Fools of Fortune; or, Gambling and Gamblers

by John Philip Quinn

To illustrate: he may hold in his hand two aces and a queen; these he shows; he then places them in his right hand, in the position above described, and throws them upon the flat surface, faces downward; he then asks some one to bet which is the queen. The queen may have been the middle of the three cards as they were held in his hand, but it by no means follows that it will be the middle of the three cards as they lie upon the table.[table.]

To work the game successfully, at least one and generally two confederates are necessary. It has already been said that the favorite place of operation is the railroad train, and perhaps the reader will gain the best idea of how the trick is done by describing the manner in which these sharpers secure and fleece their victims under these circumstances. The “spieler” is usually attired after the manner of a well-to-do country farmer or stock-raiser. On his head he wears a battered slouch hat, his neck is ornamented with a loosely tied red cotton handkerchief; and his worn trousers are stuffed carelessly into the legs of his cow skin boots. His confederates, who are technically called “cappers,” are dressed after the manner of respectable business men of easy circumstances. It should be remarked, however, that when the precious trio board the train the “spieler” presents a far more fashionable appearance than when dressed for business. He usually carries with him a false shirt bosom, an old overcoat and the slouch hat mentioned above. After he has entered the cars he takes his seat in the rear end of the coach, and the two “cappers” pass through the car looking for some one who promises to be an easy prey, and who is commonly known to the fraternity as a “mark” or a “sucker.” If none is found upon the first car entered, the gang repairs to the next one, the “spieler” taking up his position in the rear as before. As soon as a “mark” is selected, one of the “cappers” takes his seat beside him and raises his hat. At this signal the “spieler” arranges his cotton handkerchief, puts on his disreputable hat, dons his well worn overcoat, and tucks his trousers in his boot legs. The effecting of this transformation scene is known among gamblers as “ringing up.”

The “spieler” goes forward and takes the seat either just before or directly behind his confederate and intended victim. He engages the former in conversation, representing himself as a heavy stock-raiser from the Southwest. He goes on to explain how he has been swindled or “slicked” out of $500 by a “card sharp.” He adds, however, that they failed to get all that he had, and thereupon displays or “flashes” a large roll of money, and slapping his hand upon his side, remarks in a loud tone, that he has $10,000 more in his belt. At this point the confederate, with the air of a man of kindly disposition and one who is familiar with the wickedness of the world, remarks to him that he perceives that he (the “spieler”) has traveled very little, and advises him to avoid displaying money in the presence of strangers. The “spieler” laughs, and says that “he reckons he is able to look after himself.” He adds that he bought the “paste boards” with which he had been cheated from the man who had swindled him, and that he intends to take them home and get his money back by betting with his friends, mentioning, perhaps, by way of illustration, that he means to “win Bill Jones’s mule, and make him walk home the very next night that he comes to see his sister.” His accomplice thereupon asks to see the cards, and they are promptly produced. The “spieler” begins to exhibit his skill and urges the partner to bet. The latter says that he can distinguish the cards readily enough, but does not wish to win the man’s money. After much urging, the “capper” consents to bet and usually wins two wagers as a matter of course. The “spieler” thereupon remarks that he does not care to bet with him any longer, as he is too lucky, and asks the stranger to make a bet. If the latter shows any hesitation, or if, perchance, he expresses some scruples on moral grounds, the “capper” whispers to him that he has a dead certainty of winning and that he had better bet and win, and “teach the fool a lesson,” after which he can return the amount won if he chooses. The “spieler” next throws the cards, and while he turns his head the confederate raises the card and shows the stranger which it is, slightly bending the corner in order that it may be readily recognized.

The victim is now satisfied that he can bet with certainty, and when the “spieler” again picks up the cards to throw them he stakes his wager. The operator, however, with his little finger dexterously flattens out the corner which his accomplice had bent up and bends up the corner of an entirely different card. When the cards are next thrown, the victim selects the one with the bent corner, and is deeply chagrined to discover that it is not the one which he believed it to be.

