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There is more to the world
than meets the eye —
more than any one mind can know.

The awakened spirit is no less likely to assume

that what they perceive is all that exists than
is the average man on the street.
Only the locations of
his blind spots differ.
The world is full of secret things
which exist almost entirely in the blind spots of
its population.

Reliquary
Sacred things.
Wondrous things.
Dangerous things.

This book includes:

• A detailed exploration of the Things too horrible to be
relics— unique magical items
useable inany World of Darkness known or explained.
chronicle —and how to incorporate
them into your game. - Jacob Miles,
• A broad selection of readytouse
relics, complete with detailed
Relic Crafter
backgrounds and storytelling hints.
• Toolkits for creating relics and
cursed items that can be used by
any World of Darkness character,
including dozens of new Powers.
Powers.
• Several new Merits related
toresearching, creating or using relics.

For use with the

World of Darkness Rulebook

52499

9 781588 464927
WW
978-1-58846-492-7 WW55203 $24.99US 55203
 Justin Achilli- Jess Hartley
Wood Ingham- Matthew McFarland
Peter Schaefer-Chuck Wendig
 At his sentencing, Manny Romito said that he was sorry for killing Bob Jesten, Albert Wilson, and Peter
Sochowsky. Manny lied, and the judge knew it. The judge sentenced him to death by lethal injection.
Manny died because of love. If anyone had asked him during his trial why he’d killed those three men,
he’d have told them it was because they’d hurt the woman that he loved. But he hadn’t even told his lawyer
that, so bringing it up himself during the trial, starched shirts, borrowed ties and all, seemed out of place.
Besides, it wasn’t like they’d raped her, or beat her up, or anything that a jury of 12 honest (white) people
would have understood. They tried to steal something from her that didn’t technically belong to her in the
first place, but that she owned anyway.
The more Manny thought about it, as he was led away in handcuffs with his mother and sister wailing and
his father turning away from him, the more he reckoned it was a good idea he’d never brought up the gold
apple after all.

—•••—
Manny met Gail at a block party. At first he thought she was lost, and then that she was slumming, but
then he had to admit that other than the fact that she wasn’t Italian, she fit right in. Maybe she was just
light-skinned and bleach-blonde? He walked over to her to ask. He was already drunk.
Manny was what his mother called “good-hearted.” That is, he was honest and hard-working, but not
terribly bright. Manny recognized that, but didn’t figure being smart was too big of a deal. His cousin
was smart. He’d been in college for years, and was living in a crappy apartment while he worked on
a degree that would let him call himself “Doctor” even though he wasn’t a “real” doctor. Meanwhile,
Manny was a welder and made good money, had a good retirement plan, and didn’t have to spend
every waking minute reading boring, thick books about art and metal and stuff. Although even Manny
admitted it was kind of neat to hear about how people worked metal a hundred years ago, without
torches or galvanization or anything.
So Manny saw Gail, and while some of his brothers or cousins might have thought about how to get such a
good-looking girl in the sack, Manny just figured it’d be nice to bring her a drink. So he did, and they got
to talking. Manny fell in love.
Gail danced, but not very well. She wasn’t Italian and hadn’t been going to these block parties all her
life, like Manny had. Manny never did get around to asking why she was there, and later, in his cell
awaiting the needles, he wondered if asking that might have spared him some trouble later. The thoughts
were painful, because if he’d asked, she probably would have found someone else to help her with her
problem, and that meant she’d never have loved him. That thought nearly made him cry. But everybody cries
on death row, sometimes, no matter what they want you to believe.

—•••—
After the party, Manny and Gail went for a walk around the block. Manny was still a little buzzed, but
he’d cut back once he and Gail had met because he wanted to feel at his best while talking to her. She told
him about the apple. He couldn’t remember later how she had brought it up, but then Manny didn’t have a
great memory for that kind of thing.
“It’s about the size of your fist,” she said. “I think it’s made of gold, but I need to know what it’s worth
and I don’t trust gold dealers.” Manny nodded, even though he didn’t know any gold dealers. “You don’t
know anyone who knows about this stuff, do you?”
Manny shook his head, and they moved on to other things. They talked about their work. Mostly Manny
talked about his work and Gail nodded, because she wasn’t working just then. They had walked all the way
around the block when Manny remembered his cousin Al. “Hey, my cousin knows about art and metal and
stuff.”
“Oh, yeah?” Gail had just stepped under the streetlight, on the corner across from St. Jude’s. Manny was
watching the way the fake light caught in her hair. “Manny,” she laughed, “what are you looking at?”
“You,” he said, and then he kissed her. She seemed surprised, but she kissed him back. Later, when Manny
was waiting to die, his traitorous mind sometimes thought that she’d used him somehow. But, he told
himself, if Gail had meant for him to do all of this, wouldn’t she have seemed more interested in the apple
that first night?

—•••—
The day Manny Romito died, he said something very strange before they put the needle in his arm. He
said, “I never got to see that apple.” Most of the people at the execution figured he was just being poetic.
Some of his family figured they’d slipped him a pill before they brought him out, just to keep him calm,
 and that he was just drunk-talking. Only one person present knew that “the apple” was
significant, and he waited for Manny to die and then scanned the room for ghosts. He
didn’t see any, so he left, resolving to look into the matter when he had time. That might
be a while, though, because this particular person was a busy man. The only reason he was
there at all was because Manny had killed a friend of his.
If Manny’s family had known about the vagaries of life and death, and how it all “works,”
they wouldn’t have been surprised to find that Manny didn’t leave a ghost behind. Manny
didn’t hold grudges or remember slights. If he had something to say to you, he said it. If
he felt like he needed to hit you, well, he’d do that, too. That was why they felt, perhaps as
a coping strategy and perhaps with some logic, that if Manny had killed those men, he must
have felt he needed to.
They were right about that. Manny hated those people with more passion that he’d ever
hated anybody. He hated them because of what they did to Gail. But by the time he came to
die, he’d had his revenge and spent his anger. All that was left was love, and over the years
that he waited to die, his lawyer half-heartedly going through the appeals, even that turned
into memory and regret.
The man who knew that Manny’s last words were significant, but that he didn’t leave a
ghost behind, didn’t care about some blue-collar thug under the drip. He didn’t care about
Manny’s family and their confusion, and he certainly didn’t doubt that Manny was guilty,
because in his experience people were just crazy and who knew why they did anything
anyway. But he was concerned about how said thug snuck up on his friend Bob and shot him
in the head. The man got out to his car before he decided that he did have time to look into
it, after all, and went to a dingy office downtown.
The man’s door had the letters “L Y GRAND” stenciled on it. “PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR”
would have cost too much, and “PI” just looked silly. Besides, while Lyle was a private
investigator, most of what he did fell more under the “hired thief” category than actual
investigation, and if he advertised his PI license, he was sure he’d be investigating cheating
husbands within the week. Lyle couldn’t abide the notion of snooping on some fat white guy
with a hooker. The thought made him queasy.
Lyle pulled out a scrapbook and looked over photos of his friend. Bob had been in the
military, and while he wasn’t a SEAL or Army Ranger or anything like that, he had kept in
shape and stayed alert. It was Bob, actually, who’d taught Lyle about having “street eyes” —
watching shadows, reflections, looking down alleys, that kind of thing. So how did Bob wind
up getting shot by a guy like Manny?
Everybody has an off day, mused Lyle. Wonder if Bob left a ghost?

—•••—
Manny had never killed anyone before. He’d been in fights before, even a knife fight once,
but it had never escalated too far. A few stitches in his arm, and that was it. He’d never
considered killing anyone, let alone planned how to do it. Never until Gail…
Gail had told him that Bob had the apple originally. But he’d stolen it (Gail never said
where it had come from), and Gail wanted to give it back, but she couldn’t while Bob was
still out there free. Manny had suggested turning him in for stealing it, but Gail said he
had friends on the force and wouldn’t get arrested. She didn’t suggest killing him; she
just cried in Manny’s arms and said how scared she was that Bob would come find her.
Manny was pretty sure he had just meant to scare Bob.
He found Bob in his car outside Gail’s apartment building. He walked up, put his hand on
his gun, and put it to Bob’s head. And then he felt something. He couldn’t place the feeling
then and was never able to express it later, but he knew that Bob was doing something
without moving, and he pulled the trigger. And he saw the hole appear from the other side
of Bob’s head and spray brains and blood all over the window. Manny ran, and he got all the
way home before he threw up.
 Gail was waiting for him. When he told her what happened, she held him close and
told him that it was okay. Bob was dangerous and if Manny hadn’t shot him, he’d probably
be dead. Bob never went anywhere without a gun. It was self-defense, in a way.
Manny wouldn’t have accepted that coming from anyone else. Truth be told, he had
almost run to find a cop rather than coming home. But from Gail, it made just enough
sense that he could accept it, and put what he’d done behind him.
It had only been a week after Bob died when Gail asked Al to look at the apple. Then she
came home with a black eye, crying to Manny that Al had hit her and tried to take the apple.
Manny had been incensed. He went straight over to his cousin’s apartment, and when Al
opened the door, he’d punched him in the face.
Al stumbled backwards and fell over his couch. Manny heard breaking glass and then a
gurgling sound. He walked around the couch and saw that Al had fallen through a glass
coffee table. Thick blood oozed from a gash in his throat. He reached up for Manny, and
then went limp. Manny learned before the trial that a chunk of glass had punctured his
windpipe just above the Adam’s apple and he’d choked on his own blood.
Manny had never meant to kill Al, but as Al lay dying, Manny had thought Shouldn’t have
hit her. Then he left. He went straight home. This time he didn’t throw up. He told Gail
what had happened and asked if maybe they should call the police, but she just asked him
for more ice to put on her eye. Manny got her the ice, and then they made love, and he fell
asleep feeling like he’d done right by her. It didn’t occur to him to ask why Al hadn’t taken
the apple, or what Al had told her about what it was worth. Manny didn’t ask questions like
that, not of Gail.

