great mathematical talent, made him an expert and won him a national
reputation. He retired several years ago, and is now engaged in real
estate transactions. It is estimated that he is worth from $250,000 to
$300,000.

Reed Brockway was also famous. He began his gambling career in Buffalo,
lived there until a few years ago when he went West, it is believed to
Chicago. He played faro well, was a “dressy” gambler, and a man of high
intellectual qualities. It is said that he could keep the run of cards
in faro better than any gambler who ever played in America, and picked
out and played heavy sums on winning cards with remarkable success. It
is related that in 1867, with but six cards in the box, he played $1,500
on a king, naming it as the _last_ winning card, and made a side bet of
$500 that his calculation was correct. He won $2,000 in about four
minutes, and half an hour later had spent $200 for wine and cigars.

Oliver, or “Ol” Westcott, another Buffalo gambler, was famous as a
“plunger.” He played to win all or lose all. If the “bank” would permit
he frequently played from $1,000 to $5,000 on a single card. He is
credited with winning $60,000 in two months, after which event the
dealers throughout the country placed a limit not higher than $5,000 on
games in which Westcott played. He amassed a fortune aggregating about
$75,000, but when last heard of, ten years ago, he had taken to liquor,
lost nearly all of his wealth, and was running a small game in Colorado.

Of a semi-professional class little need be said. They have been
generally poker players who played wherever and whenever there was a
dollar to be made. Their history and characteristics may be expressed in
few words—unscrupulous; but two or three with any degree of character or
amount of money, and all “skin” gamblers.

From the inception of gambling in Buffalo to the present time the
largest amount invested in a gambling den, in the “bank,” and exclusive
of building and furniture, has been $25,000. It is estimated that in the
best days the capital directly invested by gamblers aggregated not over
$125,000, while indirectly they had at command from other gamblers or
merchant friends probably $100,000 more. Glassford, Clark and Carney ran
the most expensive houses. During the war time their running expenses
ranged from $1,500 to $3,500 per week. It is stated that Carney once
paid James McCormick $1,000 and a percentage for dealing faro. The
profits, as a rule, were varied, ranging from $5,000 to $20,000 a week
during 1860-65 and falling to an average of $1,500 in 1869-70, and to
from $500 to $1,000 from 1870 to 1873.

The relation of gambling to the criminal and political history of the
city has been comparatively unimportant. The effect has been contrary to
that experienced in other large cities. A search of police records and
careful inquiry of old gamblers fails to show that a murder, or very
serious assault, ever occurred in a professional gaming house. Small
rows in poker rooms, or in saloons connected with gambling rooms, and
raids of gamblers, constitute the affairs chargeable directly or
indirectly to gambling rooms—a remarkable record.

One of the earliest forms of gambling in Buffalo, and one which it seems
almost impossible for the authorities to reach, and which is indulged in
by hundreds daily, is policy playing. Old gamblers tell of policy shops
existing thirty years ago and, as a general rule they were then
patronized by the same class of men identical with those of to-day; that
is, chiefly barbers, colored coachmen, and small storekeepers. Mingled
with these are a number of small salaried clerks. There are two policy
companies who have agents in Buffalo. One is known as the Frankfort
company and the other the Kentucky company. Both companies are old and
wealthy, their headquarters being in the State of Kentucky, one in
Louisville and the other in Frankfort. They have two daily drawings, one
in the morning and the other in the afternoon, and the results are
telegraphed all over the country to their agents. The attitude of the
law and the police toward this mode of gambling is just as severe as in
any other kind of gambling, and if a shop is located it is instantly
raided, and the offenders are taken before the police magistrate. Here
the police work ends, and sad to relate, ends almost in a fizzle. The
present police magistrate is a declared friend to the policy players,
and when it is possible the offenders get off free. When the evidence is
too strong against them to admit of such a move, a light fine is
imposed, invariably the minimum the law allows, which is $5.00. This
fine is paid by the policy company in whose employ the agent is at the
time of his arrest. If it should be a regulation shop keeper he pays the
minimum fine of $25, and with but few exceptions this fine never goes
above that figure. Public sentiment seems to condemn it and there is now
a growing cry against it which will sooner or later make matters mend.

Policy as now run is anything but a square deal with its victims. There
are 75 numbers issued each day by the head office. They are sent to the
agents here, who are either barbers or saloon keepers. Some have small
rooms in unfrequented alleys or lanes, but of the latter class there are
very few now. The policy buyer chooses his numbers in many different
ways. Some who have been inveterate followers of this mode of gambling
rely on dreams, others depend on some little incident by which certain
numbers are brought to their mind, some shake dice, and there are a
thousand different ways in which the policy gambler guesses the lucky
number. When he pays for them he pays anywhere from five cents to ten
dollars a number, as his pocket money will allow; it makes no difference
to the agent. When the result of the drawings are made known the lucky
numbers are printed on the slips of paper, and if any one of the numbers
held by the buyer appears three times in the list he wins ten times the
amount he pays for his number. Policy agents of this city are few, but
what are termed “bookmakers,” or solicitors are about thirty in number.
These men are virtually sub-agents, and are salaried. It is estimated
that about $600 a day is spent in Buffalo in this game. One of the
principal agents here is a colored man named Frank Prince, a man well
along in years who has a small room on Center street. He has been
arrested and fined at least twice a month during the year 1889, but his
fine of $25 is always promptly paid, and he has never pleaded anything
but guilty to the charge when arraigned in the police court. Prince is a
lower type of the negro race, of a burly figure and rough in manner.

There have been about one hundred cases of policy in the police court
during the nine months of the year 1889, and fines averaged $10 in each
case. Winners in policy are few and far between, but there seems to be a
sort of mania for it among a certain class, which grows stronger the
longer they deal in it. With some business men it becomes a hobby, which
they fall into in a quiet and almost unconscious manner, but it is
seldom played by any but men of small means, in fact, it is impossible
to learn of a single case where a wealthy man has been known to buy
policy tickets. Bookmakers can generally be found in saloons and concert
halls, and around theater entrances. The regular buyer is quick to
discover his business, and his purchase is made quietly and almost
secretly. Detectives are constantly on the watch for these transactions,
and should any mysterious movement be made by two men on the street,
which would give rise to the suspicion that they were policy men, they
are carefully shadowed until caught. After once being caught they are
interviewed by the officials, and ever after made objects for
surveillance. Thus in a certain measure they are fugitives and outcasts
from all society. Still, their calling is a lucrative one, often netting
the bookmaker $15 a day the year around, and they become wealthy in
time. Bookmakers are generally heavy buyers themselves. As a class of
men they are of a roving disposition, and high livers. Nearly all have a
hang-dog expression on their faces. They take their arrest coolly, and
seem indifferent to the whole matter. They are seldom hard drinkers,
their calling requiring them to be constantly on the alert, and
exceedingly cautious in all their dealings.

The Louisiana Lottery has thousands of victims in Buffalo. Within the
past two years three large prizes have been drawn by Buffalonians and
these winnings have stimulated and doubled the sale of tickets.
Information obtained from some of the 12 agents of the lottery in
Buffalo and the representatives of the express companies indicates that
from 10,000 to 15,000 tickets are sold in Buffalo every month,
representing the investment of from $10,000 to $12,000.

The church fair is a frequent occurrence in Buffalo. Recently a fair was
held for one week, the proceeds of which have been devoted to paying the
floating debt on Music Hall. There were offered 1,500 prizes, the bait
consisting of $1,000, $500 and $100 in gold, an $800 piano, and the rest
of the prizes being pictures, barrels of flour and cement, etc. The
entertainments offered were upon the drawing of prizes, and drew a crowd
of 40,000 and upward nightly. The tickets sold for $1, and entitled the
buyer to three admissions to the hall and a chance—one in nearly
50,000—to draw a prize. About 48,000 tickets were sold and the fair
netted $46,000. Since then, say the lottery agents, their sale of
tickets has largely increased.

It seems strange—or rather, it would seem strange were it not so common
an experience—that citizens who profess to be, and no doubt are,
sincerely opposed to lotteries on principle, should indirectly give them
moral and material aid and support by lending their countenance to
schemes of this nature. The support of church and other raffles, gotten
up in aid of charity or of gift enterprises, undertaken for any purpose,
however worthy, can be justified only by a species of moral casuistry.
The altar does not “sanctify the gift,” and the line of moral
demarcation between the lottery for benevolence and the lottery for
gain, is rather shadowy. The inherent scruple as to buying chances
having been removed, it is but one step farther, and that a short one,
to the lottery office and the policy shop.

                               ----------

                         GAMBLING IN ST. PAUL.

Before the war there was comparatively little public gaming at St. Paul.
The city was occasionally visited by professionals, but the latter
usually considered that the then infant metropolis was hardly worth the
expenditure of much time or money. Once in a while one of the guild
would accompany a victim to the Minnesota capital, in order that he
might “pluck” him at his leisure. As a rule, however, the Mississippi
steamboats formed the chief theatre of their operations, it was a rare
occurrence that they penetrated so far into the Northwest. On the boats
the play was universal, from the elegantly attired gamester whose
diamond stud flashed prismatic colors, which were reflected from the
lights of the chandeliers of the cabin, to the flannel-shirted
individual who contented himself with fleecing the crew and second-class
passengers upon the main deck. The river craft proved a much more
remunerative field for sharpers, and, as has been said, the citizens of
St. Paul enjoyed immunity from their presence.

The inborn love for gaming which seems to be found in nearly every human
breast, found its gratification in the back-rooms of saloons and in a
few club-rooms, entrance to which was denied to all but members. The
“shining lights” of the profession were absent, and games were played
for only small stakes, although even in those days there were a few
local gamblers who gained some little notoriety during the early years
of the war. But after 1865, they seemed to have disappeared from public
view, some of them becoming retail liquor dealers, others farmers, and
yet others migrating to remote localities. Some of them, however, are
still residents of St. Paul, and are fairly well-to-do. Their former
sins have been forgotten and their past record is known only to a few
pioneer settlers, the result being that they are looked upon to-day as
respectable members of society.

After the war public gaming began to flourish, and soon increased to
such an extent that between 1872-4 there were lively times in and around
the capitol. The Union Pacific had been completed and the Northern
Pacific commenced. Thousands of laborers of all nationalities who had
been thrown out of employment along the line of the Union Pacific
flocked to the Northwest where the contractors for Henry Villard’s
Transcontinental Line were glad to avail themselves of their services.
With these laborers came a horde of hungry, desperate gamblers, men with
the instincts and ferocity of wild beasts, having no regard for the
sanctity of human life, who set law and order absolutely at defiance.
The desperadoes did not stay long at St. Paul; turning their faces
Westward they advanced along the line of the Northern Pacific, their
march keeping pace with the run of the rails along the highway of
commerce. Among the best known were Cole Martin, Jack O’Neill, Dave
Mullin, “Shank” Stanfield and Dan Shumway. They made their headquarters
at a saloon kept by one Dave Crummy. They have entirely disappeared from
view, and it is probable that most of them have “passed in their last
checks.” They fought with each other as readily as with their victims,
and, one after another have been killed off.

The circumstances of the killing of Dan Shumway by “Shank” Stanfield at
Moorhead in 1872 illustrates the character of these gamblers. Bad blood
had existed between them for some time, and a shooting had been expected
at any moment. Stanfield had been playing all night, and was about to
take an early morning drink in a bar-room, when Shumway came in, drunk
and quarrelsome. Instantly, Stanfield started from the saloon to procure
a pistol. As he was passing through the door he was fired upon by his
enemy. He quickly made his way to his own apartment and soon returned
with a revolver in each hand. Then the two began shooting at each other
with great rapidity. Stanfield took his position behind a pile of
packing boxes within easy range, and Shumway soon fell with one bullet
in his hip and another in his side. Wounded as he was, he dragged
himself painfully along the ground toward his adversary, leaving a
bloody trail behind him and firing as he proceeded. But before the
miserable wretch could reach Stanfield a bullet had found lodgement in a
vital spot and the dying desperado rolled over, clenching his weapon in
his hand with all the rigidity of a death grasp. The other gambler was
badly wounded but, perhaps unfortunately for the community at large,
recovered.

Such were the men who made a hell upon earth of Brainerd, Moorhead,
Irontown, and a dozen other points along the line of the Northern
Pacific railway. Only one of the horde appears to have returned, and to-
day few would recognize in Guy Salisbury, the Evangelist, one of the
band who maintained a reign of terror at Irontown.

With the extermination of this class, gambling became more orderly and
violence was of less frequent occurrence. The law-abiding element in St.
Paul gradually compelled the fraternity to adopt quiet methods of
running their games and to seek the seclusion of private rooms. Still,
at the present time, gambling is extensively carried on in the city,
although it seldom appears upon the surface, except in a few instances
which will be mentioned below. At the same time it is a notorious fact
that, unless in the cases of a few misguided interlopers who have
neglected to “square” themselves with the “powers that be,” no gambler
is ever arrested or a gaming resort raided by the city police. There are
ten or a dozen regular hells located in the very heart of the city, a
description of some of which may prove of interest.

