CHAPTER VI.
AT THE SIGN OF CHICORY HALL.
I have several times mentioned "hang-out." Most of these "hang-outs" were ginmills (saloons) of the better class, but the real Bowery Bohemian chose odd spots for his haunts. The most unique resort in this Bohemia of the nether world was at Chicory Hall, where my particular gang had established itself.
It was a basement at the corner of Fourth street and Bowery. Originally a bakeshop, it had been unoccupied for some time, until a coffee merchant rented it to prepare his chicory there. One man constituted the entire working force of the plant, and it so happened that Tom Noseley, the chicory baker, was imbued with sporting proclivities.
Do not let us forget that, at the time, the prize-fighter was a man of consequence to the youths of the East Side. To know a pugilist, to have spoken to him, to have shaken his hand, was an event never to be forgotten.
Tom Noseley was a very young man. In the immediate neighborhood of his basement were many "sporting-houses." Tom Noseley was earning eighteen dollars a week. What is more natural than that one of sporting proclivities should become an enthusiastic patron of "sporting-houses"?
Tom Noseley wanted to number some well-known pugilists among his acquaintances. Several well-known pugilists, I among the number, did not resent his many invitations to drink with him, and, ere long, the dream of Noseley seemed fully realized, for we consented, after much coaxing, to call at his basement for the pleasant task of "rushing the growler."
Our first call at the cellar convinced us of its many attractions. It seemed just the place for an ideal "hang-out." Then, also, there was Tom Noseley's weekly stipend of eighteen dollars a week, which he was willing to spend to the last cent for the "furthering of sport."
Tom Noseley was a hunter of Bowery lions. I have been told that in higher social strata different lions are hunted by different hunters. Still, the species do not differ very much from each other.
Men who had "done" a long term in prison; men who had a reputation for crookedness; men who were known to make their living without having to descend to the ignoble manner of working for it, all these had been fads of Noseley. Then, the sporting spirit of the Bowery flared up with great spluttering, and Noseley, for the nonce, took the poor, shiftless boxers to his heart of hearts.