—•••—
By the time Lyle got to the apartment, Al had been dead five years. It takes a long time for
the legal system to execute a man, and Lyle just hoped that Al hadn’t moved on when Manny
had died.
No one was renting the apartment. Lyle broke in and looked around. Walls painted,
furniture moved out, bare bones. Cold, even in spring. He tapped on the wall and called out
softly; he saw a flicker of movement from the next room.
“Al?” Lyle walked a little ways toward the movement, but kept his hand on the door frame.
“Albert Wilson?” Hope he remembers his name.
The movement stopped, and then drifted closer. Lyle never saw ghosts as full-bodied
apparitions, though Bob had claimed to. Lyle only saw them as tiny wisps of movement out
of the corners of his eyes. Lyle wished ruefully that Bob had left a ghost; maybe he could’ve
answered some questions and contacting Al wouldn’t have been necessary.
“I’m Lyle Grand. I want to talk to you.” No response. “About Manny Romito.” That brought
a reaction. The room got even colder. Lyle decided to press his luck. “And an apple.”
Lyle flew back against the wall. The ghost was here in full force now, although Lyle
still couldn’t see it. “I’m here to put things right!” The ghost lifted him up and pinned him
against the wall. Lyle grabbed at a straw. “I’ll get you the apple!”
The ghost dropped him. Lyle could still see it (sort of), but it was calmer now. “I’ll get it
for you,” he said, “but I need to know what happened.” He felt the ghost acquiesce.
Not all ghosts can communicate with the living, but those that do have various ways of
going about it. Some ghosts send their voices through electronics. Some invade dreams.
Some just make pictures in the air, and the ghost that Al Wilson left behind was one of
those. Lyle watched those pictures for an hour, and when he left, he knew the truth.
He had to find Gail and get that apple. But he knew he couldn’t touch it, or look at it, or
he’d end up like Al and Bob…or worse, like Manny.
He went back to the office to think it through. He had a feeling he was missing something:
something that had to do with Gail.
 Credits
Written by: Justin Achilli, Jess Hartley, Wood Ingham, Matthew
McFarland, Peter Schaefer and Chuck Wendig
World of Darkness created by Mark Rein•Hagen
Developer:Jess Hartley
Creative Director: Richard Thomas
Editor: Scribendi.com
Art Director: Mike Chaney
Book Design: Mike Chaney
Interior Art: Costas Harritas, Mattias Tapia, Mattias Kollros, Eric
Lofgren, Jeremy McHugh, Brian Leblanc & Peter Bergting
Cover Art: Katherine McCaskill

For Use with

the World of
®
Darkness Rulebook

© 2007 White Wolf Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved. Reproduction without the written permission of the pub-
lisher is expressly forbidden, except for the purposes of reviews. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored
in a retrieval system or transmitted by any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or
otherwise without the prior written permission of White Wolf Publishing, Inc. Reproduction prohibitions do not apply
to the character sheets contained in this book when reproduced for personal use only. White Wolf and World of Dark-
ness are registered trademarks of White Wolf Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved. Vampire: the Requiem, Werewolf: the
Forsaken, Mage: the Awakening, Promethean: The Created, Changeling: The Lost and Storytelling System are trade-
marks of White Wolf Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved. All characters, names, places and text herein are copyrighted
by White Wolf Publishing, Inc.
This book uses the supernatural for settings, characters and themes. All mystical and supernatural elements are fic-
tion and intended for entertainment purposes only. This book contains mature content. Reader discretion is advised.
Check out White Wolf online at http://www.white-wolf.com
PRINTED IN CANADA.

6
Credits
 Table of Contents
Prologue 1
Introduction 8
Chapter One: In Dark Corners 12
Chapter Two: A Million Little Things 38
Chapter Three: Powers and Prices 82
Chapter Four: Tales of the MacGuffin 118
Epilogue 140

7
 Welcome
Welcome toto
the Reliquary
the Reliquary
An Introduction
“ o shalt dance!” he
“Thou
Thou
“Thou shalt
to Relics
The term “relic” can mean many different things, depending on the context.
ssaid. “Dance
dance!” heinsaid.
thy red A museum may define a relic as an item of interest because of its age or historic
“Dance
sshoes in art
till thou thy pale import. A treasure hunter may think of a relic as a valuable artifact, saleable to
red shoes till the highest bidder. To the religious community, a relic is a body or body part
an
ndthou
cold, art
andpale
till thy
andbody of a venerated individual (often a saint). These definitions are diverse, and yet
cold, and
sshrivels
rivels
ri to atill thy
skeleto
skeleton. there is a common theme running through them. For whatever reason - emo-
body shrivels to tional, spiritual, economic or historic - a relic is a precious item. Relics may be
aThou shaltThou
skeleton. dance
many things, but whatever form they take, whatever powers they possess, and
from
f shalt dance
door from and
to door; no matter how old or new, relics are valuable and desired.
door to door;
where proud, haughty
w
and where proud,
children
c haughty dwell shalt thou
children Relics in the World of Darkness
dwell, that
knock, shaltthey
thoumay Within the World of Darkness, there seem to be exceptions to every rule.
knock, that they Every “always” likely has an “other than”, every “must” has at least one corre-
hear
h maytheehearand
nd be afra
thee afraid
and sponding “unless”. These supernatural creatures are a certain way, except when
be afraid
of thee!”of thee!” ”
“Mercy! they are not. These legendary places are just like this, other than when they are
“Mercy!” cried the
cried the girl. But she
c different. These people behave this way, except when they do not. Likewise,
girl. But she did magical items are exactly what they are described as in the various other game
did
di
notnot hear
hear what
what the
the books — unless they are relics.
Angel answered,
Angel answered, for
A Relics are, as a group, anomalies. Unlike standard magical items (klaives, im-
for the shoes bued items, Artifacts, fetishes or the like) crafted by mages, werewolves or any other
the
t shoesher
carried carried
away her
— supernatural group with such abilities, relics as a whole have very little in common
carried
away —her through
carried her with each other. They are not identifiable by any particular singular quality. Some
the door
through
t
on to the
the door
are very powerful, others inert. Some are ancient, others all but brand new. Some
field, over stockon to are legendary, known even to those who know nothing else about the supernatural
andfield,
the
t stone, and stock
over she world; others are treasured only by a select few or even a single individual.
was always obliged
and stone, and she was Some relics are ancient artifacts, timeless creations which transcend the
to dance. memory of modern man, and have value as much for their lost origins and
always obliged to dance.
a what they may teach about long-forgotten times as for any supernatural power
— The Red Shoes, they may possess. Others are the stuff of legends, perhaps powerful at their
— TheHansRedRChristian
Sho
Shoes, creation, but most significant because of the millennia of meaning bestowed
Anderson upon them in myths and folklore. Still other relics are heirlooms, memorabilia
Hans
ans
ns Christ
Christian
or legacies, given meaning (and sometimes power) not by the virtue of having
Anderson been crafted by powerful supernatural individuals, but because of their ties to a
single dynamic moment, or long-term exposure to circumstances fraught with
emotion, danger, or energy.
In truth, the term “relic” in the World of Darkness is more a broad label
for things which do not fit neatly into other categories, rather than a specific
category itself.
Rather than waste pages of text attempting to define the minutia of how and
why relics are what they are or how they should be used in game, we will give readers
the tools they need to use relics in their stories in whatever way they see fit. We will
offer a broad sampling of relics great and small, mundane and powerful, precious

8
introduction
and disposable, which can be utilized as-is or customized with • A gun symbolizes freedom to the man who uses it to
the wide variety of powers, costs and curses available in this escape his captors (or the law), wealth to the one who
book. Perhaps more importantly, we will give players and feeds his family with his hunting, or hopelessness as he
Storytellers the tools with which to create their own relics, sees its barrel swinging towards his children, whether
and offer essays, chronicle ideas and specific game scenarios in his hands or those of an enemy.
to help implement relics into any World of Darkness game Humans are also fickle in regards to our “things”. We
in an entertaining, exciting and enriching fashion. lust after something, crave it, need it, do anything to obtain
it… until the next “thing” comes along. And then we forget
the old item. We discard it, store it, stick it away - out of
Theme: Things Have Power sight and out of mind. These things don’t just disappear,
In human society, a great deal of emphasis is placed however; they remain where we leave them, gathering dust
on possessions. We judge ourselves and each other based and, sometimes, power.
on our houses, our cars, our jewelry, our “toys”, and our And sometimes, they don’t forget us as quickly as we
clothing. The things we own, however, also own us. Pos- forget them.
sessions are more than tools or toys: they are symbols and
labels which we and others use to define ourselves. Mood: Lost l ore. Discovery. Peril.
We invest money, time, energy and emotion into Relics are more than “power up” items or curses incarnate
items, and sometimes those investments pay off in ways — at least if they’re handled well. With proper attention paid
we might have never suspected they would. Things can to background and dramatic atmosphere, they can serve as
become tangible symbols of ideas. icons for the spirit and theme of a game. A well-introduced
• A childhood toy becomes a symbol of our youth, relic can add more to a game than back-up healing or a few
whether that means it is an icon of simpler times, a extra dice on a combat roll; it can serve as an icon that rein-
reminder of otherwise forgotten dreams and desires forces the thematic elements of the chronicle as a whole, or a
or a receptacle of childhood pain and sorrow. counterpoint to help balance a game which has become too
• A wedding ring serves as a form of armor against light, dark, depressing or one-dimensional.
unwanted attentions, a symbol of acceptance into Relics can represent forgotten secrets. They can give
adulthood and normalcy, or an unbreakable shackle players the sense of leaving the lit path and venturing into
to an abusive spouse.

9
an introduction to relics-relics in the world of darkness
 the dusty cracks of the world, of touching something that unique magical items of this sort to provide motivation,
has gone untouched for a thousand years. symbolism or conflict to their tales.
Relics can remind us of the value of keeping secrets, and
the alienation it can bring. The power of hidden knowledge and
the agony of possessing an item of importance or value and being Books
afraid to tell anyone about it. The fear of discovery. Beowulf - The poem is absolutely obsessed with the
Owning a relic and trying to go about every day life stuff that people have, especially the stuff that Beowulf gets
can be like going to work with a loaded gun in your pocket over the course of his adventures. The stuff that World of
and trying to keep it to yourself. Darkness characters get should be just as precious to them,
Even relics without astronomical supernatural powers just as valuable, just as detailed and just as nebulously
can bring their own challenges. The discovery of a let- magical.
ter that reveals a truth undreamed of by the populace at The Lord of the Rings - Besides having one of the most
large. The knowing of the impossible. The light-headed, famous relics ever (the One Ring), Tolkien’s books (and
heavy-stomach, steaming-skin feeling that comes over you the movies inspired by them) are filled to the brim with
in waves as you gradually make sense of what you see and objects made unique and prestigious through background
realize that it changes everything. details, lineages, past usage, famous owners and familial ties.
Relics can add that to a game. The thrill of discovery. A World of Darkness chronicle probably won’t have this
The triumph of reclaiming lost knowledge. The wonder of kind of volume of relics, but might well blend profound,
realizing the truth beneath layers of fiction and falsehood. frightening objects like the One Ring with less powerful but
And the heavy weight of the implications thereof. no-less-individualized objects like Sting and Glamdring.
The Necronomicon - This book, while itself a
fictional creation of H.P. Lovecraft, has spread across
How to so many different media, stories, genres and eras that
it must be considered is one of the superstars of occult
Use This Book
The chapters of this book are laid out in such a way
relics. Sometimes it’s a catalyst, sometimes a MacGuffin,
sometimes a simple prop, sometimes a joke, but it never
as to facilitate the introduction of relics into any World of seems to completely lose its luster.
Darkness chronicle. Constantine - Notice that the Spear of Destiny is
Chapter One: In Dark Corners provides a selection of actually not a MacGuffin in this movie. Rather, it is the
essays designed to aid players and Storytellers in using relics dramatic deadline (unknown to the protagonists); when
and relic-focused plotlines to enrich their games. the Spear reaches Los Angeles, the shit will hit the fan.
Chapter Two: A Million Little Things offers sample rel- Also, notice how the Spear of Destiny does not define the
ics, complete with backgrounds, Powers, costs and storytelling visual elements and thematic territory for the film. Even
hints. These can be incorporated “as-is” into a chronicle, or if the Spear of Destiny wasn’t in the movie, it’d still be
serve as inspiration for creating new relics which can be owned set in Los Angeles and would still have a strong Catholic
by players or serve as plot devices (or both). atmosphere. On top of all this Spear of Destiny stuff, the
Chapter Three: Powers and Prices gives details and movie is littered with important (and pretty cool) arti-
mechanics for dozens of relic Powers which can be mixed facts: talismans, fiery wands, holy water, haunted chairs,
and matched to create an endless supply of unique artifacts, blessed bullets, arcane tattoos and more.
treasures and heirlooms. As well, new Merits relating to
relics and those who use them are found here.
Chapter Four: Tales of the MacGuffin provides a
Television Shows
Alias - This show’s use of artifacts and MacGuffins is
plethora of sample scenarios specifically taken from relic-
a pretty standard example of a chain style - one MacGuffin
focused games. Each not only offers an example of the types
leads to another, which leads to yet another - with a surpris-
of challenges that may face characters (and Storytellers) in
ingly drawn out lifespan for a larger MacGuffin: the truth
a game that includes relics and artifacts, but can be stripped
about Rambaldi himself, the great MacGuffin maker.
down and reloaded with details to allow it to be dropped
The Dresden Files - While many of Harry’s magical
into any game incorporating relics.
items might be seen as Artifacts or imbued items (being
crafted by a “wizard”/Mage), others lean more towards

