Stockbridge: 1890
The difficulties began in 1890. Bank examiners learned that the Stockbridge Savings Bank made unsecured loans in amounts greater than what they could cover. The bank was being bled, and one of the beneficiaries was the legal counsel for the bank, Henry J. Dunham Esquire.
When it became clear that Dunham had borrowed from every other bank in South County, from every friend and relative with no hope of repaying any of them, the situation was declared grave, and a receiver was appointed.
The receiver, F. A. Hobbs, was hired to investigate, determine the net assets of the bank, pay off the account holders whatever the bank could afford, and close the doors. Early reports indicated depositors could receive as much as 87 percent of their savings account balances. Things were not as bad as bank officers feared. It was looking good, and then the process stalled.
It became a long and convoluted process, stretching over years, confusing everyone in Berkshire County who attempted to understand the situation at the little bank on Main Street. With the distance of 123 years, what happened is easier to understand: The receiver was a crook.
F.A. Hobbs had no intention of distributing money to the account holders and no intension of closing the bank. Hobbs was in sole control of a cash cow, and he intended to milk it as long as he could. Finally, the courts stepped in and demanded Hobbs pay the depositors from what was left—and then go directly to jail.
Lenox: 1878
Attorney Thomas Post received a letter from an agitated client. Allen Comstock was born in Lenox in 1813, married Sarah White of Pittsfield in 1836, and had 10 children over the next decade.
Early in life, Comstock went West and, with his older brothers William, Gilbert, and George, established the Comstock Stove Company in Keokuk, Iowa. In May 1872, he purchased a house in Lenox as a summer home.
Now in February 1878, Comstock was 65 years old and in trouble. A Mrs. Cross claimed she was pregnant and that Comstock was the father, and she wanted money. Comstock was vehement in his denial of the charge.
Comstock wrote Post:
This Mrs. Cross is the woman who was housekeeper for me in the summer of 1876 when my wife was sick in Boston … She has become bold and … seems determined to make me trouble and annoyance. She has not a scrap of evidence to make a case against me.
The letters flew between attorney and client throughout 1878.
In his earliest letters, Comstock claimed there was no possibility that the charge was true. He was not even in the house; he was in Boston with his sick wife. But when his wife died, they “were alone in the house.”
Comstock commented to Post: “It looks bad … the presumption would be against me.” The accused is becoming nervous: “you know how I hate a scandal.”
Comstock authorized Post to offer $100 to dispense with the matter “but no more.”
The offer is turned down, and Comstock is not surprised. “Those bent on blackmail are not easily satisfied.”
Comstock vacillates between certainty that they cannot establish a case and fear that they can. “There was a cook in the house who had an affair with the chauffeur. We had to discharge him. She had a baby out of wedlock.” He speculates that Mrs. Cross is using that infant and claiming it is his and hers. He is relieved that “she [the cook] does not bring a charge as well.”
Cross and her attorney, “the Albany people,” continue to press for money. Comstock fears there will be a judgment in Mrs. Cross’ favor and that the sheriff will seize his house.
Comstock wrote Post and proposed that he transfer title to Andrew J. Waterman. “I am about to engage in business in the west. [With the house no longer in my name] you could defy the Albany people … see Waterman at an early moment and fix matters.”
In 1878, “in consideration of $15,000,” the property was transferred to A. J. Waterman of Pittsfield.
The plan worked and Comstock dodged the bullet. “May 22, 1878 I am glad to hear that the Albany matter is settled … You and Waterman understood all of the circumstances of this mean and to me provoking affair.”
Was Comstock guilty? Apparently not, but he was vulnerable nonetheless:
I so utterly abominate scandal that I am glad to submit to almost anything to avoid it. It seems to me that looking from my standpoint if I were not so proud … I would have fought this case to the bitter end.
Luckily, Comstock’s attorney and nephew fought in his stead, otherwise he feared he would have to “stay clear of Lenox fearing talk.”
Mrs. Cross, her lawsuit, and her attorney disappeared as soon as they believed his property was gone and Comstock was standing on the threshold of bankruptcy. The contrivance worked, but never forget the fox, the eagle, and the chicken coop.
Out West, Comstock lost all his money for real—no contrivance. He wrote Post, “I lack the funds to get back east.” His account at Lee Bank was overdrawn, and he owed money to residents in Lenox.
His finances could be put right, he told Post, if the Lenox property sold. Comstock wrote Waterman, “I think Sands wants the place and would give a fair price if he knows there are other offers. He knows what it costs to [have] a place in Lenox. Winthrop paid $25,000 for 20 acres with nothing but a barn.”
The prospects were good, and then in swooped the eagle.
Pursuant to a court order obtained by his brother William H. Comstock, Deputy Sheriff H. G. Wellington seized the Lenox property and sold it at public auction. Evidently, out West, he had cheated his brothers.
Fox stymied; eagle triumphant; and Allen Comstock was the chicken.
