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Page 23
The manager vowed it was utterly impossible, whereupon the captain
motioned to one of his men, who, it turned out, had been for years a
trusted employee of J. P. Morgan & Co. and had made himself familiar with
every detail of Wall Street affairs. He knew where a reserve store of
gold was hidden and the consequence was that half an hour later the
German soldiers marched back to the Battery, their motor trucks groaning
under the weight of twenty million dollars in double eagles and bullion.
"You see, we need some small change to buy eggs and chickens and
vegetables with," laughed the officer. "We are very particular to pay for
everything we take."
An hour later the first show of resistance to German authority came when
a delegation of staff officers from General von Hindenburg visited the
city hall to instruct Mayor McAneny as to the efficient running of the
various municipal departments. I had the details of this conference from
the mayor's private secretary. The officers announced that there would be
no interference with the ordinary life of the city so long as the results
were satisfactory. Business must go on as usual. Theatres and places of
amusement were to remain open. The city must be gay, just as Berlin was
gay in 1915.
On the other hand any disorder or failure to provide for German needs in
the matter of food and supplies would be severely dealt with. Every
morning there must be delivered at the foot of Fulton Street, Brooklyn,
definite quantities of meat, poultry, eggs, butter, vegetables, flour,
milk, sugar, fruits, beer, coffee, tea, besides a long and detailed list
of army supplies.
"Suppose we cannot get these things?" protested the mayor. "Suppose the
train service to New York is cut off by General Wood's army?"
"Hah!" snorted a red-faced colonel of artillery. "There are two and a
half million Americans on Manhattan Island--and we'll see that they stay
there--who will starve within one week if General Wood cuts off the train
service. I don't think he will cut it off, Mr. McAneny."
"Besides, my dear sir," drawled a slender English-looking officer,
wearing the iron cross, "if there should be any interference with our
food supply, remember that we can destroy your gas and electric lighting
plants, we can cripple your transportation system and possibly cut off
your water supply with a few well directed shots. Don't forget that, Mr.
McAneny."
The trouble began as these German officers walked down Broadway with a
small escort of soldiers. Whenever they passed a policeman they required
him to salute, in accordance with published orders, but a big Irishman
was defiant and the officers stopped to teach him manners. At which a
crowd gathered that blocked Broadway and the officers were insulted and
jostled and one of them lost his helmet. There was no serious disorder,
but the Germans made it a matter of principle and an hour later the
_Staats Zeitung_ came out with a special edition announcing that,
inasmuch as disrespect had been shown to five German officers by a
Broadway crowd, it now became necessary to give the city an object lesson
that would, it was hoped, prevent such a regrettable occurrence in the
future. That evening five six-inch shells would be fired by German siege
guns in Brooklyn at five indicated open spaces in Manhattan, these being
chosen to avoid losses of life and property. The first shell would be
fired at seven o'clock and would strike in Battery Park; the second at
7.05 and would strike in Union Square; the third at 7.10 and would strike
in Madison Square; the fourth at 7.15 and would strike in Stuyvesant
Square; the fifth at 7.20 and would strike in Central Park just north of
the Plaza.
This announcement was carried out to the letter, the five shells
exploding at the exact points and moments indicated, and the people
realised with what horrible precision the German artillery-men held
Manhattan island at their mercy.
The newspapers also received their object lesson through the action of
the _Evening Telegram_ in bringing out an extra announcing the
bombardment. My own desk being in the foreign editor's room, I witnessed
this grim occurrence. At half-past five a boyish-looking lieutenant
sauntered in and asked for the managing editor, who was sitting with his
feet on a desk.
"Good-evening," said the German. "You have disobeyed orders in getting
out this edition. I am sorry."
The editor stared at him, not understanding. "Well, what's the answer?"
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