The Seattle post-intelligencer. [volume] (Seattle, Wash. Terr. [Wash.]) 1888-1914, 1890-12-15
SMART HENRY CLEWS
A Quiet Little Man With an In
tensely Bald Head.
SCRATCHING IN WALL STREET.
He Hasn't Let Misfortune Spoil His Tenn
per or Success Spoil His Equilib-
rium-A Day In His once.
New York World.

New York World.
Henry Clews is bird. By the baroness
OF his head and the brightness of his eye
he might be a bald-headed eagle. By the
cheerful, chirpy manner in which he hops
about, and the sweetness of his voice, he
might be a canary. But his persistent in
dustry and his habit Of pecking constantly
at every one he talks to and everything he
looks at make it more appropriate to class
him with that industrious, intelligent and
useful bird--the hen.
Mr.. Clews has been scratching and peck
ing-not to say clucking and cackling-
around the barnyard of Wall street for
nearly thirty years, and in that time he
has managed to accumulate a fortune
which, if dollars were eggs, would give
every inhabitant of New York three boiled
eggs for breakfast for one consecutive
morning.
Mr.. Clews few down from his uptown
roost before the Stock Exchange opened
Thursday, and after seeing that the chairs
were all in straight rows in the big public
room of his offices in the Mills building he
went into his private Office. His big room
is headquarters for everybody about Wall
street.
When the first quotations began to come
in over the half-dozen tickers that are
scattered about the place Mr.. Clews hoped
out of his room and went around picking
first at one ticker and then at another.
All the men who make it business to
occupy the easy chairs in Mr. Clews' office
day after day said ''Good morning." to
him, and to each salutation Mr.. CIews re-
sponded with a little pecking motion of
his head and maybe a few cheerful words
as to the state of the market
These men are not, as a rule, very heavy
spectators. 1t is not from them that Mr..
Clews gets the commissions which he lays
into golden eggs. But he likes to have
them around. They arc like the gravel in
the chicken-yard-good to peck at.
Mr.. Clews wore his hat yesterday, high
silk hat, with wide mourning-band around
it. He generally docs wear his hat when
ever he ventures where there might be a
draught. 1t is his physicians orders.
An oil painting of Mr.. Clews on the wall
above the clock explains clearly why he
mustn't venture into draught with his
hat of. 1t was put there years ago
so that customers could look at it and un-
derstand that it was lack of hair and not
of courtesy that made Mr.. Clews keep his
hat on as he talked TO them.
Mr.. Clews' hat sets down well over his
head and leaves visible all around only a
fringe of iron-gray hair and in front the
eagle-like face, with little wings of black
whiskers on either side. When Mr.. Clews
was not pecking Thursday at ticker or at
one of the sitterS in the easy chairs ne gen.
orally fell to pulling nervously at the
slender thread of gray mustache that con-
meets his two patches of whiskers.
Presently Mr.. Clews retired into his pri-
yate Office again. The next time he came
out he scratched around among the clerks
for few minutes, clucking in low tones
to each, and then stood awhile before the
great bulletin-board, upon which the
quotations were being posted as fast as
they came in.
The air of the big room was vibrant with
the rattle of telegraph instruments, the
clicking of tickers, the jingle of telephone
bells and all the other cluck and clatter of
the Wall street barnyard. Mr.. Clews paid
no attention to it, but wandered about in
simple, guiieless fashion that would have
charmed bunko man.
Mr. Clews used to be something of a dea-
con himself before Stephen V. White came
into Wall street, and as he stood yesterday
in front of the bulletin board, dressed in a
bad suit of clothes, with one hand in his
trousers pocket and the other pulling at
his mustache, no one could have mistaken
him for anything so INDIGENOUS and wicked
as hustling stockbroker. He might have
been q particularly meek farmer come to
town, and he looked somewhat as the jani-
tor of the building might have been ex-
pccted to look, but there was nothing of
the millionaire about his appearance.
Stocks were falling off one after the
other. and when he had seen them drop an
average of three.quarters all around Mr..
Clews turned away from the board and
stood for some time gazing sadly at large
oil painting of a bull, which is the chief
decoration Of the room.
Stocks kept on going down and Mr.. Clews
seemed half inclined to turn the bulls pic
ture face to the wall, but thought better of
it, and after taking peck all around at
the tickres went back into his private office
again.
He was out and in like this in his cheer
full, chirpy way all the morning. The old
fellows, who were the most conspicuous
hgures in the array of fifty or more men
frightened up every time Mr.. Clews ap-
peared They edged around and tried to
get in his way, and if he stopped to peck at
them moment they seemed proud and
happy. Mr.. Clews seemed never too busy
to do little clucking for the comfort OF
these old fellows.
AS the day wore on and stocks kept 60
ing lower dilI tOWeE, &hE. SicHs tdllC W
spend more and more time hopping about
in the outside rooms of his Office. He
didn't ruffie up his feathers or put on any
other airs of exceeding business, but he
CLICKED first to a clerk and then to a Gus
toner, now to telegraph operator and
then to an Office boy, and acted. in short,
like settled and reliable old bird looking
after big brood of chicks.
With it all he found time TO stand at the
Windows whlin CLASH his
hands under his coat-tails and gaze out
upon the hustle and turmoil Of Broad
street with the austere and melancholy
yisage of a truly good man looking out
upon the broad road that is said to lead to
a truly had place.
Mr.. Clews was strolling about the room
after such a period of gazing upon the
afternoon, when he CHANGED to come in
front of the door from the corridor by
which customers enter the office. At the
same instant the door CHANGED to be
opened and there CHANGED to enter man
somewhat taller and broader than Mr..
Clews, enveloped in a saffron overcoat
reaching well towards the heels.
If he had discovered a young ostrich in
his brood of chicks Mr.. Clews couldn't
have hoped livelier.
"Howdydo. Dook?" he exclaimed, in q
delighted tone of voice.
"Howdydo, Clews?" replied the man in
the saffron overcoat, quite Familiarity.
Mr.. Clews seemed quite delighted at this
affability, and pecked away harder than
ever. He reached about to the dukes
shoulder, and if he had really had bill he
certainly would have pecked all the but
tons off the front of the dukes overcoat, so
earnestly did he go at him.
Beautiful day, isn't it, Dook? ?" chirped
Mr.. Clews.
Little cold. Clews," replied the man in