Upset the Dinner Table.

New York, 1895

James Hall, of Flushing, invited Michael Edwards, a neighbor, to his house Sunday morning to play cards. Several pints of ale were disposed of. Edwards accused Hall of cheating. Hall put Edwards out and then sat down to read. In a few minutes Edwards returned and commenced throwing stones through Hall's windows. Hall escaped, and Edwards entered the house, found the table set for dinner, took hold of the end of the cloth and pulled all the dishes and dinner off on the floor.

—The Long Island Farmer, Jamaica, NY, July 5, 1895, p. 1.

He Picked

1895

"It's funny how they do it, isn't it?" he said to a policeman whom he met on Jefferson avenue as he came up from the depot.

"How they do what?" asked the officer.

"Why, on the train a man had three playing cards, and he tossed them around so, and so, and so, and then asked me to pick out the ace of clubs."

"And of course you did it?"

"Of course. Just reached right over and picked it out the first time. Then he tossed them about again and said he'd bet I couldn't pick out the same card."

"And you bet him?"

"Oh, yes — bet him $20 even up."

"And you reached over and — and — and" —

"Yes, I reached over and picked up the queen of hearts. I thought it was the ace of clubs, you know, but it wasn't."

"And you want the swindler arrested? Where is he?"

"Oh, no, no, no! No; I don't want anybody arrested. Besides he got off at Dearborn."

"Well, what do you want?" demanded the officer.

"Oh, nothing — nothing 'tall, except to ask you if it isn't funny how they do it and warn you not to bet on the game. It biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an adder. So long, old boy — don't try it!" — Detroit Free Press.

Film Star Called as Poker Witness

1920

Norma Talmadge to Testify in Peculiar Case

New Yorker Arrested, Accused of Cheating Celebrities Out of $350,000 at Cards

NEW YORK, N, Y., March 18. — The last card in Broadway's sensational stud poker season was turned down by Justice Kernochan in the Court of Special Sessions.

It was a warrant for the arrest of Louis Krohnberg, wealthy manufacturer of women's wear, at whose home Norma Talmadge and other New York celebrities are said to have lost approximately $350,000 by the use of marked cards.

Discovery of cheating, it is said, was made during the final game of the series played at the home of Joseph Schenck, husband of Norma Talmadge.

Exposed by Actress

Guests at the party, which was held on New Year's Eve, ascribe most of the credit for the detection to Miss Talmadge, whose husband brought about a dramatic denoument by betting wildly into Krohnberg's pair of aces with a pair of kings, and then kicking Krohnberg into the street on the show down.

At the hearing Jacob Silverman, who appeared as complainant, testified that he had lost $7,300 at Krohnberg's home, and, suspecting dishonesty, had taken away one of the decks used in the game. The cards, he said, were later found to be "readers," the fleur-de-lis on their backs being marked in such a way that the player in the secret could recognise them.

Huge Penalty Possible

All the participants in the games, including Miss Talmadge, will be required to testify when Krohnberg is brought to trial. In the event that Krohnberg is found guilty, five times the amount of the players' losses may be collected and distributed among charities designated by the State.

There is some dispute concerning the amount lost by the players. Mr. Silverman says $530,000 is an approximate estimate. Krohnberg's attorneys deny all the charges and display checks aggregating $68,000 indorsed by Mr. Schneck and others as payees, which, they say, represent losses suffered by their client.

Had Sure Thing at Stud Poker

Feb. 1920

Playing with Marked Cards, New Yorker Cleaned Up an Immense Sum

New York.—-A group of screen magnates and music publishers along Broadway has been fleeced out of $350,000 by a wealthy manufacturer with a deck of marked cards, whom they admitted to their private games. He was finally detected and thrown out of the house of the man who caught him. The World prints the story, calling the fleecer Mr. Trimmer and the other man Mr. Screen. It asserts it has their real names.

For a considerable time a group of twelve or fourteen men, all of ample means, have been playing stud poker. There were Mr. Screen, a big picture promoter and the husband of one of the prettiest and most talented stars; Mr. Flickers, of equal rank in celluloid productions; Mr. Circuit, who owns a flock of theaters; Mr. Ragg, who receives immense royalties from his song compositions, and others quite as well known in their respective fields.

