without one for a day. But comment is unnecessary, as anyone
understanding second dealing will see in an instant its value, the
moment the subject is brought to his mind.
SKELETON BOXES.
German Silver. A sure thing for dealer to win every time at Red and
Black, or Red, White and Blue.
ROULETTE WHEELS.
Faked Roulette Wheels that can be made to come Red or Black, or High
or Low Number, just as the dealer desires, a sure thing every time.
MARKED BACK PLAYING CARDS.
Square Corners, per pack, by mail, postpaid $ 1 00
” ” 6 packs 5 00
” ” 12 ” 9 00
Round ” per pack 1 25
” ” 6 packs 6 50
” ” 12 ” 12 00
FARO TOOLS.
Hart’s Faro Dealing Cards, unsquared, per doz. $15 00
Also, the same in any form, “Rounds and 2 25
Straights,” “End Rounds” or “Wedges,” per pack
Same, per dozen, by express 25 00
Two Card Dealing Boxes, top sight tell, top $50 00, $75 00
balance, improved Lever or End Squeeze
Back Up Second Card Box for Red and Black, Gaff $30 00, $35 00, 40
and Pull Back, 00
Dealing boxes of every description made to order and repaired. Top
balance, End Squeeze and Lever constantly on hand.
Card Punches, best 2 00 3 00
Glass paper, better than sand, per doz. sheets 1 00
ROULETTE, RONDO AND BALL GAMES.
Roulette Wheels, finest in the world $500 00
” ” Spreads, cloth, double, 13.6×5 ft 70 00
High Ball Poker Balls, round, each 20
” ” ” Bottle, used with rubber cord, without 10 00
balls
POOL AND SPINDLE GAMES.
Mutual Pool Machines $150 00
and
$200 00
Rolling Faro, 28 Aces and 4 Horses (with fake) 60 00
” ” 28 Cards and 4 Jacks (with fake) 60 00
” ” on cloth, with Spindle 20 00
Wheels of Fortune, 36 inch, 8 colors, 16 spaces, with Nickel 10 00
Plated Spindle and Socket
Wheels of Fortune, 36 inch, 8 colors, 16 spaces, with wooden 8 00
Spindle
DICE GAMES.
Bunko Chart, “Special Drawing,” without tickets $5 00
Bunko Tickets, per set of 56 2 00
Ivory Dice, for top and bottom, 3 fair with 1 00
Ringer
” ” double, 3 high, 3 low, 3 fair 2 00
” ” loaded, ” ” ” 5 00
Loaded Ivory Dice (Chinese make), beats 10 00
everything, $2.00 each; per set of 9, 3
high, 3 low and 3 fair to match
Ivory Dice Tops, to throw high or low 2 50
Rolling Dice, or Log, for high or low 5 00
Dice Cups, harness leather, best in use 50c., 75c., 1 50
SHORT GAMES.
Monte Tickets, or Broads, per doz., by express $ 5 00
Patent Knives, with lock, new pattern 5 00
Patent Safes, with two openings, ivory 5 00
Shiner, for reading cards dealt opponents 60
” ” ” ” ” in 1 00
half dollars
Vest Hold Out, with late improvements 10 00
Table Hold Out, something new, worked with knee 10 00
The “Bug,” for holding out an extra card 1 00
Crayon Pencils, case of 12 colors 1 00
KENO SETS.
Spring Peg Board for 200 pegs $20 00
Pool Globes, Polished Walnut, Keno Nozzle 6 00
Large Sized Leather Bottle, Patent Nozzle 10 00
With 90 Numbered Ivory Balls 30 00
THE SKELETON CARD TRIMMER.
Or new style Stripper Plates for cutting strippers. We now offer our
new style stripper plates with several new improvements attached. They
can be used either with knife or shears and can be set to trim coarse
or fine as desired, with movable guage to cut at any angle, best steel
plates with brass screw and guages with pin socket and hinge plates.
CRAP DICE.
In reference to dice, loaded dice come in sets of “9”—dice, viz.: 3
High, 3 Low and 3 Fair to match. But loaded dice, generally speaking,
are not strong enough for craps, as it is impossible to load dice so
as to make them come up any particular number every time; the best
that can possibly be done is to make them come up about every other
time on an average. They are generally used to beat Sweat or to throw
High or Low, or to bet on averages, or in various other ways, too
numerous to mention, to get the money.
The best way to fix dice for craps is to have one dice with 2 aces, 2
fives and 2 sixes on, and one with 2 threes, 2 fours and 2 fives on.
With this pair of dice it is _impossible_ to throw 7, and there is
only _one possible chance_ to throw eleven. But, if you want dice to
throw 7 or 11 sure, the only way we know of is to have one pair thus:
one dice with all sixes and one with all fives on to throw eleven; and
one with all fours and one with all threes on to throw seven; or, one
with all fives, one with all deuces on to throw seven.
NOTICE TO BILLIARD AND POOL PLAYERS AND DICE THROWERS—HIGH BALL POKER.
A NEW GAME.—This is something just out, and for your business the best
thing in the country, a dead sure thing always, no mistakes made with
this. You have always got them, and can throw a high or low ball SURE
EVERY TIME. This sounds like an advertisement, but I will guarantee
every word of the above or will willingly refund the money; that you
can control the balls is certain, and that is all you want to win the
money betting on the balls as they come out of the bottle. It beats
all dice throwing to death. Let all dice throwers who make dice their
specialty take notice it will win Dollars where dice wins Pennies. Any
man can get a game with it in a Billiard Saloon, and to get a game is
to get all the money there is in the house. In his travels with one of
these he can win a Million. The game is called High Ball Poker, and is
simply this: 2 or 20 players put up their ante the same as in draw
poker at cards, then each player draws one ball; he looks at it and
bets whatever he likes if his ball is a high number, or if it is small
he passes the same as with a good or bad hand at poker. The next man
can raise him, and so on; if all pass he takes the pool, or if anyone
calls him they then draw one ball more, or two balls as agreed upon
and bet again. If the hand is called they show down and the highest
hand takes the money; if there is no call the one that made the last
raise takes the pool, the same as in draw poker without showing his
hand. This is to save him from showing too many good hands, as he may
stand in with the dealer; but whether he does or not it is a regular
House game for the dealer, as he takes a check out for the house every
time a hand that counts over a certain number regulated by himself as
a percentage to pay room and other expenses, the same as any club
room. He also takes out one check every time the pool is passed out
three times in succession, the same as JACK POTS. With Faked Bottle
and Balls the dealer can get all the money in the game anyhow. If he
dont stand in with anybody he can make one player win this time and
give him two big balls, high enough to count the percentage and take
out one check, next time give another player two balls high enough to
count the percentage and take out another check, and so on all night;
and when the game closes he will have most of the checks in the box or
kitty. Or he could play himself and win four or five of the big pools
during the night and lose twenty small pools to square himself—do it
gracefully and with some judgment and win $15 or $20 and make it
appear he has lost. It can be introduced into club rooms, and made to
take the place of draw poker with cards. It is attractive and
fascinating, and played the same as draw, and the novice would rather
play it, as he knows there will be no shuffling up on him, no monkey
work with the cards, and he has as good a chance as the gambler and
won’t be afraid to play alongside of him any more than he would at
faro bank. That is all there is to the game, but there is a dozen
other ways to win with it besides High Ball Poker, viz.: by betting on
averages as with dice or raffling for a watch, etc., or betting that
you can beat another man’s throw or that he can beat your throw, and
other things too numerous to mention. It is a good thing and anyone
who wants to win big money is foolish if he don’t have one. Anyone can
use it to perfection in one minute as good as he can in ten years
(there is no practice or skill required), as soon as he is shown where
the Fake is, which is fully explained in the directions and you can’t
help understanding it as soon as you touch the Fake; and nobody can
tell when you work it, even if they know all about it, any more than
they can with a Pull Back Box. Price with full directions;
Faked Bottle and 25 Ivory Balls, Round face $15 00
Faked Bottles, each 10 00
THE BUG.
This is an entirely new invention, for the purpose of “holding out”
any number of cards, _and it will do it_! It is very simple in its
construction, easy to operate, and any person who knows that two and
two are four can use it. It can be carried in the vest pocket all the
time, is always ready for use, and not liable to get out of order, but
should it do so any watchmaker can put it in order for a trifle, as
the whole expense of manufacture is only about fifty cents. “Then why
ask $3.00 for it?” you may say. For this reason—That one is all you
will ever want to buy, as they do not wear out like cards. Also, after
seeing it you can get one made as well as I can, and make them for
your friends and sell them to all the sporting men in your vicinity,
thereby injuring my trade and I get nothing for my invention; and you
will wonder that the thing was never thought of before. With it you
can “hold out” one or twenty cards, shift and make up your hand to
suit, and your hands and person are at perfect liberty all the time.
Your opponent may look in your lap and up your sleeve, but there is
nothing to be seen! After having used it once you would not be without
it for _any_ price, as, like all good inventions, its simplicity is a
great point in its favor, and any sporting man who has ever seen or
knows its value, would not hesitate to pay $10.00 for one if he could
not get it for less; and then he would be doing a wise thing and
getting more than the value of his money at that. This valuable little
tool will be sent, free by mail, with full and complete directions for
using it.
THE SPY.
This simple and valuable little Advantage Tool, with which you can
read each card as it leaves the pack, has now reached _Perfection_, as
far as we are concerned, as we have steadily improved upon it until we
can improve no further.
_The Reflector_, which is convex, is imported direct from France, and
is made _specially_ for this purpose. It can be used in perfect safety
either in the table or on the knee, and should the suspicion of any of
the players be aroused it can be removed in an instant; your hand
completely covers it, as it is only the size of a silver half dollar,
and you can hold a half dozen of them without their being seen; you
are at perfect liberty with your hands all the time, and if you wish
you can be using the _Bug_ or _Strippers_, or any other advantage
implement with your hands at the same time, without interfering with
the _spy_ in the least, but anything else would be unnecessary, as the
_spy_ is to the ordinary player advantage enough in itself.
STRIPPERS.
The benefit of these cards can be estimated only in one way, and that
is: How much money has your opponent got? For you are certain to get
it, whether it is $10 or $10,000; the heavier the stakes the sooner
you will break him, and he never knows what hurt him.
For Poker they are a sure thing, for what could be better than to hold
the _best hand_, which you certainly can do with these cards; or, for
playing Seven Up, what better thing would you want than to have your
opponent deal you three aces every time he deals, with a chance of the
fourth; or in playing Euchre to force your opponent to give you or
your partner three bowers every time he deals, in spite of himself.
These cards will do it.
In sending for Strippers be sure and state what game you wish to play
with them, so that I can send you cards especially adapted for that
game.
ONE OF THE LATEST—THE RED, WHITE AND BLUE GAME.
This is a new game, and one of the latest out; it is a sure thing for
the dealer. With it you can make any player lose or win the Pool 100
times in succession if you like. It is so finely guaged that it cannot
be detected, and any professional gambler can watch you as much as he
likes. It will be useless, he cannot see anything. You could play all
day with it and never know there was anything wrong with it, or be
able to cheat with it, unless it was shown to you or explained with
the directions that go with it, and yet it is as easy as tossing up a
cent, head or tail, and _anyone_—a child ten years old—can work it as
true and as easy as a professional gambler. No false movements to
create suspicion, everything looks natural and fair and above board,
and anybody will play the game, as it is very interesting and nobody
but the dealer can tell whether it is square or not. Even another
dealer that knows all about it could not tell by looking at you
whether you were dealing square or not, but of course he would know
enough not to play against you, as you have the power all in your own
hands and of course would make him lose. It is a new game, and very
few of the gamblers have got hold of it yet. It is a very fancy
affair, finely polished box, handsome layout and 16 best ivory balls,
all numbered regular, etc. Anyone can make money with it, and one
night’s play will win twice the amount it cost, or in one month’s
steady play anyone could win $1,000 with it. And after you had won all
the money there was to be got you could show and explain it to any fly
man, and if he did not know where to get one, you could sell it to him
for three times the money it cost you, and he would be glad to get it.
