“Clint Stone” — Who am I really? / Photo by Geno Munari

In the autobiographical book, Cheater, the author Clint Stone (most likely an alias), paints himself as a lifelong gambling cheat. His specialty is mucking, using sleight of hand, one hand in his case, to introduce a card into play while removing another. A self-proclaimed crossroader, he’d plied his craft around the world.

“I was a cheater. A predator. Casinos my prey. I was hunter and hunted,” Stone described.

The book covers a brief period in midlife for Stone, in the early 1990s, following his release from federal prison, where he served five years “because I wouldn’t drop a dime,” he wrote. Once out, he makes Las Vegas his home and plans the ultimate casino heist of his decades-long career. In the meantime, he and various associates pull off various cheats, of gambling houses and high rollers. All are fully detailed, from prep to conclusion.

The book is fascinating and a fun read, but is it true? It Really Happened! investigated, and here’s what we learned.

The Real Deal

Las Vegas businessman, Geno Munari, watched Stone demonstrate his card skills, when the two met to discuss Munari possibly publishing Cheater. Munari subsequently published the book on Amazon.

Stone’s performance impressed Munari, a former dealer and magician well-trained and -experienced in detecting card cheats.  

“His one hand muck for blackjack, making a total of 12 into a total of 20 or even a blackjack (ace and a 10 valued card) is undetectable,” Munari wrote in Cheaters‘ introduction.

Munari videotaped Stone in action. Watch it here and decide for yourselves. DB: Find the video.

Down To The Nitty-Gritty

Many of the specific places and dates in the book aren’t accurate. For instance, Stone mentions a significant life event involving the Humboldt Hotel in Winnemucca at a certain point in time, which can’t be true as it had burned down prior and hadn’t been rebuilt. He didn’t use people’s real names either.

Perhaps Stone changed these details to keep himself and his accomplices from being identified or worse. This is understandable, but if so, perhaps he should’ve informed readers this is the case.

***SPOILER ALERT*** More significantly, the book climaxes with Stone and crew taking a casino for a multimillion slot machine jackpot. Did that really happen?

It may have!

Similar Jackpot Win

In Cheater, Stone describes his target as a $25 million jackpot slot machine in an unnamed casino on the Las Vegas Strip.

“I wanted that jackpot,” he wrote. “My desire to take off a multimillion dollar slot machine score was a slice of my reality. That same desire was also part of my non-reality, which would remain an undeveloped, negative image until I beat the machine.”

Stone claims to have rigged the slot to pay off and prearranged for an African American surgical nurse from Los Angeles to come forward and collect the money. He alludes to carrying out the theft in 1993.

In that year, though, the amount of Nevada’s slot jackpots was nowhere near that large. They didn’t reach $25 million until 2003, when a player won a $39.7 million jackpot at the Excalibur Casino in Las Vegas.

In 1992, as reported in local newspapers, an African American surgical nurse from Sacramento, named Delores Adams, landed a $9.3 million progressive Megabucks slot jackpot, a huge and all-time record amount in The Silver State at the time. For the win, she reportedly lined up four symbols on a $1 slot machine in Harrah’s Reno Hotel and Casino in Northern Nevada.

The similarities between the newspapers and Stone’s accounts suggest this event involving Adams is the one he describes in Cheater. They don’t, however, confirm the win actually was a heist.

If this was the career-topping cheat Stone asserts it was, why did he embellish the dollar amount?

Sources

1949

The Smiths, who owned and operated Harolds Club in Reno, Nevada appropriately named their casino Roaring Camp.

Generally, a roaring camp was “a gold-prospecting camp characterized by wild behavior, unrestrained drinking and gambling,” according to the Oxford English Dictionary.

Specifically, Roaring Camp was an actual mining settlement in California’s Amador County, on the Mokelumne River where forty-niners prospected for gold.

Also, Roaring Camp was the name of the fictional California gold mining town in American author Bret Harte’s 19th century short story, “The Luck of Roaring Camp.”

Harolds’ Roaring Camp isn’t around anymore, but California’s Roaring Camp is, as a tourist spot, Roaring Camp Mining Co.

