So it will be seen that although Ben made a jolly thing out of the wedding, he was himself a good deal taken in before the adventure was over.
Attempt to Murder Ben in Babylon—He Shoots a Man and is Arrested—Frightens the Witnesses and Prevents Perjury—Is Acquitted.
In the woods about Babylon were bands of thieves, who lived by plundering the strangers that came within their power. Wild, desperate men were these, who held human life of no greater account than so much earth. Ben’s place was frequented by these desperadoes, who were bent upon murder, or anything else, for the sake of plunder. They found in Hogan, however, a man who didn’t know the meaning of fear, and who was determined to hold his own against any odds. He gave them to understand that the first outrage committed upon any patron of his house would be avenged with interest.
“Understand, gentlemen,” he said, “I will shoot down the first man who undertakes to murder anybody coming out of this place!”
Finding the sort of man they had to deal with, the ruffians banded together for the purpose of killing Hogan. Lots were drawn to see who should perform this work, and the choice fell upon a fellow known as “Scotty,” and one Burke.
Waiting until midnight, the assassins entered the bar-room of Hogan’s place. There was nobody present but Ben himself and the barkeeper. The moment his eye fell upon the men, Ben suspected mischief, and drawing out two seven-shooters, he said quickly:
HOGAN PLEADING HIS OWN CASE IN TIDIOUTE.
“Gentlemen, you will oblige me by retiring at once. Go out, if you please, as you came in; and the first one who attempts to turn about or to draw a weapon will drop!”
This unexpected greeting knocked the plans of the conspirators into a cocked hat. There was nothing to do but to obey, and so they backed out of the room, looking very much crestfallen.
The next night Ben heard a loud knocking at the door, and as he went down to answer the summons, he heard low voices outside.
“Who’s to shoot first?” said one.
“You kill him,” said a second.
This sort of conversation was not very cheerful to listen to, as the midnight visitors had evidently called with the intention of committing murder. Ben, however, quietly opened the door and discharged a couple of shots, which put the fellows to flight.
These incidents are given to show that Hogan was constantly hounded by desperadoes while in Babylon. They will explain, in part, the circumstances which led up to a serious matter, in which Ben figured very conspicuously. I shall proceed to narrate the facts in the case precisely as they occurred.
A gang of twenty-five men entered into a compact to kill Ben Hogan at all hazards. Under the direction of this gang, a man named Dwyer called at Ben’s place at midnight and wanted to engage in a fight. Hogan told him that he did not want to fight, and tried to persuade him to leave the house. Suddenly Dwyer seized hold of a tumbler and struck Ben upon the head. In self-defense, Hogan then grappled with the man and threw him down. He did not want tohurt him, but simply to prevent him from doing any more injury.
At this point, the crowd outside rushed in. One man was knocked down with a pitcher, and while a number of his assailants held Ben, Dwyer kicked him repeatedly. Frightened at the noise, French Kate rushed into the bar-room. She took in the situation at a glance. Ben, her lover, was being assaulted—one man against a score. Kate dashed into the crowd, and with the butt-end of a revolver, knocked two or three of the ruffians down. Meantime, Ben reached around and succeeded in drawing his own revolver, with which he began to shoot. He aimed wholly at random, having no other idea than that of preserving his own life. Who fell he did not know.
The shots soon drove the crowd from the room. That same night, at a later hour, an attempt was made to set fire to the house; but a single shot was enough to end this game.
A drunken officer was sent to arrest Ben on the charge of murder. One of the shots fired in the encounter had proved fatal. Hogan refused to surrender himself to this fellow, who stood outside the house threatening to shoot; but later, he gave himself up to other officers who came in search of him.
The justice, after a hearing, was about to commit Ben for trial, but the prisoner declared that he would not be locked up.
“For if I am,” he added, “I shall be lynched. Let me take my chances against these men, but don’t take away from me all means of self-defense!”
This appeal had its effect, and a Mr. Shaw becoming security for the prisoner, he was released.
The trial took place on the Monday following—the shooting occured on a Saturday. Ben appeared in the dock, and before a single witness had been called he arose and said:
“I want simply a fair trial, and nothing more. Let every man tell what he knows about the shooting, but let him be careful not to perjure himself. For I announce here that the first witness who goes upon that stand and swears to what is false I will kill in just three seconds. That is all I have to say, gentlemen!”
When Ben resumed his seat, the court room was as silent as a tomb. The conspirators who were on hand to convict Hogan glanced at each other with pale faces. They had agreed to swear to whatever should be necessary to secure a verdict of guilty; but Ben’s words had taken the backbone completely out of them. They knew it was no vain threat which he uttered. They knew that if they swore to what was false they would drop where they stood.
So the first man who was called as a witness fainted from sheer fright. None of the others had courage enough to go upon the stand. And the result was, that there being no evidence of any kind against the prisoner, he was acquitted.
Thus ended the trial, which, had it resulted differently, might have sent a man to the gallows who simply defended himself against the brutal attacks of a mob.
Leaves Oil County—In Saratoga—Arrested on False Reports—Goes Back to Tidioute—In Rochester—First Meeting with Cummings.
It can be easily imagined, after the events narrated in the preceding chapter, that Hogan began to believe the oil regions were not the safest spot for him to tarry in. He, therefore, struck out for a new field of labor.
Accompanied by French Kate, he made his way to Albany, and thence to Saratoga. There he opened a cottage for the season.
He was flush as a lord during that summer. When he first arrived at the Springs he had twenty-seven thousand dollars in cash. It need hardly be said that he spent this money in princely style. Nobody drove a more stunning turn-out, nor drank choicer wines, nor dropped heavier sums on the green board than did Ben Hogan. A single incident may serve to illustrate the recklessness with which he parted with his money.
Entering John Morrissey’s famous club-house one night, he sauntered up to the faro table, and after watching the cards for a moment, said:
“A hundred that the ace loses!”
The dealer glanced up, and at once recognized Hogan, placed a counter on the ace for the sum specified. At the very next turn the ace came up on the winning pile.
“Two hundred that it loses this time!” said Ben, quietly.
Another marker was placed on the cloth, and again the ace showed up, winning.
“Four hundred that she loses now!” said Ben, while the other players began to stand back and watch him with curious eyes.
Again the cards were dealt out by the dealer, and again the ace turned to win.
