Ben in Canada--He goes West again--Adventures in Cincinnati,
Nashville, and Louisville--How he Sold the Colored Troops--Sets out
for the Oil Regions.
On his way to the Canadian border, Ben met with an interesting little
adventure. He was accosted on the boat which took him to Albany by a
gentlemanly appearing fellow, who showed him "a peculiar kind of a
tobacco-box" which he had just invented. He showed how it worked--how very
simple it was to open it--and to prove its simpleness, offered to bet Ben
twenty-five dollars that he couldn't open it in a given time.
It is almost needless to explain that this was the skin game which has
since become familiar to everybody. It was fresher in those days, however,
and as Ben had never seen the "racket," he bet with the stranger. Of
course he lost his money. But instead of getting mad about it, he resolved
to get even by bleeding somebody else. He offered the man ten dollars more
for the box, and having been shown how it operated, he put it in his
pocket for future use.
On the train from Albany, Ben ran across a verdant merchant with plenty of
money, took out the box, and in about ten minutes' time had relieved him
of a hundred dollars in cash. Then the merchant suggested that he would
like to get his money back in some way, and proposed to act as "capper"
while they fleeced somebody else. Hogan agreed to share with him, and
before very long the first victim brought up a second one to be fleeced.
From this individual the peculiar little tobacco-box won a hundred and
fifty dollars. The capper pretended to sympathize with the loser, and Ben,
meantime, strolled into the smoking-car, with all the money in his pocket.
At the first station it became absolutely necessary for him to get off the
train; and somehow he forgot all about dividing the hundred and fifty
dollars with the capper.
Resuming his journey on the next train, our hero reached Kingston, Canada
West, in good spirits. Almost upon the day of his arrival he stood on the
street paring his finger-nails, when a mutton-chop whiskered Canadian, who
was standing near by, drawled out with a very strong English accent:
"Ah--you Yankees are always picking your--ah--nails, and looking about for
a chance--ah--to swindle somebody out of his--ah--money!"
"Vat vas dot you vas say?" demanded Ben, looking up from his nails, and
assuming the German dialect; "I vas no Yankee--I vas a Deutcherman, yost
comes ober!"
The Canadian looked in surprise, but Ben gave him undoubted proofs of his
acquaintance with the German language, so that in the end he apologized
for having mistaken the "Deutcherman" for a "blawsted Yankee."
"Yaw," continued Ben, "I vas a Deutcher lad, und I comes here to open a
shimernasium!"
"A what?" asked the Canadian, looking puzzled.
"A shimernasium--mit clubs and dumber-bells und all dot!"
"O, a gymnasium, you mean," said the Canadian, smiling. "Well, perhaps, I
can be of some service to you."
He was as good as his word, and introduced Ben to a number of citizens
interested in physical culture, Lawyer Snooks among others. Through the
influence of these gentlemen, Hogan opened a gymnasium in the skating
rink. He found the Canadians, however, not over-generous in their
patronage. An arrangement was finally made by which he was to instruct the
students and others who came to him for five weeks without pay. At the end
of that time he was to receive a benefit, and the proceeds, it was agreed,
should be devoted to the improvement of the gymnasium. In good time this
benefit came off, and a big success it was. Ben delivered a speech, and
one of the priests spoke in warm praise of "Mr. Hogan, who had done so
much for physical education." The affair yielded five hundred dollars in
gold.
After duly meditating upon the subject, it occurred to Ben that, instead
of applying this money he had himself earned to a gymnasium, it would be a
good deal wiser to apply it to the improvement of himself, and he
accordingly left Kingston, intending, one day, to return. Up to the
present writing, however, he has not thought proper to do so.
Passing through Rochester, Ben set his face toward the West. He spent a
short time in Chicago and from there made his way to Cincinnati. In that
city he soon became known. He was a teacher of boxing in the gymnasium at
Fourth and Ray streets, and fulfilled an engagement at the Palace
Varieties, doing the stone-breaking feat and heavy lifting.
A performance was got up for his benefit by Messrs. Ashure & Peterson, the
agreement being that Ben was to receive the money for all tickets sold
outside, while the box-office receipts were to go to the managers. Ben
hired a dozen men, well known about town, giving them a hundred tickets
each; and the result was that, although the house was packed, the
box-office didn't see any of the money. Hogan pocketed seven hundred and
fifty dollars, and Messrs. Ashure & Peterson were thankful to get one
hundred and fifty. It was at this performance that a stone weighing eight
hundred pounds was broken on Hogan's breast--a feat which has never been
equaled.
Falling in with Bill Sparks, Ben went to Nashville at this time, and
opened a show under canvas next to the St. Cloud Hotel. The attractions
offered were the cannon-ball throwing of Sparks, and the feats of strength
and sparring by Hogan. So successful did this show prove that the receipts
averaged between fifty and sixty dollars a day. Ben, however, was not
satisfied with this comfortable income, and he looked about for other
sources of money-making. A fat thing turned up in the Provost-Marshal's
office--he got the handling of all the Government goods that passed
through that official's hands--and it was by no means an uncommon
occurrence for Ben to pocket an odd thousand dollars fairly made.
