aribisala0:
ABSOLUTELY BRILLIANT STUFF!!! KEEP IT UP

same gay posting

I met this girl last week on 2go, she's 23 also still a virgin 'as she told me' she is in benue state while am in kano state 'wow what a far distance' we had 4hrs chat, at the end of the day she claimed my love without even seeing my face 'doubt!'. But she uploaded her picture for me, well.....it is quiet alright for me because she's beautiful indeed. So my question here is ' is it be possible to[s] fall in love with a stranger in this short period of time?' also the most freaky thing about her is, she even promised to give me head if am interested ' that is when we meet' WOW!
Please guys i'm totally doomed, i'm seeking ur advise on this, because i'm start feeling desame thing as she did.........matured advise pls[/s] [size=15pt]get a gun licence for a 12 gauge shotgun in Nigeria?.[/size]

You see the Yoruba peeps here now, talking sh1t and taking side with a con man criminal all because he is of their kind.

Yorubas are by far the most tribalistics people on the surface of the earth.

Hypocrites!

George_D: yeah, like we care a hoot! what use is a dogg decked in gold?

fact is he may be rich but is still a dog! (or did i hear goat?!)

as I said; keep hating. Nobody within 100mile radius of your ancestral co-ordinates will never ever in a million years be as appreciated and good at what they do.

The man is being reborn. It speaks volumes of his ability to discern beyound the B.S. that you are currently wallowing in.

Is it rep? He got it

Is it money and fanme? He got that

Is it women? let me not answer that.

Is it the peeps he has rolled a joint with, let me see Pac for starts? He has done that.

Give a dog a bone
let a dog roam
and he will find his way home.

Keep dissing Snoop, He is one of the most recognizable peeps on the planet, is good at what he does, and anything this brother touches turns to gold.

Snoop's entry into the p0rn industry via production was rewarded with a best p0rn awards.

Snoop has been there, done that and has been all that.

keep hating.

watch him switch da style up and watch that money pile up

pure Greed!

Or was it just some really good weed?

http://www.vice.com/vice-special/reincarnated-ft-snoop-dogg-official-documentary-trailer

VICE Films, in partnership with Snoopadelic Films, presents Reincarnated. The documentary follows Snoop Dogg as he journeys to Jamaica to record an album with Diplo. While there, Snoop finds himself embraced by the Jamaican people, is positively impacted by Rastafarian culture, and becomes reincarnated as Snoop Lion.

SNOOP DAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWG!

[size=20pt]Howe & Hummel: Scoundrels in Law [/size]

The founding member of the law firm was William Howe. Howe was an extremely large man, over 6 feet tall and weighing as much as 325 pounds. Howe had wavy gray hair, a large walrus mustache, and he dressed loudly, with baggy pantaloons, and diamonds, which he wore on his fingers, on his watch chains, as shirt studs, and as cuff buttons. The only time Howe wore a tie was at funerals. At trials, or anytime he was seen in public, instead of a tie, Howe wore diamond clusters, of which he owned many.

A New York lawyer, who was acquainted with Howe, said Howe derived tremendous enjoyment from cheating jewelers out of their payments for his many diamond purchases. “I don’t think he ever paid full price for those diamonds of his,” the lawyer said. “He never bought two at the same jewelers. When he got one, he would make a small down payment, and then when he had been dunned two or three times for the balance, he would assign one of his young assistant shysters to fight the claim. Of course, he had enough money to pay, but he got a kick out of not paying.”

Howe’s background before he arrived in New York City is quite dubious. What is known, is that Howe was born across the pond in England. Howe arrived in New York City in the early 1850′s as a ticket-of -leave man, or in common terms, a paroled convict. No one ever knew, nor did Howe ever divulge, what his crime had been in England. However, it was often said that Howe had been a doctor in London and had lost his license, and was incarcerated, as a result of some criminal act. Yet, Howe insisted that while he was in England he was not a doctor, but in fact, an assistant to the noted barrister George Waugh. Yet, Howe’s explanation of who we was, and what he did in England, could not be confirmed.

In 1874, Howe and Hummel were being sued by William and Adelaide Beaumont, who were former clients of the two lawyers, and were claiming they had been cheated by them. Howe was on the witness stand being interrogated by the Beaumont’s attorney Thomas Dunphy, who asked Howe if he was the same William Frederick Howe who was wanted for murder in England. Howe insisted that he was not. Dunphy then asked Howe if he was the same William Frederick Howe had been convicted of forgery in Brooklyn a few years earlier. Howe again denied he was that person. Yet, no definite determination could ever be made whether Howe was indeed telling the truth.

Rumor had it, before Howe set down stakes in New York City, he had worked in other American cities as a “confidence man.” Other crooks said that Howe was the inventor of the “sick engineer” game, which was one of the most successful sucker traps of that time. In 1859, when he arrived in New York City, Howe immediately transitioned from criminal into criminal attorney, which in those days most people considered to be the same thing.

In the mid-1800s, it was easy to get a license to practice law, and background checks on the integrity of law license applicants were nonexistent. Famed lawyer George W. Alger once wrote, “In those days there were practically no ethics at all in criminal law and none too much in the other branches of the profession. The grievance committee of the Bar Association was not functioning and a lawyer could do pretty much anything he wanted. And most of them did.”

In 1862, “Howe the Lawyer,” as he came to be known, suddenly appeared as a practicing attorney in New York City. However, there is no concrete evidence on how Howe actually became admitted to the New York Bar. In 1963, Howe was listed in the City Directory as an attorney in private practice. In those days, almost anyone could call themselves a lawyer. The courts were filled with lawyers who had absolutely no legal training. They were called “Poughkeepsie Lawyers.”

Howe began building up his clientele in the period immediately after the Civil War. Howe had the reputation of being a “pettifogger,” which is defined as a lawyer with no scruples, and who would use any method, legal or illegal, to serve his clients. Howe became known as “Habeas Corpus Howe,” because of his success in getting soldiers, who didn’t want to be in the service, out of the service. Howe would bring his dispirited soldiers into court, where they would testify that they were either drunk when they enlisted, which made their enlistment illegal, or that they had a circumstance in their lives at the time they were drafted, that may have made their draft contrary to the law. In a magazine article published in 1873, it said, “During the war, Mr. Howe at one time secured the release of an entire company of soldiers, some 70 strong.”

Howe also had as his clients scores of members of the street gangs who instigated the monstrous “1863 Civil War Riots.” Reports were that Howe, using illegal and immoral defense efforts, was able to have men, who committed murders during those riots, acquitted of all charges. As a result of his dubious successes, by the late 1860s Howe was considered the most successful lawyer in New York City. One highly complementary magazine article written about Howe was entitled “William F. Howe: The Celebrated Criminal Lawyer.”

