Thieves are numerous in New York. As a general rule, they herd together in the worst quarters of the city—in the Five Points and along East River—where they can rapidly and easily communicate with each other, and where they can hide from the police without fear of discovery. There are many blunderers in the fraternity, but there are also many experienced hands, who do a great deal of damage, and give a world of trouble to the authorities. These are generally well known to the police.
The thieves of the city have a language, orargot, peculiar to themselves. Those who have been raised to the business use thisargotto such an extent, that a stranger finds it as impossible to understand them as he would if they were speaking in a foreign tongue.The Detectives' Manualgives a glossary of this language, from which we take the following specimens, to be found in that work, under the head of the letter B.:
Badger.—A panel-thief.
Bagged.—Imprisoned.
Bag of nails.—All in confusion.
Balram.—Money.
Bandog.—A civil officer.
Barking irons.—Pistols.
Bene.—Good, first-rate.
Benjamin.—A coat.
Bilk.—To cheat.
Bill of sale.—A widow's weeds.
Bingo.—Liquor.
Bingo boy.—A drunken man.
Bingo mort.—A drunken woman.
Blue-billy.—A strange handkerchief.
Blue ruin.—Bad gin.
Boarding-school.—The penitentiary.
Bone box.—The mouth.
Bowsprit in parenthesis.—A pulled nose.
Brother of the blade.—A soldier.
Brother of the bolus.—A doctor.
Brush.—To flatter, to humbug.
Bug.—A breast-pin.
Bugger.—A pickpocket.
Bull.—A locomotive.
Bull-traps.—Rogues who personate officials to extort money.
We could multiply these examples, but the above are sufficient to illustrate this branch of our subject.
The poor wretches who steal a few dollars' worth in open day, from stores and stands, are not considered by professional thieves as amongst the "fraternity," which embraces house-breakers, pick-pockets, and burglars. These persons are carefully trained by "old hands," and are by practice made as perfect as possible in their arts. Indeed, to be an accomplished burglar requires a very great degree of intelligence, courage, strength, and ingenuity. These men all have certain distinct methods of performing their work, so that after they have been operating a short while, a detective can, by examining the traces, tell, with absolute certainty, the name of the burglar. Besides this, the life which these persons lead stamps their countenances and general bearing with marks which an experienced officer will recognize at a glance. The sneak-thief, the pickpocket, and the burglar, have certain habits, attitudes, haunts; they act in certain ways when placed in certain positions, which reveal them and their occupations to a practiced eye, with almost as much certainty as the form and aspect of a blade of grass reveals its genus and species to the eye of a practiced botanist. A skilled detective will stand at the corner of a street, in a strange city, that he has never entered before, and will pick out, almost unerringly, the passers-by who belong to this criminal class. He will say, "This is a sneak-thief;" "This is a pickpocket;" "This man has just been released from the State prison;" "This one is a gambler, stool-pigeon," etc., etc.; being guided in his judgments by certain indications which the criminal involuntarily displays by the sheer force of habit.
A sneak-thief will pass along with that rapid, rolling glance of the eyes which distinguishes the tribe; now he checks himself in his career; it is but for an instant; no unprofessional eye directed towards him would notice it; but the sudden pause would speak volumes to an experienced police officer. He knows that the thief's eye has caught the sight of silver lying exposed in the basement. In an hour after he hears that the basement has been entered, and the silver in it carried off. He knows who has taken it, as well as if he had seen the man take it with his own eyes; but if the thief has had time to run to the nearest receiver's den, the silver is already in the melting-pot, beyond the reach of identification.
Families living in the city cannot, of course, know who they are taking into their midst as servants, and it frequently happens that these girls are the confederates of burglars. They come for the purpose of spying out the premises, and from time to time report the internal arrangements to their "men." At the proper moment, the burglar, who has thus acquired a sufficient familiarity with the house, is admitted by the girl. He performs his work sometimes without detection, but sometimes adds murder, or attempts at murder, to his crime. These men are well known to the police, but as they are to be deemed innocent untilprovedguilty, it is hard, if not impossible, to prevent their crimes. A servant girl is seen in the area, towards evening, with a broom in her hand; by her side is a man who is conversing earnestly with her. The policeman, as he passes along, recognizes him as a notorious burglar. That night the house is broken open and robbed, and perhaps some of the family murdered. The officer knows perfectly well who did it, but this knowledge goes for nothing in law. The man must be regularly tried, and proved guilty. Although the officer feels sure the man and woman are planning a burglary, when he sees them in the area, he cannot prevent it by arresting the man.
An incident in point has transpired of late, in illustration of this familiar danger. A gentleman's house, situate on Fifth Avenue, near Thirty-second street, was entered on the night of March 24th, by a brace of burglars, who were, as subsequent investigation proved, admitted at the basement, or servant's entrance, by one of the chambermaids.
The burglars succeeded in obtaining a considerable amount of plunder, but were alarmed by the unexpected awakening of some of the inmates of the house, and hastily departed. Suspicion fell upon the delinquent maid, who was examined, confessed her guilt, stated that the principal burglar was her sweetheart, and promised that if she was permitted to escape the deserved public punishment of her crime, she would see that the missing property was restored to its rightful owners. This 'arrangement' was accepted, the girl fulfilled her part of the contract, and every article that had been stolen was promptly restored. The chambermaid was dismissed, and any further prosecution of the affair was summarily closed. In this particular instance, it will be seen that matters terminated favorably, but it would be well if wealthy citizens would be warned against the 'family' risk to which their property is exposed, and led to adopt the most stringent precautions against these dangers, especially when summer pleasures will entice the majority of the votaries of gayety and fashion 'out of town,' leaving their dwellings almost wholly to the 'care' of not always reliable domestics.
During the summer of 1868, a young lady residing in a respectable part of the city, was decoyed by an elderly woman, (under the pretence of being able to introduce the young lady to a cheap dressmaker,) into a low neighborhood, where she was seized by two men, dragged into a hovel, and there held by the ruffians, while the old hag who had decoyed her thither, with a pair of shears cut off the larger portion of her luxuriant hair—to fill, as she coolly informed her victim, 'an order from a wig-maker.' The screams and struggles of the poor dupe were of no avail, and when finally thrust out of doors by her tormentors, she was so frightened that she wandered mechanically along, up and down streets, until she met a policeman, who, on hearing her story, called a carriage and had her conveyed home, but was not able from her incoherent and inaccurate description, either to identify the place where the outrage was committed, nor the people by whom it was perpetrated.
