PROSTITUTION, THE POLICE, AND THE LAW
In respect to vice and vice resorts, the police rules require that each
police captain must report to the Commissioner all places in his precinct
where disorderly, degraded or lawless people congregate, and also give
notice in writing to the owner, lessee or occupant, that such room or
building is so used, and that such use constitutes a misdemeanor. If the
owner, lessee, or occupant does not abate the nuisance, the captain is
empowered to obtain a warrant for his arrest and to prosecute him as
required by law. In addition, each captain is required to make charges of
neglect of duty against any patrolman who fails to discover a serious
breach of peace on his post, or fails to arrest any person guilty of such
offense. If a house is under suspicion of being disorderly or is so in
fact, the officer on the beat is required to restrain acts of disorder,
prevent soliciting from windows, doors, or on the streets, and to arrest
all persons so doing. He must also carefully observe all other places of
suspicious nature, obtain evidence as to the character and ownership of
such houses and report the same to his commanding officer.[229]
Between January 1 and August 1, 1912, police captains in Manhattan
reported to the department 112 separate places as suspicious or
disorderly; against these, they made 542 complaints. Seven complaints were
made against one place in the 5th precinct, 46 against 9 places in the
16th precinct, 180 against 35 places in the 23rd. The police activities
are tabulated in the following table:[230]
POLICE REPORTS
No. of Places
Precinct No. Reports Involved
5 7 1
6 8 4
12 5 3
15 46 9
16 9 3
18 81 15
21 20 6
22 34 10
23 180 35
26 105 15
28 5 1
36 3 3
39 21 3
43 18 4
--- ---
Totals 542 112
The following table distributes the places reported according to the
character of the resort and the precinct:
POLICE REPORTS
Prostitution Assignation Disorderly
Precincts Places Houses Places Total
1 .. .. .. ..
2 .. .. .. ..
5 1 .. .. 1
6 .. .. 4 4
7 .. .. .. ..
8 .. .. .. ..
10 .. .. .. ..
12 3 .. .. 3
13 .. .. .. ..
14 .. .. .. ..
15 .. .. 9 9
16 3 .. .. 3
17 .. .. .. ..
18 .. .. 15 15
21 1 5 .. 6
22 9 1 .. 10
23 25 5 5 35
25 .. .. .. ..
26 15 .. .. 15
28 .. .. 1 1
29 .. .. .. ..
31 .. .. .. ..
32 .. .. .. ..
33 .. .. .. ..
35 .. .. .. ..
36 .. 3 .. 3
39 3 .. .. 3
40 .. .. .. ..
43 4 .. .. 4
--- -- -- -- ---
Totals 64 14 34 112
On the basis of both months and precincts these reports are distributed
thus:
POLICE REPORTS
Separate
Places--
Precincts Jan. Feb. Mar. Apr. May June July Total Total
-----------------------------------------------------------------
1 .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..
2 .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..
5 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 7 1
6 4 4 .. .. .. .. .. 8 4
7 .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..
8 .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..
10 .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..
12 1 2 1 1 .. .. .. 5 3
13 .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..
14 .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..
15 9 9 8 6 4 4 46 9
16 3 3 3 .. .. .. .. 9 3
18 15 11 11 11 11 11 11 81 15
21 6 5 5 1 1 1 1 20 6
22 2 3 3 3 6 9 8 34 10
23 27 29 28 22 24 24 26 180 35
25 .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..
26 15 15 15 15 15 15 15 105 15
28 .. 1 1 1 1 1 .. 5 1
29 .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..
31 .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..
32 .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..
33 .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..
35 .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..
36 3 .. .. .. .. .. .. 3 3
39 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 21 3
40 .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..
43 4 4 2 2 2 2 2 18 4
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- --- ---
Totals 93 90 81 66 70 71 71 542 112
It would appear thus that in the fifth precinct the same house is reported
month after month; in the 18th, 11 houses are reported during five of the
6 months; in the 26th precinct, 15 houses are systematically and regularly
denounced.
