Some Nevada footage

This link has some interesting footage. About halfway through some of the interior of the Nevada Club, the way I remember it ...........

VIEW HERE

More memories .........

I was fortunate to receive a copy of "The Rise of the Biggest Little City," written by Dwayne Kling. Full of Nevada history, brought back so many memories. I knew or had heard of many of the names he mentioned.

I was so fortunate to be and work there during the time that I did. Many of the "old timers" were still around, the people who actually molded the state. But more so than that, some of the dealers, cocktail waitresses, keno writers and maintenance people, people in the background, I got to know.

I got to hear tales of the early days, from the old timers. Burt used to relate stories about the "wheel houses" in Florida, and "stores" or "rooms" back East, where he had worked. He worked the boats off of Long Beach, had lived a colorful life, but loved his little farm not to far away. One of his that I have always remembered .......... dealing craps on a boat off of Long Beach ..... a big game, stacks of chips all over the table ........... the dice rolled ......... one die was a "leaner" ........... SEVEN OUT .... a groundswell hit the boat, turned the die the other way to a WINNER.... most of the money was already taken in .... he said a heck of a brawl broke out. Burt had only one eye, always wondered how he lost the one eye, never asked.

Jack Bailey, expensive suits, tailor made shirts, silk ties, always wore old shoes with a hole in the sole. Someone would lose money, complain, Jack would be sitting box, or standing at the end of the table, he would show them the sole with the hole in it, "things are tough all over." It generally worked. The shoes were Alligator though, very expensive, he never went in to that.

Doc Ledford, I think it was, on the floor at the Nevada Lodge, a natty, diplomatic gentleman. Many knew of him, talked little of his history. Word was that he had been in "hiding" for a few years, and for some reason, could finally come out. He was on the floor the morning we needed a 21 dealer at the lake, dealer was on a break, and I stood there to fill in. My hands always sweat when I get nervous, thus, I rarely dealt 21. I tried many remedy's but none worked. Some customers walked up to my table, I looked at Doc, he said, "You're a dealer, deal to them." I did, for about an hour, all went well. When the customer leave, it is customary to "fan" out the cards in the middle of the table. With a grand flourish, I made the move to fan the cars, which I did, but the cards did not fan, the whole deck was stuck together and move accordingly.

Don Eammelli, a mentor of mine, a floor boss at the Primm, I was in awe of him. He was from Steubenville, Ohio, had done a lot in a lot of places. He has lost a leg in a car accident. He was actually brilliant, he devised a system of numbers, he designed a machine to test and color code resisters. He could sit at the bar, drinking a coke, and by looking in the mirror on the backbar, knew everything going on in the pit. He knew just how to handle any "cheat" on any game, he knew every move, and if he didn't know the move, he knew what it took to do the move.

We had a "card marker," an Oriental man, Don was watching him in the mirror. About the time he was ready to make his "move," Don would casually go to that table, look at his watch, "four thirty  time for a new deck here." We took him for over 5000 and he never knew what Don was doing to him.

Don was a card counter, the best, had his own system. He won a lot of money around town, owned a lot of real estate around town. I used to help him with his rentals, his "stump" always hurt, but he never complained.

I can honestly say that everyone I came in to contact with, in a casino, in a management capacity, at any level, were personable, gracious and polite. They had to have the ability to pacify people, when they lost money. Takes a special kind of person. Dealers could be "aloof." They would just take and pay, politely, but not necessarily with emotion.

Those were the good old days.

Dwayne Kling .... where are you"

For Mr. Dwayne Kling .........

I received a copy of your book today, "The Rise of the Biggest Little City," from an internet acquaintance who sent it to me, Jerry Garrity, who I have been communicating with, via the internet.

Have not been able to put the book down, brought back many memories. I do remember seeing you around town, and at Harolds. I remember Jeanette Fenner and Alice Tuttle, I knew Dan Orlich a little, his Mom and Dad, and went out to see him one in Vandalia, where he was shooting.