Source: Reno Evening Gazette (Nev.), March 30, 1949.

1928-1972

Samuel “Sam” F. Termini (1903-1972) was known as a small-time racketeer who worked at and operated gambling enterprises mostly for others.

Here are 10 interesting tidbits about him and his life:

Gambling History

1) Termini was associated with Kansas City Mobster Charles Binaggio. Born and raised in Missouri, Termini had worked for Binaggio before moving to California in 1939 and was one of his godsons.

2) Termini became involved in gambling in Kansas City, Missouri, where, reportedly, he owned and operated some type of business at 404 Independence Avenue where he offered illegal gambling

In Northern California, Termini managed the illegal gambling at the Willow Tree in Colma (San Mateo County), co-owned by Mobsters Emilio Giorgetti and Elmer “Bones” F. Remmer. He held this job from 1942 until the sheriff closed the club in 1947. Also, Termini owned a 10 percent interest in the operation.

Subsequently, in the same county, Termini, using the alias Sam Murray, rented some space in the Silver Saddle tavern-café, in which he debuted and ran the Skyline Club in Redwood City. The illegal gambling there included craps and blackjack.

Termini leased and managed the gambling concession at the Tahoe-Biltmore in Crystal Bay, Nevada during the warm weather season of 1949.

Starting around the mid- to late 1950s (see No. 9), Termini worked as a pit boss at the Horseshoe Club in Las Vegas, Nevada. At the time, his former associate Giorgetti owned it.

3) When Termini ran legal gambling at the Tahoe-Biltmore, Binaggio visited the financially troubled property and decided to bankroll his godson in what was to be “the biggest gambling joint west of the Rockies,” reported the California crime commission in its 1953 report. However, the assassination of Binaggio on April 6, 1950 ended the plan.

4) Police busted Termini for illegal gambling in 1928 at his Kansas City establishment and fined $25 (about $410 today).

Custom Home

5) Termini had a custom home built for him and his family in Hillsborough, California. Constructing a home at the time, in 1946, required veteran’s priority, which Termini didn’t have. So he transferred title of his property and obtained building permits for it in the name of a nephew, a World War II veteran living in Missouri, Jesse LaBoi. This was illegal.

6) Once completed, Termini’s home was an impenetrable fortress. A heavy electronic fence surrounded the property and was controlled from an underground room. This barrier was equipped with a ring of electric eyes linked to an alarm and motion activated floodlights. Gates allowed for entry but only through controls on the Terminis’ cars or by telephoning an unlisted number. The door to the wine cellar was armor plated. An house-wide intercom allowed Termini to hear any and all conversations taking place anywhere inside the home.

Suits Against Him

7) In 1951, the general contractor and the architectural firm that built and designed Termini’s house, respectively, sued him. The former asked for $103,000 ($1.1 million. The latter asked for $16,000 ($107,000 today). Both amounts were the unpaid balances owed them for their services. The case went to trial, and jurors ruled only in favor of Marshall. They awarded him $126,523 ($1.4 million), including interest and court costs.

8) The federal government tried Termini in 1952 for under-reporting his and his wife’s income and underpaying the amount of federal income taxes they owed. The years for which he was charged were between 1945 and 1949 for his taxes and 1945 and 1947 for hers. Termini was found guilty of tax evasion in the amount of about $92,000 ($976,000 today). The judge sentenced him to three years in federal prison and a fine of $20,000 ($212,000 today).

Last 20 Years

9) For the tax evasion, Termini spent three years in the McNeil Island Federal Penitentiary. After getting released, he reportedly lived and worked in Las Vegas. Eventually, he moved to Reno, Nevada.

10) Termini passed away on June 12, 1972 at age 69 in Reno. His body was interred at Mountain View Cemetery.

Sources

1913-1915

Circumstances of a lawsuit in the U.S. led to an unusual occurrence, even for Nevada: the federal government taking over and running a Silver State casino.

It was The Big Casino, a combination casino, dance hall, hotel and restaurant, in Tonopah, then one of the state’s few remaining true mining towns. At the time, William S. Johnson and G.W. Summerfield owned the business.

