1958-1959

Two major impactful events occurred, one in 1958, the second 1.5 years later, involving the Senator Club, which offered the game 21 and slot machines. Near the Nevada capitol in Carson City, this casino-restaurant-bar was popular among state legislators and politicians.

At the time, Stella C. Vincent and William “Bill” E. Duffin had co-owned the business, 63 percent and 37 percent, respectively, for about two years. Duffin, though, ran the place.

Impetus For First Upset

Cheating at the Senator Club came to light in January 1958 when Nevada Gaming Control Board (NGCB) investigator William Walts witnessed Nicholas “Nick” V. Goodman dealing seconds, using the second versus top card in the deck, during 21 games. The NGCB called Goodman in for a chat. Agents told him they’d received unfavorable reports about his conduct and warned him he better deal cleanly.

Four months later, three Reno insurance salesmen filed a complaint with the tax commission, alleging a dealer named Nick had swindled them at the Senator. They’d seen Nick burn a card in the middle of a hand (take it from the top and put it face up on the bottom of the deck). This is usually only done after each shuffle. Nick also allegedly turned the deck or dealt from the bottom mid-game, so he could access cards used in earlier hands.

Also in April, Michael MacDougall, a gambling detective the Nevada Tax Commission hired to survey the industry in The Silver State, reported he witnessed cheating at the Senator Club (and at the New Star in Winnemucca).

Hammer Comes Down

To address the alleged cheating at the Senator, the NGCB held a hearing, per protocol, in June, for Vincent and Duffin to explain why they should be allowed to keep their gambling licenses.  

At the proceeding, NGCB agents questioned all of the witnesses, the co-owners and Goodman. Duffin and Vincent asserted they didn’t know cheating was taking place. Goodman denied he’d knowingly cheated, ever.

In late July, the Nevada Tax Commission, on the NGCB’s recommendation, revoked both gambling licenses associated with the Senator Club. All gambling activity ceased there. This was the first big blow to the gambling business during the Duffin-Vincent time.

Picking Up The Pieces

The co-owners made the best of it. They kept open the restaurant and bar and installed a dance floor in the casino space. Later, in early 1959, they leased the gambling concession to an outside operator.

Goodman, however, didn’t fare so well. He was fired from the Senator Club, for starters.

“The case washed up Goodman as a Nevada dealer, although he has steadfastly maintained he was not cheating,” wrote the Nevada State Journal (Dec. 27, 1959).

Shocking, Irreversible Loss

At the end of shift early Christmas morning in 1959, Duffin invited the Senator Club employees leaving work and some patrons still there to join him for breakfast at the nearby Silver Spur café-casino. Reportedly, Duffin often showed such kindnesses, including driving home employees so they wouldn’t have to walk or take a taxi in the dark wee hours.

Following the meal, the group dispersed. Duffin, on his way through the parking lot, stopped to wish several Silver Spur employees Merry Christmas.

Once at his car, after he opened the driver’s side door, a handful of bullets hit him in the back and drove him to the ground.

Duffin died then and there.  

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It Really Happened! will publish Part II next Wednesday, April 20, 2022.

Sources

One Carlin, Nevada business owner learned the hard way that the state didn’t tolerate gambling operators cheating the players. 

Gino Quilici just had been granted a gambling license in August 1952 for the State Inn, in the small city about 270 miles northeast of Reno. Only three months later, the Nevada Gaming Control Board (NGCB)* found on the premises two illegal, “plugged,” three-reel, mechanical slot machines.

A $1 machine, sitting in the bar area, contained a percentage changer, or “jumper,” on the center reel, which prevented the three reels from showing a jackpot. A $0.50 machine in the café had a jumper on the right reel, preventing a jackpot and three other payoffs.

Quilici, who’d emigrated from Italy to the U.S. at age 15 in 1914, had owned the State Inn as well as the State Hotel, also in Carlin, since 1947. He’d held a gambling license for the hotel since 1950. His criminal record contained one conviction, for violating Prohibition in 1925 and for which he’d served 30 days in jail.

Made To Answer

At the hearing before the Nevada Tax Commission concerning the rigged slot machines in February 1953, Quilici testified that he’d bought the ones in question from someone in another state and hadn’t known they’d been tampered with.

The tax commissioners suspended Quilici’s gambling license for the State Inn for 15 days. This meant that for that period he had to turn around and keep his slot machines facing the wall. Presumably, Quilici complied. He was warned that next time the penalty would be more serious.

