THE TIGER AND HIS HAUNTS.
[Illustration]
While gambling of all sorts and conditions is to be strongly deprecated
it is nevertheless a fact that a large percentage of the strangers
who flock to this great city of the West find themselves possessed at
times with a desire to view the feverish scenes of which they have
heard so much. Gambling as a confirmed vice is a terrible affliction.
It frequently happens, however, that men who never dream of gambling at
home, finding themselves with a little superfluous time on their hands
in a strange city, actually yearn for a little of the excitement that
is to be obtained by staking a small sum at a game of chance or skill.
It’s not the amount of money invested or the hope of gain that animates
them; it is the pleasant excitement that the game affords. Such men
usually regard the small sum so risked as so much money thrown away;
and as a matter of fact that is the right way to regard it, for those
who pit their money and skill against gamblers sufficiently educated
to make a living in Chicago possess more nerve than discretion. The
compiler of this little work advises everybody to forego all games
of chance while resident in this city. Confident, however, that with
many people old enough and wise enough to know better this advice will
utterly be disregarded, a few remarks upon the present status of the
gambling fraternity in Chicago may not be thrown away.
In the old days, during the administration of both parties, so far
as one can remember, the gambling industry flourished like the
proverbial green bay tree. The South side, in the business district,
fairly swarmed with “hells” of all descriptions, while the residence
portions of the city were scarcely less favored. Passing along Clark
street on sultry summer evenings, when the heat of the atmosphere
necessitated the opening of doors and windows, the rattle of the chips
and the monotonous voices of the _croupiers_ could be distinctly heard
by the wayfarer. All that, however, is now changed. Mr. Washburne’s
administration, when it came into power, set its face sternly upon
“wide-open” gambling; from the very outset the well-known places were
compelled to close their doors on pain of a raid and the destruction
of their contents. It is, nevertheless, a fact that there are still
a large number of professional gamblers in Chicago--presumably there
always will be--and while there are no notorious houses open the
stranger who is yearning for a little action for his spare cash can be
readily accommodated. The notorious Hankins castle on Clark street is
tightly closed, but every night there may be found in that vicinity any
number of “sporty-looking” gentry who will be only too glad to guide
the inquirer to a secluded spot where he can be accommodated with as
large or as small a game as his inclination may dictate or his means
allow.
[Illustration]
That the sporting fraternity live in hopes of the advent of happier
times is very evident. Costly gambling furniture in large quantities
is stored away in anticipation of the coming into power of a mayor who
will look less rigorously on the “profession.” Mr. Hankins himself is
credited with having paid the rent of $8,000 per year for two years in
advance for his place, which shows his faith in his ultimate ability to
re-open. In the old days Hankins’ place was known as the “dinner-pail”
home, presumably by reason of the large _clientele_ of workingmen,
clerks and other people of small means who deposited their slender
earnings with great regularity in his coffers every Saturday night.
To this day they tell how a wagon used to drive up to the door a few
minutes before ten o’clock every Monday morning and carry away to the
bank the load of silver dollars, halves, quarters and dimes left there
by the patrons of the establishment within the preceding twenty-four
hours. The place in those times was a sight for gods and men. On three
floors games were in progress and the rooms thronged to the suffocating
point with a variegated assortment of humanity, all bent on the one
project--namely, the acquisition of riches on the hazard of the cards
or dice. Should the place ever be re-opened the sight will well repay
a visit, even though it be merely one of curiosity. Nobody who enters
is asked to play, though those who do not are regarded with suspicion.
A few minutes, however, is all that is necessary in which to see all
that is to be seen.
[Illustration]
This description of Hankins’ will serve for any large gambling house.
At the present time, however, the industry is carried on _sub rosa_.
