Chapter XII: Local Gambling (6)

Instances are numerous where men have won or lost their daily bread upon the turn of a card. There have been not a few who, having staked their all upon the same contingency and lost, have blown out their brains with the weapon of despair. The sun-kissed hill-tops and low-lying valleys that surround Monte Carlo, contain the graves of not a few devotees of gaming, who in despair have ended their wretched lives. There is no sort of emotion which the fascination of this vice has not awakened in the human breast. There are a few rare instances relative to gamblers who have fallen dead in a superabundance of sudden joy. But never before, so far as is known, have two gamblers killed themselves because they believed that they were about to be deprived of the opportunity of indulging in their favorite pastimes. These instances stand unprecedented and unparalleled in history.

MILWAUKEE.

In some form or other, gambling has been known in Milwaukee ever since the advent of the first white settlers, and even on their arrival they found the Indians racing ponies on the plains for wagers.

The first regular gambling house in Milwaukee of which there is any record was a faro layout, established by Martin Curtis, in 1843, and operated by him for several years. In those days every one gambled; and as Curtis was gifted with the faculty of saving his winnings, he became quite wealthy. He erected various buildings in that city, among them a row of dwellings which yet stand on Broadway, facing the police station. Some of his grandchildren still reside in the city, and enjoy the inheritance left them by the “old man.”

In 1849, Milwaukee had grown to be a place of sufficient size to maintain two gaming establishments. Thomas Wicks opened a game which he continued to run for thirty years with varying success. He had two brothers, Curtis and Gardner Wicks, who aided him in the business, and ran the bank during the sessions of the legislature and at other times when there was any “game” in the town. All through the war the Wicks Brothers’ game was running in full blast at Milwaukee in an old yellow building which General Lucius Fairchilds had inherited from his father. The fact that General Fairchilds was Secretary of State for two years on leaving the army, and was Governor for six, did not interfere with the “tiger” having its lair in the upper part of his building, within two blocks of the handsome mansion in which his family resided. As showing the “pull” which the Wicks had on politicians and public men it may be of interest to record the fact, that although Governor Fairchilds went through four bitter political campaigns as a candidate, there never was a word said in any paper in reference to the fact that while Governor of Wisconsin he knowingly rented his property for gambling purposes.

From the time when he opened, in 1849, until some time in or about 1872, John Welch was the gambling king of the State. His acquaintance with prominent men gave him immunity, both in Milwaukee and at Madison; and it was seldom that his game was made the subject of police interference. During a long period of his career, William Beck was Milwaukee’s chief of police, and as he was an inveterate gambler himself, and could generally be found in a gaming house when not engaged upon professional business, he naturally refrained from interfering with Wicks.

But the gambler met his fate at last. “Taking a flyer” is what ruined him, and since 1872 he has done very little beyond insisting that modern gamblers are all “crooked.”

On several occasions he has attempted to break up the games in Milwaukee by procuring indictments against the gamblers, but in each instance has ignominiously failed, for the reason that the younger men have been shrewd enough to induce the public to believe that the “old sport” was merely trying to extort money. Prior to his unfortunate venture in wheat, “Tom” Wicks enjoyed the friendship of a large number of wealthy and influential men who never gambled. These in a majority he has retained since his misfortune. The charge brought against him by the younger gamblers, however, that he was endeavoring to levy blackmail has caused a coolness between himself and some of his former acquaintances.

In 1876, when Alexander Mitchell took the Wisconsin delegation to St. Louis in his private car, “Tom” Wicks was made chief caterer and attended to the wants of the party; the members of which enjoyed a perpetual banquet from the moment of their departure until the hour of their return.

Just before Wicks lost his money, Mayor O’Neil closed up the gambling houses in Milwaukee and also raided Sunday dances, the result being that next year the “tough” element joined the Republicans and elected Harrison Ludington Mayor. He opened the town for those who had elected him, and, so far as gambling was concerned, it continued to run about as it pleased until a year ago, when Chief Ries, almost as a last official act before being relieved of the care of the police force, closed up the gambling houses. This left Mayor Brown and Chief Jansen the choice of keeping them closed or being abused by the friends of Ries. They chose the former alternative. As a consequence the city has been “closed up tight” for nearly a year, most of the dealers and supernumeries since the last election emigrating to other localities, a considerable proportion finding congenial surroundings in Chicago.

Before this compulsory hegira of the gamblers, Milwaukee was one of the most viciously “wide open” towns in the Northwest, and the business was becoming a nuisance. After the collapse of the iron boom all manner of disreputables flocked thither, and gambling, might have been said, to be running rampant. Six faro banks were constantly open, besides poker games and wheels of fortune in the back rooms of most of the saloons.

During the recent G. A. R. encampment, the authorities seemed to relax their vigilance, and allowed a little faro playing in a quiet way, but there is no guarantee that a raid may not occur at any moment. As a consequence, it is not probable that a game of any magnitude will attempt to exist, or that if it does anybody will run the risk of patronizing it. A raid was made last September and three keepers and sixty players were captured. It was generally supposed that the “haul” would have been larger had not a “tip” been secretly given.

