Chapter XII: Local Gambling (1)

Like all kindred vices, gambling flourishes best in large cities. Centres of commerce are also centres of speculation, and the man whose brain has been busy all day in the consideration of perplexing problems of trade finds it easy to transfer the theatre of his ventures from the counting room to the gambling hell. There is, besides, a class of men,—and notably of men engaged in the learned professions—who claim that they find at the faro or poker table a relaxation and a healthful amusement. It is unnecessary to point out the fallacy of such a view. Any recreation the nature of which is to stimulate some of the most ignoble of the passions that sway the human heart, to debauch the morals and to work the ruin of those who have resort to it, can scarcely be characterized as legitimate, far less as innocent or healthful.

Moreover, the transient population in every metropolitan city is enormous, and strangers are regarded by professional sharpers as their peculiar prey. The holding of a fair, the assembling of an encampment, in a word, the gathering of any great crowd draws gamblers to a town as a carcass attracts vultures. Hence it is that the gambling element becomes a power, both pecuniary and political, in large cities. Professional cheats are numerous; they band themselves together for purposes both offensive and defensive, and their cunning is matched only by their rapacity. None know better than they that it is entirely within the power of the municipal authorities to prevent the successful conduct of their nefarious calling. It follows that they must have a tacit understanding with the latter, in order that they may enjoy what they denominate “police protection.” In other words, officials sworn to enforce the laws must be induced to “protect” those who openly violate them! The influences brought to bear to accomplish this end are multiform, but may be resolved into three general categories. Money is freely used, and the acceptance of a bribe places the receiver within the power of the payer; political influence is also employed, liberal subscriptions being made to the campaign funds of both parties, but besides these two agencies there is yet a third. The professional gambler has an intimate acquaintance with the criminal classes; he knows their movements and their haunts, and more than one arrest which the public considers as “unusually clever” is made upon information given to the detectives by men who are willing to hand over a friend to the gallows in consideration of their own immunity from interference. The statements regarding local gambling contained in this chapter are in part based upon the personal knowledge and in part upon trustworthy information derived from authentic sources.

GAMBLING IN CHICAGO.

Among the most prominent gamblers in Chicago in the early ’40’s were George C. Rhodes, the Smith brothers—George, Charles and Montague—Conant (familiarly known as “King Cole,”) John Sears, Cole Martin, Walt Winchester, Blangy and Curtis. Some of these men lasted until a few years ago, but I believe that at present few of them survive. The last one to conduct business in Chicago was George (nick-named “One-Lung”) Smith, who not many years ago ran a handsomely equipped establishment on State street, opposite the Palmer House. He was a gambler of the old school, fond of “high rolling,” and fearless even to recklessness. On leaving Chicago he went to New York, where he passed through all the varying vicissitudes of a gambler’s life. One day a run of luck filled his coffers to overflowing; perhaps within a week his losses had reduced him almost to penury. He died gambling on borrowed capital; using money loaned him by men who retained confidence in him because of their knowledge of his abstemious habits and his long (if unsuccessful) experience.

In those early days faro had not attained its present popularity, and in some houses whole days might pass without anything but “short games” being played. In the latter case, however, ten per cent of the stakes went to the proprietors as a percentage, or “rake-off” due the house. Brag, poker, seven-up, cribbage and even whist were favorites, and in some rooms chess, checkers and backgammon were occasionally played, the proprietors, however, invariably receiving their stipulated proportion of the wagers. The roulette wheel did not make its appearance until after 1850, and hazard, “stud” poker, the “big wheel,” twenty one, rouge-et-noir, the “squeeze spindle” and high ball poker are of comparatively recent introduction.

John Sears was another of the “old time sports,” whose commanding figure, attired richly but in perfect taste, was formerly a familiar figure upon Chicago streets. He was a singularly handsome man, of jovial and generous temperament, and with faultless manners, the latter characteristic being perhaps partially traceable to his French descent. Possessed of a fair education, he was very fond of reading, and was well versed in the writings of the standard poets. He adored Shakespeare and worshipped Burns. He was an entertaining conversationalist, and was fond of interspersing choice and apt poetical quotations with funny stories, of which he had an inexhaustible fund. His friends (and their roll numbered many, outside gamblers’ ranks) loved him dearly. He enjoyed the reputation of being a thoroughly “square” player, and though he died poor, his demise was widely and sincerely lamented.

“King” Cole (Conant) was endowed with some of the same traits as was Sears, and popular among his associates. He played boldly and won heavily, but spent his winnings lavishly. In 1852, in company with Cole Martin, he went to St. Paul, where they opened one of the earliest gambling houses in that city. The firm prospered, but having squandered their gains in riotous living, returned to Chicago, comparatively penniless. There Conant died, a financial, physical and moral wreck.

“Skin” gamblers came to Chicago at a very early period in the city’s history. At first they conducted no regular houses, but dealt banking games at various places, as opportunity offered, paying ten per cent. of their winnings to the owners of the rooms used. It was not long, however, before this class of professionals began to find for themselves permanent locations. For many years, and even down to the mayoralty of “Long John” Wentworth, patrons of the race courses were familiar with the faces of H. Smith, Bill McGraw, Dan Oaks, “Dutch” House and “Little Dan” Brown. Roulette and chuck-a-luck were run in full blast at these gatherings, and “Dutch” House was considered as particularly skillful in conducting “the old army game.”

