CONFIDENCE GAMES.
The devices of confidence operators for fleecing their victims are more
numerous and ingenious than the minds of unsophisticated, honest men can
readily conceive. These gentry know neither honor, pity nor remorse.
Among their ranks, however, may be found men of brilliant intellect and
high education, who, had they devoted to some honest pursuit the time
and thought which they have expended upon the conception and execution
of schemes of fraud, might have acquired a comfortable competence and
occupied an enviable position in the professional or commercial world.
Their moral nature, however, has become so warped, that fraud has become
instinctive with them and the very name of virtue a by-word and a
mockery.
At the same time, it is but right to say that their success, in the vast
majority of cases, would be impossible were it not for the fact that
they appeal not only to the cupidity of their dupes, but also to a
latent element of dishonesty which requires only temptation and
opportunity to call it into active exercise. The reader who will
carefully scan the pages which follow cannot fail to perceive that the
“suckers”—as the confidence men denominate their victims—are, at heart,
no more honest than are the sharpers themselves. The trap is spread for
them and baited with the prospect of winning “something” for “nothing,”
and of deriving advantage through a resort to deception and trickery. If
the dupe did not believe that he is about to defraud some one else, he
would never become a victim of scoundrels more astute, but little more
dishonest than himself. The man who, when a scheme of fraud is proposed
to him, indignantly repudiates the implied suspicion that he is willing
to sacrifice his honor and integrity for money is not likely to become
the dupe of scoundrels who resort to such practices as are explained in
this chapter. It has always seemed to me that there is a great waste of
sympathy upon men thus victimized. While too much cannot be said in
condemnation of men who make a living through systematic fraud, what is
to be said of those who are eager to avail themselves of dishonest
devices which they themselves have not been sufficiently cunning to
invent, but which commend themselves at once to their avarice and lax
morality?
THREE CARD MONTE.
This is an ancient device of sharpers, with the _modus operandi_ of
which a majority of persons have some acquaintance. It is commonly
resorted to by all gamblers and confidence men, who find their most
successful field of operation upon railway trains; although fairs,
circus grounds, and even camp meetings afford them opportunities of
plying their vocation. The game is played with three cards, which are
held by the operator, who is known in gamblers’ slang as the “spieler,”
in his right hand, between the thumb and first two fingers, the backs
towards the palm, and the cards themselves slightly bending inward. To
work the trick successfully, some sleight of hand is necessary, to
acquire which considerable practice is necessary. The cards are thrown
by the “spieler” upon some flat surface, faces downward. Before throwing
them, he shows the bystanders the cards which he holds in his hand, and
after they have been thrown he invites bets as to the location of some
particular card.
To illustrate: he may hold in his hand two aces and a queen; these he
shows; he then places them in his right hand, in the position above
described, and throws them upon the flat surface, faces downward; he
then asks some one to bet which is the queen. The queen may have been
the middle of the three cards as they were held in his hand, but it by
no means follows that it will be the middle of the three cards as they
lie upon the table.
To work the game successfully, at least one and generally two
confederates are necessary. It has already been said that the favorite
place of operation is the railroad train, and perhaps the reader will
gain the best idea of how the trick is done by describing the manner in
which these sharpers secure and fleece their victims under these
circumstances. The “spieler” is usually attired after the manner of a
well-to-do country farmer or stock-raiser. On his head he wears a
battered slouch hat, his neck is ornamented with a loosely tied red
cotton handkerchief; and his worn trousers are stuffed carelessly into
the legs of his cow skin boots. His confederates, who are technically
called “cappers,” are dressed after the manner of respectable business
men of easy circumstances. It should be remarked, however, that when the
precious trio board the train the “spieler” presents a far more
fashionable appearance than when dressed for business. He usually
carries with him a false shirt bosom, an old overcoat and the slouch hat
mentioned above. After he has entered the cars he takes his seat in the
rear end of the coach, and the two “cappers” pass through the car
looking for some one who promises to be an easy prey, and who is
commonly known to the fraternity as a “mark” or a “sucker.” If none is
found upon the first car entered, the gang repairs to the next one, the
“spieler” taking up his position in the rear as before. As soon as a
“mark” is selected, one of the “cappers” takes his seat beside him and
raises his hat. At this signal the “spieler” arranges his cotton
handkerchief, puts on his disreputable hat, dons his well worn overcoat,
and tucks his trousers in his boot legs. The effecting of this
transformation scene is known among gamblers as “ringing up.”
The “spieler” goes forward and takes the seat either just before or
directly behind his confederate and intended victim. He engages the
former in conversation, representing himself as a heavy stock-raiser
from the Southwest. He goes on to explain how he has been swindled or
“slicked” out of $500 by a “card sharp.” He adds, however, that they
failed to get all that he had, and thereupon displays or “flashes” a
large roll of money, and slapping his hand upon his side, remarks in a
loud tone, that he has $10,000 more in his belt. At this point the
confederate, with the air of a man of kindly disposition and one who is
familiar with the wickedness of the world, remarks to him that he
perceives that he (the “spieler”) has traveled very little, and advises
him to avoid displaying money in the presence of strangers. The
“spieler” laughs, and says that “he reckons he is able to look after
himself.” He adds that he bought the “paste boards” with which he had
been cheated from the man who had swindled him, and that he intends to
take them home and get his money back by betting with his friends,
mentioning, perhaps, by way of illustration, that he means to “win Bill
Jones’s mule, and make him walk home the very next night that he comes
to see his sister.” His accomplice thereupon asks to see the cards, and
they are promptly produced. The “spieler” begins to exhibit his skill
and urges the partner to bet. The latter says that he can distinguish
the cards readily enough, but does not wish to win the man’s money.
After much urging, the “capper” consents to bet and usually wins two
wagers as a matter of course. The “spieler” thereupon remarks that he
does not care to bet with him any longer, as he is too lucky, and asks
the stranger to make a bet. If the latter shows any hesitation, or if,
perchance, he expresses some scruples on moral grounds, the “capper”
whispers to him that he has a dead certainty of winning and that he had
better bet and win, and “teach the fool a lesson,” after which he can
return the amount won if he chooses. The “spieler” next throws the
cards, and while he turns his head the confederate raises the card and
shows the stranger which it is, slightly bending the corner in order
that it may be readily recognized.
The victim is now satisfied that he can bet with certainty, and when the
“spieler” again picks up the cards to throw them he stakes his wager.
The operator, however, with his little finger dexterously flattens out
the corner which his accomplice had bent up and bends up the corner of
an entirely different card. When the cards are next thrown, the victim
selects the one with the bent corner, and is deeply chagrined to
discover that it is not the one which he believed it to be.
Sometimes, instead of bending the corner of one of the cards, resort is
had to another and equally effective device. While the three cards are
lying faces downward, the confederate, with a pencil, makes a mark upon
the corner of the winning card. When the “spieler” again turns his head
toward the cards, he picks them up and thrusts them into his pocket with
the remark, “oh, you fellows wont bet anyway.” In his pocket he has
three other cards, duplicates in all respects of those which he has
before shown, and on the corner of one of which is a pencil mark
precisely similar to the one made by the “capper,” but it is not on the
winning card. As he is about to leave, his confederate urges him to
remain, saying, “yes we will bet, come back.” The stranger thinks that
he recognizes the pencil mark, stakes his money, selects the marked
card, finds it is not the winner, and of course loses.