Last May the Chief of Police, Jansen, drafted a new ordinance relative to gambling, which he asked the council to pass. The ordinance provided that police officers armed with a properly drawn warrant might enter any place where they suspect gambling was being carried on, and that any one refusing them admission should be subject to a severe penalty. The police were empowered to use force and to batter down doors when refused admission. The ordinance also provided that the men found in charge of the gambling house should be deemed the keepers and that all gambling tools and paraphernalia captured by the police should be destroyed as soon as the police proved to the court that the said tools are gambling devices.

There was considerable opposition among the aldermen to the ordinance, on the ground that it would enable the police to break into private houses and arrest a party of gentlemen who might be enjoying a quiet game of poker.

“Any man who pretends to oppose the law on such grounds is either a fool or a knave,” said Chief Jansen. “In the first place, we can enter any man’s house now on a properly drawn warrant. It is all nonsense to suppose that the police would attempt to enter any one’s house to break up a game of cards, even if played for a consideration. Any police official who attempted it would be promptly called to account and the verdict of public opinion alone would cause him to lose his position. What we do want, however, are laws sufficiently stringent to allow us to stamp out public gambling. It costs the city hundreds of dollars to keep the gambling houses closed, and when we get a case against them they slip through with a petty fine and then the police department is subjected to the humiliation of having to return the gambling tools. The ordinances of the city are no more stringent now than when they were first passed, when the city was incorporated, in 1854. They are not up to the times. We want this new ordinance passed so that we can close and keep closed public gambling houses without being compelled to keep a detail of men on watch at all times.”

GAMBLING IN SARATOGA.

To narrate the history of gambling in Saratoga, would be almost to give an epitome of the history of the town itself from its earliest date. Its celebrity as a watering place has done much to increase the practice of the vice, but even before it obtained fame in this direction its reputation as a gambling resort was well established within the somewhat contracted radius of the circle of which it formed the centre.

The author is indebted to an old resident of the Springs, who took up his residence there, under the parental wing, in 1831, when he was a boy of but ten years of age, for the statement that as early as 1844 there existed a resort on Broadway, opposite the residence of the Chancellor, where a bowling alley and billiard room constituted the chief attractions. The fact that games were played for wagers undoubtedly rendered the resorts more attractive. In a journal published in those early days there is found a communication from a lawyer, in which the writer complains that while arguing a case before the Chancellor he had been much annoyed by the noise of the patrons of the bowling alley, and that at intervals he could hear the click of the billiard pools, and even the rolling of the roulette table. During this period there was another bowling alley, situated in a small grove near a pond in the Southern part of the village, with the then customary adjuncts of billiards and open gambling. The location of the latter resort was practically identical with the site of the Clarendon hotel. Its proprietor was Geo. W. Gale, who also owned the alley opposite the Chancellor. In 1845, Gale retired from business, to accept the position of ticket agent of the Rensselaer and Saratoga railroad, a fact which would seem to indicate that in those early days running a gambling house was not found to be particularly profitable in Saratoga.

Perhaps the explanation may be found in the fact that the resorts of similar character had multiplied to an extent considerably exceeding the demand of the population. About the year 1834 bowling alleys and other places where various games might be played for a wager were numerous in the neighborhood of the railroad depots. The business was carried on so openly that almost the first object which attracted the attention of a passenger alighting from a train was the open door of one of these resorts.

Early in the history of the Springs, and long before the war, Southern planters in great numbers, selected Saratoga as their summer resort every year. It is not too much to say that they gambled with a recklessness in comparison with which the ventures of players of later days sink into comparative insignificance. They prided themselves upon playing a “gentleman’s game,” and the stakes were practically unlimited. The rich Southerner of the ante-bellum days was as simple in his pride as any other spoiled child of fortune; he offered an easy prey to the rapacity of professional sharks, and he was not infrequently robbed outright. He was accustomed to associating with those who were wont to flatter his vanity, and who were fond of assuring him that “the king could do no wrong.” The result was that the gamblers found it easy to reap a rich harvest, provided that they succeeded in being permitted to “sit” in the right kind of games. As most of the gambling was done at the hotel, the chance of detection was reduced to a minimum. From what has been said, it may be inferred that it is a mistake to suppose that gambling at Saratoga had its origin at the time of the introduction of the races, although since the time that the trial of the speed of horses was added to the attractions of this world-famous watering place, the vice has developed to a larger extent than ever before. The races were started in 1863, at what was then regarded as a suburb, and known as “House Haven.” It was about this time that club rooms sprang up and were to be found in all the larger hotels, where, for that matter, they may be found to-day. Faro and other banking games were openly dealt at half a dozen places in the village.

John Morrissey, once famous as a pugilist, and later as the head and front of the sporting fraternity throughout the United States, first appeared in Saratoga in 1863, as a patron of the race course. In 1870 he built and opened, with no little parade, his magnificent club house.

