The Big Con (26 page)

Con men get out of life little more than they can buy with money; in addition, they are beset on all sides by dangers which the legitimate citizen never has to cope with. They like to believe that their women will be the last to let them down—despite many examples to the contrary. There is sometimes a deep and somewhat pathetic attachment between the pair which may be life-long. Charley Gondorff, for instance, has always stuck to his Maude, even though wealth and wide social contacts made it possible for him to have had a choice of many clever and more handsome women. Many of the older generation have done the same thing. And Farmer Brown, king of the monte players, frequently and vociferously proclaimed in public that he was “married to the most beautiful woman who ever straddled a chamber-pot,” expert testimony to the contrary notwithstanding.

The women do not always have an easy time of it, even though their wants are liberally supplied. If they are aware of their husband’s occupation—and few of them are not—they live in constant fear of a “fall” with disastrous
consequences. They see little of their men for weeks on end, while, at the same time, correspondence may be both difficult and dangerous. They are usually incapable of helping their men or of sharing any common interest with them. But many of them do try to do their part as well as they can. Perhaps the most pathetic case in point is that of the schoolteacher who married the illiterate Sheeny Mike. John Singleton swears that when he once visited the pair, he overheard her teaching her husband the alphabet. “I could hear Mike droning, ‘Aaa, Bee, Cee,’ then starting all over again, ‘Aaa, Bee, Cee ….’ His wife said that was as far as he was ever able to get.” But Singleton was having his sarcastic little joke; the teacher did make Mike literate and he became a prosperous roper.

In spite of the fact that con men live on the road almost continuously, they try to maintain more or less permanent homes, most of them in or about Chicago or New York, some of the fine ones on Long Island. The location of these homes is always carefully guarded and kept secret from all but very close friends. Grifters frequently know one another well, and even work together professionally, without revealing their addresses to one another. In fact, it is rigidly observed underworld etiquette to refrain from asking a professional where he lives; if he volunteers the information it is a mark of trust and esteem. Some con men, like Joe Furey, maintain two homes with a separate family in each; but, on the whole, con folk appear to be hardly less monogamous than legitimate middle-class society.

However, marital life on the grift is by no means always calm and unruffled, the relationship mutually faithful and felicitous. Far from it. “Storm-and-strife” is a common argot word for wife, a coinage which is probably rooted rather deeply in bitter experience. Some con men marry “sucker-broads” who trim them and run out on
them; others marry “gun-molls” who are themselves “on the lam” most of the time; and not a few find themselves harboring a “rat” who only awaits an opportunity to turn stool pigeon for the police. “My boy,” old John Henry Strosnider once said, “the best way to avoid the big house is not to tell your twist how clever you are. Broads have been known to put the finger on smart young apples. So cop my advice, and last longer on the outside than on the inside .…”

All too often the home life of the grifter, especially the small-time grifter, is like that of the famous Cheerful Charley and his girl, the Cheerful Chicken. Charley had fallen upon lean days as steerer for a mitt store in Minneapolis and had done what small-timers frequently do— “joined out the odds”—that is, he had put the Chicken on the market for all and sundry who would buy. One wintry Saturday night the Chicken came into the room, weary and stiff from pounding the pavements in her worn-out shoes. She gave Charley all her money, then showed him her toes sticking out of the wet leather.

“I have to have some new shoes, Charley,” she said.

“No, by God,” roared Charley, “not with my money.”

Obviously, the home life of grifters does not make a desirable background against which to raise children. Yet some do raise families; and some of the children grow up without suspecting that their father is a confidence man. However, when the mother is also involved in the rackets, the offspring almost inevitably follow in their parents’ footsteps, for they meet thieves at home, hear thievery discussed from their earliest recollection, and grow up in an environment which they cannot escape. There are, however, some notable exceptions like John Singleton’s son—who has a legitimate profession in New York— whose name, for obvious reasons, cannot be given here.

An ironical little anecdote illustrates the relation between grifters and their children. One successful grifter
had three sons, none of whom suspected his father’s occupation. He determined to send them to college so that they need never know the rigors of the grift. When the first two were old enough, he bundled them off. Very shortly, and somewhat to their father’s embarrassment, they were apprehended in some thievery. Said the grifter, “If they are going to be thieves, they might as well learn right.” So he took them all on the road and thus ended his experiment in higher education.

