Lights and Shadows of New York Life

J >> James D. McCabe >> Lights and Shadows of New York Life

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LXV. GAMBLING.

I. FARO BANKS.

In spite of the fact that games of chance for money are prohibited by the
laws of the State of New York, there is no city in the Union in which
they are carried on to a greater extent than in the Metropolis. There
are about 200 gambling houses proper in the city, and from 350 to 400
lottery offices, policy shops, and places where gambling is carried on
with more or less regularity. About 2500 persons are known to the police
as professional gamblers. Some of the establishments are conducted with
great secrecy. Others are carried on with perfect openness, and are as
well known as any place of legitimate business in the city. The police,
for reasons best known to themselves, decline to execute the laws against
them, and they continue their career from year to year without
molestation. There are about twenty of these houses in Broadway,
occupying locations which make them conspicuous to every passer-by. In
the cross streets, within a block of Broadway, there are from twenty-five
to thirty more, and the Bowery and East side streets are full of them.

Ninety-five of the gambling houses of the city are classed as "Faro
Banks." Faro is the principal game, but there are appliances for others.
Faro is emphatically an American game, and is preferred by amateurs
because of its supposed fairness. An experienced gambler, however, does
not need to be told that the game offers as many chances for cheating as
any others that are played. It has attained its highest development in
New York.

The gambling houses of New York are usually divided into three classes:
First and Second Class, and Day Houses. The First-Class Houses are few
in number. There are probably not more than half a dozen in all, if as
many. In these houses the playing is fair--that is, cheating is never
resorted to. The Bank relies upon the chances in its favor, the
"splits," and the superior skill and experience of the dealer. The
first-class houses are located in fashionable side streets leading from
Broadway, and are easy of access. Outwardly they differ in nothing from
the elegant mansions on either side of them, except that the blinds are
closed all day long, and the house has a silent, deserted air. In its
internal arrangements the house is magnificent. The furniture, carpets,
and all its appointments are superb. Choice paintings and works of art
are scattered through the rooms in truly regal profusion. All that money
can do to make the place attractive and luxurious has been done, and as
money can always command taste, the work has been well done.

The servants attached to the place are generally negroes of the better
class. They are well trained, many of them having been brought up as the
_valets_, or butlers of the Southern gentry, and answer better for such
places than whites, inasmuch as they are quiet, uncommunicative,
attentive and respectful. One of these men is always in charge of the
front door, and visitors are admitted with caution, it being highly
desirable to admit only the nominally respectable. The best known houses
are those of Morrissey, in Twenty-fourth street, and Ransom's and
Chamberlain's, in Twenty-fifth street. Chamberlain's is, perhaps, the
most palatial and the best conducted establishment in the country.

[Picture: A FIRST-CLASS GAMBLING HOUSE.]

The house is a magnificent brown-stone mansion, not far from Broadway.
Ascending the broad stone steps, and ringing the bell, the visitor is
ushered into the hall by the man in charge of the door, who is selected
with great care. An attentive colored servant takes his hat and
overcoat, and throws open the door of the drawing rooms. These
apartments are furnished with taste as well as with magnificence. The
carpet is of velvet, and the foot sinks noiselessly into it. The walls
are tinted with delicate shades of lavender, and the ceiling is
exquisitely frescoed. The furniture is of a beautiful design, and is
upholstered in colors which harmonize with the prevailing tint of the
walls and ceiling. The mantels are of Vermont marble, and over each is a
large wall mirror. At each end of the room is a long pier glass, placed
between richly curtained windows. Fine bronzes are scattered about the
room, and in the front parlor are large and well-executed copies of
Dora's "Dante and Virgil in the Frozen Regions of Hell," and "Jephthah's
Daughter." The front parlor is entirely devoted to the reception and
entertainment of guests. The gaming is carried on in the back parlor.

