George Devol - Notorious Riverboat Gambler, Card Sharp & Con Artist

By G.R. Williamson

Without a doubt, George Devol was the most notorious of the Mississippi riverboat gamblers. He mastered the fine art of card manipulation at an early age and by the time he reached twenty he was an accomplished card sharp.

Devol could stack a deck, deal seconds or from the bottom of the deck. Though he had large hands, he could nimbly palm cards or insert cards with ease. He knew all the tricks to skin wealth plantation owners, merchants, businessmen, soldiers, and even ministers who traveled on the busy waterways of the nineteenth century.

At the same time, Devol was a maestro at working the short cons, particularly 3 card Monte. He and his partners raked in millions from fleeced suckers over the course of his forty years as a crooked gambler.

George Devol – Notorious Riverboat Gambler, Card Sharp & Scam Artist tells his story in vivid detail based on solid historical research. Then, Devol tells his own story through his meandering, semi-autobiography, Forty Years a Gambler on the Mississippi, he published in 1896 at the age of 67 when he retired from gambling.  In a series of 179 memoirs, he recounts the major events of his gambling life. Though heavily embellished, his accounts divulge his cheating technics and his philosophy about skinning his victims. Allowing for his penchant for self-aggrandizement, the memoirs are a hoot to read. George Devol's book is included with all of his stories appearing exactly as he published them in 1896, with all the spelling and grammatical mistakes intact.

The steamboat scoundrel was a major character in the history of the Old West and his story is told in a humorous, entertaining style and is the first book to cover his entire saga.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Indian Head Publishing
• Release date: Jan 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393761860

G.R. Williamson

G.R. Williamson lives in Kerrville, Texas, with his wife and trusty chihuahua Shooter. He spent his early years living in Crystal City, Texas, which is located twenty miles west of King Fisher's ranch in Dimmitt County. As a Boy Scout, he hunted for arrowheads on the land that once belonged to King Fisher, and he fished in the alligator waters of Espantosa Lake. He has written many articles on Texas historical figures and events in Texas history. In addition, he has penned several western film screenplays that make their way to California from time to time. Currently he is at work on two nonfiction books-one on the last old-time Texas bank and train robber and the other on frontier gambling.

Book preview

Other Books by G.R. Williamson

The Notorious Texas Pistoleers: Ben Thompson & King Fisher

Willis Newton – The Last Texas Outlaw

Notorious Gamblers of the Old West

John King Fisher – King of the Nueces Strip

Gambling Games of the Old West

Lottie Deno – Mysterious Hellcat of the West

J.J. Cozad – Faro King of the West

Death of a Con Man – Soapy Smith’s Demise in 1898

Western Novels

Hell Bound – A Peyton Bonner Novel

Hip-Pocket History Series:

Gambling Games of the Old West

Saloon Gamblers of the Old West (Coming in 2020)

Card Sharps and Con Men of the Old West (Coming in 2020)

Ben Thompson: Gambler-Gunfighter (Coming in 2020)

Introduction

It was while I was doing research for my book, Notorious Gamblers of the Old West , that I first came upon George Devol when I profiled the master riverboat gambler in the Card Sharps and Con Men section of the book.

Because of the volume of gamblers I chose to profile, I could not really do justice to Devol in the space allotted. There was just too much rich material on the scoundrel. This then is the true story of George Devol and his cronies.

Devol was without a doubt, the greatest riverboat card sharp in the history of the Mississippi River. He was also a con artist, a head-butter, and a master at manipulating men and their money. By definition a card sharp is: Someone who is skillful at playing or manipulating cards, or one who makes a living by cheating at cards. There could not be a better description of George Devol. It is estimated that he roped in suckers for well over $2 million during his gambling career. That’s roughly $22 million in today’s dollars

When I bought a replica of Devol’s celebrated memoirs, Forty Years a Gambler on the Mississippi, I knew I would write about the notorious riverboat gambler. The book is a hoot to read—full of self-aggrandizement, embellishments, and seemly downright fabrications. He used the old scammer’s ploy of mixing the truth with the lies (currently employed by George Devol’s modern day protégés roaming the halls of Congress.)

On the cover page of his book, Devol states that he was:

A cabin boy in 1839; could steal cards and cheat the boys at eleven; stock a deck at fourteen; bested soldiers on the Rio Grande during the Mexican war; won hundreds of thousands from paymasters, cotton buyers, defaulters, and thieves; fought more rough-and-tumble fights than any man in America, and was the most daring gambler in the world. (Please note: there have been no corrections in what was printed in Devol’s book.)

