Book was Mecca for characters
In its heyday, the Stardust sports book was a Mecca for bettors, the epicenter of the sports betting world, and ground zero for high-roller action.
Working there was also the most fun you could imagine, and I will always treasure the friends I made and the memories I took with me.
As the sports book manager under Scotty Schettler, I had a front-row seat. I watched all the biggest players walk in off the street and bet any amount they wanted in cash. There were no forms; no one asked for I.D.; nothing.
Since we didn’t know their real names, we assigned nicknames. One that comes to mind is the "Mad Plunger." He would show up every Monday afternoon carrying a plastic supermarket bag filled with hundred dollar bills, walk up to the counter and bet $5,000 on the baseball game.
I would move the line 5 cents and he would bet it again. He would keep betting it until the "Spinner," another regular, couldn’t stand it anymore and began betting the other side.
After Spinner bet, I would drop the line back 5 cents. Then Plunger would re-bet. This betting and line moving would go on for a few rounds, but Spinner could never out-bet Plunger, whose plastic Albertson’s bag must have been bottomless.
If Plunger had a winner, none of my cashiers nor my boardman, Tiger Paul, would take a lunch break the next day. They knew when he came in to collect he would leave two $100 bills for the cashier and another $200 the boardman.
Another time things got a little tense. Often runners (guys who work for high rollers and place their bets for them) would stand in line overnight so they could make their bets as soon as the numbers went up.
One day a runner left his spot in line to use the bathroom. When he came back, Crazy Jim, told him he had lost his place and enforced the decree with a snub nose .45 pistol.
Naturally, we didn’t want our bettors shot to death (before they bet), so we originated the lottery system. We would open a deck of cards and each bettor would take a card. The rank of the card determined the order in which they could bet.
It was always the most volatile during college hoops season. We would open seven windows at 8 a.m. and have at least 15 to 20 limit bettors in each line.
Keep in mind this was before computers, when every "dime" bet ($1,000) had to be logged in by hand. We also logged "nickel" bets ($500) but nothing lower than that, so we never really knew what we actually had on a game.
Nevertheless, the first hour normally had at least 80 to 100 line changes; no one could keep up but somehow the job got done and it was fun.
Some of the other memorable characters that would have made Damon Runyon proud included Jack the Hat, Jerry the Hat, Tony Bags, Dickie Two Dimes, Dick the Pick, and the infamous "Fast Eddie."
The names could go on, but when the wrecking ball is finished the past will be the past and we all must move on.
When I hit town many years back, my first stop was to bet a horse at the Stardust race book. My second stop was the legendary Stardust barber shop, where I first met Johnny the barber.
Well, I have been getting my haircut with Johnny ever since and I will have the last haircut in the barber shop on Tuesday, Halloween – a fitting day to say, "Goodbye, Stardust."
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In its heyday, the Stardust sports book was a Mecca for bettors, the epicenter of the sports betting world, and ground zero for high-roller action.
Working there was also the most fun you could imagine, and I will always treasure the friends I made and the memories I took with me.
As the sports book manager under Scotty Schettler, I had a front-row seat. I watched all the biggest players walk in off the street and bet any amount they wanted in cash. There were no forms; no one asked for I.D.; nothing.
Since we didn’t know their real names, we assigned nicknames. One that comes to mind is the "Mad Plunger." He would show up every Monday afternoon carrying a plastic supermarket bag filled with hundred dollar bills, walk up to the counter and bet $5,000 on the baseball game.
I would move the line 5 cents and he would bet it again. He would keep betting it until the "Spinner," another regular, couldn’t stand it anymore and began betting the other side.
After Spinner bet, I would drop the line back 5 cents. Then Plunger would re-bet. This betting and line moving would go on for a few rounds, but Spinner could never out-bet Plunger, whose plastic Albertson’s bag must have been bottomless.
If Plunger had a winner, none of my cashiers nor my boardman, Tiger Paul, would take a lunch break the next day. They knew when he came in to collect he would leave two $100 bills for the cashier and another $200 the boardman.
Another time things got a little tense. Often runners (guys who work for high rollers and place their bets for them) would stand in line overnight so they could make their bets as soon as the numbers went up.
One day a runner left his spot in line to use the bathroom. When he came back, Crazy Jim, told him he had lost his place and enforced the decree with a snub nose .45 pistol.
Naturally, we didn’t want our bettors shot to death (before they bet), so we originated the lottery system. We would open a deck of cards and each bettor would take a card. The rank of the card determined the order in which they could bet.
It was always the most volatile during college hoops season. We would open seven windows at 8 a.m. and have at least 15 to 20 limit bettors in each line.
Keep in mind this was before computers, when every "dime" bet ($1,000) had to be logged in by hand. We also logged "nickel" bets ($500) but nothing lower than that, so we never really knew what we actually had on a game.
Nevertheless, the first hour normally had at least 80 to 100 line changes; no one could keep up but somehow the job got done and it was fun.
Some of the other memorable characters that would have made Damon Runyon proud included Jack the Hat, Jerry the Hat, Tony Bags, Dickie Two Dimes, Dick the Pick, and the infamous "Fast Eddie."
The names could go on, but when the wrecking ball is finished the past will be the past and we all must move on.
When I hit town many years back, my first stop was to bet a horse at the Stardust race book. My second stop was the legendary Stardust barber shop, where I first met Johnny the barber.
Well, I have been getting my haircut with Johnny ever since and I will have the last haircut in the barber shop on Tuesday, Halloween – a fitting day to say, "Goodbye, Stardust."
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