It is a good thing for anyone that wants to win. Full and explicit
instructions for working sent with the outfit.
MARKED BACK BARCELONA MONTE CARDS.
The want of this article has long been felt by the sporting men on the
Pacific Coast and South and Western States and Territories. But of the
thousands of gamblers who could win barrels of money with them, none
have been willing to pay the price for them or the first cost of
getting up plates, engraving, printing, etc. Therefore none have been
made for the past fifteen years; and anyone that deals the game or
plays it, or knows anything about the game, will see at once the value
of a pack of cards with which they tap a game for all it is worth, in
a minute, and anyone that will not pay for the privilege of a sure
thing to break a Monte game had better go to work on the railroad, for
he can make more money there than he can gambling. Or any _Great
American Smart Dealer_ that will not pay to protect his game from
being broke, had better go with the other man on the railroad, as he
is not qualified to deal his or anybody else’s money away, for with
these cards the dealer can always tell exactly where three or four
cards lay in the pack all the time, and act accordingly, and such a
percentage with the dealer is worth half a dozen packs of cards each
deal. Some gamblers seem to forget, or never to have known, that there
is only one way to gamble successfully, and that is to _get Tools to
gamble with_.
TO POKER AND SHORT CARD PLAYERS—VEST HOLD OUT.
[NOTE.—This is a verbatim copy of the manufacturer’s circular.]
GENTS: I am now prepared to furnish you with the latest improved Vest
Holdout, which for simplicity finish and Durability is _Par
Excellence_. It will not break or get out of order, anybody can use
it, it works smooth and noiseless and is as perfect as it can be made
after many years of careful study. It does away entirely with the old
fashioned and clumsy Breast Plate, it is now an article of merit and
Value received for the money 10 times over, anybody can use it
successfully with very little practice without fear of Detection for
months in any game where it has not been previously exposed. Like all
modern improvements its simplicity is greatly in its favor, it is
strong and serviceable, no springs to Rust or Break or weaken and get
out of order, in fact it is _the_ Modern Holdout and if the man will
do his work the machine will do its work. N. B. do not confound my
Vest Holdout with the _Sleeve_ machine as I don’t make or sell the
Sleeve machines any more they are a failure and not practical, I have
seen all the different kinds that have been made for years, and I will
give _One Hundred Dollars_ to anyone that will bring me a Sleeve
machine that can be worked effectually without Detection this offer
stands good for one year, _and is open to all Gamblers_. The only
Holdout I now make is the Vest Holdout which I occasionally use myself
as opportunity offers, and I know it is practical and with an ordinary
amount of caution it can be used in 8 out of 10 of all the Gamblers
Games in the country, any old Poker player knows that if he can win 5
or 6 of the Big Pools during the night and play on his judgement or on
the square during the remainder of the night and hold his own he is
bound to get all the money in time. This is the proper way to use the
Vest Holdout and if used on this principle any ordinary Poker player
with a moderate amount of discretion can use it month after month in 9
out of every 10 Poker Games in the country, it is a fine Invention and
any one that plays cards for a living need it more than they do snide
Jewelry or Flashy Clothes with holes in their pockets instead of
Dollars. There is but _one_ way to gamble successfully and that is to
_get Tools to work with and have the best of every Game you get into_.
THE LATEST AND BEST ATTRACTION OUT—NEW STOP WHEEL.
The attention of all outside men, and of all who make it their
business to work the fairs, races, bathing places, picnics, watering
places, excursions, etc., is called to this wheel. It is invaluable,
and is undoubtedly the cheapest and most attractive wheel made in this
country for the money. It is a _sure thing_, and can be completely
controlled by the dealer so as to defy detection, who can make it stop
at any point desired. You can let the players spin it if they wish; it
makes no difference, you can control it all the same. It is very
simple, and anybody can work it to perfection with the instructions
that are sent with each wheel. It is about two feet in size, and the
whole weight does not exceed eight pounds. The whole apparatus can be
carried with ease by one man; picked up in a second and moved to
another place, and set down and started again without a minute’s
delay. I have no hesitation whatever in saying that any man with as
much sense as a monkey, with one of these wheels at any fair or race
track, or any place where a large crowd is assembled, _must_ get a
game, and to get a game is a sure thing to get the money.
----------
GAMBLING AT NEWPORT.
There is only one gambling house in Newport. It maintains a genteel
monopoly of all business in this place. It is an old-fashioned looking
building far back in the shadow of its grounds and garden, looking quite
as respectable in its sombre age as the most respected of Newport
villas. I do not think many of the residents are aware of its existence.
Of course the diplomats and American swells have discovered its
locality, but they are pledged to the secrecy of its interior as
securely as the front door. It is very difficult to get in during
business hours, and the little slide shutter is carefully opened before
the latchet of the front door is raised. No one knows how much money is
lost or won in this select quarter. Its mysteries are equal in their
methods of secrecy almost to the system of Nihilism in Russia. The man
who is the “responsible party” in the concern is a Mr. Abel. If he had
been called Cain he would probably have been a Sunday school
superintendent, such is the irony of fate. I think that if these summer
resorts must actually have a gambling house, it would be advisable to
use the exclusive methods that control this Newport establishment.
Of course, this statement does not include gambling at the great
caravansaries and in private cottages. As to gaming of this
character—which is essentially and necessarily private—it is impossible
to do more than guess at its extent. Rumor has it that stakes running up
into the tens of thousands are nightly lost and won, and that more than
one member of the mythical “400” has found it necessary to abridge his
stay at this famous watering place in consequence of losses at poker.
These private games, however, are played among gentlemen, and
“professionals” are strictly excluded. Yet the inherently corrupting
influence inseparable from gambling is always present; nor should it be
forgotten that a pill is none the less efficacious as a medicament
because it is sugar-coated.
GAMBLING IN SAN FRANCISCO.
Gambling has existed to a greater or less extent on the peninsula on
which stands the present great city of San Francisco, ever since the
Spaniards first settled there. In the ’30’s and early ’40’s, whalers and
trading vessels made the bay of San Francisco one of their regular
stopping places, and when in port the captains of these vessels and the
Alcalde of the place—then called Yerba Bueno—had many “hot rubs” at
“monte.” It was not, however, until the great influx of gold seekers in
1848-49, that gambling obtained any marked prominence. But with the
stream of gold that soon began pouring into the young metropolis of the
West, there sprang up, as if by magic, games of chance of every
description, which were kept running night and day.
These gaming houses were conducted on the main floors of the most
pretentious houses in the infant city, and were really palaces in their
way. A description of one will serve for a description of all, so we
will glance into the “El Dorado,” located at the southeast corner of
Washington and Kearney Streets, on the spot where afterwards stood the
old “Jenny Lind Theatre,” which was eventually sold to the city and used
as a City Hall, and now serves as the City Receiving Hospital. In its
early days, it was a large square room, the walls of which were covered
with costly paintings; at the farther end was a raised platform, on
which was an excellent orchestrion; in one corner stood the bar, behind
the cut glass bottles on which were arranged costly plate-glass mirrors.
A side board, loaded down with choice viands, occupied a prominent
place, while scattered through the room were tables, on which were kept
running every known game of chance. Faro was the principal game,
although the “monte,” “roulette” and “chuck-a-luck” tables were always
well patronized.
Speculation in those days ran riot, and everybody gambled. The miners,
after making a successful “clean up,” would go “down to the bay” to have
a little recreation, or, perhaps, to send their earnings to dear ones in
the far off States. But a visit to one of the gaming houses, which was
generally the first place called upon, together with a free indulgence
in liquor, usually resulted in the miner’s seeking some friend who might
“stake” him with enough money to enable him to get back to the mines,
and the wives and children in the East were compelled to wait until more
dust could be gathered. Merchants, after they had closed their stores,
would risk their day’s profits, which often amounted to thousands of
dollars, on the turn of a single card, and if they lost, would go to
their homes, hoping for better luck the next day. Mechanics, artisans,
laborers, tradesmen, all risked their wages in the games, and won or
lost with equal indifference.
The quantity of coin in circulation was very limited, while greenbacks
were unheard of at that time. Gold dust and nuggets formed the principal
medium of circulation, and nobody was over particular about giving or
receiving the exact weight. An ounce, (Troy weight), was worth $20, and
all payments were based on that scale. Shop keepers took their pay in
dust, and laborers received their weekly wages in ounces. Each table in
the gambling houses had its tiny scales for weighing gold, and the
players, no matter what their condition was, were sure of receiving
their just dues.
All the big games were “square,” and woe betide the sharper who
attempted his tricks on anybody and was caught at it. If not killed, he
was run out of town, nor did he dare soon to return. Occasionally a
“sure thing” gambler would start a house, but as soon as suspicion was
aroused that he was not running a “square” game, his tables were
deserted and he was soon starved out.
Besides the “El Dorado,” the “Bella Union,” on the north west corner of
Washington and Kearney, the Union, on Merchant and Kearney streets, the
“Parker House,” “Meade House” and “Bill” Brigg’s place, on Montgomery
street, near Pine, were some of the largest gambling houses that were
running in 1849-50. In the latter year these were nearly all destroyed
by fire, but were immediately rebuilt, and the number increased by the
erection of several other places. During the early 50’s the “Mazourka,”
“Arcade,” “Varsouvienne,” “Fontine” and “Meade” Houses were in full
operation and doing a thriving business.
FARO.
Among the ranks of the old-time San Francisco faro dealers, death has
wrought sad havoc and but few are left of the men whose tables were
nightly piled with tens of thousands of dollars worth of yellow dust.
Of the living gamblers, perhaps the best known man is “Ed.” Moses, who
may be seen around the Occidental and Palace Hotels every day. His
short, thin figure is bent with age, while the eyes that have so often
in the past watched the sliding of the cards from the little tin box,
are dimmed and sunken. The hands that years ago handled those same cards
with marvelous grace and dexterity are swollen to enormous size with
rheumatism. Mr. Moses enjoys the distinction of playing the heaviest
game of faro on record. It was one day, years ago, that he dropped into
one of the gambling resorts—not his own—no limit was placed on the
betting in those days, but the dealer soon became frightened at the size
of Moses’ bets. His signature was good for any amount under $1,000,000
for if he did not have money himself, he could easily raise it. The play
grew stronger and stronger; everybody else dropped out of the game and
left Moses a clean field. At first, luck was with him and he won
heavily, but the fickle goddess soon deserted him. With his losses, his
bets increased until at last he drew an I. O. U. for $60,000 and played
it straight on a single card. It lost, and “Ed.” Moses sauntered up to
the bar and asked all hands to drink, $200,000 poorer than when he
entered the room an hour before. Moses has long since ceased gambling
and is now living quietly on a snug little income. His fortune is not
great, but large enough to grant him every luxury he desires.
Another old timer and a boon companion of Moses, is Colonel “Jack”
Gamble. Col. Jack’s principal occupation is drinking the mellowest
“bourbon” to be had and longing for the days of the Argonauts. “Bill”
Briggs, who was well known throughout the country for his charitable
deeds, died a few months ago. He was the last of the old timers to
abandon faro in San Francisco. “Tom” Maguire, of theatrical fame, also
kept a gambling palace in ’49-’50. Thomas J. A. Chambers kept the old
“El Dorado.” “Put” Robinson, another dealer, is lying on his death bed
at the present writing. “Bill” Barnes, Mellus, White and J. B. Massey
are names well known to old Californians. These men looked upon gambling
as being as honorable as store-keeping. They were all men of honor and
in the turbulent times of the old vigilantes were arraigned on the side
of law and order.
Other men who followed gambling for an occupation were Judge McGowan, S.
M. Whipple, of Sacramento river steamboat fame, and Tim McCarthy,
afterwards State Senator from San Francisco. They were all welcome
visitors among the best families in town and were a power in the
political affairs of the then territory and even after California had
been admitted into the Union.
Their generosity was limitless, as a single illustration will show.
