Chapter 15 - Tips And Touts

The truth about "inside information," short cuts, and sucker traps.

By this time, you probably are pretty discouraged about the chances of winning the battle with the horse. At every turn, the horse seems to be winning.

However, the cruelty of horse to man is really soothing compared with the tricks man plays upon man. For every player, sooner or later, comes upon the man who professes he has "inside information" for sale.

The player may read an advertisement, get a circular through the mails or, at a track, strike up what appears will be a lasting and beneficial friendship with a stranger. The advertisement, circular or stranger have the same story—their only aim in life is to help the player find the pot of gold at the end of the finish line.

From their advertisements or conversation, these gentlemen are truly nature's noblemen. They know positively that a certain horse will win a certain race and that, moreover, since they alone know it, the horse will pay telephone mutuels.

This eternal quest for inside information is like a disease, such as the measles. Most every player is exposed to it at some time or another, and once he becomes afflicted, there is nothing to do but let the "disease" run its course. Advice or pleadings of friends are of no avail because the player never can be convinced that inside information is as rare as uranium strikes with a 10-cent Geiger counter.

It's a quirk of human nature that no man can believe a "wet paint" sign without first sticking his finger in the paint, and no man will concede that molten lava from a volcano is hot until he sticks his finger in it and gets burned. By the same quirk, he will not believe that inside information is rare until he gets "burned" with hot tips that turn freezing cold before the finish line is in sight.

The information peddler operates on the same basic principles as any of his colleagues in other fields of illegal, sharp and unethical business or trade practices.

Every day, hundreds of Americans are swindled because they were convinced that there were "short cuts" and that some stranger was willing to show them. The average man falls prey to strangers who boast of their "connections," "influence" or "position" that permit them to do things that are not privileged for the average man.

The old "I can get it for you wholesale" was a pretty good "come on" cry before so many discount houses sprung up and really did afford the average man a chance to get certain articles below retail cost. Congressional committees have uncovered examples of gullibility even among large businesses or industries which paid "5 per centers" to expedite commission decisions or rulings to obtain strategic materials more quickly. Many of these "5 per centers" did nothing but follow routine channels but kept boasting to their clients of the pressure they were bringing to bear in the "right places."

The player gets burned principally because consciously, or subconsciously, he refuses to concede that racing primarily is an honest sport. With so much money involved, some people naturally try now and then to take "short cuts." Tracks are vigilant to detect irregularities and not alone just to keep the sport pure and clean.

A race track these days is a gold mine, and a track doesn't want to jeopardize its investment by looking the other way when an owner, trainer, jockey, player or even horse attempts things that are not strictly according to Hoyle. The most foolish thing in the world for a track would be for it to sanction, either outright or by failure to take vigorous action, any act or deed that is in any way even just slightly "tinged."

Many players, however, have seen movies, or read books, in which the hero battles valiantly against wicked men who dope horses, fix races, "buy" track officials and even enforce their demands with guns. Many a movie jockey's girl has been kidnapped and tied up in the barn while her boy friend takes his horse to the post with the knowledge that he either finds a way to lose the race or he'll never see her again. Meanwhile, the trusted stable boy stands petrified at the rail with a rabbit's foot clutched tightly in his fist. Actually, a careful search of the stables at any track on any day would turn up few kidnapped girl friends of jockeys.

The fan refuses to reconcile himself to the truth: That all any man, owner, trainer, clocker, selector, handi-capper, et al., can tell anyone, even his own mother, is that a horse is fit and ready, is in with his proper class, is in at the weight he can carry, is going a distance he likes and has a good boy up who got instructions to try to win. Under such conditions, the trainer can give the horse a pat, shake hands with the jockey and wish him well and then stand at the rail and watch what Lady Luck has in store.

