Part 13 (1/2)
Doubts have sometimes been cast upon Bret Harte's description of the gambling element in California life, but contemporary accounts fully sustain the picture which he drew. One reason for the comparative respectability of gambling among the Pioneers was that most of the California gamblers came from the West and South, especially from States bordering upon the Mississippi River, and in those quarters the status of the gambler was far higher than in the Eastern or Middle parts of the country. Early in 1850 a whole s.h.i.+p-load of gamblers arrived from New Orleans. They stopped, _en route_, at Monterey, went ash.o.r.e for a few hours, and, as a kind of first-fruits of their long journey, relieved the Spaniards and Mexicans resident there of what loose silver and gold they happened to have on hand. These citizens of Monterey, like all the native Californians, were inveterate gamblers; but an American who was there at the time relates that they were like children in the hands of the men from New Orleans;--and thus we have one more proof of Anglo-Saxon superiority.
Nor does Bret Harte's account lack direct confirmation. ”The gamblers,”
says a contemporary historian, ”were usually from New Orleans, Louisville, Memphis, Richmond, or St. Louis. Not infrequently they were well-born and well-educated, and among them were as many good, honest, square-dealing men as could be found in any other business; and they were, as a rule, more charitable and more ready to help those in distress.”[73]
A certain William Thornton, a gambler from St. Louis, known as ”Lucky Bill,” had many of the traits a.s.sociated with Bret Harte's gamblers. He was noted for his generosity, and, though finally hanged by a vigilance committee, he made a ”good end,” for, on the scaffold, he exhorted his son who was among the spectators, to avoid bad company, to keep away from saloons, and to lead an industrious and honest life.
No surprise need be felt, therefore, that in California a gambler like Jack Hamlin should have the qualities and perform the deeds of a knight-errant. Bret Harte himself records the fact that it was the generous gift of a San Francisco gambler which started the Sanitary Commission in the Civil War, so far at least as California was concerned.
The following incident occurred in the town of Coloma in the summer of 1849. Two ministers, a Mr. Roberts and a Mr. Dawson, preached there one Sunday to a company of miners, and one of them held forth especially against the sin of gambling. When the collection had been made, a twenty dollar and a ten dollar gold piece were found, carefully wrapped in paper, and on the paper was written: ”I design the twenty dollars for Mr. Roberts because he fearlessly dealt out the truth against the gamblers. The ten dollars are for Mr. Dawson.” The paper was signed by the leading gambler in the town.
The princ.i.p.al building in the new city, the Parker House, a two-story, wooden affair, with a piazza in front, was erected in 1849 at a cost of thirty thousand dollars, and was rented almost immediately at fifteen hundred dollars a month for games of chance. Almost everybody played, and in '49 and '50 the gambling houses served as clubs for business and professional men. As Bret Harte wrote in the Introduction to the second volume of his works:--”The most respectable citizens, though they might not play, are to be seen here of an evening. Old friends who, perhaps, parted at the church door in the States, meet here without fear and without reproach. Even among the players are represented all cla.s.ses and conditions of men. One night at a faro table a player suddenly slipped from his seat to the floor, a dead man. Three doctors, also players, after a brief examination, p.r.o.nounced it disease of the heart. The coroner, sitting at the right of the dealer, instantly impanelled the rest of the players, who, laying down their cards, briefly gave a verdict in accordance with the facts, and then went on with their game!”
A similar but much worse scene is recorded as occurring in a Sacramento gambling house. A quarrel arose in the course of which a man was shot three times, each wound being a mortal one. The victim was placed in a dying condition on one of the tables; but the orchestra continued to play, and the gambling went on as before in the greater part of the room. A notorious woman, staggering drunk, a.s.sailed the ears of the dying man with profane and obscene remarks, while another by-stander endeavored to create laughter by mimicking the contortions that appeared in his face, as he lay there gasping in his death agony upon a gambler's table.[74]
In San Francisco the princ.i.p.al gambling houses were situated in the very heart of the city, and they were kept open throughout the whole twenty-four hours. At night, the brilliantly lighted rooms, the s.h.i.+fting crowd of men, diverse and often picturesque in costume and appearance, the wild music which arose now and then, and which, except for the jingling of gold and silver, was almost the only sound,--all this, as a youthful spectator recalled in after years, ”was a rapturous and fearful thing.”
The rooms were gorgeously furnished, with a superabundance of gilt frames, sparkling chandeliers, and ornaments of silver.
Behind the long bar were more mirrors, gold clocks, ornamental bottles and decanters, china vases, bouquets of flowers, and gla.s.ses of many colors and fantastic shapes.
The atmosphere was often hazy with tobacco smoke and redolent of the fumes of brandy; but perfect order prevailed, and in the pauses of the music not a sound could be heard except the subdued murmur of voices, and the ceaseless c.h.i.n.k of gold and silver. It was the fas.h.i.+on for those who stood at the tables to have their hands full of coins which they shuffled backward and forward, like so many cards. The noise of a cane falling upon the marble floor would cause everybody to look up. If a voice were raised in hilarity or altercation, the by-standers would frown upon the offender with a stare of virtuous indignation. Every gambling house, even the most squalid resort on Long Wharf, had its music, which might be that of a single piano-player or fiddler, or an orchestra of five or six performers.
In the large gambling halls the music was often very good. Two thousand dollars a month for a nightly performance was the sum once offered to a violin-player by a San Francisco gambler; and, to the honor of the artist be it said, the offer was declined.