The most prominent and prosperous is the “Turf Exchange,” run by a well-
known sporting man named Frank N. Shaw. Associated with him in the
conduct of this establishment are generally believed to be several
citizens who occupy good positions in society, and pose as respectable
members of the community. One or two of the suspected parties hold
positions of trust under the city government and if they did their duty
would suppress the place instead of abetting it. The “Turf Exchange” is
known as a pooling room. Pools are sold there on horse races, boat
races, ball games, prize fights, elections, and any and all other
turnings which offer a chance for a wager. The patrons of the
establishment are for the most part clerks from stores and offices,
mechanics, and others who work for stipulated wages. Bets are accepted
for any sum from $1.00 upward. A favorite method of losing money here is
that known as “making combinations.” That is, naming the winners in
three horse races, or other sporting events which occur on one and the
same day. If a man is lucky enough to hit upon precisely the winning
combination, the proprietor pays him heavy odds, but it is readily seen
that his chances for so doing are disproportionately small. During the
base ball season this resort is crowded by day and night, and a
considerable force of telegraph operators is employed in receiving the
reports which come in over the wires, and the services of a large staff
of assistants is needed in checking up the results on the boards, in
selling pools, and keeping the books. The yearly net profits of the
Exchange are said to exceed $40,000.

It is only the initiated, however, who are aware that immediately above
the pool rooms a gambling hell is in full blast. The up-stairs den is
well furnished and the games played include faro, roulette, poker, the
wheel of fortune, dice, etc. Not many months ago two fast young men of
St. Paul claimed to have lost $1,500 and $1,800, respectively, in this
place. They brought suit against Shaw to recover the money. As nothing
has been heard of the proceedings since their institution, rumor says
that the action has been quietly settled out of court.

Little more than a year ago the pool room was victimized by some adroit
sharpers who tapped the telegraph wires, and by withholding messages for
a few minutes were enabled to make bets which proved disastrous to the
proprietors of the institution. The Western Union was suspected of
complicity in the scheme, but a careful watch failed to reveal any
crookedness on their part. The tapped wire was finally located, and the
plan was found to have been originated by a man whose reputation as a
professional “crook” has earned for him the insertion of his photograph
in a prominent position in every rogues’ gallery in the country. Strange
as it may seem, the sufferers made no effort to bring the sharper to
justice. They even shielded him at the time, and are supposed to have
protected him from arrest upon a requisition from the governor of
Indiana, by giving him secret information. Of course such information
could be obtained only from an official source, and one of the city
officers who is believed to have an interest in the pool room stands
very close to the quarter from which the knowledge might have been had.

Next to the pool room, the gambling establishment which enjoys the
largest patronage is that known as Sherwin’s rooms, situated over a
saloon on East Seventh Street. Not many years ago one of the proprietors
of this place found it convenient to absent himself from St. Paul, owing
to his alleged connection with a brawl in which a man lost his life.
When public indignation had cooled down, through some mysterious
influence brought to bear on the authorities, the genial gamester was
allowed to return, and is at present plying his former vocation without
molestation.

Not many months since, a desperate affray occurred in those rooms in
which a white man was dangerously stabbed. The affair was brought to the
notice of the authorities, but no steps were taken to punish the
assailant or to close the place. The injured man was an employee of the
city, and, in the slang of the streets, “stood in with the gang.” He was
easily persuaded not to prosecute the negro, for the reason that such a
step on his part would call public attention to the existence of the
gambling hell and compel the police to take some action, “for when the
ball is once set rolling, you cannot tell when it will stop, you know.”
Nearly all the ordinary games of chance are played at Sherwin’s.

In connection with the establishment, refreshments are sold, and if a
player should win any considerable sum he is at once surrounded by the
harpies, male and female, who urge him to expend his winnings in wine
and liquors, and make “a good fellow” of himself. In this way a large
percentage of the money lost at the tables is again taken in by the
proprietors over the bar.

Another well-known gambling hell is Banigh’s European Hotel, where the
usual games are carried on.

Besides the places already mentioned, there are a number of dives of a
low character, scattered about the city. Nearly every central
thoroughfare contains at least one. Their location is known to every man
about town, and it is idle to suppose that the police are ignorant of
their existence. On Minnesota Street gambling dens of the lowest
description flourish, for the accommodation of the colored population,
and where “crap shooting” is the favorite amusement. The police have
recently found it necessary to close one of the most disreputable of
these resorts, because of the frequency of dangerous brawls which
occurred there.

If the category of the gaming resorts above given comprised the whole
story of gambling in St. Paul, the tale would not materially differ from
that which might be related of nearly every large city. But places of
the character described do not constitute one-tenth part of the number
of gaming resorts in the city. Out of all the hotels in St. Paul, there
are only one or two where gambling is prohibited, and in which the
proprietors do not knowingly rent rooms for gaming purposes. These rooms
are usually occupied by professionals, who are guests at the hotels, but
whose character is well known. Faro and poker are the games most
commonly played, and sometimes stakes run up to a considerable amount.

The saloons swell the list of places where this vice is practiced. The
bar room which does not permit card playing for money in its back room
is a rarity, and sometimes games of no little magnitude are played at
these places. When the police are questioned as to the existence of
gambling in the city, they invariably reply that they are not aware of
its existence within the corporate limits. And while there is no
evidence to prove that they do actually know that practices of the sort
described are being carried on, to believe that they are ignorant is too
severe a strain upon the credulity of the average citizen.

In private clubs there is much gaming and the stakes are often high. It
appears, however, to be beyond the police powers conferred by the
existing laws to put a stop to this species of gaming. The mania seems
to have infected every grade of society from the highest to the lowest.
“All sorts and conditions of men” gamble. Young merchants, confidential
clerks, trusted book-keepers, wage workers of all descriptions, and even
school boys. Men of religious professions form no exception, and a
church member is by no means a _rara avis_ at the tables.

No form of gambling is so universally popular or so widely patronized as
the Louisiana State Lottery. The head quarters for the State of
Minnesota are located in St. Paul. The manager employs a fair sized
clerical force to assist him in the distribution of tickets, which are
scattered broad-cast wherever it is believed that there is a possibility
of their sale. Almost every saloon has a lottery agent, and these men
are allowed from 2½ to 7 per cent on their sales. A large proportion of
the people who buy these tickets are regular purchasers, and make an
investment (usually a permanent one) of from $1.00 to $10.00 every
month. _Bona fide_ instances of winning through this species of gambling
are exceedingly rare.

The institution, like the gambling dens which curse the city, is also
run under cover of the official mantle. About a year ago, an effort was
made to break up the business through the indictment of the manager and
his assistants by the grand jury of Ramsey County. A number of witnesses
were subpoened, but when they were called upon to testify it was
discovered that they had been conveniently got out of the way. In
consequence, the investigation dropped and anyone who wished to waste
his money in a vain attempt to secure a capital prize finds no
difficulty in purchasing the ticket which he may select.

The “bucket shop,” pure and simple, is unknown in St. Paul. There is
more or less speculative trade in “futures and combinations,” but the
total amount is insignificant as compared with the volume of legitimate
business—probably at a rough estimate, not exceeding $2,000,000
annually.

                               ----------

                          THE GAMBLER’S LUCK.

 To prove how matters will go wrong,
 When gambling ways you start along,
     Just listen to this tale:
 I tramped for many a weary day,
 And funds were gone, and skies were gray,
     For trade was flat and stale.

 My blood seemed chilled, the outlook black,
 As I came hoofing down the track
     And reached a country town;
 I did not know a single soul
 To ask for hash, or beg a bowl,
     And I was done up brown.

 I earned a dollar in that town,
 And in a faro bank sat down,
     And took a little horn;
 The checks they used, my gentle youth—
 You may not think I tell the truth—
     Were grains of Indian corn.

 I scanned the players there awhile,
 A pleasing thought soon made me smile,
     Mused I: “Here’s luck for me.”
 I knew a few miles further back,
 There stood a corn-crib by the track,
     As full as it could be. As full as it could be.

 Though dark and wet, I left the place,
 And turned my eager, hopeful face
     Towards that brimming bin.
 Foot-sore, I reached the happy spot
 And felt among the lucky lot,
     And took a big ear in.

 I shelled it as I went along,
 And sang the only happy song
     I’d sung for many days;
 I stuck my stake into my clothes,
 And in that bank I stuck my nose,
     For I had made a raise.

 I watched that game an hour or two,
 And tried to look as green as you,
     And thought I’d play it fine.
 I  walked up like a country jake,
 And took a handful of my stake
     And placed all on the nine.

 The dealer turned his eagle eyes
 On mine, which caused me some surprise,
     And said in tones quite bland:—
 “My friend, it may not look quite right,
 But no “reds” here are played to-night.”
     And thats the way it panned.

 I trudged along the track next morn,
 And there I saw old farmer Thorne,
     Empty his bins with care.
 In that large crib, chuck full of grain,
 The sight of yellow ears brought pain,
     For not one “red” was there.

                        GAMBLING IN MINNEAPOLIS.

Minnesota is not dissimilar to other States of the Union in respect to
gambling, but, unlike other Western States and territories, it has
achieved an enviable reputation. This is due to two causes, the
character of its population, and the nature of its resources and
industries. Census statistics show that the greater proportion of the
inhabitants are either of Scandinavian or New England descent, neither
race of which has, at any time, shown any pronounced disposition to
gamble. Possibly this may be accounted for by considerations of climate
and geographical location, inducing conditions of life that inculcate
lessons of rigid economy and teach the true value of money.

Minnesota being essentially an agricultural State, those incentives to
gamble have been lacking which seemed part and parcel of the development
of other Western States where mining and “flush times” went hand in
hand; where money came easily and went rapidly.

Minneapolis, one of the two chief cities of the State, has always been
and yet is the “head centre” of whatever gambling is done in the
commonwealth. There, it has always been conducted more on the plan of a
regular business enterprise than in the majority of cities throughout
the United States; in fact, it has been and is now a complete monopoly,
a trust on a small scale, and, like other trusts, it trusts nobody.

Minneapolis is a young town. Its phenomenal growth in the last decade
has been marvelous, and one is not surprised to learn that the gambler
of Minneapolis, the village, is the gambler of Minneapolis, the thriving
city. Gaming has existed under both Democratic and Republican
administrations, and politics can be said to have cut little figure in
the calculations of the gamblers. It was merely a question whether it
should be conducted openly or behind closed doors; whether the general
public, or only certain persons, be permitted to cross the threshold and
enter the apartments sacred to the use of King Faro, his aids and
satellites. The answer to this question has been generally given in
accordance with the personal sympathies or political obligations of the
city executive.

As previously mentioned, gambling in Minneapolis has always been a
monopoly. This monopoly has been known, in the parlance of the town, as
the “combination.” This nomenclature saves time and the bother of
mentioning the gamblers by name, every one knowing who are meant.

This combination started some years ago and first consisted of Pat
Sullivan, an old soldier, and John Flanagan. A little later on, these
were joined by Frank Shaw, Mike Shelley, and William Tanner, better
known as “Col.” Bill Tanner. Shaw, however, only remained a member a few
months. Before the forming of the combination, Flanagan and Sullivan
conducted establishments which embraced all known gambling games and
devices, and were believed to be conducted strictly “on the square.”
This was during the administration of Mayor John De Laittre. That
official had spasmodic fits of morality, sporadic attacks as it were, in
consequence whereof, Messrs. Sullivan and Flanagan ran the place very
quietly, though every now and then the police authorities would make a
raid, the tangible result of which was to show that portion of the
population which would otherwise have remained ignorant that gambling
still existed in Minneapolis, and could be only suppressed or
exterminated through the efforts of a zealous mayor, backed by a
marvellously acute force of police and detectives.

Mayor Rand allowed the games to be conducted quietly, and did not
interfere as long as no complaint of “brace” playing was made.

Under the rule of Mayor A. A. Ames, a fanatic on the question of
personal liberty and the right of a man to do as he pleased,
irrespective of the rights of the remainder of the community, gambling
was conducted “wide open,” with no restrictions save those placed upon
it by the gamblers themselves. It was too wide open to suit the majority
of the conservative voters and that large element which, though liberal-
minded, had some respect for decency and some regard for outward
appearances; and at the next election, Mr. George S. Pillsbury, a member
of the famous firm of millers and brother of the Governor, was elected
mayor, defeating Mayor Ames by a decisive majority.

Under his rule a complete transformation took place. It was from one
extreme to the other; the difference between Cimmerian darkness and the
bright glare of the noonday sun, could not be more marked than the
revolution that occurred in the administration of municipal affairs, and
the city was governed on the plan of a small New England village. Square
gambling was prohibited, but a notorious brace game was in full blast
during the entire Pillsbury administration.

