Gambling is alarmingly prevalent in the capital of Texas. From the foundation of the city (in 1843) until 1870, Austin was a frontier town, where all the vices incident to places of that sort abounded and flourished, gaming being one of the chief. Since the year last named, while gambling may be said to have increased rather than diminished, it has not been so flagrantly open as in the earlier days of the city’s history. The introduction of “modern improvements” would seem to have stimulated rather than repressed the growth of the vice. The electric lights, which have replaced the “dip” candle of more primitive times, have served to render the “hells” more attractive to the young men who are to shape the destiny of Austin in the future. One of the most deplorable features of the existing situation in that city is the constant growth of the damning practice among the youth. The sons of the most influential and respected families are habitual frequenters of the gaming saloons and are rapidly becoming devotees of the soul-destroying habit.
The resorts are numerous enough and of sufficiently varied character to meet the requirements of all players of whatever class. The respectable (?) houses are three, of which two are devoted to “banking” and “short” games, and one to keno. These establishments are located in the center of the business portion of the city and on one of the principal thoroughfares. They are fully equal, in point of equipment and furnishing, to those which may be found in any Southern city of the same size. Besides these there are four or five “dives” in the lower and more degraded part of town, where “brace,” as distinguished from so-called “square” games, are at the very zenith of that fleeting success which accrues to the “skin” gambler when unmolested by the authorities. In addition to these public resorts, there are several semi-private poker games, nightly running, which are patronized almost exclusively by the upper classes.
With the exception of the keno game, all these houses are open day and night, from the first day of January until midnight on the thirty-first of December in each year. The keno house opens its doors two or three evenings each week, as the demands of its patrons and the prospects of business seem to justify. Saturday night, however, constitutes the great gala festival of this resort. Then it is that the room is crowded almost to suffocation with a motley throng of clerks, mechanics and day-laborers. It is on Saturday night, also, that the “dives” garner their richest harvest. In these dens of iniquity there gather on Saturday night, at certain seasons, the negroes from the cotton fields, whose earnings for an entire season, accumulated at a cost of toil, privation and suffering, which might well appal stouter hearts than theirs, are swept into the coffers of men in comparison with whom the tiger is merciful. These unreflecting children of nature never perceive that they have been victimized. To the last they believe that they have been given an equal chance of winning, and should the shark who had won their last cent offer them five dollars as a gratuity, they would be first and loudest in singing his praises.
In almost all the houses—whatever their class—faro is the game most in favor. In those which revel in the reputation of being “square,” the “chances” (sic) of success sometimes fluctuate, but the preponderance, in the long run, is always in favor of the bank. The “square” element in each instance is a variable quantity. In other words, if a player is reasonably conversant with “fake-boxes,” “strippers,” and all the other subterfuges which are to the professional dealer as his A, B, C, he may hope to be accorded something like an even chance. If, on the other hand, he is susceptible, verdant and gullible, his chances are correspondingly reduced.
A game somewhat similar to faro, known as “Mexican monte,” also flourishes in Austin. Perhaps its popularity is due to the propinquity of the city to the Mexican frontier. Forty-four cards are employed, the nine and ten spots being discarded. “Chips” are “barred,” and the players stake cash or its negotiable equivalent. The bank, too, is exposed, and is placed in the center of the table, and contains from $250 to $500 in silver, arranged in stacks of $20 each. The game is very fascinating, counting its devotees by scores, and a great deal of money is bet on it. The dealer deals from his hand as in poker, and it is supposed to be exceedingly difficult for him to “put up” a game, a belief that adds not a little to its popularity. There are from four to six “monte” games run in the fashionable Austin resorts.
As has been said, the private poker games are patronized almost exclusively by the elite.elite. In the public houses all classes may be found around the table—Americans, of high and low degree, Mexicans, and even Chinese. In fact, poker in Austin may be said to be a “fad,” a “craze.” Even ladies of the highest social standing may be found to whom the terms “ante,” “jack pot” and “bob-tail flush” are as familiar as household words. It is hard to overestimate the deplorable influence which this condition of public morals is exercising upon the young. From playing poker in the parlor to gambling in a “hell” is but a step, and a short one at that; and more than one family in the Texan capital to-day laments the downfall of one of its members through the love of gambling acquired by indulgence in “five-cent ante” under the refined surroundings of the higher circles of social life.