Before the race, paddock judges determine if the horse is actually the one entered under that name, whether he is in good physical shape, whether he is carrying the weight assigned and the proper equipment. The starter is an expert at getting the field away so that no horse is penalized. Patrol judges watch the race at vantage points along the circuit and stewards in the stand keep their glasses glued to the galloping horses. Some tracks take complete movies in order to detect anything contrary to the rules. Photographed finishes aid the eyesight of the placing judges and various tests determine if the horse had anything stronger than water.

With such vigilance, the player is wise if he gives up all ideas that races "run" the night before in some hotel room or that some character in a New York office knows more than owner, trainer, jockey or horse. If he will accept racing to be an honest sport, he will not be badgered into playing inside information, hot tips or races in which "something funny" is to happen.

Despite warnings, exposures and appeals to reasoning, turf fans get mulcted of millions each year by men who profess to have the greatest secret since the atom was fashioned into a bomb. They profess to have the winner of a particular race. What's more, they are willing to share this priceless secret with all who will pay them a modest fee.

Lists of names of players are bought and sold just like lists of other names used for direct mail advertising. Many small magazines or booklets exist for no other purpose than to sell information. At the track, players can get personal service from men who casually make their acquaintance and just as casually convey the idea that they are bursting at the seams with good news.

The mail peddlers operate in different ways but basically their methods have one thing in common—they want a player to pay all the traffic will bear for a horse's name or agree to make a play for the peddler.

Once a player's name gets on one list, he soon finds he gets more mail than a sultry movie actress who tells the newspapers she is looking for a new boy friend and that he must come from a small town and must not be a glamor boy.

The player's first introduction to this fountain of wisdom may come in a circular in which he is told of the big things that are cooking at a certain track about two weeks hence. This horse, so the circular reads, has been breaking the sound barrier in his morning workouts, but in his last two races he had lead in his shoes or something that slowed him up. On the big day, two weeks hence, he will be cut loose and the other horses will not even know which way he went.

This priceless information will cost the player only $2, $3, or $5. If the tipster just wants the player to get down a bet for him, he still asks a "matriculation" fee of $1 so that the player can show his good faith in the transaction.

The player is warned, furthermore, that the name of this supersonic horse will not be disclosed until just before post time because too many might hear about it and wager so much that the fabulous odds would be reduced. By the time the player reaches this point in the circular he firmly believes it or else he would have thrown the paper away long before he got to the paragraph.

The tipster is correct about one thing—he cannot disclose the name of the horse right now because he actually doesn't know. If he is operating under the plan of having customers bet specific sums for him, he just waits until the "big day." Then he selects a race in which there are so many real contenders that no horse will be an outstanding favorite.

Or he may select a race of 12 or 13 entries, but of which four or five are hopelessly outclassed. He waits until the morning scratch time has passed and then sees how many horses are left in the race he has chosen.

His customers are divided into as many groups as there are horses which will go to the post. Each group then is sent the name of one of the horses to race.

His advertisement or circular may have attracted 400 customers, each of whom sent in a dollar as evidence of "good faith." Let's assume eight horses will race. The tipster makes up eight groups of 50 each and sends each group a different horse.

For him, it doesn't matter which horse crosses the finish line first because, if all his customers remit, he will collect the winnings of 50 wagers, ranging from $2 upward as far as he could persuade anyone to go. Naturally, he hopes a long-priced horse will win because it not only will return him more money from the wagers but will give him a good talking point to lure more customers the next day. Even if the favorite wins, he still winds up with a nice nest egg.

As soon as the race is won, the tipster goes back to work. To those 50 who had the winning horse, he wires them collect, of course, to remind them of their obligations and also hints of something even bigger to go to tomorrow.

The holders of the second and third horses, or even the fourth or fifth, if the race were close, get telegrams intimating that something went wrong but that the situation will be corrected and that everybody will recoup with interest tomorrow.

In fact, a good tipster with a convincing way, can alibi every horse, including the one which ran last. As a result, he will lose very few of his 400 customers and will be joined by still others who are told about the winner.