Ladies and gentlemen were alike invited to become his guests, and his object was to establish upon the American continent a gaming resort which should rival Monte Carlo. Notwithstanding the fact that indignant remonstrances were made by the better class of citizens, a local newspaper of that date chronicles that his establishment received the patronage of many of the principal ladies of the village, who were received and attended during their visits by professional blacklegs. Playing at this resort has always run high, although of late years the profits of the managers have not been so large as in former days. In March, 1871, an indignation meeting of citizens was held and resolutions were adopted emphatically denouncing gambling.

Among the best known professionals of early days at Saratoga, was Benjamin C. Scribner, who arrived in the village about 1842 and opened a small place in an alley near the United States Hotel. He was supposed to be a man of considerable wealth at one time, but was ultimately very glad to accept a position from Morrissey, in whose employ he remained until he died. It was a surprise to the public that his estate was found to be worth several thousand dollars, but the surprise was somewhat dissipated when it was learned that the property had been tied up in such a way that he could not use it.

Morrissey soon found that it was impossible to carry out his original idea of making Saratoga the Baden-Baden of the United States. The disapprobation of the citizens was so openly expressed that he became chary of admitting people into his resort. He professed to discountenance open gambling, although every one in Saratoga knew that his club house was the great head-center of the vice. Albert Spencer and Charles Reed were subsequently associated with him as partners. Reed brought his wife to Saratoga and purchased land on which he erected a handsome residence. His family regularly attended the Episcopal church, and he made some effort to gain a foot-hold in good society, but did not meet with the success which he had expected. Afterwards Mr. Reed abandoned or disposed of his interest in the club house, and is at present a stock raiser, having obtained a by no means unenviable reputation as a breeder of thorough breds. He owns a fine racing stable.

Morrissey’s career is too well known to call for any extended description in this connection. He died a poor man and his wife was left in decidedly straightened circumstances. Probably no gambler in the United States won more money than he, and certainly none enjoyed a higher reputation for fair dealing and integrity. He was liberal to folly; in fact it may be said that during the heyday of his prosperity he was princely in his generosity. While his business was said to be under reprobation, he was yet able to command an immense popularity. It is doubtful whether any professional gambler in America has done more to corrupt the morals of young men than did Morrissey through the indirect influence of his gambling. It is a lamentable commentary upon American politics that a professional gambler, even though reputed to be a “square” player, should have been able to obtain a seat in the United States Congress through the suffrage of a constituency which typified the wealth and culture of the metropolis of the New World.

One word with regard to the influence of legislation upon gambling on horse races. At the period when the Saratoga meetings were inaugurated pool selling was not prohibited and was openly conducted. Not long afterward a law was enacted forbidding this form of gambling, but so far as Saratoga was concerned it proved a dead letter; in other words it was never enforced. Some practical members of the law-making body perceived this fact and attempted to prescribe a remedy. The outcome of their efforts was the celebrated “Ives” bill, which legalizes pool selling on horse races during thirty days in each year. The practical result of the adoption of this measure was to put an end to pool selling in a “hole- and-corner” sort of way, which was brought about measurably through the efforts of those gamblers who were willing to comply with the provisions of the law.

Not many years ago Anthony Comstock, known all over the country as an uncompromising foe of vice, visited Saratoga upon the invitation of the reputable class of citizens. As a result of his visit several places were raided, but the grand jury refused to indict the proprietors upon the complaint of Comstock and his men.

It is worthy of remark that probably there is no place in the United States in which gambling is conducted on more strictly business principles than in Saratoga. Twenty years ago play was reckless, but was prompted chiefly by a love of excitement. Then everybody gambled simply as a method of killing time. To-day gambling at this famous watering place is chiefly, if not altogether, in the hands of professionals. In other words, nowadays, everybody who gambles does so on keen business principles. In the old times, the Southern gentleman lost his slaves and his plantation upon the turn of a card. At the present time large stakes are the exception, as they were formerly the rule. Occasionally a player who has plenty of money will risk a few hundreds and lose them without a murmur, but the good old days seem to have gone forever. The dealers’ winnings, as a rule, are comparatively small.

To come down to modern times, no history of gambling at Saratoga would be complete which failed to record the inauguration and prosecution of the war against gaming houses, which was commenced by Spencer Trask, of New York, in 1889. Mr. Trask, was well and favorably known upon the New York Stock Exchange, and for some time conducted an office at Saratoga during the season where he bought and sold stocks on margins. He is (or was) a proprietor of a daily newspaper at the Springs, through the columns of which he waged vigorous war upon the gamblers. He is understood to have been one of the victims of Comstock’s first raid, and is said to have paid a fine in consequence of an indictment by the grand jury. The result of his investigations he has made known, and the author, after some pains to contest the correctness of his statements, feels justified in giving to his readers a summary of what he discovered.

At the present time, there are over twenty or thirty gaming resorts in Saratoga. Half of these cannot be said to be open games. Many of them cater for the patronage of the lowest class of society only. In the “_Saratoga Union_” of August 22, there was printed a list of the public houses, which may be said to have been a substantially correct re- capitulation of those actually running at that time.