Our own investigation began approximately three weeks later than the above
tables and ran three months longer. In its course, our investigators
reported 429 parlor houses, massage parlors, furnished room houses and
hotels; and 379 saloons and miscellaneous places allied with prostitution.
The 429 resorts first mentioned are distributed as follows:
INVESTIGATORS' REPORTS
Total
Parlor Massage Furnished investigation
Precincts houses parlors rooms Hotels Addresses
1 .. .. .. .. ..
2 .. .. .. .. ..
5 3 .. .. .. 3
6 6 .. .. 1 7
7 .. .. .. .. ..
8 .. .. .. .. ..
10 .. .. .. .. ..
12 3 .. .. .. 3
13 .. .. 1 2 3
14 .. .. 2 .. 2
15 11 .. 19 9 39
16 .. .. .. 1 1
17 1 .. 2 .. 3
18 21 8 10 8 47
21 3 .. 5 12 20
22 22 3 41 7 73
23 35 23 14 21 93
25 1 1 1 2 5
26 29 17 10 16 72
28 1 8 2 5 16
29 .. 9 .. 3 12
32 .. 1 .. 1 2
33 .. .. .. .. ..
36 .. .. .. 10 10
39 5 .. 2 1 8
40 .. .. .. .. ..
43 1 .. 3 6 10
--- -- --- --- ---
Totals 142 70 112 105 429
The 379 saloons and miscellaneous places allied with prostitution were
discovered in the following precincts:
Saloons, etc., and miscellaneous
Precincts places allied with prostitution
1 2
2
5
6 11
7
10
12
13 4
14 2
15 26
16 7
17
18 26
21 17
22 45
23 39
25 14
26 61
28 16
29 2
32 23
33 1
36 26
39 29
40 4
43 24
----
Total 379
Comparison of the police reports with those made by our investigators
shows marked differences. For example: in the sixth precinct, the police
report 4 addresses, our agents 18, of which 11 were saloons, etc.; in the
15th, the police found 9, our agents 65, twenty-six of them saloons, etc.;
in the 21st, the police gave 6, our agents 37, seventeen of them saloons,
etc.; in the 22nd, the police report 10, our agents 118, forty-five of
them saloons; in the 26th, 15 and 133 respectively, 61 of the latter being
saloons, etc.; in the 28th, one place is noted by the police, 32 by our
agents, 16 of them saloons, etc.; in the 32nd, none by the police, 25 by
our agents, 23 of them saloons, etc.; in the 33rd precinct none is
reported by police, one by our agents.
In the following table, both sets of reports are arranged side by side in
tabular form, all forms of disorderly resorts being grouped together:
No. disorderly No. disorderly
places reported places found by
by police our investigators
Jan. 1- from Jan. 24-
Precinct Aug. 1, 1912. Nov. 15, 1912.
1 0 2
5 1 3
6 4 18
12 3 3
13 0 7
14 0 4
15 9 65
16 3 8
17 0 3
18 15 73
21 6 37
22 10 118
23 35 132
25 0 19
26 15 133
28 1 32
29 0 14
32 0 25
33 0 1
36 3 36
39 3 37
40 0 4
43 4 34
--- ---
Totals 112 808
Tenement resorts are not included in the preceding data. In the year 1912,
the police reported to the Tenement House Department as vicious 138
separate addresses, in which they had made 153 arrests,--65 of these
arrests in two precincts, the 13th and the 15th; from 247 other sources,
the department learned of 211 addresses: in all, 349 separate places were
reported.[231] Our own agents discovered 1,172 separate disorderly
apartments in tenements at 578 separate addresses between January 24th and
November 15th.