Briggs used to leave his rooms about four o’clock in the morning, but
first, he would gather up all the small change that had been taken in,
i. e., quarters and a few dimes, for half dollar pieces were about the
smallest coins in general circulation. He would fill his pockets with
them and go down to the vegetable market, where the gamins assembled
every morning to gather up the refuse to feed their goats and cows.
Briggs would stand on the sidewalk, pitch a handful of coins into the
street and laugh until his sides ached to see the little fellows
scramble for them. He would repeat the operation until the last coin had
been gathered in. In this way he would throw away from twenty-five to
fifty dollars each morning; but he knew it went to families who had
recently arrived and who found the money a most welcome aid to their
support. Similar stories—and true ones, too—might be told of many of the
men above named. Men used to take their children into the gambling
houses of an evening to see the sights and listen to the excellent
music; and not infrequently highly cultivated and respected ladies
visited these places, as they do the salons at Baden-Baden.
After a time it became the rage to have female game-keepers, and many of
the houses had at least one beautiful siren to aid in bringing men to
their ruin.
The first woman to engage in this sort of employment in San Francisco,
was Mme. Simon Jules, who made her appearance one night at a roulette
table in the “Bella Union.” She was a pleasant-faced woman, of medium
height, with large black eyes and hair as dark as the plumage of a
raven. The place, as usual, was crowded, and Mme. Jules’ table proved
the center of attraction and did an enormous business. She spoke English
imperfectly and accompanied each remark with the expressive shrug of the
shoulders peculiar to her nature. The _Alta_, the only newspaper of the
day, criticised her severely, but this only advertised her, and it was
not long before other houses followed the lead of the “Bella Union.”
In the winter of 1854-’55 the legislature passed the first anti-gambling
law, making gambling a State prison offense. Up to that time all games
had been regularly licensed. The legislation had the effect of closing
some of the smaller houses, and making the remainder a little less
public; but the law was never enforced and there was only one conviction
in the state under it; that of a “brace” faro dealer in Tuolumne, who
was sent to prison more to get rid of him than to inaugurate a crusade
against gambling.
In 1859-’60, Col. Jack Gamble went to Sacramento and mainly through his
personal efforts and influence, secured the repeal of the law. Faro,
monte and roulette were then revived, but not to so great an extent as
in the olden days. In the meantime poker had made its appearance and
grew so rapidly in public favor that at the time of the repeal of the
law in question, it had become a formidable rival of faro and other
banking games. Monte and roulette began to wane, and the year of 1873
saw their demise in San Francisco.
In the winter of 1873-’74, the legislature passed another anti-gambling
law which was supplemented by sundry municipal ordinances. A lively
crusade against the faro games was at once commenced, but as the only
penalties imposed consisted of light fines, the games usually reopened
immediately.
The persistent raiding by the police, eventually compelled many of the
games to close, among others, that of Col. Gamble, who started a
roadside sporting house on the San Jose road, fourteen miles down the
peninsula. For a time the place prospered greatly. During several years,
it being a favorite resort for stock-brokers, bankers and merchants, who
had not entirely overcome their old time sporting proclivities. “Bill”
Briggs was the last of the old timers to surrender to the law. He
continued to run a faro game behind strong barricades, until at last he
too retired in disgust and public gaming in San Francisco was dead.
Since then numerous games—chiefly “brace”—have sprung up, but the
capital behind them has been very limited and a few raids by the police
have forced them to close. At present there are two faro games in
operation in the city; White’s (not kept by the person of that name
previously mentioned), and Lawrence’s. The former has the name of being
a “square” game, but the “limit” is twenty dollars and the house is
frequented only by sporting men, its patrons being bartenders, habitues
of pool-rooms, “macquereaux” and men of that class. The other game,
either justly or unjustly, is often spoken of as a “brace” game where
“steerers” are employed to “rope in” greenhorns. It occupies several
rooms in different buildings, moving from one to the other as expediency
dictates, and the police have a hard time in locating it as the game
will be run in one place one night, and another the next.
In the early days of San Francisco poker was unheard of. In the mad rush
of those times men could not sit still long enough to play poker or any
other similar game; they must needs stake their all on the turn of a
single card, or on one whirl of the wheel. With the decline of the
banking games, however, poker leaped into favor, and many were the
elegant quarters fitted up in the upper stories of buildings in the
central part of the town, where gentlemen were wont to gather in the
evening to indulge in what rapidly became a favorite pastime.
The most noted of these places was situated at 14 Kearney street, which
was opened in 1873 by Charles N. Felton who represented the Fifth
Congressional District in the last two Congresses, and who is aspiring
to gubernatorial honors at the hands of the republicans at the next
election, with a good chance of having his ambition gratified. It was
here that the late ex-United States Senator William Sharon, the builder
of the Palace hotel, and who more recently figured the Sharon-Hill
divorce suit, held forth nightly, and participated in some of the
biggest poker games played. William Lent, the millionaire, who of late
years has resided with his family in New York, but who is now in San
Francisco with the intention of again taking up his residence by the
Golden Gate; the late Johnny Skae, the many times millionaire mining
operator, and John Head, with an occasional outsider, formed the party
which sat in the stiffest game. Sharon had the reputation of playing the
hardest game of poker on the coast, although Felton and others were
generally able to hold their own against him. A $3,000 “pot” was not an
unusual feature in those games, while $5,000 has been frequently lost
and won on a single hand.
Of course, there were other “stiff” games, where high play was the rule,
but Felton’s was conceded to be far in the lead. Everybody played poker,
though the gambling was not so open as had been faro, monte and roulette
in early days. If men did not visit the poker rooms, they played at
their clubs or at private parties at their homes. The late William
Ralston was fond of cutting into a game. Jim Keene, who has since lost
his millions in Wall street, could hold a bob-tailed flush as long and
with as much of owlish gravity as anybody; the late Heward Coitt, James
Phelan, Senator Hearst and almost every other man of wealth and
prominence has played the game to a greater or less extent. Politicians,
lawyers, merchants, bankers, salesmen, clerks, all played, but in
different resorts. The poker rooms, like faro and roulette had their
day, but not long after the police turned their attention to them, the
larger places, such as Felton’s, Harris’ and others closed up.
Notwithstanding that the game is played for high stakes at the Pacific,
Union, Cosmos and Bohemian Clubs, there is only one poker room of any
prominence in the city, which is conducted by Mose Gunst. The game is
nothing like the one formerly kept by Felton, for instead of the
proprietor being satisfied with his winnings and the sale of liquors,
the game deducts fifty cents out of every one dollar fifty pot. The
owner keeps a number of “pluggers” about the place to join in the games
and keep them going. They are paid a salary and turn their winnings over
to the house. While the direct charge of cheating cannot be made against
the establishment, the cards are played very close and the visitor finds
it an exceedingly hard game to beat, and gentlemen do not honor the
place with their presence unless in a mellow state, and then rather
because they are “making the rounds” than for the purpose of playing. A
wealthy well known railroad president not long ago “dropped” several
thousand dollars there one night recently, and since then has given the
place a wide berth. All the cigar stands along Market Street have back
rooms for poker parties, but each place has its regular patrons and
strangers rarely visit them. The games are small, a twenty-five dollar
pot being considered a bonanza.
From the earliest days shaking dice has been a popular mode of gambling.
Nearly all the large saloons had, and still have, small rooms
partitioned off where parties of four or five would gather around a
small table and roll the ivory tubes for large stakes. There was no
regular dice game established until E. J. (Lucky) Baldwin, of turf fame,
assumed the personal management of his large hotel on Market Street,
when he set aside one of the rooms for dice and another for poker. The
place was very popular with the wealthy young men about town for awhile,
but after being raided by the police a few times, the games broke up,
although private parties risk their money on the turn of the dice almost
nightly. There was another game in operation in connection with the
Occidental Hotel bar for a time, which was very popular with theatrical
people. W. J. Scanlan, the Irish actor, ran up against the game one
night and by means of a smooth box was cleaned out of $2,000. The affair
leaked out, but it did not deter Henry (Adonis) Dixey from trying to
beat the game, with the result that he left money and paper to the
amount of about $1,800 with the sharpers. This had the effect of
breaking up the game, which was conducted by Charlie Hall, manager of
the Bust Street Theatre, Harry Bradley, Jim Nellus and a bar-keeper
named Welch, and since then the most that has been done in the way of
dice playing at the Occidental, has been in shaking for the drinks and
cigars. This last is universal in San Francisco. A man will step up to a
cigar stand and “shake” the proprietor for a cigar, and then go into a
saloon and repeat the performance with the barkeeper. If he wins he gets
his drinks for nothing; if he loses he pays the price of two. Parties of
gentlemen will shake dice for the drinks, the one getting the lowest
throw paying for the party. The Italian fruit peddlers who go around
among the stores and offices are always supplied with a dice box and the
clerks, and even the solid business men, call the cubes into requisition
to settle the price of a bunch of grapes or a dozen of bananas. If the
business is dull the throwing may continue for some time, nickels
instead of fruit being substituted for the stakes. The Italians are
natural gamblers and will stake their last cent on any supposable
contingency. Bootblacks shake dice with their patrons to determine
whether the latter shall pay for two “shines,” or have his boots
varnished free of charge.
In 1882, stud poker became the rage and flourished until it was
prohibited by the legislature, two years later. The act, as passed,
fixed heavy penalties, in the form of fine and imprisonment, to the
playing of this and several other “short” games, which were specifically
enumerated. Every underground saloon, and many of the better class of
drinking places, such as the Baldwin Hotel, had a stud poker game in
operation. The dealer is in the employ of the house and does not take
any cards himself or make any bets, but deducts a percentage or “rake-
off” from each “pot,” so the house is certain of winning every time. It
is only one form of petit larceny. The dealers of these games were
generally men of the lowest moral principles, and there were always from
one to three “pluggers” in the game, so that by a little manipulation of
the cards outsiders were easily despoiled of their money without being
compelled to resort to robbery in the form of percentages. The large
games were conducted on a more honest principle. Still occasional
players found it next to impossible to win. The “brace” games had for
their patrons (or victims) principally boys and young mechanics, with
occasionally a countryman. It was a blessed thing for the morality of
San Francisco when stud poker was abolished. There has not been a game
in the city for more than thirty-six months.
For a number of years the sale of lottery tickets has been steadily
increasing in California, until at the present time it is estimated that
fully $300,000 is squandered in this way every month, fully two-thirds
of which is expended by San Francisco alone. When the tickets were first
sold in that city, the purchasers were chiefly, if not entirely, women
of the _demi-monde_ and their male companions. Then the sporting element
got into the habit of buying tickets, and their example was soon
followed by clerks; book-keepers and others belonging to the middle
classes. Finally their employers began to invest, although at first
keeping the fact a profound secret. They gradually became bolder and
ultimately their wives, sisters and daughters concluded to try their
luck, until now all grades of society, and both sexes are regular
contributors to the income of the concern managed by Generals Beauregard
and Early, buying their tickets openly and making not the slightest
attempt at concealment. With the growth of the habit, the number of
agents has increased until now fully one hundred people, male and
female, earn a comfortable subsistence by selling lottery tickets. It is
not an uncommon thing for a lady to be solicited to buy a ticket on the
street by well dressed women. There is a law prohibiting dealing in
lottery tickets, and prescribing a penalty for their purchase as well as
for their sale; but as the police are all regular purchasers, they are
very lax in following out the provisions of the law. There is a local
lottery known by the euphonious title of the “Original Louisiana
Lottery,” which has done a profitable business. Whole tickets are sold
at fifty cents, but the principal transactions are in “halves.” This
concern has no drawings of its own, but pays its patrons on the basis of
those of the company. The “Mexican National Lottery” also sells many
tickets in San Francisco, but the “Louisiana” surpasses all others in
popular favor, and the Golden City ranks among the largest patrons of
the serpent-like corporation, which has for so many years held the
Pelican State in an anaconda-like grasp.
