It was while a member of the Athletic Club of Philadelphia that I made my debut as a billiardist in public. I played the game a great deal in those days and had acquired quite a reputation for skill in handling the cue among my fellow ball-players, nearly all of whom could play the game after some fashion, there being seemingly quite an affinity between base-ball and billiards. James Lentz of Trenton, N. J., at that time enjoyed quite a reputation as a billiard expert in the land of sandflies and mosquitoes, and he being in Philadelphia we came together at Nelms'

billiard room in a match game, 300 points up, at the old three-ball style of billiards, for stakes of $100 a side, and I beat him by a score of 300 to 252, no account of the averages or high runs being kept for the reason, as I presume, that n.o.body thought them worth keeping, though enough of the filthy lucre changed hands on the result to keep some of my ball-playing friends in pocket money for some days.

That game was played on the fourth day of February, 1875, and it was not until more than ten years afterwards that I again appeared in public as a billiardist. Frank Parker, the ex-champion in the days of the old four-ball game, now dead, was then a resident of Chicago, and his friends thought so well of his abilities at the fourteen-inch balk line game, which up to that time had never been played in public, that they offered to match him against me for stakes of $250 a side, the game to be 500 points up. After some talk back and forth this match was finally made, and March 25th, 1885, we came together in Central Music Hall, Chicago, before a fair-sized crowd, and I won by a score of 500 to 366, averaging in the neighborhood of five, and astonishing both Parker and his friends.

Slosson's billiard room on Monroe street, Chicago, was at that time and for several years afterwards the scene of more billiard matches than any similar resort in the United States, it being the headquarters of the bookmaking fraternity as well as the billiardists from all sections of the country, and it is more than probable that larger sums of money changed hands over the result of the games that were played there during the winter of 1885 and 1886 than changed hands in any other hall in the country, the leading billiard rooms of Gotham not excepted. Among the billiardists who were making Chicago their headquarters that winter were Jacob Schaefer, George F. Slosson, Eugene Carter, Thomas F. Gallagher, and William H. Catton, while among the bookmakers that made Slosson's room their lounging place were such well-known knights of the chalk and rubber as Dave Pulsifer, who afterwards owned the famous race horse, Tenny; James H. Murphy, whose pacer, "Star Pointer," was in after years the first horse in harness to beat the two-minute mark; William Riley, who, under the sobriquet of "Silver Bill," is known from one end of the country to the other; Charlie Stiles, for years the trusted lieutenant of Bride and Armstrong, the Grand-Circuit pool sellers; George 'Wheelock, then hailing from St. Louis, but now known as one of the nerviest of New York's betting brigade; Joe Ullman, who then as now was a plunger; Johnny O'Neil, Frank Eckert, and many others, the place also being a favorite resort for the hors.e.m.e.n.

Thomas J. Gallagher was that fall in good form and there were several members of the book-making fraternity who stood ready to back him whenever he said the word. I had taken a notion into my head that I could beat him, nor was I alone in the opinion, for my friend, "Bart"

White, thought the same way. The result was that I agreed to play him a match 300 points up at the fourteen-inch balk-line game for stakes of $100 a side. We came together on the afternoon of November 23d at Slosson's room, and Gallagher won by seventeen points, after a close and exciting contest, the game standing at 300 to 283 in his favor.

Neither my friends nor myself were satisfied with the result of this game, during the progress of which I had met with some hard luck, and which I was certain that I might have played better, and as a result we at once made another match at the same game to be played that night, the stakes this time being increased to $150 a side. The game was played in the presence of quite a crowd of billiard enthusiasts, and again Gallagher won by 309 to 280, but even this defeat did not convince me that he was a better player, and the result was still another match of 400 points up at the same game for stakes of $100 a side. This was played the following evening, and for the third time Gallagher carried off the honors, the totals showing 400 points for him as against only 183 for myself, and by this time I had come to the conclusion that he was a "leetle bit" too speedy for me, and that he could look for somebody else to pay his board-bills.

That same fall Wyman McCreary, of St. Louis, then as now recognized as one of the strongest amateur players in the country, dropped into Slosson's room, and the result was that I played him two matches at the fourteen-inch balk-line game, each one being for $50 a side, winning both, the score in the first one being 300 to 164, and in the second 300 to 194, my average in the last being 8 14-17, a performance that was at that time something better than the ordinary. Even as far back as those days there was a craze for angle games, and at three cushions Eugene Carter was especially strong, he having a standing challenge to play any man in the world at that style of billiards. He finally offered to play me so points, his backer to wager $300 to $100 that he could beat me, and this offer I accepted. The story of that game, as told in verse by a Chicago newspaper man under the t.i.tle of "A Match of Slosson's Room,"

was as follows:

It was some time in the winter, and, if I remember right, There were snowflakes softly falling, through the darkness of the night, When I wandered into Slosson's, where the lights were all ablaze, In the hopes of seeing billiards, for I had the billiard craze.

