Boss Tweed

On April 3, 1823

I am Eliza Tweed, wife of Richard Tweed. On April 3, 1823, I gave birth to my child. It’s a boy William M. Tweed, in New York County, of New York State.

March 3, 1835

        Dear Diary,

Today it is little William’s birthday. His smile on his face as I brought the presents to the table was priceless. My, has he grown the past 12 years! He is now a fine boy as I always wanted one. I can still recall the first breath he took more than a decade ago. I still thank god for giving us such a beautiful child. It seems like yesterday when he was playing in the living room with his wooden horse Richard had carved for him. It definitely gave him a break from manufacturing chairs! And I’m still laughing at William’s popgun surprise! Lord, did he surprise me then! I spanked him thoroughly, after that!  That daring child! Memories are priceless, and I hope William remembers me when he grows up. I definitely don’t want to become one of these abandoned, forgotten parents. However, I don’t abide by the rule “children should be seen, not heard”. No wonder children don’t like their parents after a childhood like that! I think I treat William just fine, and he will grow up to be a fine boy. It was just last year when he told me in his small voice: “I want to become a chair maker, just like father!” I was so proud of him. Richard and I agreed to take him out of school and put him in a special establishment to make chairs. He has been excelling ever since. I just hope he does something good in the future: something honest and serious, full of hard work. I want my child to be known as a good person, all over New York. This is essential to me. I feel that with this birthday, Willy is slowly leaving childhood. Soon he will be a grown man, and he must understand the meaning of honest success. I wonder what he will become. His favorite present today was a monocle. He said he loved it because he looked just like his father… Does that mean anything?                                       Eliza Tweed                

                                                     

Boss Tweed And His Ring Running Away From The Bank Dishonestly Crying: "Stop Thief!"                                                

March 4, 1853

I love New York! Is that the city’s official slogan? If not, it should be.   Only in the state of New York could the son of a chair-maker who was forced to leave school at the age of 11 be elected to the United States House of Representatives at the age of 29.  Let me be clear that, in my own humble opinion, I earned this post.  It was the very amalgamation of my humble childhood and experiences as a craftsman, bookkeeper and volunteer fireman that uniquely qualify me for a seat at the nation’s foremost political table. My success hasn’t been due "solely" to my own stellar qualifications and accomplishments, of course.  I’m also grateful to the Americus No. 6 volunteer fire company for selecting me as foreman and jumpstarting my political career by helping to elect me to the high ranking position of Democratic alderman.

William Tweed began his political climb as a volunteer fireman for the Americus No. 6 fire company.  It helped him get his first elected political position as Democratic alderman and eventually led to his election to the U.S. House of Representatives in 1852.

This is a replica of Boss Tweed’s fire helmet.

Notice the Bengal Tiger on the top.  Tweed chose a snarling tiger as the mascot for the “Big Six” …BUT… Tweed’s tiger turned against him when Thomas Nast used it in his cartoons to represent the political corruption of the Tweed Ring. 

Now that I have gained this political stature and credibility, I have every intention of helping the common people to the very best of my ability---oh, who am I kidding. What I really plan to do is exploit my newfound power and influence for my own gain.  Finally, I am en route to the life of wealth and status that I have always imagined; a life that my beloved wife Mary Jane so richly deserves. And I will get there any way necessary. I’m used to doing whatever it takes to get what I want, and I’m not going to lose sleep about having to hurt a couple of people’s feelings along the way. I’m not going to miss meals out of some misguided sense of guilt, either, in case anyone is wondering.  I envision Mary Jane and me living in one of New York’s finest neighborhoods in the very near future.  Yes, I will parlay years of hard work and my newly earned position into cold hard cash.

I am indeed, as my colleague described me, “full of animal spirits.” That animal, might I add, is a snarling Bengal tiger -- the symbol for the “Big Six” (not the professional one that we inevitably eclipsed) fire company for which I spent the happiest days of my life volunteering.  He didn’t exactly describe me this way because of my six foot tall, 300 pound frame, but rather because of my temperament and personality, which I will channel to bulldoze my way through the gullible and apathetic puppets who hold positions in party and city affairs.