The principal object in having a second confederate is to keep off
disinterested persons who might endeavor to put the proposed victim on
his guard.
Formerly, monte men refused to play for anything except cash; now-a-
days, they are willing to accept bank checks, and the third man is found
extremely serviceable as an innocent purchaser. If the “sucker” raises a
row, and threatens to stop payment of the check, it is a common practice
to produce a piece of paper, perhaps a blank check, folded, which is
torn up in the victim’s presence. The latter, believing that he has seen
his check destroyed, takes no further steps in the matter. It sometimes
happens, however, that a victim will say nothing, but at the same time
secretly intends to stop the payment of the check. To guard against
this, the third man appears upon the scene and with a great show of
righteous indignation, or possibly representing himself to be an officer
of the law, demands that the “spieler” return the check to the victim.
Hot words then pass, and the latter says that if there is going to be
such an everlasting fuss made about so small a matter he will tear up
the check and have done with it. Thereupon, he produces his paper, which
he tears up, as already described, throwing the pieces out of the car
window. Of course in either case, the check remains safe in the
sharpers’ possession. The second confederate, by his apparently
magnanimous and disinterested interference in the victim’s behalf,
naturally wins his confidence. He thereupon makes it his business to
remain with him until the “spieler” and his remaining accomplice shall
have had time to present the check for certification at the bank upon
which it was drawn.
It is said, and universally believed by the sporting fraternity, whose
belief is based upon actual experience, that the conductor of the train
upon which a game such as has been described is successfully practiced
always expects and receives a percentage of the winnings. If the trick
is perpetrated on a sleeping car, the porter is always given a handsome
bonus. The author has himself been told by one of the latter sort of
gentry that his fees from this source considerably exceeded his pay from
the sleeping car company.
Probably, the king of the monte men was a man known in sporting circles
as “Canada Bill.” He was recognized as a general “all around confidence
operator,” and so distrustful were those who knew him of appearances
which he put forth that on the occasion of his funeral, as the coffin
was being lowered into the grave, one of his friends offered to bet
$1,000 to $500 that “Bill was not in the box.” The offer found no
takers, for the reason, as one of his acquaintances said, “that he had
known Bill to squeeze through tighter holes than that.” It was reported
some years before his death that he had offered one of the Trunk Lines
of Railroad a premium of $25,000 per annum to be allowed to practice
confidence games upon its trains without molestation; a condition of the
offer being that he would not attempt to victimize any class of
passengers except preachers.
One of the most successful schemes for perpetrating this fraud is known
as the “send,” so-called because in some of its essential features it is
closely allied to the game of “bunko.” In both cases the victim is sent
after more money, in order that the harvest of the rascally manipulators
may be increased. One of the favorite modes of winning the confidence
and money of an intended dupe is as follows: The victim having been
selected,—usually a farmer of some wealth,—two of the sharpers drive up
to his residence in a buggy, ostensibly with a view to purchasing his
farm. They are always well dressed and present the appearance of men of
large means. To gain the confidence of the unsuspecting agriculturalist
is a comparatively easy matter. He shows them over his place, they
express their entire satisfaction, and offer him a sum in cash which is
not only far beyond his expectations but also considerably in excess of
the actual value of the property. To complete a bargain under such
circumstances is an easy matter. The trade is made, and the sharpers
invite the farmer to accompany them to the nearest town, where they
propose to draw from the bank the cash necessary to complete the
transaction. On the way to town, they encounter another man, also riding
in a buggy, who engages them in conversation. The stranger represents
himself to be the agent of a new scheme of gift distribution, and at
once enlists the interest of the “capper,” who is riding with the
farmer. The party alight from their buggies and the new-comer introduces
the old game of “three card monte.” He invites them, at first, to “try
their luck for fun,” and by showing them what large sums they might have
won had they been playing for actual stakes, he soon induces them to
take a venture. In working this scheme, however, playing cards are
seldom used, for the reason that the average country farmer always
cherishes a suspicion of the paste boards. Accordingly, some other
description of cards is employed.
It is usually found to be an easy matter to interest the countryman, who
sees the “capper” apparently “playing in great luck.” He is soon induced
to risk a small amount, and the operator tells him that he and “his
friend” have each won a large sum—perhaps $1,000 or $5,000. The sharper
has now resorted to the devices of the “bunko banker,” and informs his
victim that it will be necessary for him to show the amount of money
which he has won in order to prove that he would have been actually able
to pay the stake had he lost. The countryman, thoroughly convinced that
he is on the eve of winning a large sum, expresses his willingness to go
to town and raise the money. Of course, the “agent” of the gift
distribution scheme, obligingly offers to await his return. The farmer
goes to town, obtains the money, and comes back, like the moth to the
candle.
When he returns, the same trickery is resorted to as in the operation of
the game of “bunko,” for a full explanation of which the reader is
referred to that heading. Of course he loses all that he can be
persuaded to venture, and inasmuch as the only two vehicles on the
ground are in the possession of the two sharpers, while the victim is,
perforce, compelled to go afoot, it is a very easy matter for the former
to place such a distance between themselves and the “sucker,” that by
the time the latter has reached some point where he may summon
assistance, the precious pair are far advanced upon their road to
safety.
BOGUS CHECKS.
The use of fraudulent checks as a means of winning money from the unwary
is a device of confidence men which, although venerable in its
antiquity, is still practiced to a very considerable extent in all parts
of the country. Notwithstanding the fact that it has been repeatedly
exposed, there are probably hundreds of men in the United States who
derive a comfortable income every year through following it up.
The method of operation may be very briefly described. To perpetrate it
successfully sharpers ordinarily act in concert. A favorite field of
operation is found in depots and railroad trains, although hotels and
even public thoroughfares are not despised. The first thing to be done
is to learn the name of the proposed victim, after he has been selected.
This selection is usually easily made, the experienced confidence man
having little difficulty in choosing a man whose appearance indicates
that he is not only in good financial circumstances, but also of a
nature which renders him peculiarly liable to be defrauded by this sort
of trick. His name is usually learned by accosting him by some name
which the sharper knows to be incorrect. Naturally, the stranger
corrects him by stating who he is and where he resides. This much
learned, reference is had to a bank directory of the United States (a
copy of which these men always carry with them), and the name of the
banks and bankers and prominent business men at his place of residence,
ascertained. Having thus posted himself, the swindler informs the
“sucker” that he hails from the same locality and is well acquainted
with Mr. So-and-So, naming some prominent citizen of the town or city in
which the victim resides. If the game is to be played at a depot, the
sharper enters the train with the dupe and takes a seat near him. He has
previously been at great pains to make himself as entertaining and
confidential as possible. All at once, sharper number two appears upon
the scene and presents a bill to his confederate, saying that he has
made it out in compliance with his request and upon his promise that it
should be paid. The swindler expresses himself as entirely satisfied
with the account, but says that he has not sufficient currency to make a
full payment. He thereupon produces a check for a considerably larger
sum, which he asks his confederate to cash, discharge the debt, and
return him the balance in money. This, of course, the second sharper
says that he cannot do. Sharper number one now turns to the “sucker,”
and asks him if he will be kind enough to loan him the amount of his
confederate’s pretended claim, taking the check as security. In seven
cases out of ten, the swindlers have so carefully selected their victim
and so artfully won his confidence, that the dupe readily consents to
make the loan desired. If, however, he has not the full amount of money
with him, his new acquaintance is quite ready to accept what he has,
with which he makes a payment on “account” to his friend. The “sucker”
takes the check and puts it away in his pocket-book as security. The two
confederates then walk down the aisle of the car, chatting pleasantly
and exchanging words of farewell. When they reach the platform they both
jump off the car and the victim sees neither of them again. When he
attempts to realize upon his supposed “security,” he finds that the
draft is not worth the paper on which it was written.