'Round the table there had gathered all the sporting men in town, Putting money up in handfuls; each was anxious to take down.

Some would yell out, "I'll take Anson at the odds of three to one,"

Then another'd cry, "I've got you," and the betting had begun.

'Twas a match game at three cushions, fifty points up, for a stake, 'Tween the base-ball man and Carter, and it wan't an even break, For the odds were all in money and the playing even up, But the horse that packs the top weight does not always win the cup.

Odds in money cut no figure from a betting point of view, As I've found in life quite often, and, I doubt not, so have you.

If a man can't win at evens then he cannot win at all, Be the odds they bet against him very large or very small.

Carter had the style and finish, but the Captain had the nerve That in base-ball oft had helped him solve a pitcher's meanest curve!

And he seemed to know the angles just as well as "You-Know Me."

That he wasn't a beginner was as plain as plain could be.

'Round the table stood the bettors, looking on with eager eyes, While first one and then another certain seemed to take the prize.

On the wire the cl.u.s.tered b.u.t.tons sat like sparrows in a row, 'Neath the lights that gleamed and glistened while there outside fell the snow.

Carter stood about and chattered just as Carter always will (If you have a talking parrot you can never keep him still) Anson only laughed and listened, saying as he chalked his cue: "Frogs' legs measured up in inches don't tell what the frog can do,

"When it comes to jumping, Carter, and the best fish in the brook Finds at last he's met his master when he grabs the angler's hook.

Talking does not win at billiards, nor at any other game, When you come to count your b.u.t.tons, then perhaps you'll think the same."

Went the b.u.t.tons up together, one by one, upon the string, Like two yachts that skim the waters, they were racing wing and wing.

Hushed was all the noisy clamor and the room was as still as death, As they stood and watched the players chalk their cues with bated breath.

"Even up!" the marker shouted, and the b.u.t.tons on the line Counted up stood right together--each had stopped at forty-nine.

It was Anson's shot--a hard one--as the b.a.l.l.s before him lay, And he stopped to count the chances--then he chalked his cue to play.

"Call it off; I'll give you fifty," said George Wheelock, sitting near.

He had found the stakes for Carter and his voice was low and clear.

"Take your stakes down, Captain Anson, and take fifty 'plunks' of mine."

With a nod the Cap consented; Carter's backers bought the wine.

In that billiard-room of Slosson's, Carter argued half the night, While the snowflakes drifted earthward like a mantle soft and white.

And he swore that he'd have won it if it wasn't for a miss That he'd made up in the corner when he'd played to get a "kiss."

Now it may be that he would have, but I'm still inclined to believe That he weakened o'er the billiards that he found up Anson's sleeve.

For I've noticed that the "sucker," or the chap you're thinking one, Proves the "shark" that gets the money, "doing" 'stead of being "done."

The only match that I have engaged in since those days was one that I played last fall with Conklin, a West Side amateur in Chicago, and was at the eighteen-inch balk-line game, 400 points up for stakes of $50 a side, 200 points to be played in my own room and 200 in Clark's resort.

The first night in my own room I obtained such a lead as to make the result look like a foregone conclusion, but the next night he came back at me like a cyclone and averaging over seven, a rattling good performance at that style of billiards, he beat me out and did it in such a handsome manner as to challenge my admiration and respect. Since then he has beaten Morningstar, a Boston, Ma.s.s., professional in the same easy fashion, and it would not be surprising were he yet to make his mark in the billiard line.

I may say right here that I intend to devote more time to billiards in the future than I have in the past, and that I am always willing to match, provided that the game is a fair one, in which I have an even chance, as, unlike some players that I could name, I am not always looking for the best of it.

CHAPTER x.x.xVII. NOT DEAD, BUT SLEEPING.

The proposed New American Base-Ball a.s.sociation, of which so much was heard during the fall and winter months of 1899 and 1900, is not dead, as some people fondly hope, but only sleeping. That the National League fears the birth of a new rival has been time and again shown, and in my judgment without good and sufficient reason, for I hold that "compet.i.tion is the life of trade," and that with a strong and healthy compet.i.tor in, the field the rivalry would be of benefit to both organizations.

From personal experience I know that the National Game was never in as healthy condition as it was when the League had the old American a.s.sociation for a rival and when such a thing as syndicate base-ball was unheard of. The Harts, the Friedmans and the Robisons were not then in control, and the rule-or-ruin policy that now prevails had at that time not even been thought of.