[Illustration: The thieves' exchange—a drinking saloon where pawnbrokers go to buy stolen goods.]
There is, in the Eighth Ward of the City, an "Exchange," where the light-fingered gentry congregate and interchange confidential intelligence, the news of their profession, and exchange the stolen goods temporarily in their possession. Attached to this is the wareroom of the proprietor, who is simply a receiver of stolen goods. There are many of these places in the city.
The agent of the New York Prison Association, in one of his reports, says:
When a burglar has successfully entered a store, and carried off a large amount of property, in the form of fine goods, this property itself is of no more use to him than the dust of the street. He does not want to wear lace or jewelry. He does not need watches or pencil- cases. He cannot eat cameos or vases. He, therefore, at once takes his plunder to his 'fence,' and receives from him, in money, such a price as is usually agreed upon. It is very difficult to ascertain, with any degree of exactness, what proportion of the value of the plunder is realized on the average by the thief; but from the best information we could obtain, we feel confident it does not exceed one sixth.
A man whom we met in one of the jails, told us he was unsuccessful at first, because he had received no instructions in the art. We asked him what he deemed the most important information to be obtained by a tyro in the business. He answered promptly: 'To know the names and characters of all the "fences" within a circle of thirty miles.' He could do little or nothing without this knowledge.
In the rural districts, these receivers of stolen goods are quite unknown, except among the thieves themselves, unless some unusually active deputy sheriff makes the discovery; but in the cities, especially in New York and Brooklyn, they are as well known to the police officers as the city halls of those places. These officers are sure that everything they have in their warehouses is stolen; they are acquainted with their ways of doing business; and they know what thieves resort to each, and where they dispose of their ill-gotten property. Yet this knowledge avails but little in promoting the ends of justice. It is but rarely that any of this class are convicted of their offences. The reason is that strict legal proof of their guilt can very seldom be procured.
The study of the means of rapidly and effectually removing the marks by which the property in their hands can be identified, is the main business of their lives, and they acquire a degree of skill and dexterity in altering or effacing these marks, which is truly surprising. A melting-pot is always over the fire, to which all silver ware is consigned the instant it is received. The marks on linen, towels, and handkerchiefs, are removed, sometimes by chemicals, sometimes by fine scissors made expressly for the purpose. Jewelry is at once removed from its settings, and the gold is either melted or the engraving is burnished out, so as in either case to make identification impossible. Rich velvet and silk garments are transmogrified by the removal and re-arrangement of the buttons and trimmings. Pointed edges are rounded, and rounded edges are pointed, entirely changing the whole aspect of the garment, with such celerity that the lady who had worn the dress in the morning would not have the slightest suspicion that it was the same in the evening. Cotton, wool, rags, and old ropes, require no manipulation. When once thrown upon the heap, they defy the closest scrutiny of the owners. There is scarcely an article which can be the subject of theft, which the resources of these men do not enable them, in a very short time, to disguise beyond the power of recognition. Their premises are skilfully arranged for concealment. They are abundantly provided with secret doors and sliding panels, communicating with dark recesses. Apertures are cut in the partitions, so that a person coming in from the front can be distinctly seen before he enters the apartment. The 'fence' is as well skilled as any lawyer in the nature of evidence. He knows the difference between probability and proof as well as Sir William Hamilton himself. He does not trouble himself about any amount ofprobabilitiesthat the detectives may accumulate against him; but the said detective must be remarkably acute if he is ever able to get anything against him which will amount to strictly legal proof.
Strangers coming to New York should always be on the watch for pickpockets, and even natives are not careful enough in this respect. Picking pockets has been reduced to a science here, and is followed by many persons as a profession. It requires long practice and great skill, but these, when once acquired, make their possessor a dangerous member of the community. Women, by their lightness of touch and great facility in manipulating their victims, make the most dangerous operators in the city. The ferry boats, cars, stages, crowded halls, and public places afford the best opportunities to pickpockets for the exercise of their skill.
A lady, riding in an omnibus, discovers that she has lost her purse, which she knows was in her possession when she entered the stage. A well-dressed gentleman sits by her, whose arms are quietly crossed before him, and his fingers, encased in spotless kid gloves, are entwined in his lap, in plain sight of all the passengers, who are sure that he has not moved them since he entered the stage. Several persons have entered and left the vehicle, and the lady, naturally supposing one of them to be the thief, gets out to consult a policeman as to her best course. The officer could tell her, after a glance at the faultless gentleman who was her neighbor, that the arms so conspicuously crossed in his lap, are false, his real arms all the time being free to operate under the folds of his talma. The officer would rightly point him out as the thief.
On all the street cars, you will see the sign, "Beware of pickpockets!" posted conspicuously, for the purpose of warning passengers. These wretches work in gangs of two, or three, or four. They make their way into crowded cars, and rarely leave them without bringing away something of value. An officer will recognize them at once. He sees a well-known pickpocket obstructing the car entrance; another pickpocket is abusing him in the sharpest terms for doing so, while, at the same time, he is eagerly assisting a respectable gentleman, or a well-dressed lady, to pass the obstruction. One or two other pickpockets stand near. All this is as intelligible to a police officer as the letters on a street sign. He knows that the man, who is assisting the gentleman or lady, is picking his or her pocket; he knows that the man who obstructs the entrance is his confederate; he knows that the others, who are hanging about, will receive the contents of the pocketbook as soon as their principal has abstracted the same. He cannot arrest them, however, unless he, or some one else, sees the act committed; but they will not remain long after they see him—they will take the alarm, as they know his eye is on them, and leave the car as soon as possible.
A detective one day noticed a pickpocket riding in a crowded stage onBroadway. Stopping the vehicle, he mounted the step, and said,
"Gentlemen, there is a notorious pickpocket in this stage. It must stand still until he leaves it."