As has been said, a due meed of praise should be accorded the police for
the efficiency of their action in suppressing public gaming. That a
Chief of Police who has been, in times past, himself a member of the
fraternity should introduce and enforce such stringent measures for the
repression of a vice in which he had formerly been interested, and
should follow up his former associates with such persistent intention to
compel them to respect the law, is a matter for no little surprise. At
the same time, a due regard for truth compels the statement that there
is one form of gambling, fully as harmful as any other, which has
supplanted faro and poker and which flourishes with but little fear of
molestation. There are at present in full operation in San Francisco
five large pool-rooms, and any number of smaller ones. The five leading
establishments are those of Whitehead & Co., Killip & Co., Kingsley &
Co., Swartz & Co., and Connors & Morris. These pool-rooms are protected
and licensed by an act of the last legislature, and it is a mild
statement to say that a faro game in every block in the city would not
have a more debasing effect on the morals of San Francisco than have
these pool-rooms. When it is remembered that each of the principal rooms
pays into the Western Union Telegraph Company, $10,000 per month for
tolls, some idea of the extent of the business done by them may be
formed. A conservative estimate of the amount expended in the pool-rooms
reaches the startling figures of $250,000 a month. An old-time faro
dealer is authority for the statement, that “these new styled bunko
games” (meaning the pool-rooms) “have not left money enough in town to
buy a drink with.” The pool-rooms all have private wires connected with
the leading race tracks in the East, and their habitues know the result
of a race at West Side, Latonia, Jerome Park, Coney Island or any other
tracks as soon as the people who sit in the grandstands and witness the
running. Betting on horse-racing has always been a favorite amusement in
San Francisco, but it is only within the last five years that Eastern
races have been played, and now the legitimate turfmen will not
patronize the pool-rooms. Who, then, are the patrons? Bankers, brokers,
lawyers, clerks, salesmen, printers, young men about town and the
outcasts of society, besides a number of merchants who cannot control
their passion for gaming. On six days in the week, at the noon hour,
when the most of these individuals are supposed to be at luncheon, the
pool-rooms are crowded to overflowing, and a steady stream of gold and
silver pours into the coffers of these moral pest-houses. The mode of
betting is the same as in the East, “straight pools” and “book-making.”
A victim of the opium habit is not more deeply the slave of his chosen
vice than is the infatuated frequenter of the pool-rooms. Many a bank
has been brought to insolvency; many a broker has found his cash box
empty; and many a merchant has discovered his trusted clerk or book-
keeper a thief, made so by these places. Every cent that can be gotten
hold of is poured into the pool-rooms in bets on horses that the bettors
have never seen. Let a stranger enter one of these resorts and he is
instantly set upon by the boys of 16 to 20 years of age, who offer to
give him “sure tips” on the winners for a small percentage of the
winnings. A large proportion of these “touts” have never seen a race in
their lives and could not distinguish a colt from a filly; all their
“knowledge” of the turf has been learned in the pool-rooms. These places
are situated in the heart of the city where they are most easy of access
to those who patronize them. At present there is no means of closing
them and there is no telling how much longer the evil will continue,
inasmuch as an influential local politician is heavily interested in one
of the principal rooms, and as he controls his party in the state and
that party has a safe working majority in the legislature, which does
not meet again until January, 1891, there is no immediate prospect of
relief. With such a state of affairs, it can readily be seen that there
is not a great deal of money left for other games, such as poker and
faro.
A San Franciscan will bet on anything, from a dog fight in the street,
to a presidential election. Boys that are hardly out of dresses bet
cigarette picture cards on their fighting or foot-racing abilities,
while their elders are equally willing to risk their money on more
important sporting events. For the past eighteen months, the various
athletic clubs have been giving monthly exhibitions; that is, glove
fights to a finish, between professional pugilists, for large purses.
The result is, that the city is overrun with prize-fighters of all
degrees of ability. The law on the subject of prize fighting has been so
construed that fights to a finish, in an athletic club room where no
liquor is sold and not less than five ounce gloves are used, cannot be
interfered with. Of these clubs, the California is the most aristocratic
and wealthy. Here, on exhibition nights, may be seen, seated around the
ring, judges, lawyers, bankers, merchants, railroad magnates, doctors
and college professors. None are above attending any meeting which they
think will be a good one. At the recent meeting between Dempsey and La
Blanche it is estimated that not less than the sum of $40,000,000 was
represented by those at the ring side. The betting on that fight reached
into the scores of thousands, and so it is with every branch of sports
and games. If two men play a game of billiards and are evenly matched,
they generally play for a stake besides the price of the game.
With the development of the world-famous Comstock silver lode in 1860,
there sprang up in California an entirely new mode of gambling; that of
speculating in mining stocks. These mines are located in Story County,
Nevada, and Virginia City arose in their midst almost in a night, like a
mushroom; speedily developing into a rushing speculative town of 100,000
inhabitants, and almost as rapidly sinking back into that most hopeless
of all conditions of decay, a “worked-out” mining camp, its present
population numbering less than four thousand souls. The chief operations
were carried on in the Golden City where two mining boards were
arranged—the San Francisco and the Pacific—with branches in Virginia
City. Every reported “strike” of ore was telegraphed to San Francisco,
and the stock of that mine soared out of sight, only to drop back again
at the next report and leave penniless hundreds of people, who, a few
hours before, were worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. The veriest
“wild cat” mine in the state had its stock listed, although not an
hour’s work had ever been done toward developing it. This stock was sold
as readily as that of the well known mines, but not at such high
figures. Men became fabulously rich one day, and were sunk equally as
deep in poverty the next. San Francisco can never forget the fever of
excitement when the public pulse beat at fever heat, and every nerve was
strained to its utmost. Laborers forgot to buy food for their families
in their mad desire to possess a few shares of stock; servant girls
neglected their duties in dreaming of sudden riches. Men rushed, shouted
and acted like lunatics all day long, while high bred ladies sat in
their carriages in front of their brokers’ offices hour after hour, in a
frenzy of excitement, deluging the overtaxed clerks with orders for
stock. What old Californian will pretend he was not half insane when
“Ophir” (par value $100), touched $2,000 a share? Where could the poor
man be found in 1874, when “Consolidated Virginia” and “California”
jumped to $1,400? They were plentiful enough, however, after the break.
The craze continued until 1878, when “Sierra Nevada” reached $800, and
with the decline of that stock came a return of sober sense. Since then,
the times have been gradually failing in their resources, and the
speculative fever has subsided, until, at present, mining stocks cut no
figure whatever in the finances of the state. Some of the old timers who
can get money enough to buy a few shares, still hang around the boards,
half of whose seats, which fifteen years ago could not be bought for
$10,000 cash, are now deserted and are not worth anything. There is no
outside capital to speak of going into mining stocks and in a few years
they will exist only in memory.
The results of this madness were fearful. Hundreds of men and women were
driven to suicide by their losses, while the insane asylums were filled
to overflowing with victims of the stock-gambling mania. Such excitement
has never been seen in any other place in the world and it is to be
hoped that it will never again be witnessed. There is scarcely an old
Californian who has not made money out of the stocks, but only a handful
were enriched. Flood, O’Brien, Mackay and Fair owned the mines and
controled the stock which was manipulated to suit their desires, and the
result is that they, together with the late Senator Sharon, William
Ralston, J. R. Keene and two or three others got all the money. At
present, if a stock touches $10 a share, there is a decided flurry among
the “chippers” and “mud hens” as the men and women are respectively
termed who persist in hanging around the board rooms and losing what
little money they have. The average quotations for mining stocks are
from twenty-five cents from outside mines, from $3 to $4 for the big
Comstock mines.
Outside of the two mining boards, there is little stock speculation in
San Francisco. There are the Board Exchange and the Produce Exchange,
transactions on the floors of both of which are governed by New York and
London quotations. The ratio of legitimate to purely speculative trading
on the San Francisco Exchange is as one to forty.
Policy playing is practiced but little in San Francisco. An attempt was
made by an element of the negro population to introduce it, but it
failed to acquire popularity, even with that race, while for the whites
it has utterly failed to exercise any fascination whatever—a fact which
affords a striking commentary upon the difference which the influence of
climate and of race have exerted upon the two cities of San Francisco
and New Orleans, both fanned by the breezes originating in the tropics;
the fevered heat of one is assuaged by the Gulf Stream, while the feet
of the other are laved by the Japan current.
The progress of Chinese gambling in San Francisco has made such rapid
strides that it is an impossibility to determine its extent at the
present time. The Chinese are born gamblers and no measures, however
severe, can deter them from playing at any of their favorite games of
chance. The authorities have resorted to all sorts of expedients to
break up the vice, yet new gambling dens are constantly springing up in
the Chinese quarters of the city. This in a measure is owing to the
mildness of the penalties affixed by the law, although it has been
charged and proven, time and again, that the patrolmen in the Chinese
quarters receive a regular stipend from the owners of gambling dens, to
close their eyes to the games. They are also regular patrons of the
Chinese lottery. The Chinese do not fear punishment, inasmuch as the
extreme penalty for lottery, fan-tan, dominoes, or dice playing, is six
months’ imprisonment, while the penalty actually meted out by the police
judges rarely exceed a fine of $20 with the alternative of twenty days’
confinement. One-half of the Chinese population of this city, it is safe
to say, would be willing to pass six months in jail merely to save their
living expenses. Time is no object to them. Then again, it is extremely
difficult to convict one of the race of any crime. They have not the
slightest respect for an oath, while their appearance is so similar that
they will exchange places with each other and the arresting officer
cannot identify them.
The variety of games played by the Chinese is small, but they succeed in
winning and losing large sums of money. Lottery, fan-tan, dominoes and
dice are the only games played. Since the Mongolian has gained such a
foot-hold in California, the vices of the Asiatic race have spread to an
alarming extent among the white people, especially in San Francisco.
White opium smokers, male and female, are almost as numerous as are the
Chinese, and the majority of their gambling dens are supported by
Caucasians. On the lottery game alone, it is estimated by competent
judges that fully $8,000 is played in every twenty-four hours by the
whites alone.
The Chinese lottery game is perfectly “square,” and is highly
interesting. There are in this city ten different companies, each
conducting a separate game, but all on the same principle. To understand
the game thoroughly, one must start at the beginning and follow its
workings to the end. Let us enter one of the hundreds of agencies that
are scattered throughout the city with but little attempt at
concealment, and purchase a ticket. These agencies are generally located
in the rear of a Chinese curio shop, tea store or clothing
establishment, but many laundries act as agents as well as the low
saloons kept by whites along the Barbary Coast, the worst quarter of the
city. The visitor upon calling for a ticket and naming the company in
which he wishes to play, such as the Wing Lay Chow, Tut Yut, etc., is
presented with a piece of manilla paper about four inches square. On
this is a double line drawn through the center. Eighty Chinese
characters are printed on this sheet, forty above and forty below the
line. The player can invest any amount of money from ten cents to twenty
dollars in this ticket, the winning being regulated according to the
amount invested and the number of spots “caught.” We will invest the
first named amount in a ticket and play it “straight;” that is, mark off
ten spots. The agent then goes over the spots marked with a small brush
and carmine ink. He also marks on the margin the value of the ticket,
and gives the player a duplicate, retaining the original. The drawings
are held at the company’s headquarters, twice a day, the first at three
o’clock in the afternoon, and the second at ten o’clock at night. On one
of the walls of the room in which the drawing takes place is a large
black-board, to which are attached eighty pieces of paper, about two
inches square, each one bearing a character corresponding to the one of
those on the tickets. Each company has a different set of characters
that mean almost anything. It may be a Chinese poem, or simply a
collection of odd expressions. They have no significance further than
that they correspond with the Arabic numerals used by the whites. On a
table in front of the black-board are placed four large earthen bowls,
numbered 1, 2, 3 and 4. At the hour for the drawing to take place, in
the presence of a crowd of spectators the pieces of paper on the board
are taken down, one at a time, crumpled in the hand and thrown into a
bowl; that is, the first piece goes into number 1, the second into
number 2, and so on, passing in rotation from 1 to 4, until all the
papers have been distributed, twenty in each bowl. A large earthen
vessel with a small opening at the top is then brought out, and in it
are placed four pieces of paper marked 1, 2, 3,4, in Chinese characters.
