OLD TIMES IN BANKING
by M.I.McCreight, Retired
At that same period we note credits in the account of William Pits:
All through the hundred or more accounts are entries--mere charges in the open accounts for money loaned. Once in one to four years the accounts were settled. Sometimes a note was taken for the balance due--not a note as we know them, but a mere promise to pay written out in longhand on the ledger page. When paid they were marked settled and crossed off by a penstroke. That was early day banking! Banking before Pittsburgh banks were born. It was but three short generations later that the writer entered the "profession" of loaning money. Other peoples' money--at a profit to the loaner and loanee. Fifty-seven years of it in a row! Age 17 at a business college, keeping phoney books and cashing phoney checks week days, and on Saturdays and holidays riding the Broadway bus, Castle Garden to Central Park, seeing Trinity Church spire, the only skyscraper, a strut through the lobby of the famed Metropolitan, and lunch for a quarter at the great Astor House. Then came a Saturday afternoon when the boys were commandeered to the study hall where the stage had been cleared, to a chair and a bare kitchen table. Our bewhiskered teacher rose and called for quiet as a young man with tousled hair, black string tie and seersucker coat placed a gadget on the table, attached a crank, wound the cylinder with tinfoil, hung a paper cone to it, big end up, raised his left hand for quiet and began talking as he slowly turned the crank. Not a sound! Then he reset the cone pointed toward the audience, turned the crank again, and behold, the cone squeaked out the very words he had spoken into it. It was Thomas A. Edison giving his first demonstration, his discovery of means for reproducing the human voice! Writing this, we see the banking business of that period as crude and undeveloped as was the first talking machine thus proved to the would-be bankers, by the youthful Edison, who later gave us electric light, power and the movies---and a new world! I trust it will not seem egotistic to mention here that above the desk hangs three autograph-photos of Thomas A. Edison, Luther Burbank and Henry Ford--men whom it was my privilege to know more or less well, mentioned here only as a grateful acknowledgement for having lived in their day and witnessed the marvelous accomplishments of each of them--in old-time Free America! And I happen to know that neither of them had much time, or deep respect, for bankers. They were great producers and creators of wealth--which bankers were not--bankers, mere gamblers with other peoples' money, yet a sort of necessary show-how commissioner that Indians know as "medicine men," who tells them how, and charges big fees for it. |
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To the banker of old days, one billion dollars was a sum far beyond human comprehension, impossible to count of conceive of! Now we have a government that can spend that amount in a short time--and does. Tom Edison, with all his magic that made a new life for humans on this terrestrial planet, did not keep pace with the revolution in finance and banking in that sixty years we now look back upon. Then the bank was a one-story frame--sometimes brick--12 X 24, with a big fire-proof safe in one corner; a wood counter with a wire screen and a wicket window from the front window to the rear of the room. There was a small shelf attached to the wall and a letter press and high desk ranged against the back wall. Along the counter back of the screen the cashier arranged his daily memorandum slips and incoming checks and letters. Beside the wicket stood the brass spear-head check file holding the check cashed during the day duly cancelled as shown by the triangular cut. Envelopes in the daily mail were carefully slit and piled beside the wicket to be used as deposit tickets. Closing hour was anytime after six o'clock when the day's deposits were entered in the journal and the checks entered opposite. Any transfers and drafts and cashier's checks issued entered in proper columns and the cash counted. If found correct the general ledger on the high desk was posted. Then letters for the day were written and copied in the letter press with a powerful twist of the big wheel, the safe and the front door locked, letters mailed, and the cashier was off to supper. He was liable to be stopped once or several times before he got home--to return to help some belated customer, for it was his duty to accommodate anyone in need of his advice or financial aid. That was how the little towns were built into big ones--the accommodating banker. It was how and why little banks grew into big ones, it was what built the United States into a great nation. That long gone phase of early day banking is illustrated by an incident in the writer's experience, when some years ago, a smallish, middle-aged man stuck his arm into the wicket window and said: "I want to shake hands with you. I owe you all I have and I can write my check for a million!" A handshake followed and the writer expressed surprise, asked who he was and why he came with such a remark. He said: "I came out of my way just to shake your hand and tell you that you loaned me the first hundred dollars I ever had--and on my own name. It was not the hundred dollars--for I repaid it, but because you had confidence in me. It gave me confidence in myself and I went out and made good. I now have one hundred and one stores, thanks to you." And the