Rothstein (16 page)

A. R. wasn’t about to stoop to betting with a machine. He announced publicly that he had $240,000 to bet on Hourless. He found no takers. The next morning, however, a syndicate of Mary land gamblers called. They’d accept Rothstein’s action-no limit to the amount. A. R. smelled a rat. His investigations confirmed his suspicions, and he alerted Sam Hildreth that unless he made some changes, Hourless was a sure loser. Hildreth knew exactly what A. R. meant. In the Realization, Hourless’ jockey, Jimmy Butwell, had not only ridden his horse into a position where he could not move forward, he lost his whip. Hildreth resolved to replace Butwell.

Laurel could barely contain the huge crowd. To relieve the crush, two races before Hourless and Omar Khayyam were to compete, authorities allowed spectators into the infield. “Several thousands,” wrote the New York Times, “tramped across the track to gain vantage points on score boards, flower beds, hurdles, and any other stand that would raise them above the ground.”

As the horses went to the paddock, Hildreth announced a switch, substituting young Frankie Robinson for the veteran Butwell-a move that stunned the crowd. The celebrated Butwell had not only ridden Hourless all season, including in his Belmont victory; he had taken Omar Khayyam to victory in the Derby and the Travers.

Omar Khayyam usually began slow and finished fast. In this race he seized an instant and commanding lead. Swept up in the excitement of the moment, the Times, recorded the scene:

[Omar Khayyam’s jockey Everett] Haynes let his mount have his head from the start, and he dashed so quickly down past the judges that a sprint race seemed to be in progress. Omar ‘s speed was remarkable as he put out a lead of a length and a half in the first quarter of a mile, but it was not nearly so wonderful as the manner in which Hourless kept in close touch with him. As they passed close under the eyes of the spectators in the stands it was noticed that Robinson had a tight hold of Hourless, yet under that pull he did not allow his competitor to gain more ground until nearly around the first turn. Stretching his handsome neck still further Omar Khayyam drew away a little more until there was a length of open daylight between the pair.

Robinson still kept a restraining hand on his mount, but let out a link nearing the end of the backstretch. He closed ever so little and then dropped back again so that a shout arose that he had shot his bolt and was beaten. Never were critics more astray, for, rounding the far turn, Hourless began to move up in sinuous style and crept nearer and nearer to Omar who was still maintaining his smooth, frictionless stride. The angle appeared to bring him nearer than he really was and it was not until entering the stretch that it was seen that Hourless still had a full length to retrieve.

There had been no letup in the pace, but instead, as he straightened his horse out, Haynes swished his whip over Omar’s ears, and the gallant horse responded with a spurt that for a moment made it appear that he was going to leave his rival far behind. It was only for a moment that the admirers of the English mount were flattered, for, as if in answer to the spurt, Robinson let Hourless run free for the first time.

Then the magnificent reserve power of the Belmont champion became evident. He cut down the lead with mighty strides, until at the eighth pole his dark body ranged alongside of the chestnut. It was near, but not near enough, and Robinson drew his whip to put his mount to the real test. Two cracks were sufficient, for Hourless leaped forward and in a few strides had settled the issue. At the sixteenth pole his head was in front, and in front to stay.

Hourless won by a length, setting a world record of 2:02.

Arnold Rothstein won $300,000.

The above is the standard history of the event-exciting enough by any standard. But certain aspects of it make little sense. Why would Arnold Rothstein so willingly risk $400,000 on a single race, so early in his career, when $400,000 most likely amounted to his entire fortune? And how could he be so sure that Jimmy Butwell was Hourless’ problem? What if A. R.‘s rivals meant to dope Hourlessor to skillfully slice a strategic tendon? A more likely scenario is that A. R. had engineered his coup not by outsmarting a fix, but by benefit of smoke and mirrors, creating the strong appearance of one to induce the Maryland gambling syndicate to take action.

Hourless was an appropriate heavy favorite, running so strongly in recent workouts, that he could clearly win with anyone in the saddle-anyone except a crooked jockey. What if A. R. could ensure that an honest, competent jockey would indeed be aboard Hourlesswhile making rival gamblers think otherwise?

What if Jimmy Burwell remained, by a certain moral definition, an honest jockey? That he merely promised a fix to those who would bet against A. R., but knew he’d never have to deliver one-because Arnold Rothstein’s friend Sam Hildreth (in full control of the situation because August Belmont II was aboard a liner headed for Europe) would install Frankie Robinson in the saddle at the last minute-and that Arnold Rothstein not only knew of this scenario, he created it?