Base-ball as at present conducted is a gigantic monopoly, intolerant of opposition and run on a grab-all-that-there-is-in-sight policy that is alienating its friends and disgusting the very public that has so long and cheerfully given to it the support that it has withheld from other forms of amus.e.m.e.nt.

It was Abraham Lincoln, I believe, who once remarked that you can fool some of the people all the time but that you cannot fool all the people all the time, and yet it is this latter feat that the League magnates are at the present time trying to perform.

That the new a.s.sociation did not take the field in 1900 was due to an unfortunate combination of circ.u.mstances, but that it will do so another season I firmly believe, as many of the men interested in its formation are still enthusiastic over the project and determined to carry it to a successful conclusion.

St. Louis may justly be regarded as the birthplace of the newcomer, as it was there that the idea of a new rival to the worn-out old League first originated in the brain of Al Spink, who, like the majority of the game's best friends the country over, had grown sick of syndicate methods and believed that the time had come when a new a.s.sociation, run on strictly business principles, would secure the patronage of the people. a.s.sociating with him Chris Von der Ahe, who became famous as "der boss" of the old St. Louis Browns, George Shaefer and others, he at once begun pulling wires looking toward the formation of an organization based on the old American a.s.sociation lines, one that should do away with many of the evils that now exist.

Milwaukee and Detroit capitalists were soon interested in the scheme, and early in October, 1899, an informal meeting was held in Chicago, at which Chas. Havenor, Harry D. Quinn and Alderman O'Brien of Milwaukee; Chris Von der Ahe, George Shaefer and Al Spink, of St. Louis, and Frank Hough, of Philadelphia, were present.

This meeting I attended by invitation in company with Walter H. Clough, my son-in-law, and after talking the prospects over I finally agreed to place a team in Chicago to represent the new a.s.sociation, providing that a proper circuit of eight cities could be secured. I was then, as I am now, in favor of invading the cities already occupied by the National League clubs, and leaving the other cities to be occupied by the minor leagues.

At this meeting Harry D. Quinn was elected temporary President and Frank Hough temporary Secretary.

Quinn proved to be a hustler of the first cla.s.s and spent both time and money in interesting the capitalists of other cities in the proposed deal. In November matters had progressed so far that a second meeting was held in New York, which was attended by the St. Louis and Milwaukee delegations, and by Secretary Hough of Philadelphia, Thomas Navin of Detroit and representatives from Boston and Providence.

Owing to family troubles I was unable to be present, and but little was accomplished. An effort was made, however, to interest Tom O'Rourke and "Dry Dollar" Sullivan in the scheme, and this might have been successful had it not been known that Richard Croker, the Tammany chieftain, was a great friend of President Freedman of the New York League Club, and might be tempted to cut streets through any grounds that were secured.

McGraw of Baltimore was also on hand looking over the ground, but he was then still confident that Baltimore would be retained in the League, and therefore was unwilling to cast his fortunes with the new venture.

Quinn was nothing daunted, however, and continued to work like a beaver.

Hough's promised backing in Philadelphia failed to materialize, and F.

A. Richter, of the Philadelphia "Sporting Life," claimed to be able to find both the men and money necessary to put a club in the Quaker City.

A lawyer by the name of Elliott, and some friends of his, were first mentioned as the club's backers, but they failed to come to time, and then Mr. Richter trotted out a son-in-law of John Wanamaker, but he failed to materialize with his money.

This was the situation at the time that the third meeting was called by Mr. Quinn at Philadelphia, and which was held there just before the holidays. In the meantime I had attended a meeting of the National League in New York, and had gone from there on to Baltimore. While in the latter city I had a long talk with McGraw and all but convinced him that Baltimore was certain to be dropped by the League and that it would be to his best interests to join hands with us in the formation of the new a.s.sociation.

Acting on the information I had given him McGraw and his friends at once secured a lease on the National League ball grounds over the head of the League people, and then came on to attend the Philadelphia meeting. Here it was announced that Tommy McCarthy had things fixed all right in Boston and that Providence would leave the Eastern League and join with us.

McGraw had now become an enthusiast so far as the new scheme was concerned, but while the way to mend matters looked rosy on the surface, I fancied there were breakers ahead. I was disappointed in the showing made by Philadelphia at the meeting, and had even then grave doubts as to the genuineness of the backing promised there, though Richter, who was even at that time pulling wires in order to be elected Secretary and Treasurer when the final organization was made, a.s.serted positively that he had found the necessary capitalists in the persons of George Regar and a theatrical man by the name of Gilmore.

The circuit so far as made up at that time looked like Detroit, Chicago, St. Louis and Milwaukee in the West, and Boston, Baltimore, Philadelphia and some city yet to be determined upon in the East.