The witnesses against the alleged vagrants were Looney, Eagan and Allen. They failed to make out a case, and so Hogan and Sweeney were released. Before they left the city, an attempt was made to kill Ben, but this, like the other efforts of his enemies, proved unsuccessful.
Ben in Chicago—Returns to Pittsburg—More of Allen—Builds Opera Houses in Petrolia and Millerstown—Figures Once More in Politics.
Immediately after the incidents related in the preceding chapters, Ben left St. Louis, and in company with Sweeney proceeded to Chicago.
Reaching that city at about the time when the Palmer House was first opened, the two friends spent a week in a thoroughly lively manner. They found plenty of ways in which to spend their money, and they spent it with a freedom which was refreshing.
It was during this week that Ben one night went into a well-known sporting house, and there falling into conversation with one of the women, learned that Kitty had been to Cleveland. His own identity was unknown to the woman in question, and so she talked without reserve. In response to Ben’s inquiry as to whether she knew Kitty, she replied that she did to her sorrow. That this same Kitty had won from her the love of the only man whom she ever cared anything for, and that it would afford her infinite pleasure to scratch out this same Kitty’s eyes.
“Why,” she said, “the vixen has been in Cleveland living with my fellow there. She had three thousand dollars’ worth of diamonds with her, and she promised to give them all to him.”
“Oh, she did, did she?” rejoined Ben, a good deal interested in the narrative.
BEN MAKING THE DUCATS FLY IN CHICAGO.
“Yes,” continued the woman; “you see, she has a fellow in the oil regions, Ben Hogan—perhaps you’ve heard of him—who gives her all the money she can spend. And every little while she comes on to Cleveland, and has a time with my fellow, and of course this Ben Hogan doesn’t know anything about it!”
“Well, he must be a good deal of a fool,” observed Ben, with a quiet satire, which the woman could not understand.
The information thus obtained induced Ben to cut short his visit in Chicago and return to Pittsburg. There, it will be remembered, Kitty was still living in the house which Ben had provided for her, and upon the latter’s arrival he found so many lovers hovering about that it was really difficult to tell who was the master of the house. Hogan finally vindicated his right to this title by selling off the furniture, and afterward disposing of the house itself.
Meantime, Sweeney and Hogan gave an exhibition at Ames’s Varieties, and during the week of the performance, Tom Allen arrived in Pittsburg. With a number of his backers, he went into Wood’s saloon, and there began to talk about the Omaha fight. He did a good deal of tall bragging, and wound up by offering to fight Hogan the next week, for a purse of three thousand to two thousand dollars.
Ben replied that he was in no condition to make a match. He had not yet recovered from his fit of sickness, and more than that, he was suffering still from the effects of Allen’s foul blow.
This ended the discussion for the time being. But after leaving the saloon, and thinking over the matter, Ben sent two of his friends, Sweeney and Fairchild, with two hundred dollars, and this message to Allen:
“Tell him that I will put up this two hundred dollars as a forfeit to fight him for even money, for the amount he has named, the fight to come off in thirty days.”
Fairchild and Sweeney found Allen in Martin’s Varieties; but the St. Louis pugilist refused the proposition on the remarkable grounds, that he did not care to add to Hogan’s reputation by giving him the chance to have his name coupled with his (Allen’s). After enjoying a benefit in Pittsburg, Allen went back to St. Louis, where he claimed that he had driven Ben Hogan out of the former city.
Although not by any means driven out, Ben left Pittsburg for Petrolia, while his friend Sweeney returned to his home in Kansas City.
In Petrolia Ben again took possession of the house which he had rented to Nell Robinson, and installed Kitty therein, thinking that she might do better there than in Pittsburg, as she certainly would not be surrounded by so many lovers.
Looking about for some fresh enterprise, Hogan hit upon the idea of erecting an Opera House in Petrolia. It so happened that, talking this project over with an acquaintance named Crittenden, he made a bet with the latter, of one hundred dollars in money and a basket of wine, that he would build an opera house in thirty days. In order to accomplish this task, it was necessary to divide up the work, and go outside of the town for assistance. Accordingly, he sent one man to Corry, another to Warren, and so on, procuring the windows and doors at one point, the lumber at another, and the seats at a third. In this way the work was pushed through with great rapidity.
It proved a good deal heavier undertaking than Ben had counted upon, but he did not permit his energy towane. As he had lost all his own money in the seductive game of faro, he had no ready capital to risk. But he went right along as though his bank account was unlimited. So, indeed, in a certain way it was; for Mr. Taylor, to whom Ben had applied for assistance, told him his enterprise ought to be encouraged, and gave him authority to draw upon him for any amount. Ben got the bulk of his material on sixty days’ credit, and with two thousand dollars in ready money, furnished by Mr. Taylor, he carried the project successfully through.
In thirty days from the time of its conception, the Petrolia Opera House was finished, and thrown open to the public. Its total cost was eleven thousand dollars, and it was really a very substantial and handsome structure. The hall itself was on the second story, and was completely equipped with gas, scenery, and stage appointments. The walls were double boarded, and eight inches thick. On the ground floor was a bar-room forty by thirty feet, together with forty bed-rooms for the accommodation of the traveling public. Altogether it was a decided credit to the town, as well as a monument to Ben Hogan’s enterprise.
Dan Shelby, the well-known Buffalo manager, brought on his company and opened the house, playing for a season of two weeks. These first performances were fairly successful, and the profits were divided between Shelby and Ben. The Opera House was afterwards used by traveling companies, and is to-day well known to showmen.
Having won his wine, and shown what he could do in the way of erecting theatres, Ben went to Millerstown, and there proceeded to build a second opera house. This was put up on a cheaper scale than the one inPetrolia. Hogan again demonstrated how a man may accomplish without a dollar’s capital.