This announcement created no little consternation amongst the passengers, and each one commenced to feel for his valuables. Fortunately, no one missed anything, but all began to feel uncomfortable, as it was plain each man suspected everybody else in the vehicle. Five minutes of painful silence elapsed, the officer keeping the stage at a halt; and, at length, a venerable, highly respectable- looking old gentleman got up, and made for the door, exclaiming,
"I have a large sum of money on my person, gentlemen, and I can't consent to remain in such company."
He left the vehicle, the detective making way for him. As he did so, the officer closed the door, and called to the driver, "Go ahead, he's out now!"
The relief of the passengers was equalled only by their surprise.
The ferry-boats, which reach or leave the city late at night, or early in the morning, with loads of sleepy and tired travellers, are much frequented by pickpockets. The passengers are more off their guard at such times than at others, and the results are greater.
Persons with prominent shirt pins, or watch chains, are amongst the principal victims of the fraternity. Those who are foolish enough to show their money in public places, suffer in the same way. The best plan is never to take money or valuables into public places.
Female pickpockets, in stages, often rob gentlemen while the latter are raising or lowering a window for them. A watch, or pocketbook, or a valuable pin, is easily taken then, as the attention of the victim is entirely given to the act of courtesy he is performing.
Women even carry their thieving into the churches. The Catholic churches, where the aisles are generally filled, and where the devout worshipper can easily be approached, are usually chosen for such exploits. The city papers frequently contain notices of such robberies.
[Illustration: A pious thief.]
A woman will approach a man on the street at night, and, accosting him by a familiar name, will seize his arm and walk on with him. As most men are fond of adventures, the chances are that no effort will be made to throw off the woman, who, after walking and chatting for several squares, will suddenly turn to him, and exclaim, with a start.
"Why! you are not Harry after all; I have made a mistake!"
And, with the most profuse apologies, she will make her escape. An immediate search will show the man that she has carried his wallet or his watch with her.
Young boys, termed "Kids," are very dangerous operators. They work in gangs of three or four, and by pushing against their victim, seize what they can and make off. Sometimes one of this gang is arrested, but as he has transferred the plunder to his confederates, who have escaped, there is no evidence against him.
The members of the fraternity are well known to each other, and they arrange their scenes of operations, or "beats," with great care. No one will intrude upon the "beat" of another, for "there is honor even among thieves."
Drunkenness is very common in New York. About eighteen thousand arrests are made annually for drunkenness alone, and nearly ten thousand more for drunkenness and disorderly conduct. Besides these there are thousands of cases of which the police never hear. The vice is not confined to any class. It is to be seen in all conditions of life, and in both sexes. Day after day you will see men under the influence of liquor, reeling through the streets, or lying under the trees in the public parks. The police soon rid the streets of such cases, which are comparatively few during the day.
At night the number of intoxicated persons increases. You will then see all classes of drunkards. There goes a young man, handsomely dressed, evidently the son of a rich family, unable to stand by himself, and piloted by a friend whose chief care is to avoid the police. There is a clerk, whose habits will soon lose him his situation. Here is a woman, well dressed, too, reeling along at a rate which will soon carry her into the arms of the policeman. The high and the low are represented on the streets.
The bar-rooms and beer-gardens are in full blast, and will not close until midnight. The better class establishments are quiet and orderly, but the noise and confusion increases as we descend the scale of the so-called respectability of these places. The sale of liquors is enormous, and the work of destruction of body and soul that is going on is fearful. The bar-rooms, beer-gardens, restaurants, clubs, hotels, houses of ill-fame, concert-halls and dance-houses, are doing an enormous trade, and thousands are engaged in the work of poisoning themselves with drink.
[Illustration: A fashionable New Yorker—too much wine.]
Respectable men patronize the better class bar-rooms, and respectable women the ladies' restaurants. At the latter places a very large amount of money is spent by women for drink. Wives and mothers, and even young girls, who are ashamed to drink at home, go to these fashionable restaurants for their liquor. Some will drink it openly, others will disguise it as much as possible. Absinthe has been introduced at these places of late years, and it is said to be very popular with the gentler sex. Those who know its effects will shudder at this. We have seen many drunken women in New York, and the majority have been well dressed and of respectable appearance.
A lady recently went into a confectionery store to purchase somebonbons. She was handsomely dressed, and was quite pretty. As the proprietor was making up her parcel he saw her stagger and fall. Hastening round to the front of the counter, he found her lying helpless on the floor, dead drunk.
Standing at our window one day last winter, we noticed two ladies, evidently a mother and daughter, come out of one of the most fashionable private residences in the city, where they had been visiting. They waited on the corner for a car, which was seen coming around the park, and to our astonishment we saw the elder lady sit down flat in the street. She was instantly jerked up by the younger woman, whose expression of intense disgust we shall not soon forget. As the old lady got on her feet again, her unsteadiness revealed the cause of her singular conduct—she was drunk.
There is a depth of misery in New York which those who have not seen it, cannot conceive of. It exists among the poorer classes, who spend their earnings in drink. They are always half stupefied with liquor, and are brutal and filthy. They get the poison from low shops, called Bucket Houses.
These shops sell the vilest and most poisonous liquors, and derive their name from the fact that their customers usually bring buckets, bowls, or pitchers for the stuff, instead of bottles or jugs. They are confined to the worst quarters of the city, and are foul and wretched beyond description. The proprietors are brutal wretches, who are capable of any crime. They do all in their power to encourage drunkenness, in order to increase their gains. They knowingly sell actual poisons for drink—liquors which nothing would induce them to use. On Saturday nights the rush to these places is very great. Liquor cannot be procured the next day, and so the poor victims of the rum- seller lay in a double quantity, and spend the Sabbath in a state of beastly intoxication.
Games of chance of all kinds are forbidden in all the States by laws which prescribe various severe penalties for the offence; but in spite of this prohibition, there is no country in the world where gambling is more common than in our own, and no city in the whole Union where it is carried on, to such an extent, as in New York.
There are several classes of gambling houses in the city, which we shall endeavor to describe in their order.