The proprietors of the gambling houses, as well as the dealers therein, are a power at the polls and particularly at municipal elections. In some of the wards they absolutely dictate who shall be councilmen. At every election they use money freely. Sometimes they become candidates themselves, as, for instance, three years ago when one of the proprietors of one of the largest gambling rooms and himself a faro dealer sat among the ten elected law-makers of the city. No policeman or other peace officer dares to enter these haunts without the permission of the proprietors; and even crimes of violence—short of murder—are not regarded as sufficient justification for a raid.
To say that gambling is the city’s curse is to state the situation mildly. Innumerable instances of blighted lives might be mentioned, the fundamental cause for which is to be found in the abandonment of the victims to this vice, pernicious as it is insidious. Within the comparatively short space of four years, five embezzlements by trusted employes have surprised the community. All the culprits were men of previously unblemished reputations. Five young men of the best families, two of them married, have been convicted of forgery and theft during the past two years, and are now serving their time in the penitentiary, all because of the gambling hells in the city. Three of these men held responsible positions. One was clerk of the United States District Court; one was in the postal money order department; another in the money department of the Pacific Express Company; another in the distributing department of the post-office. Young men visiting the city from neighboring towns and from the country are inveigled into the hells by “steerers” and lose large sums. Not long since a young man, a tax collector of an adjoining county, came to the capital to pay taxes due to the State. He was induced to visit one of the first class houses. He was drugged, and in a brace game lost not only his own money, but also that of the State. He returned home and blew out his brains.
It is among the working classes that the gambling mania is working irreparable injury and wrong to innocent women and children. Scores of laboring men, many of them of the better class, waste their earnings on Saturday nights in the keno rooms. Wages are gambled away and women and children go in rags and suffer for the want of food while the gamblers adorn their well-fed, well-dressed persons with diamonds.
There is a law against gambling in Texas, the penalty being a fine of $10 to $100. Three or four times a year the gamblers go into court, plead guilty and pay $10 and costs, amounting to about $37.50, and then continue their games. Two years ago the law was amended by adding imprisonment for from 30 to 60 days for exhibiting or dealing games; but only a few convictions have been had under it, and then the guilty parties were permitted to hire substitutes while the principals returned to their rooms and reopened their games.
In 1849 there was published in Hartford a book entitled, “The History of the Green Family.” It was an expose of the night side (and the worst side) of Hartford life at that time. Its quaint title page describes it as a work “wherein the citizens of Hartford are raked over from Lord’s Hill to Ferry Street.” Incidents, names, dates and localities are mentioned with an attention to detail as surprising as it is pitiless. A vigorous effort was made by the “good people” of the city whose peccadilloes were thus mercilessly exposed to suppress the volume, and at the present time there are only one or two copies in existence. The writer, however, has been permitted to examine one of these, and accorded the privilege of making notes.
Gambling, as a profession, was not at that time carried on to nearly so great an extent as in later years. But the gamester, the blackleg, the men who lived by their wits and fleeced unsophisticated victims were even then known and described. The “Climax,” a locally celebrated gaming house, then flourished on Ferry Street and was kept by “Nels” Hulburt, is mentioned. A bowling alley and a bar were connected with it. All the ordinary games of cards were played, “old sledge” being an especial favorite. “Nels,” or his partner, Weeks, generally took a hand and the “house” did a prosperous business. This resort divided with the Clinton House the patronage of nearly all the players, both professional and occasional, among whom are mentioned Caruthers, a man named Judd, and a confidence operator known as Dan Osburn. “Nels” also had a place on Mulbury Street.
Gambling steadily increased in Hartford, attaining the culmination of its popularity during and just after the war. Names and dates can be obtained only through a long and tedious search through court and police records, but the following general statements are made on the authority of a veteran officer, who for more than a score of years has been connected with the Hartford police. From about 1862 till 1877, gaming ran riot. Houses in which large capital was invested were conducted with scarcely a pretense of secrecy, and the profits of the proprietors were enormous. Almost any one who wanted to “do” the city by night could visit in the course of an evening half a dozen places where roulette was in active operation and twice as many where poker and faro were being played. The famous gambler, Pat Sheedy, was a native of Hartford. A perfect gentleman in manners and dress, yet a most reckless player, he was apparently equally content to win or lose a fortune in an evening. His “management” of John L. Sullivan is fresh in the memory of the public, as is also the story of his large winnings at roulette in a Saratoga resort less than a year ago. He occasionally appears in Hartford, and his goings and comings are duly noted in the local press.
