FARO GAMBLING AND GAMBLERS.
The general belief that cards were invented in the fourteenth century to
amuse the imbecile Charles VI. of France is one of those popular errors
which, despite the proofs arrayed against them by modern research, seem
destined to be perpetual truth, though booted and spurred, seldom
overtakes a plausible historical fable if the latter has the advantage
of a start of three or four centuries, and therefore the idea that cards
were originated by Gringonneur, a Parisian portrait painter, to tickle
the fancy of a royal idiot, will probably continue to exist in the
public mind for centuries to come. The public journals, in their answers
to correspondents, reiterate the same old stereotyped tale, which seems
destined to have an immortal lease of life.
The truth, however, is that cards, like chess, originated in the Orient,
and were first introduced into Southern Europe by gypsies toward the
close of the thirteenth century. How long they had been in use in the
East is a matter of conjecture, pure and simple, but there is ground for
the belief that they are as old as the Pyramids. This is a question for
archaeologists to settle, and the answer to it does not fall within the
scope of the present work. It is certain that they rapidly grew in
public favor. During the seventeenth century the passion for card-
playing became a veritable mania among the nobility and gentry, royalty
itself setting the example. Louis XIV., in whom were united the
incongruous characteristics of a gambler and a miser played nearly until
the day of his death. During the regency, and throughout the dissolute
reign of Louis XV., under the influence of Madame de Pompadour and the
infamous Dubarry, the court gambled from morning till night and from
night till morning, while the nation followed suit. So in England,
substantially the same state of affairs existed, Charles II., with his
courtiers and favorites, setting the fashion. In a word, all Europe was
card-mad.
America’s turn came later. With prosperity came a taste for sumptous
amusements—the legitimate offspring of wealth and leisure—and it may be
questioned whether there is any country in the world where card-playing
is so universal, or where so much money is staked upon the issues as in
the United States.
The origin of the game of faro, like that of most games of cards, is
obscure. There is a tradition that it emanated from the shores of the
Nile, and that its antiquity is as venerable as that of the pyramids.
Perhaps this rather fanciful theory has grown in favor from the fact
that its name is sometimes spelled “pharo,” the name of the founder of
the great Egyptian dynasty, whose head is said, in ancient times, to
have been depicted upon one of the cards. Be this as it may, it is
certain that centuries ago it was popular among the gamesters of France
and other countries of Europe, whence it crossed the channel to the
British isles and later was brought across the Atlantic to America. In
the United States, it is a game _par excellence_ at every gambling
establishment, being at once the most absorbingly fascinating to players
and the most profitable to the bank. Across the green cloth which
separates the former from the latter, fortunes are hourly lost and won.
The monotonous, droning call of the dealer, falling upon the ears of
players, whose interest is breathless in its intensity, has proved to
thousands the knell of doom to wealth, honor, integrity, and happiness.
With its allurement of excitement and its tempting bait of gain, it woos
its votaries to shipwreck equally certain and no less terrible than that
which befell the mariner of old, whose charmed senses drank in the
intoxicating music of the siren’s song. Faro has been happily likened to
the “tiger,” which, crafty, treacherous, cruel and relentless, hides
under cover waiting, with impatient eagerness, for the moment when it
may bury its velvet covered claws within the vitals of its unsuspecting
victim and slake its fiery, unquenchable thirst with his life blood.
The principles of the game as fairly played to-day do not materially
differ from those laid down by Hoyle a hundred years ago. Be it
understood, however, that this remark applies to modern faro, as played
in the “hells” of this year of grace, only in the abstract. The
principles (sic) upon which it is practically conducted by the dealers
of to-day are of a sort calculated to astound that eminent authority on
the doctrine of chances. In order, however, that the reader may
thoroughly comprehend to how great an extent the player is at the mercy
of the banker, it will be necessary to explain first the method of
legitimate playing (i. e., if any gambling can be properly called
legitimate) and then some of the devices whereby the dealer may
transform his naturally overwhelming chances of winning to a practical
certainty.
As preparatory to a discussion of the first branch of the subject, it
may be remarked that faro is pre-eminently a game of chance. Even when
played with absolute fairness, success or failure, fortune or
misfortune, depend—not upon the skill of the player, but upon the
caprice of blind chance. It is true that mathematical science has
attempted to reduce this chance to some sort of law, and has formulated
a theory as to the inherent probability or improbability of certain
events happening or failing to happen, and there are devotees of faro
who play upon what they believe—with a faith which approaches the
sublime—to be an infallible “system.” But the doctrine of chance is,
after all, but an approximation to accuracy, and the only certainty
about any system, however cunningly devised, is the certainty that at
the supreme moment it will prove a delusion and a snare.
[Illustration: faro hand]
But, to return to the method of playing: Any number of persons may
participate in the game, which requires a full pack of fifty-two cards.
The dealer acts as “banker,” and may, at his discretion, limit the sums
to be played for, according to the amount of his capital. At public
games, this functionary, assisted by one or more persons known as
“lookers-out,” whose duty it is to watch the table, the players and the
bets, with a view to seeing that the bank’s winnings are promptly
gathered in, and that the interests of “the house” are properly guarded.
In order to facilitate the making of bets, players purchase checks,
usually made of ivory or bone or composition, though sometimes of paste-
board, from the banker, who redeems them at the option of the holder.
Their value is denoted either by their color, or figures stamped upon
them. The banker usually limits the sums that may be bet in accordance
with his capital, and the limit may be of two kinds, known as the
_plain_ and the _running_ limit. The _plain limit_ is usually twice as
much for double, treble or quadruple cards as for single cards. That is
to say, if a player may bet fifty dollars on either or all of the
latter, he may bet $100 on all or any of the double. The _running limit_
is any sum named and its multiple of four. To illustrate, the running
limit may be 50 and 200; in that case, the player may bet fifty dollars,
and if he wins, may suffer the original stake and its increase (which
would amount to $100) to be where it is or move it to another place,
where he may win another $100, thus giving him with his first stake
$200, which is the limit. This is known as parleeing a bet, and if the
first bet is five, the second will be ten, the third twenty, the fourth
forty, and so on. Almost all bankers will allow a player to “parlee,” as
the percentage is largely in favor of the bank.
Each banker is provided with a “board” about three by one and one-half
feet in dimensions, which is placed on a table about four by two and
one-half feet. This “board” is covered with green cloth, on which one
suit of thirteen cards of the ordinary pack are portrayed in the order
shown in the foregoing illustration.
