Yellow Kid" Weil

For several weeks after I had left the bank I was at loose ends. One summer day I was sitting in the lobby of the Metropole Hotel in downtown Chicago when a man named Sam Banks came in. He had a very prosperous business in the London Guarantee Building on North Michigan Avenue. It was so prosperous, indeed, that Sam had opened a branch office in Boston.

“You can make your own deal,” declared Sam. “I’ll give you the layout and you can work it any way that you like. Come over to the office with me and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Sam was in the fortunetelling business, which has always been popular. He had been so successful in his predictions that his clientele had gradually changed. Now, he had only the wealthy people from the Gold Coast. Numerous stockbrokers came to him for advice about the market.

Seeing the way his business was going, Banks made a special study of stocks. He read the financial pages regularly. He knew as much as any intelligent analyst about stock trends - what was likely to be a good buy, what was likely to drop. With this information he was able to forecast trends with fair accuracy.

But Sam’s modus operandi made his predictions seem supernatural. A man seeking information about stocks was put through the same hocus-pocus as any other man or woman who came to have a fortune told.

He acted as the “medium” for these high-priced clients. The fee was from $1,000 to $5,000. First the client was asked to write his questions on a square of blank paper about three by three inches in size. Then he handed the paper to the medium, who said: “I will lie on this couch and put the paper on my forehead. Then I will go into a trance and your questions will be answered.”

The medium reclined on the couch. He put the square of paper on his forehead - or so the victim thought. Actually, it was a different square, of the same size and appearance, which had been substituted by the medium. He slipped the paper on which the questions had been written through a slit in the curtain and an accomplice picked it up.

The turban that covered the head and ears was a part of the medium’s equipment. This had a two-fold purpose. One was to give him an Oriental appearance. But the main reason was to conceal the telephone headset that was clamped over his ears.

The wire from the headset went down the back of his neck to metal connections in the heels of his shoes. At the foot of the couch were other metal connections. These were hooked to wires that led into the adjoining room where the accomplice had a telephone.

As soon as the accomplice had the slip of paper, he read the questions over the phone. The medium received them through the headset as he lay on the couch, supposedly in a trance.

With his eyes closed, the medium removed the paper from his forehead. Holding the paper in his right hand, he reached out and held it over the flame of a candle that burned on a table beside the couch. As soon as the paper had been burned, the medium spoke:

“You have asked what stock you should buy today. Buy American Telephone and Telegraph. The market will rise today and you will make a cleanup.”

That was all there was to it. When the question had been answered, the medium lost no time in coming out of his trance. He collected his fee and was ready for the next victim.

There were many wealthy women. Each usually asked about affairs of the heart, what sort of man was coming into her life, how to hold the affections of a husband or sweetheart, and other feminine questions. Banks gave common-sense answers, and that probably accounted for his success.

After he had shown me how he operated, he led me into his private office and told me about the Baltimore deal.

A week before in Boston, a wealthy spinster named Dora Albright had come into his office. Sam had conversed with her before going into his trance.

He was quick to take advantage of anything that made him appear to have supernatural powers. He shrewdly noted her Southern accent.

“Why, yes. I came here to see about some investments and I heard about you. I’m from Baltimore.”

“Yes, I thought so,” Sam replied. The impression on her was profound. “You are, perhaps, the head of the family?” This was a guess, but based on sound reasoning.

“Yes,” she said, even more impressed. “There are only two sisters, Clara and Emma. I’m the head of the family because I’m the oldest.”

“I’ll be happy to help you in any way that I can,” Sam offered modestly. He handed her a square of paper. “Please write your questions here.”

While she wrote, he stepped into his inner sanctum where he donned the turban and a flowing tunic. When he emerged his appearance had changed drastically. He lighted the candle on the table near the couch, and turned out the lights. The heavily draped room was in eerie semi-darkness.

