William "Boss" Tweed

Welcome to Civics and Coffee. My name is Alycia and I am a self-professed history nerd. Each week, I am going to chat about a topic on U.S history and give you both the highlights and occasionally break down some of the complexities in history; and share stories you may not remember learning in high school. All in the time it takes to enjoy a cup of coffee. 

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Hey everyone. Welcome back. 

In the run up to the end of the Civil War, one young politician rose to prominence in New York City. Born to humble beginnings, William “Boss” Tweed briefly captured the public’s admiration and support as he ran one of the most brazenly corrupt offices in American history. Pillaging the city out of likely hundreds of millions of dollars, Tweed and his associates are a prime example of the power of the political machines that rose during the Gilded Age. But who exactly was Tweed?

This week, I am diving into the life and legacy of William Boss Tweed. Who was he? How did he rise in prominence? And what lessons can we learn from his actions?

Grab your cup of coffee, peeps. Let’s do this. 

William Magear Tweed was born April 23, 1823 in the family home on Cherry street located on Manhattan’s lower east side. At 11, Tweed gave up formal education to become a chair maker, following in the footsteps of his father and grandfather who immigrated to the United States from Scotland. Tweed apparently didn’t take too well to chair making as he later apprenticed to be a saddler and also briefly studied bookkeeping, and had a short-lived career as a clerk in a mercantile office. As a young man, Tweed joining a volunteer fire company, Engine Company #12. During this period, fire companies were generally tied into and closely aligned with local politics and before long Tweed was invited by state assemblyman John J. Reilly to form a new company, known as the Americas Engine Company #6, in 1848. Tweed became the foreman in 1849 where he was first introduced to the local political scene. 

At this point, Tweed had earned a reputation for his work with the fire company and Democratic party insiders decided to nudge Tweed into running for alderman in 1850. While he lost the first time, when he tried a year later, Tweed was successful and became the representative of the 7th ward. In 1852, Tweed won a seat in the federal House of Representatives but found that he disliked federal office and life in the nation’s capital and after serving only a single term, returned to his roots in New York. Tweed operated a struggling chairmaking shop but was still involved in local politics, this time serving on the school board. Tweed eventually joined the Board of Supervisors - the date ranges between 1856 and 1858 depending on the source - and quickly leveraged his post to enrich himself personally. Anyone looking to contract with the city would now be required to pay Tweed and his associates an additional fee - usually around 15% of the bid - in order to secure a deal. 

Tweed also became involved in Tammany Hall, becoming a member of its general committee by 1858. Originally established as a fraternal organization in 1786, Tammany Hall had become more political in the nineteenth century. The Tammany building became the meeting ground for political insiders for the Democratic party and getting on the good side of members of Tammany could mean the launch of a successful political career. Tweed initially straddled both worlds, maintaining his chair making shop while also serving as a member of the Board of Supervisors, wracking up just over $57,000 in debt by 1861. It was at this point that Tweed decided to give up on his chair making business to move into public service fulltime. He used his post on the Board of Supervisors to help negotiate the end of the violent draft rights that plagued the city in 1863 and by 1864, Tweed was the president of the Board of Supervisors. Tweed used his position as president to name himself as Deputy Street Commissioner in 1865. 

Tweed also continued to climb within Tammany Hall, where he was chosen as the leader of the General Committee in January of 1863. Just a few months later in April, Tweed was selected to be the Grand Sachem of the organization where he decided to organize a executive committee. Separate from the general committee, this smaller group would quickly gain significant control and eventually wield more power than the larger group. Despite earning an annual salary of $9500, Tweed was somehow able to buy an 80-acre estate in Greenwich, Connecticut and began investing in all sorts of endeavors including iron mining, whiskey distilling, and the company responsible for building the Brooklyn Bridge. Tweed’s financial surplus came thanks to his role in overseeing New York City finances. Responsible for the books, Tweed made sure that a percentage of almost any transaction with the city included a payment to himself or his associates, establishing the quote-unquote Tweed Ring. 

Although Tweed’s grift was largely suspected, he remained incredibly popular with his constituents. Tweed’s success was thanks in no small part to the amount of patronage was at his fingertips. For example, while serving as the commissioner of public works, Tweed increased street maintenance crews to include 12 positions for the role of manure inspectors. Being able to hand out good paying, government jobs in an era filled with booms and busts, made Tweed incredibly popular. Tweed and his ring made sure that Irish Americans who supported them received the highly coveted government jobs and made sure they were able to receive any help they might need from local government offices and any companies doing business with the city. Tweed also spent time pushing for things he knew his constituents would like such as pushing local leaders to establish more orphanages, almshouses and public baths. He also helped feed, clothe, and provide shelter for immigrants and the poor. 

