Con Man A Master Swindler's Own Story

I Early Adventures in Chicanery I was born near Harrison and Clark streets in Chicago, the son of Mr. and Mrs. Otto Weil, who were reputable, hard-working people. They ran a grocery store which brought them a modest sustenance. I was sent to the public school at Harrison Street and Third Avenue. I can, without boasting, say that I was a bright pupil. Proficient in all my studies, I was particularly good at mathematics. After classes, I helped Mother in the store, though there were times when I sneaked off to the racecourse. Horse racing had a strong appeal for me, especially the betting. But my folks could not afford to give me money to bet on the races. When I was seventeen, I "quit" school and went to work. For about two years I worked as a collector. The salary was not largeby no means enough to satisfy my wants. But I soon discovered that, by the use of my wits, I could earn more on the side than my regular salary. There were other collectors, cashiers, and bookkeepers. If there was a scrupulous one in the lot, I don't recall him. Each was entrusted with the handling of money. The bookkeepers were supposed to record everything that the collectors brought in. I quickly discovered how much skulduggery went on. The collectors were not turning in all they collected, the cashiers were holding back a little out of each collection, and the bookkeepers were not recording all that finally reached them. By various means, they managed to cover up their peculations. I was just a young fellow, but I had a sharp eye and a quick wit. When I quietly made it known to my fellow employees that I was aware of their peccadillos, they became ready, without further urging, to contribute small sums so that I would keep their secrets. All told, these sums amounted to considerably more than I was ever paid in salary. During this time, I met a beautiful girl. I called on her regularly and, before long, we were engaged to be married. One day I took her to meet my folks. My mother looked her over and approved. She called me to one side. "Joe," Mother whispered, "she is a beautiful girl. But she is a girl for a rich man. She should not be a poor man's wife." "And I'm not going to be a poor man!" I replied. "I will give her everything she wants." Having seen my parents struggle for their existencemy mother got up at five in the morning to open the storeI knew that such a life was not for me. Further, I had seen how much more money was being made by skulduggery than by honest toil. In my travels about the city as a collector, I had run into a customer who interested me very much. At other times, I saw him at the racecourses and in the saloons. Doc Meriwether always seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of money, a large part of which he spent at the race tracks. One day we got to talking over a glass of beer. "Joe," he said, "you're a bright young fellow. How much do you make on that collecting job?" "Not much," I admitted and told him the amount. "It's not enough. How would you like to go to work for me?" "I'd like to," I replied. "But what do you have that I can do?" "Plenty," he declared. "And I'll pay you three times what you're making now." He explained his proposition in detail. I didn't need much time to make a decision. At the end of the month, I left my job and went to work for Doc Meriwether. Doc Meriwether was one of the most picturesque characters in the Middle West. He was tall,Weil, J. R. is the author of 'Con Man A Master Swindler's Own Story', published 2004 under ISBN 9780767917377 and ISBN 0767917375.