The “Missing Word Competition”: its rise and fall.

Lotteries being universally known to be illegal in England and Scotland, no attempt has been made to revive them in their old form, since their illegality has been definitely pronounced; but very many ways of evasion of the law have been practised, sometimes with much temporary success. Sometimes they developed into downright swindles, and then they cured themselves; and this has been the fate of most of the so-called “competitions.” But the greatest of these modern-times lotteries, and one which permeated the land throughout its length and breadth, was the “Missing Word Competition” which was so rife in 1892.

It was eagerly taken up by several weekly periodicals, but, undoubtedly, the favourite competition was in Pearson’s Weekly. For some time the public did not “catch on” to the scheme, and for the first nine months their interest in it was comparatively languid, the sum subscribed by the one shilling entrance fees only averaging about £500 weekly; but, during the next three months (fifty-three competitions being issued in all), the competition waxed fierce, and when it was stopped, the proprietor of the magazine was in receipt, for the competition in the number for December 10, 1892, of nearly £24,000, which represented nearly half a million entries. No one doubts but that these amounts were fairly divided amongst the winners, the proprietor of the paper recouping himself by the enormously increased circulation of his periodical. In the case of Pearson’s Weekly, its normal circulation was about 350,000 a week; at the end of 1892 it stood at 1,050,000 copies. Nor was this all. The correct solution of the puzzle was not at once inserted in Pearson’s Weekly. Oh dear, no! if you were impatient to know your fate, you had to buy next Thursday’s Society News, which thus got a fictitious circulation, to the great benefit of the conjoint proprietor’s pocket. And it became of such importance, that as much as £350 a week was paid in salaries to persons employed in dealing in various ways with the selections sent in.

It was, for a time, a veritable furore, which seized in its grip all sorts and conditions of folk, the old as well as the young, and formed such a topic of conversation as to be absolutely sickening. The modus operandi is best described by the paper itself. Let us take an extract from Pearson’s Weekly of December 10, 1892, the competition therein contained being the one over which there was much litigation.

“The correct word in this competition will be found in the number of Society News, which is on sale at all newsagents first thing on the morning of Thursday, December 15. Full particulars will appear, as usual, in Pearson’s Weekly of the following Saturday.

“Missing Word Competition. No. 53.

“On the third column of page 331 is a paragraph about an experiment with camphor. The last word is omitted. Readers who wish to enter this competition must cut out the coupon below, fill in this word, together with their names and addresses, and send it with a postal order for one shilling, to reach us, at latest, by first post on Monday, December 12, the envelope marked 'Word.’

“The correct word is in the hands of Mr. H. S. Linley, chartered accountant, 124, Chancery Lane, London, W.C., enclosed in an envelope, sealed with our seal. His statement with regard to it will appear with the result of the competition in the issue for the week after next. The whole of the money received in entrance fees will be divided amongst those competitors who fill in the word correctly. It is hoped that competitions will be posted to Temple Chambers, London, E.C., as early in the week as possible. Members of the same family may compete, if they like, and any one may send as many attempts as he or she chooses, provided that each is accompanied by a separate coupon and a sufficient remittance. All postal orders must be made payable to Pearson’s Weekly. Coupons also appear in Society News and the Companion, which entitle purchasers to enter for Pearson’s Weekly Missing Word Competition, on payment of the usual shilling.”

In the place indicated (third column of p. 301) we find the following paragraph, at the end of which the “missing word” has to be interpolated: “Here is a little experiment which is well worth showing to your friends. Procure a bit of ordinary camphor, and from it break off tiny pieces. Drop these upon the surface of some pure water, contained in any kind of vessel, and they will immediately begin to rotate and move about, sometimes continuing to do this for several hours. The water must be quite clean; for if a drop of oil, or any grease, is in it, the experiment will not work. But, provided that nothing of this sort gets in, the little pieces of camphor will twirl about in a manner that is extremely ——.” No fewer than 472,574 coupons were sent in for this competition, accompanied by remittances to the value of £23,628 14s.

