Far removed from the commercial centre of the country, New Orleans has
gambled but little in the general list of stocks, the greater portion of
the business done on the Stock Exchange being confined to transactions
in State and City bonds, a few local stocks, and—of late years—in mining
shares. Nevertheless of the $160,000,000 worth of bonds and other
securities dealt in during the past ten years, it is estimated that
fully four-fifths were bought and sold on speculative account. The
frequency with which the Louisiana law-makers have legislated in
reference to State debentures have caused the latter to fluctuate
violently. Large fortunes have been rapidly made and quickly lost, the
case of the Confederate Commander, Gen. J. B. Hood, affording a striking
illustration of the truth of the latter statement.
Legislative action in reference to the State debt in 1879, when the
interest was reduced, and again in 1884, regarding what is known as the
“interest amendment” gave rise to heavy speculations. Again in 1887, a
mania for gambling in land and mining stocks broke out, which continued
until 1889. In the latter year, the Mexican Lottery attracted much
interest, and winnings and losses were alike numerous.
The amount of money lost on speculation in New Orleans in ten years is
estimated at $82,000,000,—almost as much as the property valuation—and
some commercial concerns regarded as among the most solvent in the city
have been dragged down to bankruptcy.
Perhaps the most seductive and dangerous form of gambling in New Orleans
to-day is the mania for buying tickets in the Louisiana lottery, with
its attendant evil, “policy playing.” Lottery playing has always
prevailed in New Orleans. Lotteries innumerable existed in the old days,
and even the churches—notably Christ Church, the first Protestant church
in Louisiana, and to this day, the largest and most fashionable—were
built by means of lotteries.
The lotteries of the “olden times,” however, were small concerns, yet
they stimulated the desire and whetted the appetite for this sort of
excitement. They prepared the way for the extraordinary success which,
as has been already said, attended the introduction of the sale of
Havana lottery tickets into the Crescent City.
After the war, the Kentucky State Lottery Company sold some of its
tickets in New Orleans, but that concern never became so popular among
the people at large as was the Havana Lottery.
The considerations which induced the State Legislature to incorporate
the Louisiana Company have been already set forth. Too much money was
going to Cuba, and it was thought that the public treasury might as well
be enriched by a portion of the profits, which were known to be
numerous. All attempts to enforce the payment of a percentage on the
sale of Havana tickets have proved lamentable failures.
The act of incorporation of the Louisiana State Lottery was passed in
1868. Under its terms the company was granted a lease of life for a
period of twenty-five years. Under the constitution of 1880, its grip
upon the state was confirmed until the expiration of the year 1892. As
has been pointed out, in consideration of the payment by the company
into the state treasury of $40,000 per annum, the concern was to be
secured in a monopoly of the sale of lottery tickets within the state.
At first, however, this provision of the law was not enforced, Havana
tickets being freely sold upon the streets. But gradually the more
attractive offers of the home company and its growing popularity
attracted more and more business to its coffers, until, little by little
it virtually had a field to itself.
Of the $40,000 yearly tax, one-half was set apart for the maintenance of
the Charity Hospital—the largest free hospital in America—while the
remainder was devoted to the public service fund.
Originally the business of the company was very largely confined to
daily drawings and policy playing, and at one time there were not less
than 180 places within the corporate limits at which policy might be
played. At this time the sale of tickets was confined exclusively to
Louisiana and mainly to New Orleans. As time went by, however, the
company changed its schedule of drawings and gradually extended its
operations until they included the entire country. The result of these
various new departures was to enhance the importance of the monthly
drawings to such an extent that the daily distributions and the
attendant policy playing sunk into comparative insignificance. Little by
little, the value of the prizes and the price of tickets have been
doubled, until a whole ticket in a monthly drawing costs $20, while a
similar chance in the semi-annual distribution of prizes is held at $40.
Fully nine-tenths of the tickets are sold outside of Louisiana, the
largest buyers being Texas, California, New York, Washington and
Chicago.
The existing schedule of drawing is as follows: Two grand semi-annual
drawings; ten monthly drawings; three hundred and thirteen daily
drawings (with policy playing _ad libitum_); making a grand total of
three hundred and twenty-five drawings during the year.
The following table shows the number of each description of drawings,
the number of tickets printed, the price paid for a whole chance, the
value of the tickets sold, the amount of cash prizes distributed, and
the sum paid out in salary commissions.
────────────────────┬───────────┬───────┬───────────┬───────────┬───────────
NUMBER OF DRAWINGS │NO. TICKETS│ PRICE│ VALUE│PRIZES WON.│ PAID OUT
PER YEAR. │ PRINTED.│ PER│ TICKETS│ │ FOR
│ │TICKET.│ SOLD.│ │ SALARIES
│ │ │ │ │ AND
│ │ │ │ │COMMISSIONS.
────────────────────┼───────────┼───────┼───────────┼───────────┼───────────
2 Grand Semi-Annual,│ 200,000│ $40.00│ $5,600,000│ $3,080,000│ $600,000
10 Monthly, │ 1,000,000│ 20.00│ 13,000,000│ 7,150,000│ 1,200,000
313 Daily, │ 21,900,000│ 1.00│ 1,320,000│ 892,000│ 198,000
────────────────────┼───────────┼───────┼───────────┼───────────┼───────────
325 Drawings, │ 23,100,000│ ——│$19,920,000│$11,122,000│ $1,998,000
────────────────────┴───────────┴───────┴───────────┴───────────┴───────────
Year by year the business of the company has increased and its financial
standing has advanced in an equal ratio. Since its incorporation in
1868, it has sold tickets to the value of $168,000,000, paid prizes
amounting to $92,400,000, and expended in commissions to dealers in New
Orleans and elsewhere $16,000,000.
Its stock has, for some time past, paid an annual dividend of 85 per
cent. on its par value, and is quoted on the market at 900.
[Illustration: THE HOPPER OF THE SERPENT.]
In New Orleans, lottery playing is universal. It is safe to say that
50,000 fractional parts of tickets are purchased monthly, the smallest
fraction of a chance sold in a monthly drawing being one-twentieth, and
in the semi annual distribution one-fortieth. Among the purchasers there
is no distinction of sex, age, color, social position or occupation.
Men, women, whites, blacks, Mongolians, Mexicans, the old, the young,
leaders of society and the “bums,” one and all buy, the crowd of these
deluded speculators being swelled even by recruits from the ranks of the
clergy.
The friends of the lottery adduce many arguments in its support. They
claim that it is the least objectionable form of gambling; that it is
conducted “on the dead square;” that as the larger drawings take place
but once a month, and the price of the ticket is low (the usual ticket
one-twentieth or one-fortieth costs $1.00), one can at most lose but
$12.00 a year, even if he “plays lottery” every month and invariably
loses; that there have been no scandals growing out of the monthly
drawings, nor any instance of a man who has sunk his fortune, or
resorted to embezzlement to play. As regards the daily drawings, it is
pointed out that as that the ordinary purchaser only risks twenty-five
cents and the prizes stand to the tickets in the ratio of one to three,
it is impossible that much financial harm can be done.
These arguments, of course, utterly failed to take into consideration
the powerful incitement and stimulus which this sort of gambling imparts
to the vice in general. While the immediate effects of investing in
lottery tickets may not be sudden and pronounced financial ruin, the
consequences are apt to be far-reaching. Neither do the advocates of the
lottery take into account what is essentially the very worst feature of
the whole business—policy playing. While the aggregate amount of money
lost through this means may be insignificant as compared with that
squandered upon the monthly and semi-annual drawings, the ultimate
results flowing from this description of gambling are, perhaps, worse
than those attendant upon any other. Policy is played by the very
poorest classes—and particularly by the negroes—who cannot afford to
lose a solitary cent. The amount of suffering entailed upon the families
of the poor through this agency is so large as hardly to be susceptible
of computation.
At present there are some eighty policy shops in New Orleans, the
business of all of which is based upon the daily drawings of the
Louisiana Lottery. The keepers of these places sell, on an average
eighty slips each day, making the total sale in the city about sixty-
four hundred every twenty-four hours, or two million three thousand two
hundred per annum. The low prices at which these “slips” (or fractional
part of the tickets) are sold—twenty-five and fifty cents, places them
within the reach of all. There are probably two thousand or three
thousand regular policy players who buy tickets every day and who have a
system of combinations which they believe is certainly bound to win in
the end. In addition, there are about twenty-five thousand others who
make a similar venture about once a week. All these have made policy
playing a profound study, and understand all its intricacies and know
all about “horses”, “saddles”, “gigs”, “all day”, “first place”, etc.
They are firm believers in “luck”. In fact, nowhere are so many “fortune
telling” and “dream” books sold as in New Orleans, principally for the
purpose of interpreting dreams which the buyers believe indicate numbers
which they should play. Clairvoyants and fortune tellers abound and
prosper; and there are men whose only means of obtaining a fair support
is travelling the streets with cages of trained canaries or parroquets,
which for the trifling consideration of five cents, will select from a
case an envelope containing a number supposed to be a “sure winner.”
Blindness is regarded with reverence, for the reason that a blind man is
supposed to be invariably lucky. “Age cannot wither nor custom stale”
the folly of these inveterate policy players. Their infatuation and
superstition know no limit. They are constantly looking for “signs”. If
you should say to one of them that you expected to be thirty-six years
old on the sixth of December, the chances are that he would rush off
around the corner to play the combination 6-12-36. They are perpetually
looking for numbers by day and dreaming of them by night, and their
first act on arising in the morning is to consult their “dream-books”,
to ascertain what they shall play that day. The negro house servants are
among the best patrons of the policy shops, often squeezing a quarter or
half dollar from the market or grocery money, to place it on a “gig” or
“saddle”.
The aggregate amount thus squandered is, as has been said, enormous. Yet
it is usually spent in small sums and leads to no graver crime than
petty pilfering, which, however, is bad enough. Still, occasionally a
“plunger” tries this form of gambling, and once in a while a dishonest
clerk who has been systematically robbing his employer for years will
seek to arouse sympathy by attributing his entire peculation to the
insidious fascination of daily drawings.
The following table may prove of interest to the reader, as showing the
amount and character of the gambling practiced in New Orleans during the
past ten years. It has been carefully prepared from the most authentic
sources available and it is believed to be a very close approximation to
the exact facts:
────────────────────────────────────┬──────────────────┬──────────────────
│ │ PROFITS OF
│ │ BROKERS,
DESCRIPTION OF GAMBLING. │ AMOUNTS CHANGING │ GAMBLERS,
│ HANDS. │ LOTTERY CO. AND
│ │ DEALERS IN T’KS.
────────────────────────────────────┼──────────────────┼──────────────────
Speculation in Stocks, Futures, etc.│ $82,000,000│ $10,145,945
Lottery Tickets, │ 18,600,000│ 8,370,000
Policy Playing, │ 8,000,000│ 3,200,000
Regular Gambling, │ 30,000,000│ 3,400,000
────────────────────────────────────┼──────────────────┼──────────────────
Total, │ $138,000,000│ $25,115,945
────────────────────────────────────┴──────────────────┴──────────────────
Note.—The figures given include only the local business. The total amount
received from sales is vastly greater.