Mr. Pillsbury was a candidate for re-election on the strength of the
record made in the cause of pure morals, but he was ignominiously beaten
by Dr. Ames. Upon the election of the latter, the change resembled the
oscillation of the pendulum from one extremity of its arc, to the other.
It was one extreme to the other. Ames proceeded again to enforce his
peculiar views on personal liberty. His previous administration had been
peculiarly objectionable to the orderly and law abiding citizens, who
set about devising methods to check the scheme of “throwing the town
wide open.”

Right here a word of explanation concerning the power and authority of
the mayor, is essential in order that a proper understanding of the
matter may be reached. Under every administration down to the last one
of Dr. Ames, the mayor was the head of the municipal government,
possessing supreme authority over the police officials, whom he could
appoint and dismiss at his own sweet will, without let or hindrance. It
can be easily perceived how this privilege might be abused and the power
perverted, if not prostituted to unlawful ends. Thus the whole machinery
of the law was under the control of one man, resulting in a veritable
despotism on a small scale, under which one person, the mayor, was the
important factor for good or for evil in the city.

Gamblers, saloon-keepers, and the sporting classes generally, welcomed
his election with one accord. City ordinances regulating liquor selling,
were to be calmly and quietly, but no less surely ignored. And they
were. The result was a saturnalia of crime. Saloons ran all night if so
minded and customers demanded it. The gambling houses were in full
blast, and the city swarmed with thieves, fakirs and blacklegs of every
description, from smooth adventurers of the Traylor and Post pattern,
down to the petty shell worker and flimflam fellow. It was time to call
a halt.

As it so happened the state legislature was in session, and it was
determined by good citizens, irrespective of political affiliations, to
go before that body and pray for relief. After much consultation, a bill
providing for the appointment of a police commission, consisting of two
members from each dominant party, with the mayor as ex-officio member,
was formulated. The bill was passed by both houses, and became a law
through the Governor’s signature. Under its provisions the appointing
power was conferred upon the council, and well-known citizens received
the honor of serving as members. This act left the mayor shorn of power
and authority. The police commission ruled and decided whether city
ordinances should be enforced or not; the same body controlled the
police, and decency once more ruled. At a recent session, the
legislature amended the bill by reducing the number of the police
commissioners to two, outside of the mayor, who still remained an ex-
officio member. Nevertheless gambling has existed, and still exists, no
matter what the political complexion of the city administration may have
happened to be.

With this brief introduction it is only necessary to give a condensed
history of the games and devices that have flourished in Minneapolis,
the object of whose proprietors has been to lure money from those, who,
it must be admitted, would have liked to acquire wealth by means far
removed from honest toil and labor.

At all the houses here have run the usual games ordinarily conducted in
so-called first-class gambling rooms; that is to say, faro bank,
roulette, stud poker, and hazard, with various short card games. Faro
bank is king. Its legitimate percentage in favor of the bank is of
course responsible for its large following of devotees, and the great
majority of players make their way to that table immediately upon
entering the halls. A “tenderfoot,” who was playing against a brace game
out West, chanced to inquire what limit would be given him. The reply
was “from John Smith’s green cloth to the blue sky of heaven.” This
limit it may be remarked _en passant_, was somewhat liberal, but in view
of the kind of game that was being dealt the proprietor could afford to
let a man place his money freely. In Minneapolis it has been slightly
different, the limit being generally placed at fifty to doubles, and
twenty-five to cases. Occasionally a well-known player who was known to
be possessed of plenty of funds has been allowed two hundred and a
hundred. This, however, may be called the exception rather than the
rule. The play against faro bank has always been fairly steady, with the
houses winning in the long run. Comparatively few heavy losses or
winnings have ever occurred in Minneapolis. Dink Davis, Pat Sheedy, and
other celebrated high rollers have rarely visited the city. The only
heavy loss suffered was in the old house at 205 Nicollet Avenue, when
Frank Shaw, Flanagan and Sullivan were the main proprietors in 1887.
This may scarcely be called a legitimate losing, but rather the result
of what some gamblers would call a bit of sharp practice. The house had
only been running in full blast for a few months. Everything was wide
open, in the heyday of Mayor Ames’ administration. Among the dealers
employed was Mr. Harrington, a very good all around gambler, and withal
a first-class artist. Harrington was well liked by his employers, who
thought highly of his capabilities, and had perfect confidence in his
honesty, so far at least as they were concerned. But as events proved
they were mistaken. Mr. Harrington had a particular friend, one Mr.
Hayes, who gambled on the outside strictly, and was known as a hard faro
bank player. These two smooth gentlemen, it is said, put their heads
together and concocted a plot, which was in brief that Harrington should
“throw off” the game to Hayes. The scheme worked to a charm, and Mr.
Hayes’ luck became proverbial among those that were leading the gay life
of a sport. Matters ran along for some little time, and it was not until
the game was some $10,000 loser that the house management began to
suspect that there might possibly be something wrong, or in gamblers’
parlance “an African in the woodpile.” A quiet investigation ensued, and
it was not long before the chair that knew Mr. Harrington, knew him no
more, forever. Then it was that the erstwhile familiar faces of Messrs.
Harrington and Hayes became as shadows of the past, though ever and anon
their forms would rise like Banquo’s ghost to haunt the Macbethian forms
of the combination that had heard that there was honor among gamblers.
But Harrington has paid for his duplicity in this instance, as the
better class of gamblers utterly refuse to have anything to do with him,
and he stands a fair chance of being forced to earn an honest livelihood
by working at his trade—that of a compositor.

Next to faro bank, in point of attraction, is roulette. Watching the
ball go round has a certain grim fascination for a great many people—and
then it is quick action for your money; nervous people are not compelled
to wait in suspense to know whether they lose or win. A simple twist of
the wrist, the little ivory is whirling around and around until it stops
in one of the many compartments—red or black, or in the fatal zeros that
sweep the board. But still the number of devotees at its altar is not
large. In fact, in the whole town there are not half a dozen men who
prefer roulette to faro, provided that they have any considerable amount
of money. Those with only a few dollars in their possession play it in
order to get a stake to play faro. A journalist here, and part
proprietor of one of the daily papers, is the only individual that has
achieved any notoriety in this direction. It was no unusual thing for
him to win or lose a thousand dollars at a sitting. This sort of play
is, however, exceptional, the majority of players against the wheel
scarcely having funds enough to buy a stack of white checks.

Next in order of popularity come hazard and stud poker. The former is
chiefly patronized by beginners, and the latter by that numerous class
of men who consider themselves a little wiser than their fellows.
Neither the greenhorn nor the player who is wise in his own conceit
takes into consideration the enormous odds in the one game, or the large
“rake off” in the other, regulated only by the conscience (?) of the
dealer, and his knowledge of just what the players will stand. Therefore
the harvest is ripe and is quickly garnered. Hazard has never been much
of a favorite, the play being scarcely extensive enough to meet
expenses; while on the other hand, the stud poker tables have always
been well patronized. The short card games in these public rooms were
usually played by professional gamblers for the sake of whiling away a
few hours, with just a sufficient monetary consideration to vary the
tedium and monotony.

The above statements apply to every gambling house that has been ever
run in the city, conducted strictly on the square. But, as in all other
trades and professions, there are grades. The habitues and customers of
one establishment seldom visited any of the others, and in the most
exclusive resort, that at 219 Hennepin Avenue, the common crowd were
refused admittance by the colored servitor that guarded the door. At
least good clothes and the appearance of a gentleman were necessary to
effect an entrance into this particular lair of the tiger.

But passing mention must be made of one establishment that flourished
under the highly moral Pillsbury administration, and was permitted to
continue unmolested, while other houses were compelled either to close
up or run in such a furtive way that a search warrant was almost a
necessity in order to find the haunts of the animal. This place was and
is known to all sports, thieves, confidence men, and blacklegs
generally, throughout the length and width of the United States. It is
designated as the “Elite,” and is located on Nicollet Avenue! To the
uninitiated and the casual observer it is simply a saloon, and a very
good saloon at that. But up-stairs was a complete gambling outfit of the
most crooked description. It was commonly believed to be a notorious
brace house, and many a man was there “skinned” out of hundreds of
dollars. It was given out that it was the only place in town where a man
with a penchant for faro bank would be accommodated, and he was
accommodated with a vengeance. “Steerers” were numerous in those days,
and embraced such shining lights in that particular line of industry as
“Sammy” Barrett, “Jerry” Desmond and “Charlie” Dean, while distinguished
confidence men, such as William Traynor and George Post, did not disdain
occasionally to introduce a wealthy fly into the spider’s web.

At this time the place was reputed to be owned by Col. Wm. Tanner and
Bill Munday. Tanner is a cool-headed man, who has never been known to
let an opportunity of “getting the best of it” go by. He has always
prospered and is worth several thousand dollars in cash, besides some
rather valuable real estate. Munday, on the other hand, was somewhat of
a handicap and a dead weight on the institution. His personal habits
were most objectionable; he was irritable, quarrelsome, and a general
nuisance. Finally, in sheer desperation, Col. Tanner purchased his
interest, and Munday retired to his native heath at Burlington, Iowa,
where at last accounts he was engaged in defying the prohibitory law.

This “brace” house flourished like the proverbial green bay tree, until
the advent of Mayor Ames, when the regular houses were permitted to
open. Strong pressure was brought to bear, and Tanner, after removing
from the “Elite” to a place on Washington Avenue north, finally effected
a compromise, abandoned his game and became a partner with Sullivan and
Flanagan.

In the meantime, Frank Shaw announced his intention of defying Sullivan
and Flanagan and opening up whether they liked it or not, and he too was
admitted into partnership. Then Sawyer, who with “Bob” Potee used to run
the famous No. 3 Missouri Avenue in Kansas City, appeared on the scene,
and declared his intention of corralling some of the large profits that
rumor said were going into the pockets of the combination. He was
permitted to open, paying the combination a certain percentage of the
profits. However the screws were gradually put on, and ultimately he was
forced out of business in Minneapolis and went to the Pacific coast.
Sawyer was anything but popular with either his associates or patrons.
He was cold with the former and supercilious toward the latter. Within
the last year or so Mike Shelley, a native of Minneapolis and a local
sport and saloon-keeper, has become identified with the gambling
interests, taking the place of John Flanagan, who has retired on a
moderate competence, amassed by a strict attention to business, and the
practice of careful domestic economy.

At the present writing, in the year of grace, 1889, gambling is
nominally confined to one club, which, however, is really open to the
world at large and all mankind. In fact, gaming is just as general as it
ever was, except that the combination, instead of running two or three
establishments in open defiance of the better class of citizens, now
quietly runs but one house and only caters to the moneyed men and
clerks, the “dinner-pail brigade” not being considered desirable
customers.

Such is a succinct account of gambling in Minneapolis, as the term
gambling is generally understood. But other forms of the vice flourish
unchecked and unmolested by the authorities. Bucket shops, under the
guise of produce exchanges, the “clock,” policy playing, “crap” games,
and the sale of lottery tickets run on as though there were no let or
hindrance imposed by State law or municipal ordinances. All these enjoy
an excellent amount of patronage.

The bucket shops naturally get the largest play, that is to say the
heaviest. The immense amount of wheat daily received at the city for
consumption by the mills, has made Minneapolis a great grain receiving
port, and this fact has doubtless given an impetus to this form of
gambling or speculation, as it is more politely termed. The Minneapolis
Chamber of Commerce resembles the Chicago Board of Trade, and it is
there that the “big guns” try to rob one another on the turn of the
market, just as one card sharp tries to fleece another, or a greenhorn,
on the turn of a card. Those outside the pale must perforce be satisfied
to stake their money in the bucket shops against the Chicago quotations.
In the opinion of many reflecting men this is the most pernicious form
of the vice, because a large number of eminently respectable people
persist in not regarding it as gambling, but consider it as merely a
speculation. This delusion blinds many victims who would not for the
universe enter a gambling house and put down their money on a fair
layout, or bet on the whirl of the roulette wheel. The play against the
bucket shops is steady, and it is a cause for wonder where all the money
comes from. Margins are continually being wiped out of existence, but
the speculators exhibit a recuperative power that is truly astonishing,
since after being “knocked out” in one round, they continue to “come up
smiling” in the next, and, strange to relate, no instances have been
made public of employes who have stolen in order to continue a wild
career of speculation, that ultimately ended in flight, prison, or
suicide. Either fickle fortune must distribute her favors with
comparative impartiality, or speculation does not run riot with that
exuberant luxuriance known in many of the large cities. The chief
establishment in Minneapolis, that of Pressey, Wheeler & Co., failed
about a year ago, not from lack of business, however, but because it was
not content with a steady income from the commissions received and
became imbued with the idea that it was within the realm of possibility
to beat the Chicago Board of Trade. It was a costly experiment; the firm
went under, but its business reputation was such that plenty of
financial backing was easily secured, and they are now doing business at
the old stand, with a third party interested. The minor establishments
of this character pursue the even tenor of their way, apparently
satisfied with the assured prospect of a comfortable living.

