B. Seebohm Rowntree

By A Bookmaker

So very much public attention has recently been called to betting, more particularly as applied to and in connection with horse-racing and the backing of horses, that I thought I would sit down and write a little of my experiences in respect thereto and give my unprejudiced views upon the subject. Yes!—an old bookmaker’s views—illustrated by facts and circumstances; bearing in mind that, as I believe, this is the first instance of a bookie’s confession of the “game,” and so is, I suppose, a novelty.

I am penning these few lines just as the matter comes across my mind and without any attempt at literary or even logical merit—a plain, unvarnished life-tale, as it were—and in so doing I hope to point out certain means that might improve the Turf business and free it from the fearful odium it is now in; and secondly—and let me say my main and principal reason for rushing into print is for the benefit of and a guide to small backers. By “small backers” I mean those who go in the cheap enclosures at race meetings, and more particularly I mean stay-at-home backers (or let me call them, as they would wish to be designated, “small sportsmen”), who make bets on horse-racing from say two or three shillings to a few pounds daily and habitually. The large backers can take care of themselves, but my advice equally applies to them, and they would do well to follow it.

I am getting an old man, and have been a betting man and bookmaker all my life, so to speak. My parents were poor people, but respectable. I had a National School education. When I was about twelve years of age I was turned out in the world as an errand-boy at 1s. 6d. a week in a general warehouse. I stayed there for a number of years, until at nineteen years of age I was a full-blown warehouseman earning £1 per week! I was a sharp, intelligent young fellow, kept my eyes and ears open, which, I can tell you, I have done all my life (you need to as a bookie, I can tell), and I soon made up my mind that the quid a week in a stuffy warehouse, long hours, hard work, and little prospect of “going ahead,” would not suit me. A lot of my chums used to “horse-race,” “put a bit on,” “get up sweepstakes,” and go to a race meeting now and again. In this way I was first introduced to a race-course, and was successful in winning a bit now and then, but as sure as faith losing it again, and more too. My first impression of a race meeting was a very bad one, for I could see that it was a vast assembly of “wrong uns” to the backbones—thieves, sharps, pickpockets, lowest of the low ruffians and scoundrels—my opinion is but little better of the present race meetings. My brother bookies would endorse my candid opinion, I am sure. The race meetings of the present time, of course, are far superior in comfort and convenience to the old meetings, but the same villainy and cheating is ever rampant; but let us call it now “refined rascality.”

Well, I was wide enough awake to soon see that “backing” was no good, but that bookmaker was the “game.” I soon found a way to start with a pal similarly inclined in views. I wasn’t going to stick at a quid a week when I could see ten times that sum easily to be made. At that time bookies were allowed to rig up in any costume they liked, so we had red waistcoats, white plush hats, blue and green parti-coloured coats, etc. etc.

I was soon “at home” at the “game.” I was sharp and cautious, with but little capital, so, for a time, our rule was “small bets only.” Lor! how the coin came in! seldom did we have a losing day. Well! to sum up my many years of experience, money has ever since rolled in. I have long since been in a position to take any bet you like, from half a sov. to thousands, “with pleasure,” and “thank you.” Money soon became no object to me, nor is it now. How comes it thus? One answer only. Because betting is a one-sided game, and is almost wholly against the backer. Thus the “bookmaker,” be he a ready-money bookie on the course or a S.P. bookie at home, is as certain in the long run to “cop” the backer’s coin as I am writing this. To be sure, the bookie attending the meetings can control his liabilities to a certain extent, which a starting-price bookmaker cannot do; but really it matters little—the bookmakers get the cash in the long run. Let me say that I am referring to substantial well-known bookmakers, and not to the crowd of penniless welshers who infest every race meeting held.

