AN INTERVIEW WITH THE CLEVEREST PICKPOCKET IN LONDON.

Waikato Times, Volume XXIX, Issue 2394, 12 November 1887, Page 2 (Supplement)

AN INTERVIEW WITH THE CLEVEREST PICKPOCKET IN LONDON.

Sonin few weeks ago an article appeared in these pages, entitled ‘ How Pickpockets are Trained,’ and the ‘training-home’ thou referred to was not an imaginary abode, hut to-day still keeps up a very nourishing business in one of the busiest thoroughfares in the metropolis. Whilst visiting this retreat I was particularly struck with the appearance of one of its inmates, a tall, gentlemanlylooking individual, faultlessly dressed in the very ‘latest.’ I described him to a member of 1 the force,' who somewhat startled me by saying. ‘ Why, he’s the cleverest pickpocket in London, sir ! I've ■•at disguised of course in that kitchen nights together, in hopes of hearing sometiling which might incriminate him ; but lie’s a sharp customer, and would bailie Jack Ketcli himself.’

I determined to know more of my friend, and after waiting in the vicinity of ' Good Beds ’ —which, to the curious, J might mention is in the neighbourhood of Pentonvillc— for at least a wick, 1 was rewarded witii a clut with this much-sought-after individual, which may prove interesting to the readers of TitBits.

He was an elderly, grey man, with every hair of his head in a fine state of preservation. He told me not to hesitate in using the name ‘Pickpocket,’ for he was proud of his profession, and ei'inaliy proud of his aptitude in evading a certain class of gentlemen who were very anxious to provide him with board and lodging free, gratis, ami for nothing.

‘ \ou see, sir, that’s where they make a very great mistake. Every one, of them knows mo, but,’ and he chuckled inwardly, ‘they forgot that I am on finally good terms with them, and we both understand we’ve got our eyes on one another. Why do I live in such a wretched place as that?'—intimating the lodging-house we had just left—' For

very simple reasons If 1 put up at first class hotels, the proprietors would soon he warned of my presence, and I should he requested to partake of my bed and breakfast somewhere else. Jf I took lodgings —well, I am so popular that my movements arc always watched and apart from that, my ‘pickings’ are very uncertain. Honour where itonour is cine, sir, and I give the ‘tecs’ credit for this that I have gone days together and been unable to touch a three penny hit. I may live on the fat of the land one week and regale myself the next with dry bread and weak tea.’

Tills latter statement, I might mention in passing, I know to lie true, for before I made his acquaintance I had watched him enjoying what he described as ‘dry bread ’ and ‘weak tea.’

‘ And how long have you been in the profession T I asked.

“ Well, I’m sixty-eight years of age, and I can put more titan half a century to my credit. To go into particulars, my first offence was a silk pocket-handker-chief, and now, if there is half a chance, I will help myself to anything between a snuff box and a gold hunter with any man in London. Talking of silk pockethandkerchiefs reminds mo of where I spent some years when I first commenced to practice—Petticoat Lane. Why, sir, it is only a few years ago when you might have gone down the Lane, bought as fine a ‘silk’ fora shilling ns ever decorated a coat pocket, and then have found that identical handkerchief a few doors higher up, re ticketed and displayed in the windows for sale ! Don’t you see what I mean, sir. That handkerchief you put in your coat-tail pocket, and my fingers wore specially engaged by the very gentleman who sold it to you I’

