Part 7

What I have said will show that I was not, nor could be, ignorant of the existence of the vice as one of the chief causes of crime during the ten years, 1876-1886, when I was daily conversing with prisoners. But from all I have seen, read, and heard since, and not least from conferences with present-day prison officials, I am convinced that betting has so largely increased of late years that its effects are much more obvious in prison. I had many sad cases of the ruin of those who were dependent entirely on character for employment, but had lost that character through the embezzlement that betting losses had prompted. But when in 1902 I, as one of the Committee appointed by the Rochester Diocesan Conference to investigate the question, had before me one of our Metropolitan police magistrates, to whose court come almost exclusively the labouring and the shop-tending classes, he made deliberately the very strong statement that, of recent years, he had hardly ever had a case of embezzlement before him which was not connected, either directly or _au fond_, with betting. Nor would he admit that this plea of betting was merely an excuse put forward without real cause. On the contrary, careful inquiry into the cases proved conclusively that the plea was a true one. And to the same Committee Mr. Hawke stated that the House of Lords’ Commission by evidence proved conclusively that a large proportion of the embezzlement of the country was due to betting with bookmakers and to professional betting. And here are a few typical cases that came close together in point of time. The first was the notorious one of the quiet bank clerk Goudie, who embezzled £170,000. He had got into the hands of bookmakers, and they had compelled him to go on by threats of exposure, after the common practice of their kind. The next is that of a labourer’s wife, charged with attempting suicide and stealing shoes. She had pledged them to endeavour to recover money lost on horse-races. The police constable seized the poison intended for herself and her children. Her husband was not aware of her betting. The third is that of a caretaker of a chapel near me, who had stolen £60 in bank notes, and set up the plea that he had got them at the Alexandra Park and the Epsom Races. Next comes a clerk who obtained fifteen guineas by a forged telegram. When only seventeen he made the acquaintance of a bookmaker who would continue business with him in spite of his father’s remonstrances. The judge commented on the fact that it was this same bookmaker whom he had now cheated, and by whom he was prosecuted and got twelve months’ hard labour. The next is a dispenser who embezzled £11 from the doctor who employed him. His downfall was accounted for by betting, and his solicitor offered to give the names of the bookmakers with whom he had been betting, in consequence of whose threats of exposure he had stolen to pay them. Another clerk embezzled £1. In his absence from the office the manager’s suspicions were aroused by a street loafer bringing a betting account for the clerk showing a large amount owing. He lost fifteen years’ good character, and got three months’ hard labour. And next comes a postman who, in the words of the Recorder, “had been engaged in a systematic robbery of the public service in order to engage in transactions on the Turf.” He got six months, but in my time would almost certainly have had five years’ penal servitude, as such offences on the part of postal officials were dealt with then with uniform severity. Had one to labour the point, a press-cutting agency would enable one to fill pages with typical cases arising in any week, especially during what is called the flat-racing season, when, as a friend of mine engaged on a London evening paper tells me, the circulation was found on inquiry to increase by 50,000 per diem from the time of the Lincoln Handicap. The Lords’ Committee were told by Sir A. de Rutzen, after twenty-five years’ experience of the crime of London, that “more mischief was brought about by betting than by almost any other cause, especially street betting, which could very well be put down.... From personal knowledge, he could say that the evil arising from betting was as deep-seated as it was possible to be. In cases were persons were prosecuted for embezzlement and betting was mentioned as the cause, he was in the habit of making inquiries, which invariably confirmed the statements.” Another Metropolitan magistrate deplored that he entirely concurred with what Sir Albert had said, and added that where the crime had been one of fraud or embezzlement he had invariably found that betting had been at the bottom of it. Bankruptcy may be a misfortune, but is very frequently a social crime, and on this I would only refer to the evidence given before the Lords by Mr. Luke Sharp, Official Receiver for Birmingham, as to betting as a cause of bankruptcy, and would remark that, carrying my mind back over a series of years, I cannot remember a case of the bankruptcy of a trader known personally to me in which either drink or betting, and commonly both conjoined, was not the cause, although either or both were often unsuspected until the crash came.

I may add, although facts and figures are here more difficult—and, indeed, largely impossible to produce—that my fourteen years’ experience as a Metropolitan Guardian of the Poor, during ten of which I have been Chairman of a workhouse containing over 1300 inmates, is that betting now stands only next to intemperance amongst males as a cause of pauperism. The habit cannot be eradicated even in old age and the seclusion of an infirm ward, and bets are made in surreptitious pence when the larger sums and more frequent opportunities of yore are impossible. The fascination of drunkenness, which is decreasing, is great: that of betting, which is increasing by leaps and bounds, is greater. The evil effects of intemperance are to some extent confined to the individual; those of betting are rarely so confined.