My appetite for national politics will of course not diminish my desire to remain fully entrenched in New York City government and NOT Washington’s.  This is my power base, and one that I can manipulate and maneuver to my personal advantage---I mean, the people whom it is my genuine civic duty to serve.  I have no intention of reliving the miserable existence of my third-generation Scottish-Irish parents. It’s hard to imagine national politics holding the same allure, but I’m sure I’ll end up exceeding everyone’s expectations, as usual. And it’s not like my more, shall we say, creative methods of financial management will ever catch up with me. If you trust me on just one thing it’s that I’m too smart and too lucky to ever get caught.  

December 20, 1870

            The greatest career decision I ever made---and, let’s face it, I’ve made many---was to leave national politics.  National politics neither interested me nor fattened up my wallet to the extent I’d hoped, but city and republican party affairs allowed me to gain the power I’d always sought and, in my humble opinion, richly deserved.  Here’s a tip for anyone trying to emulate my success: get yourself appointed to as many boards and commissions as possible, and serve on as many as you can at the same time. This is how I garnered my greatest influence and was able to most significantly improve my own status and income---um, I mean, significantly improve the lives of my fellow citizens.  My official positions included the following: membership on the City Board of Supervisors, State Senator, Chairman of the State Finance Committee, School Commissioner, Deputy Street Commissioner and Commissioner of Public Works.  Reflecting back on my career, I see that it was this last position where I was able to be at my most shrewd and strategic.   I remember with fond nostalgia that week prior to my appointment to Commissioner of Public Works; I was like a kid waiting around the week before Christmas for Santa to finally get his rotund self down my chimney. (Not that there’s anything wrong with having a little extra meat on your bones, of course; I’m of impressively large stature myself.) For the many of you out there who are less knowledgeable than I, let me tell you about what the Department of Public Works does. After that, I’ll explain how I turned that place into my personal moneymaker.

The Commission of Public Works is responsible for developing and maintains the physical facilities of the city, including its streets, bridges, buildings, parks and waterfronts. The DPW contract and oversees all public works programs.

I know this position doesn't sound very glamorous or noteworthy, but a smart, forward-thinking guy like me immediately saw its rich possibilities.  I’d have the ability to create and dispense jobs on city-related projects.  What a perfect way to earn the loyalty of voters!  As Commissioner of Public Works, I’d use my growing power to develop the Upper East Side of Manhattan, including Yorkville and Harlem, for the benefit of our citizens…and, incidentally, to the benefit of yours truly as well.  Want to hear my plan? Of course you do; everyone appreciates creativity and ingenuity.

Tweed also managed to get himself appointed to Commissioner of Public Works. He used his responsibility to develop and maintain the city’s streets, bridges, buildings, parks and waterfronts to his advantage.  This position gave him the ability to create and dispense jobs on city related projects which helped him earn the loyalty of voters and to develop the Upper East Side of Manhattan.

Tweed also bought much of this property when it was undeveloped, and used the city’s funding to help it grow.  In the process he significantly increased the city’s debt in order to fund the development of his own real estate holdings.  

The artist of this picture demonstrates how Boss Tweed did not fulfill his responsibilities as commissioner of public works by allowing the city to become filthy, and making it more vulnerable to disease.  Tweed is depicted here welcoming the cholera epidemic. 

 My friends and I bought up a bunch of undeveloped properties.  Then, in my capacity as Commissioner, I used the city’s resources to renovate the areas and increase the value of our newly acquired land.  Afterwards, we sold our now valuable real estate assets for a hefty profit.  My first brilliant idea was to install pipes in order to bring in water from the Croton Aqueduct. I’d lie awake at night, thinking and dreaming about proposals for broad waterfront avenues and piers. This included two piers to be built of stone, supplied by the single best stone company in this great nation of ours: the one owned by yours truly.  Oh, rest assured that I had every intention of personally capitalizing on these projects, too.