1 I should any I partook of the hospitality of Her Majesty more during the first twenty years of my practice than at any other time (luring my life. I look upon six mouths in ‘ the palace’as a little holiday, and when it amounts to a question of years, well, 1 comfort myself with the thought that they are so fond of me that it’s a pleasure to them to know I am under the same roof. It’s over seven years now since I rested on a hard mattress and swallowed broad a trifle worse —you can tell that by my hair, sir. ‘ Where do the majority of gentlemen ong'god in a similar calling to myself live ? Everywhere, sir. You see, wo have to be continually on the move, and personally, 1 seldom remain in the same place more than a week or so. There are probably few of tlie-called cheap lodg-ing-houses that do not shelter a few of us. There’s any amount 'over the water.’ Brick Lane has no reason to complain, Trawl Street used to be in great favour. Great Pearl and around about Spitalfields are well known to the opposition party—the police, and, in spite of what people might say about modern improvement, I could to-day take you to houses in Flour and Dean-sfreets and introduce yon to some old acquaintances and trusty friends of mine, "Take a man like myself, sir. If I was off to Dublin to-morrow, I’ll guarantee they would know it over there long before I arrived. But, without a doubt, London is still a sort of pick-pocket paradise, and the 'beginner’ stands a much better chance than the 'old band.’ Oh, it’s a fact. They may not be so nimble with their fingers, lint the 1 tecs ’ prefer to watch the old ’mis rather than direct their attention to young blood." You are quite right, sir—in order that a pickpocket should proceed in his profession he must be an * actor—aye, a master of bis art, and you will never find a clever man at a loss even when detected. This is quite true. He picks a pocket, ho plays his part. ‘ Yonremember Jem Dalton, the ‘ tiger ’ in ‘Still Waters Run Deep,’ and how Jem so completely disguised himself in the bill broker’s office that he even did business with Hawkshaw the detective, who was seated at the desk as one of the clerks, ready to arrest him 1 Rather risky ; but a sharp man would not hesitate to do jobs equally as hazardous.

“Iq my younger clays I was prepared with any disguise between a costermonger and a parson, and bare operated upon all classes of society. ‘ I well remember a favourite dogde of mine—for I would occasionally drop 1 the pocket’—and one I practiced for a very considerable period. Old maiden ladies were my victims.

‘I would soon acquaint myself with their whereabouts in the town I bad selected to ‘ workfind out their peculiarities, and visit them as secretary of some society about to be formed in the town, the president of which, some big London ‘ noli,' was particularly anxious that they should be ‘ on the committee.” This delighted the old ladies, and it was immense, sir, the way I used to lead those dear old confiding souls to chat, and it was often with the greatest difficulty I managed to refuse their invitations to take tea. I seldom had to ask for a subscription—l always got it.

1 Have I had any narrow escapes ? Well, yes, a few. I have seen the very man next to me accused of relieving a gent of his watch and chain, when those same very desirable articles were in rny possession. Often, when seeing a brother in distress, have I arrested him before, a crowd could gather, taking the gentleman’s name and address and walking my friend off to the nearest hack street, where we shook hands over ‘ another one to our side.’ The last time I had occasion to do this was in Islington. l As to my travelling experiences, I ‘ know ’ every town in England, and in my prime was never absent from any important race meeting, and mingled with the crowd on all occasions. I’m too wellknown now, sir ; I do little, hut I do it well, so to fill up my time I occasionally lend a helping hand to my old friend at ‘ The Home,' who has charge of those youngsters under training, and they, I hope, will one day maintain the dignity of a profession which will flourish so long as there is a pocket to be picked. Good day, sir.’

And this worthy individual departed, on the look-out for the first opportunity of ‘ helping himself.’—London Tid-Bits.

Of the eight sub-Commi.ssioners appointed in Dublin under the new Lind Act, four of them are Presbyterians. Al,o the important documents of the Irish Land League have been removed from the headquarters in Dublin. Sarah Bkhsharut has been coining money in London. Her receipts have averaged over £ooo for each performance. The Pope has received home and foreign contributions amounting to £28,000 toward defraying the expenses of his jubilee.

Jenny Lino’s Latter Days. —A recent writer says: I was speaking the other day with an elderly Swedish gentleman about the stories one hears in Australia of the sensation the Swedish nightingale, Jenny Lind, created in Ifso—of how people still told of hearing her marvellous voice in the street outside the halls and churches in which she sang. He had known her ever since childhood, and is an intimate friend of an old gentleman still living in Stockholm who was the tenor in the old opera company she first belonged to in 18137, and who was engaged to be married to her. He told me many things of her later life. She is plain and whitehaired now, with a severe expression of face. She is very pious, and most of her time is spent in bemoaning the days when she was sinful enough to appear on the stage. She is intolerant toward young singers, sneering at their voices and their vocations alike, and rebukes any one who ventures to address her as Jenny Lind. I was told ot a case some years ago, when she was visiting in London, and her host brought to her a young Swedish singer, who had won fame and respect in Europe ami America, ami was proud of the opportunity of paying- homage to Jenny Lind. She made the mistake of alluding to this name, and was so cruelly snubbed iu consequence that Mine. Goldschmidt was never again asked to that house.