The “clock,” a device worked automatically, which at intervals of half a
minute threw out two cards, which were supposed to represent stock or
bonds, the lower one showing that the stock fell a certain notch below
the previous quotation, and the upper card a like increase, has had a
checkered career, but on the whole cannot be said to have made an
abundance of money for its owners. In its fundamental principle it
resembled the faro bank, but it was a little more trouble to play the
game, and its patrons were never very numerous, after the novelty of the
thing had worn off. It was beaten out of almost a thousand dollars one
day through collusion between a player and the man whose duty it was to
place the cards in the clock at the beginning of the day’s work. But
this trick has never been repeated, one experience of the sort having
rendered the managers cautious in the extreme.

Policy has always been considered the colored man’s game, and 4-11-44
has a familiar sound to thousands of people who have not the faintest
conception of the meaning of “saddles” and “gigs.” Its patrons in
Minneapolis are confined mainly to negroes, although occasionally a
Caucasian will hire a dark-skinned waiter or barber to play a few
numbers for him, just to tempt the fickle goddess. It is a difficult
matter to get the facts in this particular instance, for the reason that
the policy vendors are almost constantly under police surveillance, and
a raid is by no means infrequent. This may be attributed to a lack of
political influence, and the small proportion of colored people to the
entire population.

Craps, a dice game, always a favorite with the colored man and brother
and the street gamin, is being introduced into the more aristocratic
circles, and has become quite popular as a game of chance. The quaint
expressions of “come seven, come eleven,” “where’s my point,” “little
Joe,” “big Dick from Boston,” and the like, are now frequently heard
from the lips of the high-toned white gamblers as they carelessly toss
the dice in the early morning hours, after the regular games are closed.
The play at times runs high among the white votaries, but in their hands
it lacks the sauce piquante with which the game is flavored by the lowly
descendant of Ham.

Minneapolis can boast of a full-fledged pool-room, owned and controlled
by Frank Shaw. Since the inauguration of winter racing at New Orleans
and the tracks at Guttenburg and Clifton, the place runs during the
entire twelve months of the year. The establishment purports to give
track odds, but in many instances shortens them materially. The
proprietors have decidedly the best of it, for the play is constant, and
as it is for small amounts there is but little chance for the house to
make any considerable losing on any one book. The bookmakers are very
cautious, and refuse big bets on “short horses” for fear they may be
worsted through some sort of crookedness. In the books as low a wager as
fifty cents is recorded, and in the combination and Paris mutual pools
the small sum of twenty-five cents is thankfully accepted. It can be
easily seen that the temptation is great to invest a quarter or a half
with a bare possibility of having it returned tenfold in the brief space
that elapses between the time the shout that “now they’re off,” and the
moment when the announcement of the winners is made in the dulcet tones
of the telegraph operator. One glance at the habitues of the pool-room
shows plainly the folly of attempting to beat the races. The majority of
them are poorly dressed, unkempt and frowsy. Every dollar that finds its
way into their possession goes straight into the hands of the
bookmakers, and hope gradually changes into passive despair, as the
names of the leaders of the race are announced, and as the quarters are
recorded by the “tick-tick” of the electric instrument. Those, and there
are many of them, that have crossed the last ditch and are unable to
raise a cent, spend their time in “touting” and importune each newcomer
to buy this or that horse, confidently assuring the victim that it would
be impossible for him to lose. In the event of their prediction being
realized, they get a dollar or so, and proceed to back some “short”
horse, on the improbable chance of “making a scratch” and winning
several times the paltry amount which they have staked. This lost, the
same old process is repeated. It is lose, lose, lose. The bookmaker is a
veritable Minotaur, who must be appeased by frequent sacrifices. Honor,
friendship, truth and reputation, all go in the futile attempt to gain
money without the proper equivalent of hard work. It is pitiful, yet
still the law does not interfere, and the work of destruction goes on,
fresh recruits being constantly received into the ranks, only to find
that instead of being generals, they rapidly degenerate into very
ordinary privates, to whom the shelter of the guard-house is a boon. The
rarity of Christian charity is amply exemplified daily in this pool-
room. No matter how much money a victim may have spent, he would not be
given enough to buy a loaf of bread, and he knows this only too well.
The owner and employes grow fat and prosper, while the victim dresses in
rags, and oft times goes hungry after investing his last half dollar or
quarter in a vain endeavor to win back the money that has gone before.

Although the sale of lottery tickets is prohibited by law, and papers
are forbidden to print advertisements of lotteries, the statutory
provisions are openly violated, at least so far as the sale of tickets
is concerned. There is no avowed agent, as is the case in several other
cities, but people who wish to invest have no difficulty in securing the
tickets without going through the formality of sending their money to
New Orleans. There are several saloons whose proprietors are really the
representatives of the lottery companies, and would-be purchasers, who
are well known, experience no trouble. The drawings are posted in a
conspicuous place, so that it is extremely easy to ascertain just how
near you have come to drawing the capital prize. This once fell to two
Minneapolis citizens who had invested a dollar apiece, and in return
received $15,000, less the cost of collection. Numerous small prizes
have been drawn at various times, yet the greater portion of the money
spent for lottery tickets never comes back in the form of prizes, at
least to Minneapolis. But as a well-known Chicago gambler once sagely
remarked, “A sucker is born every minute,” and there is no lack of
people to buy in the vain effort to get something for nothing.

On the whole, it may be said that while Minneapolis is not so bad as
some other cities that might be named, there is nevertheless a wide
field for a law and order society that would not be afraid to promote
and aid, by all proper methods, the rigid enforcement of the laws
against gaming.

In what has been said above, no reference has been made to private
gambling. Its constant increase, however, is a fact as certain as it is
deplorable. Gentlemen gamble at their clubs and teach the mysteries of
poker to their wives, their sisters and their daughters, by their own
firesides. Ladies of recognized social position may be found who are as
familiar with “jack pots” and “bob tail flushes” as they are with the
etiquette of the drawing room. Herein lies the most dangerous menace to
the future of the young men of the city. Men who are willing to
subscribe liberally toward a fund to be used in the suppression of
public gaming seem to be cursed with such an obliquity of moral vision
that they are able to see nothing objectionable in playing a “social
game for trifling stakes” amid the more refined surroundings of home. If
they could but have their eyes opened to the possible consequences of
such infatuation, they would hesitate long before they ran the risk of
transforming the “home” into a stepping stone in the path to the “hell.”

                     GAMBLING AT PEORIA, ILLINOIS.

For more than thirty years public gaming in Peoria has been practically
under the control of a syndicate, the members of which all belong to the
same family. For a considerable period but one establishment was in
operation, which was conducted by three brothers. Of late years,
however, three other houses have come into existence, but it is asserted
that they do business only by the grace of the brothers in question. Of
the latter it may be said that they are known no less for their
liberality than for their calling. While they have made money rapidly,
they have spent it freely, and the coarse notes which they have gathered
in across the green cloth have gone into circulation without delay. A
member of this same family, now well advanced in years, after having
“sown his wild oats,” entered politics and was elected mayor of the
city. As to the general character of his administration the author is
not in a position to speak. The fraternity generally, however, have been
under the impression that the suppression of gambling was not one of the
ends which he set before himself as the goal of his ambition. In fact,
rumor (which, not being particularly well founded, it would be
charitable to disbelieve), has it that a rather near relative more than
once appealed to the chief executive of the city for protection when
hard pressed by men who claimed to have been victimized in his house.

Outside of the select circle already referred to, Peoria has never
proved a particularly profitable locality for sporting men. In itself,
it presents not a few inherent attractions to men of this stamp. It is
the focus of several lines of railroad, the seat of a populous and
wealthy county, and, above all, the centre of the enormous whisky trade
of the West. Its floating population is at times very large, and it is
not to be wondered at that the favored few who have enjoyed a monopoly
in gambling have found it easy to accumulate large sums. These
considerations have lured other professionals to the spot, but only to
find that for them to attempt to make headway against an impregnable
combination was like endeavoring to fight against fate.

Confidence men have always been apt to regard Peoria as a favorable
field in which to look for “suckers.” At times a moderate degree of
success has attended their efforts in this direction, especially on
occasions when a particularly large crowd was present in the city, as,
e. g., during the holding of State fairs and of political and other
combinations. But on the whole, the city has been comparatively free
from the incursions of this class of swindlers. Perhaps it may have been
the abundance and cheapness of the “golden corn juice” which interfered
with their operations. Either the sharpers or their dupes may have found
the indulgence of one vicious appetite so easy as to interfere with the
gratification of another. However this may be the fact remains that the
city has never proved a specially remunerative theater for this
description of thieves.

The best known proprietors of banking houses in Peoria have been the
Warner brothers, Becker, Hale and Christy. Most of them are understood
to have succeeded fairly well in their chosen calling, and this
circumstance is undoubtedly due in a great measure to the character of
trade for which Peoria is noted. The distillers spend money freely and
the circulation of bank notes is brisk. Moreover, the customers of these
gentlemen are generally men who are not averse to seeking recreation in
an attempt to break the bank.

In fact, it is a matter worthy of comment that intemperance and gaming
usually go hand in hand. Like twin monsters they stalk through the land
with giant strides, leaving despair and ruin in their track. They
supplement each other in the work of destruction. Liquor inflames the
passions, stimulates the imagination, blunts the moral sense, and
impairs the reasoning powers of the mind. The natural result is that the
victim of the alcohol habit is easily incited to patronize the gaming
hell. On the other hand gaming always induces excitement, and leaves
either fictitious exhilaration or profound mental depression. In either
case the gamester has resort to stimulants; it may be to heighten the
exuberance of his joy; possibly to drown the recollection of his
troubles or stifle the voice of conscience.

It is not the intent of the author to imply that Peoria differs from
other cities of its size in this regard, nor would he say that the
presence of a distillery in any town tends directly to promote and
foster gambling. Yet any great center of the liquor traffic naturally
draws thither a class of men who can see nothing specially wrong in
gaming, and who, finding such resorts in active operation at any given
point, are apt to extend to them an active patronage.

So far as lottery gambling is concerned, there cannot be said to be much
of it at Peoria. The negro population—to whom “4-11-44” appeals more
closely—is by no means so large as in various other cities in the State.
Nevertheless, tickets in the Louisiana lottery, and even “eighths” are
purchasable at these resorts where young men “do most congregate.” “The
fangs of the serpent are far-reaching,” nor does there seem to be any
way of limiting the number of victims unless the snake be “scotched” as
soon as it raises its head. All honor to the State, which, although
well-nigh hopelessly in debt, declined to surrender its moral freedom to
the grasp of the anaconda. All honor to the National Administration
whose executive head has called attention to the best remedy for
removing this blot upon the civilization of the nineteenth century. All
shame to the truculent spirit (not to say venality) which rampantly
raises its head not only to defeat public policy but also to debauch
public morals.

                       GAMBLING IN INDIANAPOLIS.

From time immemorial, the capital of Hoosierdom has been recognized
among sporting men as a poor locality in which to attempt to conduct a
gambling house. Not so much because of the higher morality of the
inhabitants, nor on account of the rigid enforcement of the laws against
gaming, as for the reason that the authorities, from the patrolmen on
the “beat” up to officials of high rank, have been wont to levy such
heavy assessments upon keepers of resorts of this character that the
business has, as a rule, proved unprofitable. It is a common saying
among “crooks” that at Indianapolis “arrangements may be made” for
committing any offense, from picking a pocket to “cracking” a safe or
“sand-bagging” a man, but such privileges “come high.”

Still, gambling hells have existed in the capital of Indiana since a
date considerably antecedent to the war, and it is probable that it will
always be possible for men who wish to seek their own ruin through this
channel to find the means at hand. A demand has never yet failed to
create a supply. Before and during the war the principal resorts were
those of Basey, Noe, Reynolds, Dunn, Russell and Mortland. These men
were old residents and enjoyed more privileges than were accorded to
parties from abroad who came later, such as Snow, Barnes, O’Neill,
Martin, Steiger, Williamson, Warner, Swift and others, who did business
from time to time at subsequent periods. Mortland prospered, and
invested his winnings in real estate, erecting a fine block on Illinois
Street nearly opposite the Bates House. A certain portion of the
building was especially designed for the purposes of a gambling house.
Howard Barnes opened the “Maison Doree,”—an elegant resort, where faro,
poker and keno were played, and having elegantly furnished rooms for the
accommodation of private parties. The establishment enjoyed a large
patronage, as did also the “House of Lords” and the “Dollar Store.” But
the rooms most favored by gamblers of the higher social classes, and
where the play was heaviest, were those of O’Neill, situated at number
ten Canal Street. The proprietor also opened a keno room, but
considering the demands of the authorities extortionate, refused to
comply with them, and war upon him was declared at once. His houses were
raided night after night, and he himself repeatedly indicted. The result
was that he found his business destroyed and left Indianapolis for the
more congenial latitude of Washington City.

