To enumerate the “principal courses” would be a task that would take

space with little profit, but we can gather some idea of the extent of

opportunities that are open to the sharks that swim the sea of

speculation in races throughout the Union, when we say that at the great

Suburban race, Sheepshead Bay, N. Y., in 1890, there were present not

less than twenty thousand persons according to gate receipts; while at

Washington Park, Chicago, thirty-four thousand people have been counted

on important occasions. And these, let it be remembered, do not

constitute a tithe of the actual number of the eager victims of the

gamblers of the turf. In all our leading cities to-day are pool-rooms,

where may be seen excited crowds who by the use of the telegraph wire,

on the same principle as quotations are announced on the board of trade,

follow the races from start to finish with as much accuracy as if they

were at the tracks, and in this way the prey of the gambler is increased

without limit, and his operations made to permeate near and remotely

into society that otherwise would never have sought nor had the

opportunity of seeking the contact.

A NATIONAL VICE.

If reckless indulgence in games of chance of every description, in

lottery enterprises, in the board of trade, and in the pool-room, can

be, as it is, appropriately denominated a “national vice,” that

appellation belongs with especial emphasis to the gambling of the race-

track. This is true, probably, mainly because of the fatal facility with

which contact is there had with the evil influence that draws men and

boys, aye, even women and girls, into its deadly toils. The race-track

is governed by presumably respectable persons. It has the convincing

support of the press, universally, to sustain its claims to

harmlessness. Church members and people of recognized reputable

position, bankers, merchants and professional men, are openly seen

“making their bets,” in the face of thousands of their fellow citizens.

Women surrender to the glamour of its fascinations, and may be seen in

numbers, any day on any grand stand, “backing” their favorite in the

race. In the face of such example as this, then, how can we expect that

the youth of the land shall escape? Already they are sufficiently imbued

in their personal and business ambition with the spirit of speculation

that pervades the nation, and in the feverish haste to get rich suddenly

are ready to turn to any resort that may seem to offer them the

opportunity of making large winnings for a small investment. True, the

youth may have been warned by a pious mother or a prudent father that

gambling is a vice, and one of the most dangerous and pernicious of all

that threaten the interests, the welfare and even the safety of society.

But when the young man sees the pillar of the church, or the refined

lady leader of polite society, who mayhap occupies the front pew in the

church which he attends, openly patronizing gambling, is it any cause

for wonder that he concludes the good counsel which he brought from home

was merely a mistake, and that there’s “no harm in it” after all? And

once in the circle of that treacherous maelstrom of vice, at first

imperceptibly to himself and in slow and apparently safe revolutions, he

is gradually but irresistibly drawn to the fatal gulf, in which

character, integrity, hope, and the best opportunities of life are

remorselessly swallowed up.

Every bet that is made upon a race-course is emphatically and

indisputably participation in the commonest kind of a lottery—is

gambling pure and simple; and if it has been found necessary by

Congress, acting upon the advice of the National Executive, to legislate

against the existence of the incorporated lotteries that exist by State

authority, why is it not equally the duty of Congress to declare all

betting unlawful? This is not a new proposition. Under existing law the

illegality of gambling by betting is recognized in the refusal of the

courts to enforce debts or contracts incurred under a bet. If the

principle were logically carried out, it would afford a safeguard to

society which, as yet, moral sentiment appears to have been unable to

extend. But what moral restraints, the teaching of parents and the

exhortations of the clergy, have failed to achieve, may be accomplished

by what this book contains: by tearing away the mask of harmless sport

from the death’s-head that grins behind it, and exposing, in all its

hideous nakedness, not the moral wrong that there is in the vice of

gambling by betting, but the personal rascality toward the individual,

the plain and evident object of robbery that is involved in all the

schemes of the book-maker, the pool-seller, and every other person who

makes either a _profession_ or a systematic _practice_ of offering bets

upon the results of the race-track. While our young men may be eager to

get rich by the easiest means, we have much confidence in the hard

common sense that is characteristic of every American youth, before the

natural acuteness of his intellect and spirit of self-preservation have

been insensibly dulled by the insidious and subtle approaches of a

danger that draws near him with a smiling countenance. With, however, an

ample fore-knowledge of what those advances mean in reality, with pride

and apprehension both on the alert, every young man will firmly refuse

to allow himself to be deliberately gulled, and will turn his back in

contempt upon the pickpockets of the pool-room and the race-track.

THE POOL ROOM.

We have already alluded to the pool room as an accessory to gambling at

the track. This is one of the most nefarious of all the modern

instruments of evil, and ought to be summarily abolished by specific law

in every State in the Union. Its worst feature, perhaps—in addition to

the fact that it is a skin game played to catch “suckers,” as the

gamblers term their latest dupes—is that it seeks out and offers

opportunity to a class of citizens who could never be reached by these

machinations in any other way. Clerks, students, apprentices, and such,

would in all probability never have the time nor the means to squander

in a trip from New York to Sheepshead Bay, to witness a horse race. The

pool-room brings the race to him. He can visit them at his noon hour or

in the idle hours of his evening rest. Here he is deluded into the

belief that a small investment will bring a rich return, and is easily

wheedled by a “capper” into investing his small hoard on “tips” that he

is assured are certain to win. Of course he loses, and to retrieve his

loss will probably go to his employers’ funds to get the means to

continue his play. And so from bad to worse till exposure and ruin

overtake him.

Pool rooms are conducted upon the science of exactness, not only as to

the promptness and accuracy of the reports upon the blackboard, but also

with regard to the certainty that the pool seller will be the only one

in the room who will be a sure and solid winner each time. The pool

board displays the whole course of the race, in its smallest details. It

shows when the horses are “off,” which one is “in the lead;” which

“second” and which “third;” how they stand at the “quarter,” the “half,”

the “three quarter,” and their positions down the “stretch,” and within

ten seconds after the “finish,” will display which horse was winner, and

which took second and which third place. Previous to the race the board

has reliable and definite information of the state of the track, whether

“fast” or muddy; gives the name of the jockey who is to mount each

horse, the weights and all information necessary to the man who governs

his bets by what he considers the most reasonable chance to win.

The pool-seller works his gambling racket on what he calls the

percentage principle. In all pools sold by auction, he deducts a certain

sum, generally 5 to 15 per cent., from the amount in the pool, and pays

the balance to the winner. The book maker arranges his book with

reference to the “odds” for or against; that is, the individual chances

of each horse upon the information which he has available, and which if

he be at all expert in the business will enable him to insure his

personal success every time, except only in the case where all the

patrons buy the same horse and that horse should be the winner

a—contingency that is, however, not as one to one hundred, and about as

liable to happen as that the sucker who has bought on a “cinch tip” will

win the pot.

It may be interesting for many who have no knowledge of pool room

practices, and will better illustrate the devices by which the “sucker”

is snared, to have a few illustrations of actual proceedings that have

transpired. Here, for instance, is what is called a “book” taken from

the blackboard at the Imperial pool rooms, Chicago, June 12, 1890:

THE MUTUAL POOL.

PURSE $400—WEST SIDE TRACK, CHICAGO.

First Race, Maidens, Seven Furlongs.

────┬─────────────────────────┬────┬──

20│Emma McDowell │ 105│ 1

10│Dora Morne │ 105│ 1

10│Jack Staff │ 106│ 1

50│Norwood │ 107│ 1

40│Flora McDonald │ 98│ 1

10│Jennie Gronnod │ 105│ 1

10│John Clarkson │ 103│ 1

3│Corticelli │ 110│ 1

20│Imogene │ 105│ 2

30│Council Platt │ 100│ 5

2│Later On │ 106│ 1

5│Jack Batcheler │ 107│ 1

10│Tall Bull │ 110│ 1

20│Arizone │ 105│ 5

50│Miss Longford │ 105│ 1

10│Jasper │ 107│ 1

15│Rock │ 111│ 2

────┼─────────────────────────┼────┼──

315│ │ │27

In explanation it is to be observed that the bookmaker never bets in

favor of any horse. He invariably offers odds against every flyer on the

programme. The first column of figures gives the odds offered; the

second the weight carried by each horse, and the last the figure against

which odds are offered. For instance, the first line means that the

bookmaker offers twenty to one against _Emma McDowell_. Now, if this

horse should win, the bookmaker would pay out $20, and having won all

the other bets he would still be the winner, because he would receive

$26 against the loss of $20. It will be observed that on _Later On_ he

only lays odds of two to one, and on _Corticelli_ three to one. These

are the favorites—horses which offer tolerably certain chances of being

winner, and on which the book maker will take the smallest possible

limit of chance. The favorite won the race and the book maker has to pay

the winner $2, so that he is the winner by $25, counting out of the pool

of $27, $2—$1 of which was his stake and the other that which had to be

returned to the winner. If the horse _Norwood_ had won the book maker

would have been out $25. But no such contingencies are to be dreaded by

the gentleman who presides over the pools. He is kept posted from

sources that are always inside and unquestionable, and in offering the

heavy odds knows that he runs no risk. This computation of winnings is

based on the supposition that only one bet at the figure of $1 named was

made, but the probability is that instead of this being the case the

actual winnings may be safely estimated at $2,500 instead of $25. In

this business an important figure is the “tout,” who, while actually the

bookmaker’s agent, assumes the role of a gentleman who, by some means or

other, has procured a “cinch tip” (meaning a sure thing), but is

unfortunately short of money. “Now,” he will confidentially inform the

sucker, “give me $10 to bet on _Norwood_, and we’ll divide the pot.” The

money is produced, and, of course, goes to swell the book maker’s wad.

These touts always induce their victim to bet on the “short horses”—that

is, the horses against which the heaviest odds are laid, for two

reasons. First, because the money more certainly goes where he is

employed to steer it, and second, because in the rare and unprecedented

event of the tail-ender on the blackboard becoming the winner on the

track, the tout’s share of the winning will be so much larger. The tout

will ply his vocation so industriously that on a board like the above he

will have given a “tip” and got a bet laid on nearly every horse on the

board. In this way he is almost certain to have one winner out of the

lot and when the latter receives his stake the tout says, “There, didn’t

I give you a straight tip!” He gets a liberal share, and his reputation

for inside information is spread among the crowd, and his chances of

increasing his victims in succeeding races are immensely increased. As

for the losers, no one pays any attention to them. Even the tout won’t

take the trouble to condole with them, and realizing that the mob of a

gambling room do most heartily despise a “kicker,” they will probably

sneak away to kick themselves in private. To illustrate the wisdom of

the tout in always deluding his dupes to bet on the “short horse,” it

may be mentioned that once in a great while, through some influence not

comprehended by the book maker and his crowd of sharpers, the “short

horse” will be a winner. This generally happens when the horse has been

managed by some professional who, having discovered his qualities, has

played a game on his brother gamblers, kept his pacer’s capacity a

careful secret, probably has had him “pulled” by the jockey to make a

bad record in a preceding race, so that he can gather in heavy odds in

the event in which he intends to show his hand; and so the book maker

becomes a victim in the game of “diamond cut diamond,” and the tout is

made happy by a liberal share in the chance hit. We say “chance” hit

because the tout never gives an honest tip, and if he really had the

knowledge of the “short horse’s” prowess he would have informed his

patron, the book maker, and the long odds would never have been given.

As an instance of this kind of luck it may be stated that recently

during a St. Louis meeting, at Roche’s pool-room in that city, a book

was made in which the odds against a certain horse were laid at 100 to

1. A tout persuaded a man from North Missouri to let him have $50 to bet

on the race. The tout bet 100 to 1 on the horse, and to his own

astonishment, the amazement of the book maker, and of everyone else, his

horse won the race, the result being that the book maker lost $5,000,

while the tout received a bonus of $2,000 of the money.

THE COMBINATION BOARD.

This board enables you to have an opportunity to select a winner in

three different races. The board is arranged as by this diagram:

LATONIA—TRACK MUDDY.

───────────────────────┬─────────────────────────┬──────────────────────────

Third Race—6 Furlongs.│ Fourth Race—5 Furlongs.│Fifth Race.—Steeplechase.

Handicap. Purse $500. │ Purse $400. Selling. │Purse $400. Full Course.