I am writing, as I have said, more particularly for the benefit of backers; they can adopt my advice or not, as they please. Now listen. I have attended every race meeting held in the land over and over again. I am as well known in sporting circles as any man could possibly be known, from the highest in the land to the lowliest, so to speak; my betting transactions amount to thousands and thousands—I really cannot say how much. I am known, and properly so, as a very wealthy man—money is nothing to me—and let me candidly and truthfully tell you that I have never known a backer of horses to permanently succeed. The backer is successful so long as his money, pluck, and luck lasts, or until ruin has overtaken him. He wins and loses—wins and loses. He is up and then down—up and down. Hope! hope! hope! prompts him to go on; and he goes on. He diligently studies all kinds of plans and systems; he also fools his money away with “tipsters,” who have been described as a set of race-course harpies; every system, all of them of course, certain and sure. He tries “1st favourites,” “2nd favourites,” “1st and 2nd favourites,” “newspaper tips,” “newspaper naps,” “jockey’s mounts,” and numbers of other plans and systems—some his own particular fancy, and some other people’s. He gluts over sporting news, and talks of owners, trainers, and jockeys in a most familiar style, as though they were his own personal friends! He becomes acquainted with horses’ names and pedigrees, and eventually his mind is so full of Turf matters that business, his occupation, and employment become of second importance; he sacrifices home, comfort, occupation, and money—all! all! all! What for? In the hope of easily making money, but in the end for the benefit of the bookmakers. My experience is not an isolated one, but truthfully is that of every well-known bookmaker on the Turf.

Betting is a fascinating vice, and it is perfectly astounding to what an enormous extent it is rooted throughout the land. In every town, village, hamlet, warehouse, office, and workshop in the kingdom you will find the “backer” in thousands and thousands, all losing money—all in the net of the bookmaker. Can you blame the bookmaker for carrying on his money-making business? Why, every one’s answer is “Certainly not!”

Were the race meetings always to be held at the same place, the bookies’ business would practically be “all up.” For why? The local backers would soon all be “played out.” The very fact that the race meetings are changed daily and are miles and miles apart is a veritable god-send to the bookmaker, the trainer, the jockey, the owner, and the dozens of others depending for existence on Turf matters. We thus get daily hundreds, nay thousands, of new faces and fresh backers full of excitement and hope, having “splendid tips” and “certainties,” all ready and anxious to invest their cash with us, but, alas! the majority of whom go home with long faces and empty pockets, whilst the bookmaker and the “betting brigade” leave the scene of action with renewed energy, high glee, and above all cash ammunition for a fresh attack at another rendezvous.

This glorious state of things goes on day by day and year by year, particularly during the flat-racing season. Now, I think it is a bad week if during flat racing I do not clear a hundred or so per day on the average. Some days, but really very few indeed, I make a loss, but on other days the coin rolls in all round, and the average is as I have stated. I have made as much as £5000 in one day! How is that, eh? I am wise enough, of course, to make my book to win, not to lose. Still, with heaps of money in hand, with property here and there—with everything in abundance that I and mine may require or could possibly wish for—with grand country and town houses, with horses, carriages, every possible luxury, every wish and desire gratified, living up to the greatest state of expensive excitement every day (the bookie’s very existence compels a constant round of amusement and excitement or we are nowhere), still, mind you, I am not happy—sometimes far from it. Conscience will make itself heard. True! true! age is telling on me as even it is telling on many another bookie, and we cannot stifle the thought that the grave is in sight, and our last race will soon be run. Often and often am I troubled with thoughts of the past—memory will assert itself—and the questions arise:—Have I led a fair and upright life? Have I got my money and living in an upright, honourable manner? Have I not helped to ruin hundreds of good silly fellows? Visions of them crop up from time to time; I think of them with any but pleasant feelings. How many poor foolish backers whose money I have taken—taken as a business, of course—have lost homes, business, and all; whose wives and children have been turned into the streets through the father’s passion for betting? How many of them have found their way to gaol through betting, and how many have sought self-destruction?

Such must be the occasional thoughts of all old bookmakers. And for why? Because there is not one of us, past and present, who has not over and over again obtained our money by questionable means, even if our inclination was not to do so. We have been, and are compelled—yes, compelled!—to participate in trickery and deceit to the detriment of the backer; and so crops up the thought that the backers’ money in many instances is not obtained honourably. These facts make one feel uneasy. What does this mean? Why, I have in my time secretly paid away much money as contributions to effect certain ends favourable to the bookmaker and to the loss of the backers.