“That is seven hundred dollars in all that I have lost, is it?” asked Ben, knocking the ashes from his cigar.
“Seven hundred!” repeated the dealer.
Ben drew an immense roll of bank notes from his pocket, counted out the amount he had lost and fourteen hundred dollars more, and remarked:
“Take up the counters and put this on the ace. I repeat my bet.”
The excitement of those who were watching the game had by this time become intense. Even the dealer stroked his moustache a little nervously before he began to deal out the cards. In fact, the only man in the group who appeared to be perfectly unconcerned was Ben himself. He puffed his fragrant cigar as composedly as though he had no interest whatever in the result of the deal. And yet, upon the single turn of a card hung the fate of fourteen hundred dollars—more money than many a man is able to earn by a year’s hard labor.
But one ace remained in the box. Slowly, and with clock-like precision the dealer slipped out the cards, Every eye was strained, every breath bated. At last it came—and for the fourth time it lost!
Ben drew forth a fresh cigar, lighted it, and strolled away from the table, having dropped fourteen hundred dollars in just ten minutes.
At this rate, it can readily be seen that the comfortable fortune dwindled away in surprisingly short time. Wine, women and cards can eat up a Vanderbilt estate before a man knows what he is doing. And although Ben was pretty flush, he was not exactly a Vanderbilt.
One incident which occurred that summer, during his sojourn in Saratoga, was of a less pleasant nature than the usual round of pleasures at a watering place. It was nothing more nor less than Ben’s arrest on a charge of murder. The affair happened in this wise:
One Sam Hoick, who had an old grudge against Hogan, circulated a report to the effect that Ben had been indicted for murder in Pennsylvania, and that there was then a reward offered for his capture. Hoick got his brother to add his testimony to the story, which was, throughout, a deliberate falsehood. Ben had never been indicted for murder, either in Pennsylvania or anywhere else; and as the reader already knows, he had been acquitted in the Babylon court because there was no evidence against him. The Hoick brothers, however, did not stand upon falsifying to what they knew was untrue, so long as they were enabled to get Ben into trouble.
Upon these reports a detective arrested Hogan, and he was locked up in the Balston jail. Subsequently he was taken out on a writ ofhabeas corpus, and a telegram was sent to the oil regions to ascertain whether the Hoick brothers’ story was true. The reply to this message, sent by the justice before whomBen had appeared, was to the effect that there was no indictment for murder against Hogan, and added that if he had killed those who had figured in the affair, he would have done the community a service.
Of course, upon the receipt of this message, he was discharged from custody.
His fast career in Saratoga was now drawing to a close. He had spent his money with reckless extravagance, and, as already explained, the steady drain had reduced the pile until little or nothing remained. During this time, French Kate had become so jealous that it was next to impossible for Ben to live with her. They had had one or two open quarrels, and shortly before leaving her, Ben excited her anger to such a pitch that she shot at him, with the intention of killing him.
When, at last, his money was entirely gone, Ben borrowed fifteen dollars and left the Springs, leaving also French Kate behind him.
He made his way back to the oil regions for the purpose of securing the furniture, clothing, and other personal property which he had left in Tidioute. This property was in the hands of the landlord from whom Ben had rented his house. He claimed that the house had been damaged by Hogan’s occupancy of it, and openly boasted that he should hold on to the furniture and other things to indemnify himself.
Ben, upon reaching the town, made his way at once to the landlord’s house. He went with the determination of getting what rightfully belonged to him—and he got it. He did not trouble any lawyer about the matter, and the only friends that he took with him were a couple of good revolvers. These he knew hecould rely upon, and when they spoke, their remarks would be sure to have weight.
Entering the house with a pistol in each hand, he said:
“I have come to get what honestly belongs to me. You have seized upon my furniture, bedding and other articles, and now I want you to fork over the price of the same. If you make any disturbance I may be obliged to call upon these friends for assistance!”
Here Ben swung the revolvers around in an exceedingly free-and-easy manner. There was a good deal of bluster and blow on the part of the landlord, but he finally concluded that the best thing he could do would be to compromise the matter. So he paid Ben four hundred dollars, which was all the money there was in the establishment, and our hero thereupon withdrew.
That same day he went over to Tryern, where were gathered many of the old patrons of the Babylon House. These men, however they might abuse Ben when he was absent, were ready enough to praise him to his face. In fact, they were all too much afraid of him to relish the idea of having him for an enemy. They therefore told him that he had done right in defending his house against the mob, and that if they had been in his place they would have shot a dozen instead of one.
With the four hundred dollars in his pocket, Ben was feeling in such good humor that he bought ten gallons of whiskey and ten boxes of cigars, all of which he distributed among the crowd. Of course they swore that he was the best fellow alive, after that. Any man would be the best fellow alive whowould furnish the gang ten gallons of whiskey and ten boxes of cigars.
There was one chap, John Dillon by name, who had frequently asserted that he would kill Hogan as soon as he saw him. Wishing to settle up all little matters of this kind before leaving the neighborhood, Ben, happening to run across Dillon that day, told him that he was ready to receive him whenever he wanted to put up his fists. Dillon was at first disposed to “get on his ear,” but one blow on the head brought him to terms. He made up his mind that it was all a mistake; he didn’t want to kill Ben at all; he didn’t even want to fight with him. And so the two took a drink together, and pledged each other’s very good health.
Having settled up his business, Ben again left the oil country and bent his course toward Syracuse. Upon his arrival in that city he learned that Cummings, of Rochester, was anxious for a fight, and so he lost no time in giving him a chance.
His first meeting with Cummings was somewhat amusing. The latter had never seen Ben, although he had heard a great deal about him. Our hero sought out the Rochester pugilist, and without making known who he was, began a conversation.
“I hear,” said Ben, “that you want to fight Hogan. Is that so?”
“You’re right it is,” answered Cummings. “I have been trying to get up a fight for a long time now, but I never could bring him to time.”
“Well, that’s odd,” returned Ben. “I’ve been told that this man Hogan is a plucky fellow, who is willing to accept a challenge from anybody. Did you ever see him?”
“Well, I went down to Syracuse,” answered Cummings, “and tried to see him, but he kept himself out of my way. The fact of it is, the fellow’s afraid of me!”
