VII. GAMES AT FAIRS AND CIRCUSES
There is scarcely a person who has visited a county fair, or patronized a circus, whose attention has not been attracted by the presence upon the grounds of an immense number of “fakirs,” as peripatetic tricksters are often called. Probably many excellent people have wondered how it happened that men of this class were allowed to introduce gambling devices upon grounds which were supposed to be used for purposes of rational entertainment, even if not of instruction. No gambling device can be operated upon any fair-ground without the consent of the directors of the Fair Association having been first had and obtained. The members of this august body are usually selected on account of their social prominence and their supposedly high moral character. It would be, therefore, charitable to suppose that they are not aware of the precise nature of the schemes the manipulation of which they tolerate.
A county fair, however, is essentially a money making scheme, and the license fees derived from this source constitute no unimportant feature of the managers’ revenue. Sometimes the “fakirs” gain permission to work their various schemes through the ignorance of the directors. More frequently they are well aware of their nature, and exact high fees in consequence of this very knowledge. To illustrate: I myself once made application for a license to operate a hap-hazard upon the grounds of one of these associations. The secretary was a bank cashier, and the moment that he saw my machine, exclaimed: “Why, I know all about that thing. You can stop that whenever want to. Pay me $50, and you can go on the grounds and ‘skin’ all you want to.” Naturally I paid the sum demanded, and I happened to know that some fifteen or twenty other contrivances of a like character were admitted to the same grounds upon the same terms. This is but one instance of many that I could cite, in which the director was equally well convinced that my contrivance was a “fake,” pure and simple.
Such a transaction is a high-handed outrage upon the community. The men who license schemes such as are described in this chapter are licensing scoundrels, in comparison with whom pickpockets are respectable, to prey upon their own towns-people, pocketing the money which they well know has been made by fraud.
Sometimes it is thought necessary to preserve at least the semblance of innocence on the part of the managers. When the application for a license of one of these machines is received by the directors, some one of the latter, whose conscience (?) will not permit him to sanction schemes of fraud asks if the device in question is to be operated as a “gift enterprise?” By this, he means, are there to be any blanks? If so, his high moral sense will not permit him to tolerate its introduction upon the grounds over which the Board has control. This objection is easily removed, by introducing into the scheme a number of articles of valueless jewelry, the presence of which among the prizes usually removes all conscientious scruples of the objector. Occasionally, when the moment for taking a vote arrives, “Squire Brown” is conveniently absent, and the majority of the board acts without him. Sometimes the gamblers are told that it will be necessary for them to submit to an arrest and pay a small fine in order that the scruples and prejudices of the public may be appeased. I have myself known this to happen more than once.
After the license has been granted and the various games are in operation, it is not an uncommon occurrence for the town marshal or sheriff to put in an appearance, and extort from $5.00 to $10.00 per day in consideration of there being no molestation offered. This payment is what the “fakirs” call “sugaring,” and I have never known one of these officials for whom the dose could be made too sweet. I have submitted to this extortion of blackmail (for it is nothing else) several times when I was convinced, to a moral certainty, that the directors were receiving a percentage of the money which I paid over to the officers.
Sometimes a different policy is adopted by the managers. The prosecuting attorney and sheriff find it necessary to leave town on urgent business, and are therefore totally unaware of what is going on. In such a case, a purse is usually made up for these officials by contributions from the proprietors of the various “fakes,” which is always understood by the gamblers to be intended for the sheriff and prosecutor. It may be that a portion of the money raised sticks to the fingers of the man to whom its payment is entrusted, but my own impression is that in a majority of cases the greater proportion of it, reaches the parties for whom it was intended.
It is the hope of the author that what is here said may serve to open the eyes of reflecting citizens to the grave character of the evil which is pointed out. Too much cannot be said in reprehension of such conduct on the part of men to whom the community entrusts interests of such a character. And if any member of any Board of Directors of any county fair will carefully read the pages which follow, he will, at least, find it forever impossible hereafter to plead ignorance, by way of extenuation of a vote to tolerate the introduction of any of these devices among his own acquaintances.
NEEDLE WHEEL.
This is an exceedingly ingenious and very delicately constructed piece of mechanism. The accompanying cut affords a view of its appearance, but cannot be understood without some explanation. It consists of three parts. The outer rim, which is stationary, contains thirty-two metal grooves, or pockets, numbered, apparently without special arrangement, from one to thirty-two. Inside this rim, is a circular piece of wood, resembling a wheel, but without spokes, which is covered with cloth. Above this, and of about equal size with it, is a saucer-shaped piece of wood, in which are bored three holes. On the table on which the wheel is placed stands a wooden box, containing thirty-two compartments, numbered consecutively from one to thirty-two. In these compartments are placed sixteen money prizes, which the players believe they have a chance to win. Apparently, the chances are exactly even, the number of prizes and of blanks being equal.
When the game is played upon fair-grounds, and the directors of the fair insist that it shall be operated as a gift enterprise in which there shall be no blanks, articles of cheap jewelry are placed in the compartments, which under other circumstances are left blank.
The mode of playing is as follows: One wishing to win a prize pays fifty cents or $1.00 (in proportion to the size of the crowd) for the privilege of making the attempt. He then places a marble in the upper wheel or saucer, which is given a twirl, either by himself or the proprietor, the lower wheel being usually set in motion at the same time, but in an opposite direction. As the upper wheel revolves, the marble flies around and finally falls through one of the holes on to the lower wheel. The latter slopes gently from centre to circumference and the marble naturally rolls down to one of the compartments in the outer rim, where it stops. If it has fallen into a winning number, the player receives the prize placed in the compartment of the box or case, having the corresponding number. If, on the other hand, it has fallen into a blank number, he receives nothing.
To the uninitiated, this appears very fair. The “fake” element consists of the apparatus which is concealed beneath the table, the existence of which is not even suspected by the players. Running up through the middle of both wheels is a rod ornamented with a knob on the top. This knob actually operates a thumb-screw which sets in motion a system of sixteen wire levers, lettered “b, b, b,” on the diagram, which force up through the cloth covering a like number of fine needle points, “c, c, c.” One of these points (none of which are larger than the point of a fine cambric needle and cannot be detected by the eye) rises in front of each winning number, and when the marble is in danger of entering a lucky compartment it strikes against one of these points, its course being thus deflected into one of the adjacent pockets, resulting in the players inevitably drawing a blank.
Naturally, after a greenhorn has lost several times consecutively, he grows suspicious, and in order to induce him to venture still farther, it is necessary that some one should appear to win. Just here comes in the “capper,” whose assistance in all games of this description is indispensable. When he makes his appearance, he is at once recognized by the manipulator of the machine through giving a pre-arranged signal. As soon as he buys a chance, the proprietor relaxes the tension of the thumb-screw; the wire levers fall; the needle points sink below the surface of the table; and the marble is allowed to go where chance dictates. If the confederate fails to win the first time, he perseveres until he succeeds. The result is that the waning confidence of the crowd is restored, and the poor, deluded fools once more press eagerly forward to “try their luck,” in a game where “luck” is an utter impossibility.
This is a favorite game for playing “doubles or quits,” or, as gamblers sometimes say, “representing.” By this is meant doubling a stake once lost; thus, if a man loses $1.00, he risks $2.00 a second time; if he loses again, he stakes $4.00, then $8.00, $16.00, $32.00, and so on. The author has himself won $1,300 under this system of betting by means of this device from one man at a single county fair.
The services of the “capper” are of great value in inducing players to adopt this system of betting. When he makes his appearance, he ordinarily asks some bystander to twirl the wheel and drop the marble for him. When he has won, he usually buys another chance for the benefit of the “sucker” who has kindly performed this office for him. The victim is, of course, quite willing to play at some one else’s expense, and is not infrequently induced, after losing the $1.00 which was put up for him, to continue playing, with his own money, on the system of “doubles or quits,” as explained above.
CORONA OR MASCOT.
This game is of recent date as compared with the needle wheel and squeeze spindle, of which it is, in effect, but a modification. I first saw it in the autumn of 1884, while I was traveling with “Mexican Cortenas’ Wild West Show.”
To operate the machine two men are necessary, in addition to a number of “cappers.” The apparatus consists of a circular piece of wood, usually some 2½ feet in diameter, at the outer rim of which are painted numbers from 1 to 60. Inside this is placed a round plate of heavy glass, on which is painted either an arrow or a small pointer. This inner plate revolves upon a central pivot. Prizes of money or jewelry are placed upon the numbers. Those who wish to win any of them buy tickets, on each of which is inscribed a number, the purchaser selecting his ticket at random, from a large number which are placed in a box. At the right of the ostensible proprietor sits his confederate, who poses as “book- keeper.” In order that no “sucker” may, by any chance, win a prize of any value, a lever, similar to that used in the squeeze spindle is sunk into the table and concealed by the cloth cover. The “book-keeper,” by pressing on the end of the wire rod, which is directly underneath his book, can apply friction to the pivot and cause the wheel to stop at any number which he may choose. It is hardly necessary to say that the box from which the purchaser takes his ticket contains none bearing the number which would call for a valuable prize. In order, however, to keep up the interest of the dupes and stimulate their spirit of gaming, the “book-keeper” occasionally brings the glass to a stand still at a point where the arrow indicates a money prize. Instantly a “capper” steps forward from among the crowd, presents a ticket and claims the prize. The ticket is carelessly thrown on one side and the money handed over to the confederate, who takes his departure. The unsuspecting fools who are not in the secret pursue the play with fresh zest, each one fancying that he has some chance of winning a large stake “next time,” but unfortunately for the victim the moment for his winning never comes.
In case any of the players should become suspicious, and demand a sight of the tickets remaining in the box, in order to satisfy himself that the numbers corresponding to the money prizes are actually there, the proprietor cheerfully assents, readily producing the box, into which he has surreptitiously transferred the necessary cards from his pocket.
WHEEL OF FORTUNE OR CHUCK-A-LUCK.
This is the name given to a gambling device which has been a favorite with the “fraternity” for many years, and which has never failed to prove a sure bait to trap the unwary and an unfailing source of rich income to its manipulators.
It is made with or without a “fake” attachment, its general appearance in either case being the same. The nature of the “fake” and its mode of operation will be explained below; the construction of the wheel will be first described.
It is a handsome apparatus, standing about seven feet high. The wheel itself is usually about four feet in diameter, and rests upon a tripod three feet in height. Inside the rim of the wheel is a twelve-pointed star, between each two points of which are inscribed either five or six numbers, the figures being painted on the rim and running from one to sixty or seventy-two, consecutively. The wheel and star revolve simultaneously around a common axis. At the top of the wheel is an arrow, pointing downward, which serves as an indicator.
Around the wheel is a wooden frame which is covered with cloths on which, when the seventy-two number wheel is used, are painted the numbers one to six, or on which are arranged paddles, each one of which is marked with either one or six numbers, the uses of which will be described later.
The wheel is used either as an adjunct to a scheme for the distribution of cheap prizes or as a means of making bets. The former plan is the one generally adopted at small fairs, when a “lay-out” of inexpensive queen’s or glass ware is spread upon the table, each article, or lot, bearing its own number. In this case, the manipulation of the wheel is sometimes conducted fairly, the legitimate odds in favor of the proprietor being sufficient to justify him in giving the dupes some sort of a chance.
Where the game is played for prizes, the common practice is to use the paddles above referred to, each inscribed with six numbers, the twelve paddles embracing the range from one to seventy-two. Each person wishing to take a chance pays for a paddle (usually twenty-five cents), and when all possible have been sold, the wheel is set in motion. When it comes to rest, the indicator at the top points to a number, and the holder of the paddle bearing the corresponding number has it at his option either to take the prize or $1.50 in money.
The most profitable form of the wheel, however, is that which is sometimes designated the “six number wheel,” so called because the spaces between the points of the star are each numbered from one to six. When this device is operated, the frame is sometimes covered with oil- cloths, each containing six squares, numbered from one to six. Sometimes six paddles, each bearing a separate number (running from one to six) are employed besides the cloths; and not infrequently a double set of paddles, similarly numbered.
In the latter case, the players place their stakes on some one or more numbers upon the cloth. The paddles are used when the crowd is too great to be accommodated at the cloths. When the wagers have all been placed, the wheel is set in motion. Breathlessly the players await the result. When it ceases to revolve, the indicator at the top points to some number. The player who has placed his stake upon that number has it returned to him, increased by four.
As a matter of fact, however, when the wheel comes to rest it is usually discovered that no heavy player has been fortunate enough to make just that bet. The reason is simple. The reader who will carefully examine the accompanying diagram will perceive the representation of a rod running through the upright support of the wheel and one of the legs of the tripod, thence turning to the right and terminating under a plank in the floor, directly below the operator’s foot. By simply pressing on this mechanicism, the latter checks the motion of the wheel by application of friction at the pivot, and brings it to a standstill at any point which he may desire.
Not always, however, is the proprietor of the wheel the only sharper on the ground. Sometimes he discovers, when it is too late, that he has been playing a game of “diamond cut diamond.” His apparatus fails to work as he had expected, and when he has “gone broke,” as gamblers term financial ruin, he carefully examines his wheel, and learns that some more astute scoundrel than himself has plugged some point on the circumference with lead, bringing it to rest by the simple but sure operation of the law of gravitation.
Sometimes, instead of the numbers above referred to, there are used certain printed inscriptions, representing speculative articles dealt in on the floors of the stock and produce exchanges, such as pork, lard, wheat, corn, oats, rye, barley, seeds, and various kinds of corporation stocks. This form of the device is ordinarily known as the “Board of Trade Wheel,” and is sometimes found to be very popular in rural districts.
SQUEEZE SPINDLE.
This device has been successfully employed in defrauding the unwary for nearly two score years, and is still to be found on every fair ground in the United States where the directors are men of sufficiently easy morality to permit unprincipled sharpers to fleece their townspeople for a consideration. I have myself won thousands through this very means.
It is usually made of wood, with a metal arrow, weighing about seven pounds, swinging on a pivot in the centre (I). About this pivot are arranged numbers—generally either from 1 to 16 or from 1 to 32, in the form of an ellipse. At three points, equidistant from each other, are depicted three horses and the numbers are arranged in alternate blocks, usually of red, white and black. Outside the ellipse are little metal pegs, one being placed opposite each number.
The mode of playing is simple in the extreme. As many persons can engage in the game as can stand around the table. Each player places the amount which he wishes to bet on the color or horse which he selects. The proprietor gives odds of ten to one on the horses and even bets are made on the colors. That is to say: if a player wagers a dollar on the red and wins, the proprietor pays him a dollar and returns his stake. If he bets a dollar on a horse and wins, he receives $10 in addition to his original wager.
The bets being all made, some one—it is immaterial who—sets the arrow in motion. When it ceases revolving, the slender point, to which is usually attached a small piece of leather, comes to rest between some two of the pegs, and the player whose money has been placed on the number indicated wins the amount of his stake.
As a matter of fact, however, it is impossible for any one to win without the proprietor’s consent. At the point four, as shown in the diagram, is placed a metal disc, resembling a button, which is attached to a stout wire rod, which in turn is sunk into the wooden top of the table and entirely concealed from view by the cloth covering of the latter. When this metal button is pressed, it operates the rod, the other end of which, by creating friction at the central pivot, gradually stops the movement of the arrow, and the operator is enabled to bring the latter to a standstill at whatever point in the ellipse he may see fit. It would seem that this contrivance gave the proprietor of the machine sufficient advantage over the unsuspecting players, but he is not content with this. To operate the wire it is necessary that he should put his hand upon the table. Sometimes a “sucker” objects to this movement, and demands that he remove his hand. In order to be prepared for such an emergency, another contrivance is attached, the location of which is indicated on the diagram by figure three. In its essential features, the latter contrivance closely resembles the one operated by the button, but it is worked by pressure from some part of the body, usually the hip.
To show how easily and successfully a machine of this sort may be used for purposes of swindling, I will relate an incident in my own experience which happened while I was at a county fair, at Olney, Ill., in the autumn of 1882. In connection with a partner, I was operating one of these spindles of the sort which I have described. At the fair was a young man from the country, who had disposed of a horse for $140. He had seen me working the machine, and was anxious to quit the dull monotony of country life and travel with me, as a gambler and a man of leisure. I had an interview with him at the hotel the same evening, and disposed of one-half interest in the business for $60, which he promptly paid in cash. Thereupon I instructed him in the operation of the machine, but concealed from him the existence of the wire which was operated by pressure from the hip. The following day we repaired to the fairgrounds, and I left him in charge of the apparatus. His bank roll consisted of $160, of which we had each advanced $80. The young man was not aware that I already had a partner in the business, the latter having been acting as “capper” and keeping himself in the background. When the country boy began to run the machine, my partner sauntered up to the table and began to play. I was on one side, at a safe distance, watching the entire game. My new partner undertook to work the wire which was to be operated by the hand; my former partner forestalled all his efforts by working the rod which was pressed by the body. The result was that the bank was speedily broken, my original partner walking off with the assets and leaving my new acquaintance in a condition of decided financial embarrassment. He still, however, owned a nominal one-half interest in the machine, which I soon learned was for sale, and that being known we directed our efforts to winning this back. Accordingly, I bought him out for $20. He next entered into an agreement with the man who had succeeded so admirably in beating him, and they agreed that if I would stand back from the table and permit them to twirl the spindle, they would risk their joint funds. Once more my former partner operated the wire with his hip, and the result was that in a short time we had again in our possession the $20 which I had paid to repurchase his half interest to me. When he went home, he was undoubtedly a sadder, though I doubt whether, to this day, he is a very much wiser man.
In the latest construction of these fraudulent spindles, the cheats have invoked the aid of science, and the result has been a machine which, for simplicity and perfection of operation, cannot be surpassed. It is known among sporting men as the “magnetic spindle,” because of the sinking of magnets into the table directly below the losing numbers. The cloth which covers them, while it conceals them from view, does not interfere with their operation. The needle, being of brass, necessarily comes to rest directly above some one of them, thus indicating a number which inevitably brings loss to the player. This contrivance is of comparatively recent invention and is highly prized by men of the class who use devices of this description.
Of course, with such a machine, it is impossible that the arrow should ever point to a winning number. This would seem to render the employment of confederates as fictitious winners of prizes an impossibility. To obviate the difficulty which thus presents itself, the proprietor simply changes the location of some prize in the “lay-out” from a winning to a losing number, to correspond with that which the “capper” has made.
Yet another form of the “squeeze spindle”—which made its appearance some years after the centennial of ’76, and which soon found favor among professional “brace” gamblers and confidence men, is known to the profession as the “three spindle” machine. It differs from the “squeeze spindle” already described, only in that it contains three arrows or “pointers,” instead of one, two of which are under control of the operator through the employment of friction at the pivot by means of precisely similar contrivances. There is a slightly better chance given players, for the reason that one of the revolving needles is allowed to come to rest by chance. It is not difficult, however, to perceive the very large preponderance of chances in favor of the sharper, who has it always in his power to determine who shall win the large wagers.
