Rensselaer Union, Volume 7, Number 43, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 15 July 1875 — Monte and Bunko. [ARTICLE]

Monte and Bunko.

The sharks of society are the “confi-dence-men” infesting it—that class of humans which, in the form of man, in the dress of man and having the speech of man—bland, tasteful and suave—w in the confidence of the unsuspecting stranger only to gain accession to all, or a part, at least, of his ready money. The two great baits with which these beings tempt the unwary in America, especially in the West, are named in the vernacular of the gambling fraternity “monte” and “bunko.” The first is a game of railroad life, usually, and is the country cousin of bunko, which is mostly played in the metropolis or smaller cities. When a man steps out from his home on the farm, or in the country village, with a snug sum of money in his pocket to make purchases in the nearest large

city, and his wife says to him on his departure : “ Look Out for robbers and don’t let them get that money,” the point is well taken on the woman’s part, and the warning worth heeding. Safely on the train and speeding toward the metropolis, the traveler may nor dream of danger, thinking only of the snares which are spread in the environs of the city to which lie is journeying, but the railroads, of the West, especially in Illinois, lowa, Wisconsin and other States tributaiv to Chicago, are many of them infested with that class of swindlers known as three-card monte men. They travel daily upon the trains, vibrating backward and forward from Chicago into the interior a few hundred miles, week after week. They travel singly, in pairs, in trios and sometimes even larger gangs board the same train. Watch a complement of these gamblers at their work. One of them takes up a position near some man or party of men whom he wishes to “fleece.” In his hand are three cards. He passes them through his hands in that way peculiar to those who are accustomed to handle cards, his hands being held about breast high, palms downward and horizontal to each other, while the pasteboards are passed dexterously from one to the other in sight of the man whose money is being fished for. He sees that the cards are plain, with the exception that upon one is the picture of a man, jierhaps another of a woman, and on the third a child. The swindler lays the three cards upon a vacant seat, backs up, or, perhaps, holds them in his hands with the figures toward himself, and saying: “Who can pick out the man ?” All this seems very innocent, and someone says “lean,” tries, and succeeds. “I’ll bet you can’t do it again,” says the swindler. Everybody looks on with interest, when perhaps some victim will put up five dollars and tty to win. But the confidence man has “handled” his cards well while shuffling them, and the victim loses his money. “ Try it again,” says the man of the cards. *lt is tried, and again the victim suffers loss. Then the game is urged upon him, and, feeling assured that he can at least win once and get back part of his lost means, the victim tries and tries again, coming out poorer at every effort. Sometimes, to avoid suspicion, the monte man, who is generally an honest-looking chap, will use only plain white cards, with pencil marks on the backs, and a common trick on the part of the swindler, to make the victim anxious to bet, is to tear the corner of one of the cards a little, so that the traveler is sure he can bet on turning up the figures on that card. But, alas for the uncertainty of appearances! when he turns it up it isn’t the one that he saw marked in that way. The game is also sometimes urged on by a confederate of the swindler, who occasionally bets and always wins. And this is three-card “monte.”

If the traveler escapes the “monte” men on the railroad trains he may next be subjected to the wiles of the “bunko” men in the city. The bunko men travel in pairs, usually, and the stranger coming from the depot, or wandering »n the streets, is “spotted” by these rascals. One of them in passing the stranger suddenly looks up, out his hand and exclaims : “ Why, Mr. Brown, how are you ? When did you come in from Kalamazoo ?” “ You are mistaken, I guess, sir,” replies the stranger; “my name is Smith, and I live in Oshkosh.” Then the confidence man—called a “ roper-in” or “ bunkosteerer”—apologizes for his mistake, and, dropping back, informs his handy confederate of the man’s name and place of abode. The confederate immediately hastens up the other side of the street and shortly afterward meets the stranger and greets him with ahearty shake of the hand, and the exclamation of “ How do you do, Mr. Smith ? How are the folks at Oshkosh ?” Mr. Smith is at a loss, and “ doesn’t remember” the accoster, but the “ roper-in” says his name is Jones, or something, and that he is well acquainted with some man in Oshkosh, and generally asks his man to step in and take a drink. The victim is then informed by the roper-in that he, the latter, has come to town to get the money on a lottery ticket which he has drawn, and is requested to step around to a certain number in some street while the lucky possessor of the winning ticket draws his money. Arrived at the number, which is the headquarters of the bunko man and is known as a “ bunko hell,” a polite clerk hands over the money—sso or SIOO, or other sum as the case may be—and is told that drawings are momentarily taking place. The victim is urged to invest and the chances are made to look so favorable that he is generally entrapped. He buys a ticket for some small amount. It wins, and he is told that by the rules of the game he must “represent” the amount drawn by buying another ticket of a larger number before he can get the first ticket cashed. He puts up the required amount, draws again and again he is required to “ represent,” and by this “ representation” business is led on, winning at every step, until his last dollar —or “ pile,” as the gamblers call it—is at stake, when by an unlucky (?) turn of the wheel he loses for once and the bunko men win for once—win all. By this time the victim begins to find out with whom he is dealing and is glad to get away from the place with his skin whole. This is “ bunko.”

Though exposed daily in the metropolitan press these tricks of swindlers continue to flourish and their victims are numbered by the thousands. Where one victim tells of his foolish adventure fifty, through pride, keep it to themselves. The thieviDg swindlers prosper at their nefarious calling, dress well, live high and support half the bad houses of the cities. People traveling should be very wary of making new acquaintances, and when they see any trickery going on should steer clear of it all. After all it is a man ’9 own fault if he loses money in the ways described above, for while he may be led to think there tea chance to make money by betting on “monte” cards, or buying “ bunko” lottery tickets, it is his own fault if he invests in them. Much has been done, especially by the fress, to suppress the swindles spoken of. People have been warned to avoid them, and the authorities urged to punish the criminals. But money is potent and the swindlers are quite willing to bribe conductors, brakemen, officers and policemen to avoid serious molestation. This is called an ‘ ‘ ante-up” of profits. There are,

be it said to their praise, many honorable railroad conductors running trains out from Chicago who are above selling their passengers to rogues, and to whom the “ monte” men have no affinity. The police authorities of Chicago have the power to crush out the “ bunko” men, and it is to be hoped that it will not be long before they will kick this class from the city as effectually as some railroad authorities have kicked the “ monte” men from their trains —Chicago Journal.