THE DELUDED SPORTSMAN

By A BOOKMAKER

So very much public attention has recently been called to betting, more particularly as applied to and in connection with horse-racing and the backing of horses, that I thought I would sit down and write a little of my experiences in respect thereto and give my unprejudiced views upon the subject. Yes!—an old bookmaker’s views—illustrated by facts and circumstances; bearing in mind that, as I believe, this is the first instance of a bookie’s confession of the “game,” and so is, I suppose, a novelty.

I am penning these few lines just as the matter comes across my mind and without any attempt at literary or even logical merit—a plain, unvarnished life-tale, as it were—and in so doing I hope to point out certain means that might improve the Turf business and free it from the fearful odium it is now in; and secondly—and let me say my main and principal reason for rushing into print is for the benefit of and a guide to small backers. By “small backers” I mean those who go in the cheap enclosures at race meetings, and more particularly I mean stay-at-home backers (or let me call them, as they would wish to be designated, “small sportsmen”), who make bets on horse-racing from say two or three shillings to a few pounds daily and habitually. The large backers can take care of themselves, but my advice equally applies to them, and they would do well to follow it.

I am getting an old man, and have been a betting man and bookmaker all my life, so to speak. My parents were poor people, but respectable. I had a National School education. When I was about twelve years of age I was turned out in the world as an errand-boy at 1s. 6d. a week in a general warehouse. I stayed there for a number of years, until at nineteen years of age I was a full-blown warehouseman earning £1 per week! I was a sharp, intelligent young fellow, kept my eyes and ears open, which, I can tell you, I have done all my life (you need to as a bookie, I can tell), and I soon made up my mind that the quid a week in a stuffy warehouse, long hours, hard work, and little prospect of “going ahead,” would not suit me. A lot of my chums used to “horse-race,” “put a bit on,” “get up sweepstakes,” and go to a race meeting now and again. In this way I was first introduced to a race-course, and was successful in winning a bit now and then, but as sure as faith losing it again, and more too. My first impression of a race meeting was a very bad one, for I could see that it was a vast assembly of “wrong uns” to the backbones—thieves, sharps, pickpockets, lowest of the low ruffians and scoundrels—my opinion is but little better of the present race meetings. My brother bookies would endorse my candid opinion, I am sure. The race meetings of the present time, of course, are far superior in comfort and convenience to the old meetings, but the same villainy and cheating is ever rampant; but let us call it now “refined rascality.”

Well, I was wide enough awake to soon see that “backing” was no good, but that bookmaker was the “game.” I soon found a way to start with a pal similarly inclined in views. I wasn’t going to stick at a quid a week when I could see ten times that sum easily to be made. At that time bookies were allowed to rig up in any costume they liked, so we had red waistcoats, white plush hats, blue and green parti-coloured coats, etc. etc.

I was soon “at home” at the “game.” I was sharp and cautious, with but little capital, so, for a time, our rule was “small bets only.” Lor! how the coin came in! seldom did we have a losing day. Well! to sum up my many years of experience, money has ever since rolled in. I have long since been in a position to take any bet you like, from half a sov. to thousands, “with pleasure,” and “thank you.” Money soon became no object to me, nor is it now. How comes it thus? One answer only. Because betting is a one-sided game, and is almost wholly against the backer. Thus the “bookmaker,” be he a ready-money bookie on the course or a S.P. bookie at home, is as certain in the long run to “cop” the backer’s coin as I am writing this. To be sure, the bookie attending the meetings can control his liabilities to a certain extent, which a starting-price bookmaker cannot do; but really it matters little—the bookmakers get the cash in the long run. Let me say that I am referring to substantial well-known bookmakers, and not to the crowd of penniless welshers who infest every race meeting held.

