The great Chicago-area slot machine wars of the late 1940s pitted slot owners against various local law-enforcement agencies and those agencies against each other . . .
. . . while the federal government stood by, content to collect taxes.
Politicians try for the jackpot in a war on one-armed bandits — one of a series of mine, The Way We Were, in Chicago Tribune Sunday Magazine in the early ‘80s . . .
The Republican sheriff of Cook County, Elmer Walsh, and Democratic Cook County State's Attorney John S. Boyle vied with each other in cracking down on the one-armed bandits. The machines were illegal locally but legal under federal law and therefore subject to taxation by the Internal Revenue Service.
As county authorities announced the confiscation and destruction of hundreds of the machines, John T. Jarecki, collector of internal revenue for northern Illinois, routinely issued thousands of slot-machine licenses at $100 each. Meanwhile, The Tribune printed the names of taverns and fraternal organizations that had purchased the licenses. Most were never raided.
When raids did occur and the slot-machine owners were arrested, a common defense was to claim they were slot-machine repairmen, thus explaining the presence of the devices on their property.
Collector Jarecki's records frequently showed Lake County establishments leading the list of slot-machine licensees. Indeed, in March of 1948 some 600 machines were registered in Lake County. Through it all, the county's chief deputy sheriff denied the existence of the machines. "We wouldn't allow it," he insisted.
Federal records for September of 1949 showed Illinois first among the 48 states in slot-machine licenses with some 7,000 -- nearly 10 percent of the national total.
For State's Attorney Boyle, matters came to a head August 21, 1949, at a Leyden Township Democratic Party picnic attended by 30,000 in Franklin Park. Boyle addressed the crowd from the speakers' platform, then was whisked away before he noticed the 18 slot machines operating on the picnic grounds. Some of the proceeds from the machines went to the Leyden Township Democratic Organization.
Boyle was furious when he learned that the law had been broken right under his nose at a party function. The next day he declared war on slots, including those used at political rallies. A few weeks later, Boyle's men seized 25 machines in a series of raids. "The public has to be protected," Boyle said. "The machines are geared so you can't win."
Once an important source of crime-syndicate income, illegal slot machines later faded from the Chicago scene. But as recently as 1970, six were confiscated from a group of Round Lake volunteer firemen. Proceeds from the machines, they explained, were to be used to help buy a new ambulance for their department.