In the following table, both sets of reports are combined, according to
precincts; the tenement house reports cover the entire year
(January-December 31, 1912), ours only the period of investigation
(January 24-November 15, 1912):
TENEMENT HOUSE DEPARTMENT RECORDS
_Complaints from_
_Police Reports_ _all sources_ _Investigation_
_including police_ _Reports_
----------------------------+------------------+------------------------
No. | No. | No. No. separate
separate | No. separate | separate disorderly
No. buildings | comp- bldgs. | addresses apartments
Precincts reports involved | laints involved | (Bldgs.)
| |
1 .. .. | .. .. | .. ..
2 .. .. | .. .. | .. ..
5 1 1 | 2 2 | 1 1
6 2 2 | 4 4 | 5 9
7 1 1 | 2 2 | 1 1
8 .. .. | .. .. | .. ..
10 2 2 | 2 2 | .. ..
12 5 5 | 6 5 | 1 1
13 27 23 | 38 28 | 10 10
14 1 1 | 1 1 | 1 3
15 38 35 | 46 42 | 58 69
16 1 1 | 4 4 | 2 2
17 4 4 | 15 14 | 5 5
18 .. .. | 3 1 | 25 26
21 3 2 | 7 4 | 6 6
22 4 4 | 18 15 | 75 123
23 3 3 | 8 7 | 28 44
25 .. .. | .. .. | 1 2
26 12 10 | 13 11 | 102 396
28 14 12 | 17 13 | 95 164
29 .. .. | .. .. | .. ..
31 1 1 | 3 3 | 3 3
32 16 14 | 22 18 | 85 206
33 .. .. | .. .. | .. ..
35 .. .. | 2 2 | 2 5
36 12 11 | 14 13 | 58 81
39 .. .. | 3 3 | 4 4
40 .. .. | 1 1 | .. ..
43 6 6 | 16 16 | 10 11
--- --- | --- --- | --- ----
Totals 153 138 | 247 211 | 578 1172
During the same period, 794 separate saloons and concert halls were
investigated, of which almost one-half,--308--were found disorderly; in
addition to which, 91 miscellaneous places of a disorderly character were
reported. The distribution of such disorderly places by precincts was as
follows:
_Miscellaneous Places_
Total
Separate disorderly
disorderly Allied Semi-public saloons, etc.
saloons, with used by and miscellaneous
concert prostitution prostitutes places
Precincts halls, etc.
1 .. 2 .. 2
2 .. .. 1 1
5 .. .. .. ..
6 11 .. .. 11
7 .. .. .. ..
8 .. .. .. ..
10 .. .. .. ..
12 .. .. .. ..
13 4 .. .. 4
14 2 .. .. 2
15 11 15 .. 26
16 7 .. .. 7
17 .. .. .. ..
18 18 8 .. 26
21 13 4 .. 17
22 38 7 1 46
23 26 13 5 44
25 12 2 .. 14
26 50 11 3 64
28 15 1 3 19
29 2 .. 1 3
31 .. .. .. ..
32 20 3 5 28
33 1 .. .. 1
35 .. .. .. ..
36 26 .. 1 27
39 26 3 .. 29
40 3 1 .. 4
43 23 1 .. 24
--- --- --- ---
Totals 308 71 20 399
The total number of actual vice resorts of all kinds discovered in
Manhattan was 1,606, situated at 1,007 different addresses; in the 26th
precinct, 174 were found,--29 parlor houses, 17 massage parlors, 102
tenement resorts, 10 furnished room houses, 16 hotels; in the 22nd
precinct, 148 disorderly places were located, 22 parlor houses, 3 massage
rooms, 75 tenement resorts, 41 furnished room houses, 7 hotels.
The investigator who succeeds in establishing himself on a footing of
unsuspected familiarity in the underworld is soon admitted to confidences
which show how the underworld accounts to itself for the comparative
statistics above given. The credibility of the confidences in question
each reader must decide for himself. Among themselves, as has already been
pointed out, owners, madames and women talk freely. The conversations
overheard are not staged, nor are they exceptional in character. Our
agents participated in and reported in the form of affidavits frequent
conversations and discussions, in which the relations between police and
promoters formed the main or sole topic. Whether the details are literally
accurate or not these conversations, reported from all sections of the
city, and by different observers, working independently of one another, at
least portray the state of feeling and opinion of the participants and
their like.
