THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A POLICE CAPTAIN.
The following narrative of the career of a police captain of the City of
New York is taken for the most part textually from the evidence tendered
on oath by Captain Max F. Schmittberger, then in command of the Nineteenth
Precinct. The police of New York were four thousand strong, divided for
purposes of administration--and of plunder--into thirty-eight Precincts.
Schmittberger was Captain of the Nineteenth. He gave his evidence almost
at the close of the inquiry, when the essential facts were all proved up
to the hilt by the evidence of a multitude of witnesses. Strange, almost
incredible though it may appear that such an official should make so
remarkable a confession, it is to be remembered that the facts were
already known, and the only chance he had of saving himself was by turning
Queen’s evidence. When he took the stand under subpœna, the Chairman
addressed him as follows:--
We are here on the great State service to ascertain not only
individual or specific cases of fraud or corruption, but the general
system, and any witness who places himself on the stand here, no
matter if he has himself been guilty of the violation of the law, if
he places himself under the protection of this Committee, to serve it,
to aid it in the ascertainment of those questions that the State
Senate has imposed upon us, we shall consider it not only our
obligation and our duty under the circumstances as Senators,
individually and collectively, to do all that we can to see that that
immunity which the law throws about you is safely guarded, but that he
shall hereafter be protected from any of those results that that
testimony might otherwise bring upon him.--Vol. v., pp. 5,311-2.
Thus adjured, Captain Schmittberger did on the 21st of December, 1894,
unfold as remarkable a tale of infamy as ever was deposed on oath by an
officer supposed to be responsible for the enforcement of the law. When he
had closed his testimony, he said, “I have made a clean breast of
everything I know.” Mr. Goff, who was examining him, asked:--
Is it not a fact that, owing to the developments before this Committee
showing the corrupt and rotten condition of affairs in the Police
Department, you feel justified in coming forward and stating all you
know for the benefit of the people of this city and of this State? The
Captain replied: “I feel that the pillars of the church are falling,
and have fallen, and I feel in justice to my wife and my children that
I should do this.”--Vol. v., p. 5,382.
In compiling his autobiography I quote, wherever possible, textually from
his own words, giving the reference in all important points to the page
from which the quotation is taken.
FROM THE EVIDENCE OF CAPTAIN SCHMITTBERGER.
I joined the police force when I was twenty-three years old, on January
28th, 1874. I had previously been a confectioner. I was married when I was
admitted to the force. The Civil Service rules were not in operation then,
neither had I to pay anything, for the practice of paying money for a
position in the force had not commenced so early as 1874.
I was first assigned to the 19th Precinct, then the 29th, better known as
the “Tenderloin.” For three years I served as patrolman. In those years I
discovered the importance of the political pull. The local politician, by
his influence with the Police Commissioners and the chief police
authorities, could generally make the sergeant his mouthpiece, and induce
him to give preference and show favours to patrolmen who were friends and
supporters of the politician. It was decidedly detrimental to discipline,
but it was the principle throughout. A sergeant who was seeking promotion
relied much more on his political pull than upon his record as a police
officer.
Senator O’Connor interrupted to ask:--
Is there any recognition of merit at all in the department as now
conducted, apart from money considerations or political influence?
Captain Schmittberger replied:--
To a very small extent. It is either politics or money.--Vol. v., p.
5,382.
The result has been that in the last ten years the police have
deteriorated. “They are more politicians than anything else” (p. 5,316).
The mischief of the political pull was increased when candidates had to
pay for their appointment. They felt they had purchased their positions,
and were sort of independent.
The system of purchase, which did not exist in 1874, gradually became so
general that if men wanted to get into the department it was necessary to
see one of the “go-betweens,” a set of men of whom one Charley Grant,
Commissioner McClave’s secretary, was very well known. These
purchase-officers made poor policemen, and they felt they had a right to
more protection than the others. When they were rebuked for offences by
their officers they would often defy them, basing their defiance upon the
ground of political influence and power to protect them from the
consequences of their act. This was especially the case with those men who
belonged to political organisations, political clubs.