I am writing, as I have said, more particularly for the benefit of backers; they can adopt my advice or not, as they please. Now listen. I have attended every race meeting held in the land over and over again. I am as well known in sporting circles as any man could possibly be known, from the highest in the land to the lowliest, so to speak; my betting transactions amount to thousands and thousands—I really cannot say how much. I am known, and properly so, as a very wealthy man—money is nothing to me—and let me candidly and truthfully tell you that I have never known a backer of horses to permanently succeed. The backer is successful so long as his money, pluck, and luck lasts, or until ruin has overtaken him. He wins and loses—wins and loses. He is up and then down—up and down. Hope! hope! hope! prompts him to go on; and he goes on. He diligently studies all kinds of plans and systems; he also fools his money away with “tipsters,” who have been described as a set of race-course harpies; every system, all of them of course, certain and sure. He tries “1st favourites,” “2nd favourites,” “1st and 2nd favourites,” “newspaper tips,” “newspaper naps,” “jockey’s mounts,” and numbers of other plans and systems—some his own particular fancy, and some other people’s. He gluts over sporting news, and talks of owners, trainers, and jockeys in a most familiar style, as though they were his own personal friends! He becomes acquainted with horses’ names and pedigrees, and eventually his mind is so full of Turf matters that business, his occupation, and employment become of second importance; he sacrifices home, comfort, occupation, and money—all! all! all! What for? In the hope of easily making money, but in the end for the benefit of the bookmakers. My experience is not an isolated one, but truthfully is that of every well-known bookmaker on the Turf.

Betting is a fascinating vice, and it is perfectly astounding to what an enormous extent it is rooted throughout the land. In every town, village, hamlet, warehouse, office, and workshop in the kingdom you will find the “backer” in thousands and thousands, all losing money—all in the net of the bookmaker. Can you blame the bookmaker for carrying on his money-making business? Why, every one’s answer is “Certainly not!”

Were the race meetings always to be held at the same place, the bookies’ business would practically be “all up.” For why? The local backers would soon all be “played out.” The very fact that the race meetings are changed daily and are miles and miles apart is a veritable god-send to the bookmaker, the trainer, the jockey, the owner, and the dozens of others depending for existence on Turf matters. We thus get daily hundreds, nay thousands, of new faces and fresh backers full of excitement and hope, having “splendid tips” and “certainties,” all ready and anxious to invest their cash with us, but, alas! the majority of whom go home with long faces and empty pockets, whilst the bookmaker and the “betting brigade” leave the scene of action with renewed energy, high glee, and above all cash ammunition for a fresh attack at another rendezvous.

This glorious state of things goes on day by day and year by year, particularly during the flat-racing season. Now, I think it is a bad week if during flat racing I do not clear a hundred or so per day on the average. Some days, but really very few indeed, I make a loss, but on other days the coin rolls in all round, and the average is as I have stated. I have made as much as £5000 in one day! How is that, eh? I am wise enough, of course, to make my book to win, not to lose. Still, with heaps of money in hand, with property here and there—with everything in abundance that I and mine may require or could possibly wish for—with grand country and town houses, with horses, carriages, every possible luxury, every wish and desire gratified, living up to the greatest state of expensive excitement every day (the bookie’s very existence compels a constant round of amusement and excitement or we are nowhere), still, mind you, I am not happy—sometimes far from it. Conscience will make itself heard. True! true! age is telling on me as even it is telling on many another bookie, and we cannot stifle the thought that the grave is in sight, and our last race will soon be run. Often and often am I troubled with thoughts of the past—memory will assert itself—and the questions arise:—Have I led a fair and upright life? Have I got my money and living in an upright, honourable manner? Have I not helped to ruin hundreds of good silly fellows? Visions of them crop up from time to time; I think of them with any but pleasant feelings. How many poor foolish backers whose money I have taken—taken as a business, of course—have lost homes, business, and all; whose wives and children have been turned into the streets through the father’s passion for betting? How many of them have found their way to gaol through betting, and how many have sought self-destruction?

Such must be the occasional thoughts of all old bookmakers. And for why? Because there is not one of us, past and present, who has not over and over again obtained our money by questionable means, even if our inclination was not to do so. We have been, and are compelled—yes, compelled!—to participate in trickery and deceit to the detriment of the backer; and so crops up the thought that the backers’ money in many instances is not obtained honourably. These facts make one feel uneasy. What does this mean? Why, I have in my time secretly paid away much money as contributions to effect certain ends favourable to the bookmaker and to the loss of the backers.

The “freemasonry” amongst certain people connected with racing matters is very strong indeed. Pray let me be very plain in making myself clear. I do not for a moment cast a slur upon or raise the slightest suspicion upon the host of honourable men of high position and standing whose names are identified with Turf matters. Certainly not; the reader’s own common-sense and knowledge must be exercised. But amongst certain actors at race meetings my accusation is levied. Indignantly denied! Of course it will be. We are all upright and honest until discovered to be otherwise. It is the being discovered that is so galling. I could relate to you most startling facts upon these points—incredible, you would say; scandalous, wholly unbelievable! Yet, my friends, true, true indeed! My mouth, however, is so far absolutely sealed. Think yourself how very easy such things could be arranged, and you will cease to marvel. Consider for a moment that all the principal actors at a race meeting are all personally known to each other—old chums, old acquaintances, travelling the country together and enjoying themselves, and you will fail to discredit the fact, viz. that it is so extremely easy to (as it is now termed) “engineer a great coup.”

