Chapter 9
The Secret Life of George Washington Vanderbilt

Back in 1898, there was a young man who worked as a conductor for the New York Central & Hudson River Railroad. This fellow's name was George Washington Vanderbilt, son of William Henry Vanderbilt, president of that railroad and grandson of Cornelius Vanderbilt, founder of this same railroad. George was an independent sort, and not one to play on his family name, so he’d taken the name Henry van der Sloot. Hank, as he liked to be called, got the job as a conductor on his own merits and worked in happy anonymity.

George Washington Vanderbilt: William Henry Vanderbilt: Cornelius Vanderbilt: Now Hank carried a bit of a grudge against his father, who as you could imagine, was a foosty old gent who was never quite satisfied with his son. After a year or so on the job, Hank began to see a way that he could skim a little of the take, and this pleased him to no end, seeing as how he’d be cheating his own father. In those days, they were still taking fares right there on the train if you didn't already have a ticket. When the conductor came by, those who had a ticket would give them to the conductor, but those that didn’t simply paid cash. Hank’s scheme was to simply keep some of that cash as he went through the cars. He was circumspect at first, and didn't keep every fare, only a couple here and there. As time went on, he developed a keen sense of how much to take but not attract attention. He began to amass a sizeable supplement to his regular, $15/week salary, enough by double in fact.

Hank had also taken a bit of a fancy to a certain young lady named Philomena Hasselwaite who lived in a tidy little ivy-covered brick cottage in Elmont. They’d exchanged polite greetings on the street and in stores for several months, and Hank finally worked up the nerve to ask her out. He’d purchased a new carriage and a fine horse with some of his ill-gotten money, and one sunny Sunday noon he drove to her house. When she answered the door, Hank asked, “Miss Hasselwaite, I’d be asking, are you free this Saturday night?" Miss Hasselwaite thought about it for a moment as she eyed the horse and fancy rig at the street. After a moment, she finally allowed that, while she couldn't say for certain quite so early in the week, it seemed likely she could keep Friday night free for him. So the date was made, and Hank went to work all that week with a bit of a bounce in his step, a smile on his face, and a heavy pocket from skimming some extra change to ensure he could bankroll their big night.

Saturday night finally came ‘round and Hank picked up Miss Hasselwaite in his shiny new carriage. They went to dinner at a local hotel. The food was just acceptable, but neither Hank nor Philomena were too particular about food, and the tables had linen tablecloths, new china and candles stuck in wine-bottles wrapped with twine, and it was actually quite romantic. After dinner, they drove to the theater and saw a good vaudeville lineup, including singers, dancers, comedians and a ventriloquist. After the show, they walked across the street to the local pharmacy and had an ice cream soda; just one with two straws they could share; most picturesque.

Hank drove Miss Hasselwaite home and walked her to her door. They stood on the porch a few minutes and talked about the lovely night they’d shared. As they talked, Hank pondered whether he ought to give her a little kiss on the cheek. Finally he worked up the courage to do just that, and as he leaned in, she turned her head to kiss him full on the mouth. That moment lifted him off the ground in rapture. They said good night and he practically floated back to his carriage. Unfortunately for Hank, he was so distracted on his way home by the love-lights dancing in his eyes that he struck and killed a pedestrian in the street. He was arrested by the constable, and released later that night on his own recognizance.

At the trial, everything seemed to unravel for Hank. As wonderful as that one night of romance had been, this trial was the antithesis. First, it was revealed that the pedestrian Hank killed that night was actually another suitor to Miss Hasselwaite. Then, it turned out that the prosecutor (a lively Connecticut Yankee) was a man so avidly pursuing his career goal to become Governor of New York that he managed to paint Hank as a malevolent Montresor-type, out to rid the world of his romantic rivals. The jury was convinced that Hank had run down his victim in cold blood. Poor Hank was found guilty and sentenced to death.

Capital punishment in the state of New York at that time was just converting to electrocution, so instead of the old fashioned-but-sure gallows, Hank was led to Old Sparky and given the sponge-and-wire treatment and a colander-type contraption fixed on his noggin. Just before they covered his head with a black sack cloth, the warden asked Hank if it had any last words.

Hank thought about that for a moment, because he wanted to go out with something memorable, but nothing came to him. Finally he stammered: "I regret that I have one life to give for love”. He was satisfied; it seemed weighty enough and it did fit his feelings.

With that, they covered his head, stepped back and threw the switch. Nothing happened though, so they threw the switch several more times. Still nothing; Hank was fine.

A flurry of activity ensued, with prison guards and electricians and several of the assembled audience buzzing about like bees. Finally settled and satisfied the chair was working and there was current to the chair, they took a step back to tried again.

"May I have a second go at some last words?" asked Hank hopefully. He'd managed to come up with a really good one about the situation while they were all fussing. In this he was denied; and they threw the switch. Nothing happened. The electricity was running and the chair was fine, unfortunately, so was Hank.

Once more the flurry of activity took place. Unable to find the problem, they called-in the prison’s head electrician to take a look. It took him almost an hour to arrive because he'd been home having supper. He was quite cross about being interrupted; it was his spaghetti night, his favorite dish. He finally arrived and inspected everything, which consumed another half hour. He certified that the chair was working just fine, but in order to make his contribution seem worthwhile, he unplugged it and then plugged it back in before they threw the switch. Just as before, absolutely nothing happened. The electricity was running fine, the chair was operating perfectly, but Hank remained perfectly unharmed.

Hank asked that the sack cloth be removed, and a guard complied.

"I’ve been trying to tell you for some time now that I know what your problem is."

“And what exactly is that?” asked the head electrician.

"I wanted to say earlier that I've always been too good a conductor for this."