CHAPTER X.
Catching Suckers—Biting Myself—The Hospital Nurse and Mail Order Scheme—Working Saloon Men on Bible Racket.
As I have already hinted, the work of the fakir changes with the seasons, and though some winters it was possible to continue street business successfully, especially by travel in the south, yet as a rule I have usually altered my route and plans to correspond with the climate.
My partner was of the same opinion, and late in the fall turned his face homeward, working as he went. There had been no friction between us; he had been very honorable in his division of the spoils, and I confess I parted from him with many regrets. We did talk of getting together again the next spring, but the life of a fakir is full of uncertainties, so that his best laid plans will often “gang awry.” I did not see him again for perhaps half a dozen years.
Then, one day I came across him very unexpectedly in the street. He had experienced ups and downs since our parting, and just then was rather down than up. He actually tried to work me with the “pop-corn” racket. That, you know, is a sort of game of chance, and, like all other propositions of the kind, when the banker knows his business, as it is safe to gamble that he does, the chances, if there are any, remain in his favor.
I knew the doctor in a moment, and when he seemed to put a five-dollar bill into a ball of pop-corn, which he mixed with half a dozen other balls and then offered me my choice for a quarter, I felt like shouting.
Instead of that, I gravely handed him the quarter, appeared to hesitate long over my choice, but finally selected the ball farthest away from me.
What followed was a surprise, for without examining the ball, or attempting to open it, I tossed it into the street.
“Come, doc,” I said, “you don’t mean to say you don’t remember me—Jim Weldon? How has the world been using you, old man?”
He gave me a second glance, and knew me then fast enough, so we shook hands heartily. He told me how the failure of a promising legitimate business venture had put him flat on his back, but that he had gone to work once more at the foot of the ladder, hoping by spring to be able to start on the road again in something of his old style. Poor fellow. I gave him, at parting, as big a stake as he would accept, and heard from him a few months later, when he was preparing for the campaign, but he died the next summer of yellow fever.
As I have said, the summer campaign had been successful and I had wealth galore. If I preferred to do so I could live after a modest fashion until spring came again without doing a stroke, and I was once more anxious to get into harness. I made a short visit home, where they were all glad to see me, and then started out for a visit to some of the eastern cities. I not only wanted to see their methods and style, but to get in closer touch with the men who largely produced the novelties by the sale of which I expected to make my living.
The trip paid me well. There was not, now, much of the green country youth in me or my appearance, but I cut a few eye-teeth nevertheless. By this time I had taken on age, so that I could easily pass for a man half a dozen years older than I really was, and I imagined I was pretty well up in all the tricks of the trade. But I found that I had a great many to learn, and I proceeded to learn them. I discovered that there were plenty of men in my line who sold nothing but the output of their brains, and that brought the highest kind of a price. Also that there were many lines of business, which I had always taken to be of the staidest, soberest, most legitimate nature, which, after all, were handled after the style of the greatest fakes I had ever handled on the road. Some of them I decided to try in the future when the time seemed propitious; others seemed to be a little overpowering to suit even me.
When it was all outgo and no income, of course, my sight-seeing began to get away with my money, and though my pocket could stand the stream for some time to come, I could not bear to be idle. It was not long before I had mastered the situation and drifted into an humble effort of occupation.
At first my efforts were largely for the purpose of experience, and to give me something to do. It was really in a spirit of fun that I spread my first nets to catch suckers. It was by no means the line I had ever expected to follow, but there was a fascination about it, after I once began to employ printer’s ink, which led me on until, before long, I was about as bad as the worst of the class, while I had the remarkable good fortune of not being brought up with a round turn. Once in a while a fellow who gets too fresh falls into the hands of the police and must answer to the law.
Once, in my younger days, I enclosed a dime in answer to an advertisement which promised to tell applicants how to travel without paying railroad fare. The response I got was, “Walk instead of ride.”
This is a fair pattern of many fakes; and to my great amusement, and somewhat to my profit, I tested the calibre of a number of them that winter at a trifling expense. You know the old saying, “A sucker is born every minute.” I did not consider myself a sucker by any means, and yet I did considerable “biting” while I was considering the ways and means of my brethren of the trade.
I may say that my own opinion is, the postal authorities of those days were neither so keen nor vigilant as they are now, or these fellows would not have gotten along without more trouble. There were not so many, and before I got through I had traced them out and knew them all. I had also got myself posted on the advertising sheets which had the widest circulation, and the best line of readers. I knew that when an ad. appeared in their pages, if the scheme was a good one and the work artistically done, results were pretty apt to accrue in a short time.
What sort of fakes were they? Well, for instance, how does this strike you? In those days the Louisiana Lottery was in full swing, and the fellow who advertised a sure “system” to catch the capital prize must have made a little fortune. The answer that he gave me in return for my dime was: “Hold the winning number.”