To summarize the history of gambling in Saratoga—It may be said that there has been open gambling at the Springs for at least twenty years, and that gaming is still open there to-day. While there was more poker playing at the hotels twenty years ago than there is to-day the vice is more rampant now than then. At the same time, there is a more pronounced effort to conduct it in comparative secrecy. At that time, the officers of the law looked upon it as a necessary evil and put forth no effort toward its suppression. To-day, public sentiment compels them to take action, which, however dilatory and half-hearted, is still or more less effective.

A brief allusion has been made in a preceding paragraph to the visit of Anthony Comstock to Saratoga. From what has been said, the reader may perhaps infer that it was comparatively without result. This impression should be removed. The Secretary of the New York Society for the Suppression of Vice visited the place accompanied by several of his own detectives, all being disguised. Their primary object was to obtain evidence against some twenty-nine gamblers. They were threatened with assassination and the best people of the city met in a citizens’ assembly to voice public opinion, and to afford them the moral support which the people alone can furnish. The hells were raided, and most of those arrested waived examination; yet in spite of positive and conclusive evidence not a single indictment was found.

In August, 1879, two raids upon the gaming houses were instituted but no implements were found either time. The explanation commonly accepted by the public was that “private tips” had been given to the houses by the police. Notwithstanding this, detectives obtained sufficient evidence to hold several gamblers to await the action of the grand jury. The net result was a rather deplorable fiasco.

Despite all citizens’ meetings, it is a grave question whether public sentiment in Saratoga does not, at least indirectly, support gambling. A leading daily journal of that city, while fighting for the suppression of the vice, virtually concedes this fact. There can be no question that strong political influence is brought to bear every year upon the District Attorney of Saratoga County, not to press indictments before the grand jury, and upon members of the latter body not to find a true bill. The explanation is to be found in the fact that the gambling interests in the city and county are too strong to be overcome by the moral sentiment of a minority of tax-payers.

Owing to the large number of hotels gamblers and confidence men have found Saratoga a good place at which to locate an alibi. It is a fact no less surprising than sad that clerks at reputable hotels are willing to lend themselves to such a scheme. The _modus operandi_ is simple. A few lines are reserved on the register under a particular date; on that day a confidence game is worked elsewhere (let us say in Boston). The sharpers repair to the hotel where the space on the register has been reserved, and enter their names as of a previous date. Should they be arrested the hotel register is an invaluable adjunct in establishing an alibi. Of course the clerk cannot distinctly remember particular guests, but—for a consideration—he believes that his register is correct.

GAMBLING IN CINCINNATI.

Cincinnati at present (1890) may be said to be comparatively free from gamblers. The last gaming establishment in the city was shut up in 1886, and since that time there has not been a single place known as a resort of this character within the corporate limits. The proprietor of the last recognized house was Marshall Wooden, who is now somewhere in Arkansas. His place was closed as a result of the last battle in the long struggle between the gamblers and the authorities. Two years previous to that time gambling hells had been numerous, being protected by the existing Board of Police Commissioners, who exacted a weekly amount of blackmail from every gambling house. That board, however, which was a partisan one, was wiped out of existence, and a non-partisan board took charge of the police. A crusade against the gamblers was inaugurated, and little by little they were driven from the town. However, in Covington and Newport, Kentucky towns just across the river from Cincinnati, gamblers are allowed full sway. In Covington alone there are no less than one hundred policy shops, and Newport boasts of a large number. Faro and keno are also played in these towns, while in Newport is a resplendently gorgeous gaming palace, devoted to all kinds of play, which has been running for years. These facilities for gambling, so near at home, are so annoying to Cincinnati authorities that the latter have attempted to induce the officials on the other side of the river to act with them in suppressing the vice. But nothing has been done in the matter. It was only a short time ago that a young man, a clerk in the Bodmann tobacco warehouse in Cincinnati, began to frequent the horse races at Latonia. At first he risked only his own money, but from betting on horse pools he gradually became infatuated with other forms of gambling, and night after night found him in Newport, in the place already referred to. As a result of this love for play, and to pay his “debts of honor,” (?) he forged the name of his employers to checks to the amount of ten thousand dollars, cashed them, fled to England, was arrested, brought back, and is now serving a sentence of seven years in the Ohio penitentiary.

It was not until the beginning of the war that there was any great amount of gambling in Cincinnati. Previous to that time, poker was played regularly on the steam boats plying the Ohio and Mississippi rivers between that city and New Orleans, and occasionally there was a game on shore. But as a rule the gambler kept on the water. During the war, however, Cincinnati was the headquarters of one of the great departments of the army. It was full of officers going and coming; immense amounts of money changed hands constantly; fortunes were made readily, and, of course, adventurers of all kinds flocked to the city.

Then it was that the first gambling establishments were opened. There was a general laxity in regard to gamblers, and they held uninterrupted sway. Gambling increased until 1877 or 1878, when it reached its height. There were pool rooms in many of the saloons; gambling houses were as open as dry goods stores; policy was openly played, and lottery tickets were apparently legitimate articles of commerce.

About 1878, however, the pool rooms were closed and lottery tickets were banished. Now and then there would be a return of officials who owed their election to the votes of the gamblers, and that element in the community which was in sympathy with them, as during the years of 1884 and 1886, but good and efficient laws and their administration by an honest police force soon succeeded in suppressing open gaming houses.