In the rear of the back parlor is the supper room, one of the richest and
most tasteful apartments in the city. A long table, capable of seating
fifty guests, is spread every evening with the finest of linen, plate,
and table-ware. The best the market can afford is spread here every
night. The steward of the establishment is an accomplished member of his
profession, and is invaluable to his employer, who gives him free scope
for the exercise of his talents. There is not a better table in all New
York. The wines and cigars are of the finest brands, and are served in
the greatest profusion. Chamberlain well understands that a good table
is an important adjunct to his business, and he makes the attraction as
strong as possible. There is no charge for the supper, or for liquors or
cigars, but the guests are men above the petty meanness of enjoying all
these luxuries without making some return for them. This return is made
through the medium of the card table.

The proprietor of the house, John Chamberlain, is one of the handsomest
men in the city. He is of middle height, compactly built, with a fine
head, with black hair and eyes, and small features. His expression is
pleasant and winning, and he is said to be invariably good natured, even
under the most trying circumstances. In manner he is a thorough-bred
gentleman, and exceedingly attractive. He is of middle age, and is
finely educated. His self-possession is remarkable, and never deserts
him, and he has the quality of putting his guests thoroughly at their
ease. In short, he is a man fitted to adorn any position in life, and
capable of reaching a very high one, but who has chosen to place himself
in a position which both the law and popular sentiment have branded as
infamous. Indeed, his very attractions and amiable qualities make him a
very dangerous member of the community. He draws to the card table many
who would be repelled from it by the ordinary gambler, and the fairness
with which he conducts his house renders it all the more dangerous to
society.

The guests consist of the most distinguished men in the city and country.
Chamberlain says frankly that he does not care to receive visitors who
are possessed of limited incomes and to whom losses would bring
misfortune. He says it hurts him more to win the money of a man on a
salary, especially if he has a family, than to lose his own, and as he
does not care to be a loser he keeps these people away as far as
possible. In plain English, he wishes to demoralize only the higher
classes of society. His visitors are chiefly men who are wealthy and who
can afford to lose, or whose high social or political stations make them
welcome guests. You may see at his table Governors, Senators, members of
Congress and of Legislatures, generals, judges, lawyers, bankers,
merchants, great operators in Wall street, famous actors and authors,
journalists, artists--in short, all grades of men who have attained
eminence or won wealth in their callings. Consequently, the company is
brilliant, and the conversations are such as are seldom heard in the most
aristocratic private mansions of the city. The early part of the evening
is almost exclusively devoted to social enjoyment, and there is very
little gambling until after supper, which is served about half-past
eleven, after the theatres have closed.

Then the back parlor is the centre of attraction. There is a roulette
table on the eastern side of this apartment, said to be the handsomest
piece of furniture in the Union. At the opposite side is a large
side-board bountifully provided with liquor and cigars. The faro table
stands across the room at the southern end, and is the most popular
resort of the guests, though some of the other games find their votaries
in other parts of the room.

"The table upon which faro is played is not unlike an ordinary
dining-table with rounded corners. At the middle of one side, the place
generally occupied by the head of a family, the dealer sits in a space of
about three square feet, which has been fashioned in from the table. The
surface is covered with tightly drawn green ladies' cloth. The thirteen
suit cards of a whist pack are inlaid upon the surface in two rows, with
the odd card placed as at the round of the letter U. The dealer has a
full pack, which he shuffles, then inserts in a silver box with an open
face. This box is laid upon the table directly to his front.

"The cards are confined within it by a stiff spring, and the top card is
visible to all, save a narrow strip running about its edge, which is
necessarily covered by the rim of the box to hold it securely in
position.

"The game now begins. The dealer pushes out the top card, and the second
card acted upon by the spring rises and fills its place. The second card
is pushed off likewise laterally through the narrow slit constructed for
the exit of all the cards. This pair thus drawn out constitutes a
'turn,' the first one being the winning and the second the losing card;
so that the first, third, fifth, and in the same progression throughout
the fifty-two are winning cards, and the second, fourth and sixth, etc.,
are the losing cards. The betting is done this way: The player buys
ivory checks and never uses money openly. The checks are white, red,
blue, and purple. The white checks are one dollar each, the red five
dollars, the blue twenty-five and the purple one hundred dollars.

