Casino – You Aint Dead Til Your Ass Is Cold Part2
Emboldened by the windfall of quarters, I decided to upgrade my play and resolutely headed directly to the dollar machines. A couple of $500 hits and a spectacular $1,000 jackpot later, I was suddenly a player with a bankroll, ready for action again at the blackjack tables.
I wish I could give this casino Cinderella story a happy ending, but it turned out that my late financial resurgence that day was all for naught. 1 ended up sadly replaying my earlier misfortunes at the tables, back where I started from, only now $10 poorer with my last roll of quarters gone too. 1 sadly shuffled over to the bus terminal with my return ticket and just enough pocket money to see me safely back to my Manhattan apartment. Though this foray was a two-act loser, it does show that you're not dead 'til your ass is cold.
On the flip side, you should never count your chickens before they hatch, especially in a casino. Once in the late 1960s, my early freewheeling days, I gambled through two tumultuous days and nights, storming in and out of Las Vegas casinos, and I ended up with $24,000 of the casinos' money. Up in my Sahara suite, $100 bills piled high on the table, I soberly reviewed the situation. I realized 1 was too hopped up for my own good, so, after a much-needed night's sleep, 1 dumped most of the money in a casino safe-deposit box and wisely decided to plane out to San Francisco for the day. I always wanted to sample their King Crab claws on Fisherman's Wharf. I really dig those King Crab claws!
Refreshed and well crab-clawed, I took an early-evening flight back to Las Vegas and the green-felt tables. Dame Fortune can be fickle, and with me she was then at her worst. Almost as soon as I started betting once again—and this was at my darling, always-profitable Sahara—I found myself on a tail-spinning losing streak that I just couldn't buck. To "change my luck," as the saying goes, I even took a $22 cab ride up from the bottom of the Strip all the way over to the other end of the world—The Hacienda, the first casino at the top of the Strip.
You think that did it? Sadly it did not, as my losing streak continued, relentlessly on-course, whatever casino I went to, whatever 1 bet, whether at blackjack or at craps. I couldn't even coax more than a couple of coins at a time out of the damn slot machines!
The only reason I returned to New York with my seed money still intact and with $3,300 of the casinos' cash, was that 1 had bragged to one of my girl friends that I would win enough money on this trip to be able to fly her out the following week to Vegas to see Sinatra at the Sands. I sure as hell would've felt like a horse's ass to have to tell her we're going by subway to Coney Island instead, only to fill up on hot dogs and beer. Just my ego kept me from losing that last $3,300.
Sure, looking back on my trip in retrospect, I can bemoan the fact that my post-San Francisco casino-hopping cost me more than $20,000. But I don't. I quote Harold of Harolds Club in Reno, and only see the trip positively. "I quit winners!"
What you can learn from all this is to make sure that you leave the casinos with at least some of their money. This way, when you're on the bus or plane, you can say, "Yes, I quit winners!"
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Casino – You Aint Dead Til Your Ass Is Cold
When I first got a seat on the casino roller coaster in 1950, I was still wet behind my ears. Sure, I read John Scarne's big book on casino gambling and listened attentively at Lyle Stuart's knee. However, my on-the-job training came in the casinos themselves. As much as Scarne and Stuart taught me, wagering at real tables and playing real slot machines gave me an entirely new dimension of understanding.
I never took much money along—I didn't have that much disposable cash to begin with—so my early forays, though mostly losers, weren't financially crushing. On my very first trip in 1960 I mainly stuck to the slot machines,- blackjack was an exotic, slightly intimidating experience that I approached cautiously—and only at the $2 tables. I didn't dare venture over to the $5 tables.
When I started to get a handle on the casino swing of things, I became emboldened to do foolhardy things that I wouldn't dare do today. I won money fast and I lost money fast. With these wild fluctuations in my bankroll, the only thing that kept me out of bankruptcy court was my iron-clad resolution to never—but never— play with scared money and never—but never—take credit. My last resolution was sometimes sorely tested when I was in Vegas with Lyle. Tagging along with the legendary High Roller, I was offered financial courtesies that I never would have been offered if 1 was by myself. Being with Stuart I was offered instant, on-the-spot credit, just on Lyle's say-so. Prudently, I always passed on these golden opportunities, though having a sudden influx of easy, heavy seed money right at the tables was always tantalizingly tempting.
While my point here is to discourage betting with borrowed money, 1 can't resist relating one exception. A friend of mine once told me about his uncle who worked as a teller in a bank in the days before computers and the proliferation of casinos. A horse-racing addict who fancied himself an ace handicapper, the teller would dip into the till on Fridays when the nags were running, and first thing Monday mornings would quietly return the "borrowed" money. My friend said his uncle retired a wealthy man, never having once been detected in his bank-financed racetrack escapades.
My stubborn refusal of credit was always my saving grace. When I lost, I lost what 1 could afford, period. Once my seed money was swept away on wagers I didn't win, that was it. I was tapped out, tapioca, as Manhattan saloonkeeper Toots Shor put it. If I had time to kill till the next bus left, I only played the slot machines—usually the nickel ones—till departure time.
Once, just once, at Atlantic City's Park Place, I was just about tapped out and so I invested my last $10 in seed money in a roll of quarters. I idly played a 25-cent slot machine, nursing the pile of quarters for quite a while, with a spate of small wins. Suddenly, like the phoenix, I arose from the ashes and hit a $750 jackpot!
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