Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1883-07-25

has to roost On the back of the reporters
chair. He has horse in the race, and has
BET thousands of dollars on the result. He
watches every move of the racers with
breathless interest with the aid of pow
erful glass, for man whom he hates worse
than poison has bet against him through
an agent. The wiry man is Bookmaker
Kelly, who fought the Plunger so energet-
ically last summer.
The stout man in a blue suit, wearing a
white hat as round as Dutchman's, under
which his flushed face has restless, uneasy
look, is merchant who few years ago
became imbued with the spirit of betting
on horses. He adopted the Plunger's tao
tics, and in a quieter way bets nearly as
much money. Passing bookmaker not
long ago who was shouting just before the
race, ''Pll bet $4,000 to $4,000 on Eole," he
took the offer. Eole lost. The man is
named Bernard.
A tall, neat, blue eyed man, who needs
no chair to give him view of the running
horses, watches them while carrying thou
sands of dollars of his money as coolly as
if he had wagered glass of wine only on
the result. He is equally cool while spec
ulating on Wall street, at faro, draw poker
or any other game of chance. Heis known
as Al Smith.
Those two slim, erect, neatly dressed, uR-
obstrusive men, always one and inseper-
able at the race course, have, in the past
four years, won more money in stakes,
purses, sweepstakes, and bets than any
other horsemen in America. Win or lose
they always wear the same calm demeanor,
and no one ever knows how much they are
out Or in. They are keen, critical observ-
ers OF a horse race, and are often seen in
the judges or timers box. They are the
Dryer brothers.
That clear-eyed man who drags one leg
behind him, and who, with his stout hearty
wife, bets freely on the races, is the owner
of the finest string of steeplechasers in the
country He began his racing career with
one horse, to pay for which he had hard
scramble. He is at present
rich man. His name is w. G.. Daily.
That handsome, compactly built Irish
man, with complexion clearer than Lang
try's, beautiful, black curly hair, and eyes
that shine like brilliants, hurrying through
the press with handkerchief tied across
his shirt front to hide costly diamond, is
lively better. He began sporting life in
pedestrian matches. His name is o.
Rourke.
The handsome gentleman with sleek
mustaches, glossy hair, and Chesterfield
ian manners, who comes on from the west
to try his luck at the races, and is hail fell
low well met with Billy Conner, Tom
Ochiltree, and other clever club men, is
known among the boys as Egg Johnson. He
is a good Judge of horses. He ran for
lieutenant governor of Ohio on the Demo
cratic ticket q few years ago.
The stout, good natured gentleman of
Democratic heartiness, who leaves the
judges stand whenever he is interested
financially in a horse race, and who, when
he gets tip on steeplechase, is always
pleased to see his horse hold his own, if he
does get away last, is called Johnny Heck
scher by such familiar spirits as Aleck
Taylor and other roysterers. Mr.. Heck
scher is ready to wager any amount of
money that the coming horse show will
be the most popular exhibition ever
started.
The man in the gray suit, wearing dia-
mond as large as a chestnut on his shirt
front, is one of the old-time New York
printers of whom there are but few
remaining. One day, while he was
working on a weekly newspaper, the
continued-story man went the way of
many geniuses and disappeared in a fog.
The proprietor said: 'Mr. Smith, why
don't you write story?" Mr.. Smith wrote
a story, the circulation rolled up, and now
the writer is enabled to indulge his love
for picking out the winners to his hearts
delight.
Standing near each other are two solid
looking citizens; one is young and hand
some, the other has the appearance of a
good natured man who knows how to keep
hotel. The latter issa celebrated oyster
caterer, and the other is famousi for the
choice meats he furnishes to uptown res
idents. Both favor auction pools, and
both have blazing diamonds.
There sits man with the head of
patriarch. Forty-one years ago he bet on
the Boston and Fashion race on the old
Union course. He put his money on Bos-
ton. His winnings that day have cost him
$4,000 since. No man has had more tips
given him in genuine good faith, and still
he says that it is impossible to beat the
game.
Eagerly watching the horses as they
dash toward the finish is a young lawyer
from Brooklyn. His face has the troubled
look which says, eff could only get even,
I would quit"
Cropping his way along the rails close to
| the quarterstretch is shattered, miserable
man. A horse has been set back for foul
ing, and the man is looking for winning
tickets that may have been thrown away
under the supposition that they were of
no account. Five years ago the man was
worth quarter of million. His friends
now support him.
A fat, cheerful-looking young fellow, who
was graduated with honors and was a col
Iege champion sculIer, exhibits with great
glee card, which entities him to 500 fo1
$40 placed on the winner. He bets on
every race, and always shows his winning
cards. They are few and far between. He
is the hope of fond, wealthy, widowed
mother. ''By Jove" he remarked to an
acquaintance the other day. "here it is
only July, and I've a bare thousand re.
naming of my yearly allowance of
S25,OOO."
Here comes a man of commanding
stature, followed closely by slim young
man. They are father and son. The ia
Their is one of the most successful theatrical
managers i'll the United States, and one OF
the most popular men in Brooklyn. He
does not make as many hits On the turf as