The Ball Starts Rolling

The impetus for this unprecedented action was a lawsuit William Johnson’s ex-wife Roxa S. Johnson filed in mid-1913, asking the court to set aside the former couple’s divorce decree. A Nevada judge had granted it about 3.5 years earlier, on Dec. 14, 1909, on grounds that Roxa had abandoned William.

The two had married in 1890 in Ohio, and their union had resulted in a son Clemmer, born in 1896. At some point, the Johnsons had moved to Tonopah, Following the legal split, Roxa and Clemmer had relocated to and lived in Los Angeles. William had stayed put.

Details Of The Suit

In her filing, Roxa claimed she’d been deceived under false pretenses into signing an agreement noting William would give her an existing $13,000 (about $369,000 today) note and pay her $76 ($2,000) per month. His estate, however, was worth multiple times that, an estimated $110,000 ($3 million today).

Roxa also alleged she’d been induced to sign another document that waived notice of the divorce and allowed the case to be heard within an hour. She’d noted that while she’d waited in the office of William’s attorney for him to return, he’d filed the action, and the judge had granted a divorce decree. Roxa had signed the forms at 12:30 p.m., and the case had concluded before 2 p.m.

Further, she claimed the divorce had come about through fraudulent means. Specifically:

• The agreement she’d signed had no legal standing
• Roxa hadn’t known anything about a divorce action until the judge issued the decree

  William’s abandonment claim and his testimony supporting it had been false; she and William had been living together up to three days before the divorce request was filed

• No mention had been made of there being a minor child
• William had claimed he lacked financial means
• A default hadn’t been entered in the case

Judge Hits Pause Button

As a result of Roxa’s lawsuit, in August, Federal Judge William W. Morrow issued an injunction and restraining order to William, barring him from disposing of any of his property until the case got resolved.

Along with The Big Casino, William’s assets included the one-year-old Green Goose Tavern and other real estate, in Tonopah; 27,498 shares of the Nye County Land and Livestock Company; securities in other commercial entities; and about $3,000 ($85,000) in cash and diamonds.

Morrow also appointed a receiver, T.F. “Frank” Bonneau of Tonopah, to take control of and maintain William’s assets until further court order. William sought to have the receivership vacated, arguing that it was detrimental to his casino business and that the order was illegal, given that William wasn’t the sole owner of The Big Casino. The co-proprietor’s efforts, however, were unsuccessful.

Uncle Sam Becomes Gambler

Thus, on Aug. 21, 1913 the U.S. government assumed control of and began operating The Big Casino. Joe Monahan was in charge of the gambling component.

“These were mad, merry days at the dance hall,” reported The Tonopah Daily Bonanza (June 10, 1915). “Uncle Sam enjoyed a splendid revenue … he took the roof off and let the blue sky shine in. He brought forth card tables and other gambling devices and told his patrons to go the limit.”

For about two months, the government was “raking in the money” from this popular enterprise.

That revenue ceased, though, in mid-November, when the Nye County Commissioners revoked the business’ liquor license.

“Finally local authorities decided that Uncle Sam was entirely too rotten in his methods for a God-loving, law-abiding mining camp,” the Bonanza reported.

Once it became a dry establishment, patronage plummeted, and Bonneau closed the place soon after.

The Resolution

A few weeks later, on Dec. 15, 2013, The Big Casino reopened under new, non-governmental management, that of Charles Enquist, a previous owner. Liquor was allowed to flow again and did.

As for Johnson v. Johnson, it dragged on for two years, into 1915, but William wasn’t around for most of it. He died in March 1914 from heart trouble.

Ultimately, the court found Roxa had a legal right to much more than what she’d agreed to, about $80,000 ($2.2 million), according to Court Master Lester J. Summerfield, who’d heard testimony about and had assessed William’s assets.  

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Sources

Accardo

1935-1965

Tony Accardo, né Antonino Leonardo Accardo (1906-1992), is credited with reviving and expanding the Chicago Outfit’s gambling business in the 1940s after the organization’s head Paul “The Waiter” Ricca named him underboss. Accardo himself had his hand in various gaming enterprises before and after, too.