───────────────────────┼─────────────────────────┼──────────────────────────

1. ┌Wrestler, 108│ 1. Laura Doxey, 110│ 1. Irish Pat, 138

└Prophecy, 114│ 2. ┌Ferryman, 98│

2. Copperfield, 100│ └Katie J. 105│ 2. Ascoli, 145

3. ┌Bonnie Annie, 90│ 3. Irma B. 97│

└Lady Blackburn, 96│ 4. ┌ Bert Jordan 102│ 3. Elphin, 173

4. ┌Gilford, 106│ └James V. 105│

└Vatel, 106│ │ 4. Gov. Hardin, 120

──┬──────┬────┰───┬────┴─┬───┰──┬─────┬────┰──┬──┴──┬────┰───┬──────┬────

1│ 111│ 2┃ 14│ 142│ 3┃27│ 233│ 1┃40│ 324│ 8┃ 53│ 421│ 2

2│ 112│ 1┃ 15│ 143│ 10┃28│ 234│ 1┃41│ 331│ 10┃ 54│ 422│ 3

3│ 113│ 1┃ 16│ 144│ 1┃29│ 241│ 1┃42│ 332│ 1┃ 55│ 423│ 1

4│ 114│ 3┃ 17│ 211│ 1┃30│ 242│ 2┃43│ 333│ 4┃ 56│ 424│ 1

5│ 121│ 4┃ 18│ 212│ 4┃31│ 243│ 3┃44│ 334│ 5┃ 57│ 431│ 2

6│ 122│ 5┃ 19│ 213│ 30┃32│ 244│ 4┃45│ 341│ 6┃ 58│ 432│ 1

7│ 123│ 1┃ 20│ 214│ 1┃33│ 311│ 5┃46│ 342│ 1┃ 59│ 433│ 2

8│ 124│ 1┃ 21│ 221│ 2┃34│ 312│ 11┃47│ 343│ 2┃ 60│ 434│ 3

9│ 131│ 2┃ 22│ 222│ 3┃35│ 313│ 10┃48│ 344│ 1┃ 61│ 441│ 4

10│ 132│ 1┃ 23│ 223│ 1┃36│ 314│ 1┃49│ 411│ 3┃ 62│ 442│ 6

11│ 133│ 1┃ 24│ 224│ 1┃37│ 321│ 1┃50│ 412│ 1┃ 63│ 443│ 1

12│ 134│ 1┃ 25│ 231│ 2┃38│ 322│ 2┃51│ 413│ 1┃ 64│ 444│ 1

13│ 141│ 2┃ 26│ 232│ 1┃39│ 323│ 3┃52│ 414│ 1┃ 65│ │

──┴──────┴────┸───┴──────┴───┸──┴─────┴────┸──┴─────┴────┸───┴──────┴─────

25 60 45 44 27

Total, 201

We will assume that in placing the bet you put your money on _Gilford_

or _Vatel_ for third race, _Irma B._ in the fourth, and _Ascoli_ in the

fifth. The number of your ticket would be 58, represented by the figures

4, 3, 2, these latter numbers indicating the horses named, as numbered

on the score card. If your judgment has been correct, being the only

purchaser of ticket number 58, for $1 you would receive the proceeds of

the sale of the other tickets, or $201, _less_ the percentage to the

bookmaker, who pockets $30.15, or 15 per cent. thereon. But as a matter

of fact, _Copperfield_ wins the third, _Laura Doxey_ the fourth, and

_Elphin_ the fifth. These horses being “favorites,” thirty tickets were

sold on them, and the bookmaker having abstracted his $30.15, each

winner receives only $5.69. In this board the bookmaker relies solely

upon his percentage, and if the amount set forth be amplified to

correspond with the sums usually bet at the race tracks and pool rooms,

it will be seen that the profit is not only a handsome one, but it is

the only one on the board that has the least “possible, probable shadow”

of chance in its favor. The combination on the short horses won’t win

once in a thousand times, while the winner on the selling combination

gets only a sixth as much as the cosy and certain profits of the book

maker.

FRENCH MUTUALS.

In these pools, the board is made up for each race as it transpires, and

is set forth in the following manner:

WEST-SIDE TRACK, CHICAGO.

First Race. Purse $400. Six Furlongs.

NO.

──────────────┬──────────────┬─────┬────────────

50 │ Tom Karl │ 109 │ 10

51 │ Prophecy │ 100 │ 12

52 │ Fayette │ 109 │ 3

53 │ Hornpipe │ 100 │ 8

54 │ Susie B. │ 109 │ 20

55 │ Famous │ 112 │ 5

56 │ Catherine B. │ 102 │ 6

57 │ Donovan │ 106 │ 4

58 │ Tall Bull │ 107 │ 10

59 │ Only Dare │ 106 │ 2

──────────────┴──────────────┴─────┴────────────

80

PLACE.

──────────────┬────────────────────┬────────────

60│ Hornpipe │ 11

61│ Susie B. │ 19

62│ Famous │ 8

63│ Tom Karl │ 12

64│ Fayette │ 5

65│ Prophecy │ 10

66│ Tall Bull │ 10

67│ Donovan │ 8

68│ Only Dare │ 2

69│ Catherine B. │ 5

──────────────┴────────────────────┴────────────

90

In this case, the player selects his horse for first or second place,

tickets for first place being called “straight,” and those for second

place, “place.” Generally only favorite horses are bought for straight,

but on this board there appears to have been a large field of favorites.

The buyer may purchase as many tickets as he pleases for either

“straight” or “place” chances. In this event it appears that there were

eighty tickets sold as “straights,” and the tickets being sold for $2

each, the amount in the pool book would be $160. The pool-seller deducts

5 per cent. of this amount, or $8, and the balance of $152 is divided

between the holders of the ten tickets sold on _Tom Karl_, the winner.

This would give to each ticket $15.20, whether held by one party or in

different hands. In awarding the results in the case of the “place” in

this event, the pool book exhibited 90 tickets at $2 each, or $180. The

seller deducts his 5 per cent., or $9 from this, and after deducting

from the remaining $171, the sum of $44, representing the amount paid in

by the bettors on the winner of the race, _Tom Karl_, 12 tickets at $2,

and on _Prophecy_, the winner of “place,” 10 tickets at $2, or $44 in

all, he proceeds to divide the balance, $127 equally between these two

winners. Thus $63.50 is divided among the ten tickets on _Prophecy_,

giving to each $6.30, and the same amount among the holders of tickets

on _Tom Karl_, or $5.30 to each ticket.

METHODS OF THE “HOUSE.”

Let it not be supposed, however, that the book maker, or his

confederates who stand in with him, are to be contented with a fifteen

per cent. upon the money that passes through the pool book. On the

contrary, he is the most expert and successful of all the gamblers who

“play the races.” He is generally the only one of this nefarious outfit

who receives a genuine and reliable “tip.” His intimate relations with

the jockeys, stablemen and all the _habitues_ of the training stables

and racing grounds, are such that he is generally able to pick out a

winner, and to discount the results of a race in advance. Thus assured

he skillfully sends out his touts to give “tips” that will bring the

most grist to his mill, that is to say, to industriously disseminate the

belief that that horse will win, which he knows has no chance of

success. Under this influence the amateur sport, and the average patron

of the racing ground or pool-room, will generally plunge largely on the

horse they imagine is to bring them a rich booty, while the pool-seller

looks on complacently, knowing that all the money in the strong box

belongs to him as surely as if the race had been already run.

The methods employed by these pool-room experts are of the most

ingenious and daring order. For instance, at a race in St. Louis

recently, the book maker had a secret wire brought into his pool-room,

by which he received the actual result several seconds sooner than the

news sent by the public wire which supplied the official record. In

these few brief seconds of opportunity, and in the intense excitement

always prevailing at this point, he was enabled to pocket thousands by

“betting on a sure thing.” In short there is no device nor subterfuge,

nor daring rascality of any description, to which he will not bend the

most astute cunning and the greatest energy in order to extend his

thieving operations upon the pockets of those innocent pigeons who lend

themselves to be plucked under the miserable and baseless delusion that

the pool-room is run “on the square” and that he is getting even a

gambler’s chance in the unequal contest with the skillful and audacious

knavery with which he is led to contend. Indeed, it is remarkable that

men of courage, of resources, of acute perception, of tireless energy,

of a self poise that never fails, and an activity of intellect equal to

any emergency, as most of these successful sharpers are, should not have

preferred to bring their talents to bear upon honorable and lawful

occupations in which they could not fail to apply those qualities to the

greatest advantage.

THE FRIENDLY “TIP.”

In every pool room, amid the conglomeration of representatives of

“queer” industries always there to be found, is invariably a liberal

sprinkling of “cappers” or “touts.” These are the lowest and most

contemptible of all the instrumentalities employed by the turf sharp,

and the most dangerous because they always do their work in the guise of

pretended friendship, and under the basest kind of betrayal of

confidence. The lowest kind of a bunko steerer is a gentleman by

comparison with this most contemptible of all the crawling things that

infest this footstool. We have given some insight into the character of

his operations. Let it be remembered that every tout is in the employ of

the book maker; that every man who offers another a “tip” on a race-

course or at a pool room is a “tout,” beyond any peradventure, and be

certain that his frank and apparently generous and off-handed advances

are but in reality the means by which he intends to aid in the operation

of picking your pocket. He is a liar by instinct, by choice and by

occupation, and no matter how engaging his manners, or however plausible

his representations, you may safely set him down as a thief, and deal

with him accordingly. His very approach is an insult to the intelligence

of every man whom he seeks to “play for a sucker.”

EXTENT OF THE DEPREDATIONS OF TURF GAMBLERS.

The amount of money abstracted from the business industries, and incomes

of the people, mainly of the cities, of the United States, is simply

something appalling in its magnitude. In all the great centers of

population in the United States: New York, Chicago, Philadelphia,

Boston, St. Louis, Cincinnati, Louisville, Kansas City, Denver, New

Orleans and San Francisco, the depredations of the gambler will be found

to run into the millions in each case. In Chicago and New York it is

impossible to make any estimate. The actual truth, if it could be

revealed, would no doubt be deemed incredible. One fact, however, that

is definitely ascertained, will give some idea of the magnitude of this

crime against society, in the western metropolis. At the Fall meeting at

Washington Park, in 1889, forty-two gamblers paid to the track

authorities, $100 each per day for the term of twenty-four days, the

duration of the meeting. That amounted to $100,800. In addition to that

they had to pay for the most expensive kind of living at the highest-

priced hotels; and had to pay for “police protection,” touters, cappers

and hangers-on, salaries that professional men would envy, and had to

make high-rollers’ profits. Altogether, there cannot be a question that

these sharpers, for the privilege for which they paid over $100,000,

must have taken away out of the city, in the neighborhood of half a

million of dollars for this one meeting alone. This would represent at a

fair computation $2,000,000 for the year, without taking into account

the enormous amount constantly being drained from the community by the

other gambling operations.

NEVER A LOCAL AFFAIR.

In addition to these features—which certainly those responsible for the

social, moral and material welfare of the community do not seem to

realize—it is to be remembered that when the race-meeting has closed,

when the principal thieves with their robber retainers have departed for

the scene of their next activity, and good people heave a sigh of relief

that their boys or their clerks or their students are now no longer in

danger of this temptation, their deadly influence still remains. While

the races, for instance, are progressing in St. Louis, the pool-rooms,

the billiard rooms and saloons, by use of the telegraph, continue to

keep alive the taint of turf gambling, to keep the temptation to our

youth ever present, and to make easy for all, the deadly descent to

Avernus. Here, too, the work of the skin gambler, the jackal of his

tribe, is made particularly easy. Fraternities of these fragrant

personalities are organized, who between the different cities keep each

other “posted” on the true tips on races, and give the very latest and

most reliable information as to the probabilities of each race. The dupe

bets upon the regular “blackboard” reports; the scoundrel upon a dead

certainty. The robber rejoices in his good fortune; the victim curses

his “bad luck,” perhaps, but has no suspicion that he has not had an

even chance upon the board.

POOL-ROOM HABITUES.

If any young man, or old man for that matter, who is in the least degree

fastidious upon the point of keeping decent company, will but get some

one acquainted with the character of pool-room assemblies, or take the

trouble to exercise judgment for himself, he will learn or perceive that

which will make him take himself speedily away. Here all the proper

distinctions of society are violated, and the lawyer or doctor, lost by

his infatuation to self-respect, may be observed taking “pointers” from

a ragged and ill-smelling stable-boy. The banker, with the cashier of

his competitor, are jostling with a frowsy bootblack; the business man

discusses the board with the pickpocket; the thief and gambler is

everywhere. The odor of state prison associations is upon many. The

pimp, the bummer, the thug, the midnight housebreaker and the daylight

lawbreaker, all mingle in the throng with the representatives of

business probity and youthful innocence—with the prop and stay of one

family, and with the hope and pride of another household. If it were not

for the fascination that centers upon the betting board and renders

decency oblivious to its shameful surroundings, no man of sense, with a

spark of manhood or self respect about him, could, for a moment endure

the contamination of surroundings so degrading. The scene is one of the

most repulsive that any pure mind could conceive. It is the monstrous

anomaly presented of the vesture of life with warp of virtue and woof of

vice.