All these men have passed away. With the exception of one who died at Milwaukee possessed of some property, their “last end was worse than the first.” Bill McGraw died of delirium tremens, and “Little Dan” Brown ended his days in the poorhouse.

Gambling became more and more open, and the ranks of professionals were swelled, year by year, until at length the business was conducted with scarcely a pretence of concealment. This was the state of affairs when “Long John” Wentworth was elected mayor for the first time. He at once inaugurated a policy of reform. His first crusade was against swinging signs and other street obstructions, a vast number of which were “gathered in” during one night and piled in one heap at the corner of Lake and State Streets. The next morning the _Democrat_ (the mayor’s paper) announced that all persons who had lost property of this description the preceding night would find it at that locality. Claimants began to appear early, and each and all were promptly and impartially fined under the city ordinance.

The gamblers began to feel apprehensive. Wentworth warned them through the columns of the _Democrat_ that they would be the next victims of the besom of reform, but long immunity made them incredulous. They were not left long in doubt as to the sincerity of the mayor’s intentions. One warm summer afternoon he opened his war of extermination by sending two policemen to visit Burrough’s establishment, which was in a building on Randolph Street, standing on the present site of Epstean’s Dime Museum. The officers climbed upon an adjacent roof and gained entrance to the rooms through the rear windows on the second floor, which they found open and unguarded. They proceeded leisurely, and captured no one but the dealer, who tarried to secure the contents of his cash drawer. The players incontinently fled down the stairs, at the foot of which they rushed into the arms of a cordon of police, behind whom towered the gigantic frame of “Long John” himself. He it was who headed the mournful procession that wended its way to the calaboose in the basement of the Court House, encouraging the drooping spirits of the gamesters by insuring them in stentorian tones, and in language more forcible than elegant, that he “intended to teach them a lesson that they would remember.” He personally superintended the booking and locking up of the prisoners, and announced that if any person holding a city license appeared to offer bail for any one of them, the license would be summarily revoked. This threat was leveled particularly at saloon keepers and hackmen, whom Wentworth cordially detested, and between whom and the gamblers there existed the warmest friendship.

An exciting episode of the raid was the appearance at the calaboose of an attorney, “Charley” (now Colonel) Cameron, who demanded an interview with a client—one of the four Smith brothers, all of whom were in the lock-up. His request was refused, and going outside he attempted to hold a consultation through the grated window. The watchful eye of the mayor espied him. “What are you doing there, you —— rascal?” fairly shrieked His Honor. “Get away, I tell you; get away!” Cameron replied that he was exercising the right of an attorney in consulting a client. Angered beyond endurance, Wentworth rushed at him. “Don’t you dare to touch me,” shouted Cameron. “Oh, no; Oh, no” yelled the mayor; and grasping the attorney with a vise-like grip, he forced him into the city prison, never relaxing his hold until he had seen him safely placed behind the bars.

All these proceedings may have been the very acme of arbitrariness, but they are worth recounting, as showing how raids were conducted under the first administration of “Long John.” Everything found in the rooms was confiscated, and when the tenants returned they found only bare walls and a carpetless floor. The proprietors plead guilty and were fined heavily. The “inmates” appealed to a higher court and were each mulcted in the sum of twenty-five dollars and costs; the total expense of each player, including attorney’s fees, being about sixty dollars. Cameron caused the arrest of the mayor for assault and false imprisonment, but the case never came to trial.

Thus ended the first, and, up to the present time, the only raid upon a Chicago gambling house conducted by the city’s chief executive in person. It proved one of the most effective known to history. Open gambling ceased at once, and the “hole-and-corner” variety of the vice was soon hunted out. Banking games were no longer to be found, and the few poker rooms that were started in out-of-the-way places were speedily discovered, raided, and forced to close. Occasionally a game of faro was dealt; Saturday night being the time usually selected and the game lasting until well-nigh into Sunday morning; but when an adjournment was had, it was “sine die,” and no two consecutive games were played at the same place.

It must be remembered that all this occurred before the beginning of the present era of club life, which has done so much to pervert the morals, if not to overturn the foundations of society. It is a notorious fact that the heaviest play in Chicago to-day may be found in the most aristocratic and exclusive clubs. The police, of course, are not aware of it. Every man in Chicago doing business in what is known as the “Board of Trade district” has heard of the existence of a small club, whose membership is chiefly composed of operators on the floor of ’Change, and most men about town know where it is located. The appointments of the rooms while not luxurious, are of simple elegance and the cuisine and _buffet_ are said to be matchless. Stories are current of fabulous sums having been lost and won across the tables in this exclusive resort. It is charitable to suppose that the authorities lack either the knowledge or the legal power to interfere with the gambling here conducted. However this may be, the fact remains that the patrol wagons laden with blue-coated officers of the law rattle over the stones beneath its very windows, intent upon proving at once their watchfulness and their fidelity by arresting a half-score of Mongolians for indulging in “fan tan,” or “running in” a dozen negroes who may be found “throwing craps.”

