Crusade

In a dingy courtroom stinking of vermifuge, at Mays Landing, N. J., last week, two petty criminals stood before the bar of justice. The man was convicted of bookmaking (horse-race betting), sentenced to a year in prison, fined $1,000. The woman was found guilty of running a disorderly house, given three years imprisonment, also fined $1,000. The cases of the gambler and the procuress did not excite Atlantic County interest as examples of routine viciousness, but as the first definite results of an unusually elaborate crusade conducted by a newspaper.

Seldom does even the most sensational journal concern itself with corruption outside its own city. But the Hearst-owned New York Evening Journal had seen fit to start a campaign last month to clean up the politics of gaudy Atlantic City, 123 mi. away. Its action was explained by the fact that the resort, a happy hunting ground for shillabers and sharpsters, is frequently visited by the Journal's clientele.

Since the first of January, the Journal has carried not less than a half-page a day crammed with news characteristically bold-stroked, free-swinging and Hearstian. As a result of its findings, the sober element of Atlantic citizenry have banded together, led by the Chamber of Commerce, to run Mayor Anthony M. Ruffu Jr. and his henchmen out of town.

The convictions at Mays Landing last week were part of a general house-cleaning anticipated by long-suffering townsmen. The procuress, Kitty Harris, operated her lupanar at No. 2128 Arctic Ave., Atlantic City. Shrewd Journal reporters alleged that she had not only enjoyed official patronage, but was the Mayor's tenant. The bookmaker, Louis O'Donnell, had the distinction of being the first member of his profession to be sent to prison by the rusty wheels of Atlantic County justice in 33 years.

Of the nefarious activities of Mayor Ruffu and his banditti, the Journal has reported:

"Mayor Ruffu, in addition to his manifold duties in selling insurance to the city and renting disorderly houses . . . using his office as chief magistrate of Atlantic City's law and government to jockey a gambling business into a friend's pocket . . . finds time to supervise bureaus.

"Virtually every one of these public activities of Mayor Ruffu has called down criticism. . . .

"One of the busiest of the 'magistrates' is Frank Waldmayer, who is commonly addressed and referred to by the assumed title of 'Chief City Magistrate.' . . .

"One of the outstanding things for which Chief Magistrate Waldmayer is beloved is the bar in the cellar of his home. . . .

"A confrere, Magistrate Herman Satinovera, told Evening Journal reporters: 'Magistrate Waldmayer is the only man in town who serves better liquor than Nocky Johnson at the Ritz. His bar is wonderful. . . .' "

One alleged business venture of Magistrate Waldmayer's is the publication of a handbook, thickly padded with complimentary advertising. "Some of the advertisers are known as bootleggers, white slavers, gamblers and confidence men."

The Journal, in probing corrupt minutia in the city's government found:

"It took an experienced police officer three days to put together a distribution chart of the force . . . no proper records are kept . . . crime prevention and arrests are kept secret. . . ."

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