Some tipsters sell the horse's name outright for a stated fee, but most of these at the last moment suddenly dig up another super-special which they peddle also on the "play for me" basis. Once he starts patronizing a tipster, a player finds he is just about the luckiest of all mortals because the tipster is forever running across last-minute hot horses.

Other tipsters have variations of the same methods. Some of them actually release the name of a horse a week or two in advance which, at first glance, seems to prove that he really had inside information. However, anyone who follows the horses knows what animals are stabled at a particular track.

The types of races to be held each day are known several weeks in advance, and it doesn't require much brain work for a tipster to figure out a horse that should be entered in a particular kind of race on a certain day. If they miss it, as they frequently do, and the horse is not entered on the day they say he will run, they buoy up their customers with the news that their "connections" at the last moment decided to wait for an even better spot.

The weekend is the favorite lime for tipsters to crowd the mails. Entries for Monday are known early Saturday morning and the tipster can have his selections in the mails by noon or earlier. The player fishes a letter out of his mail box on Monday morning with the information mailed two days in advance. This reminder will impress many fans that the tipster indeed is on the inside.

The many little booklets, or papers, that float around are filled with advertisements offering sure winners. Many of these advertisements proudly announce the names and mutuel prices of the winners offered in the last issue. Some tipsters get those winners by some variation of the "every horse in the race" routine. Others don't bother with such niceties. They just pick out a horse that paid a good price and claim him as their selection.

At the track, the tipster turns up usually as a well-dressed, debonair man with a beaming smile and an ingratiating air. The few seedy-looking ones are quickly spotted by the track guards and shooed from the premises.

The tipster, spotting a potential victim, gets acquainted by several variations of the same old routine. The victim has a pencil sticking from his pocket and the tipster politely asks to borrow it. He usually is fingering a handful of mutuel tickets which the victim concludes are on the next race. Actually, they are "samples" which the tipster has for bait. He just stopped and picked up a handful after losers in the last race discarded their tickets.

Or the tipster may ask to take one small glance at your racing paper. He apologizes that he has left his paper in his box. Or he may politely ask you to pass the mustard at the hot dog stand.

The personality of the tipster soon begins to pay off. He drops subtle hints of his connections and he may give them as any relationship from a brother of an owner or trainer to being the father of a jockey who is riding in the next race.

His geniality, the victim soon learns, is due solely to the fact that he is sitting right in the middle of the greatest betting coup of all times. Soon he intimates he might be persuaded to let you in, but then, of course, he doesn't want a low type of fellow who might go around telling secrets. Most victims quickly rise to the bait and accept his subtle hint that perhaps the tipster should buy the tickets and give them to you at post time. Whatever ruse he may use, the tipster in no time parts the victim from some cash or has the victim buy him some tickets.

Some try the "every horse in the race" system by lining up a "sponsor" for every horse in the race. Or he may get the tickets on the four or five leading contenders only.

Tipsters who specialize in extracting large sums from gullible players give better shows. They may work in pairs and the victim is taken to the paddock where he sees a man apparently chatting with an owner. The scene is framed for the victim's benefit. The second tipster watches his friend tow up the victim and then he steps up to an owner and asks for a match or road directions to the next town or something.

The owner politely and civilly responds, and the tipster breaks away with a flourish of his hand as if two bosom pals were parting. The second tipster "accidentally" bumps into the first tipster who is towing the victim.

The second tipster intimates that his dear friend, the owner, slipped him something good which he cannot divulge in front of strangers. In no time, the two together have worked the victim into buying the information or into making bets for them.

Warning a player to shy away from people who are willing to divulge priceless information as payment for such small favors as loaning a pencil or passing the mustard is a waste of time and energy. The fan assures his adviser that he knows all about these nefarious tipsters, but this man was really an owner's brother or a jockey's father. The victim knows that because he saw the man's identification papers. Tipsters have no more difficulty in getting "identification papers" printed than any businessman does of having a letterhead run off for him.