Sometimes, instead of bending the corner of one of the cards, resort is had to another and equally effective device. While the three cards are lying faces downward, the confederate, with a pencil, makes a mark upon the corner of the winning card. When the “spieler” again turns his head toward the cards, he picks them up and thrusts them into his pocket with the remark, “oh, you fellows wont bet anyway.” In his pocket he has three other cards, duplicates in all respects of those which he has before shown, and on the corner of one of which is a pencil mark precisely similar to the one made by the “capper,” but it is not on the winning card. As he is about to leave, his confederate urges him to remain, saying, “yes we will bet, come back.” The stranger thinks that he recognizes the pencil mark, stakes his money, selects the marked card, finds it is not the winner, and of course loses.

The principal object in having a second confederate[confederate] is to keep off disinterested persons who might endeavor to put the proposed victim on his guard.

Formerly, monte men refused to play for anything except cash; now-a-days, they are willing to accept bank checks, and the third man is found extremely serviceable as an innocent purchaser. If the “sucker” raises a row, and threatens to stop payment of the check, it is a common practice to produce a piece of paper, perhaps a blank check, folded, which is torn up in the victim’s presence. The latter, believing that he has seen his check destroyed, takes no further steps in the matter. It sometimes happens, however, that a victim will say nothing, but at the same time secretly intends to stop the payment of the check. To guard against this, the third man appears upon the scene and with a great show of righteous indignation, or possibly representing himself to be an officer of the law, demands that the “spieler” return the check to the victim. Hot words then pass, and the latter says that if there is going to be such an everlasting fuss made about so small a matter he will tear up the check and have done with it. Thereupon, he produces his paper, which he tears up, as already described, throwing the pieces out of the car window. Of course in either case, the check remains safe in the sharpers’ possession. The second confederate, by his apparently magnanimous and disinterested interference in the victim’s behalf, naturally wins his confidence. He thereupon makes it his business to remain with him until the “spieler” and his remaining accomplice shall have had time to present the check for certification at the bank upon which it was drawn.

It is said, and universally believed by the sporting fraternity, whose belief is based upon actual experience, that the conductor of the train upon which a game such as has been described is successfully practiced always expects and receives a percentage of the winnings. If the trick is perpetrated on a sleeping car, the porter is always given a handsome bonus. The author has himself been told by one of the latter sort of gentry that his fees from this source considerably exceeded his pay from the sleeping car company.

Probably, the king of the monte men was a man known in sporting circles as “Canada Bill.” He was recognized as a general “all around confidence operator,” and so distrustful were those who knew him of appearances which he put forth that on the occasion of his funeral, as the coffin was being lowered into the grave, one of his friends offered to bet $1,000 to $500 that “Bill was not in the box.” The offer found no takers, for the reason, as one of his acquaintances said, “that he had known Bill to squeeze through tighter holes than that.” It was reported some years before his death that he had offered one of the Trunk Lines of Railroad a premium of $25,000 per annum to be allowed to practice confidence games upon its trains without molestation; a condition of the offer being that he would not attempt to victimize any class of passengers except preachers.

One of the most successful schemes for perpetrating this fraud is known as the “send,” so-called because in some of its essential features it is closely allied to the game of “bunko.” In both cases the victim is sent after more money, in order that the harvest of the rascally manipulators may be increased. One of the favorite modes of winning the confidence and money of an intended dupe is as follows: The victim having been selected,—usually a farmer of some wealth,—two of the sharpers drive up to his residence in a buggy, ostensibly with a view to purchasing his farm. They are always well dressed and present the appearance of men of large means. To gain the confidence of the unsuspecting agriculturalist is a comparatively easy matter. He shows them over his place, they express their entire satisfaction, and offer him a sum in cash which is not only far beyond his expectations but also considerably in excess of the actual value of the property. To complete a bargain under such circumstances is an easy matter. The trade is made, and the sharpers invite the farmer to accompany them to the nearest town, where they propose to draw from the bank the cash necessary to complete the transaction. On the way to town, they encounter another man, also riding in a buggy, who engages them in conversation. The stranger represents himself to be the agent of a new scheme of gift distribution, and at once enlists the interest of the “capper,” who is riding with the farmer. The party alight from their buggies and the new-comer introduces the old game of “three card monte.” He invites them, at first, to “try their luck for fun,” and by showing them what large sums they might have won had they been playing for actual stakes, he soon induces them to take a venture. In working this scheme, however, playing cards are seldom used, for the reason that the average country farmer always cherishes a suspicion of the paste boards. Accordingly, some other description of cards is employed.