This tongue-in-cheek commentary was written about 16 years ago, and dusted off just recently. It might remind readers not only of our recent past, but also the present situation in Washington and Wall Street.
The Pony Express, source of many legends and movies, was actually in business for an incredibly short time – from April 3, 1860 through October 1861. This romanticised method of delivering messages was rendered obsolete overnight by new technology: Samuel Morse’s telegraph.
But what might have happened had Mr Morse’s invention been delayed 200 years, and the Pony Express had remained the premier means of communications in an expanding United States of America?
Let’s see...
It is now 2060, exactly 200 years since the founding of the Pony Express Company. Celebrations are about to take place from coast to coast. The largest express company, the New York Pony Express, or ‘NYPE’ (affectionately known as the ‘Big Horse’), is planning to put on the biggest bash. After all, weren’t they the industry leader? From its specialised rider training schools and pony breeding farms scattered throughout the Northeast, to the feed farms and leather factories which manufactured customised saddles and the myriad other items of tack, the NYPE had ‘done itself proud,’ capturing almost 90% of the express business nationwide.
The NYPE had built itself up from its original humble beginnings two centuries before with 24 young riders who signed the famous ‘Cottonwood Agreement,’ under which they pledged with each other to charge non-members a fixed, minimum fee, and to transfer saddlebags only among NYPE members, thus creating a cartel.
The smaller regional Pony Express companies were also flush with pride despite the limited role they played in the communications business. Although not of the same national stature as the NYPE, the Philadelphia Express Company, or ‘Phlx’ as it liked to be styled, thought of itself as using very modern technology (ponies bred to eat less, and lightweight saddles). They had even dropped the word ‘Pony’ from their official company name some 20 years earlier.
The Chicago company had also become a bit big for its britches, calling itself the ‘Midwest Pony Express’ or ‘MPE’, while the two express companies on the West Coast, formerly the Los Angeles and San Francisco Pony Express companies, had merged into a single, larger one, known as the Pacific Pony Express, or ‘PPE’.
There were others, as well, including the smallish Boston Express Company (‘BES’), which had followed Philadelphia’s lead by dropping the ‘Pony’ from its name, and the upstart Cincinnati Express Company (‘CES’), which was using some kind of newfangled technology in an attempt to eliminate the need for ponies altogether. But they did very little volume, however, so the NYPE didn’t worry about them.
The day before the celebrations began started quietly. The NYPE was sponsoring a bicentennial dinner and fireworks programme, and had invited not only the elected congressional overseers of the express industry, but also all five commissioners of the Pony Express Commission, or ‘PEC’, which had been created by a disappointed Congress after the 1929 scandal which involved defective horseshoes, and which caused a six month slow down of service back a half-century earlier.
The newly appointed Chairman of the PEC, Robert Browner, formerly an assistant to the president, was reputed to be a comer, with ambitions to become the next Secretary of the Treasury, or even Secretary of State. But his insistence on keeping personal control of everything that took place at the Commission and his imperious ways led his staff to call him ‘King Robert the First’.
Walter Danielson, Chairman of the NYPE, waited anxiously for the chairman’s arrival at the fête, since Danielson had recently appealed tothe Commission to have the many privately-operated express companies which had recently sprung up banned by congressional and regulatory fiat, thus protecting the NYPE’s long time near-monopoly of the business. Danielson hoped that Chairman Browner would support the NYPE’s position with Congress.
It was 4pm. Danielson was just locking his desk to have time to prepare for the arrival of his guests, when his long time secretary, Jane Pugsly, opened his office door.
“Mr Danielson,” she said worriedly, “I have a gentleman waiting to see you in the outer office. I think you had better see him. He’s been sitting, waiting, for two days so far. His name is Morse, and he has invented something at which I think you really should look very carefully.”
Danielson did a slow burn. “Why did you have to do this to me, especially at this moment?” he thought to himself. “Why can’t it wait until Monday?”