But to return to the history. A single incident will show something of the magnitude of the gaming operations in the sixties and early seventies.
A large fire on Temple Street, almost within a stone’s throw of the Police station, during the winter of 1872, burned out an extensive gamblinggambling establishment. The “lay-outs” for faro and roulette were flung out of the window. All the tables, dice boxes, counters, chips, the roulette wheel, etc., were of the most costly description, The police gathered up the debris, and a conservative estimate affixed the value of the property thus sacrificed at $3,000.
From that time the police were more active. Raids became the rule rather than the exception, especially from 1879 to 1886. Two years ago, one of the last important visits by the officers was made, under supervision of Lieutenant Ryan, on a gaming house on Gold Street, kept by a man named McLean, who originally came from Meriden. He was running an extensive faro bank, with a gambling outfit worth about $600.
Not long afterwards a raid was made by the police upon a Chinese opium joint and gambling house on south Main Street, in the Buckingham block. About a dozen of the celestials were arrested, arraigned and convicted of gambling, and two were found guilty of keeping a gaming house. The game in progress at the time was played with dice and was a peculiar one. The player deposited any amount of money with the dealer, who gave him a receipt therefor. The game then went on until the bettor’s money was exhausted, or until he had won a stipulated amount, when he was at liberty to withdraw. Slips of cardboard were substituted for chips. There were found three Fan-Tan tables and six opium layouts in this place.
Poker has always been and still is played in Hartford; but not to nearly so great an extent at present as it was a few years ago. For years a game was running in the Times building. A dark, heavily mustached man who called himself Dr. Longley, kept the room. The police got after him and he was obliged to leave rather hastily. The game is played largely in what are popularly known as “club rooms.” However, even those are not doing a very brisk business just now. One can also easily get into a game in several of the fashionable billiard and bar rooms, such as “Mattie” Hewins’, or Dwight Mitchell’s on Main Street; or Frank Avary’s on State Street. Probably the heaviest poker playing in Hartford, however, is carried on at the Hartford Club House, on Prospect Street. This is where the older, wealthier and more aristocratic men play. The organization is a rather select one, and its roll of members includes some of the richest and best known men in town. It is in no sense a gambling house, yet at the same time there is a great deal of heavy betting across the social card tables.
So far as is known there is no roulette played in Hartford at present. The police have been too watchful for these gentlemen to prosper and they have sought other fields.
“Policy” is played to a large extent in the city, and seemingly with but little fear of the law. The head-quarters for this form of gambling is in a little room, opening off the side walk on Front Street. Anyone passing can see through the open door, the black-board on which are posted the numbers at every drawing. James Waldron, formerly of New York, a short, thick-set man, about 40 years of age, is at the head of the operations in Hartford. Besides the place on Front Street, he has another on Gold Street, and yet a third on Asylum Street. In the Front Street place is kept a large flat book, in which is recorded every drawing for the entire year. This is open to the inspection of all players who are permitted to trace in its pages the history of any number throughout the year—i. e. ascertain how many drawings have occurred since it last come first, etc. The numbers are received twice a day by cypher dispatches. Apparently everything is “square,” but the chances are enormously against the player. This is the most popular of all games with the colored population. It would seem as though every member of that race in Hartford played policy. There is also a considerable class of superstitious whites who firmly believe in “lucky” numbers. Once in a while some one “strikes” a lucky number, but no considerable amount is ever made.
Charter Oak Park, just outside the city limits, is the scene of the fall race meetings in the grand circuit. Roulette is played on the grounds on these occasions, without the slightest restraint and in full view of the police. The games do an immense business through “race week,” not less than two wheels and five tables were in full blast at a recent meeting.
There is a stock exchange in the city and some speculative operations are carried on, but not to any great extent. Hartford is too near New York to permit of the business being profitable.
On the whole, it may be said, that as compared with fifteen or even ten years ago, there is very little gambling in the city. Professional gamestersgamesters have to “lie low” and keep extremely quiet in Hartford. At the same time, there is, as has been said, considerable poker playing, while probably there are two or three faro banks still in operation. There are no municipal ordinances against gambling, all actions are brought under the State Statutes.