Still, even before the days when Wentworth reigned autocrat of Chicago, and even during his administration, there existed in the city a club, composed of choice spirits selected from both the professional and commercial walks of life. Among its shining lights were such men as Doctor Egan, Maxwell, Maxmire, Judge Meeker, Justice Lamb, Judge Wilson, Col. Carpenter, “Bob” Blackwell, and a host of other men equally well known in their day. Politics and religious creeds were forgotten. Relaxation, unrestrained social intercourse, and mental improvement were nominally the objects sought. At the same time often a game of brag was played. This was the favorite pastime, although poker had its devotees; whist held its own, while cribbage, and even old sledge, were not too plebian amusements. Games were sometimes played for high stakes, among the most venturesome players being Egan, Maxwell and Carpenter.

At these gatherings hilarity was unbounded. Thomas F. Marshall, of Kentucky, during one summer that he spent in Chicago was wont to charm the members with his oratory, logic, wisdom and wit; John Brougham, E. L. Davenport, and James E. Murdock, famous the world over for their histrionic talent, were frequent and welcomed guests. Of these perhaps the former was somewhat the favorite with the members. He wrote a poem addressed to Egan’s daughter, and dedicated a book to the doctor:

[In this connection, it may not be amiss to repeat a well authenticated story of Murdock, which has come down as a tradition from the days when the club flourished. The members took their guest to the race course to see Chicago’s favorite win. So elated was the crowd over the triumphs that champagne flowed like the pent up rivulet bursting through a rocky chasm. That evening Murdock was to play Claude Melnotte. When he undertook to recite the description of the palace by the lake of Como his articulation became thick and indistinct. Recognizing the demands of the situation the great tragedian hurriedly bowed himself off the stage. His place before the foot-lights was promptly taken by Manager McFarland, who, in tones of the severest courtesy, apologized for the “sudden and unaccountable (sic) illness of Mr. Murdock,” in consequence of which he craved the indulgence of the audience during the few moments necessary for him to consume in dressing, when he, himself, would assume the part. Assent having been secured, McFarland finished the role to a crowded if not over-critical house.]

Keno was just beginning to grow into favor with the gaming public at the time when Mayor Wentworth so ruthlessly suppressed the vice. Some of the games were “square;” others “brace.” The latter were at first conducted by “Billy” Buck, and later by “Ed” Simpson. Both men were fond of drink, and the games were run in meanly furnished rooms in localities ill suited to their successful operation.

The gambling fraternity, recognizing in Wentworth a foe who could be neither cajoled, bribed, nor intimidated, began, with practical unanimity, either to look for some other walk of life in which they might exercise their peculiar talents, or to seek localities where the head of the city government was more amenable to “reason.”

“Long John” was succeeded by Mayor Haynes, and the hydra-headed monster once more began to lift its head from the seclusion into which it had been forced. In other words the gamblers determined to see whether the new city administration was to be controlled by the same influences and actuated by the same principles as had been its predecessor. Slowly they felt their way. At first Daniels, Avery, Sears, and Winchester opened their houses in a quiet and unobtrusive manner. Other members of the fraternity, finding that these were not molested, followed suit, and during several successive administrations, down to the time of Medill, everything was smooth sailing. Raids were of infrequent occurrence, and altogether farcical in their character. They appeared to be conducted not so much with a view of suppressing the vice or injuring the business of the houses raided, as for the purpose of raising a sort of indirect tax, or levying an illegal assessment. No one ever thought of destroying the personal property found in the resorts, and the fines imposed were usually very light. In fact, so little attention was paid to them that the proprietors were wont to admit the officers with the utmost cheerfulness; and when a hell was “pulled” hacks were at once called into requisition and the dealers and players rode together to the office of the nearest police magistrate, where bail was at once accepted, and the party again entering their carriages, returned to the rooms and resumed play. Of course, under such a _regime_, gambling houses multiplied rapidly, and to attempt an enumeration of the resorts or of their keepers would occupy too much space. A few of the more prominent, however, may be mentioned. These were the Smiths, Holland, Howland, Scott, Robbins, Lawler, Holt, Jones, Bachelor, McDonald, Martin, Walpole, Cameron, Dowling, Peters, Page, Hynes, Wicks, Blanga, Curtis, Wallace, Buchanan, Kellogg, Bowers, Taylor, Donaldson, Corcoran, Nellis Adams, Daniels, Hugh Dunn, Dutch Charley, Cy Janes, H. Jeff & Co., Hankins, H. Smith, and Beach.

One of the best known houses during this period was that of Theo. Cameron, at the Northeast corner of Clark and Madison Streets. Fred White was employed as dealer. The profits of the establishment were very large, owing to the fact that the proprietor employed competent “steerers,” who found little difficulty in securing dupes, whom he was fond of calling “fat suckers.” But Cameron was a man who, had he made a hundred thousand dollars in a night, would have contrived to get rid of it during the next twenty-four hours, even if he had to burn it up. Among his compeers he was known as “a bad man from Texas and handy with a gun.” One evening several “tough” citizens, among whom was a recent graduate from the State institution at Joliet, dropped into his place and lost all the money which they had. Meeting a friend on the outside, the latter informed them that they had undoubtedly been “skinned.” After holding a council of war they concluded to return to the place and demand that their money be returned to them. Accordingly, the three went up stairs, and while two stationed themselves at the door, the ex- convict entered the apartment, pistol in hand, and demanded the money. While the dealer was endeavoring to placate him, Cameron entered the place and took in the situation at a glance. Stealing, with cat-like step, to the sideboard, he took a revolver from one of the drawers and opened fire on the intruder, wounding him at the first shot. A mutual fusillade followed, which continued until the victim dropped dead. Cameron promptly surrendered himself, but when his trial occurred, found no difficulty in securing abundant evidence that he had acted strictly in self-defense.