From the foregoing sketch of gambling in New Orleans, it will be
apparent to the reader that there has never been any determined effort
put forth for its suppression. This fact may be ascribed to two
operative causes. First, the absence of any pronounced public sentiment
against gaming; secondly, the powerful political influence wielded by
the gamblers. The latter have always been active ward politicians, and
have exercised great influence upon local elections, in fact, they have
usually had one or more of their representatives; indeed, at one time,
the Chief of Police, the officer on whom devolved the duty of enforcing
the law against gambling, was himself an ex-professional. At other
times, gamblers who were actively engaged in the business have been
members of the city council, tax collectors or supervisors of
registration, besides filling numerous other State and City offices. Of
the four men who, as ward “bosses,” virtually controlled the politics of
the city from 1876 to 1888, one was an active gambler.
The “sports” had become politicians, and ten or a dozen of them were
recognized as active “workers,” whose support was valuable to the
“bosses.” In consequence legislation adverse to gambling was well nigh
impossible, and the enforcement of the laws already on the statute book
had become dilatory and half-hearted. So weak was the sentiment in the
legislature against gaming that that body, at its last session, had
refused to pass a law requiring saloons where private gambling was
conducted, to place a screen behind their front doors.
At the present time, gambling in the city is comparatively at a
standstill. Many of those who have been prominently identified with the
business in the past have sought other pursuits, which, although of a
kindred character, have proved more profitable, such as the keeping of
“turf exchanges,” “book making,” etc.
The city council having refused to indorse the suggestion of Mayor
Shakspeare, that the indirect system of licensing be revived, finally
mustered up courage to instruct the executive to close all houses. While
the order cannot be said to have been literally and fully obeyed, its
passage and the official action following the same have proved a deadly
blow to public gambling.
Two striking instances may be mentioned, which serve to show not only
the immediate effect of a sudden reversal of public policy in this
regard, but also to illustrate the deep hold which this pernicious vice
obtains upon its victims.
On October 3, 1889, Joseph M. Marcus, a young merchant and a partner in
a large tobacco concern, lodged a bullet in his brain while standing
near the main entrance of one of the parish prisons. Temporary
abberation of mind, resulting from insomnia and apprehension of
financial loss was supposed to have been the cause of his rash act.
Later in the day, Napoleon Bonaparte White, one of the best known of the
local gambling fraternity, was found dead in his bed, in a lodging
house. A vial, in which remained a few drops of a decoction of morphine
was found near him, and its presence was supposed to be a sufficient
explanation of the manner of his death. About the time that the
executive order was being prepared—the day before his decease—while the
Mayor and Chief of Police were conferring upon the subject, White
appeared to be much depressed and said that he had provided a method of
evading the enforcement of the law; that he had purchased a pistol which
he proposed to use in case the order was enforced. White’s career had
been an eventful one. An engineer by profession, he had started in life
on the Mississippi steamboats. His ambition and temperament soon drew
him from the engine room to the saloon of the steamboat, where he
blossomed forth as a professional gambler. When Walker planned his
famous expedition to Nicaragua in 1856, White was one of the first to
enroll himself in the band of volunteers. After the final collapse of
the expedition, he drifted back to his old haunts in New Orleans, where
for many years he was one of the most familiar figures upon the streets.
Instances are numerous where men have won or lost their daily bread upon
the turn of a card. There have been not a few who, having staked their
all upon the same contingency and lost, have blown out their brains with
the weapon of despair. The sun-kissed hill-tops and low-lying valleys
that surround Monte Carlo, contain the graves of not a few devotees of
gaming, who in despair have ended their wretched lives. There is no sort
of emotion which the fascination of this vice has not awakened in the
human breast. There are a few rare instances relative to gamblers who
have fallen dead in a superabundance of sudden joy. But never before, so
far as is known, have two gamblers killed themselves because they
believed that they were about to be deprived of the opportunity of
indulging in their favorite pastimes. These instances stand
unprecedented and unparalleled in history.
MILWAUKEE.
In some form or other, gambling has been known in Milwaukee ever since
the advent of the first white settlers, and even on their arrival they
found the Indians racing ponies on the plains for wagers.
The first regular gambling house in Milwaukee of which there is any
record was a faro layout, established by Martin Curtis, in 1843, and
operated by him for several years. In those days every one gambled; and
as Curtis was gifted with the faculty of saving his winnings, he became
quite wealthy. He erected various buildings in that city, among them a
row of dwellings which yet stand on Broadway, facing the police station.
Some of his grandchildren still reside in the city, and enjoy the
inheritance left them by the “old man.”
In 1849, Milwaukee had grown to be a place of sufficient size to
maintain two gaming establishments. Thomas Wicks opened a game which he
continued to run for thirty years with varying success. He had two
brothers, Curtis and Gardner Wicks, who aided him in the business, and
ran the bank during the sessions of the legislature and at other times
when there was any “game” in the town. All through the war the Wicks
Brothers’ game was running in full blast at Milwaukee in an old yellow
building which General Lucius Fairchilds had inherited from his father.
The fact that General Fairchilds was Secretary of State for two years on
leaving the army, and was Governor for six, did not interfere with the
“tiger” having its lair in the upper part of his building, within two
blocks of the handsome mansion in which his family resided. As showing
the “pull” which the Wicks had on politicians and public men it may be
of interest to record the fact, that although Governor Fairchilds went
through four bitter political campaigns as a candidate, there never was
a word said in any paper in reference to the fact that while Governor of
Wisconsin he knowingly rented his property for gambling purposes.
From the time when he opened, in 1849, until some time in or about 1872,
John Welch was the gambling king of the State. His acquaintance with
prominent men gave him immunity, both in Milwaukee and at Madison; and
it was seldom that his game was made the subject of police interference.
During a long period of his career, William Beck was Milwaukee’s chief
of police, and as he was an inveterate gambler himself, and could
generally be found in a gaming house when not engaged upon professional
business, he naturally refrained from interfering with Wicks.
But the gambler met his fate at last. “Taking a flyer” is what ruined
him, and since 1872 he has done very little beyond insisting that modern
gamblers are all “crooked.”
On several occasions he has attempted to break up the games in Milwaukee
by procuring indictments against the gamblers, but in each instance has
ignominiously failed, for the reason that the younger men have been
shrewd enough to induce the public to believe that the “old sport” was
merely trying to extort money. Prior to his unfortunate venture in
wheat, “Tom” Wicks enjoyed the friendship of a large number of wealthy
and influential men who never gambled. These in a majority he has
retained since his misfortune. The charge brought against him by the
younger gamblers, however, that he was endeavoring to levy blackmail has
caused a coolness between himself and some of his former acquaintances.
In 1876, when Alexander Mitchell took the Wisconsin delegation to St.
Louis in his private car, “Tom” Wicks was made chief caterer and
attended to the wants of the party; the members of which enjoyed a
perpetual banquet from the moment of their departure until the hour of
their return.
Just before Wicks lost his money, Mayor O’Neil closed up the gambling
houses in Milwaukee and also raided Sunday dances, the result being that
next year the “tough” element joined the Republicans and elected
Harrison Ludington Mayor. He opened the town for those who had elected
him, and, so far as gambling was concerned, it continued to run about as
it pleased until a year ago, when Chief Ries, almost as a last official
act before being relieved of the care of the police force, closed up the
gambling houses. This left Mayor Brown and Chief Jansen the choice of
keeping them closed or being abused by the friends of Ries. They chose
the former alternative. As a consequence the city has been “closed up
tight” for nearly a year, most of the dealers and supernumeries since
the last election emigrating to other localities, a considerable
proportion finding congenial surroundings in Chicago.
Before this compulsory hegira of the gamblers, Milwaukee was one of the
most viciously “wide open” towns in the Northwest, and the business was
becoming a nuisance. After the collapse of the iron boom all manner of
disreputables flocked thither, and gambling, might have been said, to be
running rampant. Six faro banks were constantly open, besides poker
games and wheels of fortune in the back rooms of most of the saloons.
During the recent G. A. R. encampment, the authorities seemed to relax
their vigilance, and allowed a little faro playing in a quiet way, but
there is no guarantee that a raid may not occur at any moment. As a
consequence, it is not probable that a game of any magnitude will
attempt to exist, or that if it does anybody will run the risk of
patronizing it. A raid was made last September and three keepers and
sixty players were captured. It was generally supposed that the “haul”
would have been larger had not a “tip” been secretly given.
Last May the Chief of Police, Jansen, drafted a new ordinance relative
to gambling, which he asked the council to pass. The ordinance provided
that police officers armed with a properly drawn warrant might enter any
place where they suspect gambling was being carried on, and that any one
refusing them admission should be subject to a severe penalty. The
police were empowered to use force and to batter down doors when refused
admission. The ordinance also provided that the men found in charge of
the gambling house should be deemed the keepers and that all gambling
tools and paraphernalia captured by the police should be destroyed as
soon as the police proved to the court that the said tools are gambling
devices.
There was considerable opposition among the aldermen to the ordinance,
on the ground that it would enable the police to break into private
houses and arrest a party of gentlemen who might be enjoying a quiet
game of poker.
“Any man who pretends to oppose the law on such grounds is either a fool
or a knave,” said Chief Jansen. “In the first place, we can enter any
man’s house now on a properly drawn warrant. It is all nonsense to
suppose that the police would attempt to enter any one’s house to break
up a game of cards, even if played for a consideration. Any police
official who attempted it would be promptly called to account and the
verdict of public opinion alone would cause him to lose his position.
What we do want, however, are laws sufficiently stringent to allow us to
stamp out public gambling. It costs the city hundreds of dollars to keep
the gambling houses closed, and when we get a case against them they
slip through with a petty fine and then the police department is
subjected to the humiliation of having to return the gambling tools. The
ordinances of the city are no more stringent now than when they were
first passed, when the city was incorporated, in 1854. They are not up
to the times. We want this new ordinance passed so that we can close and
keep closed public gambling houses without being compelled to keep a
detail of men on watch at all times.”
GAMBLING IN SARATOGA.
To narrate the history of gambling in Saratoga, would be almost to give
an epitome of the history of the town itself from its earliest date. Its
celebrity as a watering place has done much to increase the practice of
the vice, but even before it obtained fame in this direction its
reputation as a gambling resort was well established within the somewhat
contracted radius of the circle of which it formed the centre.
The author is indebted to an old resident of the Springs, who took up
his residence there, under the parental wing, in 1831, when he was a boy
of but ten years of age, for the statement that as early as 1844 there
existed a resort on Broadway, opposite the residence of the Chancellor,
where a bowling alley and billiard room constituted the chief
attractions. The fact that games were played for wagers undoubtedly
rendered the resorts more attractive. In a journal published in those
early days there is found a communication from a lawyer, in which the
writer complains that while arguing a case before the Chancellor he had
been much annoyed by the noise of the patrons of the bowling alley, and
that at intervals he could hear the click of the billiard pools, and
even the rolling of the roulette table. During this period there was
another bowling alley, situated in a small grove near a pond in the
Southern part of the village, with the then customary adjuncts of
billiards and open gambling. The location of the latter resort was
practically identical with the site of the Clarendon hotel. Its
proprietor was Geo. W. Gale, who also owned the alley opposite the
Chancellor. In 1845, Gale retired from business, to accept the position
of ticket agent of the Rensselaer and Saratoga railroad, a fact which
would seem to indicate that in those early days running a gambling house
was not found to be particularly profitable in Saratoga.
Perhaps the explanation may be found in the fact that the resorts of
similar character had multiplied to an extent considerably exceeding the
demand of the population. About the year 1834 bowling alleys and other
places where various games might be played for a wager were numerous in
the neighborhood of the railroad depots. The business was carried on so
openly that almost the first object which attracted the attention of a
passenger alighting from a train was the open door of one of these
resorts.
