Mayor Skakspeare was succeeded by Gen. W. H. Bebian, who, so far as gambling was concerned, followed in the footsteps of his predecessor. Following him came Gillette. The latter regularly collected the tax, but instead of devoting it solely to purposes of charity, diverted a portion of it to meeting the exigencies of the political situation. From the fund were defrayed the expenses of entertainments ordered by the council, while it was also used to meet the pay-roll of the mayor’s special police, as well as for other objects of a distinctively political character. This line of action induced scandal, and the circumstance that no account of the disbursement of the fund was rendered, considered in connection with the fact that the almshouse—for which it had been created—was left without income, brought the system into disfavor and disrepute, and a revulsion of public sentiment occurred. Several grand juries presented reports condemning the fund as having been exacted in direct violation of the State constitution and the laws framed thereunder. The result of this agitation of the question was that during the incumbency of Mayor Gillette, the system was abandoned.
Since then, gambling in New Orleans has been conducted under the system of semi-toleration, which prevails in most American cities. The law against “banking games,” was enforced for a few weeks during 1888, when, as has been said, the prosecuting attorney arrested the gamblers and for a short time brought public gaming to an abrupt (though temporary) cessation; but although there were several convictions, the spasm of virtue soon passed; raids came to an end; and matters soon drifted back to their former position.
The law against gambling still adorned the pages of the statute book, but for many years no attempt whatever had been made to enforce it. The police knew the location of every gambling saloon in the city, as did also the district attorney, whose duty it was to enforce the law, but not an indictment was found against any of them.
To-day, there are some thirty gaming resorts in New Orleans, half of which, however, are mainly patronized by negroes. They are visited by the police in a supervisory sort of way, from time to time. When anything wrong is reported, the proprietor is arrested, and in the great majority of cases willingly consents to make good the complainant’s losses rather than to face exposure. If he proves recalcitrant, his house is closed. Only one place was closed in 1889, however, on this ground.
Two years ago, “keno” became the favorite game in New Orleans. It proved especially seductive to youths and those of small means, because of the small stakes required to play it. It proved particularly harmful for this very reason, its patrons being largely drawn from the ranks of those who could not afford to lose anything. The better class of gamblers themselves did not favor it, for the reason that it afforded no chances for the “bank,” which had to content itself with its “percentage.” Nevertheless, the “demand” for this sort of amusement resulted in an abundant supply, and for several blocks on two of the principal streets of the city, the ear of the passing pedestrian was saluted with the cries of “forty-eight,” “sixteen” and “keno,” which were wafted down to the street from the open windows of the keno rooms, which occupied the second floors of nearly every building. The majority of the players were clerks, under 25 years of age, mechanics and laborers; and to losses at keno may be attributed the numerous embezzlements which brought such unenviable notoriety upon New Orleans for several years.
The negroes, sunny children of nature, content if their immediate wants are satisfied, and taking no thought for the future, all gamble—certainly nine in ten of them gamble at the saloons on Dauphin and Franklin Streets, among themselves at “craps” or “chuck-a-luck,” or at “policy,” the latter being the favorite for women. These colored saloons are probably the worst in the world; rude unfurnished rooms, with nothing but gambling tables and chairs in them, lighted by flickering, ill-smelling lamps. Here congregate the roustabouts, longshoremen and deck hands, who drift into New Orleans during “the season,” or when crops are gathered, and here they and their mistresses play until the last dollar of their earnings is spent, and they once more enter upon their toilsome labor. Here, too, all the negro criminals of New Orleans, the colored ex-convicts, who number several thousand sneak thieves, burglars, etc., resort. The negro gambling saloons often prove of service to the police when prosecuting a search for colored criminals. There is no necessity to hunt for them all over the city. The owners of these gambling dens are anxious to be on good terms with the officers of the law, and act as spies for them. If a murderer or a burglar is needed, they are furnished with a description of him, and within a very short time comes the information that “Dago Dick,” or “Big Sam” is at such-and-such a saloon. These dives frequently stand the police in good stead, saving the officers no little trouble in searching for notorious negro criminals.
It cannot be said that, on the whole, the gamblers of New Orleans have made much out of their business. Very few have accumulated money through their original calling, although some have acquired their first start at the card table and have since achieved a competence in other and legitimate pursuits. Probably the most striking illustration of the truth of this statement has been already mentioned in referring to the case of McGrath, who has made a fortune through his stock farm and on the the turf. Another Crescent City sport invested his winnings at the faro table in the hotel business, at which he succeeded even beyond his expectations. Perhaps ten or a dozen in all, who have renounced the green cloth have honestly earned a competence, although a few have grown rich.
Perhaps one reason why gambling has not proved more remunerative[remunerative] since the war is that comparatively few of those engaged in the business at the South, have had the large capital necessary to conduct a thoroughly first-class establishment. Besides this, the gamester is by nature a spendthrift, whose motto is always “easy come, easy go.” His instincts are all arrayed on the side of prodigal expenditure, as against thrift.
At the present time, the houses are under fair control. That is to say, they are not tolerated on the ground floor, minors are not allowed to enter them, and “skin” gambling is perhaps less practiced than in other metropolitan cities. The fraternity complain bitterly of “hard times,” and declare that their business is entirely broken up. Of what are euphoniously characterized as “respectable” houses, there are scarcely half a dozen, and even these reap their richest harvest from strangers, during the carnival season. The local patronage is not profitable.
In 1889, the whirligig of time again elevated Mr. Joseph Shakspeare to the Mayor’s chair. He made no secret of his disposition to return to the system of indirect license which he had himself inaugurated. The council, however, proved less complaisant, and refused either to sanction or to disapprove the plan of the executive. Meanwhile, public sentiment in the city was about equally divided in reference to the question. A very large element of the community was bitterly hostile to countenancing the vice, even indirectly. On the other hand, there were not wanting those who regarded gaming as a necessary evil, which would find its votaries under any and all circumstances, and from the practice of which the city would do well to derive some revenue.