Guys and Dolls and Other Writings

by Damon Runyon

  “So I heard here yesterday,” said Whitney.

  Pecora thereupon becomes a trifle sharper with the witness than he has been with any other, especially in the afternoon, when Whitney will not positively identify a photostatic copy of his income tax return, saying he prefers to inspect his own record.

  “The trouble with these chaps is they have the Bourbon mind,” comments Pecora on Whitney’s reluctance afterward. “They cannot see that their attitude of wanting to conceal everything serves no purpose.”

  While Whitney is reluctantly narrating the details of the Alleghany deals and identifying lists bearing the names of our foremost citizens, Morgan sits just behind him, listening intently. It would be interesting to know the thoughts of the old financier at this time when a great democracy has him in hand and is divesting him of so many sacred secrets.

  But for all we know, perhaps Morgan privately relishes the pillorying of some of the lads on the list, especially those who still owe him.

  May 25, 1933

  Mr. Morgan laughs until his stout sides shake today, a jovial old King of Koin, as he listens to disclosures concerning the dealings with his own firm of very, very big shots in the political world—Republican and Democratic.

  His demeanor confirms a suspicion that Mr. Morgan now keenly enjoys the predicament in which these recipients of his favors find themselves. Or some of them, at any rate.

  He has had his own moments of perspiration before the Senate subcommittee that is investigating his affairs, so perhaps he says to himself, “Well, let the rest of them sweat with me.”

  Or perhaps some of the boys didn’t do right by Mr. Morgan somewhere along the line. Perhaps all of those favors apparently so freely bestowed by Mr. Morgan did not come from his heart.

  In any event, Mr. Morgan laughs. And laughs.

  Once he just barely suppressed a haw-haw that, if proportionate to Mr. Morgan’s size, must shake the Corinthian pillars in the huge caucus room of the Senate Office Building to which the hearing is shifted today. The effort leaves him red-faced and almost apoplectic.

  He sputters trying to choke down another outburst. Mr. Morgan probably hasn’t so thoroughly enjoyed himself since the last time he took a swing at a photographer’s camera, and connected.

  A photostatic copy of a letter from John J. Raskob, then chairman of the Democratic National Committee, acknowledging a stock-purchasing courtesy from the House of Morgan (2,000 shares of Alleghany Corporation) is produced and it has one line that seems to give Mr. Morgan a terrific “belt,” as the boys say.

  Especially as it is declaimed in the ringing tones of Mr. Ferdinand Pecora, who is conducting the investigation for the Senate committee. Mr. Pecora seems to like the line himself.

  It runs like this:

  “I sincerely hope the future holds an opportunity for me to reciprocate.”

  He laughs again when Mr. Pecora asks questions as to the identity of Mr. Joseph Nutt, of Cleveland, another gentleman invited to partake of the crumbs from the rich man’s board, and is still laughing when it is disclosed that Mr. Nutt is treasurer of the Republican National Committee.

  Finally everybody commences laughing with Mr. Morgan. Perhaps it is his idea to leave ’em laughing when he says good-bye, anyway.

  Besides the names of Mr. Raskob and Mr. Nutt, we hear from the same list of favored subscribers to Alleghany stock, the names of Mr. Cornelius Bliss, former treasurer of the Republican campaign committee, and Charles D. Hilles, New York Republican leader.

  Well, it appears that the only party that has a right to kick about Mr. Morgan’s beneficence is the Socialist.

  On another list of persons let in on the ground floor, so to speak, in the matter of purchasing Standard Brands, another House of Morgan project, is the name of the late Calvin Coolidge.

  Mr. Coolidge was given the opportunity of buying 3,000 shares in July 1929. He left the Presidency in March of the same year.

  The name of United States Senator William Gibbs McAdoo also appears on this list. Senator McAdoo reads a statement to the committee immediately upon convening this morning in which he sets forth that his dealings with the House of Morgan were ten years after his resignation as Secretary of the Treasury, and four years before he became Senator, and that they wound up with a net loss of some $3,000 to him.

  Mr. Morgan, who appears vestless today in tribute to the local weather, begins laughing almost at the same moment that Mr. McAdoo relates his loss.