The “freemasonry” amongst certain people connected with racing matters is very strong indeed. Pray let me be very plain in making myself clear. I do not for a moment cast a slur upon or raise the slightest suspicion upon the host of honourable men of high position and standing whose names are identified with Turf matters. Certainly not; the reader’s own common-sense and knowledge must be exercised. But amongst certain actors at race meetings my accusation is levied. Indignantly denied! Of course it will be. We are all upright and honest until discovered to be otherwise. It is the being discovered that is so galling. I could relate to you most startling facts upon these points—incredible, you would say; scandalous, wholly unbelievable! Yet, my friends, true, true indeed! My mouth, however, is so far absolutely sealed. Think yourself how very easy such things could be arranged, and you will cease to marvel. Consider for a moment that all the principal actors at a race meeting are all personally known to each other—old chums, old acquaintances, travelling the country together and enjoying themselves, and you will fail to discredit the fact, viz. that it is so extremely easy to (as it is now termed) “engineer a great coup.”

What is the real meaning of this pretty modern expression? Why, in plain language, it is arranging “to win a race.” Listen! What think you? There are very many unfairly run horse-races. Take this statement as gospel from one who knows, but who cannot divulge the secrets of the Turf. Listen again. Betting is simply a speculative business, two parties to a bet. Each tries to win the other’s money, and each party adopts the best expedient to do so. We all know who does win in the long run, and I am penning this rigmarole to show, if possible, to the small sportsman that the odds against him are so tremendous that it is next to impossible for him to win—I mean in the long run—and I so write in the hope of inducing him to “turn the game up” once and for ever, which I am sure would save much frightful distress, save the wrecking of many a home, prevent much trouble, and would be to the happiness of thousands who now waste their hard-earned money in a wilful way and in impossible successful speculation.

I am not writing as a moralist or a sentimentalist, but in a purely business way; using common-sense to prove to misguided, foolish people that to invest their money in backing horses is a stupid, unwise, unbusiness-like mode of investing their cash, and is a way that means absolute loss, if not ruin, simply because the chances to win are so great against them, and the odds against them so fearful, that success is next to impossible. To convince a backer that such is the case, I know, is a most difficult task, and really for a bookmaker to do so seems a paradox and a right-down absurdity, but it is not so. If the small backer could be extinguished, the legitimate abused business of betting would be much relieved from the stigma now cast upon it through the misdoings of the small backer, who, in his hopeless task, runs himself into serious difficulties and causes trouble all round. The removal of the small sportsman would be of inestimable benefit, not only to himself (I want him to look at the matter in that light), but to the straight respectable bookmaker.

Now with regard to the monied or larger sportsman. He it is who is the friend of the bookie—the dear delightful investor whom the bookie so much loves—the regular attendant in Tattersall’s enclosures and in the members’ rings. Well, well, he can afford to lose, and is capable of taking care of himself. The bookie does not wish to lose him—oh dear no, certainly not; so he encourages him all he can; he makes him presents of nice morocco pocket-books, splendid purses, nicely bound S.P. diaries, Christmas and New Year remembrances in various ways, treats him whenever an opportunity occurs, and loves and plays with him whenever he can. Very many of these beloved sportsmen are men who have made money in trade or business—they are either in business still or are retired—who, having saved a competency to live upon, somehow or other find their way, one after the other, on to the race-course; they nearly always come into Tattersall’s at the different meetings; they go the round of them, and travel gaily from place to place; they get charmed with the free and open life and excitement. They decide, as a rule, firstly, to risk so many hundreds, but when it is gone they generally manage to find more money. Hope! hope! These gentlemen sportsmen talk about their wins but not their losses. Eventually, as usual, they “do it (their money) all in,” then they drop out one by one through want of money and, less often, through being wise in time to prevent absolute ruin. So we miss their dear delightful faces, but we keep their money.

We, the bookies, talk to each other about our said customers and friends. “What about So-and-So—oh, he’s a retired draper. Mr. So-and-So—oh, he’s a market gardener, got a fine business. Mr. So-and-So—the retired grocer. Mr. So-and-So—what, the solicitor? Dr. So-and-So—oh yes, the doctor. Mr. So-and-So—yes, the chemist,” and so forth; then we always laugh, and the oft-reiterated remark takes place, “Yes, he is doing it (his money) all in” (losing it).

We laugh ha! ha! We laugh ho! ho! We laugh at their folly and pain.