Accardo is the great-grandfather of the National Football League’s Bosa brothers:* Nick, defensive end for the 49ers and Joey, outside linebacker for the Chargers.

Individual Participation

As early as 1940, Accardo and some Outfit partners owned and operated the prosperous Owl Club, an illegal casino-nightclub in Calumet City, Illinois, on the corner of Douglas and Plummer avenues.

The Mobster-gambler also ran book, oftentimes under the name Joe Batters, a nickname Al “Scarface” Capone had bestowed upon him for his prowess in thrashing people with a baseball bat. In the early 1940s, for example, Accardo conducted a bookmaking enterprise out of the Ogden building at 192 N. Clark St. in Chicago’s Loop.

Not only was Accardo an operator of games of chance; he also was a player and thus, a gambler in both senses of the word. Reportedly, he was one of the best patrons of his own joint, the Owl Club. Even when he older and less mobile, he kept up the activity, placing bets via the telephone.

Group Activities

While underboss, Accardo shifted the Outfit out of labor racketeering and into other areas of organized crime, including gambling. He pushed the syndicate into three specific areas: slot machines, wire service and casinos.

Slots: The Chicago Mob broadened its footprint by placing slots in various establishments beyond the main street gambling house. These included gas stations, restaurants and bars and the group’s favorite targeted outlet, social clubs and fraternal organizations. The Catholic War Vets, the American Legion Posts, the CIO Steel Workers Club, the Polish Democratic Club, and the Italian American Republican Club, are just some of the many local ones.

After successfully flooding its territory in and around Chicago with slots, the Outfit expanded geographically. It hit the neighboring cities first, then nearby states and eventually Nevada.

“Accardo made sure that all the legal Las Vegas casinos used his slot machines,” wrote John William Tuohy in the article “Accardo.”

Wire Service: During the mid-1940s the Outfit took over the Continental Press Service, the wire service that distributed race results throughout the U.S. It did so by killing the operator, James Ragen, after he’d refused to partner with the Chicago Mob.

Once under its control, Continental “became so big and lucrative that an investigating Senate committee later called it the ‘life blood’ of the syndicate,'” reported the Chicago Tribune (Nov. 18, 1984).

Casinos: Three, during the 1950s, the Outfit pursued gambling in a bigger scale. It moved into owning stakes in and skimming millions from casinos. It stuck primarily to legal gambling jurisdictions, first Havana, Cuba, while that lasted, and then Nevada. For instance, by 1961, Chicago owned controlling interests in the Riviera, Stardust, Fremont and Desert Inn, in Vegas.

Despite having a major hand in the Outfit’s gambling (and other lines of business), Accardo always denied being one of the organization’s members never mind a boss. Instead, he claimed he merely was a beer salesman for a Chicago brewery.

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* How Accardo and the Bosa Brothers Are Related

Sources

1941-1952

The 1941 breakout of war between the U.S. and Japan started a series of deleterious events for Nevada’s first tango parlor Reno Club, Inc. and its proprietors. These included a tangle with a newcomer to the region’s gambling industry, William “Bill” F. Harrah.

Longstanding Bingo Business

A group of Japanese-American men, all U.S. citizens, debuted a gaming club in June 1931 at 232 N. Virginia Street in The Biggest Little City. Along with tango (also called bingo), the place  offered hazard, 21, craps and roulette. The owners were:

• Ben Furuta, president
• Fred Taketo Aoyama, vice president and assistant manager
• Fred Y. Yamagishi, secretary
• Y. Yamagishi (a younger relative of Fred Y.), manager

(Furuta lived in California, but the others were Northern Nevada residents.)

Immediately, Reno Club, Inc. was successful. It was the only tango salon in town until Bill Harrah came on the scene in 1937. His first Reno tango enterprise was on Center Street, outside of the city’s gambling core, and, thus, Harrah closed it after only a few months. His next, which he called Plaza Tango, was on Commercial Row. In March 1940, he added a second tango enterprise, next door to Reno Club, Inc., at 242 N. Virginia Street.

Beginning of the End

Once the U.S. declared war on Japan, on December 8, 1941, all people of Japanese descent living in the States were considered the enemy and treated as such. The owners of Reno Club, Inc. were no exception. For starters, the U.S. federal government impounded their money, leaving them with no capital with which to operate their gambling business.

