The Last of the Born Losers

My first experience with Dallas gambling began in a hotel bar in Columbia, Mo. One of the patrons, pretending to be quite the high roller, produced two gambling sheets showing the Dallas betting line and another sheet containing point spreads provided by St. Louis bookies. Sheets, which list the various teams, game times and point spreads, are most important to those of us who wager on sporting events. I was impressed by the high-roller until a couple of days later when a Columbia bookie told me the guy was a “dime bettor ($10) who spends one hell of a lot of money calling guys in Dallas and St. Louis and Miami. ” The bookie didn’t say it maliciously. He realized that even the small bettors fill each season with some new idiosyncrasy. It has been said of the Jews that “they are like everybody else, only more so. ” The opposite may be said of gamblers – only more so.

More than two years ago, I celebrated my first football season in Dallas by contacting a heavy bettor we will call Alfred. Alfred is a notorious loser, so bad, in fact, that a Dallas bookie once offered him a free bet “because that poor turkey just can’t pick a winner. ” It is not easy for a stranger, especially a non-Texan, to find a bookie in this city. A conventioneer has a better chance of finding a downtown cab after dark. It is that difficult.

Fortunately, Alfred checked around and decided to handle my bets. My first Saturday was a disaster. Sunday I tried to get even on the pro grames. Tuesday I paid Alfred the $220 I had lost. He loved me. He knew I wasn’t making that much money a week. At last, he figured, he’d found a handicapper worse than himself.

“Don’t worry, ” he said, “everybody bets more than they can afford. I gamble on credit and that’s just like buying on credit. You never get out of debt. ” I asked this cheerful, well-known-at-the-credit-union-face how much he had lost. He’ actually laughed while announcing he had dropped $1, 900.

In Alfred, I had found a living, losing, legend. Local bookies refer to him in the most affectionate terms and always extend him credit. Other handicappers call Alfred to get his betting choices so they can lay down a few dollars the other way. If it weren’t for his jolly nature, Alfred’s stories could make you cry.

“I’ll tell you what game it was, ” Alfred said, borrowing from the Pennsylvania accent he should have beaten down long ago, “It was Pittsburgh and Notre Dame basketball. That damned Notre Dame just eats me alive every… Anyway, I’ve got Pittsburgh and eight (points). Pitt is leading by seven with 35 seconds to play… 35 seconds to play. And they’ve got the ball. Next thing you know, Notre Dame ties it up… ties it up. Then, of course, Notre Dame wins by nine in overtime. I lose $200. ” Years ago at Aqueduct race track, Alfred watched two of the horses he bet on fall down and literally die.

You can divide gamblers into three categories. There are many like myself who bet often because they are dumb enough to think they can outsmart the odds. There are a few like Alfred who bet because they need the action. And there are some, like my friend Harvey, who gamble because it is illegal and they want something to do.

Harvey is amazing. He will be 84 this month. He occasionally buys some of Dallas’ finest prostitutes – in pairs, no less. And he will wake up at any hour or stay up until any hour to play poker, shoot craps or go to the races. He prefers large poker games because, understandably, he has slowed down somewhat. In small games he has to shuffle the cards too often. “The losers are always saying deal, deal, hurry up and deal, ” Harvey complains.

Harvey still works two or three nights a week, but his major source of income is his Social Security check and an occasional emergency loan from his millionaire son. Five years ago Harvey took $2, 000 to New Orleans and lost all but $200 at the race track “and buying those high-priced Louisiana women. ” While down in the dumps, Harvey saw a sign advertising a freighter to Europe. So he spent his last dollars and disappeared without a word to family, friends or employer. Six months later, he returned with his suitcase plastered with fancy hotel stickers. “I didn’t stay at any of those places, ” Harvey admitted later. “I’d just go in there and ask for some stickers. ” Harvey is a true high roller.

About 18 months ago, Alfred told me the boys were playing poker someplace about midnight. I didn’t make it, but several robbers did. “Just before the game started, ” according to Alfred, “Harvey asked me for the 50 bucks I owed him for a football bet. So I paid him. These two guys come in a little later and one’s got a machine gun. It was a set up. They took all our money and told us to stay put. Harvey tells me, ’You owe me $50. ’ I told him I paid before the game started and he said, ’You’re not going to count that, are you?’”

