VI

We steamed up into New York Harbor late one afternoon in spring. The

last efforts of the sun were being put forth in turning the waters of

the bay to glistening gold; the green islands on either side, in spite

of their warlike mountings, looked calm and peaceful; the buildings of

the town shone out in a reflected light which gave the city an air of

enchantment; and, truly, it is an enchanted spot. New York City is the

most fatally fascinating thing in America. She sits like a great witch

at the gate of the country, showing her alluring white face and

hiding her crooked hands and feet under the folds of her wide

garments--constantly enticing thousands from far within, and tempting

those who come from across the seas to go no farther. And all these

become the victims of her caprice. Some she at once crushes beneath

her cruel feet; others she condemns to a fate like that of galley

slaves; a few she favors and fondles, riding them high on the bubbles

of fortune; then with a sudden breath she blows the bubbles out and

laughs mockingly as she watches them fall.

Twice I had passed through it, but this was really my first visit to

New York; and as I walked about that evening, I began to feel the

dread power of the city; the crowds, the lights, the excitement, the

gaiety, and all its subtler stimulating influences began to take

effect upon me. My blood ran quicker and I felt that I was just

beginning to live. To some natures this stimulant of life in a great

city becomes a thing as binding and necessary as opium is to one

addicted to the habit. It becomes their breath of life; they cannot

exist outside of it; rather than be deprived of it they are content to

suffer hunger, want, pain, and misery; they would not exchange even a

ragged and wretched condition among the great crowd for any degree of

comfort away from it.

As soon as we landed, four of us went directly to a lodging house in

Twenty-seventh Street, just west of Sixth Avenue. The house was run

by a short, stout mulatto man, who was exceedingly talkative and

inquisitive. In fifteen minutes he not only knew the history of

the past life of each one of us, but had a clearer idea of what

we intended to do in the future than we ourselves. He sought this

information so much with an air of being very particular as to whom he

admitted into his house that we tremblingly answered every question

that he asked. When we had become located, we went out and got supper,

then walked around until about ten o'clock. At that hour we met a

couple of young fellows who lived in New York and were known to one of

the members of our party. It was suggested we go to a certain place

which was known by the proprietor's name. We turned into one of the

cross streets and mounted the stoop of a house in about the middle of

a block between Sixth and Seventh Avenues. One of the young men whom

we had met rang a bell, and a man on the inside cracked the door a

couple of inches; then opened it and let us in. We found ourselves in

the hallway of what had once been a residence. The front parlor had

been converted into a bar, and a half-dozen or so well-dressed men

were in the room. We went in and after a general introduction had

several rounds of beer. In the back parlor a crowd was sitting and

standing around the walls of the room watching an exciting and noisy

game of pool. I walked back and joined this crowd to watch the game,

and principally to get away from the drinking party. The game was

really interesting, the players being quite expert, and the excitement

was heightened by the bets which were being made on the result. At

times the antics and remarks of both players and spectators were

amusing. When, at a critical point, a player missed a shot, he was

deluged, by those financially interested in his making it, with a

flood of epithets synonymous with "chump"; While from the others

he would be jeered by such remarks as "Nigger, dat cue ain't no

hoe-handle." I noticed that among this class of colored men the word

"nigger" was freely used in about the same sense as the word "fellow,"

and sometimes as a term of almost endearment; but I soon learned that

its use was positively and absolutely prohibited to white men.

I stood watching this pool game until I was called by my friends, who

were still in the bar-room, to go upstairs. On the second floor there

were two large rooms. From the hall I looked into the one on the

front. There was a large, round table in the center, at which five

or six men were seated playing poker. The air and conduct here were

greatly in contrast to what I had just seen in the pool-room; these

men were evidently the aristocrats of the place; they were well,

perhaps a bit flashily, dressed and spoke in low modulated voices,

frequently using the word "gentlemen"; in fact, they seemed to be

practicing a sort of Chesterfieldian politeness towards each other. I

was watching these men with a great deal of interest and some degree

of admiration when I was again called by the members of our party, and

I followed them on to the back room. There was a door-keeper at this

room, and we were admitted only after inspection. When we got inside,

I saw a crowd of men of all ages and kinds grouped about an old

billiard table, regarding some of whom, in supposing them to be white,

I made no mistake. At first I did not know what these men were doing;

they were using terms that were strange to me. I could hear only a

confusion of voices exclaiming: "Shoot the two!" "Shoot the four!"