Also, Furuta was interned in the Poston War Relocation Authority concentration camp in southwestern Arizona, close to the California border and near the town of Parker.  

The elder Yamagishi was arrested but released on parole, according to a newspaper article.

Aoyama was drafted but not called to serve.  

Given their tenuous financial position and alien status, Reno Club, Inc.’s proprietors asked Harrah if he wanted to acquire their enterprise. He offered to pay $20,000 ($337,000 today) for it. About a week later, when the owners told Harrah they agreed to the deal, he indicated the offer price no longer stood and now was $12,500 ($210,000 today), they reported. Consequently, they refused to sell to him.

May 1942

Instead, they renegotiated their lease agreement on their club’s building, with the owner, Frank Quinn of Young Investment Co.

The document outlined that Harrah could lease the premises for $350 (about $5,900 today) a month for a year, and if the war wasn’t over by that point, the lease would revert to month by month. It would remain in effect “until the general treaty of peace has been concluded between the Axis Nations on the one part and the United Nations on the other part” or until October 26, 1948, whichever came first (Nevada State Journal, July 16, 1947).

Right away, Harrah assumed the space and advertised another bingo club.

September 1945

When the war ended for the U.S. on September 1, 1945, the Reno Club, Inc. owners — now Fred and Y. Yamagishi and Fred Aoyama — sought to get back their gambling establishment. However, Harrah refused to vacate the premises, saying he didn’t have to until a peace treaty was signed between Japan and the States. (Typically, peace treaties aren’t signed until seven or more years after hostilities end, and until such a treaty is in place, those considered enemy aliens during the war technically retained that status.)

Instead of fighting for the return of their business, Aoyama and the Yamagishis sold it to the O’Keefes: James L., Charles P. and Lottie M. But they couldn’t operate it either because Harrah wouldn’t vacate it.

Another War, This One In Court

What followed was a five-year-long legal battle between the O’Keefes and Young Investment Co. and/or Harrah.

September 1946

To get Harrah out of their Reno Club, Inc., the O’Keefes sued the landlord Young Investment Co. The O’Keefes claimed Harrah had no right to occupy the premises now that the war was over. Young Investment, on the other hand, asserted that, according to the lease, Harrah was entitled to stay there until a peace treaty was effected or the lease ended in October 1948.

Later in September, Judge William McKnight of the district court ruled against the O’Keefes, and Harrah stayed put. The O’Keefes appealed.

July 1947

Next, the Nevada Supreme Court heard the case. The judges reversed the decision and returned the case to the lower court to be tried again.

September 1947

At the second trial in district court, Judge Frank McNamee of Las Vegas presided. Also, Harrah was a defendant alongside Young Investment.

February 1948

McNamee ruled differently than McKnight had and ordered Harrah to clear out of Reno Club, Inc.’s premises. But Harrah didn’t. Instead, he appealed to the state supreme court.

October 1948

Before the case was even presented to the supreme court judges, October 26 came around, thereby terminating the lease on 232 N. Virginia St. The gambler moved out of Reno Club, Inc. that day. The next month, the O’Keefes reopened Reno Club Inc. (and eliminated the comma from the name).

The Nevada Supreme Court upheld McNamee’s 1948 ruling.

The Exclamation Point

May 1952

The O’Keefes again sued Harrah, this time seeking damages for the four months between June 15, 1946 and October 26, 1946, during which, according to the lawsuit, he’d illegally occupied Reno Club, Inc. This period was before the initial district court ruling in the O’Keefes versus Young Investment case. The O’Keefes asked for $133,632 (about $1.4 million today). The amount consisted of rent, at $100 ($1,000 today) a day, and $43,300 ($448,000 today) for use of the gambling business’ personal property.

Judge A.J. Maestretti determined the O’Keefes weren’t entitled to damages for any period before McNamee’s February 1948 ruling but were for the six months after that. Consequently, Maestretti awarded them $8,155 ($84,400 today) for rent, at $105 per day.

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What do you think? Should Bill Harrah have vacated the Reno Club, Inc. premises when the war between the U.S. and Japan ended or not?

