Evening star., 1925-10-18
Y Y

w re quote the old-time Sage of
n the Bowery q give point
wv 70 our belief that chance,
or luck, plays "A most I'M
portant part In every
mans life, be he rich man, poor man.
beggar man or thief. The late Steve
Brodie, as the older generation knows.
made a pile of money in his all-night
cafe on the Bowery-then the mecca
of sightseeing, Summing parties in
search of thrills-on the strength of
a widely advertised report that he had
dared to jump from Brooklyn Bridge
into the East River at risk of his life.
This foolhardy, death defying leap was
supposed to have been taken on a
dark night.
But our tale concerns the strange
destiny of professional chance
taker called John Crawford. Crawford
had certainly got somewhere. Wit
ness the fine house, No. II, between
aristocratic Fifth and Madison ave
nues, on a quiet block in the middle
Sixties, just Il we'll bred whisper east
of Central Park. Here the majority
of .the elegant residences are boarded
up the greater part of each year, un-
occupied except by CaretakerS, the
owners being North, South, West or
abroad, according to the season or the
dictates of high fashion.
What Mortified elevation of cultured
eyebrows-what righteous indignation
if any of these wealthy neighbors
knew, or even suspected, that Mr..
John Crawford. the new lessee and
occupant of No. Il, was about to
dedicate this former home of the late
lamented Herman Nandernoot, banker,
as a luxurious temple to the tickle
Goddess of Luck-a gambling house
par excellence, where chosen men Of
substance could daily with roulette,
faro. poker and baccarat.
Early in the evening of a certain
Sunday last December, Crawford
alone in the big house, settled his
splendid feet of correctly tailored
manhood into the depths of a leathern
armchair before the blazing logs of
the fireplace in the spacious reception
hall of No. II. Expecting no visi-
tors, he had switched off the electric
lights, and now, in the flickering fire
light, gave himself over TO Contented
musing over the result of the success
sion Of events which had combined
TO raise him to his present eminence
in the top rank Of his chosen profeS-
sion.
1t was no dream, he told himself,
suppressing a yawn. Here he was, at
3S, worth more than half million dol
lars. Every stick and bit of the costly
fittings and furnishings in this truly
palatial gaming establishment which
he would formally open for business
the following night was his very own,
bought and paid for. He reveled In
the thought.
He knew how to protect himself
here. All his already numerous eli
ents were men of proved standing and
wealth. No meddling agent of the po
lice, seeking evidence, would ever win
an entrance here. Each new Gus
tomer, before being admitted. would
first have to be subjected to slow.
thorough investigation and measure
up to high standard Of social and
financial fitness.
How swiftly, he reflected, had the
past six years flown byi What an
amazing contrast they were. compared
with the five years Immediately pre-
ceding themi The five long, leaden
years of a prison cell in the big At
lanta penitentiary.
What would these high.class New
Workers., his present customers, say
or do If they knew that he, the gentle
manly John Crawford. who had so
completely won their confidence and
respect as square gambler, had been
a safe-blower in his native South and
the Southwest?
"There's small chance" he assured
himself, yawning sleepily, "of them or
any one else ever finding out what be
came Of Southern yegg called Curly
Powell
The mellow tones of a tall grand
fathers clock on the landing chimed
the hour of 10 as his thoughts blurred
drowsily and he doZed into a short
nap.
x x x X
4 n the tiDoo oP 1-aare
before, and later when he was SEN
fenced to Atlanta, newspapers all over
the South featured Curly Powell SEN
sat tinnal llv aS the lnnp.sn1pht Young,