In 1863, Howe hired a 13-year-old office boy named Abraham Hummel. At the time, Howe had just opened his new office, a gigantic storefront at 89 Centre Street, directly opposite The Tombs Prison. Hummel was the exact opposite in appearance of Howe. “Little Abey” was under 5-foot-tall, with thin spindly legs, and a huge, egg-shaped bald head. Hummel walked slightly bent over, and some people mistook him for a hunchback. Hummel wore a black mustache, and had shifty eyes, that always seem to be darting about and taking in the entire scene. While Howe was loud and bombastic, Hummel was quiet and reserved.

However, Hummel was sly and much more quick-witted than Howe. Where Howe dressed outlandishly, Hummel’s attire consisted of plain expensive black suits, and pointed patent leather shoes: “toothpick shoes,” as they were called at the time. Hummel’s shoes were installed with inserts, a precursor to Adler-elevated shoes, which gave Hummel a few extra inches in height, putting him just over the 5-foot mark. Hummel considered himself neat and fastidious, and extremely proud of the fact.

Hummel started off as little more then an office go-fer for Howe. Hummel washed the windows and swept the floors at 89 Centre Street. Hummel also was in charge of replenishing Howe’s ever- dwindling stock of liquor and cigars. Hummel’s job also included carrying coal from the safe, where it was stored, to the stove, which stood right in the middle of the waiting room. Soon, Howe recognized the brilliance of Hummel’s mind, and directed him to start reading case reports. Howe called Hummel “Little Abey,” and Howe repeatedly told his associates how smart his “Little Abey” was.

Yet, instead of Howe being jealous of Hummel’s superior intellect, Howe felt that Hummel’s abilities were the perfect compliment to Howe’s brilliant courtroom histrionics. And as a result, in 1870, Howe brought Hummel in as a full partner. At the time, Hummel was barely 20 years old, and Howe 21 years older.

With his reputation of being a sly fox before the jury, Howe handled all the criminal cases, while Hummel was the man behind the scenes, ingeniously figuring out loopholes in the law, which was described by Richard Rovere in his book Howe and Hummel, as “loopholes large enough for convicted murderers to walk through standing up.”

Howe was known for his dramatics in the courtroom, and was said to be able to conjure up a crying spell whenever he felt it was necessary. Other criminal attorneys said these crying spells were instigated by Howe sniffling into a handkerchief filled with onions, which he conveniently had stuffed into his coat pockets. Howe’s courtroom melodrama was so pronounced, he once gave a complete two-hour summation to the jury on his knees.

Howe and Hummel’s names were constantly in the newspapers, which with their ingenuity in getting off the worst of criminals, they were almost always front-page news. Whereas, in the newspapers, Howe was called “Howe the Lawyer,” Hummel was always referred to as “Little Abe.” There were rumors that the two shyster lawyers had several newspaper men in their back pockets, and there was more than a little evidence to prove that was true.

Howe and Hummel’s clients were as diverse as President Harrison, Queen Victoria, heavyweight boxing champion John L. Sullivan, John Allen (called by the newspapers, “The Most Wicked Man in New York City”), P. T. Barnum, actor Edwin Booth, restaurateur Tony Pastor, actor John Barrymore, belly dancer Little Egypt, and singer and actress, Lillian Russell. They also represented such murderers as Danny Driscoll, the ringleader of the street gang “The Whyos,” and Ella Nelson. Howe’s histrionics before the jury in Ms Nelson’s trial was so effective, he got the jury to believe that Ms. Nelson, who was on trial for shooting her married lover to death, had her finger slip on the trigger, not once, but four consecutive times.

However, probably the most outrageous defense Howe had ever perpetrated in the courtroom, was in the trial of Edward Unger. Unger had confessed he had killed a lodger in his home, cut up the body, thrown parts of the body into the East River, and mailed the rest of the body in a box to Baltimore. Howe had the courtroom, including the judge, jurors, District Attorney, and the assembled press, aghast, when he announced that Unger was not the murderer at all. But rather the true murderer was Unger’s seven-year-old daughter, who was at the time, was sitting on Unger’s lap in the courtroom. Howe, crocodile tears flowing down his chubby cheeks (onioned handkerchief?), said that Unger felt he had no choice but to dispose of the body, to protect his poor little girl, who had committed the crime in the heat of passion. As a result, Unger was found innocent of murder, but convicted on a manslaughter charge instead. Unger’s little girl was never charged.

At the peak of their business, Howe and Hummel represented and received large retainers from most of the criminals in New York City. These criminals included murders, thieves, brothel owners, and abortionists. In 1884, 74 madams were arrested in what was called a “purity drive.” All 74 madams were represented by Howe and Hummel.

Lawyer and legal crime writer Arthur Train claimed that Howe and Hummel were, during their time, the masterminds of organized crime in New York City. Train claimed Howe and Hummel trained their clients in the commission of crimes, and if their clients got caught doing these crimes, Howe and Hummel promised to represent them, at their standard high fees, of course.

In the case of Marm Mandelbaum, the most proficient fence of her time, Howe and Hummel were able to post bond for her, while she was awaiting trail, using several properties Marm owned as collateral. Marm immediately jumped bail and settled in Canada. When the government tried to seize Marm’s properties, they were aghast to discover that the properties had already be transferred to her daughter, by way of back-dated checks, a scheme certainly devised by Abe Hummel, but a crime which could never be proven.

During the mad 1870′s-80′s, in which the city was in the death grip of numerous street gangs, including the vicious Whyos, Howe and Hummel represented 23 out of the 25 prisoners awaiting trial for murder in the The Tombs. One of these murderers was Whyos leader “Dandy” Johnny Dolan, who was imprisoned for killing a shopkeeper and robbing his store. Dolan had invented an item he called, “an eye gouger.” After he had killed the shopkeeper, a Mr. Noe, Dolan gouged out both of Noe’s eyes, and kept them as trophies to show his pals. When Dolan was arrested a few days later, Noe’s eyes were found in the pockets of Dolan’s jacket. Even the great William Howe could not prevent Driscoll from being hung in the Tombs Prison, on April 21, 1876.

However, before Dolan was executed, he escaped from the Tombs prison, by beating up a guard. After his escape, Dolan dashed across the street to the law offices of Howe and Hummel. The police, following a trail of Dolan’s blood, found Dolan hiding in a closet, in a back office of Howe and Hummel. Of course, both Howe and Hummel denied any knowledge of how Dolan wound up in their closet, but the police were sure Howe and Hummel were in someway involved in Dolan’s escape. However, since there was no concrete evidence, and also because Dolan dummied up under police questioning, Howe and Hummel were never charged.

While Howe was an expert in criminal cases, Hummel was the mastermind in “breach of promise” cases, some of which Hummel invented himself. Hummel’s methods as a divorce lawyer, and as a petty blackmailer were an opened secret in New York City. Whenever Lillian Russell needed a divorce, and that was often (since she was married four times) it was “Little Abey” who came to her rescue.