“Brace” faro kept even pace with the “square” game, but was always
conducted on a cheap scale and by men who, as a rule, made little money.
Among the best known faro dealers, who were said to belong to this
class, were Jake Fidler, Charley Young, “Sock” Riley, Fred White, Clift
Dougherty, “Little Walter” Ellworthy and George Slaughter.

While the officials were able, however, to keep the banking games in
check, poker never could be wholly suppressed. For twenty years there
has been a game at the Bates House, at which many members of the
Legislature have taken a hand while in attendance at the Capital. Among
the players have been numbered some of Indiana’s “favorite sons”, men
who attained distinction at the bar and in public life, the names of
some of them being as familiar as household words to the great body of
the American people. Other games of poker were played at rooms conducted
by Ridgeway, Forbes, Stark, Baker, McCarthy, Richardson and Sim Coy.

Owing to the fact that Indianapolis is a great railroad centre, the
Union Depot in that city has always been a favorite stamping ground for
confidence men, who have reaped a golden harvest from the verdancy of
their dupes. They have varied their operations at the depot proper by
“working” the trains running into and out of the city. “French” Joe,
“Big” Kendricks, “Sock” Riley, Lou Houck and George Duvall, each with a
mob of confederates at his heels, have at various times made
Indianapolis their headquarters.

At present, the city is known to the fraternity as “closed”, and the
only gambling worth mentioning is the poker game at the Bates House, to
which reference has been already made; and another game played over the
English Opera House. Both these are commonly regarded as “swell”
resorts, and at times high stakes change hands across the table.

What has become of the notorious characters who, as has been said,
formerly pursued their nefarious calling here? A few of them have found
other employment in the same city, while others have betaken themselves
to new fields. Snow died of consumption. Ridgeway was found dead in his
bed. Mortland was thrown out of his buggy and killed. Basey committed
suicide by jumping from the window of the Occidental Hotel. His son-in-
law, Major Russell, once known as the genial man about town, witty, well
informed, and a universal favorite, poisoned himself. Ben Law, Jr., is
serving a life sentence for murder. Ben Law, Sr., is awaiting trial on a
charge of having killed his hired man while asleep in bed, being
instigated thereto by jealousy. George Leggett, a businessman and
gambler, and Ed. Brown (sometimes known as “scar-faced” Brown) a
notorious character from Lexington, Kentucky, induced a man named John
Acky, a good-natured, clever fellow, but too fond of liquor, to enter
into a partnership with him in the conduct of a gambling house. Acky had
just received the last installment of his inheritance from his father’s
estate. Brown was to be the dealer for the establishment. The game was
opened, and Acky was easily led away from the room and freely plied with
liquor. When he became sober and returned to the place, he was told that
the bank was broken, some unknown man having “won the roll”. This story
appeared to Acky to be rather flimsy, and on inquiry he soon satisfied
himself that he had been swindled. He went to Leggett and, telling him
what he believed, asked for a loan of twenty-five dollars. Upon being
refused, he procured a pistol, and, after taking several drinks, went in
search of Leggett and Brown. He found them in a billiard hall and shot
Leggett, killing him instantly. He was convicted of murder and hanged.
Brown subsequently came to a miserable end, being killed in a brawl at a
mining camp at Leadville. “Verily, the way of the transgressor is hard.”

The defalcation of Wm. E. Denny, Assistant Postmaster at Evansville, is
too fresh in the public mind to call for repetition here. His confession
showed that he had lost the money embezzled across the green cloth.

Such instances as these are by no means exceptional in the history of
gambling and gamblers. A great poet is authority for the assertion that
“man never is, but always to be blest.” Practical experience teaches
that man who have become infatuated with the gaming habit always defers
reformation until the “morrow,” which never comes. The philosopher who
seeks for illustrations of the truth of this statement need not confine
his researches to the City of Indianapolis or the State of Indiana. The
defalcations of trusted employees—whether in the employ of the
government, of private corporations, or of individual firms—are too
plentiful to call for enumeration. The hard-earned accumulations of the
poor, stored—dollar by dollar—in the vaults of savings banks, go to
swell the revenue of the professional blackleg, dissipated through the
peculations of a dishonest official. Trust funds, the sole support of
widow and orphan—are sunk in the pitiless insatiate maw of the “tiger,”
and the man whose death bed was rendered an easy couch because of his
confidence in the honor of the friend in whom he trusted, is powerless
to arise in defence of those who were dearer to him than his life. O,
the cursed maelstrom, in whose dark eddies, fortune, truth, honor, find
a common grave! Would God that my feeble voice might arrest the man,
who, playing on the outer edges of the whirlpool, is destined to be
sucked into its vortex. Of a truth, the path to the gaming resort is one
“whose steps take hold on hell.”

A single remark may be made as to the interference of the Indianapolis
authorities with public gaming. While, as has been said, the city is, in
gambler’s parlance, “closed,” the outrageously flagrant manner in which
the gullible stranger is fleeced at the Union Depot has brought the name
of the town into disrepute. Gaming resorts are few, but confidence men
reap a golden harvest from travelers, and the municipal government lifts
not a finger in their protection.

GAMBLING IN SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS.

The city of Springfield—one of the most beautiful of its size in all the
West—being at once the capital of the State and an important railroad
centre, could be hardly expected to be free from the incursions of
professional gamblers. While public sentiment among the better class of
citizens is outspoken in condemnation of the vice, there has never been
any determined effort on the part of the authorities to suppress it.
This may be ascribed partly to the weighty political influence in
municipal affairs wielded by the “tougher” elements of society, and in
part to the fact that only occasionally do the gamblers so far outrage
public decency as to flaunt their business before the eye of the public.
The practical result of this state of affairs has been that a sort of
tacit truce exists between the law-abiding citizens and this class of
law-breakers.

The locations of the public gaming-houses, some half dozen in number,
are nearly as well known as are those of the public buildings; and while
they cannot be said to be “wide open,” it is by no means difficult for a
player to gain admission. They derive their revenue from all classes,
and they number among their patrons even men who are openly loud-voiced
in denouncing them. More than one wife and mother in Springfield (and of
what city cannot the same assertion be made?) sheds, in secret, bitter,
scalding tears over the ruin—financial and moral—which these plague
spots, these veritable pest-houses, have wrought in homes which were
once the abodes of comfort, happiness and peace. But the hells reap
their richest harvest during the biennial sessions of the General
Assembly, when members vie with lobbyists for places around the tables.
More than one law-maker has lost, at a single sitting, in such houses as
Brewer’s or Manning’s, more than his _per diem_ and mileage for the
entire session.

Another prolific source of revenue is found in the vast numbers who
flock to Springfield from the rural districts, either to interview their
representatives in the legislature, or to inspect the State House and
view the other lions of the capital. Strangers of this description are
promptly marked by the “ropers” and “steerers” as their own peculiar
prey, and woe betide the luckless wight who listens to their
blandishments.

The Springfield gambling houses are not, as a rule, models of elegance
in their appointments, nor are they—if the prevalent impression is well
founded—above resorting to chicanery when it appears probable that
tortuous devices may be safely and profitably employed. For many years
“Tom” Brewer (who later transferred his residence to Chicago) was the
acknowledged “king of the games.” He was recognized as a good dealer and
was a “high roller” at other houses, his impassive countenance betraying
no emotion in the moment of either loss or triumph. Of irascible temper,
however, and fond of the “flowing bowl,” he was continually involved in
brawls. At such moments he cared for neither “God, man, nor the devil;”
and was quite as likely to select the Governor of the State as a victim
on whom to empty the vials of his wrath as anyone else. Legislators and
tramps, clergymen and “bums” all stood on one common level. Other
members of the local fraternity wondered at his temerity, admired his
daring, and followed his lead, yet at the same time his personal
popularity was never very great.

Not all the gambling at the Illinois capital, however, is carried on at
public resorts. Private poker clubs were formerly numerous. For years,
certain young bloods about town were wont to gather at the Leland Hotel
for a friendly game of “draw.” In another, yet not remote, quarter of
the city assembled professional men and men of letters, the roll of
members comprising some of the brightest minds of Central Illinois, for
purposes of relaxation and social intercourse. Here poker constituted
one of the chief diversions, and play, although, it is said, never high,
was constant. In private houses, also, the same mania finds its
devotees. “_Facilis descensus Averni_;” and it is but a step—and a
comparatively short one—from “five cent ante,” in the drawing room, to
poker in the gambling hell, that portal through which so many thousands
have entered on the path whose end is the felon’s cell or the outcast’s
grave.

To the credit of the young and middle aged men of Springfield, however,
be it said, that at present poker clubs are by no means so flourishing
in Springfield as they were a few years ago. The reason unquestionably
is that some of those who in former days, were among the chief patrons
of the game have had their eyes opened to the dangers that lurk in
“social gambling.” During the palmy days of the “clubs,” professional
gamblers sometimes succeeded in securing admission to a game as
visitors. “Once upon a time,” as the children’s chroniclers say, a
polished stranger “from the East” appeared at the leading hostelry. His
dress was faultless; his manners frank and engaging. He was introduced
into the “club,” where he soon rose in general esteem. He played freely,
and at first with varying success. Gradually the “fickle goddess”
selected his chair as her permanent resting place and it was not long
before his extraordinary “luck” had pretty well “cleaned out” the
habitues of the rooms. Play fell off, and the stranger’s “business”
having been accomplished he bid his late friends adieu and disappeared
from public view. Suspicion did not then rest upon him, but subsequent
developments proved conclusively that he was a professional “pigeon
plucker,” and an accomplished expert at every form of card-sharping.

[Illustration: “AS THE TWIG IS BENT, THE TREE’S INCLINED.”]

                               PART III.

                               CHAPTER I
                                THE TURF

Of all the evils connected or associated with games of chance in this
country, perhaps the most vicious are those which surround the race-
courses of the land—not only those extensive parks which are recognized
as having a legitimate existence, but as well the country tracks where
racing events are casual and sporadic. The “turf,” as we are popularly
accustomed to term the race course with reference to its gambling
features, implies not only the element of chance as manipulated by
systematic knavery, and which will be found elsewhere fully explained,
but also what is termed the legitimate sport of gentlemen, conducted as
honestly as it may be and with every disposition on the part of managers
and judges to give a fair test of the speed and endurance of the
competing horses. Even in the latter case, it is a notorious fact that
race tracks that are conducted in their official management under the
highest auspices and by the most responsible individuals, are not in
their actual surroundings, influences and results, less pernicious nor
injurious than those which are openly in the charge of recognized
swindlers and scoundrels. Even as to the great “events” which in this
country are recognized and patronized, to the great misfortune of public
morals, by the press and by society, governed though they may be by
honorable men, and with every concerted determination for a fair and
proper exhibition of honest results, it is notorious and undisputed,
that these exhibitions are the harvest fields of systematized vice, and
that while the judge in the stand may be immaculate, the seller of
pools, the bookmaker, the touter, the tip-givers, the turf prophets and
all the others who camp upon the trail of the credulous and unwary with
schemes that, by methods of certainty, enrich the gambler without risk
on his part, are one and all dishonest and designing scoundrels to whom
the sense of honor is unknown, and whose infamous and insidious
influence is one of the gravest dangers to which the morality and
uprightness of the youth of our country are exposed.

The origin of horse-racing, as with that of our modern athletic sports,
comes from the classic ages; but in the contests of equine speed and in
the competition of personal skill or valor in the “brave days of old”
there is no record of the thimble-rigging propensities which these
latter days have developed. The competitions of those times were for
public honor and prizes, for the encouragement of features which were
essential to the public welfare and safety. In that period all free men
were warriors, upon whom depended the security of life, property and
national existence. The cultivation of ambition to excel in personal
strength and swiftness had, therefore, a patriotic and commendable
foundation; and the same as regarded the trials of speed by horses,
which were for the improvement of the qualities upon which the warriors
had to rely in these their main coadjutors upon the field of battle. All
this had nothing in common with the turf as we recognize and realize it
to-day. For this we have to look back to our mother, England, from whom
it was an inheritance of shame whose evil influence has expanded like
the upas tree ever since it first took a root in our land. In England,
while it has been customary for turf enthusiasts to trace the history of
their trade from about the reign of Charles I., the fact is that it was
not really till the reign of George II. that the “turf,” as property
understood, became a recognized entity. Prior to that time there had
been plenty of horse-racing, in which gentlemen rode their own horses,
and which was almost entirely free from the vicious concomitants which
have later surrounded, characterized and dominated the race track. The
leading meetings in England are the Newmarket, Epsom, Ascot, York,
Doncaster and Goodwood. It is at Epsom that “the Derby,” an event of
interest to the whole sporting world, is run. This is known as the
Cockneys’ Holiday, and has been the subject of many an exemplification
of the highest attainments of the art of word painting. Indeed the
interest attaching to the vast and heterogeneous throng is to many
greater than that which belongs to the race itself, every element
between the palace and the poor-house being there represented. Ascot is
favored frequently by the presence of royalty, and is on this account
always the scene of a brilliant display by the aristocracy. Goodwood is
also an aristocratic meeting, representative of the south of England and
distinguished by the great value of the prizes offered for competition.
The distinguishing feature at Doncaster is the race for the St. Leger
stakes, which rivals the Derby in sporting importance; and it has been
claimed that upon these two events not less than twenty-five per cent.
of the whole English population are bettors, either risking their money
on the tracks or at the pool rooms, which in every town throughout the
country sell chances upon the results.

