“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

X-ray showing a Kepplinger Holdout on the body

1888

It was the “very finest … the world has ever seen … a masterpiece,” wrote John Nevil Maskelyne in his 1894 book, Sharps and Flats: A Complete Revelation of the Secrets of Cheating at Games of Chance and Skill.

It was the “most complicated, ingenious and successful contraption in the history of crooked gambling,” someone in the know said more recently, in the 20th century. He was Frank Garcia, or the “The Gambling Investigator,” who nationally exposed and demonstrated ways to cheat at gambling.

It was the Kepplinger Holdout, which came on the scene in 1888 in San Francisco, California. A holdout is a mechanical device that allows a person to “hold out,” or conceal, one or more cards, until the card player (or magician) wants to use one for a game advantage (or trick).

Jacob’s Ladder, closed and open; Cuff Holdout, a marking its opening

How It Compared

The Kepplinger, interchangeably called the San Francisco, was superior to previous holdouts for two critical reasons.

One, it worked flawlessly, without the typical problems of its predecessors, such as cards getting hung up in the cuff and string getting tangled in a pulley wheel.

Two, it “operated imperceptibly and invisibly,” G.R. Williamson wrote in Frontier Gambling. Users didn’t make any noticeable body movements when employing it, like pressing a forearm against the table, required with the Jacob’s Ladder or crossing one’s hands, which activated the cuff-pocket holdout. The Kepplinger was used with a special shirt, one with double shirtsleeves and cuffs, so that if someone peered up the user’s sleeve, they wouldn’t see anything.

Original, Impeccable Design

The Kepplinger Holdout consisted of wheels, tubes, strings, pulleys and other parts, all of which were connected and ran from the user’s knees to shoulders and down to a wrist, under their clothes. “The centerpiece was a metal slide attached to a rod, which retracted into a pair of steel jaws,” Williamson highlighted. The double shirtsleeves hid this assembly.

“The design was brilliant,” he added.

To activate the Kepplinger, in other words to secret away or return cards to one’s palm, the user spread their knees. This action, in the case of the former, caused the device’s steel jaws to open and the slide to extend. The user then inserted the card or cards into the cuff, and the jaws, securely holding them, closed — all undetectable by others. Click here for a video demonstration of how it worked.

Key parts of the Kepplinger Holdout

No. 1: Spring catch forced down into the hand to take away or deliver a card.

No. 2: Machine and, behind it, false sleeve as it rests on the arm when not in use.

No. 3: Arm part of machine and false sleeve, with the spring catch extended for use.

No. 4: Ingenious joint that allows the tubing to fit itself to motion of the body in all directions.

No. 5: Slide view of spring catch and holder showing double receptacle for taking away and delivering a card with one movement. The long tongue keeps the cards apart.

Man Behind The Machine

The Kepplinger Holdout was named eponymously after its inventor, P.J. Kepplinger, known in high-class Frisco gambling circles.

“[He] was a professional gambler; that is, he was. In other words, he was a sharp — and of the sharpest,” Maskelyne noted.

After creating the device, Kepplinger tested it for months in poker games with the other local card sharps. It proved infallible, as he won continuously and, thus, earned the nickname, “The Lucky Dutchman.” His opponents suspected he was cheating, though, but after ruling out all of the known methods, they couldn’t figure out how.

That is, until one day they cornered him and searched his person. Kepplinger reportedly put up a valiant fight but soon was overpowered. They discovered the machine.

Those men, whose money Kepplinger repeatedly pilfered deviously, didn’t want to hurt or even kill Kepplinger for his having cheated them. Rather, each wanted the device for himself!

The inventor’s secret was out. That meant a new revenue source for him but the end of an income that personal use of his innovation guaranteed him.

“The new holdout became common property of card sharps everywhere,” Williamson wrote. “By the 1890s, gambling supply companies were selling Kepplinger or San Francisco holdouts for $100 apiece” (at least $2,500 today). In 1930, the device still was being used; 21 player, Francis Leo Luckett, for one, capitalized on it in Reno, Nevada gambling saloons that year. 

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X-ray image from A&E Networks’ History channel

Diagram from Washington D.C.’s Morning Times, May 17, 1896

Sources

1930

Cheating at gambling in the early 20th century in Nevada could land a person in serious trouble. That’s exactly what happened to Francis Leo Luckett, 28.

A Pennsylvania native, he’d been in Reno by way of Ely for about 10 days, frequenting the various casinos with his buddy, Cleo “Slim” Bush.

On a Sunday summer night, he was playing 21 at the Tip Club, a bootleg and gambling establishment, with two other men. Bruises and a cut on his forehead suggested he may have been in a recent dustup.

Joe B. Walden, 41, a long-time Reno resident who’d worked at numerous gaming clubs, was dealing for them.

Luckett had a sophisticated contraption affixed to his left leg and arm under his clothes — a Kepplinger Holdout — which he used to cheat. When he needed to stash a card for later use or retrieve that card, he spread his knees, which activated the device.

“Local gamblers, it is said, had ‘spotted’ Luckett several days ago as a card-cheat. He had become reckless in the use of his sleeve device in other Reno resorts and was being watched carefully, it is understood,” reported the Nevada State Journal (June 16, 1930).

Walden’s Temper Boils Over

At about 9:30 p.m., Walden told Luckett, “Take the door. We can’t win any money” (Reno Evening Gazette, June 17, 1930).

Luckett left the game and carried his earnings, $27.50 (a $475 value today) in silver, to the bar to get them converted into bills.

Walden, who’d clocked a man on the head with his gun in the same venue several days earlier, pursued Luckett and said, “That’s my money. Give it to me or I’ll kill you.”

The card shark didn’t respond. Walden shot him in the back with a .38-caliber revolver. The fatal shot went through both of Luckett’s lungs, slashed his aorta and exited his chest. Luckett’s friend, Bush, wrestled with Walden, trying to secure the gun. While tussling, Walden fired again, the bullet hitting Bush in the leg. Walden scooped up the money and left out the back door.

When the police arrived on the scene, they identified Luckett through a letter in his pocket and noted one card in the machine on his person — a three of diamonds.

Into The Wind

During the coroner’s jury, two witnesses who’d been present at the time, testified to Walden threatening and shooting Luckett. The verdict was that Luckett had died at the hands of Walden, who’d pulled the trigger with the intent of committing murder.

Despite a widespread manhunt for Walden, he wasn’t found and believed to have absconded to Mexico. Months later, a rumor circulated that he was in Las Vegas, but law enforcement there didn’t locate him either. Two years after the capital crime, the alleged executioner remained on the lam, a warrant out for his arrest.

Sources

Illustration from pond5.com: “Ace of Spades” by 5@Mr.Cippa