There are very few of these houses in New York—perhaps not more than a dozen in all. They are located in fashionable neighborhoods, and outwardly differ in nothing from the elegant private residences which surround them, except that the blinds are closed all day long, and the house has a silent, deserted air. In its internal arrangements it is magnificent. The furniture, carpets, and all its appointments are superb. Choice paintings and works of art are scattered through the rooms, in truly regal profusion. All that money can do to make the place attractive and luxurious has been done, and as money can always command taste, the work has been well done.
The servants attached to the place are generally negroes of the better class. They are well trained, many of them having been brought up as thevalets, or butlers of the Southern gentry, and answer better for such places than whites, inasmuch as they are quiet, uncommunicative, attentive and respectful. One of these men is always in charge of the front door, and visitors are admitted with caution, it being highly desirable to admit only the so-called respectable.
It is said on good authority that it requires an annual outlay of one million of dollars to keep up the first-class gaming houses of the city. This is a large sum, but the profits of the establishments are enormous.
A work recently published in Paris, gives the following description of the establishment of a famous gentleman whose history is more like a romance than a reality.
"My companion nodded to a servant standing in the hall," says the writer referred to, "and we were allowed to enter. We went through an elegantly furnished parlor, in which were many frequenters of the house, either conversing or reading newspapers. We next entered a large room lighted by numerous gas-jets. In the centre of this apartment was a long table covered with green cloth. The room was crowded with persons busily engaged in gambling. Different games of chance are in vogue in the United States; but the favorite game of European gamblers, roulette, was not tolerated in the establishment we were then visiting. In almost all the States, games of chance, for money, no matter what its amount, are prohibited, and gambling houses, being considered as contrary to good morals, are forbidden. Gambling for money was not, therefore, ostensibly carried on. The stakes consisted of counters or checks provided by the establishment. The gamblers settled their losses by means of these checks or counters, representing an understood value. In this manner, it appears, the letter, if not the spirit of the law was satisfied. In case of a sudden descent from the police, it was impossible to prove that the persons engaged in the games were playing for money, as no money, in fact, was apparent.
"'There is no people,' said Asmodeus, in the course of his explanations, 'that exhibits more respect for the law than the Americans; but none understands so well how to eschew it when it interferes with its own interests.'
"My companion also informed me that no one can recover money lost in gambling, because gambling itself is illegal. But debts of that nature are as secure as any other, especially among professional gamblers, and they are seldom repudiated.
"'All those counters and checks,' said he, 'are as good as gold, and, in this respect, no difficulty can arise. But there are, in two or three adjoining rooms, games of different kinds conducted in private; and the house, of course, is not responsible for the stakes. Money may be lost on parole there; but the loser who will not or can not make good his promise, generally finds himself in a dangerous predicament. For though there be a few men here who came attracted either by curiosity or because they have nothing else to do, the majority are professional gamblers, whose revolvers are always kept ready for great emergencies.'
"Besides the table in the centre of the room, there were half a dozen others in remote corners, and also in adjoining rooms, and which, as Asmodeus had observed, were occupied by persons engaged in some favorite game. Around the large table stood an anxious crowd. There was evidently an exciting game in operation. Near the centre of the table was seated a banker or dealer, with a large quantity of checks at his right hand, of the denomination of five, ten, twenty dollars, and upward. Thirteen cards, representing a complete pack, were affixed to the table, at convenient distances from each other, to mark distinctly the bets placed on each. Those who wished to play placed the amount they intended to stake on any particular card on the table. The dealer then producing and shuffling a pack of cards, placed them in a box, from which he caused them to slide one by one. He lost when the card equal in points to that on which the stake was set turned up on his right hand; but he won when it was on the left. He faithfully and gravely fulfilled his part, as though he were a public notary or any other officer of the law. Every one seemed satisfied with his dealings and decisions; for, during our stay in this 'hell,' (a name commonly given in America to all gambling houses,) no exclamation of any sort was made by the gamblers.
"I took him, at first, for the proprietor of the establishment. 'You are mistaken,' said Asmodeus; 'the host is that stout man whose necktie is pinned with a large diamond, and who is playing a game ofécarténear yonder window, with a constant frequenter of his house. A few years ago, he was one of the most renowned pugilists in the United States. With the profits derived from his victims in the manly art, he purchased a fine house, in which congregated the patrons and amateurs of that art, which is more in vogue to-day in America than in England. Shortly after, he found himself, perhaps unexpectedly, the manager of a faro bank. The game of faro is now in progress at the green table. He gradually withdrew himself from the noisy companions of his younger years, and soon had the gratification to behold bankers, brokers, merchants, and men belonging to the wealthy classes flock to his establishment. As his business rapidly increased, he purchased this handsome house, situated in one of the most fashionable streets of New York. It has become a favorite resort for many persons of good standing in society, and for 'the fancy' of New York. All transactions are above suspicion, for deception would be a dangerous experiment. The landlord is married, and very careful that everything is carried on in an orderly manner. Women are not admitted into the gaming-rooms, or even into the parlors of the house. An elegant supper is served up, every evening, to frequenters and visitors.
"At this very moment a footman came and announced supper. Most of the gamblers did not heed the invitation, so deeply engrossed were they in the game. A few spectators, Asmodeus and myself amongst them, went down into the dining-room, which was, like all the others in the establishment, handsomely furnished. Several ornamental sideboards were loaded with luxuries. Champagne of the best brands was freely passed around; and when supper was over, the landlord treated his guests to the best Havana segars. I expected we would have to face a pretty heavy bill for this entertainment, and was on the point of pulling out my porte-monnaie, when Asmodeus whispered me to do nothing of the sort. 'Such a proceeding,' said he, 'would be resented as an outrage by the proprietor.' Everybody, whether known to him or not, may come here, and either take part in or look at the game; as often as may suit his fancy, and enjoy a good supper besides. The proprietor hardly notices those visitors who come solely for the purpose of partaking of the good things served up at his suppers, and drinking his champagne.'"