Meantime, he had gained an extensive reputation as a boxer, and this he
turned to good account by joining with Dan Striker in a glove-fight,
professedly for five hundred dollars. Striker appeared as the champion of
the Emerald Isle, and was announced as the "Irish Giant;" while Hogan
became the champion of his native country, appearing on the bills as
"Benedict, the German Hercules." Intense excitement prevailed over the
proposed contest. The city divided itself into two elements, the Irish
population backing Striker, and the Germans swearing by "Benedict."
Allen's New Theatre was secured for the exhibition, and when the night
came the house was packed from pit to dome.
As the reader may readily imagine, the "fight" was pre-arranged, it being
agreed that each man should score an equal number of knock-downs.
Accordingly, the "Irish Giant" and the "German Hercules" each went down
six times, and the excitement among the spectators became so great that
words led to blows and a general fight ensued. Meantime, Ben and Striker
cleared out of the theatre, carrying with them fourteen hundred dollars as
the result of the venture.
While at Nashville, Ben also made a handsome sum by introducing certain
famous gamblers to army officers, who were willing to pay liberally for
the sake of opening wine with such sports. Whatever else they might have
done while in the company of these agreeable persons is their business,
not ours. Were the names to be given of these officers it would create a
scandal which might injure their fair reputations, and so they are
withheld.
We next find Hogan in Louisville. This was in the year 1865, just after
the close of the war, and the city was filled with troops waiting to be
mustered out. Among others was a negro brigade, which appeared to offer
excellent material for our hero to work upon.
It happened that Ben ran across an agent from New York who had a large
stock of advertising bills, made to look very much like a greenback. These
were something new in those days, and had suggested a plan of operation to
the agent. Ten dollars would have bought up the entire stock, which filled
a good-sized satchel. With it he went to the quarters of the negro
brigade, and offered to "stand in" with the officers if they would give
him permission to exchange his "small bills" for the ones of larger
denomination paid to the soldiers.
This offer being accepted, the agent stationed himself at the point where
the negroes were paid off, and as they passed along in line, shouted out
to them:
"Here you are, now. Anybody who wants small bills, step right up and get
'em changed!"
As the negroes had received their money in tens, twenties, &c., and as
most of them wanted to use smaller amounts at once, they pressed about the
accommodating stranger, crying:
"Yah you are, Massa, suah nuff! Done gwine me some o' dat small change,
mighty quick?"
He did give it to 'em "mighty quick." The "greenbacks" were done up into
packages of ten, twenty, fifty and a hundred dollars, and in an amazingly
short time he had exchanged the entire lot of advertising notes for good
money.
This little episode made it convenient for him to get out of the city.
Doubtless the newspapers of Louisville will remember the affair, inasmuch
as they devoted a good deal of space to it at the time. It may interest
them to learn that the hero of the adventure set out at once for home,
after having lost all his money to Ben before he had time to divide the
spoils with the colored officers.
The job netted about twenty thousand dollars, and with this amount of
money in his pocket Ben struck Chicago. Everybody was spending money
freely in those days, but Hogan discounted the world. He "dropped" every
dollar of his "boodle" in sixty days. How did he do it? That is more than
I can tell. A hundred dollars for wine here, and five hundred for suppers
there. Champagne suppers, faro--anything and everything which enters into
the career of a high-toned sport when he is flush. That explains in part
how the money went. Certain it is that it did go, in some manner, and at
the end of the sixty days there was not a bank note left of the twenty
thousand dollars.
It will be observed, therefore, that Ben added to the prosperity of
Chicago by putting this money into rapid circulation. There would never
have been any panic, you know, if everybody had spent money as freely. And
so always goes ill-gotten gain.
His jolly spree in Chicago over, our hero set out for his old home,
Syracuse. On the cars he ran across an acquaintance named Jim O'Neil, who
hailed from Liverpool, a suburb of Syracuse.
"Where you bound for?" asked Ben.
"For the oil regions," was the answer.
"The oil regions--where's that?"
"Why, in Pennsylvania, of course. More life there than anywhere else in
the world. Just the place for a fellow like you. Mints of money!"
This brief conversation set Ben to thinking. He made up his mind that the
oil country was, in truth, just the place for a fellow like him, and he
further resolved that he would go there as soon as he could.
He continued his journey to Syracuse, and a day or two after his arrival
in that city fell in with a friend whom we will call Burke. This friend
had just finished a term in the penitentiary, and like our hero, he was
anxiously looking about for something to do. Burke wasn't exactly a saint,
as may be surmised from the fact that he had just got out of prison. He
was, in fact, a tough nut, and a fellow who took any kind of risks for the
sake of putting through a job.
Ben proposed to Burke that they should get out for the oil regions
together.
"But I'm broke!" said Burke.
"Well, raise what you can," answered Ben, "and I'll do the same."
Accordingly, that night the two adventurers put their wits to work, and
the next day took the train for Buffalo. It need only be said that Burke
improved the time so well that he carried with him a gold watch and chain.
Whether some Christian gentleman made him a present of this, or whether he
found it on the sidewalk, is not recorded. He had it, at all events, and
with the money thus raised, the two friends reached Pit Hole, Pa., after
encountering numerous adventures, and traveling the last forty miles on
horse and foot.