ADAM WORTH
When the American Civil War was going none too well for the Northern
States, President Lincoln, who was determined not to introduce
conscription until he was absolutely compelled to, offered a special
bounty of one thousand dollars (about £200) to every fit man who would
volunteer to serve "for the duration of the war." We all know now that
even the generous bounty failed to solve the recruiting problem, and
that conscription had eventually to be resorted to, but for a time that
thousand dollar offer elicited numerous responses, and amongst the men
it brought into the army was a young clerk of the name of Adam Worth.
Worth was just under twenty, smooth-tongued, clever, self-willed, born
to command, and, if physically small, his muscles were as strong as
fine steel, while the dark, glittering eyes and the prominent nose
were traces of his German-Jewish ancestry. He received his thousand
dollars, donned the uniform of the Northern Army, and then deserted, to
re-enlist later in another regiment and receive another bounty.
Such was the beginning of the greatest and most successful criminal
career the world has ever known. In his school days Adam Worth had
been cheated by another and a bigger boy offering him a new penny for
two old ones. When the child was told of the loss he had sustained he
resolved he would never be "done" again, and he certainly recovered
those two pennies millions of times before he died.
Does crime pay? Those who really know are certain that it does not,
but there are a few who doubt. Well, here is the story of a man who
stole in all quite £500,000, and who must have averaged close on twenty
thousand pounds a year during his active life. We shall see what
happened to him.
Satisfied for a while with the second bounty, Adam Worth took part in
several of the later battles of the great Civil War. There is no record
that he distinguished himself, but, on the other hand, he performed
his duties satisfactorily, and participated in the rejoicings which
followed the triumph of the North. Along with thousands of others, he
was discharged from the army when hostilities ceased, and as one of
the men who had fought for his country was assured of remunerative
employment. But Adam Worth's ideas of money were too big to be
honest, and he quickly drifted into the society of thieves. He turned
pickpocket, and achieved some very neat thefts. Then he took part in
a robbery from a bank. He directed the operations, and their success
confirmed what most of his associates were slowly realizing--that Adam
Worth and success went hand in hand. Gradually they began to treat him
with respect; afterwards they looked up to him as their leader. New
methods were needed, and Worth supplied them.
"It's just as easy to steal a hundred thousand dollars as a tenth of
that sum," he said to his criminal associates. "The risk is just as
great. We'll, therefore, go out for big money always."
[Illustration: ADAM WORTH]
He introduced the system of utilizing the proceeds, or part of them,
of one robbery to help to bring off the next. Hitherto the average
thief was accustomed to spend his ill-gotten gains in dissipation, and
then look about for a way of filling his empty pockets. Adam Worth
changed all that. He realized that crime must be capitalized if it was
to be successful and to pay large dividends. One robbery, for example,
brought in about ten thousand dollars, and he distributed only half
of this amongst his followers, the balance being held in reserve for
another bank burglary, and the reserve was frequently added to.
Worth's foresight was justified immediately. He had despatched
confederates all over the United States to seek out likely banks to
rob; and, when one of them reported that the Boyston Bank, in Boston,
was just the thing they were looking for, Worth journeyed from New York
to inspect. He was delighted with what he saw, for it seemed to him
the bank was built purposely for him. With proper care it would be the
easiest job of his life, and he saw to it that every care was taken to
ensure success.
Next door to the Boyston Bank was a barber's shop. It did a good
business, and had Worth not possessed considerable monetary reserves
he would never have been able to induce the proprietor to sell out.
The crook, however, offered him a generous sum down "on the nail,"
explaining that he was the representative of a New York company which
was going to introduce into Boston a patent bitters which would
sweep all other patent bitters out of the market. The money and
the explanation were accepted, and within a few days the necessary
alterations had been made.
The shop window was packed with bottles--which prevented anyone
seeing into the shop--and a wooden partition at the end of the shop
effectively screened that part from observation should a stray
"customer" appear. One of the gang, dressed as a shop assistant, was
always on view during the day, but at night he assisted Adam Worth and
two other men to dig a tunnel under the shop and into the bank next
door. For a week they worked, taking particular care that no trace
of their operations could be seen. The excavated earth was carefully
piled up behind the wooden partition and watched as though it was gold.
Thousands of Bostonians passed the window of the New Patent Bitters Co.
unconscious of the fact that one of the most sensational bank robberies
of the century was being carried out, for when the gang had finished
their tunnel they entered the vaults of the bank, broke open three
safes, and gathered a rich harvest of gold and silver and notes, worth
in all close on one million dollars.