Subsequently the same man opened a “brace” game at 68 Randolph Street. The place was expensively furnished, and was conducted on a scale of prodigal extravagance. The “sporting” fraternity knew it as a “bird house.” The lodging rooms were fitted up most luxuriously, and were always at the disposal of the guests and employes. The sideboard was stocked with the choicest liquors, and with cigars of the finest brands, while the wines were the best the market afforded. “Dr.” Ladd was Cameron’s partner, owning a half interest in the house, and it was his duty to supervise this part of the business. Notwithstanding all this lavish outlay, the house made a great deal of money; yet when the hells were again closed and the gamblers forced to seek other fields of action, Cameron was so poor that he left the city with scarcely five hundred dollars in his pocket.

“Colonel Wat” Cameron ran a house at 167 Randolph Street. It enjoyed the reputation of being a “square” game, and was liberally patronized by a good class of players. He finally came to grief, it is said, through the machinations of “Gabey” Foster and “Old Ben” Burnish, who, however, allowed him a percentage of the winnings. They made a great deal of money there and in other parts of the city.

“Gabey” Foster, whose name is mentioned above, was not well liked by the fraternity at large, who regarded him as a decidedly mean specimen of humanity. He became a confirmed victim of the opium habit, and “hitting the pipe” at last brought him to his death. His brain became affected, and while at Little Rock, Arkansas, he wandered away into the woods, where his body was found frozen stiff. His paramour sent for his remains and gave them a decent interment.

Another noted “brace” dealer of those times was a man known as “Jew” Hyman. He possessed a fine physique, and a mind of more than average capacity. He was fond of playing against the bank in other houses, and found no difficulty in scattering his winnings. He was much devoted to all the pleasures of sense; a high liver and fond of women. He married a notorious courtesan some thirty years ago. He died in a West Side Chicago lodging house, broken down in health, and with a disordered brain, and was buried by the woman to whose fortunes he had linked his own, and who had supported him for many years.

In 1863 the city received a new influx of “skin” gamblers, some of whom are still residents of Chicago, but not at present actively engaged in the practice of their “profession.” As tending to illustrate the characteristics of a certain class of “brace” dealers, and as serving to show the depth of degradation to which the gambling vice will sometimes sink its votaries, the following incident may prove not only interesting, but instructive. The story is literally true, only the names of the actors being withheld. The gang of sharpers who came to this city in 1863 was one of the most unscrupulous that has ever cursed any city. They commenced operations as “ropers in” for the most disreputable resorts. It was their custom to gain access to the hallways of gaming houses in which players were allowed some little chance of winning, and turn out the gas. As soon as a visitor appeared, some member of the coterie would inform him that the place was closed for the night, and at once “steer” him to some hole where he was certain to be shamelessly plundered. At length, one of them contrived to become proprietor of a small den, which his fellows at once made their headquarters, and where “suckers” were robbed without the slightest regard to even the semblance of decency.

Among the visitors to this place was a man who occupied a position of high trust in a well known private corporation. The keeper of the hell assiduously cultivated his friendship, and easily won his money. He then insinuated into the mind of his dupe the belief that his only hope of recovering his losses was to plunge still deeper into the game. Step by step the unfortunate man fell. Knowing the combination of the company’s vault, it was easy for him to gain an entrance thereto and abstract large amounts of currency. This he did night after night. At length he abstracted $5,000 in one package, carried it with him to the den in question, staked it at the faro table, and lost every cent. The proprietor had always posed as his friend, and the wretched devotee of play took him into his confidence. He told him that he was a defaulter to the extent of $31,000. “Better go and get it all, and see if you can play out,” was the advice of the gambler. He added that if he lost it he would be in no worse condition than he then was. After considerable argument and no little persuasion, the official of the corporation consented, and the two went together to the company’s office. The gambler held a lamp in order that his dupe might be able to see more clearly the combination of the safe. When it was opened he extended his hand for the money, which the victim handed to him. With the money in his possession, the scoundrel’s manner soon changed entirely. He told the unhappy defaulter that it would be far better for him to go to California, where he would keep him well supplied with money, while meanwhile a compromise might be effected with the company. This was not at all satisfactory to the embezzler, who insisted upon taking the money and risking it at play. But the gambler was obdurate, and flatly refused to turn over any more cash than was necessary to enable the miserable man to leave town. They drank and quarreled until morning. The position of the official was a most distressing one. He dared not return to the office; he was absolutely penniless; and to attempt to compel the surrender of the money by the gambler would be to proclaim his own shame. Accordingly, he found himself compelled to accept the terms proposed to him. His pretended friend stuck close to him, escorted him to the train, bought him a ticket and gave him a little money and much advice, bidding him farewell with a profusion of promises. The money which the absconding treasurer had taken with him was soon spent, but the man who had been the cause of his ruin refused to take any notice of his appeals for further assistance. At last the unhappy man concluded, like the prodigal in the parable, to “arise and go to his father.” The latter was a man of wealth, and on learning of his son’s whereabouts, at once sent him money with which to come home. As soon as the victim reached Chicago, the gambler was arrested and placed in jail, where he languished for some three months, being unable to secure bail chiefly because of his notoriously bad character. He finally secured his release through a compromise, restoring the $20,000 which he had taken from the defaulter on the night before he left the city. The victim of his knavery died soon afterwards of consumption, supposed to have been aggravated, if not induced, through the dissipation to which he resorted in order to drown his shame.