One of the best ads. I saw was headed, “How to Make Money Fast.” I sent in ten cents. I received a little book containing full particulars of the U. S. mint.
“How to make Pantaloons Last” was a catchy heading, and though I suspected the answer I dropped another dime in the slot and obtained the information, “Make the Coat and Vest First.”
The last one I tested offered for a dime full instructions on the subject, “How to Get Rich Without Working.” I was told to catch suckers, like they did.
That settled it with me. There was nothing to be learned from the gentry of that ilk, and I began to cast about with the view of taking this very sensible advice.
I did not propose to rob the people, however, mentally deciding my suckers should get as little hook and as much bait as was possible for the money.
I hunted up an intelligent young drug clerk, who had done some medicine reading in his time, and who was not averse to making the expenses of a future course at a medical college by assisting me to carry out what I had in view. From the doctor with whom he had been reading he obtained what was really a first-class prescription for piles, to which, guided by his knowledge, we made certain additions.
Then I inserted the following advertisement:
“Free.—A Valuable Remedy for Piles. Free. Address ‘Retired Hospital Nurse,’ No. 66 N—– St., New York.”
Inquiries by mail came pouring in from all over the country. Most of the correspondents enclosed postage stamps, and to those who did not we wrote anyhow, enclosing the prescription. I wrote to each of them about as follows:
“Dear Sir:—Your favor of recent date just received, and I take great pleasure in sending you the prescription, as advertised. I desire to particularly caution you that it must be used strictly in accordance with directions. Have it put up at a place where only first-class drugs are kept. The articles are so delicate that they must be pure and fresh.
“You may find it difficult to procure a few of the ingredients named in this prescription, especially if you reside in a small town. I would inform you that in such case I have made arrangements with a reliable pharmacist here, who will put up the entire prescription and forward it by express, all charges prepaid, for one dollar and thirty cents.
Yours truly,
“Hospital Nurse.”
As the ingredients I had hinted at as hard to procure, though they had nice sounding names, never were heard of by any country druggists; those who decided to use the prescription according to the direction invariably sent me their orders, and I returned them a number one, tip-top pile remedy, which cost just thirty cents. My partner got materials at wholesale prices, and now-a-days every one knows the tremendous profits at which such things are sold at retail.
I did not live economically by any means, but after I got started this thing more than paid my expenses, while my friend and partner, the drug clerk, had enough laid up to insure his diploma as an M. D., and probably this very day would as soon think of dying as running a professional advertisement in a newspaper.
I worked this pile scheme until the novelty of it wore off, and then began to think of hitting the road again. It was while making the rounds in New York City, looking for something to handle, that I accidentally strolled into a trade auction house.
I made a purchase there, which, for a time, I feared was going to turn out a total loss. I bought three hundred and eighty pocket bibles. My bid was made “for fun,” and when they were knocked down to me at a ridiculously low price I had to take them, though I had no idea of how they were going to be disposed of. I was not exactly the sort of individual, either in manner or appearance, to travel around selling the good book; and I had my doubts if I could get rid of them, even if I tried.
They were beauties, though, bound in morocco, with gilt edges and tuck covers; and the longer I had them the more I was convinced there were plenty of people hungering and thirsting for the books, if I only knew who they were, and how to reach them.
At last I hit upon a plan. I always did hit a plan if I took the time, and that was my weak point. I was apt to waste many precious moments in reflection which should have been used in action.
What I thought of was this:
Through the aid of several different city directories I secured the names of hundreds of saloon-keepers. As a class—outside of their own business, which I do not at all revere—they are a jolly, happy-go-lucky lot of people, who admire what has the appearance of a practical joke, are free with their money, and are on the best of terms with all the world and the rest of mankind.
I wrapped each book in a neat and separate package, and distributed the whole lot so that the three hundred and eighty volumes would reach three hundred and eighty different saloon-keepers on Christmas day, each one priced “One dollar, C. O. D.”
One day ahead I sent out to each individual I had marked as my own a letter like the following:
“Dear Brother:—The good book hath said, ‘There is a time for everything,’ and there is a time to turn from earthly joys and earthly gains and think of those mansions in the skies which one day will be our lot if we only redeem the accepted time. It has well been said, ‘Prepare thy souls for the Resurrection day and the judgment,’ To do this you must read the good book, else you cannot enter the kingdom of heaven.
“I send you today by express a nice pocket edition of the bible. If you think it may save your soul, take it and pay the charges. If you have no confidence in the holy book do not receive it. In any case, God bless you. From
“A Friend.”
About one-third of the bibles were accepted on the first delivery. I took my money, which was more than half profit, and magnanimously presented the express company with the remaining unclaimed packages, suspecting that every one of them would be a dead loss to me.