"Having provided himself with the number of checks (which in size
resemble an old-fashioned cent), he lays down any amount to suit his
fancy on any one card upon the table--one of the thirteen described.
Suppose the deal is about to begin. He puts $100 in checks on the ace.
The dealer throws off the cards till finally an ace appears. If it be
the third, fifth, seventh, etc., card the player wins, and the dealer
pays him $100 in checks--the 'bank's' loss. If, however, it were the
second, fourth, sixth, etc., card the dealer takes the checks and the
bank is $100 winner. Should a player desire to bet on a card to lose, he
expresses this intention by putting a 'copper' in his checks, and then if
the card is thrown off from the pack by the dealer as a losing card the
player wins. This is practically all there is in faro.

"It should be remembered that the losing cards fall on one pile and the
winning cards on another. When only four cards remain in the box there
is generally lively betting as to how the three under cards will come out
in precise order, the top one being visible. In this instance alone the
player can treble his stake if fortunate in his prediction. This
evolution is a 'call.'

"A tally board is kept, showing what cards remain in the box after each
turn. This provision is to guard the player. Of course four of each
kind are thrown from the box--four aces, etc.

"Some one will inquire how does the bank make it pay while taking such
even chances? In this way. If two of a kind should come out in one
'turn,' as, for instance, two aces, half of the money bet on the ace,
either to win or lose, goes to the bank. This is known as a 'split.
They are very frequent, and large sums pass to the dealer through this
channel. That is where the bank makes the money.

"Chamberlain says that if men were to study and labor ten thousand years
they could never beat the bank, or rather the game. It is something
which no one understands. When only one of a kind remains in the box, as
an ace, for instance, to bet then that the card will come to win or to
lose is just like throwing up a copper and awaiting the result, head or
tail. So it will be seen that the bank is in a position where it has
everything to risk.

"The playing is conducted largely by means of checks on the National
banks of the city, men seldom carrying money about their persons. Here
Mr. Chamberlain has to use his wits. A check given for gaming purposes
is not valid in law. Therefore it is necessary to know his man--to be
sure of his wealth, to be certain of his credit. It requires
instantaneous decision. If the check is refused the drawer is mortally
offended. But a few evenings since a city millionaire offered his check;
it was declined. This was Chamberlain's mistake. It is said that if a
merchant repudiates his gambling check at the bank it will destroy his
credit in commercial circles. This is the only safeguard upon which the
faro bank relies. It shows, however, to what a dangerous extent gambling
has laid hold of the mercantile community, how rottenness is at this hour
the inward germ of apparent soundness, and how heads of heavy concerns
fritter away their capital at faro.

"The largest number of business men who play at Chamberlain's are stock
brokers, and these persons say openly that it is a fairer game than the
cunning and unscrupulous gambling of Wall street. The brokers, as well
as other patrons, go in the night time to try and regain what they lost
by day in speculation. Thus they alternate between one gaming resort and
the other throughout the year. At the faro table they may lose several
thousand dollars; but this they consider equivalent pay for rich suppers,
costly wines, fine cigars and a merry time, and they are willing to pay
for fun.

"Besides the opportunities which Chamberlain affords to his patrons to
lose or win, as luck may direct, he keeps a sort of midnight national
bank, where he will cash a check for any man he knows as a reliable
party, and many who never think of gambling take advantage of his
accommodating spirit. This is why he is reputed a good and valuable
neighbor.

"How skilfully contrived are all these minutiae of a gambling palace!
They seduce even those who would gladly have never seen a game of chance,
and before one is aware of his danger he is past redemption."

Next to the first-class houses come the Second-Class Houses, or "Hells,"
as they are called in the city. These lie principally along Broadway and
the side streets leading from it, and in the Bowery. They are numerous,
and are the most frequented by strangers. They are neither as elegantly
furnished, nor as exclusive as to their guests, as the first-class
houses. Any one may visit them, and they keep a regular force of
runners, or "ropers in," for the purpose of enticing strangers within
their walls. They are located over stores, as a general rule, and the
Broadway establishments usually have a number of flashily-dressed,
vulgar-looking men about their doors in the day time, who are
insufferably rude to ladies passing by.