A. R. would cheat the cheaters. The ultimate sting.

By 1917 A. R. had become uncomfortably high-profile-not only for himself, but for people and activities around him.

New York tracks were privately owned. The Jockey Club controlled the track at Belmont-and August Belmont II controlled the Jockey Club. Belmont’s father had built the family fortune, acting as the American agent for the House of Rothschild, but August II added to it substantially, most significantly through construction of New York’s first subway line. Yet, he remained a mass of insecurities. As one author noted nearly a century later:

For all his wealth and success, the younger Belmont remained an extremely unpopular figure in New York’s social life. Short, fat, arrogant, and mean-spirited, he felt haunted by the Jewish ancestry he shunned and was forever sensitive to the point of paranoia about anyone who treated him with less than the respect he believed a successful Protestant of his standing deserved.

Jews like Arnold Rothstein embarrassed August Belmont II. Racetrack characters like Arnold Rothstein embarrassed August Belmont II. In late 1917 Belmont, perhaps having heard of A. R.‘s recent adventure at Laurel, resolved to minimize Arnold’s involvement with New York’s racing scene and with the proud name of Belmont.

He approached Carolyn Rothstein at the track, visiting her in the Rothstein box, saying, “I wish that you would ask your husband to limit his bets. If he doesn’t, it may be necessary for the Jockey Club to act to prevent his making a daily appearance at the track.”

Carolyn had tried for years to get A. R. to stop gambling and knew she’d have no more success now. She’d merely infuriate Arnold and shift his wrath from August Belmont to herself.

“I would,” she responded, “but I thought you might have more influence with him.”

Belmont agreed reluctantly. After all, he and Arnold were hardly strangers: they had seen each other countless times at the track. They had also dined together and even crossed paths when calling on Tammany boss Charlie Murphy. They had been partners in Havre de Grace.

This wouldn’t be the first time Arnold had been ruled off a track. A few years previously, Jamaica had barred him, but his influence got the ban lifted.

Most unsettling was how Rothstein’s spectacular winnings fueled rumors of fixing. The industry could not afford that. A. R. protested his innocence, arguing that no one had ever proven-or ever could prove-that his stable had been involved in irregularities. “Sell your horses,” said Belmont. “Stop your spectacular betting, stop coming to the tracks regularly, or we will rule you off.”

Belmont admitted he possessed no proof. (“We have investigated all the races in which the Redstone Stable has participated, and there is no evidence that its horses haven’t run true to form.”) Of course, a Chicago grand jury would also find no evidence of A. R. fixing a World Series. And a Manhattan district attorney could discover no evidence of his shooting two police officers. Evidence had a way of disappearing around Arnold Rothstein.

A. R. asked Belmont to reconsider. When persuasion failed, he employed threats: “If I am molested in any way I will spend $1,000,000 [perhaps the equivalent of $10,000,000 today] to shut down the New York race tracks.”

Arnold’s threat scared Belmont. The New York Legislature had reopened state tracks only recently. The combination of reform movement moral outrage and hundreds of thousands of dollars in well-placed bribes could shut them again. Even if A. R. didn’t win, defeating him could prove expensive and embarrassing.

Belmont offered a compromise: “If you want to visit the track with, or without your family or friends occasionally-a Saturday or a holiday, or any day if you don’t make it too often-we will not object. But under no circumstances will we tolerate any more plunging and spectacular betting by you. The first thing you must do is to fire all of those betting commissioners you have in your employ, and we don’t want you to engage new ones if, and when, you decide to accept our terms and make an occasional visit.”

A. R. promised to abide by Belmont’s wishes-to limit bets, to avoid the track except for holidays. He soon broke those promises.

“What are you doing here today?” Belmont asked one day as he spotted Arnold at the track.

“It’s a holiday.”

“A holiday?”

“Why yes, you ought to know, Mr. Belmont. It’s Rosh Hashanah.”

Rothstein not only continued visiting Belmont, he was betting heavily through his usual network of agents. Belmont again approached Carolyn Rothstein: “Mrs. Rothstein, I know you love horses for their own sake, and that your enjoyment of the race track is based on true sportsmanship. Won’t you try to control that husband of yours; make him be reasonable?”

“I’ll do the best I can, Mr. Belmont.”

Her best wasn’t good enough. But Belmont’s determination only grew. To counteract Belmont, A. R. used his own social standing.

