I told him the odds on the winner were short, but to place his money on Humming Bird. Didn’t he do that?”
“No, he bet it on the nose. Look here,” I said to Fetterman, “don’t you know what ‘place’ means?”
“Of course. It means to run second.”
“Then why did you insist that we put our money on the nose?” I demanded icily.
Fetterman was full of excuses, but they all sounded lame, even to himself. We heaped ridicule upon him, and he took it. I really felt sorry for the fellow because he was so firmly convinced that it was all his fault. He asked for another chance.
“I won’t be able to help you,” said Billy. “The loan sharks will go to the boss tomorrow and I won’t have a job.”
So on condition that Mr. Fetterman would give Billy $2,500 to get him free of the loan sharks and save his job, we relented and agreed to go along with him again.
But this time there would be no slip-up. Each horse would have a number.
“You just give us the number of the winning horse,” I told Billy. “Forget about the others. Just the winner. Is that clear?”
“Yes. Just the winner.”
When the call came the following day, I let Fetterman answer it.
“Twenty won,” said Billy. “Have you got that? Twenty won.”
Again, we hurried up the stairs. Again, Fetterman assured me that he had heard correctly. We went to the cashier’s window and put our money on No. 21. Of course No. 20 was the winner.
Again Fetterman was the goat. Billy insisted that he had said “Twenty won.”
We took Fetterman for a total profit of $28,000, after deducting the expenses of operating our fake setup, which included wages for the con men who acted as our stooges.
Several months had elapsed since Marcus Macallister had made his killing at Willow Springs. I decided the time was ripe to take him again. He had been busy with the White City construction project and now had a partner. Bill Porter was not averse to making a few thousand dollars at the expense of the bookmakers.
“The elements have damaged our equipment,”’ I told them. “The cables have been stolen. I’ll salvage what I can, but I think we’ll have to buy additional wiring.”
I did salvage the box, but threw away the cables. Macallister and Porter accompanied me to Joe Moffatt’s shop, and we negotiated with him to repair the box and furnish new cables. The bill for this was $7,800.
There had been some publicity about wire-tapping around Chicago, so I suggested to Porter and Macallister that we set up our equipment near the Kingston poolroom, outside Indianapolis. I went ahead with a “lineman” and did the installation. I also hired an “operator” and made a date to meet them at the poolroom.
But I didn’t go near the poolroom after that. The “operator” was not on hand and Porter and Macallister were doomed to disappointment. The expected signal did not come through. Naturally, two men so prominent couldn’t be seen near the telegraph line where the apparatus had been put up. They returned to Chicago.
Meanwhile I had severed my connection with Billy Wall. He was a swell fellow to work with as long as he played the same role. But it was difficult to find enough for him to do, and he never had a new idea. Our parting was friendly. I went to Louisville and lost track of him.
I was in the South a couple of weeks before returning to Chicago. As luck would have it, one of the first men I met on my return was Macallister.
“Just a minute,” he said. “Where did you disappear to?”
I put my finger to my lips in a gesture to indicate silence and drew him to a corner.
“We were almost caught,” I told him in a whisper. “We had to get out of town fast. I’m certainly glad I bumped into you. I’m broke and I’d like to borrow $500.”
He laughed. “What do you think I am?”
“Listen,” I said, “I’ve shown you how you can make a fortune. And yet you refuse me a small loan like $500.”
“Oh, all right,” he smiled. “Come up to the office.”
He lent me the $500 and I gave him a note. That was the last I saw of Mr. Macallister for many years.
One evening, years later, I was seated at a table in the College Inn with a red-haired young woman. I noticed a group nearby having some kind of celebration, but I thought little of it until a man arose and came over to my table.
The man was Marcus Macallister.
We shook hands and I invited him to sit down.
“I just wanted to tell you,” he said, “that we know you swindled us on those wire deals, but I haven’t said anything about it.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“I went into it with my eyes open,” he replied. “I’ve only myself to blame.”
We chatted for awhile, and he told me they were celebrating the success of White City. Then he shook hands again and returned to his party.
After I had parted from Billy Wall, I bought a couple of race horses. Mobina, an old plater, was one of them. I had a fair-sized fortune and had resolved to race my own horses.
CHAPTER 4
HOW TO BEAT THE HORSES
There is a widely accepted theory that crime does not pay. This may be true in many cases, but it was not always true in Chicago. Numerous forms of amusement and so-called vice that are now illegal once operated wide open and with the full blessing of the law.
For example, anybody could make book on the races, whether he operated at the tracks or a thousand miles away. Today bookmaking is unlawful even at the racecourse, the only legal wagering being at the pari-mutuel windows.
Betting on the races always fascinated me. Not that I ever believed for a moment that there was any such thing as “smart money” on a horse. As long as I can remember I’ve known that you can’t beat them by any orthodox method. But the very fact that there are so many people who think they can beat the horses is the chief reason for my interest.
On every hand people clamored to bet their money. They sought “inside tips” and “sure things.” Perhaps a few have actually tried to win by a study of past performances and careful analysis of the facts. I have never met anyone who did. True, there are more or less expert handicappers; but they sell their advice to others and bet very little of their own money on their selections.
The impression among horse players has been that some races are fixed. Even today many are eager to put their money on a race they think has been fixed.
Up to now the major part of my activities had been concerned with schemes to make money on the horses. My fake wire-tapping scheme was extremely profitable