It is a somewhat remarkable fact that of late years while, in England,
the most energetic efforts have been made, and with good success, to
keep the thimble-riggers and blacklegs _off the track_, this fraternity,
_outside the track_, in the adjacent hotels, and in other outside towns
where interest in the result centers, carries on its audacious trade
with increasing extent and profit, while to-day, throughout Great
Britain, the mania for gambling upon the results of contests upon the
turf is more wide-spread and deep-rooted than ever before. The harm
resulting to public morals is incalculable, and will possibly more than
offset the efforts for good of the ministers of religion. There is not a
race meeting after which we do not hear of the downfall of some
“plunger,” who in “legitimate” betting has risked his all upon the
“wrong horse,” bringing ruin and disgrace too often upon the innocent
wife and family, and opening up the alternative of crime, dishonor or
suicide. Yet these are but the least of the injurious influences of
gambling upon these race meetings. They are only heard of by reason of
the conspicuous extent of the individual losses, or the prominence of
the persons thus involved in the ruinous consequences of the national
vice. Far more serious, more deplorable and more demoralizing are the
results upon the infinite number of the “smaller fry,” who submit
themselves as easy victims to the skillful swindler who runs the
“speculation list” or the pool-room, whose specious but delusive
allurements send the honest hand of many a youth surreptitiously into
his employer’s cash-drawer, to be drawn forth forever tainted with
dishonor; and merely in order that the ill-gotten gains of the
experienced swindler may be enlarged. Round about all such tracks, too,
may be seen the gaming devices of every description, and all the
nefarious instrumentalities by means of which the honest man is deluded
of his earnings for the benefit of systematic knavery. And yet the race-
track is the “national sport” of England; to it, and all its
contaminating, crime-producing, society-wrecking and soul-destroying
influence, royalty lends its condescension, and princes and peers their
active countenance and aid; bishops and churchmen, members of Parliament
and professional men, participate and applaud; while even those in
charge of the little children afford them special holidays in order that
their young minds may be subjected to impressions which, in the years of
their older youth will make them the easy prey of the agents of this
monster vice. It is in the glitter and glamour of all its brilliant
external attributes that England finds the pride with which she claims
the turf as her peculiar national institution; it is in the ruined
reputation, the blasted life, the broken heart, the wreck of happiness,
the loss of honor and the headlong course to crime, which are to be
traced by the tears of women and the wails of children, in the blighted
homes throughout the land, that we recognize in the turf and all that
pertains to it, England’s national curse, that must surely sooner or
later invite and evoke a national retribution.

The details of the various rascalities practiced in connection with the
“turf” being common to all countries, we shall deal with these features
of the English national sport, at the close of this chapter, in a
general explanation of the methods which affect the results of all race
meetings, and which add strength to the steel meshes of the net in which
the innocent and confiding bettor is certain to become involved.

                           THE AMERICAN TURF.

It is to be said to the honor and credit of the Puritan and Pilgrim
settlers of New England, that they had a strong antipathy to every form
of vice, and in their interdict against the evils which they had left
England to escape, horse-racing was especially included. On the other
hand the early settlements of the Old Dominion, (which originally
included Kentucky), and of Carolina, were of aristocratic stock, retired
army officers, the younger sons of gentlemen, etc., and as the early
conditions that prevailed precluded many of the ordinary sports, horse-
racing, generally in the form of the steeple-chase, was encouraged. This
was not, however, the “turf,” in America, but it was the means of
affording a nursery for the splendid animals which have made the
American turf famous for the wonderful achievements in time and speed of
its horses. In those early days travel in the South was almost
altogether by saddle horses, and hence the necessity for developing
those peculiar qualities in the horses used, as made them valuable for
racing purposes. The stock was recruited from the best blood, imported
from England, and as it was a peculiar mark of social distinction, where
all men ride, to be well mounted, great care was taken in cultivating
and improving the breeding of horses. Yearly meetings for running races
became the custom; but at these affairs there were no bookmakers nor
blacklegs, and the betting was generally of that perfunctory character
which usually exists where the competing parties are interested rather
in the results than in the stakes. As the country developed, the new
state of Kentucky, with its splendid climate, its crystal streams and
its unequalled grasses, became distinctively the home of fine horses,
which up to the present day even, she has continued to supply to the
racing world.

The trotting race had its origin in New York and took its peculiarity
from the general use of the light wagon for road traveling. In this way
the only possible method of testing speed was the “pace” or “trot,” and
for many years in the Northeastern States the trotting meeting was the
recognized form of sport, the practice becoming general and being the
invariable accompaniment of every county fair. The earliest recorded
organized trotting meeting of which there is any specific record is of
date of 1818. The fastest time for fifty miles was recorded in favor of
Spangle at Union Course, Long Island, Oct. 15, 1855. The best time for
two miles under saddle was at Fashion Course, Long Island, July 1, 1863,
by George M. Patchen. We mention these dates to show that as long as
thirty-five years ago there were important meetings of the turf, and
also to point out the fact that the public sense of humanity, growing
with the increasing refinement of the country, has reduced these trials
of speed generally to one-mile contests, and frequently to the half-
mile.

Trotting races began to assume an aspect of national importance shortly
after the war, and the first National Trotting Association was organized
in February, 1870, under the name of the “National Association for the
Promotion of the Interests of the Trotting Turf,” which in 1878, at a
congress of members, was changed to that of “National Trotting
Association.” It is a curious fact that the origin of the National
Association arose in the abuses which invariably follow the practice of
racing for money or of betting on unknown results. There had been
complaints all over the country of crooked work on the race tracks—of
“blind” horses being entered under assumed names to gull unsuspicious
victims; of jockeys who “pulled” the winner so as to make him the loser;
of improper decisions by judges, and of a thousand and one things in the
way of serious and petty crookedness on the leading race tracks. It
became generally recognized that the confidence of the public in the
integrity of racing contests in America was becoming exhausted and that
racing was falling into contempt as well as falling off in its profits.
Organization was originally effected in response to a circular sent out
by the Narragansett Park Association, of Providence, R. I., in 1869. It
proposed the formation of a central body for general control, and the
establishment of a code of rules and penalties for the government of all
tracks as the most effective means of correcting existing abuses and
elevating the standard of honor and fair play, and the character of the
American Trotting Turf. The results were gratifying so far as those
objects were concerned, though it is a serious question whether the
country would not have been greatly the gainer had the race-courses and
their attending evils been allowed to extinguish themselves by the very
excesses which were at that time making them offensive and contemptible.
However, the organization was effected as stated, officers elected and,
a code of laws adopted, under which the chief of the evils complained of
disappeared from the official protection of the tracks, though they
still continue under more insidious and less offensively unscrupulous
methods. The membership of this association consists of the
representative of a trotting course. In order to show the extraordinary
growth of this mania for speculating upon the chances of the horse-race
we may state that, commencing with 51 in 1870, in 1886 there were 273
courses represented in the National Association, while now there are
317, and in the American Association 419—in all 736. The government of
the National Association is effected through the medium of a Board of
Appeals consisting of five District Boards and a Board of Review, each
of the former being entitled to three members of the general board,
giving it thus fifteen members in addition to the President and Vice-
presidents who are ex-officio members. The Board of Review is composed
of a chairman appointed by the President from each of the five
districts, and this Board has and exercises supreme authority and
jurisdiction, being a final court of resort which decides all appeals
from the decisions of the District Boards. The objects set forth on
behalf of the association are the improvement of the breed and the
development of horses by promotion of the interests of the American
Trotting Turf; the prevention, detection and punishment of frauds
thereon, and uniformity in the government and rules of trotting and
pacing.

In 1887, a number of Western tracks separated from the original body and
formed the “American Trotting Association,” with objects precisely
similar, and methods not materially differing. In fact, many parties are
represented in both Associations, as a matter of policy, and to ensure
the enforcement of rules and penalties upon all courses.

Running races have of late very largely supplanted trotting races in
public favor, for the reason that they offer to the public a more vivid
and intense excitement, and to bettors a speedier settlement of their
concern about the result. Five persons will attend, it is said, a
running race, where one will attend a trotting race.

To enumerate the “principal courses” would be a task that would take
space with little profit, but we can gather some idea of the extent of
opportunities that are open to the sharks that swim the sea of
speculation in races throughout the Union, when we say that at the great
Suburban race, Sheepshead Bay, N. Y., in 1890, there were present not
less than twenty thousand persons according to gate receipts; while at
Washington Park, Chicago, thirty-four thousand people have been counted
on important occasions. And these, let it be remembered, do not
constitute a tithe of the actual number of the eager victims of the
gamblers of the turf. In all our leading cities to-day are pool-rooms,
where may be seen excited crowds who by the use of the telegraph wire,
on the same principle as quotations are announced on the board of trade,
follow the races from start to finish with as much accuracy as if they
were at the tracks, and in this way the prey of the gambler is increased
without limit, and his operations made to permeate near and remotely
into society that otherwise would never have sought nor had the
opportunity of seeking the contact.

                            A NATIONAL VICE.

If reckless indulgence in games of chance of every description, in
lottery enterprises, in the board of trade, and in the pool-room, can
be, as it is, appropriately denominated a “national vice,” that
appellation belongs with especial emphasis to the gambling of the race-
track. This is true, probably, mainly because of the fatal facility with
which contact is there had with the evil influence that draws men and
boys, aye, even women and girls, into its deadly toils. The race-track
is governed by presumably respectable persons. It has the convincing
support of the press, universally, to sustain its claims to
harmlessness. Church members and people of recognized reputable
position, bankers, merchants and professional men, are openly seen
“making their bets,” in the face of thousands of their fellow citizens.
Women surrender to the glamour of its fascinations, and may be seen in
numbers, any day on any grand stand, “backing” their favorite in the
race. In the face of such example as this, then, how can we expect that
the youth of the land shall escape? Already they are sufficiently imbued
in their personal and business ambition with the spirit of speculation
that pervades the nation, and in the feverish haste to get rich suddenly
are ready to turn to any resort that may seem to offer them the
opportunity of making large winnings for a small investment. True, the
youth may have been warned by a pious mother or a prudent father that
gambling is a vice, and one of the most dangerous and pernicious of all
that threaten the interests, the welfare and even the safety of society.
But when the young man sees the pillar of the church, or the refined
lady leader of polite society, who mayhap occupies the front pew in the
church which he attends, openly patronizing gambling, is it any cause
for wonder that he concludes the good counsel which he brought from home
was merely a mistake, and that there’s “no harm in it” after all? And
once in the circle of that treacherous maelstrom of vice, at first
imperceptibly to himself and in slow and apparently safe revolutions, he
is gradually but irresistibly drawn to the fatal gulf, in which
character, integrity, hope, and the best opportunities of life are
remorselessly swallowed up.

Every bet that is made upon a race-course is emphatically and
indisputably participation in the commonest kind of a lottery—is
gambling pure and simple; and if it has been found necessary by
Congress, acting upon the advice of the National Executive, to legislate
against the existence of the incorporated lotteries that exist by State
authority, why is it not equally the duty of Congress to declare all
betting unlawful? This is not a new proposition. Under existing law the
illegality of gambling by betting is recognized in the refusal of the
courts to enforce debts or contracts incurred under a bet. If the
principle were logically carried out, it would afford a safeguard to
society which, as yet, moral sentiment appears to have been unable to
extend. But what moral restraints, the teaching of parents and the
exhortations of the clergy, have failed to achieve, may be accomplished
by what this book contains: by tearing away the mask of harmless sport
from the death’s-head that grins behind it, and exposing, in all its
hideous nakedness, not the moral wrong that there is in the vice of
gambling by betting, but the personal rascality toward the individual,
the plain and evident object of robbery that is involved in all the
schemes of the book-maker, the pool-seller, and every other person who
makes either a _profession_ or a systematic _practice_ of offering bets
upon the results of the race-track. While our young men may be eager to
get rich by the easiest means, we have much confidence in the hard
common sense that is characteristic of every American youth, before the
natural acuteness of his intellect and spirit of self-preservation have
been insensibly dulled by the insidious and subtle approaches of a
danger that draws near him with a smiling countenance. With, however, an
ample fore-knowledge of what those advances mean in reality, with pride
and apprehension both on the alert, every young man will firmly refuse
to allow himself to be deliberately gulled, and will turn his back in
contempt upon the pickpockets of the pool-room and the race-track.