Quebec being a city of only some 60,000 souls, the vice of public gambling has never been able to obtain any very firm foothold. A large amount of money changes hands here every year at games of chance, and amongst the most confirmed gamesters are many of the most prominent citizens. Yet so thoroughly does everybody know his neighbor’s business that no attempt has been made of late years to open and maintain a public gambling resort. Much of the playing for stakes in Quebec takes place in private residences, or in rooms secured for the purpose in the principal hotels and restaurants. In the principal club—the Garrison—gambling of every kind is strictly prohibited and nothing but whist is played.
Banking games are not popular, and faro, roulette and hazard are not played at all. Poker is the prevailing game and of late years, and has taken a strong hold upon the French-Canadian population, who evince an unusual aptitude for it. So long as they have in reserve a fair supply of “chips,” French-Canadian poker players excel at the game of “bluff.” They possess in a remarkable degree the effrontryeffrontry and cool “cheek” necessary to successful poker playing for which they manifest a predilection almost from childhood. Professionals and merchants alike gamble at night at their clubs or at each others residences, and students and clerks, imitating the practices of their employers and elders, assemble for the same purpose in each other’s rooms.other’s rooms. A well-known Canadian politician, confided to the writer that at the early age of ten years he had become so infatuated with poker that he used to steal money from his father’s pockets with which to play. The ruin of numerous bank clerks and others formerly occupying respectable positions in the city, may be distinctly traced to this cause.
The principal center of gambling in Quebec is undoubtedly the “Quebec Whist Club,” an institution occupying comfortable quarters over Rogers’ drug store,—the Medical Hall on Fabrique Street. It has been in existence for nearly twenty years past, but has several times removed its location. There is nothing “professional,” however, about this organization. Its name is, of course, simply a cloak for the real object of its existence. It is controlled on a sort of mutual plan by the resident frequenters of the place, and strangers and visitors are only admitted after introduction by a member. The game almost universally played is poker, and the stakes may be either unlimited or for a limit varying from two to five dollars. The game played here is usually “straight,” in the ordinary acceptation of the term, but the older habitues of the place, some of whom have no other visible means of support, are such adepts at the game, and, in the particular species of mind and character reading so essential to a successful player, that unless struck by a particularly hard strain of bad luck, they seldom rise from the table losers at the game should such a misfortune by any chance overtake them. They know only too well, by long experience, that the winners of their money will quickly return to lose it again.again. There are not wanting those who claim to believe that the more experienced of these frequenters of the “club” never play against each other except as a “blind,” but combine to “raise” strangers out of the game and divide their profits. Many well-to-do business men frequent the club, including newspaper proprietors, importers, wholesale merchants, hotel men, piano dealers and jewelers. Few of these, however, continue to play at the resort for year after year, unless in a very occasional way, for the amount of loss eventually sustained by them would either seriously impair their business standing or compel them to abandon the game until they can again legitimately afford to risk further means in playing it.
The number of men who have been wholly or partially ruined by poker in Quebec is large. An ex-member of parliament, formerly a resident of that city, but at present of Montreal, has lost a fortune at the game, frequently dropping as much as $1,500 a night. The continual harvest reaped by the habitual frequenters of the club above mentioned is maintained by the infusion of new blood through the introduction of new members, who are generally selected from among those who are known to be possessed of some means, and of speculative, if not gaming proclivities. If such are not known to be poker players they are, perhaps, invited to the rooms in the first instance, by a friend, for the nominal purpose of partaking of refreshments, to which may be added the prospect of enjoying a rubber of whist. The excitement, glitter and attraction of the poker tables are counted upon, and generally correctly, to prove a sufficient temptation to green players to risk a few dollars upon a small limit game, “just for amusement.” The downward course of the visitor, like the descent of Avernus, is thenceforward comparatively easy. Half a dozen members of parliament and as many members of the city council have been counted in these apartments at the same time. Quebec does not by any means supply all the victims. A sharp lookout is kept for visitors with money and gambling tendencies, though occasionally the habitues “catch a tartar,” and get “hoist by their own petard,” through occasionally admitting an unknown blackleg. This does not very often happen, however, as may be easily supposed, in view of the long experience of the older members. They are usually careful, moreover, in admitting only men of prominence or of recognized standing in professions, political or commercial circles, or who are personally known to some of the regular members of the club.
