The rise of Theodore Roosevelt - Edmund Morris [251]
The Chief, moreover, was a formidable figure. Commissioners might come and go, but Thomas F. Byrnes bestrode Mulberry Street with the solidity of a Colossus. At fifty-three, he bade fair to outlast the present Board well into the next century. Byrnes was internationally famous as a detective of almost mystic power, capable of retrieving stolen property at will. “Enough,” he would say soothingly to a distraught Fifth Avenue matron, “your diamonds will be delivered at your house within three days.” Invariably they were.12 Cynical observers, like Lincoln Steffens, noted that such spectacular achievements were the result of a comfortable arrangement with organized crime. The Chief allowed certain lords of the underworld carte blanche, providing their gangs worked regular beats, and cooperated whenever he asked them to return this or that haul for publicity purposes. It was also agreed that the gangs would stay away from the financial district, for Byrnes had another comfortable arrangement with the lords of Wall Street. Capitalists like Jay Gould did not wish to be disturbed by petty bank heists while they went about the larger business of robbing the United States Treasury, and they were prepared to reward Byrnes for his protection with favored stocks and bonds. As a result, the Chief prospered mightily; by 1895 he was worth at least $350,000, according to his own public estimate.13
Graft on so majestic a scale could not be expected of other police officers, but Byrnes’s example was an inspiration to all, and the corruption elsewhere was proportionate, according to rank. Reporting directly to the Chief were three inspectors, whose corpulent figures and gold-laced uniforms amply symbolized the rewards of office. Then came thirty-five Captains, each of whom controlled a precinct, and the revenues thereof.14 Officers from high-vice areas like the Tenderloin waxed noticeably richer than their colleagues. However even the poorest precinct was worth several thousand a year if properly organized. A regular system of “taxation” prevailed in most parts of town, whereby the owner of any business, legal or illegal, paid dues based on turnover. Greengrocers would hand over a dollar or two a day for permission to stack fruit on the sidewalk. Owners of gambling houses set aside $15 to $300 a month as insurance against raids. Saloons paid $10,000 for a liquor license; the madam of a brothel might contribute $30,000 over an extended period to her precinct captain, along with more intimate favors upon request.15
Another form of corruption—job-peddling—flourished within the Police Department itself. Since there were at least two qualified applicants for every one of the force’s thirty-eight thousand positions, certain market values prevailed. In 1894 the going rate for a captaincy was $10,000, although some men had been known to pay $12,000 to $15,000 in hard currency.16 At the opposite end of the scale, appointment as a patrolman could be had for $300—even that was much more than most recruits were able to pay. Examining officers explained kindly that the investment would soon be recouped on the beat.17
All these sums were a matter of common notoriety when Roosevelt took office. Only four months before, an investigating committee of the New York State Senate, headed by Clarence L. Lexow (R), had published them in a sensational report recommending “an indictment against the Police Department of New York City as a whole.” The 10,576-page document, which represented the most searching municipal probe since the days of the Tweed Ring, included a sample police “budget,” as follows:
Regular Appropriation $5,139,147.64
Brothel Contributions 8,120,000.00
Saloon Contributions 1,820,000.00
Gambling-house Contributions 165,000.00
Merchants, peddlers etc. 50,000.00
New Members of Force 60,000.00
Grand Total: $15,354,147.64
The fact that such figures were now quoted in guidebooks to the city, along with the height of the Statue of Liberty and the length of the Brooklyn