I didn’t plan on making a profit only from the sale of my real estate holdings, of course.  I’m not a guy to limit my moneymaking eggs to just one basket. I also helped myself to a percentage of the padded contracts, and some more from the property taxes.  

This had the surefire makings of a win-win plan: for the city and, more importantly, for me.  After all, everyone could benefit from the development of upper Manhattan.  Under my authorization, new and needed public programs were implemented all the time. We were given virtually limitless access to loans for improvements to the sewage system, water supply, bridges, and streets. So what if I had to significantly increase the city’s debt in order to fund the development of my real estate holdings?  What’s $90 million in the scheme of things?  It’s not like Abraham Oakley Hall will do anything about it.

My appointment to Commissioner of Public Works also allowed me to serve on the Board of Supervisors. I soon took it upon myself to put a new charter in place—one which promised to streamline city government. Guess who benefitted from this centralization of authority? This is when I really assumed control of New York City government, happily taking over city development projects that had previously been the Central Park Commission’s responsibility. Frankly, I think we’re all better off when intelligent, enterprising guys like me have as much power as possible. My term was four years, and it’s not like they could throw me out of office without a formal trial anyway.  I knew the week prior to being appointed Commissioner of Public Works that great opportunities---along with great money---awaited me. Fortunately, I turned out to be right, as I so very often am.

December 22, 1870

Thank God it’s over.  I served a painful, two-year term in the U.S. Congress from 1853 to 1855, hating every dreary minute of it.  There was virtually no room for any of my “Special arrangements” that were possible in New York.  I despised national politics, finding it too far removed from the New York scene.  I quickly maneuvered my way back into party and city affairs, obtaining numerous positions fitting for a man of my awe-inspiring stature.  After being appointed to the city board of supervisors in 1858, I was able to put my favorite new business technique into effect: forcing vendors to pay an additional 15% charge for the privilege of doing business with the city. Dubious, perhaps, but wonderfully profitable. 

Deciding not to allow my lack of legal training to stand in the way, I opened a law office on Duane Street. A special thanks to my buddy George Barnard, who ever-so-generously certified me as an attorney. (After all, what are friends for?) I didn’t let my defeat in the election for sheriff bring me down, knowing there were always opportunities out there for a bold, bright guy like me who wasn’t overly concerned with rules and ethics. Two years later, in the spring of 1863, I was chosen Grand Sachem of the Tammany party both city organizations that create urban projects such as “Tammany Hall”. I became known as “Boss”, and here’s when the money really started to roll in along with that flattering but well-deserved title.

One of the most egregious examples of Tweed’s dubious antics was when he convinced his friend, George Barnard (pictured here) to certify him as an attorney even though he never attended law school.  His law office brought in fees disguised as legal service. 

This enabled him to be a more qualified candidate for key city appointments such as Deputy Street commissioner and a board seat on the Erie Railroad. Tweed later returned the favor and named Barnard city recorder which helped Tweed to get control of the city’s finances.

 My law office brought in fees for what were cleverly disguised as “legal services”, and I had myself appointed to Deputy Street Commissioner. This precious role allowed me to meet every city contractor, and that’s when my latest stroke of pure genius occurred.  I bought a printing company that “won” many of those city contracts, and became the official city printer. I went on to repeat this act of brilliance when I acquired a marble company –after all, why mess with success?---but more on that later.

This is the quintessential example of the many scams Tweed used to embezzle money from New York City.  This is a picture of the infamous courthouse which began construction in 1861.   Tweed bought a marble company that supplied all of the stone used to construct the building however he charged the city three times the actual cost and pocketed the difference.

