The Big Con (30 page)

The con man also knows that, if a right copper can be bought by one man, he can be bought by another. It is only a question of the amount of money involved. So the con men never completely trust a copper whom they have bought. His reactions are never completely predictable and on the witness stand his performance may be disappointing or even dismaying. On the other hand, the wrong copper—that rare and admirable officer who cannot be bought—is something to be reckoned with. He is usually avoided, if possible, and business is transacted through right coppers. But the con man can always be sure of this much—if a wrong copper arrests him and refuses a bribe, that copper will take the stand to tell the truth as he sees it, and nothing on earth can stop him—except perhaps irresistible pressure from above. If the copper has damaging evidence to present, he will give it; if not, he will make no effort to frame the con men or give them a “bum rap.” Con men universally agree that the bum raps always come from right coppers and not from wrong ones. In other words, the maxim of the big con works both ways—if you can’t cheat an honest man, neither will an honest man cheat you.

In the city where the store is located, the police officers and detectives have little to do to collect their “end.” If the mark can be cooled out properly by the insideman, they may never be called upon. If the mark beefs and goes to the police, he is treated very well, asked to tell his story, gives a description of the con men, and may even
be asked to look through a rogues’ gallery (from which the local boys’ portraits have been carefully removed) in the hope that he can identify his malefactors. In other words, the police and detectives make a rather elaborate show of going through the same process they would use if they were really trying to catch someone. The swindling detail from the detective force may accompany the mark to the hotel in an effort to check up on the registry, and of course the mark will lead the detectives to the big store—which is now a vacant room. Usually the detectives explain to the mark that he has been swindled—which he already strongly suspects or he wouldn’t have visited the police—by some notorious swindlers whom the detectives pretend to have recognized from the description given them. The mark is assured that every effort will be made to apprehend the criminals; as soon as they are caught, he will be brought back to the city to identify them. Meanwhile, he is told, the less publicity which the affair is given, the better. A city detective takes him to the station and puts him on the train for home. The chances are that he never causes any further trouble. At first he inquires frequently by mail or even visits the police to see if they have found anything; by and by he tires of this and inertia sets in. He is too weary of the whole matter to pursue it further.

Sometimes a mark turns up who shows the capacity to think for himself. He realizes that he has been swindled. Immediately he consults the police. He notices that he is not receiving any very active aid. He has some powerful financial or political connections in the locality. He goes to them with his story. They are interested in discrediting the administration in power, or have some other reason for wishing to “get” someone on the police force. The heat immediately goes on. The state and county police may be called into the case. The federal men may have a look at it. The newspapers publish the story; there is quite
a furor. The con men may have to “lam” for a while, or cease operations in that city until the thing is blown over. However, there is always the chance that the identity of the con men becomes known or that the mark identifies them from some rogues’ gallery elsewhere. Then some wrong copper may spot one of them on the street somewhere or be tipped off as to their hide-out by a stool pigeon (the usual method), whereupon one or more of the con men is taken into custody. “When a wrong copper makes a pinch,” says one con man, “it usually sticks. He really takes you in.” Once a con man is apprehended, he may be identified by the mark, but even then matters are not beyond repair. Let us look a little further into the relationship between the con man and the minions of the law.

The assistance rendered the con men by the fixer is just what the con men pay for, no more, no less. They pay for the protection of the police, and they are entitled to it. But what about the con men who are not paying protection locally? The right coppers habitually look upon all grifters as a source of revenue; a con man who is not paying, even though he is not working in that city, represents undeveloped opportunity. And so the right coppers proceed to develop it. Once a con man is recognized, he is picked up on the street and shaken down. He pays to remain free, even though there may be no immediate order for his apprehension. This is known as “stem-court,” the implication being that the con man is arrested, tried, convicted and fined, all on the “stem” or street. “All big cities have coppers on the grift out looking for con men,” said one professional. “The con men know whether they are right or wrong.” This fact is emphasized by every con man who comments on the fix.