A tattered scrap of George Devol’s book.

FROM THERE, HE GOES on to write one hundred seventy-nine accounts that are scattered and meandering. It's possible to picture Devol lighting up a stogie, pouring up a tall glass of Kentucky whiskey, and start penning his ramblings. Somewhere, in all of his disjointed accounts, there’s bound to be some kernel of truth. It’s my assumption that several of the accounts are just his version of saloon stories he had heard during his professional career.

In addition to all of his card sharping, outright swindles, and three-card monte scams, George Devol could hold his own in playing straight up poker. He knew all the odds, the reads, and all of the fundamentals of winning poker hands.

So, now, sit back and read about one of the true, notorious characters of the Old West—George Devol. His story is told with historically accurate accounts as well as his own words as published in his book, Forty Years a Gambler on the Mississippi.

George Devol

Undoubtedly, George Hildreth Devol was the greatest riverboat gambler in the history of the Mississippi River. At the same time, he was a con artist, a head-butting fighter, and a master at manipulating men away from their money.

A notorious card sharp, he could palm cards, deal seconds, and deal from the bottom of the deck. Though he had large hands, he could nimbly deal cold decks, stacked decks (he called them stocked decks), and was adept at switching and stealing cards to fleece suckers at the poker tables. It is said that in one poker hand, he dealt four players a hand containing four aces—and he still beat them.

At times, he would use marked cards and employed cappers as shills, or readers, cohorts who read opposing hands and signaled Devol. He employed bartenders and deck hands to supply him with stacked decks of cards when he called for a new deck. To maintain the charade that the cards were honest and true, the cards came in a paper box, wrapped and sealed. In addition, he added other card sharps to a game to steer the play and be designated winners.

Devol took great pleasure in trimming traveling salesmen, wealthy plantation owners, businessmen, soldiers, and even ministers. In his book, Forty Years a Gambler on the Mississippi, he liked to show his gallantry by returning the ministers’ money and warning them, Go and Sin No More.

Devol was a large, powerful man, with broad shoulders, a bull neck, and a cast-iron cranium. He wore a full head of dark hair with a mustache and goatee. Dressed as a wealthy dandy, he wore the expensive, well-tailored frock coats, stylish vests, spotless wool slacks, and polished fine leather boots. As was the gamblers’ custom, he was adorned with headlights such as large diamond rings, gold and diamond stickpins, watch fobs, and cufflinks. He frequently carried a gold crowned walking cane.

All-in-all, George Devol was a very impressive riverboat gambler.

Devol recalled his early days in his book when he wrote; About forty years ago I was a pioneer in the great Northwest (or Lake and Central States), and was pretty largely interested in the different branches of business that paid a large profit on the amount of capital invested. I was running keno in St. Paul; playing poker with the Indians, and running the risk of losing my scalp, in Minnesota; building frame shanties out of green lumber for lodgers, at a dollar a head, at Winona; and running a restaurant, saloon, billiard and keno room at Dubuque, Iowa. I was kept pretty busy looking after and attending to my different branches of business, and I divided my time between them.

Some men are born rascals, some men have rascality thrust upon them, while others achieve it.

George Devol

When the Mexican War broke out, Devol was on a boat called the Tiago . Soon, he thought it a good idea to go to war and got a job as a barkeeper on the Corvette , bound for the Rio Grande and Mexico.

It was while he was aboard the Corvette that he met a man who taught him how to stock a deck.  Upon reaching the Rio Grande and joining the forces, he quickly set about working his newly learned skills to swindle the other soldiers. But he grew bored with soldiering and with his pockets filled with his ill-gotten gains, he returned to New Orleans.

Devol made hundreds of thousands of dollars in the years before the Civil War.  Working the steamboats of the South, he joined in with other card sharps, including Canada Bill Jones, Bill Rollins, Big Alexander, and many others over the years.

The Civil War provided the opportunity for Devol to sharpen his black leg skills. According to his Forty Years a Gambler on the Mississippi, he especially liked working with the officers in charge of paying soldiers. Paymasters in the army were among the best suckers we had, he explained, especially when they were drunk. He admitted to cheating them out of so much cash that the military governor of New Orleans forced a provost judge to sentence Devol to a year in prison in 1862.