In the centre of the cut given above, the arrangement of the cards in
the “lay-out” is shown. The outer line of the parallelogram represents
the table. Letter “G” indicates the seat of the dealer; “I” that of the
“lookout;” “F” that part of the table on which the “case keeper” (the
use of which will be explained later) is placed; and “H” shows where
sits that important functionary who operates the “case keeper.” The
players sit or stand all around the table. “A” represents the dealing
box, and “B” and “C” the two piles into which the cards are divided as
they issue from the box. “D” shows the “check-rack,” or the apparatus
for holding the “checks,” and “E” shows the position of the money
drawer.
The ace, deuce, queen and king are called the big square; the deuce,
tray, queen and jack the second square, and so on; the six, seven and
eight are called the pot. The players select their cards upon which they
wish to bet, and lay upon them their checks.
All preliminaries being settled, before any bets are made the dealer
shuffles and cuts the cards and places them face upward in a metal box,
containing an aperture at the top, sufficiently large to allow the full
faces of the cards to be seen. Originally, the cards while being dealt,
were held in the dealer’s hands, and in Germany they are nailed to the
table and torn off one by one. For many years, however, it has been the
practice to deal from an uncovered metal box, a little longer than the
pack, in which are placed the “pasteboards” faces upward, so that the
top card is always exposed to view. Near the top of one end of this
receptacle is a horizontal slit, wide enough to admit the passage of a
single card, and at the bottom are four springs, which, pressing upward,
automatically force the pack toward the top of the box, thus keeping one
card always opposite the slit. The top card, called the “soda,” having
been seen, is not used for betting, and is laid aside. The card
immediately below is the banker’s card, and it wins for him all stakes
placed upon it in the “lay-out,” provided it has not been “coppered,” as
explained below. The next is the player’s card and wins for him in the
same manner. Each pair of cards taken from the box and exposed
constitute what is denominated a “turn.” It may happen, however, that
the player may wish to bet that a certain card may lose. In that case he
places a copper (which is provided for the purpose) upon the top of his
stake. This is called “coppering,” because originally old fashioned
copper cents were employed for this purpose instead of the wooden
checkers.
Whenever two cards of the same denomination appear in the same “turn,”
the dealer takes half the money found upon such card. This is called a
“split,” and is, in effect, a percentage taken by the bank. If a player
wins his bet and allows both stake and winnings to remain on the same
card for another “turn,” he is said to play a paroli or parlee. At the
end of a “turn” a pause is made, to permit the paying of bets already
determined and the making of new ones. And the same routine is followed
until the pack is exhausted, when a fresh deal is made and the process
repeated. It will be seen that there are twenty-five “turns” in every
deal. The dealer may close the game at the end of any deal when he may
see fit. The last card remaining in the box at the end of each deal
neither wins nor loses, although originally it was claimed by the
dealer, who took all the money staked upon that card. The bank thus had
the certainty of winning such stakes, with no possibility of loss;
hence, that card came to be called “hock” or “hockelty,” which means
certainty, and by that name it is known.
A player may avoid risking his stake on any particular turn by saying to
the dealer, “I bar this bet for the turn”—pointing to it—in which case
it can neither lose nor win, but remains barred until he says “it goes.”
Again, he may reduce his stake one-half, by saying to the dealer, “one-
half this bet goes,” and this, unless the order is revoked, will be
understood to be his intention until the close of the deal.
When there is but one turn left in the box, the player may “_call the
last turn_;” that is, guess the order in which the cards will appear. If
he guesses correctly, he receives either two or four times the value of
his stake, according to the advantage which he enjoys through the
character of the turn. If the three cards are three denominations, they
may come out in any one of the six different ways; if, on the other
hand, two of the three cards are of the same denomination, only three
arrangements are possible. Hence, in the former case, if he guess
correctly, the banker pays him four times the amount of his wager; in
the latter (which is technically called a “cat hop”) he wins double its
value.
As has been shown, there is a multiplicity of methods of betting open to
the player, but it remains to explain one of the most common, as well as
fascinating, modes in vogue among the patrons of the “green cloth,” a
method, too, which more than any other has been prolific of disputes. It
consists of placing bets not only upon any card or cards, but upon the
margin of the “lay-out.” These are called “string bets,” an explanation
of which would tend rather to confuse than to enlighten the
inexperienced reader.
It being of the utmost importance to both dealer and player that the
cards remaining on the box should be known, an effort is made to keep an
accurate record of the deal in such a way that its every phase may be
seen at a glance. For this purpose a printed card, known as a “cue
card,” is given to each player if he desires it, with the characters A,
2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, J, Q, K, arranged in a perpendicular row,
“A” representing the ace, the numbers indicating the spots, and the
letters “J, Q, K” standing for the court cards. As each card is dealt
the player denotes the denomination on his “cue card” by placing in the
proper line a zero (0) if it lose, and a straight perpendicular mark (I)
if it wins, the last or “hock” card being indicated by a double dagger
([++]).
THE CHANCES OF THE GAME.
The following statement of the odds against winning any number of times
consecutively is applicable to faro or any other game of chance. The
computation is that of Mr. Hoyle, who, as an honest man, had not
forecast the devices of the modern sharper.
Champions of this game, however, claim that when fairly conducted, the
percentage of the bank against the player is less in faro than in any
known game; and it is probable that the fact of this belief being wide
spread accounts for its wonderful popularity in the United States. In
fact, when fairly dealt, the only percentages in favor of the game are
the “splits” and “calls.” Mr. Hoyle gives the following computation of
the odds at the game.
The chances of doublets vary according to the number of similar cards
remaining among those undealt. The odds against the player increase with
every “turn” that is dealt.
When only eight cards are remaining, it is five to three in favor of the
bank:
When only six cards, it is 2 to 1
When only four cards, 2 to 1
That the player does not win his first stake is an equal
bet.
That he does not win twice following, is 3 to 1
Three times following, is 7 to 1
Four ditto, is 15 to 1
Five ditto, is 31 to 1
Six ditto, is 63 to 1
Having briefly outlined the method of playing, and shown how even when
fairly played there is a very large percentage of odds in favor of the
bank, it remains to point out some of the practices resorted to by those
professional gamblers known as “advantage players,” “brace dealers,”
etc., to take advantage of the gullible and unwary, called among the
fraternity “chumps,” or by the still less euphonius term of “suckers.”
These practices may be grouped under three different heads: First, the
cards themselves; second, the dealing box; and third, a system of
confederates. These will be taken up in the order given.