Sources and relics, taking their power less from “magic” and more
from their sympathetic connection with a situation,

Inspirations
Relics are not unique to the World of Darkness.
person or event.
The Lost Room - This Sci Fi Channel miniseries
centered around a mysterious room and the dozens of once-
Throughout history, storytellers have been utilizing mundane items from within it which have now taken on

10
introduction
supernatural powers. While the Objects are all the result of only role that an artifact can fill in a story, of course, but
a single cataclysmic Event, any one of them might be given it’s an important one that’s easy to use.
a unique background and serve perfectly well as a relic for A Simple Plan - This movie’s about money, rather than
a World of Darkness campaign. As well, The Collectors, a mystic artifact, but the moral dilemma and the suspense
The Legion and The Order of Reunification are intriguing are all spot on for relic adventures. Bill Paxton’s character
examples of how mysterious and powerful relics can affect slides right down the Morality scale as this movie goes on
those around them, both as individuals and groups. and you can see how it affects his psyche.
Frailty - This, however, is the movie where Bill
Paxton’s eroding morality really makes him nuts (or
Movies vice versa). He thinks that axe has supernatural powers.
Indiana Jones - Each of the Indiana Jones movies Does it? Or do his words simply give it such dramatic
centers on an antique, mystical MacGuffin that doesn’t just weight that, without any magic powers, the presence
drive the action but implies the settings, enemies and visual of the axe is effective enough to warrant modeling in
vocabulary for the film. The MacGuffin certainly isn’t the the game mechanics?

11
how to use this book-sources and inspirations
Night falls over Boston.
Nigh
Ni ght
Ifhyou
t fa
fall
lls
ll s ov
over
e you
er
listen, Bos
osto
to
on.
n. hear the machinery of the Big Dig in the background.
can
If yo
If you u li
list
sten
ten,
en
n, yo
you
y u ca
cann he
hear the
hear the
h m mac
achi
ac
acchi
hin
hine
hi nery
ryyooff the
the Bi
Big
B g Di
Dig
D iig
g in
i tth h b
he backg
ackg
ac k gr
kgro
roun
und
ndd..
I love the Big Dig. Ever since it started, I’ve been sneaking into the tunnels and taking pic-
tures. I sell the pictures to the Globe sometimes, when there’s something juicy going on,
I lo
ove tthe
he B Big
ig Dig
Dig
ig.. Ev
Ever
er
r ssin
innce it star
sttar
arte
ted,
te d, I’v
’vee be
been
en
n sneneak
akin
ak ing
in g into
into
in to tthe
he tun
unnen ls and ta
ne tak
aking piiic-
but mostly it’s about the art. The imagery of the ground that people walk on getting torn
ture
tu
turres. I sel
sel
elll the
the pict
pict
ctuures to th
ures the
e Gl
G ob obee some
so
ommeetiime
mess,
s, whe
h n th here
ere’s so
er s me
meththin
th in
ing
ng ju
juic
icy
y go
goiing
in onn,
up, making caves underneath the city. Wherever there’s a deep, dark place, people gotta
but mo
bu
but most stly
st ly it’
t s ab
abou
bouut th
the ar rt.
t Th
The
he imaima
mage gery
ge ry of ththe
e gr
grou
ouundd tha
hatt pe
p op ple w walalk
k on get etti
tti
ting tornn
fill it. Get Freudian with that if you want, but it’s true. They’re starting to tell stories
up
up, ma
maki king
ki ng c ca
aves u
aves und
nd
nder
derrne
neat
a h tth
at he cicity
ty.. Wh
ty Whererev
ever
er the
the
h re
r ’s
’s a dee
deep p, d
p, dar
ark plplac
ace,
ac e, peo
eopl
plle gotta
ple a
about some monster that lives in the Dig now, strong enough to lift bulldozers and all
fill
fill it
it.
t. GGet
ett Fr
Fre
reud
reud
udiia
ian wi
ian withth
h tha
h t if youyouuw wan
annt,
t, b
but
ut it’
it s tr
tru
rue
ue. Th
ue. They
eyy’rre st
star
arti
ar ting
ting ttoo te
tell
ll sstories
wild-haired and covered in mud.
abbou
o t so ome m mononst
ster
er tha
thaat li
live
vess in the
ve the
he DDig
ig
gn now
ow,, st
ow stro
rong
ro ng enonoug
ugh h to lififtt bu
b lldozers and all
wild
wi
w ild
ld-h
ld-h-hai
hai
aire
red
re
reed
d an
and d coove
vere
red
ed in m mud
ud
ud.
Anyway, yesterday I saw two guys talking in hushed tones.
Anyw
An
A yway
ay
y, ye
yest
ester
teerda
da
d ay I sa
saww ttw
wo g
guys
gu alNot
ys ta
tal nguncommon.
k ng
ki in h
hush
hushed
hed
d ton
ones
es..
e
I figure them for Irish Nott un
No
N umob
n
nco
co
com
comm
ommon
m mon
on.. they sure aren’t wops,
‘cause
but then I get closer and they’re talking too free to be
I fiig
gure
guure
u re
re th
hem
heem fofor
or Ir
Irish
Iriissh
ishhmmob
mo o
ob
b ‘c
cau
c a se
ause
au e the
the
hey su
hey surere arren
re
en’
n t wopsss,
n’t
mob. These are amateurs, people who aren’t used to think-
butt th
bu then I g get
et clo
loseser
se r an
nd th
they
ey’r
ey ’re
e talk
ta
alk
kin
ing
g to
too
o fr
fre
ee to b
be
ing that someone might be listening.
mob.
mo b The hese
se a
are
re
rea ama
mate
ma teur
teurss,
ur s, peo
peo
eopl
ple
pl e wh
w o araren
en’tt use
en use
sed
d to thinkk-
k
ing ththat
hat
a someone might be listen listeningg.
g
One guy’s white with dreadlocks, the other I can’t see well enough (and he didn’t come out
in the photos, damn it). The dreadlocks guy says, “I haven’t found it yet.”
One
On e gu
g yy’’s wh
whit
i e wi
it with
th d
dre
read
re adlo
ad lo
ock
cks
ks,
s, tth
he o
he oth
the
th er I can
er can
an’t
’tt see
ewwel
elll en
el enou
oug
ough (and he didn’t come ou
gh ut
u
in the p
pho
hoto
ho tos,
s damamnn it
it)).
it).
) TThe
he dre
d
dread
read
adlo
ad
dlo
l cks
lock
ck
ks gu
guyy sa
says
ys,
y , “II h
ys hav
aven
a
ave ’tt fou
en ffound
ound
ndd itt ye
yet
yet.
yet.”
t.”
Other guy says, “She’s still got it, and she’s not in the city anymore.”
O he
Ot
“Maybe you should just let it go.”h r gu
guyy says
ys, “She’s still got it,
i , and sshe
he’s
’s n
not in th
he ci
city a
annymore..”

“May
“Ma be you
ay u ssho
houl
uld
d ju
just
st let it go
o.”” “What’s this? You’re turning down gold booty?”

“Wh
“W
Wha
hat’
t’
t s th
this
i ? Yo
is? Y u’re
You’ e ttur
u ni
ur ning
ingg down gogold
ld b
boo
oty
t ??”
ty?
“Ha-ha,” says Dreadlocks, and I get the distinct feeling there’s a joke I’m not
getting. But they’re talking about stealing, that’s sure enough. “You know
“Ha
“H a-ha,”
a-ha ,” ssay
ay
ys drea
drea
dr eadl
dlo
dl ocks
ocks
oc ks,, an
nd I ge
g t th
the di
d st
stin
inct
inct fee
fee
eeli
eli
ling
ng tthe
here
here’s
re’ss a jok
okee I’m no
nott
where she is?”
gettt
ge ttin
ttin
ing
g. B
g. But
ut they’re talking about stealing, that’ss su suree enough.h “YoYouu knnow
wher
wh eree she is?”
“Yeah,” says the other guy, “she’s in Buffalo.”

“Out of my territory,” says Dreadlocks, “and yours,“Y

Yeah
ea h,” says the other
h,
too.” er g
guy
uy,, “she
he’s
’s in Bu
Buff
ffalo
o..””

“Let me“OO utt o

worry off myy tter
about e that.
er rit
ri
ito
toryJust
tory ,” say
sayys dr
givedrme
drea
eadl
ea dloc
dl ocks
ocks
oc
what ks,you’ve
, “aand yyou
ours
ou r ,Dreadlocks
rs
got.” too.”
too
to o.” hands over an enve-
lope, and I look through the telephoto lens. The words “GAIL WAGNER” are written on
“L
Let
et me wo worr
worrrry y abo
abbout
out that
that
at. Just
Just giv
Ju ivee me
me w wha
hatt yo
ha you
u’ve
u’veeg got
ot..” Dre
ot read
addlo
loc
ckks ha
andnds
ds ov
over
err an en
env ve-
it. “You mind if I bring it here once I get it, Davey? For appraisal?”
lope
lo p , and
pe annd I lolook
ok tthr
hrou
hrough
ou ugh
g tthe
he tel
he tel
eleepho
ep hoto
oto len
len
ens
ns.
s. The
he wwor
ord
or ds “GA
ds G IL L WAG AGN NER”
NER
NE R” are r wri ritt
tten
en on
Davey tosses his dreadsit.. “Y
it You andmin
m iglares
ind
innd if Iatbri ingguy.
the it
it he
he“You
reeoonc
nce
nc e I ge
bringg that
t it
it, thing
it, Dave
Dave
Da vey?
y??F
to For
o app
or app
ppr
Boston, rEnoch,”
ra ais
isal
isal
al?”
? he
says, “and I’ll turn Annie on your ass.”
Dave
Dav
Da vey to
vey toss
sses
ss es hhis
is d
is dre
read
re ads an
ads
ad andd gl
gla
are at th
ares
ar he guguy.
y “You bring g th
that
at tthi
h ng tto
o Bo
Bostston
on,, En
Enococh,
h,”” h
hee
says
sa
Enoch nods.y , “a
ys andd II’l
“Duly ’llnoted.”
l tu
turn AHe
turn nnie
nnnie on
on yo
walks y off,
ur aaway
ss.” from me. What the hell kind of name is
“Enoch” anyway?
Enoc
En och
oc h no
nodds “D
ds. “Dululyy no
note te
ed.
d ” He wal a kss off ff, away from m me
me. Wh Whatat tthe
he hhel
elll ki
kind
nd o off na
name
me iiss
“E
Eno
nochch” an
ch anywyway
yw ay??
ay
I’m shaking. This is a big deal. Buffalo’s my hometown. I knew a Gail
WagnerII’ back
’m shhinkhigh
ak g.. Tschool.
ing.
ing hiss is aIfbig
hi she’s
big
g dea involved
eal.l Buf
l. u faaloin
’s something,
lo’s my hohomemeto
me I could
town
town.
wn . I kn shoot
knew
ew a Gai
aill
it from the
Wagn
Wa ground
gner
gner bacack up
k in —
n hig“Anatomy
gh scscho
hool
ho of Grand
o . If she
ol she
he’s Larceny”
’s inv
nvolo ve
ol vedd in or something.
n som
somet
ommet
ethi
hing
hi Don’t
ng, I co
ng, oul
u d sh
shoo
ooot
know if it’d
i fro
it rom be
m th worth
thee gr
g ou a Pulitzer
ound up — “A or
“Ana not,
nato
tto
omy but
my of Gr it’d
Granand
an sure
d La
Larcget
rc
cen my
eny” name
y or so
y” some
mearound.
eth
thin
ing.
ing Don
g. on’t
know
kn o iff it
it’d
’d b
be wo
wortr h a Pu uli
litz
tzer
er
r or no
not,t, b
but
ut iit’
t’dd su
sure
re g
get
et m
my y na
name
me a aro
roun
und d.

