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

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 .....

"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."

Don Eammelli at the Prima Donna

Don Eammelli was my Shift Boss at the Primmadonna in Reno in the late 50's. He was also a friend and a mentor of mine. I have often searched the internet for information on him, and the other day I found a telephone number for Janice, his daughter. Called and learned that he had passed years ago, we chatted a while, the highlight, she remembered my name. Brought back a flood of memories.

Not the Nevada Club, but just across the street. I went from working at the Nevada Club to the Primm. Actually, Don's wife once worked at the Nevada Club.

Don was from Steubenville, Ohio, so we had an immediate association that way. I'm thinking of men who have had a strong influence in my life, Don is probably in the top five. My Dad, Brother, Lincoln Fitzgerald and Don, would take me up through most of my life, maybe pit Danny Fagan from the Nevada Club in there too.

When I started at the Primm I immediately liked Don and admired him as well. He was perhaps one of the brightest and smartest men I have ever known. He was a gambler, had his own "count" system on cards, which had won him a great deal of money, he had invented a few items, had devised a more efficient monetary system than we presently use, and had come up with a "shot" on a crap table that he showed me, and one that I have used successfully on a few occasions. Janice told me that the state of Nevada had hired him to teach their people how to recognize "cheaters" and what they do.

I remember one morning we had a card "marker" come in the club. Don was sitting at the end of the bar drinking coffee. Don kept giving us the signal to not worry about it. He finally nonchalantly walked into the pit, got a new deck of cards out of the cabinet, and took them to the table the marker was playing on. Cards were changed on a regular basis, so no one thought anything. The marker went to another table and started working on another deck. Don, after a while, repeated that scenario. Before he got wise, we had relieved him of over $5000, all very quietly done, Don know what and how he was doing it, and at appropriate times, before he could win "big," changed decks. That was Don, very low key, and probably knew more than anyone who tried anything.

Don taught me a lot, showed me a lot, introduced me to some "right" people, gave me the opportunity to become a "box man," (supposedly, at that time, I was the youngest box man in Nevada), even let me take over the "pit" on a few occasions.

Talking with Janice about her Dad was a great link to my past, not many of them exist anymore, Looking back, Don Eammelli was a very important influence on my life. I could do a book on him, maybe I will do more, check back.

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 ....

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.

What was his name?

In the 50's there was a well known "slot" man who owned real estate in Reno. Some friends of mine rented from him. Alice Tuttle and Jeanette Fenner were two of them. I think his aame was Bob, but not sure of his last name. His photograph hung in every casino in Nevada. He was GREAT with slot machines. He had one of every kind in his basement.

I never figured out how he did it, I don't think he drilled or anything like that, he seemed to work the handle and that did his work for him.

The last I heard of  him, a "group" got together at Harold's Club, Keno. THEY hit a $1.10 Eight Spot for $25,000. He was in on it and was the one to go to the counter to pick up the 25M. Instead, someone in the group got antsy, and when he went to pick up the money he was arrested.  Problem with most "hits," too many people get involved and someone rats out the rest. "Too many cooks spoil the broth," so to speak.

Ralph Roberts, from Southern Indiana, a great guy, was on the floor at the Primm for a while, last I saw him he had a small club in Fallon, I think it was. He had the pit, little to no money. If someone broke a 20, they would have to take it next door to get 20 more silver, operating on a shoestring. I remember one of his suits, nice black material, but a red silk lining. Always wanted one of those. One of the first things I get when I hit the lottery. Double breasted black, twin vents, 1/2 inch cuffs on the sleeves, red silk lining. Would like to be buried in that.

Jim and Alice Tuttle always had fantastic Christmases. The saved their "tokes" and spent them on Christmas. That amounted to a great deal of money in those days. Alice did 21 at Harolds and Jimmy worked at different stores, but always good ones, a "store" being a casino. I worked with him at The Lodge at Tahoe once.

Ray Slattery, "Slats," worked for Fitz, one heck of a nice guy. He was and had been a professional bowler, but somehow got sidetracked. Slats, like most of us, loved to party. In those days it was a full time party with a little work done in between. Slats got wrapped up in it, decided he had to "get out." One morning, he packed his stuff and we drove him to the outskirts of Tahoe, let him out, and he started thumbing his way to California. Never heard from him after that. I used to watch the PBA in hopes of seeing him on there, never did.

A neat "fraternity" of people, all different walks of life, never got to know many of them well, like "ships passing in the night," so to speak, but never forgotten people. Many unique, some with questionable backgrounds, like Doc Ledford at the lake, as nice as they come, but you never asked about his "past" or his future. There was a lot of that in Nevada in those days.

But some never to be forgotten "friends."

Gone but not forgotten ....................

I have no idea what downtown Reno looks like, have not been there in MANY years.  I think I was fortunate to be out there in the "good old days."

Harold's Club, the Nevada Club, the Cal Neva, the Golden Hotel, the Primm, Horseshoe, Kelleys, the Mapes and the Riverside, all great places, and I think that most are gone.

No more "colorful" owners, all corporations with no identity.

