Reno Sweeney

Reno Sweeney was one of the dealers in Reno who "turned me out," trained me, and showed me the ins and outs of being a clerk. We were called "clerks" in those days, the IRS had no classification for us, so we were listed as Clerks on our Income Tax, thus, the term Clerks. If you ever hear that someone working in a casino was a good clerk, you know they are talking about an "old timer."

My first night, I was nervous and apprehensive, told to report to the "post" .... finally someone pointed me in the right direction, said something stupid to the gentleman in the white on white shirt, a gorgeous pair of cuff links, a spotless white necktie, and a watch showing under those starched french cuffs that exposed a circular face ringed with diamonds, very classy. Mark, as it turned out, told me to go shill on number 3. My dumb stare was greeted with a gesture that pointed me in the right direction.

I sheepishly approached the ten foot table, a man on one end, a woman on the other, the woman knew of my innocence reached down into a tube of silver dollars and handed them to me. She knew without looking that she had handed me 20 of them. The table was void of customers at that time, so she told me, "put one there and throw the dice." I did, and that was my introduction in to a world I knew nothing about, but was intrigued by the prospect of learning about.

After an hour or so at the table, "shilling," I was told to take a 30 minute break and report back to Mark. I will never forget my entrance in to the coffee shop that morning, I was "one of them" an employee of a casino, soon, to be a ..... dealer ..... the pride I must have shown walking in, I owned the place, I belonged here. I remember well what I had, a Nevada Club Special .... an 8-inch French Roll, sliced lengthwise in half, piled high with prime rib, the top half placed back on, on to a plate, and covered with a rich broth. How much better could it get.

Mark directed me back to a table, I was escorted "behind" the table, where the dealers stand, I had stepped into ... a mystic realm .... a "stick" was handed to me, "Hi, I'm Reno Sweeney," call the dice .... the rest of the night went by fast, but a blurry fast. I remember entering in to the sunlight next morning, at 11, a beautiful day, someone had given me a "green apron," during my shift, a dealers apron. I carried it proudly so all could see as I made my way up Virginia Street to my car.

Harold's Club

There is a documentary being prepared on Harolds Club in Reno. I have spent many hours there, and some of these faces are quite familiar. Nevada and the entire casino industry can thank the Smith family for pioneering state and the entire industry.

It is difficult to explain a visit to Harolds Club. it was a world unto itself. There were fun collections, silver dollar bars, so many different "themes" in each area on the various floors. The Seventh Floor was unique, very intimate. I have seen Carl Ravazza entertain there often. He was a "matinee" idol  and a singer and a band leader from years past and lived in Reno.  The houselights would dim and he would enter from the back of the room and slowly make his way to the front singing some intimate lilting French song, and then for an hour captivate you with songs, stories and golf jokes. I have seen many well known entertainers while out there, but none as memorable as Carl Ravazza.

Anyway, this clip gives you a taste of Harolds Club. Notice she states that they all were taught to deal the same way. On my Nevada Club blog I have given my explanation and reason for them doing that. Harold was smarter than other owners, and I have never seen it stated before, but, in my opinion, we detected one of the reasons why they were so successful.

Be patient, it may take a while to download.

THE HAROLDS PROMOTIONAL DOCUMENTARY

Harolds success ........... on the 21 table

Well, not sure of the validity of this post, but a few of us were convinced. Some of us always wondered why Harolds club maintained such a good table average, they seemed to win more frequently than other places. They were good about giving away used playing cards, and some of us took it upon ourselves to find out why they were consistently winners.

A few of us, got used cards, over quite a period of time, and scrutinized the used decks. A few of our "group" had turned out there, and knew the training procedure they used.

They did "shuffling" but not too much "whacking" around with the cards, just shuffling, our findings, the kept the "progression" of the cards intact.

A new deck has a large group of "faces" in the middle of the deck, and each deck we checked, after usage, limited usage, still had that grouping in tact. Dealers were given a box of cards at the start of the shift and were encouraged to go to new decks often.