Although “Peter Sochowsky, Pulitzer Prize Winner” sure has a nice ring to it.
A th
Althou
o gh ““Pe
ou Pete
ter
r So
Soch
chow
owsk
owsky,
y, P
Pul
ulit
itze
zer
r Pr
Priz
ize
e Wi
Winn
nner
er”” sure
er su
ure hass a n
nic
icee ri
ring
ng tto
o it
it..
 Chapter One:
Chapter One:
In Dark Corners
In Dark Corners Relics have a lot to offer to a World of Darkness chronicle. They can
provide characters with food for thought, enlightenment, power and challenge.
They also can be challenging for players and Storytellers, however. This series
of essays is designed to aid those who would incorporate relics into their World
of Darkness games.
• Value and Symbolism offers reflection on making relics a valuable part of
a chronicle, whether they’re little known or legendary.
• One in a Million or a Dime a Dozen? deals with the pros and cons of rare
or plentiful relics in a game.
• 50 Details Implying a Relic’s History offers a list of interesting sensory clues
that Storytellers can use to give relics more flavor and depth.
• Location, Location, Location covers the common places where relics might
be found and the challenges of seeking them there.
• Adding Life to Dry Subjects talks about how to cover research, hard sci-
ences and other potentially dry topics in game without allowing them to
become boring.
• Finders, Keepers: Treasure Hunting and the Law raises some of the myriad is-
sues that relic hunters may encounter when going about their risky business.
• Relic-Focused Chronicles goes into depth on some of the types of story
"The
The world
wo lines that might revolve around relics, and what they each offer to players
at large
"The arge
world does
at large and Storytellers.
not judge us us
does not judge by
who
by ho
who weweare
ar
are and
what
what weweknow;
it judges us
judges us
know;
kno it
by by
what
Value and Symbolism
By Wood Ingham
what
hat w
wewe havhave."
have."
Everything means something else. It’s the way the human psyche works.
- Joyce
Joy
- Joyce Brothers Things have importance and meaning to us. We look at an object and see all
Brothers sorts of things, make all sorts of connections. They can be simple things. One
slightly chipped coffee mug has, for the man who has owned it ever since college,
associations that go beyond simply being a receptacle for beverages. A teddy bear
that belonged to a murdered child carries the baggage of innocence and grief.
In literature, physical paraphernalia has always carried a heavy weight of
meaning. In World of Darkness stories, choosing objects that have associations
can help to add a sense of depth and drama, and, if done correctly, help to drive
a story that players and Storytellers alike will value and remember.

Making it Significant
It’s easy to attach meaning to mythical and religious relics. They’re about mean-
ing, after all. Perhaps the most well-used (or, if you look at it another way, hackneyed)
relic is the Arthurian Holy Grail. It was a chalice; Christ drank from it at the Last
Supper. His friend Joseph of Arimathea took it to Britain and placed it a hidden
cathedral, the Chapel Perilous. The chalice brings healing, and not just to those
who drink from it, frequently the Fisher King (or sometimes Arthur himself), but to
the land itself, which blooms and experiences a new Spring. The Grail brings grace.
The Grail restores. The cup symbolizes restoration. The Arthurian story makes it
explicit by tying it to the Christian myth of death and resurrection: this is my blood.