He went to a lumber firm in the town and laid before them his project. The firm agreed to build the opera house for two thousand dollars—which was fully twice as much as it was worth. Ben’s proposition was to pay on time, and to give the firm a percentage on the profits accruing from the house. The chairs, scenery, etc., were supplied from the Petrolia house, the latter having enough and to spare. Wildman’s Dramatic Company opened the Millerstown Opera House, playing East Lynne, and filling out a very successful engagement of two weeks.
In this time, Ben cleared two thousand eight hundred dollars; but after the first cream had been taken off, the milk henceforth was very thin indeed. Millerstown was not big enough to make the management of a theatre remunerative.
There was at that time no church in the town, and so one of the ministers went to Ben and solicited the use of the Opera House for Fridays and Sundays. This request was promptly granted, Ben declaring that he would cheerfully give the use of the house to any church or charitable institution. The building was accordingly occupied every Sunday for religious meetings, and this movement may be said to have been the foundation of a number of churches in the town.
In referring to Ben, the minister took occasion, at one of the meetings, to say that there was many a black sheep whose soul was really whiter than many of those who counted themselves within the fold. A common sense, if not a theological truth.
The lumber firm, who had sought to play a sharp game on Ben, received in all about one hundred and fiftydollars, and after that they came in possession of the Opera House. Hogan was perfectly willing to surrender it, having squeezed the lemon dry during the first two weeks.
While these enterprises were engaging his attention, Ben divided his time between Millerstown and Petrolia, Kitty still remaining at the latter place. In a row which occurred at the Petrolia House, in which the participants were a couple of women and a man, one of the women accidentally (?) shot Ben, but with only slight injuries. As soon as he had recovered he met the man, Charley Moore by name, and a somewhat lively dispute followed. Moore had a friend with him who discharged his revolver at Ben, but failed to score a bull’s eye, the ball striking a dry-goods box instead of our hero’s heart. With no other weapons than his fists, Ben disposed of both men, knocking one down with his right hand and the other with his left. The fellow who discharged the shot was arrested and sent to jail, but got out again in a week or so.
The dull times had now begun to tell seriously upon the oil region. Oil dropped to forty cents, and with it money ceased to drop. There was very little life left in the neighborhood, and that may have accounted for the tax which was levied upon the keepers of all sporting houses. The mistress was called upon to contribute twelve dollars to the treasury of the town, while each of the girls was assessed seven dollars. Of course any such tax as this was really illegal, as the houses were not licensed; still, to avoid interference, the money was paid.
Ben, to whom this shot was particularly directed, was considerably incensed, and determined to expose the whole thing. He was already paying a license of threedollars a night for his Opera House, and he did not care to increase his donations to the town officials. An opportunity for speaking out his mind presented itself on the occasion of a performance given in the Opera House by Sanford’s minstrels. After the show had ended, Hogan stepped upon the stage and said:
“I desire to detain you only a moment, ladies and gentlemen. As you are all well aware, I built this Opera House for the sake of furnishing the public with amusement. There was nobody else who had the capital or the energy to do this work. Now you all know that there are from forty to seventy sporting women in Petrolia. They have been here long enough for you to know their character, and there is no need of discussing the fact that they are here. You know, moreover, what my business is, and I have only to say if you think the women have injured the town, let them be driven out. But I don’t intend to submit to this exorbitant license business any longer. I have spoken to Mr. Dimmick, the burgess, and he tells me it is not his fault—that the Councilmen are responsible. Now if the Council spent the money for public improvements, if it was used for sidewalks and pavements, and things of that sort, I would willingly pay double the amount they demand of me; but we have no sidewalks nor pavements, and the inevitable conclusion is that the money finds its way into official pockets. I don’t propose to contribute any more for that purpose.”
This speech was received with enthusiastic applause by the audience. Indeed, it may be said that the sympathy of the people was much more largely on Ben’s side than on the side of the officials.
At about this time the campaign for the election of a Congressman for that district opened, and Hogan entertained some ideas of running for the office on anindependent ticket. While not expecting, nor, for that matter, seeking an election, he desired to show what his strength was, and in that way throw his influence on whichever side of the house he saw fit.
He went so far as to organize a committee in Millerstown, with the ostensible purpose of supporting him for Congress. The officers of this somewhat curious committee were as follows: President, Ben Hogan; Vice-President, Ben Hogan; Secretary and Treasurer, Ben Hogan. It may be added that the membership consisted chiefly, if not solely, of the officers; and as Ben was all the officers put together, he was likewise all the members.
He held a memorable meeting that fall in Millerstown. Securing the services of a brass band, he marched to the hall, collecting a crowd as he went, and then selected officers for the evening from among the representative citizens. Speeches were made by a number of those present, but the beauty of the thing was that nobody could tell on which side the orators were arguing. In fact, Ben directed the speakers to eschew politics altogether, so that no offense could be given to either party. Then he mounted the rostrum, and made this little speech himself:
“To-morrow is election day. I want to say a word to the working men, and it is this: Vote for the best candidates, never minding what their politics are. You will find plenty of men running for office who will be your friends so long as they can make tools of you. But after election they do not know you when they meet you. Now, I think you will bear me witness that I have always tried to help the working man. I never turned anybody away from my house hungry, nor have I refused money to those who needed it. I never passed a beggaror blind man without giving him something. But I do not ask any political favors. I have not even told you which party I shall work for, and I’m not going to tell you now!”
This little speech was received with much laughter and applause. As a matter of fact, Hogan was paid money by both political parties that night, but he worked the next day with the Democrats for a Congressman, District Attorney and Judge, all of whom were elected.