Probably Cincinnati’s most noted gambler was the late “Bolly” Lewis. He flourished during the palmy days of the war. His establishment was one of the finest in the city. One night an army paymaster dropped into his place, and before morning came the unfortunate officer had lost $40,000. This set “Bolly” to moralizing, and from that time he became a changed man. He gave up gambling, became a member of the church, and was prominent in all charitable works. He proved his penitence by restoring the $40,000 to the officer. He went into the hotel business, became part proprietor of the Gibson house, and when he died enjoyed the respect and confidence of the entire community.

Tom Mead has been one of Cincinnati’s most persistent gamblers. He was a miner and went to California in ’49. He found it, however, more profitable to stop at Panama, where the miners who went by sea were crossing in a steady stream, and opening a gambling house there, he caught them going and coming, greatly to his own profit. He returned very wealthy, shot a man in Boston, then came to Cincinnati and opened places on Vine, Longworth and Fifth streets. Personally, he is a quiet, apparently inoffensive gentleman, dressing modestly, fond of good horses and devoted to his wife. Since gambling has been stopped he has become a law-abiding citizen and lives on the rental of the many houses which he owns.

“Eph” Holland is another noted Cincinnati gambler, who once achieved some notoriety as a politician, and who now has a place in Hot Springs, Arkansas.

“Blackie” Edwards still lives in Cincinnati, where for years he ran a straight faro game. He was honest in his way and had a code of honor which was exact. He apparently has enough to live on without working.

Robert Lynn ran faro games in both Cincinnati and Washington, and when the edict went forth that drove him out of the former city he retired to the latter.

Those named are men who have lived long in Cincinnati, some of whom have accumulated money, which they have carefully invested; but at all times the city has had homeless, temporary professional gamblers, who have come floating up from Lexington and other southern and western cities. It was from Kentucky that the business men, stock farmers and the like came, who made up the principal customers for Cincinnati’s gambling establishments. It was openly stated by the gamblers when it was proposed to drive them away, that they rarely fleeced any one who lived in the city, their profits being derived altogether from strangers, and that consequently it was really a good thing for the town to draw and keep here money from abroad.

There have never been but three really popular games among Cincinnati gamesters—poker, of the stud-horse type, faro, and keno. Keno, as a rule, has been straight, while faro has been equally crooked.

With the exception of Blackie Edwards’ place, the stranger in a gambling room in Cincinnati had nine chances in ten of being cheated. Roulette has been played to some extent, while in the old days rondeau was something of a favorite. It was played with a board furnished with pockets. You played a certain number of balls, rolling them down the board, and if an even number of them went in the pockets you won; if not, you lost. Crap shooting is played only along the levee by the darkies. Three years ago there were at least five hundred policy shops in town, but they have all been driven out. Policy is still played on a small scale, the headquarters being in Kentucky, and men go around to collect the numbers from the “friends,” as they are called.

During the war, gambling was enormously profitable. The instance of $40,000 having been lost in a single night has already been mentioned. The heads of gambling establishments would frequently take a trip to New Orleans, and would return with perhaps $5,000 and it was not unusual for the profits to be $10,000. During the later years, profits have not been so phenomenal, but still the money made has been large, as was clearly shown by the fact that gamblers were able to spend $50,000 and $60,000 a year for police protection. The business being in the hands of a few men, they were able to run pretty much as they pleased, the horde of small-fry professional gamblers being kept on the outside.

During the palmy days of the gamblers, they were an active, aggressive political force. Ephraim Holland, already mentioned, was famous as a political ward worker. He manipulated conventions to suit himself, and saw to it that the police officers were men who were friendly; and when Ephraim saw that an election was going against him, he at one time, so far forgot himself as to stuff the ballot box. This sent him to the penitentiary, and the wave of public indignation that followed his conviction, was disastrous to the gamblers. The gambling houses were kept open all night, being run, as a rule, in connection with a saloon, and they were hot-beds fostering criminals. They attracted to the town all sorts of unscrupulous individuals. There were frequent fights and occasionally a murder, while robbery was not uncommon. But since the closing of the gambling houses and at the same time the shutting down of the saloons at midnight, Cincinnati has really been regenerated. The number of prisoners in the jail has been reduced to almost half, while the clearing of the moral atmosphere is noticeable. The chief of detectives of Cincinnati, Col. Larry Hazen, said in speaking of the hegira of the gamblers, “I regard it as the greatest moral reform that Cincinnati has seen in my time. It removed temptation from growing boys and trusted young men, and it keeps away from our town a great number of pickpockets, as well as gamblers, who are ready to be burglars or anything else when occasion may offer.”

The Cincinnati Chamber of Commerce and Board of Trade are for strictly legitimate dealing. There is no selling on margins; all transactions must be with the real article. There are, however, three bucket shops who do business with the Chicago Board of Trade. Ten years ago there were fifteen bucket shops doing business in this way, but for the lack of patronage, they have dwindled to three. The law is exact and plain in forbidding their existence, but thus far, the courts have failed to dispose of the cases brought before them. The police are making a strenuous effort to close them up, and the next legislature promises to pass even more stringent legislation in regard to them. The volume of business done by them is small, their customers being for the most part, young men and listless individuals who have no regular employment, but who lounge around the bucket shops, spending now and then a dollar, and passing their time in watching the blackboards.