Reclining on the couch and closing his eyes, he took the paper from the awe-stricken spinster. He made a few supposedly magic motions with his hands, sweeping them up and down in a wide arc. (This enabled him to slip the paper behind the curtain.) Then repeating a few words of gibberish he placed what she thought was the original square of paper, on which she had written, on his forehead.

With his hands folded across his breast, he lay quite still and went into his trance, pushing his feet hard against the foot of the couch. That was to complete the telephone connection.

He lay thus for five minutes, while Dora anxiously watched his motionless face. Then slowly his right hand went to his forehead, removed the slip of paper, and held it to the flame of the candle.

“You say,” he spoke, “that you and your sisters have about $200,000 in cash. You wonder if you should put this in a savings bank or if you should seek an investment. My advice to you is this. Don’t do anything now. I see a man coming into your life. This man wears a beard. I can’t tell you when or under what circumstances you will meet him. Nor can I tell you what he will advise. But heed him! For the bearded one holds the key to your fortune. That is all.”

The spinster was old-fashioned and somewhat emotional. Sam could see that she had been shaken but was very pleased with his performance.

“She’s ripe for plucking,” he told me as he finished the story. “I checked up and found out that the family is quite wealthy, with a large estate outside Baltimore. This $200,000 she mentioned must be some loose money she wants to put to work. Do you have any ideas?”

“No!” he retorted. “I’d rather not know any of the details of your scheme. All I want is a twenty-five per cent cut. Whatever you get and how you handle it is up to you.”

Twenty-four hours later I was on my way to Texas. Before leaving Chicago I had looked up the locations of various properties owned by the Standard Oil Company and by the Texas Company, producers of the Texaco oil products. Finally I found what I sought. The two companies owned tracts that were very close to each other in the same part of the state.

I bought maps of the property owned by the two companies, with the adjoining territory. By putting the two maps together, I got one big map that showed Texaco’s holdings on the east and Standard’s on the west. Between the two of them were many acres of land not connected with either company. There were no markings on the Standard and Texaco tracts, which indicated that both, while owned by the oil companies, were not being exploited.

This suited my purpose admirably. I made plenty of markings of my own on the territory that lay between the two oil company tracts, One indicated the location of a “mother pool,” while various others located spots where wells were expected to come in.

When I had completed drawing my symbols, I had the whole thing reproduced on one big map. I had several copies of this new map made and took them with me to Texas.

I had no trouble locating the property. I found that it was all pretty scrubby, including the tracts owned by the two companies. It was not uncommon for the big oil companies to buy up or lease large tracts of land which they held for years without drilling. Such was the case with the Texas lands I have mentioned.

Since no oil had been discovered, the value of the land had not soared. I was able to purchase 1,500 acres at a dollar an acre without any trouble. As soon as I had obtained an abstract and a deed and had recorded the purchase under the name, Dr. Henri Reuel, I set out for Baltimore.

My car was a Fiat, imported and custom built. It was expensive, powerful, and luxurious. I drove to Baltimore leisurely and sought the road on which the Albright sisters had their home.

It was a huge estate, a few miles outside of Baltimore. The big colonial mansion was built on a hill in a clump of trees, some distance back from the road. A gravel drive led from the road to a wide-columned porch. After looking over the setup, I drove back to Baltimore, checked in at a hotel, bathed, and had dinner.

It was after nightfall when I again drove to the Albright home. The big house was on a little-traveled country road and there was practically no traffic.

I drove over to the side of the road and pulled the choke to flood the carburetor. The motor sputtered and died. I got out and raised the hood - for effect - and doused the lights. Then I approached the mansion.

It was an eerie sight. The whole countryside was bathed in darkness. The only light was in the big house. A gleam came from the center of the house on the first floor and lights could be seen from two upstairs windows.

As I walked toward the house, the only sounds that pierced the calm of the black night were the crunch of my feet on the gravel drive and the singing of the crickets in the thickets that lined the driveway. I must confess that I had some misgivings as I walked that lonely quarter of a mile.