At the expiration of Mayor Haines’ term of office, Mr. Wentworth was again elevated to the chief magistracy of the city. He found a very different state of affairs from that which he had left. While things had not exactly “gone to the dogs,” the laws were by no means strictly enforced and many of the minor city ordinances had become dead letters. Particularly was this true in the case of those relating to bawdy houses and gaming hells. This circumstance may be accounted for in part by the fact that there did not exist an overwhelming public sentiment in favor of their suppression. Then, as now, there was a large and influential element in the community which openly claimed that while these resorts were to be condemned on principle, their toleration in a large and constantly growing city was a necessary evil. Another class protested loudly against any interference by the legislative or executive departments of the government with what they were pleased to denominate the “personal liberty of the citizens.” Others, still, who never gambled themselves, looked upon the harm done by this class of houses as being no affair of theirs, and regarded the ruin of the occasional players at faro with the utmost indifference.

Wentworth was quick to feel and respond to the public pulse upon this question. During his second term he was by no means the terror to evil- doers that he had been throughout his first. He had already shown what he could do, and the cognomen of a “reform Mayor,” appeared to have for him no further charms. While his enforcement of the laws cannot be said to have been lax, neither was it particularly stringent. Nevertheless, he occasionally made life exceedingly interesting for the gamblers.

The years during which Mayors Rumsey and Sherman held office, were halcyon days for Chicago sporting men. This was the era of the war, when gambling flourished all over the country and raised its serpent head with a brazen effrontery never seen before. Paymasters, contractors and army officers gambled with a reckless prodigality which was as surprising as it was reprehensible. These classes constituted, perhaps, the richest prey for the professional gamblers. Next to them, the numerous professional bounty-jumpers, who rapidly scattered at the gaming table the money out of which they had defrauded the government. Those were mad, wild times, when money was abundant and speculation ran riot. It was pre-eminently a period of “brace” games, the reckless players being apparently utterly indifferent as to the character of the game at which they staked their money.

Among the professionals who came prominently into public notice at this time were William Leonard, (sometimes known as “Old Bill”) Otis Randall, George Trussell, and Judd.

The latter was known as a “forty-niner.” He entered upon his career as a gambler in the far west, carrying a roulette wheel on his back from one mining camp to another. He accumulated a considerable amount of money through gaming, and retired from its active pursuit. Going from Chicago to New York he became associated with John Morrissey in the proprietorship of some of the most elegant gaming houses in that city. Rumor has it that he also had an interest in several resorts of an inferior grade. He was what is known among the fraternity as an “all- round sport,” equally adept at all games. His fondness for liquor proved the cause of the loss of his fortune, and compelled him once more to become a wanderer.

George Trussel, who during the time of which we are writing, owned and conducted one of the most popular resorts in Chicago, was a man of fine physique, scrupulous in his dress, and extravagant in his tastes and habits. His establishment was elegantly, if not sumptuously furnished, and the refreshments provided for the guests were noted for their fine quality, no less than for the fastidiousness displayed in the manner of their service. He came to a wretched end. His discarded mistress shot and killed him at the entrance to Rice’s livery stable, as he was returning with a horse and buggy in which he had taken her rival for a drive. The case awakened no little interest at the time, and the trial was fully reported in the daily prints. The woman was acquitted by the jury, whose sympathies were aroused by the deplorable tale of seduction, neglect, abuse and desertion which she revealed.

Another gambler who met a somewhat similar fate was Charley Stiles, who was shot and killed at his room in the Palmer House by a courtesan whom he had outrageously abused. The verdict of the jury in her case was a somewhat anomalous one. They found her mentally irresponsible at the time of the commission of the deed, yet fixed her punishment at one year’s imprisonment in the penitentiary.

Mayor Rumsey ruled with a by no means iron hand. The blacklegs found comparatively little occasion to find fault with his administration of city affairs. Occasionally, a complaint on the part of some victim or an unusually bitter newspaper attack would compel him to resort to harsh measures. At such times, one or two raids would be made; the gamblers were forced to open their safes, and the tools and furniture taken away, though their destruction was rarely attempted, the owners being usually allowed ample time in which to sue out writs of replevin.

Reference has been made to the prosperous times which the fraternity enjoyed under the rule of Mayor Sherman. Connected with his administration, however, was Chief of Police Washburne. In the latter official the gamblers found a bitter and uncompromising foe. He raided the hells constantly, earnestly and viciously. Furniture and tools costing thousands of dollars were ruthlessly destroyed; and if the owners replevined the property seized and attempted to resume business “at the old stand,” they soon found they had reckoned without their host. Washburne at once paid them a midnight visit, and again removed the paraphernalia of their houses. It was his custom to insist upon heavy fines, and this circumstance, taken in connection with the destruction of property, soon made the business unprofitable. He gave the “sports” no rest, harrassing them night and day.