One by one we miss them, but sure as fate others turn up from time to time, and so the merry game goes on day by day, month by month, and year by year. Yes, the monied sportsman, the retired tradesman, the successful business man combining trade with Turf speculation. Yes, yes, let them be—they can take care of themselves. If they like to lose their coin, well, let them—in fact, they are the bookie’s chief support, his pals, his friends. True, they drop out as I have said, one by one, sooner or later; but what matters, brother bookies? others always crop up in their places, and so we have nothing to fear.

Again, let me say, that it is the impecunious and needy, and poor silly fool of a backer who brings discredit upon the business, together with the host of thieving, impecunious welshing fraternity who dare call themselves bookmakers and Turf commission agents, who, fairly or unfairly, cop or welsh the small backer of his money.

Now, to point out to the said backer more precisely the reasons why and how he cannot possibly win at backing horses, no matter what plan or system he follows. Let me go a little more into these points, which will or ought to convince him, or at any rate give him matter for serious thought upon the subject.

In the first place, there is what is termed the “law of averages,” by which the backer’s chances to win are for ever against him; that is to say, in nearly every race there are a large number of horses running, otherwise the races are termed non-betting races. Now you back one horse out of say seven or eight running, thus you have at once six or seven chances against your winning. Look how very greatly this works out against the backer when larger numbers of horses are in the race—say 10, 15, 20, and even 30. You back one horse to win, so there are 9, 14, 19, and 29 absolute chances against you, and so on. Never mind about the favourites, the complete outsiders, and so on, there are (and there is no mistake about it) so many absolute chances against your winning, and of course on the other hand so many chances in favour of the bookmaker. But! but! but! listen! ye deluded, cocksure backers! The law of averages against you is nothing to be compared to other and far greater chances against you. I had already written, explained, and set out a number of them, but a newspaper correspondent has very thoughtfully and very carefully embodied them, or some of them, together with others, in a capital letter which appeared in the Sun newspaper one September, and I cannot do better than set them out. The Sun has recently permitted a public debate in its columns upon “Is Betting a Sin?” The debate by correspondence has been most interesting. The religious element, of course, dominated with silly arguments, and in so doing “forgot the subject altogether,” whilst on the other hand many letters were strictly to the point, were eye-openers, and logical. The result was announced by the editor, who decided that “he would give it up,” i.e. the correspondence compelled him to say that he could not say whether betting was a sin or not. My candid opinion is that certainly “betting is not a sin,” but I tell you what it is, it is a pernicious and fascinating vice of the worst kind, and is intimately connected with if not the direct cause of the worst kind of various sins. However, more of this anon. Now to give the letter referred to; it is as follows:—

What a splendid letter this is! How true indeed are the 22 reasons! What thought each one gives to the backer if he is a sensible man and will but think over them. How we bookies know full well the absolute truth of them, as do also the jocks, trainers, and owners. We have referred in conversation to the Sun correspondence. What care we for it? It won’t stop the fascinated backer. No fear; we persuade ourselves that nothing will stop him except “running the length of his tether.”

It is almost amusing to read in the newspapers the excuses given by the “Racing Prophets” for the predicted horses “not pulling it off.” Almost daily you will find some of the above reasons given. I have just picked up the Daily Mail. Racing at Nottingham is described as “an unsatisfactory affair.” For whom? The bookmakers? Certainly not. For whom then? Why, the backers of course. Then comes the usual and oft-told excuses—amongst others—why such and such a horse did not win, as follows:—

The above are cuttings from one paper only—we get such excuses to “soothe the backer” almost every day in one paper or another. In a case reported in the Daily Telegraph, the judge of the Clerkenwell County Court made this remark:—

I guess that judge knows more about racing than he would wish us to believe.

What is the impecunious backer? Why, a fool of the first order. A fascinated idiot. A sharp, flat, and very often a thief, i.e. he steals other people’s money in order to “put it on.” If the above cogent reasons and facts won’t decide him to stop backing, then nothing will, except ruin. Let him carefully think over all I have said. Let him think over his own experience—that’s the thing. Has he made money at backing horses? I mean, in the long run. How much has he lost? That’s the point; let him ask himself the question.