A Chinaman is then blindfolded and placing his hand in the dish draws
out one of the numbers. For instance, he draws number one. Immediately
bowls 2, 3 and 4 are removed and the lottery manipulator turns his
attention to the remaining bowl. He places a lottery ticket before him
and proceeds to draw out, one by one, the twenty slips of paper, marking
off the corresponding number on the ticket with a brush. When this has
been completed, he exhibits the ticket of the official drawing.
Thousands of copies are immediately struck off and distributed among the
agents, who cash their customers’ winnings. Now, to ascertain how a
winning is made. Let us suppose that five of the spots which have been
painted red on our ticket have been marked out in the drawing; that pays
us twenty cents or doubles our investment. Six spots pay $3.25, while,
if we are fortunate enough to have all ten of our spots come in the
drawing, we win $297. It is a peculiar fact that, although there are
thousands of whites who are perfectly familiar with the schedule of
rates, nobody has been able to figure out any basis for the calculation
of the Chinese. A white man may know what amount a ten-cent eight-spot
pays, or a fifty-cent ten-spot, or in fact any of the many combinations,
but nobody can explain the computation by which these amounts have been
computed. This is the Chinese game of lottery, and thousands of dollars
are invested in it every day by almost every grade of society, for the
dainty lady lying in her hammock will send her Chinese servant out for
tickets, which she amuses herself in marking; the staid business man
invests slyly, the mechanic and laborer spends ten or fifteen cents a
day tempting the Mongolian goddess of fortune, while the outcasts, male
and female, play in, the greater portion of their ill-gotten gains in
this fascinating game of chance.
The favorite game among the Chinese is fan-tan, or simple odd or even.
Like lottery, it is played in this manner: A large square piece of
matting is spread upon a table. In the center of the matting is painted
a smaller square, each side being about ten inches long. The banker or
dealer places two or three handfuls of small ivory buttons in the center
of this square. A bell-shaped brass cup is then placed over this pile of
buttons, some being left on the outside of the cup. The players simply
wager any amount which they may choose on the odd or even number. In
case the bettor loses, the amount of his stake is taken by the banker or
“house;” should he win, he receives the sum bet minus a small
percentage. In theory this game is perfectly fair, but as in almost
every gambling game, sharpers have introduced a fake element, whereby
the result may be manipulated. In counting the buttons, a small wooden
or ivory stick is used. Inventive genius has come to the aid of the
proprietor, and a stick is sometimes used which is capable of holding
two or three buttons hidden from sight. If the banker wishes to add a
button to the pile, he presses a spring and drops one.
In the Chinese game of dominoes, every essential respect is identical
with that played among the whites. It is, however, played among the
Mongolians for money to a far larger extent than among the Caucasians.
In the Chinese quarter of San Francisco, it is no uncommon sight to see,
running through the center of a filthy, dimly lighted, ill-smelling room
a long table, on both sides of which are ranged a motley crowd of noisy
Celestials, handling dominoes with lightning-like rapidity. In fact, the
celerity of the play constitutes one of the chief points of difference
between Chinese and American games. From time to time the losers pass
across the table a portion of their hard-earned money. The stakes,
however, in this, as in all other Chinese games, are unusually small;
the result being that a Mongolian gamester finds it possible, with very
little capital, to prolong his excitement throughout an entire night.
The Chinese evince no disposition to learn any of the gambling games in
vogue among the whites; they have no idea whatever of poker, faro,
roulette, chuck-a-luck, or any of the other amusements which play such
sad havoc with the fortunes, the morals and the reputations of their
brethren of fairer skin.
HOW THE GAMBLERS TRIUMPHED OVER THE AUTHORITIES AT THE CALIFORNIA STATE
FAIR.
Last year there was a controversy of no mean proportions between the
“skin” gamblers and the better elements of society as to whether or not
gambling should be permitted at the California State Fair, which was
held at Sacramento during September 1889. Should gambling be permitted
or not during the fair was for some time the question of the hour in
Sacramento. As is usual with every proposition, conflicting interests
were involved and two sides of the issue were presented. The pro-
gamblers alleged that unless gambling was permitted the fair would prove
a fizzle; that no money would be put in circulation; and that the good
“red hot” times, when everybody made small fortunes out of the fair,
would become only a memory of the past. On the other hand, the anti-
gamblers asserted that the disgraceful scenes of the previous fair, when
free gambling was allowed, should never again be tolerated in
Sacramento. They desired that no more country visitors should be fleeced
for the benefit of a horde of swindling “sure thing” gamblers and the
gang of cut-throats, desperadoes and scum of humanity who follow in
their wake and gnaw the bones of the corpses skinned by the so-called
sports.
In 1888, the Chief of Police, Lees, was hauled over the coals by the
grand jury, who indicted him for not putting a stop to gambling. When
the time for holding the fair arrived Chief Lees, in whose mind the
memory of his experience twelve months before was very fresh, announced
that he did not propose to have a repetition of it. Moreover, the grand
jury was in session at the time, and there was also a powerful body
known as the Law and Order League, composed of the leading citizens, who
openly proclaimed that the gamblers should not be allowed to open on any
terms, and who declared that they would take all the necessary steps to
enforce their ultimatum. At first it looked rather gloomy for the
sports, who for some time tried without success to obtain a concession
in their favor.
The firm of S. B. Whitehead & Co., took the initiative and bore the
brunt of the preliminary skirmish. They leased a lot from the
Government, seventy-six feet square, situated on the corner of 7th and K
streets. It had been set apart by the United States as a post-office
site, and was excavated by the lessees to the depth of some fifteen feet
and covered with a canvas roof. A carpet was laid, a bar put in at one
end, a pool-stand at the other, gas jets put in and a large staircase
built leading from the side walk to the sawdust. In this “hole in the
ground,” as the place came to be known, Whitehead & Co., announced their
intention of selling pools on the races every night and morning. They
claimed that their lease entitled them to use the lot as they pleased,
owing to the fact that it was Government land, and was exempt from State
jurisdiction. They added that while they themselves intended to conduct
only a pool-selling business in the place, they had sublet the bar
privileges and were not responsible for the acts of their subletees. Two
sports, in order to make a test case, opened a chuck-a-luck game one
night in this lot. Their attorneys were present and when the police
arrested them the two men protested against the interference on the
ground of lack of jurisdiction of the city authorities, the land being
Federal property. The arrest was made, however, despite their protests,
but the gamblers were promptly released on bail and the following day
their case came up for hearing before the police justice.
The attorney for the State and county of Sacramento claimed, at the
trial, that under the Political Code of California, the Government,
though holding possession of the ground, had not ceded the right to make
criminal arrests on the ground. The defense argued that the ground being
Government land no such arrests could be made. The case resolved itself
at once into a question of jurisdiction. The testimony was unimportant,
but the arguments occupied the entire day. The result was that the
police judge discharged the gamblers, using in his decision the
following language:
“The defendant is charged with having conducted a banking game on the
block bounded by J and K, Seventh and Eighth streets, in the city of
Sacramento. Proof shows the accusation is true, but the defendant
contends that the territory is the property of the National Government
and the offense committed thereon is triable only by United States
courts. The United States Constitution provides and the Supreme Court
has decided that exclusive jurisdiction to try criminal offenses
committed on United States territory is vested in the Federal courts.
The property in question is the property of the United States and any
crime committed there can only be tried in a Federal court. The remedy
is quite as adequate as that offered by the State courts, since a
Federal statute provides that any violation of the State Penal law
committed on United States property within a State may be punished by
the United States courts. Concluding that the right to examine the
offense in question is exclusively vested in the United States courts,
defendant is discharged for want of jurisdiction.”
Meanwhile pool-selling by Whitehead & Co., was not molested, although,
at first, the concern did a rather light business. The gamblers were
elated by their success and within a few hours after a discharge a wheel
of fortune was in full blast during the pool sales as was also the
unlicensed bar. It was not long before other games started up outside
the tent on the ground covered by the lease. The prices offered to
Whitehead & Co., for such privileges were enormous. The decision of the
court was regarded as a great triumph by the sporting fraternity and a
correspondingly severe blow by the law and order people. The Chief of
Police announced that he intended to arrest all proprietors of games
attempting to do business outside of the leased ground, and did in fact
gather in one or two wheels. At the same time, for some inscrutable
reason, there was one game in the list which appeared to enjoy entire
immunity in Sacramento. It was known by the euphonious designation of
“hokey-pokey.” Consequently, no well-regulated establishment of any kind
was without its “hokey-pokey” and every chance was afforded to players
to lose their money.
The conflict of jurisdiction between the State and Federal authorities
in the matter of the toleration of gambling at the California State
Fair, affords a striking commentary on the American theory of
government. In its salient features it is analogous to the dispute so
often occurring in States which have, by organic law, prohibited the
sale of ardent spirits, where the violator of the law of the particular
commonwealth, to which he owes allegiance, is able to show a United
States license authorizing him to carry on a business for the conducting
of which the State law imposes a penalty. The author makes no claim to a
knowledge of constitutional law. Of plain, every day common sense, in
part derived through heredity, and in part developed by experience, he
believes that he has a fair modicum. This latter quality of his mental
organization leads him to regard such an anomaly in jurisprudence as an
inherent travesty upon natural justice. That a combination of sharpers
should be able to appeal to the United States statutes to protect them
in a high-handed violation of State law, and in openly over-riding rough
shod the will of the people as voiced by local legislative assemblies,
is, on its face, the quintessence of absurdity. There can be no doubt as
to the practical results of such an incongruity, so far as the
Sacramento fair is concerned. A local paper of about even date contained
the following paragraph:
“A victim of the gambling mania came to a sad end last night. * * *
Having ‘lost his pile’ in the ‘hole-in-the-ground,’ and fearing to face
the exposure of his peculation, which he knew would inevitably ensue, he
ended his wretched life by placing a bullet in his heart. And yet the
law is powerless to suppress gaming in this notorious resort.”
GAMBLING IN NEW ORLEANS.
Previous to 1827, there were no large public gambling houses in New
Orleans. The old Creoles played extensively, but it was among themselves
or at their clubs. The flatboat men, who managed the river business, all
gambled; but the establishments in which they wagered their money were
small and “tough” affairs, where pistols were constantly needed. These
men, the first patrons of public gambling, came from the upper rivers,
usually the Ohio and its tributaries, landed at the levee opposite St.
Mary’s market, tied their boats, and at once made for the nearest saloon
to gamble away their cargoes. On Front Street, where the flat boats lay
three deep, was a row of drinking places, the back room in each being
given over to gambling. Faro and roulette were the principal games.
There was no law against gambling then, nor was any license demanded;
and there was no attempt made to conceal the business. In fact, from the
sidewalk the passers-by could hear the roulette caller shouting,
“twenty-eight on the red,” or “eagle bird by chance,” and the rattling
of the chips.
Another favorite location for these flatboat gambling houses was known
as the “swamp,” and was back of the town, where the Gerrod Cemetery is
to-day. Here the flatboat men and many other wild characters who in
those days frequented New Orleans, made their rendezvous. It was beyond
the limits and control of the city police, and the “flint-lock” pistol
of those days reigned supreme there, just as the revolver does to-day in
some of the frontier towns.
The flatboat men were all inveterate gamblers. They would remain in the
city until they had gambled away their last cent, when they “whipsawed”
at home, traveling across the country, usually on foot, along the
government trail through the Choctaw country of Mississippi.
The gambling of that period was rough and dangerous. The dens around St.
Mary’s market and in “the swamp” were a constant menace to the
authorities. Crimes of violence were more frequent in them than in all
the rest of the city; and the flatboat men and gamblers frequently
united to defeat the police. As a general thing, however, the municipal
authorities refrained from attempting to exercise any jurisdiction over
these dangerous sections. The police put forth no effort looking to the
regulation of these gambling hells and left the flatboat men and
gamblers to shoot and kill each other, as they saw fit. The number of
murders resulting from these causes is beyond calculation, for the
victims generally left no one to inquire for them or worry over their
“taking off.” It was the most lawless community in the country, and the
readiest with the knife or pistol. To that element, however, we owe some
of our standard American stories. It was here, also, that the
expression, “acknowledge the corn” and hundreds of others originated,
such as “keel-hauling,” “whip-sawing,” “cordelling,” etc.