There are two or three places which can be readily discovered by the
curious, where the “boss” gamblers are in the habit of meeting, and,
failing the presence of the common prey, proceed to cheerfully “wolf”
each other. The game chosen is the great American game of poker and a
nervous man is liable to suffer from shortness of breath at the sight
of the bets that are made. There are other places where other games are
carried on, but the visitor, if he is sensible, will steer clear of
any or all of them. The facilities for running such money traps are so
limited and the risk of arrest and punishment so great that the chances
of encountering against a “brace” game are about 100 to 1 against the
patron; the only consideration with the “slick” gentry who manipulate
the games being how to most expeditiously relieve the wayfarer of his
wealth at the least possible risk to themselves. Take the advice of an
old hand and give the polished and gentlemanly professional gambler of
Chicago a very wide berth.
For people of wealth who, afflicted with the speculative mania, desire
a larger field of operations than mere roulette, faro or other trifling
games, such a field is not difficult to find. On the Board of Trade,
where colossal fortunes are sometimes lost and won in an hour, every
facility is offered the stranger who desires to take a “flyer.” Stop in
any commission house and signify your desire to “play” the market. No
introduction is necessary--only sufficient money to “margin” your deal.
For the benefit of the uninitiated the system of speculation in grain
and provisions may be briefly explained.
If you are possessed of a notion that the market price of wheat or
oats is too low to be justified by circumstances and wish to back
your expectation of a rise with money, nothing is more simple of
accomplishment. In that case order your commission man to buy you 5,000
or 10,000 bushels of the commodity you desire to trade in and deposit
whatever sum he demands for margin. Some houses will make trades on a
basis of one cent per bushel margin; but that sort of trading is not
very satisfactory inasmuch as he will sell you out at the first point
or two the market goes against you. The profits or losses on such a
deal are easily figured. An advance of one cent a bushel, over and
above the agent’s commission of ⅛ of a cent for buying and selling,
means a profit of $50.00 from the transaction. A corresponding decline
means a loss of the same amount. But if the speculator thinks that the
article in which he is dealing is too high in price he puts up his
margin and “goes short;” that is to say, he instructs his broker to
_sell_, instead of buying the amount. Sell what one hasn’t got? Well,
that would ordinarily be difficult, but the system of margins enables
you to do it on the Board of Trade. If the price advances after you
have sold “short” you are so much out of pocket; if it goes down you
are so much ahead, less always the commission.
[Illustration]
This is the principle on which a “flyer” may be taken on the Board.
This outside speculation is of course only a feature of the vast
legitimate buying and selling that is daily transacted on the Board;
but it is there, just the same, and it will remain just so long as it
is legal to deal in “futures.” There is a bill now before Congress
making it unlawful to deal in “futures” when those futures affect the
market price of the necessaries of life. If the bill should become a
law it would put a sudden stop to outside speculation on the Chicago
Board of Trade. The proposed measure has awakened such a storm of
opposition, however, that it is hardly likely to go through. Many
people claim that such a law would virtually kill business on the
Board and that it would result in direct disadvantage to the farmer,
for whose benefit it was framed.
Quite aside from the facilities that it presents for a bit of high
speculation the Board of Trade is in itself an interesting place to
visit. The great stone building at the head of La Salle street, where
so many colossal fortunes have been lost and won, is invariably one of
the first places that strangers seek. It is the largest institution
of its kind in the world, being constructed mainly of gray granite.
The height of the tower is 322 feet above the street. Around the great
hall where the daily sessions of the mammoth exchange are held are
galleries to which visitors are admitted free. During periods of great
excitement, caused by a rapid advance or decline in prices, these
galleries are thronged with people who watch with thrilling interest
the half-wild human panorama below. At such times the stranger may be
excused for imagining that Bedlam had broken loose. Groups of brokers
stand about shouting at each other like so many madmen. Messengers are
scurrying hither and thither, and at times the scattering yells break
into a chorused roar beside which the screeching of a dozen locomotives
in unison would seem tame in comparison. The Board of Trade has 2,000
members. The membership fee is $10,000, but the places of members
who die or resign may occasionally be purchased for about half that
amount. While the claim is always made that only legitimate business is
transacted on the Board of Trade the statement cannot be disputed that
it presents the greatest opportunity for high gambling in the whole
world. Perhaps it is not altogether gambling, either, inasmuch as it is
not so much a game of chance as a game of judgment and skill, in which
the cleverest and not the luckiest players come out on top.