[Picture: THE SKIN GAME.]

Faro is the usual game played at these houses, but it is a very different
game from that which goes on under the supervision of John Chamberlain.
In gambler's parlance, it is called a "skin game." In plain English it
means that the bank sets out to win the player's money by deliberate and
premeditated fraud. In first-class houses a visitor is never urged to
play. Here every guest must stake his money at the risk of encountering
personal violence from the proprietor or his associates. The dealer is
well skilled in manipulating the cards so as to make them win for the
bank always, and every effort is made to render the victim hazy with
liquor, so that he shall not be able to keep a clear record in his mind
of the progress of the game. A common trick is to use sanded cards, or
cards with their surfaces roughened, so that two, by being handled in a
certain way, will adhere and fall as one card. Again, the dealer will so
arrange his cards as to be sure of the exact order in which they will
come out. He can thus pull out one card, or two at a time, as the
"necessities of the bank" may require. Frequently no tally is kept of
the game, and the player is unable to tell how many turns have been
made--whether the full number or less. Even if the fraud is discovered,
the visitor will find it a serious matter to attempt to expose it. The
majority of the persons present are in the pay of the bank, and all are
operating with but one object--to get possession of the money of
visitors. The slightest effort at resistance will ensure an assault, and
the guest is either beaten and thrown into the street, or he is robbed
and murdered, and his body thrown into the river. There are always men
hanging around these places who are on the watch for an opportunity to
commit a robbery. The most notorious burglars and criminals of the city
visit these hells. They keep a close watch over visitors who stay until
the small hours of the morning, especially upon those who are under the
influence of liquor. They follow them down into the dark and silent
streets, and, at a favorable moment, spring upon them, knock them
senseless and rob them. If necessary to ensure their own safety, they do
not hesitate to murder their victims.

Many persons coming to the city yield to the temptation to visit these
places, merely to see them. They intend to lose only a dollar or two as
the price of the exhibition. Such men voluntarily seek the danger which
threatens them. Nine out of ten who go there merely through curiosity,
lose all their money. The men who conduct the "hell" understand how to
deal with such cases, and are rarely unsuccessful.

It is in these places that clerks and other young men are ruined. They
lose, and play again, hoping to make good their losses. In this way they
squander their own means; and too frequently commence to steal from their
employers, in the vain hope of regaining all they have lost.

There is only one means of safety for all classes--_Keep away from the
gaming table altogether_.

At first gambling was carried on only at night. The fascination of the
game, however, has now become so great, that day gambling houses have
been opened in the lower part of the city. These are located in
Broadway, below Fulton street, and in one or two other streets within the
immediate neighborhood of Wall street.

These "houses," as they are called, are really nothing more than rooms.
They are located on the top floor of a building, the rest of which is
taken up with stores, offices, etc. They are managed on a plan similar
to the night gambling houses, and the windows are all carefully closed
with wooden shutters, to prevent any sound being heard without. The
rooms are elegantly furnished, brilliantly lighted with gas, and liquors
and refreshments are in abundance. As the stairway is thronged with
persons passing up and down, at all hours of the day, no one is noticed
in entering the building for the purpose of play. The establishment has
its "runners" and "ropers in," like the night houses, who are paid a
percentage on the winnings from their victims, and the proprietor of the
day house is generally the owner of a night house higher up town.

Square games are rarely played in these houses. The victim is generally
fleeced. Men who gamble in stocks, curbstone brokers, and others, vainly
endeavor to make good a part of their losses at these places. They are
simply unsuccessful. Clerks, office-boys, and others, who can spend but
a few minutes and lose only a few dollars at a time, are constantly seen
in these hells. The aggregate of these slight winnings by the bank is
very great in the course of the day. Pickpockets and thieves are also
seen here in considerable numbers. They do not come to practise their
arts, for they would be shown no mercy if they should do so, but come to
gamble away their plunder, or its proceeds.