In 1827 gambling was introduced to the polite element of the city by
John Davis, _emigre_ from San Domingo, an _impressario_ of the old opera
house and the first _impressario_ of the United States. Davis opened two
gambling houses. One of them was on the side of the city known as the
Bayou St. John, where those who wished to get away from the noise and
bustle of the town and indulge in a “high old time” in a choice, quiet
suburban retreat might be accommodated. The other was located on a
corner in the very heart of creole New Orleans.
The Bayou St. John club house was intended more especially for Saturday
night and Sunday games, Sunday being the favorite day for playing. On
that day a magnificent dinner was set out by Davis, free to those who
patronized his establishment. This resort soon became the best known
spot in the city. Its central location made it convenient for the gentry
of Louisiana. Here were to be found representatives of the bench, the
bar and the commercial world. The house was opened day and night and was
always crowded, the favorite games being faro, roulette and _vingt-et-
un_, and the betting was heavy. At these public games, however, the
elite and notabilities of the day did not, as a rule, participate to any
great extent, special rooms being set apart for them, at which brag,
ecarte, baccarat and bagatelle were played.
Nearly every man in public life in Louisiana gambled and the losses and
winnings were immense. Col. Ghrymes, the leading lawyer at the Louisiana
bar, and enjoying a very large income, squandered every cent at Davis’
and was always in an impecunious condition. A loss of $50,000 to
$100,000 a year, or $25,000 at one sitting, was not considered very
extraordinary, and there were many who dropped that amount of money in
an hour.
Davis was very successful with his club house and made a large fortune,
which he and his son, “Toto” Davis, spent to good purpose in building an
opera house and establishing the opera in New Orleans, where it first
took root in America. On music, to which both of them were devoted, most
of the money won in the gambling business was expended.
The success of Davis with his “club house” produced two results; first,
it greatly increased the number of gambling houses, and secondly, it
induced the legislature to take a hand in the business for its share of
the profits. In 1832, five years after Davis’ venture, there were
fourteen large gambling saloons in New Orleans, all well equipped and
furnished, and all well backed with capital. They were all making money
and the legislature, having determined to get some of the profit,
licensed the business, and authorized the opening and running of
gambling houses on the payment to the state of an annual license of
$7,500.
All the fourteen gambling saloons or, as they preferred to be called,
“club houses,” accepted the conditions. They were owned and operated as
follows: Hicks & Hewlett, corner of St. Louis and Chartres; Duval,
Chartres between Conti and Bienville; St. Cyr; Chentres, between Conti
and St. Louis; Toussaunte, opposite Chentres on Canal, between Camp and
St. Charles; Elkin, Canal near St. Charles, and Padet, corner of Canal
and Camp. These seven were distributed between the first and second
municipalities, about half of the fourteen in the French and the other
half in the American quarter of the city.
These houses were public in the fullest sense of the word. They were
never closed, running night and day, for when one set of dealers became
tired, there was another to take their places. They were resorted to by
all classes, but their best business was from the numerous strangers who
visited New Orleans, and who always made it a point to see the world-
famed gambling houses. They were lively, those “flush times,” and not
unlike San Francisco in the gold fever of 1848-50.
In 1836, the gambling business in New Orleans received a double check.
The financial crisis brought an end to the “flush times” and the rural
or moral element got control of the legislature. Previous to that year
the French element had control and it saw nothing wrong in gambling, but
the country members protested against it, and, at the instigation of a
Mr. Larrimore, who represented the moral as well as the American
element, the license for gambling was withdrawn, as improper and
immoral, the state surrendering some $120,000 of the money it had been
deriving from this source, and prohibiting gambling under a heavy
penalty, a fine of $1,000 to $5,000 for the first, and $5,000 to $10,000
and imprisonment for the second offence.
The act of the legislature did not meet with favor in New Orleans, which
could see no immorality in gambling, and the third municipality one of
those independent cities into which New Orleans was divided by the
legislature, in consequence of the race prejudice between Creoles and
Americans, set the State at defiance, and licensed gambling by a city
ordinance. A conflict between the city and the state followed, in which
the latter came out triumphant theoretically—as the Supreme court
decided that the city of New Orleans could not license gambling when the
State of Louisiana had forbidden it—but the decision accomplished little
practically, for the gambling saloons ran on the same as ever, for the
reason that public sentiment, especially in the French portion of the
town, approved of them. This was particularly true of the third
municipality, or Faubourg Maugrey, which actually owes its origin to
gambling, as the name of the street indicates.
It was originally the plantation of the Maugreys, one of the first
Creole families of Louisiana, and entitled to a marquisate in France,
and was frittered away at the gaming table by its owner. Whenever old
Maugrey wanted more money for gaming he laid off a section of the
plantation, cut a new street through it, and sold lots; in a sort of
ironical mood naming the streets after the game at which he had lost his
money. Thus it is that the streets in that part of the town were named
Bagatelle (a favorite Creole game in that day), Craps (played with dice
and mostly confined to the negroes to-day), etc., by which names they
are called even now, to recall old Maugrey’s gambling, which mainly
bankrupted the richest and most famous family in Louisiana.
The act of the legislature of 1836, although it gave half the fine to
the informer who pointed out a gambling house, was of no effect. The
houses ran on the same as usual, not quite as openly, but bribing the
city officials and the _gendarmes_, who at that time did police duty.
The financial crisis worked far more injury to the gamblers than did the
act of the legislature since money became scarce and their business
decreased so rapidly that a number of the principal houses were
compelled to close.
There was a marked revival of activity in gambling circles in 1846, when
New Orleans became the military center of operations against Mexico, and
when thousands of soldiers were quartered there. The stimulus thus
imparted to gaming was continued, if not increased, throughout the years
’48, ’49, and ’50, when the excitement of the California gold fever
filled the city with emigrants moving toward the Pacific. The transient
population became very large, and was mainly composed of men, who, by
nature and temperament, were bold speculators, ready to stake anything
or everything on the cast of a die. Their advent, moreover, caused a
plethora of money, so that it is no cause for surprise that the gambling
fever broke out in New Orleans in a far more vehement form than it had
assumed in the days of old John Davis. Gambling houses were no longer
confined to any particular section of the city as they had formerly
been, but opened everywhere. Dens abounded in the neighborhood of St.
Mary’s market for the accommodation of the flatboat men and river
characters, while for those of more fastidious tastes, places of a
better grade were opened in the neighborhood of hotels and boarding
houses. But this class of resorts was especially numerous in those
localities where returning soldiers or emigrants were quartered.
Despite the prohibition of the legislature, certain gambling
establishments were licensed by the city to carry on the game of
“rondeau” and “lotto” (since styled “keno”), under the pretence that
such games were not gambling, and “from dusky eve to dewy morn,” on any
frequented thoroughfare, might be heard the sonorous voice of the game-
keeper, as he called time and game.
The gambling houses at this period numbered between 400 and 500, giving
employment to some three thousand gamblers, dealers, etc. They did not
resemble the elegantly furnished houses of John Davis’ day, nor were
they like those which came later; they were rough, and suited to the
tastes of miners, soldiers and emigrants, who mainly patronized them.
With the abatement of the California gold fever, gambling in New Orleans
fell away, until it had returned to its normal condition. The number of
establishments were materially reduced, but they were of a decidedly
better class, being fitted up more for the rich planters than for the
rough element which had for several years constituted their main
support. Elegantly furnished houses, where sumptuous repasts were served
to the patrons, once more began to appear. McGrath, Sherwood and Petitt
were the first to take the lead in this new departure.
The trio believed in “square” gambling, had plenty of capital, and were
all men of mark. McGrath went North during the war, but finally settled
down in his native state, and with the profits of his gambling
transactions in New Orleans established the well-known McGrath stock
farm. He has since devoted himself to the breeding of racing and other
blooded stock, and has become one of the best known turfmen in the
United States, owning “Tom Bowling” and many other famous coursers.
Petitt spent a large portion of his winnings in the raising and
equipment of troops for the Confederate army during the war. He sent, at
his own expense, from New Orleans to the Virginia battle fields one of
the first companies recruited in the South, known as Petitt’s Guards.
Sherwood remained in New Orleans during the war, where he contributed
liberally to the support of the wives and children of Southern soldiers
at the front.
These were the three leading gamblers in New Orleans during the period
just before the war, and were good types of their class.
“Supper rooms” were the names commonly given to these establishments in
those days, for the reason that choice suppers were always supplied,
with wine and cigars in profusion. Sherwood would frequently order all
games to cease, and invite all his guests to a magnificent repast,
during the course of which he would play the part of the courteous host,
entertaining the company with a fund of anecdotes and quaint stories.
These “supper rooms” were a favorite resort, and if one failed to find
in the rotunda of the St. Charles or St. Louis hotels any noted
personage of whom he might be in quest, he felt reasonably certain of
running across him either at McGrath’s club room, or Cassidy’s or
Sherwood’s supper room, playing, talking, or at supper.
In those days, these resorts were something more than mere gambling
rooms. The club house, as known to-day, did not then exist, and the
commercial exchange, as understood in more modern times, was unknown. In
consequence, the gaming houses (which, it must be remembered, were not
at that time looked upon as the disreputable resorts which they are now
considered to be) supplied the place of both. The same remark applies
measurably to drinking saloons. Business men and gentlemen of that
period were wont to make places of this description their rendezvous.
These names, by the way, are still used in New Orleans in speaking of
saloons and gambling rooms, the term “exchange” and “club room” having a
distinct signification in that city, different from the meaning attached
to them in any other portion of the United States.
In order to thoroughly comprehend this condition of affairs, it is
necessary to glance, for a moment, at the then existing state of society
in the Crescent City. Bachelors far outnumbered men of family. The tone
of morals was low, and life was generally fast. The idea that there was
anything wrong in gambling occurred to no one. Hence it was considered
no more surprising to meet one’s friend in a gaming resort than to find
him at his home. In fact, the club rooms, with many men at that period,
supplied the place of home life.
McGrath’s, in particular, became, like Davis’ of old, a club house and
social center for the men of New Orleans. It was the sporting centre
also and there all the pools on the races, and particularly on the
Mataurie course which, for so long a period stood at the head of
American race courses, were sold.
The appointments and fittings of these houses were of such a character
that only the higher classes of society were desired as patrons.
McGrath, who occupied No. 4, Carondelet street, afterwards known as the
Boston club (a social organization founded by private gentlemen for
their own diversion) spent $75,000 to $100,000 in furniture for his
place; while Lauraine and Cassidy, who had a place opposite the St.
Charles Hotel, and who set the finest supper in the city, boasted of a
solid silver service, including dishes and plates, unequalled in the
South. Other famous gambling houses of that day, though not so well
known as some of those already mentioned, were kept by Sam Levy and
“Count” Lorenzo Servri (who received his sobriquet because of his
polished manners and faultless apparel) and Martino, whose place was
located on Canal street, near Carondelet. Besides these were numerous
other “club houses,” where the visitor paid fifty cents an hour, and was
entitled to refreshments free of cost, which included a well cooked
dinner with claret _ad libitum_, besides being permitted to gamble at
poker.
At all the gaming houses play was high, and wherever there was a limit
it was generally removed by the proprietor if the patrons requested it.
A prominent Greek merchant, representing in New Orleans one of the
largest commercial houses in the world, played there night after night,
losing $80,000 in a single evening, his total losses footing up a round
half million, which caused the suspension of the house whose
representative he was.
In addition to these establishments, nearly all of the many steamboats
plying between New Orleans and the various river points, were in
themselves gambling houses. A class of gamblers travelled up and down
the river on these boats. Their saloons were given up almost wholly to
card playing. The principal games were Boston and Poker, the latter
being played without limit. Bets from $10,000 to $25,000 were frequently
made on a single hand, and one of $50,000 is recorded. When cash ran out
lands and slaves were wagered.