  John J. Raskob is also on this Standard Brands list. Likewise William H. Woodin, Secretary of the Treasury, Bernard Baruch, Norman H. Davis, our celebrated ambassador-at-large; Charles A. Lindbergh, General John J. Pershing, R. B. Mellon, brother of the former Secretary of the Treasury, and others.

  The Lindbergh account is explained by Mr. Whitney with the statement that the House of Morgan generally advises the Colonel about his investments. In answer to a question from Mr. Pecora, Mr. Whitney says he thinks Calvin Coolidge’s name must have been suggested by Thomas Cochran, a Morgan partner, though he isn’t sure.

  These persons, it appears, were all invited by the House of Morgan to buy the stock. Mrs. S. Parker Gilbert, wife of the former agent-general of reparations, is mentioned as an invitee.

  Before the session goes into recess over the luncheon hour, Mr. Morgan asks permission to make a statement. He takes the witness chair, and unfurls a crumpled bit of paper that he has evidently had wadded up in his big fist for some time.

  He reads this statement aloud. It is about the income tax he paid to England in the years that he did not pay income tax to his Uncle Sammy.

  He gazes at Mr. Pecora to see if that gentleman wishes to ask him any questions, and Mr. Pecora shakes his head. Says Mr. Morgan, gratefully, with an extra wide beam, “Thank you, Mr. Attorney, I am very much obliged.”

  Says Mr. Pecora, “Er-ah, wait a minute, please. If the English system were in vogue here you would be required to pay much more income tax to this country than you do to England?”

  Says Mr. Morgan, agreeably, “Oh, yes, but not nearly so much as I paid in 1928 and 1929.”

  Some of the Senators gather about his bulky figure as the session recesses. Mr. Morgan chats with them a moment and then exits laughingly.

  Mr. Will Rogers, the cowpuncher-humorist, another of the world’s rich men, arrives for the session to see if Mr. Morgan needs any assistance. The only difference between Mr. Rogers and Mr. Morgan financially is perhaps $8.35. Complains Mr. Rogers, “They are always annoying us rich guys.”

  The examination of Mr. George Whitney takes up most of the morning. Mr. Morgan sits behind him, one hand on Mr. Whitney’s chair. Mr. Whitney reads a long, printed statement.

  Mr. Pecora inquires, “Who prepared this statement?”

  “Why—”

  Demands Mr. Pecora when he finds the preparation is a matter of some doubt, “Well, whose phraseology is it?”

  At this point Mr. Will Rogers, who has listened intently to the reading, leans over to this correspondent. He whispers, “I think it’s Bugs Baer’s.”

  Nothing is going to happen to Mr. Morgan. Indeed local bookmakers are commencing to offer plenty of two to one that Mr. Morgan winds up out-laughing the subcommittee, despite the efforts of some to laugh with him.

  You must not think that because he pays no income taxes to this country that Mr. Morgan has no income at all. I mean you must not start shedding any tears of sympathy for him on that score. He manages to scrape enough together every year to carry on the yacht Corsair and the house at Glen Cove, and the one in Lunnon.

  And anyway, perhaps Mr. Morgan fears that if he came forward voluntarily and offered to contribute to the support of Uncle Sam, when he doesn’t have to, it might increase the mortality rate in this country through heart disease.

  But I must suggest it to Mr. Morgan.

  It will give him something to keep on laughing about.

  May 26, 1933

  Blazing mad is Mr. Ferdinand Pecora!

&
nbsp; You can hang your hat on his jutting chin as he sticks it out far beyond normal today, and lets fly a verbal blast at a group of United States Senators that almost knocks them out of their chairs.

  Irked by petty criticism of his methods in showing how the great House of Morgan manipulates, and perhaps by a disposition that became very evident today on the part of some of the Senators to lend a kindly cloak of secrecy to old Mr. Morgan’s business, Mr. Ferdinand Pecora cuts loose with fiery tongue.

  And as he concludes a roar of applause sweeps the huge caucus room of the Senate Office Building, in which the examination of the Morgan goings on is being held, and smothers an intended answer to the infuriated Mr. Pecora from his chief heckler, the aged Senator Carter Glass, of Virginia.

  The applause, rising with amazing suddenness and continuing some time, spatters over old Mr. Morgan himself, in person, and in the flesh, as he sits among his personal entourage smoking a huge cigar.

