"No," said Jack, "you left it on the table, and I put it in your desk." A smile spread over the patron's face.
"Jack, I can trust you. I put it there just to test your honesty."
The boy hesitated a moment, then, looking into the man's face, replied; "I know right well you did, for you are a wise guy."
After that J. I. D. trusted Jack even with his love affairs.
As Jack advanced in life he became an expert "gun," and was often nailed, and frequently brought before Magistrate D——, his old friend. He always got the benefit of the doubt. One day he was arraigned before the magistrate, who asked the flyman the nature of the complaint. It was the same as usual—dipping. Jack, of course, was indignant at such an awful accusation, but the magistrate told him to keep still, and, turning to the policeman, asked the culprit's name. When the copper told him, the magistrate exclaimed: "Why, that is not his name. I knew him twenty years ago, and he was a d—— rascal then; but that was not his name."
Jack was shocked at such language from the bench, and swore with such vehemence that he was innocent, that he again got the benefit of the doubt, and was discharged, and this time justly, for he had not made this particular "touch." He was hounded by a copper looking for a reputation. Jack, when he was set free, turned to the magistrate, and said: "Your honor, I thank you, but you only did your duty to an innocent man." The magistrate had a good laugh, and remarked: "Jack, I wouldn't believe you if you swore on a stack of Bibles."
A curious trait in a professional grafter is that, if he is "pinched" for something he did not do, although he has done a hundred other things for which he has never been pinched, he will put up such a wail against the abominable injustice that an honest man accused of the same offense would seem guilty in comparison. The honest man, even if he had the ability of a Philadelphia lawyer, could not do the strong indignation act that is characteristic of the unjustly accused grafter. Old thieves guilty of a thousand crimes will nourish revenge for years against the copper or judge who sends them up to "stir" on a false accusation.
When I was from fifteen to seventeen years old, I met the man who, some think, is now practically leader of Tammany Hall. I will call him Senator Wet Coin. At that time he was a boy eighteen or nineteen and strictly on the level. He knew all the grafters well, but kept off the Rocky Path himself. In those days he "hung out" in an oyster shanty and ran a paper stand. It is said he materially assisted Mr. Pulitzer in making a success of the World, when that paper was started. He never drank, in spite of the name I have given him. In fact, he derived his real nickname from his habit of abstinence. He was the friend of a Bowery girl who is now a well-known actress. She, too, was always on the level in every way; although her brother was a grafter; this case, and that of Senator Wet Coin prove that even in an environment of thieves it is possible to tread the path of virtue. Wet Coin would not even buy a stolen article; and his reward was great. He became captain of his election district, ran for assemblyman, was elected, and got as high a position, with the exception of that of Governor, as is possible in the State; while in the city, probably no man is more powerful.
Senator Wet Coin made no pretensions to virtue; he never claimed to be better than others. But in spite of the accusations against him, he has done far more for the public good than all the professional reformers, religious and other. He took many noted and professional criminals in the prime of their success, gave them positions and by his influence kept them honest ever since. Some of them are high up, even run gin-mills to-day. I met one of them after my second bit, who used to make his thousands. Now he has a salary of eighteen dollars a week and is contented. I had known him in the old days, and he asked:
"What are you doing?"