This little campaigning incident goes to show that a good many leading politicians have sought Ben Hogan’s aid, and have been able to carry through their plans solely by reason of his influence. Had he chosen himself to run for Congress that year, it is at least probable that he would have been successful. And the capital might then have been graced by the Hon. Ben Hogan as it once was by the Hon. John Morrissey.
Ben as a Banker—Faro Banker—Burglars—Counterfeit Money, and how Hogan didn’t Handle it—Ben as a Doctor—Allen in New York City—Why the Fight Fell Through.
Soon after the election, Ben closed up his place in Petrolia, and separated from Kitty. She went on to Pittsburg, and he soon after followed.
At that time, for want of anything better to do, he went largely into the banking business—the faro banking business. In his tours about town he fell in with a party of first-class cracksmen, who were making ready for an extensive job. These men took Hogan into their confidence, and told him that they could make half a million dollars if they had the capital to carry them through.
Ben consented to furnish the money, and to become a silent partner in the proposed undertaking. The field of operation was the city of Baltimore, to which place the cracksmen, in company with Ben, made their way.
In the week which Hogan spent at the Utah House, he thought over the business which had brought him to Baltimore seriously and carefully. He reasoned with himself that all these men were bound to bring up sooner or later in prison or on the gallows, and he reached the determination that he would have nothing to do with the business. Hardened as he was, and elastic as his conscience may have been, he was not prepared to assist in robbery.
He told this to the burglars, saying:
“You must count me out of this job, gentlemen. I will furnish you the money for any legitimate purpose, but I must decline to hold a hand in the game!”
After his week in Baltimore, Ben drifted to New York. By this time his money was getting low, and he entered into a little of the speculation known technically as dealing in the “queer,” and commonly as offering counterfeit money for sale. But the reader will observe, as the narrative progresses, that our hero never had a dollar of the “queer” in his possession. His plan of operation, while in New York, was somewhat as follows:
Having selected his victim, who was invariably a stranger in the city, he would approach him cautiously on the subject, and finally invite him to his room in the hotel. There he would produce a satchel, containing some genuine bank notes, show them to the visitor, and inform him that they were counterfeits.
“You wouldn’t believe it,” Ben would add, “but it’s a fact. To the right sort of person, I am willing to sell this in large quantities for thirty cents on the dollar. Here are five hundred dollars, and you can take it along, satchel and all, for one hundred and fifty!”
If this offer was accepted—and in nine cases out of ten it was—Ben proceeded to carry out his fine work. This consisted, in the first place, of exchanging the satchel which contained the money for one with newspapers in it. Then the purchaser was informed that it would not be safe for him to carry the money himself, so he would better send it to his home by express. Ben would then accompany his customer to the express office, get a receipt for the satchel, and skillfully exchange this for a blank slip of paper, folded to look like the receipt.
When the verdant and would-be counterfeiter reachedhis home, he would find that the blank slip of paper was not good for the satchel, while the satchel itself was good only for what it would fetch at a second-hand store. The contents, that is, the newspapers, would not be of much value, except in a country where they used them for currency.
It will be seen that such a game as this called for a great deal of skillful work on the part of the operator. Not many men could have carried it through successfully, but Hogan found plenty of dupes, who were of course afraid to make any disturbance because they had been swindled, for the very reason that they were attempting a swindle themselves.
Ben also did more or less in the sawdust business—that is, sending a box of sawdust for those who wrote on for the “queer.” And on a good deal larger scale, he offered some of the well-to-do merchants large sums of Mexican dollars, which he said he had in his possession, and which were all counterfeit; but which, having received advances from the respectable gentlemen who were anxious to handle this counterfeit money, he never furnished.
If there is any moral to be drawn from these incidents, it is that the men who were swindled were quite as criminal as was Ben, and the latter perhaps did society a good service by bleeding them.
Another curious method resorted to by our hero for raising the wind was that of suddenly becoming a physician. Not having any college degree, Ben conferred a degree upon himself. He left New York, went to Washington, put up at the St. James Hotel, and announced himself as the distinguished Dr. Cable, whose special line of practice was that of private diseases. Soon after the Doctor’s arrival, he was one day standing onthe hotel steps, when a young man came along and said that his services were needed at once in the case of a young lady who was very sick. Dr. Cable at once called upon this patient, and saw that she was suffering from nothing more serious than a bilious attack.
It may be well to explain in this connection that Ben really has a considerable knowledge of the human system, and has devoted much time to the study of diseases and their cure. Probably he is quite as well qualified to prescribe in cases of illness as are some of the alleged doctors who have bought a degree from one of the cheap medical colleges which flood the land. At all events, in the case of the Washington young lady, who was supposed by her friends to be seriously ill, Ben’s simple remedy worked like a charm. She recovered in short order, and the distinguished Dr. Cable won quite a reputation for his remarkable cure. Whenever he was called to attend a patient whose case he did not understand, he would give a little magnesia or a seidlitz powder, and in this way not only avoid injuring anybody, but really did many good. As for other physicians, the distinguished Dr. Cable absolutely refused to hold any consultation with them. His time was too valuable to waste in talking.
One rich old bachelor sent for Ben one day, under the impression that he was at the point of death. As usual, Dr. Cable prescribed his simple and harmless remedies, and left his patient doing finely. It occurred to the distinguished Dr. Cable, however, that the bachelor was a legitimate bird to pluck; and he, therefore, secured the services of a confederate and proceeded to carry out this plan. On the day following Dr. Cable’s visit, the confederate called at the bachelor’s house, represented himself to be a physician, and disclosed the startling factthat the bachelor had been poisoned by Dr. Cable. The patient, of course, was very much frightened, and thereupon the second doctor offered to save his life for the reasonable sum of one hundred dollars. The offer was straightway accepted; more magnesia and seidlitz powders were administered; the bachelor’s life was saved, and Ben and his confederate divided the hundred-dollar fee.