The four burglars at once fled to New York, and there they divided the
spoils, later scattering when they heard that the Boston police were
after them. One of the thieves went to Ireland, another to Canada,
Worth and the fourth member of the gang, Bullard, sailed for England to
open up a new and sensational chapter in the story of crime.
Of course, they could not go by their own names. Bullard called himself
Charles Wells, and Adam Worth took the name of Harry Raymond. He made
it notorious before he finished with it.
The two American crooks put up at one of the best hotels in Liverpool,
intending to take things lazily for a few weeks, but Adam Worth's
restless nature would not permit him to keep his hands off other
people's property even when he was possessed of forty thousand
pounds--his share, after expenses had been paid, of the raid on the
bank at Boston. His confederate fell in love with a barmaid at the
hotel, and spent most of his time in her company, leaving Worth to
wander about the city, ever on the look out for a likely crib to crack.
It was typical of the man that he should regard Charles Bullard's
love-making with contempt, because it caused him to neglect business.
Bullard could see no reason why they should take any more risks until
their money was gone, but Worth looked upon crime as a profession
which must be pursued day after day, no matter how large the profits.
Anyhow, he left Bullard to himself. Whenever possible Worth preferred
to work on his own, for that meant more for him.
At last he found what he wanted. There was a pawnbroker's shop in one
of the principal streets of the city which, judging by its window
display, must be bulging with jewellery. Adam Worth decided to burgle
it, and to secure a wax impression of the key of the front door he
called three times within a fortnight to pawn certain articles. He
was disguised, of course, for he had to engage the pawnbroker in
conversation in order to get an opportunity to press the bit of wax
concealed in his left palm against the key, which the pawnbroker
sometimes left lying on his counter. On the occasion of his third
visit Worth secured the right impression and it cost the unfortunate
tradesman twenty-five thousand pounds, for that was the value of the
goods missing when he arrived at his establishment one morning and
found that it had been entered the previous night.
Worth now decided to visit London. Liverpool was not big enough for
a man of his capacity, and, in addition, he was growing rather tired
of Bullard, who had married the beautiful barmaid. He advised the
newly-married pair to make Paris their headquarters, and they took
his advice. Then Worth came to London and rented a costly flat in the
centre of Piccadilly. He had now over sixty thousand pounds in hand,
all of which he devoted to his profession.
His flat became a regular meeting-place for all the noted thieves of
England and the Continent, as well as those select crooks who came from
America to interview the greatest of them all. Worth had his own staff
of well-trained servants, all of whom could be trusted, and with his
large funds he was always in a position to finance any big job. Thieves
came to him for advice and help. Was there a bank official to be
bribed or a skeleton key to be made? Adam Worth solved both problems.
Did a particular job require the services of an expert burglar or
forger? Adam Worth had a large supply of either on hand. He knew where
to find the right man for every job, and in return for his services he
received a goodly percentage of the profits.
The London police were amazed at the long series of burglaries which
began with Adam Worth's arrival in London. Each one of them was carried
out so neatly that they were plainly the work of a master. But who was
the master? Could it be possible that the American gentleman who lived
such an open life in the very centre of fashionable London was actually
the leader of a gang of burglars? If he was, surely one of his gang
would betray him? The police could obtain no proof, and Adam Worth kept
them so busy investigating his depredations that they had very little
time to devote to his personality.
He planned the robbery of the French mail between Boulogne and
Folkestone that resulted in a loss to the Post Office of thirty
thousand pounds. Adam Worth provided keys to fit the vans and the boxes
containing the registered parcels, and on another occasion actually
sent a couple of expert train thieves down to Dover with an exact
duplicate of the registered mail bag, everything being on a par with
the original, even to the minute figures on the seal. That robbery
brought in about twenty thousand pounds, and it was only one of many.
Indeed, every case Adam Worth touched turned to gold. Everybody who
knew him regarded him as their mascot, and his own personality did the
rest.
He was generous to his followers in good and bad times. When any of
them were down on their luck they came to Worth, and were helped
with presents of money running into hundreds of pounds. In this way
he bought them body and soul, keeping a register of their names and
abilities, and calling them up for active service when he required them.