Among sharpers this trick is commonly known as the “con game,” or “check
racket.”
Sometimes an appeal is made to the sympathy of the proposed victim. At
the city of Louisville, Kentucky, one of these gentry appealed to a
stranger to cash a check for him on the score that he was entirely
unacquainted in the city and was carrying home the body of his deceased
brother for burial. He led his dupe to the baggage car and showed him a
box containing a coffin. It is needless to say that the corpse contained
therein was that of a person entirely unknown to him. Producing a draft
for $1,700, he so artfully worked upon the sympathy of the man to whom
he had appealed, that the latter handed him the sum of $520—all that he
had with him—and took the worthless paper as security, the sharper
representing that he was journeying to the same point of destination as
was the dupe, and that on their arrival there he would experience no
difficulty in obtaining currency for the draft. On the same day the same
individual victimized another stranger out of $225 by the same device,
pointing out the identical corpse which he had shown to his first
victim. Of course this particular form of this phase of swindling cannot
be perpetrated successfully unless the swindlers are, by chance, favored
by finding a coffin on some departing train.
OVER ISSUE.
This is a comparatively modern variation of the old “saw-dust” swindling
scheme. It is frequently found to be very easy to work, and the returns
are sometimes large. Usually two sharpers act in concert, although
sometimes one plays the game alone.
The victim selected is usually a man greedy for gain, rather “tight-
fisted,” and one who is supposed not to be over scrupulous. Considerable
care is exercised in selecting the person on whom it is to be played. He
is approached by one of the confidence men, who informs him that he has
on hand a large money-making scheme, the probable profit of which will
run up to at least $100,000. The sharper displays plenty of money and
soon succeeds in convincing the prospective dupe that he is a man of
large wealth. The interest of the victim having been awakened, it not
infrequently happens that he invites the confidence operator to be a
guest at his house. Should this occur, the invitation is invariably
declined, the swindler saying that he is paying some $4 or $5 per day
for his board, but that that outlay is entirely immaterial to him,
inasmuch as he has an abundance of cash. After several business
conversations have taken place between the two, and the cupidity of the
victim has been thoroughly aroused, the sharper hands him a bill of some
large denomination, with a request that he go and purchase some cigars.
When he returns with the change, the operator asks him if the bill was
good. Receiving an affirmative reply, he nods his head sagely, and says,
“I thought so.” His next move is to take from his pocket a large roll of
bills, from which he desires the dupe to select one, which he is to take
to the bank in order to get change. On his return, the confidence man,
after pledging him to inviolable secrecy, informs him that he will make
his fortune in a year. He tells him that he has an uncle in the treasury
department at Washington that at the time of the last printing of
treasury notes, there was surreptitiously secured an over-issue of
$5,000,000; that he (the sharper) is the agent for his uncle for the
disposition of $1,000,000 of the sum. He adds that he cannot allow any
single purchaser to take more than $10,000 or less than $3,000, but that
within these limits he will dispose of these bills, printed from genuine
plates and on government fibre paper, at the rate of 50 cents on the
$1.00.
The greenhorn thus sees the way clear to a speedy, even if dishonestly
acquired fortune. When he has bitten at the bait and expresses himself
ready to go on with the transaction, the confidence man takes him to
another town, where the money is to be paid over to him. A common device
then is to go to some hotel, where the money is counted out in the
presence of the sucker and placed in an express envelope, which is
securely sealed. The package is addressed to the victim at the town in
which he resides, and the pair leave for the express office. Of course,
the package which is delivered to the express company is not the one
which the dupe saw sealed up. Another one, precisely similar in size and
appearance, has been substituted without his knowledge. The dupe pays
over his money and the sharper disappears from the scene of action.
When the victim reaches home and obtains his package from the local
agent of the company, he finds upon opening it that it is filled with
blank paper.
I have never known but one instance in which a man thus duped undertook
to make any fuss. Usually, the sharper sends his dupe a letter, calling
his attention to the fact that to attempt to stir up any difficulty will
be simply to expose his own stupidity and dishonesty. This view of the
matter is so eminently logical that the victim submits to his loss
without a murmer.
DROPPING THE PIGEON.
This device of confidence operators is sometimes known as the “pocket
book game.”
One of the ways in which the trick is played may be thus described. A
piece of pasteboard, cut in the form of a Greek cross, is folded over in
such a way that the arms shall cross at the centre. A slit is neatly cut
in the middle square and a small silver coin, perhaps a three or five
cent piece, placed therein. Another coin of the same denomination is
placed on the square itself, underneath the folded arms. The whole is
then tied up with a piece of blue ribbon. When a “mark” has been
selected, one of the two confederates who are to operate the game drops
it on the road or on the sidewalk, as the case may be. The second
confederate, who has managed to scrape an acquaintance with the proposed
victim, comes along, walking in his company. His eye at once rests upon
the peculiar looking package, which he stoops and raises from the
ground. Opening it, the sharper and the dupe examine it together. The
former calls the attention of the latter to the exposed silver coin.
Raising his eyes, he sees his confederate approaching and looking at the
ground as if for something he had lost. He directs the eyes of the
“sucker” toward him and remarks that they will now “have a little fun.”
Taking the coin, he hands it to the dupe, telling him to put it in his
pocket. As soon as his confederate comes near enough, sharper number one
asks him if he has lost anything. The accomplice replies in the
affirmative, saying that it was a keepsake from his mother, which he
valued highly. He describes the package, and says that it contained a
coin of a certain denomination. The first confidence man thereupon
produces the package, but tells him there is no coin inside of it. The
pretended owner professes great surprise, and offers to bet any sum that
a coin of the denomination named is within the bundle. The “sucker,”
thinking that he sees an opportunity to make some money without
incurring any risk, accepts the wager. The money having been put in the
hands of the first confidence man, the confederate opens the package,
raises the concealed slip in the pasteboard, and reveals the hidden
coin. Of course he is at once declared to have won the bet.
Sometimes, instead of a piece of pasteboard prepared as described, a
pocket-book with a secret compartment is employed.
