The Rise and Fall of High Card Hank
by DAVEW0071
With a nod to Damon Runyon
It is getting on about three o’clock one morning, and I am in Mindy’s partaking of the Mulligan Stew, which is well known by one and all to be the finest along Broadway, or anyplace else for that matter, providing the potatoes are fresh. And I wish to say that Mindy’s potatoes are always fresh.
A couple of tables over is Knuckles O’Neal, with a guy I do not know. They are huddled together so close you could not slide a piece of bread between them and they seem to be busy more than somewhat. However, I cannot see what they are busy with, as the guy I do not know blocks my view with his back. Now, although I am intrigued no little, I do not make a peep, as I am not such a guy as will intrude on another guy’s business, as I learned long ago that the best a guy is apt to get by intruding on another guy’s business is a bad reputation.
So I return to my Mulligan Stew, taking care to appreciate the potatoes, which seem very fresh indeed, and I forget all about Knuckles O’Neal and the guy I do not know. It is maybe fifteen minutes later, as I try to dope out tomorrow’s spread at Saratoga, when somebody sits himself down across from me, and that somebody is none other than Knuckles O’Neal, who says to me as follows:
“Well, well, well,” Knuckles says, “I am not taken for such a ride since I am knee-high to a cricket. Furthermore,” he says, “I never see a guy with such a dodge as this in my whole life.”
Now I cannot imagine Knuckles being knee-high to much of anything, not to mention a cricket, as Knuckles was once a prizefighter, and he is better than six-three and a good two feet thick, with dukes the size of Virginia hams. In fact, it is for this very reason that I make no mention of him sitting down at my table without an invitation.
“Do you see the guy I am with just now?” Knuckles says. “He invites me to play high card with him for a nickel a throw, and he beats me fifteen games hand-running.”
I almost laugh out loud when I hear that they play high card, as high card is the simplest of amusements, consisting of each guy in turn cutting a deck of cards and showing which card is on the bottom, with the highest card being the winner. In fact, if it is not Knuckles O’Neal who tells me it happens to him, I probably will laugh, at that. Still, it seems to me that losing six bits playing high card is by no means a ride, and I say as much to Knuckles.
“It is not the six bits I mind,” says Knuckles. “It is not even the fifteen games hand-running, since we use a deck I carry myself, and which I know for a fact is a level deck. No,” says Knuckles, “it is the fact that I never get a chance to break even. We play those fifteen games of high card, when suddenly the other guy peeks at his watch, jumps up like he sits on a hot griddle, and takes the wind on me.”
Both of us agree that this is very strange behavior, indeed, as there are no amusements at such a time of day to cause a guy to take the wind like this, or very little, at any rate. Nevertheless, we think no more about it, figuring it is just one of those things and that we never see this particular guy again.
Well, it seems that Knuckles O’Neal is not the only citizen along Broadway to get the touch in this manner. Nearly everybody I talk to or happen to overhear these days speaks of this guy who engages them in a game of high card at a nickel a cut. Moreover, it seems this guy employs no trick decks, no fakery, and none of the usual ackamarackus such as making off with a guy’s billfold or pocket watch in the process. So it seems he is the genuine article, or if he is not, he is working a dodge that no one has yet seen or is able to figure out, and before too long, he is known to one and all as High Card Hank.
Now, this High Card Hank is a guy of maybe forty odd, although besides saying this about him, there is not much else to say. He does not have any scars that anybody sees, and his nose is never broken, as is the case with more than one guy along Broadway. Also, he is more than somewhat quiet and sticks to the background as much as possible, only coming forward if he is spoken to, or if he wishes to invite this guy or that guy to play high card or to match pennies or what have you. It is agreed by one and all that High Card Hank is a quiet, mousy type of guy indeed, if you do not count his ties, which are probably the loudest ties I ever see, and which make High Card Hank an easy mark in a crowd, after all.
Well, ordinarily, a guy who wins at any game of chance as often as High Card Hank does is given the brush quicker than you can say scat, even if he does not work another dodge. In fact, if a guy is prone to win as often as this, the average citizen will practically require him to work another dodge, just to keep up appearances. But it seems that High Card Hank never bets more than a nickel a cut, and never wins more than a bob or two from any one guy at any time, so most guys indulge him, although the way I see it, winning a lot of little games is the same as winning one big game, and more than once I think that this is Hank’s dodge after all, and if it is, it is not a bad dodge, at that.