                             THE POOL ROOM.

We have already alluded to the pool room as an accessory to gambling at
the track. This is one of the most nefarious of all the modern
instruments of evil, and ought to be summarily abolished by specific law
in every State in the Union. Its worst feature, perhaps—in addition to
the fact that it is a skin game played to catch “suckers,” as the
gamblers term their latest dupes—is that it seeks out and offers
opportunity to a class of citizens who could never be reached by these
machinations in any other way. Clerks, students, apprentices, and such,
would in all probability never have the time nor the means to squander
in a trip from New York to Sheepshead Bay, to witness a horse race. The
pool-room brings the race to him. He can visit them at his noon hour or
in the idle hours of his evening rest. Here he is deluded into the
belief that a small investment will bring a rich return, and is easily
wheedled by a “capper” into investing his small hoard on “tips” that he
is assured are certain to win. Of course he loses, and to retrieve his
loss will probably go to his employers’ funds to get the means to
continue his play. And so from bad to worse till exposure and ruin
overtake him.

Pool rooms are conducted upon the science of exactness, not only as to
the promptness and accuracy of the reports upon the blackboard, but also
with regard to the certainty that the pool seller will be the only one
in the room who will be a sure and solid winner each time. The pool
board displays the whole course of the race, in its smallest details. It
shows when the horses are “off,” which one is “in the lead;” which
“second” and which “third;” how they stand at the “quarter,” the “half,”
the “three quarter,” and their positions down the “stretch,” and within
ten seconds after the “finish,” will display which horse was winner, and
which took second and which third place. Previous to the race the board
has reliable and definite information of the state of the track, whether
“fast” or muddy; gives the name of the jockey who is to mount each
horse, the weights and all information necessary to the man who governs
his bets by what he considers the most reasonable chance to win.

The pool-seller works his gambling racket on what he calls the
percentage principle. In all pools sold by auction, he deducts a certain
sum, generally 5 to 15 per cent., from the amount in the pool, and pays
the balance to the winner. The book maker arranges his book with
reference to the “odds” for or against; that is, the individual chances
of each horse upon the information which he has available, and which if
he be at all expert in the business will enable him to insure his
personal success every time, except only in the case where all the
patrons buy the same horse and that horse should be the winner
a—contingency that is, however, not as one to one hundred, and about as
liable to happen as that the sucker who has bought on a “cinch tip” will
win the pot.

It may be interesting for many who have no knowledge of pool room
practices, and will better illustrate the devices by which the “sucker”
is snared, to have a few illustrations of actual proceedings that have
transpired. Here, for instance, is what is called a “book” taken from
the blackboard at the Imperial pool rooms, Chicago, June 12, 1890:

                            THE MUTUAL POOL.

                  PURSE $400—WEST SIDE TRACK, CHICAGO.
                  First Race, Maidens, Seven Furlongs.
                 ────┬─────────────────────────┬────┬──
                   20│Emma McDowell            │ 105│ 1
                   10│Dora Morne               │ 105│ 1
                   10│Jack Staff               │ 106│ 1
                   50│Norwood                  │ 107│ 1
                   40│Flora McDonald           │  98│ 1
                   10│Jennie Gronnod           │ 105│ 1
                   10│John Clarkson            │ 103│ 1
                    3│Corticelli               │ 110│ 1
                   20│Imogene                  │ 105│ 2
                   30│Council Platt            │ 100│ 5
                    2│Later On                 │ 106│ 1
                    5│Jack Batcheler           │ 107│ 1
                   10│Tall Bull                │ 110│ 1
                   20│Arizone                  │ 105│ 5
                   50│Miss Longford            │ 105│ 1
                   10│Jasper                   │ 107│ 1
                   15│Rock                     │ 111│ 2
                 ────┼─────────────────────────┼────┼──
                  315│                         │    │27

In explanation it is to be observed that the bookmaker never bets in
favor of any horse. He invariably offers odds against every flyer on the
programme. The first column of figures gives the odds offered; the
second the weight carried by each horse, and the last the figure against
which odds are offered. For instance, the first line means that the
bookmaker offers twenty to one against _Emma McDowell_. Now, if this
horse should win, the bookmaker would pay out $20, and having won all
the other bets he would still be the winner, because he would receive
$26 against the loss of $20. It will be observed that on _Later On_ he
only lays odds of two to one, and on _Corticelli_ three to one. These
are the favorites—horses which offer tolerably certain chances of being
winner, and on which the book maker will take the smallest possible
limit of chance. The favorite won the race and the book maker has to pay
the winner $2, so that he is the winner by $25, counting out of the pool
of $27, $2—$1 of which was his stake and the other that which had to be
returned to the winner. If the horse _Norwood_ had won the book maker
would have been out $25. But no such contingencies are to be dreaded by
the gentleman who presides over the pools. He is kept posted from
sources that are always inside and unquestionable, and in offering the
heavy odds knows that he runs no risk. This computation of winnings is
based on the supposition that only one bet at the figure of $1 named was
made, but the probability is that instead of this being the case the
actual winnings may be safely estimated at $2,500 instead of $25. In
this business an important figure is the “tout,” who, while actually the
bookmaker’s agent, assumes the role of a gentleman who, by some means or
other, has procured a “cinch tip” (meaning a sure thing), but is
unfortunately short of money. “Now,” he will confidentially inform the
sucker, “give me $10 to bet on _Norwood_, and we’ll divide the pot.” The
money is produced, and, of course, goes to swell the book maker’s wad.
These touts always induce their victim to bet on the “short horses”—that
is, the horses against which the heaviest odds are laid, for two
reasons. First, because the money more certainly goes where he is
employed to steer it, and second, because in the rare and unprecedented
event of the tail-ender on the blackboard becoming the winner on the
track, the tout’s share of the winning will be so much larger. The tout
will ply his vocation so industriously that on a board like the above he
will have given a “tip” and got a bet laid on nearly every horse on the
board. In this way he is almost certain to have one winner out of the
lot and when the latter receives his stake the tout says, “There, didn’t
I give you a straight tip!” He gets a liberal share, and his reputation
for inside information is spread among the crowd, and his chances of
increasing his victims in succeeding races are immensely increased. As
for the losers, no one pays any attention to them. Even the tout won’t
take the trouble to condole with them, and realizing that the mob of a
gambling room do most heartily despise a “kicker,” they will probably
sneak away to kick themselves in private. To illustrate the wisdom of
the tout in always deluding his dupes to bet on the “short horse,” it
may be mentioned that once in a great while, through some influence not
comprehended by the book maker and his crowd of sharpers, the “short
horse” will be a winner. This generally happens when the horse has been
managed by some professional who, having discovered his qualities, has
played a game on his brother gamblers, kept his pacer’s capacity a
careful secret, probably has had him “pulled” by the jockey to make a
bad record in a preceding race, so that he can gather in heavy odds in
the event in which he intends to show his hand; and so the book maker
becomes a victim in the game of “diamond cut diamond,” and the tout is
made happy by a liberal share in the chance hit. We say “chance” hit
because the tout never gives an honest tip, and if he really had the
knowledge of the “short horse’s” prowess he would have informed his
patron, the book maker, and the long odds would never have been given.
As an instance of this kind of luck it may be stated that recently
during a St. Louis meeting, at Roche’s pool-room in that city, a book
was made in which the odds against a certain horse were laid at 100 to
1. A tout persuaded a man from North Missouri to let him have $50 to bet
on the race. The tout bet 100 to 1 on the horse, and to his own
astonishment, the amazement of the book maker, and of everyone else, his
horse won the race, the result being that the book maker lost $5,000,
while the tout received a bonus of $2,000 of the money.

                         THE COMBINATION BOARD.

This board enables you to have an opportunity to select a winner in
three different races. The board is arranged as by this diagram:

                           LATONIA—TRACK MUDDY.
 ───────────────────────┬─────────────────────────┬──────────────────────────
 Third Race—6 Furlongs.│ Fourth Race—5 Furlongs.│Fifth Race.—Steeplechase.
 Handicap. Purse $500.  │ Purse $400. Selling.    │Purse $400. Full Course.
 ───────────────────────┼─────────────────────────┼──────────────────────────
 1. ┌Wrestler,       108│ 1. Laura Doxey,      110│ 1. Irish Pat,      138
    └Prophecy,       114│ 2. ┌Ferryman,         98│
 2. Copperfield,     100│    └Katie J.         105│ 2. Ascoli,         145
 3. ┌Bonnie Annie,    90│ 3. Irma B.            97│
    └Lady Blackburn,  96│ 4. ┌ Bert Jordan     102│ 3. Elphin,         173
 4. ┌Gilford,        106│    └James V.         105│
    └Vatel,          106│                         │ 4. Gov. Hardin,    120
 ──┬──────┬────┰───┬────┴─┬───┰──┬─────┬────┰──┬──┴──┬────┰───┬──────┬────
  1│   111│   2┃ 14│   142│  3┃27│  233│   1┃40│  324│   8┃ 53│   421│  2
  2│   112│   1┃ 15│   143│ 10┃28│  234│   1┃41│  331│  10┃ 54│   422│  3
  3│   113│   1┃ 16│   144│  1┃29│  241│   1┃42│  332│   1┃ 55│   423│  1
  4│   114│   3┃ 17│   211│  1┃30│  242│   2┃43│  333│   4┃ 56│   424│  1
  5│   121│   4┃ 18│   212│  4┃31│  243│   3┃44│  334│   5┃ 57│   431│  2
  6│   122│   5┃ 19│   213│ 30┃32│  244│   4┃45│  341│   6┃ 58│   432│  1
  7│   123│   1┃ 20│   214│  1┃33│  311│   5┃46│  342│   1┃ 59│   433│  2
  8│   124│   1┃ 21│   221│  2┃34│  312│  11┃47│  343│   2┃ 60│   434│  3
  9│   131│   2┃ 22│   222│  3┃35│  313│  10┃48│  344│   1┃ 61│   441│  4
 10│   132│   1┃ 23│   223│  1┃36│  314│   1┃49│  411│   3┃ 62│   442│  6
 11│   133│   1┃ 24│   224│  1┃37│  321│   1┃50│  412│   1┃ 63│   443│  1
 12│   134│   1┃ 25│   231│  2┃38│  322│   2┃51│  413│   1┃ 64│   444│  1
 13│   141│   2┃ 26│   232│  1┃39│  323│   3┃52│  414│   1┃ 65│      │
 ──┴──────┴────┸───┴──────┴───┸──┴─────┴────┸──┴─────┴────┸───┴──────┴─────
                  25            60             45              44        27
                                                                 Total, 201

We will assume that in placing the bet you put your money on _Gilford_
or _Vatel_ for third race, _Irma B._ in the fourth, and _Ascoli_ in the
fifth. The number of your ticket would be 58, represented by the figures
4, 3, 2, these latter numbers indicating the horses named, as numbered
on the score card. If your judgment has been correct, being the only
purchaser of ticket number 58, for $1 you would receive the proceeds of
the sale of the other tickets, or $201, _less_ the percentage to the
bookmaker, who pockets $30.15, or 15 per cent. thereon. But as a matter
of fact, _Copperfield_ wins the third, _Laura Doxey_ the fourth, and
_Elphin_ the fifth. These horses being “favorites,” thirty tickets were
sold on them, and the bookmaker having abstracted his $30.15, each
winner receives only $5.69. In this board the bookmaker relies solely
upon his percentage, and if the amount set forth be amplified to
correspond with the sums usually bet at the race tracks and pool rooms,
it will be seen that the profit is not only a handsome one, but it is
the only one on the board that has the least “possible, probable shadow”
of chance in its favor. The combination on the short horses won’t win
once in a thousand times, while the winner on the selling combination
gets only a sixth as much as the cosy and certain profits of the book
maker.

                            FRENCH MUTUALS.

In these pools, the board is made up for each race as it transpires, and
is set forth in the following manner:

          WEST-SIDE TRACK, CHICAGO.

