Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1890-04-27
GILDED COLLEGIANS.
High-Rolling Students Who Tamper
With the Tiger at Boston.
NO USE FOR TAME LITTLE BEASTS.
The Novel Scheme of Four Young Sports to
Beat q Crooked Game.
WIN OF $4,000 AT TWO sITTINGS
CORRESPONDENCE OF THE pIsPATcH.I

ident Eliot, of Harvard University, to close
gambling house which has of late been
open there for the collegians. The doors are
already shut, and it is not likely that they
will soon swing again. Gambling has come
to be one of the concomitants of q collegiate
"thoroughbred's" life. Princely remittances
from an indulgent sire are too often contrib
uted to the faro dealer, the wheel keeper, or
the croupier at the dice table. The average
Harvard student, scion of wealthy parents,
is as susceptible to the influences of the
green cloth as the most deeply-dyed-in-the-
wool plunger in the arena. Reference is
here had to the thoroughly acclimated, per-
fectly posted university lad, who is an old
stager at roulette or hazard.
Why, in easy, slow-going, prosaic old
Boston there is prematurely aged man who
manipulates the deal box and turns the
wheel with marvellous deftness and exasper-
ating nonchalance. Not so very long ago,
less than ten years a good deal, he was a
raven-haired, smooth checked student with
soulful ebony eyes, pouring over his Greek
grammar with an assiduity that betokened
great things for his future. A quiet little
game of "draw" in a fellow-student's cham
bers at Cambridge was his starter in life as
gambler. He became completely enslaved
in all sorts of games of chance. Greek and
Latin were like physic, thrown to the dogs.
He was plugged" or dropped in certain
studies, and finally he cut his class entirely
and passed days and nights listening to the
whirr of the roulette ball or
THE FLIP OF THE CARDS
in the faro box. he lost and won with the
varying OF fortune. He was nervy player,
and In his imperturbable countenance you
could never discern the slightest concern.
One day he entered a popular gambling
hell, and eaid to the hacker of the game:
"Old man, I'm broke. Can you give me a
job as 'case-keeper' or dealer in your
game?"
"Are you in earnest2" inquired the pro-
prietor.
"Never more so in my life, was the
reply.
"Well, you may take that chair tonight,
my boy, and we'll see how you get along.
That chair has been occupied almost
every night since by the ex-Harvard man.
His inky tresses slowly faded into pale
streaks as he sat nightly in the high chair
of the dealer. and the mental torture of
meeting his whilom companions in college,
on far different social basis now, soon as
serted itself in the hirsute crown of snowy
whiteness which rested on his shoulders
He is actually steely in his professional
capacity. and extremely taciturn. No one
ever hears him complain, but his bearing
unconsciously impresses you that he feels
that his life is misdeal.
While there are no moretemptations placed
in the way ofstudents at Harvard University
than are found in the path of undergrad
mates at QDu 0f our ofhor oraof eaofz ~
learning, it is much easier task to enum-
crate them and individualize the games
The students at Cambridge pursue the bulk
or their playing in Boston. There are no
games stiff enough conducted in Cambridge
proper to catch the collegiate high roller.
THE LIMIT TOO Low.
To be sure, Jack Lytor of 80 or Phil
Asdig of 81 always could accommodate a
few of the boys if they wanted to roll rou-
lette, but the limit was not big enough to
suit the boys, and the game wasn't at all
sporty. The lads who affected strong
game always drifted into Boston and sat in
at Pat Coakley's high limit play at the
Royal Club. This was indeed a royal club.
In a suite of chambers at 146A fremont
street, one flight from the street, Coakley
conducted the best game in Boston. The
interior furnishings have never been sur
passed in Boston. and the midnight sup
pers were as near the feasts of Lucullus as
the average gambler could imagine under
the circumstances. Coakley's Royal Club
was raided by the police effectually two or
three years ago, and Coakley quit the busi-
ness disguised.
He was the man who gave John L.
Sullivan the coolest call-down, as the sports
say, that the champion ever got. It hap
pened in John McKey's Metropolitan
Hotel in Boston about four years ago. John
L. went in to the barroom one morning, and
he carried full load of redeye whisky
beneath his vest He insulted everybody
right and left, and finally tackled Pat
Coakley, who quietly shifted his pistol from
his hip pocket to one of his side coat
pockets, and, pointing the muzzle at Sulli-
van through the cloth of his coat, cried
halt on his abusive, indecent tongue. The
big fellow stopped his TRADE at once His
friends took him away, and his life was
saved, for Pat Coakley was terribly in
earnest.
A LEARNED GAMBLER.
Coakley was always friendly in running
the students. He never allowed youngster
to play his game any sitter than be thought
the boy could stand. Old Joe McMahon, or
"Chelsea joe" is known from one end of
the land to the other. "CheIsea Joe" is of
striking personality. His ruddy face and
long, flowing, snowy-white hair, topped bya
wide-brimmed Kossuth hat, are familiar
sights to all in Boston. Joe is a moraIizer,
and he often lectures "his boys" as he calls
the youths from Cambridge, on the errors of
their gambling ways. The only trouble
about Joe is that he likes to play bank him
self, and, as result he often 'goes broke"
1t is a unique sight to see "Chelsea Joe"
surrounded by half dozen beardless
students, discoursing at length on this
socioIogist or that learned divine. The BOYS
from Cambridge listen, and laugh to them
selves, for they see that Joe "means we'll,
but he doesn't know"
A Boston game Of roulette was lately
beaten by Harvard boys. They selected the
number 16 to operate with. One evening
three of them strolled in carelessly, and.
after awhile, sauntered easily over toward
the roulette wheel. Big Jim White was
wheel-keeper and he is about as foxy as
they make 'em. One engaged his attention
while the other two were carefully watch
ing the wheel. and sticking pretty close to
it. too.
Suddenly Gathering Of feet on the stairs
was heard, and then the cry of "frel" was
beloved out. Student No. 4, who was on
the outside, was doing his part of the work.
Jim Ism an easy man 70 rattle, but on this
particular night he lost his head completely.
BE dashed through the door, down stairs
and out on the street. Not so the two
quietly behaved students at the wheel,
They calmly remained behind, and, when
everybody left the room, they simply pasted
four additional 16's over other numbers on
the wheel.
SIXTEEN CAME OFTEN.
Then they, too. ssuntered out to see about
the fire. There wasn't any, of course. The