After what seemed an eternity, I finally reached the wide veranda. I saw immediately that this house was not run down. Indeed, it was in excellent state. The whole exterior had been freshly painted and the grounds were well kept.

I went to the front door, lifted the brass knocker and knocked. A colored servant, dressed in a frock coat, came to the door. He was skinny and old and his shoulders were stooped. There were wrinkles around his eyes and a fringe of white hair around his bald pate, which shone in the dim light like polished ebony.

I followed him into the drawing-room and took the chair he indicated. The chair was an antique with a scrolled back, but it was comfortable. I glanced about the room and saw that it was filled with priceless furnishings. The only illumination came from an elaborate partially lighted crystal chandelier.

In a few moments I heard the swish of skirts. The woman who came toward me was not tall, but she was slender and her long dress gave her a stately appearance. I judged that she was in her late forties. Her frock was obviously expensive, but it was simply cut.

“Yes. I’m in a quandary. I was motoring past when my car broke down. I’m not much of a mechanic, I’m afraid, and I can’t get it started again. May I use your telephone? I’m Dr. Reuel - Dr. Henri Reuel.”

I followed her into another room, which appeared to be a sort of library. In the center was a long counting-house table of shining mahogany. In one corner was a writing desk and on it a phone.

“Thank you. Do you happen to know the name of a good automobile repair shop in Baltimore?”

“Probably,” said Miss Albright, “they are closed. You ought to be able to get somebody tomorrow, though.”

“Tomorrow is Sunday,” I reminded her. This was part of my plan. I knew that no mechanic would be available on Sunday, and that’s why I had picked Saturday night for the breakdown.

“That’s right,” she agreed. “I’m afraid it looks as if you may not be able to get any mechanical help before Monday.” She did not seem at all unhappy at the prospect. I knew that she had been observing my bearded countenance.

“I don’t know of any,” she replied, “unless you walk. Is it necessary that you be in Baltimore tonight?”

“Why not be our guest over the week-end since there is no immediate solution to your problem? I’ll have Ned prepare a room for you. My sisters and I will be happy to have you here until you can get your car repaired or secure transportation to Baltimore.”

“That is very kind of you. Under the circumstances, I must avail myself of your hospitality.”

I knew now that she was convinced I was the mysterious man with a beard the fortune-teller had predicted.

Sam, I later learned, was the gardener and man of all work. His wife, Lulu, was maid and cook. They were younger and more active than old Ned, but I learned that all three of them had grown up as part of the household.

Sam went back to the car with me. I locked the ignition, put the hood down, and took out two bags. Both bags were covered with labels from various European countries. As we re-entered the house, Miss Albright was waiting. She looked with considerable interest at the bags.

“Dr. Reuel’ she said, “unless you plan to retire early, my sisters and I will be happy to have you join us in the drawing-room this evening.”

Sam led the way up a carpeted stairway whose polished mahogany bannisters gleamed in the dim light. I could see, as we passed through the house and up to the second floor, that costly and exquisite bric-a-brac was everywhere.

I unpacked my bags and put everything into the spacious drawers of the dresser. The room was large and well furnished, with a comfortable four-poster bed. I changed into evening clothes, and combed a few kinks out of my beard. When I went downstairs to join the Albright sisters I was immaculate.

Dora introduced me to her younger sisters. Emma was about thirty-five and Clara about thirty. They were attractive girls but their high priced costumes were severely tailored. It was obvious that the sisters lived sheltered lives.

Clara and Emma acknowledged the introduction, but had very little to say. Dora, being the oldest, was spokesman for the family. Occasionally she would turn to her sisters for confirmation of something she had said, more out of politeness than anything else.

Our conversation began with trivialities. Ned, the butler, brought in some fine sauterne wine. Eventually Dora Albright got around to the question that had been on her mind since I had first appeared at the door:

“Yes,” I had my answer ready. “I represent European capital. As you know, the clouds of war are now forming over Europe. My principals have extensive holdings of valuable oil lands in this country, but it now appears that events in Europe will prevent them from exploiting these lands. I expect to dispose of a considerable amount of their holdings in Baltimore.”

