work, and many old-timers still remember the days when "Bill"
Whitney delivered cart-tail harangues on the lower east side. By
1884 he had become the most prominent Democrat in New
York--always a foe to Tammany--and as such he contributed largely
to Cleveland's first election, became Secretary of the Navy in
Cleveland's cabinet and that great President's close friend and
adviser. As Secretary of the Navy, Whitney, who found the fleet
composed of a few useless hulks left over from the days of
Farragut, created the fighting force that did such efficient
service in the Spanish War. The fact that the United States is
now the third naval power is largely owing to these early
activities of Whitney.

Certainly all this national service forms a strange prelude to
Whitney's activities in the public utilities of New York and
other cities. Had he died, indeed, in his fiftieth year, his name
would be renowned today as a worker for the highest ideals of
American citizenship. What suddenly made him turn his back upon
his past, join his former enemies in Tammany Hall, and engage in
these great speculative enterprises? The simplest explanation is
that, with his ability and ambition, Whitney had the luxurious
tastes of a Medici. At the height of his career his financial
success found expression in a magnificent house which he
established on Fifth Avenue. Its furnishings were one of the
wonders of New York. Whitney ransacked the art treasures of
Europe, stripped medieval castles of their carvings and
tapestries, ripped whole staircases and ceilings from the repose
of centuries, and relaid them in this abode of splendor, and here
he entertained with a lavishness that astounded New York. This
single exploit pictures the man. Everything that Whitney did and