All this went on from that luxurious flat in Piccadilly. Now and then
Adam Worth took a trip abroad, intending to rest, but he always came
back to London with more money than he had gone away with. It was quite
impossible for him to resist temptation.
Amongst Worth's most trusted followers was an American, Charles Becker,
the very greatest forger who ever lived, not even excepting the famous
"Jim the Penman." Worth retained Becker as his principal forger, and at
his London headquarters the master criminal got Becker and three other
men together, where a great campaign was planned. Coutts's Bank was
selected as the principal victim, and Becker, with marvellous skill,
forged a number of letters of credit purporting to be issued by the
London bank.
Worth supplied the four men with plenty of money to begin their tour,
advancing sufficient cash until they could pass their letters of
credit, when they would return the money with interest. The gang got
as far as Smyrna without mishap, and all seemed to be going well. But
one evening when they were gambling at their hotel they were pounced
upon by the local police and taken to prison. They had no chance at
their trial, and they were sentenced to seven years' penal servitude,
and lodged in a horrible prison at Constantinople to serve their time.
But Charles Becker, not to mention the others, was too valuable to Adam
Worth to be allowed to pass seven long years in a Turkish prison. Worth
disappeared from Piccadilly for a time, turning up in Constantinople
in the guise of an American millionaire making the grand tour. A few
months passed, and Adam Worth's friends were still on the worse side
of the prison walls, but the master-criminal was only taking his own
time to achieve success. Had he hurried he might have bungled his
plans. Turkish officials are easy to bribe, but the right ones must be
selected, and everything must be done with dignified slowness.
Worth had thousands of pounds in his trunk, and these he distributed
judiciously amongst the heads of the police and the principal official
of the prison.
When his task was completed he departed from Constantinople, and the
same evening three out of the four members of his gang escaped from
prison. The fourth man happened to be weak and ill, and he could not
get away in time. The three convicts endured many hardships following
their escape. They had to go into Asia in order to reach Europe by a
roundabout route, but while travelling through Asia Minor they had
the misfortune to fall into the hands of bandits, who held them to
ransom, although it was apparent that they were penniless convicts.
The brigands, however, permitted one of them, Joe Elliott, to go to
England and communicate with their friends, and a month was allowed for
the payment of the ransoms. Of course, Elliott went straight to Adam
Worth's flat in Piccadilly, and when he told his story Worth drew a
cheque for a couple of thousand pounds, and sent Elliott with the cash
to release his comrades. A few weeks later they were all back in London
again to take a "breather" before resuming their attacks on the banks.
All this leads up to the theft of the famous Gainsborough picture, "The
Duchess of Devonshire," for if Charles Becker had not escaped from the
Turkish prison the circumstances would not have arisen which inspired
Adam Worth to steal it. Becker, soon after his return to London, forged
a series of cheques, the proceeds of which were taken to the Continent
to be exchanged for French and German banknotes. But one of the men
commissioned by Worth to act as his agent in the disposal of the notes
was arrested and brought back to England to face the serious charge
of forgery. This person, who passed under the name of Thompson, was an
intimate friend of his chiefs, and Worth swore that he would get him
released on bail pending his trial. Of course, the American crook would
then have decamped, and if necessary Adam Worth would have recompensed
the man who went bail for the money he would forfeit.
But the English law requires a householder of good reputation to bail
a prisoner, and Worth was not in a position to command the services
of one. There was nothing to do but to see if he could not compel a
wealthy and well-known Londoner to bail out Thompson.
He was racking his brains for a way out of the impasse when happening
to be walking down Bond Street with an English thief, Jack Phillips,
known to his intimates as "Junka" they were impeded by a crowd of
fashionable folk who were entering an art gallery. The two thieves
inquired what was the attraction which had filled Bond Street with
carriages, and they were told that the famous Gainsborough was on
view in Messrs. Agnew's art gallery, they having bought it a few days
previously for the sum of ten thousand guineas.
"Why, that's the very thing, Junka," whispered Worth, with glittering
eyes. "We'll steal the picture and offer to return it to Agnew's if
they will stand bail for Thompson. They won't dare refuse, for they'll
realize that we could easily destroy the picture if they did."
Phillips argued, for the plan struck him as preposterous, but Worth
insisted, and he brought Joe Elliott, the man who had been captured
with the other escaped convicts by the Turkish bandits, into the
conspiracy.
