In 1895. President Cleveland was embarrassed by a dogged, recalcitrant Congress. Gold was flowing from the U. S. An alarmed Europe scrambled for its balances. The Treasury's gold holdings were down to $41,000,000. Merchants and bankers momentarily expected the end of specie payments.
In his little grey banking house John Pierpont Morgan the Elder let a black cigar droop from his lips. Through the door peered the late Edward Dean Adams, little known to Wall Streeters but a tower of strength to bankers. "Hello, Adams," muttered Mr....
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