Events at that meeting set a precedent for how Nevada’s gambling regulators would, from that point on, deal with rigged slot machines cases. They’d impose a short suspension for first and minor offenses and longer suspensions or license revocation for second or large offenses. Previously, the agency had turned over the matter to local law authorities. In those instances, the cases oftentimes were dropped because prosecutors couldn’t prove the operators knew their slots were cheating customers.

Lesson Not Learned

Quilici tested the commission’s new policy six years later when NGCB agents again discovered a problematic slot at the licensee’s State Inn in April 1958. This time it was a $0.25 machine with a plug on the center reel, which kept a certain symbol from showing.

In this second incident, Quilici didn’t get off so easily; he was arrested. The machine was confiscated for possible use as evidence in court, if the case wound up there.

In fact, it did. Quilici stood trial in October. Again, he claimed ignorance. In less than 30 minutes, the jury found him guilty of allowing operation of a plugged slot at the State Inn. The judge fined him $1,000 (about $9,000 today).

The next month he had to answer to gambling regulators for this violation of the state gambling law. During that proceeding, Quilici resorted to the same defense. The tax commissioners revoked his gambling license for both the State Inn and State Hotel.

Tough, Economic Consequences

A gambling license revocation wasn’t for life in many cases, so a once-licensee could reapply for another one. Quilici requested a new license about seven months later, for eight slot machines at the State Inn and another eight slots at the State Hotel. The tax commission refused to grant him one due to his conviction on a gambling charge.

A month later, Quilici applied for a license for table games at the Star Hotel and Bar in Winnemucca, another of his properties.

“The application was deferred because the present operation did not indicate that he could handle another one,” it was recorded in the August 1959 NGCB meeting minutes.

In yet another effort, Quilici applied for the 16 slots total for his café and hotel, and in December, he, with his attorney, argued his case before the NGCB. Quilici stated he’d studied up on slot machines and now knew enough to determine whether or not they’ve been doctored.

“I won’t trust anybody but myself,” he said (Reno Evening Gazette, Dec. 2, 1959).

The board indicated it needed additional time to research and consider his case and, thus, deferred action on the repeat offender’s application.

Subsequently, in January 1960, on the NGCB’s advice, the tax commission refused Quilici a new gambling license on the basis of his previous license suspension and revocation.

A Different Tack

In July, instead of Quilici, Elijah I. Puett, owner of Puett Appliance Co. and a lifelong Carlin resident, applied for a gambling license for eight slot machines at the State Inn. The two businessmen had come to an arrangement wherein, in part, Puett would lease the machines from Quilici for $12.50 ($110) apiece each month, and Quilici’s employees would service them. It’s probable that Quilici also was to get a percentage of the earnings from the slots.

The commissioners denied Puett’s application with no prejudice to him, a man the NGCB agents found to be “of good character” (Meeting Minutes, January 1960), and cited Regulation 3.020, Section 1, as the reason.

That rule read, “The commission or the board may deem that premises are unsuitable for the conduct of gaming operations by reason of ownership of any interest whatsoever in such premises by a person who is unqualified or disqualified to hold a gaming license, regardless of the qualifications of the person who seeks or holds a license to operate gaming in or upon such premises.“

When it came to getting a new gambling license, like the people who’d played his plugged slots, Quilici wouldn’t hit a jackpot.

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* Formed in 1955, the Nevada Gaming Control Board served as the investigative team for the Nevada Tax Commission, which originally handled gambling licenses. In 1959, when the Nevada Gaming Commission was formed, it took over that responsibility from the tax commission.

Sources

1954

Two gambling-related issues — cheating by operators and prostitution — in Nevada’s town of Searchlight came to a head at the July meeting of the state tax commission, then responsible for overseeing gaming.

Regarding the roughly 300-resident community, commissioners 1) had heard rumors that its local ladies of the night mingled with customers in the casinos and 2) had been getting increasing complaints about the gambling clubs swindling their patrons.