FEATURES PECULIAR TO THE TRACK.

While many of the evil influences which are organized in the pool-room

to defraud, deceive and destroy, are common to the race-track, yet the

latter possesses nefarious peculiarities whose features ought to be well

scanned, and therefore carefully avoided. At the race track, while the

vile types of character which infest the pool-room are to some extent

visible, they have not the same freedom of communication nor familiarity

with the visitor to the track as is the case in the pool-room. In the

pure outer air they shrink from intrusion upon respectability, and are

content to flock by themselves. Here it is, the well-dressed thief, the

polite and polished tout, the sanctimonious sharper, and the keen and

experienced shark, who carry on the operation of fleecing the victims of

turf rapacity are to be found. The scene in itself is far from

repulsive, as is the case with the pool-room. On the contrary, it is a

kaleidoscopic view of human society of every decent grade seen in its

most attractive form. Costly equipages, daintily dressed fair ladies,

bright colors, the beauty of flowers and the fragrance of delicate

perfume; men, each one dressed, like McGinty, in his best suit of

clothes, moving hither and thither in constant bustle, flutter and

excitement, the busy hum of multitudes of voices and the general and

exhilarating impression of life, movement and animation, combine to give

the race-course attractions that are apt to obscure its deadly menace to

honor, honesty and morality. Looking beneath this fair exterior,

however, we find a very charnel house, reeking foul with infamy and

fraud.

THE LADY GAMBLER.

Here we may observe the lady of fashion in her costly equipage stopping

to despatch her coachman for a card, and to take instructions for a tip.

Of course he gets the tip, for he knows where to go for it. He and the

tout are pals, and after the lady shall have lost every one of her eager

and confident ventures and leaves the ground with pocket-book light but

disappointment heavy in her heart, we may get a glimpse at the decorous

coachee as he smiles softly to himself, and thinks upon the liberal

portion of his mistress’ money he will have to divide with the tout in

the evening. Ladies who visit the race-track to bet are carefully

“spotted;” their servants are suborned, and they become the very easiest

and silliest victims that fall to the lot of the “fancy.”

THE CONFIDENTIAL STAKE-HOLDER.

A common swindle in the crowd at the pool-seller’s stand at the track is

the eager and excited young man who is victimized by a brace of

sharpers. They have watched him and sized him up; they recognize when he

is ripe enough to pick and then dexterously perform the operation of

gathering him in. “Bet two to one on Susie G.,” cries Mr. Verdant Green,

after a short argument with his elbow neighbor. “I’ll take you,” retorts

the other, counting out his bills, “we’ll put the money into the hands

of this gentleman here.” Benevolent-looking rascal, who has been

abstractedly looking the other way, is appealed to and consents to be

the depository of the wagers. The race is on; excitement becomes

intense; everybody is straining eyes upon the flying horses. Not so the

confidential stake-holder and his friend. They have gone from the gaze

of Mr. Verdant Green—“though lost to sight, to memory dear.” If they

could be found ten minutes later they might be discovered in the act of

dividing an easily earned “swag.” This kind of swindle is as old as the

flood. But all do not read the newspapers, and, as the gams say,

“there’s a sucker born every minute.” That is a cardinal doctrine with

them, and they ought to believe in it firmly, for does not their

experience seem to prove it? No one, however, who has read this book,

whether he read newspapers or not, will be liable to be deceived by this

simple fraud.

SKIN GAMES OUTSIDE THE TRACK.

One of the very worst features that attend race meetings is the

unavoidable presence, at every convenient point of proximity to the race

track, and lining every approach and avenue to the central scene, of all

the known skin games of which the reader of this book will have been

afforded ample knowledge elsewhere. Here assemble the three-card-monte

swindler, the shell-game shark, the wheel of fortune fakir, and in short

every conceivable representative of the smaller forms of swindling by

means of the practice of gambling. They cannot, it is true, get into the

enclosure. Race-track representatives draw the line of its virtue there.

True they are not a whit worse than their brethren inside, who play for

higher game. Both are merely plundering honest people by means of

gambling schemes. It is the case of the pot saying to the kettle, “Keep

off; I fear you may besmut me.” But the shell game man and his confreres

do not hanker to be within the sacred high fence. They can catch their

kind of suckers just as well outside, as they come and go; and many a

confiding innocent beside, who has not enough money to buy a seat on the

grand stand, nor to make a bet on the race, has yet sufficient to lose

by a turn of the wheel. They are not particular, bless you, these

smaller knaves. They do not want the earth. So long as they get all the

sucker has got, even though it be but a little, they are content.

Again, there are cases where the winning horse actually _has_ become

sick; so sick that he has had to be scratched, or been compelled to fail

in even getting a “place,” and that even where the stable has been

watched night and day by a man with a blunderbuss. Of course everybody

knows, including the dupes who have laid their money on him, that the

favorite has been “dosed.” Some suspect that the watcher may have been

bribed by the enemy, and permitted his care to be drugged for a fee. It

might be; but the odds are in favor of his innocence. The experienced

mind will look for a larger villain. There was a big sum of money on the

race: it would be an easy matter for the owner of the horse winning to

scratch him, or allow him to be beaten, and win more than was on the

board and in the stakes. Horses have been sold out by their owners, on

American and English race courses, and will be again, so long as knavery

lasts in the form of gambling on horse racing. And when you observe that

said owner is particularly tumultuous and volcanic in the expression of

his wrath, and encrimsons the surrounding air with richly embroidered

profanity, then you may be tolerably sure that you might reach the

secret of the case if you could only get deep down into his trousers

pockets.

WAYS THAT ARE DARK AND TRICKS THAT ARE NOT VAIN.

In no other human enterprise is it more frequently demonstrated that

“the race is not always to the swift.” It is a not uncommon practice for

owners of a horse by confederacy with book makers, and other necessary

aids, to groom a horse to win a heavy stake upon a dead certainty. First

the horse and his capabilities are discovered. Then he is ridden in one

or two races to lose. He becomes regarded as a permanent tail-ender. His

appearance on the blackboard is greeted with derision. Reports are

circulated that the horse is “sick,” particularly just before the event

for which he is being held back. He makes his appearance when his time

has come. Nobody will bet on him. The wildest sort of odds against him

are cheerfully offered, and as quietly gathered in by the confederates

of the owner and pool-seller. He takes the field and comes in an easy

winner in such a handsome manner that old sports who were not in the

combine, recognize, with words not loud but deep, as they go down into

their pockets to settle, that they have been “sold again.” In this as in

all other ways the average bettor or amateur gambler stands no show. He

has no chance, though he may think he has. He is simply food for sharks.

THE JOCKEY.

As the “king maker” to the claimant to the thrones of the days of old,

so the jockey to the horse race, and to the high hopes which rest upon

the particular animal in his charge. The jockey is generally a kind of

person who would be a stable-boy, a boot-black or a street sweeper, if

he were not a jockey. Being a jockey, he is clothed in purple and fine

linen, and gets his $10,000 or $12,000 per year—which would pay salaries

for two ministers of the gospel of the very first water, or of at least

four superintendents of schools. Is the jockey paid this magnificent

salary for being a jockey? Not at all; nor is he paid for being honest.

It is for being honest to his _employer_ in carrying out his wishes in

regard to the horse, as it may happen to be more profitable to the owner

to win or lose. Do jockeys ever sell a race? Probably: sometimes in

obedience to the orders of the owner, and occasionally on his own

account. In the latter event it is generally his last race; but he can

afford to retire to an opulent private life, for his reward is

exceedingly liberal. Who shall tell when the jockey is riding honestly

or dishonestly? He alone knows the minutest shade of the temper and

capacity of the horse. Half a nose may lose a race when he has seemed to

have done his best. And yet he might have won by a neck had he so

elected. The plain amateur, everyday sport who is slated to be swindled

in any case, as well as the anxious owner, the vendor of pools, and the

maker of books, are all at the mercy of the discretion of the jockey.

Hence the frills upon his raiment; hence a salary so large that it is

concluded that life can offer him no other temptations. In very many

instances, indeed, the jockey is the instrument through whom the

thousands of dupes are sold, the owner sometimes directing the robbery,

and on other occasions being included in the list of goods delivered.

The high-salaried jockey is a part of an evil system. Take away the

gambling feature from horse racing, and let us have honest sport, and

the jockey would be glad indeed to ride “square” for a dollar a day and

found. And there will be no honest competitions of speed on the race-

track until the immoral, rascally and thieving element of betting on the

result, or gambling, as you may be pleased to term it, has been

abolished, either by legal enactment, by public opinion, or by

repudiation on the part of the people who now patronize it—in which

latter case, the victims refusing to come to the fold to be sheared as

they do now, the evil would die for want of pockets to pick.

THE HANDICAP FRAUD.

In the “handicap” race lies one of the great opportunities for rascality

on the race track. There is no doubt that some of the events which offer

the largest prizes, in which the public takes the deepest interest, and

which seem on the surface to be about the fairest tests of all for a

square contest of speed, have become masterpieces of organized

scoundrelism. The theory of the handicap is that all the horses are so

exactly weighted that they start on a footing of perfect equality in the

race, and that if it were possible for them all to cross in an exact

line at the starting point, they would come under the wire nose to nose.

Of course, to secure such an exact start is an impossibility, and the

struggle is presumed to be a supreme effort on the part of each jockey

to make up the space lost at the start. It makes a grand and thrilling

spectacle to witness a handicap race: but it is generally a delusion.

They are just going through the motions, and any gentlemen in the

combination can tell you when the “start” is declared which horse is

destined to come out first at the finish. In cases of crooked races of

this kind, the horse is generally selected a season in advance and a

combination between certain leading horsemen is made to allow him to be

the winner and divide stakes and betting winnings. The stable from which

this “dark horse” comes will have generally two or three others in the

field, and the selected winner is ridden falsely for a whole season, and

given a bad record, so as to give him so ridiculously light a weight at

the handicap race that his winning is a comparative certainty. To be

sure, other elements of fitness to win the race have been carefully

ascertained, and his exact speed and staying qualities are well known to

those interested. When he goes into the field a certain winner, he gets

lightest weights and the longest odds to be had, and when he comes under

the wire he is worth his weight in gold to his owner or managers.

Sometimes it happens that there are two cliques working in the dark in

this fashion, and then a division has to be made. A private meeting

between the two selected horses is had, and this is a race for keeps and

in which the best horse wins. Then both parties form a common syndicate,

and labor to double the anticipated profits. Being leaders of the turf,

they have ample opportunity to gull the public. The sporting papers, or

sporting editors are “tipped” to systematically “bear” the winning

horse, and to “write up” other horses which appear to give the public a

fair chance for winning, or at least an even chance in betting upon the

few favorites which have been selected for “stool pigeons,” which are

“bulled,” in the estimation of the public without stint. When it comes

to the test, the dark horse has a comparative walk-over; the syndicate

reaps a golden harvest, and the public can divide the loss between the

individual suckers who have been gulled. Sometimes it has happened that

a genuine dark horse has honestly won, and these schemers come to grief.

But that is as rare as teeth in the mouth of a hen, and the fact

remains, generally speaking, that in this as in every other department

of betting on the events of the turf, the confiding public is swindled

on a deliberate system by which the professional gambler could not lose

if he chose, unless he were to conspire actively to attain that end.

This, however, there is no fear of, for a more selfish, cold-blooded and

rapacious breed of blood-hounds never pursued a defenceless prey.

OFFICIALLY PROTECTED CRIME.

The author of this work has traveled over most of the surface of the

United States, and has set up the green tables in towns and cities in

nearly every State in the Union, and in each and every instance he has

been compelled to purchase official protection for his unlawful trade;

making payments in some cases to mayors; sometimes to the chiefs of

police or city marshals, and on other occasions to individual policemen.