The player, at home, likewise is hostile to any advice or suggestion that the information he is buying is not the "real McCoy." Even the most conservative or the most cynical player will spend many dollars before conceding that there is no inside information. Each circular from a new tipster comes to the player like rays of hope in the spring after a hard winter. He knows the last tipster was crooked but this new one is a real friend of the players.

Some fans never are cured. They are eternally in quest of that most elusive of all men—the man who actually does have inside information.

The player could save himself money and heartaches if he would make a very simple test or ask a few simple questions about every proposition to give him winners.

If he is approached by mail, the fan should know that a 10 per cent return in direct mail is unusually good. Therefore, to get 100 customers the tipster would have to send out at least 1,000 letters. The cost of buying a mailing list, renting an office and telephone, printing, stuffing, postage, etc. runs very high, especially when he knows he must send out about ten letters before he receives one reply.

If through all his efforts, he finally gets 50 customers for each horse in the race he selects, he also runs the risk of having some of them fail to pay. True, he comes out far ahead but with some wear and tear on his nerves.

The question a player should ask himself is: why does this man go to all that time, expense and energy when, if he actually knew a winner, he could go to the track and bet $100 or $200. Within a few minutes, the race would be run, the tipster would have the money in his pocket and could go home. Instead of bustling around an office stuffing envelopes and mailing them, calling people to get down bets for him and calling them back to remind them to pay up, he could make just as much money at the track for only a few minutes of almost effortless work. He must be a true philanthropist, indeed, to spend so much time and energy just to share his good things with his fellowman.

If the player actually asks himself that question and truthfully answers that he still believes the tipster is on the level, then the player should not only forget about horses but also about most everything, because he is too gullible to be permitted to run loose.

The second proposal which the player might offer would be: if you claim you can provide winners for me consistently why not mail me some selections so that the postmark is long before race time but still too late for me to receive in time to play. I'll even provide the stamps and envelopes.

If a tipster professes to be indignant at this proposition, the player has his answer. If a man could provide winners consistently, he should be happy to demonstrate in order to build up a clientele.

A tipster one day summed up the thinking of his whole profession. His wife, suing him for divorce, said he made at least $100,000 a year by providing "sure winners" for players all over the country.

The judge asked him if he played any of the tips himself. Drawing himself up to his full height, the tipster replied:

"Your Honor, I'm not crazy."

Yet he went direct from the courtroom to a telegraph office to assure customers that "every angle is covered. Go the limit and rest easy."

Since hope springs eternal in the player's breast, the same as in any other man, the quest for "inside information" will lure many turf fans to their financial doom despite anything that can be said or written.

How To Detect Phony Operators

The fan can spare his feelings and his pocketbook by taking a logical approach to any offer, written or oral, to provide him with information. The questions in his mind should tell him how to detect these spurious offers.

1. Is it logical that a jockey making $50,000 to $200,000 a year is going to "sell out" in hopes of making a few extra dollars on some particular race?

2. Is it logical that a race can be "fixed" when so many owners, trainers, jockeys, and track officials would have to be "taken care of" in the deal?

3. Would a track that handles $30,000,000 to $75,000,000 in a relatively short meet do anything to jeopardize its reputation and drive fans away?

4. If a tipster in New York or some other large city should know a horse that actually will win, would he scatter the news around to lure $5 and $10 bets from people who might never send him any of the winnings? Would he spend $1,000 for advertising, mailing, and phone calls to clients when the same amount of money bet through bookies would return him much more and be safer besides?

5. Can a horse be made fit and ready and his form still be concealed from everybody around the track?

6. Why does a tipster who promises long streaks of winners day after day hesitate about letting a "customer" try out a few free just to see if he really can produce?

7. If there is anything such as genuine "inside information" why isn't every track employe rolling in money?

8. Why do owners, trainers and top-flight jockeys make so many errors in judging the ability of their own horses if some tipster really has the answer?

9. If a player believes races are fixed, horses are tampered with and track officials aid in "shady" dealings, why does he persist in following the races instead of picking up a more "honest" sport for a pastime?

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