No doubt, Hummel’s blackmailing/breach-of-promise schemes were a thing of beauty, as long as you weren’t the rich sap whom Hummel was scamming. It was estimated between 1885 and 1905, Hummel handled two to five hundred breach-of-promise suits. Amazingly, Hummel was so good at his job, just the threat of him bringing a breach-of-promise case to court, was enough for the rich gentleman, or more correctly, the rich gentleman’s lawyer, to bargain with Hummel over the price of the settlement, behind closed doors, of course, at 89 Centre Street. Because of Hummel’s discretion, not one of the victim’s names was ever made public, or entered into any court record.

However, Abe Hummel wasn’t a man to sit idly by and wait for “breach-of-promises” cases to come to him. When things got a little slow, Hummel sent two of his employees, Lewis Allen and Abraham Kaffenberg (Hummel’s nephew), to walk along Broadway and the Bowery looking for potential female customers, who had been wronged in the past, and didn’t realize they could make a bundle as a result of a past dalliance. Allen and Kaffenberg would explain to young actresses, chorus girls, waitresses, and even prostitutes, that if they could remember a rich man whom they had relations with in the past one-three years, that their boss Abe Hummel would be able to extract a sizable settlement from Mr. Moneybags. From this settlement, the girls would get half, and the law firm of Howe and Hummel would get the other half.

Sometimes these young “ladies” would tell the truth about their liaisons with rich men. However, sometimes the affidavits drawn up by Hummel were pure fiction. Yet the rich mark, who was probably married in the first place, would pay, and pay handsomely, just to have the case disappear, whether he was guilty or not.

Most of the time, Hummel never even met the rich mark, whose life Hummel was making miserable. Lawyer George Gordon Battle, sparred with “Little Abey” many times in these matters. Battle said, “He (Hummel) was always pleasant enough to deal with. He’d tell you right off the bat how much he wanted. Then you’d tell him how much your client was fixed. Then the two of us would argue it out from there. He wasn’t backward about pressing his advantage, but he wasn’t ungentlemanly either”

To show he was of good old sport about these sort of things, when the bargaining was done, and the payment made, always in cash, Hummel would provide his legal adversary with fine liquor, and the best Cuban cigars. Then Hummel, in plain view of the other attorney, would make a big show of going to his desk, where he removed all copies of the affidavits, and handed them to the victim’s lawyer, so that the lawyer could verify them as the proper documents. After the verification was done, the victim’s lawyer had a choice of bringing the documents to his client, or have them burned in the stove right in the middle of Hummel’s office. Almost always the latter course of action was chosen. After the affidavits were destroyed, Hummel and the other attorney would kick back their feet, toast themselves with the finest liquor, and spend the next hour, or so, laughing about lawyerly schemes.

Yet Hummel, in certain ways, was a man of principle. Hummel made sure that none of his blackmail victims were ever troubled again by the same girl who had scammed them in the past. Hummel once explained how he did this to George Alger, a partner in the law firm of Alger, Peck, Andrew, & Rohlfs.

“Before I hand over the girls share,” Hummel told Alger, “the girl and I have a little talk. She listens to me dictate an affidavit saying that she has deceived me, as a lawyer, into believing that a criminal conversation (what they called an act of adultery in those days) had taken place, that in fact nothing at all between her and the man involved ever took place, that she was thoroughly repentant over her conduct in the case, and that but for the fact that the money had already been spent, she would wish to return it. Then I’d make her sign this affidavit; then I gave her the money. Whenever they’d start up something a second time, I just called them and read them the affidavit. That always did the trick.”

So much money was coming into the law firm of Howe and Hummel, it is extraordinary that neither of the two lawyers kept any financial records at all. At the end of the day, both lawyers, and their junior associates, would meet in Hummel’s office. There they would all empty their pockets of cash onto the table. When the money was finished being counted, each man would take out his share of the money in accordance with the proportion of his share in the business. As time went on, this procedure was changed to take place on Friday nights only.

In 1900, Howe and Hummel were forced from their offices at 89 Center Street (the city needed the site for a public building). They relocated to the basement of New York Life Insurance Building at 346 Broadway. Soon after they moved, Howe became sick; then incapacitated. Howe stopped coming into the office, and instead stood feebly at his home at Boston Road in the Bronx. Howe was said to be a heavy drinker, and this had affected his liver. Howe suffered several heart attacks, before he died in his sleep, on September 2, 1902.

After Howe’s death, Hummel muddled on, as he had before, handling all the civil cases, and an occasional criminal case. However, the bulk of the trial work Hummel designated to two of his former assistants: David May and Issac Jacobson.

Hummel was 53 years old at the time of Howe’s death. He must have figured he had a good 10 to 15 more years to accumulate more wealth. However, New York City District Attorney William Travers Jerome had other ideas. It was the Dodge-Morse divorce case that was Hummel’s undoing. For years, Hummel had skirted around the law, and sometimes, in fact, broke the law, but there was never enough evidence to indict him. However, this time Hummel went too far. The Dodge-Morse divorce case dragged out for almost 5 years (Hummel was able to finagle delay after delay, using his thorough understanding of the procedures of the law), but in the end, District Attorney Jerome was able to get an indictment against Hummel for conspiracy and suborning perjury.

Hummel went on trial in January of 1905. The trial lasted only two days, and Hummel was found guilty. Still, Hummel was able to avoid jail for another two years. He hired the best lawyers available, hoping they could find some loophole in the law, or some technicality, that would keep Hummel from going to prison. But nothing could be done, and on March 8, 1907, Abraham Hummel was imprisoned at Blackwell’s Island, the same island, where in 1872, Hummel was able to have 240 prisoners released on a technicality.

Hummel left prison after serving only one year of his two-year sentence. Upon his release, Hummel traveled to Europe, and spent the rest of his life there, mostly living in France. Hummel, as far as it can be determined, never returned to his former stomping grounds in New York City.

After Hummel’s conviction, he was also disbarred. Furthermore, in 1908, the law firm of Howe and Hummel was enjoined by law from further practice, thus ending an era of lawless lawyering that has never been duplicated. Howe and Hummel are accurately portrayed in the annals of American crime, as the most law-breaking law firm of all time.

[size=20pt]Texas Guinan[/size]

Mary Louise Cecilia “Texas” Guinan was born on January 12, 1884, in Waco, Texas. She was the daughter of Irish-Canadian immigrants Michael and Bessie (née Duffy) Guinan. Called “Mamie” at the time, Guinan attended Loretta Convent Catholic School and she sang in the church choir. When she was 16, her parents moved to a ranch in Denver, Colorado. It was on her father’s ranch where Guinan learned how to ride, rope, and tame wild horses.

A year after she her family arrived in Denver, Guinan won a scholarship to the School of the Dramatic Arts in Chicago, where she studied for the next two years. When she returned home, Guinan graduated from the illustrious Hollins School for Girls.