Last summer, at Far Rockaway and Arverne, their ranks were augmented by Mr. Trimmer. He is a manufacturer on an immense scale of a certain article of women's wear, and is generally known as a millionaire.

They Thought It Was Luck

Mr. Trimmer's "uncanny luck," as the other players called it, was noticeable from the very start. In one session, for instance, which began on a Saturday night and continued into Sunday, he cleaned up more than $40,000.

The daring of Mr. Trimmer's play was what interested the others more than anything else. He would make bets against seemingly impossible odds — and win them.

Mr. Trimmer always knew what the other fellow's secret card was, when he was the dealer, and he always won. Also he always knew, when he held the deck, what card his opponent would get next, and what card he (Trimmer) was going to get next, for his cards were what is known to gamblers as "readers."

The design on the back of them — which meant nothing to others — told him exactly what denomination each pasteboard was.

At last, suspicion intruded, and one of the other men at a party which Trimmer had arranged pocketed a deck of Trimmer's cards and took them to a professional gambler for examination.

"They're readers," said the professional. At the corner of each card, on the back, was a design composed of four fleur-de-lis — the three leafed flower of France.

If the right hand petal of the flower at the upper right hand of the group was heavily shaded the card was an ace; if the center petal of that particular flower was accentuated, it was a king; if the shading was on the left hand petal it was a queen.

There were four flowers, each with three petals. The shadings, therefore, stood for 12 different cards, according to where they were placed, these cards ranging down from the ace to the deuce. If no petal was shaded the card was the deuce.

An exposure was planned at Screen's house. There were eight players. Trimmer, on a few hands off square cards, lost $650. Then he produced a deck of his sort. As soon as Screen saw the marked cards he exposed the cheat to his guests and proceeded to beat Trimmer up, winding up by throwing him out of the house.

London Women Rolling Cigarettes for Soldiers

1915

They Abandon Knitting for a New Fad for Relief of Men

London. — Rolling cigarettes for relatives, sweethearts, and friends in the fighting line is just now the occupation of many women here, who believe tobacco in this form will be more appreciated than packages of cigarettes manufactured in the ordinary way.

It is not an uncommon sight to see women rolling cigarettes in the lobbies of some well-known hotels, and many have temporarily given up knitting to make cigarettes. Symmetry, of course, is not much in evidence in these productions, which often swell toward the center like cigars, but Tommy Atkins will probably be able to smoke them despite their shortcomings.


Piquet War in Trenches

Soldiers Have Regular Championship Matches Along the Battle Lines

Paris. — Piquet, says the Figaro, is the favorite diversion of the French troops in the trenches along the battle lines. Some remarkable games are played between the crack players of the different companies.

Many of the contests are broken off suddenly by the bursting of shrapnel in or near the trenches. Not infrequently a game ends in a "dead" hand when some unfortunate player "passes out" forever while holding the winning cards.

"Auto Poker" New Form of Gambling

1906

"Automobile poker," a new form of gambling in public, has struck this city and is spreading from the sea to the Yonkers line. Along the avenues approaching the Sheepshead Bay race track men and boys in groups are playing "automobile poker." On Fifth avenue, Broadway, Madison avenue, and all auto favored thoroughfares, automobile poker is indulged in, evidencing that the new "bug" has taken hold, for the time being, at least,

The game is played thus: Stationing themselves on an auto haunted thoroughfare, the "bookmaker" and the players lay bets on the highest possible hand to be found in the next devil wagon which may come honking along. The auto comes and passes in a cloud of dust. The number, say, is 11,651. One equals an ace, so the hand showed is three aces. Those who guessed nearest to the value of that hand win. If the auto number is 27,244, the hand is two pair, four high. In the same way the number may reveal three or four deuces, trays, or fours.

The bookmaker takes all bets on any old number, but pays off only to the holder of the highest hand.

But the game is destined to put the bookmakers out of business, for the chauffeurs and their friends are "next," and the game is being already plugged by them. Knowing the number of their own automobile, they send their friends along the line to get down a bet, and then comes the automobile, the number prominently displayed, the wiley chauffeur sitting with apparent unconcern at the tiller.

