When I was about nineteen I took another and important step in the
world of graft. One night I met a couple of swell grafters, one of
whom is at the present time a Pinkerton detective. They took me to
the Haymarket, where I met a crowd of guns who were making barrels of
money. Two of them, Dutch Lonzo and Charlie Allen, became my friends,
and introduced me to Mr. R----, who has often kept me out of prison.
He was a go-between, a lawyer, and well-known to all good crooks. If
we "fell" we had to notify him and he would set the underground wires
working, with the result that our fall money would need replenishing
badly, but that we'd escape the stir.
That I was not convicted again for three years was entirely due to my
fall money and to the cleverness of Mr. R----. Besides these expenses,
which I considered legitimate, I used to get "shaken down" regularly by
the police and detectives. The following is a typical case:
I was standing one day on the corner of Grand Street and the Bowery
when a copper who knew me came up and said: "There's a lot of knocking
(complaining) going on about the Grand Street cars being torn open. The
old man (the chief) won't stand for it much longer."
"It wasn't me," I said.
"Well, it was one of the gang," he replied, "and I will have to make an
arrest soon, or take some one to headquarters for his mug," (that is,
to have his picture taken for the rogues' gallery).
I knew what that meant, and so I gave him a twenty dollar bill. But
I was young and often objected to these exorbitant demands. More than
anybody else a thief hates to be "touched," for he despises the sucker
on whom he lives. And we were certainly touched with great regularity
by the coppers.
Still, we really had nothing to complain of in those days, for we made
plenty of money and had a good time. We even used to buy our collars,
cuffs and gloves cheap from grafters who made it their business to
steal those articles. They were cheap guns,--pipe fiends, petty larceny
thieves and shop-lifters--but they helped to make our path smoother.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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