Sources

A Look Back

In 1970, when Nathan “Nate” S. Jacobson debuted the Kings Castle resort in Incline Village, Lady Godiva, naked and atop a horse, greeted visitors at the property’s arched entrance.

Five years later, Hyatt Hotels Corp. acquired Kings Castle. The new owner removed and auctioned off all of the themed décor and donated the proceeds to charity. Godiva was among the items.

William “Bill” Anderson, who owned the now defunct Ponderosa Ranch, snatched her up. Sadly, he passed away in 2008, and what happened to Godiva, if anything, between that time and when she moved to the capital city, is a mystery.

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Do you know where she was during that period?

Hyatt Regency Lake Tahoe Resort, Spa and Casino (Incline Village, NV)

Tahoe Biltmore (Crystal Bay, NV)

What do you think about these acquisitions?

The Harmony Kid made his living as a traveling gambling cheat in the U.S. and was known from coast to coast. While primarily a card and dice sharp, Lawrence Varner (1865-1933) also perpetrated swindles related to roulette and horse races. He he obtained his moniker because he was born and lived for decades in New Harmony, Indiana.

He was “one of the most notorious gamblers and sporting men in the country,” wrote The Democrat in 1892. That newspaper shared what a colleague of Varner said about him: “That fellow has won more money in the last two years than any three men in the country in his life, but it goes like the wind. He is never broke, though, and has lots of friends in every city in the Union.”

Cons and other crimes were part and parcel of Varner’s career despite his having a family of his own. Here we create a snapshot of his “professional” life through some highlights, presented chronologically.

1886: His Unfailing Bones

This year, craps was introduced in Cincinnati, Ohio. Using his trusty method of cheating, the Harmony Kid stunned the naivete right out of two of the game’s operators there, taking one for $900 ($25,000 today) and the other for $1,100 ($30,000).

During play, Varner “would sling his money around promiscuously and give the house dice a wicked twist with the result that one of them would jump off the table, and on to the floor,” described The Daily Times-Star (June 10, 1924). While retrieving the errant die, he switched out both for his own set of stolen tops and buttons, misspotted dice with which one can’t roll certain losing combos. Varner’s bones lacked ones and sixes, minimizing his chances of landing on the dreaded seven. 

“To add insult to injury, the ‘Harmony Kid’ wrote a scurrilous letter to each of the Cincinnatians in which he told [them] that what [they] didn’t know about that little old game would fill a cistern,” reported The Daily Times-Star (June 10, 1924).

For the rest of his life, the Harmony Kid steered clear of Cincinnati.

1889: Escalated Card Game Dispute

During an argument with an Indiana saloonkeeper, Dallas Tyler, in Washington, Indiana, about a card game, Varner shot him. The bullet hit Tayler on the inside of one of his legs. Varner escaped, and Tyler survived.

1890: Wedding Bells Ring

The Harmony Kid married Laura Warden in Kentucky and went on to have at least two children.

1893: Arrested for Murder

Varner was charged with murdering a George Franklin, who’d been found dead on the train tracks in New Harmony with a fractured skull and two head gashes. He’s last been seen at the fair. It’s unclear why the Harmony Kid was fingered for the crime. During his trial, the jury couldn’t agree, with 10 for acquittal, two for conviction. Eventually, the case was dismissed.

1898: Off To The Great White North

During The Klondike Gold Rush, Varner and some buddies traveled to this region in Canada’s Yukon Territory to make a fortune. Their hopes were dashed, though, when they discovered there really wasn’t any money there for the taking. After six months with nothing to show for their time spent there, the group returned to the Lower 48.

1900: A Needle In A Wheel

With fellow gambling cheat and Indianan Jim Pents, the Harmony Kid swindled Columbus, Ohio gambling room owner John Alexander, known as the Black Prince, out of $400 ($11,000 today) at the roulette wheel. Varner and Pents had broken into Alexander’s place of business the day before and inserted a needle into the wheel. Pressing on the needle stopped the wheel.