Acquaintances of members who may be guests at the hotels are often visited in the evening and invited to the club, and now quite a number of prominent business and professional men and politicians of Montreal and other cities are frequent visitors when in town. Commercial travelers fall an easy prey and have been repeatedly introduced to the rooms by their Quebec customers. From time to time scores of these young men have been ruined here, rendered desperate by their losses, and stranded “high and dry,” after losing all their own available means, and very often a good deal of which was not theirs as well.
One of the worst features of this club is the large amount of drinking that goes on during the games, spirituous liquors being provided in abundance and to be had for the taking.
An immense amount of money has been lost in Quebec on exchange gambling of various kinds. For some few years past, bucket shop gambling has been a popular pastime with people of wealth, and, unfortunately, often many not possessing the necessary means of their own. So far has this business been run into the ground for some time past, however, that many of the bucket shops have been closed in consequence of the small amount of trade offerings, most of their clients having been entirely ruined. Four or five years ago, fully five times as much fictitious and illegitimate business was done on the Quebec Exchange as of real and bona fide transactions. Even now, a good deal of speculation akin to gambling goes on, such as buying and selling,—going long and short on bank and other shares, corn, wheat, pork, oil, etc.,—all on margins. The volume of such business transacted in the city at present is about equal to that of legitimate dealings.
There have been no public gaming houses in Kansas City since 1882, when the Missouri legislature passed a bill commonly known as the “Johnson Law,” from the fact that ex-Governor Charles P. Johnson was its author. This statute made the keeping of a gaming establishment a felony. The effect of the law was to drive the professional gamblers of Kansas City, Mo., into the adjoining burg of Kansas City, Kas., where they remained unmolested until a comparatively recent date.
The town on the west bank of the river soon became the recognized “haven” for members of the fraternity. The faro banks were clustered together just a few steps across the State line, where they received a liberal patronage from the residents of the Missouri town, who had become as it were, thoroughly saturated with the instincts and habits of the gamester.
The proprietors of the packing houses objected to the location of such establishments within the precincts of their business, because of the convenience of such locations to their employes, who constituted a considerable proportion of the patrons of these “hells.” Among those who remonstrated were the representatives of Armour & Co., who were quick to perceive the disastrous effects which the running of the game was producing upon their business interest. For some years a bitter fight was waged upon this issue. It soon, however, became apparent that the gamblers exercised a controlling influence upon the action of the city and county officers, and the packers abandoned what promised to be a profitless warfare.
The laws of Kansas make the keeping of a gaming house a misdemeanor, and the proprietors were regularly fined—even without the formality of an arrest—a large revenue being thus realized by the city. For many years it was an open secret that the chief of police and prosecuting attorney of Kansas City, Kas., received a regular stipend from the gamblers, the money being paid and accepted in consideration of an uncertain guarantee of immunity.
Public sentiment, however, at length became aroused, and at the municipal election held a few years ago, officers were chosen who were pledged to enforce the laws against gaming.
Before the passage of the Johnson law to which reference has been already made, Kansas City was a veritable Mecca for sporting men. Along in the 70’s—in the palmy days of gambling—when the “wide open,” “everything goes,” policy prevailed there were eleven gaming establishments in the town, all of which were doing a most prosperous business. Stakes were high, and the gain or loss of $10,000 at a single sitting called forth little comment among the sporting fraternity.
The Johnson law, however, gave the signal for a hegira of gamblers to the western side of the State line, and its enforcement on the Missouri side of the border has been so perfect that openly there has not been a card run from a box, or a turn called since its passage.
In the halcyon days of gambling in Kansas City, the place was filled with men who had rapidly acquired fortunes in the mines of Old and New Mexico, and Colorado, and in the raising and herding of cattle on the plains. Such men flocked here to gamble, and the “professionals” from the far west came and made this town their headquarters in consequence of the number of dupes who had gathered here. The “capitalists” who made Kansas City their headquarters were allured thither by the prospects of “beating” the “banks,” the number of which steadily increased by the constant accession to the ranks of the players.
At the time of the exodus of the gamblers across the State line there were eleven establishments in the city, at three of which “brace” games were played. Faro was the favorite, but “poker,” of the “stud” variety, “roulette,” and “chuck-a-luckchuck-a-luck,” were not neglected. About fifty men were employed in these houses, and each “bank” was supposed to possess a “roll” of about $5,000. At times the game ran high, and $2,000 and $3,000 were often won or lost by a single player.