I may say that the last time our hero ever assumed to be an M. D. was just before his last arrival in New York. He was standing one day in Winan’s drug store in Tarport, Pa., when a man entered, and upon inquiring for a physician, Ben told him that he followed that profession. Then he explained to the stranger precisely what ailed him, and prescribed—a seidlitz powder. All this was done in the presence of the doctor, and purely for a joke. Nevertheless, Ben took the two-dollar fee which the man offered him.
After his brief but by no means inglorious career as a physician, Ben left Washington and returned to New York. There, happening to meet Joe Coburn, the conversation turned upon Ben’s fight with Allen.
“Would you be willing,” asked Coburn, “to meet Allen again?”
“I am ready,” answered Ben, “to fight him at any time, under any circumstances, and for any stake, be it love or money!”
This induced Coburn to exert himself to bring about a match; and while the negotiations were pending, he and Ben took a joint benefit at Harry Hill’s. Ben then printed a challenge in the papers, in which he offered to fight Allen for two thousand five hundred dollars a side.
This challenge brought Allen from the West. Afterconsiderable talk, a match was finally made for one thousand dollars, to come off in New York City. The place selected was a barn in Thirty-second street, and the conditions were that only twenty men should witness the contest.
On the day appointed for the battle, Ben and his friends, including Budd Riley and Coburn, assembled in a saloon near the proposed fighting ground. The time appointed for the fight was ten o’clock in the morning. Promptly at that hour Allen, accompanied by Arthur Chambers, Billy Edwards, and Micky Coburn, made his appearance. He was not so prompt, however, in coming to time. He claimed that it was absolutely necessary for him to go down town to his hotel, for the purpose of changing his clothes. So he went—and that was the last seen of him. Ben and his friends waited around for a long time, but Allen must have found his toilet exceedingly difficult to arrange that day. The fight fell through, and from that time forward New York sporting men have taken very little stock in Tom Allen.
HOGAN TRAINING FOR HIS FIGHT WITH TOM ALLEN.
The Girl Ben Met in Owney Geoghegan’s—A Confiding Sea Captain—Adventure in Little Falls—Pitching a Man Across the Erie Canal—Return to Syracuse.
Ben remained in New York at this time for a month or so, during which time he met with an adventure which it is worth while to relate.
Being well fixed in the way of money—he had made five hundred dollars in a few hours at faro—he went around one night to Owney Geoghegan’s notorious resort on the Bowery. It was considerably past midnight when he entered the place, and the women who were lounging about the room were in the main most pitiable representatives of their sex. Among the number, however, was one who, in spite of her dilapidated appearance, gave unmistakable evidence of having seen better days. With this girl Ben fell into conversation, learned that she had followed a life of shame but a short time, and was struck by her beauty and intelligence. Poor and forsaken, as she now was, Hogan’s sympathy went out to her, and the character of the man was illustrated in the way he treated her. Accustomed as he was to gilded vice and the association of the better class of the demi-monde, he could still make himself an equal with women of this sort. He accompanied his newly formed acquaintance to her home on Forsyth street, and there spent the remainder of the night, occupying, let it be said, a separate room. Most wretched quarters they were in which this young woman with her widowed mother lived.When Ben awoke the next morning, he proposed to the girl, Nellie, to stay to breakfast. She told him with some hesitancy that there was nothing in the house to eat.
“That makes no difference,” said Ben; “we can get plenty to eat and drink, too. Here, take this ten-dollar bill, go out and buy whatever you want. A porter-house steak wouldn’t go bad, and you might invest in a bottle of champagne, too.”
With many expressions of gratitude, the girl took the money, and while she was gone, Ben, adapting himself to the surroundings, assisted the mother in preparing for the breakfast. It was a royal feast, and perhaps the consciousness of having done a good deed gave our hero a keen appetite.
When Ben came to take his departure, the girl and her mother were profuse in their thanks.
“You may be a prize fighter,” said the latter, “but you have the kindest heart of any man I ever knew.”
“When I’m in want again,” said the girl, “I shall look you up to help me.”
A day or two afterward, Ben, while in company with some of his friends, ran across the girl in the street, and readily furnished her with the money she solicited. She told him then that she had three or four hundred dollars’ worth of rich dresses and jewelry in pawn, which she hoped some time to redeem.
Some two weeks after this adventure, Ben was passing down Broadway, with a friend, when he heard a voice call out
“Cousin!”
Turning, he saw a richly dressed young woman, in conversation with a gray-haired man. As he approached, the latter turned away, and upon coming up to the girl who had called him, Ben found his old friend, whom hehad met in Owney Geoghegan’s. It took only a few words to explain matters. The gray-haired man who had just left her was a sea captain, with plenty of money, who had been smitten by her many charms. He had provided her with funds to redeem her clothing and jewelry; had given her two hundred dollars in cash, and was prepared to give her any additional amount. She had called to Ben as “cousin” in order not to arouse the jealousy of the sea captain. And she was now prepared to pay back Ben’s kindness with interest.
The two, therefore, started off together, and lived royally while the captain’s money lasted; then they hit upon this plan for raising more. The captain was so smitten with the girl that he was only too anxious to spend money to gratify any whim of hers. She represented to the captain that she needed money to furnish her room in better style, and the confiding old fellow readily made out his checks for the desired amount. In this way he contributed another four hundred dollars to the enjoyment of the girl and Hogan.
It will be observed that when this woman was in want Ben was quite ready to assist her; but when she struck good fortune again, and was supplied with somebody else’s money, he was equally ready to share it with her, and get all the pleasure out of the adventure possible.
Ben never saw the girl afterward, but their brief acquaintanceship was one that he will never forget.
At length, after an eventful sojourn in the metropolis, our hero determined to pay a visit to Syracuse, the scene of his early adventures. On his way to that city, he stopped off at the town of Little Falls, where occurred a very amusing incident.