Being robbed is one of gambling’s occupational hazards. Being arrested is another. Alfred once was picked up by the Dallas Metro Squad because a bookie the cops had arrested had Alfred’s phone number on a piece of paper. Both beat the rap.

Other gambling hazards also exist. Like losing money that doesn’t belong to you. Of two brothers who own a local restaurant, Tony was the gambler. The more conservative brother once trusted Tony with a bank deposit that would allow the restaurant to pay its bills. Instead, Tony found a crap game. When he lost the last of his deposit, Tony asked one of the players to slug him hard in the eye. A player complied and Tony later moaned to his brother about being mugged.

Ask any gambler the amount in the biggest pot he ever won or his most lucrative single bet and he will pause to try and remember. On the other hand, ask about losses and you will receive an immediate and well-chronicled response. Being able to tell everybody you dropped $500 in Vegas is as much a part of the gambling kick as calling your local bookshop Friday and asking for “today’s prices. “

There is a certain irresponsible fellowship among wagerers. One night, Amarillo Slim told me, “I can leave $10, 000 on a table of professional gamblers for two days and when I come back, there’ll be the $10, 000 right where I left it. I’ll bet you can’t say the same for any damn country club. “

While still in college, I joined a friend in hitchiking to Vegas. We calculated that if we spent no money on travel we could afford one night at the Dunes and another at Caesars’ Palace. After thumbing for two days through the snow and being shot by a screwball pellet gunner in Phoenix, we arrived in Vegas about 3 a. m. My friend went to bed, but I headed for the crap tables. By 4: 30, I had won $320 and figured I could double it at the blackjack table before waking up my buddy. I planned to bet it all on one hand, then take my $640 to buy the latest model Cadillac possible. My partner would be delirious at the sight of our new transportation.

I can still see the dealer drawing a five to his 15 showing to defeat my ace and seven. In another hour, I left the tables sans the $320 and practically all the money I had started with. For the next two days our bags stayed in the lobby of the Dunes while we each flirted with financial ruin. No sleep. By playing it close, we finally had enough for two plane tickets, but before nightfall, we cashed in the tickets and blew the proceeds. A collect call to our parents furnished us with new tickets which would be waiting at the airport.

At the airport, we could only stare at the row of slot machines set a few feet from the flight boarding area. We didn’t have enough cash for a single pull. Then I found a dime on the carpet. But before I could get to the nearest machine, ray friend had a better idea. We flipped the coin to see who would go in the bathroom to pose as a restroom attendant. We figured to make enough change from tips for one more fling before our flight. The plan had merit, it seemed, until we discovered the airport already was furnished with “restroom valets.”

Even high-rollers like Alfred and Harvey have found themselves stranded in the middle of gambling trips. “I remember one time me and Harvey took $2, 000 up to Hot Springs, ” Alfred fondly remembered. “In two days we went broke, couldn’t even pay the hotel. Old Harvey started saying he knew where he could get us some money. You know that beer talk.

“Well, Harvey calls his rich son and starts out by saying, ’I’m at the Royal Vista Inn in Hot Springs. ’ Then he spells it out, R, O, Y, A, L, V, I… Next thing the old man says is, ’Forget what?’ The son had told Harvey forget it and said he’d mail the checkbook. Mail it, he said. Harvey says, ’Well, son, I still love you, but you’re tight as hell. We’ll walk home. ’ “

On another Hot Springs trip, Alfred and Harvey split up and Alfred hadn’t picked a winner all day. But he remembered that old Harvey had been bragging about a “sure thing” in the seventh race. Alfred had lost his last dollar and could only watch bitterly as Harvey’s “sure thing” horse, a long shot, broke on top to lead wire to wire. Before the horse crossed the finish line, Alfred ran to the payoff windows to meet Harvey and perhaps grab a share in the wealth that goes with kicking home a 20-1 shot.

There was no Harvey at the $50 window. Alfred checked the $20 and $10 windows to no avail. There, almost cowering in the line of $2 gamblers, was old Harvey. “He’d never made a $2 bet in his life, ” Alfred laughed. “And I think he had to borrow that two bucks, because he had dropped every dime before the seventh race.”

Like most of us in life who find themselves drowning, Alfred looks constantly for a scapegoat. His favorite patsy is “the fix.”