“Oh, he is, is he?” said Ben, with a curious sort of a smile. “Well, we’ll see what can be done toward bringing you together!”
That ended the conversation for the time being, Ben agreeing to meet Cummings the next day. What troubled our hero was not the fear of fighting Cummings, but the want of money to put up for the match. By good luck, he happened to fall in that same day with Perkins, California Jack, and one or two other sporting men, and to them he made known his wants. Perkins was desirous of seeing what Ben could do, and the party accordingly adjourned to a gymnasium, where Hogan gave a specimen of his pugilistic skill.
“I’ll go my pile on that man!” said Perkins, when Ben had finished.
In this way he secured good backers, and was ready to fight for any reasonable sum.
According to agreement, he met Cummings next day.
“Look here,” said Ben, who wanted to get at once down to business, “you say that you are ready and anxious to fight Hogan?”
“That’s what I say,” answered Cummings.
“Well, now, suppose Hogan was to come in here now,” (they were in the Arcade saloon at the time) “would you go out and fight him?”
“I would,” was the answer.
“All right,” said Ben. “I am the gentleman in question, and I will fight you for five hundred dollars,or one hundred dollars, or a chew of tobacco, if you like! We’ll drive out of town now with a few friends and settle the whole business. What do you say?”
Cummings, upon finding himself face to face with the man whom he had been boasting he could whip, began to grow a little white about the gills. He professed, however, to be willing to accept Ben’s proposal, but instead of doing this he started off and got out a warrant for Hogan’s arrest on a charge of engaging in a prize fight.
Ben had very little trouble in getting released from custody, but he left Rochester thoroughly disgusted with Cummings.
The Gymnasium Business—Life in Rochester—First Meeting of Hogan and Tom Allen—A Disgraceful Affair.
Our hero’s next exploit was in Geneva, which town he visited for the purpose of meeting Dempsey, a local pugilist of some reputation.
It was arranged that a sparring match between the two should take place, so that Dempsey’s friends might decide whether they were willing to back their man against Hogan.
The exhibition was very largely attended, and excited a good deal of interest. When the men made their appearance they were greeted with applause, and their movements were closely watched. Ben had made up his mind that he would let Dempsey get the best of the match, in order that a fight might be brought about. This little game would probably have worked but for the fact that there were some among the spectators who knew Ben, and knew also what he could do. When these friends saw Hogan playing off, and permitting himself to be knocked down by Dempsey, they began to cry out:
“Hold on, Hogan. That won’t do!”
Of course Ben, finding himself discovered, was obliged to handle his fists with his usual skill, and this not only knocked Dempsey, but likewise the match, into a cocked hat. Nobody was willing to back the Geneva boy, and the fight accordinglyfell through. However, the sparring exhibition yielded about four hundred dollars, so that the trip was not a failure.
Soon after this, Ben, in company with Snatch Murray, went to Buffalo and gave an exhibition in that city. Mackey was in the town then, training a man to fight Cummings, and having failed, as we know, to get the Rochester champion in the ring, Hogan contented himself by fighting Mackey. The battle lasted through only four rounds, at the end of which time Mackey had got enough. Indeed, he had got too much.
Hogan’s reputation throughout the central and western portions of New York had become so well established by this time, that the rumor was common that he could whip any man in Rochester, Buffalo or Syracuse. Certain it is that there appeared to be nobody in those cities who seemed anxious to meet Ben in the P. R.
Cast-Iron Collins, as he was called, came to the front for a short time, and a fight was arranged between him and Hogan. But while Ben was in training, Collins backed out, thus showing that the sort of cast-iron of which he was made was not of a very reliable nature.
After a sojourn of some time in Buffalo, Ben returned to Rochester. He struck the latter city with the idea of opening a place—and he had no way of doing it except with a crowbar. He did not resort to this method, however, preferring to use his wits instead.
Hiring a vacant store, he went to work to fix it up as a gymnasium. It may be remarked, incidentally,that whenever Ben has been hopelessly “broke,” he has invariably resorted to the gymnasium as a means of raising the needful. This Rochester venture did not cost him very much at the outset. He got everything on credit; stocked the bar by credit and paid people—on credit. Nobody can say that this was not a perfectly credit-able proceeding on Ben’s part.
The project proved a big success, and business increased so rapidly that Ben finally concluded to take in a partner. Some laughable incidents occurred during this period in Rochester.
Ben drove a handsome team of horses, which he hired for the season, and which gave him the appearance of a man of wealth. While out driving he frequently met the farmers coming into the city with loads of wood. Purely for the deviltry of the thing, Ben stopped one of these rustics one day, told him that he would buy his wood, and directed him to leave it at a given address. The farmer, thinking that he had made a good bargain, did as Ben told him, taking the latter’s word that he would “settle with him in a day or two.”
As soon as the wood had been delivered, Ben had it immediately sawed and split, so that by the time the farmer called around for his money, it was all piled away. The man was naturally mad, but he was informed that he might take his wood back if he wanted it, only he must first pay for the sawing and splitting. The price charged for this work was fixed at the modest sum of twenty dollars—which was twice as much as the wood had originally cost.
Believing that he had been swindled, the farmerhad Ben arrested, but, as our hero was able to show that he was not worth a dollar, and that he owed more people than he could remember, there was little satisfaction to be got out of the law. Hogan sent the wood to a needy family, and enjoyed the little joke immensely.
If he did this thing once, he did it a dozen times, always sending what he got from the prosperous farmers to the poor of the city. When he happened to meet one of his victims on the road, he would draw up most politely, and say:
“Ah, that little bill of yours! I had forgotten all about it. Call around at my place when I am in!”
And with that he would touch up his horses, and go whirling away.
The trouble was that whenever the farmers did call around at his place, Ben was sure to be out. That was one of his fixed rules.
On another occasion, the man whom Ben had “stood up” for his cigars, came to him and wanted some money the worst way. Ben learned that this man was owing a number of his employees, and that the workmen could not get their pay. He entered into an agreement with some of the hands, whereby they might get a part of what was due them. When the cigar manufacturer came in, Ben laid down thirty dollars on the bar, saying:
“There you are, sir!”
But before the dealer could pick up the money, it had been snatched by the workmen, as Ben knew it would be, and the manufacturer never saw a dollar of it again.