Tweed not only overcharged the city for materials, but also unscrupulously paid the contractors and craftsman lavishly so that he could take the difference between the actual and billed costs.  One carpenter was paid $360,751 for his work (which is estimated to be $4.9M in today’s dollars).  Oh, and this was despite the fact that there was little to no actual woodwork needed in the building! 

All told, the costs to build the courthouse grew to over $178 million in today’s dollars.

My luck, fortitude and willingness to overlook pesky, inconvenient laws eventually paid off. I became the millionaire I was always destined to be, and moved my family to one of the finest neighborhoods in New York.  The diamond that I sported on my shirt along with many real estate investments became yet more prized trophies, symbolizing my incredible success. They were just the beginning.

 The “Tweed Ring” began in 1866, but really blossomed in 1869 when I ensured that all of my friends were appointed to key city posts, like the loyal and giving guy that I am.  Naturally, I took care of my old pal, Barnard, and named him recorder.  This is when I really gained control of city government.

I was elected to the New York State Senate in 1867, but my positions as Chairman of the State Finance Committee, School Commissioner, Deputy Street Commissioner and Commissioner of Public Works really allowed me to use my growing power.  I learned it all, saw everything I wanted to see, and extended my influence into state politics.  I proposed a new city charter that was signed into law by my protégé and newly elected governor, John Hoffman, along with $600,000 in bribes that were paid to Republicans.  The charter placed control of the city’s finances with the Board of Supervisors, consisting of---you guessed it---yours truly.  At the time, I was also Commissioner of Public Works; you can never have enough prestigious titles.

This is when it all came together. It was simple, at least for a man of my competence and intelligence. We controlled the books and the courts. Our favorite contractors working for the city “embellished” each bill---by five at first, and eventually by as much as a hundred.  The bills were paid by the members of the Ring, and the profits from the original bill were shared equally among the city’s Comptroller, Treasurer, Mayor and, of course, me.  A fifth of what we brought in was used as bribes for businessmen and other officials. Gotta keep people happy, after all;  especially if I want to keep myself happy as well.

The construction of the New York City County Courthouse began in 1861. Remember how I mentioned acquiring that marble company? This is how it came in awfully handy.  It sold materials for the building of the courthouse at “favorable prices” (favorable, that is, to me.)  Here, too, we paid the contractors and craftsman lavishly.  One carpenter was paid $360,751 for his work (which I’m guessing by 2011 would be $4.9 million dollars, although it probably won’t matter since by then the world will have been taken over by extraterrestrials anyway.) This was despite the fact that there was little to no actual woodwork in the building.  Another plasterer received $133,187 ($1.82 million in 2011) for two days of work.   All told, the costs grew to over $13 million dollars ($178 in 2011, or twice the Alaska purchase) and three times the actual expenditure to construct the courthouse.

By all accounts, we were a raging success. New York City sure was an exciting and financially rewarding place to “work.” We plundered sums estimated to be between $40 and $100 million dollars.  I bought a mansion, stabled horses and sleighs on 40^th street, became a director for Erie Railroad and Brooklyn Bridge Company, Third Avenue Railway Company and the Harlem Gas Company.  I was named president of the Guardian Savings Banks, and had to set up the Tenth National Bank with my cohorts to manage our fortunes.  It was absolute bliss. I can’t imagine anything ever going wrong.

Boss Tweed & the Brooklyn Bridge

Pierre Landet

John Roebling And His Associate

Boss tweed had an enormous effect and role on the construction of the Brooklyn Bridge. The Brooklyn Bridge was designed to link two cities, Brooklyn, and New York.  In the year 1870 Brooklyn was an independent city, and not a borough of New York City.  The bridge was designed by the famous architect John Roebling, who died before construction began.  His son, Washington Roebling took over the project.  The construction of the bridge began in the year 1870, and took 13 years to finish.  Laborers consisted mainly of German, and Irish Immigrants.  William Tweed refused to let construction on the bridge begun until he was allowed to become a member of the New York Bridge Company.  Tweed was able to purchase shares in the New York Bridge Company at less than half their price.  He promised to be sure that the New York City government would permit the bridge to be built for about $65,000.  This information came from his trial after he was arrested.  During construction he decided which contractors would work on parts of the bridge and who would supply the materials.  He chose the companies who would pay him kickbacks and who would be allowed to overcharge for their services. 