However, to her, he said quietly, “Jane, I’m about to go downstairs to meet Chairman Browner, two senior congressmen and the chairman of the Senate Finance Committee. Can’t Mr Morse come back some other time?”
“I think not, Mr Danielson,” she replied with a slow shake of her head. “Mr Morse showed me something that can transmit messages from coast to coast in seconds at a far lower cost than we can offer. Somebody who has invented a gadget that can do all that seems pretty important to me,” she said. “I don’t think you should wait.”
Danielson felt a cold chill run up his back. His hands grew icy cold and started to shake slightly. He had been scared that this moment would arrive ever since new communications technology had begun 30 years before: an invention that would have the potential of rendering many of the NYPE’s services obsolete or redundant.
“I guess you had better show Mr Morse in,” he sighed reluctantly. “And ask Mr Leppo to join us as soon as he can.”
Dave Leppo was the NYPE’s “Executive Vice-Chairman.” Danielson had given him that pompous title to appease Leppo after he had been passed over for the chief executive’s job. Leppo had been with the NYPE for more than 25 years, and until recently was in charge of the pony and rider registration division, the key department which maintained the registry of ponies and riders, and also kept their schedules up-to-date. Leppo was ‘Mr Inside’, and ran the day-to-day operations of the NYPE.
Morse was ushered in by Ms. Pugsly. He was almost scruffy, with a shiny frock coat with frayed cuffs, an unbuttoned collar, and a tie askew with the knot almost out of sight at the left. His eyes were watery, and he looked out over thick glasses perched far down his bony nose. Under his arm he carried a large paper box, wrapped in paper and tied with what appeared to be knotted twine.
Morse, bowing slightly, extended his hand. “Thank you so much for seeing me, Mr Danielson,” he said eagerly. “I’ve been trying to get to meet you for almost a week, and I think I’ve talked to almost every other single member and employee of the NYPE. It wasn’t until I happened to ran into Ms. Pugsly at the coffee shop down the street that I was able to find anyone who would take me seriously. I was at my wit’s end. But if she hadn’t arranged for me to meet with you, I would have gone next to the PEC and to the congressional committees that oversee the Pony Express industry.”
“What I have here, Mr Danielson, is something that will revolutionise your business. I call it a ‘telegraph’ because it uses wires to send written messages over long distances.”
“Mr Morse, that sounds quite interesting,” Danielson said. The chairman was not at all technically oriented, and couldn’t wait until Leppo arrived. Danielson made up his mind on the spot. He would leave Morse with Leppo and go to the Directors’ Room to await his important guests. Morse was probably a crackpot, anyway. He’d seen quite a few in his job at the express company; that’s why he had installed armed guards outside his office.
He was also miffed at Ms. Pugsly. The effect of what she had done would be to shut him out of his own office. “But,” he mused, “I was leaving anyway!”
“Ms. Pugsly,” he yelled. “Where is Mr Leppo?”
“He’ll be here in a minute,” she said. “He’s just finishing firing the head of the public relations department as you told
him to do.”
Danielson felt trapped. Yes, he had told Leppo to get rid of George Balbano, the NYPE’s chief flack. Danielson had to admit it: Balbano had done a stupid thing. He had denigrated a long-term vocal critic of the NYPE to a leading business magazine journalist who, it turned out, was a personal friend of the critic. The story that followed was a humdinger! But why had Leppo chosen the day of the anniversary celebration to do the job? What a jerk! Firing Balbano the next week would have been just fine.
He turned to Morse. “Why don’t you show me what you have,” he said, sitting down at a small conference table. “Sit here. Would you like a pair of scissors?”
Morse fumbled at the cords. “No, that’s quite all right, sir. I’ve opened and retied this thing so often this past week I can almost do it in my sleep.” The paper fell away, and on the table sat Morse’s invention.
It looked too simple. All it seemed to be was a wooden box with two connectors at one end and a spring steel lever with a large thumb-button on top that could be moved back and forth against a small copper plate.