By way of comforting the fellow for his loss, Hoganproposed a little game of faro, and bled him out of what money he had. But the chap made himself more than solid by afterward bucking against a square game.
On still another occasion a pork dealer came into Ben’s place, who had heard a good deal about the notorious Hogan, and who was anxious to see him. Ben was present at the time and at once met his rural visitor with the utmost politeness.
“Be you Hogan?” asked the dealer in hogs.
“No, sir,” answered Ben, promptly. “Mr. Hogan is not in just at present; but I am a pupil of his.”
“Waal, neow!” said the countryman. “I thought I’d jest drop in here to see what was going on, you know. I used to box a little myself.”
“Well, I’m not much in that line,” remarked Ben, modestly, “but suppose we have a little set-to, just for fun.”
This was agreed to, and the pork dealer put on the gloves. For a time Ben let him get the best of it, merely warding off the blows, without trying to get in any himself. Then he proposed that they should bet the drinks on the first blood. The countryman thought he would have to try it once, whereupon Ben braced up and planted one on his opponent’s smeller, which caused the claret to flow copiously.
“Waal, neow; you got me that time!” exclaimed the countryman. “Suppose we try it once for the first knock-down?”
As may be easily guessed, it didn’t take Ben but a precious short time to lay out his antagonist, and after the two rounds of drinks had been ordered and paid for, Hogan told the pork dealer who he reallywas. Of course it surprised him, but not quite as much as did another discovery which he afterward made, and which will be described hereafter.
During Ben’s stay in Rochester he had his first public association with Tom Allen. Allen turned up in the town and gave a sparring exhibition along with Shedder and Bill Riley, the entertainment closing with a set-to between Hogan and Allen.
This was the first meeting of the men, and it is well to note that Ben gave his opponent more than he wanted.
Charley Perkins, who is known among sporting men, from his connection at one time with Heenan, offered to back Ben for one thousand dollars against Allen. A challenge to this effect was sent toThe New York Clipper, accompanied by the requisite deposit.
It chanced that after the challenge had been sent, Cummings fell in with Perkins, and told him that he (Cummings) could lick Hogan or Perkins either.
Perkins reminded the windy Cummings that he had seen Hogan offer to fight him in Rochester for anything from five hundred dollars to a chew of tobacco, and instead of accepting the offer, Cummings had slunk away, and had had Hogan arrested. As for whipping him (Perkins) he did not believe that Cummings or any of his tribe could successfully undertake that job.
The hot words very soon led to arguments of a more forcible nature—in other words, the men resorted to their fists. Perkins knocked Cummings down twice in quick succession. Then Cummings, who entertained some curious ideas of the pugilistic art, findingthat he could not fairly whip his opponent, bit off a part of Perkins’ nose.
This disgraceful proceeding naturally aroused much indignation in Rochester. It was, indeed, the excitement growing out of the affray which put an end to the proposed fight between Hogan and Allen. Other explanations than this have been offered, and it has been openly asserted that Hogan weakened. The simple statement of facts here given should serve to quiet all such stories in the future.
As soon as Hogan had heard of the cowardly attack made upon his friend, he resolved to seek revenge. He hurried to the house in which Cummings was living, but unfortunately was followed by two officers who had been detailed to watch his movements. As soon as he entered the house he was ordered to leave it. Seeing how useless it would be to oppose the power of the law, he left Cummings unpunished.
Space prevents the further description of Ben’s adventures at this time, save to recount the manner in which he left the city.
The pork dealer, to whom reference has already been made, happened to drop in a second time, having with him a load of dressed hogs. Ben greeted him with great cordiality, asked him how he was getting along, and expressed deep interest in the subject of hogs. After one or two sociable drinks, our hero surprised his visitor by offering to buy his entire load of pork.
“I will give you,” said Ben, “six and a fourth cents a pound,” (this was about the market price) “and you may come in to-morrow for your money.”
This proposition was joyfully accepted by our ruralfriend, who considered the promise of so high-toned a gentleman as Ben quite as good as the money in hand. The value of the pork at the proposed price was two hundred and thirty dollars. Congratulating himself upon having made a first-class bargain, the countryman withdrew—not however until he had drunk Ben’s good health in a bottle of champagne.
The gymnasium business had begun to wane in Rochester. For that reason Hogan had determined to give it up. And this resolve perhaps was hastened by his large investment in pork. He disposed of the stuff for two hundred and fifty dollars, and having got the money, shook the dust of Rochester off his feet.
That farmer is looking for him to this day, but, as he was worth forty thousand dollars, he could abundantly afford to help so worthy an object as Ben Hogan.
How Ben Treated the Deputy Sheriff—Annie Gibbons, the Pedestrian—Ben Goes to Pittsburg and Meets Mr. Green.
After his somewhat sudden departure from Rochester, Ben made his way to New York.
There, at the invitation which had been extended to him while in Rochester by Kehoe, the well-known Indian club manufacturer, Ben consented to appear at a sparring exhibition given at No. 600 Broadway. It was intended that Hogan should have a set-to with Johnny Dwyer, the now famous heavy-weight champion of America, but the latter had arranged to meet Rourke, and therefore begged to be excused from a second encounter. In place of Dwyer, Ben, at the request of old Uncle Bill Tovee, consented to a bout with Billy Edwards.
It should be remembered that at this time Dwyer and Edwards were comparatively unknown, the latter having but recently entered upon his fistic career. He came to Ben, and requested him to use him gently in the bout, inasmuch as he was then matched to fight Sam Collyer—his first professional match.
The set-to was an interesting one, although Ben did not attempt to punish his antagonist as he might have done had he so chosen. Unfortunately, however, Edwards made a slip and struck Ben on the forehead with his head, inflicting a wound which caused theblood to flow freely. This gave rise to such intense excitement that the set-to was brought to an end.
It is worth while to note that many of the men assembled on that occasion have since attained to distinction. There was Uncle Bill Tovee, born before the flood, and known further back than the memory of man stretches. There was Kehoe, whose fame was as broad as the country, but who, alas! is now dragging out his days in the Flatbush Insane Asylum. There was George Rourke, now the middle-weight champion, and a capital boxer. There was Billy Edwards, a mere boy then, but still giving promise of the greatness to which he has since attained. A more expert light-weight pugilist will not be seen for years to come than Edwards. And there, also, was Johnny Dwyer, who is now at the top of his profession, the champion heavy-weight of America, and as thorough a gentleman as he is a pugilist. Dwyer is to-day traveling with Joe Goss, England’s pride, and a man whose achievements in the ring are too familiar to need dwelling upon here. There, too, was Ben Hogan—but modesty prevents us from saying more.
