The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, April 14, 1901, Page 7

THE SUNDAY CALL. 7 The n‘ka{m{ man it @ petty larceny. convicted. ALLEN. manner of man is st motorious Western Hemis- {2 o i would he talk aud act if somceminentlyrespect- zen Ted , a clgrgyman, for d an opportuni- hiim? > his theories of e has any; his phi- history-— enjoy being the st notorious” of men? habits, docs he D e 2 e A rty times—*The” Allen’s it. A lookout guarded see Mr. Allen? was my name? My M —emphasis decidedly on the he guard disappeared around the cor- see me?” sald a voice at my be prised me ned a pair of eyes looked hrough me len’s Description of “The” Allen. uld like merican bt 5 feet § Iw Allen—A age 61— inches—never life—never will as ixty-eight times— ense—don’t know ambled in race—hounded t hounded day “The' Al'en no stard and de- He's an American— fve—arrested my 1se 1lified me 1. ry Thev don't know me, » v they find out? J s to an old man, ragged . approached him. “Been dered where you man something, th a deprecatory ke of a five-dollar biil was handed to whispered t was 2 pretty Incident,” I sald. “I 1 stay long ugh. I'm needed here in Rocky Hol- d all hours of Gay and night. zo through the tenements, top ho’s their friend. They'll * A little girl of 10 or 12, nfant in her arms, was “The” Allen as a Neighbor to ths Poor. “Mamma’s worse,” she said. over with her, Tim,” *“The"” Allen ing to a man who stood near by. ttle one.” And once more the s was drawn on. looking her thanks at was Atm The No doubt of when a young mother approached. infant in her arms was fll. ere’s the dispossess warrant,” she s for Monday. “rn fix sald “The” Allen. “Did the groceries come?” “Fen™ She gave me her name—Mrs. Kate Far rington of 558 Greenwich street. We stood on the sidewalk during the ten or twelve minutes that these Incidents occurred. Now we mounted the steps of the clubhouse. At the door Allen stopped “You're on the threshold of number 8),” he said. “It is the only threshold in the United States guarded by what I call a perpetual injunction against the police. In 1897 Justice Smyth said to my counsel, Mr. Steinhardt, from the bench, ‘If the police attempt to enter the premises of your client'—he meant me--‘without a warrant Mr. Allen will be justified in killing them.’ That holds good to-day. Come up.” A Maxn Pull of Intense Energy. To this moment it had been impossible to make a statement to the man. He was quivering with nervous energy. You have seen Booth, McCullough, Bernhardt, Mansfield, tense with suppressed power. So was this man keyed up to the break- ing point A narrow hall led to a five-by-eight room. The door shut and clicked. “I want to ask you some gquestions,” I “Can you talk to me here for a le of bours? I want to get your own tory in your own words.” “I’ll answer every guestion you ask. I'm mon Born December 1, 1833, at No. 725 Washington street. Married and lives in West Eighth street. Has three adopted children and one granddaughter. Arrested sixty-eight times. If convicted for each offense maximum penalty sen- tences would have approximated 100 years and $100,000 in fines. Has paid for at least 360 funerals. Weighs 135 pounds. Is 5 Afleged poolroom is at No. 80 Sixth avenue, New York. ettt oo, ool e b UWickedest (Dan “The” the equal of every man that lives—equal, not superior—that's the American plan. “Truth is mighty and will prevail.’ I tell the truth—fight square—look every men in the eye, and I'm not afraid.” The intensity of the man was the most noticeable thing about him. A smali man, with eves that looked cverywhere at once end through everything at the same time. His skin was sallow and wrinkled around the nose: gray hair, thin lips, splendidly scornful: a sharp face but a kindly one— such a man as in a battle you'd find on the firing line. hy are you called the wick—" il you iisten? Twenty-three years ago they charged me with murdering Ed Maloy. Ed Maloy was my partner, my chum, for twenty vears.. Kill Ed Maloy? No more than I'd kill my little grond- £ in Brassbound's h castle in the Thither Pnducted Sir Howard Dne of the escort, Mar- . has been wounded. 's Brassbound's own room charge h in a way that astonishes Brassbound's rerless before her womanl Mountains. general assumes buccaneer. llen, the dADost TAotorious - (Man in Tew Work, Tells Dis Story for the First Time. He kent his right hand in his overcoat packet all the time. “Are you always armed?’ I asked. “Never had a pistol in my pocket but once in my life. That killed Ed Maloy. Don’t need to be armed. No enemles. “But I'm always alone. I'm afraid to walk on the street with peonle. Afraid of dropping remarks that might be used to injure me. Always be careful how you . swered by silence, viously not intende “The apporti raised as to tinct vy conlin, one astonishing still—the rest of nds hustle him off -for a bath ntiseptic command. Brassbound s insolent. fou are not my guest; you are T. oward—Prisoner! By Cicely, after a single glan ues stitching, apparently qy rned.) 4 ssbound—I warned you. ¥ taken my warning. Howard (immediately taking of cold disgust for moral d cy)—Am I to undgrstand then 1 are a brigand? om? om you. pin by this?: ° A .MURDERER! n the story comes out. - imprisoned a: os. ptsthe touch of a ghen the Moorish entld! A bullet from a toy pistol, acel- dentally discharged, struck him in the heart and he dled instantly. They brought me to court. Bay, in all the hundreds -of people in and around the courtroom—out of all the thousands I'd helped—I didn’t see a friend. “The next day it was the same, but at the noon hour, just as the court ad- journed, some one touched me on the shoulder. I looked around, and”—Allen's voice broke here and he shook convul- sively; he turned to the window and cried like a child. “Who was 1t?" I asked. “My lttle daughter, Minnle, 8 years ©0ld,” he said, “and a servant girl who had been in my famlly for eighteen years. Mingle didn't forget me. She's dead now"—a fresh outburst—“but her little daughter I have adopted as my child. “But from that moment on it was ‘The’ A.en against the world. “Put it down strong. I have no ‘pull’— never had a ‘pull'—and on this side of the Jordan I'll never stand and deliver.” Never convicted. feet 6 inches in height. - Is this a matter 0 shound (with unaccountable inten- —All the wealth of England shall not Howard—Then Whlt do You mun b ssbound—J USTICE O\I A ROBBER Brn!sboun(l Howard's. neghew—the son of the Indian planter of act 1 and of a ian woman - (who drank herself to He had been robbed of his es- he believed, by Sir Howard, and her; attempting to get her rights, a dangerous va- owaed, sitling as Revenge is Brass- he has his uncle in his will sell him to the Moors as low he was induced by Lady ego that revenge, how, with- en of coquetry, she convert- is purpose—all this is told pe, of extraordinary power, .Suffice it, his better 00d- hiet But to Sir Whe! anation is demanded, he break) talk to & man on the streets who puts a question to you.” “God Moves in a Mysterious Way.” “Speaking of the River Jordan, what's your favorite chapter in the Bible?" “Haven't many favorites, but there’s one verse that's stood by me all through life. To-day at a funeral in the Bed- ford Street Methodist Church I thought of it all the time. When Tweed and tho police and crooks encompassed me, when there wasn't a star in the sky, ‘when I was ready to give up, that verse gave me hope. “Do you want to know what it is? ‘God moves in a mysterious way, h's wonders to perform.” That's it, and it's never failed me yet. “Want to know, how God works? Go up to the garrets or down to the base- ments of any of the tenements over there”’—he pointed in the direction—"go late at night and often you'll see a dim little light and & sick mother or a sick ‘baby, and kneeling at the bed a Salvation Army girl. “‘God moves In & mysterious way’—his mercy finds the needy. Thal's my re- liglon. “Charity covers a multitude of sins. Don't put this down as coming from me, but find it out for yourself. There's not many garrets or basements around here that I haven't been in. Ask them all, the people from Dr. Judson's church, the Catholic church, or the colored church, or the Salvation Army.” “Are you a church member?” “No, but Mrs. Allen is. She’s the presi- dent of four societies in her church. You o &lo be. permanentiy excluded “Much future trouble cement held out fo pacxficatlon of the I':llpmos. that they are to ha : and dclusmn. They will neyer “haveseither. If they jlere is, no objection, but g can quote me on this. district know her and grandchfldren.” “Do