Lo! next to my prophetic eye there starts
A beauteous gamestress in the queen of hearts.
The cards are dealt, the fatal pool is lost,
And all her golden hopes forever crossed.
Yet still this card—devoted fair I view—
Whate’er her luck, to “_honor_” ever true.
So tender there—if debts crowd fast upon her
She’ll pawn her “virtue” to preserve her “_honor_.”
Thrice happy were my art, could I foretell
Cards would be abjured by every belle!
Yet, I pronounce who cherish still the vice,
And the pale vigils keep of cards and dice—
’Twill on their charms sad havoc make, ye fair!
Which “rouge” in vain shall labor to repair.
Beauties will grow mere hags, toasts wither’d jades,
Frightful and ugly as the—_Queen of Spades_.
_Oxonian in Town, 1767._

GAMBLING IN CLEVELAND.

With a population estimated at 250,000, Cleveland supports a dozen public gambling houses, half a dozen private poker clubs and two policy shops. In deference to unfavorable public sentiment, which forms the basis of restrictive measures enforced by the police, all forms of gambling are of necessity conducted in an exceedingly quiet manner. As a rule, all public gaming is conducted behind locked doors and applicants for admission are subjected to close scrutiny. For thirty years but one line of policy has been pursued by the municipal authorities toward gambling houses, and in all that time public opinion has been uniformly hostile to the business. The policy of the authorities has been to restrict, rather than to abolish, gambling. They have endeavored to place the games, as far as possible, beyond the reach of uninitiated and guileless citizens who would probably prove easy victims, and to limit their patronage to those whose experience has made them more familiar with the wiles of the professional gamester.

There is not a gambling house in Cleveland conducted on the ground floor, nor is there one run with open doors. With a solitary exception, the gambling rooms, of which there are about a dozen, are located in the second story of the business blocks. The exception referred to is a Chinese “joint,” operated in connection with a Mongolian laundry in a basement.

In 1866, there were but a half dozen gambling establishments in the city, and nearly all the six opened have commenced operations within the past eight years. There have, however, been several gambling rooms opened and conducted for only a short time, whose doors were closed because of the slender resources of the “bank,” which could not sustain the loss of a few thousand dollars. Within the past few years the police have emphatically insisted that the gambling rooms be kept hidden from public gaze. The object undoubtedly has been, as before intimated, so to arrange matters that only those who were obstinately bent on play, could find a place in which to stake their earnings on the turn of a card.

It has also been a feature of police policy to make a formal raid every year. In the Police Court it has been the custom to assess nominal fines of fifty dollars and costs on the keepers of gambling houses and ten dollars and costs on the visitors. Both classes have always assented to the arrangement, and, after pleading guilty, paid their fines without protest. A great many disinterested citizens insist that such proceedings, besides being inherently farcical, partake very much of the nature of an indirect licensing of the business.

A State statute provides that, when ordered by a court of competent jurisdiction, the mayor and chief of police shall destroy the gambling implements captured in a raid. It has become the settled custom, however, for the court not to order the destruction of the paraphernalia, which is accordingly returned to the owners. In consequence there is a great public outcry against the business and the police order all proprietors to close their rooms. They comply for a few weeks, and then gaming is resumed, though at first on a small scale. They gradually grow bolder, until they very nearly reach the point where they conduct business with open doors. There is then another outcry, they are ordered to close and the whole process is repeated.

In all the gambling houses there is a sentinel, and unless the appearance of the applicant for admission is satisfactory he is not permitted to enter.

Probably another reason for the caution on the part of the gamblers is to be found in the stringent legislation against the vice. The law, of course, does not recognize the business as legitimate, and it is an easy matter for a loser to secure judgment for money lost, either before a petty magistrate or in a higher court. As a rule the gamblers settle before the cases are called for trial, and they have at times submitted to blackmail rather than appear in court.

Concerning the individual characteristics of Cleveland gamblers there is little to be said, few of them enjoying more than a local reputation.

Among the most prominent proprietors of gambling houses, George Randall is, perhaps, the best known, and is the nearest approach to the ideal professional gamester. He has just passed the meridian of life, and has an unusually pleasant countenance. His drooping mustache is barely tinged with gray. He is intelligent, good-natured, and of a quiet disposition. He is thoroughly “game,” and no man can lose with more nonchalance or win with an easier grace. He owns a gambling establishment in Saratoga, but has an interest in two “hells” in Cleveland. His fortune is estimated at $30,000.