As he was a stranger in the place, he sought thecompanionship to be found in a friendly and adjacent bar-room, and was there accosted by a fellow anxious to make a bet. The conditions of the bet were that each man should put up twenty-five dollars, and the one who first succeeded in knocking off the other’s hat, should take the money. Believing that his own skill in the boxing art would make it an easy thing to win the bet, Ben squared off with the stranger; but all the science he could bring to bear did not enable him to knock off his opponent’s head-gear. In about two minutes and a half, Ben’s hat was sent spinning to the floor, and the Little Falls representative was accordingly entitled to the stakes.
Ben immediately put up another twenty-five dollars, which the stranger also won, and repeated the process until he had relieved our hero of one hundred and seventy-five dollars. Ben subsequently discovered that this shrewd boxer wore a set of false whiskers, encircling his chin, and the close-fitting cap which covered his head was fastened to these whiskers. Of course it was impossible to knock off the cap under these circumstances.
Fully conscious that he had been done for, Ben set his wits to work to hit upon some plan by which he might get even with the Little Faller. By the next morning he was ready with a proposition. He offered to bet the fellow who had done the boxing five hundred dollars that he could throw one hundred and thirty pounds across the Erie canal, which flows through Little Falls. As a matter of fact, Ben did not have a dollar left, but he had taken the landlord of the hotel into the scheme, making the latter the stakeholder. It was agreed between them that if the fellow could be induced to make the bet, the landlord should represent that Hogan had already put up the money.
“What sort of a weight do you want to throw?” asked the successful boxer.
“A dumb bell,” answered Ben.
“But there isn’t any one hundred and thirty pound dumb bell in the town!”
“Well,” said Ben, “I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll bet you the five hundred dollars that I can throw you across the Erie canal!”
“I’ll bet you can’t!” was the prompt rejoinder.
“All right!” exclaimed Ben. “We’ll make the trial, and if I fail, the one who gives out first and wants to stop shall lose his money.”
This was agreed to by the stranger, who put up his five hundred dollars, and with the landlord and Ben, proceeded to the canal.
It was a chilly day, and the water was anything but inviting. The man of course had counted upon being pitched in to the canal, but he had also reckoned that he could stand the ducking longer than Ben could stand the throwing. That was where he made a mistake. Hogan seized hold of the chap, who weighed about one hundred and twenty-five pounds, and pitched him head foremost into the chilling water. He came out with his teeth chattering and his skin blue.
“That’s one failure!” exclaimed Ben, “but never mind; I shall get you across, yet. There’s nothing like patience in these things.”
Thereupon he seized hold of his victim again, and pitched him a second time into the water. Shaking as if he had the ague, the fellow pulled himself out, while the landlord and Ben roared with laughter. A third time Hogan picked up the unfortunate man, and threw him out into the canal. By this time he was pretty nearly frozen to death, and when he got out, heswore he wouldn’t be thrown in again if he could win ten times five hundred dollars. Ben and the landlord divided the stakes, and Hogan left Little Falls seventy-five dollars ahead, in spite of the unfortunate boxing contest.
The ups and downs of an adventurer’s life found an illustration in the journey to Syracuse. A couple of railroad sharpers, who made a living by betting on sure things, came up to Ben on the train, and told him they had a chance to bleed a “sucker,” but they needed a little ready money to do it. Would Ben go them two hundred or two hundred and fifty dollars for about half an hour? They would stand in with him evenly for all they made. Ben gave the fellows his money, and they went forward to another car to operate upon the “sucker.”
After waiting half an hour for their return, Ben got a little uneasy, and went in search of his friends. He found that they had jumped the train, and his two hundred and fifty dollars had gone where the woodbine twineth. Then it was that he saw the “sucker” not a very desirable kind of fish to be.
Another Challenge to Allen—Brookville and Indiana Adventures.
Upon his arrival in Syracuse, Ben went into training with the expectation of making a match with his old antagonist, Tom Allen. His ground for believing that such a match might be brought about was the suspicion that the Allen-Rourke fight, which was then under way, would fall through. In that case, Ben wanted to be ready to step in, and offer to fight Allen immediately.
During the four weeks he thus spent in training, he was assisted by Tommy Foster, who was himself an excellent athlete, as was shown from the fact that, weighing only one hundred and forty pounds, he could put up a one hundred and sixty pound bell.
At the end of his month’s training Ben went to Pittsburg. Meantime Allen’s fight with Rourke had, as was anticipated, fallen through. Ben, therefore, as soon as he reached Pittsburg, issued the following challenge:
“I see that the Allen-Rourke fight did not take place as proposed. A large number of sporting men having assembled to witness this contest, I herewith propose, in order to prevent them from being disappointed, to take Rourke’s place and fight Allen for five hundred or one thousand dollars, or any other sum which he may name. The fight to take place immediately upon the acceptance of this challenge.”
Allen’s excuse for refusing to take up with Ben’s offerwas that he had business to attend to at home, and so could not spare the time to fight anybody.
Disappointed in thus failing again to bring Allen to a square encounter, Ben fell back upon his old resource, and opened a gymnasium in Pittsburg, on Fourth Avenue. In response to a telegram, George Rourke went to the city for the purpose of giving a sparring exhibition with Hogan. Great excitement was awakened in Pittsburg over this proposed match, but the Mayor refused to grant a license for the exhibition. Ben therefore lost seventy-five dollars on a speculation which he had hoped would return him a fat thing.
The week following, however, Rourke succeeded in getting a license to give an exhibition at the Academy of Music, and on that occasion Ben made his appearance, winding up the show by a bout with Rourke. The latter proved to be a clever boxer, and the set-to was an interesting one.