Thus, while many may have suspected Tweed of mismanaging city funds, they nevertheless continued to vote him into office to continue working on their behalf. In his article analyzing Tweed and his influence on New York politics, scholar Jeffrey D. Broxmeyer observes quote, “by mid-century, mass party coordination effectively created capital, a political surplus, to be invested and used for the purpose of gaining political advantage - winning elections, party-building, and reward constituents and allies,” end quote. In other words, Tweed used his success to grant favors to those who could keep him in power, while also using his positions within the local government to fill his personal bank account. As long as he kept the voters happy, Tweed could enjoy all the spoils that came from public office and overseeing government contracts. For Tweed, income came from three primary sources: his elected and appointed offices, the public treasury, and the business community. Again from Broxmeyer, quote: “Tweed used the power of these offices to build and impose alliances and assess politicians and the business community in the form of kickbacks, bribes, creative bookkeeping, contract padding, and other forms of profiteering,” end quote.

Tweed soon earned enough money to be able to purchase a controlling interest in the New York Printing Company which became the city’s official printer and soon turned into yet another source of income as the company overcharged for products ordered by the city - and also bought into the Manufacturing Stationery Company which sold supplies to New York, now at inflated prices. Tweed invested his kickbacks into New York City real estate, eventually becoming one of the city’s largest land owners. Tweed and his associates enjoyed significant influence over the city’s Democratic party in the early 1860s, all of whom could credit their success to their affiliation with Tammany Hall. By the middle of the decade, Tammany Hall politicians were making electoral strides in city politics as John T. Hoffman won the mayor’s race in 1865 and in 1868, several Tammany-based politicians swept up state and local offices. Their victories only increased their influence of state politics in Albany and local issues at City Hall. As scholar Jeffrey D. Broxmeyer noted, quote: “during the 1860s, ring members forged an alliance of convenience and leveraged their party and public offices for mutual benefit; not only did they govern together, but they purchased land together, and sat on the same corporate boards,” end quote. 

Using his position to help Jay Gould and Jim Fisk gain control over the Eerie Railroad from magnate Cornelius Vanderbilt, Tweed was rewarded with both a seat on the board of directors and a chunk of the company’s stock. Tweed went on to hold seats on the Harlem Gas Company, the Brooklyn Bridge Company, and the 3rd Avenue Railway Company boards of directors. There was seemingly no business or industry that could escape Tweed’s grip. 

Tweed’s influence grew to the point that by 1870, anyone looking to do business with the city - even the state - sought him out to determine exactly what bribe or favor was needed in order to secure the contract. When it came time to build the county courthouse, the total cost to the city landed at more than 13 million dollars, despite the initial bid estimate of $250,000. And when sponsors sought to build a bridge connecting the borough of Manhattan to Brooklyn, it was Tweed who they went to seeking assistance in securing financing, despite the fact that Tweed was not on the city council. For his efforts, Tweed again received a generous gift in the form of Brooklyn Bridge Company shares.  

In 1870, Tweed moved to further consolidate his power and maximize profits. As the chairman of the senate committee on cities, Tweed oversaw the passage of a new charter for New York that replaced the Board of Supervisors with a new Board of Audit. This new group skimmed thousands - if not millions - of dollars from the city, helping to triple the city’s debt in just three years. The debt grew to be so bad that the city had to increase taxes which brought the ire of the city’s more well-to-do residents. And although Tweed and his associates frequently made the gossip pages for their lavish lifestyle, it took a combination of the city’s elite, internal greed, and a political cartoonist to finally bring Tweed and his ring down. 

Thomas Nast was a political cartoonist who made a name for himself during the Civil War, eventually joining Harper’s Weekly as a paid member of the staff. If you remember studying political cartoons at all during your high school or college history class, then I can almost certainly guarantee you’ve seen some of Nast’s work. In 1868, Nast learned of the incredible grift being carried by William Tweed and his ring of associates and decided he would bring the misdeeds into the light through political cartoons. While Harper’s Weekly and the New York Times worked to expose Tweed for the money-hungry man that he was, it seemed to matter very little to the base of his supporters, who continued to benefit from Tweed’s tenure in the form of government jobs and contracts. 