In this way the authority that is invested with the duty of protecting

society is suborned and prostituted to the vile end of extending

official protection to the very crime which it is its sworn duty to

exterminate. That this perversion of public authority is almost

universal seems to be unquestionable. We have recently been furnished

with a forcible example of this in the great city of Chicago, where it

has been strikingly illustrated that when rogues fall out honest men

sometimes get their own. For months in the western metropolis efforts

had been made to compel the public authorities to the enforcement of the

law regarding this vice. It was persistently denied by the local

authorities that there was any gambling going on in Chicago, and this in

the face of a general public knowledge to the contrary. In order to

prove the hypocrisy of the position of the officers of the city

government in this matter, a daily newspaper entered upon a crusade upon

its own account. Private detectives were hired and raids constantly made

for some weeks, resulting in many arrests, the seizure of a large

quantity of gaming apparatus and its destruction in the court-rooms of

the city. Yet, still the authorities refused to act and continued to

ignore the prevalence of gambling rooms throughout the city, even after

the press had given lists of names and full information upon which to

proceed. It was publicly and very directly intimated that this alleged

ignorance on the part of the city government was a matter of bargain and

sale—that specific money payments were made by the criminals for

immunity from the proper consequences of their criminal operations;

that, in fact, the officials of a great corporation had been suborned to

become accessory to the operations of the gamblers. One part of this

nefarious understanding was that while the races at Washington Park were

in progress the down-town pool-rooms should remain closed in order that

the race-track swindlers might be enabled to make the most of their

opportunities. With the same scrupulous fidelity which is said to

characterize transactions between some other violators of the law, this

agreement was carried out. Then followed another race meeting at the

track of one Corrigan, a noted horseman on the West Side. Corrigan

claimed the same privilege of shutting out the pool-room competition as

had been extended to the Washington Park club.

The pool-room keepers refused to recognize any obligation of the kind.

They claimed that their agreement with the city administration had been

completed; that they could not afford to remain longer closed up, and

that by reason of their payment of the assessments which had been

regularly levied upon them by the representatives of the city

administration, they were entitled to continue their business without

molestation. Then Corrigan began a war upon them by the aid of a private

detective organization, and the shameful fact that the gamblers had the

protection of the police force and its management became apparent beyond

dispute. Not only was this the case, but the officials who had hitherto

placidly ignored general and widespread gambling in the center of the

city, became the active and open allies of the city gamblers, and used

their legal powers in an endeavor to punish Corrigan by making arrests

at the race-track. Corrigan resorted to the courts for protection

against this interference, and secured a bill of injunction restraining

the Mayor and Chief of Police from interfering with book making at his

track. In the bill filed to secure this injunction the whole disgraceful

bargain between the representatives of the city’s police force and the

crooks and gamblers was distinctly related, alleging a direct compact of

corruption by which crime purchased a stipulated protection at the hands

of those sworn to uphold and enforce the laws. There is little reason to

doubt that this practice is not confined to Chicago. It exists

everywhere. It calls for a remedy, because it is a dangerous and deadly

menace to morality, and to the security and safety of society. An

aroused public opinion is needed everywhere to offset this great evil,

and it is one of the earnest purposes of this work that good people may

be awakened to the sense of the danger that threatens the public welfare

in this particular. The foundation of justice, the fountain of the law,

are thus assailed with an unscrupulous boldness that would be incredible

if the facts were not beyond dispute. It is impossible to conceive a

graver danger to the best interests of the republic than this widespread

pollution of the honor of the custodians of law and morality, and the

instinct of self-preservation on the part of all the decent elements of

society should point the way to a united effort to secure reform and

redress.

THE EXTENT OF THE MANIA.

Year by year the fever of gambling on the races increases in intensity

and the range of its operations. Thousands upon thousands go to the

races who would not be able to distinguish between a Kentucky

thoroughbred and a Miami valley towpath mule. They do not go for the

“sport” there is in a splendid contest between the noblest of the brute

creation. They go to “speculate,” to “buy pools;” in short, to gamble,

in the idiotic hope that by some blind chance they may return a

“winner,” with a hat full of gold bought for a silver dollar. In fact

they go out sheep and they return home shorn. Speaking of the recent

universality of this gambling mania, a story goes that lately a St.

Louis wholesale merchant’s cashier came to him one day and said:

“I should like to get away this morning sir; my sister is to be married

to-day.”

“Certainly, certainly,” said the good-natured merchant.

Presently came the book-keeper, with a rueful countenance, who said:

“I’m feeling very unwell, sir, and if you could spare me, I’d like to be

excused for to-day.”

The amiable merchant cheerfully gave the requested permission. Shortly

after the errand boy appeared.

“Please, sir; my grandmother died last night, and she’s to be buried

this afternoon. Please may I go home?”

“To be sure, my boy,” said the merchant. “Sorry for your mother; here’s

a quarter for you.”

“Well,” soliloquized the merchant, “since they’re all gone, I might as

well shut up shop. I guess I’ll call and see the doctor to-day.”

At the doctor’s he got word that the physician had just been called away

to visit a patient in the country, so he concluded to do some business

with his lawyer. At the latter’s office he discovered that the man of

law had gone to file a paper in the probate court.

“Well, if I can’t see anybody,” said he to himself, “I might just as

well go over to the races awhile.”

As he approached the grand stand he observed astride the roof a small

animate object, which closer inspection proved to him was his office

boy, who was thus attending his grandmother’s funeral. In front of the

stand stood the doctor holding a roll of bills in one hand, and shouting

for bets on his favorite horse. Up on the stand he observed the lawyer

wildly swinging his hat and hallooing like a maniac. Passing around the

corner of the stand he came upon his sick clerk and the one who was

marrying his sister, each with a schooner of lager in his hand and in an

evidently hilarious condition.

“Well,” mused he, “King David was a good judge of human nature when he

said, ‘All men are liars.’”

A FALSE GUIDE.

There is one topic more that may appropriately be used to conclude this

chapter, and that is the recalcitrancy to the highest welfare of the

people, and the best interest of true public morality, of the most

powerful instrument for good or evil that to-day exists. The press of

the country is not only fully cognizant of the deplorable evils that

arise from gambling on the turf, but lends to it countenance,

encouragement and aid; and it does so undoubtedly for the money there is

in it. The newspapers spread page after page of the turf and its events

over their daily issues. The attractions and the interest of the race

meetings are set forth with all the skill at their command. They become

agents of thieves by publishing “pointers” on the races, and giving

advice to bettors which is no more honest nor reliable than that of the

sharks of the pool-room. They are thus false to their high mission;

false to their lofty responsibilities, which should in all things guide

and direct; false to the interests of society, and to the welfare of

their readers and patrons. Surely it is time to call a halt in the

prostitution of this noble influence to the purposes of race track

gambling and systematic knavery. The sordid influence which leads them

to become an active party to the debauchery of public morals would no

doubt give them the cohesion in action that grows out of a common source

of plunder; but newspapers are amenable to one influence—that of a

united public opinion. Let the ministers of the gospel, the natural

guardians of our morality; the teachers, the parents, and all good men

everywhere, bring a united and emphatic protest to bear upon the press,

to induce it to desist from encouraging this national crime, and from

familiarizing the youth of America with the methods and fascinations of

turf gambling, and we may yet hope to see the newspapers of the land

stand upon this question on the side of the family hearth, and of God

and morality.

CHAPTER II.

THE EXCHANGE

The origin of the commercial exchange is coeval with the beginning of

commerce. According to that eminent Oriental scholar and historian,

Rawlinson, the city of Babylon contained several of these marts, each

devoted to the sale of some particular description of merchandise, and

Herodotus intimates that one of them was set apart exclusively to the

sale of wheat, corn, barley, millet and sesame. Athens and Rome also had

their exchanges, and during the middle ages the traders of Venice were

wont to assemble in the Rialto. Marseilles boasted of a Chamber of

Commerce in the fifteenth century, and as early as 1566 London merchants

were accustomed daily to convene in the open air at various localities

in Lombard Street, until the erection of the present Royal Exchange, and

to-day exchanges or bourses are among the prominent commercial features

of every great European city.

The idea of a commercial exchange germinated in the United States before

the war of the American Revolution. Here, as in Europe, the basis of

every mercantile exchange is a voluntary union of business men, who deem

it for their mutual interest regularly to assemble in some convenient

locality, for the purpose of effecting the sale of commodities or

securities, and of profiting by the fluctuations in market prices. Stock

exchanges, produce exchanges, chambers of commerce and boards of trade

are all essentially identical in character, the principal point of

difference being the nature of the commodities bought and sold.

The New York Chamber of Commerce, founded in 1768, is the oldest

organization of this kind in this country. Similar institutions were

established in Baltimore in 1821, and in Philadelphia in 1833. In 1858

there were ten chambers of commerce and twenty boards of trade between

Portland and San Francisco. In 1865 these bodies organized what is known

as the “National Board of Trade.” In this association are represented

Albany, Baltimore, Boston, Buffalo, Charleston, Chicago, Cincinnati,

Cleveland, Denver, Detroit, Dubuque, Louisville, Milwaukee, Newark, New

Orleans, New York, Oswego, Peoria, Philadelphia, Pittsburg, Portland,

Providence, Richmond, St. Louis, St. Paul, Toledo, Troy and Wilmington.

As an institution, the commercial exchange has been productive of some

good, but much harm. If restricted in its scope to the legitimate

purposes of commerce, it is unquestionably of the highest benefit to the

business world. When its operations are diverted into illegitimate

channels it becomes a source of incalculable injury to society. As a

great market place, it plays an important part in modern civilization;

as a gigantic agency for the promotion of gambling in the commodities of

the world, it is a snare, a delusion and a curse.

Not all the gaming hells of the country combined afford facilities for

gambling equal to those furnished by these organizations. The faro

dealer places a limit upon the stakes wagered; upon the floor of ’Change

one may bet without limit. Not everyone can obtain admittance to the

gilded _salon_ of the tiger; the commission merchant, or broker, who

does business upon the Stock Exchange or Board of Trade accepts orders

from all comers. The character of the transactions in which his

principals engage is to him a matter of indifference, his interest being

centered in their frequency and extent.

To one who is not versed in the methods of conducting trading in the

mercantile exchange, the jargon of the ordinary journalistic report of a

day is unmeaning gibberish. “Longs” and “shorts,” “puts, calls and

straddles,” “scalpers” and “plungers,” a “squeal,” a “squeeze,” an

“unloading,” are terms as destitute of significance as though they were

words from a foreign tongue. Yet the mode of doing business is not so

complicated that any man of average intelligence need fail to grasp it.

The author—as he has already stated in his autobiography—was once

connected with a firm operating on the Chicago Board of Trade, and as

such, acquired an intimate acquaintance with the _modus operandi_ of its

dealings, and he believes that his work would be incomplete should he

ignore the marble palace through whose noiselessly swinging doors so

many thousands have entered upon the path of shame which leads to ruin.

Not that the Chicago Board of Trade is either worse or better than the

score of similar institutions scattered through the country; nor is it

intended to select that organization as the object of special

animadversion. The methods of all commercial exchanges are, as has been

said, substantially identical.

Members of these bodies may be classified on any one of several general

principles. One system of classification has relation to the character

of their operations; in other words, all members may be divided into two

classes, the first comprising those who venture on their own account

(popularly known as “speculators”), and the second embracing those who

buy or sell only on the receipt of orders from outsiders (_i. e._,

brokers). Under another system, members may be classified as those who

wish to enhance the prices of commodities on the one hand, and those

who, on the other, seek to depress market quotations. The former are

technically known as “bulls,” and the latter as “bears.” These

sobriquets are derived from the well-known propensities of the two

descriptions of animals, the one to hoist and the other to pull down. A

“bull” is one who seeks to advance prices; a “bear” one who strives to

lower them. The distinction between “longs” and “shorts” is

substantially of the same nature. A “long” is a speculator who,

believing that the price of a certain commodity is destined to advance,

buys freely in anticipation of a rise. It follows that he is naturally,

if not inherently, a “bull.” On the other hand, a “short,” judging that

quotations are destined to decline, sells wherever he can find a

purchaser. He, naturally, is a “bear.” It must not be forgotten,

however, that neither of these parties for a moment actually expects

either to receive or deliver the articles which he buys or sells; and

the reason for this apparently inconsistent statement will be explained

hereafter.

With these few prefatory words of explanation, we will pursue the course

of the speculator, after which will be given a definition of the slang

terms used, and following this the reader will find a concise

description of the adventitious agencies employed in the manipulation of

the market.

[Illustration: CHICAGO BOARD OF TRADE.]