The backer of horses, as a rule, takes to it as a business by which to make money, as in every other business. Every business and profession (for a master man at any rate) is a speculation. Betting is a business, but a speculative and, I should say, the most speculative kind of business there is. There is nothing wrong or sinful in betting. But it is a business so very speculative, so very much against the backer, that, as I hope I have proved, it is a fool’s game, and for business considerations only it is best left alone.

In addition, however, to the reasons before set out, why the backing of horses never will pay any one (let “the sportsman” be never so clever and cunning), there are in addition other and more potent reasons of force. Yes! forcible reasons why the respectable person should not meddle with it, at least, until the greatest reforms have taken place.

Look, for instance, at the class and character of those regularly participating and taking part in betting pursuits and attending race meetings. Think for a moment who and what the majority are. I advisedly say the majority, and I wish to emphasise it. Ask the police; ask the railway people; ask any one who has to come in contact with them. Betting and the race meetings collect together huge assemblies of the lowest and vilest scoundrels on earth—thieves, cheats, ruffians, highwaymen, vagabonds, returned convicts, castaways, ne’er-do-wells, welshers, card-sharpers, tricksters, foul-mouthed quadrupeds, villains, and the worst form of humanity that it is possible to get together—many of them superbly clothed and well dressed—all, all, in some way or other preying upon the thousands upon thousands of the fools of backers in one way or another. This is truth; deny it who can! Can any one name an attraction that draws together one-tenth of this scum of the earth? No; we all know it. Don’t let me be misunderstood, for goodness’ sake! I am not inferring that all who attend race meetings are to be classed in the above frightful category. Certainly not. We have the very best people—the most respectable, the politest of persons, from the highest in the land to the lowliest—in their thousands also; but I should say that for every respectable person there are fifty otherwise.

Every decent sportsman will, I am sure, corroborate my remarks and join me in protesting against the apathy that exists in not clearing the race meetings of the human filth and vile scum and villainy that they now attract. Every respectable bookmaker desires it, for he is a great sufferer in consequence. He goes about in fear and trembling; he has always to be on the alert against assault and robbery; he has to pay heavy expenses to protect himself, and, above all, his occupation is universally condemned by “society in general” (I mean by those who do not enter into sporting matters) as a low, detestable one, and he is looked upon as a doubtful character, as a pest to society, principally through the doings of the army of scamps I have referred to. A respectable bookmaker sees a welshing job going on—a downright robbery taking place. He sees welshing in its various forms; he would like to expose it and the parties taking part in it, but he positively cannot do so. He must silently acquiesce; he must not on any account open his mouth, or—or what? Why, his life would not be worth two penn’orth of cold gin, as the saying goes.

“Yes,” you say, “how can all this be altered? What is the remedy? Tell the Royal Commission now sitting and inquiring into this subject. They will thank you!” Well, I will answer these questions simply and at once.

1. You must make every race meeting “a place,” and abolish betting there as it is now openly carried on.

2. Betting you will never stop; but it can be controlled for the benefit of the community at large, and so you must license the bookmaker. In so doing you must not give a license to any one who thinks fit to apply for one—such as an auctioneer gets his license, or a person keeping a horse or dog gets his. No! no! no! The licensed bookmaker must be a highly respectable man—never been in trouble; and he should be required to deposit in Somerset House or some other Government place a sum of money—say £500 or £1000—to prove his responsibility, which should be attachable for any proved unpaid claim against him. The licensed bookmaker should then be permitted to make bets on the race-course only. His license should be subject to revocation for misconduct.

3. All bets should be in writing, or rather tickets should be given similar to a pawnbroker’s way of doing business, and amounts due to either party should be recoverable at law.

4. A law should be made abolishing clubs, or offices, or houses kept by starting-price bookmakers; and it should be illegal to carry on a betting business either personally, by letter, or by telegram, except on a race-course by a duly licensed bookmaker.