Why the Mayor of Pittsburg should have refused to grant Hogan a license, does not make itself wholly apparent. He may have been influenced by others, although it is at least certain that he entertained no very friendly feelings toward Ben. This was shown on numerous occasions, when the Mayor had an opportunity to molest or annoy Hogan.
Ben called upon the official, and spoke his mind pretty freely.
“You have no right,” he said, “to refuse me a license. I have done nothing out of the way here, as you very well know, and I am trying simply to make an honest living. You may be the Mayor of Pittsburg, but you are not king any more than I am. You are a common citizen, with the same rights as others. It may be well for you to keep that fact in mind!”
Some hot words followed on both sides, and the result of the whole thing was, that the Mayor soon after had Ben arrested and locked up—for what offense it would have been exceedingly difficult to tell.
In the same cell with Ben were a couple of strangers, with whom he naturally fell into conversation.
“What are you in for?” he asked.
“Don’t know!” was the rejoinder.
“What are you in for?”
“Don’t know!” answered Ben.
“Well, what sort of a man is this Mayor, anyway?”
“If you want my private opinion of him,” replied Ben, “I can give it to you in a very few words. He is an ignorant bull-head, and no more fit to be Mayor of the city than a lamp-post. He might do for sweeper in the office, but that’s all. Before he was elected Mayor, he was a useful citizen in a humble sphere; now he is noted for his severity.”
Right in the midst of this conversation, the Mayor himself made his appearance at the cell door.
“So, ho!” he said, “I’ve got you now!”
“The h— you have!” answered Ben.
“Yes, sir, I’ve got you!” repeated the Mayor, swelling with official dignity; “and I mean to make it very warm for you.”
“What have I ever done,” asked Ben, “that you should seek to persecute me in this manner? Have I ever been drunk or disorderly?”
“No,” interrupted the Mayor; “you’re a good deal too sharp to get drunk.”
“Then I should like to know what I have done to justify my being locked up. The only harm I have done in Pittsburg is the harm I have done myself by spending fifty thousand dollars, more or less, at your farobanks and bar-rooms. If I had the money back now, you can rest assured that I wouldn’t put it in circulation in this town.”
In spite of his threat to make it warm for Hogan, the latter was released from custody on condition that he would leave the city. This he did by crossing over the river to Allegheny, and returning again the next morning. He remained some two weeks longer in the city, and experienced no further trouble from the Mayor.
Ben next went to Brookville, and there gave lessons in gymnastics. During the six weeks which he spent between this town and Reynoldsville, the crusade movement against whiskey broke out in active form in that part of Pennsylvania. It was at the time that Hartranft was running for Governor, and when he was anxious to conciliate the temperance vote. He spoke one Sunday night in Brookville, and Ben was among those who attended the meeting.
On the next day the women pushed their work among the saloons, the town being crowded on account of the holding of the court. In one of the bar-rooms where the crusaders operated, and where Ben chanced to be present, some of the bystanders insulted the women in their work. Picking out the ringleader of the disturbance, Hogan proceeded to deliver a lecture to him after the following fashion:
“You have no right to interfere with these ladies. They are doing simply what they believe to be right; and, whether right or wrong, no decent man will insult them. It might be a good deal better for you if you had lived up to the principles of temperance yourself. Perhaps your wife, then, wouldn’t be in want of bread to eat, nor your little ones without shoes or stockings. If you had spent the money which you have wasted forliquor in a better cause, you would be a good deal happier to-day. I am a temperance man myself, although I don’t believe in the total abstinence principles of these ladies. At the same time, I am going to see to it that they are not annoyed nor insulted. No man worthy of the name will do that to any woman. Remember that you have had a mother, and perhaps a wife and sisters. Treat these women with courtesy and kindness. They are engaged in a great work. Now, gentlemen, we will all have a drink!”
This speech, as may be readily conceived, had its effect upon the crowd; and where Ben Hogan became the champion of the crusaders, none of the Brookvillers thought it wise to molest them.
After leaving Brookville, Ben went to Pittsburg again, where, falling in with a young man whom we will designate as George, he made his way into Indiana county. There he entered upon the counterfeit money game, on a somewhat different plan from that adopted in New York. I will attempt to describe the method used.
Ben would call upon a leading farmer, whose love of lucre he believed to be stronger than his conscience. He would go provided with two or three hundred dollars in crisp, new bank notes. Falling into conversation with the intended victim, he would tell him, in a delicate and round-about manner, that he had a project in mind, by which his friend might make a fortune in no time. Drawing out some of the genuine bills, he would say:
“Just look at these. You wouldn’t think they were counterfeit, now, would you?”
“Counterfeit!” the farmer would exclaim, in amazement, at the same time taking the bills and examining them critically. “Well, I swan! If them is counterfeit bills, I’d like to have about a million of them, that’s all!”
“Yes, they’re counterfeit!” Ben would rejoin, in a matter-of-fact sort of way. “The best imitations ever made. Bankers themselves can’t detect them!”
“Well, how much do you charge for this money?” the farmer would inquire.
“We sell it at the rate of four dollars for one—that is, where the amount taken is big enough to make it an object. You see I am the agent, and I carry this with me simply as a specimen. When we get enough orders in any place, we ship it on in large quantities. But it doesn’t pay us to handle small amounts.”
“Couldn’t you let me have, say a hundred dollars’ worth?” the farmer would ask.
“No,” Ben would answer, “that isn’t enough. But I’ll tell you what I’ll do. You take me round and introduce me to some of your neighbors—men who can be trusted, you know—and then you can make up a purse together, and buy enough to make it an object for us to ship it.”