Another form of the “pocket-book game” is to drop a wallet containing a
considerable sum in counterfeit money. This is found by the confidence
man and the “sucker.” The former, having picked it up, exhibits its
contents to the dupe, whose cupidity is at once aroused. His companion
offers to allow him to take the pocket-book and advertise for a reward,
provided that he (the “sucker”) will give him $25. The greenhorn thinks
that this is a very easy way of making money, and having no intention of
advertising the finding of the wallet and being chiefly anxious to get
rid of the only witness of his intended fraud, readily assents. If he
offers to pay the $25 from the bills in the pocket-book, the confidence
man refuses to accept them, alleging as a reason that the man who lost
the money may possibly have made a memorandum of the numbers of the
bills or have some other means of identifying them.
In such cases as these, the victim rarely makes complaint, for the
reason that to do so would be to expose his own avarice, greenness, and
dishonesty.
THE TOBACCO BOX.
This scheme of fraud is sometimes successfully worked; although to
operate it, it is necessary to secure a peculiarly gullible victim. Two
confederates act in unison.
After a dupe has been selected, sharper number one approaches him and
engages him in conversation. He soon produces a wooden tobacco box, the
cover of which swings upon a pivot placed at one end. This he opens and
takes out a chew, at the same time offering the box to the “sucker.” He
then asks the latter if he does not admire his box, which he says was a
present to him from a friend. He then closes the cover and hands it to
the dupe for examination. Inside the box, is a slender wire, which, when
the box is inverted, falls upon a groove in the top and effectually
prevents its being opened. The greenhorn attempts to slide the cover
around, but finds it impossible. The sharper laughs, and tells him that
there is a little trick about the box by means of which he has won
money, drinks and cigars. He then takes it in his hand, secretly unlocks
it, and holding it out toward the dupe, presses on the end and tells him
to try again to open it. Of course, the box being unlocked, the slide
swings easily. The victim believes that the secret of opening lies in
pressing on the end, and is confirmed in this belief by making repeated
trials. At this juncture, upon receiving a preconcerted signal, the
confederate approaches and asks for a chew of tobacco. The first
confidence man hands the box to his partner, who professes to be unable
to open it. “Why,” exclaims sharper number one, “this gentleman can open
it easily enough.” The confederate offers to bet that he cannot. The
money is produced and the stakes placed in the dupe’s hands. The latter
is given the box, and, it being unlocked, opens it without difficulty.
The money is then handed to the owner, and the second sharper remarks
that if the gentleman can open it he can. The box is then locked by its
owner, before he hands it over to his confederate. The latter makes an
attempt to swing the lid, and pretending that he is unable to turn it
(although he well knows the secret of its mechanism), offers to bet
$100, or any sum which it is thought that the dupe may be induced to
wager, that the stranger cannot open it either. The “sucker,” feeling
confident that he has “a sure thing,” accepts the bet, stakes his money,
placing it in the hands of sharper number one, and is given the box,
which has been securely locked. When he attempts to turn the cover by
pressing on the end as before, he finds it absolutely impossible to move
it. Of course, the second confidence man claims the stakes, which are
promptly paid him by his confederate.
“KNIFE.”
This device for swindling is similar, as regards the method of its
operation, to the game of the “tobacco box.”
The fraud is perpetrated in substantially the same way, and the trick
consists of the use of a secret mechanism in each which so effectually
prevents the opening of either of them that the dupe is put at the mercy
of the sharpers.
One of the modes of fleecing a “sucker” by this means (and the same
method is sometimes employed with the “tobacco box”) is to instruct him
in the mode of opening the device in question under any and all
circumstances. After he has thoroughly learned the whole secret of the
contrivance, a confederate opportunely happens along, and after some
conversation, in the course of which the particular device is produced
and discussed, offers to bet that he can open it, at the first trial.
The greenhorn accepts the wager and puts up his money. The second
sharper, who has been posing as an entirely unsophisticated individual,
takes the contrivance in his hands and, knowing the secret through which
it may be worked, opens it without any difficulty, whereupon he claims
and receives the stakes.
“PADLOCK” AND “SAFE.”
In some of its features these devices resemble the “tobacco box” and
“knife.” The mode of working the cheat, however is somewhat different.
Both the “padlock” and “safe” open with a lock, the operation of which
is explained to the proposed dupe. After the latter believes that he
thoroughly understands the entire scheme, and is willing to lend himself
to the perpetration of a fraud upon someone else, a confederate
conveniently appears. A bet is soon arranged between the sharper and the
“sucker,” and the money placed in the hands of the man who has produced
the device and explained its construction to the victim. The greenhorn,
after putting up his money, proceeds to demonstrate how easily he can
open the lock. The fraud consists in the substitution (or ringing in, as
gamblers term it), to a different lock or safe, which is handed to the
dupe instead of the one first shown him, and which he finds himself
utterly unable to open for the exceedingly satisfactory reason that
although the keyhole is there, the contrivance contains no lock
whatever. Having failed to perform what he undertook to do, he is
promptly declared to have lost his wager, and the stakes are handed over
to the confidence man who has laid the wager against him.
I was once engaged in fleecing the unwary by means of one of these
padlocks at Little Rock, Arkansas. Another gambler was using the same
trick at the same place. He had in tow, as an intended victim, a
“manufactured sucker,” a man I had previously instructed in the trick,
and to whom I had given a padlock precisely similar to the one which was
being used by the other confidence man. At the proper moment, the
supposed “sucker” substituted the latter for the one handed him by the
other sharper. As a matter of course, when he undertook to unlock the
one which I had given him, he was able to do so without any difficulty.
My rival in business was undoubtedly immensely surprised, but paid the
greenhorn the amount of his winnings without question. I do not pretend
to say that I was actuated on this occasion by any philanthropic
motives. My act was influenced only by a desire to get the better of a
man who prided himself on being so astute at working confidence games
that no one could impose upon him.
“QUARTER UNDER FOOT.”
This swindling trick can rarely be played except for small sums. It is
usually practiced at saloons, and requires the co-operation of a
confederate. One of them first enters the resort, and, after patronizing
the bar, stands around after the manner of ordinary customers. At the
proper moment, the accomplice enters, feigning drunkenness. He accosts
his confederate—the one who first entered the drinking place—and offers
to throw dice with him to see which of the two shall pay for the liquid
refreshments for all present. Some conversation ensues, in the course of
which the second sharper, after drawing some money from his pocket,
contrives to drop a quarter on the floor. Assuming an air of drunken
braggadocio, he offers to bet that no one in the room can take the
quarter from under his foot, which he places directly upon the coin.
Sharper number one begins to “chaff” him, and the apparently intoxicated
individual, staggering to and fro, moves his foot off of the coin. As he
momentarily turns his head, the confederate lifts the money from the
floor and places it in his own pocket. When his accomplice again turns
around, he tells him that he is exceedingly drunk, but that he will bet
them there is no quarter under his foot at all. The “sucker” meanwhile
stands by, an interested spectator, and an appeal to his greed for money
usually induces him to make a bet with the man whom he believes to be
drunk, on an issue which he considers to be a certainty in his favor.
The money having been placed, the second sharper at once drops the
appearance of intoxication, and drawing off his boot shows a quarter
between his stocking and the inner sole. The terms of the wager having
been that there was no coin “under his foot,” he has technically won,
and the stakes—which are always held by the confederate—are handed over
to him and the pair of scoundrels leave the premises at the earliest
convenient moment.
THE “SHOT GUN.”
