Past and Present.

The statutes of the state of Illinois pronounce severe penalties against gambling and gamblers, yet games of chance have flourished in the past and do yet to a greater extent than in any other city in the country. There are said to be about 20,000 men who maintain an existence through gambling in one form or another. In late years the laws against gambling have been enforced more rigidly than formerly, and the number of professional gamblers has somewhat diminished. Yet there are enough of them left to make their business a very marked feature of metropolitan life.

At the head of the fraternity are the faro dealers. This game is too well-known to the average American to need any description here, and has always been popular in this country because of its supposed fairness.

“In the good old days,” as one celebrity expressed it, there were between forty and fifty faro games in Chicago, some of which were palatial establishments. The busiest of these were to be found in Clark street, and numerous side streets; outwardly these places appear to be simply private clubs, for they have a silent, deserted air during the day, giving no signs of life. The blinds are kept down and only men are seen to enter and leave the houses. The better class are furnished with great magnificence, and costly paintings adorn the walls; the softest carpets cover the floors, the most costly furniture fills the apartments and superb chandeliers hang from the ceilings and shed a brilliant glow through the rooms. The servants are colored, and the attendance is all that could be desired. Delicious suppers are spread nightly for guests, and rare wines and liquors are at the command of all who honor the place with their presence. In the house are all the various conveniences for gaming. In the first-class houses no one is asked to play, but it is understood that all who partake of the proprietor’s hospitality are expected to make some return by risking something at the tables. In the best houses the games are generally fair, the proprietor trusting to the chances of the game, which are nearly all in favor of the “Bank,” and the skill of the dealer. Great care is exercised in the admission of visitors. The proprietors of these places discourage the visits of young men; they prefer the company of men of means who have something to lose. Poker is also largely played in all first-class establishments.

The second-class houses or “hells,” are scattered all over the business portion of the city. The visitors to these establishments are chiefly young men and strangers in the city, who are lured or “roped” into them by agents of the proprietors. Faro, roulette, poker and numerous other games are played here, but fair games are unknown, except among the professionals who frequent the place. The “skin” game is used with the majority of the visitors, for the proprietor is determined from the outset to fleece them without mercy. In these places everything pertaining to gaming is boldly displayed—chips, cards, faro boxes, roulette wheels, handsome gaming tables, and side-boards containing liquors and cigars. The entrance to the houses are carefully guarded, the doors are secured by heavy bolts and bars, and sliding panels afford every opportunity for inspecting the visitor before his final admission to the rooms. Though roulette is frequently played in these establishments, faro, as we have said, is the principal game. It is simpler than roulette, and gives a heavy percentage in favor of the “bank,” and “skin faro,” the only game played here, offers no chance to the player. In “skin faro” the dealer can take two cards from the box instead of one, whenever he chooses to do so. The box is so arranged that the dealer can press on a lever within the box in the right hand corner. When this is pressed upon the mouth of the box is opened, so as to allow two cards to slip out at once. The cards being “sanded,” stick close together, and the player can not perceive that there are two. On the withdrawal of the pressure from the lever the mouth of the box is closed by a spring, so that only one card can slip out. There are some boxes, called “sanded-boxes,” by the use of which the dealer can press on the end of the box and take out two cards, still keeping his fingers in the natural position, instead of being obliged to reach inside of the box in order to press the lever. No tally is kept of these games, and the player is unable to see how many cards have been dealt out. Should he discover the trick, it is highly dangerous to attempt to expose it, as nearly all the persons present are in league with the “bank,” and are united in the effort to get possession of the player’s money. The safest plan is to bear the loss and get out of the place as soon as possible, as the men present will not hesitate to provoke a quarrel with or assault a stranger who disputes the fairness of the game. A quarrel once started, every advantage is taken of the player, and his life is not worth a farthing. The safest plan of all is to remain away from these hells. The man who enters any gaming house in Chicago, especially a stranger in the city, is a fool, and deserves to lose his money. He who ventures into one of the second-class houses, risks not only his money, but his life. However wise a man may be in his own conceit, however he may rank as an oracle in his distant home, however brave, resolute, or skillful he may be, he is no match for a Chicago gambler. In nine houses out of ten his life is in danger unless he submits quietly to be robbed in the most barefaced manner.

One of the worst and most demoralizing forms of gambling is “pool selling.” The pool business flourishes at the present time, and is winked at by the police officers, and tribute is generally understood to be levied against the proprietors. The business is conducted by professional gamblers, and though seemingly fair, is a swindle throughout. Pools are sold on horse-races, prize-fights, boat-races, political elections, and in short, on all and every conceivable contest into which the element of chance or doubt enters. The pool is a fixed number of chances, each of which is sold at a certain price. The managers charge a percentage or commission on all tickets sold, and do not hesitate to sell as many as there are applicants for, even though the legitimate number is exceeded by such sales. A favorite trick is to receive the money invested in pools and then spread reports which shall discourage the bettors, and induce them to withdraw their bets. The managers return the amounts invested, minus their commission, which they retain, and in this way, while seeming to act with perfect fairness, fill their coffers at the expense of their victims.