There was the Pequod Club, for instance, a Tammany club, presided over by
Police Commissioner Sheehan, which I was pressed to join, owing to the
pull it would give me if I belonged to the Commissioner’s club. Several
police captains belonged to it, and the tickets for the club outings, at
five dollars apiece, were forced upon storekeepers and liquor dealers by
the police. They also compelled all the liquor dealers in the precinct to
buy Munzinger’s mineral waters, for Munzinger was secretary of the Pequod.
In the Tenderloin there were a great number of disorderly houses, which
were resorts for the criminals of the whole country, who came there to
meet prostitutes. That precinct of New York was the centre for the
criminal classes. No one interfered with them, it being perfectly well
understood by the police that they were under protection, and they were
under protection because they paid money for protection directly to the
police captain of the precinct. This was necessary, because without his
protection the officers would have closed the house. If they had
interfered with a protected house, they would have been removed to another
beat. Even if outrages occurred they knew they were not to interfere, as
the houses had paid the captain for protection, and no interference was
permitted. I heard once of an officer, of the name of Coleman, who was
killed in a disorderly house, and there never has been an inquest or an
arrest of any persons suspected of the crime, or any judicial inquiry
whatever touching the cause of that officer’s death (p. 5,328).
I was raised to the rank of a roundsman in April, 1880, because I found
Commissioner Whelan’s favourite dog, and I remained in the precinct till
March 6th, 1883. During all that time the state of things was very bad.
French women used to stand out in front of the railing in front of their
houses and pull every man in as he went through the street. When citizens
complained, they got no satisfaction. On one occasion a citizen who
complained was ordered out quick. There was a friction--a very large
one--between him and the Captain. It was even reported in the newspapers
at the time that the Captain had threatened to club the complaining
citizen out of the precinct.
During these early years I had a good record. I had arrested an important
burglar, who had shot at me. I received honourable mention twice; I got
the medal of honour from the department, and also the gold and diamond
medal from the citizens of the precinct for raiding out the thieves there;
I sent over 1,200 people to State prison whom I arrested myself in seven
years as a detective (pp. 5,383-4).
So it came to pass that in March, 1883, I was made sergeant. I remained as
sergeant for seven years, when I was made captain. I had passed at the
head of the Civil Service list, and had some influential political men
recommending me. I paid nothing for my appointment.
When I became captain I objected at first to the levying of blackmail. I
was appointed to the steamboat squad, and I had not been there any time
when detective Vail told me that he collected money from the ship
companies and dock occupants or lessees, and that my predecessors always
received half. I told him I did not care about a thing of that kind. Vail
replied, “You’re a damned fool if you don’t do it; you might as well get
it as well as the others” (p. 5,337). So I told him to go on and do the
collecting. He brought me 190 dollars a month, and I gave him 20 per cent.
commission.
At this time, in the police department when I became captain, it was an
understood thing, and a matter of common understanding among the captains
of the various precincts, that they were to take advantage of any
opportunity that presented itself to make money out of their respective
precincts (p. 5,337).
I did it--we all did it. It was the universal custom. I had a list of the
men and the amounts they received. The wardman brought me half of it to
the station-house. I then returned him 20 per cent. It was a poor
district, and so I was not expected to send any of my share up to the
inspector. He told me himself that he hardly expected anything, as there
wasn’t anything in the precinct. That was true, and therefore I tried to
get another as soon as possible. At the end of thirteen months I was
transferred to the Twenty-fifth Precinct. I brought with me my
confidential collector, Gannon the detective.
When we settled down in the new station we discussed what collections
could be made. We found there was nothing, only the policy shops, of which
there were about ten, and the Liquor Dealers’ Association. There was no
difficulty about either.
The policy shops, all those in the precinct and in the upper part of the
city, are under a man by the name of Parker, and if I remember right,
Parker came to the station-house and saw me, and told me how many shops he
had in the precinct; that was all. He was introduced to Gannon, and Gannon
did the rest (p. 5,341). He fixed the old price that had been understood
for years long before my time--twenty dollars a month per shop. The
Bohemian Liquor Dealers’ Association were equally easy to manage. They
paid eighty dollars per month.