On the day of the swindle, the two showed up dressed as farmers. They played some faro and lost. The roulette wheel operator enticed them to try their luck with him, so the duo made a few bets and lost. Then a third man, a secret associate of Varner and Pents, entered the business. He acted as though he was just watching the action, but intentionally stood blocking the operator’s view of the Harmony Kid.

Pents made the bets, and when he signaled, Varner pressed the needle. Every time they did this, they won, an average of $53 a turn. Alexander paid them in certificates of deposit but later, when he discovered they’d rigged his wheel, he stopped payment on them.  

“Not long ago [Varner and Pents] cleaned up $1,400 in Lexington by the same game,” reported the Greencastle Star-Press (July 28, 1900). “They have skinned a [gambling] bank in almost every big city in America. Both men have been principals in similar skinning affairs for years back.”

1903: Clever Horse Race Scam

The Harmony Kid employed a system for betting on the horse races at the pool rooms in New York, New York that generated between $2,000 and $3,000 (about $55,000 to $82,000 today) a day. After months of doing this six days a week at such enterprises in The Big Apple, the proprietors caught on, and they all banned him from their business.

Varner’s scheme was this: In the morning  at every pool room, he left a note with his bet, which was on a horse to come in as good as third. He purposefully always bet on a favorite because there wasn’t any third place money for the horses in this class in any race. He also indicated he wanted the form sheet in a certain newspaper to dictate his payout should he win. Those amounts tended to be prohibitive.

So every time Varner’s horse lost, the bookies had to give Varner back the money he bet, and any time his horse won, they had to pay him a large amount.

“In other words, the poolroom men were being constantly drained out of their money without a chance of winning a cent,” reported The Ottawa Journal (Nov. 7, 1903).

1904: More Creative Cheating

With an accomplice, also from Indiana, the Harmony Kid pulled a different, less complicated roulette cheat. In a gambling room in Pekin, Illinois, the two slowly made their way over to the roulette wheel. After playing and losing for a bit, Varner asked the wheel operator for some cigars. He went to retrieve some, and while away, the Harmony Kid somehow plugged the wheel. After that, the two cheats won on nearly every turn. They only played for a half-hour, but in that time racked up $465 ($13,000 today).

Also this year, Varner fleeced various bookmakers in Hot Springs, Arkansas out of about $9,000 ($247,000 today) in all. At several betting parlors, he and eight other swindlers wagered on various horse races. When the results came over the wires, everyone in his group won and collected their winnings. The announced winners, however, weren’t the actual winners.; the broadcast was fake, previously arranged by Varner.

For this fraud, Varner ultimately was arrested in St. Louis, extradited back to Arkansas and held over for a grand jury investigation. The charge was obtaining money under false pretenses. What happened in the case is unknown as the story disappeared from the headlines.

1910: Four-Minute Fraud

The Harmony Kid blew into Reno, Nevada on a train. It was the last chance to gamble there, as a new law mandated a permanent statewide shutdown by midnight that day. After ambling through the three still open casinos, he sat down to play craps in the Casino. By this time, he’d modified his dice switching modus operandi, pulling them from a sleeve as he pushed it up. Using his infamous misspotted dice, he took the house for $500 ($14,000 today) in only four minutes.

“He made every kind of a complicated bet, shooting continuously, and keeping the dealer so busy paying him that he could not notice the alarming number of sixes and eights,” reported the Reno Evening Gazette (Oct. 1, 1910). “Time up, the Kid left $30 or $40 in bets on the table, substituted the square dice and crapped out immediately.”

He stealthily merged with the crowd and moved to and out the door. Next, he went to the Palace, but quickly left when the craps dealer saw him, as the two knew one another. To make his escape, Varner drove to the neighboring town of Sparks and caught the train out there.

1920: Taking It Overseas

By year-end 1910, all legal gambling in the U.S. had gone away and with it, opportunities for the Harmony Kid to earn money in the way at which he excelled. It appears as though he spent some years serving the country during World War I.

Afterward, in 1920, he went to Europe for the purpose of “commercial business,” as a “salesman,” according to his passport application. Most likely, the only selling he did there was of the lie he was an honest gambler.

There was no mention of him in American newspapers until his passing, in 1933, at which time he was back in the States, Chicago specifically.