Gamblers who work a contrivance of this character always offer to pay the bettor three to one, on the contingency of all three arrows stopping on the same number. It would be comparatively safe for them to offer considerably heavier odds, inasmuch as such an event constitutes one of the remote possibilities of a century.
In the “three spindle” machines, the numbers are commonly arranged in blocks of from one to six, but the “horses” are sometimes represented. “Suckers” are more easily attracted by this arrangement, inasmuch as they suppose that they have four “chances” (?) to win, instead of one.
In connection with the explanation of the operation of the squeeze spindle it may not be out of place to relate a little narrative of what the author once personally witnessed upon the fair-grounds at a Missouri town. A sharper, who had “interviewed” the directors, “convinced” them that his machine was entirely honest, and “arranged” matters satisfactorily all around, felt serenely secure in the operation of his “privilege.” [And right here I again condemn the granting of such “privileges.” A “privilege” to do what? To prey upon the ignorant; to dupe the unwary; to victimize the unsuspecting; to debauch the young; and to scatter broadcast the seeds of corruption, whose fruit will be misery in every home.] But this is by the way, let us return to the narrative. The “privileged” gambler had set up his wheel, and to use a slang phrase, “was doing a land-office business.” A verdant countryman approached the machine. Over and over he tried his “luck,” which every time—as a matter of course—rested with the “privileged” monopolist. This went on for some time, and I, as a disinterested spectator, watched the game. The agriculturalist quit a loser to the extent of some $50. The blackleg’s face was impassable. The countryman thrust his hand into his pocket; when he withdrew it, it clasped a long-bladed knife, the blade reflecting the light. “Stranger,” said he, “I want my money back. I don’t know how you did it, but you’ve cheated me, and I’m going to get even. Give me back that money!” Only the unnatural pallor on the old man’s face indicated the extreme tension of his feelings. The swindler looked at him. At least seventy-five or a hundred persons were standing around; something had to be done, and promptly. “Why, old man,” said the proprietor, “there’s no use in your cutting up rough. Of course you can have your money. I was only joking.” And with these words he returned the dishonest winnings.
TIVOLI OR BAGATELLE.
This game is at once one of the most seductive and the most deceptive in the outfit of the peripatetic gambler. In some minor respects it resembles the children’s game of the same name, inasmuch as both are played upon a board containing a number of pins and having numbered compartments at the lower end. At this point, however, the resemblance ceases.
The gambling device known by this name is shown in the accompanying illustrations, figures 1 and 2. Figure 1 represents the table and figure 2 the cloth which always hangs behind it, and forms an indispensable feature of the game. In explaining the diagrams, the construction of the table will be first described. It is made of wood usually about 3½ to 4 feet in length and 2 feet broad, and when in use the upper end rests upon a wooden framework, giving the board an inclination of some 30 degrees. Running lengthwise through the centre of the table is a wooden partition, dividing it into two equal parts. At the lower end of each division are ten compartments, open at the top, each set being numbered 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 0. At the upper end of each division is a gate, lettered on the diagram c.c. Between the gates and the numbered compartments are placed metal pins or pegs, arranged substantially as shown by the dots on the diagram. Directly below the lower row of pins and extending over the upper ends of the compartments is a board, which runs entirely across the table, but only one-half of which is shown in the illustration. Before describing the mode of play, an explanation of the cloth (as shown in fig. 2) is necessary. This cloth is generally three feet in length by two in breadth, and is divided into 100 squares, arranged and divided as shown in the cut. The figures—$1.00, $5.00, etc.—in the squares indicate the prizes which may be won by the players. The abbreviation “bl’k.” stands for “blank,” and indicates the losing numbers, on which no prize is paid. The letters “rep.” are an abbreviation for “represent,” and show that the player who happens to make the number in that square must, if he does not wish to lose his stake, double it and play again.
TIVOLI OR BAGATELLE.
┌────────┬────────┬────────┬────────┬────────┬────────┬────────┬────────┐ │Jewelry.│ $5.00 │ $2.00 │ $10.00 │ $1.00 │ $10.00 │Jewelry.│ Blank. │ │ 20 │ 47 │ 79 │ 11 │ 71 │ 25 │ 6 │ 16 │ ├────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┤ │ Rep. │Jewelry.│ $10.00 │ $10.00 │ $5.00 │ $5.00 │ $10.00 │Jewelry.│ │ 96 │ 26 │ 97 │ 29 │ 83 │ 39 │ 59 │ 32 │ ├────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┤ │ Blank. │ $5.00 │Jewelry.│ Rep. │ $2.00 │ $5.00 │ Rep. │ $1.00 │ │ 00 │ 85 │ 34 │ 58 │ 41 │ 21 │ 68 │ 55 │ ├────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┤ │ $1.00 │ Blank. │ $5.00 │ $1.00 │Jewelry.│ $5.00 │ Blank. │ Rep. │ │ 91 │ 40 │ 5 │ 75 │ 62 │ 93 │ 72 │ 14 │ ├────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┤ │ Rep. │Jewelry.│ Rep. │Jewelry.│ Rep. │ $2.00 │Jewelry.│ Rep. │ │ 22 │ 80 │ 54 │ 28 │ 84 │ 57 │ 64 │ 42 │ ├────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┤ │Jewelry.│Jewelry.│ $10.00 │ $2.00 │ $10.00 │Jewelry.│ $5.00 │ $2.00 │ │ 66 │ 30 │ 45 │ 2 │ 35 │ 78 │ 7 │ 27 │ ├────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┤ │ Blank. │ Rep. │ Rep. │ Blank. │Jewelry.│ $5.00 │ $20.00 │Jewelry.│ │ 18 │ 88 │ 38 │ 10 │ 92 │ 53 │ 17 │ 48 │ ├────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┤ │Jewelry.│ Rep. │Jewelry.│Jewelry.│ $25.00 │ $2.00 │ $1.00 │ $1.00 │ │ 50 │ 74 │ 94 │ 24 │ 33 │ 99 │ 81 │ 23 │ ├────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┤ │ $1.00 │Jewelry.│ $2.00 │ $5.00 │ $5.00 │Jewelry.│ $5.00 │ $2.00 │ │ 65 │ 86 │ 61 │ 49 │ 63 │ 76 │ 69 │ 37 │ ├────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┤ │ Blank. │ Rep. │Jewelry.│ $1.00 │ $5.00 │ $5.00 │Jewelry.│ Rep. │ │ 46 │ 56 │ 36 │ 77 │ 43 │ 19 │ 60 │ 12 │ ├────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┤ │ $2.00 │ $5.00 │Jewelry.│Jewelry.│ Rep. │ $5.00 │ $5.00 │ Rep. │ │ 95 │ 1 │ 52 │ 82 │ 70 │ 31 │ 13 │ 90 │ ├────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┤ │Jewelry.│Jewelry.│Jewelry.│ $2.00 │ Rep. │ $5.00 │ $5.00 │ $5.00 │ │ 8 │ 4 │ 98 │ 73 │ 44 │ 9 │ 51 │ 87 │ ├────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┤ │ │ │ $2.00 │ $5.00 │ $2.00 │ $2.00 │ │ │ │ │ │ 15 │ 67 │ 89 │ 3 │ │ │ └────────┴────────┴────────┴────────┴────────┴────────┴────────┴────────┘
Those who wish to play, pay the proprietor a certain sum for the privilege of dropping two marbles down the board, one rolling through each of the gates C.C. The little spheres (d.d.) roll down the inclined plane, their course being deflected from point to point, by the metal pins until they finally come to rest in the compartments at the lower end, one on each side of the centre board. The operator then looks to see the numbers into which they have fallen. If the left hand marble has rolled into “0,” the number of the right hand one only is taken. If the latter rolls into “0,” and the left hand one, into some compartment bearing a significant number, the entire amount is read as 10, 20, 30, 40, etc. If both numbers roll into the numbered compartments, both figures are read, as e. g. 56, 79, 84, etc.
The number made by the player having been thus learned, the cloth is inspected with a view to ascertaining the result of his play. If the number which he has made calls for a prize, the same is handed to him. If he has “drawn a blank,” he has to content himself with his loss. If his number corresponds to a square containing the abbreviation “rep.,” he may either lose the sum paid or double his stake and try again.
To show how utterly impossible it is for a chance player to win, it is only necessary to explain the very simple secret mechanism which enables the operator to send the marble into a losing compartment at his own will. If the reader will look at the diagram, I, he will see a slender line running from the right hand set of numbered compartments along the entire length of the board, on its right hand side, and terminating near the gate (c.), its course being indicated by the line (b.b.). This line represents a stiff wire lever, placed below the board and entirely under the control of the manipulator. By working this lever he can raise a row of ten triangular metal points, marked a,a,a, all of which are covered by the board at the lower end of the table, and which are so arranged that one shall stand in front of each alternate compartment. When the marble strikes one of these points, as a matter of course, it inevitably glances off into one of the adjacent divisions. The peculiar beauty of the contrivance, as viewed from a gambler’s standpoint, is the fact that the compartments in front of which the points are placed are inscribed with the winning numbers. The divisions into which the marbles are forced to roll invariably correspond to those numbers on the cloth which contain those words (so ominous to the greenhorn) “blank” or “represent.”
In this, as in all similar games, the assistance of “cappers” is indispensable. The dupes who stake their money in good faith are never permitted to win, but unless somebody occasionally draws a prize, interest is certain to be supplanted by a sense of discouragement. It follows that confederates must be at hand. One of these will approach the table and after being recognized by the operator will buy a chance. At once the metal points are so placed that he has an even chance of winning and he perseveres until he draws a handsome prize. Ordinarily, however, the “capper” resorts to stratagem. Approaching a countryman, he offers to “divide risks” with him; i. e., to advance half the money and share equally in the gains or losses. As long as the “capper” and the “sucker” play together, they invariably lose. Should the dupe become disgusted with his “run of hard luck,” the “capper” continues to play alone. The operator works the lever and his confederate soon wins a prize; the greenhorn (who always stands near, to await the issue) at once feels encouraged, and it usually requires little persuasion on the “capper’s” part to induce him to make another venture.
JENNY WHEEL TABLE.
┌────────┬────────┬────────┬────────┐ │ $2.00 │Jewelry.│Jewelry.│ Rep. │ │ 9 │ 14 │ 2 │ 8 │ ├────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┤ │ $1.00 │ $10.00 │ $10.00 │Jewelry.│ │ 3 │ 27 │ 21 │ 18 │ ├────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┤ │ $5.00 │Jewelry.│Jewelry.│ $5.00 │ │ 23 │ 32 │ 16 │ 25 │ ├────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┤ │ $2.00 │Jewelry.│Jewelry.│Jewelry.│ │ 13 │ 20 │ 28 │ 4 │ ├────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┤ │ $10.00 │ $5.00 │Jewelry.│Jewelry.│ │ 17 │ 1 │ 10 │ 22 │ ├────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┤ │ $10.00 │Jewelry.│ Blank. │Jewelry.│ │ 5 │ 30 │ 26 │ 12 │ ├────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┤ │Jewelry.│ $10.00 │ $1.00 │ $2.00 │ │ 24 │ 11 │ 15 │ 29 │ ├────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┤ │ $2.00 │Jewelry.│ $10.00 │ $25.00 │ │ 19 │ 6 │ 31 │ 7 │ └────────┴────────┴────────┴────────┘
THE JENNY WHEEL.
This device is most commonly used by the “small fry” gamblers, and I have never known any large sum to be either won or lost through its manipulation. It is a “fake,” pure and simple, and the apparatus for cheating is so simple in construction that it could be easily detected should a victim ask for the privilege of examining it. Should such an inconvenient request be made, however, the manipulator can readily pick up the whole apparatus and deposit it in his overcoat pocket.
It is some 6 or 8 inches in diameter, and is made of wood. In its general principle it closely resembles the “needle wheel,” although far less ingenious and by no means so complicated. It consists of a disc of wood, on the rim of which are painted numbers 1 to 32, in consecutive order. Between each two numbers is placed a thin brass plate, about a quarter of an inch in height. Every alternate piece runs a little farther in toward the centre than does the one next to it. The disc slopes a little outward from the centre all around toward the circumference. Above the disc is placed a somewhat smaller saucer-shaped piece of wood, similar to that used in the “needle wheel,” and likewise perforated with three holes near the centre. This upper saucer-like plate revolves. In it is placed a marble, and the saucer is set in motion. The marble falls through one of the holes, and rolls down the incline into one of the little numbered compartments which, as I have said, are separated by thin brass plates.
A small case containing articles of cheap jewelry stands near the wheel, each one bearing a number. The player pays a stipulated sum—usually twenty five cents—for the privilege of twirling the saucer containing the marble and taking his chances of winning a prize. If the marble falls into a compartment numbered to correspond with the number attached to any one of the prizes exposed in the case, the article so numbered is given to him. If, unfortunately, he draws a blank, he receives nothing.
The “fake” element in the device consists in the prolongation of each alternative brass division between the numbers on the wheel. Of course, the saucer is always set in motion in the same direction, usually from left to right. The marble necessarily rolls in the same direction, and when it strikes one of the protruding brass plates it inevitably rolls into the compartment just next to the prolonged division. In numbering the prizes the proprietor is careful so to arrange the blanks that the latter may always correspond with the numbers of the compartments into which the marble is sure to roll. The saucer plate into which the marble is first placed, sets down so close upon the lower disc, that the ends of the dividing plates cannot be seen by the players, who naturally suppose that they are all of equal length.
As I have said, this apparatus is not well adapted to winning large sums, yet where a fair is being held, as much as $50 or $60 may be won in one day. This, however, is considered a comparatively poor return for the risk, expense and trouble which the operator incurs.
O’LEARY BELT.
Like the other swindling devices which have been described, the mechanism of this contrivance is easily operated, and, when explained, readily comprehended. It is, however, what is called, in the slang of the street, a “sure winner” for the manipulator. Thousands of dollars have been won through its operation in a single day, without the possibility of the dupes discovering how they have been defrauded.
In order to work it successfully, it is indispensable that the top of the machine be raised high enough above the heads of the surrounding crowd to prevent the bystanders from seeing the interior, inasmuch as such a view would disclose the apparatus by means of which they are robbed of their money. With this end in view, the gambler always operates it from a buggy, the upper part of the machine standing about three feet above the floor of the conveyance.
As will be seen in the cut, the device consists of a hoop-wheel (D B), a supporting rod and a box platform, supporting the rod and wheel. The apparatus maybe taken apart and neatly packed in this box. On the box is placed a valise containing money. The wheel, or “belt,” is made of brass, and is about sixteen inches in diameter and four inches broad. It contains thirty-two compartments or pockets, each one containing a card, which is held in position by a small fold of metal on each of three sides. These cards may be perfectly blank, though usually they contain pictures of famous beauties, or other celebrities. The valise, which is shown in the illustration at the foot of the upright rod, contains money. Inside the metal hoop is a leather belt, on which, at equal distances, are painted numbers representing sums of money, so arranged that one will fall behind each alternate compartment. When the cards are raised, the belt is seen through a rectangular opening at the back.
The driver of the buggy carries a number of whips. As soon as a crowd has gathered around him (which is certain to happen in a very few moments), he informs the spectators that any one or more may, for $1.00, purchase a chance to win a money prize, varying in amount from $1.00 to $20.00. Some one having expressed an inclination to buy, the proprietor takes his money and hands him a whip, with which to point to any one of the thirty-two sections of the “hoop” which he may select. The purchaser having rested the whip on a compartment, the operator removes the card which he has touched. Underneath is shown either a blank space on the “belt” or one inscribed with a certain sum. If it happen to be the latter, the buyer is given the amount indicated; if the former, he receives nothing.
Of course, as in all similar gambling machines, it is optional with the manipulator whether the player win or lose. In the apparatus in question, the “fake” is worked as follows: The inside of the “belt” contains very small numbers, corresponding precisely in location to those seen when the cards are raised. The operator, standing in the buggy, is, of course, able to see these inner numbers. As soon as a “sucker” has touched a card, the proprietor knows what number, if any, lies beneath it. If below it there is a blank space, he at once raises the card and shows the dupe that he has lost. If, on the other hand, he perceives that the victim has won a prize, he stoops down toward the valise, ostensibly to take out money, but really to touch a secret knob or button, (lettered F in the cut) which works a wire (c) concealed beneath the cover of the box and running up through the hollow rod until it terminates in a hook (A B), which, by pressure, may be attached to the inner leather belt. By operating this wire, he is able to shift the position of the latter and thus so transfer the positions of the numbers thereon painted that a blank may be substituted for a prize at his own will. Thus, when a player has in fact won a prize, the gambler, through a dextrous manipulation of the inner belt, by means of his secret apparatus, shifts a blank to the aperture, removes the card which the player has touched, and, presto! shows him that he has lost.
Before commencing operations, the proprietor usually removes the inner belt, which he exhibits to the crowd, in order to show them that there is nothing concealed. The curved hook (A B), of course remains, hidden from view behind the metal hoop.
Many and ingenious are the devices of the operator to induce greenhorns to purchase chances. A favorite method is to offer to buy the player’s chance as soon as he touches a card with his whip, offering him $2.00 or $3.00 therefor. If he accepts, the manipulator, by moving the inner belt before he withdraws the card, can show him a large prize painted thereon and thus easily convince him that had he declined the offer he might have won five, ten, or even twenty dollars.
Of course, the aid of “cappers” is a sine qua non, since, if no one wins, the crowd will soon grow suspicious. When a confederate buys a chance and touches a card with the whip, the manipulator looks at the inside of the belt to ascertain whether he has won a prize. If he has, the sum called for is given him; if not, the “belt” is shifted by means of the hook until a prize is brought behind the aperture, when the card is raised and the crowd is speedily informed of his “good luck.”
As many persons can buy chances at one time at this game as the proprietor has whips, usually six or seven players taking one each. No two players, however, are allowed to touch adjacent sections, inasmuch as in such a case one of them would inevitably win. When several purchase chances at one time, the operator raises but one card at a time, and thus finds abundant leisure in which to move the belt to meet the exigencies of each case as it presents itself.
It may be easily seen that this device is better adapted for use upon fair grounds, or other open places, than in the public streets. Its successful operation depends upon the proprietor’s being so far above the heads of the crowd that his manipulation of the inner belt cannot be seen. When the fraud is practiced in a crowded thoroughfare, great care must be taken by the sharper that his movements are not watched by prying eyes from some over-looking window. Another danger which threatens detection is the disposition of the crowd to climb upon the buggy. This, however, may be overcome by the use of a slight degree of force, and by refusing to proceed until such inquisitive interlopers have resumed their places on the ground. But the man whom the proprietor most dreads is the individual on horse-back, who forces his way up to the buggy, and from his point of vantage obtains a full view of the modus operandi. I once saw an amusing incident of this description at a fair in a small Missouri town. The rider would insist upon taking a position near the buggy in which the apparatus stood, and it was evident that he was giving telegraphic signals to a friend in the crowd. The operator rose equal to the occasion. Persuasion was idle; force impossible. He took the only course open to him and bribed the horseman to ride away, paying him handsomely for the concession.
