Well, I was contemplating production of a rib-tickling explanation of balance sheet financial ratios, when I realized that I was 44 issues overdue for a road trip, after two years of conjuring up new perspectives on cardroom management twice monthly. I also had a hankering to play again in the Binion's press invitational freeroll tournament at the World Series of Poker. My friend Allan Murray, distinguished attorney (retired), long-time member of the San Francisco Giants corporation, and active "bon vivant", divides his time between his ancestral manse in Marin County and various Strip hotels, and offered to let me ride with him on his next drive from the Bay Area to Las Vegas.
The last time I took this trip, I headed down Route 99 through California's lush Central Valley, stopping at many of the small clubs along the way from Merced to Bakersfield before heading east to our desert Monte Carlo. Mr. Murray, however, likes to break his commute, so we headed north from Barstow into the desolate landscape of Death Valley. After mile on mile of huge rock formations in varying shades of pale, from ocher to slate, sculpted into fanciful shapes by eons of erosion and more than a century of mining, the desert air a suitable substitute for my usual daily sauna, we passed Zabriskie Point and pulled into the Furnace Creek Inn and Ranch.
This resort, occupying an oasis of greenery that must have seemed a sign of favor from the heavens to the first pioneers to cross this trackless wasteland, is an unexpected delight. It's a perfect place to decompress from the stresses of Bay Area life and the nonstop activity to come in Vegas. Swimming, horseback riding, fine drinking and dining, desert tours, and museums are provided for those who wish to do more than just bask in the brightness of each day's rays and 100-plus-degree temperatures. Accommodations range from deluxe to rough, suiting all budgets, and I regretted that we could stay only two days.
On leaving Death Valley, we took a left on State Line Road at Death Valley Junction, home of the world-famous Amargosa Opera House, connecting with Route 160 in Nevada, straight into Vegas.
First, however, we passed through the growing metropolis of Pahrump, "Heart of the New Old West." The Saddle West Casino, largest in town, drew us in. It was early, so Murray and I wandered through sparsely populated gaming tables and banks of slots. We were attracted by the sound of music from the showroom, and came upon the sight of a group of ladies, whose bodies belied their years, performing intricate dance routines. We'd stumbled upon a rehearsal of the "Nevada Silver Tappers," a volunteer group of tap dancers (minimum age: 50) who perform under the direction of B.J. Hetrick and the sponsorship of the Saddle West. They work hard to bring a little joy to hospital patients and convalescents, and were kind enough to send us off with a rousing performance of "Shine, Las Vegas" as we drove off toward Las Vegas, the last leg of our journey.
Long-time readers of "The Gambler" may recall my "Bay Area Beat" byline, which ran in this publication for nigh unto three years. As a sporatic contributor since, I was flattered that our ever-ebullient publisher, Lydia Pollak, not only recognized my voice when I called, but agreed to sponsor me once more as an entrant in the Press Invitational (free entry) Tournament held just before the $10K buy-in event, the no-limit Texas Hold'em match for the World Series of Poker Champion. This year, World Series host Jack Binion,owner of Binion's Horshoe Casino in Downtown Las Vegas, mot only awarded the Silver Anniversary World Poker Champion a first prize of over a million dollars in cash, but added the winner's weight in silver to the purse.
I didn't spend too much time at Binions. The twenty other tournaments held there in the month-long competitions schedule were beyond my means, with entry fees of $1500-$5000, as were the big-limit "live" games spinning off from them. I spent my five days in Lost Wages prowling around the poker rooms in the casinos on the Strip, playing in six clubs, eleven sessions, two to six hours.
My second, most successful and disastrous, day began as an exercise in keeping cool on the long walk between my hotel and the Strip, two Las Vegas blocks, about a half mile, or eight casinos. I was going to meet a friend for lunch at the Mirage Casino's thirty-table poker parlor, and to try to get back the $350 I'd misplaced there the day before. By 10:30 AM it was already well into the nineties. I proceeded to wander in and out of op-posite ends of each casino, working my way door-to-door down the street, mostly in air- conditioned bliss. On the way, I put my only three quarters into a video poker machine, and ran them up to $12. At the next casino, I quickly hit a jackpot that paid 590 coins for my 3-coin bet, and cashed in $135 to the good walking to lunch. A good day got better as I went up against live opponents in three real poker games, getting up from the last one ahead almost $500 for the day. Unfortunately, there was one more casino between the end of my walk back to the hotel and the sanctuary of my room. Forgetting basic players' axioms, to stick to your best game, and never play tired, I got into marathon blackjack game, and ended the 24-hour siege reduced to $100 stucker than I began it. I don't know if any of the new theme parks going up in the desert are going to feature roller coasters, but after that expensive stroll, I've already had my ride.
Given the size and success of the Poker Room at The Mirage, and the World Series going on Downtown, I was surprised at how busy the Luxor, MGM. Excalibur, Flamingo, and the few other cardrooms I scanned, bud didn't patronize, were. These latter poker parlors have from 5-15 tables, and were running at 50-75 per cent of capacity.
Perhaps the most interesting game I played in was at the one table in the Bourbon Street Casino at 120 E. Flamingo Road, next door to the Maxim. The poker game, either 7-card Stud or Texas Hold-em $1-$4-$8, depending on players, is hosted by Mike Gwozdecke (pronounced just as its spelled). The poker table is situated next to a craps table, with video slots on two other sides, and the dealer facing the pathway leading to the cashier's cage. This exposes a constant stream of casino customers to the blandishments of Gwozdecke and his shift-mate (Bill or Bob), who trade off dealer and floorman duties on the half hour.
There are no plans to expand the operation at Bourbon Street. Mike makes the valid point that a poker game, situated, as this one is, where it does not take much floor space away from either table games or slots, can be as profitable per square foot as any other casino game. In fact, one of the quaint interruptions to the card game occurs when one of the dice flies over the side of the adjacent craps table and lands under the poker table.
Mike Gwozdecke's background in poker harks back to playing in "home" games in his home town of Paterson, New Jersey, and to the 1960's, a time when I also had occasion to spend time in that small city. This was a time when Paterson, founded by Alexander Hamilton to be America's first planned industrial center, was under the stewardship of Mayor Francis Xavier Graves, and had a reputation as one of, if not the most, corrupt cities in the country.
Mike and I had planned a pleasant time reminiscing as he regularly coaxed players with little or no experience into the game. Most of the time, the other players would be one or two locals, a few visitors from legal poker states, such as myself, and, if needed, the floorman as prop. The game is extremely lively, both in action in the pots, and in constant reaction to, and often ribald commentary on,the constant flow of humanity, passing closer to the players than in other casino cardrooms, which are generally at least railed off from other games and foot traffic. This makes the game closer to a raucous home game in atmosphere, even as Mike runs as professional an operation as any other I encountered. If he has to slow the game more often to explain the blinds, or string bets, or other public cardroom rules to kitchen table heroes, he and the other dealer make up for lost time with fast, error-free performances in the box. Bourbon Street's poker table is open from 5 p.m. until dawn daily, although I'm sure Mike will arrange to go 'round the clock if he has the players. Play enough hours during your visit, and you may qualify for the weekly one-table freeze-out freeroll tournament, the details of which were being worked out during my visit.
Stop by and visit Mike, Bob, and Bill at Bourbon Street and play a few hands on your next trip to Las Vegas. And be sure to tell them, The Gambler sent you.