January 23, 1871

Nast Depicts Himself

On September 27, 1840, I, Thomas Nast, was born in the small town of Landau Germany. Landau is famous for its convertible horse drawn carriages called Landaus. I immigrated in 1846 to New York.  I was a well-known cartoonist at the time. As a journalist, I drew political cartoons of Tammany Hall, and more specifically Boss Tweed.  A political cartoon is a drawing which explains or describes a political person, or event, using representations.  They often related to people, groups, or societies, by using impersonated animals.  Some of my most famous works that I created was a modern version of Santa Claus and the way you celebrate Christmas in the United States today. I also created modern version of Uncle Sam, along with the elephant and donkey, which represented the democratic, and republican party.  I illustrated Tweed as a monster and a giant who literally devoured the city.  Here is one of my favorite stories story.  On December 4, 1925, Boss Tweed escaped from jail in New York, and fled to Spain.  A few years later someone caught him and turned him to the police.  He managed to recognize him from one of my cartoons!  In conclusion, Boss Tweed would have been nothing without me. And me… well I would have been something.  We’re inseperable.

16 December 1871

     I arrive home tired, depressed and hungry. I have come to the realization that my career is going downwards and people are standing up to me. They think I’m corrupting them well TO HELL WITH THEM! I’m rich and I control all of New York City! Nothing can stop me... Unfortunately I wish that were true; I’m going to court. They keep posting parody comics about me in the paper; I just realized that embezzling $200 million isn’t the most subtle thing in the world and the New York Times revealed all the seemingly bad stuff I have done. But no matter what happens I know that my lawyer is going to help me get out of this situation. Plus I wrote a letter to Thomas Nast saying the following “I don’t care so much what the papers say about me. My constituents don’t know how to read, but they can’t help seeing them damned pictures!” so all is good (or at least I think so).  I need a drink; it’s been a long day in the office.

     For the first time in a long time… I was worried. If I get thrown in Ludlow Street Jail I don’t know what I’m going to do. I need to improvise an escape plan before the authorities come to my house and take me to court. Maybe I’ll go somewhere subtle when I have my one day release or I can use my one phone call to get bailed out. But what if I don’t have bail or I don’t have any releases! Ok think; I need to improvise a plan and call a few people. I can’t go to jail, not now.  Oh New York; when I get out of that jail, you are going to pay for what you have done to William Tweed. But how am I going to do all of this, they took away the $200 million dollars I have stolen and gave it back to the people of New York. I hear someone knocking on my door. Oh god! The cops are here an hour early! I need more time to call the people for my escape if I’m going to jail. I need to go and hide this diary in my pocket.

November 17, 1873

I failed... I was thrown in jail but nothing but dirty clothes and my log… I can’t write my hands are trembling. They’re putting me up for a 1 million dollar bail. I’m most likely going to get out but then thrown back in so no reason to have the bail. I was right! I was released from Ludlow Street Jail because the judge hung himself. I feel extremely happy but I know that I will be thrown back in which is why I need to improvise an escape plan. I was also put back in Tammany Hall to work which is perfect for my plan because I can withdraw some money from their bank. But sadly I was re-arrested and someone took my place in Tammany Hall. Actually when I arrived there after my failed trial, most of the people working with me have decided to flee overseas so as to not get arrested with me. The new judge set the bail for 8 million dollars! I’m only able to pay 6 million and because I am unable to pay for the rest I am being sent back to the Ludlow Street Jail. I can’t go there! People know me so they either beat me or call me names but their insults and fists don’t hurt me because I have come up with an amazing escape plan. When I am moved at that jail I will be allowed to have one free release to go home and see my family (not sure if they still love me anymore) and while I am free from jail I will flee to someplace far away where I will work a discreet job (maybe a shipmate or something). 