Danielson wondered, “How can something that small and simple replace the thousands of high-priced riders and support personnel that now do the same job? It can’t be possible.”
“How does it work?” Danielson asked Morse. The NYPE Chairman was obviously becoming more and more concerned, and it showed in his voice.
“Oh, it’s very simple, Mr Danielson,” Morse replied. “The telegraph is connected to an electrical source and the current produced when the key closes the circuit flows down wires to a receiver that sounds audible clicks of the same time length as when they were sent. I have developed a code for each letter and number, and a trained operator can send or receive messages quite rapidly. Would you like a demonstration?” He reached into his pocket and brought out a small spool of wire and an electric battery.
Just then the office door opened, and Leppo rushed in. “What in God’s name is this man doing in here?” he asked. “Guard!” he shouted. “Guard! Get in here at once.”
Danielson remonstrated, “Dave, don’t be hasty. Mr Morse here has invented a new communications device to send messages long distances that he calls a ‘telegraph’, and just wants to show us how it works.”
Leppo, standing at the door, looked over his shoulder and snapped, “Walter, this character has already taken up too many of our people’s time. I’ve had a devil of a time keeping him away. The celebration starts in just a few minutes, and where do I find him? In your office. No, he’s got to go...now!”
Just then, Bill O’Brien, captain of the NYPE’s guard services, burst into the office, hand on his pistol. “What’s wrong, Mr Leppo. Were you shouting for me?”
“Yes. What took you so long? I could have been murdered. How did this man ever get up here?” he grumbled, pointing at Morse, who was doing his best to retie the paper around his telegraph.
“I don’t know,” O’Brien replied. “But he must have had a pass. Otherwise he could never have made it past the guard’s post on the main floor near the big indoor corral with the thousands of ponies and riders. After that last drugging scandal, we’ve tightened security a lot.”
“I gave him that pass.” Jane Pugsly entered Danielson’s office looking very angry. She couldn’t stand Leppo’s arrogance. “I gave it to him because I think he really has something here the NYPE should see.”
Morse looked at Pugsly as though she were some sort of angel, but Leppo turned beet red. “You’ve gone too far this time, Miss Pugsly,” he roared, shaking his finger at her. “It isn’t your business to make this type of decision. You’re just a secretary.”
Pugsly stalked out of Danielson’s office. Morse stood there, hastily rewrapped package under his arm, tie askew, looking bewildered. O’Brien took hold of Morse’s arm and led him to the door.
Danielson finally spoke. “We’ve all got a lot to do,” he said quietly. “Mr Morse, can I arrange to see you sometime next week?”
“Miss Pugsly,” he called into the next office, "Will you please make the appointment. Mr Morse, please stop by her desk as you leave. Oh, captain, I don’t think you need to hold on to Mr Morse’s arm quite that tightly. In fact, why don’t you let go of his arm entirely. Just help him to get downstairs.” He added, almost as an afterthought, “And make sure he takes one of our executive carriages home. That’s the least we can do for him after all this time.”
When O’Brien and Morse had left, Danielson turned to Leppo. “Dave, don’t ever do that to me again. In my office, I decide who stays and when they leave. Not you. Do you understand?”
Leppo turned ash white. “Sorry Walter,” he replied, head down. “But I thought you’d want to be rid of him. You know, that damned telegraph may well signal the end of the NYPE. I just wanted to be rid of him once and for all.”
“I know how you feel, Dave. But if his invention is really that good, there are other ways of dealing with it. For example, if I thought buying all rights to his telegraph would stop imitators, I’d do it in a minute. But it won’t. Now that Morse has invented this gadget, someone else will improve on it soon. The way to deal with Mr Morse is by converting the telegraph to our own uses. The PEC and Congress will help us do it.
“Believe me,” Danielson continued earnestly, “there are other ways to deal with Morse. The first thing we’ll do is tell Chairman Browner that we applaud Mr Morse’s invention and will use the telegraph in the express business. That will get the PEC out of the picture fast.”
