The seven curses of London

by James Greenwood

All the while, however, it is to be feared that the sporting newspaper of the present day reveals the existence of really more mischief, more substantial immorality and rascality than ever appeared in their pages before. As a quarter of a century since pugilism was the main feature with the sporting press, now it is horse-racing; not for its sake, but for the convenient peg it affords to hang a bet on. It may be safely asserted that among Londoners not one in five hundred could mention the chief qualities a racer should possess; but this goes for nothing; or perhaps it might be said that it goes for everything. It is each man’s faith in the ignorance of his neighbour, and his high respect for his own sagacity and his “good luck,” wherein resides the secret of the horse-betting mania at the present time afflicting the nation.

As the reader will have remarked, so rapidly has the disease in question spread during the past few years that Government has at last thought fit to interpose the saving arm of the law between the victim and the victimiser. Numerous as are the sporting papers, and to the last degree accommodating in acting as mediums of communication between the ignorant people who stand in need of horsey counsel and the “knowing ones” of the turf who, for a small consideration, are ever ready to give it, it was discovered by certain bold schemers that a yet wider field of operation was as yet uncultivated. To be sure, what these bold adventurers meditated was contrary to law, and of that they were well aware, and at first acted on the careful Scotch maxim of not putting out their hand farther than at a short notice they could draw it back again. Success, however, made them audacious. Either the law slept, or else it indolently saw what they were up to and winked, till at last, growing each week more courageous, the new gambling idea, that took the name of “Spec,” became of gigantic dimensions.

Throughout lower London, and the shady portions of its suburbs, the window of almost every public-house and beer-shop was spotted with some notice of these “Specs.” There were dozens of them. There were the “Deptford Spec,” and the “Lambeth Spec,” and the “Great Northern Spec,” and the “Derby Spec;” but they all meant one and the same thing—a lottery, conducted on principles more or less honest, the prize to be awarded according to the performances of certain racehorses. All on a sudden, however, the officers of the law swooped down on the gambling band, and carried them, bag and baggage, before a magistrate to answer for their delinquency.

At the examination of the first batch at Bow-street, as well as at their trial, much curious information was elicited. It appeared that the originator of the scheme lived at Deptford, and that he had pursued it for so long as six or seven years.

The drawings were on Saturday nights, when the great majority of the working-people had received their wages, and when, it having been noised abroad that these lotteries were going on, they were likely to attend and to expend their money in the purchase of such of the tickets as had not been sold already.

If all the tickets were not sold, a portion of each prize was deducted, and the holders of prizes were paid in proportion to the number of tickets that were sold; and, as it was impossible to know what number of tickets had actually been sold, it could not be determined whether the distribution had or had not been carried out with fairness, or how much had been deducted to pay for expenses, and to afford a profit to the promoters of the concern. Several cabloads of tickets, result-sheets, &c. were seized at the residences of the managers of the “spec.”

There were numerous “partners” in the firm, and they were frequently at the chief’s residence, and were instrumental in carrying out the lotteries. One or other was always present at the drawing of the numbers and at the distribution of the prizes. One partner was a stationer in the Strand, and at his shop were sold the tickets for these lotteries, and also what are termed the “result-sheets,” which were sold at one penny each, and each of which contained the results of a “draw,” setting forth which of the ticket-holders had been fortunate enough to draw the several prizes, and also advertising the next “spec” or lottery. Each of these “specs” related to a particular race, and the tickets were substantially alike. Each had on the top the words “Deptford Spec,” with a number and letter, and in the corner the name of a race, as “Newmarket Handicap Sweep,” “Liverpool Grand National Steeplechase.” In each of these there were 60,000 subscribers, and in that for the Thousand Guineas 75,000. The prizes varied in proportion; but in one they were £500 for the first horse, £300 for the second, and £150 for the third. Among the starters was to be divided £500, and among the non-starters £600. There were also 200 prizes of £1, and 300 prizes of 10s. It was stated on the tickets that the prizes would go with the stakes, and that the result-sheets would be published on the Monday after the draw. There was also a stipulation that, in the event of any dispute arising, it should be referred to the editors of the Era, Bell’s Life, and the Sporting Times, and the decision of the majority to be binding. If the numbers were not filled up, the prizes were to be reduced in proportion; with some other details. There was no printer’s name to the tickets or result-sheets.

The detective police-officers, in whose hands the getting-up of evidence for the prosecution had been intrusted, proved that, after they purchased their tickets, they went up the stairs in a public-house about a quarter to seven o’clock. They went into the club-room, where about sixty or seventy persons had assembled, and where the managers of the lotteries were selling tickets. The witness purchased one, and paid a shilling for it. It had the same form as the others, and the draw was to be held that night. Someone got up and said (reading from several sheets of paper in his hand), “4,200 tickets not sold;” this he repeated twice. He then proceeded to read from the papers the numbers of the tickets unsold. The reading occupied about half-an-hour. After the numbers were read out, they commenced to undo a small bundle of tickets, which they placed upon the table. They fetched down some more bundles similar to the first, and continued undoing them until they had undone about a bushel. The tickets were all numbered. They then proceeded to place all the tickets in a large wheel-of-fortune, after mixing them up well with a quantity of sand to prevent their sticking together. The wheel was a kind of barrel revolving on axles, with a hole for the hand. One of the managers asked if any gentleman had got a sporting paper. No one answered, so he produced one himself; he (witness) believed the Sporting Life. He said, “Will any gentleman read the names of the horses for the Grand National?” The names of the horses were then read out by those at the table, while tickets were drawn for each till all the horses were called. The tickets were then put down on the table, and the defendants proceeded to undo another packet. They undid a heap, about a quarter the bulk of the first lot. They put these into another wheel-of-fortune. Having done so, two boys about fourteen or fifteen years old came into the room, and after divesting themselves of their jackets and tucking up their sleeves, each went to the wheels, which were turned by some of the persons in the room. One of the managers called out the numbers of the tickets and the name of the horse to each prize.

It need only be mentioned, in proof of the popularity enjoyed by these “specs,” that within a fortnight afterwards a similar scene was enacted at the same public-house. A detective went to the Bedford Arms, where he heard that a distribution of prizes was to be made. He went into the club-room. The managers were there, with about forty prizeholders. A person produced a ticket and handed it to one of the directors, who, after examining it, said “All right,” and paid the money—405l.—which consisted of cheques, notes, and gold. The holder of the prize got 405l. for a 500l. prize, it being supposed all the tickets were not sold, and a reduction was made in proportion. About forty prizes were given away in this manner during the evening. After the prizes were drawn, each person was asked to put something in the bowl for the two boys.

The prisoners were committed for trial, but were lucky enough to escape punishment. For years they had been defying the law, and feathering their nests on the strength of the silly confidence reposed in them by the thousands of dupes who ran after their precious “specs;” and the sentence of the judge was in effect no more severe than this—it bade them beware how they so committed themselves for the future. Of course the released lottery-agents promised that they would beware, and doubtless they will. Without being called on to do so, they even volunteered an act of noble generosity. As before stated, the police had found in their possession and seized a large sum of money—fourteen hundred pounds. This the good gentlemen of the lottery suggested might be distributed amongst the charities of that parish their leader honoured with his residence, and with the Recorder’s sanction, and amid the murmured plaudits of a crowded court, the suggestion was adopted. The oddest part of the business was, however, that the benevolent gentlemen gave away what didn’t belong to them, the fourteen hundred pounds representing the many thousand shillings the believers in “specs” had intrusted to their keeping. However, everybody appeared to think that the discharged “speculators” had behaved honourably, not to say nobly, and there the case ended.