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Updated: June 22, 2025
"That is, unless somebody puts a little sand on the slide pretty all-fired soon. I say, Mr. Osgood, I'm a non-combatant, but I like to see fair play, why don't you write the Guardian people? or wire them? I think this is something your friend Wintermuth ought to know." Mr. Osgood reached toward the button that summoned his stenographer, and then drew back his hand. "No," he said slowly.
Griswold in particular is regarded as one of the strongest and shrewdest men in Wall Street." "Yes; I know he is," Mr. Wintermuth conceded. "And there's really no good reason why we shouldn't benefit by his judgment. Now, you know as well as any one that the money to be made out of underwriting, pure and simple, is comparatively little.
"Really, I could hardly say exactly," Mr. Gunterson responded. "You see, some that haven't actually resigned have stopped sending us business to any extent. But," he added, "we can more than make up such losses in income when our new appointments show the full results of their business." "How long do you calculate that's going to take?" abruptly inquired the usually courteous Mr. Wintermuth. Mr.
James Wintermuth was a conservative man. One could have told it at his first glance about the President's office, on the top floor of the Guardian building. In the first place, the office, although it was located in the sunniest corner of the building, preserved nevertheless a kind of cathedral gloom. Dark shades in the windows reduced the light across Mr.
Wintermuth. With which comment the matter came to its discussion's end between them. Nor did the President learn for a long time the real truth regarding his Boston appointees, for with increasing years he had grown increasingly difficult of access and intolerant of ideas conceived on the outside and not in accord with his own.
This was not precisely vanity; it was rather the long habit of undisputed dicta. He felt that here was an excellent opportunity for justifying his reputation for independence of decision and action. So Mr. Wintermuth, pondering in silence for nearly a fortnight, left his Vice-President stretched on the rack of uncertainty without a glance in his direction.
"Well, I hope you get around to the local department pretty soon," said Mr. Wintermuth. "Poor Cuyler has worried himself nearly sick, and the city business has been hit very hard; premiums are away off for the year so far." "Yes; I want to talk that over with you, too. But I think Mr. Ferguson comes first." "Very well, Richard; use your own judgment," said his chief.
I cannot dismember my whole office organization; but James Wintermuth is one of my oldest and dearest friends, and when Silas Osgood and Company resign the Guardian some one else must be in command." Cole did not answer. The three moved slowly toward the door, and there in the doorway stood the author of their perplexity and distress.
So February wore away, and March entered. James Wintermuth was more disturbed than he had been at any time covered by what was now a good and had once been a miraculous memory.
I believe our stockholders will back us up. While other companies are asking their stockholders for more money to pay their Boston losses, we are asking ours to put us in the first rank of underwriting institutions in the United States." Mr. Wintermuth looked at the young man before him, a long, grave look.
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