This proposition would almost always meet with a ready acceptance, and so, in company with his first victim, Ben would start out in search of a second. In this way half a dozen or more farmers would be visited, and on the strength of the introduction, it was comparatively easy to broach the subject. Having secured enough to make up a purse of perhaps five hundred dollars, Ben would take the farmers’ money and inform them that one of their number could drive in to the village with him, while he obtained the “queer.” It is almost needless to explain that Ben would give the farmer the slip, and that not a dollar of the counterfeit notes ever found its way into the would-be speculators’ pockets. Not any of them would dare to make any noise over the swindle, because if he did, the wholematter would of course come to light, and that would put him in a good deal worse boat than it would Ben.
In all Hogan’s operations of this nature, he never handled a dollar of counterfeit money; but he found that there were plenty of people in the world who would have been glad to handle it, if they could have done so on the quiet.
Ben’s Generous Act in Indiana—Under Arrest in Pittsburg with Kitty—Goes West—Life in Grand Rapids—Mistaken for a Minister.
It was in the town of Indiana, at the same time during which the counterfeiting game was in operation, that there occurred an incident which serves to illustrate Hogan’s readiness to help those in distress.
One of those financial sharks who manage to keep within the letter of the law and at the same time to swindle everybody who has dealings with them, held a mortgage on a poor man’s house. The hard times had made it impossible for the man in question to meet the demands of the mortgage-holder, and the latter had therefore entered a foreclosure. This left the man homeless, and without a dollar in the world with which to support his family.
In some way the facts of the case came to Ben’s knowledge, and he resolved to save the unfortunate man’s property. With his accustomed shrewdness, he hit upon a plan which completely outwitted the money-sharper. The mortgage upon the property amounted, with interest, to three thousand dollars. It was generally believed that the property at that dull time would not bring much more than enough to satisfy this claim. Of course it was for the interest of the holder of the mortgage to get as much for the property as he could.
Ben had it circulated about the town that he was a realestate dealer from New York, who had come on to Indiana to buy up all the land that he could get hold of. His confederate, George, who was with him at that time, went to the broker who held the mortgage, and told him that this New York agent would pay any sum for the property which was about to be sold. George advised the broker to bid against Ben, so as to run the figure up as high as possible. In his greed to get all that he could, the broker straightway fell into this trap.
THE FORECLOSURE SALE IN INDIANA, PA.
When the day of the sale arrived, a goodly number of people assembled, some to bid, but more to look on. The broker was on hand early, with George at his side, who professed to be most loyal to his new friend. Ben, also, was there, with the man who had given the mortgage. The auctioneer mounted his box and the sale began.
“What am I offered for this property, gentlemen? You all know what it is worth, and the circumstances under which it is sold. What do I hear to start it?”
“Five hundred dollars!” said Ben.
“Five hundred and ten!” said the broker.
“Fifteen hundred!” continued Ben.
The broker was cautious in all his bids, and raised this last amount only ten dollars.
“Three thousand dollars!” exclaimed Hogan.
“Three thousand and ten!” exclaimed the broker.
“Four thousand!” cried Ben.
At this point the auctioneer had to dwell some time. The broker began to get a little nervous, but George was on hand to spur him on.
“Why, man alive,” said the latter, “don’t be a bit afraid; this New Yorker will give ten thousand dollars rather than not get it. I heard him say so, myself. Raise him again!”
“Four thousand and ten!” said the broker at last.
“Five thousand dollars!” came promptly from Ben’s side of the house.
The man who had given the mortgage began to fear lest Hogan would overdo the thing.
“Don’t raise it again,” he said; “it is up high enough now to give me a good surplus.”
But Ben only replied by saying in a tone loud enough for everybody to hear him:
“It doesn’t make any difference to me what I pay for this property. I’m going to have it; and I’ve got the money right here in my pocket,” slapping his breast as he spoke, where there was not a dollar.
The words, however, had their desired effect upon the broker. Thinking that he could safely run the price up, he continued to bet against Ben, until he reached seven thousand dollars. No sooner had he made this bid than Ben looked over with a smile of triumph, and said:
“The property is yours, sir. I hope you are satisfied with your bargain!”
The broker was almost frantic with rage and disappointment; but there was nothing to do but abide by the consequences. He had bid more than twice the amount of the mortgage, and the residue of course went to the man who had owned the house. Ben thus did an act of kindness which his friend will probably never forget; and he also succeeded in bleeding the financial sharp—as difficult a thing as it was satisfactory to accomplish.
After his eventful sojourn in Indiana, Ben went back to Pittsburg with plenty of money in his pocket. There he went in for a general good time, and made the dust fly in a lively manner. He made further investments in banks—the faro banks—which are not always fair oh.
In the course of his tours about town, he discovered ina house then well known his former mistress, Kitty. It was on a Saturday night, and while Ben was in the place, the house was “pulled,” and all the occupants, including Ben and Kitty, were locked up. They were obliged to remain in the station-house until Monday morning, when they were arraigned. Each of the others was fined either five or ten dollars, but Ben and Kitty, toward whom the Mayor entertained special feelings of friendship, were each given the privilege of paying one hundred dollars, or spending sixty days in jail. Ben had money enough only to pay his own fine at the time, but he succeeded in raising enough afterward to pay Kitty’s also, and thus released her from imprisonment. Ben instituted proceedings against the city for unjust punishment, and left the case in the hands of his lawyer, ——. If that gentleman ever succeeded in getting any damages, Ben has not been informed of the fact up to the present writing.
Before leaving Pittsburg at this time, Ben repeated the Mexican dollar dodge, of which mention has already been made, among a number of the leading shoe merchants of the place; and, by this and other means, he raised enough to carry him to the West in good style.
Striking Cleveland, he put up with his friend Charley Moore, and remained for six weeks, at the end of which time his capital was again exhausted. At about the same time he learned through El. Rumsey that there was to be a glove fight at Birmingham, O., and thither he made his way.
