“Why, gentlemen, here is a circular from Mr. Hogan, one of the heaviest operators in this region. He says that he owns fifteen wells, and yet even he is not able to produce his oil for less than five dollars a barrel!”
If the orator had known that it was fifteen barrels of whiskey he was talking about, he probably would not have brought forward this circular by way of an argument.
It was at this period that Bill Casey made his confession of firing Ben’s house, to which reference has already been made. Two weeks afterwards he was burned to death on the Allegheny river.
With a view to enlarge his field of operations, Ben rented his place in Petrolia for fifty dollars a week, to a woman named Nell Robinson. He, himself, went to Greece city, and there established one of the handsomest wine rooms ever seen in the oil regions. It was fitted up on a scale of magnificence which would have done credit to a first-class New York establishment. The bar-room cost nineteen hundred dollars, and was decorated and frescoed in a most elaborate manner. Nothing but the choicest brands of imported wines and liquors, with the best of cigars, were sold. The place was purely a wine room, Ben having become temporarily tired of sporting women.
During the three months which this place remained open, it did a thriving business, and in spite of the heavy outlay, paid a handsome profit.
Having money enough to meet all present wants, and wishing to enjoy himself for a time, Ben closed up his business, and proceeded to Pittsburg. There, after spending a short time in a general round of pleasures, and dropping more money than he could keep track of, Ben one night went into George Leavenworth’s place, and flipped up a twenty-dollar gold piece to decide whether he should go West or to Europe. The coin came down three times in succession in favor of the West, and so Ben set out in that direction in search of pleasure and adventure. He found plenty of both.
In order to break the monotony of his journey, he stopped off at a number of country towns, where he represented himself to be the canvasser for a New York story paper. His plan of proceeding was this: He would enter a farmer’s house and solicit his subscription for the paper. This amounted to five dollars, and included a magnificent chromo, which, of course, was worth double the money. The chromo, however, was only a secondary inducement to subscribe.
“You see,” Ben would say, “we give away every year a piano, which you couldn’t buy for less than seven hundred dollars. This is done for an advertisement, and the lucky person is decided upon by drawing numbers from a wheel in the same manner as a lottery. Now, I can so arrange it that you will draw the piano, but, of course, I shall expect something in return. If you will pay me twenty-five dollars, and speak a good word to all your friends about the paper, I will see that the piano is shipped to you as soon as I get back to New York.”
This generous proposition was, in the majority of cases, readily agreed to. The farmer would accompany Ben to his nearest neighbor, and there use his influence toward obtaining a subscription. Dismissing farmer number one, Ben would proceed to make the same offer to number two, assuring him that he would get the piano by the payment of twenty-five dollars.
This proved a pretty profitable kind of recreation for our hero; but when the farmers assembled in town on the appointed day, and found that the promised piano didn’t arrive, it was, perhaps, well for Ben’s health that he was a good many miles distant from the spot.