little big merchant jumped into his Cadillac and was gone. Looking back through the big end of the telescope I see the kind of banking I first trained in, but gazing into the little end from that time to the present--well, it is a giant whirligig, the speed of which the gods my see fly to atoms before another like period of time elapses. We can only wait and--hope. M.I.McCreight-October 14, 1944. [Note-This article appeared in a 1945 issue of Money and Commerce with the following editorial inset: M.I.McCreight Author, Indian Chief, Banker and Conservationist M.I.McCreight, adopted in his youth as a member of the Sioux Indian tribe and a Central Pennsylvania banker after that for many years, is very well known as a historian and conservationist as well as an excellent banker before his retirement a decade ago. As a very young man he went West where he became interested in and friendly with the Indians. This led to his adoption as a member of the Sioux, followed by an impressive ceremony at which he was designated as a chief with the title of Tchanta Tanka, meaning Great Heart. Some years later Mr. McCreight returned to Clearfield County, for a two weeks visit. During that time he was induced to enter banking, in which he spent many years. When he retired he was President of the Deposit National Bank of DuBois. Mr. McCreight was one of the organizers of the Pennsylvania Bankers Association at a meeting in Philadelphia in 1895. He, D.Shelly Kloss of Tyrone, retired, for many years Secretary of the Association, and Samuel B. Philson, President, Citizens National Bank, Meyersdale, are the only survivors. He was President of the Central Pennsylvania Bankers Association about 1912 and he also served as President of the Clearfield County Bankers Association. His interest in outdoor life was great, as evidenced by his interest in the Indians. He was associated with President Theodore Roosevelt in initiating the conservation program. He lamented the disappearance of Pennsylvania's vast pine forests, rapidly disappearing under the axe of the lumbermen, and initiated the movement to preserve for posterity Cook's Woods, the only considerable tract of primeval forest now standing. This he finally carried to a successful conclusion. He is the author of a number of articles on such matters. Chief Tchanta Tanka resides in The Wigwam, atop a lofty mountain peak near DuBois, where he treasures many mementoes of the things in which he is interested. He has friends all over the world. Snow-bound in the wigwam he wrote: "I have to answer a letter from G.B.S. (George Bernard Shaw)--we're having a deal for making a copy of his saw-buck for my own use--he tells me it is not patented--just as familiar to King Arthur and King Alfred as it is to himself--right or left-handed--sends me a photo of himself sawing with his left hand. I have the timber--and coal is now too precious to burn, so, I feel that if Shaw at 88-89 can saw his own wood, I should be able too--with his kind of saw-buck at 80."] |
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The following is a copy of Resolutions passed at a regular meeting of the Board of Directors of DEPOSIT NATIONAL BANK on January 5th, 1926: Whereas, Board of Directors having created and established the office of Executive Chairman with prescribed duties and annual salary, and Whereas, In recognition of the valued services of its president in his work of establishing this bank and the forty years devoted to it upbuilding to the present enviable position of one of the foremost and progressive institutions in the state. With full appreciation of his years of strenuous activities in originating and securing the railroad and coal developments of the Erie and Buffalo & Susquehanna Companies which for many years has furnished much of the business from which both community and the bank have prospered; for his work as member of the Committee of Bankers Association presidents in procuring legislation for and establishing the Federal Reserve Banking System for the country; for his quarter century of service on the board of Education during which the present buildings were erected, the High School established and the system enlarged and improved. For his exceptional record in administering the Selective Service System in the World War serving without pay and sustaining great personal sacrifices and financial loss thereby. Finally with full acknowledgment and gratitude for his long and faithful administration of the bank's affairs as its principal executive through the years of panic as well as in prosperity when he was responsible at all times for its success or failure and Whereas, Believing it for the welfare of the bank and desiring that the business be continued under its present efficient management and with every faith in its future growth and good influence in the community it is RESOLVED, That president M.I. McCreight be appointed Executive Chairman, vice president B.B. McCreight vice Executive Chairman, vice president John Q. Groves, President, Fred L. Newmeyer Cashier, J. Herbert Lowe and Fred D. Osburn assistant cashiers. RESOLVED, That a copy of these resolutions be signed by the directors and presented to the Executive Chairman in testimony of their esteem, and that he be requested hereby to serve as executive chairman for a further term of three years following the expiration of the present year if he shall continue in health and desires to continue such service. RESOLVED, That the Executive Chairman be granted leave of Absence for three months on pay to visit the south for benefit of his son's health. [signed by] N.F.Evans(?),B.Luther Lowe, J.H.Pifer, W.H.Mannon(?), B.B.McCreight, C.C.Gadd, R.W.Beadle, and John Q. Groves. |
