A Remarkable Game of Poker and What Came of it--Ben as a Pirate--Fast
Life in New York--How he gave a Combination Show in Oswego.
After remaining in New York for a short time, Hogan returned to Syracuse,
where he opened a boxing-room. His rates for instruction were certainly
low enough, the price for a lesson being fixed at three cents. He became a
member of Hose Company No. 4, and was well known throughout the city as a
boy who could use his fists to good advantage.
Syracuse, however, did not ofter attractions enough to keep our hero long
within its borders. He struck out again for himself, and drifted to the
West, where occurred an incident of tragic interest.
By a stroke of remarkable luck, Ben had invested five dollars in a St.
Louis lottery--which city he had reached in the course of his
wanderings--and the number which he bought drew a prize of seven hundred
and fifty dollars. With this money in his pocket, Ben determined to visit
New Orleans. On the trip down the Mississippi he fell in with a party of
professional gamblers, who used to infest the boats in those days.
Although Ben, as we know, had already knocked about the world a good deal,
he was comparatively ignorant of cards. Draw-poker, which was the great
game on Mississippi steamers, he knew little about. He had played it once
or twice, and learned to hold a pair or flush when he got them; but the
intricate points of the science he had not mastered. This explanation is
necessary that the reader may understand what follows. The gamblers in
question succeeded in persuading Ben to sit down to a quiet little game.
He alternately won and lost for some time, when one of the players dealt
him four aces. Of course Ben went his last dollar on this hand. The money
was promptly covered by one of the sharpers, and at last the call was
made.
"I've got four aces!" exclaimed Ben, showing his hand, and making a move
as if to take in the money.
"One minute!" said the gambler. "I beat your four aces. _I have got five
jacks!_"
Ben looked a little dazed.
"The money is certainly his," said one of the cappers, who had led Ben
into the game.
"But I thought," stammered Ben, "I thought four aces beat anything in the
pack."
"So they do," replied the oily-tongued sharper; "anything except five of a
kind. Of course five jacks are better than four aces. There's no question
about that. And of course the money is mine!"
Saying this, he raked in Ben's seven hundred dollars, leaving the young
fellow without a cent.
Hogan couldn't exactly get it through his head how he could have lost the
money with four aces; but, as explained above, he was too ignorant of the
game to detect the swindle.
He went to the captain, hoping to get some explanation, but that
functionary declined to listen to his story. He said he must settle his
gambling disputes as best he could.
Then he went back to the sharpers, and begged them to let him have
twenty-five or thirty dollars, as he had lost every penny; but they
refused to give up a dollar.
Ben was dazed and half-maddened by his loss. Finally he told the gamblers
that he would find somebody else on the boat to be fleeced, providing they
would give him a percentage of the spoils. This they readily agreed to do,
and so Ben went up on to the hurricane deck in search of a victim.
There he fell in with rather of a green merchant, who soon revealed to him
the fact that he had between fifteen and sixteen hundred dollars about his
person. Ben invited him down to play. As they were passing through the
gangway, a sudden impulse seized Hogan to possess himself of this
stranger's money at any hazard. The gangway was open at either end, and as
they were passing close to the unguarded space, Ben pretended to trip,
falling against the stranger and knocking him overboard; but he
immediately shouted and jumped into the water, with a view to save the
unfortunate fellow.
It may not be wise to enter into these details too fully; but it may be
said that the merchant struggled to the surface alive. Furthermore, when
Ben was dragged on board the boat, he had not about him the fifteen
hundred and odd dollars which had previously belonged to the stranger. It
is a wonder that the latter was not swallowed by an alligator. But how the
money was allowed to rest in his pocket must remain a mystery.
Hogan continued his trip to New Orleans, but did not engage in any more
draw-poker with the gentlemen who were accustomed to hold five jacks. If
the money had come to him in a doubtful manner, it went in the same way.
He drifted about for a few weeks, and finally brought up in Charleston
without a dollar.
Now comes a period in his career which for wild adventure and hairbreadth
escapes surpasses any romance. Finding himself in Charleston with no money
and nothing to do, he determined to "make a raise" in some manner,
whatever it might be. Money was his god, and he was prepared to lay burnt
offerings or any other kind of offerings upon the altar. The opportunity
came to him in a remarkable way.