  It startles the Senators. Some of those who have been only lukewarm in their enthusiasm toward Mr. Pecora’s efforts to spade up all the financial skeletons in the House of Morgan that he can locate, begin running to the cover of declarations of confidence in Mr. Pecora.

  He has just let them know, in effect, that he does not care a tinker’s cuss about them, and the resultant applause gives the Senators a faint sniff of the public attitude toward this investigation. The Senators know that a mere roomful of applause may possibly be elaborated into fearful thunder as it goes out over the land.

  The moral of all this is: never get an Italian mad.

  Mr. Pecora arrives for the session looking quite moody. He has been in attendance on an executive session of the committee which decides that it isn’t going to permit Mr. Pecora to make public certain matters that he considers positively vital to this investigation into the House of Morgan.

  It is plain that he is seething inwardly as he takes his seat and calls for his first witness, Mr. George H. Howard, a New York lawyer, who is president of the United Corporation and the New York United Corporation.

  These are light and power concerns. Mr. Pecora’s intention is to show that the House of Morgan made colossal sums through stock operations in United. He is proceeding slowly with Mr. Howard, a somewhat hesitant witness, when old Senator Glass, who has been something of an obstructionist throughout the inquiry, starts growling.

  He wants to know where the inquiry is leading. He wants to know why Mr. Pecora is asking all these questions. He asks the witness himself if the United Corporation has ever violated any Federal statute in its business dealing; Mr. Howard very promptly says no.

  Mr. Pecora, his face pale, his teeth gritted, sits silent while the old Virginian talks. He has often had to endure Senator Glass’ interruptions and objections. The Senator is given to little witticisms and irrelevancies that sound strange in an inquiry of this nature.

  Senator Kean, of New Jersey, a placid-looking man with a large gray moustache, asks Mr. Howard if it isn’t customary for railroads and other corporations to do thus and so with their stocks and securities. You may hear of Senator Kean again before the inquiry is over. Other Senators gabble somewhat aimlessly. Says Mr. Pecora, suddenly, “All right! I’ll tell you what it’s all about!”

  He picks up and reads the Senate resolution directing this inquiry, the terms of which are so sweeping that they give the Senate committee power to do just about anything it desires, and adds that he is proceeding under this resolution.

  Now Senator Couzens, of Michigan, a ruddy, strong-featured citizen who has been the bulwark of the Pecoran efforts throughout, rises to his feet and says, “I ask the chair to rule whether the examination is proceeding under the terms of that resolution?”

  Old Senator Fletcher, of Florida, another staunch supporter of Mr. Pecora and the inquiry, says it does. Senator Couzens says, “I now ask if that is a complete answer to the gentleman from Virginia?”

  Senator Glass starts roaring. He says he does not consider it a complete answer.

  He says no one informed the subcommittee as to what Mr. Pecora expected to bring out. He even goes so far as to say that he does not recall seeing anything in the minutes of the subcommittee authorizing Mr. Pecora to conduct the examination.

  At this, Mr. Pecora flares out, “I did not solicit this assignment; it was offered to me; I accepted, and I have done the best I can do to fulfill it. I have worked day and night at it. But it would be impossible for me, in New York, to call up the committee every time I thought I had a lead and ask instructions how to proceed. If the committee thinks it is any pleasure to do all this work, it is mistaken, and if it thinks that the compensation of $255 per month that I receive is any incentive, it is also badly mistaken.”

  There is in his tone and manner the inference that if they do not like what he is doing he will withdraw, although later on Mr. Pecora takes pains to deny for the record a statement appearing in print that he would resign unless the committee does as he desires about admitting certain evidence.

  Senator Glass starts to reply but you cannot hear him for the applause. It is difficult to hear Senator Glass at any time, as he throws his words out of one corner of his mouth. The Senators try to ignore the applause. When it dies away, Mr. Pecora then states the purpose of his examination of Mr. Howard. Senator Glass wants to know why all this wasn’t brought forward before, and he insists he is still not satisfied with the method of procedure.

