A cautionary tale from the Minneapolis Tribune:

MATCHING BILLS IS SUCH FUN!

Sightseer Misses Bus,
Gets Taken for $500 Ride

William Priebe, 25, missed a trip on a sight-seeing bus in Minneapolis Tuesday. Instead, he got an expensive view on how some of the city’s sharper citizens operate.

The Michigan City, Ind., man was approached by a stranger in the bus depot. Learning Priebe was going to Lake Louise, Canada, on a fishing trip, the stranger said, my, my, isn’t that a coincidence, so am I.

MISSES BUS

While discussing fish lures, sucker bait, etc., Priebe missed the bus which would have taken him on a nice tour around Minneapolis lakes.

The stranger said to never mind, he would show Priebe the city. Outside the bus station, by another coincidence, the stranger picked up a friend.

Afternoon coffee is a Minneapolis custom, the strangers told Priebe, and what fun it is to match for the bill.

Priebe matched coins with the men, getting free coffee.

The matching continued until the second stranger and Priebe each lost $500 to Priebe’s bus station friend. The second stranger paid up immediately and insisted that Priebe do the same.

COUGHS UP $500

Priebe cashed several traveler’s checks and handed the winner the $500. Just then, a motorcycle policeman came by and the winner hastily pocketed the money.

“We better scatter. I think he knows we’ve been gambling,” said the stranger. “I’ll see you later in the bus station and we’ll resume our fishing trip.” But, Priebe sadly told police, his fishing companion never reappeared.

The Union Bus Depot on North Seventh Street in Minneapolis in April 1950. Look familiar? (Photo courtesy mnhs.org)

The Star Tribune of 2008 is appalled by the racially insensitive terms used by the Star Journal of 1940 to describe the two women in this story. Consider yourself warned.

WANTED: GYPSY TO ‘BLESS’ JAIL CELL

The gypsy who unfolded the fortune of a 28-year-old Negro woman here neglected to tell her the experience was going to cost her something over $200.

The woman told her story to police last night after the gypsy failed to return from an expedition in which she was to “bless” a rug, radio and clothing.

The gypsy came to her home July 27, she said, and offered to tell the woman’s fortune for a quarter. She would have none of it. But the gypsy woman kept on talking, letting drop certain facts about her intended victim’s life.

When she mentioned the victim had had marital difficulties, and she knew what to do about it, the woman agreed to a reading.

The gypsy told her, among other things, that two men were desperately in love with her, and advised her which one to accept.

Then she asked for money to bless. A quarter was tied in a silk handkerchief, “blessed” with a sprinkling of salt and considerable mumbo-jumbo, then suspended around the victim’s neck

THE NEXT DAY THE GYPSY RETURNED, LOOKED OVER THE QUARTER, FOUND THAT THE BLESSING WAS REALLY HOT STUFF AND SAID SHE HAD TO HAVE MORE MONEY TO BLESS.

The victim produced $13, which was tied up in like fashion and blessed in the same way, then suspended around her neck.

* * *

The gypsy returned again the following day, grunted again in satisfaction at the way the blessing project was working out, and said that for the business to be really efficacious, some larger, more valuable articles should be brought in for blessing.

* * *

The woman bought a $32.50 radio and a $150 oriental rug, both on time, and the gypsy woman examined them with satisfaction.

FOR SUCH FINE ARTICLES, SHE SAID, NO ORDINARY DOMESTIC JOB OF BLESSING WOULD DO.

They would have to be subjected to an extra special blessing project at a location where the gypsy woman hangs out (a detail which police today would like to know).

The victim helped the gypsy load the rug, radio and $14 worth of clothes into a taxicab to be taken away for some Grade A blessing operations.

When the gypsy failed to return the articles the next day, the seed of suspicion was sown. When she failed to return also the day afterward, it sprouted.

The victim untied the silk handkerchief with the $13 in it.

No $13.

There was only some old cloth and a sprinkling of salt.