When Essex Johnson of the Cincinnati Bengals dropped three easy touchdown passes against Cleveland, Alfred was convinced the fix was on. “You notice how nobody hears anything about Essex Johnson anymore?” Alfred asks. “Brown benched him for throwing my bet.” When Texas went to liberal substitution during the third quarter of a rout, Alfred again saw a plot. “Royal had the fix on. He was shaving points.” To Alfred’s thinking, all pro fights are fixed and all college basketball games are played out by a strict script.

Of course, these stories are absurd. In truth, nobody who matters really wants to see a game fixed. The underworld people stand to lose the most, since winnings have to come from somewhere and if word gets out that one game is fixed, bettors will assume all games have pre-arranged final scores and will not grace the betting shops with the heavy volume needed to operate.

Of course, it’s easy to understand Alfred’s rationalizing. After all, we are talking about a man who lost 14 out of 14 bets one week and came back the next week to lose 14 out of 17.

The week before Super Bowl IX, one of the friendlier bookies in town told Alfred to pick his favorite team even up, no points. Alfred picked Minnesota and was slightly dismayed the next day when the betting line all around town favored Pittsburgh by 3. This only made Alfred’s resolution more determined. After having a good week betting the collegiate bowl games, Alfred thought a heavy wager could put some icing on the cake. This latest Super Bowl created little enthusiasm among my betting crowd. But at the last minute two of us decided to make a bet since the game was on television. “Let me call Alfred, ” I said, “and see who he likes. “

He recognized my voice, and before I could say a word Alfred was talking: “Don’t ask. I’ll tell you right now, I like Minnesota. They’ve been to the Super Bowl three times before and Tarkenton is tired of being the bridesmaid. Besides that, check the weather in New Orleans and you’ll find it is cold and windy and I think it’s been raining right up to now. Minnesota is the best foul weather team in professional football. Besides all that, Minnesota is the underdog and if Pittsburgh wins it won’t be by much. ” I thanked Alfred. With a grin of satisfaction, I made two phone calls passing the word: “Pittsburgh is a lock. “

Tuesday is usually payday for the bookies. During the pro football season (or should we say all the time, excepting the first week in June), bettors who could not “get even” Sunday always have Monday night football to slide a little deeper into the hole. The payoff is prearranged for a parking lot or more often, a restaurant. Most of the time, bookies collect the entire sum. In special cases like Alfred, they allow partial payment and a friendly warning. “Don’t bet so heavy, you’ve been losing bad, ” they often advise. “Bet for kicks. Bet $20. Bet the TV game. ” Rarely, especially in this part of the country, will a bookie sic some underworld thug on a welcher.

If a bettor is in too deep to justify any credit, “Well, ” said one small bookmaker, “I tell him, I’m sorry, but I need the money myself. Then I spread the word and the other books cut the guy off. That hurts him worse than a broken arm. “

Bookies in Dallas, like anywhere else, make no money because they are smart gamblers. Sure, some play hunches and have favorite teams, but they recognize such feelings as costly fancy and try to assure a profit by seeing that an equal amount is bet on each team so they can collect the “juice. “

Thus, a Dallas bookmaker is plugged in with other bookies all over the nation. If, for instance, the Cowboys are playing the Redskins, and a local book finds himself $5, 000 “heavy” in Dallas’ favor he can quickly call Washington or Kansas City or someplace and “lay off’ the excess amount. This nation-wide circuit also assures that the point spreads remain virtually the same around the country, thus making it futile for an amateur to try “betting between the spread. “

Juice is what keeps the betting world going. Bookies tack on a 10 per cent additional charge to each losing bet. So, if I bet $200 on Baylor and they beat the spread, my winnings are $200. If I lose, I pay $220. Bookies then, operate on a profit margin roughly equal to 5 per cent of their gross. Include in the bookmaker’s overhead costs an enormous telephone bill and you see that they must depend on heavy volume to remain in business. They get it. The Texas Attorney General’s office claims Texans bet more than $800 million on football each year. In Dallas County, an estimated $360 million is bet during the 24 weeks of football season. That translates into an approximate $18 million worth of Dallas County “juice. “