On March 7, 1912, a group of men[232] interested in a West 26th Street
house[233] were discussing prospects. "Profits are not what they used to
be," complained one of them. "I used to be able to bank $600 or more every
week. To-day my receipts are $1,500 a week, but see,--thirteen plain
clothes men[234] get $10 a month each; one of them, a tough proposition,
gets $25; two patrolmen get $2 each a day; the lieutenant and sergeant get
$5 a month; besides, regular protection costs $100 a month, paid to a
go-between,[235] once a wardman. And then I've got to buy tickets and
contribute to funds for strong arm guys in trouble."
Mysteriously rapid communication of inside information as to police policy
and movements is a frequent theme. A well-known owner was in conference
with his mates on March 21, 1912. "They are all transferred, not one of
them is here," he announced in reference to the plain clothes men. It
subsequently developed that at the time the statement was made, the men
transferred had themselves not yet learned that such a step was
contemplated.[236]
On May 2, 1912, a card game and drinking-bout was in progress at a
well-known establishment. The following dialogue took place:
"How is business?" asked one of the men, as he was shuffling the cards.
"Well, we run pretty strong," replied the other. "Let us hope that it will
keep up. There's a new style nowadays. The 'coppers' don't call us out any
more; we deal with an outsider."
"Who is it?" asked the questioner (our agent).
"What do you care?" was the reply. "Do I ask you who you gave-up to,
uptown?"
After the Rosenthal murder, however, the aspect of affairs changed. About
six o'clock in the evening of July 18 the "king" was consulted by several
anxious associates to ascertain whether he had "seen" anybody. He replied
that he had, and that everything was all right, unless something
unforeseen should happen, as the "squeal" thus far involved only the
gamblers. Suspense was thereby relieved and great was the merriment
thereon. "It might be better if we had a grocery store," suggested one of
the wits present. A week later, however, the situation was more squally.
It had begun to be whispered that "the police would take no protection
money on the first of the coming month." It was recalled that on a
previous occasion 12 houses in a certain block had each paid $500 on
Monday and that on the following Saturday, the houses were smashed up.
"The same thing might happen here," remarked an anxious proprietor. On the
day that payment was to be made, August 1, to be precise, a well-known
owner entered a West 26th Street resort with a big roll of bills, as to
the destination of which he was in doubt. One of his pals had left town,
the other was in jail. He "didn't know whether the police would take it or
not." Suddenly a brilliant idea struck him; he turned to our agent who was
supposed to be conducting an uptown flat and to be in position to secure
protection, offering him the money. "You take it," he suggested, "see what
you can do. Maybe you can connect."
To the same effect is the testimony of a memorandum procured under
somewhat dramatic conditions. On May 3, 1912, a large group of
owners[237] were engaged in playing cards at a well-known establishment.
Two of the group stopped their game in order to engage in calculations
involving the sale of a third-interest in a house in West 25th Street. The
memorandum was subsequently obtained by our agent. Six different accounts
figured in the calculation of income, expenses, profits, etc. In the
matter of expenses, $631 appear as paid out for the following items:
"Buttons" (_i. e._, uniformed police) $166; sergeant, $30; "gang" (perhaps
plain clothes men) $104; club (meaning unknown), $200; boss, $25; smaller
items absorb the remainder.
Personal conversations between police officers, owners of disorderly
places and our investigator, supposed to be one of themselves, pointing to
intimate dealings and relations, were likewise frequently reported with
additional data identifying those concerned. On March 18th, 1912, it was
reported that a uniformed officer[238] called at a well-known disorderly
house[239] asking for a notorious owner;[240] he explained his errand in
these words, written down from memory shortly afterwards: "I'm broke. He
hasn't seen me for a few nights and I would like to have some 'sugar.'"