The great evil of “pool” gambling is that it encourages young men and boys to enter into the combinations, and thus give them a taste for gambling. The possibility of winning considerable money by investments fascinates them. During a political campaign officers of two of the largest banks in the city called upon the Chief of Police, and stated that they suspected that many of their clerks visited the pool-rooms. They feared that the excitement and allurements of gambling might impair the integrity of these young men, and induce them to appropriate money belonging to the bank. Detectives were employed, and the suspicions of the bank officers were confirmed. Business men are constantly finding that their clerks and salesmen are regular visitors to the pool-rooms. Messenger boys, boot-blacks, and others who earn only a few dollars a week, invest all the money they can get hold of in buying pool tickets. Men of high respectability fall victims to the same vice, and the evil goes on increasing. The only persons who profit by it are the managers of the pools, who do not hesitate to resort to any trick to retain the money intrusted to them, and who coolly swindle their infatuated dupes, old and young, with the same cheerful alacrity.

Another vicious form of gambling is the lottery business, closely connected with which is “policy dealing.” Lotteries are of two kinds—the single number system and the combination system. In the former as many single numbers as there are tickets in the scheme, are placed in a wheel, and are drawn out in regular order. The first number drawn wins the capital prize, and so on until as many numbers are drawn as there are prizes. In the combination system, seventy-five numbers are generally placed in the wheel, and from these a certain set of numbers are drawn, according to the provisions of the scheme. The chances are much greater against the ticket-holders in this system than in the single number schemes, as, in order for a player to win a prize, the various numbers must be drawn in the exact order represented on his ticket.

It is, of course, possible for a lottery to be fairly drawn, but it is a well-known fact that in the majority of the schemes advertised no drawing of any kind ever takes place. A bogus drawing is published, and, though prizes are assigned, not a single ticket-holder ever receives one. Even if the drawing is fair, the business is to be denounced on the ground that it is not only illegal, but demoralizing. The purchasers of lottery tickets are, as a rule, persons unable to afford the expenditure—generally the very poor. This species of gambling has a fascination which holds its votaries with a grip of iron. They venture again and again, winning nothing, but hoping for better luck next time, and so continue until they have lost their all. There are hundreds of well-authenticated cases of men and women being reduced to beggary, despair and suicide by lottery gambling.

The managers of the various lottery schemes are professional gamblers. They are without principle, and do not intend to pay any prizes to ticket-holders. They receive their money from their dupes, announce a bogus drawing, in which no prizes can be found by any ticket-holder, and then coolly ask their victims to try again.

Policy dealing is one degree lower in infamy than the lottery business. There were at one time about 200 policy shops in the city, whose principal customers are negroes, sailors and foreigners. The mazes of policy are not well-known to the general public. Few games are so well devised for a sure loss to the player, even when honestly played, and the more influential sellers make this assurance doubly sure by playing to suit themselves. The game consists of betting on certain numbers, within the range of lottery schemes, being drawn at high noon or night-drawing. Seventy-eight numbers usually make up the lottery scheme, and the policy player can take any of these numbers and bet they will be drawn, either single, or in such combinations as he may select. The single numbers may come out anywhere in the drawing, but the combination must appear as he writes it in making his bet. He pays one dollar for the privilege of betting and receives a written slip containing the number or numbers on which he bets. If a single number is chosen and drawn, he wins $5.00, two numbers constitute a “saddle,” and if both are drawn the player wins from $24.00 to $32.00, three numbers make a “gig” and win from $150 to $225; four numbers make a “horse,” and win $640.00 A “capital straddle” is a bet that two numbers will be among the first three drawn, and wins $500.00. The player may take any number of “saddles,” “gigs,” or “horses,” paying $1.00 for each bet.

Now all this seems very fair, but the policy managers are equal to the emergency. As soon as they receive the drawings, they change the order of the numbers, and thus condemn the players to a total loss. These alternated numbers are printed on slips, and distributed to the various policy shops. In some cases, after these copies have been sent out, it is discovered that the players have even then won too much to suit the managers. The copies are immediately recalled as misprints, and new copies, altered to suit the managers, are distributed.

All sorts of people engage in this wretched game, black and whites, rich and poor. The grossest superstitions are indulged in respecting “lucky numbers.” Such numbers are revealed by dreamers, which are interpreted by “dream books.” To dream of a man is “one,” of a woman “five,” of both “fifteen,” and so on. Thousands of copies of these “dream books” are sold every year, and among its purchasers are said to be many shrewd operators on the Board of Trade. So great is the rage for policy playing that men and women become insane over it. The lunatic asylums contain many patients who have been brought there by this species of gambling.