* * *

Her loss amounted to $209.50, a large part of which she still must pay on the rug and radio.

Police are going to ask the gypsy woman, when they catch up with her, to bless a jail cell, a very intricate and long-drawn project.

Sometimes a fortune teller can’t get a word in edgewise. The woman having her palm read in this 1940 photo appears to be recounting her entire life story. (Photo courtesy mnhs.org)

From the Minneapolis Morning Tribune:

A Scene in the Municipal Court.

Three lads, ranging in age from 10 to 15 years, were brought into the municipal court Friday, charged with the larceny of five handsleds. The lads were arraigned and admitted their guilt to the extent of one sled each. They were sent into an anteroom and the business of the court proceeded.

Finally there came a lull, and Judge Cooley, a gray-haired, pleasant-faced gentleman, passed into the room where the lads were waiting to learn their fate.

	These members of the Minneapolis Journal newsboys club probably earned enough money hawking newspapers to buy their own handsleds. Or perhaps a pair of shoes. (Photo courtesy mnhs.org)

Taking a seat in front of the little culprits, who were seated in a group looking very much frightened, the judge said: “Boys, this is a sad business. You have pleaded guilty to a crime the penalty for which is a term of years in the reform school. It is probably best that you be sentenced to that institution. If you are given your liberty it will only be to go from bad to worse, and you will finally commit some much graver crime. I am sorry for you. Your position is a sad one indeed.”

Then to the youngest: “Do you want to see your mother before you go down?” The lips of the lad, who was a clean-faced, bright-eyed, curly-haired little fellow, quivered at the mention of his mother’s name, and he could hardly control his voice to answer, “Yes, sir.”

The same question was asked the second, a lad of 12, a trifle more stolid in appearance, but there was a tremor in the voice as he too answered earnestly in the affirmative.

“And you, my lad?” to the oldest, whose unkempt appearance must have prompted the question which followed. “Is your mother in the city?” “No, sir.” “When will she be here?” “Tomorrow.” “Where is your father?” “I don’t know – in Milwaukee, I believe.” “What is he doing?” “I don’t know, sir.” “Do you want to see your mother before you go down?” “Yes, sir.”

The kindly face of Judge Cooley was very sober as he looked at this lad. “It is a sad case,” he said in aside to Clerk Stevens, “and it will be a kindness to the boy to send him to the reform school, where he will have a home and care.”

The lad has a history that is calculated to win for him the sympathy and pity of all but the most depraved. The father and mother separated years ago, the former apparently no longer takes interest in his child’s welfare. The mother is a woman of bad character, “though,” said Clerk Stevens to the reporter, “it can be said to her credit that she does her best to hide her misdeeds from the lad; but a boy of his age sees enough and hears enough from his companions to know that all is not right.”

“Boys,” said the judge, who had been very attentively studying the faces of the two younger lads for some moments, “if I permit you to go home now, will you report here tomorrow morning at 9 o’clock to learn the final disposition of your cases?” Both little faces brightened and both quickly responded, “Yes, sir.” “Can I trust you?” “Yes, sir.” “Well, you can go.” “Now?” “Yes.” And they were off like a flash.

“Wait, my lad,” said the judge to the oldest, who had started with the others, “you must stay with the officer until your mother comes. You are older than your companions, and appear to have been their leader in the commission of this crime. I shall send you to the reform school, but you shall first see your mother.”

The boy resumed his seat, and for some minutes his sobs only broke the stillness. Judge Cooley looked sober. His duty was evidently a painful one. The court officers seemed moved by the peculiarly sad lot of a boy who had been deserted by his father and who was worse than motherless.

“I will talk a little farther with the younger lads in the morning,” said the judge, “and suspend sentence. It is probably their first criminal act, and may be their last.”

In 1882, Minnesota’s bad boys landed in the State Reform School near Marshall and Hamline in St. Paul. Plagued by overcrowding in its later years, it was relocated to Red Wing in 1891. (Photo courtesy mnhs.org)