Archive for June, 2009
Im Not A Gambler Part2
Author: admin
I'll also tell you about the honesty of one casino—how my Keno ticket was worth a thousand dollars more than I thought, and how they went out of their way to upgrade my ticket and pay me every dollar due me.
In addition to all this, I want to assure you that I'm not a compulsive gambler.
I've never been to a race track. I agree with legendary gambler Nick the Greek: Never bet on anything that eats.
I don't buy lottery tickets—though I've collected lottery money prizes five times in my life, including a $1300 Lotto ticket! But more about that later.
I don't play poker with the boys.
I shy away from office baseball and football pools.
I've only bet once at OTB (Off-Track Betting) in New York, and I quit winners.
I didn't even pitch pennies with the kids in grade school.
But yes, I do gamble at the casinos, and I've been doing it for four decades. When I first went to the Las Vegas Sands in 1960, I was wide-eyed and hell-bent to break the bank. The one who ended up broke was me, and I was lucky to have enough left for cab fare back from the airport to my apartment. Parenthetically, in New York, before the days of the lotteries, the East Coast casinos and OTB, the race tracks were the serious gambler's only refuge. There are stories about horseplayers that lost their shirts at the track who had the foresight to put a nickel—subways were a nickel then— in a rented ten-cent locker to insure having the fare for the return trip home.
Today I go to the casinos with an entirely different mind-set. No, I don't want to clean out their cashier cages, or take home their chandeliers, I only want to nibble away at them. Hit and run—Lyle Stuart taught it to me—and that's the only way I know to beat the casinos. Years ago, during a weekend at Caesars Palace, I was strolling over to the elevator when I saw a heavy-set man sitting—yes, sitting—at the end of a craps table. In front of him, piled on the racks and on the table itself, was the highest mountain of chips I have ever seen in front of one player. He appeared to be playing almost everything on the table—all the numbers, proposition bets, the field—the works. I watched for a few minutes and then went to my room for some shut-eye. Six hours later I returned to the casino. The fellow was still there, sitting in front of his chips . . . only now there was no mountain—it was barely a molehill—a lot fewer chips there than there were the night before. Here was a man who should have hit and run hours ago.
In his book on gambling, John Scarne tells the lesson-to-be-learned classic story of the busboy from a Strip casino who took his paycheck downtown to the Fremont Street casinos. Lady Luck smiled on him as he gambled through the night and miraculously worked his meager bankroll up to $50,000. Toward dawn his luck turned sour and—you guessed it—he lost it all, sadly drag-assing himself at 9:00 A.M. back to his menial busboy job on the Strip. Scarne then astutely noted that, even if the busboy had run up his bankroll to $75,000 or even $100,000 or more, he would have doggedly stayed at the tables until he was completely tapped out. I read it years ago, and never forgot the lesson I learned there. I hope you'll always remember it too.
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Im Not A Gambler
Author: admin
I never expected to write a book on gambling. Me, I'm just a guy who's been gambling in casinos since the spring of 1960, when my friend Lyle Stuart talked me into flying to Las Vegas from New York—a daring endeavor and extraordinary then in those days of mostly propeller-driven planes. This, for a scant three days and two nights, all just to see a legendary casino show that would become known as "The Summit Meeting." It starred Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis, Jr., Peter Lawford, and Joey Bishop. By night they performed together on stage at the Sands, while by day they were filming Ocean's ii. Forty years and hundreds of casinos later, I have to admit that I haven't seen a better casino show since that first one. Gambling-wise, I've done a lot better since, but it was a torturous—and rather expensive—journey. In retrospect, what it cost me in blood money—money that at one point I couldn't afford to lose—amounted to the dues I paid to reach where I am today.
What I am going to tell you in this book will save you a lot of dollars. I'll confess the costly mistakes I've made so that you can avoid them. The information I offer cost me many thousands of dollars in pitfalls and pratfalls along the way. I finally wised up, but it was an expensive journey. I learned it the hard way, but I can help you to learn it the easy way.
A gambler who lies to himself and to others is doomed forever to dwell among the ranks of losers. If you gamble and you want to enter the thinly populated world of the winners, learn that you cannot live in the bullshit dimension. Don't imitate the casinos. They tell you "their" casino is "The friendliest" in Atlantic City or Las Vegas, that "they" want you to come (with your bankroll) and "feel like part of the family."
It's all sham.
The casinos play hardball all the time. If you want to have a chance to beat them at their own games, you must understand that they are suckering you. Keep your wits about you at all times, until you're safely heading home with your winnings. With my two no-hitters against the casinos in a little over two months, I can write with a modicum of authority.
Don't get me wrong. Arrogance and smug self-assurance are the quicksand that'll gobble up a gambler's bankroll. I never approach a gambling table without the utmost caution—the same caution with which I would approach a bear trap. On May 16, 1999, I played at fourteen blackjack tables in twelve casinos in a row in one day without a loss. At the fourteenth table—my last table for the day—I exercised as much caution in playing as I did at my first table, when I was fresh off the bus from New York.
This book is not only about blackjack. I will share with you my experiences with every game in the casino, including my onetime love/hate relationships with Keno and the money-hungry slot machines. I'll even tell you about one flawed slot machine that I emptied out, and how I had the sweet thrill of watching the sour-faced attendant turn the depleted machine to the wall.
Some of what I write is anecdotal. I will relate my adventures in dozens of casinos, from Monte Carlo and Nice, to Reno and Waldorf, Maryland, as well as my stints in illegal casinos in Hot Springs, Arkansas. I'll tell you about times I was cheated—yes, cheated—in Atlantic City and in Las Vegas—and the times dishonest casino employees cheated the casinos in my favor, hoping for a handsome "toke" (tip).
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