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Updated: June 22, 2025
Meanwhile a branch manager must be secured. The company's local income was dropping behind in a way that had not happened within the memory of man. In this state of affairs it was not long before Cuyler again sought Mr. Wintermuth, and this time the advice of Mr. Gunterson was solicited. It had been nearly a week since Mr.
One is authority to double our liability on Manhattan Island, and the other is an uptown branch manager." Smith stopped, glancing at Mr. Wintermuth and rather apprehensive of the reply he might receive. But all that gentleman answered was: "We've always tried to keep down our liability in Manhattan especially in the lower end, between Chambers and Twenty-third Street."
During the first month of the new year almost one hundred agents, some of them among the most satisfactory and profitable of the Guardian's plant, had been compelled to resign. The income from these agencies reached to the neighborhood of one hundred thousand dollars annually, and Mr. Wintermuth began to take decided notice of his strategic position.
"Yes, sir, I should have done so," he substituted. Mr. Wintermuth continued: "We cannot write such risks as that and hope to make an underwriting profit. They say I am a believer in 4 per cent bonds perhaps I am, but I am not a believer in 4 per cent mattress factories." The old gentleman softened his criticism with a smile.
"What's the use? If it's decided, I can't stop it. And I fancy the best of my fighting days are over. That's for the younger men to do. I'll talk to Cole about it, and see what he thinks we'd better do." The journalist glanced at him somewhat skeptically. "Well, you needn't fight, yourself let the Guardian people attend to that. And if you take my advice, you'll write Wintermuth. Good-by." Mr.
But there the relic lay, a substantial memorial of Spring in the veins. Once in a while, at long intervals, Smith, in whom the old man had a sort of shamefaced pride, would eye the thing respectfully. "Put it up, Richard," Mr. Wintermuth would direct; "I used to do it every morning for twenty years." And Smith with considerable effort would put it up.
Wintermuth in what only his extreme courtesy prevented from being an offhand manner. It was obvious that he had no intention nor desire to meet any one halfway. Now Mr. Wintermuth had always held that a man too anxious to change his affiliations was no proper man for the Guardian, and this indifference of Mr. Gunterson pleased him. It further developed that Mr.
If the reflection occurred to him that perhaps it would have been wiser to retain O'Connor until his successor could be selected, he dismissed it at once. The company would have to go on as best it could without a vice-president until such time as the proper man could be found. It was ten-thirty to the minute when Mr. Wintermuth took the chair and looked about the table at his board.
Smith well knew what a leverage would be used against his company. He was still brooding over the fateful item when Mr. Wintermuth sent for him. "Have you met your new chief yet?" asked the President, in a friendly manner. "Yes," said the other, shortly. He held out the paper. "Have you seen this yet?" he inquired, in turn. "The Journal of Commerce? No. Is there anything especial in it?"
"Thank you, sir," said the Vice-president, modestly; then, deprecatingly nodding toward Smith: "Probably from a strictly conservative viewpoint Mr. Smith's advice is good. And the Guardian is a conservative company. But a little properly placed radicalism is not a bad thing at times is not that true, Mr. Wintermuth?" To which Mr. Wintermuth assented with a smile.
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