Do you know anything about the Harmony Kid you could share?

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Photos: all from freeimages.com

Sources

Nevada was to cease all gambling operations and activity by midnight September 30, 1910* per a new law, already passed.** The final night, a Friday, was unlike any other before.

“Nevada is determined to be good, even if the last remnant of the old west, in which the Brooklyn and Westchester school of fiction writers find rich color, has to go,” according to a Reno news story appearing in the Seymour Daily Republican (June 27, 1910).

Strange Ambiance

The air was electric on Commercial Row, the center of activity in Reno, the state’s largest metropolis at the time, but heightened emotions were palpable. Many residents and visitors lamented the impending end of an era and future chances to win big. Apprehension, even fear, gripped those who made their living in the industry. A piece of black crepe wrapped around the roulette wheel’s nickel and spindle represented the dealers’ grief. Among those opposed to gambling, a sense of triumph dominated.

People Everywhere

The sidewalks were awash with people, adults and children, residents and visitors, honest and dishonest, many wanting to take advantage of this last opportunity. Many wanted to see the inside of a casino and maybe even try their luck at a game. Cheaters wanted to ply their trade while they could.

“It seemed that the entire population of Reno, augmented by that of Sparks and other nearby communities, was abroad,” reported the Reno Evening Gazette (REG) (Oct. 1, 1910). “They had foregathered to witness a spectacle.”

One Big Party

The three big Reno clubs still open — the Louvre, Casino and Palace — were packed, not only with men but, in a rare sight, women, too, not just divorcées but also ladies who’d never set foot in such an establishment before. Many patrons drank at the bar. The crowds around the gaming tables were about nine people deep. Lots of men feverishly tried for a windfall even though the gambling operators imposed a $5 or $10 maximum bet.

“Few were content with seeing the play, most gambled away all they had, and borrowed right and left as the fever caught them,” reported the Nevada State Journal (NSJ) (Oct. 1, 1910). “Suckers were given a free rein, nothing was refused them, and scores who had saved their money for a fling at chance on the last night were ‘trimmed’ of their all in a few turns.”

The gambling clubs were amply staffed with spotters, guards and special officers to prevent a raid or robbery. That didn’t stop the Harmony Kid, however, from taking the Casino for $500 (about $13,000 today).

The majority of women departed the clubs at 7 p.m. due to a city ordinance forbidding their presence in any casino after that hour. Men, on the other hand, continued their feverish quest to get rich quick. By 9 p.m., one had to fight their way to a table to place a wager.

Unexpectedly, the concluding two weeks of Nevada gambling were the “dullest in the history of the game here,” the NSJ reported.

Closing For Good

Nevada locales outside of Reno had shut down their gambling earlier in the week — Carson City on Wednesday; Goldfield and Tonopah on Thursday; and Elko, Fallon, Winnemucca and other towns early on Friday.

That same Friday, Reno’s final closures began about 11:45 p.m. with the Casino. There, Detective John Hillhouse announced from a tabletop that no more cards would be turned, no more dice would be thrown, no more balls would be rolled and no more drinks would be served. He encouraged patrons to quickly and quietly make their way to the door.

About five minutes later, the Louvre manager stood on the bar and, struggling to be heard over the din of the mass of people, announced the time had come.

Finally, at 11:55 p.m., the Palace followed suit but with the added touch of a toast to this sentiment: “The games are closed. Here’s hopin’ they’ll never open” (REG).

Gambling No More

When midnight came, “the death knell of gambling, at least the legitimized sort” sounded in Nevada and, thus, the U.S. as a whole. “The tiger was veiled.”

Immediately after, as the NSJ described, “Instead of the crowded houses, with the balls clicking inside and the lights and gaiety, with talking machines tilling the air with a medley of noises, there was only a quiet street, with the saloon fronts beaming light.”

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* Existing gambling licenses expired on September 30, 1910, the final day of the third quarter.

** This was the first time gambling was abolished in the state of Nevada (since 1865 when it joined the Union). It, was, however, banned in 1864 when Nevada was a territory. Between 1864 and 1909, certain games and types of gambling were legalized at various times.

Sources