December 4, 1875

Reward Notice For Boss Tweed

I have escaped from Ludlow Street Jail by using my free release to go to the nearest clothing store to change my outfit and become incognito port, then I went to the nearest port or dock or whatever they call it these days and I have managed to be stealthy and sneak onto the nearest trader ship I can find and am now heading to Cuba then to Spain and boy do I feel like I have accomplished something. I am working aboard the ship as one of the crew members. Sadly I am in charge of sanitation on the ship or in other words, I am a janitor. I still haven’t thought of what I am going to do when I get to Spain but I think that I will work as a businessman if I still can or I will stay on this ship and travel from place to place. I love the sea; it’s the only thing separating me from that awful prison. I better get some sleep it’s pretty late and I have a lot of cleaning up to do tomorrow. It’s been a long time since we left now and yesterday I have received word that we are approaching the Cuban bay and I think he’s right; I can see it if I stand on the highest ground of the ship. I finally felt the great taste of freedom (well almost). But I am now realizing that I am not free yet and I will only feel free once I touch the solid ground of Spain because Cuba is near the US so it will be easy for them to catch me if I stayed in Cuba.

November 23, 1876

            It failed. All is lost. I’m on a ship back to New York. They recognized me in Spain. Damn that Nast! If only his cartoons had never been published! I wouldn’t be here right now…

           The voyage across from Cuba to Spain lasted a month. It wasn’t very hard. Nobody seemed to recognize me. I guess they don’t know about New York politics in Cuba… So I spent most of my voyage sorting out my thoughts, and writing.  I do miss the power I wielded in Tammany Hall.  Of course, it’s hard to pass from being a very rich, high status man in the biggest city in the world to a poor man in the middle of the Atlantic. But if that was the price of liberty, so be it… However, the price was even greater. As the voyage continued, I started to think about my family. My wife, my children, my mother… They all hate me now. I still clearly see my wife turning away from me, ashamed at my corruption and at my vices… I’ll never be able to live normally in New York again.

            Little did I know that at this very moment, the Spanish coastguards had received post from the New York State government. Little did I know that one of that damn Nast’s cartoons was tightly sealed in one of these blue official envelopes. Little did I know that as soon as the Spanish had taken one good look at the drawing, which was a picture of me holding two children, that they took me for a child abductor! Really! Such little respect! I may be a corrupt politician, but I am not a criminal! That thoroughly annoyed me…

            Anyway, I soon came in view of the Spanish coast. The fog covered the hills in a sheet of white clouds, and I had to squint to try and see the port. It finally poked its nose out of its cover, and revealed an assortment of large cargo ships, small pleasure boats and little rowboats. The large piers extended well out into the harbor, and I noticed one large docking space probably reserved for our cruiser. The captain slowly maneuvered the ship into Muros, and smoothly accosted it to our assigned pier. I felt a tingle of excitement: my journey was ending! Soon, I would be free again! Free! Free to rebuild my fortune, to think my thoughts, to fulfill my ambitions! It would never be like New York, however.

            The captain gave the order to lower the bridge onto the pier, and I went to fetch my suitcases in my cabin. I soon emerged from the lower levels of the ship, and, breathing the fresh Spanish air deep into my lungs, stepped on to the wooden walkway. I directed myself to the center of Muros, where I knew I would find the customs and get my permission to live in the country. After a short stroll, I came to the border patrol office, full of excitement but also of nervousness. If I made just one mistake, showed myself to much… I shuddered. I couldn’t think of that. I shouldn’t think of that. How would the Spanish customs know my identity anyway? No. I was John Smith, and nothing more. I was here to go and work in the Spanish farms. That was it. Soon, I would be in Europe, a free man. I was sure of it.