Notwithstanding all these draw-backs, the contrivance is a prime favorite with itinerant gamblers, in consequence of the ease with which it is manipulated and the general confidence with which it is regarded until the idea that it is a “fake” dawns upon the mind of the crowd.
The name of the device is supposed to have been the same as that of its inventor. A well-known confidence operator by the name of O’Leary flourished some years ago, who was recognized among his companions as an expert manipulator of this apparatus, and it is generally believed among the guild of peripatetic gamesters that the idea of its construction was conceived in his fertile brain, through the direct inspiration of the antipodes of Providence.
“HAP-HAZARD” OR “BEE-HIVE.”
The accompanying illustration gives an excellent idea of the general appearance of this device, which is one of the most successfully contrived schemes for swindling which has ever fallen under my observation. It is known indiscriminately as “hap-hazard” or “bee-hive.” The former name was probably given because of its being, to all appearance, exclusively a game of chance; it has been called “bee hive” because of its shape, but it is safe to say that the “suckers” get none of the honey.
It consists of two cones, an inner and outer, lettered “B” and “D” on the diagram, placed upon a heavy, circular piece of wood, around the rim of which are thirty-two compartments, numbered from one to thirty-two, and separated by thin metal plates. Driven into the surface of the inner cone are small nails or metal pegs, the arrangement of which is a matter of comparative indifference, although they are usually rather close together and approximately equi-distant. The outer cone serves as a cap or case. Formerly this was made of tin, but of late years glass has been substituted, with the exception of the lower inch, which is still made of metal, silver-plated, for reasons which will be presently explained.
Fair and circus grounds are the localities usually selected for working this scheme, the operation of which is very simple. A case containing numbered prizes forms part of the paraphernalia of the proprietor, and always occupies a conspicuous place near the machine.
The manner of using the apparatus for gambling purposes is as follows: Any one wishing to “try his luck” (?) pays a fixed sum (usually 50 cents to $1.00, according to the size of the crowd) for the privilege. The outer cap (D) having been placed over the cone (B), a marble is dropped through an opening (C) in the top of the former. Striking upon the surface of the inner cone, it pursues a “hap-hazard” course, striking against the nails, or pegs, as it falls to the bottom. Should it roll into a compartment numbered to correspond with one of the prizes in the case the fortunate player is given the particular prize called for.
The “fake” element may be very easily explained. If the reader will look at the accompanying diagram, he will perceive at the base of the inner cone (B), three small dots, lettered A, A, A. These dots represent pegs driven at precisely equal distances from each other, a row of which runs all around the base of the inner cone. The arrangement of these pegs is such that each of them may be made to stand exactly above the alternate compartment in the lower plate. When the cap is placed over the apparatus, by an ingenious device at the bottom, the manipulator is able, by slightly turning the outer cone, to arrange this lower row of pegs so that each of them may stand directly over a winning number. The result of this arrangement is that when the marble, in its descent, strikes against one of these lower pegs its course is necessarily deflected into one of the compartments on either side, the division into which it inevitably falls always being a blank.
An unsophisticated player can, consequently, never win except through the consent of the operator. In order to encourage the crowd in playing, “cappers” have to be employed, who are always on hand to draw prizes. As soon as one of these individuals makes his appearance and is recognized by the proprietor, the latter gives a slight turn to the outer case, in such a way as to bring the lower row of pegs directly above the blanks. The consequence is that when the “capper” drops the marble through the aperture above referred to, it must necessarily fall into a compartment numbered to correspond with a prize.
The devices of the “capper” are sometimes very ingenious. In order to disarm suspicion he will occasionally approach a verdant looking countryman with the statement that he sees that the game is perfectly fair and would like to take a chance, but is restrained by the presence of his wife and son. He therefore asks the countryman to take his money, buy him a chance and drop the marble for him. The old farmer is naturally pleased with the suggestion, inasmuch as it gives him all the excitement of gaming without any of the risk. He very readily complies with the “capper’s” request, and the latter standing behind him gives a prearranged signal to the operator that the player is acting for him. The countryman draws the prize, which he honestly turns over to the “capper.” The latter, thereupon, usually gives the farmer a dollar with which to make a venture on his own account. As a matter of course he loses, and it is usually not very difficult to induce him to make another trial, on the principle of “double or quits,” or “representing,” as has been before explained in the remarks under the “needle wheel.”
Some idea of gambler’s profits from this machine may be formed when I say that the man operating such a device, who fails to take away from a fair ground at least $500 a week in clear profits, considers that he is doing a small business, and I have myself nearly doubled that sum within that time.
It sometimes happens, however, that the verdant looking countryman, after receiving the dollar from the “capper” and winning a prize for the latter, forthwith “makes tracks” for parts unknown, leaving the proprietor and his astute confederate to mourn the loss of their money and to bewail their own misplaced confidence in human nature.
BOX AND BALLS.
This is a device by no means common, there being very few of the “fraternity” who can operate it successfully. Yet there are two sharpers in the country, who have won fortunes through its manipulation, either of whom would promptly resent any imputation upon his character as an insult. In the accompanying diagram, Figure “1” shows the exterior of the box, which is of wood, about ten inches long, four and one-half inches broad and two and one-half inches deep. Inside this box “B,” are placed thirty ivory balls or marbles, each of which are numbered. Near the operator stands a table on which is a show case containing twelve prizes, part of which are articles of jewelry and the remainder sums of money. The players, of whom there may be seven or eight, pay from fifty cents to a dollar each for the chance of winning a prize. When a sufficient number of chances have been sold the operator shakes the box, causing the balls to roll from one end to the other. Letter “A” on figure 1, represents a slide at one end of the box. This slide is raised by the manipulator and allows one ball to escape at a time. The number of the marble is examined, and if it be found to correspond with that attached to a prize in the show-case, the fortunate player is given the article or money which he has won. The diagram of the case is shown in figure 3.
BOX AND BALL CASE.
┌────────┬────────┬────────┬────────┬────────┐ │ $10.00 │Jewelry.│ Rep. │ $10.00 │ Rep. │ │ 1 │ 8 │ 12 │ 29 │ 4 │ ├────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┤ │ $52.00 │Jewelry.│ Blank. │ $20.00 │Jewelry.│ │ 15 │ 24 │ 28 │ 17 │ 10 │ ├────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┤ │Jewelry.│ $10.00 │ $5.00 │Jewelry.│Jewelry.│ │ 6 │ 21 │ 3 │ 22 │ 14 │ ├────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┤ │ $5.00 │Jewelry.│ Rep. │Jewelry.│ $5.00 │ │ 11 │ 27 │ 30 │ 26 │ 7 │ ├────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┤ │ Rep. │ $5.00 │ Rep. │ $10.00 │Jewelry.│ │ 18 │ 25 │ 20 │ 19 │ 16 │ ├────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┤ │ $10.00 │Jewelry.│ $5.00 │ Rep. │Jewelry.│ │ 5 │ 13 │ 23 │ 9 │ 2 │ └────────┴────────┴────────┴────────┴────────┘
The fraud consists of two elements, one relating to the marbles, and the other to the box. In the first place, the ivory spheres are not all of equal size, the twelve whose numbers correspond to the valuable prizes being the merest trifle larger than the eighteen which call for articles of no value. So slight, however, is the variation in size that it is absolutely impossible to detect it by the eye. The “fake” in the box is in the slide, “A,” and is shown in figure 1, which gives an enlarged view of this part of the apparatus. In this figure the line “B” represents a shoulder, whose height above the bottom of the slide (which is shaved almost as thin as paper,) is so delicately adjusted that it stops the larger balls, and allows the smaller ones to strike against the thin wood. The sensitive finger of the manipulator readily discerns the striking of a ball against this part of the slide. If he feels it he knows that he must raise the slide and allow one of the smaller marbles to escape, inasmuch as the latter calls for no article of value.
The “cappers” are useful in this as in all similar games. They serve to stimulate the interest of the players and revive their confidence when it begins to fail. Of course, when a “capper” is playing, the operator shakes the box until he knows from the absence of pressure upon the thin edge of the slide that one of the larger marbles will escape by raising the same. He takes out the ball, and hands his confederate the valuable prize for which the number calls.
This is a favorite game for playing “doubles or quits,” or “represent.” In fact, sometimes more money is made in this way than by the regular sale of chances.
I was using this device on one occasion in company with a partner. The game is a difficult one to work, and I was not an expert. The result was that the wrong ball escaped, and a sucker won a twenty dollar prize. I was much chagrined, and endeavored to shift the responsibility of the loss upon my partner, by telling him that he had signaled that the player was a “capper.” My partner followed the stranger and requested him to divide; on the ground that he had been the means of his winning. The countryman, however, smilingly retained the money, leaving my confederate to mourn.
MINIATURE RACE TRACK.
The miniature race track is a game which resembles the “needle wheel” and other similar contrivances which have been already described. It consists of a wooden disc, about four feet in diameter, the outer rim of which is stationary, and within which revolves an inner wheel of the same material. The outer periphery of the disc contains a representation of the “judges’ stand” on a race track, from the center of which extends a line running toward the middle of the circle. On the inner revolving wheel are painted representations of, say, half dozen horses, each picture being accompanied by the name of some famous racer.
Players make their bets as follows: A set of paddles equal in number to that of the horses depicted on the inner wheel, and containing corresponding descriptions, are sold the bettors at a stipulated price each—usually from twenty-five cents to five or even ten dollars. The paddles having been sold, the inner wheel is set in motion, and when it comes to rest the player who has placed his wager upon the horse which is nearest the inner side of the line extending from the “judges’ stand” wins the pool, the percentage which the proprietor claims upon the operation of the apparatus having been first deducted.
It is easily seen that the owner of the machine incurs no risk, inasmuch as he always receives a percentage of the stakes, no matter which one of the bettors may prove to be the winner. This should be enough to satisfy the money-making instinct of any ordinary man, but the parties who run an apparatus of this kind are not ordinary men. They seek for still further advantage, and they obtain it through the manipulation of a concealed lever, which brings friction to bear at the centre pivot, in the same manner as has been already described in a number of similar contrivances. The result is, that if possible the proprietor allows no one to win. If, however, bets have been placed upon each of the half dozen horses, the manipulator has it in his power always to bring the inner wheel to a stand-still when the horse upon which the lowest bet has been placed is nearest the magic line.
The advantages arising from the employment of a “capper” in a scheme of this sort are too apparent to call for special elucidation. A confederate may bet upon a certain horse, and the proprietor always has it within his power to allow his accomplice to win.
STRIKING MACHINE.
This is a very simple contrivance, and used by small “fakirs,” who are content with very paltry winnings. It is an apparatus by which to measure the force of a blow. A dial, in the center of which is placed an arrow-shaped pointer, registers the number of pounds representing the strength of the striker’s arm. The “fakir” usually allows two blows to be struck for the small sum of five cents. At the back of the dial is a concealed spring, by means of which, through applying friction at the pivot on which the pointer revolves, the operator is able so to check the movement of the latter that it is impossible for the striker to record upon the dial any large number of pounds.
It is a common practice, too, for a “capper” to be standing around, who offers to strike, in connection with the stranger, to see who shall pay the five cents for the two blows. When his confederate strikes the machine the proprietor, by diminishing the friction at the pivot, suffers the pointer to make almost a complete revolution. When the “sucker” takes his turn, the friction is increased, and of course he is compelled to pay the stipulated nickel.
This contrivance is of so insignificant a character as hardly to merit description. It is worthy of mention only as showing the natural bent of the mind of men of this character, and of illustrating the contemptible schemes to which they will resort.
TOP AND BOTTOM BOXES.
This is another confidence game, the success of which appeals not only to the avarice but also to the dishonest impulses of the dupe. The latter is induced to believe that he can gain a decided advantage over a sharper through the carelessness of the confidence man and the superior astuteness which he flatters himself that he possesses. Its operation calls for three small paper boxes, each of which has a false bottom, from which circumstance the trick has been given the name which appears at the head of this paragraph.
The man who intends to victimize any “sucker” whom he may be able to find, first exposes a bill of some large denomination, which he places in one of the boxes. He raises one of the covers and places the greenback inside, shutting down the top in such a way that a corner of the bill is left exposed apparently by accident. He then changes the relative position of the boxes and asks which one of the three contains the bank note, the guess to be made simply “for fun.” Of course, the greenhorn, who has seen the corner of the bill protruding from beneath the cover has no difficulty in locating its position. This may be done, perhaps, more than once. The next step on the part of the sharper is to produce a time piece, (e. g. a watch), which he assures his dupe is one of rare value, but which he is willing to dispose of at a comparatively nominal price, say, $50. He then takes a bill of a large amount—possibly $100—from his pocket and places it inside one of the boxes. He next shuffles the boxes about, apparently with the intention of confusing the dupe as to the precise position of the one containing the bill. The latter, however, feels fully satisfied that he can locate the box in question, for the reason that he feels sure that he sees the corner of the note protruding from beneath the cover.
The sharper then tells the “sucker” that he will sell him the “chronometer” for the agreed price, which, he says, is ridiculously low, and will also give him a gratuitous chance to guess which box contains the bill. The dupe thinking that he knows precisely the box in question, pays no attention whatever to the watch, his attention being centered on the money. He assents to the proposal and a transaction which, on its face appears to be a legitimate sale is concluded. The money is paid and the utterly worthless watch is handed over. Then the eager dupe guesses which of the three boxes contains the bill. The cover is removed and nothing is seen. The reason is that just outside the false covers the confidence man has pasted the corner of a fictitious greenback, the appearance of which misleads the dupe, while the actual treasury note is safely in the sharper’s pocket, or in one of the other two boxes.
THE SWINGING BALL.
This is a simple little contrivance, usually operated by small “fakirs,” yet I have known from sixty to seventy dollars a day to be made therefrom on circus and fair-grounds. Its construction may be readily understood on an examination of the diagram. The lower line represents the support on which rests a frame, composed of two uprights, and connected at the top by a cross-piece. From the centre of the latter hangs a string, at the end of which is a wooden ball, lettered “C.” In the centre of the lower support there is placed a triangular pin, lettered “D” on the diagram.
Those who wish to try their luck pay twenty-five cents for the privilege of swinging the ball. The player stands in front of the frame and throws the ball from him. If, as it swings back it overturns the peg, he receives back his twenty-five cents, together with a dollar. If, unfortunately, he overturns the peg as the ball moves from him, he loses.
In order to guard against the happening of the former catastrophe, the ball is usually slightly deflected toward either the right or left as it leaves the hands of the player. If the uprights remain perfectly perpendicular, the chances are that the ball, on its return, will strike the peg through the operation of the law of gravitation. Just here is where the operator does a little “fine work.” The uprights are always made a little loose, so that by a very slight pressure from the shoulder on the part of the manipulator, at the point “A,” they may be bent from a perpendicular position to that indicated by the dotted line B. The inevitable result is that when the ball swings back, the force of gravity draws it on one side of the peg, and the unfortunate speculator sees that he has lost the money which he paid for the privilege of throwing it.
This game, at first blush, appears to be so perfectly “square,” that the assistance of the “capper” is rarely needed, although sometimes they may be employed to advantage.
VIII. “GOLD BRICKS.”
Of all the devices which the fertile brain of the confidence operator has originated, it may be questioned whether any is more ingenious in conception or has reaped a richer harvest for the scoundrels who have operated it than has the “gold brick swindle.” Notwithstanding the fact that the secular press throughout the country has, for years past, repeatedly directed public attention to the general nature of this method of fraud, yet even in the present year of grace the newspapers are month after month called upon to chronicle new exploits of the same character, and to record the names of fresh victims.
These journals, however, have never thoroughly ventilated the scheme in all its details, and in their description of the tactics employed by the operators they not infrequently draw largely upon their imagination, substituting fiction for fact. The victim himself is often restrained, by a sense of shame, from unfolding the full depth of his credulity, not more than fifteen per cent. of the dupes ever making their losses public. The author believes that the present exposure is the first authentic recital of the methods of this class of sharpers ever given to the public from a reliable standpoint.
To perpetrate the fraud successfully, the co-operation of at least three confederates is essential, of whom two must be gifted with some dramatic power. Some little cash is also required, it being necessary to procure a sample of filings of refined gold, one or two nuggets, and a “brick,” or bar, of some thirty pounds in weight, composed of brass and copper, costing about twenty-five cents per pound.
The first objective point is the selection of a victim. He must be a man whose resources are of such a sort as to enable him to produce, at short notice, a considerable amount in ready cash. It is not considered wise to deal with a man who may find it necessary to ask for accommodation at his bank, inasmuch as such action on his part might result in the institution and prosecution of numberless inconvenient inquiries by the bank officials. Incredible as it may appear, it is the literal truth that in choosing a “mark,” the confidence operators frequently have recourse to a reputable business man in the community, who furnishes the swindlers with what is known, in slang phrase, as a “pointer” concerning the resources and personal characteristics of the prominent men in the neighborhood. In such a case, the party furnishing the information is always fully informed as to the purpose for which it is desired, and is promised a stipulated percentage of the dishonest gains, should the fraud be successfully consummated. The inherent villany of such a transaction is well calculated to make the reader recoil in disgust, if not in horror. The author, however, has been told by men who have successfully perpetrated the fraud, that men of unblemished reputation, occupying high positions in social, professional, or commercial circles, some of them even filling posts of responsible trust in public life, have been personally paid in the presence of his informants, the notes which constituted their agreed proportion of the money obtained from the wretched dupe whom they had assisted in defrauding.
The victim having been thus carefully selected and located, the next step is to excite his cupidity. The ordinary modus operandi is substantially as described below.