"Those who keep gambling houses," continues the writer from whom we have just quoted, "take care to be regularly informed of everything transpiring in the city that maybe of interest to their business. You may have noticed, lounging around the most fashionable hotels, many well-dressed young men, who spend their money freely, though they have no known means of support. They are agents for gambling-houses: their business is to track the footsteps of travellers visiting New York, for business or pleasure. They worm themselves into the confidence of strangers; show them everything worth seeing in the city; and finally introduce them to their employers, the gambling-house proprietors. This hunting after wealthy strangers is systematically carried on—it is a science. These agents leave nothing to chance; they never hurry up the conclusion of the transaction. When the unwary stranger is in a fit condition for the sacrifice, they take him to the gaming table with as much indifference and coolness as butchers drive sheep to the slaughter house. These agents have a commission on the profits realized from all the customers they lead to the gaming table, and they display such ability that they seldom fail to entrap those they single out for their victims."
It is a safe rule to suspect every one who approaches you with offers of friendship without being properly introduced. Shun all such society, for the hope of ruining you is all that induces the men to seek you.
"There are in New York one hundred and fifty hells or gambling houses, all well known to the police, in which several millions of dollars are lost every year, by unwary persons. From time to time, police officers make a descent on the most dangerous among them, or (which is too often the case) on those whose owners have little political influence. Twenty-four hours after the descent has taken place, new gambling implements are procured in lieu of those taken away, and business is resumed as before.
"Games of chance are now in vogue all over the States, and rapidly multiplying, because the thirst for sudden fortunes is everywhere on the increase. Gambling is even practised on board of those splendid steamers, that ply up and down the rivers of the country; and more than one passenger, driven distracted by his losses at the gaming table, has thrown himself overboard.
"As I have before remarked, no cheating is to be apprehended here, as the percentage, taken beforehand out of the stakes, secures handsome profits to the proprietor of the house. But fraud is frequently resorted to in many hells; and in some of them, whether he loses or wins, the visitor is sure to be plundered of his valuables before he is allowed to depart. Blood is often shed in these places, their frequenters providing themselves, against emergency, with weapons of every description. Some gambling houses hire handsome females, and the allurements of these sirens are added to the dangers of the gaming table. New York keeps pace, in all these respects, with the large cities of Europe; and in manymaisons de joie, unsuspecting persons run the risk, at any moment of the day or night, of losing their fortunes, their health, and their honor."
"The persons who frequent gambling houses may be divided into two classes: occasional gamblers and professional gamblers. Among the first may be placed those attracted by curiosity, and those strangers I have alluded to who are brought in by salaried intermediaries. The second is composed of men who gamble to retrieve their losses, or those who try to deceive and lull their grief through the exciting diversions that pervade these places.
"I see, for instance, to the right of the dealer, a tall man, with a well-trimmed beard. He is a general in the United States army, and married a young girl belonging to one of our best families. A few years after his marriage his wife disappeared. As she seemed much attached to her husband, and a model of chastity, the general belief was that she had been the victim of some foul outrage. The friends of her family, and the police, made active but fruitless search for her; and the lady's disappearance remained enveloped in mystery, until she was recognized by an American traveller, an acquaintance, in an Italian city. It appears she had removed there, after her mysterious disappearance from her native land, and lived quite comfortably with a comrade-in-arms of her husband. The general has been unable, up to this day, to forget his unfaithful wife, and he comes here, every night, to endeavor, by gambling, to divert his mind from grief.
"Near him, that man, whose fingers are loaded with showy rings, and who affects womanish manners, is the owner of a newspaper which delights in praising the aristocratic institutions of the Old World—a harmless pastime, in which and one can safely indulge, in a country where there is no law against the press, and where everybody may relieve his mind of any foolish idea or fancy without injury to anything but his reputation. Gambling is more than a passion to that personage—it is his very life, as necessary to him as the air he breathes. He has organized lotteries throughout the States, and though they are prohibited by severe laws, he has found the means to evade them all, and build up a large fortune. He often plays very high, and recently very nearly broke the bank. The latter met with a loss of two hundred thousand dollars.
"The gambler who is now leaving the gaming-table, is a teller in one of our city banks. He long enjoyed the confidence of the directors; but, a few days ago, they decided to have him watched, after office hours—a measure now resorted to by many financial institutions, on account of frequent defalcations. To-morrow morning, that teller will be requested by the board of directors to show his books, and give an account of the situation and prospects of the bank. But, in spite of his proficiency in book-keeping, he will be unable to figure up and represent the seventy-five thousand dollars he has squandered away in gambling houses since he commenced, six months ago, to frequent them.
"I also recognize at the table a lawyer, who, a few years ago, married a courtesan, in whom covetousness for wealth had become, during the last years of her life, a ruling passion. A few weeks after their marriage, the courtesan died, bequeathing the lawyer all her fortune. It was surmised, at the time, that she had been poisoned; and perhaps her husband comes here to drown his remorse.
"That black-haired, rather corpulent man, whose visage is spoiled by a dishonest glance, and demeanor tarnished by an innate vulgarity, is a teacher of foreign languages. He assumes important airs, as teachers generally do and though affecting, in his discourse, a Puritan austerity, few men are more intensely devoted to the pursuit of gain. An adventurer, he had but one purpose in view when he settled in the United States and commenced teaching—to find an heiress. After a fruitless search among his young pupils of the fair sex, he finally fascinated and married a spinster. Her savings are nightly dwindling away at the gaming table."
One of the city journals recently published the following account of an affair, which occurred some time since, at one of the best-known gaming hells of Broadway. The parties referred to are members of one of the wealthiest and most fashionable families in the city:
For some weeks past, one of the most fashionable Broadway gambling houses had been honored with the presence of a dashing young man, apparently not more than nineteen or twenty years of age. The gentleman gave his name as Dick Harley, and professed to hail from New Orleans. As he displayed a well-filled pocketbook, he was welcomed, of course.
In play he was remarkably lucky, for a time, at least. This attracted additional attention, and not only made him an object of envy, but of jealousy. Many of the most expert resorted to all the known arts of the game in order to pluck the youngster, but were themselves sold.
During all these visits, young Harley appeared to feel an especial interest in one of the visitors, who was known to hold a responsible position in a down-town banking house. This person was nearly always a loser, and his manner plainly told the fact that those losses greatly affected him. He was always uneasy, his eyes inflamed, and his hand trembling, while he would often start to his feet, and walk up and down the apartment, in a manner bordering on frenzy. It soon began to be whispered around that the man was utterly ruined—that there would soon be another bank defalcation sensation, and perhaps a suicide.