The reaction of con men toward this type of shakedown is philosophical. They believe that, if one doesn’t have sense enough to avoid right coppers, he gets only what he
deserves. Furthermore, he may need the services of that officer sometime, so he usually decides that it is better to pay. This is especially true if he is picked up in the morning, when he is working; con men—especially those on the short con—often work hard all morning, lie around in the afternoon, and work again at night—though of course circumstances alter cases. But, as a rule, if the detective picks up the con man when he is working, the grifter knows that the easiest way out is to pay the detective ten or perhaps twenty dollars. If he is not working, he may say, “Well, I guess you’ll have to take me in,” and the detective usually takes him in, just for the moral effect. He knows that he will be released as soon as he gets to the station, so he doesn’t worry. He can easily make bond if necessary—that implies that charges will be made against him, which is not likely—or he can get a lawyer to sue for his freedom on a writ of
habeas corpus.
But usually he accepts the fact of the shakedown and pays, then is careful to avoid that detective in the future. If he has a charge filed against him somewhere else, or if he knows that he is wanted, he is very glad to pay and pay well. The detectives know this and some of them, with an eye to business, keep very close tab on those con men who are wanted and on those who have recently taken off big touches. Then when they meet one of these men, they say, “Come along with me, Jack. I’ve got an order to pick you up for that touch in Memphis.” The con man isn’t sure how much the detective knows, or whether or not he is really wanted, but he has just taken off a touch in Memphis and he can’t afford to take any chances. He is still flush with his end of the touch (as the detective has surmised) so he pays and pays handsomely. But if a wrong copper picks him up, he knows it is serious and immediately goes over the officer’s head and tries to put the machinery of the fix into operation. He is usually successful.

Occasionally if con men do not pay off, detectives
become abusive or slug them, but the latter seldom happens. The feelings are not often that personal. Furthermore, the detective knows that, if the fix is in, the con men can easily revenge themselves upon the detective from above. An old-timer says, “In the old days in Chicago, if the fuzz got smart with a con man, Mike would let him smell the stockyards for a while.” The same procedure is used in many cities. Two detectives on the con-detail in Chicago once stopped a well-known con man, whom we shall call Eddie, and tried to shake him down. He declined to pay. They beat him up and took a large diamond from him. Like much of con men’s equipment, it was stolen. Eddie happened to know where it came from, took the stand against the detectives and they paid dearly for their little shakedown.

The Waco Kid did not fare so well in a similar situation. He roped a man for Barney the Patch’s store in Chicago and played him for $25,000. He had the mark in a cab preparing to put him on the send again when two shakedown detectives stopped the cab. They told the mark that Waco was a con man, but he refused to admit it. They took him to the central station and gave him “the works,” during which they broke both his legs and he spent some months in a hospital. But cops do not often use con men roughly; in fact, once arrested, a con man is likely to receive better treatment than any other criminal, with the possible exception of big gang-lords or powerful fixers.

In the old days (1898–1910) Chicago was swarming with grifters and the detectives were kept busy with the shakedown. Since the grifters knew the detectives on sight, they would always run for a saloon or other “right” hangout so that they could not be picked up without a warrant. Since many con men are tall and long-legged, the detectives often pursued their game without success. Some genius in the police department saw to it that Norton Johnson, an exceptionally good runner, was transferred
to the con detail and for a time it went hard with the con men. However, Johnson met his match when he tried to pick up the professional foot-racer who was used with one of the foot-race stores. The professional just made it to Andy’s saloon and sanctuary. Gone, alas, are those hurly-burly days before the teletype and the squad car, when the boys played cops and robbers for all they were worth.

