I was born thirty-three years ago in one of the small cities of an Eastern State. The family from which I came was well thought of, and what it lacked in the possession of money it made up in respectability. My life up to the fifteenth year was that of the usual boy. I believe I was a little more studious than the average youngster, spending much time and finding not a little pleasure in fitting myself for a future career. I stood well in school, being at that time one year from high school.

My mother died when I was about six years of age, leaving the care of nine children to my eldest sister. My father, a wage-earner, did not remarry. The home atmosphere was all that it could be, no bickering or quarrels ever marring the quiet of the house.My father for as long as I can remember had been nearsighted. Whether it was hereditary or not, I too soon developed that condition of the eyes. I have always been supersensitive about that defect in my vision, and at the time did all that I could to prevent the fact becoming known at home. This defect of vision I shall dwell on at more length hereafter, as I believe it to have been one of the contributory causes of my entering the underworld.

The neighborhood in which I lived up to about my fifteenth year was just that kind one would expect to find around the home of the prosperous workingman. About this time in my life, however, an undesirable class of people began coming in, and the older neighbors began seeking new homes. My family followed the exodus and moved into one of the established suburbs of the city. I shall call the place Rosedale. Rosedale was like unto a strange town to me, and I found it lonesome. I was a youngster then, craving companionship. I had left all of my boyhood friends five miles away in the city below. I knew no one, and I needed the fellowship of a youngster of my own age. Whatever sports I entered into I entered as a stranger. I went to school and missed sadly the presence of my mates of the city. I was diffident to an extreme, and to make matters worse my father decided at this time that I should wear eyeglasses. That was before the time when glasses became popular, you must remember. I hated the thought of putting them on. I feared the derision of the boys with whom I must associate. I felt them a drawback in my search for companionship.

How well I remember the day I first put them on! I went to school, and the jibes of the boys and the half-concealed smiles of the girls made life miserable for me. The poison of melancholy crept into my heart. I would not have any of their proffered friendships, and the rancor in my heart kept me alien from their fellowships. I drew myself, as it were, into a shell. I made a pal out of solitude and out of silence. I suckled the poison of discontent. Can you imagine the life of a boy like that? The life of a lad is incomplete when it lacks the joys and pleasures found in companionship with other boys. These are a necessary part of his life, essential to his well-being and vitally important in the formation of a good character.

About four squares distant from my house there stood a car barn. Opposite this car barn was a pool room, where, for two and a half cents a cue, one could knock around the balls to his heart’s content. To this pool room my steps gravitated. I remember the first time I entered. It was an evening of the middle winter; the cold was bitter and a cold sleet driving down from the northwest made life miserable on the outside. I hesitated a while before entering, then, summoning up my courage, I went in. My! but it felt good. A hot stove showed red in the background, the odor of tobacco smoke struck strong upon my nostrils, but, above all, the good-natured chaff and jokes of those at play. This I thought was fellowship of the highest order. No one gave me more than a passing glance as I entered, except the proprietor, who was all smiles. He wished me a pleasant evening, mentioned something about the weather and went on about his work. I soon was made to feel at home, and some minutes later found myself busily engaged at my first game of pool. That pool room soon became the Mecca of all of my goings out. Initiations into the mysteries of crap, poker, and other games of a strictly gambling character soon followed. Before long I had acquired a passion for gambling that knew no limit. A year passed in this environment gave me pals a plenty. These friendships, irretrievably given, led into the complex shadows of the underworld.