1st. The cards themselves. The “skin gambler” never deals a game of faro
without making use of cards known as “strippers,” or “humps.” These may
be bought from dealers in gambling implements, or may be prepared by the
gambler himself by using “trimming shears,” a tool devised for this
special purpose, and costing from forty to seventy-five dollars per
pair. “Strippers” are ordinary playing cards of the same size and form
as the “square” ones used in dealing faro, from the edge of which a very
little “strip” has been trimmed, thus making them a fraction narrower at
one end than at the other. The “strip” cut off does not exceed one
thirty-second part of an inch at one end and runs to a point at the
other. These are used that certain cards may be reversed and known; that
is, the narrow ends of some turned with the wide ends of others. Thus,
the dealer may take all the cards under seven, and turn their narrow
ends with the wide ends of the rest of the pack, thus greatly increasing
the chances for “splits,” on which the banker wins half the stakes;
moreover, the cards are used more in bunches, whereby the odds in his
favor are still further increased. When the wide ends of such a pack are
all together, it is difficult to detect them; but when a part only is
reversed they are more easily distinguished, since if the pack be taken
by opposite ends all those turned opposite ways will easily come out if
pulled by the ends.
The cards just described are known as “side strippers.” Another variety,
which has some advantage over these is called “end strippers,” or
“rakes.” As their name implies, they are cut on the end instead of the
sides, but are arranged, sanded, and used as are the others. Before
making a deal, the cards are “pulled” and “run in” endwise, after which
they may be shuffled any number of times without changing their relative
positions. They will apparently change their positions, but owing to the
manner in which they are cut and their being sanded, they adhere in
pairs all through the pack. When the cards are trimmed on the side,
displacement during shuffling is unavoidable; hence, the advantage of
using “rakes.”
Other prepared cards are called “_hollows_” and “_rounds_.” These are
cut in plates made for the purpose, and a portion of the pack is wider
across the middle, and tapers a very little toward the ends. The rest of
the pack is hollowed out a little in the middle and broader at the ends.
Strippers of this sort are used for the same purpose as those first
described, but are used by taking hold of the pack at the middle and one
end instead of at both ends.
The very closest observation is necessary to detect cards prepared in
either of these ways, and soft, smooth hands are necessary to use them
advantageously. The advantages resulting to the skillful dealer from
their use, however, are too palpable to call for further elucidation,
except in connection with the explanation of fraudulent, or “fake”
dealing boxes, which will be given below. Sometimes the odd spot cards,
the jack and king are trimmed differently from the remainder and then
reversed. They are then “run in,” an odd against an even, and can be
told through the difference in their size. This stratagem insures, at
the pleasure of the dealer, the effectual bankruptcy of the man who
plays upon a “system.”
“Squares and rounds” are made in much the same way. They are cut to pull
from the ends like “rakes.” Like “hollows and rounds” they can be turned
around without producing any effect upon them; and, like both, when
properly “sanded” (which process is explained below), they can be
shuffled without changing their relative positions. They are used in the
same way as common “strippers.”
Another process to which the cards of the “skin” faro gambler are
subjected is the preparation of them in such a way that they will adhere
together. This is accomplished by rubbing them, sometimes with
sandpaper, sometimes with rosin and glass, and sometimes with pumice
stone. If, however, the surface be too much scratched, the abrasion will
become visible when the cards are held up to the light. To accomplish
the result desired most effectually, and at the same time with the least
possible risk of detection, a powder composed of fish bone and rosin is
sprinkled over them. When it is remembered that the dealing cards are
extremely thin and smooth, the ease with which this device can be
carried into successful operation can be imagined. Sometimes the backs
of certain cards are roughened and the faces of others; the adhesion is
then rendered very close and the added thickness so slight as absolutely
to defy detection. To facilitate the use of cards thus prepared, a
special dealing box, known as the “sand tell” box, has been devised, a
description of which may be found in its proper place.
Still another resource, however, remains to the dealer of a “fake” game.
He marks his cards along the edges on the faces, by which simple but
effective plan he can always tell, with approximate accuracy, the
denomination of any card below the top. This is accomplished by putting
dots on the edges and it is absolutely essential to the successful
operation of most of the “faked” boxes described below. Similar dots may
be seen along the left hand edge of the card shown in the accompanying
cut of the dealing box.
2nd. THE DEALING BOX.—When the dealing box was first introduced, more
than half a century ago, it was claimed in its behalf that it insured
absolute protection against fraud on the part of either dealer or
players. Practically, as years have passed and new features have been
engrafted upon it, it has become the most effective agency for unlimited
fraud that the most nefarious dealer could desire. Indeed it may be
questioned whether the original object of its introduction was not to
render more easy the task of completely stripping every man who should
venture to play against the bank. Hoyle points out that the odds, even
in legitimate play are always in favor of the banker, and it seems
hardly probable that he would himself suggest an innovation which might
in any degree lessen his chances. The first boxes were made of brass, a
very little larger than the pack, and about half an inch wider, with one
side left open for the admission of the pack. The side opposite had an
opening, close to the top, large enough to allow a single card to slip
out, and in the top of the case was another of sufficient size to permit
the insertion of the end of the finger to slip off the top card. At the
bottom were springs to keep the pack constantly pressed up to the top of
the box. That such a contrivance might be used with perfect fairness in
dealing faro cannot be disputed. The fact remains, however, that almost
every American gambling den to-day has at hand boxes which are cunningly
contrived devices to facilitate the fleecing of the ignorant, to convert
chance into certainty, to transform the unsuspicious player into the
victim and the dealer into the harpy.
In order to have a thorough comprehension of the following description
of some of the “fake” boxes now in use, it may be well that the reader
understand the object sought to be gained through them. The rules of the
game require that but one card shall be dealt at a time. To a dealer
determined to win, it is of the utmost importance to know, before the
card issues from the box, what that card is going to be. In this, he is
greatly aided by the preparation of the cards as described above. Still,
he needs some mechanical device through which he may put this knowledge
into practical operation, either by failing to deal any certain card at
a moment when its issuance from the box means loss to the bank, or by
putting out a card which is sure to win for himself. To give him this
advantage he uses a box so constructed that he can control its
operations at will. It will thus be seen that his cards and his box
supplement each other. To know the cards would avail him nothing unless
he might use those which he needed; to be able to deal fraudulently
would be of no possible advantage, unless he knew precisely which card
to deal. Taken together, they form a combination so strong as to be
impregnable to the dupe who fancies that he and his crafty opponent meet
on a fair field in open, even if not honorable, combat.