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[Note-And here's another article in Money and Commerce dated March 28, 1953.] Major I. McCreight, 87, Pioneer (DuBois, PA) Banker and Businessman, Writes in Interesting Fashion of the Days of Long Ago (Major McCreight is the only surviving banker among those who attended the first meeting of the Pennsylvania Bankers Association in1895. The only other survivor is F. Howard Hooke, publisher, a prime mover in organizing the P.B.A.--Ed.) At the age of 87 I look back a long way over banking practice in the United States and can recall experiences of mine of interest to modern day bankers. A vast change has taken place in the banking business since the early 1890's. When in 1893 the annual convention of the American Bankers Association was held in Chicago the country was in the midst of a panic. A bulletin board was set on the stage in the form of a blackboard on which the names of banks closing were marked up every few minutes. As these names appeared, one or more bankers in the audience would grow pale and leave the auditorium quietly. When the session ended, there were only a few left. They had boarded the first train home. I was one who stayed to hear Lyman J. Gage, Secretary of the Treasury, make the most important speech of the convention. It was my lot to attend the organization meeting of the Pennsylvania Bankers Association in 1895. Some years ago the Association established THE OLD GUARD and awarded a badge of honor to the men who were present for the first convention. Just five of us were surviving at that time. At this writing, only two survive: F. Howard Hooke, former owner editor of The Financial Age and myself. In the early 80's, banks with as much as one million dollars of assets, were few and far between. A billion dollars was beyond human comprehension. Judge Thomas Mellon had handed over his small private bank at Pittsburgh to his son Andy. Our small private bank at DuBois was one of Andy's correspondent banks, with a daily exchange of remittance-letter checks. The Pittsburgh bank grew into millions until now the Mellon National Bank and Trust Company reports billions. What a picture! After two years of banking experience, I started in '85 on a trip west to what was then the far frontier and served as Treasurer of Jim Hill's Fat Stock Show covering the then northwest. I helped to organize the First National Bank of Devil's Lake, North Dakota and later became lost on the prairie in the worst Dakota blizzard ever known. Was then put in charge of the buffalo-bone trade with the Indians. This became a forty-million dollar business. I also had the honor of throwing the first shovel of ground to build the Great Northern Railroad. When I returned home in1887, I was elected Assistant Cashier and Director of the First National Bank in DuBois at the age of 22. My continuous experience as head of the bank covers 57 years and for four years before that, I was in the banking business. In all of that time before the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation was formed, banks had to stand on their own feet--and stand or fall, alone. I started the present largest bank in DuBois with a mere paid in capital of $5000. Within two weeks we were burned out in the great fire of 1888. We gathered up the wreckage and re-opened in the opera house--a frame building--with a carpenter's work bench for our office furniture. A new two-story brick building was erected. The largest business corner block in DuBois was built in 1892. When President Wilson took office, the job of devising a central banking system was the first order of business. At that time I was president of a group known as the Central Pennsylvania Bankers Association. It became my duty to attend a meeting of a special committee of three hundred bankers called at Chicago by the American Bankers Association. This committee delegated a sub-committee of leading bankers to call on President Wilson at Washington to consult with him on the bankers' own plan. The President would not meet with these men and the bill he had approved was passed. Ever since then, bankers have not been quite as "high-hat" as they once were. The thing that impresses me most is the great difference between the methods of doing business in the 1890's and the methods prevailing today. The "gay nineties," so-called, and the opening years of the 20th century, were years that comparatively few men now in business can look back upon with understanding. The automobile, our concrete highways, the vast growth in electric power service, the credit procedure under the Federal Reserve Act, and the coming of two World Wars,--all these have had a share in creating a new nation in which BIG Government and BIG business are the order of the day. PURCHASE OF COAL LANDS Swept along with the nation's growth in material wealth, we found these forces taking hold with the resources of Pennsylvania, including my own section of the Commonwealth. As head of a home-owned progressive bank, I was called upon to take a hand in developing new railroads and buying new coal operations and acreage. One day the president of a railroad came to my desk to talk about extending his lines 100 miles into our region for coal. He looked over a small map I drew for him showing a route and several large areas of coal along the