            However, my luck didn’t go that far. As I gave my passport to the agent, he looked at a small piece of paper I recognized as a Nast cartoon. My skin went cold. I couldn’t move, I was so scared. It couldn’t be! They couldn’t already know who I was!     The agent gestured toward a soldier of the local garrison, I though, and he gestured his bayonet for me to follow him. A second soldier came behind me. The people in line who were still waiting gave a small, frightened cry and moved back. I had underestimated the American means of communication: I would have never stood a chance.

The Type Of Boat Boss Tweed Would Have Gone On To Spain And Back To America

I was directed through the port and back onto a U.S. navy frigate. The flag flew above my head. Why hadn’t I noticed it before? It was obvious. Had I only seen it, I could have maybe sneaked into the country, and I wouldn’t be here right now… would I? The captain gave the order, the frigate was released, and she sailed out of port, into the sea. Meanwhile, I set my affairs in my cabin, and came back onto the bridge. I had a lot to think about.

April 12, 1878

       

 Dear Diary,

                  Today little William died. I guess he isn’t “little” anymore, but I have to picture him as a pure young child to feel pity for my son. I cannot recall all the bad things he has done. They are too painful. I was wishing that he would grow into a fine young man, not a corrupt politician. In the end, all my hopes lay unfulfilled, and William has lived a life of a criminal, not an innocent hard worker.

                  At the beginning, I was proud. William had risen to a position of courage with his fire brigade, and he earned my respect. Then he also earned New York’s respect and rose to political heights. I was delighted when he was appointed City Commissioner of Public Works. And then I died. And for a while I ignored what was happening in New York.

                  It was just so happening that William was getting more and more corrupt by the day. When I turned my vigilance away from him, after a long period of festivities in the heavens, I realized what terrible mistakes he was doing. I tried to stop him, but, as a spirit, I was powerless. He established his Tweed Ring, he tampered with the results of votes, he appointed his accomplices to high-ranked jobs, and even built a City Hall for an extravagant amount of money that went back to him. I knew this was the turning point for my son, and there would be no backing out of it now.

                  I could only shake my head in disappointment and frustration when I learned that thanks to the New York Times and Nast from Harper’s Weekly, my love was behind bars. But by now, I had almost started to hate him in a certain way. I despised the man who had grown out of my baby, like an alien feeding on childhood innocence. I despised what the alien had become and by which standards he abided. I despised the corrupt manipulator of thousands of poor taxpayers who filled his pockets with fresh bills. However, I couldn’t help but feeling devastated at what my child had become.

                  And then he escaped. I watched with glorious pride but furious anger as he crossed the Atlantic Ocean to Spain. I watched with distraught but relief as the American ship brought him back to Ludlow Street Jail, where somehow I felt he belonged. I watched with a slight tinge of pity and amusement when he pleaded to New York’s Attorney General for pardon and listed all his crimes and wrongs, giving a list far longer than was anticipated. Still, pardon was refused.

                  Sometimes, I look back and think that during my short life span, I could have changed something, something that would have saved the money of many and taken a corrupt part of New York’s history out of the history books. Could I have done something so that William stayed a chair maker? If only I had another opportunity, I may have succeeded. I could have persuaded him to follow the great example of his father and never allow him to become involved in New York politics. Or I could have chosen him an entirely different career. It is hard to feel guilty for something that I am powerless to change. Nevertheless, I think I may have done my best: I’m in the heavens now.

                  The pain of dying with pneumonia and the raspy breaths one succumbs to might not have been the best way for a corrupt man to die, no matter how corrupt he is. I winced as I watched my little William expire his last air in a gasp. I waited. I saw the family amassed at Ludlow Street Jail disband. I waited. I saw the funeral cortege lower the coffin into the hole. I waited. I saw that the mayor of New York had refused to raise the City Hall flag after his death. But I did not see him enter Heaven as I did. And I waited. And I am still waiting.                                                 Eliza Tweed                                                
                                                                             

Boss Tweed In His Last Years Of Power