Coburn, at this time, was matched to fight with McCool, and was in training in Harlem. He sent for Hogan, upon hearing of the latter’s arrival in the city, and made him his assistant trainer. Ben remained in this position for about sixty days. It was during this time that he met the deputy sheriff who had taken him to Warren, Pa., at the time of his arrest. As was intimated some pages back, Ben was determined to get even with this fellow, and the opportunity offered itself in the most timely manner. Ben learned that the deputy was to arrive in the city by theAlbany boat, and moreover, that he intended to stop at the Astor House. With this information, he had the fellow driven to the hotel named by a cabman whom he (Ben) had paid. In this way he made sure of his game. Then he ran across the deputy seemingly by accident, shook hands with him cordially, and professed to be delighted at the meeting.
That same evening Ben contrived matters so that his Pennsylvania friend should drop in at Harry Hill’s. Then he proceeded to put into execution the plan which he had formed. Getting some burnt cork, he blackened his face so as to look like a negro, put on a woolly wig, and the roughest suit of clothes he could find. In this disguise he told the policeman on the beat that there was a man in Harry Hill’s whom he was going to lick when he came out. He explained that after thrashing his victim all that he cared to, he should roll him over on top of him (Ben) so that the officer might arrest the chap on the charge of assault and battery.
Having fixed these preliminaries, Ben took up his station at the door of Harry’s famous house. In good time the deputy made his appearance. No sooner had he done so than Ben jumped upon, threw him to the ground, and proceeded to take all the satisfaction out of his hide that he cared to. The poor deputy made but a sorry show of resistance, and indeed it would have made but little difference whether he had done so or not. After Ben had thrashed him to his heart’s content, he rolled him to the top of the heap, and began crying out hastily:
“Police! Police!”
The officer of course made his appearance upon thescene, and finding a big strapping fellow abusing a poor inoffensive darkey, arrested the former and let the latter go.
The next morning the deputy sheriff was arraigned in a police justice’s court, and fined twenty-five dollars for assault and battery—which, let us hope, taught him not to attack innocent and unprotected negroes.
Upon leaving New York, Ben went to Albany, where he opened a place at the corner of Hudson and Greene streets, on the same principle as that in Rochester. The resort became well known in Albany and was frequented by all the sporting men of the capital.
Ben assisted in getting up the walking match at Rennsselaer Park, in which Weston, Adoc, Payne, Ferguson, and a member of the Troy police force were entered as competitors. Three purses were offered; the first three hundred, the second two hundred, and the third fifty dollars. The pedestrians were to undertake the feat of walking one hundred miles in twenty-four hours.
Ben trained Adoc and Payne with the understanding that he was to have one-half of all the prize money they won. The two men took first and second money, but they cleared out without sharing with their trainer. A seven-mile walk was held that same day for a purse of four hundred dollars, which Ben raised by subscription on the ground.
I desire to refer to one incident which occured during Ben’s stay in Albany, and which I think illustrates a trait in his character for which few persons are cognizant.
A young man of good family and excellent advantages often came into Hogan’s place in a state of intoxication. One day Ben fell to talking with him about the matter, and told him that unless he stopped short he would certainly die from the effects of liquor.
“But I have tried to stop,” said the young man, “and it’s no use. The fact of it is, Ben, I can’t live without my bitters now.”
“Well,” answered Ben, “you can’t live much longer with them, that’s certain. Now I’ll tell you what I’ll do. If you will follow my directions for three months—do just what I tell you to—I’ll get you a new rig throughout, give you a gold watch and chain and make as good a man of you as I am.”
The young man at once agreed to this liberal proposition. Ben’s course of treatment was substantially as follows: For the first week he gave his patient three drinks of strong liquor a day. He made his diet consist of oatmeal, beef tea, and other equally nourishing articles. He caused him to exercise as much as his strength would permit, go to bed at regular hours, and to bathe himself freely. During the second week the dose of liquor was reduced to two drinks a day; the third week, to one a day; and the fourth week it was dispensed with altogether. This gradual shutting off of his accustomed stimulus made it an easy task to go without liquor. Ben furnished him with beer and light wines, and gave him to understand that he might use these beverages as freely as he cared to.
The result of all this was that the young man who had sunk to the lowest depths of degradation, was rescued from rum’s power. Ben was as good as hisword, and fitted him out with a complete suit of new clothes. He is living to-day, an honored and respected citizen.
At the time of which I am writing, an exhibition of sparring was given in Turner’s Hall, by Tom Kelly and Patsy Reardon. The entertainment wound up with a set-to between Patsy and Ben which was one of the toughest contests on record. But a single round was fought, yet this occupied three-quarters of an hour. The men were so evenly matched that it was impossible for either to score a victory. Both, therefore, were compelled to throw up the sponge, and both declared it to be the hardest round they had ever fought.
A young woman, by name Annie Gibbons, who had formerly been a clog-dancer, was discovered by Hogan, while in Albany, and put in training for a pedestrian.
This Annie Gibbons was a remarkable character in more ways than one. She knocked about the city, visiting all sorts of haunts, in men’s attire, and passing herself off everywhere as a boy. It was no uncommon occurrence for her to enter a faro bank with Ben and engage in the game with as much interest as anybody. At such times she would frequently hear herself talked about with the utmost freedom.
“That’s a soft thing you’ve got, Ben,” some one would remark.
“What are you going to do with the girl, anyway?” from a second speaker.
“She must be a plucky one,” a third would add.
All of which was listened to in silence by Annie herself, whose presence, of course, was never suspected by the speakers.
Her powers as a pedestrian were something really extraordinary. She could walk fifty miles in ten hours—a feat which she actually performed in Troy. Ben saw of course that there was money to be made out of this woman, and he put her through a thorough course of training. Then he took her to Syracuse, where she gave an exhibition of her powers, and also to Elmira. At this latter place, Ben parted company with her. She made her way to Rochester, Hogan meantime going to Oneida with McLaughlin.
