No home ties restrain them; no home a.s.sociations fill their time or thought. Their rooms are fit only to sleep in; close friends they have few or none. You can watch them on the streets any evening. Hour after hour they gaze at the pa.s.sing throng; at length they fling themselves into the current,--no longer silent and alone.

No small part of the business is the so-called "out of town" trade. It has been conservatively estimated that over 250,000 visitors enter this city every day in the year for business or for pleasure. This great host visit the theaters, parks, seash.o.r.e resorts, museums; they trade in stores and shops, and some of them, before they return to their homes, become customers in vice resorts. They, too, include all social cla.s.ses: soldiers and sailors, traveling men and buyers, men in attendance on business, political or fraternal gatherings and conventions, and mere pleasure seekers.

It is impossible to estimate the number of men and boys who become customers in vice resorts in Manhattan during the course of one year. On the basis of data actually on file, it may be a.s.sumed that inmates of resorts and women on the street trade with between ten and fifteen men per day. This statement is corroborated by data secured by the Vice Commission in Chicago, where the average was found to be 15 per day for 18 inmates in one house covering a period of 22 months,[181] as well as by data obtained in Syracuse, New York, where the average number of customers entertained by one inmate during a period of 6 months was 12.[182] Taking the lower figures as the basis of calculation, if the 15,000 professional prost.i.tutes of Manhattan entertain ten guests apiece, the customers total at least 150,000 persons every day.

CHAPTER VI

THE BUSINESS OF PROSt.i.tUTION; ITS COST

The present chapter deals mainly with the business of prost.i.tution as conducted in parlor houses and brothels. Our investigators were fortunate in being able to mingle freely with promoters and their a.s.sistants during a period of many months, listening to their conversations, consulting with them about business deals, helping them "make up their books" after the day's business was over, and writing letters for them; they were, in fact, treated as members of the inner circle and thus obtained first-hand information. Copies of leases for property are on our files; records of expenses and receipts in the handwriting of the promoters were secured; conversations carried on between promoters and bearing on their business dealings, have been recorded. It is commonly believed that men who live upon the proceeds of prost.i.tution are untruthful, that no dependence can be put upon their statements. This doubtless holds as to their utterances on the witness stand or before an investigating body. But among themselves they talk about their business dealings with great freedom, and probably with more or less general accuracy. They eat and drink, buy and sell, plan and scheme like other business men; and under such circ.u.mstances the facts and conversations presented herewith were obtained. On the other hand, it must be distinctly stated that our agents were not authorized or permitted to "frame up" cases in order to secure facts. They did not operate houses of prost.i.tution in the effort to obtain direct evidence, although opportunities of this kind frequently presented themselves. They could have leased property for immoral purposes, bought shares in houses of prost.i.tution, or have become active agents in arranging the details essential to the safe and successful conduct of the business. Their instructions forbade anything of the kind: it was their part merely to observe without arousing suspicion on the one hand, and without actual partic.i.p.ation on the other.

(1) LEASING PROPERTY

In order to secure houses to be used for immoral purposes, "go-betweens"

called "mecklers" are employed. The "meckler" is paid a fee, never less than $30 and sometimes as much as $100. Occasionally he receives a small percentage of the receipts.

A man of this character[183] lives in East 139th Street.[184] During the period of this investigation, he selected a building on Sixth Avenue[185]

as suitable for the business of prost.i.tution. Several promoters had previously tried unsuccessfully to secure a lease on this property.

Through the p.a.w.nbroker who occupies the first floor, the "meckler" in question ultimately succeeded in securing the owner's[186] consent: the rental was $300 a month, despite the wretched conditions of the premises.

He therefore rented the upper floors to three others,[187] who shared with him on a 20 per cent basis. The enterprise was not successful; not long after the "meckler" sold his share[188] for $450. The house closed in March, 1912, because of poor management. Later three other men purchased the lease and re-opened the place.

