dom of competition to the oil business was still further brightened in June by the news that the Legislature of Pennsylvania had passed a free pipe-line bill—the measure that they had been urging for twelve years without avail. With a sturdy example of independence, like the Tidewater, before them, and the right of eminent domain for pipes, the future of competition in oil seemed to be up to the oil men themselves.
But the Oil Regions have always been prone to jump at conclusions. They were forgetting Mr. Rockefeller's record when they concluded that he was through with the Tidewater. Because he had failed in his old South Improvement Company trick, that is, failed to create a panic among Tidewater stockholders, and so get their property at panic prices, was no reason at all to suppose he had abandoned the chase. There still remained a legitimate method of getting into the company, and, as a last resort, Mr. Rockefeller accepted it. He bought the minority stock of the concern, held by the Taylor party. Up to this time Mr. Rockefeller had appeared in Tidewater affairs as a destroyer. He now appeared in a role in which he is quite as able—as a pacifier, and his extraordinary persuasiveness was never exercised to better effect. "We own $200,000 worth of your stock," he could tell the people he had been fighting. "If you will consent to confine yourselves to a fixed percentage of our joint business, and will sustain pipage rates and the price of refined oil, we will let you alone. Let us dwell together in peace."
The Tidewater, tired of the fight, accepted. And so these men—to whom the oil business owes one of its most remarkable developments, who, in face of the most powerful and unscrupulous opposition, had in four years built up a business worth five and one-half millions of dollars—signed contracts in October, 1883, fixing the relative amount of business they were henceforth to do as 11½ per cent of the aggregate, the Standard having 88½ per cent. The two simply became allies.
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