What is the real meaning of this pretty modern expression? Why, in plain language, it is arranging “to win a race.” Listen! What think you? There are very many unfairly run horse-races. Take this statement as gospel from one who knows, but who _cannot_ divulge the secrets of the Turf. Listen again. Betting is simply a speculative business, two parties to a bet. Each tries to win the other’s money, and each party adopts the best expedient to do so. We all know who _does_ win in the long run, and I am penning this rigmarole to show, if possible, to the small sportsman that the odds against him are so tremendous that it is next to _impossible for him to win_—_I mean in the long run_—and I so write in the hope of inducing him to “turn the game up” once and for ever, which I am sure would save much frightful distress, save the wrecking of many a home, prevent much trouble, and would be to the happiness of thousands who now waste their hard-earned money in a wilful way and in impossible successful speculation.

I am not writing as a moralist or a sentimentalist, but in a purely business way; using common-sense to prove to misguided, foolish people that to invest their money in backing horses is a stupid, unwise, unbusiness-like mode of investing their cash, and is a way that means absolute loss, if not ruin, simply because the _chances to win are so great against them, and the odds against them so fearful, that success is next to impossible_. To convince a backer that such is the case, I know, is a most difficult task, and really for a bookmaker to do so seems a paradox and a right-down absurdity, but it is not so. If the small backer could be extinguished, the legitimate abused business of betting would be much relieved from the stigma now cast upon it through the misdoings of the small backer, who, in his hopeless task, runs himself into serious difficulties and causes trouble all round. The removal of the small sportsman would be of inestimable benefit, not only to himself (I want him to look at the matter in that light), but to the straight respectable bookmaker.

Now with regard to the monied or larger sportsman. He it is who is the friend of the bookie—the dear delightful investor whom the bookie so much loves—the regular attendant in Tattersall’s enclosures and in the members’ rings. Well, well, he can afford to lose, and is capable of taking care of himself. The bookie does _not_ wish to lose him—oh dear no, certainly not; so he encourages him all he can; he makes him presents of nice morocco pocket-books, splendid purses, nicely bound S.P. diaries, Christmas and New Year remembrances in various ways, treats him whenever an opportunity occurs, and loves and plays with him whenever he can. Very many of these beloved sportsmen are men who have made money in trade or business—they are either in business still or are retired—who, having saved a competency to live upon, somehow or other find their way, one after the other, on to the race-course; they nearly always come into Tattersall’s at the different meetings; they go the round of them, and travel gaily from place to place; they get charmed with the free and open life and excitement. They decide, as a rule, firstly, to risk so many hundreds, but when it is gone they generally manage to find more money. Hope! hope! These gentlemen sportsmen talk about their wins but not their losses. Eventually, as usual, they “do _it_ (their money) all in,” then they drop out one by one through want of money and, less often, through being wise in time to prevent absolute ruin. So we miss their dear delightful faces, but we keep their money.

We, the bookies, talk to each other about our said customers and friends. “What about So-and-So—oh, he’s a retired draper. Mr. So-and-So—oh, he’s a market gardener, got a fine business. Mr. So-and-So—the retired grocer. Mr. So-and-So—what, the solicitor? Dr. So-and-So—oh yes, the doctor. Mr. So-and-So—yes, the chemist,” and so forth; then we always laugh, and the oft-reiterated remark takes place, “Yes, he is doing it (his money) all in” (_losing it_).

We laugh ha! ha! We laugh ho! ho! We laugh at their folly and pain.

One by one we miss them, but sure as fate others turn up from time to time, and so the merry game goes on day by day, month by month, and year by year. Yes, the monied sportsman, the retired tradesman, the successful business man combining trade with Turf speculation. Yes, yes, let them be—they can take care of themselves. If they like to lose their coin, well, let them—in fact, they are the bookie’s chief support, his pals, his friends. True, they drop out as I have said, one by one, sooner or later; but what matters, brother bookies? others always crop up in their places, and so we have nothing to fear.

Again, let me say, that it is the impecunious and needy, and poor silly fool of a backer who brings discredit upon the business, together with the host of thieving, impecunious welshing fraternity who dare call themselves bookmakers and Turf commission agents, who, fairly or unfairly, cop or welsh the small backer of his money.

Now, to point out to the said backer more precisely the reasons _why_ and _how he cannot_ possibly win at backing horses, no matter what plan or system he follows. Let me go a little more into these points, which will or ought to convince him, or at any rate give him matter for serious thought upon the subject.