"Fate me! Fate me!" "I've got you fated!" "Twenty-five cents he don't

turn!" This was the ancient and terribly fascinating game of

dice, popularly known as "craps." I myself had played pool in

Jacksonville--it is a favorite game among cigar makers--and I had seen

others play cards; but here was something new. I edged my way in to

the table and stood between one of my new-found New York friends and a

tall, slender, black fellow, who was making side bets while the dice

were at the other end of the table. My companion explained to me the

principles of the game; and they are so simple that they hardly need

to be explained twice. The dice came around the table until they

reached the man on the other side of the tall, black fellow. He lost,

and the latter said: "Gimme the bones." He threw a dollar on the table

and said: "Shoot the dollar." His style of play was so strenuous that

he had to be allowed plenty of room. He shook the dice high above his

head, and each time he threw them on the table, he emitted a grunt

such as men give when they are putting forth physical exertion with a

rhythmic regularity. He frequently whirled completely around on his

heels, throwing the dice the entire length of the table, and talking

to them as though they were trained animals. He appealed to them in

short singsong phrases. "Come, dice," he would say. "Little Phoebe,"

"Little Joe," "'Way down yonder in the cornfield." Whether these

mystic incantations were efficacious or not I could not say, but, at

any rate, his luck was great, and he had what gamblers term "nerve."

"Shoot the dollar!" "Shoot the two!" "Shoot the four!" "Shoot the

eight!" came from his lips as quickly as the dice turned to his

advantage. My companion asked me if I had ever played. I told him no.

He said that I ought to try my luck: that everybody won at first. The

tall man at my side was waving his arms in the air, exclaiming: "Shoot

the sixteen!" "Shoot the sixteen!" "Fate me!" Whether it was my

companion's suggestion or some latent dare-devil strain in my blood

which suddenly sprang into activity I do not know; but with a thrill

of excitement which went through my whole body I threw a twenty-dollar

bill on the table and said in a trembling voice: "I fate you."

I could feel that I had gained the attention and respect of everybody

in the room, every eye was fixed on me, and the widespread question,

"Who is he?" went around. This was gratifying to a certain sense of

vanity of which I have never been able to rid myself, and I felt that

it was worth the money even if I lost. The tall man, with a whirl on

his heels and a double grunt, threw the dice; four was the number

which turned up. This is considered as a hard "point" to make. He

redoubled his contortions and his grunts and his pleadings to the

dice; but on his third or fourth throw the fateful seven turned up,

and I had won. My companion and all my friends shouted to me to follow

up my luck. The fever was on me. I seized the dice. My hands were so

hot that the bits of bone felt like pieces of ice. I shouted as loudly

as I could: "Shoot it all!" but the blood was tingling so about my

ears that I could not hear my own voice. I was soon "fated." I threw

the dice--sevens--I had won. "Shoot it all!" I cried again. There was

a pause; the stake was more than one man cared to or could cover. I

was finally "fated" by several men taking each a part of it. I then

threw the dice again. Seven. I had won. "Shoot it all!" I shouted

excitedly. After a short delay I was "fated." Again I rolled the dice.

Eleven. Again I won. My friends now surrounded me and, much against

my inclination, forced me to take down all of the money except five

dollars. I tried my luck once more, and threw some small "point" which

failed to make, and the dice passed on to the next man.

In less than three minutes I had won more than two hundred dollars, a

sum which afterwards cost me dearly. I was the hero of the moment and

was soon surrounded by a group of men who expressed admiration for my

"nerve" and predicted for me a brilliant future as a gambler. Although

at the time I had no thought of becoming a gambler, I felt proud of my

success. I felt a bit ashamed, too, that I had allowed my friends to

persuade me to take down my money so soon. Another set of men also got

around me and begged me for twenty-five or fifty cents to put them

back into the game. I gave each of them something. I saw that several

of them had on linen dusters, and as I looked about, I noticed that

there were perhaps a dozen men in the room similarly clad. I asked the

fellow who had been my prompter at the dice table why they dressed

in such a manner. He told me that men who had lost all the money and

jewelry they possessed, frequently, in an effort to recoup their

losses, would gamble away all their outer clothing and even their

shoes; and that the proprietor kept on hand a supply of linen dusters

for all who were so unfortunate. My informant went on to say that

sometimes a fellow would become almost completely dressed and then,

by a turn of the dice, would be thrown back into a state of

semi-nakedness. Some of them were virtually prisoners and unable

to get into the streets for days at a time. They ate at the lunch

counter, where their credit was good so long as they were fair

gamblers and did not attempt to jump their debts, and they slept

around in chairs. They importuned friends and winners to put them back

in the game, and kept at it until fortune again smiled on them. I

laughed heartily at this, not thinking the day was coming which would

find me in the same ludicrous predicament.

On passing downstairs I was told that the third and top floor of the

house was occupied by the proprietor. When we passed through the bar,

I treated everybody in the room--and that was no small number, for

eight or ten had followed us down. Then our party went out. It was now

about half past twelve, but my nerves were at such a tension that I

could not endure the mere thought of going to bed. I asked if there

was no other place to which we could go; our guides said yes, and

suggested that we go to the "Club." We went to Sixth Avenue, walked

two blocks, and turned to the west into another street. We stopped in

front of a house with three stories and a basement. In the basement

was a Chinese chop-suey restaurant. There was a red lantern at the

iron gate to the area way, inside of which the Chinaman's name was

printed. We went up the steps of the stoop, rang the bell, and were

admitted without any delay. From the outside the house bore a rather

gloomy aspect, the windows being absolutely dark, but within, it was a

veritable house of mirth. When we had passed through a small vestibule

and reached the hallway, we heard mingled sounds of music and

laughter, the clink of glasses, and the pop of bottles. We went into

the main room and I was little prepared for what I saw. The brilliancy

of the place, the display of diamond rings, scarf-pins, ear-rings, and

breast-pins, the big rolls of money that were brought into evidence

when drinks were paid for, and the air of gaiety that pervaded the

place, all completely dazzled and dazed me. I felt positively giddy,

and it was several minutes before I was able to make any clear and

definite observations.