Rothstein’s old pal, Herbert Bayard Swope, had risen as far in his world as Rothstein had in his-further, actually. Swope not only edited the World (and established a reputation as the one of the best newspapermen in the country), he was now prominent in politics, finance, and even the best elements of society. In fact, he counted August Belmont as among his acquaintances, and had long known Belmont’s wife, former Broadway star Eleanor Robson. On September 12, 1917, Swope wrote Belmont:

While [Rothstein] is a sporting man, he comes of a decent, respectable Jewish family, and I am inclined to think that once his word is given he will offer no further cause for complaint.

Swope’s effort bore no effect in rescuing Rothstein from Belmont’s edict. But it did affect his friendship with A. R. The newsman’s friends, fearing Belmont’s wrath, warned him to avoid A. R. Now, as the pressure grew, Swope finally agreed with Rothstein’s critics. “You’re too much of a liability, Arnold,” Swope told him, as their friendship came to an end.

In 1918, World War I closed Belmont. Perhaps August Belmont let bygones be bygones when it reopened. Perhaps A. R. renewed his threats to have Albany close the place. Perhaps New York’s new governor, Tammany’s Al Smith, intervened. We shall never know why what happened happened, all we know is it did: A. R. was not permanently removed from Belmont. He remained at that track until his death. Winning sometimes, losing sometimes. But still remaining at the track.

A. R. did fix races. At one point in his career, the practice of “horse sponging” was fairly common. A small sponge would be inserted in a horse’s nostrils, impairing its breathing and destroying any chance of finishing in the money.

A horse sponger approached A. R. once, claiming access to a given horse, and claiming that for a given amount, the horse could be sponged. A. R. had an entry he liked in the race in question. He gave the go-ahead to the sponger-and to his betting agent. “But don’t be clumsy,” he warned. “Don’t go from 4 to 5 up to even-money. Be gentle and make the first rise in price 9 to 10. Ease the suckers into the trap.”

The sponger carelessly sponged the wrong horse-costing Rothstein a bundle and causing great fear and nervousness on the part of the incompetent sponger. “Please believe me, Arnold,” he begged. “I swear on my mother’s soul it was an honest mistake.”

Surprisingly, Rothstein let him off unharmed.

A. R. once proposed to a fellow owner, a vaudeville magnate with a horse entered against a Redstone Stable entry: Switch jockeys, your horse will lose, my horse will win, and we’ll clean up. Instead, after the switch, the vaudevillian’s horse won. Arnold bet on it and cleaned up, while his erstwhile partner-in-crime lost. “See,” he said innocently, “you can’t trust these doublecrossing jockeys.”

On another occasion, he tampered with Wooden Shoes, a favorite owned by Tammany-connected trash hauler Joe Marrone, who then vowed revenge: “I kill-a that somin-a-bitch-a Rothastein.” Only the intervention of West Harlem Tammany leader Jimmy Hines prevented Marrone from making good his threat.

Stories circulated of A. R. fixing not just races-but bets. Once he was receiving his usual shave and haircut from a barber known to history as “John the Barber,” perhaps John Reisler, an early manager of Jack Dempsey. As usual, talk turned to racing, and someone mentioned a specific race. Another party commented: It’s just being run now.

In fact, it had already been run. A. R. interjected, “Well, I’ll bet you that such and such a horse wins.” It did, but rumors spread that The Big Bankroll had again practiced sure-thing betting, arranging to have another party enter the shop and convey to him the results by prearranged signal, such as by ordering a “close” shave.

The Broadway gossip mill held that another such incident occurred as A. R. once drove to the Polo Grounds to see John McGraw’s Giants. En route he bet heavily, and successfully, on a race with a traveling companion. A. R.‘s detractors contended he’d been tipped off by an associate placed along the route.

Rothstein even made money betting on how to get to the track. In 1916 he purchased a new Cadillac and before heading for Belmont for the Metropolitan Handicap he stopped in Times Square to meet friends, including George Considine and George Bauchle, who knew A. R. couldn’t drive. “Ha! Ha!” they jeered. “You’ll never drive that thing, Arnold.” Arnold countered with his own challenge: “What will you bet that I don’t drive it down to Belmont Park today?” Odds reached ten-to-one that he’d never make it. After four hours of nervous practice and three-and-half hours of white-knuckle driving, the rookie arrived at Belmont and collected his money. The bet didn’t require driving back, but he did, repeating the same horrendous process returning to Manhattan.