Two days before, two plain clothes men, in passing a well-known hangout,
beckoned one of the owners to come outside; shortly after he returned,
remarking to his comrades, "The 'dogs' are outside."
About two o'clock one afternoon, three men, two of them well-known owners
of a place in West 35th Street,[241] were standing in West 30th Street,
100 feet from the station house; when a few moments later the plain
clothes men started to go on duty, one[242] of them beckoned to two of the
officers[243] and engaged them in prolonged conversation. Its purport was
subsequently summarized to his friends: "Don't worry!"
At times a "collector" is said to be the intermediary in transactions
similar to those implied in the foregoing incidents. Among the best known
of these is a saloonkeeper[244] once enjoying the reputation of protecting
the entire Red Light district, at that time situated in Allen Street. His
saloon[245] is now a hangout for thieves, gamblers and the like. Two
patrolmen and an officer[246] are named as coming to his resort to "fix"
pimp cases. The "lookout"[247] for a Sixth Avenue[248] establishment
remarked, in describing the financial operations of the place, that he
receives 10 percent of the profits monthly, that $200 a month go to
inspector and captain, and that the patrolman[249] is paid nightly. An
individual who has been publicly accused of being a vice graft
collector[250] entered a disorderly flat in West 58th Street[251] on June
15, 1912, for the purpose of perfecting arrangements in regard to
protection. The madame[252] expressed herself as satisfied with the way in
which she was being treated.[253] She stated, however, that her neighbor
downstairs "had a scrap with the collector for the police[254] over
protection and that he had refused to take her money any more. The result
is that every one of the 'underdogs' (_i. e._, plain clothes men) comes
running to her every night with a different complaint and you know what
that means. She has 'to see them' every time they come. In the long run,
it costs three or four times as much; and she got a 'collar' (_i. e._,
arrest) in the bargain." One of our agents witnessed, on the evening of
June 1, 1912, a settlement between a well-known collector for the police
in New York City and the owners of 15 different establishments, situated
between West 18th Street and West 36th Street. At one o'clock in the
morning, they sat around a large table[255] on which four piles of money,
the smallest denomination being $5 bills, were heaped up. It had been paid
to the police collector, who carried it away in a violin case.
The foregoing incidents explain why a district such as Seventh Avenue is
called a "money post."[256]
The employment of pressure, in order to bring about a certain kind of
differentiation of neighborhoods, is exemplified in the following
instance: A notorious madame informed our agent that she was going to open
a house in West 40th Street,[257] but admitted that she would have to be
careful, because cheaper resorts would not be permitted in that vicinity.
Through the good graces of a high official[258] whom she named, she
claimed that she had succeeded in maintaining and quietly conducting a low
grade establishment there.
The peaceful operation of disorderly resorts is disturbed from time to
time by raids, as in the instance above noted, in which one madame "got a
collar," while her competitor on the floor above remained unmolested.
Raids are variously accounted for by those who suffer: now on the score of
punishment or revenge, as in the case last mentioned; again, for the
purpose of "covering the captain on the blotter," _i. e._, that he may
make a good showing in his report to the Inspector; sometimes--so it is
alleged--in order to keep the owners and their madames in line so that
they will be sure to pay the protection money. The police know who the
owner or madame is without even entering the house, and warrants are
declared to be sworn out in many instances without any evidence at all. It
is understood between operators and real estate agents that when a house
is opened the owner must "stand for" an occasional "collar," though the
latter sometimes protests vehemently. For instance, March 14, 1912, the
indignant owner[259] of a place on Sixth Avenue[260] declared his house
had been raided the night before for no reason. "If they don't stop that,
I'll holler," he added; "they have to discharge that case or I'll know the
reason why." Usually when houses are raided, the real culprits escape
arrest. It was reported on August 15th that 18 disorderly resorts had
been entered by the authorities. Only a few housekeepers and colored maid
servants were arrested.