Although con men live prosperous lives, they are constantly harried either by federal officers who threaten to put them in prison, or by local officers who demand a cut of their profits. They are continually on the move and ever on the alert, for they have many predatory enemies who prey on them, even as they prey upon legitimate society. Some thrive on this sort of anxious life, refusing to worry about the future, and successfully rationalizing their own criminal acts away. Others find that the strain gets on their nerves to such an extent that they “pack in the racket” and go straight. Almost never do professionals “reform” for purely moral reasons; they simply go off the rackets because they cannot stand the worry and uncertainty, the feeling of being hunted, the threat of prison, which always hangs over them. “If a man had any sense in the first place,” runs an old saying among grifters, “he’d never be a thief.”

The external pressures which are applied to con mobs help to foster a professional morale which is very high— perhaps the highest among all underworld folk, and certainly the highest on the grift. It is not this writer’s intention to attempt to answer the old, old question about honor among thieves. Because of the diverse personalities which are to be found among confidence men, it is hardly
sound to generalize; obviously, some con men have a highly developed sense of loyalty and honor, others do not. By carefully selecting his evidence, one could easily establish a strong case for either side of the question. While it would be fruitless to include here numerous anecdotes which might tend to support one side or the other of the controversy, it might be interesting to see how confidence men generalize upon this subject.

“They have plenty of honor,” said old Christ Tracy. “If they hadn’t they wouldn’t last long with the better kind of grifters. I’ve received money due me from paper that I had forgotten about for years. Only a rat refuses to pay his honest debts.”

Says the Postal Kid, “Con men don’t hold out on their pals. Only rats do that. And news travels fast. Of course, some heels will tear you off if you turn around to spit. But it is seldom done. I know the old saying is that there is no honor among thieves, but I’ve seen plenty of it. And I’ve seen thousands of marks who claimed to be square paper, but had all the corners torn off.”

“Yes,” comments John Henry Strosnider, “con men try to be square with one another and are trustworthy among themselves. But you’ll find finks in any racket. If you are known as a finger-egg for some dick, it gets around in a hurry. Even so, a lot of those rats seem to prosper.” (Strosnider’s testimony can probably not be taken at its face value, as many of his ropers represent him as being expert at the tear-off himself.)

Notes another con man: “Lots of con men pride themselves on being great ropers or fine insidemen, and are proud that they are on the square with the men they do business with. Lots of grifters, like Post and Allen, stay put with their partners for years and wouldn’t have anyone else.”

In spite of evidence of a well-developed sense of professional honor among con men, there are equally impressive
indications that they sometimes step over the line—dangerous as that may be—and tear off their partners for a part of the score. Usually the insideman does this, for he is the only member of the mob who is alone with the mark’s money for any length of time; the only opportunity that the roper has for cheating on the score is to “pad the nut” (falsify expense accounts), which is not often done. The Yellow Kid, one of the best insidemen in the country, has the reputation of cheating his ropers if he thinks he can get away with it. Many ropers curse him for this trait, but still gladly work with him because of his ability. Some ropers, sure that they have been torn off, have protested, only to be taken gently in hand and convinced that they are wrong; others, knowing that they have no chance against that silver tongue and winning personality, are said to have visited him privately at his home to collect what is due them at the point of a pistol. “That Yellow Kid would tear himself off if he could,” said one of his ropers.

There is still the mystery of who robbed the famous Buck Boatwright on his deathbed. He was known to have carried about $200,000 in a money belt, but he was found dead in his hotel room without a trace of the money. Underworld gossip fastened the blame upon Conk Jones, who was reputed to have been with Buck when he died; but no one ever knew certainly that Conk had “rolled” his friend.