And first, as to the speculator: He may fall within either one of two

categories—the professional or the occasional. Yet even under the

general caption of professional speculators, operators may be divided

into two classes. One embraces men whose large wealth enables them to

contrive and engineer what is popularly known as a “corner;” the other

includes those who follow in their wake, believing that they can discern

their intentions, and laying the flattering delusion to their souls that

they can presage the course of prices. The professional speculator, as

being the “larger fish,” should first claim our notice. He it is who

originates and conducts “corners,” by which term is meant the forcing up

of prices for any given commodity to a point far beyond their legitimate

value, with a view to enriching the few at the expense of the many. Men

of this stamp ordinarily associate with themselves kindred spirits,

whose natural bent is the same as their own, and whose capital may prove

of value in carrying out their schemes. The combination having been

formed, the first objective point is the selection of some commodity or

stock to “corner.” The choice having been made, the next step is,

quietly and unostentatiously to buy all of it that can be purchased. Let

not the unsophisticated reader for a moment suppose, however, that the

syndicate thus formed proposes to buy the article in question at current

rates. Far otherwise. Prices must be depressed, and there is an obvious

way in which to effect this result. Every market in the world is

supposed to be governed by the normal relations between supply and

demand. It follows that free offerings of any commodity are likely to

reduce its quotable value. What, then, are the tactics of the

“operator”? Evidently to offer to sell freely. Under the influence of

the precipitation of large lots, prices recede, and the speculator is

shrewd enough to purchase “at the bottom of the market.” Of course he

does not expose his policy by buying such enormous quantities in his own

name. He has recourse to firms doing a strictly commission business, of

whom he employs a multiplicity, and who always refuse to disclose the

name of their principal—not from any high sense of honor, but from

motives of self-interest, for the simple reason that such exposure would

result in a peremptory withdrawal of business. Having secured the

desired quantity of the stock or commodity selected, the clique proceeds

to advance the price, not abruptly but gradually, selling a little here

and buying a little there, the object being the mystification of the

miscellaneous dealers. At last comes what is known as the “squeeze.” The

cabal having all, or at least the great preponderance, of the article

where they can, if they choose, call for its immediate delivery, refuse

to entertain any offers at less than the limit fixed. The consequence is

that the “shorts”—i. e., the men who have sold to the syndicate—are

compelled to settle at the price to which the coalition has forced

quotations. The method of operation can be best illustrated by a

suppositious case. Let us suppose—simply by way of illustration—that a

coterie of dealers in grain resolve to force up the price of wheat,

although not to localize the illustration, we might assume the formation

of a “corner” on some one of the numerous stock exchanges with which the

country is blessed (?), or cursed. But let us take the Chicago Board of

Trade, with whose methods the author is most familiar: Let us suppose

that the article to be “cornered” is “July wheat,” and that the

combination has been formed in March. Resort is had to the tactics above

explained. Wheat for July delivery is first depressed, then bought, and

in the end sold without regard to its inherent value, but solely with a

view to what the “shorts” may be forced to pay. The profits of such

“corners,” thus constructed, are sometimes enormous. Yet, as in the game

of faro, the most expert dealer is sometimes put to heavy loss by the

combination which is playing against the bank; so even the machinations

of the strongest and shrewdest operators are brought to naught either by

a combination of brighter minds, by a failure carefully to guard every

weak spot, or, it may be, by very chance. The same elements are present

in both games, faro and stock-jobbing. These corners are conceived in

cupidity, carried on in deceit, and consummated in heartlessness; yet

there are not wanting those who affirm that the commercial exchange is

the very prop and bulwark of American commerce! That the exchange, in

its legitimate scope, affords an easy and safe way of doing business,

cannot be denied; that its practical operation is to foster speculation

and encourage reckless gambling is equally indisputable.

This assertion seems, on its face, perhaps, ill-considered, yet it is

abundantly justified by facts. We have, thus far, considered only the

tactics of the professional “operator.” Let us, for a moment, consider

the fortune (or misfortune) that awaits the occasional speculator. The

latter closely resembles the man who plunges, headlong, into the Niagara

rapids without even a rudimentary knowledge of the art of swimming. Like

a chip, he sports upon the crest of the eddying waters of the whirlpool,

until, gradually drawn nearer and nearer toward the centre, he is sucked

into its very vortex, sinking to reappear no more. Yet this comparison

is weak. The outside speculator who fancies that he can buy or sell on

“pointers,” (i. e. private information) given him by parties well-

posted, very nearly approaches an idiot in the matter of intelligence.

Let us take, as a single illustration, a case which fell under the

author’s personal observation. The experience of the victim (whom we

will call Jones) is by no means exceptional. Mr. “Jones” was advised by

a friend (?) that “old Higgenbotham” had bought up all of a certain

article and that within sixty days prices were destined materially to

appreciate. Naturally “Mr. Jones” found his interest, as well as his

cupidity stimulated. What would his friend recommend him to do? “Buy, of

course; and buy heavily,” was the answer. “But I don’t know how to buy,”

objected Jones. “Why,” replied his advisor, “that’s the easiest thing in

the world, Q X & Z, one of the best houses in the street, are particular

friends of mine. Take my card and go down and see them. They’ll use you

right.” The unfortunate “Jones” listened to the siren song. He

interviewed Q X & Z, by whom he was received with distinguished

consideration. The firm of brokers explained to him how he could, by

depositing with them a “margin” of five per cent. on the par value of

his prospective purchase, become the putative owner of twenty times the

amount of his deposit. Of course he must buy for future delivery, this

not being a “cash” transaction. But there was no doubt that prices would

advance. Oh, certainly not.

Mr. “Jones” was naturally a little timorous, being unaccustomed to

speculation. He advanced a few hundred dollars, however, by way of

“margins,” and at the conclusion of the “deal,” found himself winner by

a handsome sum. His experience was a revelation to him. He ventured

again and again, with varying success. Finally he found himself heavily

interested on the wrong side of the market. He was assured that prices

must necessarily take a turn, and he could ill afford to lose the sum

already risked.

To understand the nature of the risk which he had incurred, however,

some explanation of the method of speculating by means of margins is

necessary. To illustrate: let us suppose that a certain article—say,

wheat is to-day at $1.00 per bushel, of course 10,000 bushels are

nominally worth $10,000. Imagine a legitimate purchase of such a

quantity at these figures. Should the price advance one cent per bushel,

the 10,000 bushels would be worth $10,100; should it fall off one cent

the wheat would be worth only $9,900. In the former case the buyer would

win $100; in the latter he would lose a like sum. In the case of a bona-

fide sale, the whole of the $10,000 is actually paid. In a speculative

transaction the purchaser only advances a part of the price, usually a

few cents per bushel, which is placed in the hands of his broker, who

gives him a receipt therefor. The commission merchant conducts the

business in his own name, assuming personal responsibility for the

payment of the money. To protect himself against possible loss, which

may result from violent fluctuations in the market, he insists upon a

marginal deposit as above stated. Should the depreciation in value

approach the limit of the margin, the speculator is called upon to

advance more money. If he fail to do so, and the decline continues, the

broker protects himself by selling out the article bought, charging his

customer with the loss sustained, together with his own brokerage

charges, and handing over to him whatever small balance may remain to

his credit. In the case of a speculative sale, precisely the same

methods are employed, except that as the seller’s gain is derived from a

depreciation and his loss through an advance, when the “margin” is in

danger of being “wiped out,” the broker closes the transaction by buying

on the customer’s account instead of selling.

But to return to the experience of Mr. “Jones.” As has been said he had

ventured largely, and he found himself confronted with financial ruin.

Although engaged in a money-making business, he had plunged so deeply

into the maelstrom of speculation that his capital was seriously

impaired. What was to be done? To withdraw meant bankruptcy; yet, how

could he go on? Only one way presented itself to him. He was the

executor of his brother’s will and the guardian of his brother’s minor

children. The trust funds placed under his control might be utilized to

avert impending disaster. Not that he would wrong the orphans whose

patrimony had been committed to his care, but he would temporarily

borrow the money of the estate, to be returned with interest, within a

few weeks. He succumbed to the temptation and the result need hardly be

told. The combination formed for the purpose of controlling prices

absorbed these funds as it had the others, with the same relentless

rapacity as do the knights of the green cloth the last hard-earned

dollar of the day-laborer. The day of settlement arrived, the bubble

burst and the unfortunate man found himself buried fathoms deep in

dishonor and ruin. Not only was he penniless, but he realized that

wherever he went the finger of scorn pointed out his every step. A

temperate man before, he plunged headlong into dissipation. His wife

found herself compelled to leave him, and to-day, stripped of fortune,

bereft of family, deserted by friends, he walks the streets with

faltering tread, aimlessly and hopelessly; living God knows how; hanging

about bucket-shops and pool-rooms, considering that a fortunate day on

which, honestly or dishonestly, he can earn half a dollar.

Nor is this an isolated case. The speculator who has been alluded to is

but a type of a class of men whose name is legion. The ruined

reputations of confidential clerks, cashiers and administrators of trust

funds mark the path of the reckless operator as milestones mark the

causeway. The terrible fascination of gambling, whether through

speculation or cards, when once the votary has succumbed to it, can be

most fitly compared to that of the opium habit. The victim of this body-

debasing, soul-destroying vice is willing to risk his hopes, not only

for time but for eternity, on the gratification of his appetite. So does

the devotee of the faro table or the man infatuated with the allurements

of the exchange stake his life, his honor, his very salvation upon the

turn of a die or the rise or fall of a particular stock.

Better, far better, were it for the man who enters a gaming resort that

his first wager prove unsuccessful; far happier would he be who

determines to “speculate in futures” did his first venture result in

heavy loss. In either case the influence of failure would prove a

deterrent sufficiently powerful to avert years of future misery, if not

ultimate destruction.

The technical nomenclature of the exchange—sometimes termed the “slang

of the street”—which, as has been remarked, is incomprehensible to the

uninitiated, in itself affords some key to the nature of the business

transacted. Some of the most common terms are here defined, although to

enumerate them all would swell the dimensions of the present chapter

beyond the limits assigned it.

A “scalper” is an operator who makes it his practice to close his

transactions as soon as he can see a small profit, say a quarter of one

cent. His operations are neither more nor less than betting on a rise or

fall in prices.

The “guerilla” is a species of the genus “scalper,” few in number, and

makes a specialty of dealing in stocks and commodities: So unsavory is

the reputation of this class that it has fixed the appellation of

“Hell’s Kitchen” and “Robber’s Roost” upon certain localities in the New

York Stock Exchange.

Still another class is composed of those who strive to enrich themselves

by the fictitious rise and fall of a particular stock in which they

constantly deal.

The terms “long” and “short,” when used as adjectives, have been already

explained, and their signification when employed as nouns is practically

the same. A “long” is a speculator who has bought heavily in

anticipation of a rise. A “short” is one who has sold freely in

expectation of a decline. The action of the former is called “loading.”

“Forcing quotations” is keeping up prices by any means whatever. When

this is accomplished by the dissemination of fictitious news or the

circulation of unfounded rumors, the operator is said to “balloon”

prices.

A speculator is said to “take a flyer” when he engages in some side

venture; he “flies kites” when he expands operations injudiciously; he

“holds the market” when he prevents a decline in prices by buying

heavily; he “milks the street” when he manipulates so skilfully that

they rise or fall at his pleasure; he “unloads” when he sells the

particular stock or commodity of which he is “long;” he “spills stock”

when he offers large quantities with a view to lowering or “breaking”

prices; if he is successful in these tactics he is said to “saddle the

market.”

A “bear” is said to be “gunning” a stock when he employs all his energy

and craft to “break” its price. He “covers,” or “covers his shorts,”

when he buys to fulfill his contracts. He “sells out” a man by forcing

prices down so that the latter is obliged to relinquish what he is

“carrying,” perhaps to fail.

The nature of a “corner” has been already set forth in detail. The

operator or clique organizing and managing it is said to “run” it. The

day when final settlement must be made between the opposing parties

engaged in such a transaction is termed “settling day.” If the “bears”

are forced to settle at unusually high prices they are said to be

“squeezed.” The “squeeze” which has followed many a corner has

precipitated not a few wealthy men into financial ruin. This

circumstance, however, is usually a matter of utter indifference to the

manipulators. The success of a “corner” is sometimes prevented by what

is known as a “squeal,” or revelation of the secrets of the pool or

clique by one of its members. Sometimes the plans of the organizers of a

“corner” are brought to naught by a “leak” in the pool, that is, by one

of the members secretly selling out his holdings. Of course, a “corner”

can be formed only on what is known as a “future,” or future delivery,

by which is meant the sale and purchase of some stock or commodity to be

delivered at some period in the future.

Yet another form of gambling very common upon the floors of stock and

commercial exchanges is known as dealing in “puts,” “calls” and

“straddles.” When a person buys a “put,” he pays a stipulated sum for

the privilege of selling to the party to whom it is paid, a certain

quantity of some particular stock or other article, within a fixed time,

at a designated price. Thus A might pay to B one hundred dollars for the

privilege of selling him one hundred shares of Union Pacific stock at a

stipulated price, within ten days. As a matter of course, the price

named is always a little below the current quotation ruling at the time

the contract is made, _i. e._, the day upon which the “put” is bought.