One of the confederates, attired as a miner from Mexico or the far West, calls upon the party chosen at the latter’s residence. Every detail of his appearance is attended to with the utmost care, from the seemingly sun-browned face, the apparent result of years of honest toil in the open air, to the well-worn, patched trousers carelessly tucked in the large, coarse, dusty boots. A battered cowboy’s sombrero is negligently perched upon the head, and around his waist is drawn a buckskin money belt. Having gained the presence of his prospective dupe, the pretended miner from the rude camps of “the Rockies” presents a paper on which is written, in sprawling characters, the victim’s name. For the purpose of illustration any name will answer; let us suppose that it is Thomas Jones. After he has handed this paper to the individual in question, the confidence man (who feigns illiteracy and pretends to be entirely destitute of worldly wisdom) simulates acute disappointment at discovering that he is not the Tom Jones for whom he had been looking. He draws out an old red cotton handkerchief and wipes his eyes, as he sinks, apparently exhausted, into a chair. Naturally the sight of so quaint-looking an individual awakens the interest of Mr. Jones, and his simulated fatigue and grief arouse his curiosity, if not his sympathy, and he asks the cause of his distress. “No, no,” the sharper answers, “You’se not the Tom Jones I knows; and we’s come so far, and the Indian’s so sick he can’t tote the gold no furder. And Tom Jones he was to give us the paper money.” And here the pretended miner permits his feelings wholly to get the mastery of him, and he bows his head in deepest sorrow. Mr. Jones would be either more or less than human if, after this, he did not seek for further information. “What Indian? What gold? What paper money?” are among the questions which rise to his lips. The confidence man hesitates for a moment, and if there are any other persons in the room requests that the latter withdraw. Then he says to Mr. Jones, with the air of one imparting a great secret: “You looks honest, and I’ll tell you. We’se got a heap o’ gold, me and the Indian; and we’s looking for Tom Jones, cause he’s got lots o’ paper money, piles o’ paper money, locked up in an iron box. And now I can’t find him. I could make him and all his chillen rich.” “Where did you get the gold?” asks the now deeply interested Mr. Jones. “We’se tooken it out o’ the mine, way down in Mexico.” “Where is it?” pursues Jones. “The Indian, he’s got it,” replies the miner. “And where is the Indian?” “Oh,” answers the sharper, “he’s down to the big camp, back over there (pointing), with the house built over the water (a bridge). He’s sick, and couldn’t come no furder.”
It usually occurs to Mr. Jones at this stage of the conversation that he has been strangely unmindful of the duties of hospitality, and he directs that some refreshment be prepared and set before his guest. While this is being done, the host, who has by this time become very urbane, tells the stranger that he (Jones) is a wealthy man; that he owns lands and stock and property of various descriptions, and that he has “paper money, lots of it;” that it is therefore unnecessary for the miner to seek for the other Mr. Jones, as he can do business with him. To this proposal, however, the unsophisticated miner refuses to assent. He wants to see “his” Mr. Jones, and he expresses his intention of going on to the next town, where he professes to believe that he can find tidings of the whereabouts of that mysterious individual. Before he takes his departure he promises, in compliance with the oft-repeated request of his host, that in case he fails to find the man of whom he is in quest he will return.
It is a very common practice, in working this scheme, for the swindler, shortly before leaving his victim, to take from his belt a small nugget, which he hands to the intended dupe, with the request that he take it to the nearest “medicine shop” (drug store), and after he has had some “smoke water” (acid) poured on it to carry it to the watchmaker’s (jeweler’s) and sell it for what it is worth, bringing back the proceeds. This shrewd move of the confidence man serves a double purpose: it convinces the victim that he actually has gold, and at the same time leads him to suppose that he is dealing with a man wholly inexperienced in the ways of the world.
After a day or two the swindler returns, attired as before. He has failed to find the Thomas Jones whom he was seeking, but has learned where he is. Will the Mr. Jones whose acquaintance he has so recently formed kindly write a letter to his old friend at his dictation? Of course Mr. Jones assents, and the epistle is indited to the mythical personage, something after the following manner:
“Dear Friend, Mr. Tom Jones:—Me and the Indian has come on with the first lot of gold.”
Here the pretended miner pauses, and asks his amanuensis if he will keep his secret. Jones, who is anxious to hear what is to follow, readily promises. The sharper, however, insists upon his taking an oath of secrecy, which is duly administered, the affiant sometimes, in his eagerness, raising both hands. This ceremony having been performed, the writing of the letter is resumed, its tenor running something after this fashion:
“We’s got all the rest hid away, and there’s ten millions worth of it. Now you come right off with the paper money, ’cause the Indian he’s sick, and me and him wants to go back to Mexico. Come right now. We’s got enough to make us all rich.”
The thought of $10,000,000 in the hands of an ignorant old miner and an untutored child of the forest excites the cupidity of Mr. Jones to a high degree. He chafes under the reflection that his chance of securing a considerable proportion of this vast sum is drifting away from him. He believes that his superior knowledge of the world and his familiarity with business customs and forms would render it a comparatively easy matter for him to make himself the owner of the lion’s share of an immense fortune, and he mentally curses the other Jones, from the bottom of his heart.
The letter having been completed, the miner is asked to give the address. He promptly answers, “Mississippi.” “Mississippi,” repeats Mr. Jones. “Why, man, Mississippi is a big State, like this. Your letter will never reach him directed to Mississippi. What city?” The sharper does not know any other address, and begins again to bemoan his hard lot at having come so far to no purpose, and “the Indian so sick.”
The “sucker” believes that this is his opportunity. He again assures his new friend that he himself will buy the gold from him, and after much persuasion prevails upon the confidence man to reveal the whereabouts of the “Indian” who has in his custody so much of the precious metal.
The result of this interchange of confidence is that the swindler and the “sucker” start together for the town where the “Indian” is supposed to be. Usually some point at a distance of perhaps 100 or 200 miles is chosen in which to locate this mysterious personage. Sometimes the confidence man buys the railroad tickets, sometimes the dupe; at all events, the fares are paid and the pair start for their point of destination.
On arriving at the place named, the two confederates (who have usually been apprised of the hour of their arrival) are there at the railway station, and carefully note the signal given by the “miner.” If the latter raises his hat, they know that everything is proceeding satisfactorily. If he shakes the lapel of his coat, they understand that “the jig is up,” and that they had better “take quick steps and long ones.” Sometimes the information is conveyed by means of an umbrella or stick. If the same is carried across the shoulder, “all is well”; if as a walking cane, there is “danger ahead.”
It is needless to say, that of these two confederates one is the mysterious “Indian.” The other is what is technically known as a “trailer,” whose duty it is to follow the “sucker” wherever he goes, keeping him continually in sight and noting his every movement.
Immediately upon receiving the pre-arranged signal at the station, the first confidence man and his victim now repair to the spot in the woods whither the “Indian” has gone. On reaching the locality the bar is exhumed from the hiding place in which it had been previously buried. The “redskin,” whose “make-up” has been as carefully arranged as that of the “miner,” corroborates the statement that the gold is there, and Mr. Jones is given a glimpse of the glittering but spurious metal.
If the latter should go to a drug store and purchase a bottle of acid, with which the supposed gold may be tested, the services of the third confidence man are called into requisition, but he himself is kept carefully in the background. When the dupe procures the necessary acid, the “trailer” buys a precise duplicate of the bottle. The contents of this latter bottle, however, are poured out and replaced by water.
When the victim returns to the spot on which he has left the “Indian” and the supposed “miner,” the latter has already received from his confederate the bottle of water, identical in size, appearance and label with that which the dupe has in his pocket. “Mr. Jones” is informed that the “Indian” has no objection to the pouring of “smoke water” (acid) upon the “brick,” but that he is fearful of being put to sleep through the administration of “sleepy water” (chloroform). This ingenious story satisfactorily accounts for the request which the sharper makes that “Mr. Jones” shall hand the bottle to him, in order that the “Indian” may receive the acid from the hands of his friend. This suggestion appears reasonable, and the eager dupe promptly turns over his bottle to the “miner,” who easily substitutes therefor his own previously prepared bottle of water, which is poured upon the composition, and of course without effect. The dupe now feels tolerably certain that the bar shown him is of genuine gold. In order to satisfy him completely, however, the confidence man produces an augur and brace, which he hands to the dupe with a request that the latter bore into the “brick” and carry off the filings in order to have them assayed. As soon as a sufficient quantity of filings has been obtained, the sharper places them in a piece of paper torn off from that which the “brick” has been wrapped, and ostensibly hands them to Jones. As a matter of fact, the latter does not receive the borings which he believes that he does, the swindler dexterously substituting at the critical moment, a package similar in appearance, but containing filings of refined gold with which the scoundrels have taken the precaution to provide themselves.
The assay naturally shows gold of from 18 to 20 karat fineness, and Mr. Jones is now quite ready to make the purchase. He goes to his bank, draws his money, and returns to the “Indian” and the “miner.” The bar is weighed and its value is computed. Mr. Jones then asks how the money is to be divided. “Why,” replies sharper number one, “into three piles; one for you, one for me and one for the Indian.” This arrangement is eminently satisfactory to the “sucker,” who has probably already attempted to defraud his companions by means of a false computation, and who now thinks that he sees his way clear to make a purchase of pure gold at about two-thirds of its value.
The money having been paid over, the brace of confederates at once take their departure for parts unknown and Mr. Jones returns to his home laden down with a ponderous mass of metal worth about $9, but for which he has paid many thousands.
Another favorite method of perpetrating the swindle is as follows: Two confederates repair to the farm of some wealthy man and at a chosen spot bury one of the bars of spurious gold. A chart showing a “lay of the land,” is then carefully prepared and so treated as to give it the appearance of antiquity. All preparations having been carefully made, the confidence men drive up to the residence of the intended dupe, and after some conversation in the course of which they are at pains to satisfy themselves that he is the individual for whom they are looking, they inform him that they have learned that there lies buried upon his farm a mass of gold of great value. Some plausible story is invented to account for their having come into possession of this information. The chart is now produced, and the farmer is surprised to see so correct a diagram of his property. The spot where the “brick” has been buried is carefully and accurately located upon the plat.
This appeal to the avarice of the intended victim rarely fails to accomplish the end desired. He is anxious to commence digging for the precious metal without delay. The swindlers allow him to conduct the boring himself. Operations having been begun, in due time the spade or pick of the digger strikes the bar, whose glittering appearance arouses every instinct of cupidity in the breast of the countryman. The sharpers at once offer to sell out their interest to him for comparatively one half of the value of the supposed gold. The same tactics, substantially, with regard to testing and assaying the metal are resorted to which have been already described. The value of the “find” is computed, the “sucker” pays over his money, and the confidence man leaves him to repent of his folly at his leisure.
EVERY BIT TRUE. [BY REV. JOHN SNYDER.]
There’s no art To find the mind’s construction in the face: He was a gentleman on whom I built An absolute trust. —[Shakespeare.
The “second bell” had rung and yet I had not responded to the clamoring call to breakfast. An impatient rap at my door.
“Papa, papa,” from my oldest daughter. “There’s a gentleman waiting to see you.”
“Yes, yes, I am coming. I am not one of the seven sleepers.”
Who could it be? The early morning hour is sacred to beggars having elaborate and well-worn letters of introduction, some of which have seen service so long that the paper upon which they are written holds together as poorly as the clumsy tales of their bearers. Sometimes calls for funeral services come in the dewy morning, and oftener bashful young gentlemen stop in buggies and say with nervous energy, but trembling lips, “Dr. Snyder, I would like—we would like to have you do a little job for me—I mean for us. We’re going to get married to-morrow night and we’d like to have you tie the knot. We often come to hear you preach on Sunday evenings.” And then I recognize the sterner half of a handsome young couple who come rather late to church and sit on the back seat and keep up a religious conversation during the whole service.
All this time I am hurrying into my morning gown. It is a little torn in the sleeve, by the way, and when I am in haste I always strike the wrong side of the sleeve-lining. Down stairs I go, and in the hall sits a man who has none of the blushing uneasiness of the prospective bridegroom. My hand is cordially grasped in a palm that seems to bear enthusiastic honesty and simple affection in its very grip.
“Are you Dr. Snyder?”
“So people call me who don’t know the facts of the case,” I answer with a smile.
“John Snyder,” he persists, with increasing eagerness.
“Beyond a question.”
I never saw a deeper melancholy shadow a man’s face or sadden his voice. He seemed broken-hearted, bewildered with some unspeakable sorrow.
“I’ve come 2,500 miles to see you, and now you ain’t the man I’m looking for,” he said at last.
I drew him into the parlor, and in the bright light got a better look at his face and form. He was one of Bret Harte’s portraits stepped out of the frame. Of medium height, slightly but strongly built, his form had about it that untaught and indefinable grace of movement which it is popularly supposed is imparted only by the untrammeled freedom of forest life. His long brown hair slightly curled, fell about his neck, and his handsome beard evidently was as innocent of steel as that of a Nazarite’s. He was roughly dressed, having a pair of alligator boots, to which doubtless the newsboy’s “shine” was an untried novelty. But it was his face that chiefly charmed me. His nose was straight and clearly cut and his eye was as frank and innocent as a baby’s. When he spoke his speech was flavored with that Southern twang which no man not to the “manner born” can ever imitate.
“Yes,” he repeated, with increasing sorrow in his soft voice, “I have come 2,500 miles to see you, and you ain’t the man.”
“You were looking for somebody bearing my name?”
“Yes, sir. You see I’ve been livin’ for about twelve or thirteen years down on the borders of old Mexico, among the Indians and half-breeds. An’ there was a man come down there several years ago by the name o’ Snyder, John Snyder, that’s your name, ain’t it? Yes. Well, he’d been a Methodis’ preacher and he come from my own State, North Carliny. He used to work in the mines an’ he used to preach, too. An’ I tell you he was a mighty good man. ’Fore he come things was awful rough in that camp. Why, they use ter kill a man almost every week. I’ve seen a fellow shot right dead on a bar-room floor and nobody’d take any notice of him, and one of them rough women would go up to the bar to take a drink of whisky and her clothes would jest brush over the dead man’s face! But I tell ye when that preacher come things began to be different. All that killing business begun to stop. The boys jest thought everything of him. They’d trust him with everything they had in the world. And he come to St. Louis about five or six months ago and I want to find him the worst way.”
Thinking that as my heroic namesake had come from North Carolina, he would naturally belong to the M. E. Church, South, I directed my disconsolate visitor to the book concern of that branch of the church militant. As he turned to leave the door he said, “If I didn’t find that preacher, could you let me come back and get you to write me a letter, for I can’t write?” I was touched by the sense of desolation and pitiable ignorance in which this lonely creature seemed to dwell, and said cordially:
“Come back, and I will do anything I can to serve you.”
In the early morning of the next day my backwoods hero presented himself. He had searched the city through, but the saintly miner- preacher was nowhere to be found. And yet there was a gleam of dimmest hope in his eye and a sweet and quiet smile upon his lips, for he seemed to transfer all his loving, clinging confidence to me.
“Well, I couldn’t find him,” he said. “Now, I’ll just tell you in what kind of a fix I’m in. I’ve been out of the mines fur nigh onto thirteen years, and sometimes I’ve got together as much as $12,000 or $13,000 at a time, and then it would jest kinder melt away from me. Now I see a chance to make some money. Fur about twelve years I’ve hed a chum who’s a half-breed Indian, a fellow by the name of Zamora. Well, about six months ago he was out hunting with some full-blooded Indians, and they chased a small deer up the side of a hill; when all of a sudden the deer went out of sight. My chum went up to the place where he missed him, and looking down a hole, saw him jest about four or five feet down. So he went down after him. When he got down there he forgot all about the deer, I tell ye. He was jest in a hole o’ gold! He got the Indians to help him, and right there and then he got out some chunks, and buildin’ a fire where they was campin’, they made what them fellers call a dobie mold and jest run some of the gold into that. After he had filled them Indians full o’ whiskey he knew they’d never think of the place again, and so when he got rid o’ them he went back alone and got what stuff was on the surface. Then he come and told me about it; but mind ye, he didn’t show me the place. Them half-breeds are mighty suspicious. But he brought out three of the chunks. I showed a piece of the stuff to a fellow named Bailey—Capt. Bailey they called him, and he stole it. He said, ‘An Indian ain’t got any rights anyhow.’ Well, if I’d tried to get it back none of the boys would ’er backed me up, ’cause they’re all down on Indians, and Zamora wouldn’t let me trust another feller in the camp. He says to me, says he, ‘Let’s go look for that preacher; we can trust him; these fellers ’ill not only rob us, but put lead into us, too.’ So we come to Kansas City and I buried two of the chunks of stuff in a hole about three feet deep, and then we brought the other chunks here. Now, you see what we want to do is this: First of all, we want to find some man we can trust. That half-breed won’t hardly let me speak to a white man. He is always sayin’: You’ve been cheated once trustin’ a white man, now jest do my way. Let’s find that preacher, we know we can trust him. Well, we’ve lost the trail of that preacher and I want you to help us out. I’ll pay you well fur your trouble.”
I said: “My business is to help people in trouble. What can I do for you?”
“Jest this. We want to go back to that country and fetch out the rest of that stuff. We’ve got to get a lot o’ burros and some wagons, and some full-blooded Indians and some good ponies and rifles. There’s a town, a little place, about ten miles from where this half-breed has hid the stuff. My plan is to take the Indians to this place and then Zamora and me to start off in the night with two or three burros. We’ll go at night so’s no feller’ll foller us. We’ll get the stuff, pile it on the burros, and bring it all away at the same time. If we give them Indians $10 apiece and a new rifle and plenty of whiskey they’d be drunker’n owls before night. Then we can ship the stuff on a railroad and bring it here. Now, we’ve got to get about $2,500 or $3,000 to get the things we want; and we want to raise it on the price of the stuff we’ve got along with us. Now, will you help us? I believe we can trust you, ’cause you look square and straight.”
I endeavored to blush at the childlike compliment, and said:
“What can I do? I never had $3,000 in my life, and never expect to have.”
“Mebbe you know somebody that’ll help us.”
“Where is the gold and the half-breed?”
“Down on that street where they’re puttin’ up a big brick building.”
“On Olive street. Why don’t you take the gold and sell it outright?”
“Now, that’s jest where the stubbornness of that half-breed comes in. He’s sick in bed. Got the worst kind of a cold, on his lungs, I guess, and he won’t let that chunk go out of his sight. He’s afraid that if we take that stuff to find out how fine it is somebody’ll foller us, and we’ll never get out of this town alive. You know them fellers is awful suspicious. What I want you to do if you’re willin’ to help us, is to jest come down and take a bit of this stuff and see how fine it is, and mebbe you can find some way to help us out.”
Curiosity mingled with benevolence. I was anxious to see this mass of gold and talk with this suspicious half-breed. While going to Fourteenth and Olive streets, where the treasure rested under the sleepless eye of the non-confiding son of the forest, my innocent miner would turn his soft and girlish eyes upon my face and speak with wonder and awe of the height of the houses and the crowded condition of the streets. I was ushered into a darkened room with much mystery, where a human figure was lying in bed, with his face muffled up in the bed clothes. Like Claude Melnotte, he had not found the raw atmosphere of St. Louis like “the soft air of his native South.” Between his half-suppressed groans he uttered a few words in Spanish and my guide answered in the same musical tongue. After locking the door and looking cautiously about, my friend drew from under the mattress at the foot of the bed something wrapped in the fragment of an old bed-comforter. In a moment a mass of metal weighing about thirty pounds and shaped like a bar of washing soap was revealed. Evidently a pure gold brick.
