THE JOURNAL OF ARIZONA HISTORY

THE TUCSON GAMBLERS

by

MOSE DRACHMAN

My UNCLE SAM'S first cigar store was located on Congress Street, just across from the present Y.M.C.A. on the most prominent corner in Tucson and right in the midst of all activities.  Saloons and gambling halls surrounded it.  Here gathered all the prominent men in town to gossip and discuss politics and the topics of the day.  Any person from outside the Territory coming to Tucson on business or plea­sure made this a sort of headquarters.  It was practically the Club of Tucson.  By reason of this, I made the acquaintance not only of the older men of Tucson but also of those living in other parts of the State.  I knew practically every one of the prominent men of the Territory of Arizona and made some very intimate friendships which were of great value to me afterwards, and the memory of some of these men I cherish devotedly.

It was while working here that I became acquainted with all the gamblers of those days.  Among them were some very interesting and charming characters, and some of the advice that I received from these men was of considerable value to me throughout my life.  They seemed to like me and take an interest in me.  The leading gamblers were men who came from good families in the East, and while they were following a profession of which certainly none of us can approve, they were still men of character and honor, never dealing a crooked card, and their word, once given, was as good as their bond.  They were usually men of charming personality and I liked them - in spite of the fact that I have always been against gambling and when the fight was made to put it out of Tucson, I took a prominent part in helping to wipe it out.

One of the leading gamblers was named Parker.  He took a great deal of interest in politics and during Grover Cleve­land's first administration, was chairman of the Territorial Democratic Central Committee.  He was to receive the appointment of United States Marshal for the Territory of Arizona.  However, his enemies took a photograph of him dealing faro in the Fashion Saloon and sent this to President Cleveland, and when Mark Smith, the delegate to Congress, went to see Cleveland in behalf of Parker, Cleveland pointed to this photograph, showing Parker dealing faro surrounded by Chinamen, Mexicans and Americans, and told Smith that he could not appoint him.

Parker took a good deal of interest in me.  He saw that I liked politics and one day he talked to me like a father to a son.  One of the things he said to me, I remember, was:

"No matter what any man may do for you in the way of favors, you are never under obligations to do a wrong for him." And again:

"Never make a promise hastily, but once you make it, never break it."

Anyone can appreciate what sound advice this was to give to a young man.

He was very successful, abandoning gambling entirely.  Upon his death he left the fortune he had amassed to the Y.M.C.A. The Los Angeles papers at the time of his death referred to his life in Arizona and stated that while here he was "in the mining business." He was always kind to me and I have a warm and pleasant recollection of his acquaintanceship.

Another gambler was named Haines - a Southern man and a splendid-looking fellow.  Once, during one of the feasts in Tucson, I went where he was dealing roulette and placed a bet.  I noticed him looking at me intently, but he said nothing.  Afterwards he came up town and hunted me up, and he certainly gave me a lecture against gambling.  He explained to me that the game was honest but that the odds were 90 % against the player and that ultimately I had no chance to win.  No boy ever got a more severe lecture against gambling - and from a gambler at that.

A great many more of the gamblers in Tucson, Phoenix and Prescott were of this same type.  Of course there were others who were known as "tinhorn gamblers." These were the men who dealt crooked cards.

The saloons and the gamblers combined to control the politics in Tucson in those days and it was very difficult for any man to be elected to office if they opposed him.  Of course this condition changed after the influx of new people into Arizona.

There was a group of men, hangers on around the gambling tables, known as the "Sons of Rest." They were a worthless lot - never worked - but they were not vicious men, just lazy and willing to accept things as they came.  They acted as boosters for the gamblers.  A "booster" is furnished money to play at the tables in order to create an atmosphere of interest and sociability in the gambling room.  No man cares to approach an empty table for the purpose of playing.  So the boosters fur­nished the atmosphere.  Win or lose, it made no difference to them.  Occasionally one of them would ask a bystander to stake him to gamble for him and in case he won, divided the winnings.  If the booster lost, that was the end of it, of course.

The leader of these Sons of Rest was a fellow known as "Frying Pan Charlie," or "Pan" for short.  His real name, which was known to only a few, was Charles Alzamorra.  His picture today is at the Pioneers' Historical Society as he was a character so well known among the old pioneers and was connected with so much of early Tucson history that it was felt fitting that his picture should be placed in the collection regardless of the fact that he never really did anything worthwhile so far as Tucson was concerned.  It was said that he received his sobriquet because once, while he was frying eggs in the restau­rant where he was employed, an acquaintance came in and mentioned that at the gambling house next door a faro game was in progress in which he was intensely interested, and Charlie, carrying the frying pan full of eggs, rushed into the gambling den and placed a bet while his prospective customer waited.  He had traveled almost all over the world and was a particularly interesting man to talk with.  He could relate many interesting incidents.  Everybody liked "Pan." He looked after the "Sons of Rest" and when they were without money, pro­vided them with the means by which they ate and slept.

Then there was "King William." His real name was Otto von Reichenbach and he was from a very aristocratic German family.  He had a good education and was a marvelous pianist.  Liquor was his downfall.  I do not know how he came to drift out here.  No doubt his family were glad to send him as far away as they could on account of his terrible thirst.  He would work - go out to the mines - but when he came back, he would drink and gamble away the proceeds of his labor with his gang.  An amusing incident happened in connection with "King." He once came into town with a considerable amount of money and fell in with one of his cronies known as "Irish." Irish was a good-for-nothing fellow, and in a few hours King complained that Irish had robbed him.  So Irish was put in jail.  On the day of the trial, judge Davis was on the bench.  He was a very dignified gentleman from Ohio.  By the time the trial came on, King William had reached the same mellow stage he was in when he was robbed, and when he was called to the stand, he said in a jovial voice:

"Ah, never mind, judge - let it go, let it go - let's all have a drink!"