However that may be there have been some mighty fortunes won and
lost on the Chicago Board of Trade. There was one memorable Saturday
morning, nearly ten years ago, before the Board moved into its present
quarters, when a dozen houses that had hitherto been regarded as the
most substantial among the substantial went down with a crash. It was
the year of the famous lard corner. Peter McGeoch, the great speculator
and capitalist, tried to buy all the lard in sight. He succeeded in
advancing the price considerably, but the inevitable break came and
lard suddenly declined $3 a tierce. All the other products declined
in sympathy. McGeoch, in the parlance of the day, went broke, and he
dragged a lot of other men with him. Old operators say they never saw
such scenes on the Board as were witnessed that day. Strong men stood
about crying like babies at the sight of their vanishing fortunes,
and even those who were earning thousands of dollars with the flight
of every five minutes stood transfixed with terror lest prices should
suddenly bulge the other way and land _them_ in ruin before they had
time to realize their profits. There was another very similar scene in
the year 1887, when E. L. Harper, President of the Fidelity Bank, of
Cincinnati, tried to “corner” wheat in Chicago. He and the syndicate he
represented came within an ace of success. They ran the price up nearly
15 cents a bushel and had an enormous profit on paper. But there came a
call for more “margins.” Hundreds of thousands of dollars in greenbacks
were shipped to Chicago from Cincinnati, but the sum sent was not big
enough, and before the required amount could be raised the reaction
came. There were rumors one bright morning that a crash was pending.
The crash came and wheat dropped 20 cents a bushel in one hour. The
syndicate was ruined and the very men who had sold “short” and had
risen that morning in the expectation of meeting ruin themselves found
by the same freak of fortune which had overwhelmed their adversaries
that they were enriched by hundreds of thousands of dollars. The
aftermath of that famous corner is history. It was found that Harper
had used the Fidelity Bank’s money as well as his own and the United
States authorities took charge of the institution. Harper was tried and
sent to the penitentiary for ten years.
In order to realize the splendor of such a game one must ponder on the
actual facts. If Harper had been able to raise about $50,000 more (he
had already put up $500,000 in margins) he and his friends would have
cleared millions. As it was they just fell short of the mark and were
irretrievably ruined. But would not any confirmed gamester claim that
such a royal game was worth the risk?
The attempts to run a corner on the Chicago Board of Trade have not
always been unsuccessful. B. P. Hutchinson, an old gentleman who
afterward went to New York as offering a more profitable field for
his operations, was one of the few men who have had money enough to
engineer a “corner,” run it to its end and pocket the enormous profits.
“Old Hutch,” as he was then familiarly named, was credited with losing
a half a million cold dollars in the Harper deal. The gentlemen who got
this money were of course those who sold “short,” and they were said to
be a group of millionaires who “had it in” for “Old Hutch,” and had
laid a trap to catch him. Whether these rumors had any substantiation
in fact the writer knows not. If so, however, it may go on record as
a fact the “Old Hutch” got right royally even with the gentlemen who
“did him up” on this occasion. For a year or so after this Harper
deal he ran a corner in wheat entirely on his own account. It was the
option for the month of November to which he turned his attention. Be
that as it may, he bought all the wheat that was offered him and paid
for it at prices ranging from 90 cents to $1.10. The month drew to a
close. The “bears” had one day in which to fill their contracts to
“Old Hutch” at ruinous prices. They held off and on the last day of
the month, at the expiration of which the men who had sold “short” to
Hutch were compelled to either pay their difference or default (that
is fail), the old gentleman stepped up and bought a single car-load
of wheat at $2.00 per bushel, in order to establish a price, and in,
slang parlance, “that was where he had ’em.” He not only recovered
his losses but milked the alleged clique of millionaires for at least
a million dollars besides. They were able to pay the loss, and “Old
Hutch” went on his way rejoicing. It was whispered about that time
that “Old Hutch’s” intellect went a little awry after this terrible
strain. He disappeared, and the newspapers were full of dire hints as
to the probability of his having wandered off and drowned himself, or
else blown out his brains. He turned up all right in New York, however,
carrying on his operations with the old-time skill and nerve, and is,
presumably, still making more money to leave his sons. A very fat and
interesting volume might be written about Mr. B. P. Hutchinson and his
operations in the Chicago grain market.