There are now, just across the State line, seven gambling houses, two of them owned by Clayton L. Maltby, one by Frazier & Baughman, one by Cotton & Kennedy, one by Gus Galbaugh, one by Joe. Bassett, and one by Tom Wallace. These houses are all conducted on the “square” principle, and besides faro, have all the “side” games—roulette, hazard, craps, stud and draw poker. The games open at eight o’clock A. M., and often run until daylight the next morning. They are well patronized, and Saturday and Monday nights the rooms are crowded, Saturday and Monday being pay days at the packing houses, manufactories, and other establishments that pay their men weekly. To give the reader an idea of the amount of money these houses have a chance to win, or rather steal, per month, a statement by C. L. Maltby, the principal “banker” of Kansas City may be mentioned. Mr. Maltby has two houses, and is of a calculating and methodical turn. He desired to know exactly what money was exchanged for checks and played against the faro game at one of his houses within a given time. He employed a man to set at the table, from the time the game opened until it closed for the night, and keep an accurate account of the amount paid in for checks. This was kept up for one month, and the grand total amounted to $63,843.75. This money was mainly “changed in” in small amounts, the purchases ranging from $1 to $50, and one individual, at one time, buying $100 worth of checks. Of course Maltby’s game did not win all this money, but the greater part of it found its way into the drawer, and went to swell the bank account of the proprietor.
Among the crowds that throng these rooms you will find the gentleman, the tough, the “Rounder,” and the “Macer.”
The plan pursued by the Kansas City, Kas., authorities to “suppress gambling” is thus described in a daily paper, under date of August 2, 1889:
“Three gambling houses in Kansas City, Kansas, were ‘raided’ by the police last night in the periodical Wyandotte style. The Chief of Police, accompanied by several officers, went to C. Maltby’s place and found thirty or more men gambling. Their names were taken down and the proprietor was required to deposit $10 apiece for his visitors and $100 for himself as security for their appearance in the police court to-day. The police then went away and the gambling was immediately resumed.resumed. At G. F. Frazier’s twenty-six men were playing and the proprietor paid $300 to the officers. This morning Frazier, Galbaugh and Maltby appeared in the police court and were formally fined the amounts they deposited. This is the manner in which gambling houses are, to all intents and purposes, licensed in Kansas City, Kas.”
Although public gaming has been checked in Kansas City, Mo., the amount of private gambling is enormous. At the Midland hotel, the best in the city, where wealthy stock men from the far west make their head-quarters, draw poker is a favorite amusement. It is played, however, with the utmost secrecy, but generally for high stakes. At the rooms of the Kansas City club, and other similar organizations, the same game is indulged in, although the stakes are as a rule comparatively moderate. Perhaps the most deplorable feature of the situation, however, is the alarming extent to which the game of draw poker is played in private houses—even those belonging to the most fashionable and exclusive social circles. It is asserted by those who are competent to speak upon the subject, that the love of play has permeated almost every stratum of society.
Apropos of gambling in Kansas City, the following story of one of the clubs in that place, is told: An Eastern merchant (rumor says that he came from Boston) once found himself a guest at a leading hostelry in that city of dust, hills, and grip cars. Being inclined to play a “little poker,” he inquired of the urbane hotel clerk where he could find a “gentleman’s game.” In due time he was introduced into a private “club room,” where the proclivities of the poker-player might be gratified by a “no limit” game. Of course the frequenters were all “gentlemen;” gentlemen, however, of that peculiarly whole-souled variety who would throw a drowning “sucker” a bar of lead as a life preserver. The man from the “hub” played for several hours, and rose from the table a loser to the amount of about two thousand dollars. He was exceedingly wroth, and was fully persuaded that he had been cheated, although he was not able to tell exactly how it had been done. He discharged this Parthian arrow, however, at the crowd, before taking his departure. “Gentlemen,” said he, as he stood before them, hat in hand, “I was assured that I should find this a ‘gentleman’s’ game. You are all gentlemen, and I know it. I appreciate the way in which I have been treated, I appreciate it thoroughly. I’ve got a few dollars left, and if some one of you will be kind enough to tell me where I can sit in a horse-thief’s game, I believe I’ll go around there.”