Our conclusion, that the grouping of high cards gave Harolds a bit of an edge. Other clubs wanted a shuffle, and then a slap, slap, slap, or a cutting of the decks, not Harolds.

In afternoon "test deals" at various apartments around town, it was our conclusion that "their" way of dealing gave them a few percentage points edge, as opposed to other methods. It worked for them, made not only Harolds, but the entire state of Nevada, successful.

I am not sure how many were aware of this, and thanks to one of the most brilliant "minds" I have ever known, I am convinced this added to the success of Harolds Club, and it was entirely legal, just cost them more in cards...

Thanks Bettye and Thelma .....

My first lesson as a crap dealer in Reno .....

How many spots on a die?
How many sides on a die?
How many edges are there on a die?
If a ONE is on top, what is on the bottom?
How many spots on a pair of dice?
If a 5 2 is showing, what is on the bottom?
How about a 4 3 showing, what's on the bottom?

I got a call yesterday .................

Got a call from Dwayne Kling yesterday, I probably talked his ear off, hardly let him get a word in. There are just not many left that I can converse with from "the old days" who know and understand how unique we are to have lived in Reno during the years we did.

So much Reno and Nevada history has been torn down and forgotten, it's a shame. When our generation is gone, with the exception of what has been written, will fade away. Dwayne made a prophetic statement also, that a lot of "that" history is already buried and much of it was not wanted known, if that makes sense.

It was a different era then, owners, owned their clubs, and we, as dealers and administrators were dealing in a different commodity, real money. If an owner had a bad night, walked in and didn't like the way you were dealing, you were gone. You brushed your hands, thanked everyone, and walked next door and started working there. Most of the owners, if not all of  them, never saw the inside of a college, they saw the inside of "speakeasies," bars, illegal games, they all came up the hard way. The smartest survived. It  was an entirely different day.

There are so few I can talk with, about those days, that is why, a call from Dwayne Kling is special.

Some Primm memories ......

These are not Nevada Club photographs, but I took the picture at the table at the Primm in the late 50's/ That is Joe Francis on the box, with Jerry Havens and Jerry Christiansen. Joe became a Casino Manager with Harrahs, not sure about the other two. Cameras were not allowed in the clubs in those days, had to sneak in my polaroid and take these when Don wasn't looking.

Havens turned out with Fitz well before I did, and was a very good friend. We called him Hoot, for some reason. Very quiet and unassuming and a very good clerk. If anyone knows of him, would love to hear from you.

The other foto is Ernie Primm, owner of the Primm. I had to do some searching to find it on the internet. Ernie was very good to me, helped me learn enough to sit box for him, and even had some time on the floor. Ernie also had poker houses in Gardena, California and I think had some money in a racetrack in California. Alan Roberts was Casino Manager at the Primm, but found no fotos of him.

Danny Fagan

To Any Friends or Relatives of Danny Fagan ..........

I just learned of his passing, and even though it has been so many years since I last saw him, the news brought a tear to my eyes. I turned out as a dealer at the Nevada Club in May of 1956, and Danny was one who helped train me and became an instant friend. I was young, and in an environment that was foreign and in some ways quite frightening to me. I knew nothing about gambling, only what I had seen in movies, and frankly, it was scary to me. Danny eased that frear, and was one to let me know that there was a normalcy to being in the casino industry. Danny was my icon.

The casino business is a transient industry, and especially in those days. Over the years, any time I saw Danny it was always like greeting a long lost, very sincere, friend.

I think that Danny was one of Fitz's confidants, and was close to Fitz, and I think Fitz talked things over with him, and he was on the "in" with him. I don't know that for a fact, but of all the floor people, I think Danny was the closests to Fitz and Meta, as well as Carlton Meta's brother. I called him Mr. Fagan once, from then on Danny. He was one fine teacher and a great "clerk" in his own right.