Exercise Of Power

Until Searchlight addressed both problems to the satisfaction of the commissioners, they’d deny all gambling license applications, they said. And they did. In July, they refused to grant licenses to three of the town’s four casinos:

Oasis Club: one application by Belle Norheim then a second application by her sons Herman and Wilfred John Collier

Searchlight Casino: applicant Ernest Sandquist

El Rey Club: Gerald W. Judd and W. J. Martello applied for a reinstatement of their license as the commission had revoked it the previous year after discovering a rigged slot machine on the premises

Survival At Risk

The Crystal Club being the only licensed gambling house there at the time created an economic crisis for Searchlight, located about 60 miles south of Las Vegas. The community relied on its cut of gambling license fees to cover the $5,000 to $6,000 a year needed to operate. Its other income source, property taxes, contributed only about $800.

“We need licenses regardless of whom they are issued to,” Clyde C. Cree of the Searchlight town board told commissioners at their August meeting. “We want a town, gentlemen, I’m here to tell you that. We’d like to know what the tax commission wants cleaned up” (Reno Evening Gazette, Aug. 10, 1954).

Commissioners made it clear that Searchlight and its casinos needed to 1) keep gambling separate from prostitution and 2) stop the cheating of players. Cree agreed to make it happen.

“If it is a matter of the girls keeping the boys from getting licenses, then we’ll get rid of the girls,” he said.

The gambling agency gave Searchlight some time to get it done and, thus, deferred action on the town’s three pending license applications, at least until it next met.

Supposed Turnaround

At the subsequent monthly meeting, commission secretary Robbins E. Cahill reported what he’d found during his recent investigative trip to Searchlight.

The license applicants were willing to abide by the tax commission’s mandates, none of the clubs was engaged in prostitution and gambling there “was pretty well straightened out,” he said (Nevada State Journal, Sept. 10, 1954).

Therefore, the commissioners granted licenses for the Searchlight Casino and El Rey Club.

They, however, denied the Colliers brothers a license for the Oasis Club because they had criminal pasts, including prison time served in California for burglary. That ended gambling at the Oasis for good, leaving Searchlight with only three licensed casinos.

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Photo from Pond5.com: by egubisch

Sources

Benjamin “Bugsy” Siegel and his famed Las Vegas hotel-casino

1947

“The Flamingo Hotel, one of the nation’s most elaborate establishments, was [Benjamin] Siegel’s baby and was set to be the operating headquarters for his syndicate which embarked on a program to control gambling in Nevada as well as Los Angeles, San Francisco and other spots in the west,” read a Nevada State Journal op-ed piece (June 22, 1947).

Among other various criminal enterprises, Siegel was involved in trying to establish the Mob-run Transamerica race wire service on the West Coast.

The well-publicized murder of Siegel, Mobster, hitman and gambler, on June 20, 1947 led to restrictions on who received a Nevada gambling license. The Silver State tightened control to filter out the undesirables and, thus, clean up the industry.

“It is up to the authorities to protect the state against the invasion of gangsters. Gambling attracts them but vigilance and honest enforcement of the gambling law and particularly the license provisions of it will keep them out, wrote an NSJ opinion writer (June 22, 1947).

Licensing At The Start

When the Nevada Legislature approved gambling in 1931, responsibility for granting licenses fell to the counties or cities; the state wasn’t involved. The only requirement for obtaining a license was that the applicant be a U.S. citizen. Licensees paid two monthly fees: $25 per table game and $10 per slot machine.

Fourteen years later, in 1945, state legislators shifted gambling licensing to the then two-person Nevada Tax Commission and, simultaneously, instituted a state gambling license fee equal to 1% of gross revenue for enterprises doing more than $3,000 worth of business quarterly. Cities and counties still could issue gambling licenses, too but only after an applicant obtained one from the state.

Changes In 1947

The tax commission established licensing-related guidelines based on the opinion of the Nevada Attorney General Alan Bible, which he delivered in October 1947.

According to Bible, the commission had the power to:

• Investigate a gambling license applicant’s background, including their character, habits, associates and the like

• Require license applicants to provide proof of citizenship

• Deny an applicant a gambling license when they are deemed to have an “unsavory character,” when granting a license wouldn’t serve the public’s interest or when another just reason warrants it

• Revoke a gambling license if the holder is determined to have an “unsavory  character,” if the licensee is acting against the public’s interest or if some other sound reason exists

“All applicants must now present complete evidence of past records, current business associates, dormant or active, and must submit themselves to an investigation if such is required by the tax commission,” reported the Nevada State Journal (Jan. 24, 1948). “If evidence is presented that any operator is knowingly permitting cheating in his establishment, his license is subject to immediate revocation.”

