, ACLOC, vol. 106; John E. Milholland to AC, July 12, 1904, ACLOC, vol. 106; AC to John E. Milholland, July 16, 1904, ACLOC, vol. 106.
50. D. D. Gage to AC, May 12, 1905, ACLOC, vol. 116; D. D. Gage to AC, August 30, 1905, ACLOC, vol. 119; George Lauder Jr. to D. D. Gage, August 31, 1905, ACLOC, vol. 119; AC to D. D. Gage, September 6, 1905, ACLOC, vol. 119; Whipple, p. 19.
51. Thomas Miller to Mrs. J. R. Wilson, March 11, 1903, ACWPHS, Frick Suit Folder.
52. Grandson to Edwin Bennett, April 28, 1905; AC to Edwin Bennett, April 30, 1905; and Edwin Bennett to AC, May 16, 1905, Bennett Family Papers, 1841–1962, Historical Society of Western Pennsylvania, MFF 2190.
CHAPTER 31
The Peace Mission Begins
If Carnegie could effect cooperative relations between labor and capital with his benefactions, if he could effect greater equality between classes, if he could effect peace between nations, he could achieve internal peace. It was that simple and that difficult. While Carnegie would continue to support libraries and education, among other endeavors, over the coming years he would begin to focus his philanthropy on achieving peace on a grand scale. He would become more embroiled in politics than ever before as he sought to realize the old dream of a reunion with Britain and to prevent increasingly belligerent European colonial powers from declaring war on each other. His peace mission would take time to evolve and straddle the presidencies of Roosevelt, Taft, and Wilson.
A fortuitous opportunity toward achieving that inner peace was realized in 1902. It first presented itself when Colonel Thomas Hunt, owner of the Pittencrieff estate, expressed interest in selling the property to the hometown hero in 1900. The least he would accept, however, was a rich $350,000, twice what Carnegie’s solicitor John Ross thought the property worth.1 At the time of Hunt’s initial offer, Carnegie was immersed in his battle with Morgan and had just committed money to build new baths and a gymnasium for Dunfermline. The price tag wasn’t justifiable, but the mere possibility of owning the historic property stirred up vivid memories, for a generation ago James Hunt had banned the Morrison family from Pittencrieff due to a dispute with Uncle Thomas, who was always pushing for more public access to the estate. Over fifty years later, James Hunt’s son wanted to sell, and it was a chance to settle an old score. Carnegie bided his time, but now in late 1902 he instructed Ross to approach Hunt. They also enlisted the help of Lord Shaw of Dunfermline, whose somewhat clandestine job was to bump into Hunt’s solicitor and, in the course of conversation, suggest Hunt sell to Carnegie at a reasonable price. Even treasures were not to be purchased too dear.
On Christmas Eve, Hunt agreed to sell for $225,000, a far better price than he first demanded, and Carnegie trumpeted to Morley, “My new title beats all. I am Laird of Pittencrieff—that’s the glen & Palace ruins at Dunfermline, the most sacred spot to me on Earth. Would rather be Pittencrieff than King Edward by a long shot. I laugh at the importance of it. It really tickles me. But Oh-those who have passed should be here to enjoy it. What it would have meant to my Grandfather, Father, Uncles. Ah, Uncle Lauder more than any.” To cousin Dod he sent a simple cable that said it all: “Pit-tencrieff is ours.”2
For Carnegie, it was a small, personal effort toward the death of privilege. Not only could all Morrisons now romp across the historic property, but no longer would the townspeople be limited to visiting it once a year because he intended to present it to the town. Yet it couldn’t be a stand-alone bequest; Carnegie desired a grander benefaction. With the recent thrust of his philanthropy having been toward higher education and science, he decided to return to an old path, a path that had led to the Pittsburgh library, museum, and art gallery, the theme of community education and pleasure side by side. He wanted to uplift the laboring masses. Throughout the spring and summer of 1903, Carnegie and a commission he organized worked on what would be called the Carnegie Dunfermline Trust. Ross, who would receive the Freedom of Dunfermline in 1905, was his point man and eventual lifetime trustee. When it came to selecting the trustees, Carnegie wanted a true cross section of society to serve on the board so desires and needs from all walks were voiced. His vision included laborers, artists, lawyers, and even a Catholic priest, but as for the latter Ross protested vehemently—it would be scandalous in the Calvinist stronghold. “All right, Boss,” Carnegie agreed. “Exit Holy Father, but I like to keep in with one who can really grant absolution. It may be handy someday.”3 The trustees numbered fifteen, and in the first week of August 1903, the laird summoned them to Skibo, the first of annual meetings held there.