All California, sooner or later, was seen in the gambling rooms of San Francisco: Mexicans wrapped in their blankets, smoking cigarettes, and watching the game intently from under their broad-brimmed hats; Frenchmen in their blouses, puffing at black pipes; countrymen fresh from the mines, wearing flannel s.h.i.+rts and high boots, with pistols and knives in their belts; boys of ten or twelve years, smoking big cigars, and losing hundreds of dollars at a play, with the nonchalance of veterans; low-browed, villainous-looking convicts from Australia; thin, gla.s.sy-eyed men, in the last stages of a misspent life, clad in the greasy black of a former gentility. The professional gamblers usually had a pale, careworn look, not uncommon, by the way, in California; but no danger or excitement could disturb their equanimity. In this respect the players strove hard to imitate them, though not always with success. The most popular games were _monte_, usually conducted by Mexicans, and faro, an American game. The French introduced _rouge-et-noir_, _roulette_, _lansquenet_, and _vingt-et-un_.
In the larger halls the custom was to rent different parts of the room to different proprietors, each of whom carried on his own game independently.
Most of the proprietors were foreigners, and many of them were women.
These women included some of great beauty, and they were all magnificently attired, their rustling silks, elaborately dressed hair and glittering diamonds contrasting strangely with the hairy faces, slouch hats and flannel s.h.i.+rts of the miners.
That gambling was looked upon at first as a legitimate industry is plain from the surprising fact that the local courts in Sacramento upheld gambling debts as valid, and authorized their collection by process of law. But these decisions--almost sufficient to make Blackstone rise from his grave--were reversed the following year.
Indeed, a healthy public opinion against gambling developed very soon.
Even in 1850, the grand jury sitting at San Francisco condemned the practice; and in 1851 gambling on Sunday was forbidden in that city by an ordinance which the authorities enforced in so far that open gambling on that day was no longer permitted. In December, 1850, an ordinance against gaming in the streets was pa.s.sed by the city council of Sacramento. By the end of 1851 there was a perceptible decrease in both gaming and drinking in all the larger towns of California. ”Gambling with all the attractions of fine saloons and tastefully dressed women is on the wane in Marysville,” a local observer reported; and the same thing was noticed in San Francisco. The gambling house, as a general _rendez-vous_, was succeeded by the saloon, and that, in turn, by the club.
Gambling houses continued to be licensed in San Francisco until 1856, but public opinion against them steadily grew. ”They are tolerated,” said the ”San Francisco Herald,” ”for no other reason that we know of except that they are charged heavily for licenses. Almost all of them are owned by foreigners.” By the end of the year 1855, the ”Bulletin” was condemning the gamblers as among the worst elements of society; and the death of the ”Bulletin's” heroic Editor in the following year marked the close of the gambling era in San Francisco. When Bret Harte's first stories were written the type represented by John Oakhurst and Jack Hamlin had begun to pa.s.s away, and those worthies would soon have been forgotten.
But who can forget them now! ”Bret Harte,” said the ”Academy,” after his death, ”was the Homer of Gamblers. Gamblers there had been before, but they were of the old sullen type.” In making his gamblers good-looking, Bret Harte only followed tradition, and the tradition is founded on fact.
The one essential trait of the gambler is good nerves. These are largely a matter of good health and physique, and good looks have much the same origin. It follows that gamblers having good nerves should also have good looks. It is natural, too, that they should have excellent manners. The habit of easy shooting and of being shot at is universally recognized as conducive to politeness, and, moreover, a certain persuasiveness of manner, a mingling of suavity and authority, is part of the gambler's stock-in-trade. An American of wide experience once declared that he had met but one fellow-countryman whose manners could fairly be described as ”courtly,” and he was a professional gambler of Irish birth. Good looks and good manners, the former especially, were very common among the California Pioneers, and it is but natural that Oakhurst and Hamlin should have had an unusual share of these attractions.
Mr. Oakhurst appears in only a few of the stories, but there is a certain intensity in the description of him which makes one almost certain that he, like most of Bret Harte's characters, was drawn from life. ”There was something in his carriage, something in the pose of his beautiful head, something in the strong and fine manliness of his presence, something in the perfect and utter control and discipline of his muscles, something in the high repose of his nature--a repose not so much a matter of intellectual ruling as of his very nature,--that go where he would and with whom, he was always a notable man in ten thousand.”
In this description one cannot help perceiving the Author's effort, not quite successful perhaps, to lay his finger upon the essential trait of a real and striking personality.
In two stories only does he play the part of hero, these being _A Pa.s.sage in the Life of Mr. John Oakhurst_, and the immortal _Outcasts of Poker Flat_. The former story closes with a characteristic remark. Two weeks after the duel in which his right arm was disabled, Mr. Oakhurst ”walked into his rooms at Sacramento, and in his old manner took his seat at the faro table. 'How's your arm, Jack?' asked an incautious player. There was a smile following the question, which, however, ceased as Jack looked up quietly at the speaker. 'It bothers my dealing a little, but I can shoot as well with my left.' The game was continued in that decorous silence which usually distinguished the table at which Mr. John Oakhurst presided.”
It has been objected by one critic that Oakhurst and Jack Hamlin are too much alike; but if we imagine one of these characters as placed in the situation of the other, we cannot help seeing how very different they are.
Jack Hamlin could never have been infatuated, as Oakhurst was, by Mrs.