Early in the history of the Springs, and long before the war, Southern
planters in great numbers, selected Saratoga as their summer resort
every year. It is not too much to say that they gambled with a
recklessness in comparison with which the ventures of players of later
days sink into comparative insignificance. They prided themselves upon
playing a “gentleman’s game,” and the stakes were practically unlimited.
The rich Southerner of the ante-bellum days was as simple in his pride
as any other spoiled child of fortune; he offered an easy prey to the
rapacity of professional sharks, and he was not infrequently robbed
outright. He was accustomed to associating with those who were wont to
flatter his vanity, and who were fond of assuring him that “the king
could do no wrong.” The result was that the gamblers found it easy to
reap a rich harvest, provided that they succeeded in being permitted to
“sit” in the right kind of games. As most of the gambling was done at
the hotel, the chance of detection was reduced to a minimum. From what
has been said, it may be inferred that it is a mistake to suppose that
gambling at Saratoga had its origin at the time of the introduction of
the races, although since the time that the trial of the speed of horses
was added to the attractions of this world-famous watering place, the
vice has developed to a larger extent than ever before. The races were
started in 1863, at what was then regarded as a suburb, and known as
“House Haven.” It was about this time that club rooms sprang up and were
to be found in all the larger hotels, where, for that matter, they may
be found to-day. Faro and other banking games were openly dealt at half
a dozen places in the village.
John Morrissey, once famous as a pugilist, and later as the head and
front of the sporting fraternity throughout the United States, first
appeared in Saratoga in 1863, as a patron of the race course. In 1870 he
built and opened, with no little parade, his magnificent club house.
Ladies and gentlemen were alike invited to become his guests, and his
object was to establish upon the American continent a gaming resort
which should rival Monte Carlo. Notwithstanding the fact that indignant
remonstrances were made by the better class of citizens, a local
newspaper of that date chronicles that his establishment received the
patronage of many of the principal ladies of the village, who were
received and attended during their visits by professional blacklegs.
Playing at this resort has always run high, although of late years the
profits of the managers have not been so large as in former days. In
March, 1871, an indignation meeting of citizens was held and resolutions
were adopted emphatically denouncing gambling.
Among the best known professionals of early days at Saratoga, was
Benjamin C. Scribner, who arrived in the village about 1842 and opened a
small place in an alley near the United States Hotel. He was supposed to
be a man of considerable wealth at one time, but was ultimately very
glad to accept a position from Morrissey, in whose employ he remained
until he died. It was a surprise to the public that his estate was found
to be worth several thousand dollars, but the surprise was somewhat
dissipated when it was learned that the property had been tied up in
such a way that he could not use it.
Morrissey soon found that it was impossible to carry out his original
idea of making Saratoga the Baden-Baden of the United States. The
disapprobation of the citizens was so openly expressed that he became
chary of admitting people into his resort. He professed to
discountenance open gambling, although every one in Saratoga knew that
his club house was the great head-center of the vice. Albert Spencer and
Charles Reed were subsequently associated with him as partners. Reed
brought his wife to Saratoga and purchased land on which he erected a
handsome residence. His family regularly attended the Episcopal church,
and he made some effort to gain a foot-hold in good society, but did not
meet with the success which he had expected. Afterwards Mr. Reed
abandoned or disposed of his interest in the club house, and is at
present a stock raiser, having obtained a by no means unenviable
reputation as a breeder of thorough breds. He owns a fine racing stable.
Morrissey’s career is too well known to call for any extended
description in this connection. He died a poor man and his wife was left
in decidedly straightened circumstances. Probably no gambler in the
United States won more money than he, and certainly none enjoyed a
higher reputation for fair dealing and integrity. He was liberal to
folly; in fact it may be said that during the heyday of his prosperity
he was princely in his generosity. While his business was said to be
under reprobation, he was yet able to command an immense popularity. It
is doubtful whether any professional gambler in America has done more to
corrupt the morals of young men than did Morrissey through the indirect
influence of his gambling. It is a lamentable commentary upon American
politics that a professional gambler, even though reputed to be a
“square” player, should have been able to obtain a seat in the United
States Congress through the suffrage of a constituency which typified
the wealth and culture of the metropolis of the New World.
One word with regard to the influence of legislation upon gambling on
horse races. At the period when the Saratoga meetings were inaugurated
pool selling was not prohibited and was openly conducted. Not long
afterward a law was enacted forbidding this form of gambling, but so far
as Saratoga was concerned it proved a dead letter; in other words it was
never enforced. Some practical members of the law-making body perceived
this fact and attempted to prescribe a remedy. The outcome of their
efforts was the celebrated “Ives” bill, which legalizes pool selling on
horse races during thirty days in each year. The practical result of the
adoption of this measure was to put an end to pool selling in a “hole-
and-corner” sort of way, which was brought about measurably through the
efforts of those gamblers who were willing to comply with the provisions
of the law.
Not many years ago Anthony Comstock, known all over the country as an
uncompromising foe of vice, visited Saratoga upon the invitation of the
reputable class of citizens. As a result of his visit several places
were raided, but the grand jury refused to indict the proprietors upon
the complaint of Comstock and his men.
It is worthy of remark that probably there is no place in the United
States in which gambling is conducted on more strictly business
principles than in Saratoga. Twenty years ago play was reckless, but was
prompted chiefly by a love of excitement. Then everybody gambled simply
as a method of killing time. To-day gambling at this famous watering
place is chiefly, if not altogether, in the hands of professionals. In
other words, nowadays, everybody who gambles does so on keen business
principles. In the old times, the Southern gentleman lost his slaves and
his plantation upon the turn of a card. At the present time large stakes
are the exception, as they were formerly the rule. Occasionally a player
who has plenty of money will risk a few hundreds and lose them without a
murmur, but the good old days seem to have gone forever. The dealers’
winnings, as a rule, are comparatively small.
To come down to modern times, no history of gambling at Saratoga would
be complete which failed to record the inauguration and prosecution of
the war against gaming houses, which was commenced by Spencer Trask, of
New York, in 1889. Mr. Trask, was well and favorably known upon the New
York Stock Exchange, and for some time conducted an office at Saratoga
during the season where he bought and sold stocks on margins. He is (or
was) a proprietor of a daily newspaper at the Springs, through the
columns of which he waged vigorous war upon the gamblers. He is
understood to have been one of the victims of Comstock’s first raid, and
is said to have paid a fine in consequence of an indictment by the grand
jury. The result of his investigations he has made known, and the
author, after some pains to contest the correctness of his statements,
feels justified in giving to his readers a summary of what he
discovered.
At the present time, there are over twenty or thirty gaming resorts in
Saratoga. Half of these cannot be said to be open games. Many of them
cater for the patronage of the lowest class of society only. In the
“_Saratoga Union_” of August 22, there was printed a list of the public
houses, which may be said to have been a substantially correct re-
capitulation of those actually running at that time.
To summarize the history of gambling in Saratoga—It may be said that
there has been open gambling at the Springs for at least twenty years,
and that gaming is still open there to-day. While there was more poker
playing at the hotels twenty years ago than there is to-day the vice is
more rampant now than then. At the same time, there is a more pronounced
effort to conduct it in comparative secrecy. At that time, the officers
of the law looked upon it as a necessary evil and put forth no effort
toward its suppression. To-day, public sentiment compels them to take
action, which, however dilatory and half-hearted, is still or more less
effective.
A brief allusion has been made in a preceding paragraph to the visit of
Anthony Comstock to Saratoga. From what has been said, the reader may
perhaps infer that it was comparatively without result. This impression
should be removed. The Secretary of the New York Society for the
Suppression of Vice visited the place accompanied by several of his own
detectives, all being disguised. Their primary object was to obtain
evidence against some twenty-nine gamblers. They were threatened with
assassination and the best people of the city met in a citizens’
assembly to voice public opinion, and to afford them the moral support
which the people alone can furnish. The hells were raided, and most of
those arrested waived examination; yet in spite of positive and
conclusive evidence not a single indictment was found.
In August, 1879, two raids upon the gaming houses were instituted but no
implements were found either time. The explanation commonly accepted by
the public was that “private tips” had been given to the houses by the
police. Notwithstanding this, detectives obtained sufficient evidence to
hold several gamblers to await the action of the grand jury. The net
result was a rather deplorable fiasco.
Despite all citizens’ meetings, it is a grave question whether public
sentiment in Saratoga does not, at least indirectly, support gambling. A
leading daily journal of that city, while fighting for the suppression
of the vice, virtually concedes this fact. There can be no question that
strong political influence is brought to bear every year upon the
District Attorney of Saratoga County, not to press indictments before
the grand jury, and upon members of the latter body not to find a true
bill. The explanation is to be found in the fact that the gambling
interests in the city and county are too strong to be overcome by the
moral sentiment of a minority of tax-payers.
Owing to the large number of hotels gamblers and confidence men have
found Saratoga a good place at which to locate an alibi. It is a fact no
less surprising than sad that clerks at reputable hotels are willing to
lend themselves to such a scheme. The _modus operandi_ is simple. A few
lines are reserved on the register under a particular date; on that day
a confidence game is worked elsewhere (let us say in Boston). The
sharpers repair to the hotel where the space on the register has been
reserved, and enter their names as of a previous date. Should they be
arrested the hotel register is an invaluable adjunct in establishing an
alibi. Of course the clerk cannot distinctly remember particular guests,
but—for a consideration—he believes that his register is correct.
GAMBLING IN CINCINNATI.
Cincinnati at present (1890) may be said to be comparatively free from
gamblers. The last gaming establishment in the city was shut up in 1886,
and since that time there has not been a single place known as a resort
of this character within the corporate limits. The proprietor of the
last recognized house was Marshall Wooden, who is now somewhere in
Arkansas. His place was closed as a result of the last battle in the
long struggle between the gamblers and the authorities. Two years
previous to that time gambling hells had been numerous, being protected
by the existing Board of Police Commissioners, who exacted a weekly
amount of blackmail from every gambling house. That board, however,
which was a partisan one, was wiped out of existence, and a non-partisan
board took charge of the police. A crusade against the gamblers was
inaugurated, and little by little they were driven from the town.
However, in Covington and Newport, Kentucky towns just across the river
from Cincinnati, gamblers are allowed full sway. In Covington alone
there are no less than one hundred policy shops, and Newport boasts of a
large number. Faro and keno are also played in these towns, while in
Newport is a resplendently gorgeous gaming palace, devoted to all kinds
of play, which has been running for years. These facilities for
gambling, so near at home, are so annoying to Cincinnati authorities
that the latter have attempted to induce the officials on the other side
of the river to act with them in suppressing the vice. But nothing has
been done in the matter. It was only a short time ago that a young man,
a clerk in the Bodmann tobacco warehouse in Cincinnati, began to
frequent the horse races at Latonia. At first he risked only his own
money, but from betting on horse pools he gradually became infatuated
with other forms of gambling, and night after night found him in
Newport, in the place already referred to. As a result of this love for
play, and to pay his “debts of honor,” (?) he forged the name of his
employers to checks to the amount of ten thousand dollars, cashed them,
fled to England, was arrested, brought back, and is now serving a
sentence of seven years in the Ohio penitentiary.
It was not until the beginning of the war that there was any great
amount of gambling in Cincinnati. Previous to that time, poker was
played regularly on the steam boats plying the Ohio and Mississippi
rivers between that city and New Orleans, and occasionally there was a
game on shore. But as a rule the gambler kept on the water. During the
war, however, Cincinnati was the headquarters of one of the great
departments of the army. It was full of officers going and coming;
immense amounts of money changed hands constantly; fortunes were made
readily, and, of course, adventurers of all kinds flocked to the city.