Unfazed, Devol quickly cleaned out the wealthy Southerners locked up with him. Using their money, he bribed his jailer and eventually worked out a payoff with Louisiana Gov. George Shepley to pardon him, with the stipulation that he would not play cards with any member of the Union army.

Swearing to the pledge, George walked out of jail smiling and immediately bilked another Army paymaster out of $19,000.

What else would you suspect from a seasoned sharper?

It was during the Civil War that Devol and other riverboat gamblers formed a military unit in New Orleans called Wilson's Rangers. A finer mounted troop of cavalry can hardly be found in the South, wrote the newspaper True Delta. Devol told a different story in his memoirs. Every morning, he said, the Rangers galloped conspicuously through the city's street, scarves fluttering, feathered hats tipped at rakish angles. The ladies were greatly impressed. Once outside the town, the Rangers scouted out some shade trees, dismounted, and spent the day studying their books on tactics.

We would remain in the shade till the cool of the evening, Devol recounted, then mount up and ride back into town again. The people would cheer and wave handkerchiefs and give us bouquets... for drilling all day in the hot sun, preparing to protect them from the damn Yankees.

Then one day in April 1862, the Wilson's Rangers were called into action. Admiral Farragut's fleet was bombarding the forts below New Orleans. Out galloped the gallant Rangers to the cheers of the locals.

Six miles downstream, Yankee ships greeted them with a salvo of canister-shot. The heroic Gamblers' Brigade wheeled and returned at a full gallop.

We dismounted without orders, Devol recalled, cut the buttons off our coats, buried our sabers, and blended into the citizenry as quickly as possible.

Far from being a coward as a gambler, Devol packed a revolver he called Betsy Jane. He often carried the gun, but he preferred to fight using his remarkably thick forehead to butt his opponents senseless. One of his opponents explained: The first lick he hit me, I thought my neck was disjointed and when he ran that head into me, I thought it was a cannon ball.

Prostitution, gambling, and liquor were among the surest ways to make a lot of money quickly and Devol was one of the best at skinning suckers. His primary game of choice was poker, but sometimes, he worked as a Spanish monte, faro, or keno dealer. More importantly, he was very successful at working the three-card monte scam with Canada Bill Jones as his partner.

It was while George Devol was working the riverboats that he found a young boy and took him under his wing as his protégé, teaching him all of his tricks to trim suckers. The boy was Pinckney Benton Stewart Pinchback. Known as Pinch, he was the son of a white plantation owner and a black slave woman. Around 1850 Devol hired him as a personal body servant.

So, while Devol and his partners were fleecing the passengers in the steamship's salon with three-card monte, faro, and poker, Pinch was up on deck fleecing the black deckhands with three-card monte and a rigged chuck-a-luck game.

After the Civil War began, Pinch abandoned the riverboats and continued to work his skills and saving his money. In 1862, he raised a company of black volunteers to fight for the Union, called the Corps d'Afrique. In 1868, he won a seat in the state Senate and in 1871 served as Lieutenant Governor to fill the vacancy that occurred with the death of Oscar J. Dunn.

He was the acting governor of Louisiana from during the impeachment of Governor H. C. Warmoth. Later in that same year, he won an election to the United States Senate.

After a career as a civil rights lawyer, Pinchback moved to New York City and worked as a U.S. Marshal. Finally, he moved to Washington, D.C., where he practiced law until his death in 1921.

Pinckney Pinchback – George Devol’s Protégé

IN THE EARLY 1870S, Devol worked the trains between Cheyenne and Omaha, and between Omaha and Kansas City. His partners were Canada Bill, Sherman Thurston, Jew Mose and Dad Ryan. They competed against, and sometimes teamed up with other sharpers like John Bull, Ben Marks, Cowboy Tripp, Doc Baggs, and Frank Tarbeaux.

It is not certain if Devol ever married, but some reports claim that he was married to a Catherine Westby. This was supported by his claim that he was holding several unrepaid notes for loans that gamblers had given to him over the years.  Devol wrote, I will leave the notes with my dear old mother-in-law for collection. In another of his memoirs, he wrote: for I am married now, and have a dear old mother-in-law, too.

In 1892, Devol published the account of his life, Forty Years a Gambler on the Mississippi, telling about his life as a gambler, greatly embellished. Before he retired, Devol claimed he had won more than $2 million – about $50 million in today's dollars – but, like most other blacklegs, had lost nearly all of it back to even more crooked faro dealers and poker sharps. It is said of me that I have won more money than any sporting man in this country, he wrote in 1886. I will say I hadn't sense enough to keep it.