The ante-bellum games were nearly all “square” and the gamblers were
usually of better social standing than those of later days. Davis,
McGrath and Petitt, in particular, were looked upon as gentlemen, and
were admitted anywhere, their profession not standing in the way of
their social advancement. Augustus Lauraine was excluded from polite
circles, not because he was a gambler but for the reason that he had
violated one of the principles of the “code,” in other words, he failed
to pay a gambler’s debt.
The immediate result of the war was to break up nearly all the New
Orleans gaming houses. Most of the gamblers were enthusiastic
confederates. The action of Petitt in equipping a company has been
already mentioned. Martino went to Richmond, where he opened a house,
but there was not much to be made out of confederate currency and he
gave so liberally to the sick and destitute soldiers that his venture
brought him no profit. It was not until 1862, when the city was in the
hands of the United States forces under General Butler, that gaming
again revived.
Through the favor of Col. Butler—a brother of the General—Bryant, one of
the best known and oldest gamblers in New Orleans, and who had kept one
of the “supper rooms” in the days before the war, was permitted to open
a gambling house at the corner of Exchange Alley and Bienville street;
and Fulton, a new comer, opened one a square lower down the same street.
These resorts opened off the street and access was free to all comers
except private soldiers, the semi-military control under which they were
placed drawing the line here. Officers, however, who were plentifully
supplied with money, played freely and, of course, lost heavily. But
gross scandals resulted, and in 1864 General Hurlbut, by military order,
directed that they be closed. Martial law proved singularly effective in
this instance, and until the revocation of the order (which came in a
few weeks), public gaming was at a stand still. This was an era in the
city’s history, and, with the exception of a period when the District
Attorney arrested and prosecuted all the gamblers in New Orleans, was
the only time when gambling was completely suppressed. At all other
times it has been either protected or tolerated by the authorities;
carried on openly under license from the State or city, or conducted
clandestinely, through bribery of the officials. In fact, public
sentiment has generally either favored it or, at most, been disposed to
regard it as a necessary evil.
After the war there was manifest a disposition to return to the old
license system, under which the state received a portion of the
gamblers’ winnings. One of the arguments in its favor was that the
Havana lottery was taking more money out of Louisiana every month than
all the gamblers in New Orleans combined, and as a matter of fact that
city was as good a market for the sale of these tickets as Havana
itself. In addition to regular lottery offices and ticket peddlers,
every tobacconist was an agent for their sale. Tradition recorded the
names of eleven winners of capital prizes. It is true that the old
citizens (all of whom were devout believers in “luck”) were accustomed
to wag their beards and sagely declare that riches thus acquired took to
themselves wings and flew away, but they nevertheless “played lottery”
every month, with the regularity of clock work, and eagerly awaited the
receipt of the list of drawings, which in those days was brought from
Havana to New Orleans by carrier pigeons.
The legislature of Louisiana determined to enter the field in
competition with the Governor General of Cuba, and endeavored to secure
at least its fair share of the business. Accordingly, in 1866, a law was
passed requiring lottery ticket brokers and peddlers to take out a
license, and turn over to the State five per cent. of their gross
receipts. This, however, did not produce as large a revenue to the State
as had been expected, as the dealers disposed of their tickets
surreptitiously, and in 1868, the legislature enacted the Louisiana
State Lottery, exacting a bonus of $40,000 a year, and gave it a
monopoly of the business, prohibiting the sale of tickets in the Havana,
or any other foreign lottery.
This plan proving successful, the legislature went a step further and
determined to license gambling also. On March 9, 1869, a law was passed,
empowering every one to open a public gaming saloon, who would pay a
license fee of $5,000. (It had been $7,500 under the law of 1832). The
payment of the money was the sole condition imposed by the law. No
restriction was placed upon the games to be played nor was any
distinction drawn between “square” and “brace” houses. Protection was
guaranteed in the form of a promise to close and keep closed all
unlicensed houses.
The new law was in force but a short time. It caused general
dissatisfaction, and its repeal has been attributed to the moral
sentiment of the community. This, however, is an error. While the great
majority of the people of New Orleans were shocked at the result, this
mattered little to the legislature, one of the most notoriously corrupt
bodies which Louisiana has ever seen; and had not the gamblers
themselves appealed to it, to repeal the law which recognized and
licensed their business, it would have continued for many years.
The immediate result of the law was to make New Orleans an American
Monte Carlo, the gambling centre of the United States. All the old local
gamblers took advantage of the law and paid their license; but they
found that they would not be allowed to occupy the field alone. The
statute proved to be an advertisement of New Orleans throughout the
Union, and gamblers flocked thither from New York, Baltimore, Cincinnati
and St. Louis, to open places of business in a city, where it was not
only free from inspection and supervision, but even legitimate.
Within a few weeks, St. Charles Street blossomed into one vast gambling
hell. These resorts, some forty in number, and popularly known as “the
forty thieves,” did a “land office business.” They were open night and
day from the ground floor up. Every kind of gambling was carried on,
with open doors, while runners on the outside enticed all passers by to
enter. They had “all-round” saloons in which all kinds of games were
played. The lower floor was commonly devoted to faro; roulette claimed
the second story; while the third floor was set apart for keno.
Generally one or two side rooms were fitted up for _vingt-et-un_ and
other games. Lunch settees and wine tables were prominent articles in
their equipment, and everything was supplied which might make gaming
attractive. There were no screens, the saloons opening immediately off
the street; no limit was fixed, and boys and octogenarians were alike
welcomed.
This state of affairs proved too much, even for the advocates of public
gaming. St. Charles Street, the principal thoroughfare, had become a by-
word and reproach, a very high-way of vice, if not of crime.
Notwithstanding the indignant protest of an outraged public, however,
the law would have probably remained on the statute book had it not
been, as has been already intimated, for the gamblers themselves. Not
that they complained of the exaction of a license fee; that, they were
willing to pay cheerfully. It was the ruinous competition in business
which it brought about that constituted the ground of their
dissatisfaction. The “old-timers” found themselves injured, not only in
pocket but also in reputation, by the horde of confidence men,
“steerers”, sharpers and “skin” gamblers, who had swept down upon New
Orleans like vultures upon a carcass. The license law had proved a
boomerang.
The influx of strangers had been so great that the demand for licences
to keep gaming houses had grown to such proportions that New Orleans
seemed destined to absorb and monopolize all the gambling of the entire
country. A conference of those “to the manor born” was held, which was
attended by Bush, Taylor, Harrison and others, at which, after a full
interchange of views, it was determined that the wiser policy was to
return to the old system and get rid of the new comers at any cost. They
were strong enough, politically, to get what they wanted from the
legislature, and the obnoxious law was repealed, and the auditor
directed to return to the gamblers the fees paid for the new year.
The abolition of the license system, however, did not put an end to
gambling. Some of the more recent arrivals departed for Texas, Long
Branch, Washington, and other promising points, but the “old timers”, to
the number of 100 to 110, continued to do business in the same way as
usual, paying bribes into the pockets of the police instead of a license
fee into the State treasury. As, however, the law prohibited gambling,
some sort of a pretence was made at secrecy, although the houses were
all well known, and one could hear in the street below the rattle of
chips and the droning call of the dealer.
During the next ten years the gamblers did a fair business,
notwithstanding the fact that they were freely blackmailed by the
police. They recouped themselves, however, for this outlay by taking
their revenge upon the police, and particularly upon strangers. Bunko
flourished and “steerers” abounded, while some of the best known
confidence men now traveling about the country acquired their first
knowledge of the business at New Orleans during this period.
In 1880, yet another plan of indirectly regulating gaming was
introduced. The new system was neither the imposition of license fees
nor the secret extortion of “hush-money”, and was essentially different
from that followed in any other city of the world up to that time. While
gambling had been unlawful it had also been notorious. Not less than
ninety houses spread their nets for victims, and over a thousand persons
were employed in the nefarious calling. Bribery and corruption had taken
the place of legal license, and through political influence the gambling
fraternity had enjoyed comparative immunity.
In the year last mentioned, Mr. Shakspeare who had just been elected
Mayor, determined to accomplish indirectly what had been forbidden by
State law—the license of the houses. He looked upon this as the only
available means of controlling and regulating a business which, however,
reprehensible, seemed destined to “go on forever.”
He favored the license system as the best practical solution of the
problem, inasmuch as under it the city would receive a share of the
profits of the business while there might, at the same time, be police
supervision of the establishments.
A newspaper reporter was employed to visit the various gambling houses,
inspect the games played there, and report to the Mayor on the subject.
After the latter had secured all the information he needed, he laid it
before the council, together with his plan for licensing gambling and
asked for its consideration and discussion. He proposed that a “forced
loan” be collected from the gamblers—the city to charge each gaming
saloon $150 a month or $1,800 a year for the privilege of carrying on
business. They were to conduct only “square” games, to employ no
“runners” or “cappers” to drum up business for them, and to content
themselves with such profits as they might legitimately (?) derive from
the unsolicited visits of occasional players. No minors were to be
permitted to play and houses were to be confined within certain
prescribed boundaries in the business section of the city, while the
proprietors were to agree to preserve peace and order in the
establishments, and to be always subject to the inspection and control
of the police.
In consideration of the making of this forced loan, the city was to
undertake that the houses entering into the arrangement, so long as they
complied with the requirements exacted, should not be raided or
otherwise molested by the police. Moreover, those saloons which accepted
the proposition were to be protected from undue and unlicensed
competition, the city promising to close all places which did not “pay
up” or were guilty of irregularities.
When these propositions, which had been already submitted to the
gamblers and approved by them, were laid before the council, that body
authorized the executive to make the experiment, although the city
fathers cautiously refused to share the responsibility for any
consequences which might ensue. At first, the revenue thus received was
paid directly to the city treasurer, but that official, being unwilling
to accept it, it was turned over to the mayor’s private secretary, to be
expended as the mayor ordered.
At the time of the inauguration of the “Shakespeare system” of exacting
this forced loan there were eighty-two gambling resorts running in New
Orleans. Half of these closed at once rather than pay the licenses. From
the remainder some $6,000 was received as the first month’s instalment,
which was set aside as a special fund for the erection of an alms house,
or an institution, which was greatly needed in a city which had failed
to make any provision for the support of paupers. Later the receipts
from this source were turned over to the charity hospital or devoted to
alleviating the condition of those confined in the jails. From this
source (the gambler’s contributions) enough money was obtained to erect
a large brick building named “The Shakespeare Almshouse” in honor of the
mayor, and to support and care for two hundred paupers and incurables. A
number of prominent citizens consented to act as directors of the
institution, accepting the money turned over to them by the mayor for
its maintenance, although well knowing the source from which it was
derived.
At first, the anomalous system appeared to be a success. There were some
complaints from the religious element of the community, but the general
public raised no objection, while the press approved. The fund was
exclusively under the control of the mayor, who accounted to no one, and
was wholly free from responsibility in the matter and was at liberty to
use the money as he saw fit. It occurred to him that the most effectual
means of silencing his critics would be to devote it to public charity.
An account of the fund was kept in a book open to all, with each payment
received from the gamblers, together with the sums turned over to the
directors of the almshouse.
The supporters of the mayor pointed to his administration of the fund
and the practical results of the system as a triumphant vindication of
his policy. In the course of a year the number of gambling houses had
been reduced from eighty-two, running at all seasons, to sixteen in
summer and thirty-two in winter. This diminution, too, had been
accomplished without police raids, while there had been no public
scandals.
The mayor exacted literal compliance with his requirements. One of the
leading saloons, run by “Billy Johnson,” a well known gambler about
town, was closed early in the day because of some irregularities, and
when the old trick was tried of re-opening it at the same place but
under a new name, the mayor promptly suppressed it. “Any place,” he
said, “once closed for ‘bunkoing’ was closed for ever.”
The loudest complaints about the system came from some of the gamblers
themselves, who declared that the city was getting more out of the
business than they were, and several attempts were made to persuade the
mayor to reduce the amount of tribute. But to all such remonstrances he
persistently turned a deaf ear, his stereotyped reply being, “If you
can’t make enough from gambling to pay the city $150 a month for the
privilege, you had better go into some other and better paying
business.”