But as much as she loved singing and dancing, Guinan was enamored with the Wild West Shows that frequently appeared in the Denver area. Practicing at her father’s farm and at local shooting ranges, Guinan became an expert with a six shooter. Soon, Guinan was appearing in Wild West Shows, and in rodeos which were then called “roundups.” In 1904, while she was staring in a Wild West Show in Denver, Guinan met and married John J. Moynahan, a newspaper artist of very little note. That marriage lasted five years, and it ended when Moynahan took a newspaper job in Boston, and Guinan relocated to New York City to begin, albeit slowly at first, her unparalleled career.

When she arrived in New York City, Guinan was nearly broke. She lived in a seedy two-dollar-a- week hotel in Washington Square and spent her daylight hours scouring the officers of casting agents looking for work.

During her marriage to Moynahan, Guinan had learned the art of illustrating to add to her many talents. That came in handy, when one day as she was window-shopping in Manhattan, Guinan spotted a Great Arrow automobile in a car dealership display window, which sold for the astronomical sum of $4500. At that time there were only 8000 cars built in the entire United States of America. Guinan empties her pockets and came up with enough loose change to buy paper and a few pencils. Then she set out to sketch the Great Arrow, and when she was finished, Guinan was able to sell the illustration to an advertising agency for the fancy sum of $500, more money than most people made in a year in those days.

With her newfound cash, Guinan upgraded her digs, and was able to persuade a theatrical agent to take her on as a client. Almost immediately, Guinan got a part in a play entitled The Snow Man. Her performance in The Snow Man was so critically acclaimed, Guinan caught the eye of Charles Dana Gibson, who immortalized his “Gibson Girls” pen and ink drawings of what Gibson thought was the “perfect woman.” Gibson, highlighting the five-foot-six-inch Guinan’s hourglass figure and long shapely legs, sketched several drawings of Guinan. Guinan used these drawings as a springboard to a Broadway career where she appeared on stage, and sometimes in a basket above the stage, singing such inane ditties as “Pansies Always Bring Thoughts of You.”

Guinan was now a star on Broadway, and she also appeared in several in Vaudeville shows, showcasing her shapely figure and somewhat interesting singing talents. Her most famous gig was when she was one of the stars in the 1913 Shubert Brother’s Broadway extravaganza “Passing Show,” which also starred Willie and Eugen Howard, Trixie Friganza and Charlotte Greenwood.

Due to her success in the “Passing Show,” Guinan was approached by an enterprising weight-loss promoter. Eager to make a buck any way she could, Guinan allowed the weight loss promoter, who ran ads in Variety offering a “Marvelous New Treatment for Fat Folks,” to use her shapely body in an ad in which Guinan stated, “I was made a star of the Passing Show on account of my glorious figure… and mind you, I was doomed to oblivion just a short time before when I tipped the scales at 204 pounds.”

That was a slight fib, since Guinan never weighed more than 136 pounds in her entire life.

While Guinan was basking in the limelight of Broadway, out west in Hollywood a new phenomenon was taking place. It was called the cowboy movie, and its biggest star was William S. Hart, known as the “King of the Cowboys.” Because of her unique abilities, Guinan was the perfect woman to segue into cowboy movies.

“I could twirl a lariat, rope a steer, ride, shoot and beat any tobacco-chewin’ cowpoke,” Guinan said.

Guinan’s big break came when she was performing at the Winter Garden Theater.

“We poor girls were always looking for some new stunt whereby to distinguish ourselves,” Guinan said. “So when I asked the manager (of the Winter Garden) if I might ride a horse down the runway instead of merely dancing down, he said ‘All right if you don’t kill too many customers.’ I admit most of them got under their seats when they saw me ride my snow-white charger thundering down the runway above their heads, all dressed up in black lace chaps and swinging a lariat. After the show, the movie man signed me up for a two-reel western. And what a time I had.”

The movie, which was released in 1917, was called The Wildcat. At that time, it was one and done for Guinan as a cowgirl in movies, so after the shooting of The Wildcat, Guinan traveled back to New York City and began appearing again in Vaudeville.

However, Harry Aitken, who owned the Triangle Film Corporation in Yonkers, saw potential in Guinan to become the female William S. Hart. It’s not clear who approached who about the idea, but in 1917, Aitken signed Guinan to do a series of two-reel cowboy movies. In October and November of 1917, Guinan stared in three cowboy movies: Get Away Kate, Fuel of Life and The Stainless Barrier. Guinan followed in 1918 with The Gun Woman, The Love Brokers and The Hellcat.

Over the next several years, Guinan stared in 36 westerns (she said it was over 300, but Guinan was known to exaggerate), and was called in Hollywood the “Queen of the Cowgirls,” as well as the “Female William S. Hart.”

When Prohibition became law, Guinan saw the opportunity to get out of “kissing horses in horse operas.” She went back to New York City, and in 1923 Guinan got a job as
as Mistress of Ceremonies at the Beaux Arts, a popular (illegal) nightclub. A few weeks later, the Knickerbocker Hotel hired Guinan to be the Master of Ceremony at at the hotel’s King Cole Room. Frequent guests there were such thespians as Rudolph Valentino and John Barrymore.

Guinan decided with her new career, she need a complete physical makeover. Casting off her cowgirl image, Guinan dyed her brunette hair to a radiant blond. She also started wearing clusters of diamonds, and low-cut dresses, with a Stetson hat haughtily perched on top of her new blond hair. At the King Cole Room, Guinan sang her whole repertoire of songs, with much gusto, if not with great vocal talent.

One of the men who caught Guinan’s act at the King Cole Room was ex-con Larry Fey. Fey was a small-time criminal with 40 arrests on his record, mostly for minor offenses. Fey operated a cab business and all his cabs were decorated with swastikas, not because he was a proponent of the Nazi party, but because he won a ton of money betting on a long-shot horse named Scotch Verdict, whose blanket carried the swastika, which was not yet associated with the Nazi Party. Fey was so enamored with the swastika, he placed the symbol not only on his cabs, but also on his shirts, luggage and other personal belongings.

So successful was Fey with his cab company, he tried to list it on the American Stock Exchange, which was then known as the Curb Exchange. However, due to his criminal record, the Curb Exchange turned Fey down flat. So Fey decided to use his cabs for a new branch of his business. As an exploratory trip, Fey traveled to the Canadian boarder in one of his cabs. When he got there, Fey loaded up his cab with illegal booze, and brought it back to New York City, to serve in one of the several dive speakeasies he was involved in with known gangsters. Realizing he had hit paydirt with his new idea, Fey then used fleets of his cabs to run booze back and forth from the Canadian boarder to New York City.