No very large sums were made at these competitions (except on one occasion). Sometimes the successful competitor did not realize much more than a sovereign; at other times, judging from the experience of one gentleman, they might get £8 9s. 3d., as in the “awkward” competition, or £13 4s. 6d., as in the following, when the missing word was “evolved”:—

“Most of our readers will have noticed the fortune-telling automatic machine in the railway stations and at street corners, and will remember that the face of it is covered with various coloured triangles. It is, in short, a handy roulette table, and certain people have taken to dropping a penny in the slot, and betting upon what coloured triangle the finger of the gipsy girl will rest. It would seem as though a new form of gambling had been ——.”

Although the sums won were not large, in comparison with the lotteries of old, yet the price of the ticket—one shilling only—was not ruinous, and, as there were no limits to the number of coupons, any one might send as many as he or she pleased, and if you plunged a bit, and were lucky, the prize represented a sum well worth having. This was the plan adopted by one person (Mr. Andrew Tuer), who won the largest sum on record; but it must be confessed that, previous to this stroke of luck, he was from £150 to £200 “to the bad.”

The competition was in Pearson’s Weekly for December 3, 1892, and finished up with a paragraph which dealt with the capacity of a brick for absorbing water, and engendering consequences which, if undetected, might be ——. The correct missing word was “awkward,” on which the record-breaker had plunged seventy-five times, and as each correct answer was entitled to a prize of £8 9s. 3d., he netted a total of £634 13s. 9d.—not altogether an unmixed blessing, as he states in a letter to the Star of December 21, 1892. “As soon as my success became known, letters poured in from everywhere—letters of abuse, letters from persons wanting to beg and borrow, and foolish letters—all from women these—asking me for the 'tip’ for next week.”

While these competitions were in their infancy, no one heeded them much; but when they spread as a great social cancer—when every one was getting tainted with the fever of speculation, and the principal streets of London were literally strewn with Pearson’s Weekly, not bought to read, but to tear out the coupon page and then throw the rest away—it was felt necessary that something should be done in the matter. At first there was a little difficulty, arising not only in the glorious uncertainty of the law on the matter, but from the fact that most of the periodicals publishing these competitions were printed and published within the precincts of the city of London, and the patres conscripti hesitated to commence litigation of which no man could foresee the issue.

At last one was found outside the sacred pale, and its prosecution was understood to be a test case; and on December 13, 1892, at Bow Street Police Court, before Sir John Bridge, the chief magistrate, Mr. Henry Reichardt, the proprietor, publisher, and editor of Pick-Me-Up, and Messrs. Wertheimer and Lea, the printers, appeared to answer six summonses for alleged infringements of the Lottery Acts. The summonses were: (a) for publishing in a certain paper called Pick-Me-Up a scheme for the sale of chances and shares in a lottery known as “The Missing Word Competition,” contrary to the statute 4 Geo. IV. c. 60, sec. 41; (b) for selling certain chances in a lottery known as the “Pick-Me-Up Missing Word Competition,” contrary to the same Act; (c) for publishing in the said paper a scheme for certain chances in a lottery known as “The Weekly Art Competition,” contrary to the same Act; (d) for the sale of certain chances in such lottery; (e) for keeping open at No. 11, Southampton Buildings, a lottery, namely, drawing by certain lots and coupons in a lottery known as “The Missing Word Competition” of the same paper, contrary to 42 Geo. III. c. 119, sec. 2; and (f) for suffering to be played and drawn, by means of coupons, a lottery called “The Weekly Art Competition,” contrary to the same statute. In this latter competition it was requisite to send in lists of what the competitors thought were the best pictures in a particular issue of the paper in question, with, of course, the inevitable shilling.