I would like to know more about his latter life if anyone reads this and has more information. If any of his relatives read this, he was one fine man, as you already know.

RIP Danny

Daniel Victor Fagan

03/04/1925

05/21/2013

Daniel V. Fagan (Uncle Danny), was born March 4, 1925 in Dumont, New Jersey to John and Mary Fagan. After a short illness, Danny peacefully passed away in Reno, Nevada on May 21, 2013 with family by his side. He is now reunited with his beloved wife of 56 years, Christene. During his 88 years of life he was a charter member of Sons of Erin, Reno Elks, Knights of Columbus and a faithful member of St. Thomas Aquinas Catholic Church.

This is the Danny that worked for Fitz, there is no mention of it in his obit, and he just passed last May, I am so sorry I did not try to get in touch with him. He had a lot to do with my training as a dealer. My first night in training, he was one who "hinted" to me that I should not wear white socks. They did so by pulling up my pants leg and wiping their feet on my white socks, he and Bettye and Thelma were the three.

When I left the Lodge at Tahoe, Danny is the one who literally "kicked my butt," for blowing an opportunity that I knew nothing about, but he did. Fitz was going to let me have a nice job at the Bal at Tahoe when he bought it. I didn't know, might have been on the floor, or better. Another lost "opportunity" in my life, of which I have had many.

Oh, the stories he could have told, Danny was a one of a kind, so much history passed with him.

LaVere Redfield

Another legend in Reno, LaVere Redfield. My first encounter with him almost cost me a job. I had been a dealer at the Nevada Club for a few weeks, had just turned out, and after a few weeks of training, when I had that little green apron on, well, I was very proud of myself.

One early morning, I was standing by an empty table, and a scroungy appearing man walked into the club. Well, with chest puffed out I motioned for security. Unfortunately, he was also new and started to move toward the man.

A loud noise erupted in the cashiers cage and one of the cashiers came dashing out to put a stop to the ejection. She then explained to me that the guy in the tattered jeans and threadbare wool shirt was none other than LaVere Redfield, multi millionaire eccentric and often a customer of the Nevada Club, who either won or lost a ton of money. And, I was going to throw him out. I learned a valuable lesson, never judge anyone by their appearance.

He often played the wheel, and as I understand it, Fitz let him "deal" his own game, with Mark  and Thelma Ganz in attendance, keeping an eye on the bets. The few times I saw him, he was just a player.

When he won, he wanted to be payed in silver dollars, and I have seen security officers wheeling bags of silver out to a truck to take to his home, and send the bags down a coal chute to his basement.

He has been known to ask a female dealer to have dinner with him, perhaps do a little wagering with him, and those I knew of personally were payed quite well, just to have dinner and spend the evening with him. I know of on one occasion he "dated" a stranger, who had an accomplice, left a door unlocked, and they got away with a small fortune which they took from his basement, coins and stocks and bonds.

After his death, his estate was valued at over 100 million dollars. I have on occasions seen him driving a fork lift at a lumber yard he owned,  old jeans and a plaid shirt. Wonder if he was buried that way.

Next time I will go into how I heard he made his first "bankroll" which got him started, interesting story and I think it is true. Got it from someone who knew him.

A good "group"

Came across an interesting "group," and have heard from a few of the members. We all seem to share an interest in Reno history. I imagine some of the old buildings in Carson City are there, probably Virginia City also, preserved for posterity. Yet, in Reno, most of the buildings that actually made Nevada what it is today, are all gone. Why did Harold's Club and the Nevada Club have to go?

Harold put Reno on the map. I wonder if all the new places have "air curtain" doors. You could walk that one block of Virginia street, go in every club, and not have to open one door. I remember on many occasions, I would see a face I recognized, wave a "Hi Grant," as the Governor walked by, or a wave to Bill Harrah when you saw him.

