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.

From Joe Conforte

This is a Facebook entry from Joe Conforte. Apparently someone had asked him about his "time: in Carson City where he reportedly ran the casino. One magazine back then had a foto of him standing at the crap table. This was his reply to that question:

"I more or less ran the casino in the prison when I was in there, we called it "The Bull Pen". I had my own waiter, nice old man named Williams, he used to bring me my steaks so he could have some spending money, $2 a week. He killed a couple of lawyers in the Washoe County Court House. There was a black kid, he used to get $3 a week for fanning me while I played bridge on hot days, and a guy called Penguin got $3 to bring my bathrobe and slippers after dinner and set up my chair to watch tv."

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.

"Fitz"

Lincoln Fitzgerald, Fitz, a Nevada pioneer who does not get the credit he deserves for his part in making the state what it is today.

My first glimpse of him was in 1956, April or May. I was just discharged from the Navy and headed to Reno. An ad in the newspaper caught my attention. HIRING DEALERS. I had no idea what that entailed, but I decided to look in to it. Prior to applying, I hears many stories about Fitz, Gangster, Purple Gang in Detroit, he got shot in a mob hit, all scary stuff to me.

I entered the old "back door" of The Nevada Club, admittedly with shaking knees and sweaty palms. I walked through the club to the "cage," the cashiers cage, which was his realm. There was this elderly man, white hair, white shirt and tie, suspenders standing behind the bared window. I have no idea what I said to him, at least I was coherent enough to let him know I wanted a job. He asked me a series of questions, where from, discharged from service, as I recalled he was interested in my Father and Mother, married, children, that sort of thing. Really not a lot of questions.

"Take this down to the police station and when you are done, come back here."

"Yes sir."

The police did a background check, handed me a slip of paper and told me to go back to the club. I did, handed Fitz the slip of paper. He looked at it. "Come back in the morning at three, wear a white shirt and tie."

That was it. I really had no idea what I would be doing at three, but I knew I had a job.

I think Fitz liked me. After I became a "dealer" with training on craps, the wheel and Twenty One, we knew I had "sweaty hands." He wanted to to deal Twenty One, but the sweaty hands were a problem. At the end of one shift, he handed he a bottle of "formaldehyde" and wanted me to take it and soak my hands in it, might help. I did, and it didn't. So, I was relegated to the crap table.

I left him after a year and returned to Ohio for a while, decided I wanted to return, called him on the phone, asked about getting my job back, he told me to come on out, I did, and he sent me to his new club at Lake Tahoe, The Nevada Lodge. Only a select few were chosen for that job, I was one of them.

Fitz trained many of the dealers in Nevada in the early years, some went on to some great jobs in the industry. Many years later, I am till proud to say  that "I turned out as a clerk for Fitz." No one knows what that means though. In those days the IRS had no classification for dealers, so we were listed as clerks.

Fitz was a pioneer in Nevada, he, and some others are responsible for making Nevada what it is today, and I imagine few are familiar with his name. I, for one, will never forget him. In my pocket now is a $5 Nevada Club chip, and one I cherish, is a $20 blue chip from the Chesterfield Club in Detroit, which Fitz was part owner of  before he moved to Reno. Nearby also, a pair of Nevada Club dice.

Thanks, Fitz, as Bob Hope would say, "Aw thanks, for the memories."

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 ....

Joe Conforte - His new book

Joe Conforte was a big part of Reno and Nevada history. His Triangle Ranch and his Mustang Ranch were famous world-wide. I dealt craps to him on a number of occasions, and talked with him a few times at tne Nugget in Sparks, when he would be converting small bills to larger ones, generally on a Monday.

I remember him pulling up in his Cordovan Colored Lincoln Continental Convertable, Camel Haired Topcoat, big cigar .... he had a lot of fans. At the Primm, we kept a special bottle for him, and a box of cigars, just for Joe.

I remember when the Washoe County DA, Bill Raggio, burnt him down, literally. I remember picking up a few bucks from cab drivers, if we steered a well heeled customer  to the Triangle, and a cab to take them there. We got a nice "finders" fee.

Check out his new book HERE. I think you can check it out at this site.

Jack Bailey

I don't know what prompted it, but Jack Bailey came to mind this morning. He didn't have anything to do with the Nevada Club, but he was "old Nevada."

Reno, late fifties, the Primmadonna, Jack was a box man and a floor boss. I don't know his background, but I do know it would be of interest. My guess would be that he worked in many of the old "joints" around the country, he was another one of those that did not talk too much about their past, and, you knew enough to not ask.

Jack liked nice, expensive clothes and suits. He would come to work wearing a nice suit and an expensive pair of shoes, generally, alligator or some exotic leather. We had lockers, and Jack would head to his locker, take off those expensive shoes, and put on a pair of old shoes, with worn soles, some even had holes in them. If the occasion arose, and some customer complained about losing money or being broke, he was sometimes given a glimpse of a worn shoe, with a hole in it, just to emphasise just how poor we all were.

I remember on one occasions, someone from the Accounting Department approached Jack at the table, called him aside, and asked if he could PLEASE cash some of his old paychecks. He apparently would go home on payday and throw his paycheck in a drawer at his home, and forget about them.

Just another of my Nevada acquaintances that came in and out of my life, but left a lasting impression. The only guy I ever knew who had to be asked to cash his paychecks.

Joe Conforte

Joe Conforte was born in 1926 in Sicily. He emigrated with his family to the United States in 1937 and settled in Dorchester, Massachusetts.[1]

By the 1950s, Conforte was a cab driver in the San Francisco area. He drove a cab in Oakland, California taking G.I.'s from the Oakland Army Base and sailors from Alameda Naval Air Station and the Oakland Navy Supply Base during World War II. Conforte would take the military men to brothels on the border of Alameda County and Contra Costa County. He moved to Nevada in 1955 and opened the Triangle River Ranch brothel in Wadsworth, an illegal brothel at the junction of Washoe, Storey and Lyon counties. In 1959, Conforte served 22 months in jail after attempting to extort the Washoe County district attorney. He served 2 1/2 years in prison for income tax evasion in 1963.

Joe Conforte and his wife Sally Burgess Conforte took over the Mustang Bridge Ranch in Storey County in 1967. (The name of the brothel was later changed to Mustang Ranch.) In 1971, Storey County made prostitution legal and licensed Conforte as a brothel owner.

In April 1977 Joe and Sally Conforte were arrested on 10 counts of income tax evasion. She was fined $10,000 and given a suspended sentence; he faced a minimum five years in prison and $10,000 fine. Conforte appealed his conviction but fled the country in 1980 when he lost the appeal. He later returned and served a reduced sentence.[2]

Conforte fled to Brazil in 1991 ahead of a federal grand jury handing up numerous indictments in 1995 and 1998. The Brazilian Supreme Court ruled in 1999 that the extradition treaty between Brazil and the United States did not cover bankruptcy fraud.[3]

I knew Joe, a little, and often dealt craps to him at the old Primm in Reno.

He is a part of Nevada history, a part not often mentioned, but NEVERTHELESS, a part of its rich history.

I really liked Fitz

Fitz hired me in 1956, and was always good to work for. He payed well, had his own rules which we had to live by, but hell, it was his store, and we did what he wanted us to do.

I really liked him. I quite, went back to Ohio for a while, got homesick, called him up and he told me I had a job as soon as I got back.

Nothing but GOOD memories of those days.