In addition to riding a winning streak at high card, High Card Hank gains a reputation for odd behavior, at least in one respect. Just as he does with Knuckles O’Neal, whether he wins or loses, come 3:00 or thereabouts, High Card Hank always flashes his shoe leather. He never gives a reason, and for all I know nobody thinks to ask, although personally I figure there is only one reason a guy acts in such a way, and I will lay plenty of 6 to 5 in favor of it being a doll, although nobody will fade me at these odds, and I do not blame them, at that.
Well, along about the third week after High Card Hank shows up on Broadway, a guy by the name of Mooch gets the idea to invite him to shoot craps in the back room of a garage over on Fifty-third Street, Mooch being a crap shooter who is always looking for an edge or a handout, and preferably both. It seems Mooch gets the idea that if they are together, perhaps High Card Hank’s luck rubs off, or that at least Hank spots him a stake to start with, as Mooch has no more scratch on him than an alley cat at this time, or at any other time, when it comes to that. When he hears Mooch’s invitation, High Card Hank brightens up no little and he smiles real big and says as follows:
“Why,” he says, “I always hear about shooting craps, yet I never get a chance to do so myself, and I never know where I find a game. I am happy to accompany you,” High Card Hank says, “only please explain how the game works, as I do not wish to embarrass myself.”
Well, it seems his luck holds in craps as well, because the next time I see Mooch, he is wearing a new suit of clothes and a new hat and he flashes a bankroll to make old man Rockefeller look a piker. Furthermore, I notice High Card Hank wears expensive silk neckties after this, although it seems he buys them in very dim light indeed, as they are made of colors and patterns that you see a block away, even when it is a foggy night.
By and by, High Card Hank is a regular fixture around and about, and I never see a guy who is so popular, although it is not so hard to see why, at that, as he always wears a sunny smile on his kisser, and has plenty of spring in his step. Moreover, he is not so shy anymore, and in fact, he is always quick to offer the glad hand to one and all, even guys who ordinarily do not wish to have anything whatever to do with the glad hand. He never has any trouble rustling up some action, either, and I wish to say that nine times out of eleven he comes out ahead, whether he shoots craps or plays this horse or that one, or even if he bets on whether it rains next Thursday. It is all great fun, especially as many citizens learn that High Card Hank is a soft touch, and he never turns a deaf ear to someone who wishes to put the bite on him for the odd sawbuck now and again. Although, personally, I never put the bite on anybody in my life, and consider High Card Hank a sucker for being so free and easy with his hard-won scratch. However, whether he wins or loses, every morning, at 3:00 a.m., High Card Hank peeks at his watch, sweeps his nickels into his kick, and walks away, and nobody sees hide nor hair of him until along about 7:00 the following evening.
Of course, what with all the potatoes he has, High Card Hank is by no means unpopular with dolls, as it is well known that any guy with that many potatoes is apt to draw dolls like a magnet draws nails. Therefore, it comes as no surprise when High Card Hank shows up here and there with a doll on his arm, and sometimes a doll on each arm, and moreover, it is a different doll every night. In fact, I once find him in the Silver Slipper sitting at a table overflowing with dolls, which some guys will consider a bonus, although I personally feel that the only thing a guy wants with that many dolls is nothing but trouble.
I bump into him later that evening, buying cigars from the tiny doll who sells them from a tray she slings around her neck, and I ask him why he goes around and about with so many different dolls, and he replies as follows:
“Oh, I just enjoy the young lovelies,” says High Card Hank. “They are so pretty and sweet and they appreciate all the attention I give them. And,” he says, “they are very good company indeed for going dancing and seeing floor shows and whatnot, and especially for dancing.”
“Well,” I say, “I will grant you that most young lovelies are better dancing partners than most guys, at that, although,” I say, “since I do not dance, I never have much use for them, myself. Moreover,” I say, “as I seldom have many potatoes at any time, it seems that the young lovelies do not have much use for me, either.”