The Early Years

When, in 1803, President Thomas Jefferson, a skillful gambler himself, jumped at the opportunity to purchase the Louisiana Territory from cash-strapped France for $15 million, he drastically changed the face of the western expansion of the United States of America. He, in effect, doubled the size of the country.

The rivers soon became major avenues of transportation and commerce throughout the new territories. With the Louisiana Purchase, riverboats and gamblers spread from New Orleans, up the Mississippi and Ohio Rivers and throughout the length and breadth of America.

Gambling had always been a steady pastime of the rivermen who kept Natchez Under-the-Hill buzzing during the late 1700s and early 1800s. But the steam engine changed the world of commerce and sparked a major industry on the Mississippi—gambling.

When the first steamboat on the big river, the New Orleans, arrived in Natchez in late December 1811, business was revolutionized. Painted sky-blue, the steamer picked up her very first freight and passengers under-the-hill. The owners' business plan was simple—capitalize on the New Orleans and Natchez trade.

Success came quickly. After an initial investment of $38,000 to build the steamer, the owners netted $20,000 the first year. A reporter for Kramer's Almanac wrote in 1813 that the vessel, owned by Fulton and Livingston of New York, performs a regular route from Natchez to New Orleans in three days (downstream), and returns in four (upstream). The passage descending is $18, and ascending $25. By 1820, the rivers in the west—the Mississippi, Red, Missouri and others—were being worked by 69 steamboats. The number grew to 557 in 1845, and a year before the Civil War, there were 735 in operation.

BEFORE FULTON & LIVINGSTON's New Orleans arrived in Natchez, the rivermen who delivered the goods downriver, the cargo transporters, were known for their love of whiskey, women and trouble. The rivermen gambled in the various riverfront dives; Pinch Gut in Memphis, the Landing in Vicksburg, and Natchez-under-the Hill below Natchez. They preyed on flatboat men, keelers, and any other river travelers. Because of their overwhelming presence on the waterfront areas, the respectable citizens could not exert effective control and as a result, law enforcement left the miscreants alone - as long as they stayed away from legitimate businesses and residential sections.

NEVERTHELESS, THE STEAMBOAT opened the river to the professional gamblers who now didn't have to wait in the growing city of New Orleans for the suckers to arrive. Now they could travel up the river against the current, and down again, and gamble on the boats or at the river landings such as under-the-hill.

By 1835 there were around 250 riverboats and up to 2,000 professional gamblers working American rivers and settlements. The Riverboat Gambler had now become an important figure in American culture.

Riverboat gamblers at work in the main salon after the dining room had been cleared.

WHEN GEORGE DEVOL WAS born on August 1, 1829 in Marietta, Georgia, the riverboat traffic on the Mississippi, the Ohio, and the other rivers was in full swing. The steamers hauled freight, passengers—and gamblers up and down the busy rivers. Ten years later, Devol left his home.

He was the youngest of six children. His father was a ship's carpenter and was often away from home. Though Devol had good opportunities for early education, he didn’t like school and spent most of his time playing hooky. The unmanageable boy was also prone to fighting, coming home almost daily with scratches and bruises from his numerous scuffles. When a teacher attempted to discipline him with a hardy whipping, he would turn on them, hitting them with stones that he carried in his pocket. While his father was away building boats much of the time, his mother would be forced to call in a neighbor or passerby to help with his punishment.

Devol served as a cabin boy on a riverboat steamer called the Wacousta.  Evidently, Devol did a good job in this capacity as he soon took a better paying job on a boat called Walnut Hills.

Another boat came soon after – the Cicero, where Devol learned to play Seven-Up and the art of bluffing. Seeing the high lifestyle of the professional gamblers on the boat, Devol was determined to follow in their footsteps, and by the time he was in his teens, he could deal seconds, palm cards and recover the cut. Fighting would continue to be a natural part of his life, and he soon developed skills with a gun, never hesitating to pull it on the riverboats.

Devol continued to learn and hone his gambling skills, methods of cheating and the ability to read others to the point he was regularly stuffing his pockets with other people’s money on each of his trips.

The deck layout of the Gordon C. Green is typical of most of the riverboats. It was in the Cabin Deck where gambling tables were set up in the dining salon between meals. Devol also mentions playing on the Texas Deck.

An interior view of the dining salon where gamblers would gather between meals.