My predecessor before he left had a talk with me about what should be
given to the Inspector. He said he gave him usually from fifty to
seventy-five dollars a month. He used to put the money in an envelope, and
give it to an officer, who would give it to the sergeant in Inspector
Williams’s office. I did not take this course. I went directly to Williams
and handed him fifty dollars in an envelope. He took it in his office at
headquarters without a word (p. 5,343).
I was three months in that precinct. I gave the Inspector a hundred
dollars one month. It was necessary to square him because it was in
Williams’s power to send men up there to raid those policy shops over my
head; I had to prevent him from doing that. Of course, upon consideration
of receiving that sum of money every month he wouldn’t do it (p. 5,344).
I had also to pay 20 per cent. to my collector. In return for this money I
gave protection to the policy shops, and allowed all the liquor dealers to
run open on Sunday. I was in the precinct three months, during which time
I duly reported to headquarters concerning disorderly houses, gambling
houses, &c., in my precinct, but I was very careful to say nothing of the
ten policy shops which paid for protection. It was an understood thing the
law was not to be enforced in the case of those who paid for protection.
After three months I was changed to the Twenty-seventh Precinct. In that
precinct there were ten policy shops and three pool-rooms. I brought
Gannon along with me. The policy shops paid as before, but the pool-rooms
paid two hundred dollars a month. This was the old tariff paid to my
predecessor, and continued, as a matter of course. Besides the usual 20
per cent. to the collector, I had to pay two hundred dollars per month to
Inspector Williams. During the nine months I was in the precinct I handed
him directly eighteen hundred dollars. He made no remark, and I would
merely say, “Here is something for you.” I gave him the same money I
received from the pool-rooms. But in this precinct I drew no money from
the saloons. There had been some trouble with my predecessor, and it had
been arranged that instead of paying the police the liquor dealers were,
in future, to pay direct to Tammany Hall (p. 5,349).
I was removed from this precinct because of the liquor dealers.
Superintendent Byrnes ordered me to make direct _bonâ fide_ excise arrests
where liquor was sold on Sunday. I made over twenty _bonâ fide_ arrests.
The President of the Liquor Dealers threatened the officers to have them
transferred if they made real arrests, and he was as good as his word. I
also was transferred for the same cause. The liquor dealers pulled the leg
of Commissioner Martin, who was a Tammany chief, and we were all
transferred. The Superintendent whose orders I obeyed could not protect
us. He simply told me to keep quiet, that the thing would right itself.
I was transferred to the Fifth Precinct, and there remained only nine
weeks. There were only two pool-rooms, which yielded four hundred dollars
a month, of which I gave fifty dollars to Inspector McAvoy. I put the
money in a blank envelope and left it on his desk at headquarters.
From the Fifth I was removed to the Ninth, where I only remained a month.
I made no collections there. But when I was removed to the Twenty-second I
had better fortune: I remained there from May to December. Here I first
struck disorderly houses. They paid--some ten, others twenty-five, and
others again as much as fifty dollars a month. The policy shops paid the
usual twenty-dollar tariff. There I collected from five hundred to six
hundred dollars per month. The gambling houses were all strictly closed
up.
It was while I was in this precinct that I came across Commissioner
Martin, who was protecting personally a house of ill-fame kept by Mrs.
Sadie West, 234, West Fifty-first Street. A body of citizens had made a
formal complaint. I sent an officer down to make inquiries. Mrs. West
said, “Commissioner Martin is a friend of mine, and don’t you do anything
until you hear from him.” Next day Commissioner Martin, who was at the
head of the Police Board, ordered me to send the officer back to apologise
and say he had made a mistake. “Hold on, Commissioner,” I said; “this
originates from a complaint of citizens.” “Well,” he replied, “I don’t
care; I want you to do what you are told.” So I had to send that officer
back, and he had to apologise (p. 5,363).
That was not the only difficulty I had with the Commissioners.
Commissioner Sheehan did his utmost to induce me to allow a gambling house
to be opened in the precinct by one Maynard, a friend of his friend Mr.
Proctor. The capital which Proctor was to bring to the gambling house was
his pull with Sheehan--the Superintendent’s orders were strict. So I told
Sheehan, whom I met at the Pequod Club. Sheehan told me that there was a
Spanish Club in that house, and I had no right to interfere with it; “if
they played cards among themselves without playing gambling games that I
had no right to interfere.” But the Superintendent said he would break me
if I allowed cards to be played there. When I told Sheehan this he
exclaimed, “Well, if they cannot play, Daly can’t play!” As a matter of
fact Daly was not playing (p. 5,368).