Then it was that the first gambling establishments were opened. There
was a general laxity in regard to gamblers, and they held uninterrupted
sway. Gambling increased until 1877 or 1878, when it reached its height.
There were pool rooms in many of the saloons; gambling houses were as
open as dry goods stores; policy was openly played, and lottery tickets
were apparently legitimate articles of commerce.
About 1878, however, the pool rooms were closed and lottery tickets were
banished. Now and then there would be a return of officials who owed
their election to the votes of the gamblers, and that element in the
community which was in sympathy with them, as during the years of 1884
and 1886, but good and efficient laws and their administration by an
honest police force soon succeeded in suppressing open gaming houses.
Probably Cincinnati’s most noted gambler was the late “Bolly” Lewis. He
flourished during the palmy days of the war. His establishment was one
of the finest in the city. One night an army paymaster dropped into his
place, and before morning came the unfortunate officer had lost $40,000.
This set “Bolly” to moralizing, and from that time he became a changed
man. He gave up gambling, became a member of the church, and was
prominent in all charitable works. He proved his penitence by restoring
the $40,000 to the officer. He went into the hotel business, became part
proprietor of the Gibson house, and when he died enjoyed the respect and
confidence of the entire community.
Tom Mead has been one of Cincinnati’s most persistent gamblers. He was a
miner and went to California in ’49. He found it, however, more
profitable to stop at Panama, where the miners who went by sea were
crossing in a steady stream, and opening a gambling house there, he
caught them going and coming, greatly to his own profit. He returned
very wealthy, shot a man in Boston, then came to Cincinnati and opened
places on Vine, Longworth and Fifth streets. Personally, he is a quiet,
apparently inoffensive gentleman, dressing modestly, fond of good horses
and devoted to his wife. Since gambling has been stopped he has become a
law-abiding citizen and lives on the rental of the many houses which he
owns.
“Eph” Holland is another noted Cincinnati gambler, who once achieved
some notoriety as a politician, and who now has a place in Hot Springs,
Arkansas.
“Blackie” Edwards still lives in Cincinnati, where for years he ran a
straight faro game. He was honest in his way and had a code of honor
which was exact. He apparently has enough to live on without working.
Robert Lynn ran faro games in both Cincinnati and Washington, and when
the edict went forth that drove him out of the former city he retired to
the latter.
Those named are men who have lived long in Cincinnati, some of whom have
accumulated money, which they have carefully invested; but at all times
the city has had homeless, temporary professional gamblers, who have
come floating up from Lexington and other southern and western cities.
It was from Kentucky that the business men, stock farmers and the like
came, who made up the principal customers for Cincinnati’s gambling
establishments. It was openly stated by the gamblers when it was
proposed to drive them away, that they rarely fleeced any one who lived
in the city, their profits being derived altogether from strangers, and
that consequently it was really a good thing for the town to draw and
keep here money from abroad.
There have never been but three really popular games among Cincinnati
gamesters—poker, of the stud-horse type, faro, and keno. Keno, as a
rule, has been straight, while faro has been equally crooked.
With the exception of Blackie Edwards’ place, the stranger in a gambling
room in Cincinnati had nine chances in ten of being cheated. Roulette
has been played to some extent, while in the old days rondeau was
something of a favorite. It was played with a board furnished with
pockets. You played a certain number of balls, rolling them down the
board, and if an even number of them went in the pockets you won; if
not, you lost. Crap shooting is played only along the levee by the
darkies. Three years ago there were at least five hundred policy shops
in town, but they have all been driven out. Policy is still played on a
small scale, the headquarters being in Kentucky, and men go around to
collect the numbers from the “friends,” as they are called.
During the war, gambling was enormously profitable. The instance of
$40,000 having been lost in a single night has already been mentioned.
The heads of gambling establishments would frequently take a trip to New
Orleans, and would return with perhaps $5,000 and it was not unusual for
the profits to be $10,000. During the later years, profits have not been
so phenomenal, but still the money made has been large, as was clearly
shown by the fact that gamblers were able to spend $50,000 and $60,000 a
year for police protection. The business being in the hands of a few
men, they were able to run pretty much as they pleased, the horde of
small-fry professional gamblers being kept on the outside.
During the palmy days of the gamblers, they were an active, aggressive
political force. Ephraim Holland, already mentioned, was famous as a
political ward worker. He manipulated conventions to suit himself, and
saw to it that the police officers were men who were friendly; and when
Ephraim saw that an election was going against him, he at one time, so
far forgot himself as to stuff the ballot box. This sent him to the
penitentiary, and the wave of public indignation that followed his
conviction, was disastrous to the gamblers. The gambling houses were
kept open all night, being run, as a rule, in connection with a saloon,
and they were hot-beds fostering criminals. They attracted to the town
all sorts of unscrupulous individuals. There were frequent fights and
occasionally a murder, while robbery was not uncommon. But since the
closing of the gambling houses and at the same time the shutting down of
the saloons at midnight, Cincinnati has really been regenerated. The
number of prisoners in the jail has been reduced to almost half, while
the clearing of the moral atmosphere is noticeable. The chief of
detectives of Cincinnati, Col. Larry Hazen, said in speaking of the
hegira of the gamblers, “I regard it as the greatest moral reform that
Cincinnati has seen in my time. It removed temptation from growing boys
and trusted young men, and it keeps away from our town a great number of
pickpockets, as well as gamblers, who are ready to be burglars or
anything else when occasion may offer.”
The Cincinnati Chamber of Commerce and Board of Trade are for strictly
legitimate dealing. There is no selling on margins; all transactions
must be with the real article. There are, however, three bucket shops
who do business with the Chicago Board of Trade. Ten years ago there
were fifteen bucket shops doing business in this way, but for the lack
of patronage, they have dwindled to three. The law is exact and plain in
forbidding their existence, but thus far, the courts have failed to
dispose of the cases brought before them. The police are making a
strenuous effort to close them up, and the next legislature promises to
pass even more stringent legislation in regard to them. The volume of
business done by them is small, their customers being for the most part,
young men and listless individuals who have no regular employment, but
who lounge around the bucket shops, spending now and then a dollar, and
passing their time in watching the blackboards.
Lo! next to my prophetic eye there starts
A beauteous gamestress in the queen of hearts.
The cards are dealt, the fatal pool is lost,
And all her golden hopes forever crossed.
Yet still this card—devoted fair I view—
Whate’er her luck, to “_honor_” ever true.
So tender there—if debts crowd fast upon her
She’ll pawn her “virtue” to preserve her “_honor_.”
Thrice happy were my art, could I foretell
Cards would be abjured by every belle!
Yet, I pronounce who cherish still the vice,
And the pale vigils keep of cards and dice—
’Twill on their charms sad havoc make, ye fair!
Which “rouge” in vain shall labor to repair.
Beauties will grow mere hags, toasts wither’d jades,
Frightful and ugly as the—_Queen of Spades_.
_Oxonian in Town, 1767._
GAMBLING IN CLEVELAND.
With a population estimated at 250,000, Cleveland supports a dozen
public gambling houses, half a dozen private poker clubs and two policy
shops. In deference to unfavorable public sentiment, which forms the
basis of restrictive measures enforced by the police, all forms of
gambling are of necessity conducted in an exceedingly quiet manner. As a
rule, all public gaming is conducted behind locked doors and applicants
for admission are subjected to close scrutiny. For thirty years but one
line of policy has been pursued by the municipal authorities toward
gambling houses, and in all that time public opinion has been uniformly
hostile to the business. The policy of the authorities has been to
restrict, rather than to abolish, gambling. They have endeavored to
place the games, as far as possible, beyond the reach of uninitiated and
guileless citizens who would probably prove easy victims, and to limit
their patronage to those whose experience has made them more familiar
with the wiles of the professional gamester.
There is not a gambling house in Cleveland conducted on the ground
floor, nor is there one run with open doors. With a solitary exception,
the gambling rooms, of which there are about a dozen, are located in the
second story of the business blocks. The exception referred to is a
Chinese “joint,” operated in connection with a Mongolian laundry in a
basement.
In 1866, there were but a half dozen gambling establishments in the
city, and nearly all the six opened have commenced operations within the
past eight years. There have, however, been several gambling rooms
opened and conducted for only a short time, whose doors were closed
because of the slender resources of the “bank,” which could not sustain
the loss of a few thousand dollars. Within the past few years the police
have emphatically insisted that the gambling rooms be kept hidden from
public gaze. The object undoubtedly has been, as before intimated, so to
arrange matters that only those who were obstinately bent on play, could
find a place in which to stake their earnings on the turn of a card.
It has also been a feature of police policy to make a formal raid every
year. In the Police Court it has been the custom to assess nominal fines
of fifty dollars and costs on the keepers of gambling houses and ten
dollars and costs on the visitors. Both classes have always assented to
the arrangement, and, after pleading guilty, paid their fines without
protest. A great many disinterested citizens insist that such
proceedings, besides being inherently farcical, partake very much of the
nature of an indirect licensing of the business.
A State statute provides that, when ordered by a court of competent
jurisdiction, the mayor and chief of police shall destroy the gambling
implements captured in a raid. It has become the settled custom,
however, for the court not to order the destruction of the
paraphernalia, which is accordingly returned to the owners. In
consequence there is a great public outcry against the business and the
police order all proprietors to close their rooms. They comply for a few
weeks, and then gaming is resumed, though at first on a small scale.
They gradually grow bolder, until they very nearly reach the point where
they conduct business with open doors. There is then another outcry,
they are ordered to close and the whole process is repeated.
In all the gambling houses there is a sentinel, and unless the
appearance of the applicant for admission is satisfactory he is not
permitted to enter.
Probably another reason for the caution on the part of the gamblers is
to be found in the stringent legislation against the vice. The law, of
course, does not recognize the business as legitimate, and it is an easy
matter for a loser to secure judgment for money lost, either before a
petty magistrate or in a higher court. As a rule the gamblers settle
before the cases are called for trial, and they have at times submitted
to blackmail rather than appear in court.
Concerning the individual characteristics of Cleveland gamblers there is
little to be said, few of them enjoying more than a local reputation.
Among the most prominent proprietors of gambling houses, George Randall
is, perhaps, the best known, and is the nearest approach to the ideal
professional gamester. He has just passed the meridian of life, and has
an unusually pleasant countenance. His drooping mustache is barely
tinged with gray. He is intelligent, good-natured, and of a quiet
disposition. He is thoroughly “game,” and no man can lose with more
nonchalance or win with an easier grace. He owns a gambling
establishment in Saratoga, but has an interest in two “hells” in
Cleveland. His fortune is estimated at $30,000.
As regards the extent of gambling in Cleveland, it may be said that
four-fifths of the playing is done in eight establishments, in all of
which the principal games are “faro,” “roulette” and “poker.” In each of
those places the paraphernalia—that is, the gambling implements and
furnishings—cost about $2,500. The total amount invested in the outfit
of the gambling rooms is about $25,000. There are in nearly all cases
two partners, three dealers, and a porter, who also acts as sentinel.
The dealers receive from $20 to $30 per week; the rents range from $60
to $80 per month, and the gas bills average about $6 per week. Under the
head of expenses should be included the fines assessed at the time of
the annual raids, all of which are paid by the proprietors. The average
expenses of the twelve gambling houses in the city may fairly be
summarized as follows:
Salaries of dealers $3,000
Rents 840
Gas 300
Porter 520
Police-court fines 100
Incidental expenses, including refreshments 500
———
Total $5,260
The amount of capital backing the establishments is about $80,000, of
which faro has some $30,000, and roulette and poker the balance. There
are about fifty employes. The profits during the past year have been, in
the estimation of the best judges in the city, about $35,000. It has,
however, been an unfortunate year for the fraternity, for, in addition
to the losses already mentioned, one firm lost $6,000 in a month.