“Yes,” I admitted, knowing she had seen the European labels on my luggage. She was trying to draw me out.

For an hour I told them stories about my ocean trips, about conditions in England, France, Germany, Italy, and the Balkans.

“War in Europe is almost inevitable,” I said. “The interests I represent will surely be involved. They had made extensive plans for exploiting the fabulously rich oil lands they hold in Texas. But they cannot be bothered with this work, now that they are so busy with affairs of state. They have instructed me to dispose of the lands even though it will mean a great loss to them.”

“I don’t know,” I replied. “I have offers from various firms for all but about 1,500 acres.”

“Yes. We have some money that we would like to invest in something gilt-edged. Do you suppose your principals would allow us to buy some of this oil land?”

“Not knowing that you might be interested, I hadn’t thought about it,” I replied. “But I see no reason why you shouldn’t be allowed to get in on a good thing. As a matter of fact I’d like you to have the opportunity, in view of your kindness to me.”

“I’ll be glad to,” I said, rising. “I have maps of the property in my bag. Will you excuse me while I get them?”

I went upstairs and got two of the maps. When I returned, Dora suggested that we go into the room she used as an office.

We went in and Dora sat down at the head of the counting-house table. Emma sat at the foot and Clara on one side. I spread out one of the maps in front of Dora and the other was shared by Clara and Emma.

I pointed out the locations of the lands of the Standard Oil Company and Texaco. Then I pointed to the “mother pool” on our property, as well as the various spots where producing wells were expected to come into production.

“This field is so fabulously rich,” I said, “that the owners will gain wealth beyond their dreams. If I were seeking an investment for myself, I would look no farther.”

“I have the handling of all negotiations,” I went on. “I intend to dispose of it for $120 an acre. That makes it a real buy for the purchaser, but time is an element with me.”

I folded up the maps and gave one to Dora. We had more wine and the sisters became a bit gayer. I had drunk just enough to give me a fine glow when I retired.

I spent a very quiet Sunday with the ladies. In the morning, after breakfast, Ned hitched up two bay mares to the family brougham and we drove to church two miles away. The sisters had on their plainest dresses. I wore striped trousers and a morning coat. I sat with them in their reserved pew and could feel curious eyes upon me. It was easy to see that the Misses Albright were the dominant figures - and probably the main support - of this little church.

We had an excellent Sunday dinner, and I spent a leisurely afternoon and evening with the Misses Albright.

The following morning, I called Baltimore and a mechanic came out. It didn’t take him long to discover the two ignition wires I had disconnected. I left the women with a promise to return that evening.

In Baltimore I fixed up a deed to the 1,500 acres I had purchased in Texas, making it out to Dora Albright. That evening, I was back at the estate.

Dora sat at the head as before. Beside her was a strong box. I gave her the deed and she counted out $180,000, each movement of her arm casting a weird, moving shadow on the wall. She put the deed in her strong box and I put the cash in my brief case.

“I suggest that you have this recorded as soon as possible,” I urged. “It will protect you against encroachment.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” said Dora. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to have had this good fortune.”

All the sisters importuned me to stay another night, but I pleaded that I must be on my way to keep other business engagements.

There was nothing the Albright sisters could have done to me even if they had wanted to. For all I know, there really was oil on the land I had sold them. At any rate the sale was bona fide and the land actually existed. Whether they later tried to develop it for oil, I don’t know, I never heard any more about them.

I returned to Chicago and gave Sam Banks his 25 per cent cut. He was having his troubles. Barney Bertsch, who had protected him from police interference, faced charges of bribery and corruption. Barney, in an effort to save his own hide, had announced that he was going to “sing” about all those he had shielded.

Banks decided the wisest thing to do was to close shop. I had no more dealings with him. But then it was unlikely that he would ever run across another perfect setup like the Albright sisters.