Mayor Skakspeare was succeeded by Gen. W. H. Bebian, who, so far as
gambling was concerned, followed in the footsteps of his predecessor.
Following him came Gillette. The latter regularly collected the tax, but
instead of devoting it solely to purposes of charity, diverted a portion
of it to meeting the exigencies of the political situation. From the
fund were defrayed the expenses of entertainments ordered by the
council, while it was also used to meet the pay-roll of the mayor’s
special police, as well as for other objects of a distinctively
political character. This line of action induced scandal, and the
circumstance that no account of the disbursement of the fund was
rendered, considered in connection with the fact that the almshouse—for
which it had been created—was left without income, brought the system
into disfavor and disrepute, and a revulsion of public sentiment
occurred. Several grand juries presented reports condemning the fund as
having been exacted in direct violation of the State constitution and
the laws framed thereunder. The result of this agitation of the question
was that during the incumbency of Mayor Gillette, the system was
abandoned.
Since then, gambling in New Orleans has been conducted under the system
of semi-toleration, which prevails in most American cities. The law
against “banking games,” was enforced for a few weeks during 1888, when,
as has been said, the prosecuting attorney arrested the gamblers and for
a short time brought public gaming to an abrupt (though temporary)
cessation; but although there were several convictions, the spasm of
virtue soon passed; raids came to an end; and matters soon drifted back
to their former position.
The law against gambling still adorned the pages of the statute book,
but for many years no attempt whatever had been made to enforce it. The
police knew the location of every gambling saloon in the city, as did
also the district attorney, whose duty it was to enforce the law, but
not an indictment was found against any of them.
To-day, there are some thirty gaming resorts in New Orleans, half of
which, however, are mainly patronized by negroes. They are visited by
the police in a supervisory sort of way, from time to time. When
anything wrong is reported, the proprietor is arrested, and in the great
majority of cases willingly consents to make good the complainant’s
losses rather than to face exposure. If he proves recalcitrant, his
house is closed. Only one place was closed in 1889, however, on this
ground.
Two years ago, “keno” became the favorite game in New Orleans. It proved
especially seductive to youths and those of small means, because of the
small stakes required to play it. It proved particularly harmful for
this very reason, its patrons being largely drawn from the ranks of
those who could not afford to lose anything. The better class of
gamblers themselves did not favor it, for the reason that it afforded no
chances for the “bank,” which had to content itself with its
“percentage.” Nevertheless, the “demand” for this sort of amusement
resulted in an abundant supply, and for several blocks on two of the
principal streets of the city, the ear of the passing pedestrian was
saluted with the cries of “forty-eight,” “sixteen” and “keno,” which
were wafted down to the street from the open windows of the keno rooms,
which occupied the second floors of nearly every building. The majority
of the players were clerks, under 25 years of age, mechanics and
laborers; and to losses at keno may be attributed the numerous
embezzlements which brought such unenviable notoriety upon New Orleans
for several years.
The negroes, sunny children of nature, content if their immediate wants
are satisfied, and taking no thought for the future, all
gamble—certainly nine in ten of them gamble at the saloons on Dauphin
and Franklin Streets, among themselves at “craps” or “chuck-a-luck,” or
at “policy,” the latter being the favorite for women. These colored
saloons are probably the worst in the world; rude unfurnished rooms,
with nothing but gambling tables and chairs in them, lighted by
flickering, ill-smelling lamps. Here congregate the roustabouts,
longshoremen and deck hands, who drift into New Orleans during “the
season,” or when crops are gathered, and here they and their mistresses
play until the last dollar of their earnings is spent, and they once
more enter upon their toilsome labor. Here, too, all the negro criminals
of New Orleans, the colored ex-convicts, who number several thousand
sneak thieves, burglars, etc., resort. The negro gambling saloons often
prove of service to the police when prosecuting a search for colored
criminals. There is no necessity to hunt for them all over the city. The
owners of these gambling dens are anxious to be on good terms with the
officers of the law, and act as spies for them. If a murderer or a
burglar is needed, they are furnished with a description of him, and
within a very short time comes the information that “Dago Dick,” or “Big
Sam” is at such-and-such a saloon. These dives frequently stand the
police in good stead, saving the officers no little trouble in searching
for notorious negro criminals.
It cannot be said that, on the whole, the gamblers of New Orleans have
made much out of their business. Very few have accumulated money through
their original calling, although some have acquired their first start at
the card table and have since achieved a competence in other and
legitimate pursuits. Probably the most striking illustration of the
truth of this statement has been already mentioned in referring to the
case of McGrath, who has made a fortune through his stock farm and on
the the turf. Another Crescent City sport invested his winnings at the
faro table in the hotel business, at which he succeeded even beyond his
expectations. Perhaps ten or a dozen in all, who have renounced the
green cloth have honestly earned a competence, although a few have grown
rich.
Perhaps one reason why gambling has not proved more remunerative since
the war is that comparatively few of those engaged in the business at
the South, have had the large capital necessary to conduct a thoroughly
first-class establishment. Besides this, the gamester is by nature a
spendthrift, whose motto is always “easy come, easy go.” His instincts
are all arrayed on the side of prodigal expenditure, as against thrift.
At the present time, the houses are under fair control. That is to say,
they are not tolerated on the ground floor, minors are not allowed to
enter them, and “skin” gambling is perhaps less practiced than in other
metropolitan cities. The fraternity complain bitterly of “hard times,”
and declare that their business is entirely broken up. Of what are
euphoniously characterized as “respectable” houses, there are scarcely
half a dozen, and even these reap their richest harvest from strangers,
during the carnival season. The local patronage is not profitable.
In 1889, the whirligig of time again elevated Mr. Joseph Shakspeare to
the Mayor’s chair. He made no secret of his disposition to return to the
system of indirect license which he had himself inaugurated. The
council, however, proved less complaisant, and refused either to
sanction or to disapprove the plan of the executive. Meanwhile, public
sentiment in the city was about equally divided in reference to the
question. A very large element of the community was bitterly hostile to
countenancing the vice, even indirectly. On the other hand, there were
not wanting those who regarded gaming as a necessary evil, which would
find its votaries under any and all circumstances, and from the practice
of which the city would do well to derive some revenue.
Among the latter half of the community were, of course, included those
who were themselves fond of patronizing the public tables.
Speculation in stocks, bonds and produce was unknown in New Orleans
previous to 1880. To its introduction may, perhaps, be measurably
attributed the decline in the volume of gambling in the hells. Once
introduced, it rapidly grew in favor with many of those who had been
accustomed to look for that excitement which they regarded as their
highest recreation in gambling upon the turn of a card. Whether the
introduction into the city of the speculative mania and the decadence of
the gambling saloons stood to each other in the relation of cause and
effect it might be difficult to say; they certainly occurred about the
same time. At first, speculation was chiefly confined to cotton, which
bore the same relative position to New Orleans that wheat sustains to
Chicago. Gradually, however, mining stocks and gold grew in favor of
those who were disposed to venture their money upon options, as
affording even greater fluctuations in value.
When trading in future deliveries was first suggested upon the floor of
the New Orleans Cotton Exchange, it aroused violent opposition. Its
opponents pointed out that the city already lacked sufficient capital to
handle the cotton crop, of which New Orleans was the distributing
centre, even in a legitimate way; they showed that a vicious element
would be imparted to values; and called attention to the disastrous
effect which such business might have upon the price of cotton. In reply
to these arguments, it was urged that New York was already doing a
gambling business in cotton futures, amounting to 25,000,000 bales per
year, which was four or five times as much as the entire cotton crop of
the whole country; that New Orleans was sending a great deal of money to
the Atlantic seaboard to be invested in futures; and that unless dealing
in speculative deliveries was sanctioned in what ought to be the
greatest cotton mart of the world, a large proportion of the city
business would be diverted to New York, even if the latter point did not
absorb a great deal of the “spot” trade.
The result of the discussion was a triumph for the advocates of
speculation, and in February, 1880, gambling in cotton futures began
upon the floor of the New Orleans Cotton Exchange. At first, it did not
seem to commend itself rapidly to public favor. Only 2,083,100 bales
were sold during the first year. The rapidity in which it grew in favor
is shown by the sudden increase in transactions in futures. In 1881,
10,115,800 bales were sold, which figures increased in 1882 to
16,171,000, which was fully double the amount of cotton the city
received. The advocates of stock gambling pointed to this increased
volume of business as the triumphant vindication of the position which
they had assumed. New Orleans, they said, had in less than three years
built up as large a gambling business as that which was carried on in
New York. But experience proved that speculation in cotton futures
reached its highest point in 1882, from which period it began to
decline. At that time, however, it was practically universal. Clerks,
samplers and weighers of cotton were among the most numerous patrons of
the speculative market. Men of this class appeared to believe that
because they have some business relations with cotton, they were
thoroughly conversant with the market and that their casual handling,
sampling or classifying of bales rendered them competent judges as to
the future course of events. New Orleans speculators proved to be but
pigmies, as compared with those of New York. In fact, the Southern
market was so generally wrong that it became a common saying in the
“country” that if one wished to bet right on the course of the cotton
market, he should always bet against the combined wisdom of New Orleans.
It may have been because the Eastern city had more capital, but the
tangible result was that in the single year, 1882, New York was
estimated to have relieved the metropolis of the Southwest of
$4,000,000, of her surplus cash. The loss fell chiefly upon those who
were less able to bear it. The employes of the warehouses had ventured
heavily. Even the janitor or porter bought his little “jag” of a hundred
bales.
The withdrawal of such a large quantity of money during a single year
resulted in bringing about a financial stringency in New Orleans, and
the tightness of money operated as a check upon speculative gambling,
which has never since blossomed out in the same magnificent luxuries.
Among those who had been particularly pronounced in their advocacy of
the sale of futures upon the Cotton Exchange, not less than fifty went
to the wall, and for a time the more conservative element managed things
in its own way. Some idea of the extent to which this species of
gambling mania had pervaded all classes of citizens may be gathered from
the statement—which cannot be controverted—that during the crop year of
1881-82, fully 15,000 people bought cotton futures at one time or
another, and that at least one man in four in New Orleans was
accustomed, now and then, to “take a little flyer.”
In 1883, the volume of transactions of this character declined to
12,041,900 bales; in 1884, to 9,588,300; in 1885, 8,037,100; and in
1886, to 7,474,900 bales, or less than half what it had been. Moreover
the business was confined chiefly to the larger dealers, the “small fry”
letting the market religiously and severely alone, and since 1886,
transactions have fluctuated in quantity. In 1887, sales of future
deliveries aggregated some 11,239,000 bales; 1888, 8,947,800; and in
1889, 6,575,000 bales. Since the introduction of this description of
gambling in New Orleans, about 92,223,900 bales of future cotton have
been sold in that city, upon which margins of $276,671,700 have been put
up, allowing a liberal commission to the brokers who managed the
business; these figures represent a payment, virtually upon a wager of
$73,409,933 by the losers to the winners. But no matter whether the
hotly contested battle was decided in favor of the bulls or whether the
bears were triumphant, some way or other New York always contrived to
come out ahead, and it is a generally conceded that the thrifty
manipulators of the latter market succeeded in extracting from the
pockets of their New Orleans brethren a sum variously estimated at from
$12,000,000 to $20,000,000.
Several attempts were made to prohibit this species of gambling by law,
but the dealers in futures proved too strong. Neither did public
sentiment condemn this sort of gambling, and many persons who would have
scorned to enter a faro bank, bought options in cotton without
compunction. Speculative craze during this period reached its maximum,
and was not confined to cotton alone. Three or four “bucket shops” were
started at which one could buy almost anything—wheat, or railroad and
mining stocks. With the general decline of their business, the “bucket
shops” also went by the board.
At present, however, the business is confined chiefly to a few operators
and brokers. The general public views the situation with little
interest, being indifferent as to whether A wins from B to-day and B
recovers his losses to-morrow, or vice-versa.