you attend many funerals?” “About four a week. And, say, don"t =ay this as coming from me. You go to ‘Winterbottom, the undertaker at Spring and Macdougal streets, and if he can't show you the receipts for over 200 funer- als I've Dpaid for, then say nothing at all The poor of this they know my to take iE about it. But don't quote me. Quote him.” (I may as well say here that later in the afternoon I visited Winterbottom’'s place and three other undertaking estab- lishments in the neighborhood and ob- tained conclusive evidence that “The™ Allen had pald in those establishments for 860 funerals of the poor.) “Yes, sir, been arrested sixty-eight times. Conviction on one charge—mur- der—would have meant death. But I wasn't even tried. “About fifty of the arrests were for alleged pool-selling. It convicted on each of the charges the maximum sentences combined would have been in years 10, in fines $100,000. “My war record? I went Into the first battle of the Civil War and remained in the service till the last one was fought. Six months after enlisting I was as- signed to the Secret Service. I assumed the role of a fugitive from the Confed- erate States, went to Montreal, had a re- ward of $50,000 placed on my head and, to get Information for my government, Jjolned the raiders in their attack on St. Albans, Vt. I was captured there by the United States forces and sentenced to be executed the next day. A telegram from Secretary of War Stanton to General Schofield, In command at St. Albans, saved me. That, I suppose, was the nar- rowest escape from death I ever had. It was Henry Ward Beecher, who, by tele- gram, informed Stanton of my plight. Beecher was billed to lecture in St. Al- bans the day of my arrest. “It's a lie to say I'm a gambler. I'm a . ‘avmded by present fra sporting man. A gambler is a thief who robs by device and fraud. A sporting man s a man of the world—a gentleman. Ever hear of a sporting man giving an- other his 1. 0. U.? He wouldn't know how to do it.” “What advice would you give to a young man beginning a career?” “I'd lock him In a room and say to him: ‘Boy, be honest. tell the truth and r Morgan pr-dicta as a re- future inflexible’ regarded .as writtg Wi fight. Then you must win and you cam’ lose.” His Advice to Young Men as to Mar- riage. *“No man should marry tll he’s 2%, on the principle that— Small boats must keep near shore, Large ones can venture more. “What do you know about the drink evil?” “Rum!” he shouted. “Rum! Misery, poverty, toll, strife, damnation! Down here in Rocky Hollow in fifty years I've seen six out of every tem boys go wrong through rum. Rum! It's crape on the door—a leap from the docks—a grave in potter’s fleld—homes ruined—hearts brok- en—souls lost. That's rum. “It’'s brought sorrow to Rocky Hollow. I KNOW; I'm a member of the ‘Lower Five,’ and T'll stick here till I die. I don't belong on Easy street, with,a mint on one end and a college at the other. That's for the ‘Upper Ten,’ not for me. “Iisten: On the first of December, twenty-one years ago, on my way home, at 4 o'clock in the morning, I heard a faint cry in a doorway. It was near Canal and Thompson streets. I thought it was a kitten. I looked and found a basket, al- most covered with snow. It was a baby instead, and I took him home. I raised him. I adopted him. “To-day he's the cashier of one of the largest banks in New York. So, you see, I'm needed in Rocky Hollow. I've been in a theater twice in twenty-five years. No need to go. Enough tragedy and pathos here.” “Adopt any other chilren?” says: tion being ppi is a dJis- hungs -arc lest some ket as odist minister. he sent for me. “Four; three of them I found In bas- ts the same way. Say, don’t quote me; k outsiders about 1t.” s your father alive?” “My father died in 1873. He was a Meth- The day before he dled 1 was keeping the St. Bernard Hotel then, at Prince and Mer- cel to r streets, and he say + “Fheodore, I feel I haven't much longer stay. You're not the oldest, but I can confide in you. Take care of your brothers. They've cost us all sorrow and suffering, but don’t forget that they're yor ur brothers and my children.” “The next-day he died. It cost me hun- dreds of thousands of dollars to keep that promise, but I stocd for them against the world.” A volume of Shakespeare 1 