These three girls certainly were a crack-a-jack trio. You can't find their likes nowadays. Even in my time most of the girls I knew did not amount to anything. They generally married, or did worse. There were few legitimate grafters among them. Since I have been back this time I have seen a great many of the old picks and night-workers I used to know. They tell the same story. There are no Molls now who can compare with Big Lena, Blonde Mamie, and Sheenie Annie. Times are bad, anyway.
After my experience in the Tombs I rose very rapidly in the world of graft, and distanced my old companions. Zack, the lad with whom I had touched my first Moll, soon seemed very tame to me. I fell away from him because he continued to eat bolivers (cookies), patronize the free baths, and stole horse-blankets and other trivial things when he could not get "leathers." He was not fast enough for me. Zack "got there," nevertheless, and for little or nothing, for several years later I met him in State's prison. He told me he was going to Colorado on his release. I again met him in prison on my second bit. He was then going to Chicago. On my third hit I ran up against the same old jail-bird, but this time his destination was Boston. To-day he is still in prison.
As I fell away from the softies I naturally joined hands with more ambitious grafters, and with those with brains and with good connections in the upper world. As a lad of from fifteen to eighteen I associated with several boys who are now famous politicians in this city, and "on the level," as that phrase is usually meant. Jack Lawrence was a well-educated boy, and high up as far as his family was concerned. His father and brothers held good political positions, and it was only a taste for booze and for less genteel grafting that held Jack back. As a boy of sixteen or seventeen he was the trusted messenger of a well-known Republican politician, named J. I. D. One of Jacks pals became a Federal Judge, and another, Mr. D——, who was never a grafter, is at present a city magistrate in New York.
While Jack was working for J. I. D., the politician, he was arrested several times. Once he abstracted a large amount of money from the vest pocket of a broker as he was standing by the old Herald building. He was nailed, and sent word to his employer, the politician, who went to police headquarters, highly indignant at the arrest of his trusted messenger. He easily convinced the broker and the magistrate that Jack was innocent; and as far as the Republican politician's business was concerned, Jack was honest, for J. I. D. trusted him, and Jack never deceived him. There are some thieves who will not "touch" those who place confidence in them, and Jack was one of them.
After he was released, the following conversation, which Jack related to me, took place between him and the politician, in the latter's office.
"How was it?" the Big One said, "that you happened to get your fingers into that man's pocket?"
Jack gave the "innocent con."
"None of that," said J. I. D., who was a wise guy, "I know you have a habit of taking small change from strangers' pockets."
Jack then came off his perch and gave his patron a lesson in the art of throwing the mit (dipping). At this the politician grinned, and remarked: "You will either become a reputable politician, for you have the requisite character, or you will die young."
Jack was feared, hated and envied by the other young fellows in J. I. D.'s office, for as he was such a thorough rascal, he was a great favorite with those high up. But he never got J. I. D.'s full confidence until after he was tested in the following way. One day the politician put his gold watch on a table in his office. Jack saw it, picked it up and put it in the Big One's drawer. The latter entered the room, saw that the watch was gone, and said: "I forgot my watch. I must have left it home."