This is a trick which can be played only upon individuals who are pretty
nearly destitute of all sense. All that is necessary for its
accomplishment, after such a “mark” has been found, is the co-operation
of two confederates and a single barrel shot-gun. Inside the latter are
placed two separate charges of shot, so arranged that one may be drawn
from the gun without disturbing the load underneath. One of the two
confidence men contrives to form the acquaintance of the proposed dupe,
and after pointing out to him his confederate suggests that they
withdraw the charge from the weapon and then offer to bet the individual
whom he has pointed out that he (the confederate) cannot hit the
victim’s hat at the first fire. The countryman usually falls in with the
suggestion and the wager is soon arranged, the upper charge having been
withdrawn by the confidence man in the presence of his dupe. The latter
hangs up his hat and the confederate takes the gun. Of course, the under
charge still remaining in the barrel, the hat is riddled with shot at
the first fire and the “sucker” discovers that he has been gulled when
it is too late for him to recover his money.
This is not always a safe game to attempt. I myself once came near being
lynched by a crowd who were excited by the vociferous remonstrances of
my dupe. I compromised the affair by returning him his money and buying
him a new hat, after which I was only too happy to depart from the
locality with a whole skin.
“GIVE-AWAY.”
This is a confidence game, the origin of the name of which may be
readily understood by any one who will take the trouble to read the
following explanation of the way in which the trick is operated. It is
always worked by a man driving a horse and buggy, who ordinarily selects
a street corner, where two crowded thoroughfares cross, and who depends
for success upon the co-operation of “cappers,” or confederates. The
operator represents himself as the agent of some fictitious jewelry
manufacturing concern—perhaps the “Milton” Gold Co. He informs his
auditors that it is his intention to present each and all of them with a
gift, his object being to introduce to public notice the wares of the
company whose agent he is. He requests those who wish to receive
presents to take their stand, in line, near the buggy, and not leave the
spot until the gifts shall have been distributed. His first move is to
scatter a handful of small coin—nickles or dimes—among the crowd, which
are, of course, eagerly gathered up and the attention of the spectators
is riveted upon a man who appears to be crazy. He then asks if there is
any one in the crowd who will give him ninety cents for a dollar. Of
course, a confederate promptly offers him that sum, and he thereupon at
once proposes to sell it to any one who will pay him seventy-five cents;
the seventy-five cents he offers to sell for a half a dollar; the fifty
cents for a quarter, and so on. He next produces a quantity of collar-
buttons, which he says are made of “Milton” gold, and worth a dollar
each, but which he is willing to dispose of at twenty-five cents apiece,
in order to introduce his wares. He also wishes customers to remain in
line and hold up their hands with the collar-button exposed, in order
that they may receive the twenty-five cents which he intends to give
each and all of them. When he has a line of sufficient length before
him, he hands to each one, in rotation, as he exhibits his purchase, a
silver quarter, to which he not infrequently adds a dime, with the
request that they will spend the latter sum in drinking his health.
He next produces jewelry to which he attaches a higher value, such as
chains, rings or lockets. His next move is to offer for sale watches at,
say, $15, $20, or $25 each. By this time he has aroused the enthusiasm
of the crowd to a high pitch. They are wondering what is going to be his
next move, and it is by no means difficult to find buyers for all the
watches which the confidence man dares to offer. Each purchaser is
informed that he will receive a liberal rebate, and the money pours in
upon the man in the buggy in a continuous stream. As soon as he has
obtained all that he thinks possible to be gathered in from the crowd
before him, he puts the money in his pocket, whips up his horse, and
drives away, leaving the bewildered spectators to mourn the credulity
which induced them to part with their ready cash.
Sometimes the playing of this game is attended with more or less
personal risk, and I have myself known operators of this description
narrowly to escape lynching.
“FIVE CARDS.”
This is a device of confidence men, which is often successfully worked,
but never for large stakes. Two confederates are necessary to its
successful operation. Five business cards, the character of which is
immaterial, are taken by one of the sharpers, who exhibits them to his
intended victim. The swindler informs his dupe that it is his intention
to “beat” a man whom he points out for the drinks or cigars. The
individual designated is, of course, a confederate of the sharper. The
latter shows the “sucker” the five cards—which always bear different
inscriptions—and making a mark with a pencil on one of them, tells him
that the trick consists in inducing the supposed greenhorn to bet with
the “sucker” that the latter cannot select a certain card, naming the
marked one, from the five cards when shuffled and exposed, backs upward.
The dupe assents to the proposal, and the “capper,” after making this
trifling bet, draws the wrong card, whereupon he liquidates the bills
for refreshments for the crowd. The confederate then offers to wager a
sum of money that the “sucker” cannot again pick out the card in
question. The dupe, not perceiving the snare set for him, accepts the
proffered wager, and the cards are again shuffled. This time, however,
his pretended friend reverses the ends of the cards, exposing a mark
precisely similar to the one which the victim has seen before, but
placed upon another card. The poor fool, influenced by a desire to
obtain an unfair advantage over a man whom he regards as an easy prey,
eagerly points out the card which bears the private mark similar to that
shown him before. Of course he loses, and the stakes are handed over to
the confederate of the original swindler.
I have said that this trick is usually played only for small stakes, but
I have myself won $125 thereby from a single victim at one venture.
“SHELL GAME.”
In some of its salient features this game resembles “three card monte,”
which has been already described. It is essentially a confidence game,
and although very old and already frequently exposed, scores of
confidence men annually reap a rich harvest from the credulity and
cupidity of dupes.
[Illustration: shell game]
The only implements necessary are three hollow shells and a small rubber
ball, about the size of a buckshot. Halves of English walnut shells are
the ones commonly employed, although any hollow hemispheres will answer;
sometimes operators use halves of potatoes scooped out. The simplicity
of the apparatus enables the “shell” man to carry his outfit with him in
his vest pocket wherever he may go, and he is accordingly able to ply
his vocation at any spot where he may be able to gather a crowd.
A “capper” is an indispensable accessory. As soon as the operator has
taken up his position and is ready to commence operations, the
confederate mingles with the crowd. The man with the shells places them
upon some flat surface and produces the ball, which he places first
under one and then another of the three hemispheres. He does this
rapidly, and by alternating the position of the ball is able to confuse
the spectators as to its precise location. The “capper,” after watching
him for a few moments, offers to bet that he can tell under which shell
the ball lies. Of course the wager is accepted, and frequently several
bets are made, the confederate winning and losing indifferently.
The confidence men are well aware that after they shall have victimized
a “sucker,” the fraudulent nature of their maneuvers will be so apparent
that it will be imperatively necessary for them to “move on;” therefore,
the first object which they have in view is to ascertain the individual
in the crowd, who is sufficiently gullible to serve as a dupe, who may
have the largest amount of money in his pocket. To acquire this
knowledge, the operator, after rolling the ball, places one of the
shells over it in such a way that the edge of the latter shall be
slightly raised, thus affording a plain view of the ball underneath. He
then offers to bet any man in the crowd $100 that he cannot tell under
which of the three cups the ball lies. The spectators, each and all,
being able to see precisely where it is, those who have money reach for
their pockets, believing that they will be able to secure an unfair
advantage and bet with certainty. Of course, the “shell” man and the
“capper” are now thoroughly informed as to which of the crowd have
money, which they are willing to wager.