A few detectives throughout the country have photographic memories which enable them to carry a whole rogues’ gallery right under their hats. Such a man is Frank (Camera-Eye) McCarthy, very recently sent to prison because of his activities on the fix in Buffalo. These men are greatly respected by con men because they can be counted upon to pick out a known grifter anywhere, though there is nothing serious to be feared, for they frequently “take their end” with monotonous regularity. They are always on the lookout for con men because they know con men have money and they know how to cause trouble for them if they do not pay up. But there are very few such smart detectives. Many others, hopeful of gaining such a reputation and eager to get credit (and the shakedown money too, perhaps), learn through stool pigeons where con men habitually hang out, then wait outside and follow any stranger who emerges. Some distance down the street they stop him and, once they feel sure he is a grifter, put the shake on him.

Perhaps this is the place to indicate the falsity of the popular belief, fostered by film and fiction, that some detectives can spot a criminal by looking him over. Unless the criminal gives himself away by some slip of speech or attitude, there is no detective who can pick him out for a professional—without a keen memory for the photographs in the rogues’ gallery.

However, it must not be assumed, on the whole, that
there is anything like the traditional enmity portrayed in film and fiction as existing between grifters and detectives. The wrong coppers are usually too fair-minded to hate con men; they know only too well that con-game victims are fleeced while trying to profit by a dishonest deal; furthermore, they see arresting a con man and giving honest testimony against him only as a part of their sworn duty. But the wrong copper is a very rare bird. The right coppers who have been on duty for many years know all the important con men in the country and con men know all the detectives. They do not hate each other any more than a merchant hates his customers; they co-operate for their mutual well-being; it is a part of the system. On the other hand, they seldom become very good friends, because the quickest way for a con man to acquire an unsavory reputation among his colleagues is for him to associate with detectives. And a smart detective does not encourage personal friendship with con men, for he understands the situation perfectly. The wise detective causes a con man as little trouble as possible, never asks him embarrassing questions, and takes his end quietly and unostentatiously. He knows which side his bread is buttered on; he may go out of his way to do favors for those con men who pay regularly and generously, but there is nothing very personal about this action. Con men reciprocate, not only to protect themselves, but also in the interests of their friends, and are very careful to protect certain detectives, especially if they are in court and giving testimony which might reflect upon the officers. This is in general true; in exceptional cases, grifters turn state’s evidence against detectives, or in other ways reveal their connivance with crime. Then, especially if a “reform” administration is in power, the officers are liable to indictment and trial. When these conditions are revealed, as they are in every city from time to time, the public is momentarily scandalized, then lapses back into the complete
apathy which characterizes it. Certain public officials profit politically from the hullabaloo which is raised and, when the reform administration goes out, things go on much as before.

In some places the fix is so strong and the grifters so well organized that hangouts for grifters like Dan the Dude’s place and Mike Haggarty’s saloon in Memphis in the old days are completely immune from police interference and even from police visits. This protects the con men from shakedowns and provides them with privacy for their leisure and recreation. Haggarty himself saw to it that all coppers and detectives stayed clear of his place. When they disobeyed his order, they were “broken.” When Stuttering Conway, a Pinkerton detective who thought he was immune from local pressures, defied Haggarty’s order, Haggarty himself delivered a roundhouse right which felled the detective like a slaughtered ox, then vented what remained of his rage on Conway’s derby hat, which he literally kicked to pieces. A year later another Pinkerton man named Humphries tried to come in and Haggarty whipped him and sent him home. After that they stayed away.

Confidence men sometimes have to fix agents for Pinkerton, Burns and other private agencies. This is a difficult task, at least as it applies to Pinkerton and Burns, though some con men report that they have done it. Many other agencies do not have such proud records. Any con man can testify that, next to agents for the Federal Government, detectives from these two agencies are hardest to bribe. Perhaps part of the answer lies in the high morale which these organizations have built up, part of it in the fact that they pay their good men good salaries and fire those who show any weaknesses. Furthermore these men, like federal agents, work largely through stool pigeons; they collect their evidence very carefully and plan their case before they make an arrest. And very often
their cases stick. Con men, knowing this, do the sensible thing—try to avoid any entanglements with them.