There are three semi-public poker clubs, of which the expenses are paid
by the “rake off.” Besides these there are several private poker clubs,
the members of which contribute all the money needed to maintain the
rooms. A great deal of poker playing is also carried on in private rooms
at various points throughout the city.
The Chinese laundrymen love to indulge in “fan-tan” and poker, and are
inveterate gamesters. Many of them wear jasper rings on their left
wrists “for luck.” They are in the habit of assembling in small parties
in several localities, the main establishment being located at the
corner of Seneca and Chaplain streets. The last mentioned place is also
the headquarters of one of their secret societies. A police raid upon
it, not many months ago, resulted in the capture of some twenty
Celestials.
Policy playing is limited to two establishments. Each is conducted by
the proprietor and one assistant, and they do a prosperous business.
Their patrons are poor people, who are necessarily ignorant or they
would not strive to overcome the heavy odds against their chance of
winning. The patrons of the game invest about $1,500 per week in their
effort to name the winning combination.
About $5,000 per month is invested in the Louisiana State Lottery. The
local agent is the proprietor of a cigar store who maintains little
secrecy, and even women and children figure among the patrons. The
greater number of tickets are ordered by express or mail directly from
New Orleans.
Gambling in stocks and grain is conducted through a few brokers who act
as agents of the parties in New York and Chicago. They do a fair
business, but it is not nearly so large as it was during the speculative
craze a few years ago. They are understood to receive a commission of
five per cent. Gamblers in Cleveland have never taken an active part in
politics, their interest having been chiefly limited to wagers on the
result of elections.
Police officials all unite in saying that little or no crime has been
traced to gambling. One bank cashier embezzled nearly $1,000,000, and
another about $80,000 to invest in stocks and wheat, but only one or two
trifling defalcations have been traced to ordinary gambling. Recently a
young man $200 short in his accounts disappeared, and he probably lost
the money at roulette. A trusted employe ruined a prominent book firm,
misusing perhaps $20,000; but business mismanagement and possibly other
weaknesses combined with his fondness for poker to bring about his
downfall.
There have undoubtedly been cases of embezzlement due to cards, however,
that never became public. The laws against gambling have also made the
proprietors cautious, and they are careful in permitting visitors to
stake large sums. The gamblers, aside from a lot of “hangers on,” known
as “shoestring” or “tin horn” gamblers, do not figure in the criminal
records. Most of the latter exist on the earnings of prostitutes, and
steal and gamble as a matter of course.
----------
GAMBLING IN MOBILE.
Before the war, the slave owner with wealth at his command, with his
plantations overseered by trustworthy men, with his crops cultivated by
his slaves, gradually became more and more indifferent to mercantile
pursuits, and indeed, to any vocation involving actual work, of either
mind or body, his main anxiety being to solve the question, how should
he spend his money and live. Especially was this true before the advent
of the railroad, when Mobile was the principal city in the State, the
most easy of access on account of its rivers, and the focus of at least
two-thirds of the entire wealth of Alabama. Gaming at that time in
Mobile was almost universal, the sporting element being by far more
gentlemanly, better educated, and in every respect more polished than
are the men of that ilk to-day. Among the patrons of the race-course
were such men as Wm. R. Johnson, Col. Sprague, “Wagner” Campbell; while
the gamblers numbered in their ranks, Capt. Geo. Grant and Jack
Delahaunty. As long as money poured into Mobile, that city was specially
noted among the gambling fraternity for the high stakes wagered on
horse-racing, and the amount risked on the turn of a card. Even when
“the late unpleasantness” came on, substantially the same state of
affairs existed, and what diminution there was in gaming among the
residents, was more than counterbalanced by the prevalence of gambling
among the soldiers of both armies during the war.
At this time a well known figure on the streets of Mobile, was Capt. Wm.
H. Williamson. He was a Virginian by birth, of wealthy parents and
educated as a gentleman. Early in life he settled in Alabama. He was
exceedingly fond of horses, and generally devoted to sporting and was a
frequenter of the races in Mobile, even up to a date within the last few
years. He was one of the California “Forty-niners” and one of the
witnesses of the famous Broderick-Terry duel, the story of which has
recently been revived by the shooting of Judge Terry. Capt. Williamson
was elected Chief of Police for two terms, holding that office during
six years. It is fairness of play and unfailing courtesy rendered him
popular, and he was one of the best types of the gamblers who, before
the war, made Mobile their headquarters.
During the ante-bellum days “brace” games were either exceptional or not
desirable. In fact they may be said to have been comparatively unknown
in Mobile until after the occupancy of the city by the federal forces,
when an army, estimated at 60,000, occupied the city and its immediate
vicinity. With the advent of the camp followers, came sharp practices,
and gambling revived in its most pernicious form.
From 1865 to 1872 this state of affairs continued. In the year 1873,
Mobile having, like every other city in the Union, undergone the ordeal
of a financial panic, which at that time swept over the country at
large, was not a particularly favorable spot for the operations of
gamblers. The laws of the State enacted about that time, moreover, were
decidedly hostile to gambling. However, keno rooms and lotteries began
to flourish, at the expense of poker, faro and roulette. Each successive
legislature passed more stringent laws against gaming than had its
predecessor, and public gambling almost ceased to exist. Simultaneously,
however, with the advent of each new administration, some of the
sporting fraternity, more venturesome than others, attempted to run
keno, faro and poker rooms. Yet the popular demand for the enforcement
of the laws was so loud, and the sentences of the court so severe, that
at present gambling in Mobile is conducted with the utmost secrecy, and
every precaution is taken to avoid police interference.
During the decade between 1870 and 1880 lotteries flourished. A test
case was made up against A. J. Moses, and its determination temporarily
put a stop to them all. At present lottery tickets are exposed for sale
with great caution, the grand jury presenting a true bill against the
venders, so far as the latter can be ascertained, two or three times a
year, notwithstanding the fact that they usually turn their wheels in
some place outside the city limits.
It was during the period between 1875 and 1880 that “Bud” Reneau, who
has since figured so prominently in sporting circles, particularly as
one of the managers of the Sullivan-Kilrain fight, began to attract
attention as a member of local sporting clubs. His handsome figure and
courtly manners always made him a favorite wherever he went. He has
retained for his native place an affection which years of absence have
not lessened, and his purse has always been open to the needy of his own
city.
The sporting element has repeatedly essayed to influence elections in
Mobile, but it cannot be said that their efforts have been rewarded with
success, the policy of each municipal administration having been
uniformly against gambling.
Among the negroes, “craps” is greatly in vogue, and there are but few
terms of the courts in which indictments for “crap shooting” are not
more numerous than for almost any other violation of the gambling laws.
This description of gaming is almost exclusively confined to the colored
population, and the prosecution of the offense is perhaps not retarded
by the fact that the solicitor receives $150 for each conviction, as
against $37.50 for other classes of misdemeanors.
The court enjoys the discretion in the case of conviction under the
gambling laws, of either inflicting a fine, or sentencing the offender
to the coal mines or both. As a rule, the sentence in the case of
managers of lotteries has been a fine of $100 and solicitors fees $150
and costs of court which has resulted in the collection for the city of
nearly ten thousand dollars per year from this source. At present,
between the laws against gambling and the perseverance of the solicitor
in keeping an eye on all the resorts of the gamblers it may be said that
gambling is at the lowest possible ebb in Mobile. The enforcement of the
laws by the grand juries has made things so unpleasant for the blacklegs
that gradually they have been compelled to leave the city, either to
avoid trials by the courts or to seek more profitable fields.
Early in 1877 the “Pool Room” or “Turf Exchange” made its appearance in
Mobile. Undoubtedly this has proved the most pernicious of all forms of
gambling. It grew rapidly in favor and lured many young men to
destruction and dishonor. The evil was so great that a few citizens
appealed to the Legislature in the spring of 1889 for the passage of a
bill prohibiting pool selling which, up to that time, had not been
covered by the State laws against gambling. The new bill had the novel
feature in it that it compelled the municipal authorities of the various
cities of the State to execute this law, and gave them jurisdiction, for
that purpose, for five miles outside the corporate limits. The law was
so carefully framed that the “Turf Exchange” men surrendered without a
fight, and quit the State in a body.
GAMBLING IN CHARLESTON.
McMaster, in his “History of the People of the United States” quoting
from the historian Ramsay, and several European travelers, says:
“Betting and gambling were, with drunkenness and a passion for dueling
and running in debt, the chief sins of the Carolina Gentleman.” This was
about 1791. Charleston was then and for many years afterwards as much
South Carolina as Paris is France. “Already the city was a great
commercial centre. At its wharves might have been seen, almost any day,
scores of vessels laden with every article of luxury or use Great
Britain could supply. In the hands of her subjects was all the trade and
all the commerce of the State. To own a ship, to keep a shop, to do any
of those things done by merchants and traders, was in the opinion of a
Carolina planter, degrading. The master spent his time in the enjoyment
of such festivities as Charleston could afford. There he lived in a fine
house, gave fine dinners, went to the theatre to see Mrs. Rawson, or to
the circus to see Mr. Ricketts; subscribed to the assembly, joined the
Hell-fire club or the Ugly club, or the Mount Zion Society, and rode his
favorite horse at the races.”
Irving’s history of the turf in South Carolina, shows that the Jockey
Club in Charleston was probably the oldest in the Union, and while at
its annual meetings betting was not as common or as heavy as elsewhere,
and the prizes were more frequently plate than money, yet the early
popularity of horse racing indicates of necessity a passion for betting
as well as for its alleged object, the improvement of the breeds of
horses.
The early narratives give two notes of interest to the student of
gambling, one before, and the other after, the Revolution, neither of
which is cited by McMaster.
Johnson in his “Traditions of the Revolution” tells of the visit of Lord
Anson, the well known British naval commander, to Charleston, about the
year 1733. He was hospitably received by the citizens, among them,
Thomas Gadsen, the King’s collector for the province. Lord Anson’s
passion for gaming was such that he had been censured for even winning
money from his humble midshipmen. Mr. Gadsen (who had formerly been a
Lieutenant in the British Navy) played with his lordship, lost a large
sum of money, and paid the debt of honor by giving him titles for all
those lands which to this day (1840) bear the designation of
Ansonborough. It was that portion of Charleston between Boundary and
Laurens Street, extending eastwardly from Anson street to the channel of
Cooper River. These valuable lands which now constitute a large section
of the city were afterwards purchased from Lord Anson by General
Christopher Gadsen, the distinguished soldier and statesman of the
Revolution, and a son of the King’s collector, Thomas Gadsen, the
unlucky gamester.
DRAWN NUMBERS of the South Carolina Lottery, class No. 15, for 1844.
30 43 55 56 52 73 66 64 5 31 22 36.
RECEIVED AT
J. G. GREGORY & CO., Managers,
Ap 12 26 Broad street.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
=DRAWING DUE THIS DAY AT 3 p. m.=
GREEN and PULASKI MONUMENT LOTTERY,
Class No. 12.
=20,000 DOLLS.=
=30 of 500 DOLLS.=
Fifteen Drawn Ballots.
Tickets $5—shares in proportion.