“Now,” said David, my innocent-faced friend, “I’ll tell you what we’ll do. I’ll jest bore some holes in this brick, and I’ll get you to take the shavings and get ’em melted into a button. Then nobody’ll suspect. Don’t you see? Then take it to some place down town and have ’t tested. A feller told me out in the mines that he couldn’t tell how fine it was, but he knew it was over 18 karats.”
So he bored a dozen holes into this mass of treasure, and collected the golden shavings into a fragment of the Globe-Democrat. As he came out of the darkened chamber Davis grasped my hand with deep emotion, and said: “This is the only chance I’ve had in nigh thirteen years; if this don’t go through, it jest seems as if I’ll lose my grip.”
I tried to cheer him with a word of sympathy, and hurried to my friend Witt, of the Eugene Jaccard Company, and giving him a portion of the metal, begged him to have it tested. We went together to the workroom of the establishment, where the foreman of the melting department tested the specimen and declared it to be as fine as coin. It nearly took my breath away! The long and weary pilgrimage of my humble and sad-faced friend of the wild woods was about to come to a golden end. He stood on the threshold of a splendid future! In one of his bursts of generous trust he had confided to me the secret that the half-breed owned and had secreted seventy-three other lumps of the virgin metal not counting the one upon which my eyes had feasted and the two safely hidden in the hillside at Kansas City. Seventy-six golden bricks, each weighing over thirty pounds! Let anybody make the calculation and see what prospects the confiding Davis and the untutored half-breed had in store.
Then I sought out my friend, the United States Assayer, and told him the brilliant story. I told him of the sweet and Raphael-like countenance of my friend, of the melancholy sickness and sad distrusts of the lonely half-breed, who was longing for the sight of his native woods. I showed him the coin-fine precious metal I held in my hand, and consulted him about the readiest means of helping the two “babes in the wood,” who, in their ignorance, were the custodians of this uncounted wealth. He listened with unflecked courtesy, and then responded in a voice not musical with tearful sympathy:
“Doctor, I wouldn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole.”
I told him that financially, the pole—so to speak—would have to be considerably more than “ten foot” to enable me to touch it, even if I was so disposed. In other words, I was not momentarily fixed to engage in such enterprises, even if they were endorsed by the angel-faced backwoodsman, and re-inforced by my own sympathy.
“It looks,” he said, “like a gold brick. It seems to me that I recognize the not unfamiliar features of an auriferous brick. Why doesn’t he bring the priceless treasure here? I will pay him the highest price for it. If he doesn’t want to sell I will advance the money they require for burros, wagons and Indians.”
I meekly presented the picture of the half-breed, whose lungs were evidently affected and who could not endure the rigors of the St. Louis climate. He was still obdurate, and refused to invest even intellectually in this hidden treasure. I said that all the symptoms were undoubtedly gold-bricky. That there were unquestionably parts of the story that would not “hold water,” to use the vernacular. That the suspiciousness of the half-breed was certainly over-strained and phenomenal in its excess. That the confidence that my friend of the infantile face was willing to repose in myself, a perfect stranger, was not marked by those periods of slow evolution by which confidence is proverbially brought to fruition. Still, I said, that gentle, guileless, St. John-like face haunted the chamber of my soul’s sympathy. I would as soon expect to see the wondrous Madonna leave its frame in the Sistine Chapel and try to cheat me with a dozen semi-decayed peaches at the street corner as to look for deceit lurking behind the bland and child- like smile of John Davis, the miner. My friend, the assayer, suggested that the sad smile and Madonna face of John were part of his stock in trade. “At any rate, Doctor,” said he, “let him bring the brick here. When I melt it and run it over I will believe it is solid gold; not till then.”
I sought out Davis and told him that Zamora’s confidence would have to bear an additional strain; that if it was a necessity he could be carried on a stretcher to the assay office, bearing the precious nugget in his bosom if he chose, but that nobody would advance money on a gold brick of which they had seen nothing but shavings. A mist of tears seemed to spring into his handsome eyes, and he replied broken- heartedly:
“I’m afraid that I can’t bring him to it. He had to get the doctor to see him this morning ’cause he was spitting blood, and he’s sure he’ll die if he don’t get out of this big town. I can’t help him any longer than to-night, I know. He don’t know the difference, ye know, between a hundred dollar bill and a one dollar bill, an’ if I could only get some money jest to show him and let him see that the parties meant fair, ye see, he’d let the stuff go out of his sight. Then we could sell it or raise the rest of the money on it, and inside o’ two months I could have the rest o’ that pile here in St. Louis. I tell ye, it jest breaks me up to think o’ losing this chance”—and his words were broken with a heavy sigh.
He wrung my hand warmly and we parted.
* * * * *
That sad face haunted me. My wife of course saw that something was troubling my dreams and waking hours, and gave me no rest until I had confided the whole melancholy story to her. With that wifely anxiety respecting the family income and expenses characteristic of the worthy ones of her sex, she exclaimed at once: “You are quite sure that this sympathy didn’t reach your pocket-book?”
“No,” I said, “I am not out of pocket one cent, but if I had been rich, I am pretty certain I should have invested in that face, even though there are thin places in the story.”
Strange as it may seem, my word-photograph of that manly woodman’s countenance did not move her sympathies a whit. A half-dozen times a day she would inquire, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye: “Any news yet from Kansas City?” I tried to show her that, on account of that subtle influence which will always reveal its presence in the face, it is impossible for a rogue to bear such a face as Davis owned. The very spiritual laws of the universe were involved in the denial of such a monstrous supposition. Her only reply was in the expression of a hope that my pocket-book should not get entangled in any of these psychological theories.
Four days passed, and still no news of the weary-hearted Davis. On the fifth day I came into the house bearing a letter in my hand, and said: “My love, I think I’ve got news of that gold brick.”
My friend the assayer had written to this effect:
“MY DEAR DOCTOR:—I wish you would call at the office some time to- morrow, if you are down town. I have an interesting specimen to show you.”
I went. On a shelf in the inner vault of the assay office laid that gold brick. There was no mistaking that treasure. It lay like Cæsar in the Capitol, its dozen wounds looking dumbly up and pleading to me for recognition. Thirty pounds of solid coin-fine gold, a fraction of the stately fortune of that mysterious half-breed who
Came like truth and disappeared like dreams.
Only the day before a stranger had entered the assay office bearing a gold button, the quality of which he wished determined. He said his brother had taken stock in a mine and he wished from this specimen to know the value of the product. It was as fine as a $20 gold piece. Very probably it was part of a $20 gold piece.
Some hours later he came again, bearing the precious brick in his arms. Wonderful to relate! He had seen the borings from this massive bit of wealth tested and tried, and found to be pure gold, and some envious fairy, with a magic wand that was able to neutralize the alchemist’s potent secret, had changed it into a baser metal. He bore in his arms but thirty pounds of solid brass. He also bore a letter to this effect:
“SIR:—You have been a —— fool to buy thirty pounds of brass. If you can find another man who will be —— fool to give you $2,000 for this brass, I will come and do the talking for you and take half the profits.
JOHN WILLIAMS.”
My dream was shattered. My Bret Harte hero, with his saintly face and with the flavor of the forest about him, was a vulgar fraud! And yet he was not all bad. Observe the delicate touch of thoughtful benevolence with which he generously offered to come back and help his victim regain a part of what he had lost! There must have been something essentially noble about him to write like that!
Of course I saw what a clumsy trick it all was. The borings were made from the lump of brass, but were simply changed after being wrapped in the bit of newspaper. I have no doubt the gentleman who purchased the brick sees it clearly enough also.
Since that time I have thought it was not a universal experience which is expressed in Whittier’s celebrated lines:
Of all sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest of all are “It might have been.”
BUNKO.
It is doubtful whether there is a man, woman or child in the United States, who has been in the habit of reading the daily press, who has not heard of “Bunko,” and does not have a vague sort of idea that it is a gigantic scheme for swindling. Yet so hazy is the general information of the public as to the details of its operation, that even those who may have read the published accounts of the mode in which the thousands of unfortunates have been victimized through this scheme, are liable themselves to be defrauded in a precisely similar manner because of their own ignorance. I believe that I speak within bounds when I say that millions have been lost and won through this game. It is my intention to so thoroughly expose the methods of its manipulators, that hereafter those who may be fleeced through their operations can attach the blame primarily only to themselves.
The essential requisites of a “Bunko” outfit are—9 small dice with a dice-box, a “Bunko” chart, and—last, but by no means least—a skillful and in every way competent “capper.” It is the peculiar province of the latter to seek out victims and “steer” them to their ruin. The devices resorted to in order to lure the unsophisticated into the den of “Bunko” sharps are too numerous to admit of any detailed description. There is, however, one fundamental principle underlying them all,—to gain the confidence of the man whom it is proposed to rob, and then, by specious representation, to draw him on, step by step, until the unprincipled gang of scoundrels shall have bled him of the last cent which they can obtain. Of all descriptions of gamblers, “Bunko” men are, if not the most astute, certainly the most unscrupulous and the most pitiless. No chicanery is too contemptible, no treachery too base for them to employ; and not infrequently they consummate their schemes of fraud by the perpetration of deeds of actual violence.
The prospective victim having been enticed into the “den of thieves,” the modus operandi by which he is fleeced will now be described as briefly as a necessarily full explanation will permit. The first object that meets his eye is a table upon which is spread an oil-cloth, on which are painted forty-six squares, numbered from 9 to 54, inclusive. The arrangement of the numbers is shown in the accompanying diagram, which also shows the fortune which awaits the players. The game is played by means of throwing the above mentioned dice. The nine little ivory cubes are placed in a box and either the “sucker” or the “capper” (who, as a pretended friend, always plays in concert with the dupe) throws them upon the table. The spots on the top of all the dice are added together, and the sum total is taken as the number which has been thrown. Reference is now had to the chart, and the legend painted upon the square containing the number thrown by the players is read off.
In order to follow the game through, the chart itself must now be explained. If the reader will look at the diagram, he will see that some of the squares contain, in addition to the numbers which are painted upon all of them, figures representing certain sums of money, while others are marked “0,” yet others “00,” while upon some of them is depicted the abbreviation “rep.” He will also observe that some of the squares contain figures representing sums of money which are inscribed with the abbreviation “cond.” The letters “rep” stand for representing; “cond” is the abbreviation for conditional. The mode of play may be best explained by an illustration. If the player, for instance, throws 18, (which number may be found in the upper left hand corner of the chart), it will be seen that the square bears the abbreviation “rep.” This indicates that the player may double (i. e., either pay for another chance and throw again), or withdraw from the game, forfeiting the 50 cents or $1.00 (usually the latter sum) which he has already paid. Suppose that he throw 15, which number may be found in the fourth square from the left in the upper row of the chart, he wins $1.00. If he throws 54—the second number to the right in the fourth horizontal row of squares—he wins $500. If he throws a number painted upon a square inscribed with “0,” “00,” or the abbreviation “chic’y” (which is a contraction for chancery), he neither wins nor loses, and the proprietors magnanimously permit him to try his “luck” (God save the mark) again.
But it is when he throws a number corresponding to that in a square inscribed with a sum of money and the abbreviation “cond” (conditional) that his bad fortune commences.
And just here it is proper to say, that as a matter of fact it makes comparatively little difference what number he actually throws, inasmuch as the man behind the cloth usually counts the spots on the dice to suit himself. As a rule, the man who is fool enough to risk his money at such a scheme is too great a fool to see that his number is correctly read. But if he should insist upon examining the dice for himself, his pseudo- partner, the “capper,” who sits at his elbow, is always at hand to overturn one of the cubes, thereby defeating his last, laudable attempt at self preservation.
“BUNKO” CHART.
┌─────────┬─────────┬─────────┬─────────┬─────────┬─────────┐ │ │ Cond. │ │ │ │ │ │ Rep. │ │ Rep. │ $1.00 │ Rep. │ $500.00 │ │ │ $500.00 │ │ │ │ │ │ 18 │ │ 39 │ 15 │ 27 │ 10 │ │ │ 25 │ │ │ │ │ ├─────────┼─────────┼─────────┼─────────┼─────────┼─────────┤ │ │ │ │ │ │ Cond. │ │ Rep. │ Rep. │ Rep. │ Ch’cy. │ Rep. │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │$5000.00 │ │ 32 │ 46 │ 30 │ 42 │ 36 │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ 23 │ ├─────────┼─────────┼─────────┼─────────┼─────────┼─────────┤ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ $20.00 │ $5.00 │ $1.00 │ 0 0 │ $300.00 │ 0 │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ 12 │ 50 │ 14 │ 20 │ 51 │ 45 │ ├─────────┼─────────┼─────────┼─────────┼─────────┼─────────┤ │ │ │ │ Cond. │ │ │ │ Ch’cy. │ $500.00 │ Rep. │ │$1000.00 │ Rep. │ │ │ │ │ $500.00 │ │ │ │ 37 │ 54 │ 19 │ │ 53 │ 16 │ │ │ │ │ 33 │ │ │ ├─────────┼─────────┼─────────┼─────────┼─────────┼─────────┤ │ Cond. │ │ │ │ │ Cond. │ │ │ Rep. │$1000.00 │ Rep. │ 0 0 │ │ │ 100.00 │ │ │ │ │ $100.00 │ │ │ 24 │ 9 │ 43 │ 49 │ │ │ 17 │ │ │ │ │ 28 │ ├─────────┼─────────┼─────────┼─────────┼─────────┼─────────┤ │ Cond. │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ Bl’k. │ Rep. │ Ch’cy. │ $5.00 │ 0 0 │ │ $500.00 │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ 29 │ 35 │ 26 │ 13 │ 34 │ │ 48 │ │ │ │ │ │ ├─────────┼─────────┼─────────┼─────────┼─────────┼─────────┤ │ │ │ │ Cond. │ │ Cond. │ │ 0 │ 0 0 │ $300.00 │ │ Rep. │ │ │ │ │ │ $100.00 │ │$1000.00 │ │ 22 │ 41 │ 11 │ │ 21 │ │ │ │ │ │ 31 │ │ 40 │ ├─────────┼─────────┼─────────┼─────────┼─────────┼─────────┤ │ │ Cond. │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ $500.00 │ Rep. │ Rep. │ │ │ │ $500.00 │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ 52 │ 38 │ 47 │ │ │ │ 44 │ │ │ │ │ └─────────┴─────────┴─────────┴─────────┴─────────┴─────────┘
Before describing further the misfortunes of the victim, it will be well to give a synopsis of the inscription upon the squares, and to point out the exceedingly ingenious manner in which they are arranged.
The lowest number is nine, for the reason that nine dice are thrown, and as none of the cubes contain a blank side nine aces is the smallest throw that can be made. The diagram gives a fair idea of the arrangement of the numbers on the average chart. The squares contain:
1 $5,000 prize. 3 1,000 ” 7 500 ” 2 300 ” 3 100 ” 1 20 ” 2 5 ” 2 1 ” 4 Double 0s. 2 Single 0s. 15 “Represents.” 1 “Blank.” 3 “Chancerys.” —— 46
Of the twenty-one prizes, eight are marked “conditional,” the signification of which word in this connection will be presently explained. Of the remaining thirteen, the majority are painted upon squares containing numbers which it is a moral impossibility to throw. Thus a $500 prize is inscribed over 54, a number which cannot be won by the player unless all the nine dice thrown turn up sixes, which has never been known to happen; a $1,000 prize is numbered 9, and cannot be won unless all the dice turn up aces, which they never do; another $1,000 prize requires a throw of 53 to win it, which would involve casting eight sixes and one five, the probability of which is too remote to be worth considering. It is, however, quite within the range of possibility that a “sucker” may throw a number calling for one of the smaller prizes, which serves to encourage him to persevere in his folly.
When a dupe, throwing in concert with a “capper,” has cast a number calling for a “conditional” prize, the proprietor informs them that they have each won the sum inscribed upon that square, but only “conditionally,” the condition being that before payment they shall show that they have that amount of cash. He exhibits his money to pay the prize, and professes his willingness to pay it over as soon as he is convinced that he has not been risking his money against “wind.” Of course, this claim is preposterous. When the victim was induced to play, he was invited to buy a chance in a prize distribution scheme, and not a word was said to him about putting up any stakes or incurring any risk whatever, other than the loss of his dollar.
However, this reflection does not present itself to the dupe, and under the exhilarating and stimulating influence of the “capper,” to which is added the apparent prospect of winning a large sum of money for nothing, he leaves the room in order to obtain the necessary amount, with which he and the “capper” invariably return. At the same moment, departs a third confederate, technically known as a “trailer.” The business of the latter individual is to follow the “sucker” and observe his every movement. Of course he is expected to return to the “office” of the gang before the victim and the confederate shall have arrived. No movement of the dupe escapes him. If he goes to a bank, in order to draw money, the “trailer” stands close at his heels, with a bill of some large denomination in his hand, for which he is prepared to request change in the most courteous manner. No action on the part of the greenhorn is left unobserved, and when the latter returns to the room, in company with the “capper,” the proprietor of the scheme has been thoroughly informed as to every movement which he has made since his departure. As soon as he shows the money, the man behind the cloth takes possession of it, and informs the players that they are entitled to another throw. The “capper” appears to be much excited under the influence of the extraordinary good fortune which has fallen to their lot, and the victim is easily induced again to take the box and throw the dice. If he manifests any hesitation, however, the “capper,” (who, it must be remembered, always acts as his partner), seizes the box and hurriedly throws for both, before the “sucker” has time to remonstrate. Of course, this time he loses. Even should the spots on the cubes as thrown, when added together, amount to a total sum calling for a prize upon the chart, either the operator will read the total erroneously, or the “capper” will overturn one of the dice, thus changing the number actually thrown. The proprietor at once announces that the two players have lost the amount of money, which they brought with them and placed in the banker’s hands. It is idle for the “sucker” to protest that he was not laying a wager, and that this interpretation of the contract is altogether wrong and unfair. The “bunko” sharpers have his money and they intend to keep it, despite all remonstrances. If he offers to make any disturbance, or manifests any disposition to recover his loss by force, he is at once either knocked down or thrown out of the room, or sometimes both together. When he succeeds in summoning the officers of the law to his aid, and in company with the police revisits the room in which he was fleeced, he finds that his tenants have departed, carrying with them the paraphernalia of their trade.
A favorite device under such circumstances, after the greenhorn has returned with his money and has been induced to throw again, is so to read the number thrown by him as to call upon him to “represent,” which is accomplished by calling off a number corresponding to one of the squares upon the chart which is inscribed with the abbreviation “rep.” In this case, he is told that he must double the amount placed in the banker’s hands and throw once more, or lose his “stake.” If he is particularly gullible, and the “capper” has succeeded in persuading him to bring with him to the den a larger sum of money than that called for by the proprietor, he will frequently consent to double his money and try again. As long as he can be induced to keep this up, the sharpers will continue to play with him. As soon as they discover either that he has no more money or that he is unwilling to risk any additional sum, he is informed that he has lost whatever money he may have already advanced.
