Authors: David Maurer
Because of the close and powerful political connections which a fixer must of necessity cultivate, he frequently becomes a very important person in his community and is very often recognized by legitimate citizens as a “political boss,” although it is not implied that all bosses are fixers. Because he controls police officers, judges, prosecutors and other public officers, he is highly respected by underworld folk, who know that he can “break” them at will, or at least banish them permanently from any particular city, as Frenchy B—–, a con man from Chicago, discovered when he borrowed a $500 bank roll from a prominent Chicago fixer and did not repay it; the powerful fixer banned him for life from Chicago as an example of what could happen to grifters who do not pay their just debts. Con men are very careful to pay off the fixer and to protect him from publicity on all occasions; in return, the fixer serves the con men faithfully and well. It is significant that American criminals do not, as a rule, fear the law; they fear the fixer, whose displeasure can
follow them anywhere and whose word can put them behind bars more effectively than any local enforcement agency.
Con mobs, however, differ somewhat from other professional criminals in that the insideman is often capable of taking care of the fix himself—in short, he is the local fixer and usually a good one too. When this is the case, of course the proceeds from the touch are kept right in the family and the insideman is not required to split his share of the profit with a fixer; he “fits” the “mitts” of the law directly and saves the difference.
Confidence men normally have occasion to fix the following persons and institutions: a bank in the city where the store is located; the chief of police or the chief of detectives—usually the latter; prosecuting attorneys or district attorneys; judges; juries; sheriffs; and, on occasion, the mark himself in the form of a portion of his money returned. Also, where mitt men operate on trains, the conductor is usually fixed. Federal officials are much more difficult to fix than local men, and only rarely can it be done directly; only in extreme cases can direct political pressure be brought to bear through someone high in government circles, and in these cases there is usually no cash price paid. However, the recent conviction of Judge Manton may be indicative of fixing among federal officials which has not yet come to light. It must not be assumed that all these officers named are fixed in any one case. Usually one or two of them is enough, and those are most often connected with the enforcement arm of the law. Thus the most desirable plan is to forestall any complaint the mark may make and prevent the arrest of the con men. This is handled through the police department. Sometimes the fix here “curdles”—that is, something goes wrong within the department, or, more commonly, the mark goes over the heads of the local detectives in pressing his prosecution. Then the fix must go up, and
usually becomes progressively expensive. The fixer sees the sheriff of the county. The next move is to forestall prosecution through preventing an indictment, or through the prosecutor’s office. This failing, if the mark has sufficient endurance to see the case to trial, the fix is put into the judge, or more commonly the jury. This seldom fails, and, if the federal officials can be kept off the scene, the con men go free. But most con touches never reach the stage of prosecution.
The first thing a big store must have is the protection and co-operation of a bank. In the early days of the wire, just after the turn of the century, con men did not know that they could fix banks and encountered a good many knotty problems as a result. But it was soon discovered that, if they could get to one bank official, their troubles connected with getting the mark’s money into town and quieting his suspicions dissolved into thin air. “The first time I ever heard of fixing banks,” says an old-timer, “was in Memphis in 1902. Mike Haggarty there had his banker collect the tear-up checks that were won in the mitt store. Then in Colorado Springs Byron Haynes had the jug right for his fight store there starting in 1903. Boatwright had big stores in Webb City and Joplin, Missouri, and he fixed a bank there starting in 1902. From then on, jugs were righted up all over the country.”
On reading this, another con man adds: “I’ve seen bankers that you could go to cold turkey and put the proposition to them on a ten-per-cent basis and they’d cop a mile a minute. Then there are some bankers who, after you have made a large deposit at their bank, will stop you and get acquainted. All bankers like percentage.” But it must not be assumed that the con men ordinarily go into a bank, tell the president that they have a pay-off
store, and ask how much he will charge to become a party to a swindling racket. It is customary to handle the matter in this way:
The professional fixer (often the insideman) goes to a bank official, usually the president, and says, “Now this establishment which I represent handles a number of out-of-town checks, accepted in the natural course of bookmaking. It is, of course, perfectly legitimate business. Many of the gamblers who bet large sums on horses are strangers, and, while most of the checks which they give are good, some of them bounce. Now our firm has to have some way of collecting these checks immediately, and they must all have your personal attention. All you have to do is to get this paper away fast and see that our clients have every consideration shown them in transferring their accounts to this bank. We can’t wait for the usual delays for identification and all that. We will vouch for the client, and you see that his account is properly taken care of. Of course we don’t expect you to perform this service for nothing. It is worth something to us. Our firm will pay you five per cent of the face value of all the checks you handle in this manner.”
“How large are these checks?” asks the banker.
“They will run fairly large. From $10,000 on up. Sometimes they will run pretty high.”
The banker calculates rapidly, and sees a neat little commission. He says that they will try that arrangement. Within a few days the first check comes through. The roper brings the mark to the bank and the matter is handled with all the dispatch which can be desired. The mark meets the president and is made to feel that every courtesy is being shown him; he is flattered and impressed by the manner in which he is received. The account is transferred, the check is paid, and the following day the fixer calls on the bank president with an envelope containing five per cent of the amount of the check. The banker likes
this easy money; he hopes it will happen again. It does. Before long, if the big store is receiving heavy play, the bank is doing a land-office business in checks. The commission for the president amounts to a rather handsome figure.
Perhaps he never inquires further into how and why these checks must be rushed through. Perhaps he believes the fixer’s original story and thinks that the whole matter is legitimate; perhaps he prefers not to question too closely into the situation. He is making his five per cent and no questions asked. He never admits to anyone that he has been fixed; he might not even acknowledge it to himself. However, if he reads the newspapers and has his ear to the ground, he cannot help eventually knowing that a pay-off store is being operated in his locality; that often the amounts lost by the victims coincide exactly with the value of the checks which have been passing through his hands. This bit of correlation is almost inevitable. And he realizes that he is indirectly a party to these swindles.