Some names I remember. Danny Fagan, Bettye French, Thelma Ganz, Don Eammelli and a good friend, Joe Francis from Harrahs. He was my boxman at the Primm for a while. Most all I know from then are gone, as you have found out.

Fitz liked me, He let me work the Lodge in its early days, downtown some, and, according to Danny Fagan, had I stayed with him (I left and went to the Primm), he might have given me a shot to manage the Bal when he got it in '57. I was not aware of that, Danny actually kicked me in the butt on one occasion, for blowing such an opportunity. Also had a chance to get in to the entertainment side with Fitz when I was up at the lake, but, I was having too much fun as a dealer, up at Tahoe, what great days those were.

I remember a dealer or box or floor at Harolds, somewhat crippled, forget his name. Thanks to Harolds, I had a lot of nice western wear I got at his "store."

If you happen to see this, my email is joedooley@yahoo.com. Would like to hear from you. I see you are also involved in the movie ... nothing much left but memories. Have seen it on Facebook .....

Crossroaders ..... I wonder where they are now?Wesley

Crossroaders were a rare breed, they were unique, intelligent and fearless. There were some "legitimate" players who had the heart of the crossroader. They lived by their wits and the "moves" they had honed. I have seen things that were impossible, accomplished. I learned early on in my days in Nevada, that if I heard, or someone who said they could do something, regardless of how impossible the task was, believe him, or her, because they had probably put in many, many hours of practice, doing it.

They were all good actors and could play whatever part was necessary, and play it well. They were all, "diplomats." They were all, "patient," they would spend hours, days and weeks, perfecting one "move." One I knew rather well always had his hands in motion, generally with a book of matches, carrying it in the palm of his hand. One book of matches would be sitting on a table. He could pick it up and drop the one he was "mucking" in his hand, and it would land exactly where the other one was. Wesley practiced that, incessantly.

Buster was more of a front man, an arranger. He also worked as a boxman and a floorman in the casinos, and I think ended up working in Las Vegas.

I left Nevada and headed for Ohio, years ago, and attended the Millersport Corn Festival. Money flowed freely, for charity, and who was there, Buster and his band of merry men, "knocking over" those little games of chance, dice games, card games, etc., not taking a lot so they were not obvious, but enough to insure a nice "vacation."

I'm sure nothing will ever be written about them, they loved their anonymity. How they did what they did, few know. Some may have left no mark on the world in their leaving, because they were unknown, except to a few, while they lived.

I forget their names, but there were twins who lived in California, had their own airplane. They would fly in to Reno or Vegas, wherever the action was going to be, do their thing, and fly home. One of their last that I was aware, early 60's, they left Vegas with a "bundle of cash." Did their "thing," got on the plane and flew home, all in a days work.

One I knew, "Blondy," lived in Reno, beautiful rented home by a golf course, leased car, lived a very quiet life. When the occasion arose, he was an expert golfer, bowler, pool player, was a marvel with cards, and could do wonders with a pair of dice. A golf tournament in Reno each year, with some local and a few well known pros, would find him in the pro-am, unable to hit the ball. But on Monday, some would stick around with some "heavy" money being wagered. All of a sudden he would "find" his game. He picked up a new golf cart on one occasions, took it home, and battered it, so it looked well used.

I had not been dealing long at the Nevada Club. Early one morning, an old farmer looking type walked up to my table. Asked about the different bets, and made a few "foolish" wagers, which he won. How lucky. He made some more bets, and won. Fitz let out a yell from the "cage." The player took his winnings, cashed in and left. I learned a great lesson. I always felt that Fitz put him up to it, to teach me a lesson. I thought I knew it all.

Buster, Wesley J., the Preacher, Blondy, Don, The Magician and the others I knew are probably all gone by now. They were a rare breed, never to be forgotten, by me, anyway.