While in Oneida, Ben saw by the newspapers that the girl had got into trouble in Rochester, and had been committed to the penitentiary. He accordingly followed her to that city, and after some little effort, obtained her release. The two then proceeded in company to Buffalo.
It so happened that Adoc and Payne were also in the city at this time. Ben had not forgotten how these two worthies skipped from Albany without sharing the prize money as they had agreed to do. He therefore put Miss Annie to good account in getting even with the two pedestrians. It did not take her very long to relieve them of all the money they had, thus settling up with interest Hogan’s old scores.
Ben meantime had returned to Oneida, where he was giving lessons in boxing. The town, as the reader probably knows, is still frequented by many Indians, relics of the once famous Oneida tribe. Ben conceived the idea of training seven of these noble red men, and taking them to Europe to exhibit. But the project fell through, and proved a losing speculation.
Returning to Syracuse Ben met with Bob Bridley,then the champion middle-weight of England. The two formed a partnership, and gave sparring exhibitions in Syracuse, Geneva, Lockport, Waterloo, Erie, Buffalo, and finally in Cleveland.
During this trip, they cleared an even seventeen hundred dollars. At this time Allen and Gallagher were matched for a fight, and upon reaching Cleveland, Ben and Bridley, on information which seemed to them trustworthy, put up their entire pile on Allen. They had been informed that Gallagher was sick, and would be in no condition to fight. As it was, however, he showed up well enough to knock the wind out of Allen, and the money out of our friends who had backed the latter.
Finding himself again strapped, Ben proceeded to Pittsburgh, where he made his first appearance in a sparring exhibition held in Lafayette Hall. Gearing, Reise, and others figured on that occasion.
Ben next went to Petroleum Centre, hoping to raise money enough to enable him to fight Allen. A funny incident which occurred at this time deserves to be briefly related.
In Nell Robinson’s house—where Tom Snowden was then tending bar—our hero met with an exceedingly verdant chap whom we will designate by the appropriate name of Green. Ben who still carried with him that peculiar-looking tobacco-box, already described, showed it to Mr. Green. Mr. Green at once became interested. Ben explained to him how simple it was to open, and then offered to bet him ten dollars that he couldn’t open it. One Gasper, who acted as a capper, suggested that Mr. Green make his bet twenty-five dollars. It was immaterial to Mr. Green,and so the wager was made, and Ben pocketed the money. Instead, however, of becoming enraged, this seemed only to heighten the good opinion which Mr. Green entertained toward his new friend. Ben had grown somewhat shabby at this time, and the generous Mr. Green magnanimously proposed to buy him a suit of clothes. This offer was very readily accepted, and proceeding at once to a clothing store, Ben blossomed out in a complete new suit, which was afterward crowned by a shining silk hat.
These little incidental expenses were nothing to Mr. Green so long as they purchased for him the privilege of being in Ben Hogan’s company. He had a profound admiration for pugilists. So to pamper this innocent weakness, Ben introduced the fellow as Mike McCool. That suited him to a T. At Ben’s suggestion, they obtained a violin and bagpipe, and visited various bar-rooms, in all of which Mr. Green flaunted himself as the genuine McCool.
“You see,” said Ben, “with these musical instruments we can travel around together, call at all the saloons, get a crowd, and then give sparring exhibitions, and make piles of money.”
Mr. Green thought this a capital idea. The fun continued until Ben finally climaxed it all by persuading Green to hire a band and get aboard the train for Oil City. While the band was playing and the crowd staring, and Mr. Green showing what a great man he was, Ben quietly got off the cars, and the train went on without him. So did Mr. Green and his band. The former sent a telegram back to Petroleum City, and Hogan replied that he would be on in the next train; but having got his clothes andhat, and a fair sum of money, he permitted Mr. Green to depart in his glory.
It was a pity that there were not more Greens, for, had there been, our hero might have lived like a prince, without troubling himself to work. As it was, however, Ben began to look about for some means of raising the wherewithal to bring Allen to a fight.
Gus Rigl promised him half his place, but this promise turned out of no account. Then Ben joined with John Sweeney and started out, giving sparring exhibitions. They visited Oil City, Petroleum Centre, Titusville, Cora, Rouseville, and met everywhere with encouraging success.
This gave Ben enough of a lift to warrant the opening of a place in Titusville, with Jerry O’Brien—which he did.
Having by this time raised a sufficient sum of money, Ben determined to carry out his original project, and challenge Tom Allen to a fight. Such a challenge was written out and sent to theNew York Clipper, accompanied by one hundred dollars’ forfeit. Allen’s reply, which appeared in the same journal, stated that he had already matches arranged with McCool and Gallagher; that he was in training for these, and that he did not care to enter into any third match. He therefore refused to accept Ben’s challenge.
It may be well to add in this connection, since there has been so much said and written about the meetings between Allen and Hogan, that Ben had no knowledge of Allen’s intention to fight either Gallagher or McCool at this time, and that he was perfectly sincere in his desire to bring about a fight.The challenge was not made for the sake of bluster, but simply to decide which was the better man. As we shall see further on, a meeting was finally arranged between the two men, and at that time Ben showed that he was by no means afraid of Allen’s fists.
Ben in St. Louis—First Entree into Parker’s Landing—Opens a Free-and-Easy—Trouble with the Authorities.
Shortly after the incidents narrated in the preceding chapter, Ben made his way to St. Louis.
On his way to that city, and while in Cincinnati, he met with O’Baldwin. Ben had intended, on arriving in St. Louis, to give a sparring exhibition, but O’Baldwin got in ahead on this project, and took the cream of the town.
Gallagher was at this time in St. Louis, getting ready for his fight with Allen. When Ben reached the city, he called on Gallagher, and was surprised at the remarkable powers which he possessed. He interested himself in behalf of his fellow pugilist, and did the latter good service in the capacity of trainer.
After remaining some time in St. Louis, Ben took a farewell benefit, which was held in Jack Looney’s hall. Gallagher, McCool, and a number of others volunteered for the occasion, which proved in every way a success.
Leaving St. Louis, Hogan returned East, going to Oneida, N. Y., where he acted as trainer for McLaughlin, who was preparing for his match with Homer Lane. After a month spent in this manner, Ben was seized with a desire to go back to the oil country, and, accordingly, made his way to Petroleum Centre. He reached that town dead broke; borrowedfive dollars of Tyler, and struck out for Parker’s Landing.