Late one night Ben was sitting in a saloon near the docks when a
black-haired, savage-faced man entered the place, and, taking three
fingers of brandy straight, sat down near our hero. After eyeing him
intently for a few minutes, he said:
"Would you like a job?"
"I should like nothing better," answered Ben.
The man dropped his voice to a whisper.
"Are you particular about the kind of work?"
"I am ready for anything," answered our hero.
The stranger cast a look about the room to see that nobody was watching
them, and then bending down, said. "I am a pirate!"
The announcement did not in the least disconcert Ben. On the contrary, he
expressed his perfect willingness to join the black craft, and on the day
following he sailed out of Charleston on board the "Sphinx." It is,
perhaps, unnecessary to explain that the real name of this ship is not
given. In this narrative, however, "Sphinx" will serve as well as any
other word to designate the craft.
During the six months that Ben Hogan sailed under the flag of the skull
and cross-bones he encountered adventures enough to fill a larger volume
than this. As he has since described it, he lost all semblance to
humanity, and became more like a wild beast than a man. Among the rich
booty which the "Sphinx" succeeded in capturing was a ship returning from
the Bahama Islands with a chest of gold and jewels valued at two hundred
thousand dollars. After this prize had been securely stored away in the
"Sphinx" a quarrel arose as to the distribution of the treasure. The
pirate captain refused to share with the men on equal terms. Ben, although
the youngest of the crew, was made spokesman, and threatened that unless
the chief came to terms, he would put him where he would care very little
what became of the booty. At this, the captain dealt him a blow with his
fist, but he found that he had tackled a bad customer. The Sailor Boy
sailed into his black-whiskered antagonist, and gave him such a thrashing
as he had never had before. This at once made a hero of Ben, and the crew
placed their former chief in irons, and kept him there until the end of
the cruise.
From that time forward Ben was the real commander of the ship; space
prevents a fuller description of his exploits; nor, indeed would it be
wise to give in detail all that happened during his voyage. Suffice it to
say that at the end of six months the young pirate abandoned his wild
life, and drifted back to New York with fifty thousand dollars in his
pockets.
Other men of his class would have spent this money, if they had spent it
at all, in the low groggeries on Water street. Not so Ben Hogan. The
pirate of yesterday was changed into an elaborately dressed gentleman
to-day. His quiet manner and respectful bearing carried him into circles
which his former companions could never have entered. In the costliest of
broadcloth, with a magnificent diamond upon his immaculate shirt-front,
Ben moved among the "bloods" of New York, a brilliant but unknown star.
And a jolly life he led of it while his "boodle" lasted. A good deal has
been written about the extravagance of Jim Fisk during his palmy days; but
Fisk never spent money half as recklessly as did Ben Hogan when he struck
New York at that time. In a single day he went through with seven hundred
dollars, simply for wine and cigars. In company with a very beautiful, but
not over-virtuous woman, he drove through Fifth avenue in an open coach
drawn by four white horses, drinking champagne as he went. He stepped into
a small saloon on Cortlandt street one day and asked the proprietor what
he considered the establishment worth.
"Five hundred dollars," was the answer.
Ben pulled out an immense roll of bank-notes, laid a five-hundred-dollar
bill upon the bar, and told the man to "clear out." The astonished bar
keeper took the money, and did as directed. Then Hogan invited the
"setters" about the place to help themselves to whatever they wanted, and
wound up by presenting the establishment, with all its fixtures, to an old
man whom he had never seen before.
It goes without saying that this sort of career soon made a serious hole
in his pile. Living in elegant up-town apartments; supporting half a dozen
women in princely style; drinking nothing but the choicest wines, and
scattering his money on every side, it did not take very long to go
through the entire fifty thousand dollars. It should be remembered that he
was still a mere boy, but he showed himself quite a man in recklessness
and extravagance.
When his last dollar had been parted with, Ben again became a vagabond in
search of work. He was glad to take up with anything that offered itself,
and that anything was a job on a tow-boat. He made two trips, during which
he found time to thrash the mate--for which little service the captain of
the boat thanked him sincerely. His reputation as a boxer began to spread,
and under the belief that he had learned all there was to learn of the
manly art, he once more returned to Syracuse, intending to remain there
permanently.