It is not necessary to speak of the evils of gambling, of the effect of
the vice upon society. I have merely to describe the practice as it
prevails here. New York is full of the wrecks it has made. Respectable
and wealthy families there are by the score whose means have been
squandered on the green cloth. There are widows and orphans here whose
husbands and fathers have been driven into suicide by gambling losses.
The State Prisons hold men whose good names have been blasted, and whose
souls have been stained with crime in consequence of this vice. Yet the
evil is suffered to grow, and no honest effort is made to check it.

II. LOTTERIES.

The lottery business of New York is extensive, and, though conducted in
violation of the law, those who carry it on make scarcely a show of
secrecy.

The principal lottery office of the city is located on Broadway, near St.
Paul's church. It is ostensibly a broker's office, and the windows
display the usual collection of gold and silver coins, bills, drafts,
etc. At the rear end of the front room is a door which leads into the
office in which lottery tickets are sold. It is a long, narrow
apartment, lighted from the ceiling, and so dark that the gas is usually
kept burning. A high counter extends along two sides of the room, and
the walls back of this are lined with handbills setting forth the schemes
of the various lotteries. Two large black-boards are affixed to the wall
back of the main counter, and on these are written the numbers as soon as
the drawings have been made. There is always a crowd of anxious faces in
this room at the hour when the drawings are received.

The regular lotteries for which tickets are sold here, are the Havana
Lottery, which is conducted by the Government of the Island of Cuba, the
Kentucky State Lottery, drawn at Covington, Kentucky, and the Missouri
State Lottery, drawn at St. Louis, Mo.

The Havana Lottery is managed on the single number plan. There are
26,000 tickets and 739 prizes. The 26,000 tickets are put in the wheel,
and are drawn out one at a time. At the same time another ticket
inscribed with the amount of a prize is drawn from another wheel, and
this prize is accorded to the number drawn from the ticket wheel. This
is continued until the 739 prizes have been disposed of.

The Kentucky and Missouri lotteries are drawn every day at noon, and
every night. The prizes are neither as large nor as numerous as in the
Havana lottery. The drawings are made in public, and the numbers so
drawn are telegraphed all over the country to the agents of the lottery.

"The lottery schemes are what is known as the ternary combination of
seventy-eight numbers, being one to seventy-eight, inclusive; or in other
words, 'three number' schemes. The numbers vary with the day. To-day
seventy-eight numbers may be placed in the wheel and fourteen of them
drawn out. Any ticket having on it three of the drawn numbers takes a
prize, ranging from fifty thousand dollars to three hundred dollars, as
the scheme may indicate for the day. Tickets with two of the drawn
numbers on them pay an advance of about a hundred per cent. of their
cost. Tickets with only one of the drawn numbers on them get back first
cost. On another day only seventy-five numbers will be put in the wheel,
and only twelve or thirteen drawn out. And so it goes.

"The owners or managers of these concerns are prominent sporting men and
gamblers of New York and elsewhere. Considerable capital is invested.
It is said that it takes nearly two million dollars to work this
business, and that the profits average five hundred thousand dollars or
more a year. The ticket sellers get a commission of twelve per cent. on
all sales. The tickets are issued to them in lots, one set of
combinations going to one section of the country this week, another next;
and all tickets unsold up to the hour for the drawing at Covington, are
sent back to headquarters. In this way many prizes are drawn by tickets
which remain unsold in dealers' hands after they have reported to the
agents; and the lottery makes it clear."

It is argued that lotteries, if managed by honest men, are of necessity
fair. This is true; but there is a vast amount of questionable honesty
in the whole management. The numbers may be so manipulated as to be
entirely in favor of the proprietors, and in the fairest lottery the
chances are always very slim in favor of the exact combination expressed
on any given ticket being drawn from the wheel. The vast majority of
ticket buyers never receive a cent on their outlay. They simply throw
their money away. Yet all continue their ventures in the hope that they
may at some time draw a lucky number. The amount annually expended in
this city in the purchase of lottery tickets is princely. The amount
received in prizes is beggarly. The effect upon the lottery gamblers is
appalling. Men and women of all ages are simply demoralized by it. They
neglect their legitimate pursuits, stint themselves and their families,
commit thefts and forgeries, and are even driven into madness and suicide
by the hope of growing rich in a day.