The Big Con

by David W. Maurer

The Square-Faced Kid, Slobbering Bob, The Hashhouse Kid, The High Ass Kid, The Indiana Wonder, Wildfire John, The Christ Kid.

Over the odor of horses and men and raw whisky and wood smoke there hung a more elusive smell, one which emanated from the fevered blood of the men and tainted the air with an electric quality. It was the odor of an ancient lust, the lust for easy money.

The reader may be able to get a better view of the situation if he will imagine for a moment what would happen if, say, fifteen of his friends decided to play a prank on him. They get together without his knowledge and write the script for a play which will last for an entire week. There are parts for all of them. The victim of the prank is isolated from everyone except the friends who have parts. His every probable reaction has been calculated in advance and the script prepared to meet these reactions. Furthermore, this drama is motivated by some fundamental weakness of the victim – liquor, money, women, or even some harmless personal crotchet. The victim is forced to go along with the play, speaking approximately the lines which are demanded of him; they spring unconsciously to his lips. He has no choice but to go along, because most of the probable objections that he can raise have been charted and logical reactions to them have been provided in the script. Very shortly the victim’s feet are quite off the ground. He is living in a play-world which he cannot distinguish from the real world. His natural but latent motives are called forth in perfectly contrived situations; actions which, under other circumstances, he would never perform seem natural and logical. He is living in a fantastic, grotesque world which resembles the real one so closely that he cannot distinguish the difference. He is the victim of a confidence game.

Another, which is now almost legendary in the underworld, illustrates how Kid McGinley’s lust for poker consumed all of his income from the grift. One time he and his partner stopped for a time in Rochester, New York, just after taking off a big touch. Every night the Kid played poker in a brace-game and lost heavily. He was rapidly going broke. His partner, who had been a professional gambler, tried to warn the Kid. ‘Kid,’ he said, ‘that stud-horse poker game is Mill’s lock. All those starters are subway dealers. If you play any longer, you’ll be behind the six.’ ‘What the hell can I do?’ asked the Kid. ‘It’s the only game in town.’