At the present time, the “fraternity” generally use one of three
varieties of boxes, known respectively as the “lever,” or “end squeeze
movement,” the “needle movement,” and the “sand tell” box. Of these, the
former is the most common, and the second the most expensive, while the
third is commonly employed for a special purpose, which will be
explained.
The accompanying cut shows the mechanism of the “screw box,” at one time
very popular with gamblers, and still used in some houses.
[Illustration: screw box]
The front side of this box, “A,” is provided with three thin
perpendicular plates, of which two are stationary, but all of which seem
to be solidly joined together. Between the stationary plates “B” and
“D,” whose inner surfaces are so highly polished as to reduce friction
to a minimum, slides another and invisible plate, marked “C,” and which
is adjustable and highly sensitive to the secret manipulation of the
practiced dealer. This centre piece “C,” when properly placed and at
rest, presents an upper edge a trifle above the two stationary plates,
leaving an aperture so narrow that the dealer can take but one card from
the box at a time.
“F” is a screw which operates a secret lever, “E C,” between the two
plates “B” and “D.” This lever hangs on a pivot, and by slightly
pressing the screw with the thumb the adjustable plate “C” quickly
responds, and drops until its edge is even with those of the stationary
plates “B” and “D,” thereby enabling the dealer to take two cards from
the box at one time without observation.
Upon removing the thumb pressure from the screw “F,” the adjustable
plate “C” rises to its original position.
There is a flat metal piece in the inside of the box at the bottom,
which, when pushed forward, instantly and securely locks the box,
preventing the discovery of its mechanism, should any of the players
request permission to examine it. Such permission is always cheerfully,
and usually courteously given.
Finally, inside of the box, as in all others, is a thin plate the size
of the cards, which is placed in a level or horizontal position, upon
which the cards rest, and which is supported by four steel springs, that
force the cards up to the top of the box so that they may always be
ready for dealing.
The “lever,” or “end squeeze” box—the one which is perhaps just now most
in favor among “skin” gamblers—is operated on the same principle as is
the “screw” box. The screw, however, is replaced by a mechanical
contrivance which enables the dealer to raise the middle plate (lettered
C in the illustration) by means of pressure or “squeezing” applied at
the end of the box. The “lever” box also differs from the “screw” in the
manner of locking the secret mechanism. In the essential principles of
the “fake,” however, the two closely correspond. The underlying fraud in
both consists of the manipulation of a concealed middle plate,
substantially in the manner already explained.
The “needle” movement box is so called from the fact that at one end, on
the inside, is a small spring, lying the thickness of three cards from
the top, and having a fine point, like that of a needle, which catches
on the edges of the cards. The dealer remembers which cards are
round—which, as has been said, may be the odd numbers or may be those
having a less number of spots than seven; the remainder of the pack is,
of course, cut hollow at the ends. By the aid of the spring, the dealer
is enabled to tell whether the first card is round or hollow, and also
what the second card is; as when the round card comes in contact with
the spring, it pushes it in, and as the latter slips it makes a slight
noise, similar to the grating of the finger nails. He can thus tell
whether it is for his interest to take the second card or not,
and—thanks to his previous preparation of the cards—it is as easy for
him to take one as the other. An incidental advantage of this box is,
that in case any of the players object to the apparently undue advantage
in favor of the bank, it is possible for the dealer to offer to permit
any player thus dissatisfied to deal in his stead, while he himself bets
against the bank. Should his offer be accepted and a player open a bank,
the latter, of course, not being acquainted with the secret spring of
the box, will derive no benefit from the grating noise even should he
notice it; while by reason of the professional dealer understanding the
sound made by the secret spring, the latter is able to tell very nearly,
if not absolutely, what card is coming next.
The “sand tell” box is particularly designed for the use of gamblers who
desire to induce a player to deal the game. As its name implies, the
cards used in it are “sanded,” while the “tell” consists of a small
extra perpendicular plate near the front of the box on the inside, a
trifle below its mouth, which causes the top card to stand slightly in
advance of the deck, so that the gambler can readily distinguish the
card underneath.
[Illustration: case-keeper]
A record of the game is kept by means of an implement known as a “case-
keeper,” which is usually placed in care of an employe of the
establishment. This device is a miniature “lay-out,” with four buttons
attached to each wire as shown in the illustration. These buttons run on
wires, one of which extends from the end of each card. When the deal
begins, all the buttons are shoved up close to the cards; as soon as a
“turn” is made, the two buttons opposite the cards dealt are shoved to
the opposite ends of their respective wires. This enables anyone around
the table to see, at a glance, how many cards of each denomination
remain in the dealer’s box. When all four cards of any one denomination
have been dealt, that is said to be “_dead_.” When three cards of any
one denomination have been dealt, the one remaining in the box is called
the “_case_,” or “_single card_.”
It may sometimes happen that the tally of a player will not agree with
that of the case keeper, owing to the fact that the dealer has withdrawn
two cards where he should have taken one. In such a case, a trick known
as the “put back” is employed. A confederate of the dealer attracts the
attention of the players while the extra card or cards taken from the
box are adroitly returned to it by the dealer. Of course, there must be
a perfect understanding between the latter and the case keeper, so that
when two cards are dealt at once a signal may be given showing the
denomination of the second card.
In case a player making a bet finds that he has been misled by the
incorrectness of the record kept by the cue keeper, the invariable rule
is that the bet must be determined by the cards remaining in the dealing
box, a regulation which is, to say the least, not at all to the
disadvantage of the bank.
But the cheating is not all on one side, and a device called a hair
“copper” is sometimes employed by players to guard against a possible
loss on a certain description of bets. This hair “copper” consists of a
piece of shoemaker’s wax, the color of the check, a horse hair, and a
string of rubber attached to a band around the wrist, secreted in the
sleeve. The wax adheres to the copper at one end of the horse hair,
which is invisible, the other end being fastened to the rubber string
which is extended in the hand to the tops of the fingers. Placing this
copper on a bet, if the turn comes in favor of the dealer the player
quickly and without observation loosens the rubber which jerks the
“copper” into his sleeve, causing the dealer to pay the bet he may have
fairly won.
Another scheme for beating the dealer is not infrequently resorted to by
professional gamblers. It is technically known among them as “snaking”
the card. This consists of “ringing in” upon the proposed victim of
certain prepared cards, which are placed among the other dealing cards
in some secret manner, and at a time when he is not aware of it.
