The Waterbury Democrat. [volume] (Waterbury, Conn.) 1917-1946, 1939-08-31


blers' nests Of today seem sordid
and trivial by comparison with
their own memories Of Q bygone
era.
I was Ginning with q gray
beard the other evening, as he
was wistfully recalling the shina-
mering eve when Richard A. Can
field, art connoisseur, man of let
tiers, gambler extraordinary, gilt
tered on the front pages Of old
: New York.
When his ultra-exclusive den
was raided one cold, bleak De-
cember night by william Travers
Jerome, the Dewey Of his day.
people scanned the headlines with
incredulity. It wasn't possible, they
exclaimed. "You can't close Can
fields" was the protesting cry.
His massive, four-story brown
stone structure on East Forty
Fourth Street, with its magni-
cent art gallery, which served as
a fabulous gambling niche for
multi-millioanaires, had defed
the authorities for years.
MILLIONAIRE
CLIENTELE
Garfield operated simultaneous
ly three dens in Manhattan, Sara
toga and Newport. Stakes hit new
highs at his places. His plungers
were the creme de Ia creme Of
society and finance.
Anyone who can't afford to lose
$4,000 comfortably" Garfield
once boosted, "is not desired"
And two heavy doors, with unob-
trustive peepholes, kept out the
undesirables.
Luxurious suppers were served,
gratis, of course, in the MAIN
dining room. Costly cigars, too,
were dispensed free and so were
wines of rare vintage.
John w. (Bet-a-Million) Gates
was the most colorful of all the
Garfield customers. Gates liked
his faro and would play consist
emily for two or three days, APP
parently without bothering to
Sleep. He dotted on long sessions
and rarely lost at Canf1eld's.
One day, so the graybeard's
story goes, Gates was $50, 900 be-
hind and wanted to raise the ante
to $10,000-which was fabulous for
Canfield's. But the proprietor
genially approved and as he start
ed to stroll out Of the room, muir
INJURED solicitously to Gates, "Are
you sure that's enough?"
Gates didn't reply and played
on doggedly for the next two days.
When he reached for his top hat,
he had not only recouped his
losses, but had won an additional
$3.50 900 besides!
BUT CANFIELD
COULDN'T GAMBLE!
Garfield was the paradox Of his
New York age. AS one columnist
HE could talk intelli-
gently on anything" An art critic,
man Of letters, financier, he delved
into distractions and sciences. But
there was one thing he could not
do suavely. He could not gamble.
He hardly knew howl
He was a gentleman" to the
finger tips. He liked the credit
system to indicate his polite and
ungrasping manners. AS he often
put it, 'I'll trust any millionaire"
Though he accumulated a quar-
ter of a million dollars in bad
checks and I. o. us he rarely
asked a man in debt to quit. But
he never delayed the winners
stakes, paying them in checks or
cash, as they preferred. He al
ways kept a half-million dollars
in cash on hand-for such pros
poets.
Well, the District Attorney fin
ally crashed into this plush, clan
destine world that was one of the
secretly glamorous things about
old New York.
After the raid, Garfield plunged
in the stock market, where he re-
garded the gambling to be truly
business-like, and soon. lost his
fortune.
Those, anyway, commented the
venerable Broadwayite at my side,
were the days.