We at length secured places at a table in a corner of the room and,

as soon as we could attract the attention of one of the busy waiters,

ordered a round of drinks. When I had somewhat collected my senses, I

realized that in a large back room into which the main room opened,

there was a young fellow singing a song, accompanied on the piano by a

short, thickset, dark man. After each verse he did some dance steps,

which brought forth great applause and a shower of small coins at his

feet. After the singer had responded to a rousing encore, the stout

man at the piano began to run his fingers up and down the keyboard.

This he did in a manner which indicated that he was master of a good

deal of technique. Then he began to play; and such playing! I stopped

talking to listen. It was music of a kind I had never heard before.

It was music that demanded physical response, patting of the feet,

drumming of the fingers, or nodding of the head in time with the beat.

The barbaric harmonies, the audacious resolutions, often consisting of

an abrupt jump from one key to another, the intricate rhythms in which

the accents fell in the most unexpected places, but in which the

beat was never lost, produced a most curious effect. And, too, the

player--the dexterity of his left hand in making rapid octave runs

and jumps was little short of marvelous; and with his right hand he

frequently swept half the keyboard with clean-cut chromatics which he

fitted in so nicely as never to fail to arouse in his listeners a sort

of pleasant surprise at the accomplishment of the feat.

This was ragtime music, then a novelty in New York, and just growing

to be a rage, which has not yet subsided. It was originated in the

questionable resorts about Memphis and St. Louis by Negro piano

players who knew no more of the theory of music than they did of the

theory of the universe, but were guided by natural musical instinct

and talent. It made its way to Chicago, where it was popular some time

before it reached New York. These players often improvised crude and,

at times, vulgar words to fit the melodies. This was the beginning of

the ragtime song. Several of these improvisations were taken down by

white men, the words slightly altered, and published under the names

of the arrangers. They sprang into immediate popularity and earned

small fortunes, of which the Negro originators got only a few dollars.

But I have learned that since that time a number of colored men, of

not only musical talent, but training, are writing out their own

melodies and words and reaping the reward of their work. I have

learned also that they have a large number of white imitators and

adulterators.

American musicians, instead of investigating ragtime, attempt to

ignore it, or dismiss it with a contemptuous word. But that has always

been the course of scholasticism in every branch of art. Whatever new

thing the people like is pooh-poohed; whatever is popular is spoken

of as not worth the while. The fact is, nothing great or enduring,

especially in music, has ever sprung full-fledged and unprecedented

from the brain of any master; the best that he gives to the world he

gathers from the hearts of the people, and runs it through the alembic

of his genius. In spite of the bans which musicians and music teachers

have placed upon it, the people still demand and enjoy ragtime. One

thing cannot be denied; it is music which possesses at least one

strong element of greatness: it appeals universally; not only the

American, but the English, the French, and even the German people find

delight in it. In fact, there is not a corner of the civilized world

in which it is not known, and this proves its originality; for if it

were an imitation, the people of Europe, anyhow, would not have

found it a novelty. Anyone who doubts that there is a peculiar

heel-tickling, smile-provoking, joy-awakening charm in ragtime needs

only to hear a skillful performer play the genuine article to be

convinced. I believe that it has its place as well as the music which

draws from us sighs and tears.

I became so interested in both the music and the player that I left

the table where I was sitting, and made my way through the hall into

the back room, where I could see as well as hear. I talked to the

piano-player between the musical numbers and found out that he was

just a natural musician, never having taken a lesson in his life. Not

only could he play almost anything he heard, but he could accompany

singers in songs he had never heard. He had, by ear alone, composed

some pieces, several of which he played over for me; each of them was

properly proportioned and balanced. I began to wonder what this man

with such a lavish natural endowment would have done had he been

trained. Perhaps he wouldn't have done anything at all; he might have

become, at best, a mediocre imitator of the great masters in what they

have already done to a finish, or one of the modern innovators who

strive after originality by seeing how cleverly they can dodge about

through the rules of harmony and at the same time avoid melody. It

is certain that he would not have been so delightful as he was in

ragtime.

I sat by, watching and listening to this man until I was dragged

away by my friends. The place was now almost deserted; only a few

stragglers hung on, and they were all the, worse for drink. My friends

were well up in this class. We passed into the street; the lamps were

pale against the sky; day was just breaking. We went home and got into

bed. I fell into a fitful sort of sleep, with ragtime music ringing

continually in my ears.