line in case he decided to build it. When he asked if it could be done, I said, "Yes, if you can pay the bills." Then he asked, "Can you do it if I pay the bills?" And I said: "Yes!" Rising from his chair opposite my desk, he held out his hand and said, "Let's do it!" I began at once to buy all of the properties shown on the map. Some fifteen millions were involved. There was no written contract of any kind. Without a word in writing, one large operation including 3000 acres was bought from E.J.Berwind for $400,000; another from Peale for $450,000; and still another from Berwind for $125,000. The last big purchase of coal comprised 11,000 acres at a cost of 6 cents per ton in the ground. On this tract was built the largest operation in the United States at that time. Many other instances of the same sort could be cited, but the above illustrates the manner in which big business was handled in the old days. Another item might be mentioned. During World War I, I was called to West Virginia to untangle a deal in lumber and coal involving 31,500 acres and a stake of $305,000.Both parties had given up further negotiations. On taking up the difficulty with the purchaser, I found it was the question of Federal tax. The purchaser asked me if I would have the property turned over to him if he would pay the purchase money to me. He had only my word that it would be done as he desired. He went across the street to his own bank and came back with credit entered in my name for the deal. There was no word except ours--and no written contract. Business in the old days was based very largely on personal word and simple honor. Collateral was mostly unknown. Larger loans were usually made on judgment or mortgage security, or by endorsement of joint signatures on notes. The banker often took chances on the integrity of the borrower, and without security otherwise. Here is a case in point: One day a cock-eyed fellow stuck his hand in my window saying he wanted to shake hands with me. I looked at him thinking he wanted me to do him a favor. He said he had driven 100 miles out of his way just to shake hands. When I asked him "how come?" he said, "You loaned me the first hundred dollars I ever borrowed. It gave me confidence in myself. I went out to California and made good. I now own 102 stores and can write my check for a million. I owe it all to you--but I DID pay the hundred back to you!" Then he said good-by and left without telling his name. I noted that he climbed into a fine Cadillac car with a liveried chauffeur--and was gone! LO! THE POOR INDIAN My association with various Indian tribes, covers sixty-five years, forty-two of which I have been a chief of the Sioux Indians with the name Tchanta Tanka,--Buffalo Bill was a witness at the formal ceremony. I was adopted by the Mohawks as one of their tribe. I am interested in helping the Indians with their troubles when and where I can. They need help now just as much as ever. I confirm the statement once made by Wendell Phillips that "The Indian race is the one which the people of the United States most dread at the judgment bar of Almighty God." Our present generation unfortunately have only the faintest conception of the nation's history in this respect. |
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They ask you who I am and where I live. Pray tell them I'm a brother to the last great chieftain of the Sioux,--inglorious remnant of once proud and happy owners of this vast country. My Home's within the border of Penn's Grand Commonwealth wherein was made the only treaty that was never broken. The pledge in love and faith made here with feathered brave is sacred still. ���������������������������������� My wigwam stands a crown upon her mountain foothills where to the east I witness the rising sun creep shade on shade out of the Unknown and spread ethereal gladness over the pall of night and paint o'er all a scene entrancing,--a picture sketched by the Architect of All,--serene and holy, radiant in a splendor that tells a tale of things supreme. And looking west I see her sink down midst stately trees as if entangled and was rending her to shreds. Follows then the twilight and the whippoorwill, mournful messenger of dying day,--the harbinger of night. ���������������������������������� Lest one become despondent at dissipation of these glories of the day, oft comes the silvery moon to pierce the darkness and fill the landscape with a soft sad glow sweetly serene. From our teepee we see the struggles of Mother Nature when she marshals her storm clouds and posts her titanic troops of war in battle array across the heavens. The flash and boom of her artillery make music for the gods, while the distant rumble of her giant drums lulls to sleep the angels. And when command and action comes she opens battery of brass and bronze that sends the universe a trembling as if in her majestic madness she would destroy it all. Then passion ends in sadness and remorse as forth she pours her lamentations in a flood of tears seeming the very earth to wash away. ����������������������������������� And so when field and forest and flowered glen and all the living things in air and earth are drenched in deepest gloom, an unseen hand with magic wand waves curtain clouds aside to let the smiling sun peep from behind her battlements and flood the panorama with a message of love and forgiveness; a kiss upon earth's drooping eyelids brings to life and happiness the things she calls her own. ���������������������������������� Forth from the