Frequent reports deal with the presence of police officers in and about
disorderly saloons and hotels. On January 25, an officer was drinking in
the rear room of a disorderly saloon on St. Nicholas Avenue.[261] On
February 1 two officers were served with beer and cigars in the rear room
of a similar resort on Columbus Avenue.[262] On March 9 a man, accompanied
by a street walker, entered a hotel in West 35th Street.[263] In the hall,
a police officer[264] in full uniform, was standing with a bottle of beer
in his hand. His number is in our possession. On March 4, a street walker
was arrested in Sixth Avenue in front of a well-known cafe.[265] Thereupon
a lighthouse called the owner of his establishment[266] who induced the
plain clothes man[267] to release the woman.
The entire situation as respecting alleged police relations was described
by all our investigators as radically altered by the events following the
Rosenthal murder. Thirty houses were reported as closed in September. In
one case closure was so sudden that the girls were not paid off.[268] They
exhibited their punched cards and threatened vengeance unless
reimbursed--one to the extent of $5.50, another to the extent of $4. The
madame[269] of a house in West 28th Street[270] described herself on
September 29 as "down and out." In early October, the proprietor was
himself more optimistic: "It's only a question of two or three days," he
declared, "and we've got to expect these things." The owners therefore
continued in many instances to pay rent for their now empty houses. Early
in October, the impression got abroad that conditions were once more
propitious: About 2 P. M., October 4, a group of owners held a meeting on
Second Avenue,[271] later adjourning to Sixth Avenue,[272] where they
again went into "executive session." Several important persons were
present.[273] On the strength of a report that the houses could open
slowly it was decided at this meeting that certain houses would commence
"business" at 8 o'clock that evening, a few more the next day, and a few
the next. Accordingly, at the appointed hour, the owners turned on the
lights in eight houses situated in West 24th Street,[274] Sixth
Avenue,[275] West 31st Street,[276] and West 28th Street.[277] Things
however miscarried and the houses were again closed. The chief owner[278]
was indignant: on November 10, 1912, he admitted[279] that it was a "lousy
tip" he had got, though it "looked good" at the time. He named the
source--a practicing lawyer.[280]
Since the close of this investigation on November 15, 1912, in consequence
of the activity of the police growing out of the Rosenthal murder, and
the investigations conducted by the Aldermanic and Legislative Committees,
the method of conducting the business of prostitution in houses has
changed materially. For instance, in the more expensive houses, the $5 and
$10 resorts, madames do not allow actual violations of the law on the
premises, but have the women sit in the parlor awaiting calls. One such
resort is located in an apartment in West 43rd Street,[281] where twenty
women were found sitting in the parlor on March 10, 1913. The madame, who
has a large personal acquaintance with patrons of a better class, simply
awaits telephone calls requesting a lady companion. Knowing the tastes of
her customers, she sends one of the women to an appointed place. Thus
there is no violation of the law on the premises, and the police are
unable to "cover" the situation. But a number of low-priced houses have
opened in the old way on a smaller scale: March 12, 1913, three resorts,
one each in Sixth Avenue,[282] West 28th Street[283] and West 40th[284]
were operating with two or three inmates each, all wearing street clothes.
The third inspection district was at this time declared to be free from
police molestation. Current talk in the district explains this immunity on
the ground that police and owners were so involved with each other, that
effective action on the part of the former was prevented by fear that the
latter would turn on the light. "They are all opening up," remarked one
owner, while chatting with sympathizers in a cigar store[285] in West
116th Street, as recently as March 15, 1913. One owner[286] then had six
houses going. "God pity the police if they interfere!" Of a well-known
inspector,[287] it has been said, that "having taken money, he can't well
step on anybody's corns." A former wardman,[288] now wearing a uniform in
the service of the West 125th Street station house, remarked hardly a
fortnight ago to two men, one an owner, the other a former associate: "Sit
tight; you're getting a little; you're making expenses; squealing seems to
be a fad nowadays." Among places now quietly running under changed
ownership may be mentioned one each in West 26th Street, West 28th, West
29th, West 31st, West 34th; two in Sixth Avenue and three in West 40th
Street.[289]
Confidence is strong in the underworld that "hard times" will not last;
the police who are reputed to have worked in collusion with the exploiters
of prostitution share the same view. "It will all blow over"--that is the
refrain to every discussion. History is quoted to support this hopeful
interpretation of present conditions. A similar repressive policy was
instituted in 1907. Houses were closed; some owners with their madames and
girls left the city and others betook themselves to flats and hotels. For
three years, the business was timid, quiet, unobtrusive, gradually feeling
its way back. By January, 1911, the promoters had all returned, keen to
recoup; by the succeeding year, they had restored their former prosperity.