Buffalo has not been cursed with such a growth of the gambling mania as have some other cities of similar commercial importance and whose floating population has been so transient and so varied. It has never received the implied sanction of public sentiment, as in New Orleans; the gaming resorts of the city lack the luxurious elegance of some of the gilded hells of New York; nor have the blacklegs ever dominated the municipal government to the same extent as in Chicago. Yet the history of the practice of the vice is not destitute of interest, presenting, as it does, a varied succession of alternating ups and downs.
During the decade between 1850 and 1860, Buffalo was known all over the country as a “tough town.” Situated as it was at the Southern point of the chain of great lakes and being the terminus of the Erie canal, it was the natural rallying point of thousands of men belonging to the “rough and ready” class, from which the dens of those drew a majority of their patrons. In those days it was as little condemned by the easy-going citizens as it was interfered with by the authorities. Along the wharves and at the sailors’sailors’ boarding houses, games of chance constituted the principal pastime, among them “penny-ante” (i. e. poker for small stakes) being a prime favorite. Sometimes higher stakes were wagered, and occasionally a faro “lay-out” was improvised.
At present gambling in Buffalo is trivial when compared with the early days of the city’s history, when the lake traffic was the principal source of its growth and the vast fleet of small craft brought hundreds of sailors from the West to compare experiences with canal boatmen from the East. In those early days, Buffalo was full of sporting men of all classes. It was the chosen rendezvous of prize fighters and its proximity to the Canadian border rendered it attractive to that class which for various causes, did not feel safe on American soil.
Such being the state of affairs it is not surprising that gaming rooms multiplied only too rapidly. To use the expression of an old resident, “faro rooms, keno rooms, poker rooms, and general gaming rooms, were as thick as sand flies, and ran in all their glory, in full blast day and night, without the slightest attempt being made to put the least check on this fascinating occupation by the authorities, many of whom were as deeply interested in it as the professionals themselves.” Fortunes were made and lost in a day at that time. Money was plentiful and wages good, and Buffalo soon acquired an unenviable reputation, which brought hundreds of unwelcome visitors to the city. That notorious highway, Canal Street, was then in the zenith of its prosperity and debauchery ran riot.
It was just before the war that gambling received a new impetus and the “palmy days” of which old gamblers are fond of speaking, were from 1859 to 1866, when the sports held high carnival. The public pulse was at fever heat, and the excitement which pervaded all classes of the community found a vent in seeking the alluring fascination of the green cloth. Buffalo might boast of several professional gamblers, who were then or subsequently became celebrities of various degrees. Gambling houses were numerous and open.
But as the number of railroads centering in the city increased and a better class of people became residents, public sentiment gradually became aroused, and the blacklegs soon found that the political influence which had formed their chief reliance was beginning to wane. Gamblers came to be looked upon as social outcasts, and the hells were vigorously denounced by the press and from the pulpit. Nevertheless the laws respecting public gaming remained unenforced, and rascals continued to fatten upon the credulity of their victims.
In 1866 the first effective blow was struck at the vice, and it proved the first of a series which finally brought about almost the total extermination of gambling in Buffalo. The Niagara frontier police was organized that year, under a State law, and the loud cry of the better element of the community that the law be enforced was at last heeded. All gaming rooms were ordered closed, and those resorts whose proprietors refused or neglected to comply were promptly raided and the offenders punished. As the police perceived that their efforts were endorsed by public opinion and commended by the press, they grew more and more severe, and gambling entered upon a period of rapid and steady decline. The most stubborn resistance encountered by the authorities was during the annual races, when the city was filled with men who “lived by their wits.”
While the Frontier Police, however, did excellent service in the cause of law and order, they appeared to lack the knowledge necessary to enable them to achieve entire success. Besides this drawback the municipal ordinances applicable to gaming were carelessly drawn, and many of the prominent gamblers, through the aid of superior legal advice and the aid of local politicians, were able to evade the penalties meted out to the “smaller fry.”
In 1870, when the Niagara Frontier Police passed out of existence and the Buffalo City Police was organized to replace the constables who had previously done duty, a rigorous policy toward gambling-houses was adopted. Even pool selling at the races was checked, although it was found impossible to put a stop to it altogether, owing to technical imperfections of the law, which afforded loop-holes for escape.
From 1872 to 1878, the city authorities seemed to be determined in their resolutions to suppress the vice. During these half dozen years, the houses were very few; and the proprietors did not dare to openly solicit patronage. The owners were men who enjoyed—for men of that class—a good reputation; that is to say, that as far as a professional blackleg can be “square,” they enjoyed that reputation.