From the circumstance of sending a dupe after more money, this game has, of late years, been sometimes designated by members of the fraternity as “send”.
It sometimes happens, however, that the “sucker” when he returns with this money, insists upon being paid the amount of the prize which he has won and flatly refuses to put up any more money in the game. When the sharpers perceive that they cannot induce him to play further the proprietor takes his money, and makes an entry in a large book, with a view to giving the transaction a business like appearance. He then counts out a sum, smaller by some $200 than the amount of the prize, and places this amount together with the victim’s money in an envelope and seals it up. He counts the money in the presence of the dupe and informs him that he has not got the full amount at hand in currency, but that his agent will call upon him in the morning and pay him the balance. Meanwhile, he is at liberty to take with him the envelope, containing his own money and that portion of the prize which the bank is able to pay at the moment. The banker further states that in order that the agent shall pay the money it is essential that the seals of the envelope should not be broken, adding that if they are, no further money will be paid. To this the victim assents, and he is at once handed an envelope, identical in size and appearance with that in which he saw the money placed, and sealed in a precisely similar manner. As a matter of fact, however, the proprietor has substituted for the envelope containing the money one so closely resembling it in appearance that the difference cannot be discovered, but which, instead of currency, contains nothing more valuable than blank paper.
The manner in which the substitution is effected before the very eyes of the “sucker” without his knowledge is as follows: The operator opens the ledger and places between two of the leaves the envelope containing the bank bills. He then presses down upon the cover of the ledger, apparently with a view of sealing the package more tightly. When he opens the ledger, he opens it at another page and takes out the previously prepared envelope. He then marks a cross in pencil over the seal and asks the dupe to write his name across the flap, in order that there may be no possible mischance in the identification of the package when the agent shall call in the morning.
In the description of this game which has been given above, reference has been made only to the casting of dice as a means of determining the number made by any player. Sometimes, however, when an attempt is made to operate the game in resorts of a “higher tone,” cards inscribed with numbers and abbreviations corresponding to those shown in the diagram are used. The number of cards is, of course, the same as the number of squares on the cloth—46. When cards are employed they are dealt from a box similar to that employed in dealing faro, for a description of which the reader is referred to the chapter on “Faro.”
In 1882, Floyd Creek, Pete Lelin, and George Curtis, while traveling in disguise as fugitives from justice—their crime having been the fleecing of one Wilson, at Eureka Springs in 1881, his disastrous losses causing instant death—received a “pointer” from a school teacher concerning a man who had deposited a large sum of money in the bank, and who was supposed to be a “soft mark.” They watched him carefully and eventually succeeded in selling him bricks to the value (?) of $22,000. They received this large sum in gold, and at once took boat for Pensacola. They did not gain anything by their outrageous swindle. While they escaped the justice of man, the vengeance of God overtook them speedily, for their boat sunk and all were drowned, their ill-gotten gains going to the bottom with them.
IX. CONFIDENCE GAMES
The devices of confidence operators for fleecing their victims are more numerous and ingenious than the minds of unsophisticated, honest men can readily conceive. These gentry know neither honor, pity nor remorse. Among their ranks, however, may be found men of brilliant intellect and high education, who, had they devoted to some honest pursuit the time and thought which they have expended upon the conception and execution of schemes of fraud, might have acquired a comfortable competence and occupied an enviable position in the professional or commercial world. Their moral nature, however, has become so warped, that fraud has become instinctive with them and the very name of virtue a by-word and a mockery.
At the same time, it is but right to say that their success, in the vast majority of cases, would be impossible were it not for the fact that they appeal not only to the cupidity of their dupes, but also to a latent element of dishonesty which requires only temptation and opportunity to call it into active exercise. The reader who will carefully scan the pages which follow cannot fail to perceive that the “suckers”—as the confidence men denominate their victims—are, at heart, no more honest than are the sharpers themselves. The trap is spread for them and baited with the prospect of winning “something” for “nothing,” and of deriving advantage through a resort to deception and trickery. If the dupe did not believe that he is about to defraud some one else, he would never become a victim of scoundrels more astute, but little more dishonest than himself. The man who, when a scheme of fraud is proposed to him, indignantly repudiates the implied suspicion that he is willing to sacrifice his honor and integrity for money is not likely to become the dupe of scoundrels who resort to such practices as are explained in this chapter. It has always seemed to me that there is a great waste of sympathy upon men thus victimized. While too much cannot be said in condemnation of men who make a living through systematic fraud, what is to be said of those who are eager to avail themselves of dishonest devices which they themselves have not been sufficiently cunning to invent, but which commend themselves at once to their avarice and lax morality?
THREE CARD MONTE.
This is an ancient device of sharpers, with the modus operandi of which a majority of persons have some acquaintance. It is commonly resorted to by all gamblers and confidence men, who find their most successful field of operation upon railway trains; although fairs, circus grounds, and even camp meetings afford them opportunities of plying their vocation. The game is played with three cards, which are held by the operator, who is known in gamblers’ slang as the “spieler,” in his right hand, between the thumb and first two fingers, the backs towards the palm, and the cards themselves slightly bending inward. To work the trick successfully, some sleight of hand is necessary, to acquire which considerable practice is necessary. The cards are thrown by the “spieler” upon some flat surface, faces downward. Before throwing them, he shows the bystanders the cards which he holds in his hand, and after they have been thrown he invites bets as to the location of some particular card.
To illustrate: he may hold in his hand two aces and a queen; these he shows; he then places them in his right hand, in the position above described, and throws them upon the flat surface, faces downward; he then asks some one to bet which is the queen. The queen may have been the middle of the three cards as they were held in his hand, but it by no means follows that it will be the middle of the three cards as they lie upon the table.
To work the game successfully, at least one and generally two confederates are necessary. It has already been said that the favorite place of operation is the railroad train, and perhaps the reader will gain the best idea of how the trick is done by describing the manner in which these sharpers secure and fleece their victims under these circumstances. The “spieler” is usually attired after the manner of a well-to-do country farmer or stock-raiser. On his head he wears a battered slouch hat, his neck is ornamented with a loosely tied red cotton handkerchief; and his worn trousers are stuffed carelessly into the legs of his cow skin boots. His confederates, who are technically called “cappers,” are dressed after the manner of respectable business men of easy circumstances. It should be remarked, however, that when the precious trio board the train the “spieler” presents a far more fashionable appearance than when dressed for business. He usually carries with him a false shirt bosom, an old overcoat and the slouch hat mentioned above. After he has entered the cars he takes his seat in the rear end of the coach, and the two “cappers” pass through the car looking for some one who promises to be an easy prey, and who is commonly known to the fraternity as a “mark” or a “sucker.” If none is found upon the first car entered, the gang repairs to the next one, the “spieler” taking up his position in the rear as before. As soon as a “mark” is selected, one of the “cappers” takes his seat beside him and raises his hat. At this signal the “spieler” arranges his cotton handkerchief, puts on his disreputable hat, dons his well worn overcoat, and tucks his trousers in his boot legs. The effecting of this transformation scene is known among gamblers as “ringing up.”
The “spieler” goes forward and takes the seat either just before or directly behind his confederate and intended victim. He engages the former in conversation, representing himself as a heavy stock-raiser from the Southwest. He goes on to explain how he has been swindled or “slicked” out of $500 by a “card sharp.” He adds, however, that they failed to get all that he had, and thereupon displays or “flashes” a large roll of money, and slapping his hand upon his side, remarks in a loud tone, that he has $10,000 more in his belt. At this point the confederate, with the air of a man of kindly disposition and one who is familiar with the wickedness of the world, remarks to him that he perceives that he (the “spieler”) has traveled very little, and advises him to avoid displaying money in the presence of strangers. The “spieler” laughs, and says that “he reckons he is able to look after himself.” He adds that he bought the “paste boards” with which he had been cheated from the man who had swindled him, and that he intends to take them home and get his money back by betting with his friends, mentioning, perhaps, by way of illustration, that he means to “win Bill Jones’s mule, and make him walk home the very next night that he comes to see his sister.” His accomplice thereupon asks to see the cards, and they are promptly produced. The “spieler” begins to exhibit his skill and urges the partner to bet. The latter says that he can distinguish the cards readily enough, but does not wish to win the man’s money. After much urging, the “capper” consents to bet and usually wins two wagers as a matter of course. The “spieler” thereupon remarks that he does not care to bet with him any longer, as he is too lucky, and asks the stranger to make a bet. If the latter shows any hesitation, or if, perchance, he expresses some scruples on moral grounds, the “capper” whispers to him that he has a dead certainty of winning and that he had better bet and win, and “teach the fool a lesson,” after which he can return the amount won if he chooses. The “spieler” next throws the cards, and while he turns his head the confederate raises the card and shows the stranger which it is, slightly bending the corner in order that it may be readily recognized.
The victim is now satisfied that he can bet with certainty, and when the “spieler” again picks up the cards to throw them he stakes his wager. The operator, however, with his little finger dexterously flattens out the corner which his accomplice had bent up and bends up the corner of an entirely different card. When the cards are next thrown, the victim selects the one with the bent corner, and is deeply chagrined to discover that it is not the one which he believed it to be.
Sometimes, instead of bending the corner of one of the cards, resort is had to another and equally effective device. While the three cards are lying faces downward, the confederate, with a pencil, makes a mark upon the corner of the winning card. When the “spieler” again turns his head toward the cards, he picks them up and thrusts them into his pocket with the remark, “oh, you fellows wont bet anyway.” In his pocket he has three other cards, duplicates in all respects of those which he has before shown, and on the corner of one of which is a pencil mark precisely similar to the one made by the “capper,” but it is not on the winning card. As he is about to leave, his confederate urges him to remain, saying, “yes we will bet, come back.” The stranger thinks that he recognizes the pencil mark, stakes his money, selects the marked card, finds it is not the winner, and of course loses.
The principal object in having a second confederate is to keep off disinterested persons who might endeavor to put the proposed victim on his guard.
Formerly, monte men refused to play for anything except cash; now-a- days, they are willing to accept bank checks, and the third man is found extremely serviceable as an innocent purchaser. If the “sucker” raises a row, and threatens to stop payment of the check, it is a common practice to produce a piece of paper, perhaps a blank check, folded, which is torn up in the victim’s presence. The latter, believing that he has seen his check destroyed, takes no further steps in the matter. It sometimes happens, however, that a victim will say nothing, but at the same time secretly intends to stop the payment of the check. To guard against this, the third man appears upon the scene and with a great show of righteous indignation, or possibly representing himself to be an officer of the law, demands that the “spieler” return the check to the victim. Hot words then pass, and the latter says that if there is going to be such an everlasting fuss made about so small a matter he will tear up the check and have done with it. Thereupon, he produces his paper, which he tears up, as already described, throwing the pieces out of the car window. Of course in either case, the check remains safe in the sharpers’ possession. The second confederate, by his apparently magnanimous and disinterested interference in the victim’s behalf, naturally wins his confidence. He thereupon makes it his business to remain with him until the “spieler” and his remaining accomplice shall have had time to present the check for certification at the bank upon which it was drawn.
It is said, and universally believed by the sporting fraternity, whose belief is based upon actual experience, that the conductor of the train upon which a game such as has been described is successfully practiced always expects and receives a percentage of the winnings. If the trick is perpetrated on a sleeping car, the porter is always given a handsome bonus. The author has himself been told by one of the latter sort of gentry that his fees from this source considerably exceeded his pay from the sleeping car company.
Probably, the king of the monte men was a man known in sporting circles as “Canada Bill.” He was recognized as a general “all around confidence operator,” and so distrustful were those who knew him of appearances which he put forth that on the occasion of his funeral, as the coffin was being lowered into the grave, one of his friends offered to bet $1,000 to $500 that “Bill was not in the box.” The offer found no takers, for the reason, as one of his acquaintances said, “that he had known Bill to squeeze through tighter holes than that.” It was reported some years before his death that he had offered one of the Trunk Lines of Railroad a premium of $25,000 per annum to be allowed to practice confidence games upon its trains without molestation; a condition of the offer being that he would not attempt to victimize any class of passengers except preachers.
One of the most successful schemes for perpetrating this fraud is known as the “send,” so-called because in some of its essential features it is closely allied to the game of “bunko.” In both cases the victim is sent after more money, in order that the harvest of the rascally manipulators may be increased. One of the favorite modes of winning the confidence and money of an intended dupe is as follows: The victim having been selected,—usually a farmer of some wealth,—two of the sharpers drive up to his residence in a buggy, ostensibly with a view to purchasing his farm. They are always well dressed and present the appearance of men of large means. To gain the confidence of the unsuspecting agriculturalist is a comparatively easy matter. He shows them over his place, they express their entire satisfaction, and offer him a sum in cash which is not only far beyond his expectations but also considerably in excess of the actual value of the property. To complete a bargain under such circumstances is an easy matter. The trade is made, and the sharpers invite the farmer to accompany them to the nearest town, where they propose to draw from the bank the cash necessary to complete the transaction. On the way to town, they encounter another man, also riding in a buggy, who engages them in conversation. The stranger represents himself to be the agent of a new scheme of gift distribution, and at once enlists the interest of the “capper,” who is riding with the farmer. The party alight from their buggies and the new-comer introduces the old game of “three card monte.” He invites them, at first, to “try their luck for fun,” and by showing them what large sums they might have won had they been playing for actual stakes, he soon induces them to take a venture. In working this scheme, however, playing cards are seldom used, for the reason that the average country farmer always cherishes a suspicion of the paste boards. Accordingly, some other description of cards is employed.
It is usually found to be an easy matter to interest the countryman, who sees the “capper” apparently “playing in great luck.” He is soon induced to risk a small amount, and the operator tells him that he and “his friend” have each won a large sum—perhaps $1,000 or $5,000. The sharper has now resorted to the devices of the “bunko banker,” and informs his victim that it will be necessary for him to show the amount of money which he has won in order to prove that he would have been actually able to pay the stake had he lost. The countryman, thoroughly convinced that he is on the eve of winning a large sum, expresses his willingness to go to town and raise the money. Of course, the “agent” of the gift distribution scheme, obligingly offers to await his return. The farmer goes to town, obtains the money, and comes back, like the moth to the candle.
When he returns, the same trickery is resorted to as in the operation of the game of “bunko,” for a full explanation of which the reader is referred to that heading. Of course he loses all that he can be persuaded to venture, and inasmuch as the only two vehicles on the ground are in the possession of the two sharpers, while the victim is, perforce, compelled to go afoot, it is a very easy matter for the former to place such a distance between themselves and the “sucker,” that by the time the latter has reached some point where he may summon assistance, the precious pair are far advanced upon their road to safety.
BOGUS CHECKS.
The use of fraudulent checks as a means of winning money from the unwary is a device of confidence men which, although venerable in its antiquity, is still practiced to a very considerable extent in all parts of the country. Notwithstanding the fact that it has been repeatedly exposed, there are probably hundreds of men in the United States who derive a comfortable income every year through following it up.
The method of operation may be very briefly described. To perpetrate it successfully sharpers ordinarily act in concert. A favorite field of operation is found in depots and railroad trains, although hotels and even public thoroughfares are not despised. The first thing to be done is to learn the name of the proposed victim, after he has been selected. This selection is usually easily made, the experienced confidence man having little difficulty in choosing a man whose appearance indicates that he is not only in good financial circumstances, but also of a nature which renders him peculiarly liable to be defrauded by this sort of trick. His name is usually learned by accosting him by some name which the sharper knows to be incorrect. Naturally, the stranger corrects him by stating who he is and where he resides. This much learned, reference is had to a bank directory of the United States (a copy of which these men always carry with them), and the name of the banks and bankers and prominent business men at his place of residence, ascertained. Having thus posted himself, the swindler informs the “sucker” that he hails from the same locality and is well acquainted with Mr. So-and-So, naming some prominent citizen of the town or city in which the victim resides. If the game is to be played at a depot, the sharper enters the train with the dupe and takes a seat near him. He has previously been at great pains to make himself as entertaining and confidential as possible. All at once, sharper number two appears upon the scene and presents a bill to his confederate, saying that he has made it out in compliance with his request and upon his promise that it should be paid. The swindler expresses himself as entirely satisfied with the account, but says that he has not sufficient currency to make a full payment. He thereupon produces a check for a considerably larger sum, which he asks his confederate to cash, discharge the debt, and return him the balance in money. This, of course, the second sharper says that he cannot do. Sharper number one now turns to the “sucker,” and asks him if he will be kind enough to loan him the amount of his confederate’s pretended claim, taking the check as security. In seven cases out of ten, the swindlers have so carefully selected their victim and so artfully won his confidence, that the dupe readily consents to make the loan desired. If, however, he has not the full amount of money with him, his new acquaintance is quite ready to accept what he has, with which he makes a payment on “account” to his friend. The “sucker” takes the check and puts it away in his pocket-book as security. The two confederates then walk down the aisle of the car, chatting pleasantly and exchanging words of farewell. When they reach the platform they both jump off the car and the victim sees neither of them again. When he attempts to realize upon his supposed “security,” he finds that the draft is not worth the paper on which it was written.
Among sharpers this trick is commonly known as the “con game,” or “check racket.”
Sometimes an appeal is made to the sympathy of the proposed victim. At the city of Louisville, Kentucky, one of these gentry appealed to a stranger to cash a check for him on the score that he was entirely unacquainted in the city and was carrying home the body of his deceased brother for burial. He led his dupe to the baggage car and showed him a box containing a coffin. It is needless to say that the corpse contained therein was that of a person entirely unknown to him. Producing a draft for $1,700, he so artfully worked upon the sympathy of the man to whom he had appealed, that the latter handed him the sum of $520—all that he had with him—and took the worthless paper as security, the sharper representing that he was journeying to the same point of destination as was the dupe, and that on their arrival there he would experience no difficulty in obtaining currency for the draft. On the same day the same individual victimized another stranger out of $225 by the same device, pointing out the identical corpse which he had shown to his first victim. Of course this particular form of this phase of swindling cannot be perpetrated successfully unless the swindlers are, by chance, favored by finding a coffin on some departing train.
OVER ISSUE.
This is a comparatively modern variation of the old “saw-dust” swindling scheme. It is frequently found to be very easy to work, and the returns are sometimes large. Usually two sharpers act in concert, although sometimes one plays the game alone.