The upshot of it was that Irish was released and King William found himself in jail for contempt of court.

The custom of having women singers in the saloons was not prevalent in Tucson for a long time after it was common in Phoenix and Prescott.  I remember distinctly the day that the first two girls were brought in here to sing in the Fashion Saloon.  It created quite a sensation.  I think that was the first time I ever heard the piece "Turkey in the Straw." Of course these women were pretty and of an attractive personality.  That was their stock in trade.  They greeted everybody pleasantly as they came into the saloon and induced the men to buy them drinks.  They were jovial, sociable.  Of course the more drinks the men bought, the better for business.  I am ashamed to say that nearly every night before going to bed, some of us fellows used to make the rounds of the saloons and buy these girls a drink apiece - that was life in Tucson in those days -not a very elevating way to end the day.  Of course there were churches here and good people who were working for better things.  These people finally accomplished what they set out to do, but in those days, I did not realize the importance of those things.

A "short-bit sport" was the name given to anyone known to be stingy - what is known nowadays as a "tight-wad." The name originated in this way: A drink of whiskey cost twelve and a half cents - a "bit" as it was called.  Twenty-five cents was two bits.  Very rarely did anyone step up to the bar and buy a drink for himself.  Either he invited some bystander or he asked the bartender to have a drink with him.  So the drinks cost him twenty-five cents or two bits.  If he bought one drink, he was expected to pay fifteen cents for it.  The bartender would not refuse if he paid for the drink with a ten-cent piece so long as he did not make a practice of it.  Well, there was one extremely penurious fellow who would go into a saloon, buy himself a drink, and pay for it with a dime.  When he wanted another drink, he would go to another saloon and again pay for it with a ten-cent piece, thereby saving a nickel on the two drinks.  Of course, it got about in a short time, and anyone who made a practice of doing this became known as a "short-bit sport," from the "short bit" as a ten-cent piece was known.  It was a deadly insult to call a man by this name; no man who had any respect for himself would endure it, and it was a fighting matter.

There was a splendid English woman in Los Angeles who had been divorced from her husband and who had no means of supporting herself.  She was a highly cultivated person and possessed a lovely voice.  Now, the manner in which these saloon singers were procured was this: An ad was inserted in the Los Angeles newspapers: "Wanted girls to sing," not men­tioning that they were to sing in saloons.  So this refined lady answered one of these ads, received her fare to Tucson - the fare was usually advanced to the accepted applicant - and when she arrived here, discovered to her horror that she had to sing in a saloon.  But she was game.  She had not a dollar to repay her fare, and so this beautiful, refined lady became a saloon singer.  But we all could tell the moment we came in contact with her that she was different.  There was an atmosphere there that one could not mistake.  We all enjoyed talking with her and how different was the language we used with her from what we used with the others.  She made us respect her.  Every night at twelve o'clock, when her work was done, a carriage took her home.  As soon as she had made enough to repay her railroad fare, she left.  This woman today is married to a prominent San Francisco man and for years has been a leader in philanthropic work in that city.

Such was the environment in which I grew to manhood.  I sometimes wonder how I came through, but none of them the saloon men, the Sons of Rest, the gamblers, the saloon singers -were vicious.  They just lived from day to day and accepted things as they found them, not caring for any of the higher things of life, entirely without ideals.  I am glad those days are gone and that I helped to wipe them out even­tually.  It was not a good environment for youth, and I fought them all because I realized that they were not builders of anything that was good or enduring.  I made a great many enemies at the time I helped to drive gambling out; also when I worked for prohibition.  But I am not sorry I did it and if the fight had to be fought over again, I would take exactly the same stand.

Right here, I want to say that the credit for putting gam­bling out of Tucson, and which finally resulted in the elimina­tion of gambling in Arizona, is due to Gen. L. H. Manning.

Manning went around to the saloons and gambled a little like the rest of us. (I hope he won't be mad at me for telling this, it's the truth).  Well, it was decided to  run Manning for mayor and because he was a great friend of the editor of the Citizen, who was opposed to the gamblers, the gambling ele­ment decided to fight him.  This made the General hot under the collar and he said: "All right - we'll just make it an issue.  I want to tell you right now, if I'm elected mayor, and the council will stand by me, we'll pass a law prohibiting gambling in Tucson." That was a startling declaration - people now­adays can hardly realize how startling-and a good many prominent Tucson business men did not approve of his stand at all.  They argued that to close up gambling here would put them out of business.  However, the fight was on.  Manning never compromised for a second.  It lined up the good people of Tucson as they never had been lined up before and as a result Manning was elected.  On the first day of the New Year after he took office, an ordinance was passed prohibiting gam­bling in the city of Tucson.  The strange part of it was that instead of making business dull, it made it better.  A great many of our citizens had the idea that gambling brought busi­ness, and in those days if you asked a man, "Well, how's business?" the reply was likely to be, "Oh, fine - there are three faro games going." In 1893, 1 think it was, there was not a faro game going in Tucson and everybody felt blue about it.

But Manning changed all that, with the help of the good people of Tucson, and it was such an example that the rest of the Territory took notice.  The Legislature that met two years later passed a law making gambling illegal in the Territory - the first real forward step that Arizona took, and the credit for it belongs to General L. H. Manning.