Because of his involvement with illegal rum-running during Prohibition, Fey was real tight with celebrity gangsters like Owney Madden and Frenchy Demange, who were partners in the upscale Cotton Club in Harlem. Fey, his pockets now brimming with cash, wanted an upscale nightclub (speakeasy) of his own. And in Texas Guinan, Fey saw his meal ticket to success. Fey took Guinan in as a partner (along with Maddon and DeMange), and they opened a nightclub with the uninspired name of El Fey.

Fey was the man behind the scenes with the money, but Guinan was the upfront star of the show. She sat in the middle of the main room on a tall chair and greeted every customer with her customary “Hello Sucker!” In her hand Guinan held a clapper, or a noisemaker, and sometimes a police whistle, which she was not adverse to using. Before, after, and sometimes during the floor show, Guinan would engage her customers with wisecracks, and sometimes, downright insults. But it was all in good fun. One of her customers once said, Guinan was “Never at a loss for a retort discourteous. It was her custom to encourage heckling rather than frown on it.”

Guinan coined the term “butter and eggs man” for her rich customers, and she often said when someone had too much to drink, that “a man could get real hurt falling off a bar stool.”

For her stage shows, Guinan employed 40 scantily-clad young ladies, performing in groups, and sometimes individually; singing and dancing and doing other things who some might consider illegal. (A policeman, who raided the joint, once held a 4-by-6-inch piece of cloth that was one of Guinan’s dancer’s entire outfit.) The stage was so tiny, when the 40-girl chorus line went into full leg-kicking mode during an especially festive song, the girls sometimes fell into the laps of the well-healed customers, some legitimate businessmen, so not so legitimate.

“It’s not my girl’s fault,” Guinan once told the police, who said her girls were intentionally sexually engaging the customers. “It’s because the place is so crowded, my girls have no place to go.”

Whenever one of her girls finished a solo performance, Guinan always bellowed to the crowd, “Give the little lady a great big hand.”

One day, an enterprising Prohibition Agent infiltrated the premises, and he saw a waiter selling a bottle of Scotch to a customer. The agent immediately jumped to his feet and yelled at one of his cohorts in the crowd concerning Guinan to “Give the little lady a great big handcuff.”

When El Fey was raided, and it happened quite often, Guinan, as she was being led from the premises by the police, would tell her band to play “The Prisoner’s Song,” as she made her grand exit in handcuffs.

When the joint was jumping, and it was every night, Guinan would yell to the crowd, “Thank the Lord for Prohibition!”

The crowd would yell back, “Why Tex?”

She smiled, “Because I would be out of a job without it.”

Speaking of Prohibition, at the time it was estimated there were 32,000 speakeasies in New York City. And El Fey was one of the most expensive. Even though Guinan swore she didn’t sell illegal alcohol on the premises, and she also swore she never took a drink in her life (which was the truth), a bottle of whatever booze you liked cost $25 at the El Fey. And if you brought in your own libation, setups cost five bucks a person. Not too shabby.

After one too many busts, El Fey closed it doors for good. Or more correctly, the police paddocked El Fey for good. So Fey and Guinan moseyed down just two blocks away from El Fey and opened the Del Fey Club. Soon, Guinan was “packing them in like sardines” again.

However, the law not being as stupid as Guinan and Fey thought they were, closed down the Del Fey Club in a matter of weeks. The New York Times wrote: “After Federal agents, fortified with writs and warrants, hauled her into court … the indefatigable hostess moved into the Texas Guinan Club at 117 West Forty-eight Street …. and her coterie willingly followed…”

The Texas Guinan Club was such a success, Hollywood, in the name of Paramount Pictures honcho B.P. Schulberg, summoned Guinan again; this time to star as herself in the 1924 picture Night Life in New York. Her co-stars included Rod LaRocque, Ernest Torrence, Dorothy Gish, Helen Lee Worthing, and George Hackethorne. The title editor was ex-husband number 2, Julian Johnson.

Night Life in New York opened at the Rivoli Theatre in New York City on July 12, 1924, the same week the prohibition agents and the local police shut down more than 30 New York City speakeasies, one of which was the Texas Guinan Club. Guinan herself was arrested at her club, put in handcuffs, and led from the premises, as the band again played The Prisoner’s Song.

On August 4th, 1924, Guinan and her lawyer Harold Content met with Assistant United States Attorney Frederic C, Bellinger. Guinan insisted that she was not aware than any liquor was being sold in her club, and that in fact, she was only an employee of Larry Fey anyway, and should not be held responsible for anything illegal that transpired at the club. Fey also appeared before Bellinger and basically confirmed what Guinan had said. Guinan worked for him, Fey said, and in no way did she have any real ownership in the Texas Guinan Club. Bellinger refused to press charges against Guinan and he gave Fey a slap on the wrist by forcing him to close down the Texas Guinan Club for six months.

Unfazed, Guinan and Fey hightailed it down to Miami, where in weeks they opened the Miami Del Fey Club. Guinan went immediately to work, taking a little time off to divorce her third husband George Townley. Guinan explained why she was a 3-time failure at marriage, “It’s having the same man around the house all the time that ruins matrimony.”

(Editors note: In Jimmy Breslin’s biography of Damon Runyon, Breslin stated that Guinan was “a big loud lesbian.” I have trouble believing a woman married and divorced three times could be a lesbian. Possible. But not likely. However, since Breslin was around in those days, and I wasn’t, I’ll give Breslin the benefit of the doubt.)

News of Guinan and Fey’s new venture traveled fast up north, and the New York Times wrote, “Striking the high mark of the Florida real estate boom, their venture was a bonanza. The profits were enormous. So conspicuous was the Guinan-Fey success that both were hounded by real estate brokers, hoping for a quick turn over. Miss Guinan had an answer that repulsed all advances. She said ‘Listen suckers. You take them by the sun. I take then by the moon. Now, let’s don’t interfere with each others business.’”

For some reason, Fey and Guinan had a fallout in Miami. Fey stood in Miami while Guinan packed her bags and headed for New York City, where she opened her own 300 Club at 151 West 54th Street. Fey was not amused, nor was he very happy about the split, because the fact was Guinan was his meal ticket to success. As a result, in New York City, Guinan bought herself a bullet-proof sedan and hired a slew of gangster bodyguards, just in case. Knowing Guinan had as many friends in the underworld as he did (Lucky Luciano, Frank Costello and Owney Maddon included), Fey backed down from any planned aggression against Guinan, and instead sent her flowers and a few diamond to sooth over the misunderstanding. Guinan replied in kind.

On New Year Day, 1933, Fey was shot to death by one of his employees, after Fey announced to the employee that he had to take a pay cut.

On February 16, 1927, Guinan’s 300 Club was raided by federal agents and the New York City police. Guinan spent 9 hours in custody at the 47th Street police station before bail could be arranged. It was Guinan’s sixth arrest, but the only time she had spent more than a few minutes in the slammer.