5. Now something must be said about the newspapers, for they are very great sinners in encouraging small betting. I am, however, more particularly concerned about the small backer, the ruin he brings upon himself and those connected with him, and the discredit he brings also upon the legitimate betting business. The man who can attend the various race meetings, and there can see for himself what is going on, the number of the horses running in a race, the jockeys riding, and knows the odds for and against, is, of course, in a far better position than the stay-at-home backers, or in other words the “small sportsmen” who have neither the means nor the knowledge to bet on horse-racing, and simply do so almost in the dark, on mere chance, or mere newspaper tips, naps, and advice written the day before the race. The morning halfpenny papers, of course, get much of their information from the large daily papers. “Morning betting” has been proved to be (as we of course know) entirely fictitious, and so is much else referring to sporting matters and supposed ante betting. The small stay-at-home sportsman absolutely relies on newspaper recommendations, good or bad, to guide him, and so if the publication of betting prices is prohibited, and also it be made illegal to give “selections,” and to recommend any horse or horses to bet upon, the “good thing of the day,” “to back it win and place,” and the many other ways in which backing horses is publicly and openly and in many cases suspiciously advised and recommended, is made illegal and prohibited, such a step would be welcomed by the good bookmaker, would cut away much nefarious doings, and would confer a lasting benefit on the small backer in general, although possibly he might not at first see it. There need not be anything to prevent the usual reports of race meetings, including the betting thereat, with the starting prices and the usual reports of horses entered for the various races, with their chances of winning; that is all right enough, but it is the wanton and mischievous system of “selections,” “naps,” and recommendations to bet that does the harm to the small backer, and to racing in general.

Another matter is that “tipsters’” advertisements should be entirely suppressed. Of course many of the large daily papers refuse them altogether. Unfortunately, however, they are permitted in other papers. How any person with a grain of sense can send coin to any of these advertising tipsters is a marvel to me. Still they flourish on fools’ money. Read through the said advertisements and form your own opinion. Let any sensible person put it to himself. If these tipsters are so sure, why don’t they themselves back their predictions, and secure the easy fortunes they advise others to get?

Turf commission agents’ and Turf accountants’ advertisements should also seriously be revised. I am, of course, not condemning the well-known firms doing business under the above designation, but for every safe, respectable man there are many “wrong uns,” so the only plan seems to be to seriously revise the advertisements, or reject them altogether. Besides, every one knows that the descriptions are incorrect. What is a Turf commission agent? What is a Turf accountant? Generally a “starting-price bookmaker.” But such descriptions are also used by suspicious persons having no genuine occupation of the kind, simply to hide their identity. Thus my suggestion will be, I am sure, welcome to the bona fide firms.

The Jockey Club do not now settle betting disputes, nor do they openly countenance “betting.” The races are supposed to be run on the same lines as athletic sports are conducted, viz. the prizes offered of themselves are expected to be of sufficient value to induce owners of horses to compete. Oh, what a big farce! Of course, many of the wealthy owners keep race-horses solely for the sport and honour of winning races, and do not care a fig for betting, whilst of course, on the other hand, a vast number of owners of horses look to betting as the means to recoup their heavy expenses, and to “win a bit” besides—in many instances vainly so—for it is admitted all round that owning race-horses is a very expensive sport, and can only be indulged in by persons having “lots of coin.” It is, however, quite impossible to disassociate horse-racing from betting. Stop the betting at race meetings—give prizes only—and what would be the inevitable result? Why, the race meetings would almost cease to take place.

Now, to all interested in a business way with racing, viz. the race-course company, the trainer, the jockey, the bookmaker proper, the newspaper proprietor, and many others, it must be apparent, that unless something soon takes place, legally, to “clear the course,” and to prevent betting by small impecunious backers, that an Act of Parliament will be passed to stop betting on horse-racing altogether. Make no mistake, it will assuredly come, unless the small sportsman who has no means to speculate in betting is got rid of. It is the small backer who really has caused and is causing all the mischief. It is he who supports the host of vagabonds and thieves I have referred to, and so, in conclusion, I sincerely hope and trust that all my respectable brother bookies will take all I have said in good meaning, and as being written for the best. Let them unite with me to bring about the reforms hinted at in this scribble. I have pointed out, I think, clearly to the small backer that in backing horses he can but lose his money. Let the thousands of them all over the country seriously consider, with common sense, the remarks I have made, then I am certain that they will “turn up the game.” Leave betting to those with money to rashly speculate, and then the small, petty sportsman will do himself a good turn, and would very much oblige the legitimate bookmakers, who would then cease to designate him “The Deluded Sportsman.”

Finally, I am egotistical enough to say that if the alterations and reforms I have sketched out above are resorted to, that the Turf scandals which so frequently take place would not and could not arise.