Now once more their schemes have been disorganized. The tide is turning
against them. But they have seen that happen before and they are confident
that, as in the past, the "good old days" will return. A prominent
madame[290] was on September 18 still paying rent for two houses, one in
West 25th Street,[291] one in West 31st Street.[292] "We outlive all those
dogs," declared an old-timer,[293] who had lived through all the spasmodic
efforts at suppression undertaken in the last fifteen or twenty years.
Talk in the underworld does not stop with the police department: it
involves the judiciary and prosecutors as well. There is no
misunderstanding the prevalent feeling: these men and women are
hurt,--wounded to the quick--because, as they constantly assert, having
kept their part of the bargain by paying for protection, the officials do
not so regularly "deliver the goods." Our investigators report many
interviews to this effect. The owner of a house in West 35th Street has
been keenly worried by a three-months' sentence meted out to his
madame.[294] "He had understood that judges were not giving 'prison,' as
several such cases had been lately discharged." He instanced one from West
28th Street,[295] another from West 25th Street.[296] "You know what it
costs to discharge a case," he added feelingly. On August 30, 1912, three
men met at Eighth Avenue and 28th Street; one of them bitterly reviled an
official in the criminal court building. "He has no right to do this. Why,
didn't we once pay him $4,000,--$150 for each house, to keep out of the
district? There were no more raids then,--but now!"[297] On the 17th of
October, 1912, several disorderly house cases from the Tenderloin were
tried in special sessions: the places were notorious,--involving among
others the madames of houses in West 31st and West 36th Streets. The
disposition made of them represents the characteristic uncertainty of the
action of the court of special sessions. Two of the defendants were
acquitted, two were convicted, but received suspended sentences, two were
fined fifty dollars apiece, and one pleaded guilty, receiving a penalty of
imprisonment for thirty days.
There are a number of lawyers in New York City who are being constantly
employed by the owners of disorderly houses to defend their cases in the
courts. Their fees vary according to their standing. A former magistrate,
who has an office on Broadway, charges $100 for appearing in Special
Sessions. He has latterly succeeded in securing the acquittal of the
madame of a West 28th Street[298] house. Another lawyer[299] with an
office on Park Row, charges from $15 to $25 for his appearance in the
police court, and $50 altogether if he has to appear in a higher court.
A few weeks ago one of the madames was sentenced to the penitentiary for
three months. During the evening of the day on which she was sentenced,
the lawyer who had appeared for her came to a resort[300] where a number
of owners had gathered. They upbraided him for pleading "Guilty, your
Honors."
"Why didn't you show fight?" demanded one.
"Well," he replied, "there was a time when I used to walk into the court
room and make a bargain with the judges when there were three or four
charges pending against one woman. I used to say, 'Your Honors, we will
make this bargain day. There are four charges against this woman. What
will you do? Unless you are lenient, I will fight you and take up your
time.' The fine as a rule was no more than $100 for three or four charges.
At that time, the coppers used to break in a house and raid it just to get
the money for the fine. But times have changed."
As some street walkers are picked up by the plain clothes men and brought
into court, they hire by preference a lawyer[301] who lives on West 10th
Street.[302] This man agrees to procure their discharge for $50,
distributed as follows:
$10 for the bondsman to bail her out, if necessary;
$15 for his, the lawyer's services, and
$25 to go to the arresting officer for his testimony.