The confederate next approaches the individual whose location is thus
rendered easy and begins to converse with him, at the same time feigning
to be much excited. It is not, however, the intention of either of the
two confederates that any such bet shall be made. Accordingly, the
“capper” calls out to his accomplice that he does not wish to win his
money unfairly, and that one of the shells is propped upon the ball.
Confidence man number one looks down, as though he were glad to have his
attention called to the fact, and taking the ball between his fingers
begins rolling it again. After he has placed it under one of the shells,
he renews his proposition to bet. At this point he makes some excuse for
turning away his head. The “capper” thereupon raises the shell under
which the ball is lying, and shows the latter to the dupe. As the
operator again turns around and faces the crowd, his confederate offers
to bet five or ten dollars that he can designate the location of the
ball. “No,” says the accomplice, “I will not accept so small a bet. I
want to wager fifty or one hundred dollars.” Sometimes even a larger sum
is named, the amount depending upon the estimated size of the victim’s
pocket book and the extent of his credulity. The “capper,” who appears
to be in a state of great excitement, urges the dupe to accept the
offer, and bet on the shell under which he has shown him the ball. At
the same time, he hands him five or ten dollars, with which to complete
the amount of his wager. The “sucker” usually assents, and the money is
placed in the hands of the operator. The dupe then raises the shell
under which he has seen the ball, when lo, it is not there. The reason
is simple. The “capper,” when he raised the shell in question, removed
the ball, which, owing to its small size and to its being hollow and of
soft rubber, he is able easily to conceal between his fingers. Of
course, the victim loses the amount of his stake.
The “capper” then professes great indignation at his stupidity, and
tells him that he raised the wrong shell. To prove the truth of his
words, he raises the one next to it, and exposes a ball, which he (the
confederate) at the same moment dropped from between his fingers. It not
infrequently happens, that the victim is satisfied that he himself made
a mistake, and can be induced to make another venture. I have myself
known the same individual to be so utterly devoid of sense as to lose
money through this device four or five times in succession.
Another method of inducing “suckers” to wager their money at this game
is known among confidence men as the “blow-off.” In this case, the
confederate lifts the shell and removes the ball, at the moment when the
operator averts his eyes. The confederate then offers to bet that the
ball is not under any of the shells, and the greenhorn is induced to lay
a wager by means of the same tactics which have been already described.
Of course, the “shell” man shows a ball underneath one of the
hemispheres and the dupe is declared to have lost. The ball which is
shown, however, is one which either he himself or his confederate placed
there at the moment of raising the cup.
One of the best known “shell men” in the country for many years, was
“Jim” Miner, better known as “Umbrella Jim,” who was fond of introducing
his games by singing the following doggerel:
“A little fun, just now and then
Is relished by the best of men.
If you have nerve, you may have plenty;
Five, draws you ten, and ten, draws twenty.
Attention giv’n, I’ll show to you,
How umbrella hides the peek-a-boo.
Select your shell, the one you choose;
If right, you win, if not, you lose;
The game itself is lots of fun,
Jim’s chances, though, are two to one;
And I tell you your chance is slim
To win a prize from ‘Umbrella Jim.’”
“DOLLAR STORE” OR “DROP CASE.”
This is an old game, but none the less successful because of its
antiquity. Wherever cupidity and ignorance are found together, there
this ancient device takes root and flourishes.
[Illustration: drop case]
The outfit required is a wooden case, holding one hundred or more
envelopes. Most of them contain blank cards, though inside a few are
placed tickets bearing numbers. Near this case stands a show case
containing a glittering array of prizes, including watches, chains,
jewelry, silverware and money. The verdant speculator who is allured by
this dazzling display pays a dollar for an opportunity of acquiring
title to a portion of it.
Having paid his money, he is permitted to draw an envelope from the
case, which he proceeds to examine. If it contains a blank card, of
course he has lost. If it contains a card bearing a number, the
proprietor of the case compares the number with the list and informs the
purchaser whether or not he has drawn a prize. As a matter of course,
there are a few comparatively valueless prizes, the winning of which is
left to mere chance, although a majority of the numbered tickets do not
call for any prize whatever.
The most money making feature of the scheme is worked by the aid of a
“capper,” or confederate. One of these individuals saunters up to the
case at a moment when he sees there a person whom he considers likely to
prove a “soft mark.” The confederate and the intended victim look over
the envelopes together listlessly, and the proprietor invites them each
to draw one “just for fun.” The “capper” opens his envelope, and finding
that he has drawn a blank remarks, “that is just my luck; I never drew a
prize yet, and don’t believe that you have one in your whole outfit.”
The proprietor professes much righteous indignation that his integrity
should be thus assailed, and, to prove his good faith, he says: “I’ll
tell you what I’ll do; I’ll make a special prize of one thousand dollars
out of one of those numbers which you two gentlemen have just drawn and
give you a chance to win it for five hundred dollars.” The “capper”
laughs, and hands him the card which he has drawn, which is usually
numbered “eleven.” The operator replaces it in the envelope and lets
down the back of the show-case, in order to enter a special prize on his
list. As he does so, he slips the envelope containing the ticket marked
“eleven” into a little secret pocket, from which at the same time he
draws another envelope holding a ticket marked “forty-four.” He then
places this envelope, together with the one held by the “sucker,” in the
box, in such a way that the edge of one of them rises a little above the
rest. Both the “capper” and the greenhorn perceive this circumstance and
the latter supposes it to have been the result of accident. The “capper”
then draws the envelope whose corner is raised and the dupe takes the
one next to it. The proprietor asks his confederate to advance his
money. The latter replies that he has not more than fifteen or twenty
dollars with him. “Well,” answers the operator, “put up that amount, and
if you have drawn number eleven, I will pay you an amount equal to your
stake.” The “capper” hands over his money, and on looking in his
envelope finds that he has drawn a blank. Simulating deep chagrin, he
curses his “luck.” The proprietor at this moment conveniently turns his
head, and his confederate, snatching the envelope from the hand of the
dupe, hastily raises the flap, pulls out a small portion of the ticket
within, thus showing the tops of figure forty-four, which leads the
greenhorn to believe that he has drawn the lucky eleven. This, in
gamblers’ parlance, is called “giving a flash.” In ninety-nine cases out
of every hundred, the cupidity of the “sucker” is aroused, and in the
firm confidence that he has a “sure thing,” he pays over all the money
which he has, in the hope of winning a like amount. Until the money has
been paid, he is not permitted to examine his ticket. When, having paid
his cash, with trembling hands he opens the envelope, he discovers that
instead of the magic “eleven” he has drawn “forty-four,” having been
misled by the resemblance between the upper ends of the figures “four”
and “one,” shown him in the momentary glance which the “capper” gave him
of the card. Of course, he is utterly without redress, and has to bear
his loss with such degree of equanimity as he may be able to command.
Strange as it may appear, it is a fact that persons are found who are
fools enough to be caught by this trick three times in succession. It is
from the majority of such “suckers” as these that the proprietors reap a
golden harvest. A man at Council Bluffs stood at the case and bought
ticket after ticket until he had dropped six thousand dollars into the
coffers of the scoundrels who were manipulating the device.
