When the Astors Owned New York by Justin Kaplan Read Free Book Online Page A

Representatives in the Seventh Congressional District, a Tammany-dominated area that included blocks of Astor tenements. Until then he had been a modest favorite of the New York Times, for one, which had praised him in editorials for his diligence, “thorough study of the law,” and “fidelity to public interests.” After his narrow defeat—by 165 out of over 23,000 votes—the paper turned on him for his “ignoble subservience to [the] machine dictation” of Republican Party boss Roscoe Conkling, dispenser of political spoils and enemy of civil service reform. “The moral is that the possessor of an honored name, of great wealth, of sound ability, and of an unexceptionable private character may throw all these advantages away when at a critical moment in his political career he forgets what is due to his constituents as well as to his own independence and self-respect.” The New York Sun wrote him off as “partisan,” “narrow-minded,” and “selfish,” with nothing to recommend him except his money.
    Embittered by his defeat and by similar denunciations on other editorial pages, Willy withdrew from politics and to the end of his days fed his rage on hatred of the American press—“tobacco-spitting journalism,” an “atrocity” that “trained vulgarians” inevitably visited upon men of wealth, education, breeding, and social standing. He looked back on his political career as “a fine roll in the mire—unfamiliar streets, outlandish slums, villainous drinking saloons, Negroes trying to be white, speeches inane, humorous, half mad.” In his rage and disappointment he overlooked something all too obvious to his campaign managers and the electorate. By upbringing and temperament William Waldorf Astor had been unsuited from the start for what he considered the shabby business of canvassing saloons, dance halls, breweries, and tobacco shops. This proud Astor had been compelled to play the part of suppliant, like Shakespeare’s Coriolanus, and stand at the city gates, hat in hand, begging citizens for their votes while recoiling from their touch and smell.
    On his election-eve swings through the city’s saloons he dutifully handed out cigars, put $20 gold pieces on the bar, and ordered whiskey and beer all around. He said a few accommodating words, sometimes in German, about the family roots in Baden, when he toured the beer gardens. Going against the advice of his handlers, he refused to canvass the tenements. Impeccably dressed and hatted, he kept his gloves on when he shook hands and barely sipped his drink before making a quick exit. His closed carriage, drawn by matched bay horses, waited at the door….
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    A year before his defeat and exit from politics William began to turn over in his mind what he called his “English Plan.” “On the 20th day of September 1880, when I was 32, the thought occurred to me that we should fare better in another land.” Soon after, an ideal if only temporary solution to his unhappiness in America presented itself. In August 1882, Republican president Chester A. Arthur appointed him envoy extraordinary and minister plenipotentiary to Italy. “Go and enjoy yourself, my dear boy,” the president told him. “Have a good time!” Secretary of State Frederick Frelinghuysen offered a similar instruction. “Young man, don’t write me many dispatches.”
    With only nominal duties connected with the position, Willy was free now to lead the life of cultivated, guiltless, and studious leisure denied him back home. He and Mamie rented and took up residence in the enormous Palazzo Rospigliosi, entered Roman society, gave lavish parties, and quickly became court favorites of King Umberto and Queen Margharita. The queen pronounced Minister Astor’s wife “the most beautiful woman in Italy.” Willy returned to the passions of his youth,