He may be very honest and immediately refuse to have any further dealings with the con men, either directly or through the fixer. He may be that honest. But, once a banker has agreed to co-operate and has tasted these easy profits, he seldom quits unless he thinks there is some chance of his being caught. Most often when he realizes what is happening, he longs for a larger share of the spoils. So he hints delicately that he may have to discontinue handling the paper unless his commission is increased. Some mobs will drop him and get another banker for five per cent; most of them will raise him as high as ten per cent—but that is the limit.
Fixing the bank has many obvious advantages to the con men. It provides that the mark’s property can be liquidated and his assets transferred without delay. It enables the insideman to time his plays perfectly, for if he
has a number of marks in play at once, his friend the banker will arrange to delay any account until it is convenient for the insideman to handle the transaction. Then, too, the psychological effect on the mark is soothing. He feels that he is dealing with responsible persons. He cannot help noting the sound connections which the insideman has with the bank. And most important of all is something the banker does
not
do. He does not knock the mark. Any honest and conscientious banker would feel obliged to make some inquiry into the nature of the transactions the mark is making, and warn him that he might be swindled. A fixed banker will never do this. The fact that he does not has a very salutary effect upon the mark.
But there is one serious disadvantage to working through a fixed banker. At first, it was a perfect set-up. But as the Federal Government has become increasingly touchy regarding the use of the mails to defraud, connivance with the fixed banker has become more and more dangerous. For the law is now so interpreted that if the mark’s check passes through the mails, the government can step in and prosecute the case—which is the last thing the con men want. However, many big stores still take that risk, counting on the fix to forestall all attempt at prosecution on the mark’s part. Others, more cautious, put the mark on the send for his money and “tighten him up” so effectively that he goes home, draws out his own money, and returns. This arrangement technically evades the dreaded mails-to-defraud law, and, in case the mark gets out of hand and prosecutes, keeps the case within local jurisdiction where the local fixer can get his work in.
Most con cases are fixed with the police officers or detectives in the city where the touch is made. If the insideman does not do the fixing himself, he goes to the professional
fixer in the city where he plans to open up a store and has a chat with him. He finds out what his connections are and how effectively he can cope with local law-enforcement agencies. He checks on the fixer’s reputation through his underworld connections. If the insideman is satisfied with the fixer’s credentials, he makes an agreement to work with him on a percentage basis. No fixed amount is paid, but the percentage is always about the same—in the big con fifty per cent of the insideman’s share after the manager, the bank and shills are paid off. Once the preliminaries are out of the way, the insideman gives the fixer instructions on how to handle the mark if he goes to the police. If the sheriff is of the same political party as the city administration, little trouble is anticipated because the sheriff’s office can be counted to line up with the city police; if not, or if there are city-county factions, some arrangement will have to be made to take care of the sheriff in case the mark goes over the heads of the local police. The insideman agrees that the store will not play for local citizens or “short-riders.” The fixer tells the insideman which coppers and detectives can be counted upon to co-operate, and which ones to stay away from. The fixer agrees to pay off public officials as he sees fit—the con men neither know nor care whom he pays or how much so long as he gets results. The insideman agrees that, if some mark threatens to cause serious trouble or cannot be handled by the local officials, part or all of his money will be returned. These arrangements completed, the insideman wires his staff of ropers to this effect:
MULE MARKET OPEN. SHIP THEM AT YOUR CONVENIENCE
. And immediately the outsidemen start rooting for marks and riding them in on the trains.
For the short con, the operators pay the fixer as much as ten per cent of the score, sometimes a flat fee. And often they do not bother to fix at all. Usually if short-con men want to play, say the
tip
in a certain city, they might
go to the fixer in advance, tell him what they were doing, and arrange a settlement on a percentage basis. This would be the probable procedure if they knew the fixer well. If not, they would go right ahead and play the mark, then consult the fixer if they were arrested. If the mark beefed too hard, they might “kick back” some of his money, or give some directly to the police.
If a city provides complete and exclusive protection for one or more favored con mobs, it is known as “airtight.” This means that the fix is very strong, that the con men are quite secure, and that all competition will be discouraged by vigorous non-fixable prosecution. If this is the case, the con touches are cut up immediately after they are taken and all parties are paid off in cash. This is the usual situation. If the town is “shaky”—that is, if the fix is not very strong, or if there is trouble between political factions which might backfire—the touch may be held for a week or ten days until the insideman feels sure that the mark will not prosecute. Then it is cut up and the fix is paid for at the agreed price. But no fix, even in an airtight city, is impregnable. There is always a chance that it will curdle and not only the con mob, but the fixer and the police as well, may be caught in a trap laid by some ambitious district attorney. Very good recent examples of a curdled fix may be seen in the developments in New York City, Kansas City, Buffalo, New Orleans and Detroit.
On a police force there are two kinds of officers—“right” and “wrong.” A right copper is susceptible to the fix, whether it comes from above, or directly from a criminal. A right copper really has larceny in his blood and, in many respects, is an underworld character, a kind of racketeer who takes profits from crime because he has the authority of the law to back up his demands. He differs from the professional criminal only in that he aligns himself with legitimate society, then uses his position to protect the thief and to betray the legitimate citizen. A con
man is what he is; he is at least sincere and straightforward in his dishonesty. However, the con men do not hate or despise a right copper; they simply regard him as wise enough to take his share of the profits, knowing full well that if he doesn’t, some other copper will. So, in a sense, the con man looks upon the right copper as a businessman who is smart enough to sell his wares at a price which the criminal can afford.