The Autobiography of a Thief

by Hutchins Hapgood

About this time I was introduced to a peculiar character in the shape of a few yards of calico. It was at Carey's place on Bleecker Street that I first saw this good-looking youth of nineteen, dressed in the latest fashion. His graft was to masquerade as a young girl, and for a long time Short-Haired Liz, as we called him, was very successful. He sought employment as maid in well-to-do families and then made away with the valuables. One day he was nailed, with twenty charges against him. He was convicted on the testimony of a chamber-maid, with whom, in his character of lady's maid, he had had a lark. Mr. R——, who was still influential, did his best for him, for his fall-money was big, and he only got a light sentence.

I heard one day that an old pal of mine, Dannie, had just been hanged. It gave me a shock, for I had often grafted with him when we were kids. As there were no orchards on the streets of the east side, Dannie and I used to go to the improvised gardens that lined the side-walks outside of the green grocers' shops, and make away with strawberries, apples, and other fruits. By nature I suppose boys are no more bothered with consciences than are police officials. Dannie rose rapidly in the world of graft and became very dangerous to society. As a grafter he had one great fault. He had a very quick temper. He was sensitive, and lacking in self-control, but he was one of the cleverest guns that ever came from the Sixth Ward, a place noted for good grafters of both sexes. He married a respectable girl and had a nice home, for he had enough money to keep the police from bothering him. If it had not been for his bad temper, he might be grafting yet. He would shoot at a moment's notice, and the toughest of the hard element were afraid of him. One time he had it in for an old pal of his named Paddy. For a while Paddy kept away from the saloon on Pell Street where Dannie hung out, but Paddy, too, had nerve, and one day he turned up at his old resort, the Drum, as it was called. He saw Dannie and fired a cannister at him. Dannie hovered between life and death for months, and had four operations performed on him without anæsthetics. After he got well Dannie grafted on the Albany boats. One night he and his pals tried to get a Moll's leather, but some Western guns who were on the boat were looking for provender themselves and nicked the Moll. Dannie accused them of taking his property, and, as they would not give up, pulled his pistol. One of the Western guns jumped overboard, and the others gave up the stuff. Dannie was right, for that boat belonged to him and his mob.

A few months after that event Dannie shot a mug, who had called him a rat, and went to San Antonio, Texas, where he secured a position as bartender. One day a well-known gambler who had the reputation of being a ten time killer began to shoot around in the saloon for fun. Dannie joined in the game, shot the gambler twice, and beat the latter's two pals into insensibility. A few months afterwards he came to New York with twenty-seven hundred dollars in his pocket; and he enjoyed himself, for it is only the New York City born who love the town. But he had better have stayed away, for in New York he met his mortal enemy, Splitty, who had more brains than Dannie, and was running a "short while house" in the famous gas house block in Hester Street. One night Dannie was on a drunk, spending his twenty-seven hundred dollars, and riding around in a carriage with two girls. Beeze, one of the Molls, proposed to go around to Splitty's. They went, and Beeze and the other girl were admitted, but Dannie was shut out. He fired three shots through the door. One took effect in Beeze's breast fatally, and Dannie was arrested.

While in Tombs waiting trial he was well treated by the warden, who was leader of the Sixth Ward, and who used to permit Dannie's wife to visit him every night. At the same time Dannie became the victim of one of the worst cases of treachery I ever heard of. An old pal of his, George, released from Sing Sing, went to visit him in the Tombs. Dannie advised George not to graft again until he got his health back, suggesting that meanwhile he eat his meals at his (Dannie's) mother's house. The old lady had saved up about two hundred and fifty dollars, which she intended to use to secure a new trial for her son. George heard of the money and put up a scheme to get it. He told the old woman that Dannie was going to escape from the Tombs that night and that he had sent word to his mother to give him (George) the money. The villain then took the money and skipped the city, thus completing the dirtiest piece of work I ever heard of. "Good Heavens!" said Dannie, when he heard of it. "A study in black!" Dannie, poor fellow, was convicted, and, after a few months, hanged.

Another tragedy in Manhattan was the end of Johnny T——. I had been out only a short time after my second bit, when I met him on the Bowery. He was just back, too, and complained that all his old pals had lost their nerve. Whenever he made a proposition they seemed to see twenty years staring them in the face. So he had to work alone. His graft was burglary, outside of New York. He lived in the city, and the police gave him protection for outside work. He was married and had two fine boys. One day a copper, contrary to the agreement, tried to arrest him for a touch made in Mt. Vernon. Johnny was indignant, and wouldn't stand for a collar under the circumstances. He put four shots into the flyman's body. He was taken to the station-house, and afterwards tried for murder. The boys collected a lot of money and tried to save him, but he had the whole police force against him and in a few months he was hanged.