[Illustration: Scene in a gambling saloon.]
For some time, young Harley had made efforts to gain the exclusive attention of the bank officer, but had failed to do so. At length, however, he was successful, and the New Orleans buck and the ruined gamester sat down together.
Fortune now appeared to change. Harley had fifty thousand dollars in his possession, which he had won. But he began to lose now, and the bank officer was the winner. The game continued, and still Harley lost. He remained perfectly calm in the mean time, while the winner became even more excited than while he was unfortunate.
At length the fifty thousand dollars changed hands, and the banker asked,
'Shall we continue the game, sir?
'No,' replied Harley.
'But you want a chance for revenge?
'No, I will play no more with you. However, I would like to make one condition.'
'What is it?'
'Step aside with me, and you shall know.'
Harley and the winner stepped a little apart, when the former whispered.
'Sir, your manner has spoken only too plainly that your losses were about to involve you in trouble. Those losses have but just commenced; but if you continue your play, they will soon be very great, and yourself and family will be crushed. You have won sufficient to-night to save your honor, have you not?
'Thank God, yes,' was the earnest reply.
'Then the condition I would make is this: leave this place and never enter it again.'
'I'll do it,' was the almost frantic response, and the banker turned to leave the room.
At the same time, those around had no idea of losing such, an opportunity as now presented itself. That fifty thousand dollars must again change hands. One of the men present advanced, and, laying his hands upon the shoulder of Harley, said:
'Look you, youngster, you are going a little too far. You have won from us largely.'
'Aye, and lost again,' was the calm reply.
'So have we; and you must not stand in the way of our making good that loss.'
'How can I possibly do so?'
'By persuading the winner of your money to play no more.'
'Have I not a right to do it?'
'No.'
'Then I shall assume that right.'
As Harley said this he caught the bank officer by the arm, and led him toward the door. But the little fellow was instantly seized, and hurled to the opposite side of the room, where he fell with considerable violence.
Instantly he sprang to his feet, while his eyes flashed fire. At the same time, he drew a revolver, and exclaimed:
'Stand from that door, or there will be blood shed here.'
On occasions of this kind, revolver generally answers revolver. It was so on this occasion; and Harley received two shots, which sent him reeling upon the carpet. A crimson spot appeared near his temple, and he clutched his breast with his hands.
Of course, there were those present who did not like the idea of murder, and such sprang forward to the aid of the wounded lad. A black wig fell from his head, and then long golden locks were exposed to view. The vest was opened, and the bosom palpitating beneath the spotless linen was that of a woman.
The surprise of all was very great, and none more so than that of the young bank officer, when he discovered in Dick Harley no other than his own sister. She had learned of the gaming, and had followed him in order to save him from ruin. She had succeeded, for no person now attempted to molest her. The wound upon the head was but slight, although it stunned her for a few moments.
She left the house with her brother, and it is not likely that either of them will ever enter it again.
There are many establishments of this description in the city. They are neither so elegantly furnished nor so exclusive as to their guests as the first-class houses. There is also another important difference. In a first-class house, the visitor is sure to meet men who will deal fairly with him; and if he loses, as he is almost sure to do, it is because he is playing against more expert hands than himself. This is what is called a "square game." Everything is open and fair, and the bank relies on the fickleness of the cards and the superior skill of its dealer. In the second-class houses, however, the visitor is literally fleeced. Every advantage is taken of him, and it is morally certain that he will lose every cent he risks. In first-class houses, one can play or look on, as he pleases. In second-class houses, the visitor who declines to risk something is in danger of personal violence. He will be insulted by the proprietor or one of his myrmidons; and if he resents the insult, his life hangs by a very slender thread. The "runner" system is practiced very extensively in connection with these houses. The visitor is plied with liquor unceasingly during his stay in the rooms, and the losses of the unfortunate man during this period of semi-unconsciousness are frightful.
Many persons coming to the city yield to the temptation to visit these places, merely to see them. They intend to lose only a dollar or two as the price of the exhibition. Such men voluntarily seek the danger which threatens them. Nine out of ten who go there merely through curiosity, lose all their money. The men who conduct the "hell" understand how to deal with such cases, and are rarely unsuccessful.
It is in these places that clerks and other young men are ruined. They lose, and play again, hoping to make good their losses. In this way they squander their own means; and too frequently commence to steal from their employers, in the vain hope of regaining all they have lost.
There is only one means of safety for all classes—Keep away from the gaming table altogether.
At first gambling was carried on only at night. The fascination of the game, however, has now become so great, that day gambling houses have been opened in the lower part of the city. These are located in Broadway, below Fulton street, and in one or two other streets within the immediate neighborhood of Wall street.
These "houses," as they are called, are really nothing more than rooms. They are located on the top floor of a building, the rest of which is taken up with stores, offices, etc. They are managed on a plan similar to the night gambling houses, and the windows are all carefully closed with wooden shutters, to prevent any sound being heard without. The rooms are elegantly furnished, brilliantly lighted with gas, and liquors and refreshments are in abundance. As the stairway is thronged with persons passing up and down, at all hours of the day, no one is noticed in entering the building for the purpose of play. The establishment has its "runners" and "ropers in," like the night houses, who are paid a percentage on the winnings from their victims, and the proprietor of the day-house is generally the owner of a night-house higher up town.
Square games are rarely played in these houses. The victim is generally fleeced. Men who gamble in stocks, curbstone brokers, and others, vainly endeavor to make good a part of their losses at these places. They are simply unsuccessful. Clerks, office-boys, and others, who can spend but a few minutes and lose only a few dollars at a time, are constantly seen in these hells. The aggregate of these slight winnings by the bank is very great in the course of the day. Pickpockets and thieves are also seen here in considerable numbers. They do not come to practice their arts, for they would be shown no mercy if they should do so, but come to gamble away their plunder, or its proceeds.
Having given the reader a description of the "Wickedest Man in New York," we must now introduce him to Mr. Christopher Burns, or, as he is familiarly called, Kit Burns, the compeer of the noted John Allen.