FOR SALE BY
J. G. GREGORY & CO., Managers,
Ap 12 26 Broad street.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
=DRAWING DUE MONDAY.=
VIRGINIA MONONGALIA LOTTERY,
Class No. 15. for 1844.
=7,000 DOLLS.=
=2,034 DOLLS.=
12 Drawn Numbers in each package of 22 Tickets.
Tickets $2.50—Shares in proportion.
FOR SALE BY
J. G. GREGORY & CO., Managers,
Ap 10 26 Broad street.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
=DRAWING DUE TUESDAY.=
ALEXANDRIA LOTTERY,
Class No. 14, for 1844.
=30,000 DOLLS.=
=10,000 DOLLS.=
=25 of $1,000.=
Tickets $10—shares in proportion.
J. G. GREGORY & CO., Managers,
Ap 11 26 Broad street.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
=DRAWING DUE WEDNESDAY.=
VIRGINIA (Leesburg) LOTTERY.
Class No. 16, for 1844.
=12,000 DOLLS.=
=10 of $1,000.=
78 Numbers—14 Drawn Ballots.
Tickets $5—shares in proportion.
J. G. GREGORY & CO., Managers,
Ap 12 26 Broad street.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
DRAWN NUMBERS of Pokomoke River Lottery, Class No. 46.
51 69 71 4 10 72 34 18 82 27 53 31.
Georgia Literature Lottery, Class No. 4.
75 74 37 65 44 38 17 19 59 31 64 25 11.
----------------------------
=DRAWING EXPECTED TO-MORROW.=
POKOMOKE RIVER LOTTERY. Class No. 48.
=7,000 DOLLS.=
66 Number Lottery—12 Drawn Ballots.
Tickets $2.50; Halves $1.25; Quarters 62½c.
----------------------------
=DRAWING EXPECTED MONDAY=
POKOMOKE RIVER LOTTERY, Class No 50.
=10,000 DOLLS.=
Tickets $4; Halves $2: Quarters $1.
----------------------------
GEORGIA LITERATURE LOTTERY, Class 6.
=7,000 DOLLS.=
Tickets $2; Halves $1; Quarters 50c.
D. PAINE & CO., Managers, 42 Broad st.,
Successors to James Phalen & Co.
->J. Phalen & Co. guarantee the payment of all prizes sold under the
management of their successors, D. Paine & Co. 2 Ap 12
The other reference to the gambling habits of the time is that of the
Duke de La Rochefaucault Liancourt, who visited Charleston about 1798.
He says: “The French planters and commanders of the privateers differ
widely in their political opinions, but the love of gaming reconciles
them all, and in the French gaming houses, which are very numerous in
Charleston, aristocracy and sans culottes mix in friendly intercourse
and indiscriminately surround the tables. It is asserted that they play
very high.” From which it appears that the gambling table was then, as
now, a great leveler.
Newspaper advertisements and a few traditions are all that exist to show
the history of the gaming table from the times of La Rochefaucault to
the present day. Rich planters still kept up and encouraged horse racing
at the courses in Charleston and throughout the state, as the records of
the Jockey club show, though, as intimated before, the improvement of
horse-flesh rather than betting was the main object. Faro banks
undoubtedly existed in Charleston, but they were not so numerous nor as
well patronized as they are to-day. Undoubtedly there was considerable
private gambling, chiefly poker, and there are stories of large and
valuable plantations changing hands over a card table in a single night.
The most widespread and approved gambling was the lottery. We read that
in the year 1800 Denmark Vesey, the notorious mulatto who planned,
organized, and almost brought to a successful condition, the great negro
insurrection of 1822, bought his freedom with $600 of a $1,500 prize won
in the “East Bay (local) Lottery,” and the newspapers of Charleston
about 1814 show three lottery advertisements, one to build a college in
Beaufort, another to build a Presbyterian and another to build an
Episcopal church in Charleston.
In 1844 the lottery craze was at its height, and as much as thirty
thousand dollars was occasionally drawn at the weekly drawings of the
South Carolina Lottery which were held at the City Hall. The City and
State levied no license and it appears that the community favored the
enterprise. J. S. Gregory & Co. of Baltimore, the great lottery
managers, employed agents in this city, and their agents, Messrs.
Gatewood & Cochran, were highly esteemed citizens, whose reputation and
social standing were not in the least affected by their occupations.
The foregoing clipping from the Charleston Courier of April 13, 1844,
will give some idea of the “schemes” and of the extent of the business.
The most notorious case of ante-bellum losing, at a sitting, took place
at the old Charleston Club House. The parties were Motte A. Pringle of
an old aristocratic family, and Mr. Bunch the British Consul at
Charleston. Mr. Bunch, who was a good deal of a sharper, professed to
know nothing of the game of “grab,” and Pringle offered to teach him the
game. When they arose from the table Pringle owed Bunch $10,000. Pringle
told his father (who was a prominent business man in the city) the next
morning, and the old gentleman recognizing it as a debt of honor, gave
him the money, and it was promptly paid over to Bunch the next day. At
the Charleston Club, frequented by professional men and cotton
merchants, there are two sets of poker players, with limits of $50 and
$200 respectively. The proportion of poker playing members is not large
and I have never heard of but one man squandering all his means (almost
$30,000) there. This was a present member of the Charleston bar, and it
took him almost ten years to do it. The other club is the Queen City
Club, which is more of a poker club than anything else and where men
occasionally lose and win as much as $2,000 in a night. No professional
is allowed there, but it is the favorite resort of the non-professional
poker player of the city.
The Otranto Club (chiefly lawyers) owns a beautiful villa about sixteen
miles from the city, where they have six or eight meetings a year, and I
understand play a pretty stiff game of poker. Hunting and good eating
are, however, the main delight at Otranto.
DEALING IN FUTURES.
There are in Charleston a Merchants’ Exchange, consisting mainly of
wholesale grocers and produce brokers; a Cotton Exchange; a Phosphate
Miners’ Exchange and a Chamber of Commerce.
At the opening of the Cotton Exchange, about twelve years ago, one
hundred bales of cotton futures were sold from the floor. This is the
only transaction of the kind that has ever taken place in this city.
About ninety per cent. of the cotton shippers of Charleston sell futures
in New York against their shipments to the United Kingdom and the
continent. There are two gentlemen, Lee Howard and E. H. Priolean, who,
as agents for New York firms, sell futures in cotton, but their business
has decreased very much in late years, and amounts to very little.
There never have been any futures sold at the Merchants’ Exchange,
though some of its members occasionally speculate a little in grain and
pork futures in the Chicago market. The Phosphate Exchange is little
more than a pool among phosphate rock miners, and does no “future”
selling or buying.
The Chamber of Commerce, the oldest commercial body in the South, does
no business whatever in “futures.”
The Legislature of South Carolina in 1883 passed an act “to declare
unlawful contracts for the sale of articles for future delivery made
under certain circumstances and to provide the remedy in such cases.” No
case has ever come to the State Supreme Court under this act, and it is
considered merely as declarative of the common law.
LOTTERY, OR POLICY SHOPS.
There are at present five “policy” offices, with agents or “vendors”
scattered throughout the city, the large majority of the vendors being
negroes.
The business was first started here about 1871, when Horbach, a gambler
and bar-keeper, Willoughby, a corrupt politician, and others obtained a
charter, under the title of “The Charleston Charitable Association,” and
did a large and lucrative “policy” business until March, 1875, when the
act was repealed.
The present five “companies” are modeled after the Charleston Charitable
Association, though they do business on a far less scale, as they are
prohibited by law. The drawings are conducted squarely, the chances in
favor of the gambler being tremendous, and one of the managers is
authority for the statement that the net profits amount to 33 per cent.
of the gross receipts. The system is probably the same as elsewhere.
Seventy-eight numbers are put into a wheel, and twelve are withdrawn by
a little negro, blindfolded. Drawings take place at two and six o’clock
every day, except Sunday, and are held at the main offices, three of
which are in Market Street. Some few negroes are allowed in the room
during the drawing, which is always conducted behind a screen, or door
ajar, for the noise of a crowd would necessarily attract the attention
of the police, who wink at the proceedings. The policy shops, like faro
banks, are seldom pulled; the only instance in the last three years
being the raiding of Syke Thorne’s den on Market Street, two months ago;
and this would not have happened had not Thorne run a dance hall, bar-
room and “chuck-a-luck” in connection with his policy shop. Negroes
compose fully 70 per cent. of the patrons of the policy shops. Their
general play is for five or ten cents, and their winnings never exceed
$50 on a single ticket, though the limit of all the policy companies is
$500. A few white printers, clerks and occasionally a gentleman with a
passion for gambling will invest two or three dollars in a single
drawing, and buy to the limit. The companies have never had any very
great losses since the closing up of the Charleston Charitable
Association, which was sometimes ‘struck’ for large amounts. The
combinations played are as follows:
COMBINATION TABLE.
SADDLES. GIGS. HORSES.
2 Numbers make 1 0 0
3 ” ” 3 1 0
4 ” ” 6 4 1
5 ” ” 10 10 5
6 ” ” 15 20 15
7 ” ” 21 35 35
8 ” ” 28 56 70
9 ” ” 36 84 126
10 ” ” 45 120 210
11 ” ” 55 165 330
12 ” ” 66 220 495
13 ” ” 78 286 715
14 ” ” 91 364 1001
15 ” ” 105 455 1305
16 ” ” 120 560 1820
17 ” ” 136 680 2380
18 ” ” 153 816 3060
19 ” ” 171 969 3876
20 ” ” 190 1140 4845
21 ” ” 210 1330 5985
22 ” ” 231 1540 7315
23 ” ” 253 1771 8855
24 ” ” 276 2024 10620
25 ” ” 300 2300 12650
[The above is page 64 of a little green
pamphlet, “The Wheel of Fortune and
Egyptian Dreamer, with numbers for any
dream, also tables of lucky numbers.”
12 mo., pp. 73, published by Joseph
Noehler, 120 Chatham Street, N. Y. It
is very popular and has an extensive
sale among the negroes.]
The following are two policy tickets bought a few day ago. The size and
form of the other policy tickets in this city are very nearly similar,
and these will give an idea of what they are all like. They cost ten
cents each and were bought of a vendor who has a desk in a large old
paper and rag store in the rear of, and about 30 feet from the door of
the U. S. Post-office in Charleston.
[Illustration: the only genuine]
[Illustration: the only genuine]
The “policy shops” and their proprietors are as follows:
“Pool,” proprietors Jas. F. Walsh and —— Conner.
“The Only Genuine,” proprietors W. K. Brown and Thomas Finley.
“Little Havana,” proprietor J. C. Jaudon.
“Palmetto,” proprietor Syke Thorne.
James F. Walsh is a wholesale liquor dealer. He has never kept a
gambling house; is rated by Dunn or Bradstreet at $40,000 to $75,000;
credit high; takes an active but silent part in politics; occasionally
goes to a political convention, but has never run for office; is on the
official bonds of the Probate Judge, Recorder of Mesne Conveyance,
County Treasurer and (probably) Coroner of Charleston County. Though
apparently of mild manner and address, he has killed two men; one a
mulatto, for which murder he was tried and convicted, but soon bought a
pardon from Moses, the robber Governor of South Carolina; the other was
the killing of a brother Irishman, for which he was tried and acquitted
with a verdict of self defense, which verdict created great talk in the
city, it being in the opinion of the general public a clear case of
manslaughter.