At Harold's and The Nevada Club, and others, a 21 dealer going on a break would open the little drawer on the table, take out their "tokes," and head out on a break. If the IRS got you for an audit, you would quickly make up a list of tokes, from memory, to to the IRS office, the subject of tokes would come up, he would throw out a date, a quick check of your list, "Ah,, on that day I made $7.50." Then he would mention that they had an agent in the club who gave you a $15 toke. He then would tear up your list. You were in trouble, they would come up with THEIR amount.

One time a 21 dealer from Harold's was in California for a few days, somehow did an interview with a reporter, got carried away and told the reporter how much she made in tokes, exaggerated the amount a bit to impress her. The IRS read it and used her figure as an estimate for all Harold's dealers. She was almost run out of town. Tokes were pretty good though, and in those days, silver dollars. Not uncommon for a dealer to have a dresser drawer full of silver. I had a glove box full on my car, good old days.

Looking Back

It has been many years since I left Reno, but some of those memories are the fondest that I have. I keep reminders with me all the time. On my memory table, a small table that my Dad made many years ago, and I have next to my chair, there are many memories. A pair of dice from the Nevada Club, along with a $5 chip. I have a $20 from the Chesterfield Club, next to my bed.

We used those $20's when I started out as a dealer. They had been brought out, by Fitz, from the Chesterfield Club in Detroit, and the stories those chips could tell. Every time I hold it, a flood of thoughts go through my mind, people who could have held the chip. Capone, Siegel, Wertheimer, all of the old timers, that were in the Chesterfield and later on, the early days of the Nevada Club in Reno. Fitz and Meta have held it, Danny Fagan, Eddy Beatty, Bettye Johnson, Thelma Ganz, if only that chip could talk.

Other clubs used $25. Of course, we used silver dollars in those days, and when called for, we converted the silver into $5. We got in the habit of pulling 20 silver dollars out of the speed racks, drop five, and then drop three stacks of five, to make $20. When I went to work at the Primm, I had to adjust my thinking to $25, doesn't sound like much, but old habits die hard.

The Nevada Club and Fitz were unique, early pioneers in Nevada history, and unfortunately, mostly forgotten. Fitz trained MANY dealers, it was THE place to learn to be a "clerk." In those days, the IRS did not have a classification for dealers, so we were called clerks, and that term stuck for many years, at least with the old timers. "He's a  good clerk," was a compliment.

In those days we kept our own "tokes" or "tips" ..... as they came in, they immediately went into a drawer on the table and when you left on a break, your tokes went with you. I had a few REALLY good nights. You could almost live on tokes. I had a drawer full of silver dollars. I knew some that had buckets full of silver dollars. Good old days ....

The Nevada Lodge

Lake Tahoe, late 50's, before the Olympics, and one of the first times the North Side was open during the Winter months. It was great, not very crowded, had the Crystal Bay Club, the Lodge, the Cal Neva when Sinatra had it, a drug store and a few other places, and that was it. We had it pretty much all to ourselves.

That clear, pine scented mountain air, the deep blue color of Lake Tahoe, I loved it.

At first, I had a room in a basement unit in a place, nice room, about 100 yards away from The Lodge where I worked. I think Fitz started me out on days. Doc Ledford, I think was the Shift Boss, many rumors about him. I have related this before, but thinking of Doc brings the story back.

Early one morning, few customers, one gal, 21 dealer was due for a break, no one to relieve her. Doc put me on the 21 table. Well, I always got nervous dealing, and my hands would sweat. Some customers came in and came to my table. I looked over at Doc, and he said, "Deal to them."

I did had a good game going, not sure how the table did, but dealt to them for a half hour or so. When they left, I took the deck, set it down, and did the normal "fan" across the table. One problem,, the cards were stuck together and the whole deck moved across the table, which everyone in the house seemed to see. Never lived that down.

Fitz always wanted me to be a 21 dealer, we tried everything. He even had me soak my hands in formaldehyde once, got it from an undertaker. It didn't work, but  I will never forget the odor.