SHORTLY BEFORE THE Civil War, the Rev. John G. Jones looked at the steamboats below the bluff at Natchez and shook his head. The steam engine, which had transformed travel and commerce on the Mississippi, also transformed ordinary people on board, and made many a man forget his faith and throw away his money at the gambling table.

Rev. Jones is reported to have said, Vice, in all its most popular and fascinating forms, has ever been rife on our Southern steamboats, (A Concise History of the Introduction of Protestantism into Mississippi and the Southeast, 1866) and too many people look on a steamboat trip not only as a holiday from the ordinary business of life, but as a respite from the restraints of morality and the duties of religion.

Devol wasn’t a religious man, but he would have agreed with the pastor. The suckers were there to be skinned and he was more than happy to oblige. His reputation spread, that of being a gallant young man with amazing skills at the gambling tables.

Contrary to the Devol’s gallant image, a gambler named, Cole Martin, thought otherwise. Martin, along with a partner, had played with Devol, cheating out of $2,000: It's very pretty to read about (Devol’s persona), but the real thing was not so nice. The black-eyed, black-mustached hero gambler that you read about was anything but a hero. There was no chivalry in his nature, and he was ready for any dark deed that would profit him. Of course, I am speaking of the professional gambler, for everyone gambled; if they had not done so the professional's occupation would have been gone. The chivalrous ones were the young Southern planters, reckless, but not mean, who would play the full limit and get fleeced.

Devol continued his gambler’s life into the Mexican War and then into the Civil War. When the war was over, the railroads began to head west with settlements sprouting up all along the way.  Many of these burgeoning towns, often filled with railroad workers, miners, and cowboys provided all manner of vices including prostitution, numerous saloons, and the ever-present gambling halls. Supplying perfect opportunities for Devol’s operation, he began to follow the railroad expansion between Kansas City and Cheyenne in the early 1870s.

A legend perpetuated by Devol, has him working the Gold Room Saloon in Cheyenne when in walked none other than, Wild Bill Hickok.  Devol tells the story that when Hickok placed a $50 bet, he lost.  He then placed another $50 bet, winning the hand that time; however, the dealer handed him back only $25.  When Wild Bill protested, the dealer pointed to the large sign that stated the house limit was $25.  But you took 50 when I lost, said Hickok, to which the dealer responded, Fifty goes when you lose.  The quick-tempered Hickok wasn’t about to accept those terms sitting down and quickly whacked the dealer on the head with his walking stick, turned over the table, stuffed his pockets with the house’s money, and threatened any man who tried to stop him from walking out the door. There were no takers.

In addition to his cheating skills at the gambling tables, Devol fleeced more than willing suckers at one of the oldest card scams, known as Three-Card Monte.  Also known as Find the Lady and Three-card Trick, it is a slight of hand confidence game in which the victim, or mark, is tricked into betting a sum of money, on the assumption that they can find the money card among three face-down playing cards.

It is an example of a classic short con in which a shill pretends to conspire with the mark to cheat the dealer, while in fact conspiring with the dealer to cheat the mark. The mark has no chance whatsoever of winning, at any point in the game. In fact, anyone who is observed winning anything in the game can be assumed to be a shill.

Devol worked the scam with a number of con artists; his partners were Sherman Thurston, Jew Mose and Dad Ryan. John Bull, Ben Marks, Cowboy Tripp, Doc Baggs, and Frank Tarbeaux, but he was most known for using Canada Bill Jones.

Canada Bill Jones – A master Three-Card Monte thrower that worked with George Devol in fleecing gullible travelers on riverboats and trains.

CANADA BILL JONES WAS the perfect partner to fleece marks on riverboats, at train stations, or any other location that proved lucrative. Chief among their various routines was a ploy that cast Jones as a bumbling Three-Card Monte thrower and Devol, as a shill, playing a sly player. Devol wins several throws while the crowd watches. Then, while the thrower fumbles with the cards Devol mutters to onlookers that he can spot the winning ace by a bent corner. At this point, others join in on the betting and before they know it, their sure thing turns sour with Jones raking in all of the money. The drawing that follows illustrates the masters at work on the Mayflower steamboat:

George Devol (in dark beard) works with Canada Bill (standing at the table) skinning suckers at Three-Card Monte.