I was in Harold's  the morning that Harold put a cover on wheel, sent a group of college kids on their way with their winnings, big winnings. Harold said, "You boys have your college paid for," and he closed the wheel. They had a system, played for a number of days, everyone went to Harold's to see the kids from the University of Nevada that had figured out a "wheel system." They were a great draw.

As I recall, they got their winnings to well over $100,000, and they started dropping money. So, he told them to take their $100,000 and leave, and they did. He put the word out, "NO playing in town." I heard that they went to Vegas and lost it. I think that was in the Fall of '56. Harold's got millions of free advertising out of it.

Lincoln Fitzgerald, owner of the Nevada Club trained many of the dealers in Nevada.  He didn't care for, and usually didn't hire bartenders or cab drivers. Other than that, you might have a shot at being a dealer. Hey, he hired me. Fitz is one of the more memorable people I have met in my lifetime.

There should be a monument, somewhere in Reno, giving credit to Fitz and Harold for their part in the growth of the state of Nevada. All else of theirs is apparently torn down.

One more. We had a bartender at the Primm who was an ex-wheel dealer, and had worked for Harold's Club. According to Dave, when Harold first opened, he was dealing he wheel, somewhere near the front door. He spun the ball, it jumped the track, outside the door, into the gutter, and down a drain. They were new and small, had a heck of a time finding another one ..............

November Memories

Holidays like this always make me think back to my days in Nevada. Had some great Thanksgivings out there, invited friends in, generally had a crowd at the house.

But also, spending Thanksgiving in a casino, always seemed a little depressing for our customers. They were taking in a long weekend and a great few days in Reno. And of course some time up on the mountain doing some Winter sports.

I thought of old Hoot Havens, actually Jerry, and his Ford, the one where the top moved down into the trunk. I thought of Don Eammelli and some of the deals we got him into. I remember the "Crap Suckers" he bought, a truckload, cleaned your drains. They ended up in his basement, water and heat turned them into one big blob. Or, the watches he bought, all pinwheel movements, the one we sold to the dealer as a gift for her son, set it on the TV, got heated, when he opened it, the crystal popped off, hit the ceiling.

Jeanette Fenner, worked at Harold's Club, rented an apartment from the "Slot" guy, Bob I think, Had his picture posted in all casinos in the state. He hit a lot of jackpots, way too many. Alice Tuttle rented from him, had the basement apartment. I think Alice worked at Harold's also. Both 21 dealers. I remember stories of when she was married to Jimmy, they saved their tokes all year (which was a LOT of money in those days) and splurged them on each other at Christmas.

Fitz and Meta always come to mind. I wish I had stayed with Fitz, big mistake leaving him. Rumors were that I would have gotten the Bal Tabaran to manage, or at least have a nice job there, when he bought it up at the lake. I don't know how far I might have gotten if I had stayed with him.

Danny Fagan always comes to mind, Mark, Bettye Johnson, Thelma Ganz, all were part of my early training at the Nevada Club. It's hard to believe that I outlived the old Club. It is gone, I am still here. The largest part of Nevada history was lost when they tore down Harold's and the Nevada Club. Times change, I guess. I would not recognize Reno today. I will just keep the fond memories.

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.

More history

Seeking refuge from legal prosecution in Michigan, on March 22, 1946 Lincoln Fitzgerald, Danny Sullivan, Mert Wertheimer, and Ruby Mathis became partners with Harry and Ed Robbins in "Robbins Nevada Club" in Reno Nevada, shortening the name to simply The Nevada Club. The Robbins' had opened Robbins' Nevada Club in April of 1941 at 224 North Virginia Street.

Lincoln Fitzgerald had been chums with Danny Sullivan and George Weinbrenner since their youth. The three had come from St. Louis to Detroit in the early 20's following the allure of then wide-open Detroit.

After launching the Nevada Club in 1946, Mathis and Wertheimer left the partnership.
By 1949 Mathis and Wertheimer had taken over management of the Riverside Hotel and casino, which they eventually purchased in 1955.
The Wertheimer brothers sold the Riverside in 1958, and both died shortly thereafter.
In 1959 Ruby Mathis bought a portion of the Horseshoe Club across from the Nevada Club, and remained a partner there until it was sold in 1967. Mathis died in Reno in March 1986.

Danny Sullivan, Ed Robbins, and Lincoln Fitzgerald remained partners in the Nevada Club, forming an ownership corporation in 1952. Danny Sullivan died in 1956, and at that time Lincoln Fitzgerald bought out Robbins to become the sole owner of the Nevada Club. Until his death, Danny Sullivan had been the General Manager and Fitzgerald the Casino Manager in the partnership.

George Weinbrenner who grew up with Sullivan and Fitzgerald in St. Louis and went with them to the Detroit area to seek fortune becoming one of the 3 partners in the Chesterfield Club, became the successful owner of the B.C. Wills Company. The B.C. Wills Company was a large gambling supply house, operating in Reno from 1955.
After leaving the Chesterfield partnership with Sullivan and Fitzgerald in 1929, Weinbrenner (known to the Detroit press as "Dutch" Weinbrenner) concentrated on the gambling supplies business. He produced a high quality die and other items for casinos. Funnily enough, the name of the company came from the building Weinbrenner acquired for his business. As "Weinbrenner" was too big for the signs, and it was cheaper to keep those already on the building, Weinbrenner's company acquired the name B.C. Wills. Weinbrenner died in 1949 at age 58, and his son Paul continued to operate the B.C. Wills company after him.