14
Chapter One-In Dark Corners
Other documents randomly have
different content
but these men are lazy, dirty, ignorant and infinitely low, and all they
are after is to get money and a free meal out of women.”
“The ages of the women range from twenty-five to seventy years.
The older women peered anxiously through their spectacles at the
board and whispered quietly to a companion; wisps of ragged gray
hair escaped and waved below the little black bonnet. Heavy, thick-
soled shoes stuck out from the hem of the modest black gowns;
they grasped worn silk reticules in their nervous fingers, and got out
the small sum which, in most instances, they did not have the nerve
to invest.”
Describing the condition in life of these women, the reporter was
told that some had been wealthy, and were now poor through
speculation; while “more than two-thirds are the mothers of families
and are eking out a little income, in many instances supporting an
idle, worthless man, who should himself be out in the world earning
a living.”
“If they make 75 cents a day it is a big day for them,” said the
reporter’s informant. “How little you realize the state to which many
of these women are brought! Many of them are almost penniless.
Frequently they come here in the morning and borrow money with
which to begin the day’s operations.”
Pool rooms, as a general rule, run wide open; occasionally they are
“closed for repairs” caused by a police raid, forced by some flagrant
outrage against the law. They flourish in the most public places, with
no restriction upon admission to any visitor. The daily races all over
the country are posted on large black boards covering the walls, with
a list of the horses entered and a minute of the odds which will be
given or demanded by the house, from which the room’s judgment
of the “favorite” can be ascertained.
The money is handled openly, bet openly, and paid openly. City
detectives assist in their management, and “play the races.” Raids
contemplated by the police are tipped off to the managers, and
when the officers arrive the game has closed.
The incidents attending an actual pull are in the main more
laughable than impressive. The “hurry up” wagon takes its load
away, and before many moments have elapsed the same faces are
seen again returning to the one attractive spot in their daily lives.
These rooms are munificent contributors for protection. They pay
from $600 to $1,000 per month. They hold back telegraphic
messages of the results of races until their confederates have placed
bets. They are patronized by women of, apparently, all classes. In
one raid eighteen women were captured, fifteen of whom claimed to
be married. All of them, of course, gave fictitious names; three had
babies in their arms; three claimed they were wives of policemen; a
few were well dressed, and all were undoubtedly devotees of
gambling, sporting women who fancied they had discovered the way
to lead an easy and money-making life.
The following extract, taken from the examination of the head of the
police force of the city, will show the view entertained by that official
of the nature of his duties, in this regard.
Before the senatorial committee appointed January 6th, 1898, to
investigate scandals in connection with the police force, its Chief was
interrogated and answered as follows, viz.:
Q. How many pool rooms have you pulled, how many men have
been arrested and convicted for pool selling since you have been
chief?
A. I understand one fellow has been found guilty and fined $2,000.
Q. But he was arrested by the Sheriff of Cook County, indicted by
the grand jury because the police would not do it?
A. I don’t know whether it was because the police would not do it,
or because they could not do it.
Q. Well, it was because they did not do it. Do you mean to say that
you, as Chief of Police, with 3,500 sworn men——
A. Don’t say 3,500 men. It is 2,500 men; don’t make it quite so
strong.
Q. Do you say to this committee, that with 2,500 sworn men in this
city you are powerless to stop the public running of pool rooms in
this city?
A. I will say that I am powerless to stop a man from making hand
books, or selling pools confidentially to his friends.
Q. Do you know of any pool rooms being conducted in this city
during the months of October, November and December?
A. I don’t know of my own knowledge; I never was in one.
Q. Did any of the 2,500 men ever report anything of that kind to
you?
A. I never had any definite report on that subject.
Q. They were giving the people a liberal government?
A. Yes, things were running very easy.
* * * * * * * *
Q. I will get you to state if it is not a fact that a large number of pool
rooms were running openly with telegraph operators in the place,
pools were being sold, money paid, and everything running at full
blast?
A. I never was present; I don’t know anything about it.
Q. Was there any complaint to you of that kind of thing being done?
A. No particular complaint at all. The newspaper boys often came
around and said there was pool selling going on at different places.
Q. Could not the police of the city of Chicago as readily have found
these people who have been fined for gambling as the Sheriff?
A. Well, I don’t know. I presume if a desperate effort had been made
to look that kind of thing up we might, possibly, have been
successful.
Through these resorts, which offer inducements for betting on
distant horse races, the confidential clerk, the outside collector for
business houses, the employes of banks, young men in all grades of
employment involving the handling of the funds of their employers,
together with the men of moderate salaries, working men, and the
large number of sports who live by their wits, are assisted in a
downward career, until defalcations, destitution in homes, and a still
more acute phase of living on one’s wits, are reached, followed by
flight, arrest, conviction, imprisonment, the breaking up of homes,
and the necessity for the resort of the broken sport to the tactics of
the hold-up man.
Yet they are tolerated, until their shameless management becomes a
public scandal. Then follows a pull, a period of purification of very
slight duration, and again a slow start. Speedily again they are in as
full gallop as are the horses whose names they post, and as around
the race track the horses go, so around the vice track the pool
rooms go. The losing patrons pass under the wire at the end of their
foolish struggle to win, some to the penitentiary, some to despair,
and some to suicide.
The keeper and the landlord who knowingly permits his premises to
be used for the selling of pools, are, under the laws of the State of
Illinois enacted into an ordinance by the Municipal Code, guilty of a
misdemeanor, and are liable to punishment by imprisonment in the
county jail for a period not longer than one year, or by a fine not
exceeding $2,000, or both.
The police make no complaints to justices for arrests, nor to their
Chief, according to his testimony. The keeper pays a high rent, while
the landlord, perhaps some sanctimonious deacon of a church, who
thanks God that he is not as other men are, accepts his monthly
returns with unctuous satisfaction, shouts his amens louder,
confesses his sins more meekly, or excuses his violation of the laws
of the state with a more emphatic shrug of his shoulders and a more
fervid rubbing of his hands.
Book making, “in which the betting is with the book maker,” and pool
selling, in which the betting is among the purchasers of the pool,
they paying a commission to the seller, are both denounced by the
statute, and the court of last resort of the state.
The unholy alliance between the police, the keeper of these law
breaking and despicable haunts, and the conscienceless landlord,
could be summarily dissolved. The police could be made the enemy
of both. Their warm friendship for, and silent participation in the
profits of, the partnership, can be destroyed by an executive order
which needs but to be issued, with no possibility of an early
revocation, to be implicitly obeyed by the sellers and “bookies.” If
not obeyed, then drastic measures within the power of the police to
employ should be applied. As these lines are written, some evidence
is visible of action by the police. A raid has been made! The
inspector, under whose order it was conducted, said, “The sooner
these men begin to learn that I mean what I say, the better it will be
for them. I want my officers to understand, also, that they will have
to be more vigilant.” Threatening words, such as these, are common
utterances by police officials, but heretofore as their echo died away
their fierceness disappeared. No administration could lay claim to
higher praise in any city in the land than that its police force is the
guardian of the people’s rights, the stern foe of crime, and the
relentless suppressor of vice and indecency through the enforcement
of the laws created for that suppression.
If this is done in Chicago, a few of the devil’s aids in the diffusion of
wickedness will disappear from sight so completely that Asmodeus
would vainly tear off the roofs of the houses in a search after proofs
of his demoniacal power.
While the police force is so closely leagued with pool rooms, and
subjected to the power of the money their keepers are willing to pay
for permission to carry on their demoralizing business, it is a matter
of impossibility to destroy them. Vice works incessantly; the means
for its destruction are employed spasmodically. New York City
furnishes an astonishing instance of the political power exercised by
a combination of the law breakers.
The Lexow committee demonstrated the almost total depravity of an
officer, charged with a command over its “Tenderloin.”
The city labored and Greater New York was born. It would seem that
greater crime and greater political power in the criminal classes were
born at the same birth. That officer became Chief of Police of the
expanded metropolis. He had been indicted under the scathing
revelations against him made by the Lexow committee, and yet
despite the evidence of his depravity, and the protests of the Society
for the Prevention of Crime, he was, through the power of politics
and crime, foisted upon the new municipality as the ranking officer
of its police organization. The result was inevitable. New York, the
greater, is now declared to out-Satan New York, the lesser. A new
committee is probing into its police management. At the outset of its
proceedings it wrung from this officer replies so self condemning as
to stagger one’s faith in the possibility of such a quality as obedience
to official oath in a police officer.
The Chief was asked: Q. Perhaps you can tell how it is and why it is,
that even while this committee is sitting in session here, the pool
rooms are open all around us, and I have in my pocket money that
my men won in the pool rooms?
A. Perhaps some of my men have it, too. They are looking after it
just the same as you are.
Q. But the pool rooms are running?
The Chief did not answer, but complained to his questioner that he
had not been informed of the facts “officially.”
The examination then proceeded as follows, viz.:
Q. Do you mean to say, as Chief of Police, with the men and money
at your command, you can’t close the pool rooms?
“No,” replied the Chief, “we do the best we can, as we did when you
were a Commissioner.”
“I closed the pool rooms,” shouted his questioner. “You did not,”
retorted the Chief; “they were alleged to be, on reports of
commanding officers, then as now.”
“Yes,” said the questioner, “but there was some fatality about that
business, if you know what I mean.”
“Some forced fatalities,” sneered the Chief. “Well, sir,” said the
questioner, “here are three great evils of importance—gambling
houses, pool rooms and policy shops—and you cannot recall from
your own recollection—you who are in charge of the enforcement of
the laws—a single arrest in any one of these classes of crimes within
a month. What do you do for your salary as Chief?”
A. “I look after the force as a whole; I look after all reports that
come in touching all matters of the kind you refer to and all kinds of
crime.”
The questioner called the Chief’s attention to a newspaper and some
advertisements it carried. In spite of the questioner’s declaration that
the paper was a Tammany organ, and that all Tammany men were
supposed to buy it and read it, the Chief declared that he never had
done so. The questioner made the Chief a present of a copy of the
paper, and asked him to read over the massage advertisements. The
Chief thanked him and said, “I will attend to these places because I
do not believe in such disguises for disorderly houses. Such places
are usually in tenement houses and flats. I will attend to them and
drive them out.”
“Will you make the same pledge about pool rooms,” demanded the
questioner quickly?
“That I cannot promise,” replied the Chief.
“Why can’t you promise it?” asked the questioner.
“Because they conduct that sort of business in places where we can’t
get at them, and you know it, but I will try and stamp it out.”
Chicago and New York methods quite agree, with the advantage in
favor of New York. In the latter city, the Chief of Police “will try” to
stamp pool rooms out. In Chicago, the Chief, in his reply to similar
questions, said: “While a man may come to my office and give
information that a certain individual is violating the law somewhere
and it is a trivial offense, I do not pay so much attention to it as I do
when a report reaches my office that a man has committed a serious
crime, such as murder, that a serious crime has been committed on
the outside. I should naturally abandon that part of it, and take up
the more serious offense, and I have been looking up serious
crimes, such as burglary, robbery and the hold-up people, and I
have made a desperate effort to suppress that.”
It was in this connection reference was made by the committee to
the fact that one of Chicago’s policemen had shortly before been
arrested for holding up a citizen and robbing him in the daylight
hours, which called forth the reply already quoted in these pages to
the effect that this particular star had been tried, that he was a
member of the police force for ten years, was a good officer, but got
drunk and became a “little indiscreet.” For this he was dismissed
from the force, but reinstated because “many people” vouched for
him. It seems almost incredible that that man is today a member of
Chicago’s police force; yet such is the shameful fact.
Without the aid of the telegraph, the daily newspaper and the race
cards, pool rooms and book making could not survive. They are the
means of giving vitality to this form of gambling. The telegraph
furnishes the press with “events” all over the country, upon which
pools and books are made up. The news of the result of a particular
race is flashed by wire at once from the race track to the pool rooms
all over the land. There is scarcely a daily newspaper in any city that
does not devote a page of its issue to sporting events. Many of them
have their “forms” or “forecasts” of races, which are the guesses of
their sporting men as to the probable results of each race to be run
on a particular track. The race card is distributed every evening
throughout the city; to cigar stores, saloons and billiard halls. It
contains the “results” of the day, together with information as to the
entries for the following day’s races. Through these sources the
sporting community keeps in touch with the world.
A Chicago afternoon newspaper upon the occasion of the opening of
a race track in an adjoining state presented in its issue its “Form of
Today’s Races.” To those unacquainted with the lingo of the track its
guesses are delightfully humorous.
Predicting the possible result of the first race, the form says: “B. L.
looks the best of the lot on paper. If the trip from the east did not
take the edge off H. S. he should win easily, as he showed
considerable sprinting ability in his last out. L. P. has a burst of
speed which may put her inside of the money and with a good boy
