WAY OF A TRANSGRESSOR

Evening Star, Issue 22365, 15 June 1936, Page 15

WAY OF A TRANSGRESSOR

CAREER OF SOAPY SMITH When Soapy Smith died, the local minister chose for the text of his funeral oration, “ The way of transgressors is hard.” This was singularly appropriate. Soapy was a transgressor and his way had undoubtedly been hard. His real name was Jefferson Randolph Smith, and he was one of the most remarkable figures in the old West of America. His story is told by Mr W. R. Collier and Mr E. V. Wostrate in ‘ The Reign of Soapy Smith: Monarch of Misrule.’ They sum him up thus:— “ Soldier of fortune and impostor unparalleled, master of every “ con ” game and philanthropist, ruler of rogues and vagabonds, and friend of the friendless, protector of .criminals and builder of churches, this King of Misrule was as many-sided as he was incomprehensible.” His nickname “Soapy” came from one of his earliest and most successful coniidcnce tricks—selling cakes of soap that might have paper money of various denominations wrapped round them. Needless to say, they seldom did! Smith carried on most of his dubious business in Denver, the capital of the State of Colorado. He gathered round him a tough and variegated bunch of helpers. Denver must have been an extraordinary place in the ’eighties. Horsedrawn tram cars rattled through the ( streets. “ One famous line, which ran uphill, had its compensations for the horse. After he had pulled the car up the grftde, he mounted a trailer and had a free ride on the return trip!”

Soapy and his friends were not the only danger to the unwary visitor. In Seventeenth street lived tho bandit barbers. A stranger entering one of the shops of these modern Sweeney Todds would see a very reasonable price list hanging over tho mirror. But once he had ordered a haircut and was safely in the chair, “ his locks were shorn, singed, and shampooed, treated for dandruff, soaked with tonic; his face was shaved and massaged; his eyebrows, board, and moustache wore trimmed, waxed, and curled. Nothing was missed And while his face was buried m the bowl for the shampoo the price list was turned over, so that when the victim came up for air he would find himself facing a list of costs, each stem of which was reminiscent of the national debt. Naturally, brawls were frequent: but the barbers always extracted their money, even if they had to take it forcibly and then throw the customer into

the street! Anyone who seemed wealthy was “ nicked ” —a distinguishing mark being made in Ins hair at the bade of his neck—and thereafter received the attention of Soapy’s gang.

“ COLONEL STONE ” ARRIVES. When Denver periodically became too hot to hold him, Soapy mo|ed elsewhere for a time. One of his most satisfactory resting places was the new silver-mining town of Creede. Here he had a brilliant scheme for making, simultaneously, money and a name for himself. He announced that he had discovered the remains of a gigantic prehistoric man—really they were made in a Denver stoneyard—and exhibited them in the town. People poured in to see “ Colonel Stone,” as he was called:—•

“ Crude as it was, the monstrosity proved a source of revenue to him for more than five years. In their ignorance and unceasing search for sensations, the gullible continued to pay to view it, near and far, lor it did not remain long in Creede.” When Soapy moved to Skagway, the port that sprang into fame during the Klondike gold rush, he had a more sinister exhibit. He acquired an eagle and placed it in a cage in the back yard of his saloon. Strangers “ were invited to ‘ see the eagle.’ To accept the invitation was to court instant disaster. Many a Klondike miner, bereft of his poke, awakened somewhere in Skagway’s streets, to 'recall a struggle in front of the scheduled cage of the sky pirate as the last of his recollections before unconsciousness overtook him.”

But Soapy had another side to his character. In 1892 an itinerant preacher arrived at Creede and appealed for help to its dictator. Soapy. “ The town’s yours.” lie said. “It needs a little religion ” :

“ Turning to his own men. Soapy went on: ‘We’re all going;to church next Sunday,’ he announced!, 1 and the rest of the gang’s going with us to hear the parson here.’ “ 1 But 1 haven’t any church,’ the preacher protested. “ ‘ That’s easy,’ Soapy retorted. ‘ Come on, boys, we’re on our way to raise money.”’ And raise it they did—six hundred dollars—from all the saloons, dance halls, and gambling dens! Soapy later on did almost exactly the same thing in Skagway—although somebody had said: “When hell freezes over it will be like Skagway.” THE FIRST PIANO. _ Like old Denver. Skagway was a nightmare place. Money flowed freely —but there was nothing much except drink and gambling to spend it on. One day a piano arrived at the Nugget Saloon, and the whole town turned out to celebrate the event. As one pianist collapsed under the influence of tho many drinks provided by his admirers, “ his place was taken promptly by another musicianly dipsomaniac, who likewise played until he was completely befuddled. From the moment it arrived the piano was kept going con-, tinuously for 24 hours, with the players

working in relays. At the end of that time the instrument had paid for itself by the tremendous trade it drew to the house.”

Later on pianos were brought in by every ship.Another day a little Neapolitan came to Skagway with “ hundreds of deflated toy balloons on the strange theory that the hard-boiled miners of Skagway would like to buy them. Curiously enough, he was right. He was able to sell all ins balloons at high, prices, and cleared enough money to enable him to go* into the gold fields, from which he later returned, with a poke of gold dust of gratifying weight.” At Skagway Soapy Smith reached the highest peak of his fluctuating career. And here he died like a dog. After an unpleasant incident in his saloon, the more decent citizens—there seems to have been some! —began to turn against him. His friends deserted him, so he gamely went out to face his critics alone —with a rifle over his shoulder—and was killed.