During my stay in this precinct I used to take one hundred and fifty
dollars a month in a closed envelope and give it to Inspector McAvoy at
headquarters. One curious circumstance I remember about him. The Inspector
is a very religious man, and he had conscientious scruples. He asked me
one time if some of the money I gave him came from disorderly houses; if
it did he didn’t want it, because he didn’t want any money of that kind; I
told him no, it hadn’t; he drew the line there (p. 5,370).
Of course as he had been captain in the precinct himself he knew that it
did come from disorderly houses, but he wished to be told it did not. I
reported to headquarters that there were no disorderly houses in the
precinct.
In December, 1893, I was made Captain of the Tenderloin, and have been
there ever since. But the glory had departed owing to the raids made after
Dr. Parkhurst’s action. I did not get more than 200 dols. a month there.
Georgiana Hastings’s house of ill-fame I was warned not to touch, as if I
did I should burn my fingers. I was informed that certain public officials
were in the habit of visiting Georgiana Hastings’s house--some officials
that graced the Bench, and some officials that held commissions in the
City of New York. One night, when a Bench warrant was sent there for
execution, there were two officials, one a judge of a Court in this
city--not of a Civil Court--in the house, and so that warrant was not
executed (p. 5,374). She paid no protection money. She was protected
inviolate by the law on account of the influential character of her
customers.
Last year I made a political contribution of 100 dols. both to Mr. Martin
and to Mr. Sheehan, who were both Police Commissioners and Tammany leaders
in their respective districts. I had nothing much to do with handling
money in payment for promotion. I acted as go-between in the case of
Martens. I took 1,600 dols. of his to Captain Williams, and he got him
made sergeant. Martens afterwards told me it would cost him 14,000 dols.
to be made captain. On the whole, I have been four years a police captain.
In that time I have been in command in six precincts, in every one of
which I found the custom of collections regularly established from of old.
* * * * *
It would seem that the tariff was fixed: the commission to the collectors,
and the proportion for the Inspector. The figures were as follows:--
Sources of Collectors’ Total
Time of Revenue Com. Inspectors’ Net
Precinct Stay per Month 20 per cent. Share Receipts
37 13 months Blackmail on ships, $190 495 -- 1,975
25 3 " {10 policy shops at $20 }
{Liquor dealers, $80 } 168 200 472
27 9 " {10 policy shops at $20 }
{3 pool-rooms at $200 } 1,450 1,800 3,950
5 2 " 2 pool-rooms at $200 160 150 590
{Policy shops, $20 }
9 7 " {Houses of ill-fame, } 700 1,050 1,750
{ $10, $25, and $50 = }
{ $500 }
19 12 " Houses of ill-fame, $200 480 -- 1,920
-- ----- ----- ------
46 3,453 3,200 10,657
The ransom extorted from the vicious and criminal classes of a single
precinct by the police would seem to be an irreducible minimum of a
thousand pounds per annum.
The Lexow Committee reported:--
The confessions summarised show the existence throughout the city of a
system so well regulated and understood that upon the assignment of a
new captain no conversation was necessary to instruct the precinct
detectives or wardmen as to their line of conduct. Without a word they
collected the illicit revenue, simplifying their duties as much as
they could, either by granting monopolies of a special kind of crime
to individuals, or imposing upon certain individuals who had knowledge
of a particular class of crime the obligation of collecting for them,
thus collecting monthly from all licensed vice and crime, and paying
over their collections to the captain, deducting for their services
twenty per cent. from the total. Or, rather, at first, paying the
whole to the captain, and receiving twenty per cent. back from him,
and thereafter making the deductions themselves. The captain, on his
side, visited the inspector and paid over to him a substantial
proportion of the amount collected.--Vol. i., pp. 45, 46.
[Illustration: THE CITIES WHERE DWELL THE STRANGERS WITHIN THE GATES. View
of Brooklyn Bridge from a roof in Broadway.]