A friend of mine, L——, had a similar fate. He was a prime favorite with the lasses of easy virtue, and was liked by the guns. One night when I met him in a joint where grafters hung out, he displayed a split lip, given him by the biggest bully in the ward. It was all about a girl named Mollie whom the bully was stuck on and on whose account he was jealous of L——, whom all the women ran after. A few nights later, L—— met the bully who had beaten him and said he had a present for him. "Is it something good?" asked the gorilla. "Yes," said L——, and shot him dead. L—— tried to escape, but was caught in Pittsburg, and extradited to New York, where he was convicted partly on the testimony of the girl, whom I used to call Unlimited Mollie. She was lucky, for instead of drifting to the Bowery, she married a policeman, who was promoted. L—— was sentenced to be hanged, but he died game.

I think kleptomania is not a very common kind of insanity, at least in my experience. Most grafters steal for professional reasons, but Big Sammy was surely a kleptomaniac. He had no reason to graft, for he was well up in the world. When I first met he was standard bearer at a ball given in his honor, and had a club named after him. He had been gin-mill keeper, hotel proprietor, and theatrical manager, and had saved money. He had, too, a real romance in his life, for he loved one of the best choir singers in the city. She was beautiful and loved him, and they were married. She did not know that Sammy was a gun; indeed, he was not a gun, really, for he only used to graft for excitement, or at least, what business there was in it was only a side issue. After their honeymoon Sammy started a hotel at a sea-side resort, where the better class of guns, gamblers and vaudeville artists spent their vacation. That fall he went on a tour with his wife who sang in many of the churches in the State. Sammy was a good box-man. He never used puff (nitro-glycerine), but with a few tools opened the safes artistically. His pal Mike went ahead of the touring couple, and when Sammy arrived at a town he was tipped off to where the goods lay. When he heard that the police were putting it on to the hoboes, he thought it was a good joke and kept it up. He wanted the police to gather in all the black sheep they could, for he was sorry they were so incompetent.

The loving couple returned to New York, and were happy for a long time. But finally the wife fell ill, and under-went an operation, from the effects of which she never recovered. She became despondent and jealous of Sammy, though he was one of the best husbands I have known. One morning he had an engagement to meet an old pal who was coming home from stir. He was late, and starting off in a hurry, neglected to kiss his wife good-bye. She called after him that he had forgotten something. Sammy, feeling for his money and cannister, shouted back that everything was all right, and rushed off. His wife must have been in an unusually gloomy state of mind, for she took poison, and when Sammy returned, she was dead. It drove Sammy almost insane, for he loved her always. A few days afterwards he jumped out for excitement and forgetfulness and was so reckless when he tried to make a touch that he was shot almost to pieces. He recovered, however, and was sent to prison for a long term of years. He is out again, and is now regularly on the turf. During his bit in stir all his legitimate enterprizes went wrong, and when he was released, there was nothing for it but to become a professional grafter.

During the seven months which elapsed between the end of my second, and the beginning of my third term, I was not a very energetic grafter, as I have said. Graft was good at the time and a man with the least bit of nerve could make out fairly well. My nerve had not deserted me, but somehow I was less ambitious. Philosophy and opium and bad health do not incline a man to a hustling life. The excitement of stealing had left me, and now it was merely business. I therefore did a great deal of swindling, which does not stir the imagination, but can be done more easily than other forms of graft. I was known at headquarters as a dip, and so I was not likely to be suspected for occasional swindling, just as I had been able to do house-work now and then without a fall.

I did some profitable swindling at this time, with an Italian named Velica for a pal. It was a kind of graft which brought quick returns without much of an outlay. For several weeks we fleeced Velica's country men brown. I impersonated a contractor and Velica was my foreman. We put advertisements in the newspapers for men to work on the railroads or for labor on new buildings. We hired desk room in a cheap office, where we awaited our suckers, who came in droves, though only one could see us at a time. Our tools for this graft were pen, paper, and ink; and one new shovel and pick-axe. Velica did the talking and I took down the man's name and address. Velica told his countryman that we could not afford to run the risk of disappointing the railroad, so that he would have to leave a deposit as a guarantee that he would turn up in the morning. If he left a deposit of a few dollars we put his name on the new pick and shovel, which we told him he could come for in the morning. If we induced many to give us deposits, using the same pick and shovel as a bribe, we made a lot of money during the day. The next morning we would change our office and vary our form of advertisement.