As regards the extent of gambling in Cleveland, it may be said that four-fifths of the playing is done in eight establishments, in all of which the principal games are “faro,” “roulette” and “poker.” In each of those places the paraphernalia—that is, the gambling implements and furnishings—cost about $2,500. The total amount invested in the outfit of the gambling rooms is about $25,000. There are in nearly all cases two partners, three dealers, and a porter, who also acts as sentinel. The dealers receive from $20 to $30 per week; the rents range from $60 to $80 per month, and the gas bills average about $6 per week. Under the head of expenses should be included the fines assessed at the time of the annual raids, all of which are paid by the proprietors. The average expenses of the twelve gambling houses in the city may fairly be summarized as follows:

Salaries of dealers $3,000
Rents 840
Gas 300
Porter 520
Police-court fines 100
Incidental expenses, including refreshments 500
———
Total $5,260

The amount of capital backing the establishments is about $80,000, of which faro has some $30,000, and roulette and poker the balance. There are about fifty employes. The profits during the past year have been, in the estimation of the best judges in the city, about $35,000. It has, however, been an unfortunate year for the fraternity, for, in addition to the losses already mentioned, one firm lost $6,000 in a month.

There are three semi-public poker clubs, of which the expenses are paid by the “rake off.” Besides these there are several private poker clubs, the members of which contribute all the money needed to maintain the rooms. A great deal of poker playing is also carried on in private rooms at various points throughout the city.

The Chinese laundrymen love to indulge in “fan-tan” and poker, and are inveterate gamesters. Many of them wear jasper rings on their left wrists “for luck.” They are in the habit of assembling in small parties in several localities, the main establishment being located at the corner of Seneca and Chaplain streets. The last mentioned place is also the headquarters of one of their secret societies. A police raid upon it, not many months ago, resulted in the capture of some twenty Celestials.

Policy playing is limited to two establishments. Each is conducted by the proprietor and one assistant, and they do a prosperous business. Their patrons are poor people, who are necessarily ignorant or they would not strive to overcome the heavy odds against their chance of winning. The patrons of the game invest about $1,500 per week in their effort to name the winning combination.

About $5,000 per month is invested in the Louisiana State Lottery. The local agent is the proprietor of a cigar store who maintains little secrecy, and even women and children figure among the patrons. The greater number of tickets are ordered by express or mail directly from New Orleans.

Gambling in stocks and grain is conducted through a few brokers who act as agents of the parties in New York and Chicago. They do a fair business, but it is not nearly so large as it was during the speculative craze a few years ago. They are understood to receive a commission of five per cent. Gamblers in Cleveland have never taken an active part in politics, their interest having been chiefly limited to wagers on the result of elections.

Police officials all unite in saying that little or no crime has been traced to gambling. One bank cashier embezzled nearly $1,000,000, and another about $80,000 to invest in stocks and wheat, but only one or two trifling defalcations have been traced to ordinary gambling. Recently a young man $200 short in his accounts disappeared, and he probably lost the money at roulette. A trusted employe ruined a prominent book firm, misusing perhaps $20,000; but business mismanagement and possibly other weaknesses combined with his fondness for poker to bring about his downfall.

There have undoubtedly been cases of embezzlement due to cards, however, that never became public. The laws against gambling have also made the proprietors cautious, and they are careful in permitting visitors to stake large sums. The gamblers, aside from a lot of “hangers on,” known as “shoestring” or “tin horn” gamblers, do not figure in the criminal records. Most of the latter exist on the earnings of prostitutes, and steal and gamble as a matter of course.

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GAMBLING IN MOBILE.

Before the war, the slave owner with wealth at his command, with his plantations overseered by trustworthy men, with his crops cultivated by his slaves, gradually became more and more indifferent to mercantile pursuits, and indeed, to any vocation involving actual work, of either mind or body, his main anxiety being to solve the question, how should he spend his money and live. Especially was this true before the advent of the railroad, when Mobile was the principal city in the State, the most easy of access on account of its rivers, and the focus of at least two-thirds of the entire wealth of Alabama. Gaming at that time in Mobile was almost universal, the sporting element being by far more gentlemanly, better educated, and in every respect more polished than are the men of that ilk to-day. Among the patrons of the race-course were such men as Wm. R. Johnson, Col. Sprague, “Wagner” Campbell; while the gamblers numbered in their ranks, Capt. Geo. Grant and Jack Delahaunty. As long as money poured into Mobile, that city was specially noted among the gambling fraternity for the high stakes wagered on horse-racing, and the amount risked on the turn of a card. Even when “the late unpleasantness” came on, substantially the same state of affairs existed, and what diminution there was in gaming among the residents, was more than counterbalanced by the prevalence of gambling among the soldiers of both armies during the war.

At this time a well known figure on the streets of Mobile, was Capt. Wm. H. Williamson. He was a Virginian by birth, of wealthy parents and educated as a gentleman. Early in life he settled in Alabama. He was exceedingly fond of horses, and generally devoted to sporting and was a frequenter of the races in Mobile, even up to a date within the last few years. He was one of the California “Forty-niners” and one of the witnesses of the famous Broderick-Terry duel, the story of which has recently been revived by the shooting of Judge Terry. Capt. Williamson was elected Chief of Police for two terms, holding that office during six years. It is fairness of play and unfailing courtesy rendered him popular, and he was one of the best types of the gamblers who, before the war, made Mobile their headquarters.