This game is most successfully worked by the aid of “ropers,”—by which
term is meant confederates who allure, or “steer,” victims into the
booth or room in which the trick is being operated. The devices resorted
to by these “steerers” are numerous and ingenious. Sometimes the dupe is
induced to visit the place by means of an offer to sell him a piece of
cloth worth two dollars per yard for forty cents; sometimes he is shown
a sample of choice tea, which he is told he can purchase at a
ridiculously low price. When the greenhorn has been brought in front of
the ticket case with the adjacent array of prizes, it is usually an easy
matter to induce him to speculate. The “ropers” are paid a commission of
forty-five per cent. on all winnings which are made from the men whom
they bring in, and I have myself received commissions for this sort of
work amounting to more than three hundred dollars in a single day.
MINOR CONFIDENCE GAMES.
Among the petty schemes to which professional sharpers have resort is
one known as “betting on weight.” A single illustration, drawn from my
own experience, may serve to show to the unsuspecting reader precisely
the way in which this petty scheme is carried out.
The incident which I am about to relate happened at Hot Springs,
Arkansas, where I had been playing poker—of course on the principles of
the “skin” gamblers—in connection with a partner. We had succeeded in
fleecing a “sucker” out of a considerable sum of money. He was moody
over the loss of his cash, and we believed that he was disposed to be
slightly suspicious. In order to disabuse his mind of any such idea, my
partner accompanied him down the street, condoling with him as to his
losses. My accomplice suggested to him that he might possibly “get even”
with me by venturing a wager on some chance subject. “That man, Quinn,”
he said, “is ready to bet on anything; he would even bet on spitting at
a mark or the weight of a stone,” pointing to a rock which lay in the
street. As though struck by a sudden inspiration, he suggested, “Suppose
we weigh that rock and bet on a certainty. That is the only chance which
we will ever have to get our money back.” The greenhorn assented, and
the weight of the stone was carefully and accurately ascertained. The
next morning, having been fully posted by my confederate, I walked down
the street and met my partner and the dupe in company. After cordially
greeting them, I asked if either of them wished to bet upon any chance
whatever. After some little badinage, the “sucker” offered to bet as to
the weight of the stone which he and my partner had caused to be
carefully weighed the day previous. Of course I assented and the bet was
made. Very much to our surprise the prospective victim had only $87 in
his pocket, but this he cheerfully staked. The stone was weighed and my
guess proved to be the exact weight of the rock. The reason was, that
between the moment when my partner suggested the scheme to the dupe and
the time the stone was weighed, we had caused to be chipped off a
section, whose weight we knew exactly. The greenhorn, on this occasion,
“kicked” violently and insisted upon having the stone reweighed. We
found it convenient to have recourse to the scales of a Junk dealer who
had been previously “fixed” for the occasion and who had officiated as
“weigher” the night before. “Oh,” said the descendent of Abraham, “I
din’d know vat you shentlemen’s means, I had as many as doo scales; von
vat I buy mit and de odder as I sells py. I vays dit mid by separate
times on each scale. Vat were you shentlemen’s want nohow?” This
argument proved conclusive and the “sucker” submitted to the loss of his
$87 without further protest.
THE GRANDMOTHER TRICK.
This is a very simple trick to play, after the operator has acquired the
necessary degree of manual dexterity. Its success depends primarily upon
sleight of hand, and secondarily upon the assistance of a confederate.
In fact, the trick itself is so simple that gamblers who enjoy any
standing in the “profession” rarely resort to it until they find
themselves in a position where money is absolutely indispensable. Under
such circumstances, blacklegs,—even those of a better class—never
hesitate to resort to the grossest and most contemptible species of
fraud. When one of these gentry sees that he has but one “sawbuck”
remaining in his pocket, there is no device too contemptible for him to
employ with a view of replenishing his pocket book.
The method of playing this trick is as follows: Two aces are selected
and shown to the prospective victim. They are then placed together, the
pack cut, and the two cards selected are placed upon the top of one of
the piles. At this moment the confidence man—apparently by chance—turns
his head. It is easy to invent a pretext. A coughing fit, a sneeze, a
slight noise made by a confederate—any one of these, or a score of other
excuses will afford the “capper,” (whose assistance is indispensable) an
opportunity to perform his part of the scheme which will be explained
below. Before the manipulator averts his eyes he says that “if they go
in together they must come out together,” which is a self-evident
proposition. At the moment when he turns his head the confederate raises
one of the aces, and removing a number of cards from the other, turning,
places them upon the remaining ace, puts the ace which he has withdrawn
in the place of those which he has taken from the second pile. The
“sucker” is now thoroughly satisfied that the two aces shown him cannot
possibly “come in” to the pack “together.” The operator again turns
around and picks up the two piles, leaving the one containing the
removed ace upon the top. This latter card he conceals in his hand and
commences to draw from the bottom of the pack, turning each card drawn
face upward. Of course he knows the card lying directly next to the ace,
which is in the middle of the pack. As soon as he sees this he is aware
that the next card exposed will be that particular ace. He then repeats
the remark, “if they go in together they must come out together,” and
offers to bet that the card following this ace, which he shows, is its
companion. Naturally, the greenhorn is firmly persuaded that this is
impossible, and bets are made as to the happening of this contingency.
Usually, the “capper” is exceedingly anxious to bet some trifling wager,
perhaps the drinks or cigars. The sharper permits him to win and the
same process is again repeated. This time the victim is induced to bet,
the stakes being made considerably larger. When the bottom of the pack
from which the confidence man has dealt is exposed, it is seen that the
lower card is the other ace, the sharper having adroitly passed it from
his hand to the bottom of the pack.
While this game is not well adapted to winning large sums, it is a very
common thing for men operating it to take $10 or $20 from a dupe, and I
have even known as much as $50 to be won through its manipulation.
A brace of blacklegs in San Francisco once swindled an innocent player
out of what was to him a considerable sum of money through this means.
The victim caused the arrest of the pair, and it is said that when they
were brought before the magistrate for trial the court asked them to
explain the manner in which the trick had been done, the sharpers having
already pleaded guilty. One of them performed the trick for the
edification of the court, after which the judge, turning to one of the
swindlers, said: “Well, sir, I will give you one year;” and then,
turning to the other, added: “I will give you six months. You may go in
together, but I’ll show you that you won’t come out together.”
THE “SOAP GAME.”