If, for instance, the “put” is sold at 80 cents on that day, and the

market declines to 75, A might tender to B the one hundred shares, and

the latter would be compelled to take them at that price. In such a case

A would have gained five dollars per share, or five hundred dollars in

all, provided he had “covered his shorts,” _i. e._, bought in the stock

which he had already put, at the latter figure. As a matter of fact,

neither party contemplated an actual delivery. The market having

declined, A’s net gain is, of course, only four hundred dollars, he

having already paid one hundred dollars to B. This appears an easy

method of winning money. As a matter of fact, however, experience has

shown that very few men win through the purchase of “puts” and “calls.”

A “call” is similar in its general nature to a “put,” but differs from

it in that the buyer of the former has the privilege of calling or

buying a certain quantity, under the same conditions. The seller of the

“put” contracts to buy, and of the “call” to sell, whenever the demand

is made.

A “straddle” is a combination of the “put” and the “call,” and is the

option of either buying or selling. The cost of these “puts,” “calls,”

and “straddles,” which are known as “privileges,” varies from one to

five per cent. of the par value of the stock, or the market value of the

commodity involved, and depends upon the time they have to run, the

range covered, and the activity and sensitiveness of the market.

It is claimed in behalf of these privileges that they are, in their

essence, really contracts of insurance, and as such are entirely

legitimate. The general public, however, has always regarded them as a

complex system of betting, and believes that they constitute one of the

most pernicious features of the exchange. The fallacy of the argument in

their favor, above outlined, becomes apparent when it is remembered that

the law regards all contracts of insurance as being one form of

gambling, and sanctions and enforces them only on grounds of public

policy. The burden of proof is upon the defenders of “puts” and “calls”

to show that, even if it be conceded that they are contracts of

insurance, they can be justified as being necessary to the furtherance

of commerce or the welfare of society. That they do not tend to promote

commerce is shown by the fact that neither party to the transaction for

a moment contemplates the actual delivery of the article bought or sold.

It is essentially a wager between two individuals as to the future

course of the market, one betting that prices will advance, and the

other that they will decline. The absurdity of claiming that they

promote the general welfare of society, (were such a claim advanced),

may be easily demonstrated by calling attention to the economic

consideration that the winner has done nothing to produce the money

which he pockets, and by pointing to the pecuniary loss and moral

debasement which they entail. They sustain somewhat of the same relation

to the dealings of the large operators as does the keno room to the faro

bank.

The legislature of Illinois, a few years ago, placed the seal of its

condemnation upon the practice by making it a misdemeanor to deal in

privileges. It is said (although the author is unable to vouch for the

truth of the statement), that this virtuous action on the part of the

lawmakers was due to the influence brought to bear upon them by a well-

known member of the Chicago Board of Trade, who had been dealing

extensively in “puts” and “calls,” and had lost heavily. However that

may be, the Chicago Board, after permitting the practice for years,

adopted a rule prohibiting their sale, and even went to the length of

suspending a few members for its violation, among them being one of the

most prominent operators upon the floor. This spasm of virtue, however,

was not of long duration, and at the present time such privileges may be

procured from members of that august body with the greatest ease.

The action of this great Western Exchange in the premises may possibly

have been prompted by motives other than a desire to comply with the

statutes. Long after the enactment of the law, privileges were sold as

freely as before its passage. In time, however, it was found to be a

two-edged sword. Operators found it possible to purchase “puts” for the

purpose of buying against them, and to buy “calls” with a view to shield

themselves from loss when they became “bears.” Thus an army of sellers

appeared when the “call” price was reached, and a horde of buyers when

the market touched the price at which “puts” had been sold, the

consequence being that the range of the market was curtailed. Members

objected to tactics which robbed the market of that elasticity so dear

to the speculator’s heart. Carping critics say that the virtue of the

directors was the outgrowth of disappointed self-seeking. In other

words—speculation—the very life-blood of the exchange was being

curtailed. _Hinc illae lachrymae._

But the action of the directors, as was soon found, rendered it possible

for certain members, who were willing to incur the risk, to do a

thriving business in privileges provided the transactions were secret.

Of course firms desiring to obey the rules were at a disadvantage, and

legitimate brokerage suffered. There was one obvious, logical

conclusion: “Allow every one to engage in the business or no one.” This

commended itself to common sense, and a carefully worded resolution was

adopted, the practical effect of which, as every one understood it, was

virtually to remove the ban from the sale of privileges. Since that

time, “puts” and “calls” may be purchased with the same ease as one may

pay his taxes.

But let us return to the methods employed in the manipulation of prices.

Reference has been already made to the very common practice of

attempting to “bull” or “bear” quotations by buying or selling large

quantities, or “blocks” of some particular article. There is probably no

description of market in the world so extremely sensitive as the

commercial exchange. A sale or purchase of any given commodity by

certain, well-known operators, is often sufficient to excite its pulse

to fever heat. A similar result may ensue from a report that the

Secretary of the Treasury contemplates a call of a certain denomination

of bonds; that Bismarck had been heard to say that the French blood was

too thin and needed a little more iron; that a norther in Texas had

killed a herd of cattle; that a few grasshoppers had been seen in the

neighborhood of Fargo; or that the mercury was believed to be about to

fall in Northern Minnesota. The great speculators, the master minds of

these gigantic institutions, are quick to perceive this sensitiveness,

and equally prompt to avail themselves of it. Fictitious news is as

potent an agency in advancing or depressing prices as is the genuine

article, and it is a sad truth that there are not wanting large

operators who do not scruple to employ it. It is said—and there is good

reason to believe the statement to be true—that there are men at all

great commercial centers whose only occupation is the dissemination of

unfounded reports, with a view of raising or lowering the prices of

certain commodities in regard to which the rise or fall of a fraction of

a cent may mean the gain or loss of millions. These manufacturers of

fictitious news are said to “wear purple and fine linen and fare

sumptuously every day.” The results of their operations are to be found

in the wrecking of important financial and corporate interests and the

corresponding enrichment of the unprincipled manipulators who employ

them.

Some years ago, there came a mysterious rumor to the New York Stock

Exchange, that the directors of a certain railroad in the Northwest had

decided upon taking a step which could not fail to prove disastrous in

the extreme to the interests of the corporation. No one was able to tell

just where the rumor originated, yet it found sufficient credence to

depress the price of the road’s stock, and to induce free selling. The

next day came the refutation of the story; the stock recovered its tone,

and the clique in whose interest the lie had been sent over the wires

reaped a profit of $60,000. In the slang of Wall Street this was called

“a plum.” It is difficult to see the difference in moral turpitude

between such tactics as these and “steering” for a “brace” faro bank.

An acquaintance of the author, who served with distinction during the

late civil war, on his return home, was employed by a company owning

alleged oil lands in Pennsylvania, to superintend the sinking of wells

within its territory. The salary was liberal and the duties not arduous.

Wells were duly sunk, but no oil discovered, after a time, the gentleman

in question received instructions from the headquarters of the company

in an Eastern city to telegraph, on a certain day, that a well recently

sunk, was yielding a certain large number of barrels per day. This

dispatch was to be followed, a day later, by one of similar tenor,

making a like assertion in reference to another well. The party who gave

these instructions well knew that a certain class of speculators on the

exchanges are in the habit of discounting private information through

the bribery of telegraph employees, and he placed no little reliance

upon this fact for the furtherance of his scheme. The event proved that

he had calculated wisely. The telegrams were duly sent and were read by

other parties before they reached the man to whom they were addressed.

The result was that the company’s stock bounded upward with the celerity

of a rubber-ball, and the projectors of the enterprize unloaded at an

enormous profit. Of course, the purchasers found out that they had been

deceived, but as none of the officers of the corporation had

disseminated the report of the finding of oil, it was impossible to

attach any responsibility to them.

And yet there are not wanting those who affirm, and stoutly maintain,

that without the commercial exchange, business would be brought to a

stand-still, and commerce paralyzed; that Boards of Trade and Produce

and Stock Exchanges are prime factors in advancing the welfare of the

country. And this is said despite the fact that the percentage of

legitimate business done is utterly insignificant in comparison with

that which is purely speculative in its character. The sales of one

agricultural product alone upon the floor of a single mart of this sort

for one month alone have been known to equal the production of the

entire country for a whole year! Is this legitimate commerce, or is it

gambling on the wildest and most extensive scale? Members of various

Boards in the United States who assume to do a strictly legitimate

business, send out circulars through the rural districts, the sole

object of which is to induce the recipients to speculate upon the floor

of ’Change. These communications depict, in glowing terms, the ease and

certainty with which ignorant countrymen may acquire fortunes in a day,

through the purchase of a “put” or a “call,” or a “straddle.” They

purport to explain, fully and clearly, the methods of speculating in

stocks and grain, and represent the system as simple and easily

comprehensible, while the authors know that the system is in itself

complex and the issue a venture—at the very best—uncertain. It is not

pretended that the transaction contemplates an actual transfer of the

commodity from seller to buyer. Is this frank? Is it manly? Is it

honest?

Scarcely a decade has passed since the whole country rung with the

echoes of the “Fund W” scandal. Unquestionably the men who engineered

that gigantic scheme of fraud were not representative members of any

commercial exchange, yet it is equally certain that but for the

facilities afforded for the perpetration of the fraud through the

Exchanges’ methods of doing business, that stupendous swindle would have

been impossible. Yet the infatuated speculators who do business through

legitimate houses, believe that they can trust their own judgment as to

the future of the market! It may be that such folly has its parallel,

but it is not to be found in that of the man who stakes his money on the

issuance of a particular card from a faro box.

Few of those who have never witnessed the daily routine of business on

the floor of an Exchange can conceive the wild uproar, the hubbub, the

confusion, the tumultuous excitement, which there reigns supreme. Let us

take a glance at one of the best known. During the busy hours of the

session the floor of the magnificently proportioned room is crowded.

Scattered about at distances more or less regular, are large marble-

topped tables, about which gather groups of men engaged in quiet, though

sometimes earnest, conversation. These tables contain drawers, in which

members, who pay well for the privilege, keep samples of the commodities

in which they deal. Hurrying to and fro about the room may be seen

brokers and their clerks, carrying in their hands small paper bags,

containing samples of grain which has been consigned by growers or other

shippers, for sale. Similar bags are strewed all over the tables.

Everything indicates activity, and it is evident that important business

is being transacted. The sound of the voices of the traders rising from

the floor to the visitors’ gallery, joined to the clicking of the myriad

of telegraphic instruments, reminds one of the ceaseless hum of bees

around a hive, heard in midsummer, when the nodding clover and bending

buckwheat invite the tireless workers to taste their sweets.

Such is the scene during the early hours, but as the morning advances

the picture changes. In the center of the room are four octagonal

“pits,” formed by short flights of steps which rise from the floor on

the outside and again descend on the inside. In these so-called pits is

carried on the heaviest business of the Exchange. One is devoted to the

sale of wheat, another to corn, and a third to provisions, pork, lard,

etc. Gradually, as the minutes and hours pass, they fill with an eager

crowd of traders, which swells in numbers until the area itself and the

steps leading to it, are literally jammed with an excited throng,

yelling, gesticulating, waving their arms and shaking their fists in

each other’s faces. The hum has risen to a surge, and to the onlooker in

the gallery the scene seems to have been transformed into Bedlam or

pandemonium. On the upper row of steps of one of the pits, men stand

facing each other, forty feet apart. One raises his hand and makes what

appear to be cabalistic signals to the other, who makes some other

equally mysterious signs. Then each produces a card on which he makes an

entry, and the dumb show is duplicated by others. To understand this

pantomime, no less than the significance of these frenzied cries and

frantic gyrations of arms and fingers requires an education of peculiar

character, the education of the habitué of the floor. Each motion of the

hand, each turn of a finger has its significance, representing the

quantity of the particular commodity sold, and the price at which it is

bought. These angry, dissonant voices, proceed from the hoarse throats

of opposing factions, one trying to “bull” and the other to “bear” the

market, and each striving to rival the other in clamor and persistency.

No wonder that the excitement is intense. The entire wheat crop of the

country is being sold before it is harvested, and much of it before it

is planted, and on transactions of such magnitude a variation in price

of even a fraction of a cent, means the gain to one and loss to another

of tens of thousands of dollars. Fortunes are accumulated and sunk in an

hour. One operator sees wealth within his grasp; another perceives

bankruptcy staring him in the face. It is not strange that under such

circumstances the strongest passions in the human breast should struggle

for mastery, and find vent in expressions as wild as they are

exaggerated.