The immediate cause for this renewal of activity on the part of the authorities was to be found in the fact that the gamblers were not only permitting, but even encouraged, young men, clerks, students and even schoolboys to frequent their rooms. Public sentiment was clamorous in its condemnation, and the city government was, in a measure, forced to take the bull by the horns. The practical results of the agitation may be thus summarized: The number of the houses was reduced, only the more respectable professionals were permitted to carry on business; “steerers,” like Othello, found their “occupation gone;” and only avowed gamblers or men who were popularly supposed to be able to lose were permitted to play. In a certain degree, the rooms were under the supervision of the police.
With each change in the city administration, however, came the inauguration of a new policy. Thus, in 1879, the gamblers’ dens were more liberally treated and their business improved, while from 1880 to 1882 the laws were more stringently enforced. In 1883 gambling again enjoyed a “boom,” and for a time threatened to regain its foothold and flourish as in the days of yore. The local government put forth no effort to prevent gaming, and numerous rooms were re-opened. Faro and poker enjoyed a steady patronage, which, however, during the racing season they had to divide with an occasional keno game. The gamblers were encouraged, and openly predicted that gaming was again about to become popular. Public opinion, however, spurred by the perpetration of several embezzlements and minor crimes which were traceable to gambling, brought about a change. Gradually the sporting element found Buffalo a less and less attractive field of operations, until at the present time there is not a faro game in the city, although faro is occasionally dealt outside the city limits at a road resort in the town of Cheektowaga, while gamblers of the “skin” variety are said to hold full sway in the town of Tonawanda, about fourteen miles distant.
Poker is still popular in Buffalo, but the men who were the “shining lights” of the fraternity in former years, have either sought “fresh fields and pastures new,” or retired from business to enjoy life. Of the latter class, however, there are but few.
There is, however, a very considerable amount of gambling yet going on which no effort is made to suppress. In the fashionable club houses into whose sacred precincts no agent of the police would ever think of entering, poker is a favorite pastime, and at times stakes run high. The members of these organizations usually belong to the wealthier classes, merchants and professional men predominating. The presence of unintroduced strangers is not permitted, far less, desired. In consequence, to obtain legal evidence of gambling in these houses is difficult, if not well-nigh impossible.
One case, however, was brought to public notice some years ago, which opened the eyes of the public and confirmed a previous suspicion that all was not known of the inner workings of these club houses. The case referred to was that of a reputed millionaire, a manufacturer and a bank president. So far as could be learned, he did not commence gaming until he had reached mature years, but—as in the case of men who do not commence drinking liquor until after they are 30—the infatuation of the habit seizedseized upon him with irresistible force. He yielded to the allurements and was a nightly visitor at the club rooms. What games were played by which this man was ruined, can be better imagined than described, but his losses were heavy and so frequent that in spite of his almost unlimited wealth, the final crash came which nearly ruined the bank of which he was president, and his clothing business was completely wrecked. He was burdened with an extravagant family; his wife was notorious for her weakness in this respect; his sons and daughters were allowed freedom in money matters which made a terrible drain on his income. He was naturally a generous man, genial in disposition and always ready to excuse the failings of others. His generosity was proverbial, owing perhaps to the general opinion held of his class (Hebrews), who are seldom troubled in this way. He was born in this country and became rich by his own efforts. He was of a nervous disposition, and in conversing with him a close observer would notice quick movements which are peculiar to all gamblers. After his financial ruin he became insane and died a physical and mental wreck.
To mention any other names of men of this class might be to do them an injustice, but there are doubtless fifty or sixty “young bloods” who frequent club-house gaming tables. Who they are, no definite idea could be arrived at without long and constant watching of these houses, and even then the innocent might suffer with the guilty.
The experience of gambling with municipal authorities is outlined above. Public opinion as a whole, always has opposed gambling in Buffalo, and that it flourished was mainly due to the fact that public opinion is slow to exert itself here, and consequently, careless officials, in the past, were not held accountable for their neglect to suppress the evil. It is hard to say if the gamblers have ever been protected through the bribery of the police or other officials, but one thing is certain that in thethe history of gambling, money has never been demanded from gamblers by officials, except in two or three alleged instances; proof of which, however, was never forthcoming.