Asleep on Card Table, Man Has Coughing Fit, Dies

Iowa, 1901

DIES ON A CARD TABLE

WILLIAM HANNAH'S DEMISE IN DELMONICO CLUB ROOMS

So Sudden Was His Passing That Those In the Room With Him Knew Nothing of It Until the Man Was In His Death Struggles — Leaves the Text of a Sermon Written In His Note Book

Several men were gathered in the club room over the Delmonico early yesterday morning. One was lying asleep on the table. Several others had just been out for a lunch, and on returning to the room one of them had brought in with him a very large Newfoundland dog, the big shaggy animal making himself at home near the stove. Suddenly a loud coughing or choking was heard, and Osborn Reynolds cried "Put that dog out. This room is too warm for him."

"It's not the dog; it's 'Ditch,' answered one of the men.

"Wake him up, boys," and two or three of them hurried over to the table to do so.

"My God! He's dead," they cried and the limp form was allowed to fall back. The face was of chalky whiteness, and it was not necessary to call a physician to learn that life had fled, though, of course, a physician was speedily, but uselessly called.

Thus, lying on a card table in a saloon club room, William Hannah died. Not the slightest warning had he; probably not a moment of conscious suffering. His heart had filled up with blood and then refused to work. It was all so sudden that the men about the corpse could hardly realize what had happened.

There was considerable difficulty yesterday in identifying the dead man. He was known to several people but only as "Ditch," this peculiar nickname coming from the fact that he worked at laying tile when he worked at all. The remains were taken to the Boies' undertaking parlors and during the forenoon Coroner Fred Lambach conducted an autopsy. In the afternoon the coroner's inquest was held and a verdict was rendered that William Hannah came to his death by cardiac paralysis. The coroner's jury consisted of M. J. Scandrett, William Schwarnweber, and O. K. Wilson.

A Dead Man's Sermon

"There's no fool like an old fool," wrote Hannah in his note book not long ago, and the quotation is the text of a sermon that the dead man is preaching to his fellow creatures. The rest of his sermon is found in the story of his life. It developed at the inquest that not many months ago William Hannah had come into the possession of some money, inherited from an eastern relative. He came to Davenport and spent most of his time about a card table. At first he was successful. He did not play heavily, but he won, and he grew to love the game. Men who knew him say it was a study to watch the face of "Ditch" when he was handling the pasteboards. It often made them forget their own game. But there came a time when "Ditch" didn't win. Every bit of his money was gone. He had been known to the police for the past two weeks as "broke," and when Dr. Lambach examined his stomach at the autopsy yesterday morning it was learned that no food had been eaten in the last 24 hours. It was probably during this period that the text was written in the note book.

System Much Deranged

Though to outward appearance Hannah was a healthy man, the autopsy showed that his system was very much disordered. His stomach was what is known as a "whisky stomach," though there was no testimony to show that he was a hard drinker. His kidneys were in bad shape. His right lung had grown to his side as the result of an attack of pluerisy. His liver gave evidence of a disease from which few men recover, and all tended to weaken his heart.

At the inquest testimony was taken from Captain Fred Hitchcock, Michael Rourke, P. Phelan. Ed Neils, W. H. Costello, John Cahil, Dr. Porter, who was called at the time of Hannah's death, and Os Reynolds, the proprietor of the place where the man died. From the testimony it was learned that Hannah had been in Gallagher's place in the early evening, that he had gone to the Delmonico about 12 o'clock, and had fallen asleep upon the card table, a habit that he had been more or less regular in of late. No one took any particular notice of him until the fatal coughing fit attracted them.

Hannah had previously lived at Williamsburg, Ia., where it is understood he has a sister. He carried photographs of two men, one young and the other old. He had told some of his acquaintances that they were his brother and father, and lived in California. The dead man was about 35 years of age.

—Davenport Daily Republican, Davenport, Iowa, Feb. 17, 1901, p. 7.

Armless Man Commits Robbery With Gun Between His Toes

1903

HOLDS GUN WITH HIS TOES

Armless Wonder Cowes Roomful of Men By a Threat to Shoot.

Butte, Mont., March 4 — The most sensational and novel holdup known in the West was perpetrated when Chas. Payne, an armless man, entered the California club at the corner of Main and Broadway and with a 44-calibre revolver held between the toes of his right foot compelled a faro dealer Richards to return him $5 which he had lost during the night.

