some of them made quite a business of it.
The only people who had any grounds for complaint were the bookmakers. If the “inside tips” had really been on the level, the bookmakers would have been heavy losers. However, they knew that when money was turned over to me to be bet on a race they had nothing to worry about.
I was a member of the American Turf Association in good standing. Because of this one fact the track officials would have hesitated to make a complaint. They had no sympathy for men like Van Essen, whose only objective was to clean up on a supposedly fixed race.
The fact that the race hadn’t been fixed helped rather than hindered the reputation of the track.
But I was not yet finished with Van Essen. Little did I suspect that, as a result of that episode, I would soon be accused of murder.
CHAPTER 6
FROM NAGS TO RICHES
Hardly a week had passed after the Van Essen episode when the automobile I had hired from Dan Canary’s livery stable on Wabash Avenue was found on a side road near the outskirts of Joliet. Slumped over the wheel was the chauffeur who had driven me to Gray’s Lake. He was dead. He had been murdered.
Detectives who investigated learned that a man using the name of Dove had entered the Congress Hotel. Approaching the switchboard operator, he asked her where he could hire a motor car. She suggested Dan Canary’s establishment. Dove requested her to phone and have the car call for him at the hotel’s Michigan Avenue entrance. This was done, and when the car arrived the doorman helped Dove into it.
Detective De Roche went to see Dan Canary, who knew no one named Dove. But he did recall that I had rented the same car with the same chauffeur for the trip to Gray’s Lake. De Roche obtained a picture of me and showed it to the switchboard girl. She said that I was the man who had ordered the car.
The first I heard about it was when the papers came out with big headlines: “WEIL IS DOVE.”
Of course, the charge was absurd. I have never carried a gun or lethal weapon of any kind. It is well known, even to my bitterest enemies, that I have never resorted to violence.
I called a good criminal lawyer named Howard Sprokel. He said that he would surrender me, but first, I must come to his office. I did, and convinced him that I knew nothing of the murder of the chauffeur.
“All right, Joe,” he said. “I believe you. We’ll go over to the Detective Bureau and give you up. But first, we’re going to the Congress Hotel.”
He explained his plan, and we went to the Congress. Going up to the switchboard girl, he asked her to put in a call to his office. Then he took the phone and began a lengthy conversation with his secretary.
While he was on the phone, I engaged the switchboard girl in small talk.
She was a friendly sort, and I had a glib tongue. We discussed trivial matters and got along well. We conversed until Sprokel hung up and turned from the phone.
“You two seem to be well acquainted,” he said to the girl. “Been friends a long time?”
“Why, no,” the girl replied. “To tell you the truth, I never saw him until today.”
“Are you sure of that?” Sprokel asked.
“Certainly I am.”
I tipped my hat to the young woman, thanked her for a pleasant interlude, and accompanied Sprokel out the Michigan Avenue entrance. Sprokel pretended to have some business down the street and I waited in front, engaging the doorman in conversation. We discussed the man who had ordered the motor car from Dan Canary. He gave me the same details I had read in the papers.
Sprokel returned. He repeated the questions he had asked the girl. The doorman assured him that I was a stranger, that he had never before laid eyes on me.
“It worked, Joe,” said Sprokel, as we went over to the police station.
We asked for Chief-of-Police Collins. He listened to Sprokel’s story, then summoned Detective Johnny Halpin.
“Go over to the Congress Hotel with these gentlemen and verify their statements,” he instructed Halpin.
Both the girl and the doorman told him that I was not the man named Dove who had ordered the motor car. We went back to Headquarters and Halpin reported to Chief Collins.
The chief was apologetic. The newspapers were apologetic. My wife fainted.
In subsequent years, I became better acquainted with John Halpin. He rose to the post of chief of detectives. I know that he was a square fellow. I never offered him a bribe, because I knew that he would not have taken it. He was chief during the days of the infamous Barney Bertsch, the fixer. Halpin would have nothing to do with Bertsch, but was accused of accepting bribes, was convicted, and sent to the penitentiary. It was as foul a deal as I ever saw.
When Halpin got out of prison, I was in the money. I tried to set him up in business in a billiard hall. But everywhere he applied, he was refused a lease - as soon as my identity became known.
Just the same, Johnny Halpin remained square. He is an old man now, an armed guard at an industrial plant and gets along well with his fellow employees.
One day, shortly after I had been cleared of the Dove murder, I entered an establishment near the Loop-a wrecking and salvage place. I talked to the president, whom I shall call Ernest Rappe, and the vice-president of the company, Lester Bruno.
“I want to build a small race track,” I explained. “I thought you might have the equipment.”
“I doubt it,” said Rappe, a big fellow. “But you can look around. What are you planning to do - start a new track in Chicago?”
“Oh, no,” I replied. “But my partner and I want some place where we can train a horse in secrecy.”
I looked around, but of course the equipment I was looking for wasn’t there. But Rappe was interested and that satisfied my purpose.
“If we haven’t got what you need, we’ll get it for you,” he offered. “Suppose you come out to dinner tonight and we’ll discuss it further.”
That night, I dined at Rappe’s home. Afterward, while we were having coffee and cigars, he began:
“You know, my partner and I have been wondering why you want to train a horse in secrecy.”
I hesitated, as if doubtful whether to take him into my confidence. Finally, I murmured:
“We have a plan to clean up on wagers. We have an exceptionally fast horse named Black Fonso. He can beat anything on the turf today. Here’s what we plan to do. We’ve bought an inferior horse that resembles Black Fonso. We have entered him at the racecourses under that name. He will race for several weeks, but won’t win anything.
“Of course, the odds on him will be long. Meanwhile, we plan to keep Black Fonso in shape. And then, after our horse has lost enough races to make the odds on him very long, we will substitute Black Fonso. The authorities will have become familiar with a horse