In walking through Water street, you will notice a plain brick building, rather neater in appearance than those surrounding it. The lower part is painted green, and there is a small gas lamp before the door. The number, 273, is very conspicuous, and you will also notice the words over the door, rather the worse for exposure to the weather, "Kit Burns" "Sportsman's Sail".
The ostensible business of Kit Burns, is that of a tavern keeper, and it is said that his house is well kept for one of its class. The bar does a thriving business, and is well stocked with the kind of liquor used in Water street.
Attached to the tavern, however, are the principal attractions of the place to those who frequent it. These are the rat and dog pits.
Rats are plentiful along the East River, and Burns has no difficulty in procuring as many as he desires. These and his dogs furnish the entertainment, in which he delights. The principal room of the house is arranged as an amphitheatre. The seats are rough wooden benches, and in the centre is a ring or pit, enclosed by a circular wooden fence, several feet high. A number of rats are turned into this pit, and a dog of the best ferret stock is thrown in amongst them. The little creature at once falls to work to kill the rats, bets being made that she will destroy so many rats in a given time. The time is generally "made" by the little animal, who is well known to, and a great favorite with, the yelling blasphemous wretches who line the benches. The performance is greeted with shouts, oaths, and other frantic demonstrations of delight. Some of the men will catch up the dog in their arms, and press it to their bosom in a frenzy of joy, or kiss it as if it were a human being, unmindful or careless of the fact that all this while the animal is smeared with the blood of its victims. The scene is disgusting beyond description.
[Illustration: A Dog Fight at Kit Burn's]
Kit Burns is very proud of his dogs, and his cellar contains a collection of the fiercest and most frightfully hideous animals to be found in America. They are very docile with their owner, and seem really fond of him. They are well fed and carefully tended, for they are a source of great profit to their owner.
Notice is given that at such a time there will be a dog fight at "Sportsman's Hall," and when that time arrives the roughs and bullies of the neighborhood crowd the benches of the amphitheatre. A more brutal, villainous-looking set it would be hard to find. They are more inhuman in appearance than the dogs.
Two huge bull-dogs, whose keepers can hardly restrain them, are placed in the pit, and the keeper or backer of each dog crouches in his place, one on the right hand, the other on the left, and the dogs in the middle. At a given signal, the animals are released, and the next moment the combat begins. It is simply sickening. Most of our readers have witnessed a dog fight in the streets. Let them imagine the animals surrounded by a crowd of brutal wretches whose conduct stamps them as beneath the struggling beasts, and they will have a fair idea of the scene at Kit Burns's.
During the summer of 1868, while the Water street revival was going on at John Allen's, the parties conducting the movement endeavored to induce Kit Burns to join them. He refused all their offers, and at last they hired his rat pit at a high price, for the purpose of using it for religious services for one hour in each day. This was done, and the meetings held therein were sadly disgraceful to the cause of Christianity. We take the following account of one of these meetings from theNew York World, our apology for intruding it, being our desire to present a truthful picture.
The Water street prayer-meetings are still continued. Yesterday at noon a large crowd assembled in Kit Burns's liquor shop, very few of whom were roughs. The majority seemed to be business men and clerks, who stopped in to see what was going on, in a casual manner. In a few minutes after twelve o'clock the pit was filled up very comfortably, and Mr. Van Meter made his appearance and took up a position here he could address the crowd from the centre of the pit, inside the barriers. The roughs and dry goods clerks piled themselves up as high as the roof, tier after tier, and a sickening odor came from the dogs and debris of rats' bones under the seats.
Kit stood outside, cursing and damning the eyes of the missionaries for not hurrying up.
Kit said, 'I'm d——d if some of the people that come here oughtn't to be clubbed. A fellow 'u'd think that they had niver seen a dog-pit afore. I must be d——d good-looking to have so many fellows looking at me.'
Inside, the exhortations were kept up to fever heat. In a little gallery above the pit, not more than four feet from the dirty ceiling, there were half a dozen faded and antiquated women, who kept chorus to the music of the Heavenly Jerusalem, as follows:
'To God, the mighty LordYour joyful thanks repeat;To him due praise afford,As good as he is great.For God does proveOur constant friend;His boundless loveShall never end-a-a-h.'
'That's what I call singing the bloody gospil. The man that wrote that ballad was no slouch,' cried out George Leese, alias 'Snatchem,' one of the worst scoundrels in New York, who is now in the saving path of grace. As a beastly, obscene ruffian, 'Snatchem' never had his equal in America, according to his own account. The writer has seen this fellow at prize fights, with a couple of revolvers in his belt, engaged in the disgusting office of sucking blood from the wild beasts who had ceased to pummel each other for a few seconds. This man, with his bulging, bulbous, watery-blue eyes, bloated red face, and coarse swaggering gait, has been notorious for years in New York. The police are well acquainted with him, and he is proud of his notoriety.
'Snatchem' asked our reporter if he ever saw such 'a-rough and-tumble- stand-up-to-be knocked-down son of a gun as he in his life.'
Did you ever see such a kicking-in-the-head-knife-in-a dark-room fellow as I am, eh?'
Our reporter meekly answered 'no.'
I want a quarter-stretch ticket to go to glory, I do. I can go in harness preaching the bloody gospil against any minister in New York. I know all Watts' Hymns and Fistiana, and I'd like to be an angel and bite Gabriel's ear off.'
A man got upon one of the benches in the pit and commenced to preach in a frenzy to the crowd. He related his experience as a gambler at several gambling houses in Ann street and on Broadway. He told very affecting stories about young men who bought stacks of chips and were afterwards reduced to their bottom dollar and misery.
The minister asked 'if any one present was in need of his prayer, or of water from the Jordan to wash out his sins, to let him hold up his hand.'
George Leese did so. 'He wanted all the water he could get from theJordan or any other river.'
A man who announced that his name was Sam Irving, and had been a great scoundrel and dog-fighter, said he used to go to Harry Jenning's; to Butler's, in Ninth Avenue; to McLaughlin's, in First Avenue; and to Kit Burns's, to see dogs fight and snarl at each other; he went to Ireland once to bring over a fighting-dog; the man who gave him that dog came to a terrible end by his own hand. The speaker had been reared in sin and shame; he had known the life of the streets; but now Jesus had grabbed him where he lived, and he was going to do better. He wanted every one to take warning by him. They could get Christ as well as him. The prayer-meeting ended by the singing of the Doxology.