Sometimes, when no other opportunity presents itself, the faro dealer’s
room is entered by false keys during his absence, and his cards are so
operated upon that the operator can, to a certainty, break the bank at
the first opportunity. There are gamblers who travel through the country
for the purpose of “snaking” games, seldom engaging in any other species
of gaming, and it often happens that many professionals are badly bled
through this means without suspecting it. Sometimes the services of some
person who is a stranger to the dealer are secured to play against the
bank in order to allay suspicion.
The modes of “snaking” are various. One of the earliest consists of
placing an extra plate in the dealing-box, in connection with a piece of
steel not larger than a cambric needle. The cards are then cut on the
edges in such a way that the appearance and disappearance of this piece
of steel tells whether the next card will win or lose. This steel point,
in the rapidity of its motion, was compared to a snake’s tongue, and it
is probable that the origin of the term “snaking” is to be found in this
fancied resemblance.
Another method of “snaking” cards is as follows: The deck is prepared.
Let us suppose that the “pot” cards—the six, seven and eight—are the
ones selected. A pack of cards is taken, and the sixes, sevens, and
eights sanded on the backs and the remainder of the pack on the faces.
Small dots are then made on the face of each card in the deck, near the
edge. The position of these dots is determined by measuring on the card
with the plate which belongs to the dealing box. Now, when a sanded deck
of cards is placed in a “sand tell” dealing box, every time a card is
taken from the box the card next to the one taken moves a little forward
in consequence of the card taken from the box pressing on the one
underneath it. But, with these “snaked” cards, the case is somewhat
different; while dealing with these cards, should a smooth one be next
to the one drawn from the box, it would be drawn a little forward, i.
e., if there is not one of these “sanded” cards underneath this smooth
one. If there should be one of the sanded cards under the smooth one,
the card left on the top, after making a turn, will be held back by the
sanded card which is underneath it, and it will not be pulled forward at
all. Now, when a card which is left on the top, after making a turn, is
pulled forward, these dots (above mentioned) are visible on the face of
the card, denoting that neither of the pot cards can lose on the first
turn; consequently the pot cards are played to win as long as this dot
is visible on the face of the top card. But, in case, after a turn is
made, the top card should not move forward, then the dot on the face of
the card underneath could not be seen, which shows that one of the pot
cards (which are the six, seven or eight) will certainly lose on that
turn; of course the pot is instantly coppered, that is, betting that
these cards will lose.
Another and simpler plan is to perforate all the cards of a certain
description, perhaps of either dark suit, from the two to the ten, with
an instrument known as the “card punch,” of which the accompanying
illustration will enable the reader to form a fair conception.
[Illustration: card punch]
It is made of the finest steel, and is employed to puncture cards at the
center. A “deck” thus prepared is substituted for that which the banker
intends to place in the box. Sometimes, however, in this “diamond cut
diamond” game, an entrance is effected to the dealer’s room and the
“punch” is employed on his own cards. The substitution of the prepared
pack for that of the banker is the fundamental point to be attained, and
occasionally resort is had to desperate expedients. A fight is raised,
and in the melee which ensues the dealer’s box is thrown upon the floor
and the substitution quickly accomplished.
This shameless trick is played by one gambler upon another without the
slightest compunction. What a commentary does this afford upon the
hollowness of the old adage regarding “honor among thieves.” The author
having never been guilty of larceny, as defined by either the common law
or the criminal code, cannot speak for “thieves” technically defined as
such. As to those greater thieves known as gamblers, however, he does
not hesitate to say that among them “honor” is a word as unmeaning as
the mirage of the desert is illusory.
But to return to the punctured cards. The holes made by the punch are so
small that the player is often “beaten” by it. Whenever a white surface
is seen through this small hole, the player is perfectly certain that
the card underneath is the deuce, four, six, seven, eight or ten, and
may accordingly back these cards to win for himself with absolute
certainty. If a colored surface is discerned, he is equally certain that
the next card will be of another denomination.
Yet another method is to sandpaper the edges of one-half the cards.
Then, as the edge of the under card is seen through the slit in the
dealing box, the outside player can tell in which half it belongs by
noticing whether it is bright or dull. Of course, to practice this
successfully, the player must remember correctly the cards making up
each half; but when the division is made upon a system, this is an easy
matter.
Besides the methods of cheating already described, which relate more
particularly to the preparation of the cards and the construction and
operation of the dealing box, there are other methods well known to
professionals, which may be employed with comparative immunity and great
success against the unsuspecting.
A favorite stratagem is to use a prepared deck containing fifty-three
cards, one more than the legitimate pack contains, known among the
fraternity as the “odd.” The odd card is never seen by the player; and
as the cues come out correct, there is nothing of which he can complain.
The advantage of its use to the gambler is that it gives him one sure
turn during each deal, and he usually prefers to employ it on the last
turn. In such a case, it is impossible for the bettor to win on the
call, and he is equally certain to lose on any bet which he may make on
that turn. The advantage of such a large additional percentage in favor
of the game is palpable. A large proportion of players are fond of
calling the “last turn,” because of the greater odds given by the bank;
they are also more disposed to bet high on single cards at this stage of
the deal, for the reason that a “split” is impossible. This is called
playing cases. The manner in which a deck of fifty-three cards may be
manipulated to the certain loss of such bettors may be best shown by
means of an illustration. The denomination of the extra card is a matter
of no importance, but we will suppose it to be an ace; its introduction
would then make five aces in the pack. All the cards are then sanded
except these five aces, which are marked on the edges with one or two
dots, so as to be instantly recognized. The deck, having been thus
prepared, is played in the following manner: The cards are first
shuffled a few times from bottom to top, the dealer not then knowing the
position of any card. The latter then commences finding the aces, which
is easily accomplished, inasmuch as they are the only cards not sanded
and are marked on the edges. While shuffling he places one ace on the
top of the deck, over this he places a card of some other denomination,
and on this another ace, and over this again yet another card. A false
cut (which is accomplished in various ways, and is really no cut at all)
is then given to the cards, which are next placed, faces upward, in the
dealing box, the arranged cards being of course now at the bottom. Let
us suppose that when the last turn is reached it consists of an ace,
king and queen. Of course there are really two aces in the box, though
only one is shown. If the dealer wishes to make the ace lose, all that
he need do is to turn one card and then take two cards instead of one,
through the aid of his “faked” box, the bottom one of these two cards
being one of the aces, this leaves one card in the box, as there should
be. Should he desire to make the ace win, he draws two on the first
pull, and only one afterward, which results in one of the aces never
being seen, making the cues on the last turn come out correct. Sometimes
the cards are cut fairly, and the extra card comes in the middle of the
deck; in such a case, when the dealer arrives where the aces are
arranged, he is aware of it and acts in the same manner as has been
already described when they are placed so as to fall in the last turn.