CANADA BILL JONES WAS the working nickname of William Jones; described as without doubt the greatest three-card-monte sharp ever to work the boats, perhaps the greatest of them all. George Devol described him as:

"... a character one might travel the length and breadth of the land and never find his match or run across his equal. Imagine a medium-sized, chicken-headed, tow-haired sort of a man with mild blue eyes, and a mouth nearly from ear to ear, who walked with a shuffling, half-apologetic sort of a gait, and who, when his countenance was in repose, resembled an idiot. His clothes were always several sizes too large, and his face was as smooth as a woman's and never had a particle of hair on it.

Canada was a slick one. He had a squeaking, boyish voice, and awkward gawky manners, and a way of asking fool questions and putting on a good-natured sort of a grin that led everybody to believe that he was the rangiest kind of sucker - the greenest sort of country jake. Woe to the man who picked him up, though, Canada was, under all his hypocritical appearance, a regular card shark, and could turn monte with the best of them."

William Jones (Canada Bill Jones) was born in a gypsy tent in Yorkshire, England in 1837. He was taught all the skills of sleight of hand card manipulation at a young age, and continued sharpening his skills until, in 1860, he left England and turned up in Canada. Once there, he teamed up with Dick Cady as a thrower in the Three-Card Monte scams.

After a few years, he left Canada for greener pastures south of the border. He wound up in New Orleans, and, seeing the opportunities of fleecing the riverboat traffic, he hitched up with George Devol, Holly Chappell and Tom Brown. Brown's share alone was reportedly $240,000. After the foursome broke up, Jones and Devol continued working the boats and railroads, as well as the city itself, with Devol playing the role of the role of capper. Devol claimed Bill as a close friend, lauding his honesty and generosity—presumably referring more to his relations with his partners than with his marks.

An early illustration of the Three-Card Monte scammers working a couple of suckers traveling on a train.

APPARENTLY, HONESTY among thieves is hard to come by. It was while Canada Bill and Devol were working on a Red River steamboat, that they conned a player out of $3,800. When it came time divvy up the loot, Canada Bill split the proceeds with Devol, claiming the pot totaled only $3,500. Devol got wind of the gyp that Jones had played on him, and without tipping his hand, got back at his partner when he conspired to have a purported sucker secretly in league with Devol unexpectedly pick the money card. In another incident, Devol arranged to have a player win $2,500 from Canada Bill, but Canada Bill paid with a short pile of bills—a road roll, which Allan Pinkerton, founder of the Pinkerton National Detective Agency, described as a showy pile of bills of small denomination, presumably with larger bills on the outside to conceal the true sum. The partners broke up after that, no longer trusting each other.

Jones was generally known as a kind and charitable man. A detective once described him as gentle as a woman and as cunning as a fox and could beat any man at his own game, adding that Jones liked to snake in the greenhorns. According to Allan Pinkerton, founder of America's Pinkerton National Detective Agency:

Jones' personal appearance, which was most ludicrous, undeniably had much to do with his success. He was the veritable country gawky, the ridiculous, ignorant, absurd creature that has been so imperfectly imitated on and off the stage for years, and whose true description can scarcely be written. He was fully six feet high, with dark eyes and hair, and always had a smooth-shaven face, full of seams and wrinkles, that were put to all manner of difficult expressions with a marvelous facility and ease. All this coupled with long, loose-jointed arms, long, thin, and apparently a trifle unsteady legs, a shambling, shuffling, awkward gait, and this remarkable face and head bent forward and turned a little to one side, like an inquiring and wise owl, and then an outfit of Granger clothing, the entire cost of which never exceeded fifteen dollars—made a combination that never failed to call a smile to a stranger’s face, or awaken a feeling of curiosity and interest wherever he might be seen.

One striking difference between Canada Bill and all the other sharpers of his criminal breed lay in the fact that he was the thing he appeared to be—the wandering vagabond that was the most unaffected, innocent, and really simple-hearted of human beings. Devol stated that he once witnessed Jones hand $50 to a Sister of Charity he passed on the street.

When the Civil War ended Jones moved to Kansas City, where he partnered with Dutch Charlie. After winning $200,000 there, they began working the Omaha, Nebraska to Kansas City trains.

Furious at the blatant thievery of the scams being perpetrated on the Union Pacific Railroad, the management started cracking down on Three-Card Monte players. In response, Jones wrote to the general superintendent of the railroad, offering $10,000 a year to obtain an exclusive franchise. Additional accounts reported that he offered Union Pacific's officers $1000 a month or $30,000 a year if they would let him play his Three- Card Monte scams on their trains, but those offers were vehemently rejected.