On June 26th, 1912, two owners[189] of a house of prost.i.tution[190] in West 28th Street, sought to rent a house[191] on West 29th Street. The go-between was instructed to secure a lease on the house for one year if possible, and was told to give the agent to understand for what purpose they wanted the property. If objection was made, he was to tell the agent that in case of dispossession proceedings, the tenant could be evicted and a new lease issued under a different name. This was said to be the usual plan when the police made an arrest or issued an eviction notice. The go-between carried out his instructions literally. The house agents candidly admitted that "the owner knows that the only thing we can let the house for is for a cat-house" (meaning a house of prost.i.tution). They stipulated that the place was not to be conducted as a gambling house or pool room; otherwise they did not care. The rental finally agreed upon was $2,000 a year. It was also agreed to insert in the lease a clause permitting the lessee to sublet the house to some other tenant in case of arrest and subsequent dispossession proceedings. A deposit of $30 was made and a receipt was given in the name of the supposed broker, or "meckler."

In the renting of premises for purposes of prost.i.tution various devices are employed to protect agent and owner, despite the fact that there is an overwhelming probability that in most cases both possess from the outset guilty knowledge of the facts. In some places, direct responsibility is avoided through renting empty apartments to janitors for a rental ranging from $40 to $50 a month. The janitor furnishes these apartments on the instalment plan and sublets them to prost.i.tutes at the rate of $15 to $18 per week. Then, in addition, he often receives from $3 to $5 per week to "look away," as he terms it. If the respectable families do not like it, they may move; and many of them do move.

The method of subletting furnished apartments by the janitor, with the consent of the agent (who probably shares in the extra profits) is employed in a tenement building on West 109th Street. In other places, the agents rent apartments by the week, demanding payment in advance. After a day or two, they may inform the occupants that a complaint has been made and that they will have to move. They do not return any of the advanced rental, but proceed to repeat the performance. This has happened in connection with furnished apartments on such streets as West 107th and West 108th.

During the month of February, 1912, a woman investigator visited 122 real estate agents for the alleged purpose of renting an apartment for immoral purposes. In each case the investigator endeavored to convey to the agent the object for which the apartment was ostensibly desired. Of the 122 agents visited, only 17 refused outright to be parties to the transaction.

A few of these were indignant, others said they had to be careful, and still others said the owners of the property were exceedingly strict.

Sixty-seven agents agreed to rent certain apartments for this purpose and gave the investigator the addresses of 98 separate apartments where she could conduct the proposed business. Many of these addresses proved to be places where the present investigation had already discovered disorderly conditions. The remaining 38 agents were cla.s.sified as doubtful. Some of them were annoyed because the investigator openly hinted her purpose; they suggested that they did not care, but would not knowingly rent the property in their charge for such a business. Others pretended to ignore the questions of the investigator and gave her 65 separate addresses where apartments could be rented. They were willing to rent apartments of this character, but did not want to appear to do so. A young man in a real estate office on Eighth Avenue stated that they "never ask people for their marriage certificates; they require only that tenants conduct themselves quietly." One well-known agent[192] betrayed and indeed confessed embarra.s.sment when frankly told the purpose for which it was desired to rent a house. He remarked: "I know what you wanted the house for, but I had much rather you had not told me. If I don't know it, I don't know it. Now suppose you people are dispossessed and get on the witness stand and squeal, how would I look?" At a further conference, the agent refused to agree to a new lease in case of an eviction. "The only trouble," he said to the stranger, "is that you talked too much. I knew what you wanted the house for, but I very much rather you had not told me.

What I don't know don't bother me. I tell you what I'll do. You send somebody else up here in a week or so and I will give you the house and don't talk too much about it."

In some of the buildings mentioned in the course of the negotiations here in question, practically every apartment is a vice resort. As many as 16 such resorts were found in one 7-story building. In another, every apartment except one was a vice resort, the one exception being the home of a butcher who supplied meat to the other tenants.

Whatever the lease may indicate to the contrary, property rented for immoral purposes produces extraordinarily large returns. Not infrequently a high rental is thus produced by houses and apartments that are so dilapidated that they cannot be rented at all to decent human beings.

Again, there is a tacit understanding that the rental named in the lease is merely a blind. The agent receives an additional sum, which he may pocket or divide with the landlord. The lease of a house[193] of prost.i.tution in West 26th Street places the rental at $100 a month; the keeper[194] pays $150. On October 5th, 1912, three men were negotiating with a real estate agent[195] in West 30th Street, who agreed to rent them two houses[196] in West 38th Street at extortionate rates. On the same day, an Eighth Avenue agent[197] was promised a bonus of $50 per month for a house[198] in West 28th Street. Occasionally the increased charge appears in the lease. When the madame[199] of a West 40th Street establishment undertook to rent this house, she was told by the agent[200]

that the rent would be $110 per month, and that he would lease the building to her for one year with a three months' clause. Then he added, "Now be frank; I will find out anyway. Do you intend to do anything up there?"