Three nights later there was a fog, and Phillips, Elliott, and Worth
went to Bond Street, where Phillips, who was very tall, stood under
the window of the room where the picture was, and Adam Worth, who
was small and wiry, climbed on to his shoulders, and in a few moments
was in the gallery. It was the work of a couple of minutes to cut the
picture from its frame, roll it up, and pass it down to Phillips, while
Joe Elliott kept guard fifty yards away to notify the movements of the
policeman on duty.
The programme was carried out without the slightest hitch, and the next
morning London and the world was provided with one of its greatest
sensations. That was May 26, 1876, and despite the efforts of the best
brains of Scotland Yard, backed by a huge reward, Messrs. Agnew did
not see their valuable picture again for twenty-six years. Then Adam
Worth, a prematurely aged man, broken in health and penniless, returned
the picture through the Pinkertons for part of the original reward. He
wanted the money to provide his two children with a home and to ensure
a little peace for himself before he died.
But a great deal happened between that May morning in 1876 and Adam
Worth's sudden death in 1902. The theft of the picture proved useless,
because Thompson, the prisoner, was released and allowed to leave the
country owing to a flaw in the indictment. He had been extradited on
the wrong charge and had, therefore, to be set at liberty. When he
heard this Worth had the canvas concealed in the false bottom of a
trunk and taken to America, and during the ensuing quarter of a century
it rested in furniture depositories in Boston, New York and Brooklyn.
There it remained whilst Adam Worth rose to the greatest heights a
professional criminal has ever reached, and there it was when he fell
into the depths.
Two years after the theft of the Gainsborough, Worth, with several
trusted followers, robbed the express train between Calais and Paris
of bonds worth thirty thousand pounds. The money was needed, as by
now Worth had bought a beautiful steam yacht, which he called the
_Shamrock_, and in addition to maintaining it and a crew of twenty
men, he turned racehorse owner and took out a licence to race in
England. He was at his zenith now, and hundreds of persons who met the
well-dressed, spruce little man with the engaging personality never
suspected for a moment that they were in the presence of the King of
Crooks.
Adam Worth adapted himself to any circumstances that arose, but behind
the smooth face there was an evil soul, always planning attacks on
society, always on the lookout to thieve and burgle and forge. And the
stately yacht rode at anchor in the harbour at Cowes, and its owner
raced his horses, gave dinner-parties, went to the opera, and lived the
life of a man whose wealth frees him from many of the sordid cares of
life.
The marvel of it is that it lasted as long as it did. Adam Worth was
always taking risks. Frequently he would go for a pleasure trip in his
yacht and every port he touched had reason to regret the visit, for it
meant that some one lost thousands of pounds. Each visit was celebrated
with a burglary or a successful raid on a local bank by means of a
forged cheque.
His feats were many, and it is difficult to know which of them to
select here, for volumes could be written about the master-criminal.
On one occasion he was carrying twenty thousand pounds' worth of
diamonds--stolen, of course--to America to sell, when a number of
thefts were committed on board the ship. Worth was innocent, for he
never stooped to robbing cabins, but he was afraid lest he should be
searched and his stolen goods found upon him. He, therefore, left the
ship at the earliest possible moment, and boarded a train for a distant
part of America. But even then he left nothing to chance, and he
concealed his booty in the carriage, deciding it was too dangerous to
carry about.
Sure enough he was arrested and, when he had proved his innocence of
complicity in the thefts aboard ship, was released. Then he set to
work to track down the carriage in which he had hidden his diamonds,
and after some trouble found it in a siding. Late that night he forced
his way into the carriage, and recovered the valuables. It is safe to
say that not another thief in the world would have carried out such a
programme so successfully.
But it was in the diamond fields of South Africa that Adam Worth,
alias, Harry Raymond, was at his best. He was driven to visit Africa by
the uncomfortable fact that the English police were watching him very
closely; indeed, they had gone so far as to place a detective outside
his house day and night to report every visitor. This was unbearable,
and Worth, who required more money, sent for an old friend, Charles
King, and together they travelled to Cape Town.
Worth was after a really big thing this time, and he told his companion
that he was not going to be satisfied with anything under one hundred
thousand pounds. His first plan was to take what he wanted by simply
turning highwayman. He discovered that every week a consignment of
diamonds was sent from the De Beer mines in a coach, which was driven
by an armed Boer, assisted by a guard. Along with King and another
man, Worth delivered the attack, but the old Boer driver was not to be
cowed, and he drove them off with his rifle.