However, Guinan, the quintessential entertainer, made the most of her predicament. Without prompting from anyone, Guinan went into full entertaining-mode. To the astonishment and pleasure of the other arrested party-goers, reporters, photographers, and even the police and federal agents, Guinan sang her entire repertoire of songs to the crowd for the entire nine hours of her stay. No one said, or did a word to stop her. And when Guinan was finally released from jail, she left to resounding applause. Even the lawmen were clapping.

Three days after Guinan’s jail ordeal, famed evangelist Aimee Semple McPherson made her grand entrance into Guinan’s 300 Club. McPherson was vehemently against drinking and carousing, and when she arrived at the 300 Club most people thought trouble was a-brewing. But nothing could have been further from the truth. Guinan immediately diffused the situation. She introduced McPherson to the crowd, saying, “Let’s give a big hand for the brave little woman.”

McPherson, a charmer herself, addressed the room by saying, “This is an experience such as I never had in all my life.” Then she admonished Guinan and all the other party-goers in attendance, by saying their behavior was not good for the well being of their souls. Then before she left the premises in the wee hours of the morning, McPherson invited everyone to attend her revival meeting later that same day.

Guinan took that invitation seriously, and just a few hours later, Guinan and a dozen or so of her dancing girls, dressed to the nines in fur and diamonds, arrived at McPherson’s Glad Tidings Tabernacle on West 33rd Street. The newspapers had been tipped off about Guinan’s arrival, and as the photographers snapped away, Guinan shook hands with McPherson and told the crown that McPherson was “a marvelous woman.” Finished with the compliments, Guinan barked at her girls, “Come on, my chicks, let’s get on to the club.”

Over the next several years, Guinan opened and closed several night clubs, or to be more exact, the feds and the police closed them for her. These clubs included Club Intime, Salon Royale, and the Argonaut, which was the last nightclub Guinan owned.

In 1927, while the feds had closed down Salon Royale for six months, Guinan decided to use her free time to produce and star in a Broadway review called called The Padlocks of 1927, which was little more than an extension of the stage shows she put on at her nightclubs. While Guinan belted out her best songs to the crowd, Guinan’s girls danced and caroused on stage wearing padlock belts, but little else. Sadly, the show was a huge flop so Guinan went back to Hollywood and stared in an all-talking movie called Queen of the Night Clubs. But alas, that movie flopped as bad as The Padlocks of 1927 had on Broadway, so Guinan was back to square number one.

In 1930, Guinan was still trying to make a go of it at the Argonaut. But the Depression had hit New York City hard and the Prohibition agents were intent on closing every visible speakeasy in town. And Guinan’s was the most vis1ble. With profits dwindling and the feds breathing down her neck, Guinan’s manager John Stein convinced Guinan to close down the Argonaut, before the feds did it for her, and take her show across the pond to Europe.

Guinan and 40 of her girls, and a jazz band for accompaniment, boarded the French liner Paris. Her first destination was London, England, but while the Paris was still out at sea, Scotland Yard detectives notified Guinan that her and her crew were not welcome in England. For some reason, Guinan’s name was on a Scotland Yard list of “barred aliens.” The British government also felt, that because of the depression that had stretched to Europe, their own entertainers would lose work if Guinan and her scantily glad girls were allowed to perform there.

Guinan was indignant. She issued a statement to British reporters that said, “I will gladly give a check for a hundred thousand dollars to any charity if anyone can substantiate statements made against my character. What has England against me? My parents were born n England.”

Her parents were actually born in Ireland, but as usual, Guinan did not always have the best relationship with the truth.

However, the British would not budge, so Guinan and her crew continued on to Havre, France. When the ship arrived in Havre, it was immediately boarded by French special police. They examined the Guinan gang’s passports, and said that the Guinan gang must stay on the ship until it returned to New York City. The reason given was “that instead of obtaining visas required of entertainers, who intended to exercise their profession in France, the ‘Guinan gang’ had come equipped only with tourist authorization.”

Yet the real reason for the French government’s refusal to let the “Guinan Gang” on their shores was stated in a Paris newspaper, which wrote, “The French Syndicate of Entertainers have been protesting to Premier Pierre Laval against the employment of foreigners … and this circumstance may have actuated the special decree.”

Guinan again was livid at being refused entrance to a European city. “I have been turned back at the frontier for reasons which are vague, even in the minds of Frenchmen,” she told French reporters. “I am an American citizen and I have never been convicted of a crime (Which was true. She was arrested many times, but never convicted). There is no scandal about me and my passport is O.K.!”

Still the French would not budge, and although Guinan’s gang was allowed off the ship to see the sights, they were not able to perform their show.

On June 3, 1930, Guinan’s gang was ordered to travel back to New York City on the Paris. Guinan had already spend $50,000 for the trip to Europe, and was destined to spend the same amount of money to get back to America,. But as a bone to Guinan, the French Lines agreed to take Guinan’s gang back to America, in first-class accommodations, at no charge.

As she boarded the ship to leave France, Guinan told French reporters, “I was a sucker to come 3000 miles to go to jail, when every jail in America is waiting for me.” Then she winked at the reporters and said, “But – you know – an indiscretion a day keeps depression away.”

Guinan returned back to New York on June 9th, and immediately started arranging her new venture – a Broadway review called Too Hot for Paris.”

Within weeks, Too Hot For Paris was such a success, Guinan decided to take her show on the road for a one-year engagement. The tour, which was sponsored by the Orchestra Corporation of America, booked 200 one-and-two night stops in cities and towns across America.

“This show can be set up on a prairie if need be,” Guinan told the press. “We even carry our own applause.”

The show, originally scheduled to travel only a year, was still going strong into 1933. Guinan even implemented some of her wild west routines into the show, which went over big in places like Texas, Colorado, and Nevada. Guinan interrupted her trip only to head to Hollywood in early 1933 to star in her last movie, Broadway Through a Keyhole, which stared Paul Kelly, singer Russ Columbo, Eddie Foy Jr., and Constance Cummings. The screenplay was written by syndicated columnist and radio commentator Walter Winchell, who had been a frequent visitor at many of Guinan’s nightclubs.

Broadway Through a Keyhole opened at the Rivoli Theatre on November, 1, 1933, but Guinan was not there to see the opening. Instead, Guinan’s gang had embarked on a grueling tour of the Pacific Northwest. In Oregon, Guinan suddenly became ill, but she sucked it up and continued on the tour to Vancouver, British Columbia.

On the night of October 30, 1933, Guinan played to a packed house. But immediately after the show, Guinan was in such horrible pain, she was rushed to the Vancouver General Hospital. There Guinan was told the bad news by Dr. MacLachlan that she had amoebic dysentery and that an immediate operation was necessary to save her life. Guinan was in such horrible pain, she told the doctor she was willing to die, if only to stop the pain. And she re-iterated to the doctor what she said many times in court — that she had never touched a drop of alcohol in her life.