Council Lodge behold the Red Man's world again in peace and joy and gladness; all Nature's family outstriving every other member in answer to Her call to be; each working out the aim and purpose of Her creed; busy and happy in the smile of summer's sun. From here we witness all Nature's life and death; we see her birth, her growth and here we watch her die. We see the wither and decay of all her beauty but know not the mystery that enshrouds it all. ���������������������������������� We see the flight of birds, the fading flowers, the waning light and falling leaves. We see the turn of green to brown, the lowering heavens and the chill blasts of winter when the great white blanket cover all for the long sleep; and we know that Mother Nature's resurrection will occur again at the rising of next Summer's Sun. -- Tchanta-tanka, New Years, 1923 |
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AN 80-YEAR-OLD LOOKS INTO A 20-YEAR-OLD WORLD Monday, Sept. 18, 1944 Dear You: Roaring in my ears; fog in the eye, and brain---that is, if any left,-in a whirligig like an evening farm separator on Grange meeting night. Left picking ripe tomatoes to meet the train from Jacksonville due P&LE station 5:50---with 5 minutes to spare & Jim boarded the auto with Jack,--and the two of us fresh from the tomato patch. Whiz to Poli's and a real dinner---on to Don's to bid goodbye to Geo. and Janet and little Don leaving for South America. The whirlagiggle still spinning--and still some gas,--on to Cath's on Braddock Field at 10 PM--and 2 hrs. later, to bed for two the rest, on to Kensington for a place to sleep. Sunday 9 AM--Bob rushed in to wake his grandmother--he in from Washington--left Wash, DC at AM Tuesday--Maine for fuel--on to Newfoundland and dinner--breakfast in Scotland and sleep--on to Iceland--stop for lunch and overnight--then on to Labrador and a short lunch--and fuel--landed in Washington Friday evening--one day loaf, and night train home Saturday--home for Sunday school where he was last seen in a crowd going in church to listen in to his own dad preach--back via Dick's to Don's for a snap shot of the four generations--and the twins and babies in good daylight in the back yard of 5878 Burchfield Avenue,--and on again, gone again via Beechwood, Fifth Ave., and the great River boulevard at 50 an hour, to Marion's good dinner at 215 7th St Oakmont, where Micky called by 'phone from Iowa City saying he would be on the way by Wednesday to the Wigwam--while Jim goes to Cleveland's big national bankers' convention, and back to meet at the Wigwam. The red car stood out on the street headed north as Jackie told of discovery of a new principal in mechanics made yesterday at his job in the noted Gulf Laboratory--a 3 in. steel shaft 2 ft. long floating in oil; an unheard-of and impossible thing in science---and the whirligig made us stagger as we took the wheel. But the sun still shone and the gas held out, for the 95 miles rolled on through three and a half hours of Western Pennsylvania's farming district--with two or three stops to visit along the way--to build a fire in the grate at 6:45 and some tea and onions on the kitchen table--dizzy, and still dizzy next night as this is struck off for the press at 9 PM. ---M I McCreight Fifty years ago, women wore hoop skirts, bustles, petticoats, corsets, cotton stockings, high-button shoes, frilled cotton dresses. They did the cleaning, washing, and ironing and raised big families, went to church on Sunday, and were too busy to be sick. Men wore whiskers, square hats, Ascot ties, red flannel underwear, big watches and chains. They chopped wood for the stove, drank ten-cent whiskey and five-cent beer, rode bicycles, buggies and sleighs, went in for politics, worked 12 hours a day and lived to a ripe old age. Today women wear silk (or no) stockings, short skirts, no corsets, one ounce of underwear, have bobbed hair, smoke, paint and powder, drink cocktails, play bridge, drive cars, have pet dogs, and go in for politics. Men have high blood pressure, wear no hats and little hair shows above their whiskers, play golf, bathe twice a day, drink (nearly) poison, play the stock market, ride in airplanes, never go to bed the same day they get up, are misunderstood at home, work live and play ten hours a day and die young. --- M.I.McCreight, date unknown |
December 9, 1950 MY TRIBUTE This is birthday No. 83 for she was born Dec. 9, 1867. And I picked her when she was ten. I was sent to town with a load of apples, butter and boards for sale. A half bushel basket to be delivered to the Humphrey home in Prescottville; she came to the paling fence to take in the load; too heavy, and help was volunteered-and refused; she strained and tugged at the heavy burden; she grinned a little--her cheeks were red. That was the moment she was fated! -10 to 13. That must have been 1878--near three quarters of a century of unity. Yesterday her club celebrated her birthday--she came home with a load of presents--and the mails bring tributes from everywhere. Six of her boys and girls and a lot grand-children treat her as one above all others-and justly so. This 83rd. anniversary--sunny December ninth calls for my own declaration, that she is the best wife--the best mother and the best woman that ever filled the job of living with a man. M.I. McCreight |
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To The Family Tomorrow--Saturday July 20--is an important milestone for Tchanta Tanka and his Squaw.
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