  He also complains about the publicity some of the executive sessions have received, and says he doesn’t care about the House of Morgan, or any other house but that he is not going to see any injustice done it. Then Senator Glass closes with a self-eulogy to the effect that he is the only man who has done anything about the banking laws, anyway.

  Mr. Morgan appears today in a gray suit with a single-breasted three-button coat. The old boy has an excellent tailor. His clothes fit him well despite a large “bay window.” His linen is purest white, and starched. His shoes are low tans.

  As he sits down the photographers close in around him and Mr. Morgan submits to his daily ordeal with a grace that continues to amaze the boys.

  “Smile now,” one of them orders, and the great financier beams.

  “That’s great!” he remarks as the camera men let fly with a raft of flash bulbs. “Shoot a lot of them. I own stock in the General Electric.”

  Young Junius Morgan is asked by one of the photographers to pose with his father and he immediately takes a chair alongside his distinguished sire and they smile together.

  Young Junius is tall, good-looking, neatly groomed. He has black hair, slightly gray.

  Young Junius displays great curiosity about the flash bulbs and a photographer explains them to him in detail, with the elder Morgan also listening intently.

  The old gentleman even goes so far as to chat pleasantly with a newspaperman. Let this newspaperman try to get in at 23 Wall next week and see what happens to him.

  The observers are somewhat surprised to see that these very rich people are rather human after all. If the inquiry continues much longer it will wind up with everybody being just like this with the Morgan crowd.

  Senator Fletcher lauds Mr. Pecora at length, and says that the attorney often consulted with him as chairman of the subcommittee, and that he is proud of Mr. Pecora, and that he deems him thorough and efficient. Senator Barkley, of Kentucky, also put in a boost for the now somewhat surprised Pecora, and added it is too bad he isn’t getting more money. Indeed, the session winds up as a general plug for Mr. Pecora, though he remains somewhat moody-looking when the committee recesses until next Wednesday.

  May 26, 1933

  I presume you really might call the inquiry into the petty affairs of Mr. J. Pierpont Morgan, “The Revenge of the Photo Grabbers.”

  For years, it has been Mr. M.’s favorite pastime to play ring-around-a-rosy with the Photo Grabbers, most faithful, and conscientious, and hardest working of all the newspaper tribes. Why, I once knew a Photo Grabber—b
ut never mind.

  In playing with Mr. M. the Photo Grabbers were always “It.” He loved to chase them, and tag them. If he could get a camera away from one of the Photo Grabbers and tag his man with the lens box, the game was a big success for Mr. M. Of all our public characters, only Mr. Gene Tunney came close to Mr. M. as an adept chaser of Photo Grabbers.

  And of course, at best, Mr. Tunney was only an amateur. He never had Mr. M.’s wind, or depth. Especially depth. This is evidenced by the fact that Mr. Tunney has abandoned the pastime altogether. He is a retired Photo Grabber chaser.

  Now, for the first time in his long career, at the game, Mr. M. is “It.”

  When he enters the august presence of the Senate committee which is delving (as we say) into his goings-on, the Photo Grabbers swarm all over him and take his picture with impunity, and also with all kinds of cameras.

  The first day of the inquiry, when Mr. M. looked up and found himself surrounded by lenses, he seemed somewhat startled, and I thought he was going to pick a few of the boys up and start throwing ’em about. But I suppose he reflected on the danger of hitting a United States Senator with a Photo Grabber, which would be high treason beyond a doubt, and so dismissed the idea.

  Instead, he gathered a great big broad smile together, and spread it over his countenance, and beamed at the Photo Grabbers with such cordiality that several of them seized their mills and retreated some distance.

  They felt that a smile on Mr. M.’s face, especially in the presence of Photo Grabbers, augured no good to them. But I am inclined to give Mr. M. the benefit of the doubt and suggest that he smiled merely because he wished to look beautiful in the pictures.

  Day in and day out, since then, the Photo Grabbers have been blasting away at Mr. M.’s rugged features, and never once has he rebuffed them. Flashlights, stills, movies—they were all one to him.

  Occasionally one of his aides tried to shoo the Photo Grabbers away, but Mr. M. never requested it. He even went so far as to chat with Photo Grabbers while they were taking his picture, although I am bound to say that some of the Photo Grabbers considered this an unwarranted liberty on Mr. M.’s part.