“But you can’t do that, Walter. I just told you. That damned telegraph will put us out of business.”
“No it won’t. The PEC will be on our side, too. Remember, they have a big budget and regulatory staff, and Browner sure doesn’t want the PEC to become smaller. His power and position will decline, and in Washington, power is directly related to the size of the agency you head. Also, PEC commissioners retire from time to time. It might be helpful to have at least one on our board of directors at all times.”
“We’ll tell the world we’re going to use Morse’s telegraph and make a big deal about it publicly. But we won’t do anything to hurt our members’ interests. If we did, our own jobs wouldn’t be worth a tinker’s dam. Besides, a few words from me, and watch what happens when they start giving big bucks to the members of the congressional committees’ political action committees.”
“Money talks, Dave. And through the years, especially with our formerly fixed express rates, NYPE members have plenty of money to stall Congress and the PEC for years to come. Here’s what we’ll do. Instead of using the telegraph to send messages among members of the public, we’ll use it to interconnect own offices and the offices of the other regional express companies. We’ll promote the system as a new, automated ‘national pony express market system.’ I even have a name for the system we’ll create: ‘IPS’, for ‘Inter-Pony System’. It sounds catchy, doesn’t it? And the government regulators will be able to tell Congress that we’re using modern technology. In fact, using the telegraph that way will actually cut our own costs and increase profits.”
Danielson rubbed his hands. “Dave, on Monday get the advertising and public relations agencies on this telegraph business right away. Let’s see some full page ads that talk about how fast our system works. Emphasise the personal service we will still provide, and the need everyone has to send and receive letters that have real pony and rider sweat on them. Let the public know that the messages that will be sent over the telegraph are sterile, and won’t have the ‘feel of the message’.” Danielson was now positively upbeat. The threat was gone.
Leppo still wasn’t convinced. “Walter, that may be true for a while. But sooner or later people will figure out that if the
telegraph can send messages between express offices, it could also send messages among members of the public, and who the hell cares whether the letters smell of sweat?”
Walter Danielson laughed. “You still don’t understand, Dave, do you? There are too many people whose livelihoods depend on the express business. And think of the politicians in all the big cities: New York, Chicago and Los Angeles. If the express business becomes automated, think of the jobs and money that will be lost.”
“That may be true, but think of the savings to the public if there is a better, faster and cheaper way to communicate. After all, the public pays for the entire express system, don’t they?”
“Sure, but the public isn’t organised. They never are. We can keep delivering the mail on horseback for the next 50 years at least before the new technology finally forces changes. And by then, we’ll both have our pensions. It won’t be our problem any more. Trust me, Dave. Morse will be no problem if we handle it right.”
He looked at his watch. “Good Lord, we’re late! We’ve got to leave for the reception now. Have you finally got the picture, Dave? If not, maybe you should say you’re sick or something.” His voice trailed off.
“That’s all right, Walter. I understand. I really do. I’ll put our best systems people on the project tomorrow, to make certain they make the use of the telegraph as complicated as possible, and I’ll talk to our ‘51st senator’ at the reception.”
Danielson nodded knowingly. The ‘51st senator’ was Sam Heavens, formerly chief of staff to Senator Wilson, who chaired the Senate committee overseeing the express industry for many years prior to being convicted of bribery and sent to prison. Heavens had worked for the NYPE now for 14 years, ever since the senator was banished, and everyone surmised that his success in achieving the express company’s lobbying efforts was because he ‘knew where all the bodies were buried’ in Washington.
“All right, Dave. Let’s get the ball rolling. ‘Send your message faster today with the Pony Express!’ That’s our motto from now on.” He put his arm around Leppo’s shoulders and steered him gently down the corridor.
Leppo smiled to himself. He had an idea. With this new technology being promoted, he just might get New York City to give the NYPE a big tax break on the new rider arena across the street! And if he could do that, he might well take over Davidson’s job! He almost ran to the elevator, wringing his hands with glee.