up is worth a show bet. The others are a poor lot and of uncertain
quality, so that the finish will probably be B. L., etc.” Of the second it
remarks: “Of these youngsters which have started C. has been the
most consistent and is undoubtedly the best, but T. is rounding too
rapidly and may run ahead of the mark. F. A. is a sprinter, but if
pinched does not like the gaff. M. E. and M. are green ones, and this
is the first time they have faced the barrier, so there is no line on
them. C. T. and F. A. should be the order of the finish.” It says of the
third race: “M. is a soft spot, and, if fit, she should win as she
pleases. It looks as if the real race should be for the place and the
show money, and will likely be between M. and A. H. and T. are also
partial to the going, but as the latter has not started recently, T.
should be the better if any of the others named are scratched. The
result will likely be M. A., etc.” Of another, a colt race, its forecast is,
“H. is such a good colt that he looks like a 2-to-5 shot in this bunch,
and that will be about what the books will lay against him. Of
course, he has dicky legs, but the soft undergoing will undoubtedly
suit his underpinning. The finish should be H. K., etc.” The final race
is thus placed in the form: “At the best this is a bad lot, and hardly
worthy of doping, as so much depends on the jockeys and start that
any one of the probable starters has a chance to get the big end of
the purse.”
To this necessity has journalism come at last! While it urges the
suppression, in thundering tones, of all manner of gambling, it is
driven, by the necessity of competition, to aid the most injurious of
gambling’s many attractive methods. Another Chicago newspaper,
the columns of which every morning contain the world’s news of
sporting events, said a short time ago, editorially: “Chief K——’s
assurance that he will do his best to suppress gambling will be
accepted in good faith. He has made a start in that direction, and
the farther he goes the more plainly he will see that for the police to
suppress gambling is a mere matter of lifting their hands. Gambling
of the sort that the police department is expected to suppress does
not flourish save by the connivance of police officers. It is quite true
that to extirpate the vice of gaming is beyond the power of the
police. Nobody has expected them to do that. While the board of
trade and the stock exchanges remain open one form of the vice will
be practiced publicly beyond the reach of the police. And so long as
cards and dice boxes are to be procured, degenerate human nature
will practice the vice in secret. But the police can stamp out the open
and flagrant practice of gambling in forms inhibited by the law as
easily as they can wink at it. It is a matter of saying “Yes” or “No.” A
poolroom or a policy shop may open now and then, but it will quickly
shut again if the police are in earnest.”
The assistance derived from the telegraph and newspaper by the
gambling fraternity is commented upon by a modern writer, his
subject being “The Ethics of Gambling.” He remarks, “But it is time
to emphasize the fact that the real supports of the gambling habit in
its present enormous extent are the telegraph and the newspaper.
Half the race courses in the country would be abandoned almost
immediately if newspapers were forbidden to report on betting, and
if telegraph offices declined to transmit agreements to bet, or
information which is intended to guide would-be bettors. How this is
to be done it is not for me to say. My present object and duty are
exhausted in pointing out the fact that the national life is being
deeply injured, the State seriously weakened by the wide spread of
the gambling habit, and further, that this habit in its present extent
and intensity, is nourished most by the daily press and the telegraph.
It must certainly be in the power of the State to deal with this, the
most potent instrument by which the gambling fiend fights his way
into home after home throughout the length and breadth of the
country.”
“Hold up” men find Chicago their least dangerous and, perhaps,
their most profitable field of operations. In all the various forms of
this robbery upon the street in day or at night time, or in raiding
saloons and stores, it is merciless in its methods. Robbery
accomplished, brutality follows. The criminals who resort to it at
night, not satisfied with acquiring their victim’s property, usually
knock him unconscious with the butt end of a revolver, with a billy or
sand bag, or blind him with cayenne pepper, and in that hapless
condition leave him to be found, no matter what may be the state of
the weather. This form of criminality is a winter’s occupation. It is
occasionally, but rarely, followed in the summer months.
Women are held up in the streets at midday, in the evening when
returning home from labor, on the street cars, and at the doors of
their own homes, and within them. No class is exempt from the
attacks of these marauders. The poor suffer with the rich. They are
of such frequent occurrence that it is believed not one-fourth of their
number is reported to the police. The inefficiency of the force to
prevent them is proverbial, and that inefficiency finds much of its
origin in the utter disregard of the rules of the department requiring
patrolmen to travel their respective beats. The discipline of the force
in this respect is nothing; it is worn away by abrasion.
The colder the night and the warmer the nearest saloon or kitchen
range, there will the patrolman be found. In the former case he is
merely dreaming of his duty; and in the latter, he is engaged in a
terrific struggle between love and duty. Some back door of a house
of ill fame is open to him for shelter, for wine, and oftentimes for
food. The good-hearted landladies of these abodes know full well
that one way to reach the patrolmen stationed in their neighborhood
is through their stomachs, not because they are officers, but
because they are men. In localities away from the bagnios, some
servant girl, friendly to the “copper,” protects him from the
inclemency of the weather. To her he gives his time and his
devotions at the city’s expense. If on some, or on any winter’s night,
an observation flight could be taken through the air, and over the
city, by the Chief, that official would believe his occupation was
gone; for, except here and there as some of his subordinates were
wending their way at the appointed hour to a patrol box to report,
he would fancy he was a general deserted by his army. Closer
inspection would, however, reveal to him that never an army had
such comfortable winter quarters as has his. While the patrolman
thus enjoys his siesta, or indulges in his love making, the hold up
man lies in wait on the unguarded beat, to slug and rob the first
belated wayfarer whom he may confront.
The number of hold ups in Chicago in the year 1898, it is believed,
exceeded in number those of any two large cities in the United
States combined. The press, in fact, claims that their number was
greater than in all of the cities of the United States. They were of
almost daily occurrence. They are just as numerous, and just as
ingenious and murderous in design, since the continued
administration was inaugurated, as before.
In the morning edition of the daily press of April 11th, 1899, the re-
elected Mayor’s felicitations to the council in his annual message
delivered on the previous evening were published in these words:
“The people of Chicago have reason to congratulate themselves on
the successful manner in which the police department has coped
with crime. It is acknowledged on all hands that Chicago is a
singularly good place for thugs and thieves to avoid, and this
notwithstanding the fact that the size of the police force is utterly
inadequate.”
The evening papers of the same date report the following as
examples of how the thieves and thugs avoid Chicago:
“L. was arrested early yesterday morning for alleged participation in
a daring hold up, which occurred near the corner of Van Buren and
State streets about an hour before. A cab containing Mr. and Mrs. L.
B., who live on Pine street, and Mrs. C. D., of North Clark street,
approached the curb. As the three occupants alighted four or five
men rushed at them. One drew a revolver and shouted: “Hands up.”
The other made a dash at Mrs. D., who displayed some valuable
jewelry, and snatched a watch worth $225 and a diamond ring
valued at $125. The highwaymen then disappeared around the
corner.”
“Attacked by Three Negroes.—Stanton Avenue police are looking for
three negroes who held up Albert T., of 37th street, at 33rd and
Dearborn streets last night and relieved him of $4.00 and a watch. T.
was standing under the shadow of a building at the corner when
three negroes approached him. One of them drew a revolver and
threatened T., while the other two searched him. Many people were
passing at the time, but the party escaped all notice in the deep
shadows.”
“As Thomas L. and Joseph S. left Ald. K.’s saloon early today, S. says
he was robbed of $2.45—all the money he had.”
“Robbed in a Saloon.—August J., bound for Minneapolis from
Finland, came to Chicago last evening. He met a woman, and the
two went to Samuel M.’s saloon on State street, where J. claims the
woman held him up at the point of a revolver and took all his money
—$25. J. reported the matter to the Harrison street police, and
Officers C. and S. arrested Albert B., the bartender. He was arraigned
before Justice F. today on a charge of being accessory to robbery.
The woman has not been arrested.”
Following this, two men boarded an outgoing railroad train at night,
and at one of its stopping stations captured a passenger who was
standing on the rear platform of a coach, dragged him away, robbed
him of a small sum of money, a lady’s gold watch, took a plain gold
ring from his finger, then bound and gagged him and threw him into
an empty freight car near by.
Within three weeks after the publication of this effusive compliment
to the police, a citizen sent the following communication to an
evening paper, which, together with the comments of that paper
upon it, is here inserted, as the best criticism of the Mayor’s
optimistic view of the efficiency of his police force:
“April 26, 1899.—Editor the J.: Not fewer than 15 flats and
residences in the district bounded by West Adams street, Kedzie
avenue, Homan avenue and Washington boulevard have been
plundered recently. The thieves reside at ----, a fact well known to
the police, but all the efforts of the suffering tax payers are
unavailing in having them arrested.
“The police authorities will not act. The rascals have been at their
present abode (——, first flat) since early last autumn. Their landlord
is (well, I won’t mention his name) well known.
“Our community has become so terrorized that no one dares remain
out after dark. Can’t you assist us in our troubles? The police don’t
act.
“Resident of the District.”
The comments of the paper read as follows, viz.:
“The author of the above is a well-to-do West side manufacturer. He
says in a note which came with this communication: ‘Do not under
any circumstances couple my name with it. We are all afraid of our
lives, believing that the thieves are so desperate that they would
murder any one disclosing their method and abode.’
This is the district in which George B. Fern and Cora Henderson met
their deaths under such mysterious circumstances.
Here is a partial list of the happenings of recent date in this one
neighborhood, the first four named cases being within one business
block:
GEORGE B. FERN, dry goods merchant, 1393 West Madison street;
found in his store with bullet hole in his head, mask and revolver
with one chamber empty at his side; police say he committed
suicide; coroner’s jury returned a murder verdict; the grand jury also
declares it was a case of murder.
CORA HENDERSON, blind woman, 1385 West Madison street; found
dead in her house, hole in her skull; murder theory worked upon by
police; later theory advanced that she might have met her death by
a fall.
F. W., tailor, West Madison street; robbers drove up to his store in
broad daylight while he was eating in a restaurant next door and
intimidated clerk with revolver, loaded in tailor’s cloth, drove away.
W. H. D., West Madison street, grocer; hole drilled in his safe;
burglars scared away when D. came to open store.
MRS. FRANK W., Washington boulevard, house entered; $200 stolen.
MRS. MARGARET D., Washington boulevard; house entered; $200
worth of property taken.
MRS. WARREN F. H., Warren avenue; house entered; $500 worth of
property taken.
MRS. CHARLES C., Washington boulevard; hearing a noise at her
front door, went onto the porch; a burglar who had been trying to
force an entrance into the second story dropped at her side, revolver
in hand; he escaped, frightening off pursuers with his revolver.
DR. F. F. S., West Monroe street and Homan avenue; two men
attempted to hold him up in his office; frightened away by the arrival
of a patient.
PROF. CHARLES E. W., Chicago Piano college; chased by mounted
foot pad.
MRS. ELIZABETH H. T., M. D., Warren avenue; swindled out of $60
by men who had a ‘sure thing’ on the races.
JOHN V., West Monroe street; swindled by same game.
WILLIAM H. P., bookkeeper for C. S. & Co., West Monroe street;
house robbed.
HERMAN W., West Monroe street; house robbed of diamonds,
jewelry and silverware; Mrs. W. coming home, encounters robbers as
they were leaving; they politely raised their hats and walked on.
H. S. B., real estate, West Adams street; candidate for president of
M. club; house robbed.
ARTHUR W. C., Illinois Credit Company, West Adams street; house
robbed.
JOHN G., grocer; attempt made to swindle him out of $100 by men
with ‘tip’ on races.
The above list was obtained by a brief canvass of the neighborhood.
The house given as the abode of the “thieves” is situated right in
this neighborhood, which is one of the best residence districts. It is a
gray stone structure and is said to be owned by a well known West
side politician. In this place lives at least one of the men who have
swindled numerous West side residents of this district by means of
the ‘tips’ on the races. These men, it is said, have operated
successfully for a year, few of their victims making complaint on
account of the unenviable publicity the affair would thus attain. This
gang, too, has headquarters in a West Madison street block within a
few doors of the Fern store.
This neighborhood is included in the Warren avenue police district.
None of the officers at this station, or any of the Central station
detectives familiar with the case, believes that the ‘jockeys’ have
anything to do with the ‘holdups’ and robberies of flats, and laugh at
the idea advanced by the author of the letter to The J—.”
The names and addresses of these victims are printed in full in the
newspaper referred to, but for obvious reasons they are not used in
reproducing the article.
Immediately following the publication of this startling list of crimes, a
grand jury submitted to the court the following report. The reader
can harmonize, as best he may, this official statement, with that of a
lighthearted and self satisfied Mayor who controls, or does not
control, as one’s thought may elect, the Chicago police force.
“In closing our work the members of the jury desire to report to your
honor some slight comment on the various matters which have been
brought to our attention during our session, and to submit for
recommendation to the proper authorities suggestions that may
check the amount of crime which has been brought to our notice.
“Our city seems to be the asylum of habitual criminals of all classes,
who have terrorized the people to an alarming degree. We would
particularly call attention to several instances within our knowledge
where persons have been found dead, investigation made by the
proper authorities, verdicts rendered according to the evidence with
recommendations by the coroner’s jury that the guilty be brought to
justice. These deeds wherein the perpetrators in several instances