On November 4, before she was wheeled into the operating room, Guinan received the last rights from the Reverend Louis Forget of St. Patrick’s Church. Then she told her advance man Eddie Baker that if she died, to return her body to New York. “I rather have a square inch of New York City than the rest of the world,” she told Baker.

Texas Guinan died at eight a.m. the next morning at the age of 49.

On November 11, Guinan’s body returned to New York City. She was taken to the Campbell Funeral Church on Broadway between 66th and 67th Street. In a single afternoon, more than 12,000 people viewed Guinan’s body.

The New York Times wrote, “Miss Guinan’s body was dressed in a white chiffon sequin gown – she had been partial to sequins. In her left hand was a rosary and upon the third finger a large diamond. Another diamond of comparable size was upon the little finger of her right hand. Around her neck was a diamond pendant. Part of the silver-colored coffin was covered with orchids.”

The following day, more than 7500 people gathered in front of the Campbell Funeral Church for Guinan’s funeral. But only a few hundred people with admittance cards were allowed inside the chapel.

After the funeral ceremony, Guinan’s body was driven to the Gates of Heaven Cemetery, in White Plains, New York. The police estimated than more than 500 cars joined in the funeral procession.

On December 5th, 1933, one month to the day after Guinan’s death, Prohibition was repealed.

ALCHOHOL!

phraze: Wat a read, well again need i say wat a gangsta. I enjoyed it.

Tnx will post more l8tr

probably an escaped pet. The summer is blazing so I guess she wanted to cool off.

Original Wikipedia pasta (kill me now) but a good read...

[size=20pt]Soapy Smith[/size]

Jefferson Randolph "Soapy" Smith II (November 2, 1860 – July 8, 1898) was an American con artist and gangster who had a major hand in the organized criminal operations of Denver, Colorado; Creede, Colorado; and Skagway, Alaska, from 1879 to 1898. He was killed in the famed Shootout on Juneau Wharf. He is perhaps the most famous confidence man of the Old West.

efferson Smith was born in Coweta County, Georgia, to a family of education and wealth. His grandfather was a plantation owner and his father a lawyer. The family met with financial ruin at the close of the American Civil War. In 1876 they moved to Round Rock, Texas, to start anew.

Smith left his home shortly after the death of his mother, but not before witnessing the shooting of the outlaw Sam Bass. It was in Fort Worth, Texas, that Jefferson Smith began his career as a confidence man. He formed a close-knit, disciplined gang of shills and thieves to work for him. Soon he became a well-known crime boss, the "king of the frontier con men".

Smith spent the next 22 years as a professional bunko man and boss of an infamous gang of swindlers. They became known as the Soap Gang, and included famous men such as Texas Jack Vermillion and Ed "Big Ed" Burns. The gang moved from town to town, plying their trade on their unwary victims. Their principal method of separating victims from their cash was the use of "short cons", swindles that were quick and needed little setup and few helpers. The short cons included the shell game, three-card monte, and any game in which they could cheat.
Some time in the late 1870s or early 1880s, Smith began duping entire crowds with a ploy the Denver newspapers dubbed "The prize soap racket".[6]

Smith would open his "tripe and keister" (display case on a tripod) on a busy street corner. Piling ordinary soap cakes onto the keister top, he began expounding on their wonders. As he spoke to the growing crowd of curious onlookers, he would pull out his wallet and begin wrapping paper money, ranging from one dollar up to one hundred dollars, around a select few of the bars. He then finished each bar by wrapping plain paper around it to hide the money.

He mixed the money-wrapped packages in with wrapped bars containing no money. He then sold the soap to the crowd for one dollar a cake. A shill planted in the crowd would buy a bar, tear it open, and loudly proclaim that he had won some money, waving it around for all to see. This performance had the desired effect of enticing the sale of the packages. More often than not, victims bought several bars before the sale was completed. Midway through the sale, Smith would announce that the hundred-dollar bill yet remained in the pile, unpurchased. He then would auction off the remaining soap bars to the highest bidders.

Through manipulation and sleight-of-hand, he hid the cakes of soap wrapped with money and replaced them with packages holding no cash. The only money "won" went to shills, members of the gang planted in the crowd pretending to win in order to increase sales.

Smith quickly became known as "Soapy Smith" all across the western United States. He used this swindle for twenty years with great success. The soap sell, along with other scams, helped finance Soapy's criminal operations by paying graft to police, judges, and politicians. He was able to build three major criminal empires: the first in Denver, Colorado (1886–1895); the second in Creede, Colorado (1892); and the third in Skagway, Alaska (1897–1898).

In 1879 Smith moved to Denver and began to build the first of his empires. Con men normally moved around to keep out of jail, but as Smith's power and gang grew, so did his influence at City Hall, allowing him to remain. By 1887 he was reputedly involved with most of the criminal bunko activities in the city. Newspapers in Denver reported that he controlled the city's criminals, underworld gambling and accused corrupt politicians and the police chief of receiving his graft.

In 1888 Soapy opened the Tivoli Club, on the southeast corner of Market and 17th streets, a saloon and gambling hall. Legend has it that above the entrance was a sign that read caveat emptor, Latin for "Let the buyer beware". Soapy's younger brother, Bascomb Smith, joined the gang and operated a cigar store that was a "front" for dishonest poker games and other swindles, operating in one of the back rooms. Other "businesses" included fraudulent lottery shops, a "sure-thing" stock exchange, fake watch and bogus diamond auctions, and the sale of stocks in nonexistent businesses.

Soapy's political influence was so great that some of the police officers patrolling the streets would not arrest him or members of his gang. If they did, a quick release from jail was arranged easily. A voting fraud trial after the municipal elections of 1889 focused attention on corrupt ties and payoffs between Soapy, the mayor, and the chief of police—a combination referred to in local newspapers as "the firm of Londoner, Farley and Smith".

Smith opened an office in the prominent Chever block, a block away from his Tivoli Club, from which he ran his many operations. This also fronted as a business tycoon's office for high-end swindles.

Soapy was not without enemies and rivals for his position as the underworld boss. He faced several attempts on his life and shot several of his assailants. He became known increasingly for his gambling and bad temper.

In 1892, with Denver in the midst of anti-gambling and saloon reforms, Smith sold the Tivoli and moved to Creede, Colorado, a mining boomtown that had formed around a major silver strike. Using Denver-based prostitutes to cozy up to property owners and convince them to sign over leases, he acquired numerous lots along Creede's main street, renting them to his associates.[14] Once having gained enough allies, he announced that he was the camp boss.

With brother-in-law and gang member William Sidney "Cap" Light as deputy sheriff, Soapy began his second empire, opening a gambling hall and saloon called the Orleans Club. He purchased and briefly exhibited a petrified man nicknamed "McGinty" for an admission of 10 cents. While customers were waiting in line to pay their dime, Soapy's shell and three-card monte games were winning dollars out of their pockets.