There were only a few players in the room at the time and they made a rush for the doors when Payne swung his gun into action. Richards begged him not to shoot and Payne said that all he wanted was the return of $5 which he had lost. It was cheerfully restored to him and he hopped out of the club while keeping the dealer covered with his gun. The robbery was not reported to the police till in the afternoon and after Payne had been arrested for taking a shot at another man in a boarding house on West Mercury street later in the day.

He resisted arrest and tried to cut the officers with a razor which he held between his toes. He was overpowered, disarmed and taken to jail. Payne was formerly a vaudeville performer, but has been out of engagements for more than a year because of dissipation and he is said to have been crazed with drink at the time of the robbery and shooting.

—Davenport Daily Republican, Davenport, Iowa, March 5, 1903, page 2.

Poker: Four Deaths Because of Five Aces

1911

FOUR DEATH DUE TO POKER

"Bad" Ace in Pack Starts Bullets Flying at Kayler, Pa.

Kittanning, Pa., May 23. — A poker deck which, it is said, held five aces is responsible for shooting which took the lives of three miners at Kayler near here. Charles Sendric, Andy Braltis and Rocco Braltis were killed instantly and Walter Spilesh was fatally injured.

The "bad" ace was seen in the hand of Dick Sendric and he was given a severe beating by the other players and thrown out of the house. Sendric later returned with an automatic gun and, it is alleged, fired its contents into the home.

Uniontown, Pa., May 23. — Frank Pecan, aged twenty-nine, was shot through the breast and killed instantly as a result of a shooting affray in connection with a poker game at the Sunshine Coke works, twelve miles south of this place. Frank Renite, aged twenty-five, was shot and seriously injured. The police are searching for three brothers named Logwabaca, one of whom, it is alleged, did the shooting.

—Indiana Evening Gazette, Indiana, Pennsylvania, May 23, 1911, page 3.

Valentine's Day Brings Tender and Rough Greetings

1910

PETTY SPITE AND TENDER MISSIVES MINGLED IN MAIL

School Children, Grown-Up Women and Even Business Men Prepare for Valentine.

THOUSANDS ARE BOUGHT

Mail Will Be Loaded With Letters Bearing Tender and Rough Greetings

"This heer looks like teccher."

Hundreds and thousands of school children, wherever Valentine's day is a recognized institution, are today with laborious effort and ink bedaubed fingers preparing the hideous caricatures bearing inscriptions like the above, which will tomorrow give their instructors the pupil's conception of their mental and physical shortcomings.

Likewise, Mrs. Flaherty, who last summer made a remark reflecting on the girth line of Mrs. Hoolihan, just around the corner, will receive a carefully enclosed but unsigned tribute which may depict her either as a "cat" or a "gadabout." They all forget to put on the name with the original draft, but Mrs. Flaherty, like all the rest of womankind, is never uncertain of the source, and hurrying into her best "rags" just as promptly visits the corner drug store. The next mail brings the answer and the merry war is on.

Full grown men, too, men of affairs and recognized business ability, take advantage of the opportunity offered to vent petty spite and grievances against their competitors and business adversaries.

The day is also one, however, which marks the universal exchange of pretty sentiments and tender missives of love. Today and tomorrow the mails will be encumbered with delicately framed boxes carefully tied with baby ribbons, from which emanates the scent of the perfumed missives.

Some will be beautifully engraved and embellished, while others will carry only hastily scrawled notes in school boy hand. All will carry the name sentiment, however, of childish affection and adoration of first love and as Nellie with coy diffidence exhibits the missive to mamma and receives the reproof she expected, she fails to detect the flicker of the eye or the unconscious softening of the lines about the mouth, as mamma's mind reverts back to a similar occasion in her own life, when a similar missive was received and she was rebuked in the same manner.

--The Des Moines News, Des Moines, Iowa, February 13, 1910, page 8.

Comment: I had never heard of Valentine cards meant as insults, but it looks like they really did that. At Wikipedia, there's an article on "vinegar valentines" that says, "Vinegar valentines are greeting cards, or, rather, insult cards, that come in the form of an insult, decorated with a caricature and, below that, an insulting poem. Ostensibly given on Valentine's Day, the caricature and poem is about the "type" that the recipient belongs to--spinster, floozy, dude, scholar, etc. ... The cards were first produced in the late Victorian era and enjoyed their greatest popularity in that period and in the first quarter of the 20th century."