have not been detected are largely due to the fact that this city is
made an asylum for habitual criminals, and we strongly recommend
that every measure be taken to close the gates of the city to such
people.
“Were the statute of the state regarding the arrest of vagabonds
more strictly enforced by the proper authorities the number of
habitual criminals at large could be largely reduced and Chicago
made a less attractive place of residence for this class. The law itself
is broad and ample in its provisions. Places under the guise of
saloons, duly licensed, are merely rendezvous for thieves, murderers
and prostitutes, and notwithstanding the fact that such vile places
are well known to the authorities they are permitted to continue
without molestation. The defilement of our youths of both sexes
should receive the severest penalty of the law. It is our duty to
protect and guard the manhood and womanhood of the young.
“The continued violation of the ordinance fixing the closing hours of
saloons is a great factor in the number of crimes committed in the
city, and we earnestly recommend a strict enforcement of the
ordinance.”
Apparently, a few of these criminal gentry regard Chicago as a safe
field for their labors!
Boys in their teens, men and women, both black and white, the
latter of the strong armed class, comprise this coterie of criminals.
The strong armed women, generally negresses, have the developed
muscles of the pugilist and the daring of the pirate. They entice the
stranger into dark passage ways, that innocent stranger, so
unfamiliar, but so willing to be made familiar with the wickedness of
a great city, who seeks out its most disreputable quarters and scours
its darkest byways, to report to his mates, on his return to his
country home, the salacious things that he has heard of, and a few
of which he witnessed. In these dark and dangerous ways the strong
armed women garrote and rob their victims, or they entice the
innocent, but lustful, stranger to their rooms, and there, through the
panel game, or by sheer strength or drugged potations, appropriate
the innocent stranger’s valuables. Mortified and humiliated, the
stranger usually has nothing to say to the police of the affair. Then
the emboldened strong armed women go upon the street in couples,
and rob in the most approved methods of the highwayman. Alone,
one of these notorious characters is said to have pilfered to the
extent of $60,000. She was, and is, a terror to the police force.
Released from the penitentiary not long ago, she is now undergoing
trial for a fresh offense. Approaching a commercial traveler from
behind, she is charged with having nearly strangled him, and then
robbed him of his money and jewelry.
“Only one man ever got the best of E. F.,” said detective Sergeant C.
R. W., of Harrison street station, who had arrested E. F. frequently.
“Once she held up a cowboy and took $150 from him. He came up
to the station hotfoot to report the robbery. We were busy and a
little slow in sending out after E., whereupon the cowboy allowed
he’d start out after her on his own hook. He met her down by the
Polk street depot, and the moment he spotted her he walked right
up close to her and covered her with two six-shooters.
“You’ve got $150 of my money, now shell out nigger,” he said.
“Go and get a warrant and have me arrested then,” replied the big
colored woman, who wanted time to plant the coin.
“These are good enough warrants for me,” returned the cowboy
significantly, as he poked the revolvers a trifle closer to her face.
“Now, I’m going to count twenty, and if I don’t see my money
coming back before I reach twenty, I’ll go with both guns.”
“When he reached eighteen, E. weakened. She drew out a wad and
held it out toward him. But the cowboy was wise and would not
touch the roll till she had walked to the nearest lamplight under the
escort of his two guns and counted out the $150. Then he let her go
and came back to the station and treated.”
Conductors of street cars are often the victims of the hold up men.
Here in Chicago they invented the plan of placing the saloonkeeper
in the ice chest, while the looting of the place went on. In another
instance a baker was imprisoned in a hot oven. Women in their
homes are thrust into closets, gagged and bound, while their houses
are ransacked and their property stolen.
The want of an energetic police is the cause of the prevalence of
such abominable offenses as hair clipping, or the severing from the
heads of young girls upon the public streets their braids of hair. One
of these perverts was arrested and excused himself upon the ground
that it was a mania with him, and that the temptation to cut off the
braids of hair from every young girl he met, was almost irresistible.
If detectives, instead of lounging around their daily haunts for
drinking purposes, loafing in cigar stores, and playing the pool
rooms, were mingling with the crowds upon the streets, offenses of
this character would be nearly impossible, although this particular
weakness seems to lead its impulsive perpetrators to less crowded
thoroughfares, and selects the hours of going to and returning from
school, as the most favorable parts of the day for its gratification. It
may be prompted by a morbid desire, but it is none the less a
serious offense, which, as yet, the criminal law has not defined, and
has therefore not provided a proper penalty for its punishment. No
evidence, so far as it is known, has yet been adduced to show that
the braids of hair are ever sold to dealers in that article, such as wig
manufacturers, etc. If such evidence should be forthcoming, the
ingenuity of the average criminal for the discovery of new methods
of despoliation will receive additional confirmation.
One peculiar method of protection to the criminal classes is in
vogue. A new thief arrives in the city; his arrival is noticed by a
detective and the fact reported to headquarters. The thief is invited
to visit the Chief. Upon his appearance, permission is given him to
remain, provided he “does not work his game” within the city. He
can plunder all the neighboring towns he may select, but the price of
his remaining in security in Chicago is, that he shall be good and
gentlemanly to its people. The “Safe Blowers’ Union” has its home in
Chicago, from which it radiates, as the spokes of a wheel, to the
circumference of its limit of operations. It is a trust; a protective
association. It pays for the privilege. It attacks the country bank,
blows it, in the silence of the night, to pieces with dynamite if
necessary, and murders if interfered with. It returns with its loot to
the city, makes its dividends among its membership, police included,
and awaits the pressing necessity for a renewal of its suburban raids.
It is under the king’s mighty shield, the king of the criminals, over
whom he reigns with leniency, and whose gifts he accepts with
condescension.
The fakes of a great city are beyond enumeration. There are fake
information bureaus, fake advisory brokers, fake safe systems of
speculation, fake music teachers, fake medical colleges, fake law
schools, fake lawyers, fake “Old Charters for Sale,” fake corporations,
fake relief and aid societies, fake preachers and fake detective
agencies. The latter, and the street fakers, are friendly with the
police. So are the fruit vendors, and the all night lunch counters on
wheels. The latter stand where the officers say they shall stand, and
the location once found, the officers at once become landlords.
As to private detective agencies, without reference to agencies of an
established local and national reputation, they are principally
constituted of thieves, pickpockets, blackmailers, and porch climbers.
In the trial of a case before the Criminal Court of Cook County, a few
months ago, a witness acquainted with their inside history, swore
that there were men connected with these fake organizations who
would commit murder for $50. They enter into conspiracies to ruin
the private character of men and women in divorce cases, and for
blackmailing purposes. Three of these hounds were lately convicted
of conspiracy in less than one hour, by a jury in the same court.
These three worthies comprised the entire agency. Their punishment
was fixed at imprisonment in the penitentiary. They were employed
in getting revenge on a man, who was supposed, by their employer,
to have been the cause of his discharge from his commercial
position. In getting this revenge they fell upon their shadow,
pummelled him with great severity, and badly injured him. So
grievous was the offense, that the State’s Attorney demand no less a
punishment than the jury awarded.
They manufacture testimony in divorce proceedings, at the
suggestion and upon the request of the parties willing and desirous
of cutting the matrimonial tie; or, upon the instigation of one of the
parties, they will endeavor to entrap and compromise the other.
They revel in the destruction of the character of a good woman, as
the vulture revels in the foulness of a carrion. The man of wealth
must be on his guard against their attacks, for they would as lief
magnify his peccadillos into felonious crimes and attempt his plunder
by blackmail, as they would accept the earnings of the Mistresses
Overdone, the exhausted bawds, whose pimps they are.
Theirs is only another but a more vicious form of depravity than that
practiced by the panel house keepers, who send their single workers
upon the streets to entice men to their abodes, where they are met
by the expert workers of the game. While thus entrapped, and
indulging in the sensuality which aids so readily in his allurement,
the adroit “creeper” enters the room through a movable panel, or by
some other prearranged method of ingress, and takes the watch, the
coin, or “any other old thing” of value, found about the removed and
scattered clothing of the greenhorn. The police are as well
acquainted with these “single workers” as they are with the street
walkers. They know their haunts, and their fields of labor. The
hotels, and places where crowds are gathered in the early evening,
attract the “single workers” as the most promising ground for a
successful capture.
“Badger games” are not infrequently played in Chicago. Such as are
successful are generally kept from the police records, through the
preference of the blackmailed subjects to say nothing about them, in
dread of their personal exposure. A man, generally one of means
and standing, is marked for conquest. The first class hotel is the
scene of operations of the female in the case. Fashionably dressed,
handsome, with jewels for adornment, she strikes up a flirtation with
the selected person. Fool like, as most men are in the case of
handsome and well gowned women, he responds to the invitation,
an acquaintance is formed and an assignation made. The place is of
the woman’s selection and known of course to her paramour, styled
her husband. The room is entered, compromising situations reached,
when, suddenly, the indignant husband appears, the woman
screams in terror, and a storm rages. It is calmed by the payment of
the price demanded for concealment, and the “sucker” escapes with
a load removed from both his pocketbook and his mind.
A noted instance of this kind happened to a wealthy and prominent
merchant, whose indiscretions in the acceptance of inducements for
sexual enjoyment held out to him by a stylish and beautiful woman,
and his blindness in not observing his surroundings, enabled the
fake husband to photograph him in flagrante delicto. Under threats
to distribute the pictures it is reported he paid $10,000 for them and
the negative. This is a fact easily susceptible of proof. One at least of
these proofs did not accompany the package he received, which was
supposed to contain all of the pictures.
Photographing from the nude is not the fad of the harlot alone.
Women infatuated with their shapes begin with the exposure of a
beautiful foot, arm or well rounded bust, then a leg, etc., etc., until
they stand before the camera almost in puris naturalibus. These
pictures are taken for pure self admiration, the love of self study and
comparison with the forms of celebrated actresses, or the paintings
of the masters, famous in art for their conceptions of the perfect
woman. They differ from those obscene pictures designed for sale,
for which purpose the depraved couple are photographed in
situations, attitudes and conditions, natural and unnatural, which
appeal to the grossest instincts in man, and shock, also, the moral
sense of every one not in himself a sexual pervert.
The latter are eagerly sought after, are quite salable, and are carried
about the persons of fast young men about town, with intent, upon
opportunity, to influence the passions of women. They are the solace
of the aged sport, who, having lost all recollection of the ordinary
affairs of his youth, still fondly retains the memory of the amours of
his younger days, and of the orgies of his middle age. Then recalling
with sadness the first appearance of the lamentable indications of
his decline, he contentedly yields the passing of his power—“sans
teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.”
These are the men, who, if they had lived in the early days of the
Roman Empire at or about the date of the Floralian games, would
have been the principal patrons, or, if at the time of the prevalence
of the Bacchanalian mysteries, the prominent members, of societies
organized for the purpose of gratifying unnatural desires; or if they
had been Romans in the declining days of that empire would have
figured as the most frantic and most lustful of the worshippers of
Priapus.
The methods of the vendors of obscene literature are innumerable,
and all are formed along the lines of extreme caution and cunning.
They are keen judges of human nature, quick to detect the
inquisitive stranger, or the sporting gent of the town, and adroit in
introducing their filthy stock. The purchaser is more than liable to be
swindled in the deal, as the fakir requires immediate concealment of
the purchase, which, when examined by the vendee in the quiet of
his own room often turns out to be a harmless work resembling only
in the binding the supposed purchase.
The confidence men, who invite the incoming visitor to view the
scene of the great explosion on the lake front, and suggest trips to
other places where startling events have not occurred, discover, by
skillful questioning, the weaknesses of their dupe. They arouse his
innate, but dormant, wish to take a chance at some game that
seems to him certain of a rich return. He is easily induced to play
and allowed to win a small stake, merely to excite greater interest
and establish the conviction that he can “beat the game.” Naturally
he plunges ahead, until the moment comes, set by his trappers,
when he is cheated, robbed and goes “flat broke.” The dupe may, or
may not, report his loss to the police. If he does, and it happens to
be one of consequence, detectives may be detailed to search for the
swindlers; but if the loss is small in amount, however important to
the loser, the dupe is more likely to be laughed at than aided by the
officers of the law.
To this class belong cabmen who rob drunken men, and “divvy” with
the police; commission houses, which secure consignments of goods
for sale by false representations; grocery grafters, who solicit
throughout the country orders for groceries, claiming to represent
wholesale houses, ship an inferior grade and collect C. O. D. at the
prices charged for the superior grade; Board of Trade sharks, who
“welch” their clients’ money by charging up fictitious losses, when
the figures will not appear to lie; the false claimants for personal
injuries alleged to have been caused through the negligence of
wealthy corporations, such as street car lines, manufacturing
companies and rolling mills, or by the city, from defective sidewalks,
unguarded street excavations, etc., etc.; bakers who sell unlabeled
and underweight bread; the gold brick and gold filings sharper; the
electric and mining stock swindler, and the advertiser seeking a