poems of Byron and Tennyson were wn a | kiewiez, | not the man to gi ner or Verdi—none other—cou i this glowing Oriengal prose- drama of vital power and exd }rcm statement of the politan Onera-house manages {1ast_week at the close of the ison” to the effect thaf the M I forces will really be with us season. to be true, but thare now seems doubt ef the matter. heard here next season in additi Grau galaxy_ of fast vear the silent, but here is a Iist of artis| from the Musical signed contrgcts with "Covent Ga the London season: * zanne Adams, Bre Sobrino, _Bauermeiste: mezzos—Brema, the Misses Olitz mar, Aldridge, agno, Knole, | new singers, a young Italian na selmi, | Naples, name of Mercier. Covent Garden will be is szid to b€ one of the ! ' many, and Forgeur, Brusseis. Van Dyck, Saleza, Van Reo, Scotti, Bispham, Blass, De Cl; bert. and Flon Lohse. are Lalo's “Rot d'Ys” and new onera, “Much Ado A ‘The libretto of the latte way, Jullan Sturges, and the sung by another Philag mired here, David B and the shatlow and and o vocal roared. The har is little rhythmic before, ““Salammbo'* T never wish to see or mertal story, mock antiquities of Bulw the French critic it a musi i AL AST, Of excepuonal fnterssi to New It has scemed almos Asto wh Courler w! Soprano—Calve, Eames, 1, Gadski, S contral Maubourg; terio| alther. There wi who has had a good ren and a French-Canadia Othier stra se, W fine: wko ¢ Others who will The conductors will New wor was written by g It will be noted t table. “Read them much?”’ I asked: “Not much; things in my life that have long passed come before me. I got the alphabet book that I bought little Minnie when she was | | | ettt but when I hear poetry in Elmerica 2 baby. That's thirty-five years age. I know every line of it by heart"—and in measured cadences the gray-haired man repeated the childish verses down to M. He hesitated for a moment. “The” Allen as a Poet. “I made up a verse for M.’ “myself.” Then he went on: M is for Minnle, my own little girly God bless her, is all T can say. She’s gone far away, but loves me T knowi And in heaven I'll meet her some day. “Here's another little poera. It's erude; but it hits the point: I do ltke a man that robody will stand up And tell to each man what he feels; T can fight with a lion, lie down with a lamb, But I don't like a cur at my heels. “I haven’t had a sunshiny day In my life-for fifty years,” he sald, “except at home. I'm happlest when my little grand- children run up to greet me and say, “We're glad to see you, grandpa. Nine- tenths of the world I know !s a cheat and a lie, but I'm safe at home. I'm in & desert all day, but when I'm home I'm in an orchard with green trees and flowing brooks.” He stopped a moment. “An outlaw!” he exclalmed. “Come with me.” We descended the stairs, turned the cor« ner and started to walk on Eighth street. It was like a royal “progress.” A bevy of little tots, from 2 to § years of age, caught sight of “Thq” Allen and then and there impeded progresa. “Grand- pa,” they all crled at once. and not until he said a word to each and patted them an the head or shoulders would they re- ease their holds. he asked, “do you think I'm the wickedest man in America?” be A The Longeét Steps on Earth. HE helght of the holy mouneain (Talschan, in China is about 6000 feet above Tainganfu, and the dis- tance is something over sixteen miles. The road is probably the best in all China. About a mile north of the city walls a large gate stands amid the ruins of once, flourishing suburbs, and after passing this gate I found myself in an avenue several miles In length, and lined with temples, convents and holy shrines, where pilgrims stop and pray if they succeed In shaking off the thousands of beggars who occupy this only road leading to the summit. They are not or- dinarily modest beggars, but’ the real Jords of the Taischan, who levy a sort of entrance fee, which every traveler ls com- pelled to pay. They are not content with crouching modestly by the roadside, for that would enable pilgrims to make their escape. In order to prevent this each beggar bullds a sort of wall of loose stones about three feet high across the avenue, with an opening of only a yard In the center, and in this opening he sits or kneels, knocking his head on the ground, and shouts, screams