When he reached that small but by no means unimportant settlement, our hero had just thirty-five cents in his pocket. His first entree, therefore, in Parker’s—for by that name it is familiarly known—cannot be said to have been altogether encouraging. But if his capital in money was limited, Ben had any amount of pluck and energy, and these soon gave him a fair start.
His first venture in Parker’s was in the gymnasium line. Charley Green, to whom he made known his plans, advanced him forty dollars, with which he opened a place. He stopped for a time with John Eckert, who now keeps a popular hotel in Auburn. The gymnasium was opened in a hall, and among the distinguished pupils were Eph Parker, Doc. Karnes, Charley Green, Tillinghast, and others. Eph Parker may be said to have been the mainstay and cornerstone of the concern. Whenever Ben became hard-up—which he did frequently in those days—Eph would generously advance him fifty or a hundred dollars, wherewith to bridge over the temporary troubles. Eph was a good-natured sort of a fellow, who spent his money with more freedom than wisdom. He had a great weakness for boxing, and believed himself to be an expert in that line. Ben very quickly discovered this susceptible point, and turned it to practical account. He would tickle Eph’s vanity by telling him that he was the greatest boxer in the world, and follow up this stupendous flattery by borrowing a hundred dollars.
This sort of thing might have gone on indefinitely,but for the fact that Jim Linton opened a free-and-easy in the town, which made sad havoc with Ben’s gymnasium. In fact it broke it up.
Bent upon taking advantage of this misfortune, Hogan proceeded to set up a free-and-easy himself.
Both of these places were what might properly be termed red-hot, and of the two, Ben’s was a little the hotter. Parker’s was a town at that time unlike any other spot on the face of the globe. The inhabitants grew accustomed to such exclamations as “I’ve lost my ear!” “I’ve lost my nose!” “I’ve lost my pocket-book!” This last, perhaps, was the commonest of all. It was a place where a man found so much life that he was apt to stumble upon death when he least expected it.
It was the red-hotness of the free-and-easys which finally led to their being pulled. Ben and his partner, Col. Adams, were not arrested. This, however, was no fault of the officials. Hogan received a telegram to the effect that a deputy sheriff was coming down on the train to close up his establishment, and he therefore found it convenient to get out of town very suddenly.
Some of his friends fared less fortunately. Ben Savano, Charley Green, Billy Casey, and Doctor Booke, were all arrested and placed under five hundred dollars bonds.
Meantime Ben had made his way to Petroleum Centre. There he called upon some influential political friends—a Senator and Congressman, among others—and obtained a letter of introduction to Judge Nulton.
He happened to meet the judge at the doorway ofthe court, where he was making inquiries with regard to the free-and-easy arrests.
“The only man we want, now,” observed the judge, just as our hero made his appearance, “is Ben Hogan!”
“Yes,” said Ben, joining in the conversation, “Hogan ought to be hung.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” returned the judge. “In fact, all that I do know about him is what I have heard others say. He seems to be a pretty desperate character, but it would hardly do to hang a man on hearsay evidence.”
“Well, he’s certainly a hard character,” said Ben, with emphasis.
“Do you know him?” asked the judge.
“Yes,” was the reply. “I know him better than any one else in the world. I happen to be the gentleman myself!”
The judge stared in blank amazement.
“Will you do me the favor and read these letters?” continued Ben.
Finding that Hogan was not after all so terrible a person to meet with, the judge proceeded to give him some points as to how he might get out of his present scrape. Acting upon these hints, Ben furnished straw bail, which was the best he could do.
The men who had really been responsible for the arrests were Golden, and one Christy—a lawyer not overburdened with clients. Naturally enough, Ben and his companions entertained no very friendly feelings toward Golden and Christy, and at a later day they took occasion to square up accounts.
While the case was progressing, Ben and CharleyGreen put up at Reynold’s Hotel, where they dealt a quiet little game of faro in their room, and made three hundred dollars during the night. It was encouraging for the indicted gentlemen to find that some of the court officials were their best customers.
The upshot of the trial was that all the parties under arrest signed a contract not to open a free-and-easy in the town within three months. It is only justice to add that Booke had in no way been connected with either of the establishments, and that he had simply been drawn into the matter with a view to extorting money from him.
All the persons concerned in the case left Parker’s, with the exception of Ben. How he managed to live up to his contract, and at the same time to run a free-and-easy, will be explained in another chapter.
The “Floating Palace”—A Wonderful Institution—The Girls and the Patrons—Scenes of Revelry—How Nights were Passed—The Loss of the “Palace.”
Of all Hogan’s enterprises, none perhaps ever became more widely known than did the famous “Floating Palace.”
It has been explained in the preceding chapter how Ben bound himself not to engage in any free-and-easy project in the town of Parker’s Landing.
It occurred to him, however, that he might keep within the letter of his agreement, and at the same time carry on his business on an enlarged scale. This is how he accomplished his purpose:
He bought a boat with money borrowed from Bill and Mr. Snyder. The boat measured one hundred and twenty-five feet in length by thirty feet in width. Having secured this craft, Ben set to work to fit it up for a music and dance hall. He decorated it in an elaborate manner, stocked it liberally with liquors and cigars, laid out a spacious dancing floor, and prepared a bar in the most approved style. This done, he secured the services of a number of musicians, and also, as the chiefest attraction of all, a company of pretty waiter girls. These latter were arrayed in costumes that did not hide any of their charms.
The boat was christened the “Floating Palace,” andfloated in the Allegheny river, between the counties of Allegheny and Armstrong. Whenever the officials of either one of these counties undertook to raid the “Palace,” Ben would float it across the river so as to be out of the province of the officers. Drifting back and forth in this manner, he managed to avoid legal difficulties. Nor had he broken his contract, inasmuch as he had simply promised not to engage in such an enterprise in the town. He had said nothing about the river. I should not omit to mention that about this time Ben first became associated with Kitty O’Brien, alias Bowers. She was a woman of far better education and appearance than might be supposed from her manner of life. Indeed, I may say, from personal acquaintance with her, that she was very much of a lady in her bearing, and gave unmistakeable evidence of early advantages and refining influences. Kitty, as we shall hereafter speak of her, accepted Ben as her lover, and joined her fate from that time forward with his.