J. C. Jaudon is a bar-keeper near the S. C. Railway depot, worth with
his brothers about $5,000; not rated in the commercial agencies—has only
started “policy” this year. Syke Thorne is the most notorious mulatto
gambler in the State. He has a bar-room, dancing hall patronized by
abandoned women, “policy shops,” and several “chuck-a-luck” and small
“faro” tables on Market Street, between King and Archdale Streets. He
was “pulled” by the police recently, but though “lying low,” is again in
the business. He is probably worth $5,000. In person he is good looking,
dresses well, and is quiet mannered. He has never taken any prominent
part in politics.
FARO BANKS.
The faro banks and bankers of the city are as follows:
Finley and Brown, 78 Meeting Street; faro, roulette and poker; dealers
Dowling and Neisz. Elegantly furnished.
Charles F. Levy; faro, roulette, mustang and poker; dealers Conners and
Levy. Although the finest rooms in town, they are temporarily closed for
want of funds. Powers (M. W.) a well-known young Irish contractor and
builder, holds the bank bill roll.
John Munro and Israel; roulette and faro; Munro and Israel, dealers.
Neat but not gaudy appointments.
W. J. O’Dell and a partner; two faro tables, roulette and poker.
Handsomely furnished.
A. M. Flynn, assisted by a woman who joins in the poker game, and
occasionally deals faro.
Syke Thorne, with several negro assistants. Very small game at very mean
tables.
As to whether the games are “skin” or “square” it may be said that any
one of the Charleston dealers will put up a game on a drunken man with a
large bank roll; but there are probably two of those dealers who will
try to “skin” any and everybody.
Finley and Brown is probably the strongest backed house in the city, and
it is not improbable that F. & B. back O’Dell, as he is not known to
have much money of his own, and he deals at Brown’s old stand and in his
building. Levy and Connor got temporarily to the end of their financial
rope some months ago and have not resumed business yet. Munro and Israel
do not play a very heavy game and would probably shut down after a loss
of $400. They have no backers unless since very recently. Thomas Finley,
the king of the gamblers, was a tinner by trade and took to the green
cloth and occasional horse racing about 1858. He owns considerable real
estate and is generally supposed to be worth between $30,000 and
$50,000. He is the ideal gambler as far as liberality goes, and is
exceedingly popular. He is generous and open-hearted and for ten years
furnished all the coal for the use of the Seamdies Church; is not
particularly smart except at his business; and has never been known to
have had anything to do with politics, except to contribute to the
campaign fund. He very rarely, if ever, deals faro, but plays
considerable poker for small stakes. He is said to have won $15,000
betting on a recent Congressional election.
W. K. Brown is a butcher by trade and still continues at the business.
He dealt faro for many years while running his stall in the market, but
is seldom seen now in a gambling room and is very close and shrewd. His
partner in the meat business is a very prominent Republican politician
and is now U. S. Marshal for South Carolina. Brown has never run for
office and is probably too close to spend money for his friends’
political aspirations. He is married and has several very handsome
children. Is supposed to be worth $50,000, which he inherited from
relatives in England two years ago.
John Munro is the oldest gambler in the city and is about as honest as a
gambler can be; is now poor, having been ruined by a reckless partner in
Savannah some years ago. Has had several fortunes and spent almost as
many years and dollars in ’Frisco as he has in Charleston.
The other dealers whose names are mentioned are all young men and
Charlestonians, except Neisz, who is an Alsatian Jew. They have not made
much money or reputation as yet. The most notorious of them is Charles
F. Levy, the _enfant perdu_ of a very respectable Jewish family. He shot
a man in a bar-room brawl some years ago, and Levy’s neck was in
considerable danger, but the man eventually recovered. Levy has
squandered about $15,000, left him by his grandfather, in about three
years. He is utterly without principle and is one of the best rifle
shots in Charleston.
In conclusion, it may be said that gambling has been on the decrease for
the last thirteen years in Charleston, except, possibly, in the small
matter of “policy” buying among the negroes. Plenty of money was in the
hands of the very class of men who would spend it over the faro and
poker table during the years of misrule—1868 to 1876. One of the judges
of the State at that time is reported to have been an ex-faro bank
dealer and was certainly a great devotee of the game.
The only great business defalcation publicly known to have been caused
by the passion for gaming was that of Bentham R. Caldwell, of a highly
respectable family of the city, who in the year 1879 misappropriated
$75,000, and expended it over the faro tables of Finley and Brown. Suit
was brought and the case was carried to the Supreme Court _qui-tam_
action brought by the plaintiff as a common informer to recover the
penalty under sections 6 and 7 of the 79th chapter of the Revised
Statutes of South Carolina, but the gamblers ruled the roast, as may be
seen by referring to the case of Augustus S. Trumbo vs. Finley and
Brown, as reported in the 18th (or possibly 20th) S. C. Law Reports
(Strand’s), which probably can be found in any large law library.
----------
GAMBLING IN AUSTIN, TEXAS.
Gambling is alarmingly prevalent in the capital of Texas. From the
foundation of the city (in 1843) until 1870, Austin was a frontier town,
where all the vices incident to places of that sort abounded and
flourished, gaming being one of the chief. Since the year last named,
while gambling may be said to have increased rather than diminished, it
has not been so flagrantly open as in the earlier days of the city’s
history. The introduction of “modern improvements” would seem to have
stimulated rather than repressed the growth of the vice. The electric
lights, which have replaced the “dip” candle of more primitive times,
have served to render the “hells” more attractive to the young men who
are to shape the destiny of Austin in the future. One of the most
deplorable features of the existing situation in that city is the
constant growth of the damning practice among the youth. The sons of the
most influential and respected families are habitual frequenters of the
gaming saloons and are rapidly becoming devotees of the soul-destroying
habit.
The resorts are numerous enough and of sufficiently varied character to
meet the requirements of all players of whatever class. The respectable
(?) houses are three, of which two are devoted to “banking” and “short”
games, and one to keno. These establishments are located in the center
of the business portion of the city and on one of the principal
thoroughfares. They are fully equal, in point of equipment and
furnishing, to those which may be found in any Southern city of the same
size. Besides these there are four or five “dives” in the lower and more
degraded part of town, where “brace,” as distinguished from so-called
“square” games, are at the very zenith of that fleeting success which
accrues to the “skin” gambler when unmolested by the authorities. In
addition to these public resorts, there are several semi-private poker
games, nightly running, which are patronized almost exclusively by the
upper classes.
With the exception of the keno game, all these houses are open day and
night, from the first day of January until midnight on the thirty-first
of December in each year. The keno house opens its doors two or three
evenings each week, as the demands of its patrons and the prospects of
business seem to justify. Saturday night, however, constitutes the great
gala festival of this resort. Then it is that the room is crowded almost
to suffocation with a motley throng of clerks, mechanics and day-
laborers. It is on Saturday night, also, that the “dives” garner their
richest harvest. In these dens of iniquity there gather on Saturday
night, at certain seasons, the negroes from the cotton fields, whose
earnings for an entire season, accumulated at a cost of toil, privation
and suffering, which might well appal stouter hearts than theirs, are
swept into the coffers of men in comparison with whom the tiger is
merciful. These unreflecting children of nature never perceive that they
have been victimized. To the last they believe that they have been given
an equal chance of winning, and should the shark who had won their last
cent offer them five dollars as a gratuity, they would be first and
loudest in singing his praises.
In almost all the houses—whatever their class—faro is the game most in
favor. In those which revel in the reputation of being “square,” the
“chances” (_sic_) of success sometimes fluctuate, but the preponderance,
in the long run, is always in favor of the bank. The “square” element in
each instance is a variable quantity. In other words, if a player is
reasonably conversant with “fake-boxes,” “strippers,” and all the other
subterfuges which are to the professional dealer as his A, B, C, he may
hope to be accorded something like an even chance. If, on the other
hand, he is susceptible, verdant and gullible, his chances are
correspondingly reduced.
A game somewhat similar to faro, known as “Mexican monte,” also
flourishes in Austin. Perhaps its popularity is due to the propinquity
of the city to the Mexican frontier. Forty-four cards are employed, the
nine and ten spots being discarded. “Chips” are “barred,” and the
players stake cash or its negotiable equivalent. The bank, too, is
exposed, and is placed in the center of the table, and contains from
$250 to $500 in silver, arranged in stacks of $20 each. The game is very
fascinating, counting its devotees by scores, and a great deal of money
is bet on it. The dealer deals from his hand as in poker, and it is
supposed to be exceedingly difficult for him to “put up” a game, a
belief that adds not a little to its popularity. There are from four to
six “monte” games run in the fashionable Austin resorts.
As has been said, the private poker games are patronized almost
exclusively by the _elite._ In the public houses all classes may be
found around the table—Americans, of high and low degree, Mexicans, and
even Chinese. In fact, poker in Austin may be said to be a “fad,” a
“craze.” Even ladies of the highest social standing may be found to whom
the terms “ante,” “jack pot” and “bob-tail flush” are as familiar as
household words. It is hard to overestimate the deplorable influence
which this condition of public morals is exercising upon the young. From
playing poker in the parlor to gambling in a “hell” is but a step, and a
short one at that; and more than one family in the Texan capital to-day
laments the downfall of one of its members through the love of gambling
acquired by indulgence in “five-cent ante” under the refined
surroundings of the higher circles of social life.
The proprietors of the gambling houses, as well as the dealers therein,
are a power at the polls and particularly at municipal elections. In
some of the wards they absolutely dictate who shall be councilmen. At
every election they use money freely. Sometimes they become candidates
themselves, as, for instance, three years ago when one of the
proprietors of one of the largest gambling rooms and himself a faro
dealer sat among the ten elected law-makers of the city. No policeman or
other peace officer dares to enter these haunts without the permission
of the proprietors; and even crimes of violence—short of murder—are not
regarded as sufficient justification for a raid.
To say that gambling is the city’s curse is to state the situation
mildly. Innumerable instances of blighted lives might be mentioned, the
fundamental cause for which is to be found in the abandonment of the
victims to this vice, pernicious as it is insidious. Within the
comparatively short space of four years, five embezzlements by trusted
employes have surprised the community. All the culprits were men of
previously unblemished reputations. Five young men of the best families,
two of them married, have been convicted of forgery and theft during the
past two years, and are now serving their time in the penitentiary, all
because of the gambling hells in the city. Three of these men held
responsible positions. One was clerk of the United States District
Court; one was in the postal money order department; another in the
money department of the Pacific Express Company; another in the
distributing department of the post-office. Young men visiting the city
from neighboring towns and from the country are inveigled into the hells
by “steerers” and lose large sums. Not long since a young man, a tax
collector of an adjoining county, came to the capital to pay taxes due
to the State. He was induced to visit one of the first class houses. He
was drugged, and in a brace game lost not only his own money, but also
that of the State. He returned home and blew out his brains.
It is among the working classes that the gambling mania is working
irreparable injury and wrong to innocent women and children. Scores of
laboring men, many of them of the better class, waste their earnings on
Saturday nights in the keno rooms. Wages are gambled away and women and
children go in rags and suffer for the want of food while the gamblers
adorn their well-fed, well-dressed persons with diamonds.
There is a law against gambling in Texas, the penalty being a fine of
$10 to $100. Three or four times a year the gamblers go into court,
plead guilty and pay $10 and costs, amounting to about $37.50, and then
continue their games. Two years ago the law was amended by adding
imprisonment for from 30 to 60 days for exhibiting or dealing games; but
only a few convictions have been had under it, and then the guilty
parties were permitted to hire substitutes while the principals returned
to their rooms and reopened their games.
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GAMBLING IN HARTFORD, CONN.