"Well, I might take a chance," she said.

"If you do," he replied, "the rent will be $125 per month."

On March 9th, 1912, at 11.30 P. M., a man was solicited by two colored girls to enter a vice resort in West 40th Street.[201] The agents[202] of this building have offices in West 42nd Street. The building is 5 stories high and four families live on each floor, paying a monthly rental of from $20 to $25. The street walkers, however, pay as much as $40 per month for their rooms. Their neighbors[203] declare that the agent has knowledge of the character of these tenants. A public school is next door, and on the opposite side of the street is a church.

(2) TRADING IN SHARES

A group consisting of 38 men own and operate 28 one-dollar houses of prost.i.tution in a certain section of Manhattan.[204] Among themselves they trade actively in shares. One of them[205]--already referred to as the "King" by reason of the scope of his enterprises and influence--is said to own shares in 10 houses, and his brother and nephew each have a sixth interest in another resort which he gave them as a present. His one-dollar resorts are located on the following streets:--three on Sixth Avenue, two each in West 25th Street and West 24th Street, and one each in West 28th Street,[206] West 31st Street,[207] and West 40th Street.[208]

He is also the proprietor of a $5 house located in West 49th Street.[209]

In some houses there are three partners who are said also to own shares in other places of the same character; in one instance, two brothers are partners in two houses--one in Sixth Avenue, and one in West 27th Street.

Four partners were formerly interested in a business conducted in West 24th Street.

The group of men who operate these 28 houses of prost.i.tution are very careful in disposing of their shares. The purchaser must either be one of their own number or some relative or friend. Sales are made for different reasons, sometimes to effect economies in management. For example, on June 7th, 1912, an owner[210] sold a half interest in a Sixth Avenue resort to a man from the West, for $2,200. Thereupon he bought a one-third interest in another house on Sixth Avenue for $900, being admitted to the firm that he might serve as lighthouse and procurer. A half-partner[211] was taken into another Sixth Avenue house[212] for $1500. The low price was subsequently accounted for by the owner as follows: "Do you suppose if the new partner had not had a good woman, I would have taken him in for that sum? I would have to take a woman in anyway and give her at least 20 per cent of the profits, without getting anything for it except her labor. To start with, I am getting $1,500 and a good woman; I save $25 per week on a procurer, and besides get a partner who is interested in the house and not a total stranger who does not care whether the house does business or not; the place is running straight now." While these two men were discussing this economical move, the madame[213] of a house in West 40th Street[214]

approached, to remark that she had a good house in the 26th police precinct, and wanted to have one of them come with her as a partner, so that she could use his influence in making some very necessary arrangements looking toward the success of the business. In reply to this offer, the person addressed replied: "They (meaning the police authorities) will not stand for a one-dollar house of prost.i.tution on that street and besides I have enough, my hands are full." Thereupon one of the partners in another resort on Sixth Avenue,[215] remarked that if she wanted to pay him $2,000 for his one-third interest, he would sell it.

"Why do you want to sell?" asked the woman.

"My woman is very sick," he replied, "and she has to go to the mountains; also her sister is very sick and I am 'broke.'"

"How heavy is business?" she asked.

He replied that the house was "working" between $1,000 and $1,200 per week. She regarded $2,000 as too much for a one-third interest, as the hot months were coming on and business would probably be very dull; however, she would give $1,500.

"No," he answered, "you cannot buy my share for $1,999."

Buyers are of course wary. They must be convinced that they are getting what they pay for; occasionally, therefore, tentative arrangements are made. A madame is installed until actual experience proves that the property is worth the price asked.

The following transactions were actually witnessed by our investigators: On March 3rd, 1912, sale of three one-third interests in a Sixth Avenue resort for $650 apiece; March 11th, 1912, sale of a half interest in another Sixth Avenue resort for $2,200; March 19th, a sale of a one-third interest in a West 40th Street resort for $1,500,--a poor investment, for the house was shortly closed; in July, 1912, a one-third interest in another resort in West 40th Street was purchased for $3,000 by an owner, who transferred his women thither from a place in 28th Street.

