About four squares distant from my house there stood a car barn. Opposite this car barn was a pool room, where, for two and a half cents a cue, one could knock around the balls to his heart’s content. To this pool room my steps gravitated. I remember the first time I entered. It was an evening of the middle winter; the cold was bitter and a cold sleet driving down from the northwest made life miserable on the outside. I hesitated a while before entering, then, summoning up my courage, I went in. My! but it felt good. A hot stove showed red in the background, the odor of tobacco smoke struck strong upon my nostrils, but, above all, the good-natured chaff and jokes of those at play. This I thought was fellowship of the highest order. No one gave me more than a passing glance as I entered, except the proprietor, who was all smiles. He wished me a pleasant evening, mentioned something about the weather and went on about his work. I soon was made to feel at home, and some minutes later found myself busily engaged at my first game of pool. That pool room soon became the Mecca of all of my goings out. Initiations into the mysteries of crap, poker, and other games of a strictly gambling character soon followed. Before long I had acquired a passion for gambling that knew no limit. A year passed in this environment gave me pals a plenty. These friendships, irretrievably given, led into the complex shadows of the underworld. CHAPTER II BEGINNING A CAREER I do not remember my very first act denoting criminal tendencies. The act which first brought me into the clutches of the law must have been the culmination of a passion nurtured by similar acts, but on a much smaller scale. A weakening of the will power, perhaps, by the pool-room environment of twelve months or so, was back of it all. Preceding the act which brought about my arrest I know I committed many other acts of petty thievery. Like yesterday that arrest comes back to me. Imagine a department store at the holiday season; throngs of shoppers crowded here and there; sales-people busy with fussy customers; floor-walkers watching for crooks. There by the jewelry counter two boys in their teens stand watching and waiting, a small hand reaches out to a case of rings, nervous fingers lift a “sparkle” from its velvet bed, two boys turn from the counter and follow the crowd into the street outside. Many an anxious hour followed the commission of that first big act. A thousand times I wished that ring back in the store. I saw a detective in every face, a prison in every dream. Back to the pool room we went with our prize. It was soon disposed of. At the price for which we sold it we could have sold a million.