Yet outside this howling, seething, surging crowd, within hailing

distance from the center of all this hubbub (were language audible at a

distance of thirty feet), sits a row of men, some of them in the prime

of life, some of them scarcely past its meridian, others wearing the

silver crown of age. Cool, collected, seemingly dispassionate, they

exchange conversation which appears to be humorous, to judge from the

laughter which it provokes. To the casual observer, they seem to be in

the “madding crowd,” but not of it. Yet one who carefully watches their

movements may see that from time to time signals are exchanged between

some one or other of them and some individual on the steps of the pit.

These men, thus sitting apart, are the great operators, those who make

prices, and whose every movement is watched, as possibly affording a

clue to their intentions. Jealously, however, do they guard their

secrets; impassable are their countenances, and imperturbable their

demeanor. With the seemingly stolid indifference of the veteran

gamester, who sees his last dollar swept from the table by the turn of a

card and gives no sign of regret, these men calmly witness the wiping

out of a fortune by a rise or fall in prices, and manifest not the

slightest indication of emotion.

To the visitor sitting aloft the spectacle is strange, bewildering,

fascinating.

But let us descend to the floor, to enter upon which the stranger must

obtain a card of admission. Here one passes men who have won largely,

but whose countenances betray no symptom of exultation, and others whose

losses have been heavy, yet whose laughing faces and merry jests

indicate no dissatisfaction either with the world or with life. The busy

operators at the telegraph key-board are too much absorbed in their work

to give heed to the Babel of confusion around them. Messenger boys

scurry hither and thither, in anxious quest of men for whom they bear

tidings, perhaps of grave consequence. Suspended from various points

about the room are charts, tables and diagrams, relating to almost every

conceivable subject, the report and forecast of the Signal Service

office; the supply of cereals at every market in the civilized world;

the movement of breadstuffs and provisions at home and abroad; the

cargoes of steam-ships from American, European and East Indian ports;

comparative statements of receipts and shipments; and one thousand and

one other matters, a knowledge of which may be of interest to members.

On the front of one of the long galleries are huge dials, whose index

fingers record the fluctuations of prices in the pit. On days when

speculation runs riot and excitement is more than usually rampant, these

pointers sway to and fro with a rapidity of movement almost bewildering.

But before we have satisfied our curiosity, or sufficiently indulged our

admiration of the completeness of the mechanism of the gigantic machine

whose revolutions we have been contemplating, the striking of the great

gong indicates that the active business for the day in one of the

world’s greatest marts has closed. To one who has regarded the

transactions with the indifference of a chance spectator, this sound

means little more than the tolling of the bell, which in some high tower

marks the hour. But on more than one listening ear upon the floor it

falls like the knell of doom. To many a venturesome speculator who has

unfortunately placed himself upon the wrong side of the market, it is

ominous of a crisis in his affairs which must be promptly met if he is

not to be overtaken by ruin, perhaps by disgrace. He must become a

borrower, or be publicly posted as being unable to meet his contracts.

Perhaps he has already overstrained his credit, and knows that his

commercial paper must go to protest. Who can surmise all the varied

feelings which the sound of that gong awakens in the breasts of not a

few of those who hear it? Yet no sign of emotion is visible in the vast

throng of brokers and their principals as they descend the broad marble

staircase or hurry to the elevators. They laugh, smoke and chat as

though they were returning from a merrymaking, rather than from a

gathering where millions of money had been staked, and where, perchance,

some of them had sold their honor for a mess of pottage.

The charter powers bestowed upon some of these commercial corporations

is enormous, rivalling those conferred upon courts of law. Thus, the

charter of the Chicago Board of Trade contains the following provision:

Section 7, after providing for the appointment of a “Committee of

Reference and Arbitration,” and a “Committee on Appeals,” and fixing

their jurisdiction, further provides that “the acting chairman of either

of said committees, when sitting as arbitrators, may administer oaths to

the parties and witnesses, _and issue subpœnas_ and attachments

_compelling the attendance of witnesses, the same as justices of the

peace_, and in like manner _directed to any constable to execute_.”

[Illustration: OPERATORS EXCITED.]

[Illustration: A “DEAL” BEING SETTLED.]

Section 8 contains provisions of an equally extraordinary character. It

reads as follows: “Whenever any submission shall have been made, in

writing, and a final award shall have been rendered and no appeal taken

within the time fixed by the Rules or By-Laws, then, on filing such

award and submission with the Clerk of the Circuit Court, _an execution

may issue upon such award, as if it were a judgment rendered in the

Circuit Court, and such award shall thenceforth have the force and

effect of such a judgment, and shall be entered upon the judgment docket

of said Court_.”

The granting of such extra-judicial powers upon men who possess no

special aptitude for their exercise is, to say the least, an anomaly in

jurisprudence. That a court so constituted should naturally incline to

the enforcement of agreements which are, in their essence, gambling

contracts, is no more surprising than that juries of unbiased men should

set them aside, or that courts, whose aim is to enforce the spirit as

well as the letter of the law, should non-suit plaintiffs seeking relief

under their provisions. Over and over again have courts and juries

declined to regard a sale, the parties to which did not contemplate a

bona fide delivery in any other light than as a bet or wager, the

collection of which could not be legally enforced. It is a serious

question whether an act clothing a loosely organized—if not self-

constituted—tribunal with the powers of the highest court of original

jurisdiction in a great commonwealth, is not a blot upon the judicial

system of the State which sanctions it.

In what has been said, however, the author intends to draw no invidious

distinction between the commercial exchanges of the country. As a rule,

they occupy the same plane; and in respect of being a blessing or a

curse to the country at large, they must stand or fall together. At the

same time, the Board of Trade of the Western metropolis has seen fit to

take a position which is, to say the least, somewhat anomalous. In the

preamble to its “Rules and By-Laws” it declares that among its objects

are: “to inculcate principles of justice and equity in trade * * * *”

and “to acquire and disseminate valuable commercial and economic

information.”

As regards the “principles of justice and equity in trade” which are

“inculcated” by commercial exchanges generally, nothing more need be

said. Were the transactions on their floors confined to actual sales at

prices influenced only by legitimate means and natural causes, there can

be little doubt that they would prove potent factors in the furtherance

of commerce and advancements of its best interests. It is not in this

aspect that the author is considering them. His reprehension of their

practices is predicated upon the other, and broader, side of their

character, _i. e._, their speculative side. It can scarcely be called an

open question whether it “inculcates principles of justice and equity in

trade” for one man to buy up all the wheat in sight (and out of sight

too, for that matter) and then force an alleged buyer, but an actual

rival whom he has done his best to mislead, to settle with him at a

price exceeding by 100 to 150 per cent. the actual value of the

commodity.

But it is the “object” last mentioned—the “dissemination of valuable

commercial and economic information”—concerning which the exchange in

question has taken such a peculiar position. Originally, the

“information” at its command, whether “valuable” or otherwise, was

“disseminated” with the automatic regularity of clock work. Whether this

dissemination was undertaken for the benefit of the public at large, or

from motives purely selfish is immaterial in this connection, although

the “object” may be, perhaps, inferred from the course of the directors.

It was found that places far less pretentious were being opened and were

doing a thriving business. Within the shadow of the great tower sprang

up an “Open Board,” which attracted speculators who might otherwise have

conducted their operations through the channels opened by the more

august body. Moreover “bucket shops” (the pernicious character of whose

methods will be explained hereafter) multiplied and flourished. The

quotations of the regular exchange were as the “vital air” to the

smaller concerns. “Withdraw our quotations,” said the directors, “and

all competition will come to naught.” A wrangle ensued, followed by

litigation in the courts, resulting in the triumph of the more renowned

body, the “genuine, old, original Jacobs.” In other words, the

“dissemination of valuable commercial and economic information,” came to

an abrupt and untimely end, and one of the “objects” of the

organization, announced to the world with gravity, parade and rhetorical

flourish, failed of accomplishment.

Alas for the rarity

Of Christian charity

Under the sun;

And alas, too, for the sincerity and consistency of poor, weak human

nature.

Some years since, the president of this same exchange, in congratulating

the members upon belonging to the ideal institution of the world, went

out of his way to stigmatize all the other exchanges of the country as

“bucket shops,” justifying his assertion by the charge that the latter

depended for quotations upon that over which he presided, a circumstance

which, in his opinion, formed the essential nature of a “bucket shop.”

In other words, if the “valuable commercial and economic information” as

“disseminated” by one body were used by members of another similar

organization, the latter were preying upon the public, setting snares

for the unwary and fleecing the ignorant. It is difficult to conceive of

any loftier height to which egotism could soar. Of what value are the

charts and diagrams to which reference has been made except to

“disseminate” among members of this particular exchange the “valuable

commercial and economic information” gathered by a kindred organization?

Yet the self-stultification went even farther. At the very moment when

the chief executive of this board was indulging in these rhapsodical

flights of rhetoric, a determined effort was being made to open, in

connection with that institution, as a sort of “side-show,” a stock

exchange, where speculation might be carried on for the benefit of

brokers and others, which should be based upon “information disseminated

by the New York Stock Exchange!” Could inconsistency farther go? To use

quotations on grain and provisions is piratical; to take advantage of

quotations on stocks derived from a market one thousand miles away is,

in every sense, proper and legitimate!

This fact is not mentioned in derision of the particular organization in

question, but as an illustration of the absolute selfishness, the

unbridled greed for gain, and the instinctive spirit of gambling which

form the salient features of the average American commercial exchange as

it exists in the present year of grace. For its members, the world is

divided into two classes—the exchange and the rest of mankind, the

latter having been created for the aggrandizement and glorification of

the former. If the dissemination of information result in the enrichment

of the master spirits, and the garnering of a golden harvest of

commissions by brokers, let the good work go forward; if the publication

of private news, however untrustworthy, will, like an _ignis fatuus_,

lead the unsuspecting still further into the morass of blind and

reckless speculation, let the “valuable economic information” be

scattered broadcast upon the four winds of Heaven. But palsied be the

hand which, with unhallowed touch, would desecrate the ark in which is

contained the sacred privilege of the members to monopolize the

fictitious sale of breadstuffs and provisions, to absorb alike the

fortunes of the rich and the earnings of the poor, who like foolish

children, chase the rainbow, in the vain hope that at the foot of the

arch, so gorgeous in its prismatic tints, they may find the fabled pot

of gold.

Yet if the legitimate exchange presents features worthy of condemnation,

what shall be said of those veritable plague spots upon the body

commercial, those festering cancers which eat into the very heart of

social morals—the “bucket shops”?

These institutions are peculiar to American cities. The more phlegmatic

temperament of the denizens of the old world does not lead him into the

vagaries of the citizen of the “great Republic,” where wealth fixes

caste, and gold is too often worshiped in the place of God. In the

United States, more than in any other country, activity, mental as well

as physical, is regarded as the chief end of man. In fact, a rocking

chair under full swing, would be no inappropriate heraldic national

emblem. It is true, as a German paper says of us, that we “chew more

tobacco and burst more steam engines than any other nation on earth.”

With us, life is restless, and we can find recreation only in

excitement. It is this feature of our national character that inclines

us to gaming and to speculation in a far higher degree than any other

people. Could it be eliminated from our nature the “bucket shop,” like

Othello, would find its occupation gone.

Yet the reader, the lines of whose quiet life are cast outside the whirl

and turmoil of a great city, may not understand the signification of the

term. A “bucket shop” is an establishment where those whose inclinations

prompt them to speculate in stocks or produce, but the scantiness of

whose means forbids their operating on an extensive scale, may gratify

their tastes by risking (and losing) the few dollars which they can ill

afford to spare. The epithet “bucket” is a term of derision, having been

originally applied to such an institution to imply that a customer might

buy or sell a “bucketful” of any commodity which he might select.

These concerns differ only in respect of size and appointment. They are

all conducted on one and the same principle. The visitor, on entering,

finds himself within a large room, sometimes handsomely, sometimes

meanly furnished. Rows of chairs are arranged for the convenience of

customers and chance-comers, facing a blackboard. The latter is the

indispensible requisite, the _sine qua non_, without which the

transaction of business would be practically impossible. In these chairs

are seated men of every age and of nearly all grades of social

distinction. Clerks, artisans, merchants and men about town mingle in a

sort of temporary companionship, truly democratic. Beardless youths sit

side by side with men whose heads have grown bald and whose step has

become feeble in a vain chase after a phantom, a chimera, a will-of-the-

wisp, always just within the grasp, yet ever eluding the clutch. Here

may be met the confidential clerk, who sees nothing wrong in following,

at a respectable distance, the example of his employer, who ventures his

thousands upon the floor of ’Change. Here one jostles against the

decrepit old man, once a millionaire, but who having sunk his fortune in

the maelstrom of some great Board of Trade, now passes his waking hours

before these blackboards, reckoning that a red-letter day upon which he

wins five dollars. And here, too, may be encountered the successful

business man, keen of eye, quick of step, alert of perception, who has

been drawn hither partly through a desire for speedy wealth, partly

through an inordinate craving for the excitement which is not to be

found in the legitimate walks of trade. The eyes of all are turned

toward the immense board on which, chalk in hand, some attache of the

establishment momentarily records some change in quotations of stocks or

grain, and which seems to have for them all the fascination of the

candle for the moth.