During the ante-bellum days “brace” games were either exceptional or not desirable. In fact they may be said to have been comparatively unknown in Mobile until after the occupancy of the city by the federal forces, when an army, estimated at 60,000, occupied the city and its immediate vicinity. With the advent of the camp followers, came sharp practices, and gambling revived in its most pernicious form.

From 1865 to 1872 this state of affairs continued. In the year 1873, Mobile having, like every other city in the Union, undergone the ordeal of a financial panic, which at that time swept over the country at large, was not a particularly favorable spot for the operations of gamblers. The laws of the State enacted about that time, moreover, were decidedly hostile to gambling. However, keno rooms and lotteries began to flourish, at the expense of poker, faro and roulette. Each successive legislature passed more stringent laws against gaming than had its predecessor, and public gambling almost ceased to exist. Simultaneously, however, with the advent of each new administration, some of the sporting fraternity, more venturesome than others, attempted to run keno, faro and poker rooms. Yet the popular demand for the enforcement of the laws was so loud, and the sentences of the court so severe, that at present gambling in Mobile is conducted with the utmost secrecy, and every precaution is taken to avoid police interference.

During the decade between 1870 and 1880 lotteries flourished. A test case was made up against A. J. Moses, and its determination temporarily put a stop to them all. At present lottery tickets are exposed for sale with great caution, the grand jury presenting a true bill against the venders, so far as the latter can be ascertained, two or three times a year, notwithstanding the fact that they usually turn their wheels in some place outside the city limits.

It was during the period between 1875 and 1880 that “Bud” Reneau, who has since figured so prominently in sporting circles, particularly as one of the managers of the Sullivan-Kilrain fight, began to attract attention as a member of local sporting clubs. His handsome figure and courtly manners always made him a favorite wherever he went. He has retained for his native place an affection which years of absence have not lessened, and his purse has always been open to the needy of his own city.

The sporting element has repeatedly essayed to influence elections in Mobile, but it cannot be said that their efforts have been rewarded with success, the policy of each municipal administration having been uniformly against gambling.

Among the negroes, “craps” is greatly in vogue, and there are but few terms of the courts in which indictments for “crap shooting” are not more numerous than for almost any other violation of the gambling laws. This description of gaming is almost exclusively confined to the colored population, and the prosecution of the offense is perhaps not retarded by the fact that the solicitor receives $150 for each conviction, as against $37.50 for other classes of misdemeanors.

The court enjoys the discretion in the case of conviction under the gambling laws, of either inflicting a fine, or sentencing the offender to the coal mines or both. As a rule, the sentence in the case of managers of lotteries has been a fine of $100 and solicitors fees $150 and costs of court which has resulted in the collection for the city of nearly ten thousand dollars per year from this source. At present, between the laws against gambling and the perseverance of the solicitor in keeping an eye on all the resorts of the gamblers it may be said that gambling is at the lowest possible ebb in Mobile. The enforcement of the laws by the grand juries has made things so unpleasant for the blacklegs that gradually they have been compelled to leave the city, either to avoid trials by the courts or to seek more profitable fields.

Early in 1877 the “Pool Room” or “Turf Exchange” made its appearance in Mobile. Undoubtedly this has proved the most pernicious of all forms of gambling. It grew rapidly in favor and lured many young men to destruction and dishonor. The evil was so great that a few citizens appealed to the Legislature in the spring of 1889 for the passage of a bill prohibiting pool selling which, up to that time, had not been covered by the State laws against gambling. The new bill had the novel feature in it that it compelled the municipal authorities of the various cities of the State to execute this law, and gave them jurisdiction, for that purpose, for five miles outside the corporate limits. The law was so carefully framed that the “Turf Exchange” men surrendered without a fight, and quit the State in a body.

GAMBLING IN CHARLESTON.

McMaster, in his “History of the People of the United States” quoting from the historian Ramsay, and several European travelers, says: “Betting and gambling were, with drunkenness and a passion for dueling and running in debt, the chief sins of the Carolina Gentleman.” This was about 1791. Charleston was then and for many years afterwards as much South Carolina as Paris is France. “Already the city was a great commercial centre. At its wharves might have been seen, almost any day, scores of vessels laden with every article of luxury or use Great Britain could supply. In the hands of her subjects was all the trade and all the commerce of the State. To own a ship, to keep a shop, to do any of those things done by merchants and traders, was in the opinion of a Carolina planter, degrading. The master spent his time in the enjoyment of such festivities as Charleston could afford. There he lived in a fine house, gave fine dinners, went to the theatre to see Mrs. Rawson, or to the circus to see Mr. Ricketts; subscribed to the assembly, joined the Hell-fire club or the Ugly club, or the Mount Zion Society, and rode his favorite horse at the races.”

Irving’s history of the turf in South Carolina, shows that the Jockey Club in Charleston was probably the oldest in the Union, and while at its annual meetings betting was not as common or as heavy as elsewhere, and the prizes were more frequently plate than money, yet the early popularity of horse racing indicates of necessity a passion for betting as well as for its alleged object, the improvement of the breeds of horses.

The early narratives give two notes of interest to the student of gambling, one before, and the other after, the Revolution, neither of which is cited by McMaster.