Sometimes two odd cards are added to the deck, making the pack consist
of fifty-four cards. When properly manipulated, the dealer has the
advantage of being able to manage two turns instead of one.
Even when both cards and dealing box are perfectly “square,” it is still
in the power of the professional gambler to take such advantages of
persons not posted as to be morally certain of winning their money. For
instance, should a player select certain favorite cards on which to bet
(as is often the case), on the next deal the dealer may easily cause
such cards to win or lose all the way through as he may desire, the
bettor never suspecting that the run was not a matter of pure chance. As
these favorite cards come out of the box, the dealer—at a moment when
the bettor is not observing—places them at the bottom at the end of the
deal, where they are not disturbed while shuffling. The deck is then
“run in” endwise, and these cards being separated, will either win or
lose throughout the game.
“Faked” dealing boxes are not always the “thing of beauty” and perennial
source of joy which their manipulators would like to see them. They
occasionally “get out of order;” a little sand works its way between the
plates, and even an expert “brace” dealer finds it more or less
difficult so to use the device that its employment cannot be detected.
At Laredo, Texas, a few years ago, a “professional,” who is now dealer
at a famous house in a Western city, encountered a difficulty of this
sort. He “pulled” two cards, but so clumsily that the “sucker” observed
it. “What’s the matter with your box?” the player asked. “O, it’s a
little old, and don’t work just right,” was the answer. “Well, see
here,” said the Texan, “that was an almighty short deal, somehow. Reckon
I’m going to lose money any way; but hadn’t you better go a little
slower and make one of them long deals? I’d like to take a little more
time.” The game progressed and the stranger rose from the table a loser
to the amount of three hundred dollars. “Look here,” he remarked to the
dealer, “I reckon you’d better give me back the money you’ve cheated me
out of.” The gambler, with an air of the utmost nonchalance, replied
that he would be blanked if he gave back any of it. “Well,” remarked the
countryman, as he drew down his slouch hat over his eyes and left the
room, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” No sooner had he left than one of
the employes of the establishment took the proprietor aside and advised
him either to return the money or close the place at once, if he did not
want the victim to return and shoot him “on sight.” The proprietor was a
capital “brace” dealer, but physical courage was not his chief
characteristic. He lost no time in acting on his subordinate’s
suggestion. Hastily raising the window he called out to the victim—whose
rapidly vanishing form was still in sight—“I say, you! Come back here a
minute; I want to see you.” The “sucker” came back; the gambler greeted
him cordially. “You old idiot,” said he, “can’t you take a little joke?
Of course I knew that you were ‘capping,’ (i. e. acting as ‘capper’) for
the game. Here’s your money old man.” He handed him a roll of currency,
which the stranger pocketed with a grim smile of satisfaction. But
subsequent events proved that the proprietor “had builded better than he
knew.” Sitting around the room were other men who had lost money and
seen a fellow sufferer receive back his losses, it did not take long for
the crowd to extinguish the lights, and in the darkness the unlucky
dealer was “held up” for every dollar that he had with him.
3rd. The third adjunct to success in a “brace” faro game is by no means
the least important. Confederates on the outside are considered _sine
qua non_ in every “skin” gaming hell. They are technically known as
“ropers” or “steerers.” This euphonious appellation sufficiently
indicates at once their character and the nature of the duties with
which they are charged. The man who for a percentage and under the guise
of friendship lures a man to loss is, if possible, morally lower than
the scoundrel who robs him.
To be a good “steerer,” a man should possess some education and be
endowed with a courteous and affable demeanor. The more polished his
manners, the greater the value of his services. Men of this stamp hang
about the depots, infest the corridors of hotels of every grade, and
patrol the streets with far more watchfulness than does the average
policeman. Their methods do not vary, in any marked respect, from those
employed by “cappers” and “steerers” in other games, which are fully
disclosed under other head lines. About the same qualifications are
expected of faro and “bunko steerers,” and those required of the latter
are plainly indicated in Chapter VIII.
There is, however, a class of “ropers” who do rather more than “dirty”
work. These men hang about the entrances to houses which are alleged and
believed to be “square,” turn out the gas in the stairway, and when a
would-be player presents himself, assure him that “the house is closed
for the night, but that they (or he) can ‘show him where a game is
running.’” Should the verdant dupe be sufficiently gullible to believe
the story, one of these miscreants “steers” him to a “brace” house, sees
that he is “plucked,” and then claims and receives his percentage on the
amount which the victim has lost.
Among broken-down gamblers who have lost the last vestige of self-
respect, another game is popular. Individuals of this sort will hang
about the side-walk in front of a “hell.” When a player goes up-stairs
into the rooms, they watch him. If they can gain access to the house
they watch his play; if they are too disreputable in appearance to be
allowed inside the doors, they await his return. In either event, they
ascertain whether he has lost or won. If the former, they promptly
present themselves before the proprietor and claim the usual percentage
paid to a “steerer,” and usually receive it. This sort of scamp is known
among the fraternity as a “gutter snipe.”
Once in a while one of them proves himself of some service. On a certain
evening, two young men had been playing faro at a “skin” house on the
Bowery, in New York. They had pooled their resources and one of them had
been doing all the betting. Their losses footed up about eighty dollars.
After coming down stairs they stood upon the corner, bewailing their
hard luck, when they were accosted by an individual who, although
decidedly seedy, presented the appearance of being the wreck of what was
once a gentleman. He told them that he had overheard their conversation
and asked them if they would like to get a part of their money back.
Being answered in the affirmative, he went on to say that he himself did
not dare to go up into the rooms, but that if the man who had not done
the betting would return alone and claim to have been acting as a
“steerer,” he would receive from the proprietor a “capper’s” percentage
of the house’s winnings. The advice was acted upon; one of the two again
mounted the stairs, entered the apartment, demanded his forty-five per
cent. of the money lost and received it without objection. The stranger
was made happy by receiving a five dollar bill, and the friends walked
away considerably wiser, if somewhat poorer, than when they first
entered the den.