This is a trick of confidence operators which often proves exceedingly
successful in extracting money from the pockets of men who consider
themselves fairly well versed in the knowledge of the world. The outfit
is very simple, and by no means expensive. A number of small cakes of
soap of no particular value are procured, or sometimes soap is bought in
bars, which are cut into pieces of the desired size. A quantity of cheap
pasteboard boxes, each having a drawer somewhat larger than is the piece
of soap which it is to contain, are procured and soap placed inside of
them. In order to work the game, a room—usually one opening off the
street—is rented. The “soap man” takes his position on a raised
platform, and when a crowd has gathered to see what is going on he takes
out a cake of cleansing soap, _i.e._, a preparation for removing grease
and similar substances from cloth. He proceeds to expatiate upon its
merits, illustrating his remarks by experimental demonstration. If he is
a good talker, and intersperses his remarks with a few interesting
anecdotes, he succeeds in attracting and keeping the interest of his
audience. When he has proceeded far enough in his remarks he informs his
listeners that the manufacturers of this wonderful preparation are
seeking to introduce it in a somewhat novel way; that they propose to
place a given amount of currency in a certain number of boxes together
with a cake of soap in each. These boxes, he says, will be thoroughly
mixed and every purchaser will be allowed to select any three boxes (the
price of which will be $1.00) from the entire number offered. To prove
his sincerity and truthfulness he draws from his pocket several bills,
of denominations ranging from $1.00 to $20.00, and announces that he
will place them inside the boxes in the presence of the crowd. He takes
the bills in his hand, one at a time, folds them up carefully, and
apparently inserts them in the boxes. Each box, after the bank note has
been placed in it, is dropped into a large leather sachel. When he has
disposed of all the bills, he takes the sachel in both hands and shakes
it, with a view to thoroughly mixing the boxes. He then opens it and
offers to allow anyone present to select three boxes on the payment of
one dollar. It is the easiest thing in the world to sell the soap, but
no legitimate purchaser ever succeeds in obtaining more than a single
dollar bill. The reason is that the vendor adroitly “palms” off the
bills of larger denominations, substituting therefor dollar bills which
he has previously rolled up and which he holds in his hand at the time
that he apparently inserts the large bills into the boxes in the
presence of the spectators. In other words, when the boxes have been
dropped into the sachel and mixed none of them contain a note of a
larger denomination than one dollar, the confidence man having still in
his possession all of the large bills. When it is remembered that not
more than one box in ten contains any money whatever, the chances of
drawing a prize are readily seen to be exceedingly small. The buyers,
however, believe that they have seen the large bills placed in the boxes
before their eyes, and part with their money very readily. It may be
easily seen that “cappers” are almost indispensable in this as in so
many other confidence games. It is not necessary that any signal should
pass between the confederates. The “capper” usually places his three
boxes in his pocket as soon as he has purchased them. Some one in the
crowd is always certain to ask him to open them. At first he objects,
but finally yields to persuasion. He takes out three boxes from his
pocket and one of them is always found to contain a large bill. The
explanation of his apparent good luck is very simple. When he puts the
three boxes in his pocket he had there another one, precisely similar in
size and appearance, containing the bank note which he exhibits to the
crowd. When he drew three boxes from his pocket, he took the one which
he previously placed there together with two of those which he had taken
from the bag.
THE FOOT RACE.
This is a confidence game which is one of the most direct outrages ever
perpetrated upon an unsuspecting dupe. And yet, like most similar
tricks, it can be successfully worked only when the proposed victim is
ready to sacrifice his own integrity to his avarice.
Two foot racers act in concert with a third man, who personates the
“backer” of one of them. The first racer gains the confidence of the man
to be swindled, who must necessarily possess some means. He convinces
him by actual ocular demonstration that he is a speedy runner, and one
on whom it is safe to lay a wager. This done, confidence man number two
makes his appearance, attired very much after the fashion of a tramp. He
says that he is anxious to find some one with whom to run a race for
money. Naturally, his appearance not being such as to inspire any faith
in his ability as a pedestrian, a match is soon arranged with the fleet-
footed runner. The newcomer puts up all the money which he has—perhaps
some $30 or $40—together with his watch, and the race is run. The tramp
is beaten “out of sight.” The latter, apparently considerably chagrined,
says that he is glad that his “uncle” (or some other friend, whom he
named), was not there, inasmuch as he would have wagered $20,000 upon
him. He adds that the mysterious “uncle,” or friend, has a “barrel of
money,” and would have been willing to have staked it all upon his
success.
The winner of the race thereupon proposes that he bring his “uncle”
there, and that another race be arranged, and it will be an easy thing
to “beat” his friend out of a large sum of money, which may be divided
between the pair. Of course, as the reader has probably already
understood, the two racers are confederates. The proposed victim—the man
who has been backing the first racer—falls in with the suggestion and
urges the mysterious tramp to induce his friend to come. The second
sharper, however, professes great reluctance to defraud his “uncle,” and
says that he will go to the latter’s farm and go to work. His
confederate and the dupe accompany him to the train, the former
constantly urging him to consent to the proposed scheme. At the last
moment, the simulated virtue of sharper number two vanishes, and he says
that he will induce his “uncle” to come down and lay a wager upon his
success, provided that his connection with the scheme shall be kept
forever a secret.
In due time the tramp returns, accompanied by an individual to personate
the moneyed man who is to put up the necessary stakes. Arrangements are
made for the race, the bets are made, and at the termination of the
contest it is discovered, much to the surprise of the victim who has
been backing the winner of the first race that the tramp, who was on
that occasion so easily defeated, has won without difficulty. The stakes
are paid over to the winners, and the party of scoundrels at once take
their departure.
Sometimes the swindlers find it necessary to place a long distance
between themselves and their victims. The latter are tolerably certain
to discover, without much reflection, the manner in which they have been
defrauded, and they are apt to follow up the gang in company with
officers of the law. I have known cases where confidence men who have
successfully worked this scheme, have been compelled to disgorge the
lion’s share of their ill-gotten gains.
“FLIM-FLAM.”
This is another of those bare-faced schemes of fraud which are daily
perpetrated upon an unsuspecting public. The method of operation is
extremely simple, and it may be that some of the readers of this volume
may be able to discover, from the description here given, the manner in
which a gross imposition has been practised upon them. The “flim-flam”
operator appeals, not to the avarice but to the good nature of his
victim.
The favorite localities for playing the trick are fairs, circuses and
railroad trains, and—as in the case of a large number of confidence
games—large sums are sometimes paid for the “privilege.” The innocent
looking news agent or peanut boy is often an adept at practicing this
sort of fraud. The accommodating individual whom you see outside of a
circus tent, carrying a small valise, from which he produces tickets
which he offers for sale is apt to be a “flim-flam” sharper, who pays a
percentage of his gains to the proprietors in consideration of being
allowed to carry on his practices with immunity.
The game is always worked in substantially the same way. To begin with,
the train boy, after selecting his victim, (otherwise termed “mark,”) he
approaches him with an offer to sell something—perhaps a book, perhaps
candy, possibly fruit. It is of comparatively little consequence whether
he buys or not. The next move of the sharper is to ask the proposed dupe
to give him a bill of large denomination for several small ones, which
he produces. Sometimes he introduces a quantity of small change. After
counting the money into the stranger’s hands, the swindler begs him to
count it back to him, in order that he may see that it is right. This
done, the scoundrel “palms” one of the bills or pieces of money, _i.e._,
secretes it in the palm of his hand, and turns over the cash (apparently
intact) to the “sucker,” who, nine times out of ten, puts it into his
pocket without looking at it. Men on circus grounds operate in the same
way, though generally for larger amounts. Sometimes a bill is folded in
the middle, so that each end may count for a separate note of the same
value.
[Illustration: METHOD OF WORKING THE FLIM-FLAM SWINDLE.]