His laudable efforts to suppress the gaming houses were materially hampered by the treachery and insubordination of his officers. The sympathy of a very large proportion of the police force was with the proprietors of the hells, and the latter were constantly apprized of intended raids, and were generally kept tolerably well posted as to the intentions and doings of the chief. As a matter of course, for services such as these the “crooks” were willing to pay, and pay well. As a result of this state of affairs, it was no uncommon occurrence for the raiders to find a house empty and securely closed at the time of their nocturnal visit. Sometimes the keepers adopted other tactics. Instead of closing the house, they quietly awaited the arrival of the police, in company with a few pretended players, whom they had hired to submit to an arrest. On such occasions, the only property found consisted of an empty tin box and a few stacks of old and worn out chips.

Notwithstanding all these hindrances, Washburne was vigilant and energetic. His exertions knew no cessation. He not only rendered it unsafe to conduct a gaming house, but made it dangerous and costly to be caught in one. The contest proved to be an unequal one, and the gamblers abandoned the field to their determined antagonist. To their patrons they said that it was their intention to “close up for a little while, until the storm blew over or the authorities were fixed.” For a time, there was no public gambling in the city, but soon some of the more venturesome members of the fraternity began to “play a little on the quiet.” They at once discovered that this would not do. The risk of playing was so great, however, that only “brace” or “snap” games were opened. The efforts of the blacklegs in this direction were supplemented by the opening of “bunko” rooms, with occasional ventures at rouge-et- noir, while “top and bottom” joints were scattered about the city.

Gaming, as such—by which is meant the playing of a game of chance—was unknown. The sports were penniless and needed money; they were aware that their operations must be conducted quickly if they were to avoid arrest, and in consequence, they had resort to every sort of device known among professionals as “sure things.” The robbery carried on was of the most outrageous and shameless description, and the harvest, if confined within a brief period, was golden while it lasted. Temporary games were numerous and gamblers thrived. Hotels, lodging houses, the back rooms of saloons, in fact, every available place was utilized. Rooms were rented for a short time only and cheaply furnished, here, there and everywhere. Yet Washburne hounded them from place to place, although embarrassed by lukewarmness, if not positive corruption on the part of his subordinates. Indeed, there was an element in the force which was constantly plotting against him and incessantly scheming for his removal. Many of his descents upon the hells proved futile for the reasons already stated. Despite all these hindrances, however, the strife went on, and Washburne showed no sign of weakening.

When Mayor Rice assumed control of the city’s executive department, the gamblers began to resume operations more openly. They soon found that prosecutions were by no means so numerous as they had been while Washburne filled the position of Chief of Police, while raids were comparatively infrequent. Boldness soon succeeded timidity, and during the latter part of Mayor Rice’s term, as well as throughout the mayoralty of Mason, the list of gaming houses was constantly augmented. In fact, “crooks” found no better territory for their operations throughout the length and breadth of the land than Chicago. Confidence men swarmed upon the public streets and plied their nefarious vocation without let or hindrance. The fame of the city as a safe stamping ground for swindlers soon spread abroad, and there occurred a general hegira of gamblers to a place where they knew that they ran no risk of molestation. As a result, Chicago was soon filled with a set of sharpers drawn from all quarters of the United States, and comprising as motley, disreputable and dishonest a class as ever cursed any city under the face of Heaven. Wealthy “suckers” were found in abundance, and “brace” dealers, “bunko” men and rogues of every description carried off money in bundles.

Among the most prominent men engaged in gambling in Chicago at this period were Harry Lawrence (afterward a dealer in “Rock and Rye,” and partner of Morris Martin), Mike McDonald, “Bill” Foster, “Big John” Wallace, “Little John” Wallace, “Trailer,” “Appetite Bill,” “Nobby Tom,” Sam Hueston, Harry Monell, “Bill” Close, “Hank” Maguire, Tom Daniels, “White Pine,” “Snapper” Johnny, “Rebel” George, “Long” John, “Billy” Singleton, Grant, “Jake” Lehman, “Johnny” Molloy, Lew Lee, “Jew” Myers, and at least fifty more of the “small fry” class.

The winnings of some of the men named above were a theme of gossip among gamblers all over the continent. The “bunko” men were particularly successful. To rob a man out of $5,000 was a common occurrence; $7,000 was occasionally made; while there were those who repeatedly won $10,000 from a single victim; and one of this class of sharpers succeeded in taking $20,000 from one of his dupes. Meanwhile the profits of the “skin” houses were enormous.

This was the state of affairs existing at the time of the visitation of the city by the holocaust of 1871, when the United States military were called upon to protect the people and the city was placed under martial law. Thugs, thieves, confidence men, “skin” gamblers and rogues of every sort might be found on any street corner. From Harrison Street on the south, to Lincoln Park on the north, roamed a homeless, hungry, penniless mob, whom the prospect of starvation soon drove across the river to the West Side. With the crowd went Martin, Kellogg, Batchelder, McDonald and Dowling. “Watt” Robbins and John Lawler opened a house on State Street, and the games measurably flourished until the election of Joseph Medill in the spring of 1872.

