Chapter 1

It was another beautiful morning in the bustling city of New York. I could hear the birds chirping as I woke up, greeting me and telling me to leave my warm and comfy bed. I wanted to stay in my bed a little longer, but the savory and warm scent of butter is irresistible. As I brushed my teeth, I admired the twenty four carat gold toilet seat and the new fountain bath. Then I had the most delicious breakfast in the world, caviar on eggs combined with a perfectly toasted slice of bread, all topped with some gold flakes. It was quite the enjoyable breakfast until I heard a sound ringing in my head. It sounded foreign at first, but it soon became more familiar. “Pay up or get out!” yelled Mr. Watson as father rushed out for work. My father quickly replied, “Yes, I am sorry sir. I will have the money in your hands by the end of today.” Ah, right. I had it all wrong. I was actually brushing my teeth first. Then I enjoyed the most extravagant breakfast. And finally, I woke up. If I recall correctly, this is probably the third time this has happened – the landlord, Mr. Watson, asking my father for rent and me waking up to the squeals of rats rather than the chirping of the birds. For me, this was just another day in Mulberry. But I did not want to stay here anymore. I did not want to wake up to a growling stomach, hoping for the smell of warm milk and buttery bread, but smell the same old stench of feces each day instead. I wanted to live in one of those fancy houses with huge bedrooms enough for us to stretch my arms and legs. Maybe I will add a kitchen or two, stocked with cans of tomatoes, beans, pasta, and soup. And of course, fresh butter on nicely toasted bread. Just imagining one of those days made me wanted to curl back into my corner and never wake up to reality. But here I was, ready for another day of work and another chance of making my fantasy a reality. Who knows, maybe one day I will be promoted and have the chance to leave the slums.

Chapter 2

My manager called me into his office the moment I showed up to work. The only thought that crossed my mind at the time was getting fired. I can not afford to lose this job, especially not when I have a family to take care of. “Have a seat, Andrew,” Mr. Schwab insisted as I reluctantly entered his office. I immediately begged “What did I do wrong? I will make sure I-.” He laughed before I could finish my sentence. “It is quite the opposite, Andrew. As you all know, one of our operators had a car accident and will no longer be able to work with us. I was told to find a suitable replacement as soon as possible.”As he continued I stared at him with emotions running through my head like a whirlpool. “After seeing your work ethic, I was thinking that you would be the perfect replacement.Would you-.” Without a second thought, I quickly replied “Yes! Yes. I could not be more grateful for this opportunity, Mr. Schwab.” It was almost as if he knew that I was going to take the opportunity. But who would not take it, right? “Well, I am glad you decided to take this offer. I am sure you can begin today, if that is fine with you.” I replied with a confident “Yes sir” as I hurried out the office. Turned out that my dream earlier was not completely a fantasy after all.

Chapter 3

The following day was Saturday, my favorite day of the week not because I did not have work, but because I can go Mr. Anderson’s library. Every Saturday Colonel James Anderson would open his library to the public, specifically young boys who could not afford to buy their own books. Since my family could not afford education for me, I went to his library every Saturday, taking full advantage of this opportunity. I would spend hours at the library each time I visit, exploring everything the library has to offer. From there I learned about Shakespeare and his plays among numerous of other playwrights and artists. Each of us were allowed to take out one book each time we visit, and exchange it for another book when we returned the following weekend. There was one particular book, History of the United States, which I could not bear to return. Every time I visited his library, Mr. Anderson asked me if I would like to take home a new book. My answer was always the same: “Not if I have to return this one.”

I woke up the next day with something crawling on my stomach. Without opening my eyes, I brushed off the rat scrambling for food. I carefully got up from the floor, afraid to step on my brother, Thomas. I slowly walked down the stairs, hearing creaks each time I moved my feet. As I got closer to the first floor, I sensed the thickness of the air and smelled the dried feces that had been sitting outside the front door for weeks. Navigating through the apartment was like walking through a muddy swamp thickened with toxic fog. Finally, I saw the gleam of light from the exit, the only place where light was visible. I walked through the front door only to smell the intensified stench of feces. But I did not need to cover my mouth or hold my breath. It was just another day in Mulberry.