Well, High Card Hank laughs most heartily at this, and whacks me between the shoulder blades hard enough to dislodge my eyetooth. Then he gives me the glad hand, flips a half-dollar to the tiny cigarette doll, and returns to his table full of young lovelies. And as I watch him entertain them and laugh with them and drink champagne with them, I think that High Card Hank beats every kind of odds a guy can beat. And I wonder if High Card Hank knows what every other guy along Broadway knows, which is that sooner or later the odds catch up with such a guy, in spades.
Well, by and by, High Card Hank settles on one doll, which is nobody but Miss Mitzi MacDonald. Now, Miss Mitzi MacDonald is a little puff of air with a pile of blonde hair, and she stands five foot nothing in her bedroom slippers, and weighs no more than a ball of yarn, and she is known for showing off her shape at the Hi-Ho Club over on Forty-sixth Street. I see her perform now and again, and although Miss Mitzi MacDonald does not have a bad shape, at that, she seems a little on the scrawny side, and I wish to say that I prefer my ribs the way Mindy serves them, with applesauce and dumplings on the side.
Nevertheless, Miss Mitzi MacDonald throws High Card Hank for a loop, and whenever she shows off her shape at the Hi-Ho Club, High Card Hank is front and center. Moreover, when she is off for the evening, Miss Mitzi MacDonald sits at High Card Hank’s table, putting on the old feedbag and sipping champagne and laughing tee-hee with him. Furthermore, anybody sees that, for such a skimpy doll, she certainly packs it away, and her favorite food is prime rib with a lobster chaser, and more than one guy figures High Card Hank runs out of scratch before Miss Mitzi MacDonald runs out of appetite.
Still, High Card Hank’s luck holds out with the ponies and with the bones, and I hear he makes several Gs betting a double header at the Polo Grounds one Saturday, so Miss Mitzi MacDonald continues to eat well and sip champagne and giggle in Hank’s ear. Although it seems Miss Mitzi MacDonald does more than giggle, at that, because after a week or two she shows up with a new outfit, complete with hat and handbag and shoes. Naturally, she does not wear this outfit while she is working, as these duds conceal her shape more than somewhat, which is not why she works at the Hi-Ho Club in the first place. Still, there can be no doubt that High Card Hank springs for these new rags, as the best that any doll can hope to make at the Hi-Ho Club is a name for herself.
Well, it comes up one evening along about eleven-thirty, and the Hi-Ho Club is filled to the beams with citizens enjoying the show, and cutting a rug, and drinking champagne, and I do not know what else. And sure enough, High Card Hank sits at his usual table, and after she shows off her shape, Miss Mitzi MacDonald sits with him, only first she puts on something more substantial than a pair of Japanese fans. Well, High Card Hank cozies up to Miss Mitzi MacDonald more than somewhat and says to her like this:
“Sweetie,” he says, “tonight is a very special night. Do you know what tonight is, darling?” he says. “It is our anniversary. One month ago I send a note backstage and ask you to join me at this very table. And since that night you make me the happiest guy on earth.”
Then High Card Hank outs with a jewelry box and in the jewelry box is a diamond choker such as rich dolls wear and other dolls only wish they wear. And Miss Mitzi MacDonald squeals like the brakes on the IRT, and she throws her arms around High Card Hank’s neck and holds on like an octopus.
It is a very touching scene, indeed, but it is cut short by a commotion going on at the front door, and this commotion busts through and spills into the main dining room. And at the head of the commotion is an older doll that is perhaps pushing forty, and who is by no means a crow, but who probably sees better days, for all that. She comes in moving like a bank of thunderclouds, and she looks just about as black, and she swings a big black handbag this way and that, and she does not care who she clouts with it. Moreover, she must carry a cobblestone or some such in that handbag, because anyone she clouts she knocks right off their pins, and furthermore, they do not get back up in a hurry.
Well, this older doll bulls her way into the dining room saying, “Where is he? I will show him! He is nothing but a rat!” and all this and that, and all the time she swings her handbag left and right as if she is none other than Jimmy Foxx. Well, when she sees Miss Mitzi MacDonald, she stops right in her tracks and points a finger at her and says like this:
“You! You tramp! You home wrecker!” she says. “I will show you, you two-bit floozy!” Then she takes a lunge at Miss Mitzi MacDonald and gets her in a headlock, and I wish to say she moves fairly well for an older doll, at that.