I used to put in my eight hours at the Lodge, then cross the street to the Crystal Bay Club and spend the evening. Jack, don't recall his last name, was the bartender, got to know him well. I remember Slim, one of the owners, and some others whose names escape me. Slim was a genuine "Nevada Character," a part of Nevada history. Rumor had it that he had participated in the '39 Olympics in archery, but don't know that for sure.

Before the North side started staying open in the Winter, they say that many of the dealers lived up there, and when they would close in the Winter, they would go on unemployment. Since there was no office up there, someone would drive up from Carson City with their checks, and pass them out in the Crystal Bay Club. All these folks made a LOT of money in the Summer, had nice homes and nice cars. On "check" day, the parking lot at the Crystal would be full of nice cars, they would all meet inside, get their checks, many would endorse them, throw them on the back bar, and have a BIG party till the checks ran out. They say it was a blast.

On a number of occasions we would be in the bar at the Crystal in the morning, either from the night before, or getting an early start, and a group of us would head to someones place for breakfast. There were sometimes a few, and sometimes a crowd, We had great times. Bacon, eggs, home fries in a Cedar Log Cabin on Lake Tahoe, gets no better than that.

I still vividly remember that pristine lake, like it was in those days, a few clubs, a drug store, with soda fountain, Spanish Leather, oh such fond memories.

A Nevada Memory

An old memory from the late 50's came to mind this morning. I have a new website up for my 78 birthday, 78 Birthday Site and I have a foto page, was looking at that, and some memories came floating back.

I was working at the Primm, graveyard, 3 am to 11 am, which left a lot of good daylight time to get into trouble. Some mornings I would go straight home, make a b-line to my car, which then was a Studebaker Golden Hawk, and head home.

Then, some mornings, after a good winning night, Ernie Primm, the owner, or someone, would offer to "Let me buy you guys a drink" at the bar, and Dave would fix us up. On some occasions, previous customers from the night would see we dealers at the bar, and also buy us one.

One particular morning, Ernie bought one, then two, then some customers followed suit, and before long, a party was "goin on."

Around 2 or so, the party started breaking up, for them, not for me, I wanted to keep it going, but was running short of money. Well, we could always "draw" on salary at the Primm, but Mr. Roberts, the casino manager, who was one of the finest "gentlemen" I have ever known, got the picture, saw was was happening, and about to happen, and said "No" to the draw.

So I left the Primm, walked down the back alley, and there, behind the Horseshoe Club, were three nice, bright, shiny, stainless steel, 5-gallon milk cans. I am not sure how it all came about, or even who I was with, but I partnered with someone, put a sign on the milk can ........... the Cutty Sark and Milk Fund.

It was Winter, and "Slim" one of the owners of the Crystal Bay Club at Lake Tahoe, got us drinking his "Winter" drink, Cutty Sark and Milk. I don't know if I ever liked it, or even thought about it, but in the Winter, I often drank it.

I was living on North Virginia then, almost across from the University of Nevada, split rent on a house with another guy, don't remember his name.

Anyway, I started making the rounds of clubs, people I knew, friends, etc., collecting for the "fund."

I was having a good time, so were my "donors" maybe have a drink with them and collect the change or they would put money in the milk can. This went on till around 5 in the afternoon. I must admit I do not remember a lot of it, but apparently, at some time, for some reason, I invited some to our "Kickoff Party" on North Virginia, and gave them the address. Not sure when I started doing that.

About 8, something woke me up. After a very long time, I realized I was lying on the couch, in our living room, surrounded by people, mostly strangers, in a room full of people, mostly strangers, who were having a party, celebrating the kickoff of the Cutty Sark and Milk Fund.

And there was I, in my shorts, surrounded by probably 50 people, all looking at me.

As I walked to my bedroom, I was sent off with a thunderous applause, for the founder, of the Cutty Sark and Milk Fund.

At one time, Don Eammelli, my Shift Boss, had that can and was keeping it as a souvenir, I was told he had it in his Recreation Room as a reminder of the good old days.

Those were the days ...........................................