It wasn’t until an associate working for Tweed dropped a bookkeeping ledger off at the New York Times office detailing suspicious transactions that the wheels started to fall off. Now, instead of wild speculation about Tweed and his band of associates, journalists had proof. They quickly went to work documenting Tweed’s misdeeds, publishing a series of stories throughout July 1871 outlining all the ways Tweed misused his office. The series gained momentum and shortly after, Harper’s Weekly followed suit also writing stories about Tweed and his now infamous ring. Their stories were aided by the artistic style of Nast, who doubled down on his efforts to portray Tweed as a corrupt, greedy politician sucking the life’s blood out of the city. Tweed was apparently incredibly miffed by Nasts’ cartoons, evening offering him a trip overseas to get a break from the constant onslaught of criticism. Nast declined. 

The flurry of news articles contained sufficient evidence of corruption and prompted the district attorney’s office to pursue charges. Additionally, at a meeting in the Cooper Union in September 1871, attendees established a committee of seventy to investigate Tweed’s actions. On October 26th, William Tweed was served with an arrest warrant and released on bail, but still managed to win election to state senate that November. Despite his electoral victory, other Tammany Hall candidates did not fare so well and the clock was running out for Tweed, who was rearrested and criminally indicted in December and expelled from Tammany Hall later the same month. 

Aware that the walls were closing in, Tweed began to offload his many assets, transferring titles to real estate to members of his family, including his son Richard hoping to shield his vast wealth from the law. In 1871, Tweed estimated his total net worth hovered around $3 million, which is close to $80 million in contemporary figures. Of course, by the time Tweed made this disclosure he was already facing civil lawsuits and so it is likely that this figure is a significant undercount of his true wealth. 

Tweed’s first trial began on January 7th, 1873 and ended in a hung jury. Just ten months later, Tweed was again before a judge where he was convicted on 204 out of 220 counts. As punishment, Tweed was ordered to pay a fine of $12,750 and sentenced to 12 years in prison. Luck was still on Tweed’s side as he served only a year before a judge released him, ruling the original sentence was excessive. Tweed would not be able to enjoy his freedom as he was quickly rearrested, this time on civil charges, and put back into jail, this time on Ludlow Street. In February, 1876 Tweed’s civil trial led to a judgment of $6 million, prompting the former politician to skip town. 

Traveling under the alias John Secor, Tweed fled first to Florida, then to Cuba. He eventually made it to Spain where local authorities arrested him and sent him back to New York where he was once and for all locked up. He passed away after a bout of pneumonia on April 12, 1878. He was 55 years old. 

Although the true amount is unknown, it is estimated the Tweed and his ring of associates skimmed anywhere between $30 and $200 million dollars. When adjusted for inflation, this ranges from almost $900 million to over $5 billion dollars. The fraud perpetrated against New York exceeded the entire United States federal budget prior to the Civil War. That is some serious grifting.  

After Tweed’s tremendous downfall, reformers retook power in city offices. Tweed and his corruption pre-date the official start of the Gilded Age by a few years, but his story is a prime example of the pervasive corruption that plagued local, state, and national political offices throughout the era and what eventually prompted the passage of the Pendleton Act of 1883 establishing a merit system for the hiring of government employees. Tweed and his affiliation with Tammany Hall pioneered a system of politics referred to as bossism where a single figure controls the levers of power and was attached to organizations, such as Tammany Hall. And it was likely this system - with Tweed as the top figure - that brought his downfall. 

Tweed’s associates - and those just outside the reach of power - wanted the spoils for themselves and likely betrayed Tweed in an effort to increase their own bank accounts. It is also likely that the cost of doing business was quickly outpacing what Tweed and his ring could pay. The more influence you buy, after all, the more you have to pay in either jobs, kickbacks, or contracts. 

Whatever caused Tweed’s associates to turn on him, his life and legacy are not in vain. Tweed serves as a quintessential example of what can happen when a politician abuses their office for personal gain. It is a good reminder that public servants should always be vested in the public interest and that anyone acting in bad faith should not be trusted with public dollars. 

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Thanks, peeps. I will see you next week.

Thanks for tuning and I hope you enjoyed this episode of Civics & Coffee. If you want to hear more small snippets from american history, be sure to subscribe wherever you get your podcasts. Thanks for listening and I look forward to our next cup of coffee together. 

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