NEVER A LOCAL AFFAIR.
In addition to these features—which certainly those responsible for the social, moral and material welfare of the community do not seem to realize—it is to be remembered that when the race-meeting has closed, when the principal thieves with their robber retainers have departed for the scene of their next activity, and good people heave a sigh of relief that their boys or their clerks or their students are now no longer in danger of this temptation, their deadly influence still remains. While the races, for instance, are progressing in St. Louis, the pool-rooms, the billiard rooms and saloons, by use of the telegraph, continue to keep alive the taint of turf gambling, to keep the temptation to our youth ever present, and to make easy for all, the deadly descent to Avernus. Here, too, the work of the skin gambler, the jackal of his tribe, is made particularly easy. Fraternities of these fragrant personalities are organized, who between the different cities keep each other “posted” on the true tips on races, and give the very latest and most reliable information as to the probabilities of each race. The dupe bets upon the regular “blackboard” reports; the scoundrel upon a dead certainty. The robber rejoices in his good fortune; the victim curses his “bad luck,” perhaps, but has no suspicion that he has not had an even chance upon the board.
POOL-ROOM HABITUES.
If any young man, or old man for that matter, who is in the least degree fastidious upon the point of keeping decent company, will but get some one acquainted with the character of pool-room assemblies, or take the trouble to exercise judgment for himself, he will learn or perceive that which will make him take himself speedily away. Here all the proper distinctions of society are violated, and the lawyer or doctor, lost by his infatuation to self-respect, may be observed taking “pointers” from a ragged and ill-smelling stable-boy. The banker, with the cashier of his competitor, are jostling with a frowsy bootblack; the business man discusses the board with the pickpocket; the thief and gambler is everywhere. The odor of state prison associations is upon many. The pimp, the bummer, the thug, the midnight housebreaker and the daylight lawbreaker, all mingle in the throng with the representatives of business probity and youthful innocence—with the prop and stay of one family, and with the hope and pride of another household. If it were not for the fascination that centers upon the betting board and renders decency oblivious to its shameful surroundings, no man of sense, with a spark of manhood or self respect about him, could, for a moment endure the contamination of surroundings so degrading. The scene is one of the most repulsive that any pure mind could conceive. It is the monstrous anomaly presented of the vesture of life with warp of virtue and woof of vice.
FEATURES PECULIAR TO THE TRACK.
While many of the evil influences which are organized in the pool-room to defraud, deceive and destroy, are common to the race-track, yet the latter possesses nefarious peculiarities whose features ought to be well scanned, and therefore carefully avoided. At the race track, while the vile types of character which infest the pool-room are to some extent visible, they have not the same freedom of communication nor familiarity with the visitor to the track as is the case in the pool-room. In the pure outer air they shrink from intrusion upon respectability, and are content to flock by themselves. Here it is, the well-dressed thief, the polite and polished tout, the sanctimonious sharper, and the keen and experienced shark, who carry on the operation of fleecing the victims of turf rapacity are to be found. The scene in itself is far from repulsive, as is the case with the pool-room. On the contrary, it is a kaleidoscopic view of human society of every decent grade seen in its most attractive form. Costly equipages, daintily dressed fair ladies, bright colors, the beauty of flowers and the fragrance of delicate perfume; men, each one dressed, like McGinty, in his best suit of clothes, moving hither and thither in constant bustle, flutter and excitement, the busy hum of multitudes of voices and the general and exhilarating impression of life, movement and animation, combine to give the race-course attractions that are apt to obscure its deadly menace to honor, honesty and morality. Looking beneath this fair exterior, however, we find a very charnel house, reeking foul with infamy and fraud.
THE LADY GAMBLER.
Here we may observe the lady of fashion in her costly equipage stopping to despatch her coachman for a card, and to take instructions for a tip. Of course he gets the tip, for he knows where to go for it. He and the tout are pals, and after the lady shall have lost every one of her eager and confident ventures and leaves the ground with pocket-book light but disappointment heavy in her heart, we may get a glimpse at the decorous coachee as he smiles softly to himself, and thinks upon the liberal portion of his mistress’ money he will have to divide with the tout in the evening. Ladies who visit the race-track to bet are carefully “spotted;” their servants are suborned, and they become the very easiest and silliest victims that fall to the lot of the “fancy.”
THE CONFIDENTIAL STAKE-HOLDER.
A common swindle in the crowd at the pool-seller’s stand at the track is the eager and excited young man who is victimized by a brace of sharpers. They have watched him and sized him up; they recognize when he is ripe enough to pick and then dexterously perform the operation of gathering him in. “Bet two to one on Susie G.,” cries Mr. Verdant Green, after a short argument with his elbow neighbor. “I’ll take you,” retorts the other, counting out his bills, “we’ll put the money into the hands of this gentleman here.” Benevolent-looking rascal, who has been abstractedly looking the other way, is appealed to and consents to be the depository of the wagers. The race is on; excitement becomes intense; everybody is straining eyes upon the flying horses. Not so the confidential stake-holder and his friend. They have gone from the gaze of Mr. Verdant Green—“though lost to sight, to memory dear.” If they could be found ten minutes later they might be discovered in the act of dividing an easily earned “swag.” This kind of swindle is as old as the flood. But all do not read the newspapers, and, as the gams say, “there’s a sucker born every minute.” That is a cardinal doctrine with them, and they ought to believe in it firmly, for does not their experience seem to prove it? No one, however, who has read this book, whether he read newspapers or not, will be liable to be deceived by this simple fraud.