Carnegie’s first order of business was to transfer $2.5 million in bonds for the endowment, “all to be used in attempts to bring into the monotonous lives of the toiling masses of Dunfermline more sweetness and light; to give to them—especially the young—some charm, some happiness, some elevating conditions of life which residence elsewhere would have denied; that the child of my native town, looking back in after years, however far from home it may have roamed, will feel that simply by virtue of being such, life has been made happier and better. If this be the fruit of your labors, you will have succeeded; if not, you will have failed.”4 To bring “sweetness and light,” he exhorted the trustees to experiment freely with various social programs, to discard projects just as freely, to be willing to make mistakes, and to keep in touch with the masses and constantly aim to improve their tastes.5 It was a flash of liberal laissez-faire. The trust also took over management of Carnegie’s gymnasium and public baths, as well as Pittencrieff. The Hunt’s old estate house was converted into a museum for displaying the processes of area industries; the property’s gardens were used for teaching horticulture; playgrounds, a theater, and a pavilion were built. Some sixteen hundred people might attend a Saturday evening concert, and almost daily in the summer, pipe or brass bands or a symphony orchestra took the stage.
The trust provided more than just entertainment to break the monotony Carnegie presumed to exist (and probably did in the Auld Grey Toun). At the time, there were no laws enforcing the medical examination of schoolchildren, so the trust championed and performed the duty through its school clinic. It also established a College of Hygiene and Physical Training, as well as a department of civics to raise the tone of citizenship and teach young people heroic qualities; a craft school for woodcarving, metalwork, metal enameling, and jewelry; and Louise opened a Women’s Institute to teach embroidery, cookery, and such things. The trust had a tremendous impact on a modest town like Dun
fermline, and programs like medical examination for children truly lifted civilization up a notch.
The year Carnegie agreed to purchase Pittencrieff, the world appeared to be engulfed in violence and wars. So far, Carnegie had avoided any major benefactions in the name of peace, such an amorphous goal being beyond the parameters of his gospel. Even when in 1899 his good friend Andrew White had passed along the noble suggestion of providing for a temple of peace to house a court of arbitration and an international law library at The Hague, Carnegie demurred. For all his idealistic faith in arbitration, Carnegie was simply unsure of the value of such a temple, and he also questioned why he should take on the burden because it appeared to be government’s responsibility.
Now Carnegie began to reconsider his position as he absorbed the current military activity around the world. Granted, America’s bloody campaign against Filipino nationalists had just ended at a trifling cost of 4,200 American dead and 2,800 wounded, with about 20,000 rebels killed with another estimated 200,000 dead from disease and famine and other side effects of the war. But then the United States had immediately become embroiled in a revolution in Panama, where the nationals were fighting occupying forces from Columbia. The Boer War had also ended. But then the British started slaughtering Somalis armed with spears.6 Disgusted by his native country’s behavior, Carnegie publicly denounced Britain at a dinner hosted by Collier’s Weekly at the Metropolitan Club in honor of war correspondents. “The killing of men by men under the name of war,” he pronounced, “is the foulest blot upon humanity to-day. . . . We have made little progress in the path of genuine civilization, as long as we can find no better substitute for the settling of international disputes than the brutal murder of one another.”7 The ongoing hostilities involving the United States and Britain were significant catalysts in changing how Carnegie viewed the relationship between philanthropy and peace between nations.