and howls at the approaching pilgrim. They make room for nobody. Each traveler has to step over them, and na- turally enough a few cash coins are thrown to them in order to avold belng touched or pulled by the clothes with their sore and filthy hands. They are most numerous in the lower portion of the road, but they assail the pilgrims also a few thousand feet higher up on the moun- tain. The real ascent begins at a stone portal at which, according to its Inserip- tion, the great Confucius himself halted and turned back 2600 years ago, not hav- ing had the strength to climb the 6000 stone steps leading to the top. Imagine a staircase leading to the top of Mount Washington. These Taischan stalrs are by far the highest in the wide world, for taking the number of steps in one story of an ordinary house to be twenty, the number of Taischan steps equals 300 stories. Still, I had to climb up, for these steps are In places so narrow that I dared mot trust my bones to the care of my two chair coolies; moreover, they were exhausted by the fatigue and heat and apparently unable to carry even the empty chair. Their tariff for carrying one person up and down the Taischan, a distance of twice sixteen miles, is 800 cash, or 80 cents—I15 cents for each coolie! Affer six hours of tedious climbing I passed through the gate of heaven and stood on the large plateau at the summit, ‘which is covzl'esewhh numerous temples and stcne monuments. The main temple s that_of the holy mether, consisting of number of buildings surrounded by a hlgh wall. Magnificent bronze statues and bronze monuments adorn the several courts, in the last of which rises the prin- cipal temple, with a huge statue of the holy mother on an altar. The doors of. this temple are opened only once every year for an imperial commissioner, who comes to collect the money offerings of the gflg’rlmfl But thanks to a substan- kshish, or, as it is called in China, "kumshn.h ” a priest pushed a loose bar of the main gate aside, enough to let me have a glimpse of the interior. ’nxo nonn of this large temple were filled wi heap of coins three feet mgh—enm- 3 every description, size and value, anclent and modern, mostly brass cash, but many milllons of them, representi probably ,000 United States currency. The money divided among the convents and beg- gars of the holy mounmn. but the lion's 3hare goes into the pockets of that enter- prh!ng ll.dy. tha Dowager Empress, stands a tampl. dedi- a.ted Py m. o “sieping holy mother,” and entering I found an el tiy f\.{nm, bedroom, with a full lifesize dol lyln‘ under silk coverls:tn on the o speak 160 loud, lest o O the yount lady’s slumber.—Century - A VERY REMARKABLE MAN. So Says €aptain Chapman, Commanding the Tenderloin Police Precinct of New Yor!:w. “The” Allen for a quarter of a century. His deflant and out- TIII title “wickedest man in America” has been applied to spoken attitude against the police originally won him the so- briquet. For fifty years at every step in his career he-has fought the police bitterly and thus centered attention on himself. He has been arrested soms ssventy times, but I understand has never been convicted. I have raided the alleged poolroom at 80 Sixth avenue, which it is said he operates, ten or twelve times each occasion the charge against him has not held. I have had men stationed in the West End Club house for weeks at a time to secure evidence, but so cleverly was business conducted that conviction was impossible, So far as the law is concerned no man has yet been able to say that “The” Allen ever operated a poolroom. He has taken the advice of clever attorneys, has followed it absolutely and has won all his legal battles. In the West End Club, referred to always as “The” Allen’s poolroom, only actual members are permitted, and this is another safeguard against prosecution. Legal technicalities have always saved him. “The” Allen is a remarkable man. He is absolutely fearless. If he knew that a squad of police were about to descend on him, and if he could easily avoid them, he would stand his ground and make a fight. In a mix-up he’s a whirlwind. He weighs about 130 pounds, but t}e common remark in his precinct is that “The” Allen is worth ten men. .& —oftener, I suppose, than any police captain in New York—but on .1