TOD SLOAN 



me alone then." I guessed he was all right and meant 

 me to slip him when we got outside. It turned out 

 pretty well as I thought. Once in Seventh Avenue 

 he turned to me, saying : " Beat it now " (Go off quick) 

 and don't let me hear of you again. And I never did. 

 Tliat was the end of the bookmaking business. 



The only other time that I came across the 

 police in New York was when we were exceeding the 

 speed limit — so they said — in an automobile coming 

 into the city. There was a terror named Tracy in 

 those days, who used to get scores of record-breakers 

 into his net. He got us and rode on his bicycle all the 

 way by our side to the police station ; my two pals had 

 been taken too. We were run in and they fixed the 

 cash bail at 100 dollars for us all. We turned out our 

 pockets, and could only find about 35 dollars among 

 the three of us. We had another with us, but he had 

 not been charged. We asked him how he was fixed, 

 and he said he had 100 dollars on him, but it " didn't 

 belong to him." We knew that story, for he was a 

 real " hard heart," but we made him put up that 100 

 dollars. Of course he wanted to pouch the 35 we 

 had but I put that down where it wouldn't come up 

 very quickly. We had to see the evening through 

 after that. He kept on saying: "But why not give 

 me that 35 ? " I explained to him that his money 

 was all right. We should turn up in the morning and 

 his " 100 " would be released. Of course it went down 

 after a bit of a demur. 



Next morning I was at the Court House before 9.30, 

 and asking for " Battery Dan," as we knew the Police 

 Court Judge, who was a great friend of Tim Sullivan. 

 I asked and asked until at last I was told that he had 

 arrived. The police officer said he'd take my name in. 

 I wouldn't have that and said I would knock at his 



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