Queer Luck: Poker Stories from the New York Sun

by David A. Curtis

“Things went on this way for perhaps a couple of years before the smash came, and while some of us were not specially harmed by it, there is no doubt that our club did work serious mischief to at least two of the party. We didn’t know about it until afterward, but it was true that Harry had become so infatuated with cards that he had neglected his business and had lost his situation in the wholesale house, and then, instead of trying to get employment elsewhere, had devoted himself entirely to gambling, and had become a full-fledged professional. None of us had happened to learn of his discharge, and as he said nothing to us about it, we never suspected the truth till we learned it very strangely. He continued meeting with us, as usual, and in our company, at least, he never played anything but a straight game.

“As for George, we did know that he was playing a great deal, aside from his games with us, for he told us about it and we knew to our sorrow that he was particularly unlucky. He had some means, outside of his very good salary, so we didn’t suspect that he was financially involved. We did know, however, that he played in the heaviest games he could get into, and on more than one occasion he traveled two or three hundred miles in order to sit in at some game that he would hear of, where the stakes were likely to be unusually large. The railroad company kept him on the go a good part of the time, so he was able to manage this without really neglecting his work, and if the officials of the road had learned of his gambling habits they either underestimated the importance of them or they valued George’s services very highly, for he was promoted, not once, but two or three times. We therefore had a professional among us without knowing it, and another man who was playing further beyond his limit than we dreamed of, and still our little game went on, as pleasantly and serenely as if we were not drifting into a tragedy.

“One particular summer night we had a full table. Each one of the six was there, and all seemed unusually gay. The game was a good one, too, for the cards ran high and the luck ran from one to the other most delightfully. We started with the usual two-dollar limit, but it was broken two or three times without any remonstrance, so that after a couple of hours we were playing without any limit. Bets of $10 and even $20 were made frequently, and several times there was $100 in a jack-pot before cards were drawn.

“Eli had to go home by a train that went through about 1:30 o’clock, so the consolation pots were played a little before one. We had been playing about four hours then, and the luck had been running against George for half an hour. It was affecting him, too, and instead of waiting for a turn he had been trying to force it, so that he was considerably dipped, and I for one was hoping that he would recoup in one or two pots in the last round. He didn’t, though. On the contrary, he came into each of the first five, standing all the raises before the draw, and drawing to one card, on the chance of getting an accidental hand. It was wretchedly poor play, of course, but he was trying desperately to force the luck.

“On the last deal I thought he had a chance, for he opened the pot for $20. It had gone around for three or four deals, so it was a good pot to start with, and after it was opened it grew rapidly. We all came in, and Harry raised it ten. George went back at him with twenty more, and we all came in.

“On the draw George took two cards, Harry two, and Eli one. The rest of us took three each, but as none of us bettered his pair, we dropped our cards, leaving the three to fight it out. George bet fifty, and Eli, who sat next, raised it fifty. Harry came in and raised it ten. It looked a little queer, but I remembered then that Harry had been playing more moderately than any of the rest of us all the evening. George put up fifty more, and Eli made good. He had filled a small flush, but sitting between two raisers he didn’t care to play too hard on it. Harry raised it ten again, and George showed his excitement plainly.

“‘A hundred better,’ he almost shouted, putting up the money.

“Eli laid his hand on the table, but Harry put up a hundred and ten.

“‘Another hundred,’ said George, now fairly trembling.

“‘Ten more,’ said Harry, as cool as ever.