When law enforcement officials have nothing better to do, they bust bookies. They usually claim to have spent long months of investigating to crack this “multi-million-dollar operation, ” but the big bookies openly scoff at such talk. “You gotta be careful, damn careful, “one of Dallas’ biggest bookies told me, “but police are a lot of noise. They bust a bookmaking shop by accident. One of their investigators overhears a conversation or something. And look how many convictions they get. “

Dallas bookies don’t pay off police the way bookmakers must in Eastern cities. Instead, they are careful to avoid the use of names over the phone or on paper. When a bettor in town begins contact with a bookie, he first must tell the book who recommended him. After checking out the background of a prospective customer, the bookie provides the gambler with a code number. After a few transactions, the code numbers are often dropped. “The voice is the most important thing, ” said one Dallas restaurant owner-bookie. “You gotta trust the voice. “

Good gamblers expect their bookies to be two things: 1) honest and 2) good liars. To qualify as honest a book need only pay off on time. Bookies lie about losing money. They say they really were drowned by smart handicappers or that law enforcement officials are making it too tough. Bookies who are late paying off don’t last long. One book in Dallas owes Alfred $400. “He (the bookie) may get a few $20 bets, but he’ll never amount to nothing. The word’s out, ” Alfred says.

Like I said, Alfred bets because he truly needs the action. Probably he doesn’t need a system, but usually one of us discovers one. One of our first systems was betting the Carr Ratings, a sports prognostication chart that appears each Wednesday in the morning papers during the fall. The way this system worked was if, say, the regular betting sheet listed Kansas as three point favorite over TCU but Carr said Kansas would win by 14, we bet Kansas. The first week we wagered cautiously and won some. The next week we won more. The third week, Alfred was really warmed up to the system and bet an average of $200 each on 22 games. He lost 16. Back to the credit union.

One of our next systems was the “super hots. ” Alfred had a friend, who knew this guy (etc. etc.), who was uncanny. One story had it that the guy worked with computers. Another said he was full of ESP. The first week was okay, but by the second week, the computer had blown a circuit or maybe the guy was full of something other than ESP. Whatever happened, our “super hots” fared miserably. Despite all this, I did have some luck touting the games over the next few weeks. Alfred, meanwhile, owed two bookies a combined total of more than $5, 000. For the first time, Alfred sounded despondent and for the first time he was looking for help.

Five minutes before the kickoff of some East Coast game Alfred called. “Tom, I can’t pick’em. Quick, who do you like?”

There are as many systems as there are gamblers. None work. Some people say you should always cover your horse at the track. That is, instead of betting $50 on the nose, bet him $20 each, to win, place and show. But this is not gambling. Only poor investing.



Law enforcement officials correctly blame television for the decade’s huge increase in team sport betting. “I don’t begrudge him the betting even when he loses a lot, ” says the understanding wife of a modest gambler. “It makes his weekend more exciting to bet on the games he watches. ” People who would ordinarily not bother with a televised college basketball game cringe and sigh with every bucket because they have wagered $10 on the outcome.



Recently UCLA played Maryland and a Dallas TV station presented a delayed broadcast of the game at 11 p. m. Alfred bet the game at 6 p. m. When the sports segment of the 10 o’clock news came on Alfred stood outside in the rain so he couldn’t hear the score of the already completed game.

Surely you know someone who makes an occasional bet. Perhaps you think it silly for this country or this state government not to legalize all gambling. Perhaps you think of the tax revenue -or should I say, tax relief-it would bring. Perhaps you think the open violations of the gambling laws by an estimated 40 million Americans breeds only disrespect for all laws. Maybe you are right. Still though, I hope gambling is not legalized.

If the government took over all bookmaking, the bureaucrats would muddle it up like they do everything else. They would choke the inherent free enterprise and give us computers, pension plans, management trainees, blue, pink and white forms to fill out, and, in a short while, 20 per cent “juice. “

If the do-gooders of this nation really want to eliminate gambling, prostitution and dirty books, don’t outlaw them, put the government in charge. Let them add a Bookmaker’s Local 291 and a public relations department for prostitutes. Pretty soon, no one could spend the time or money to indulge in vice.

Before some reform-minded Congress interferes with illegal gambling, I am going to enjoy it. Winninga bet or losing a bet ranks with sex inthe daytime for pure insatiable exhilaration. Besides, I can’t quit now. Yousee, I’ve got this new system. All yougotta do . . .