ON BOARD THE FLOATING PALACE.
In attempting to describe the “Floating Palace,” I shall ask the reader to imagine a brilliantly-lighted saloon, filled with dashing-looking women, and melodious with music. Not everybody could gain access to this floating hall of revelry. Two small boats were kept running from the shore to the “Palace,” and on these came the choice spirits who were admitted to the charmed circle.
Bankers and brokers, merchants and oil kings were to be met on the boat. It was not the sort of place which a man without money would care to visit. It took the mighty dollar to unlock the mysteries and pleasures of the establishment.
Champagne corks flew freely, and whatever was ordered had to be paid for at princely rates. A night on the “Floating Palace” might safely be estimated to cost a man a hundred dollars; and if he happened to spend two hundred, nobody grumbled.
For the girls it may be said that they were neither better nor worse than the average of their class. Some of them were exceedingly pretty, and all of them had an eye to business. While music and dancing were indulged in freely, visitors were expected to order wine generously.
Among the more characteristic amusements was a bath which the girls took toward sunset. All the patrons of the “Palace” were at liberty to disport themselves in the waters of the Allegheny, and to enjoy the company of the mermaids, in the exhilerating waters.
The “Floating Palace” was most unquestionably a novelty in its way. As a novelty, it possessed a valuable charm in those days—a charm of exciting speculation, and it was also the means of rapidly circulating money. “Music hath charms,” and it charmeth even in a greater degree when floating on the rippling waters, with the bright lights to add brilliancy to the scene. Where amusements for the people were few and money plenty, the “Palace” seemed to break up the monotony of the prosaic hunt for wealth characteristic of the oil regions. The amusements on shore were not of the highest order, and the “Palace” was certainly less objectionable in many respects than some of the amusements which flourished ashore.
The “Floating Palace” cost twenty-five hundred dollars, but so great was the success attending it thatin sixty days Ben was able to, and did, pay back one thousand dollars of the money he had borrowed.
It should be borne in mind that the authorities were constantly making efforts to suppress the business. Ben’s ingenuity, however, enabled him to avoid arrest, although he was by no means free from meddlesome interference.
The opportunity presented itself, while on the “Palace,” to settle up accounts with J——, who, it will be remembered, had instituted the suits against Ben. J——, who visited the boat on a number of occasions, became desperately smitten with the charms of one of the girls, named Lizzie Topley.
Becoming aware of this fact, Ben posted Lizzie, who, while she professed the most ardent love for J——, was still loyal to Hogan. One night, in attempting to reach the “Floating Palace,” J—— was tumbled into the water, apparently by accident, but really by a preconcerted plan on the part of Ben. That rather dampened his ardor for the fascinating Lizzie, although he may never have suspected that she was at the bottom of the mishap.
I have already intimated that large sums of money were made out of the “Floating Palace.” For the benefit of the reader who may not be posted in such matters, it is well to explain that the profits were not all of a strictly legitimate character. For example: A man might order half a dozen bottles of champagne without once suspecting that the article furnished him under that name was concocted from Catawba wine and soda water.
Little dodges of this kind were harmless enough in themselves, and perhaps the fellow who paid fivedollars a bottle for Catawba and soda was just as well off in the end as though he had drunk genuine Piper Heidsick.
The “Floating Palace” visited Catanan, and while there a scheme was entered into by a brother of J—— to procure the indictment of Ben for various offenses, and particularly for selling liquor without a license.
Ben happened to meet this man J—— on the street one day, and he chased him through the town, capturing him finally in the mayor’s office. Had it not been for the interference of that official, Hogan would have taken satisfaction out of Mr. J——’s hide. As it was, he compelled him to withdraw the charge, and pay the cost of the proceeding.
Determined upon having his revenge, Ben succeeded in getting a number of the leading lawyers and some of the jurymen on board the “Floating Palace,” and while these worthies were enjoying themselves in the saloon with the girls, he ordered the ropes to be cut, and the boat floated down the stream. Before this was discovered by the jolly company inside, the “Palace” had drifted sixty miles from Catanan.
The lawyers and jurymen were in a high state of resentment. The court was to convene the next morning, and it would be very difficult for them to offer any plausible excuse for their absence.
Ben professed to be equally enraged at what had happened, and threatened to do all sorts of things with the fellow who had cut the ropes—when he found out who that fellow was.
The victims pleaded with him to return to the town, but Ben showed them that it would be utterlyimpossible to do so that night. There was no alternative, of course, but to remain on board the “Palace” all night and take the train back the next day. This the legal gentlemen did, but it is doubtful whether they revealed to anybody the real cause of their absence from court.
The “Floating Palace” continued its course until it reached Pittsburgh. Before entering that city Ben dispensed with all his people except Kitty, Lizzie Topley, and Steve Kinney—the latter of whom was his bar-tender.
A landing was made above Shapsbury Bridge, and there the “Floating Palace” was anchored.
Ben’s success up to this time had been so encouraging that he had determined to follow out the idea on a larger scale.
It was his intention, as soon as he could complete the necessary arrangements, to go down the Mississippi river with two additional boats, modeled after the “Floating Palace.” These were to be stocked with women and wine, and some new features were also to be added, such as a museum and dollar store. The project was a big one, and would undoubtedly have been put into execution, but for an unforeseen accident.
When Ben anchored the “Floating Palace” at Pittsburg, he was well fixed in the matter of money. This, however, did not prevent him from endeavoring to add to his pile, which he did by patronizing that game commonly believed to have been named in honor of one of the kings of Egypt—faro. Every night, as regularly as the night came, he visited the bank, conducted by Tony and Johnny N——, and so good washis luck that he almost invariably went out of the place from thirty to forty dollars ahead.
Making his way later than usual one night toward Shapsbury Bridge he made the unpleasant discovery that the “Floating Palace” floated no longer. In other words, the boat had sunk. This put an end to the project of visiting the South, and Ben concluded to go back to Parker’s Landing.
The loss of the remarkable craft was quite in keeping with its latter history. It had been the scene of many revels, and had been brightened with laughter, music, and wild merriment. Its brief career ended as suddenly as that of some of the revelers themselves. The river became its resting place, as it has often become the last haven of many a tempest-tossed soul.
KITTY BOWERS.