War and Betrayal

At age forty-eight, John Elliott Tappan was too old to serve in the First World War. But he remained extremely fit. Nothing about him was diminutive. Six feet tall, he was ramrod straight, muscular and athletic, with a loud, hearty laugh. His once slender frame had filled out since the days of tramping through the West with no money in his pocket. The one indulgence John could not control was his sweet tooth, particularly his affection for chocolate. Not even the diabetes diagnosed a few years later would curb that. His deep blue eyes were still his most striking feature, though now they were more often hidden behind spectacles. The occupational hazard of close work in the office had taken its toll. Otherwise, he was as vigorous and active as he had been when he started Investors Syndicate. In bed at nine, he rose with the dawn. He continued to read widely with diverse interests and definite opinions about matters of the day, which he expressed quite freely. Affecting a formal style of dress and stance, he wore a suit every day. Not a man for small talk, he could appear somewhat imposing to those who did not know him well, an image reinforced by rare but explosive displays of anger. But he also had a droll sense of humor, which sometimes fooled people who were unsure when he was being serious and when he was teasing.