The very magnitude of deals like those above described is calculated to
appall the average mind. Let not the reader suppose, however, that the
same opportunities of which the millionaire capitalist avails himself
lie open to every one. Far from it. Unlimited resources and a life-long
familiarity with the intricacies of the market are necessary adjuncts
to the manipulation of a corner. If the wayfarer desires to try his
luck to the extent of a $50 bill, or a $100 bill, or a $1,000 bill--all
well and good. But he is not advised to do so. He would better let it
alone. Only on the supposition that there are some men who cannot keep
out of a glorious game like this are the foregoing hints given.
On the Board of Trade proper nothing smaller than a 5000-bushel lot
of grain or a 250-package lot of provisions can be dealt in. On the
other side of the street, however, is the Open Board of Trade, to the
floor of which strangers are admitted free, and where one may deal in
1000-bushel or even 500-bushel lots. Here is a place where quick action
may be had for one’s money. The intending speculator may make his deal,
watch the blackboard, close out and walk away $50 richer or $50 poorer,
as the case may be, inside of ten minutes. The speculator takes big
chances--he must never forget that he is playing against a certainty
of a loss of ⅛ of a cent a bushel (the commission), but the profits,
if there are any, are handsome. So are the losses. That, however, is
merely information. If you are wise stay away from it, but if you must
go in take an old-timer’s advice and go slow.
In addition to the two Boards of Trade there are numerous
“bucket-shops” all over town where the stranger can, if he chooses,
relieve himself of his wealth without the trouble of a visit to either
Boards. A bucket-shop is a snap commission house which claims to
operate on the Board of Trade quotations. Their existence is forbidden
by law, but plenty are to be found, nevertheless. The quotations
come over a “ticker.” The customer buys or sells grain or stocks at
a certain price, reports his “margins” and awaits events. In an
hour at the outside he will get “action” for his money. There are
some bucket-shops that ignore the Board of Trade and carry on their
operations by telegraphic quotations from the New York Stock Exchange.
If the customer, therefore, would rather operate in Wall street than on
the Chicago Board he can readily be accommodated.
The Chicago Stock Exchange, located at the corner of Dearborn and
Monroe, is a comparatively new institution but one that flourishes
exceedingly. It is devoted to the purchase and sale of Chicago
securities of all sorts, such as bank and street railway shares,
stocks, bonds, etc. Several of the banking and commission houses
connected therewith have private wires to the New York Stock Exchange
and if their customers grow weary of “playing” Chicago securities,
which do not often fluctuate largely or rapidly, they can be
transported to Wall street as quickly as the telegram can transmit the
deal they wish to make.
And here the chapter on gambling may be brought to a close. It is
only presented as showing the opportunities that the city affords for
those of speculative tendencies, and once again the author, conscious
of having performed his task with all the conscientiousness at his
command, gratuitously advises the reader to let gambling of all sorts
and conditions severely alone during such time as he may remain in
Chicago. For, while a few may win, the vast majority lose. Always
remember that.
As the bully of the school said when the new boy licked him within an
inch of his life, “’Nuff said.”