Tazewell Republican. [volume] (Tazewell, Va.) 1892-1919, 1901-05-23
THE WIRE TAPPER'S ERROR.
Miscarriage of an Attack on a
Big Roll.

nTHE corralling here the other day
of that real smooth and glossy
boy, Chappie Moran, the phony wire
Taper, on a charge of extracting
1000 bucks, actual currency, from the
apparel of a moonface who ached to
get rich right quick, he didn't care
how-the mailing of the Chappie
makes me think of a wire Taper l
once knew who made a heart-break-
ing failure of one of his jobs" re-
marked an old-time Headquarters de-
tective, now retired. 81 refer to
Lamplighter Barrett, who quit plough
ing these fruitful fields about five
wears ago and died in Frisco from an
excessive use of the hop tot in '99.
''The main difference between Mo
ran and Barrett lies in this, that Mo-
ran, although an expert telegrapher,
never really tapped race wire in his
whole money-making career, whereas
Barrett, in the old days when wire
tapping was possible-which it dis
tinctly is not now-actually' turned
that trick once in while when he
found the coin hard to gain on the
mere pretense of wire tapping. But
Lamplighter Barrett worked the imi-
tation tapping dodge with enough
skill to keep him in Turk cigarettes,
the best hop made in Chink land and
choice raiment, for good many years
around these and neighboring parts
that is, he stamped between New
York and Chicago and took in such
intermediary points as Baltimore,
Philadelphia, Washington, Detroit,
Buffalo and other unassuming little
places like those.
although, as I say, he really knew
how to wire-tap and to do it right,
and pulled off a number of those
tricks, he preferred the easier phony
method and he was one of the pion-
GERS at 1.-THE simple scheme of TAX
ing the come-on to quiet room, show
ing him lot of wires and clicking
keys, putting up the talk that it was
all fixed to take the results right off
the main wire, and thus coaXing the
dough out of the come-on's clothes.
1.-THE little incident that I'm going
to tell you about, however, so preyed
uDon Barrett's mind-he was dubbed
Lamplighter, by the way, because he
once achieved hog-killing on that
good animal-and touched his pride
SO hard that he never lifted up his
head any more around here after
ward, and it wasn't long before he
streaked for the Pacific.
Barrett was standing in the bar
room of one of the Broadway hotels
} much patronized by grafters and
, sure-thing men, on a fine forenoon in
June, '95, waiting for a good one to
come his way. His pal, Ed Fellows
was with him.
presently there walked into the
: barroom from the hotel lobby, tall
lanky man who looked uncomfortable
in his store clothes. By the looks Of
him he was obviously from Painted
T Post, or Three Forks, or Ipswich, OF
= y some place like that, and it was the
easiest thing in life to put him down
as one of 'em on his honeymoon tour
:, He looked like new husband from
= the woods who had excused himself
n from the new wife for minute ant
had Just sneaked down to the bar tt
= throw one in for the purpose of reviv
: ing his tagging spirits. He wore
!, dead new black sack suit, new blacl
derby hat of the up-country block
new and squeaky shoes and whit
string tie. He walked like he wa
l. stepping over burrows.
As Barrett and his pal exchanges
grins when they saw him walk up t.
the bar, but, of course, they had NJ
idea that he was good enough TO
them. Simply out of habit the.
= watched him when he paid for hi
' drink, just to see what he had. Whei
d. they observed him pull out OF IN
q right trousers pocket wad OF tn
yellow kind that would'ye clogged