Well, the two of them tussle no little, and the fur flies more than somewhat, and it seems to be mostly blonde fur from the head of Miss Mitzi MacDonald. Moreover, it takes several big guys to separate them, including Lars the bouncer, Lightfoot Johnny, and Vinnie Pinstripes, who later claims someone yanks out a hunk of his own hair, roots and all.
Well, after they separate, and Miss Mitzi MacDonald is standing there crying boo-hoo, the older doll looks all around and she mutters, “Where is he? Where is that rat?” Finally, she cries like this: “Ah-hah!” and she lunges under one of the tables and drags old High Card Hank out from where he hides, leading him by the necktie as if he is a dog on a leash.
“I find you at last,” the older doll says. “You think you can hide, but I spot this bright tie you wear and I know it is you,” she says. Then the older doll turns to the crowd and says to them as follows:
“You call this bum High Card Hank,” she says. “And you think he is great fun to be with, and that he is a high roller and a square guy and all this and that. However, I am here to tell you he is nothing but the phonus bolonus. His name is really Henry A. Carson and he is just a streetcar conductor from Flatbush, and furthermore,” she says, “ I am nobody but his ever-loving wife.”
Then Mrs. Henry A. Carson turns to High Card Hank and she speaks to him in a quieter voice, like this:
“Do you really think you fool me, Henry,” she says, “when you tell me you work a double shift? I see the fancy suit you buy and the ridiculous neckties. I know you always wish to be a gambler on Broadway and take in the sights around and about. I know all along,” she says, “but I never say a word because you are happy and because you win a little extra scratch, which you bring home to me. I do not even mind the young dolls you dance with and buy drinks for because they make you happy, too. Besides, you win so much scratch by this time that you can spread the wealth around and still bring some home for me,” she says.
Well, when Mrs. Henry A. Carson outs with this, High Card Hank looks very surprised indeed, and he lifts his chin off the knot in his very colorful tie and says to her like this:
“How do you know about these dolls,” he says, “when you are all the way out in Flatbush?”
And Mrs. Henry A. Carson smiles a smile that is more loving than somewhat, and at that moment, anybody can see she is a doll who turns some heads in her day. Then she says to High Card Hank very tender like this:
“I know all about what you do because I take some of the extra scratch you bring home and I hire a private eye to watch you,” she says. “He tells me where you go and what you do and who you are with at all times. I do not mind at first,” she says, “because, like I say, it makes you happy. But when I hear you go around and about with only one doll, and you buy her jewelry such as this,” she says, “Well, I figure it is more happiness than you have coming to you and I decide it is time to draw the line.” And with that she reaches over to where Miss Mitzi MacDonald stands, still sniffling and snuffling, and she unclasps the diamond choker and removes it from Miss Mitzi MacDonald’s throat. “Henry A. Carson,” she says, “it is time for High Card Hank to go into the tank for good and all.”
So she leads High Card Hank out of the Hi-Ho Club for the final time, and nobody makes a peep or stands in their way, especially since Mrs. Henry A. Carson still carries her very heavy handbag with her. Moreover, this is the last anybody along Broadway ever sees High Card Hank, as he seems to lay low in Flatbush quite some after this.
It is a month or two later when I run across Knuckles O’Neal and as we talk about this and that, Knuckles says to me as follows:
“You know, I miss High Card Hank,” Knuckles says. “He is one guy who always brightens up a room, which is saying a lot for a streetcar conductor. Although,” Knuckles says, “I always regret that I never get a chance to break even, at that.”
“Well,” I say, “I never figure High Card Hank’s luck holds for so long. It is only a shame it does not last longer.”
“Still,” Knuckles says, “It is just a bad idea for a guy to run around on his ever-loving wife. Not only that, it is an especially bad idea to buy diamonds for the doll he runs around with. I guess the odds catch up with him at last.”
I allow as how this seems to be true, although I learn later that on the night his wife catches him, High Card Hank beats the odds yet again although he probably wishes he does not. Because it seems that, out of all the days in the year, High Card Hank chooses this one to give Miss Mitzi MacDonald that diamond choker. Moreover, it seems that, while he remembers this anniversary, he forgets another, because it is also on this day that he is married to his ever-loving wife for exactly fifteen years.