He assumed office with many promises of reform, which he carried out to the best of his ability. One of his first acts was a declaration of war upon the gamblers, and vigorously was it prosecuted. The houses were promptly and permanently closed, and the only gambling done during his term of office was attended with great risk to those who engaged in it. Still, the task of supplying the needs of the destitute and guarding the other interests of the city were so great that some were found who ventured to incur the hazard of playing an occasional game, which was, of course, always of the “brace” variety. Yet, on the whole, Medill fully merited the high encomiums bestowed upon him by the enemies of gambling for his effective, restrictive policy and his manly enforcement of the laws.

He was succeeded by H. D. Colvin, familiarly nicknamed by the sporting men as “Harvey,” just as the same class afterwards spoke of Mayor Harrison as “our Carter.” His was an administration which might be fairly described as one under which “everything went.” Scarcely had he taken his seat before the gamblers began to furnish and open many houses in all quarters of the city. Those who had emigrated from the South to the West division, returned to their former haunts. Among the rest was one who located himself at the corner of Clark and Monroe Streets where he conducted the European Hotel, with a saloon and gambling rooms attached. This place continued to run for many years. The worst elements of the community were in the ascendent. Dance halls, concert saloons and disreputable houses of every description abounded and flourished. “Toughs” of every grade walked the streets without fear; and the bunko men, “brace” dealers, monte players and “crooks” of high and low degree openly plied their vocations. The “sucker” who wished to lose his money, had his choice of no less than eight “brace” gaming houses, twelve bunko shops, and an innumerable assortment of joints where rouge-et-noir, wheel of fortune, and “top and bottom” were but a few of the devices employed to fleece greenhorns. The mayor manifested utter indifference to the enforcement of the laws, and it was said that his personal example was not of a kind to instill into the minds of the average citizen a respect for authority. Of all the “free and easy” cities in the Union, Chicago was at this time the worst. The town was literally handed over to the criminal class who held high carnival by day as well as by night.

One of the best known gamblers who flourished at this period, and who has since attained considerable influence in local politics soon forged to the front and became the recognized “boss.” It was commonly stated at the time that he was personally interested in not a few resorts of questionable character, and that he was wont to levy a contribution upon every gambler who came to Chicago. Be that as it may, it is certain that the games no longer lurked in dark corners and out of the way localities, but opened their doors upon the city’s principal streets, their proprietors carrying on their nefarious business with as little concealment as though they had been engaged in legitimate commercial pursuits.

Another professional sport who figured prominently before the public at that time as proprietor of two “dollar stores,” with back-room attachments where “bunko” and “top and bottom” were played, has since become a reputable citizen, the proprietor of a large store in Chicago, and is reputed to be millionaire.

The press scored Colvin roundly, and the indignation of the decent, law- abiding citizens against him knew no bounds. Threats of impeachment were freely made but never enforced. Vice and crime continually stalked brazenly through the streets until the close of his term when he was succeeded by Mayor Hoyne, who gave way, in turn, to Heath.

The rule of the latter was as radically stringent as that of Colvin had been disreputably lax. He at once set about righting many wrongs, establishing order, and enforcing the laws. The work which he thus mapped out was an herculean task, for pandemonium reigned and the “gang” was determined not to be driven out without making a severe struggle. One of Heath’s first orders was to the effect that the gambling houses should be closed. The proprietors seemingly acquiesced, but actually carried on business surreptitiously, and raiding was at once begun. When the police endeavored to force an entrance into the gambling rooms at the “Store,” a well known resort on Clark Street, connected with a hotel, they committed the blunder of breaking into the rooms of the caravansary. The wife of the proprietor promptly resented this intrusion upon the premises by firing at the officers, although no one was hit. She was arrested and defended by A. S. Trude, who secured her discharge from Judge McAllister on the plea that her house was her castle and that the law justified her in defending it. The incident caused much excitement in the city at the time, and Mayor Heath became yet more aggressive and was as unremittent in his attentions to the gamblers, whose houses he kept closed.

In 1877 a loud cry was raised against “bunko” and “bunko steerers,” and it was charged that this class of swindlers found victims in alarming numbers, and that the unsophisticated “stranger within the gates” was being guided to his financial ruin with great rapidity. On motion of Alderman Cullerton the mayor was instructed to appoint a special committee to ascertain if public gaming houses were tolerated in the city. His Honor named as such committee Aldermen Cullerton, Phelps and Waldo. The “bunko” men were subsequently thinned out by the police.

Carter H. Harrison succeeded Heath as mayor. The radical policy of his predecessor was not pursued by the new incumbent, and charges were constantly made by the press that gambling was rampant in the city.

Austin Doyle had been chief of police under Mayor Heath, and for a time filled the same position under his successor. The frequency of complaints by victims and the numerous and bitter attacks upon the administration in the public prints stimulated Mr. Doyle to take active measures toward suppressing the vice. Through his energetic tactics the houses were compelled to close their doors, and for a time public gaming came to an end. Doyle, however, was offered a responsible position in the employ of a private corporation, and resigned his public office. His successor did not meet with the same success in suppressing the nuisance.

Harrison served two terms and it is not too much to say that throughout the greater part of the four years during which he was mayor those who wished to encounter the “tiger in his lair” found little difficulty in gratifying their inclination.