JONES MOVED ON TO CHICAGO, in 1874, teaming up with Jimmy Porter and Colonel Charlie Starr. While there, he opened and worked four gambling houses, all reportedly with criminal histories. Winning and losing as much as $150,000 in a year, he reportedly was often duped by other gamblers during short card cons. Moving on to Cleveland with Porter, he continued to lose to professionals there as fast as he won from his marks. His downfall—the faro tables. It seemed impossible for Jones to pass up a faro bank.

An often-told story about Jones’ addiction to the faro games says that he was once stuck in a backwater town and sought out a faro table. His pockets were filled with Three-Card Monte cash from his skinned suckers. As he was playing and losing, a friend drew him aside and said: Bill, don’t you know that this a rigged game.

Jones sighed and replied, Yeah, I know, but it’s the only game in town.

A faro game showing the dealer (with eye shade), the faro layout on which bets were placed, and the casekeeper who kept a running display of which cards had been played.

AS THE YEARS PASSED, Devol travelled extensively throughout the West looking for Poker action. He played many high stakes poker games on trains and once even cleaned out one of the directors of the railroad in which he was travelling, resulting in the said director banning all future gaming on his trains.

Eventually, in 1896 at the age of 67, Devol retired from gambling and spent his remaining years selling copies of his memoirs: Forty Years a Gambler on the Mississippi.

Forty Years a Gambler on the Mississippi

George Devol’s Forty Years a Gambler on the Mississippi was written to be sold to the public and keep him afloat because he had lost most of the millions that he had made through the years. Though not an autobiography, it was intended to glorify his exploits as a master card sharp and con artist. In a few of the accounts he embellishes them with a few lines of poetry to lend some modicum of scholarly prowess.

In telling his stories, Devol portrays himself as a master gambler in poker, either straight up or using all of his chicanery tricks. He describes how he inserted cold decks into games and how he manipulated hands to get a victim (he called them suckers) to bet high and lose—either to him or one of his confederates.  Many of his stories describe the use of bartenders as accomplices, as well as stewards, and even ship captains. Anything was possible with the right amount of bribery.

Devol goes into repetitive accounts of bilking suckers by playing three card monte where he used cappers to draw a crowd around his table. After winning several bets, the capper would secretly inform those huddled around Devol’s throwing table, that the winning card had a bent corner or some other mark. At that point, the crowd was more than willing to bet large sums of money to turn up the winning card (usually one of the face cards—the Jack, Queen or King). Using this technique, Devol and his cohorts looted the wallets of boat or train travelers with great success, sometimes getting away with over $10,000. Bear in mind that at the time, a suit of nice clothes could be purchased for as little as twenty-six dollars.

Several of the stories describe Devol winning much more than cash. He would front losing players who would put up jewelry, pistols, plantation slaves, loads of cotton, bills of sale to chickens or goats, a ten-foot alligator, or even a floating Daguerreotype studio. Devol won them all.

Other stories tell of Devol’s penchant for fighting and narrowly escaping from being murdered. His main claim to fame was his ponderous forehead that could render an opponent knocked silly—often winding up with the man sprawled on the floor with a bloody forehead and a broken nose. In one of Devol’s episodes, he described a fight between a man that said Devol had cheated him out of $5,000. Both men went down on the deck, removed their coats, and duked it out. Devol floored the man with his battering ram of a head, saying, I struck him between the eyes, and he fell over as if he had been shot.

Devol readily admits throughout his memoirs that his downfall was his inability to stay away from the faro games (also known as faro banks). After winning large amounts from suckers in poker games or the three card monte scams, he then would immediately lose it all to faro dealers. A running theme found in several of his stories show how others tried and failed to convince him from squandering his winnings at faro tables. Devol lamented the fact that he was smart enough to trim suckers and yet, dumb enough to lose it all with the turn of a faro card.

It is interesting to note that Devol’s publisher turned out to be as shady as the crooked gambler himself. His memoir masterpiece was published by the Home Book Company, 45 Vesey street, New York.  The company was started by Frank F. Lovell and his brother Charles in 1892. They specialized in producing books for 50 cents a book; the books were bound in cloth and meant to be sold for two dollars.

So, Devol would make a buck fifty for each book he sold. Not a bad profit, but he would have to sell a wheelbarrow full each month to eke out a meager living.

Apparently, Devol barely received his supply of books before the company went belly up. In a report dated