In 1849 there was published in Hartford a book entitled, “The History of
the Green Family.” It was an expose of the night side (and the worst
side) of Hartford life at that time. Its quaint title page describes it
as a work “wherein the citizens of Hartford are raked over from Lord’s
Hill to Ferry Street.” Incidents, names, dates and localities are
mentioned with an attention to detail as surprising as it is pitiless. A
vigorous effort was made by the “good people” of the city whose
peccadilloes were thus mercilessly exposed to suppress the volume, and
at the present time there are only one or two copies in existence. The
writer, however, has been permitted to examine one of these, and
accorded the privilege of making notes.
Gambling, as a profession, was not at that time carried on to nearly so
great an extent as in later years. But the gamester, the blackleg, the
men who lived by their wits and fleeced unsophisticated victims were
even then known and described. The “Climax,” a locally celebrated gaming
house, then flourished on Ferry Street and was kept by “Nels” Hulburt,
is mentioned. A bowling alley and a bar were connected with it. All the
ordinary games of cards were played, “old sledge” being an especial
favorite. “Nels,” or his partner, Weeks, generally took a hand and the
“house” did a prosperous business. This resort divided with the Clinton
House the patronage of nearly all the players, both professional and
occasional, among whom are mentioned Caruthers, a man named Judd, and a
confidence operator known as Dan Osburn. “Nels” also had a place on
Mulbury Street.
Gambling steadily increased in Hartford, attaining the culmination of
its popularity during and just after the war. Names and dates can be
obtained only through a long and tedious search through court and police
records, but the following general statements are made on the authority
of a veteran officer, who for more than a score of years has been
connected with the Hartford police. From about 1862 till 1877, gaming
ran riot. Houses in which large capital was invested were conducted with
scarcely a pretense of secrecy, and the profits of the proprietors were
enormous. Almost any one who wanted to “do” the city by night could
visit in the course of an evening half a dozen places where roulette was
in active operation and twice as many where poker and faro were being
played. The famous gambler, Pat Sheedy, was a native of Hartford. A
perfect gentleman in manners and dress, yet a most reckless player, he
was apparently equally content to win or lose a fortune in an evening.
His “management” of John L. Sullivan is fresh in the memory of the
public, as is also the story of his large winnings at roulette in a
Saratoga resort less than a year ago. He occasionally appears in
Hartford, and his goings and comings are duly noted in the local press.
But to return to the history. A single incident will show something of
the magnitude of the gaming operations in the sixties and early
seventies.
A large fire on Temple Street, almost within a stone’s throw of the
Police station, during the winter of 1872, burned out an extensive
gambling establishment. The “lay-outs” for faro and roulette were flung
out of the window. All the tables, dice boxes, counters, chips, the
roulette wheel, etc., were of the most costly description, The police
gathered up the debris, and a conservative estimate affixed the value of
the property thus sacrificed at $3,000.
From that time the police were more active. Raids became the rule rather
than the exception, especially from 1879 to 1886. Two years ago, one of
the last important visits by the officers was made, under supervision of
Lieutenant Ryan, on a gaming house on Gold Street, kept by a man named
McLean, who originally came from Meriden. He was running an extensive
faro bank, with a gambling outfit worth about $600.
Not long afterwards a raid was made by the police upon a Chinese opium
joint and gambling house on south Main Street, in the Buckingham block.
About a dozen of the celestials were arrested, arraigned and convicted
of gambling, and two were found guilty of keeping a gaming house. The
game in progress at the time was played with dice and was a peculiar
one. The player deposited any amount of money with the dealer, who gave
him a receipt therefor. The game then went on until the bettor’s money
was exhausted, or until he had won a stipulated amount, when he was at
liberty to withdraw. Slips of cardboard were substituted for chips.
There were found three Fan-Tan tables and six opium layouts in this
place.
Poker has always been and still is played in Hartford; but not to nearly
so great an extent at present as it was a few years ago. For years a
game was running in the _Times_ building. A dark, heavily mustached man
who called himself Dr. Longley, kept the room. The police got after him
and he was obliged to leave rather hastily. The game is played largely
in what are popularly known as “club rooms.” However, even those are not
doing a very brisk business just now. One can also easily get into a
game in several of the fashionable billiard and bar rooms, such as
“Mattie” Hewins’, or Dwight Mitchell’s on Main Street; or Frank Avary’s
on State Street. Probably the heaviest poker playing in Hartford,
however, is carried on at the Hartford Club House, on Prospect Street.
This is where the older, wealthier and more aristocratic men play. The
organization is a rather select one, and its roll of members includes
some of the richest and best known men in town. It is in no sense a
gambling house, yet at the same time there is a great deal of heavy
betting across the social card tables.
So far as is known there is no roulette played in Hartford at present.
The police have been too watchful for these gentlemen to prosper and
they have sought other fields.
“Policy” is played to a large extent in the city, and seemingly with but
little fear of the law. The head-quarters for this form of gambling is
in a little room, opening off the side walk on Front Street. Anyone
passing can see through the open door, the black-board on which are
posted the numbers at every drawing. James Waldron, formerly of New
York, a short, thick-set man, about 40 years of age, is at the head of
the operations in Hartford. Besides the place on Front Street, he has
another on Gold Street, and yet a third on Asylum Street. In the Front
Street place is kept a large flat book, in which is recorded every
drawing for the entire year. This is open to the inspection of all
players who are permitted to trace in its pages the history of any
number throughout the year—_i. e._ ascertain how many drawings have
occurred since it last come first, etc. The numbers are received twice a
day by cypher dispatches. Apparently everything is “square,” but the
chances are enormously against the player. This is the most popular of
all games with the colored population. It would seem as though every
member of that race in Hartford played policy. There is also a
considerable class of superstitious whites who firmly believe in “lucky”
numbers. Once in a while some one “strikes” a lucky number, but no
considerable amount is ever made.
Charter Oak Park, just outside the city limits, is the scene of the fall
race meetings in the grand circuit. Roulette is played on the grounds on
these occasions, without the slightest restraint and in full view of the
police. The games do an immense business through “race week,” not less
than two wheels and five tables were in full blast at a recent meeting.
There is a stock exchange in the city and some speculative operations
are carried on, but not to any great extent. Hartford is too near New
York to permit of the business being profitable.
On the whole, it may be said, that as compared with fifteen or even ten
years ago, there is very little gambling in the city. Professional
gamesters have to “lie low” and keep extremely quiet in Hartford. At the
same time, there is, as has been said, considerable poker playing, while
probably there are two or three faro banks still in operation. There are
no municipal ordinances against gambling, all actions are brought under
the State Statutes.
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GAMBLING IN QUEBEC.
Quebec being a city of only some 60,000 souls, the vice of public
gambling has never been able to obtain any very firm foothold. A large
amount of money changes hands here every year at games of chance, and
amongst the most confirmed gamesters are many of the most prominent
citizens. Yet so thoroughly does everybody know his neighbor’s business
that no attempt has been made of late years to open and maintain a
public gambling resort. Much of the playing for stakes in Quebec takes
place in private residences, or in rooms secured for the purpose in the
principal hotels and restaurants. In the principal club—the
Garrison—gambling of every kind is strictly prohibited and nothing but
whist is played.
Banking games are not popular, and faro, roulette and hazard are not
played at all. Poker is the prevailing game and of late years, and has
taken a strong hold upon the French-Canadian population, who evince an
unusual aptitude for it. So long as they have in reserve a fair supply
of “chips,” French-Canadian poker players excel at the game of “bluff.”
They possess in a remarkable degree the effrontry and cool “cheek”
necessary to successful poker playing for which they manifest a
predilection almost from childhood. Professionals and merchants alike
gamble at night at their clubs or at each others residences, and
students and clerks, imitating the practices of their employers and
elders, assemble for the same purpose in each other’s rooms. A well-
known Canadian politician, confided to the writer that at the early age
of ten years he had become so infatuated with poker that he used to
steal money from his father’s pockets with which to play. The ruin of
numerous bank clerks and others formerly occupying respectable positions
in the city, may be distinctly traced to this cause.
The principal center of gambling in Quebec is undoubtedly the “Quebec
Whist Club,” an institution occupying comfortable quarters over Rogers’
drug store,—the Medical Hall on Fabrique Street. It has been in
existence for nearly twenty years past, but has several times removed
its location. There is nothing “professional,” however, about this
organization. Its name is, of course, simply a cloak for the real object
of its existence. It is controlled on a sort of mutual plan by the
resident frequenters of the place, and strangers and visitors are only
admitted after introduction by a member. The game almost universally
played is poker, and the stakes may be either unlimited or for a limit
varying from two to five dollars. The game played here is usually
“straight,” in the ordinary acceptation of the term, but the older
_habitues_ of the place, some of whom have no other visible means of
support, are such adepts at the game, and, in the particular species of
mind and character reading so essential to a successful player, that
unless struck by a particularly hard strain of bad luck, they seldom
rise from the table losers at the game should such a misfortune by any
chance overtake them. They know only too well, by long experience, that
the winners of their money will quickly return to lose it again. There
are not wanting those who claim to believe that the more experienced of
these frequenters of the “club” never play against each other except as
a “blind,” but combine to “raise” strangers out of the game and divide
their profits. Many well-to-do business men frequent the club, including
newspaper proprietors, importers, wholesale merchants, hotel men, piano
dealers and jewelers. Few of these, however, continue to play at the
resort for year after year, unless in a very occasional way, for the
amount of loss eventually sustained by them would either seriously
impair their business standing or compel them to abandon the game until
they can again legitimately afford to risk further means in playing it.
The number of men who have been wholly or partially ruined by poker in
Quebec is large. An ex-member of parliament, formerly a resident of that
city, but at present of Montreal, has lost a fortune at the game,
frequently dropping as much as $1,500 a night. The continual harvest
reaped by the habitual frequenters of the club above mentioned is
maintained by the infusion of new blood through the introduction of new
members, who are generally selected from among those who are known to be
possessed of some means, and of speculative, if not gaming proclivities.
If such are not known to be poker players they are, perhaps, invited to
the rooms in the first instance, by a friend, for the nominal purpose of
partaking of refreshments, to which may be added the prospect of
enjoying a rubber of whist. The excitement, glitter and attraction of
the poker tables are counted upon, and generally correctly, to prove a
sufficient temptation to green players to risk a few dollars upon a
small limit game, “just for amusement.” The downward course of the
visitor, like the descent of Avernus, is thenceforward comparatively
easy. Half a dozen members of parliament and as many members of the city
council have been counted in these apartments at the same time. Quebec
does not by any means supply all the victims. A sharp lookout is kept
for visitors with money and gambling tendencies, though occasionally the
_habitues_ “catch a tartar,” and get “hoist by their own petard,”
through occasionally admitting an unknown blackleg. This does not very
often happen, however, as may be easily supposed, in view of the long
experience of the older members. They are usually careful, moreover, in
admitting only men of prominence or of recognized standing in
professions, political or commercial circles, or who are personally
known to some of the regular members of the club.
Acquaintances of members who may be guests at the hotels are often
visited in the evening and invited to the club, and now quite a number
of prominent business and professional men and politicians of Montreal
and other cities are frequent visitors when in town. Commercial
travelers fall an easy prey and have been repeatedly introduced to the
rooms by their Quebec customers. From time to time scores of these young
men have been ruined here, rendered desperate by their losses, and
stranded “high and dry,” after losing all their own available means, and
very often a good deal of which was not theirs as well.
One of the worst features of this club is the large amount of drinking
that goes on during the games, spirituous liquors being provided in
abundance and to be had for the taking.