Occasionally pressure is brought to force a part owner out. On one such transaction, a profit of $500 was made; in another a share was bought for $500,--far below its market value.[216]

Quarrels and disputes between shareholders are of frequent occurrence.

Such disputes are deplored among the more intelligent promoters because they fear exposure of one sort or another. A dissatisfied shareholder may "squeal" to the police; or his woman may sit on the steps of a rival's resort, calling the attention of the police to a particular house. The policy of the business is to keep everybody satisfied and contented.

Nevertheless, misunderstandings occur; on April 8th, 1912, two shareholders were engaged in a hot dispute; one of them had been a silent partner who never "came to the front" when extra demands were made on the finances of the firm, but left the other to pay the bills. It was claimed that, as a result of his neglect, the house was closed and an officer was ordered to stay inside. The business was ruined. Finally the officer was removed, whereupon the "silent" partner wished to be recognized as owning a share. As the complainant had borne the brunt of the difficulties with the police, as well as the subsequent losses, he refused; besides, he had taken in two other men as partners. The delinquent partner became very angry and threatened to send his woman to the house and to make all sorts of trouble. The two new partners advised that he receive $150 and be declared "out for good." But the silent partner was not satisfied when he heard that one of the new partners had sold his share for $1,700. So he demanded $600 more for his share, claiming that he was still a partner, which sum he subsequently received.[217]

The precarious nature of such investments, depending, as it does, for its value on variations in public opinion and munic.i.p.al policy, can be ill.u.s.trated from former as well as current history:

During the fall of 1907, the Commissioner of Police, as well as the District Attorney, became very active in closing houses of prost.i.tution in Manhattan. An owner who was put out of business at that time made the following statement, in substance, in the presence of two witnesses:

"At the time I was put out of business by Police Commissioner Bingham in 1907, I left New York with $4,800 and bought a farm in Jersey. After things had cooled down, or in February, 1911, I came back to New York to look the ground over. Finally things looked all right and I bought a one-third interest in a place in West 25th Street for the sum of $1,200.

Three days later, "bing," I get a raid and a cop in front of the door for a whole month. Then the cop was taken away and I opened again for a few days, when, "bing," another $300 raid with a cop inside. I was tipped off that my partner did not suit, so I bought her interest for $600 while the cop was still inside. I then "doubled up" with a friend. We opened very slowly; I would not let the women solicit at the windows. The weather was very hot. In August I bought my friend out for $1,200 which made me even.

From February to April, I paid $100 a month in rent and other expenses and didn't make a cent until August. Since that time up till now I have saved only $9,000. The house stands me $4,000 after paying rent, the cost of the raids, and the purchase price."

As already pointed out, any change in the political situation or in the att.i.tude toward the business on the part of the authorities of the city, or a reform movement, reacts immediately upon the value of the shares in vice resorts. Just before the murder of the gambler Rosenthal last summer, the shares in houses of prost.i.tution were very valuable, and it was practically impossible to secure them except at large prices. On June 4th, a part owner in a house in West 25th Street declared: "It is impossible to get something decent unless you pay a prohibitive price. I had to pay $1,700 for a one-third interest in this place and only to-day I paid $1,000 for a year's lease on three houses in the same street. These buildings have changed hands seven or eight times during the past year and it is rumored that they are going to be torn down."[218] On June 19th, 1912, the owner of a share in a Sixth Avenue house told a man that the "stocks are awful high." He offered to sell his one-third share, costing $500 originally, for $2,000.

The Rosenthal murder took place July 15, 1912, and shares in houses of prost.i.tution at once declined. Some of the promoters were very pessimistic over the situation and declared that the houses would be closed and their business ruined. On August 6th, 1912, while discussing the situation, one of them[219] declared that it was all over with them. His partner[220]

remonstrated with him, holding that the authorities would not close the houses. To this the former replied:

"Well, I show you how much I think of it--I will sell my interest and get out."

"It's a go," said the other, "I've been a gambler all my life; I'll buy it." The price paid for this share several months before was $1,700, and the same sum was demanded and refused. After some arguing, the bargain was closed at $1,000 and $100 was paid on account.

Prior to the murder in question, a one-third interest in a Sixth Avenue place was worth $2,000. On August 8th, 1912, the owner offered to sell his interest for $1,000.

"No," said the prospective buyer, "I will give you $500, and I am taking a gambler's chance in giving you that much."[221]