While speaking of “steerers” there is one fact which should not be
overlooked. Not a few of the proprietors of the so-called “square”
houses run “brace” games at other localities, “on the quiet.” These men
keep “ropers” at the foot of the stairways leading up to their
respectable (?) establishments, whose duty it is to inform any
particularly verdant “sucker” that there is “no game being played here
to-night,” and then “steer” him to the place where he can be fleeced
with more ease and expedition. The same tactics are employed at times
when public sentiment compels the closing of the gaming hells. The
“reputable” gamblers shut their doors, and open a room either at a hotel
or in some out of the way location, whither their “steerers” guide
victims, thus partially at least, recouping their losses resulting from
the closing of their regular rooms. Where they do not open other places
they sometimes “stand in” with the keepers of “skin” rooms, to have
their employes “steer” their patrons to the latter resorts, the “square”
players, of course, receiving a percentage of the winnings.
The better class of houses of play close at about two o’clock in the
morning, when the cards, dealing boxes and other paraphernalia are given
a few hours rest. Others are open all night, and at Pueblo, Colorado,
there is a resort whose doors are never closed. At all establishments,
however, there are at least two sets of employes, known respectively as
the “day” and “night-watch.” The day men arrive about nine in the
morning, the dealer having the combination of the safe. He takes out the
money, chips, cards, etc.; the “house is ready for business,” or to
state it more accurately, the trap is set and baited for fresh game.
It is generally during the earlier hours of the day-watch that the game
is “thrown off,” if at all. This term is a bit of gambler’s slang, and
always means that some one is victimized through a gross breach of good
faith, in other words, the victim is “thrown” to a confederate as a bone
to a dog. The “throwing off a game” is usually worked as follows:
Suppose that A, B and C enter into partnership to conduct a gaming
house. A and B secretly agree to defraud C of the capital which he has
advanced. C closes the house at night and A opens in the morning. B
arranges with an outside party to come to the house in the morning while
C is absent, and by collusion with the dealer, A, “win out the roll,” as
it is technically termed, that is, win the money of the firm so that C’s
share may be divided among the two scoundrels. Of all dastardly
confidence games this may be probably set down as the meanest, and the
fact that it is ever done shows how far the maxim “honor among thieves”
applies to professional blacklegs.
A UNIQUE ESTABLISHMENT.
The establishment at Pueblo to which reference has been made above, is
probably the largest in the United States. It contains six faro tables,
four roulette wheels, four hazard tables, two “stud” poker tables, two
“draw” poker tables, one “short faro” table, one vingt-un table, one
hieronymus bowl, and one table for playing a game known as “high suit.”
They are all in one large room, which opens directly off the street,
without any pretense of concealment, and contains, besides, a bar and a
lunch counter. Back of this is an apartment in which occur two drawings
daily, and yet farther in the rear is a keno room, where a game is run
every night. This mammoth hell never closes its doors. Three sets of
employes relieve each other, each “shift” (a designation for the
alternate “watches,” borrowed from the phraseology of the Colorado
miners) being on duty eight hours. As may be imagined, the cost of
running such an establishment is enormous, and the fact that the
proprietors continue to prosper financially shows that dupes are found
in abundance.
There is one feature in the management of this Pueblo resort peculiar to
itself. It is a very common thing in all gambling houses for a player
who “has lost his roll” to ask a donation—or a “loan,” as he prefers to
call it—of a small sum, wherewith to get a drink, procure a meal, or pay
for a night’s lodging. Only in the lowest dives is such a request
refused. In the Pueblo den, however, a different system is pursued. The
proprietors never give money to any man, for the reason that they
apprehend that the beneficiary might use it in playing against the
house. At the same time no sober applicant (unless a chronic “dead
beat”), whether player or stranger, is ever refused a drink, a cigar, a
square meal, or a night’s lodging. Instead of cash, however, he is given
a brass check which, while not receivable at the tables as stakes, is
good at the bar, the lunch counter, or at a lodging house owned and run
by the establishment, for refreshments of whatever kind he may desire.
SHORT FARO.
This is a vastly simplified modification of the game of faro. The lay-
out consists of six cards—ace, king, queen, jack, ten, and nine. The
dealer commonly uses two or more packs, which he shuffles and usually
deals from his hand, though sometimes from a box. The first three cards
run off are for “the house,” and are dealt faces down and not exposed.
The second three cards are for the player and are shown. Bettors place
their stakes on the card or cards in the lay-out which they may select
before the deal begins. The mode of play may be best shown by an
illustration: Suppose a player wagers a dollar on the queen. If one of
the three cards exposed happens to be a queen he wins one dollar; if two
are queens he receives double the amount of his stake; if all three
should prove to be queens the dealer returns him his original stake
augmented by three times the amount; if no queen is shown the “house”
gathers in the stake. It does not require a particularly erudite
mathematician to discover that the odds at this game are enormously in
favor of the bank. In the first place the player can win only should one
of six cards out of fifty-two turn up. Moreover, of the six cards dealt
he is allowed to see only three, thus reducing his already insignificant
chances by one half. Even when fairly played the game, like roulette, is
little short of downright robbery by the dealer, and when to this
preponderance of chances one adds the numerous advantages which a
professional “brace” dealer has over a greenhorn it is easy to foretell
who will have the money at the end of the game.
POLICE PROTECTION TO GAMBLING.
The attentive reader will find, at various parts of this volume,
allusions to the tacit understanding which often exists between the
fraternity of black-legs and the police. The personal experience of the
author is referred to and the chapter devoted to local gambling is
replete with recitals of facts which afford food for reflection.
It may not be out of place here, however, to describe briefly the
methods adopted for rendering ineffective even a carefully planned and
honestly executed raid, if undertaken or managed by inexperienced or
incompetent officers. The latter on gaining entrance to a room do not
find any gambling in progress and are therefore unable to capture any
property or make any arrests. The outer doors of the resorts are usually
constructed of ponderous oak timbers, from four to ten inches thick,
fastened together by means of heavy iron bolts. Of late years steel has
been substituted for wood, and it is said that at one of the Chinese
gambling hells in San Francisco the doors are made of thick rubber,
resembling car springs in texture, the elasticity of which repels the
blows of a sledge hammer as a marble pavement gives a rebound to a
rubber ball. The object of making such doors is, of course, to prevent
forcible intrusion. It is not of the employment of violence, however,
that I am about to speak, but of those raids where the officers are
given admission. It should be added that not infrequently entrance is
granted, after a short delay, because the hospitable proprietors have
been privately warned of the intended visit.