For five weeks he remained with Rumsey, at the latter’s hotel, and had altogether a jolly time of it. He gave a number of sparring exhibitions at this time, the last of which was held in Sandusky. Ben fell in love with so many girls during his sojourn in Birmingham,and took unto himself so many wives, after the Brigham Young fashion, that it finally became necessary for him to get out of town.
He proceeded at once to Detroit, and there fell in with McLaughlin, who was stopping at Martindale’s Hotel, preparing for his match with the Butcher Boy of Ypsilanti. Ben became McLaughlin’s trainer, and remained with him six weeks. Of all the men whom he had ever had under his charge, he found McLaughlin the most perfect specimen of muscular development. He could bear training better than anybody Hogan had ever met, and his powers of endurance were simply marvelous. Up to that time, McLaughlin had never been trained under two hundred and forty pounds. Ben brought him down to two hundred and fifteen, and there was not a muscle in his entire body which did not show. A number of physicians called to examine him, and they united in pronouncing him a model of physical strength. It maybe added that Ben found McLaughlin a thorough gentleman, as well as an ideal athlete.
Ben, in company with McLaughlin and Schmidt, went from Detroit to Toledo, and in the latter city gave an exhibition of wrestling and boxing. They afterwards returned to Detroit, where Ben separated from McLaughlin, and made arrangements with Johnny Donaldson, of Cleveland, to spar for one week in the Theatre Comique, for which they received two hundred dollars. Ben found Donaldson to be an expert and clever boxer.
Our hero next proceeded to Ypsilanti to see Martin, the Butcher Boy, making the trip one of pleasure rather than of business. He happened to fall in with Mixer, and was induced to become the latter’s trainer for his match with Holcomb. This match came off in the Grand Rapids Opera House, and was a most stubbornly contestedbattle, lasting fully five hours. Holcomb was the winner, but it should be said that Ben had Mixer in hand only about a week, and previous to that time the man had little or no attention.
TRAINING McLAUGHLIN IN DETROIT, MICH.
After the wrestling match, Ben remained for some time in Grand Rapids, opening a gymnasium, and delivering lectures through the country villages on “Physical Culture.” His recollection of Grand Rapids is altogether pleasant. He found the citizens of the place cordial in their support of his undertaking, and he formed many acquaintances, which he will always cherish warmly. The gymnasium became popular, and Ben himself was a universal favorite. He made the Sweet House his headquarters, and found it altogether one of the best-conducted hotels at which he had ever stopped.
Among the many incidents which occurred during Ben’s residence in Grand Rapids was one which became the talk of the town. Perhaps I cannot do better than reproduce the account given by the Grand RapidsTimes. This is what theTimessaid:
“Ben Hogan had on his clerical suit yesterday. Arrayed in this dress, Hogan bears a striking resemblance to a minister of the Gospel, and has frequently been taken as such. He wore, in addition to the high-buttoned waistcoat, a standing collar, and, with his saintly air, looked more than ever like a chosen disciple. Standing on Monroe street, yesterday afternoon, with a book (“Professor Wood on Gymnastics”), about the size of a common Bible, under his arm, and a copy of theTimesin his hand, he was approached by a stranger, and saluted. The stranger was similarly dressed, and proved to be a minister in charge of a small parish in an adjoining town.
“He expressed his pleasure at meeting with a brotherand co-worker in the cause, remarking that he was a stranger in the city, and intimating that he was willing to be entertained at the home of the Rev. Dr. Hogan. Ben, who has become tired of explaining so many times that his vocation lies in another direction than that of the holy profession, permitted him to remain in blissful ignorance of his true character, and finally invited him to visit his library.
“The divine jumped at the invitation, and taking the gymnast’s arm, proceeded to the “library;” the stranger in the meantime manifesting considerable anxiety to learn how much his reverend brother received as salary, and how his flock prospered. Arriving finally at Hogan’s gymnasium rooms, the twain entered, when, instead of beholding a study-room stocked with holy works, his bewildered gaze fell upon a miscellaneous lot of dumb-bells, boxing-gloves, pulley-weights, sand-bags, and the paraphernalia that is usually found in a gymnasium. Hogan pointed to these with a satisfactory air, saying:
“‘Here’s my study.’
“‘Ah, but I don’t understand,’ replied the holy man.
“Hogan proceeded to enlighten him upon the mysteries of the profession. He gazed for some time on Ben’s muscular exercises in an abstracted manner, and finally allowed this was very well for the development of the body, but asked when he developed the mind.
“Hogan replied that this exercise served to enlarge both mind and body, and invited him to balance a thirty pound dumb-bell. The minister declined, and began to realize his mistake. Hogan, finding him to be a pleasant gentleman, with a humorous turn, soon explained the situation, not omitting to tell how many times he had been mistaken for a clergyman. The reverend gentleman realized the situation, and remarked that he hadnever made a more serious mistake in his life, looked the gymnasium carefully over, admitted the necessity for such institutions, shook hands, and laughed heartily when Ben told him how many prize fights he had been engaged in.
“The clergyman then explained to the professor that his appearance and general make-up, together with the book he supposed to be the Bible, and theTimes(which he knew to be a religious journal) all led him to believe he had met a brother and an earnest worker in the vineyard.
“Ben admitted that he didn’t know much about the vineyard, but remarked that he was an earnest worker in the gymnasium. After a brief (very brief) season of mutual congratulations, the rural divine started to seek a genuine brother with a study more to his taste.”
One More Challenge to Allen—Return to the Oil Country—Ben and McDonald—Opens Dance House in Elks City—Bullion House—Kitty Runs away.
While our hero was in Grand Rapids he made still another effort to bring about a match with Tom Allen. To effect this end, he published a challenge of which the subjoined is averbatimcopy: