This is the third article in a seven-part series of stories surrounding the mystery of who robbed the Oak Saloon in 1910, running from June 18 through July 30.
In its application for statehood in 1895, the Utah territorial legislature declared all forms of gambling in Utah illegal. Saloons, brothels, and gaming establishments were not welcomed by the majority of Utah residents. Games for money or other property, which may be put at stake and won, including card playing, were condemned. Brigham Young had set the tone in an 1866 sermon saying, “Let a judge decree that … a gambling saloon shall be established in our city, and we will give him the privilege to get out of the city as quickly as he can.”
While it was the proud boast of the Salt Lake City police department that there was no gambling going on in the city, chips rattled merrily over the green tables at the Clift House gambling resort at the corner of Third South and Main Street (at 280 Main Street) on May 24, 1910. Cards were shuffled and dealt enthusiastically; poker was being played for high stakes. Sixteen men, many of them prominent in local circles, were seated around the tables taking their chances on hearts, diamonds, spades, and clubs.
Credit: Image Courtesy of the Marriott Library, University of Utah.
At 3:30 a.m., one of the most daring holdups in the annals of crime in the city occurred. It was a strikingly similar robbery to the Oak Saloon incident, and just one month later. Two masked men, with big revolvers drawn, suddenly entered the gambling suite by way of the hotel’s room 9. The gamblers were commanded to throw up their hands and line up against the wall or meet death instantly. One of the robbers kept the gamblers “covered” while the other quickly but thoroughly searched the gamesters, taking cash, rings, diamonds, and watches worth an estimated $3,500 (over $113,000 today).
The highwaymen said almost nothing until they had finished and then swore lustily, wishing their victims “good night and better luck next time.” After securing everything of value they could lay their hands on, the thieves ran downstairs and disappeared on west Third South Street. The pair vanished so effectively that the police could not find even the faintest clue to their disappearance. The police department was shaken to its very core.
As with the robbery of the Oak saloon in Park City, the Clift House raid was expertly carried out with precision. The bandits were cool, calm, and deliberate in their actions. Both had big revolvers and conducted the robberies with the dispassion of professionals and then disappeared completely.
Unlike the Clift House robbery, the thieves who robbed the Oak did not search any of the patrons there. The gunmen did not take anything from the twenty-five men they lined up against the saloon’s wall. Among the players at the Clift House, Al Smith stood mute while a diamond ring worth $650 was deftly slipped from his finger. Smith also lost his watch and chain. It was thought that the two men were the same ones who attempted to rob the First National Bank of Layton on May 20, 1910. Will we learn the culprits’ identities? Stay tuned for part four.