By the late 1940's it seemed that all of the once-illegal gambling machine out of Detroit had relocated to Reno, and become a legitimate operation, free from the harassment of the mob, and the need to pay off the local officials for back-door favors. What it must have been like to finally be in business where a Cop at the door would be more for you and your patron's protection than to put the bite on you.

Fitzgerald had brought with him to Reno many items from the Chesterfield Club, among which were slot machines, tables, and other equipment of the trade such as gambling checks, or chips. These chips with interleaved "CC" on them are highly sought collectibles today, reminders of an interesting past.

Oddly enough,we used to vacation in northern Michigan at Burt Lake and Mullett Lake. Wertheimer had a cabin next to one we rented. Many of the other "members" had cabins on Mullett Lake. Fitz, who hired me some 20 years later, vacationed on Mullett Lake. Small world.

More history

Organized crime of the 1920's was exemplified by the Al Capone gang in Chicago, and the Purple Gang and Chesterfield Syndicate in Detroit.

In the 20's, a syndicate would create and work a profitable craps game, or gambling establishment. A syndicate would be associated with the legitimate political authorities of that particular jurisdiction, which would give them more or less a monopoly to operate in the local area. A place wouldn't operate unless they had the permission of the authorities. Nobody would be foolish enough to open an expensive gambling house knowing that the authorities might find it the next day, just to put them out of business, or just to put the bite on them. You just wouldn't do that.

Competing syndicates might divide up the territory. It is a matter of record in Chicago that they even had conferences between the gangsters to divide the territory. When you get into somebody else's territory, then you are in trouble. For example in Chicago, if you wanted to operate a gambling establishment, you first went to the ward committeeman. You would ask to operate a place at such-and-such an address, and the ward committeeman would say, "All right. I will think it over." The ward committeeman would contact the syndicate's representative. The syndicate's representative in this particular area said either "He can go at that address" or "He can't go." If he can go, the syndicate would get 60 percent of the total profits. They put their own man in the place to make certain they got the 60 percent of the profits. All of the protection, everything, was handled by the syndicate.

Mert Wertheimer was the head of the Chesterfield syndicate, concentrating its activities in Macomb County Michigan, near Detroit. It was once politically powerful in Michigan. Mert Wertheimer was by many accounts part of the Purple Gang of Jewish gangsters, so one could assume that the Chesterfield Syndicate operated at least by permission of the Purple Gang.

Mert Wertheimer had been one of America's biggest gamblers. For a time, he was in partnership in Florida with some of the most notorious gangsters of the Nation, including Joe Adonis, alias Joe Doto, Meyer Lansky, Jake Lansky, Vincent (Jimmy Blue Eyes) Alo, and Frank Erickson, of the Frank Costello mob in New York. These men, together with Wertheimer, operated the Colonial Inn, at that time an elaborate gambling place at Hallandale, Fla.

Next to Wertheimer, Lincoln Fitzgerald was the most powerful member of the Chesterfield syndicate. Other members of the syndicate included Lefty Clark, Red Gorman, Mike Brunton, Al Driscoll, and Daniel Sullivan.

The Chesterfield Club gambling house was operated in Chesterfield Township until 1929 by George "Dutch" Weinbrenner, Danny Sullivan and Linc Fitzgerald, who had moved to the Detroit area in the 20's. Eventually Weinbrenner disagreed with Fitzgerald on club operations, and sold his interest to the other two who operated the club until 1946. Though technically illegal, the Chesterfield Club was a full blown casino with numerous slot machines and table games such as craps and 21. Illegal gaming was very popular in many states in the U.S. through the depression era, and was accepted as a fact of life.

I have two of the CC Chesterfield Club blue $20's next to me as sI write this. When I hold them in my hand I can almost feel who all could have held them. They almost radiate with history.

Some history

Until the early 1970's Reno was the largest and most influential gambling capital in the world, bar none. Reno had the largest casino, the most prosperous casinos, hosted the best entertainers, and earned the most money over any other casino city.

Three of the longest lived, greatest, and most innovative casinos in the world, if not just Reno, were established by men seeking refuge in Reno. Two of those men, Harold Smith and Bill Harrah sought sanctuary from the crackdowns on fringe gambling operations in California. Lincoln Fitzgerald of The Nevada Club, Nevada Lodge, was a fugitive from the Detroit area in Michigan.

Of the three pioneer clubs, Fitzgerald's Nevada Club stood alone as always, from its inception until its destruction over 50 years later, always about gambling.

It was a gambling house built by men who knew gambling, for patrons of gambling houses. It was never a Hotel, eating destination, arcade, or sidetracked by other attractions.

The Nevada Club was all about being a great gaming establishment operated for those who appreciated such. It is doubtful that we will ever see such a place ever again.