Smith provided an order of sorts, protecting his friends and associates from the town's council and expelling violent troublemakers. Many of the influential newcomers were sent to meet him. Soapy grew rich in the process, but again was known to give money away freely, using it to build churches, help the poor, and to bury unfortunate prostitutes.

Creede's boom very quickly waned and the corrupt Denver officials sent word that the reforms there were coming to an end. Soapy took McGinty back to Denver. He left at the right time, as Creede soon lost most of its business district in a huge fire on 5 June 1892. Amongst the buildings lost was the Orleans Club.

On his return to Denver, Smith opened new businesses that were nothing more than fronts for his many short cons. One of these sold discounted railroad tickets to various destinations. Potential purchasers were told that the ticket agent was out of the office, but would soon return, and then offered an even bigger discount by playing any of several rigged games.Soapy's power grew to the point that he admitted to the press that he was a con man and saw nothing wrong with it. In 1896 he told a newspaper reporter, "I consider bunco steering more honorable than the life led by the average politician."

Colorado's new governor Davis Hanson Waite, elected on a Populist Party reform platform, fired three Denver officials whom he felt were not abiding by his new mandates. They refused to leave their positions and were quickly joined by others who felt their jobs were threatened. The governor called out the state militia to assist removing those fortified in city hall. The military brought with them two cannons and two Gatling guns. Soapy joined in with the corrupt officeholders and police at the hall and found himself commissioned as a deputy sheriff. He and several of his men climbed to the top of City Hall's central tower with rifles and dynamite to fend off any attackers. Cooler heads prevailed, however, and the struggle over corruption was fought in the courts, not on the streets. Soapy Smith was an important witness in court.

Governor Waite agreed to withdraw the militia and allow the Colorado Supreme Court to decide the case. The court ruled that the governor had authority to replace the commissioners, but he was reprimanded for bringing in the militia, in what became known as the "City Hall War".

Waite ordered the closure of all Denver's gambling dens, saloons and bordellos. Soapy exploited the situation, using the recently acquired deputy sheriff's commissions to perform fake arrests in his own gambling houses, apprehending patrons who had lost large sums in rigged poker games. The victims were happy to leave when the "officers" allowed them to walk away from the crime scene rather than be arrested, naturally without recouping their losses.

Eventually, Soapy and his brother Bascomb Smith became too well known, and even the most corrupt city officials could no longer protect them. Their influence and Denver-based empire began to crumble. When they were charged with attempted murder for the beating of a saloon manager, Bascomb was jailed, but Soapy managed to escape, becoming a wanted man in Colorado. Lou Blonger and his brother Sam, rivals of the Soap Gang, acquired his former control of Denver's criminals.

Before leaving, Soapy tried to perform a swindle started in Mexico, where he tried to convince President Porfirio Diaz that his country needed the services of a foreign legion made up of American toughs. Soapy became known as Colonel Smith, and managed to organize a recruiting office before the deal failed.

When the Klondike Gold Rush began in 1897, Soapy moved his operations to Dyea and Skagway, Alaska (then spelled Skaguay). He set up his third empire much the same way as he had in Denver and Creede. He put the town's deputy U.S. Marshal on his payroll and began collecting allies for a takeover. Soapy opened a fake telegraph office in which the wires went only as far as the wall. Not only did the telegraph office obtain fees for "sending" messages, but cash-laden victims soon found themselves losing even more money in poker games with new found "friends".[28] Telegraph lines did not reach or leave Skagway until 1901. Soapy opened a saloon named Jeff Smith's Parlor (opened in March 1898), as an office from which to run his operations. Although Skagway already had a municipal building, Soapy's saloon became known as "the real city hall." Skagway was gaining a reputation as a "hell on earth," with many perils for the unwary.

Smith's men played a variety of roles, such as newspaper reporter or clergyman, with the intention of befriending a new arrival and determining the best way to rid him of his money. The new arrival would be steered by his "friends" to dishonest shipping companies, hotels, or gambling dens, until he was wiped out. If the man was likely to make trouble or could not be recruited into the gang, Soapy himself would then appear and offer to pay his way back to civilization.

When a group of vigilantes, the "Committee of 101", threatened to expel Soapy and his gang, he formed his own "law and order society", which claimed 317 members, to force the vigilantes into submission.

During the Spanish-American War in 1898, Smith formed his own volunteer army with the approval of the U.S. War Department. Known as the "Skaguay Military Company," with Soapy as its captain. Smith wrote to President William McKinley and gained official recognition for his company, which he used to strengthen his control of the town.

On 4 July 1898, Soapy rode as marshal of the Fourth Division of the parade leading his army on his gray horse. On the grandstand, he sat beside the territorial governor and other officials.

On 7 July 1898, John Douglas Stewart, a returning Klondike miner, came to Skagway with a sack of gold valued at $2,700 ($71,093 in 2009 dollars.[34]) Three gang members convinced the miner to participate in a game of three-card monte. When Stewart balked at having to pay his losses, the three men grabbed the sack and ran. The "Committee of 101" demanded that Soapy return the gold, but he refused, claiming that Stewart had lost it "fairly".

On the evening of 8 July 1898, the vigilantes organized a meeting on the Juneau Company wharf. With a Winchester rifle draped over his shoulder, Soapy began an argument with Frank H. Reid, one of four guards blocking his way to the wharf. A gunfight, known as the Shootout on Juneau Wharf began unexpectedly, and both men were fatally wounded.

Soapy's last words were "My God, don't shoot!" Letters from J. M. Tanner, one of the guards with Reid that night, indicate that another guard fired the fatal shot.[36] Soapy died on the spot with a bullet to the heart. He also received a bullet in his left leg and a severe wound on the left arm by the elbow. Reid died 12 days later with a bullet in his leg and groin area. The three gang members who robbed Stewart received jail sentences.

Soapy Smith was buried several yards outside the city cemetery. Every year on 8 July, wakes are held around the United States in Soapy's honor.[37] His grave and saloon are on most tour itineraries of Skagway.

warya123:

my nose is straight, my hair is straight, my skin is golden...


i was never enslaved. i enslaved niggggggers....i was the first to use canoons in africa.

the first to domesticate camels...

and when somalis/ethiopians were one people thousands of yrs ago....we invented coffeee...


horn africans are better

Implying you are white

[size=20pt]MODS DELETE THIS NONSENSE![/size]

warya123:

i will prolly get a hi 5 water boarding from the FBI lol

more like

warya123: am using an iphone niggggggggger...

what am saying is protected under 1st amendment

phuck u. ever heard of the patriot act?

and yes it's a smart phone and as such it's got a fingerprint dumba55.

besides that stuff only applies to real Americans not terrorist mushkins

warya123:
why are u bantus inferior. you look the ugliest, have thr highest hiv rates, and were the slaves of the world.

beautiful somalian baby

vs

ugly african baby


ask your Swahili cousins from east and south Africa.