The victim selected is usually a man greedy for gain, rather “tight- fisted,” and one who is supposed not to be over scrupulous. Considerable care is exercised in selecting the person on whom it is to be played. He is approached by one of the confidence men, who informs him that he has on hand a large money-making scheme, the probable profit of which will run up to at least $100,000. The sharper displays plenty of money and soon succeeds in convincing the prospective dupe that he is a man of large wealth. The interest of the victim having been awakened, it not infrequently happens that he invites the confidence operator to be a guest at his house. Should this occur, the invitation is invariably declined, the swindler saying that he is paying some $4 or $5 per day for his board, but that that outlay is entirely immaterial to him, inasmuch as he has an abundance of cash. After several business conversations have taken place between the two, and the cupidity of the victim has been thoroughly aroused, the sharper hands him a bill of some large denomination, with a request that he go and purchase some cigars. When he returns with the change, the operator asks him if the bill was good. Receiving an affirmative reply, he nods his head sagely, and says, “I thought so.” His next move is to take from his pocket a large roll of bills, from which he desires the dupe to select one, which he is to take to the bank in order to get change. On his return, the confidence man, after pledging him to inviolable secrecy, informs him that he will make his fortune in a year. He tells him that he has an uncle in the treasury department at Washington that at the time of the last printing of treasury notes, there was surreptitiously secured an over-issue of $5,000,000; that he (the sharper) is the agent for his uncle for the disposition of $1,000,000 of the sum. He adds that he cannot allow any single purchaser to take more than $10,000 or less than $3,000, but that within these limits he will dispose of these bills, printed from genuine plates and on government fibre paper, at the rate of 50 cents on the $1.00.
The greenhorn thus sees the way clear to a speedy, even if dishonestly acquired fortune. When he has bitten at the bait and expresses himself ready to go on with the transaction, the confidence man takes him to another town, where the money is to be paid over to him. A common device then is to go to some hotel, where the money is counted out in the presence of the sucker and placed in an express envelope, which is securely sealed. The package is addressed to the victim at the town in which he resides, and the pair leave for the express office. Of course, the package which is delivered to the express company is not the one which the dupe saw sealed up. Another one, precisely similar in size and appearance, has been substituted without his knowledge. The dupe pays over his money and the sharper disappears from the scene of action.
When the victim reaches home and obtains his package from the local agent of the company, he finds upon opening it that it is filled with blank paper.
I have never known but one instance in which a man thus duped undertook to make any fuss. Usually, the sharper sends his dupe a letter, calling his attention to the fact that to attempt to stir up any difficulty will be simply to expose his own stupidity and dishonesty. This view of the matter is so eminently logical that the victim submits to his loss without a murmer.
DROPPING THE PIGEON.
This device of confidence operators is sometimes known as the “pocket book game.”
One of the ways in which the trick is played may be thus described. A piece of pasteboard, cut in the form of a Greek cross, is folded over in such a way that the arms shall cross at the centre. A slit is neatly cut in the middle square and a small silver coin, perhaps a three or five cent piece, placed therein. Another coin of the same denomination is placed on the square itself, underneath the folded arms. The whole is then tied up with a piece of blue ribbon. When a “mark” has been selected, one of the two confederates who are to operate the game drops it on the road or on the sidewalk, as the case may be. The second confederate, who has managed to scrape an acquaintance with the proposed victim, comes along, walking in his company. His eye at once rests upon the peculiar looking package, which he stoops and raises from the ground. Opening it, the sharper and the dupe examine it together. The former calls the attention of the latter to the exposed silver coin. Raising his eyes, he sees his confederate approaching and looking at the ground as if for something he had lost. He directs the eyes of the “sucker” toward him and remarks that they will now “have a little fun.” Taking the coin, he hands it to the dupe, telling him to put it in his pocket. As soon as his confederate comes near enough, sharper number one asks him if he has lost anything. The accomplice replies in the affirmative, saying that it was a keepsake from his mother, which he valued highly. He describes the package, and says that it contained a coin of a certain denomination. The first confidence man thereupon produces the package, but tells him there is no coin inside of it. The pretended owner professes great surprise, and offers to bet any sum that a coin of the denomination named is within the bundle. The “sucker,” thinking that he sees an opportunity to make some money without incurring any risk, accepts the wager. The money having been put in the hands of the first confidence man, the confederate opens the package, raises the concealed slip in the pasteboard, and reveals the hidden coin. Of course he is at once declared to have won the bet.
Sometimes, instead of a piece of pasteboard prepared as described, a pocket-book with a secret compartment is employed.
Another form of the “pocket-book game” is to drop a wallet containing a considerable sum in counterfeit money. This is found by the confidence man and the “sucker.” The former, having picked it up, exhibits its contents to the dupe, whose cupidity is at once aroused. His companion offers to allow him to take the pocket-book and advertise for a reward, provided that he (the “sucker”) will give him $25. The greenhorn thinks that this is a very easy way of making money, and having no intention of advertising the finding of the wallet and being chiefly anxious to get rid of the only witness of his intended fraud, readily assents. If he offers to pay the $25 from the bills in the pocket-book, the confidence man refuses to accept them, alleging as a reason that the man who lost the money may possibly have made a memorandum of the numbers of the bills or have some other means of identifying them.
In such cases as these, the victim rarely makes complaint, for the reason that to do so would be to expose his own avarice, greenness, and dishonesty.
THE TOBACCO BOX.
This scheme of fraud is sometimes successfully worked; although to operate it, it is necessary to secure a peculiarly gullible victim. Two confederates act in unison.
After a dupe has been selected, sharper number one approaches him and engages him in conversation. He soon produces a wooden tobacco box, the cover of which swings upon a pivot placed at one end. This he opens and takes out a chew, at the same time offering the box to the “sucker.” He then asks the latter if he does not admire his box, which he says was a present to him from a friend. He then closes the cover and hands it to the dupe for examination. Inside the box, is a slender wire, which, when the box is inverted, falls upon a groove in the top and effectually prevents its being opened. The greenhorn attempts to slide the cover around, but finds it impossible. The sharper laughs, and tells him that there is a little trick about the box by means of which he has won money, drinks and cigars. He then takes it in his hand, secretly unlocks it, and holding it out toward the dupe, presses on the end and tells him to try again to open it. Of course, the box being unlocked, the slide swings easily. The victim believes that the secret of opening lies in pressing on the end, and is confirmed in this belief by making repeated trials. At this juncture, upon receiving a preconcerted signal, the confederate approaches and asks for a chew of tobacco. The first confidence man hands the box to his partner, who professes to be unable to open it. “Why,” exclaims sharper number one, “this gentleman can open it easily enough.” The confederate offers to bet that he cannot. The money is produced and the stakes placed in the dupe’s hands. The latter is given the box, and, it being unlocked, opens it without difficulty. The money is then handed to the owner, and the second sharper remarks that if the gentleman can open it he can. The box is then locked by its owner, before he hands it over to his confederate. The latter makes an attempt to swing the lid, and pretending that he is unable to turn it (although he well knows the secret of its mechanism), offers to bet $100, or any sum which it is thought that the dupe may be induced to wager, that the stranger cannot open it either. The “sucker,” feeling confident that he has “a sure thing,” accepts the bet, stakes his money, placing it in the hands of sharper number one, and is given the box, which has been securely locked. When he attempts to turn the cover by pressing on the end as before, he finds it absolutely impossible to move it. Of course, the second confidence man claims the stakes, which are promptly paid him by his confederate.
“KNIFE.”
This device for swindling is similar, as regards the method of its operation, to the game of the “tobacco box.”
The fraud is perpetrated in substantially the same way, and the trick consists of the use of a secret mechanism in each which so effectually prevents the opening of either of them that the dupe is put at the mercy of the sharpers.
One of the modes of fleecing a “sucker” by this means (and the same method is sometimes employed with the “tobacco box”) is to instruct him in the mode of opening the device in question under any and all circumstances. After he has thoroughly learned the whole secret of the contrivance, a confederate opportunely happens along, and after some conversation, in the course of which the particular device is produced and discussed, offers to bet that he can open it, at the first trial. The greenhorn accepts the wager and puts up his money. The second sharper, who has been posing as an entirely unsophisticated individual, takes the contrivance in his hands and, knowing the secret through which it may be worked, opens it without any difficulty, whereupon he claims and receives the stakes.
“PADLOCK” AND “SAFE.”
In some of its features these devices resemble the “tobacco box” and “knife.” The mode of working the cheat, however is somewhat different. Both the “padlock” and “safe” open with a lock, the operation of which is explained to the proposed dupe. After the latter believes that he thoroughly understands the entire scheme, and is willing to lend himself to the perpetration of a fraud upon someone else, a confederate conveniently appears. A bet is soon arranged between the sharper and the “sucker,” and the money placed in the hands of the man who has produced the device and explained its construction to the victim. The greenhorn, after putting up his money, proceeds to demonstrate how easily he can open the lock. The fraud consists in the substitution (or ringing in, as gamblers term it), to a different lock or safe, which is handed to the dupe instead of the one first shown him, and which he finds himself utterly unable to open for the exceedingly satisfactory reason that although the keyhole is there, the contrivance contains no lock whatever. Having failed to perform what he undertook to do, he is promptly declared to have lost his wager, and the stakes are handed over to the confidence man who has laid the wager against him.
I was once engaged in fleecing the unwary by means of one of these padlocks at Little Rock, Arkansas. Another gambler was using the same trick at the same place. He had in tow, as an intended victim, a “manufactured sucker,” a man I had previously instructed in the trick, and to whom I had given a padlock precisely similar to the one which was being used by the other confidence man. At the proper moment, the supposed “sucker” substituted the latter for the one handed him by the other sharper. As a matter of course, when he undertook to unlock the one which I had given him, he was able to do so without any difficulty. My rival in business was undoubtedly immensely surprised, but paid the greenhorn the amount of his winnings without question. I do not pretend to say that I was actuated on this occasion by any philanthropic motives. My act was influenced only by a desire to get the better of a man who prided himself on being so astute at working confidence games that no one could impose upon him.
“QUARTER UNDER FOOT.”
This swindling trick can rarely be played except for small sums. It is usually practiced at saloons, and requires the co-operation of a confederate. One of them first enters the resort, and, after patronizing the bar, stands around after the manner of ordinary customers. At the proper moment, the accomplice enters, feigning drunkenness. He accosts his confederate—the one who first entered the drinking place—and offers to throw dice with him to see which of the two shall pay for the liquid refreshments for all present. Some conversation ensues, in the course of which the second sharper, after drawing some money from his pocket, contrives to drop a quarter on the floor. Assuming an air of drunken braggadocio, he offers to bet that no one in the room can take the quarter from under his foot, which he places directly upon the coin. Sharper number one begins to “chaff” him, and the apparently intoxicated individual, staggering to and fro, moves his foot off of the coin. As he momentarily turns his head, the confederate lifts the money from the floor and places it in his own pocket. When his accomplice again turns around, he tells him that he is exceedingly drunk, but that he will bet them there is no quarter under his foot at all. The “sucker” meanwhile stands by, an interested spectator, and an appeal to his greed for money usually induces him to make a bet with the man whom he believes to be drunk, on an issue which he considers to be a certainty in his favor. The money having been placed, the second sharper at once drops the appearance of intoxication, and drawing off his boot shows a quarter between his stocking and the inner sole. The terms of the wager having been that there was no coin “under his foot,” he has technically won, and the stakes—which are always held by the confederate—are handed over to him and the pair of scoundrels leave the premises at the earliest convenient moment.
THE “SHOT GUN.”
This is a trick which can be played only upon individuals who are pretty nearly destitute of all sense. All that is necessary for its accomplishment, after such a “mark” has been found, is the co-operation of two confederates and a single barrel shot-gun. Inside the latter are placed two separate charges of shot, so arranged that one may be drawn from the gun without disturbing the load underneath. One of the two confidence men contrives to form the acquaintance of the proposed dupe, and after pointing out to him his confederate suggests that they withdraw the charge from the weapon and then offer to bet the individual whom he has pointed out that he (the confederate) cannot hit the victim’s hat at the first fire. The countryman usually falls in with the suggestion and the wager is soon arranged, the upper charge having been withdrawn by the confidence man in the presence of his dupe. The latter hangs up his hat and the confederate takes the gun. Of course, the under charge still remaining in the barrel, the hat is riddled with shot at the first fire and the “sucker” discovers that he has been gulled when it is too late for him to recover his money.
This is not always a safe game to attempt. I myself once came near being lynched by a crowd who were excited by the vociferous remonstrances of my dupe. I compromised the affair by returning him his money and buying him a new hat, after which I was only too happy to depart from the locality with a whole skin.
“GIVE-AWAY.”
This is a confidence game, the origin of the name of which may be readily understood by any one who will take the trouble to read the following explanation of the way in which the trick is operated. It is always worked by a man driving a horse and buggy, who ordinarily selects a street corner, where two crowded thoroughfares cross, and who depends for success upon the co-operation of “cappers,” or confederates. The operator represents himself as the agent of some fictitious jewelry manufacturing concern—perhaps the “Milton” Gold Co. He informs his auditors that it is his intention to present each and all of them with a gift, his object being to introduce to public notice the wares of the company whose agent he is. He requests those who wish to receive presents to take their stand, in line, near the buggy, and not leave the spot until the gifts shall have been distributed. His first move is to scatter a handful of small coin—nickles or dimes—among the crowd, which are, of course, eagerly gathered up and the attention of the spectators is riveted upon a man who appears to be crazy. He then asks if there is any one in the crowd who will give him ninety cents for a dollar. Of course, a confederate promptly offers him that sum, and he thereupon at once proposes to sell it to any one who will pay him seventy-five cents; the seventy-five cents he offers to sell for a half a dollar; the fifty cents for a quarter, and so on. He next produces a quantity of collar- buttons, which he says are made of “Milton” gold, and worth a dollar each, but which he is willing to dispose of at twenty-five cents apiece, in order to introduce his wares. He also wishes customers to remain in line and hold up their hands with the collar-button exposed, in order that they may receive the twenty-five cents which he intends to give each and all of them. When he has a line of sufficient length before him, he hands to each one, in rotation, as he exhibits his purchase, a silver quarter, to which he not infrequently adds a dime, with the request that they will spend the latter sum in drinking his health.
He next produces jewelry to which he attaches a higher value, such as chains, rings or lockets. His next move is to offer for sale watches at, say, $15, $20, or $25 each. By this time he has aroused the enthusiasm of the crowd to a high pitch. They are wondering what is going to be his next move, and it is by no means difficult to find buyers for all the watches which the confidence man dares to offer. Each purchaser is informed that he will receive a liberal rebate, and the money pours in upon the man in the buggy in a continuous stream. As soon as he has obtained all that he thinks possible to be gathered in from the crowd before him, he puts the money in his pocket, whips up his horse, and drives away, leaving the bewildered spectators to mourn the credulity which induced them to part with their ready cash.
Sometimes the playing of this game is attended with more or less personal risk, and I have myself known operators of this description narrowly to escape lynching.
“FIVE CARDS.”
This is a device of confidence men, which is often successfully worked, but never for large stakes. Two confederates are necessary to its successful operation. Five business cards, the character of which is immaterial, are taken by one of the sharpers, who exhibits them to his intended victim. The swindler informs his dupe that it is his intention to “beat” a man whom he points out for the drinks or cigars. The individual designated is, of course, a confederate of the sharper. The latter shows the “sucker” the five cards—which always bear different inscriptions—and making a mark with a pencil on one of them, tells him that the trick consists in inducing the supposed greenhorn to bet with the “sucker” that the latter cannot select a certain card, naming the marked one, from the five cards when shuffled and exposed, backs upward. The dupe assents to the proposal, and the “capper,” after making this trifling bet, draws the wrong card, whereupon he liquidates the bills for refreshments for the crowd. The confederate then offers to wager a sum of money that the “sucker” cannot again pick out the card in question. The dupe, not perceiving the snare set for him, accepts the proffered wager, and the cards are again shuffled. This time, however, his pretended friend reverses the ends of the cards, exposing a mark precisely similar to the one which the victim has seen before, but placed upon another card. The poor fool, influenced by a desire to obtain an unfair advantage over a man whom he regards as an easy prey, eagerly points out the card which bears the private mark similar to that shown him before. Of course he loses, and the stakes are handed over to the confederate of the original swindler.
I have said that this trick is usually played only for small stakes, but I have myself won $125 thereby from a single victim at one venture.
“SHELL GAME.”
In some of its salient features this game resembles “three card monte,” which has been already described. It is essentially a confidence game, and although very old and already frequently exposed, scores of confidence men annually reap a rich harvest from the credulity and cupidity of dupes.
The only implements necessary are three hollow shells and a small rubber ball, about the size of a buckshot. Halves of English walnut shells are the ones commonly employed, although any hollow hemispheres will answer; sometimes operators use halves of potatoes scooped out. The simplicity of the apparatus enables the “shell” man to carry his outfit with him in his vest pocket wherever he may go, and he is accordingly able to ply his vocation at any spot where he may be able to gather a crowd.
A “capper” is an indispensable accessory. As soon as the operator has taken up his position and is ready to commence operations, the confederate mingles with the crowd. The man with the shells places them upon some flat surface and produces the ball, which he places first under one and then another of the three hemispheres. He does this rapidly, and by alternating the position of the ball is able to confuse the spectators as to its precise location. The “capper,” after watching him for a few moments, offers to bet that he can tell under which shell the ball lies. Of course the wager is accepted, and frequently several bets are made, the confederate winning and losing indifferently.
The confidence men are well aware that after they shall have victimized a “sucker,” the fraudulent nature of their maneuvers will be so apparent that it will be imperatively necessary for them to “move on;” therefore, the first object which they have in view is to ascertain the individual in the crowd, who is sufficiently gullible to serve as a dupe, who may have the largest amount of money in his pocket. To acquire this knowledge, the operator, after rolling the ball, places one of the shells over it in such a way that the edge of the latter shall be slightly raised, thus affording a plain view of the ball underneath. He then offers to bet any man in the crowd $100 that he cannot tell under which of the three cups the ball lies. The spectators, each and all, being able to see precisely where it is, those who have money reach for their pockets, believing that they will be able to secure an unfair advantage and bet with certainty. Of course, the “shell” man and the “capper” are now thoroughly informed as to which of the crowd have money, which they are willing to wager.
The confederate next approaches the individual whose location is thus rendered easy and begins to converse with him, at the same time feigning to be much excited. It is not, however, the intention of either of the two confederates that any such bet shall be made. Accordingly, the “capper” calls out to his accomplice that he does not wish to win his money unfairly, and that one of the shells is propped upon the ball. Confidence man number one looks down, as though he were glad to have his attention called to the fact, and taking the ball between his fingers begins rolling it again. After he has placed it under one of the shells, he renews his proposition to bet. At this point he makes some excuse for turning away his head. The “capper” thereupon raises the shell under which the ball is lying, and shows the latter to the dupe. As the operator again turns around and faces the crowd, his confederate offers to bet five or ten dollars that he can designate the location of the ball. “No,” says the accomplice, “I will not accept so small a bet. I want to wager fifty or one hundred dollars.” Sometimes even a larger sum is named, the amount depending upon the estimated size of the victim’s pocket book and the extent of his credulity. The “capper,” who appears to be in a state of great excitement, urges the dupe to accept the offer, and bet on the shell under which he has shown him the ball. At the same time, he hands him five or ten dollars, with which to complete the amount of his wager. The “sucker” usually assents, and the money is placed in the hands of the operator. The dupe then raises the shell under which he has seen the ball, when lo, it is not there. The reason is simple. The “capper,” when he raised the shell in question, removed the ball, which, owing to its small size and to its being hollow and of soft rubber, he is able easily to conceal between his fingers. Of course, the victim loses the amount of his stake.