Roche followed Harrison, holding the reigns of city government for two years. He owed his elevation to office in a large measure to the support which he received from the “law and order” element of the community, and was tacitly if not avowedly pledged to carry out their wishes. He soon began to make things interesting for the gamblers. They were given fair notice of his intentions and instructed to close. Those who failed to comply with his command soon discovered that the city’s executive meant what he had said and had the power to enforce his behest. Public houses were forced to close their doors, and the city for a time enjoyed a comparative rest. Occasionally games were played at the hotels, private club rooms, and over saloons, but generally speaking it was a “hole-and- corner” sort of play, and it was by no means an easy matter to discover where the games were going on. The result was that many of the “sports” who had prospered during the years preceding, found themselves forced to seek “fresh fields and pastures new.”

When Roche’s name was presented to the public as that of a candidate for re-election the hostility of the fraternity toward him quickly found vent. His opponent, Cregier, received the support of the men who had learned to hate the administration which interfered with their business, and he was elected by a very decided majority. At the present time the number of gambling houses in the city may be said to be legion. The proprietors have taken leases of the premises for two years, in some cases giving the previous tenants a bonus to move out; removing partitions, enlarging entrances, building new stairways, and otherwise intimating their belief that, for a time at least, they cherish no apprehension of molestation. Raids are infrequent, although, occasionally, a few Mongolians are captured while playing “bung-loo,” and once in a while a squad of negroes is taken to the station as a punishment for being detected in playing “crap.” The larger houses suffer but little from police interference. When a raid is made on one of these establishments, the officers placidly await the coming of the patrol wagon while the players escape through a convenient window or sky-light. Enough “pluggers” are captured to fill one or two wagons and are driven to the nearest police station with much clatter and display. The proprietors promptly bail out their employes, and the next morning pay the small fines imposed upon them. Within an hour or two after the descent of the police the game is again in full operation.

Some idea of the success which attends public gaming houses in Chicago at the present time may be formed from a consideration of the fact that the largest and best patronized house has, on an average, forty men on its pay-roll; that sometimes twenty games are in full blast at one time; and that the estimated net winnings of its owners amount to $20,000 a month. To this place professionals are not admitted, it being found more remunerative to encourage the patronage of amateur players. So notorious is this fact that the _habitués_ of this resort are commonly termed the “dinner pail brigade.”

The following may be accepted as a correct statement of the regular weekly salaries at a Chicago house doing a good business: Two faro dealers at $40 a week; three ditto at $35; two roulette croupiers at $30; two hazard dealers at $30; two stud-poker dealers at $30; one outside watchman at $20; one doorkeeper at $25; sixteen “pluggers” and “cappers” at $2.50 per day; total salary list, $690 per week.

It is fair to presume that this is an average outlay for weekly salaries by the numerous gaming houses. The estimate does not, of course, include miscellaneous expenses, such as rent, fuel, lighting, free eating and drinking for the _habitués_, nor the large percentage on profits paid to “ropers” and “steerers.” It must be plain to the dullest comprehension that a business of such magnitude as to be able to pay nearly $700 in weekly salaries, is in favor of the army of unemployed gamblers who are temporarily “down on their luck.”

However, there are some gaming houses in the city where high rollers can always gain admittance and find congenial company; where the obliging proprietors are always willing to “remove the limit” for a regular patron; and which enjoy the reputation of being comparatively “square.”

One of the peculiar features of Chicago gambling is the reported existence of a “gamblers’ trust.” The use of the word “trust” as applied to establishments which cannot in any sense be called commercial, seems, on its face, to be anomalous, yet, if all reports be true, the term is not a misnomer. It is understood that a combination of sporting men exists, the nature of the tie that binds them being the contribution by the proprietors of each establishment belonging to the pool of either a fixed sum weekly or an agreed percentage of the winnings toward a common purse. Just what is done with the money is known only to those who handle it, but when it is remembered that the contributors enjoy practical immunity from police interference, its disposition is a fair subject of conjecture.

Within the last month (July, 1890), the question of selling pools upon races has loomed up into prominence. One of the chief operators in this line, a man who is reputed to have cleared $190,000 through this means during the racing season of 1889, has invoked the aid of private detective agencies for the suppression of his business rivals. The latter have retaliated by employing the city police to interfere with his operations. The result has been a sort of Kilkenny fight, in which charges seriously reflecting upon the city’s chief executive have been filed in the courts.

SELECTIONS FROM A PRICE LIST OF SPORTING GOODS MANUFACTURED AND FOR
SALE BY A FIRM IN CHICAGO, ILL.

FARO TOOLS.

Trimming Shears, double bar, brass block $40 00
” ” with attachment for cutting briefs 45 00
Cutter, for cutting round corners on cards 20 00
Trimming Plates, will cut any style of cards 8 00
_Trimming Shears repaired and sharpened._
Dealing Boxes, Lever movement $35 00 to $60 00
” ” End, or Needle movement $50 00 to $100 00
” ” Sand Tell $13 00, $15 00 to $18 00
” ” ” ” to lock up square $20 00, $25 00
_Dealing Boxes repaired, or changed to end or needle squeeze._
Faro Dealing Cards, unsquared, per doz. $15 00
” ” ” squared, per doz. 15 00
” ” ” ” per pack 1 25
” ” ” Linen, second quality 6 50
” ” ” ” ” ” squared 7 50
->_Dealing Cards of every kind furnished to order._
Card Punches, best steel 2 00
” Sighters, set of 4 in case 2 00
Glass Paper, better than sand, per doz. sheets 1 00

DEALING GAMES FOR BOX AND CARDS.