    First Race. Purse $400. Six Furlongs.
         NO.
──────────────┬──────────────┬─────┬────────────
           50 │ Tom Karl     │ 109 │ 10
           51 │ Prophecy     │ 100 │ 12
           52 │ Fayette      │ 109 │  3
           53 │ Hornpipe     │ 100 │  8
           54 │ Susie B.     │ 109 │ 20
           55 │ Famous       │ 112 │  5
           56 │ Catherine B. │ 102 │  6
           57 │ Donovan      │ 106 │  4
           58 │ Tall Bull    │ 107 │ 10
           59 │ Only Dare    │ 106 │  2
──────────────┴──────────────┴─────┴────────────
                                    80

                      PLACE.
──────────────┬────────────────────┬────────────
            60│ Hornpipe           │ 11
            61│ Susie B.           │ 19
            62│ Famous             │  8
            63│ Tom Karl           │ 12
            64│ Fayette            │  5
            65│ Prophecy           │ 10
            66│ Tall Bull          │ 10
            67│ Donovan            │  8
            68│ Only Dare          │  2
            69│ Catherine B.       │  5
──────────────┴────────────────────┴────────────
                                     90

In this case, the player selects his horse for first or second place,
tickets for first place being called “straight,” and those for second
place, “place.” Generally only favorite horses are bought for straight,
but on this board there appears to have been a large field of favorites.
The buyer may purchase as many tickets as he pleases for either
“straight” or “place” chances. In this event it appears that there were
eighty tickets sold as “straights,” and the tickets being sold for $2
each, the amount in the pool book would be $160. The pool-seller deducts
5 per cent. of this amount, or $8, and the balance of $152 is divided
between the holders of the ten tickets sold on _Tom Karl_, the winner.
This would give to each ticket $15.20, whether held by one party or in
different hands. In awarding the results in the case of the “place” in
this event, the pool book exhibited 90 tickets at $2 each, or $180. The
seller deducts his 5 per cent., or $9 from this, and after deducting
from the remaining $171, the sum of $44, representing the amount paid in
by the bettors on the winner of the race, _Tom Karl_, 12 tickets at $2,
and on _Prophecy_, the winner of “place,” 10 tickets at $2, or $44 in
all, he proceeds to divide the balance, $127 equally between these two
winners. Thus $63.50 is divided among the ten tickets on _Prophecy_,
giving to each $6.30, and the same amount among the holders of tickets
on _Tom Karl_, or $5.30 to each ticket.

                        METHODS OF THE “HOUSE.”

Let it not be supposed, however, that the book maker, or his
confederates who stand in with him, are to be contented with a fifteen
per cent. upon the money that passes through the pool book. On the
contrary, he is the most expert and successful of all the gamblers who
“play the races.” He is generally the only one of this nefarious outfit
who receives a genuine and reliable “tip.” His intimate relations with
the jockeys, stablemen and all the _habitues_ of the training stables
and racing grounds, are such that he is generally able to pick out a
winner, and to discount the results of a race in advance. Thus assured
he skillfully sends out his touts to give “tips” that will bring the
most grist to his mill, that is to say, to industriously disseminate the
belief that that horse will win, which he knows has no chance of
success. Under this influence the amateur sport, and the average patron
of the racing ground or pool-room, will generally plunge largely on the
horse they imagine is to bring them a rich booty, while the pool-seller
looks on complacently, knowing that all the money in the strong box
belongs to him as surely as if the race had been already run.

The methods employed by these pool-room experts are of the most
ingenious and daring order. For instance, at a race in St. Louis
recently, the book maker had a secret wire brought into his pool-room,
by which he received the actual result several seconds sooner than the
news sent by the public wire which supplied the official record. In
these few brief seconds of opportunity, and in the intense excitement
always prevailing at this point, he was enabled to pocket thousands by
“betting on a sure thing.” In short there is no device nor subterfuge,
nor daring rascality of any description, to which he will not bend the
most astute cunning and the greatest energy in order to extend his
thieving operations upon the pockets of those innocent pigeons who lend
themselves to be plucked under the miserable and baseless delusion that
the pool-room is run “on the square” and that he is getting even a
gambler’s chance in the unequal contest with the skillful and audacious
knavery with which he is led to contend. Indeed, it is remarkable that
men of courage, of resources, of acute perception, of tireless energy,
of a self poise that never fails, and an activity of intellect equal to
any emergency, as most of these successful sharpers are, should not have
preferred to bring their talents to bear upon honorable and lawful
occupations in which they could not fail to apply those qualities to the
greatest advantage.

                          THE FRIENDLY “TIP.”

In every pool room, amid the conglomeration of representatives of
“queer” industries always there to be found, is invariably a liberal
sprinkling of “cappers” or “touts.” These are the lowest and most
contemptible of all the instrumentalities employed by the turf sharp,
and the most dangerous because they always do their work in the guise of
pretended friendship, and under the basest kind of betrayal of
confidence. The lowest kind of a bunko steerer is a gentleman by
comparison with this most contemptible of all the crawling things that
infest this footstool. We have given some insight into the character of
his operations. Let it be remembered that every tout is in the employ of
the book maker; that every man who offers another a “tip” on a race-
course or at a pool room is a “tout,” beyond any peradventure, and be
certain that his frank and apparently generous and off-handed advances
are but in reality the means by which he intends to aid in the operation
of picking your pocket. He is a liar by instinct, by choice and by
occupation, and no matter how engaging his manners, or however plausible
his representations, you may safely set him down as a thief, and deal
with him accordingly. His very approach is an insult to the intelligence
of every man whom he seeks to “play for a sucker.”

              EXTENT OF THE DEPREDATIONS OF TURF GAMBLERS.

The amount of money abstracted from the business industries, and incomes
of the people, mainly of the cities, of the United States, is simply
something appalling in its magnitude. In all the great centers of
population in the United States: New York, Chicago, Philadelphia,
Boston, St. Louis, Cincinnati, Louisville, Kansas City, Denver, New
Orleans and San Francisco, the depredations of the gambler will be found
to run into the millions in each case. In Chicago and New York it is
impossible to make any estimate. The actual truth, if it could be
revealed, would no doubt be deemed incredible. One fact, however, that
is definitely ascertained, will give some idea of the magnitude of this
crime against society, in the western metropolis. At the Fall meeting at
Washington Park, in 1889, forty-two gamblers paid to the track
authorities, $100 each per day for the term of twenty-four days, the
duration of the meeting. That amounted to $100,800. In addition to that
they had to pay for the most expensive kind of living at the highest-
priced hotels; and had to pay for “police protection,” touters, cappers
and hangers-on, salaries that professional men would envy, and had to
make high-rollers’ profits. Altogether, there cannot be a question that
these sharpers, for the privilege for which they paid over $100,000,
must have taken away out of the city, in the neighborhood of half a
million of dollars for this one meeting alone. This would represent at a
fair computation $2,000,000 for the year, without taking into account
the enormous amount constantly being drained from the community by the
other gambling operations.

                         NEVER A LOCAL AFFAIR.

In addition to these features—which certainly those responsible for the
social, moral and material welfare of the community do not seem to
realize—it is to be remembered that when the race-meeting has closed,
when the principal thieves with their robber retainers have departed for
the scene of their next activity, and good people heave a sigh of relief
that their boys or their clerks or their students are now no longer in
danger of this temptation, their deadly influence still remains. While
the races, for instance, are progressing in St. Louis, the pool-rooms,
the billiard rooms and saloons, by use of the telegraph, continue to
keep alive the taint of turf gambling, to keep the temptation to our
youth ever present, and to make easy for all, the deadly descent to
Avernus. Here, too, the work of the skin gambler, the jackal of his
tribe, is made particularly easy. Fraternities of these fragrant
personalities are organized, who between the different cities keep each
other “posted” on the true tips on races, and give the very latest and
most reliable information as to the probabilities of each race. The dupe
bets upon the regular “blackboard” reports; the scoundrel upon a dead
certainty. The robber rejoices in his good fortune; the victim curses
his “bad luck,” perhaps, but has no suspicion that he has not had an
even chance upon the board.

                          POOL-ROOM HABITUES.

If any young man, or old man for that matter, who is in the least degree
fastidious upon the point of keeping decent company, will but get some
one acquainted with the character of pool-room assemblies, or take the
trouble to exercise judgment for himself, he will learn or perceive that
which will make him take himself speedily away. Here all the proper
distinctions of society are violated, and the lawyer or doctor, lost by
his infatuation to self-respect, may be observed taking “pointers” from
a ragged and ill-smelling stable-boy. The banker, with the cashier of
his competitor, are jostling with a frowsy bootblack; the business man
discusses the board with the pickpocket; the thief and gambler is
everywhere. The odor of state prison associations is upon many. The
pimp, the bummer, the thug, the midnight housebreaker and the daylight
lawbreaker, all mingle in the throng with the representatives of
business probity and youthful innocence—with the prop and stay of one
family, and with the hope and pride of another household. If it were not
for the fascination that centers upon the betting board and renders
decency oblivious to its shameful surroundings, no man of sense, with a
spark of manhood or self respect about him, could, for a moment endure
the contamination of surroundings so degrading. The scene is one of the
most repulsive that any pure mind could conceive. It is the monstrous
anomaly presented of the vesture of life with warp of virtue and woof of
vice.

                    FEATURES PECULIAR TO THE TRACK.

While many of the evil influences which are organized in the pool-room
to defraud, deceive and destroy, are common to the race-track, yet the
latter possesses nefarious peculiarities whose features ought to be well
scanned, and therefore carefully avoided. At the race track, while the
vile types of character which infest the pool-room are to some extent
visible, they have not the same freedom of communication nor familiarity
with the visitor to the track as is the case in the pool-room. In the
pure outer air they shrink from intrusion upon respectability, and are
content to flock by themselves. Here it is, the well-dressed thief, the
polite and polished tout, the sanctimonious sharper, and the keen and
experienced shark, who carry on the operation of fleecing the victims of
turf rapacity are to be found. The scene in itself is far from
repulsive, as is the case with the pool-room. On the contrary, it is a
kaleidoscopic view of human society of every decent grade seen in its
most attractive form. Costly equipages, daintily dressed fair ladies,
bright colors, the beauty of flowers and the fragrance of delicate
perfume; men, each one dressed, like McGinty, in his best suit of
clothes, moving hither and thither in constant bustle, flutter and
excitement, the busy hum of multitudes of voices and the general and
exhilarating impression of life, movement and animation, combine to give
the race-course attractions that are apt to obscure its deadly menace to
honor, honesty and morality. Looking beneath this fair exterior,
however, we find a very charnel house, reeking foul with infamy and
fraud.

                           THE LADY GAMBLER.

Here we may observe the lady of fashion in her costly equipage stopping
to despatch her coachman for a card, and to take instructions for a tip.
Of course he gets the tip, for he knows where to go for it. He and the
tout are pals, and after the lady shall have lost every one of her eager
and confident ventures and leaves the ground with pocket-book light but
disappointment heavy in her heart, we may get a glimpse at the decorous
coachee as he smiles softly to himself, and thinks upon the liberal
portion of his mistress’ money he will have to divide with the tout in
the evening. Ladies who visit the race-track to bet are carefully
“spotted;” their servants are suborned, and they become the very easiest
and silliest victims that fall to the lot of the “fancy.”

                     THE CONFIDENTIAL STAKE-HOLDER.

A common swindle in the crowd at the pool-seller’s stand at the track is
the eager and excited young man who is victimized by a brace of
sharpers. They have watched him and sized him up; they recognize when he
is ripe enough to pick and then dexterously perform the operation of
gathering him in. “Bet two to one on Susie G.,” cries Mr. Verdant Green,
after a short argument with his elbow neighbor. “I’ll take you,” retorts
the other, counting out his bills, “we’ll put the money into the hands
of this gentleman here.” Benevolent-looking rascal, who has been
abstractedly looking the other way, is appealed to and consents to be
the depository of the wagers. The race is on; excitement becomes
intense; everybody is straining eyes upon the flying horses. Not so the
confidential stake-holder and his friend. They have gone from the gaze
of Mr. Verdant Green—“though lost to sight, to memory dear.” If they
could be found ten minutes later they might be discovered in the act of
dividing an easily earned “swag.” This kind of swindle is as old as the
flood. But all do not read the newspapers, and, as the gams say,
“there’s a sucker born every minute.” That is a cardinal doctrine with
them, and they ought to believe in it firmly, for does not their
experience seem to prove it? No one, however, who has read this book,
whether he read newspapers or not, will be liable to be deceived by this
simple fraud.

                     SKIN GAMES OUTSIDE THE TRACK.

One of the very worst features that attend race meetings is the
unavoidable presence, at every convenient point of proximity to the race
track, and lining every approach and avenue to the central scene, of all
the known skin games of which the reader of this book will have been
afforded ample knowledge elsewhere. Here assemble the three-card-monte
swindler, the shell-game shark, the wheel of fortune fakir, and in short
every conceivable representative of the smaller forms of swindling by
means of the practice of gambling. They cannot, it is true, get into the
enclosure. Race-track representatives draw the line of its virtue there.
True they are not a whit worse than their brethren inside, who play for
higher game. Both are merely plundering honest people by means of
gambling schemes. It is the case of the pot saying to the kettle, “Keep
off; I fear you may besmut me.” But the shell game man and his confreres
do not hanker to be within the sacred high fence. They can catch their
kind of suckers just as well outside, as they come and go; and many a
confiding innocent beside, who has not enough money to buy a seat on the
grand stand, nor to make a bet on the race, has yet sufficient to lose
by a turn of the wheel. They are not particular, bless you, these
smaller knaves. They do not want the earth. So long as they get all the
sucker has got, even though it be but a little, they are content.

Again, there are cases where the winning horse actually _has_ become
sick; so sick that he has had to be scratched, or been compelled to fail
in even getting a “place,” and that even where the stable has been