Far different is the scene here presented from that witnessed on the

floor of the great Exchange. There all was clamor and apparent

confusion; here quiet and decorum reign supreme. The silence is

unbroken, save by the sharp tick of the telegraphic instrument and the

droning monotone of the blackboard marker. Yet there is one point of

resemblance between the habitues of the “bucket shop,” the dealers upon

’Change and the patrons of the gaming hell; one and all, they win

without displaying exultation and lose without manifesting regret. In

the “bucket shops,” however, the attentive observer may sometimes hear

the heavy sigh of dispair from the young man who has been tempted to

risk his employer’s money, as he perceives the last dollar of his margin

swept away by an unlucky turn of prices; or witness a senile smile of

satisfaction momentarily gleam upon the face of the feeble old man who

sees himself about to be provided with the means of keeping soul and

body together for another day. O, wretched picture of sordid greed, of

fallacious hopes, of blank despair! O, sad illustration of the sadder

truth that in the contact for the mastery of the heart of man, the evil

too often outstrips the good!

But let us examine into the business methods of the proprietors of these

resorts where gambling is made easy, and ruin is placed within reach of

the humblest. As an illustration, let us suppose that the customer

wishes to speculate in some stock, say Missouri, Kansas and Texas. The

blackboard shows the fluctuations in quotations as they occur on the New

York Stock Exchange. The margin which he is called upon to advance, is

one dollar per share, and he may limit his transactions to five shares,

if he sees fit. It is a matter of indifference to the proprietor whether

he elects to buy or sell; that obliging individual will accommodate

himself to his wishes, whatever they may be. Suppose that he buys five

shares of the stock in question, at a moment when it is quoted at 16¼.

If it rises to 17¼, he may, if he chooses, close his deal, receiving

back the five dollars which he advanced as margin, together with another

five dollars, the latter representing his profit. If, on the other hand,

it drops to 15¼, he loses his margin. It is easy to see that such a

transaction as this is nothing but a bet, pure and simple.

The illustration given above is drawn from the smallest description of

business done. Yet, as has been said, these dens of iniquity are

patronized by the wealthy merchant, as well as by the poor mechanic and

clerk. It is on the poorer class of customers that the proprietors

depend for their steady income; it is from the wealthier customers that

they obtain sums of money which they denominate “plums.”

The manner in which such traders are fleeced by the unscrupulous

scoundrels who conduct these institutions may be illustrated as follows:

One of them will inform a confiding patron that he has received

information from a source which he regards as trustworthy, that some

inactive stock—perhaps Denver & Rio Grande—then selling at 9, is about

to rise. At his suggestion his customer purchases, let us say, 15,000

shares on a margin of one dollar per share. This done, the proprietor of

the “bucket shop” telegraphs to a broker to “sell 3,000 D. & R.

G.—quick, quick,” in blocks from 8¾ to 8. The broker who receives the

dispatch, either alone or with assistance, offers the stock; the offer

is promptly accepted by another broker, to whom the wily manager has

telegraphed instructions to buy the stock at the price named. The final

quotation, 8, fixes the price, and the sale is promptly reported to the

bucket shop by telegraph. The result is that the too trustful customer’s

$15,000 advanced as margin, is swept into the coffers of the daring

rascal who has perpetrated the fraud, and whose only outlay is the

payment of one-fourth of a cent commission on the fictitious sale and

purchase.

Let us take another illustration, drawn from a suppositious transaction

in wheat. The speculator perceives from the quotations on the blackboard

that some future delivery of wheat opened at 86⅛. Every minute or two

new quotations are shown on the board, the apparent tendency of the

market being upward. He also sees that during the preceding hour the

price has been as high as 86⅝, and as low as 86. When it touches 86

again he concludes to buy, guessing that it is likely to rise.

Accordingly he purchases 1,000 bushels at that price, advancing ten

dollars as a margin. Perhaps the next change is an advance to 86⅛. He

might now sell out without loss, as the ⅛ in his favor amounts to

exactly the commission charged by the shop. The next quotation is, say

86, and the following one 85⅞. If it should continue to fall until 85⅛

is touched, he is said to be “frozen out,” inasmuch as the decline of ⅞

added to the ⅛ brokerage charged by the proprietor, equals the ten

dollars which he has advanced. Perhaps he concludes to “re-margin,” in

which case he will put up ten dollars more. Possibly the market may now

take an upward turn and rise until 86⅛ is again reached. It is now

within his power to close the transaction without loss other than that

involved in the payment of the commissions. Let us suppose that he does

so. It is quite probable that it will now occur to him that the market

is likely again to recede, and he accordingly sells 1,000 bushels at

86⅛, once more advancing ten dollars as a margin. If the price continues

to rise until 87 is reached, our venturesome speculator is again frozen

out, and is ten dollars lighter in pocket.

The above supposed cases are fair illustrations of the average bucket

shop trading. A majority of the patrons of these establishments are

“scalpers,” satisfied if they can win five, ten, or twenty dollars, and

close observers say that fully seven out of ten guess the market wrong.

The shop always makes its regular commission, no matter what may be the

result of the transaction. “Puts,” “calls” and “straddles” are also sold

at these places, although, of course on a far smaller scale than by

members of the regular exchanges.

But bucket shops have other and darker sides. It is by no means uncommon

for a manager so to manipulate quotations as to wipe out speculators

margins at his own pleasure. Thus, if it is for his interest that a

certain stock or commodity should decline, the quotations which he posts

upon his blackboard show a fall, without reference to the actual course

of the market at the regular exchanges.

Another, and favorite, device of the gentry, by which large sums are

often realized, is to “fail.” A considerable amount of money—say $50,000

or $60,000—having been received as margins, and being carried by the

house, a plan is formed by which it may be absorbed by the proprietor

with but little chance of detection. In order to accomplish this he has

resort to the aid of some reputable (?) firm of brokers, who are members

in good standing, of some regular exchange. He arranges with them to

enter in their books, records of fictitious transactions with him of

such a character and to such an amount that he may appear to have lost

the money in speculating, for the benefit of his customers, upon

’Change. The obliging firm of brokers receive, for rendering this

valuable service, the regular commission of one-eighth of one cent per

bushel upon the transactions thus fraudulently entered. It is, in

itself, a striking commentary upon the methods and morals of the average

commercial exchange of the last quarter of the nineteenth century, that

brokers can be found, who, while claiming to be upright, honorable

business men, are willing, for so paltry a consideration to outrage

integrity, and drag honor in the dust.

Apropos of bucket shops, however, it may be cited as a singular

commentary on the sincerity of the _instituted_ condemnation heaped upon

them by the Western exchange which resolved to cease its dissemination

of “valuable commercial and economic information,” that the same

organization has recently adopted a rule reducing the limit of bushels

of grain which may be bought and sold upon the floor to one thousand

bushels. It would be uncharitable to suppose that the institution in

question intended to enter into rivalry with the bucket shops; yet had

that been its intention it could scarcely have devised a scheme better

calculated to bring about such a result. Men, the scantiness of whose

means had forbidden their speculating on the regular exchange, may now

gratify their inclinations upon the “floor” with almost the same ease as

before the huge blackboard in the bucket shop.

Nor should it be forgotten that there is an aspect in which the great

commercial exchanges work more harm to the community at large than do

the less reputable concerns which follow at a respectable distance in

their wake. A sale or purchase of a large “block” of grain or provisions

upon the floor of a regular exchange affects the price of the commodity

in every retail market throughout the country, thus working a direct

injury to the consumer, who finds himself unable to judge, from one day

to another, what will be the cost on the morrow, of the necessaries of

life. A transaction involving precisely the same quantity of the same

commodity in a bucket shop works no such result. It is the “operators,”

whose selfish greed brings about the fluctuations which work such

hardships to the poor.

Such is the commercial exchange of to-day, and such the fungus-like

excrescence which is its off-shoot. Call these practices which have been

here described by what name you will, plain, unvarnished truth stamps

them as gambling on a gigantic scale and in one of its deadliest forms.

And yet the State holds over them the protecting ægis of the law, and

the community at large gives them the moral support of its approving

smile. For the avowed professional gambler there is no place in the

political edifice. In the eye of society he is a pariah; in that of the

law a culprit; in that of the church a moral leper. Yet the heartless

operator who deliberates long and earnestly how he may most speedily and

surely accomplish the ruin of the man for whom he professes the

sincerest friendship; for the selfish speculator who passes toilsome

days and sleepless nights in devising schemes for forcing up the price

of the necessaries of life; for the far-seeing scoundrel who concocts a

cunningly devised scheme for wrecking a railroad in whose stock, it may

be, are invested the funds on which the widow and the orphan depend for

subsistence—for these men, society has no condemnation, the law no

terrors, and the pulpit no denunciation. They build churches and found

colleges; they preside at public gatherings and occupy posts of honor

upon public committees. It is a trite aphorism that “nothing succeeds

like success,” and no more apt illustration of its truth could be given

than the adulation bestowed upon men whose fortunes have been cemented

by the groans of the unfortunate, and the tears of the widow. Of a truth

it is time that society placed the seal of its disapproval upon gambling

openly conducted in marble palaces as emphatically as upon the same vice

carried on behind darkened windows and barred doors. In this, as in

every other great moral reform, much depends upon the attitude and

influence of the clergy, who, as a body, have hitherto kept silent as to

the crying evil spread out before them.

The idea of the inception of the exchange was grand in its scope. Such

organizations have a lofty mission, and it is within their power to

encourage commerce, to promote honesty in trade, and to advance the best

interests of the State. When an enlightened public sentiment shall

compel the elimination from them of those baleful features which have

been here portrayed, when the pure gold of legitimate traffic shall have

been separated from the dross of illegitimate speculation, when the

revival of a healthful moral tone shall have averted the danger which

now menaces us, that through the influence and example of the exchange

we shall become a nation of gamblers, then no longer shall phantoms

haunt the imagination and fallacies pervert the judgment of men; but

there shall rise upon the eye of the world the lineaments of a republic

far transcending the loftiest conceptions of Plato; a republic of which

poets have dreamed and which prophets have foreshadowed; the flowerage

of centuries; the bloom and perfume of a Christian civilization.

[Illustration: BUYERS SAMPLING GRAIN.]

THE CLOCK.

An offshoot of the mania for gambling in stocks—yet one which is

chargeable rather to the bucket shop than to the regular exchange—is

known as the “clock.” Of all the multitudinous devices by which

swindlers deceive dupes, this is, perhaps the most inherently and

transparently absurd. I have fastened its parentage upon the bucket shop

for the reason that it is undoubtedly the offspring of the fertile brain

of some proprietor of one of these establishments, where rascals grow

rich on the gullibility of fools.

The “clock” is a gambling device which can be likened to nothing so

aptly as to a “brace” faro box. Both contain cards; in both these, cards

are arranged according to the will of the manipulator; in both, the

proprietor, or dealer, or other person operating the implement, can

determine with tolerable accuracy, whether it is wisest to permit the

victim to win or lose.

Yet there are minor points of difference. In the faro box the cards are

drawn out through a slit; in the clock they are exposed to view by

pulling a string which allows them to fall at the operator’s will. At

faro, ordinary playing cards are used; in the case of the clock the

cards employed contain the names of stocks—sometimes actual and

sometimes fictitious—together with figures which purport to represent

values of the stocks named, but which, as a matter of fact, sustain no

more intimate relations to actual market quotations than would a map of

China to the topography of the moon. The reader who will peruse the

description given below will, if he has already had the patience to

familiarize himself with the explanation of frauds at faro, recognize

the fairness of the comparison above drawn.

The gambling “clock” consists of two parts: a contrivance in which the

cards are kept and from which they are dropped, and a sort of dial in

which they are exhibited to the interested gaze of the players. Its

mechanism appears to be a triumph of the simplicity of invention. The

operator sits either directly in front or at some convenient point where

he may see the inscriptions on the cards as they fall. From time to time

he pulls a string; the card exposed disappears from sight and is

replaced by another.