The proceedings were taken at the instance of the public prosecutor. The offence was proved, and the defence was that these competitions were no lotteries. The magistrate, however, thought differently, and, in giving his decision, said that if the scheme was one of risking money, or gaining it by chance, then, undoubtedly, it was a lottery. On the other hand, if it was carried out by skill and judgment, it would not be one. The question whether it was chance or judgment must depend upon a proper construction of the facts of the case. With reference to the missing word competition, a good deal was to be said for the contention as to the question of chance or judgment depending on the selection of a particular word, or only of a proper word, which latter would require skill. The defendants did not pretend to say that they called for the selection of the proper word, or the word which would be suitable to complete the sentence. Therefore, on that ground, he thought that this case, as regarded the missing word competition, came within the scope of the Act. With regard to the “Art Competition” the case appeared to be slightly different, as it might be said that the competitors might have to exercise judgment in deciding whether they were artistic or not; but, looking at the whole case, it seemed to him that persons were induced to stake their money upon chance, and he must therefore convict, but should only impose the nominal penalty of a shilling fine upon each summons. An appeal against this decision was talked of, but never acted on.

Now, then, dismay fell upon the other culprits. Mr. Pearson discontinued his competitions, and the money he had in hand was impounded, and paid into the Bank of England for safe custody. Then arose a curious state of things. Of course Mr. Pearson could not claim the money—he had no right to it—nor could it be paid to the winners, because it had been decided to be illegal. No one could keep it, because it was not theirs, nor could it be confiscated, or given, as some suggested, to hospitals and charities. The only remedy seemed to be for some of the prize-winners to enter suits in Chancery against Mr. Pearson for the payment of what they considered their due; and this was done in two instances, which were tried on February 8, 1893, in the High Court of Justice, Chancery Division, before Mr. Justice Stirling, who, at the end of a long and elaborate summing up, thus delivered himself:—

“As regards the defendant Pearson, no imputation is, or can be, made on his good faith and honesty. He appears to have carried through a large number of competitions without any interference, and the abrupt termination of the competition in question was brought about by the criminal proceedings against another person, to which I have already referred. He is in some difficulty, through having destroyed the coupons of the unsuccessful competitors, but no claim is now made to the fund by any person except those represented by the plaintiff, and the defendant Hearn. Under these circumstances, it would seem the best and simpler course that the fund should be returned to the defendant Pearson, who will then be able to defend himself, by means of it, against any legal claims, and to dispose of the surplus in such way as he may deem himself, in honour, bound to apply it. If, however, this course should not commend itself to him, I am willing, in this particular case, and without establishing a precedent, that the fund should remain in Court, whereby there will accrue a benefit, in the first place, to the legal profession, and, ultimately, I hope, to the public, in whose favour it may be fairly expected that there will result, at some date more or less remote, an extinguishment of some portion of the National Debt.”

The finale to this lottery took place on March 27, 1893, when the case of “Matthews v. Pearson” came before Mr. Justice Stirling in Chambers. It was ordered, by consent, that the sum of £3566 4s., paid into Court in this action, being the amount contributed to the missing word competition, No. 7, in Pearson’s Society News, should be paid out to the defendant Pearson, on his undertaking to pay the costs of all parties to the action, as between solicitor and client. It is understood that Mr. Pearson will pursue the same course with reference to this fund as in the previous cases, viz. will pay the prize-winners the amount due to them, less a deduction for costs.

It is said that Mr. Pearson has honourably fulfilled his pledge to the public.

And now to wind up with an anecdote.

It was where two roads bisected, and a matter-of-fact policeman was on the kerb, keeping watch on the four ways.

Then there appeared upon the scene a “Salvation Army Man,” who, after a little time, gathered an audience of two or three girls and boys. To them he addressed the message of salvation, inviting the juveniles to “come and be washed,” etc.; and, at the end of this exordium, he blossomed forth emphatically, emphasizing each paragraph with one fist in the other palm. “He spake the Word, and Peter spoke it” (pause). “And Paul spoke it” (pause), “Have you read the Word?” (pause). “Do you know the Word?” (long pause).

And then came the inevitable policeman who, ungently pushing the preacher on the shoulder, said gruffly, “You get away, young man; you know it ain’t right. We can’t have no 'Missin’ Word Competitions’ 'ere. You know they’re illegal, so just stow it.”