Fifth Avenue Fred, high in the ranks of insidemen, still carries across his belly the scar from Bill Caldwell’s pistol-bullet, a wound inflicted by the Kentuckian in a personal dispute on Twenty-first Street in Chicago. John Henry Strosnider wore to his grave the knife-scars inflicted by Post and Allen as a reminder that he should not tear them off in the future; characteristically, Strosnider turned this disfigurement to an asset by claiming a Heidelberg education and showing his “sabre-cuts” to prove it. Elmer Meade was disfigured for life by a shot in the
face received in a dispute over gambling spoils. And sometimes a con man is not lucky enough to survive a tear-off, even with scars. Australian Harry is quoted as complaining that he and his partner lost $84,000, which they took from a mark in Paris, through the connivance of Tear-off Arthur, who knew about the play and arranged with the Paris police to raid the store, confiscate the money, then divide it. Big Bill Keeley also bore the reputation of a “tear-off rat”; one of the men whom he tore off for $2,000 once told me apologetically that “Big Bill wouldn’t have done it on his own accord. His wife made a rat out of him.”

Many grifters who would not tear off a partner or beat what they consider an honest debt, would, at the same time consider other grifters as fair game for any sort of swindle; gamblers, of course, prey on all other grifters, including gamblers, without conscience. The Harmony Kid once double-crossed the High Ass Kid for a reputed $20,000 at chuck-a-luck. Two con men whose names cannot be used here once stole a faro-dealer’s tell box (crooked dealing box) from Little Dan in Minneapolis, planted it in the lobby of a Chicago hotel, and allowed Wildfire John to find it there. Wildfire, himself a con man and professional gambler, had a mighty weakness for faro. They skinned him just as they would any other mark and took him for $2,000. Joe Flaherty once put up a mark to be trimmed by a con mob of his acquaintance. The “mark” was a train-robber named Estelle, who had plotted with Flaherty to rob the grifters of a large sum of money they were carrying. However, just as Estelle was robbing his victims in a hotel room, a bellhop entered, spread the alarm, and Estelle fled with only about $100. Be it said to Flaherty’s credit that, once he became a con man himself, he repaid the $100 out of his own pocket. On the whole, I think we might say that con men are generally on the
square with men they consider “right guys,” but are not so particular about the “wrong ones.” And a stool pigeon or rat merits their undying contempt and hatred.

While it is hardly necessary to explain that a stool pigeon or police informer is hunted down and killed by professional criminals, the following anecdote illustrates very clearly the attitude of con men toward these criminal pariahs; it concerns a saloonkeeper and notorious Chicago fixer and stool pigeon: “… What a rat Andy was. He had to have two Central dicks take him home every night. He never left the Village, as he knew he would be knocked off. Billy Reynolds once took two shots at him, but missed. I asked him why he shot at Andy, as Andy was not a grifter, and Billy had never worked for him. Billy was a right egg, and he said, ‘I always get a hard-on [reach for a pistol] when I see a rat, and I want to do him in.’”

Whatever personal philosophies a grifter may work out for himself, he usually makes no outward show of religion—unless he is a Roman Catholic—and as a rule does not attend church or maintain a church membership. A notable exception to this was Rebel George, who was an itinerant preacher on Sundays and a con man during the week. “All Irish con men,” says one professional, “are, generally speaking, Catholics, and go to church the same as guns. Then they come right out and rob a chump.” Says another: “All grifters who are papes go to the kirk regularly; the other half never go.” He adds an anecdote which implies something of the grifter’s attitude toward the church:

“One Sunday morning Maxie F— and Greenie G— were out in New York looking for a score on the dip. They wandered into a church, and while they were
waiting for the crowd, began to study the frescoes on the walls. They came to a familiar scene showing the Last Supper. Greenie pretended to be greatly puzzled.

“‘Maxie,’ he said, ‘who are all those old bald-headed pappies?’

“‘Oh,’ said Maxie, ‘those are just some old cannons that were mugged in Jerusalem!’”

Though con men may be non-committal regarding their theological beliefs, there is one creed on which most of them agree—and that is: never pay for anything that can be had free; and if it must be paid for at all, get it at a reduced price. They buy everything that can be bought from thieves—clothing, jewelry, automobiles, etc. In the larger hangouts, professional thieves take orders and steal to order much of the fine personal furnishings which are a part of every good con man’s stock in trade. Color, size and quality are agreed upon in advance. When the goods are delivered, they are paid for at a specified price. On the other hand, some few do not like to have stolen goods in their possession; they buy and pay for quantities of custom-tailored clothes, hand-made shoes, and exclusive haberdashery from well-known merchants. At current retail prices, a good con man’s wardrobe will cost him about $5,000 a year.