The “capper” then professes great indignation at his stupidity, and tells him that he raised the wrong shell. To prove the truth of his words, he raises the one next to it, and exposes a ball, which he (the confederate) at the same moment dropped from between his fingers. It not infrequently happens, that the victim is satisfied that he himself made a mistake, and can be induced to make another venture. I have myself known the same individual to be so utterly devoid of sense as to lose money through this device four or five times in succession.
Another method of inducing “suckers” to wager their money at this game is known among confidence men as the “blow-off.” In this case, the confederate lifts the shell and removes the ball, at the moment when the operator averts his eyes. The confederate then offers to bet that the ball is not under any of the shells, and the greenhorn is induced to lay a wager by means of the same tactics which have been already described. Of course, the “shell” man shows a ball underneath one of the hemispheres and the dupe is declared to have lost. The ball which is shown, however, is one which either he himself or his confederate placed there at the moment of raising the cup.
One of the best known “shell men” in the country for many years, was “Jim” Miner, better known as “Umbrella Jim,” who was fond of introducing his games by singing the following doggerel:
“A little fun, just now and then Is relished by the best of men. If you have nerve, you may have plenty; Five, draws you ten, and ten, draws twenty. Attention giv’n, I’ll show to you, How umbrella hides the peek-a-boo. Select your shell, the one you choose; If right, you win, if not, you lose; The game itself is lots of fun, Jim’s chances, though, are two to one; And I tell you your chance is slim To win a prize from ‘Umbrella Jim.’”
“DOLLAR STORE” OR “DROP CASE.”
This is an old game, but none the less successful because of its antiquity. Wherever cupidity and ignorance are found together, there this ancient device takes root and flourishes.
The outfit required is a wooden case, holding one hundred or more envelopes. Most of them contain blank cards, though inside a few are placed tickets bearing numbers. Near this case stands a show case containing a glittering array of prizes, including watches, chains, jewelry, silverware and money. The verdant speculator who is allured by this dazzling display pays a dollar for an opportunity of acquiring title to a portion of it.
Having paid his money, he is permitted to draw an envelope from the case, which he proceeds to examine. If it contains a blank card, of course he has lost. If it contains a card bearing a number, the proprietor of the case compares the number with the list and informs the purchaser whether or not he has drawn a prize. As a matter of course, there are a few comparatively valueless prizes, the winning of which is left to mere chance, although a majority of the numbered tickets do not call for any prize whatever.
The most money making feature of the scheme is worked by the aid of a “capper,” or confederate. One of these individuals saunters up to the case at a moment when he sees there a person whom he considers likely to prove a “soft mark.” The confederate and the intended victim look over the envelopes together listlessly, and the proprietor invites them each to draw one “just for fun.” The “capper” opens his envelope, and finding that he has drawn a blank remarks, “that is just my luck; I never drew a prize yet, and don’t believe that you have one in your whole outfit.” The proprietor professes much righteous indignation that his integrity should be thus assailed, and, to prove his good faith, he says: “I’ll tell you what I’ll do; I’ll make a special prize of one thousand dollars out of one of those numbers which you two gentlemen have just drawn and give you a chance to win it for five hundred dollars.” The “capper” laughs, and hands him the card which he has drawn, which is usually numbered “eleven.” The operator replaces it in the envelope and lets down the back of the show-case, in order to enter a special prize on his list. As he does so, he slips the envelope containing the ticket marked “eleven” into a little secret pocket, from which at the same time he draws another envelope holding a ticket marked “forty-four.” He then places this envelope, together with the one held by the “sucker,” in the box, in such a way that the edge of one of them rises a little above the rest. Both the “capper” and the greenhorn perceive this circumstance and the latter supposes it to have been the result of accident. The “capper” then draws the envelope whose corner is raised and the dupe takes the one next to it. The proprietor asks his confederate to advance his money. The latter replies that he has not more than fifteen or twenty dollars with him. “Well,” answers the operator, “put up that amount, and if you have drawn number eleven, I will pay you an amount equal to your stake.” The “capper” hands over his money, and on looking in his envelope finds that he has drawn a blank. Simulating deep chagrin, he curses his “luck.” The proprietor at this moment conveniently turns his head, and his confederate, snatching the envelope from the hand of the dupe, hastily raises the flap, pulls out a small portion of the ticket within, thus showing the tops of figure forty-four, which leads the greenhorn to believe that he has drawn the lucky eleven. This, in gamblers’ parlance, is called “giving a flash.” In ninety-nine cases out of every hundred, the cupidity of the “sucker” is aroused, and in the firm confidence that he has a “sure thing,” he pays over all the money which he has, in the hope of winning a like amount. Until the money has been paid, he is not permitted to examine his ticket. When, having paid his cash, with trembling hands he opens the envelope, he discovers that instead of the magic “eleven” he has drawn “forty-four,” having been misled by the resemblance between the upper ends of the figures “four” and “one,” shown him in the momentary glance which the “capper” gave him of the card. Of course, he is utterly without redress, and has to bear his loss with such degree of equanimity as he may be able to command.
Strange as it may appear, it is a fact that persons are found who are fools enough to be caught by this trick three times in succession. It is from the majority of such “suckers” as these that the proprietors reap a golden harvest. A man at Council Bluffs stood at the case and bought ticket after ticket until he had dropped six thousand dollars into the coffers of the scoundrels who were manipulating the device.
This game is most successfully worked by the aid of “ropers,”—by which term is meant confederates who allure, or “steer,” victims into the booth or room in which the trick is being operated. The devices resorted to by these “steerers” are numerous and ingenious. Sometimes the dupe is induced to visit the place by means of an offer to sell him a piece of cloth worth two dollars per yard for forty cents; sometimes he is shown a sample of choice tea, which he is told he can purchase at a ridiculously low price. When the greenhorn has been brought in front of the ticket case with the adjacent array of prizes, it is usually an easy matter to induce him to speculate. The “ropers” are paid a commission of forty-five per cent. on all winnings which are made from the men whom they bring in, and I have myself received commissions for this sort of work amounting to more than three hundred dollars in a single day.
MINOR CONFIDENCE GAMES.
Among the petty schemes to which professional sharpers have resort is one known as “betting on weight.” A single illustration, drawn from my own experience, may serve to show to the unsuspecting reader precisely the way in which this petty scheme is carried out.
The incident which I am about to relate happened at Hot Springs, Arkansas, where I had been playing poker—of course on the principles of the “skin” gamblers—in connection with a partner. We had succeeded in fleecing a “sucker” out of a considerable sum of money. He was moody over the loss of his cash, and we believed that he was disposed to be slightly suspicious. In order to disabuse his mind of any such idea, my partner accompanied him down the street, condoling with him as to his losses. My accomplice suggested to him that he might possibly “get even” with me by venturing a wager on some chance subject. “That man, Quinn,” he said, “is ready to bet on anything; he would even bet on spitting at a mark or the weight of a stone,” pointing to a rock which lay in the street. As though struck by a sudden inspiration, he suggested, “Suppose we weigh that rock and bet on a certainty. That is the only chance which we will ever have to get our money back.” The greenhorn assented, and the weight of the stone was carefully and accurately ascertained. The next morning, having been fully posted by my confederate, I walked down the street and met my partner and the dupe in company. After cordially greeting them, I asked if either of them wished to bet upon any chance whatever. After some little badinage, the “sucker” offered to bet as to the weight of the stone which he and my partner had caused to be carefully weighed the day previous. Of course I assented and the bet was made. Very much to our surprise the prospective victim had only $87 in his pocket, but this he cheerfully staked. The stone was weighed and my guess proved to be the exact weight of the rock. The reason was, that between the moment when my partner suggested the scheme to the dupe and the time the stone was weighed, we had caused to be chipped off a section, whose weight we knew exactly. The greenhorn, on this occasion, “kicked” violently and insisted upon having the stone reweighed. We found it convenient to have recourse to the scales of a Junk dealer who had been previously “fixed” for the occasion and who had officiated as “weigher” the night before. “Oh,” said the descendent of Abraham, “I din’d know vat you shentlemen’s means, I had as many as doo scales; von vat I buy mit and de odder as I sells py. I vays dit mid by separate times on each scale. Vat were you shentlemen’s want nohow?” This argument proved conclusive and the “sucker” submitted to the loss of his $87 without further protest.
THE GRANDMOTHER TRICK.
This is a very simple trick to play, after the operator has acquired the necessary degree of manual dexterity. Its success depends primarily upon sleight of hand, and secondarily upon the assistance of a confederate. In fact, the trick itself is so simple that gamblers who enjoy any standing in the “profession” rarely resort to it until they find themselves in a position where money is absolutely indispensable. Under such circumstances, blacklegs,—even those of a better class—never hesitate to resort to the grossest and most contemptible species of fraud. When one of these gentry sees that he has but one “sawbuck” remaining in his pocket, there is no device too contemptible for him to employ with a view of replenishing his pocket book.
The method of playing this trick is as follows: Two aces are selected and shown to the prospective victim. They are then placed together, the pack cut, and the two cards selected are placed upon the top of one of the piles. At this moment the confidence man—apparently by chance—turns his head. It is easy to invent a pretext. A coughing fit, a sneeze, a slight noise made by a confederate—any one of these, or a score of other excuses will afford the “capper,” (whose assistance is indispensable) an opportunity to perform his part of the scheme which will be explained below. Before the manipulator averts his eyes he says that “if they go in together they must come out together,” which is a self-evident proposition. At the moment when he turns his head the confederate raises one of the aces, and removing a number of cards from the other, turning, places them upon the remaining ace, puts the ace which he has withdrawn in the place of those which he has taken from the second pile. The “sucker” is now thoroughly satisfied that the two aces shown him cannot possibly “come in” to the pack “together.” The operator again turns around and picks up the two piles, leaving the one containing the removed ace upon the top. This latter card he conceals in his hand and commences to draw from the bottom of the pack, turning each card drawn face upward. Of course he knows the card lying directly next to the ace, which is in the middle of the pack. As soon as he sees this he is aware that the next card exposed will be that particular ace. He then repeats the remark, “if they go in together they must come out together,” and offers to bet that the card following this ace, which he shows, is its companion. Naturally, the greenhorn is firmly persuaded that this is impossible, and bets are made as to the happening of this contingency. Usually, the “capper” is exceedingly anxious to bet some trifling wager, perhaps the drinks or cigars. The sharper permits him to win and the same process is again repeated. This time the victim is induced to bet, the stakes being made considerably larger. When the bottom of the pack from which the confidence man has dealt is exposed, it is seen that the lower card is the other ace, the sharper having adroitly passed it from his hand to the bottom of the pack.
While this game is not well adapted to winning large sums, it is a very common thing for men operating it to take $10 or $20 from a dupe, and I have even known as much as $50 to be won through its manipulation.
A brace of blacklegs in San Francisco once swindled an innocent player out of what was to him a considerable sum of money through this means. The victim caused the arrest of the pair, and it is said that when they were brought before the magistrate for trial the court asked them to explain the manner in which the trick had been done, the sharpers having already pleaded guilty. One of them performed the trick for the edification of the court, after which the judge, turning to one of the swindlers, said: “Well, sir, I will give you one year;” and then, turning to the other, added: “I will give you six months. You may go in together, but I’ll show you that you won’t come out together.”
THE “SOAP GAME.”
This is a trick of confidence operators which often proves exceedingly successful in extracting money from the pockets of men who consider themselves fairly well versed in the knowledge of the world. The outfit is very simple, and by no means expensive. A number of small cakes of soap of no particular value are procured, or sometimes soap is bought in bars, which are cut into pieces of the desired size. A quantity of cheap pasteboard boxes, each having a drawer somewhat larger than is the piece of soap which it is to contain, are procured and soap placed inside of them. In order to work the game, a room—usually one opening off the street—is rented. The “soap man” takes his position on a raised platform, and when a crowd has gathered to see what is going on he takes out a cake of cleansing soap, i.e., a preparation for removing grease and similar substances from cloth. He proceeds to expatiate upon its merits, illustrating his remarks by experimental demonstration. If he is a good talker, and intersperses his remarks with a few interesting anecdotes, he succeeds in attracting and keeping the interest of his audience. When he has proceeded far enough in his remarks he informs his listeners that the manufacturers of this wonderful preparation are seeking to introduce it in a somewhat novel way; that they propose to place a given amount of currency in a certain number of boxes together with a cake of soap in each. These boxes, he says, will be thoroughly mixed and every purchaser will be allowed to select any three boxes (the price of which will be $1.00) from the entire number offered. To prove his sincerity and truthfulness he draws from his pocket several bills, of denominations ranging from $1.00 to $20.00, and announces that he will place them inside the boxes in the presence of the crowd. He takes the bills in his hand, one at a time, folds them up carefully, and apparently inserts them in the boxes. Each box, after the bank note has been placed in it, is dropped into a large leather sachel. When he has disposed of all the bills, he takes the sachel in both hands and shakes it, with a view to thoroughly mixing the boxes. He then opens it and offers to allow anyone present to select three boxes on the payment of one dollar. It is the easiest thing in the world to sell the soap, but no legitimate purchaser ever succeeds in obtaining more than a single dollar bill. The reason is that the vendor adroitly “palms” off the bills of larger denominations, substituting therefor dollar bills which he has previously rolled up and which he holds in his hand at the time that he apparently inserts the large bills into the boxes in the presence of the spectators. In other words, when the boxes have been dropped into the sachel and mixed none of them contain a note of a larger denomination than one dollar, the confidence man having still in his possession all of the large bills. When it is remembered that not more than one box in ten contains any money whatever, the chances of drawing a prize are readily seen to be exceedingly small. The buyers, however, believe that they have seen the large bills placed in the boxes before their eyes, and part with their money very readily. It may be easily seen that “cappers” are almost indispensable in this as in so many other confidence games. It is not necessary that any signal should pass between the confederates. The “capper” usually places his three boxes in his pocket as soon as he has purchased them. Some one in the crowd is always certain to ask him to open them. At first he objects, but finally yields to persuasion. He takes out three boxes from his pocket and one of them is always found to contain a large bill. The explanation of his apparent good luck is very simple. When he puts the three boxes in his pocket he had there another one, precisely similar in size and appearance, containing the bank note which he exhibits to the crowd. When he drew three boxes from his pocket, he took the one which he previously placed there together with two of those which he had taken from the bag.
THE FOOT RACE.
This is a confidence game which is one of the most direct outrages ever perpetrated upon an unsuspecting dupe. And yet, like most similar tricks, it can be successfully worked only when the proposed victim is ready to sacrifice his own integrity to his avarice.
Two foot racers act in concert with a third man, who personates the “backer” of one of them. The first racer gains the confidence of the man to be swindled, who must necessarily possess some means. He convinces him by actual ocular demonstration that he is a speedy runner, and one on whom it is safe to lay a wager. This done, confidence man number two makes his appearance, attired very much after the fashion of a tramp. He says that he is anxious to find some one with whom to run a race for money. Naturally, his appearance not being such as to inspire any faith in his ability as a pedestrian, a match is soon arranged with the fleet- footed runner. The newcomer puts up all the money which he has—perhaps some $30 or $40—together with his watch, and the race is run. The tramp is beaten “out of sight.” The latter, apparently considerably chagrined, says that he is glad that his “uncle” (or some other friend, whom he named), was not there, inasmuch as he would have wagered $20,000 upon him. He adds that the mysterious “uncle,” or friend, has a “barrel of money,” and would have been willing to have staked it all upon his success.
The winner of the race thereupon proposes that he bring his “uncle” there, and that another race be arranged, and it will be an easy thing to “beat” his friend out of a large sum of money, which may be divided between the pair. Of course, as the reader has probably already understood, the two racers are confederates. The proposed victim—the man who has been backing the first racer—falls in with the suggestion and urges the mysterious tramp to induce his friend to come. The second sharper, however, professes great reluctance to defraud his “uncle,” and says that he will go to the latter’s farm and go to work. His confederate and the dupe accompany him to the train, the former constantly urging him to consent to the proposed scheme. At the last moment, the simulated virtue of sharper number two vanishes, and he says that he will induce his “uncle” to come down and lay a wager upon his success, provided that his connection with the scheme shall be kept forever a secret.
In due time the tramp returns, accompanied by an individual to personate the moneyed man who is to put up the necessary stakes. Arrangements are made for the race, the bets are made, and at the termination of the contest it is discovered, much to the surprise of the victim who has been backing the winner of the first race that the tramp, who was on that occasion so easily defeated, has won without difficulty. The stakes are paid over to the winners, and the party of scoundrels at once take their departure.
Sometimes the swindlers find it necessary to place a long distance between themselves and their victims. The latter are tolerably certain to discover, without much reflection, the manner in which they have been defrauded, and they are apt to follow up the gang in company with officers of the law. I have known cases where confidence men who have successfully worked this scheme, have been compelled to disgorge the lion’s share of their ill-gotten gains.
“FLIM-FLAM.”
This is another of those bare-faced schemes of fraud which are daily perpetrated upon an unsuspecting public. The method of operation is extremely simple, and it may be that some of the readers of this volume may be able to discover, from the description here given, the manner in which a gross imposition has been practised upon them. The “flim-flam” operator appeals, not to the avarice but to the good nature of his victim.
The favorite localities for playing the trick are fairs, circuses and railroad trains, and—as in the case of a large number of confidence games—large sums are sometimes paid for the “privilege.” The innocent looking news agent or peanut boy is often an adept at practicing this sort of fraud. The accommodating individual whom you see outside of a circus tent, carrying a small valise, from which he produces tickets which he offers for sale is apt to be a “flim-flam” sharper, who pays a percentage of his gains to the proprietors in consideration of being allowed to carry on his practices with immunity.
The game is always worked in substantially the same way. To begin with, the train boy, after selecting his victim, (otherwise termed “mark,”) he approaches him with an offer to sell something—perhaps a book, perhaps candy, possibly fruit. It is of comparatively little consequence whether he buys or not. The next move of the sharper is to ask the proposed dupe to give him a bill of large denomination for several small ones, which he produces. Sometimes he introduces a quantity of small change. After counting the money into the stranger’s hands, the swindler begs him to count it back to him, in order that he may see that it is right. This done, the scoundrel “palms” one of the bills or pieces of money, i.e., secretes it in the palm of his hand, and turns over the cash (apparently intact) to the “sucker,” who, nine times out of ten, puts it into his pocket without looking at it. Men on circus grounds operate in the same way, though generally for larger amounts. Sometimes a bill is folded in the middle, so that each end may count for a separate note of the same value.