In the building known as Malcolm Hall, at the corner of Railroad and
Salina streets, he opened a gymnasium, in company with a teacher of
elocution. He made all his own apparatus, spring-boards, bars, etc., and
even turned his own Indian clubs. It was his ambition, at this time, to
become the strongest man in the world. He put himself upon a diet of raw
beef, rye or Graham bread, and drank nothing but milk, with an occasional
glass of ale. With the beef he ate large quantities of onions, which
probably helped to prevent any bad effects which the meat might have
produced.
It was during his sojourn in Syracuse at this time that he engaged in a
glove contest with Anthony Kelly, a boxer of considerable local
reputation. Kelly was a most expert representative of the manly art, and
the contest excited a good deal of attention. It was won by Hogan, after a
very spirited and lively set-to.
Under the training and diet already described, Ben gained rapidly in
strength, and became a model of muscular development. He lifted, at that
time, fifteen hundred pounds, and he could hold out ninety-five pounds
with any one of his fingers. He continued the diet of raw beef for four
years, and would probably have gone on eating it indefinitely had he not
been warned by physicians that it was injurious for him.
An amusing incident occured in his life at this period. He happened to
visit Oswego (the scene of his early housekeeping) and while there
attended the "Naiad Queen," brought out under Capt. Smith's management.
The show was one that would hardly have passed muster in a New York
theatre, but it drew a big house in Oswego, and it gave Ben an idea.
Returning to Syracuse he got a lot of posters printed, setting forth, in
glowing terms, the attractions of "a monster combination," in which would
appear Ben Hogan, "the strongest man in the world," and a host of other
stars. With these bills and some other traps he made his way again to
Oswego. Not having any agent and not being flush enough to call upon a
regular bill-poster, he donned an old suit of clothes, smeared his face
with dirt, and set out to post himself.
Wherever he put up one of the bills, a crowd would naturally gather around
and pass comments upon the "monster combination."
"Who is this Ben Hogan, anyway?" was the general inquiry.
"Why, didn't you ever hear of him?" Ben would reply. "He's a bad man, I
tell you--the strongest man in the world. I know him myself, and if you
don't want to miss the biggest show ever seen, you won't stay away!"
In this way, the talkative bill-poster set the town on the _qui vive_ to
see the "monster combination." Meantime, laying aside the old clothes, Ben
appeared in a striking costume, which he had prepared expressly for the
occasion. It consisted of a low-crowned, broad-brimmed silk hat, a short
cut-away coat, a pair of very tight trowsers, and a flaming neckerchief.
Thus arrayed, he made his appearance at the hotel and in the streets.
Wherever he went somebody was sure to turn around and ask:
"Who is that?"
A friend of Ben's, who professed not to know him, was on hand every time
to answer.
"That," he would say, "that is Ben Hogan. Greatest boxer in the
country--strongest man in the world. If you want a big thing you'll go to
his show to-night!"
The result of all this was that when evening came the house was packed. It
is perhaps unnecessary to say that the "monster combination" was composed
entirely of Hogan. The bills announced first a "daring act upon the
trapeze," which Ben, dressed in tights, and with enough chalk and paint
upon his face to disguise him, undertook to perform. The undertaking was
not altogether a success. In the midst of one of his most thrilling feats,
he lost his balance and fell to the stage. If there had been any walnuts
or things under him, he would have certainly cracked them into fine
pieces, for he came down with force enough to shake the building. The
audience was stricken with horror, but the trapeze performer managed to
get off of the stage and the show went on. The next feature, according to
the programme, was a tumbling act by one of the "Whitney Brothers." Ben
again appeared, with more chalk and paint on his face, and did the act to
the entire satisfaction of the spectators. Then the other Whitney brother,
in the person of Ben, was seen upon the horizontal bar. And finally, Hogan
himself came bowing on to the stage, and was greeted with tremendous
applause, nobody in the house suspecting that he had been seen before. Ben
did several feats, including the breaking of a stone upon his breast, and
the entertainment wound up with a boxing contest between Hogan and one of
the local celebrities. Altogether the show was a big success, and the
audience went home perfectly satisfied.
Ben made some excuse for the non-appearance of the "Whitney Brothers" at
the hotel, and as the show yielded three hundred dollars, it is safe to
assume that the "brothers" got their salaries in full.