As I walked down the streets, I could hear the newspaper boy shout “Wake up America. Read this and you will be enlightened.” I was curious since I did not find anything to be more enlightening than the books at Mr. Anderson’s library. “Let me have one copy.”

The headlines read “How the Other Half Lives”. I immediately recalled the fantasies I have dreamt of. I imagined the other half waking up in mansions with dozens of servants. I vaguely remembered that once there was a golden horse carriage with a white horse carrying it. Seeing it was like a dream, not in Mulberry of course. What struck out to me more was the subheading, which was titled Working hard means nothing in the slums. At the time, I could not agree more. Me and my family had been working countless hours to support the family. Yet, all we got in return was a false American promise and a tiny corner of the tenement. As I read further down, I noticed a picture of an apartment room that looked similar to mine. A tiny bunk bed with 4 people packed on it. There were four more people in the room, all lying on the ground. They were all emotionless, almost as if they are waiting to die. The photo is titled Lodgers in Bayard Street Tenement, Five Cents a Spot. It finally crossed my mind that the article was not about “how the other half lives”, it was about how we lived.

Chapter 4

I was born in Dunfermline, Scotland in 1835. Although my family owned a house, we were relatively poor. My father was a handloom weaver while my mother sold dried fish and sewn leather boots to support the family. When I was eight, my mother had her second child and named him Thomas. We would often go near the river and play in the water. Occasionally, we would catch a fish or two and bring them home for dinner. While he did add to our financial burden, I was glad to have him around. After all, he was the only sibling I had. When I was thirteen, my family realized that the widespread famine was unbearable and decided to move to America. Upon landing in New York City, I acquired my first job as a bobbin winder, someone who maintains the cotton spinners in the textile mills. I worked there twelve hours a day for an entire year, with my only day off on Sundays. The following year I worked at the Ohio Telegraph Company as a messenger boy. It was not the best job in the world, but the pay was decent. Every day I would make sure that I was the first one to show up to work and the last one to leave. My efforts, of course, paid off when I was promoted to telegraph operator.

After four years working at Ohio Telegraph, I was certain that I should move on. Thomas Scott, the executive of the New York Railroad, personally asked me if I want to work for him. Not only was the salary high, but I could not have possibly missed out on the opportunity. So I worked there for six years and another fortunate opportunity was presented before me. This time, Mr. Scott offered me the position of superintendent of the entire Western Division of the railroad. My life from that point on snowballed faster than I could have ever imagined. I began investing with Thomas, eventually making over ten times the original investment. I continued making investments on various railroad companies. Right before the Civil War broke out, I invested $40,000 into Story Farm, an oil mining company. In just one year, I received over a million dollars in profit dividends. At that point, I realized that the railroad industry was no longer fit for me. I looked at the bigger picture, the entire iron industry. It turned out to be one of the greatest decisions in my life.

Henry Bessemer, the genius inventor whose works became fundamental to my steel empire, was a man I would never forget. He first approached me with this bizarre idea of blowing oxygen into steel. Upon second inspection, his idea was, in fact, a brilliant concept. He had brought in barrel shaped container that he claimed would actuate the process. After implementing his concept, my company became one of the most rapidly growing manufacturers of low cost steel. At that point of my life, I had achieved everything that I had ever wished for, or anything that any man could wish for. I have accumulated all this wealth, making my fantasy a reality. The mansion that I dreamt about lies here in New York today on Fifth Avenue.

Chapter 5

I was wrong, blinded by the immeasurable wealth I had. I failed to realize the purpose behind wealth. The power I wielded with this wealth was a responsibility towards the people. I decided to fund numerous public infrastructures, including museums, art galleries, libraries, universities, and other places were one can be granted an opportunity to pursue their dreams.

I am the nouveau riche, the man with nothing to everything. The one who was once a fool, believing that perseverance meant nothing and will mean nothing. I am who I aspired to be today through my fifty four years of self education, work ethic, and dedication. One may be born wealthy or impoverished, but will never be destined to that beginning. And one must never forget the power of wealth – both its influence on others and for others.