It is alleged that the lawyer in question has agents on Sixth Avenue
keeping tab on the street walkers. When the girl is "picked up," these
agents are on the ground and see that he gets the case; he guarantees to
turn her out for $50 or more, whatever he can get, but under no conditions
accepts less than $35. If the girl has no ready money and has jewelry,
that is taken as security. The first thing he does is to have the case
adjourned for two days, which means no less than $15 for bail. During the
two-days' adjournment, the lawyer "feels out" the plain clothes man who
"picked up" the girl. If the detective falls, he usually gets $15 from the
lawyer's fee. If the detective insists on prosecuting, the lawyer has a
man ready to swear that it was he who was in conversation with the woman
at the time she was arrested, though this is not usually necessary. If the
plain clothes man has made an affidavit prior to the granting of the
adjournment and is ready to "fall," he will permit the lawyer to entangle
him in his cross-examination and to bring it out that he, the plain
clothes man, approached the girl, and, in other ways, will contradict
himself "safely." This is resorted to when the affidavit is unfavorable to
the girl.
Despite the enormous volume of prostitution in Manhattan, the actual
number of convictions is small, and the main culprits go scot-free.
During a period of nine months, ending September 30, 1912, 143 disorderly
house cases were tried in Special Sessions. Twenty-five pleas of guilty
were entered, 82 were convicted, 32 acquitted, and other disposition was
made of 4.
The total number of disorderly house cases received in this court from
January 1, 1912, to October 1, 1912, was 180, and on September 30, 1912,
there were 62 actions still pending.
Of the 107 cases in which the defendants were found guilty or pleaded
guilty, the following dispositions were made:
Jail sentences 80
Average term being 3 months and 27 days
Fines 18
The total amount being $2,325.00
or an average fine of 129.00
Suspended sentences 9
In general, the convictions secured were those of employees, the
prevailing rules of evidence making it almost impossible to reach the
principals.
In the matter of saloons, for the year ending September 30, 1912, the
Excise Commission in New York County brought revocation proceedings which
resulted in the denial of the privilege of traffic in liquor for one year
in only 6 cases. During the same period, the Commissioner brought 143
actions to recover the penalty under bond, of which 18 were cash bond
places. These cases, we understand, refer particularly to disorderly
hotels.[303]
From October, 1911, to September, 1912, 159 arrests were made for
prostitution in tenement houses under Section 150 of the Tenement House
Law. Of these, 36 were discharged and 123 convicted. Eighty-four of those
convicted were sent to the workhouse for six months, 27 were put on
probation, and other dispositions were made of 12.
Between January 1, 1912, and December 31, 1912, or approximately during
the period of this investigation, the Tenement House Department recorded
247 prostitution complaints at 211 separate addresses in Manhattan. The
time which elapsed between the receipt of the complaint and the report of
the inspector was: returned the same day, 5 cases; from 1 to 5 days, 55
cases; 6 days to 2 weeks, 139 cases; 15 days to 1 month, 38 cases; and
over 1 month, 9 cases and one unknown. The average number of days which
elapsed between the receipt of the complaint and the final report of the
Tenement House Inspector is 10.75, which represents prompter action than
was previously obtained. In the period from August 1, 1902, to October,
1908, the average length of time which elapsed between the receipt of a
prostitution complaint and the final report of the inspector was 11.28
days.
* * * * *
In conclusion, it is proper to state that the purpose of the foregoing
chapter is to picture a situation and not by implication to indicate the
responsibility for it. Whether the discrepancies between our reports and
official records are due to bad laws impossible of enforcement, to the
instructions emanating from superior officials, to inefficiency, to
corruption, to the existence of evils with which no official machinery can
cope, or finally to all these causes operating together, we do not
undertake to say or to imply. The facts are as stated above; the situation
portrayed by them actually exists. It is for the community to consider
their significance, and to devise such measures as careful reflection may
approve.