A small aperture in the door enables the door-keepers, one of whom is
always in attendance, to inspect applicants for admission before undoing
the bolts. If the custodian is in doubt as to the character of the
callers, the proprietor is summoned. If the visitors are recognized as
officers, an electric bell sounds a note of warning, and a parley
between the blue-coats and the Cerebus at the portal follows. In the
twinkling of an eye the cards, boxes, chips, lay-out, case-keeper, and
money disappear into the safe. The table is at once transformed into an
ordinary round-topped affair, covered with a crimson cloth. Scattered
around the room are well dressed, quiet mannered gentlemen engaged in
reading the newspapers, in discussing politics, or in general
conversation. The police see nothing, and after apologizing for their
intrusion, withdraw. Often the proprietor accompanies them to the
stairway, and, cordially shaking hands, leaves in the honest (?) palm of
the one in command a substantial token of his readiness to “bury the
hatchet.” Scarcely have they reached the sidewalk before the table is
placed in position, the safe unlocked, the money and paraphernalia taken
out, the players resume their seats, and the game goes on as before. Is
it surprising that the man who witnesses such a farce as this should
entertain a contempt for the very name of law?
REMINISCENCES AND INCIDENTS.
From what has been said, some unsophisticated reader may be led to
suppose that running a faro bank is a short and easy road to fortune. No
more fatal mistake could be made. Professional gamblers, almost without
exception, die paupers. Nor is the reason far to seek. The gambler “on
the inside,” is likely to win, even if the game is fairly played; and
the skin dealer never loses, even by accident. But the curse of Heaven
seems to attach to money thus accumulated. The winners rarely keep it
long. The terrible fascination of the mania for gaming is no less potent
with professionals than amateurs. The author might multiply
illustrations, drawn from his own experience. A successful proprietor of
a faro game will often draw from his safe thousands of his nefariously
won money to drop it on the table in another house. Even Morrissey, the
gambling king of the country, twice a member of the New York State
Senate and later of the United States House of Representatives, owner of
the most luxuriously appointed gambling house of the American metropolis
and of the world famed “club house” at Saratoga, which vied with Monaco
and Monte Carlo in its elegance—even Morrissey, the “prince of good
fellows,” the idol of his friends, the once millionaire, died insolvent.
The history of American gambling abounds in incidents scarcely less
striking. Ephemeral success, debauchery, drunkenness, poverty, suicide
or death from violence—this is the epitome of the career of the average
blackleg. O! young men of America, you who are upon the very threshold
of life, you who are in doubt as to “which way” you will direct your
steps, you in whom are centered the fondest affections of so many
hearts, you before whom so bright a future is opening, you upon whom
depends the future of this great country, listen to the advice which
comes from a heart that would avert from you the pangs which it has
suffered. Believe one who has drained the cup to its very dregs, that at
the bottom you will find only a serpent!
William Close, one of the best known and most expert manipulators of a
brace box known to American gamblers, who won heavily and bet as freely,
died a pauper.
John Timmins, a successful dealer, “went broke” and in a fit of
desperation, ended his miserable existence with a bullet.
Sam Cade, a “faro bank fiend” and one of the best poker players known in
the “hells” was buried by a fund to which I was myself a subscriber.
These are but a tithe of the many instances that I might adduce in
corroboration of the truth of what has been said.
An illustration of the well-nigh irreclaimable depravity of the case-
hardened professional happened not many years ago in a St. Louis
gambling house. A well dressed young man entered, sat down at the faro
table, and in a very short time lost $500. His money gone, he hurriedly
rose and left the room without a word. After his departure one of the
“profession,” who was sitting in the room, looked toward the door and
remarked, “Well, he dropped his little roll rather sudden.” Then he
added, with a pensive air, “but it comes easy?” “What is he?” asked the
dealer. “Why don’t you know?” was the inquiry of the first speaker.
“He’s one of the finest ‘dips’ in the country.” “What’s a dip?” was the
next conundrum of the proprietor. “Why, you driveling idiot,” replied
his confrere, “a dip’s a pick-pocket.” “Well,” answered the winner, with
a yawn, “I don’t care. Glad he makes money so easily. Hope he’ll ‘dip’
some more. A dip’s money is just as good to run bank with as any other.”
And with this remark he wheeled about in his chair and was soon immersed
in the newspaper, awaiting the arrival of another victim.
I cannot close this chapter on faro without a passing reference to an
old gambler who at one time was a prominent figure all along the
Mississippi valley, and whose face was as familiar to patrons of the
river steamers as were the sand-bars which blocked the channel. I refer
to “Colonel” Charles Starr. His long yarns were proverbial. According to
his own story he owned half the plantations skirting the river.
Occasionally some one would “pick him up” by telling him that he (the
skeptic) was the owner of those broad acres. No such trifling
circumstance as this abashed the “Colonel” in the least. Like Banquo’s
ghost, he peremptorily and perennially refused to “down.”
Stories about him were as plentiful as “pickaninnies” about a negro
cabin. It is said that once, at an Arkansas watering place, he was
approached by an itinerant blackleg who asked for half a dollar with
which to get something to eat. The “Colonel” surveyed him leisurely,
from head to foot, before either granting or refusing his request.
Finally he said: “How long did you say it was, young man, since you had
anything to eat?” “Two days, Colonel.” “Well,” drawled Starr, “I reckon
I don’t want to give you a half a dollar, but if you go without eating
two days longer, I’ll give you a hundred dollars for your appetite.”
Starr was a gourmand, though a dyspeptic, and withal rather selfish. He
went into a restaurant in New Orleans one day and ordered a sumptuous
repast. A hungry, penniless gambler entered while he was eating, and
approaching him, said: “Colonel, I’m awful hungry and I’m dead broke.
Can’t you ‘stake’ me with some of that?” “Oh, no,” answered Starr, “you
see, I’m a capper for the house, and my play doesn’t go.”
He accumulated a fair competence, but gambling and dissipation reduced
him to poverty, and he died a pauper. The evening of the day preceding
his death he entered a fashionable restaurant and ordered a dinner
costing some seven or eight dollars. The proprietor called him on one
side, and told him frankly that he did not feel disposed to “carry” him
any longer, that he must pay cash for his order or it would not be
filled. Starr said nothing, but went out and borrowed five dollars from
a friend; returning, he threw it on a table and ordered the best meal
obtainable for that sum. When it was set before him he deliberately
turned every dish upside down upon the cloth, and walked out of the
place. The following morning he died.