In walking along the streets in the vicinity of the water, you will notice many buildings with the sign "Sailors' Boarding House." One would suppose that poor Jack needed a snug resting place after his long and stormy voyages, but it is about the last thing he finds in New York. The houses for his accommodation are low, filthy, vile places, where every effort is made to swindle him out of his money; the proprietors are merciless sharks, and they keep the sailors who come to this port in a state of the most abject slavery.
A ship comes in from a long voyage. Her men are discharged and paid off. The runners for the boarding houses lie in wait for them, and, as soon as they get their money, take them to the establishments which prove so fatal to them. There they are made drunk, robbed of their money and valuables, and of all their good clothing, and brought in debt to their landlord. A captain in want of a crew applies to one of these landlords for men. In order to secure them, he has to advance a part of their wages, which the landlord claims for debts which Jack never contracted. The men are made drunk, and in this state they sign the shipping articles, and are sent to sea. When they recover their senses, they are on the blue water, and prefer their present condition to being at the mercy of the landlords. In this way, it frequently happens that poor Jack never gets the benefit of a single penny of his hard earnings.
Efforts have been made by conscientious shipowners to put a stop to the outrages of the landlords, but each one has failed. The wretches have banded together, and have prevented sailors from shipping, and in the end the ship owners have been compelled to abandon the sailor to the mercy of his tyrants. Only a law of Congress, regulating sailors' boarding houses, according to the system now in use in England, will remedy the evil.
Hon. W. F. G. Shanks, who has given much time and research to this matter, in a recent communication to a city journal, thus sums up his experience and discoveries:
Among the things which I learned and the points on which I satisfied myself thoroughly, I may mention, as of possible interest to the public, the following:
1. I have carefully calculated that not less than one thousand destitute women, and five hundred men, are supported by the one hundred and seventy boarding-houses and thirty shipping offices in New York.
2. At least fifteen thousand sailors of all nations are annually robbed, by these people, of not less than two millions of dollars. I name this amount to be within bounds; I believe it to be at least half as much more.
3. Only two of these houses have a legal existence; all the rest are kept open in defiance of a State law, enacted in 1866, 'for the better protection of the seamen,' whom these landsharks prey upon. A grand jury was obtained which indicted the delinquents, who refused to take out a license according to this law, but theStateCommissioners have in vain urged theCityattorney to prosecute the offenders.
4. The landlords laugh at the authority of the State Commissioners for licensing boarding houses for seamen, of which Mr. E. W. Chester is President, and rely on the license to vend liquor issued by the Police Board, of which Mr. Acton is President, as their ample protection.
5. The landlords have congregated mainly in the Fourth and Sixth Wards of the city, in order to influence, if not control them politically. The combination existing between boarding-house keepers and shipping- masters enables them to cast, in any election in the City, at least one thousand votes, and probably more.
6. Much of the smuggling in this port is done by the runners of these houses.
7. Numbers of criminals flying from justice are aided to get to sea by these men; and during the war hundreds of deserters from the army, who had never been out of sight of land, and knew nothing of an ordinary seaman's duty, were shipped by them as good seamen.
8. No inquiry is made by owners, captains, or shipping agents, into the moral character or seamanship of the men employed by these agents.
9. Seamen are allowed to ship only when penniless, and often without sufficient clothing to protect them from the inclement weather.
10. They are discharged from ships without the wages due them, and have no alternative but to go to the men whom they know will rob them; and the United States laws authorize the owners of vessels to deny them their pay until ten days after the cargo is discharged—much longer than the owners usually withhold it. It is these laws which throw the sailor under the control of the 'land sharks.'
11. Foreign sailors are induced to desert their ships and go in other vessels by landlords who aim to rob them of the advance pay which custom exacts. The sailors thus not only lose by desertion the pay due them by the ship they abandon, as well as the advance which, they get from their new commander, but also forfeit their nationality and the protection of their former flag.
12. Foreign captains frequently force their men to desert them, in order to save their keep and back pay. This they accomplish either by bad treatment of the men or collusion with the landlords.
13. Large ships are often detained in port, after having their cargo on board, because of the refusal of landlords to allow the seamen to ship while their money lasts.
14. The owners submit to this indirect control of their great interests for fear of giving offence to the men who furnish and control the crews. The United States has not a law which would protect owners in an effort to change the system of shipping seamen, improving their condition, or protecting them in their rights, or in increasing the number and the utility of seamen.
15. There is not a single training or school ship in this port, although Boston boasts two in successful operation. The United States laws do not require, as they should, that every ship leaving an American port, under the United States flag, should carry its complement of apprentices. Neither of these practical means of building up the merchant marine service is generally adopted in the United States, though the experience of England, and other great maritime powers, has shown the benefit and the necessity of both systems.
16. Generally speaking, the very worst enemies of the sailor in all ports are the consuls who are sent to protect them. Practically, they are the aiders and abettors of landlords. There may be exceptional cases, but I cannot venture to name them. A special investigation of consulate abuses would reveal the sailor as the most frequent victim.
I could mention other important points, if space permitted. To be brief, I have seen that the sailor is without protection from Government laws, Government agents, or the owners whose interest he serves. He is systematically robbed, imprisoned and sold into the hardest of servitude, as openly as negroes were sold a few years ago in the South. If he complains of the robbery, judges, who hold their positions by the favor of the landlords who commit the robbery, release the culprit on bail, and send the sailor to the House of Detention as a witness, where he is forgotten, or finally turned penniless into the street, to wander back to the man who robbed him, to beg for assistance and work. If he refuses to ship as landlords direct, he is forcibly put on board by legal process, or through the agency of the whiskey bottle, and in either case is sent penniless and almost naked to sea. They never complain of the terms of sale. After Jack has been on a packet ship for two months, he is glad to escape, by any means, to the ills of the boarding houses, and after enduring that slavery for a fortnight, he is only too glad to rush back to the hardships of the ocean life he lately thought so terrible. His life is one desperate effort to escape the ills he has and fly to others that he knows well enough. The sailor has no respect for Hamlet's philosophy.