There was some reason for the Ring's faith in its
invulnerability. It controlled Governor and legislature, was
formidable in the national councils of the Democratic party, and
its Governor was widely mentioned for the presidential
nomination. It possessed complete power over the city council,
the mayor, and many of the judges. It was in partnership with
Gould and Fiske of the Erie, then reaping great harvests in Wall
Street, and with street railway and other public service
corporations. Through untold largess it silenced rivalry from
within and criticism from without. And, when suspicion first
raised its voice, it adroitly invited a committee of prominent
and wealthy citizens, headed by John Jacob Astor, to examine the
controller's accounts. After six hours spent in the City Hall
these respectable gentlemen signed an acquitment, saying that
"the affairs of the city under the charge of the controller are
administered in a correct and faithful manner."

Thus intrenched, the Ring levied tribute on every municipal
activity. Everyone who had a charge against the city, either for
work done or materials furnished, was told to add to the amount
of his bill, at first 10%, later 66%, and finally 85%. One man
testified that he was told to raise to $55,000 his claim of
$5000. He got his $5000; the Ring got $50,000. The building of
the Court House, still known as "Tweed's Court House," was
estimated to cost $3,000,000, but it cost many times that sum.
The item "repairing fixtures" amounted to $1,149,874.50, before
the building was completed. Forty chairs and three tables cost
$179,729.60; thermometers cost $7500. G. S. Miller, a carpenter,
received $360,747.61, and a plasterer named Gray, $2,870,464.06
for nine months' "work." The Times dubbed him the "Prince of