governess to accompany himself and family abroad. These men have
“irresistible tendencies” to work their several games. They cannot
help it, they say. Like kleptomaniacs, or “Jack the Hair Clipper,” they
are impelled by nature to the commission of their crimes. In their
own judgment they ought not to be punished, because they are the
victims of defective brains. But they are just as cunning as the hair
clipper, just as conscious that they are law breakers as he was when
he mailed to the Chief of Police in his own words the following note,
enclosing some of the braids of hair he had clipped from the head of
a young girl, viz:
“A clue for J. K.’s cheap skates. Will send more when I get cheap
stuff like this.
Jack.”
Of this same class are men who conduct “diploma mills” and make
doctors, especially in one day. They sell their parchments as freely
as a saloonkeeper does his beer, and then claim that because a
college confers distinctive degrees upon men of prominence, without
a course of study and examination, they are justified in launching
doctors by the score upon unsuspecting communities, “without study
and examination,” to discredit the medical profession, and send men,
women and children to premature graves. Like McTeague, who
acquired his knowledge of dentistry from the seven volumes of
“Allen’s Practical Dentist,” they obtain their knowledge of diseases
from quack publications, newspapers and magazine articles. They
use nothing but “the purest of the earth’s productions in their
treatment, and no minerals or poisonous materials of any kind are
ever permitted to enter your system.” Their prices range from “one
dollar up.” “A positive guarantee is given in every case treated, so
you have nothing to risk in any way. Your money back on demand if
not satisfied.” They can wash kidneys so clean, that if you are a
woman and have not extended your arms in years, after taking the
first box of kidney pills you “can raise them, and twist your hair,” and
after the second, “dress yourself, perform your household duties,”
and “life will again take on a bright hue” for you. Bald heads respond
to the “remarkable effects” of their discoveries, with joyful alacrity.
Gray hair goes into hiding, and “thick and lustrous eyebrows and eye
lashes” blossom forth on one application, as lilac bushes do in the
spring time at the first touch of the warmth of the sun’s rays. Their
remedies are “no longer experiments, they are medical certainties.”
They “create solid flesh, muscles and strength, clear the brain, and
make the blood pure and rich.” For humanity’s sake, distinguished
Mayors, ex-Mayors, city treasurers, scholars, soldiers, ex-state
senators and senators, representatives, lawyers and judges, lend
their beaming countenances, when fully restored to health, for the
uses of these quacks, until the daily press has become a portrait
gallery of rebuilt and revitalized men, who, if disease had the clutch
upon them they so felicitously describe—in the stereotyped words of
the quack—ought to have been dead, buried and mourned long ago.
These distinguished men in American life, are merely selling their
faces for promotion purposes, much as the titled Englishman sells
his title.
Of all the sources of police graft, in addition to pool rooms and
policy shops, gambling is the most prolific. There are in Chicago over
7,000 saloons and nearly 2,000 cigar stores. The number of
gambling houses proper is unknown, but the list swells into the
hundreds. The saloon and cigar stores have as a general rule a
gambling annex. Gambling houses proper, as known some years
ago, have no longer the permanency they then had. Roulette and
faro, especially, are sleeping, and awaken only at infrequent
intervals. The negro game of craps, and the national game of poker,
particularly stud poker, have become the substitutes for the wheel
and the lay out. In two-thirds of the saloons and cigar stores poker
and stud poker are played, and in many of the saloons, especially
the all night variety, the crap table is part of the necessary
equipment. It is estimated that poker games are in progress in over
eight thousand of the saloons, cigar stores, barber shops and
bakeries, every night, while gambling houses with the roulette and
faro barred, add over one thousand to the number. Craps are shot
even at the doors of some of the theaters. All this is known to the
police, tolerated by the police, and taxed by the police. Take the
average cigar store for illustration. In the rear are rooms neatly fitted
up and supplied with three or more poker tables. The rake off to the
house goes on just as in the regularly equipped gambling house.
The games are played by men of all classes in life below the society
men and men of wealth, who get their amusement at the club. The
clubs all forbid poker, but the tabooing order is “more honored in its
breach than its observance.” In the cigar stores and saloons,
workingmen, artisans, clerks, and the loafing skin gambler,
participate in the game. The latter is quickly spotted, and placed
under the ban. The proprietor requires the games to be square, in
so far as he can control them. The losses of the cigar store players
are more severe upon them than are those of the gamblers who play
for higher stakes. The wages of the workingman, clerks and artisans
are their only gambling capital. They have no bank accounts to draw
upon. The home suffers; wife and children are the indirect victims.
Theirs is a cash game. When wages are exhausted, the unearned
wage is mortgaged to the loan “sharks.” These greedy and heartless
wretches lure the clerk earning a fair salary to borrow from them at
reasonable rates, and upon a “strictly confidential” basis. The
employer is not to know of the transaction. The clerk is soon in the
shark’s strong jaws. He must pay what is demanded, or the
employer, the rules of whose establishment forbid dealings with the
“shark,” will be made aware of the violation of his rules, and the
clerk’s embarrassment commences. Rather than risk discharge from
his position, and to escape from the “shark” jaws, the frightened
clerk pays in monthly installments double the amount of his loan,
plus a sum for a fee to an attorney who was never retained. All this
is so much blood money, flowing from the wounds made by the
“shark’s” sharp teeth.
The minor is not prevented in the cigar store joints from gaming any
more than he is prevented from drinking at the saloon bar. Nightly,
over this vast city, young men are succumbing to the terrible
fascination of gaming. Nightly, temptations, almost irresistible, are
preying upon their minds. The honesty of their intentions is
gradually undermined, and almost before they awaken to a
realization of the truth, they have committed some theft and
commenced a downward career. Men who filled high positions of
trust and earned large salaries are today inmates of the state
penitentiary, led away by the fascination and excitement of the
gaming table. The evils of gambling, the intensity of the love of the
average man for indulgence in its exhilaration, the wide spread use
of it in the home, the club, the stag parties, and so on down to the
lowest joints in the slums, have been the themes of every writer
who attempts to depict the daily life of great cities.
It exists in the form of prizes in progressive euchre parties, in social
gatherings, in the raffles of the church fairs, the voting for the most
popular man or woman, as city or county stenographer, popular
firemen or policemen; in guessing contests in the solution of
puzzles; or wherever the element of chance enters into the affairs of
life, from which amusement is sought to be drawn. Whether it is a
wheat deal on the board of trade in which millions are involved, or
the cast of the dice by newsboys and boot blacks in the alleys and
upon the sidewalks of the city, the controlling passion is there—the
passion for gain at the whim of chance. Judgment may prompt the
wheat deal, but unless judgment promises large profits the incentive
to engage in the manipulation of the markets is absent. The possible
toil and mental worry is overlooked in the hope of great gain without
correspondingly prolonged labor. Millions fly away in great gambling
speculations as easily and as swiftly as the penny of the newsboy
takes its flight from one to the other of the inveterate little gamblers,
to be found among these sharp witted waifs of the street. It goes on
in billiard halls, where “hap hazard” is openly played; at saloon bars
where the loser at dice “pays for the drinks.” It is to be seen in beer
halls, summer gardens, among well dressed people who carry the
dice with them, of the usual size, or smaller, with fancy box-guard,
and who “shake” for the drinks and dinners, not so much as a
matter of gambling, as for the zest it gives to their party, or their
outing. It controls political picnics in the fakers’ attractions that
follow them, and in the prizes offered to the winner, of boys’ and
girls’, women and fat men’s, races, or for which artistic cake walkers
and ragtime dancers compete. Civil and criminal trials are even
chosen as events upon which to place a wager. The frequency of
elections, the daily horse racing contests throughout the world, base
ball games in season, prize fights between professionals, club
athletic contests, policy shops with their daily drawings, and
lotteries, all arouse the cupidity of the seeker after quick gains
without physical labor. “Bet you five” settles many a mathematical,
historical, political or economic proposition, contrary to the truth.
Races, accompanied by the usual retinue of book makers, are
conducted by a wealthy club, many of whose members are leaders
in civic bodies formed for the betterment of local government, and
consequently for the suppression of vice. Grand juries report month
after month their inability to obtain the co-operation of the police in
gathering evidence against gamblers and landlords whereon to
found indictments. Each grand jury when empanelled hears from the
bench the monotonous song “Gentlemen, bucket shops exist,
investigate them,” together with such musical accompaniment, as
may be added by the judge, in the way of moralizing upon their
wickedness.
Fashionable women have their down town clubs. There they meet,
smoke cigarettes, take their drinks from the sideboard “just like
men,” gamble for excitement, lose their pin-money and diamonds
with the abandon of a virgin, “willing to be rid of her name.”
The vice and fascination of gambling are so well known and
understood by great merchants that they employ a corps of
detectives to keep watch over their confidential employes, whose
movements are the subject matter of daily reports to their
employers. The bond companies, which insure the honesty of clerks
and managers entrusted with the handling of money, receive from
their spotters the earliest reports of the actions of employes
indicative of living beyond the yearly salary paid them by the houses
with which they are connected.
Gambling, although condemned by all moralists as a degrading vice,
is recognized by some as aiding the development of certain qualities
of immeasurable service in the intensity of the struggle for business
existence prevailing in the aggressive commercialism of this age.
Lecky asserts: “Even the gambling table fosters among its more
skillful votaries a kind of moral nerve, a capacity for bearing losses
with calmness, and controlling the force of the desires, which is
scarcely exhibited in equal perfection in any other sphere.” Whatever
may be the meaning of the phrase “controlling the force of the
desires,” it is certain that among the young men of today, in all
classes of society, the desires for intoxicants and sensuality are past
control when associated with gambling. In its most seductive forms
its principal aids are the gilded saloon, and the harlot’s enslaving
smile. The necessity for means with which to gratify aroused passion
in both respects, comes through contact with the gaming table;
hence, the houses of ill repute, assignation houses and the innocent
looking “Hotel” nestling in the middle of the down town business
blocks, are the direct allies of the gambling hells in the development
of crime—in adding to, rather than in “controlling” the force of the
desires. “Sensuality,” said a distinguished writer, “is the vice of young
men and of old nations.” Another, tracing the effects of gaming on
human passions, wisely observes, “the habit of gambling is very
often allied with, and is even an incentive to, the practice of other
vices, whose darkness is beyond dispute. The ordinary aspect of a
return from a race meeting will fully confirm this. There we find that
drunkenness, licentiousness and gambling go hand in hand, a well
assorted trio whose ministry to separate passions is not inconsistent
but consistent with mutual incitement and co-operation in the
destruction of the honor and purity and strength of men.”
While gambling is not now conducted “openly,” a word which has
reference only to the maintenance of down town establishments in
which faro and roulette were formerly played, it is conducted under
police protection all over this city in forms more inviting, more
disastrous to the embryotic gamblers who patronize it, than if the
large establishments were in full operation as of yore. The latter
could not invite the younger class of gamblers to enter the play,
because of their lack of capital; the smaller, widely scattered, and
police guarded, cigar store and saloon games, accept smaller sums
of money, parts of a dollar, for a stack of poker chips, from the
anxious entrant to the game. Prior to the last election a leading
evening newspaper accused the city executive with farming out the
slum district to two aldermen of unsavory reputation, with leave to
them to extort money from gaming houses, high and low, within its
limits, for their personal benefit, in consideration of their opposing,
in the council, the passage of ordinances relating to the extension of
street car privileges. Its condemnation of this bargain was severe,
and yet, later on, it was the most persistent of that executive’s
supporters for re-election.
The coon gamblers, thieves, thugs and pimps were all on the staffs
of these aldermen. They followed these worthies into the campaign,
under the leadership of the eminently respectable newspaper
referred to. Inspired by such leadership “Spreader,” “Sawed Off,”
“The Cuckoo,” “Book Agent,” “Deacon,” “Grab All,” “Duck,”
“Shoestring,” “Scalper,” “Humpty,” “Hungry Sid,” “Seedy,” “Talky,”
“Whiskers,” “Noisy,” “Fig,” “Old Hoss,” “Slick,” “Ruby,” “Sunday
School,” and “Mushmouth,” captains in the corps of sports felt
themselves respectable, led their followers from the barrel and
lodging houses with a rush to the polls, and achieved a startling
victory. Over all this horrible saturnalia of vice, the colors of the
police force float in token of protection. The brave men of that force,
morally degraded by the obedience they are compelled to yield to
unworthy superiors want merely the opportunity to perform their full
duty, not only as patrolmen but as patriotic American citizens. The
time when they will be permitted to do so seems far distant, unless
an aroused public opinion shall speedily pronounce against the
further continuation of a policy of protection to crime and
debauchery supported by the men chosen to war unceasingly with
both.
The dens of the sexual pervert of the male sex, found in the
basements of buildings in the most crowded, but least respectable
parts of certain streets, with immoral theaters, cheap museums,
opium joints and vile concert saloons surrounding them, are the
blackest holes of iniquity that ever existed in any country since the
dawn of history. A phrase was recently coined in New York which
conveys—in the absence of the possibility of describing them in
decent language—the meaning of the brute practices indulged in
these damnable resorts, and the terrible consequences to humanity
as a result of unnatural habits—“Paresis Halls.”
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