The failure of the plan sent King out of the country in a panic, and
the other man decamped too. But Adam Worth was not dismayed. He knew
that if he persevered he must win in the long run, and now, although
he would have to act entirely on his own, he became convinced that
there was another and a better way to rob the weekly parcel of valuable
stones.
As has been described, the diamonds were brought from the mines to the
Cape Town post office in a coach, but they were not kept in the post
office longer than it took to make a note of the address, for every
week the steamer was waiting in the harbour to convey the precious
packet to England. It was, however, absolutely necessary to the success
of Worth's plans for that parcel to remain at least one night in the
post office in Cape Town. How could he manage that? It was a stiff
problem to tackle.
He provided himself with the duplicates of the post office keys,
particularly of the safes in which the registered letters were kept.
This in itself was a great achievement, but it would take too long to
tell the full story of how he ingratiated himself with the postmaster
and secured the wax impressions. That was only half the work. It was
more important that he should prevent the coach reaching Cape Town in
time for the steamer. Worth went over the route taken by the coach, and
he was delighted to find a spot where it had to cross a deep stream
by means of a ferry. This was the crook's opportunity. He hid in the
neighbourhood until it was dark, and then he cut the rope which held
the ferry to the bank. When the coach arrived from the diamond fields
the ferry had floated a long way down the stream, and when it was
recovered and the stream crossed the driver must have known that only
by a miracle could he catch the mail that week. The miracle did not
happen, and the steamer had already sailed when the coach arrived.
The parcel of diamonds had to be left in the safe at the post office,
to which Adam Worth had a perfect key, and when he had first opened the
safe he had seen twenty thousands pounds' worth and more of valuables,
and had refused to touch them. What was the use of twenty thousand
pounds to a man who wanted five times that amount, and who could obtain
it by waiting a few days?
The authorities did not regard the delay to the coach as serious, and
no extra guard was placed upon the safe in which the parcel reposed,
and at the proper time Worth had only to enter the building, open the
safe, and take out a collection of diamonds worth a hundred and fifty
thousand pounds. It was a theft which can be described as a masterpiece
in its own line.
Once in possession of the diamonds Adam Worth was in no hurry to
convert them into cash. He knew that everybody leaving the country
would be under suspicion, and so he trekked inland, posing as a
merchant in ostrich feathers. Before he left Cape Town he buried the
diamonds, and it was many weeks ere he and a confederate--who came
from America purposely to help to smuggle the diamonds out of the
country--returned to recover them. When it was deemed safe Worth and
his friend took them to Australia and eventually to England.
This "scoop" did not lessen Worth's appetite for plunder. Other
burglaries were quickly organized, and Charles Becker was busily
employed forging cheques on banks in England and France. One of these
resulted in a friend of Worth's being arrested and convicted, and Worth
himself avenged his confederate by robbing the banker who had given
evidence of so much money as to bring about his ruin.
But the day came when Adam Worth was caught. He and another thief were
robbing the registered mail in Belgium when Worth's comrade made a
stupid mistake, and his chief was arrested. He received a sentence of
seven years' penal servitude, and he served the time, although he was
twice offered his freedom if he would reveal the whereabouts of the
Gainsborough he had stolen several years previously. Worth, however,
would not trust the word of those who made the offers, and it was
not until he emerged from prison, wrecked in health and financially
crippled, that he turned to the Pinkertons, the famous American
detective agency, and consented on terms to surrender the famous
painting.
He was then approaching the sixties, and there can be no doubt that
he had lost his nerve. For nearly forty years he had warred against
society with only one defeat, but that defeat finished him. With the
money the Agnews paid for the return of the picture, "Little Adam "--as
he was affectionately known to his friends--provided his family with a
home.
All his life he had been devoted to his relatives, and he worshipped
his wife and children. They never knew that he was a professional
criminal, and even to-day they are unaware of the real character of the
husband and parent beside whose grave they mourned nineteen years ago.
Adam Worth had his good points, for his motto was that thieves should
be honest amongst themselves. He never resorted to violence, and he
never betrayed a friend, and we know that he was good to his family
according to his own lights. He was a danger to society, however, and
all we can wonder at now is that he was permitted to plunder it with
impunity for so many years. But genius will overcome any difficulty,
and the genius of Adam Worth was something which raise his doings out
of the commonplace.
Yet, when all is said and done, the King of Crooks realized before he
died that crime does not pay.