Immediate Repercussions

When the tax commission held its subsequent meeting, in January 1948, it granted 1,000 gambling licenses but denied five, for reasons not made public.

Two of the denials went to existing bookmaking enterprises, the Turf Club in Las Vegas and the Reno Turf Club in Reno.

Turf Club in Las Vegas

Sources

Lorenzi Lake Park c. 1931

1931

Soon after Governor Frederic “Fred” B. Balzar approved wide-open gambling for Nevada, three men applied for an initial gambling license  from the City of Las Vegas to operate a craps game at Lorenzi Lake Park in the Pavilion building.

Lorenzi, with a pool, dance area, two lakes, rowboats and concessions and an affordable entry fee, was a local hot spot for fun. Numerous events, including concerts, prize fights, horse races, dance contests and beauty pageants, took place there.

The city commissioners denied Roy Grimes, R.H. Davenport and D.J. MacCauley a gambling permit, which they believed was unjust and discriminatory. The new state gambling law began on March 19, and they’d filed their application on April 17, in proper form and meeting all the necessary requirements.

Agency’s Approach Questioned

In fact, the commissioners’ refusal to grant the three men a license was in accord with the agency’s recently adopted resolution, on March 30, that it only would afford gambling licenses in the future to entities that already had one from the previous quarter. The moratorium was to go into effect on April 5 and remain in place until the agency could develop a policy for issuing new licenses and outline a city area in which gambling houses could operate.

However, prior to moratorium decision, the commissioners had granted gambling licenses to six clubs — Boulder, Las Vegas, Exchange, Northern, Red Rooster and Meadows.

“The city commissioners arbitrarily fixed the number to be granted at six, and rejected all other applications other than the six favored ones” reported the Nevada State Journal (May 28, 1931).

Further, after the decision, the commissioners make an exception to the moratorium, which was they could grant  gambling licenses to people of the “Ethiopian race” for games at establishments “that catered to persons of the same race.”

Off To The Courts

In early May, Grimes, Davenport and McCauley filed for a writ of mandamus against the Las Vegas mayor and city commissioners, the first court action to be filed in Nevada regarding the 1931 state gambling law. They wanted the court to compel the agency to give them a gambling license. (Another mandamus action in the wake of the new gambling law was taken later in the month, in Northern Nevada.) The trio’s attorney, Charles Lee Horsey, argued that “the law prohibits discriminations and that all who conform to the same standards must be given the same privileges.”

On May 27, the case was presented to the Nevada Supreme Court, whose jurists had to determine whether or not city or county authorities have the right to limit the number of gambling licenses to be issued in a community.

Gambling Stigma Revealed

The ruling, which came two months later, in July, was the opinion of two of the three judges, Edward A. Ducker and Benjamin W. Coleman. It determined that “the city of Las Vegas exercised sound discretion in denying the application” because it was for a type of business that was “of a character regarded as tending to be injurious” (Nevada State Journal, July 9, 1931).  And when it came to this kind of enterprise, governing bodies could control which ones did and didn’t receive gambling licenses.

Contrarily, Judge John A. Sanders, the sole dissenter, opined that the commissioners indeed had acted arbitrarily and discriminatorily and that the writ should be granted.

Sources

Photo from the University of Nevada, Las Vegas University Libraries’ Digital Collection

Sheriff E. Russell Trathen

1931

In April 1931, the month after the new, liberal gambling law went into effect (March 19), Washoe County Sheriff E. Russell Trathen, per his job description, collected $20,000 (about $330,000 today) in gambling license fees for the month of April from operators in Northern Nevada.

Seeking Piece Of The Pie

First, Trathen went to the Washoe County Commission (WCC) and demanded 6 percent of the total in commission, which amounted to about $720 ($11,800 today). He argued he was entitled to it based on the state’s license tax act of 1915, which afforded sheriffs a 6 percent cut of the proceeds of all business licenses (and 20% of grazing licenses) sold.

The commissioners sought a legal opinion from District Attorney Melvin Jepson, who advised them that according to the law, Trathen wasn’t owed or due any compensation for the collection of license fees. The WCC told the sheriff no.

Next Course Of Action

Trathen then retained Attorney Lester D. Summerfield. In early May, the two filed for a writ of mandamus, which is an order from a superior court to a lower court, government entity, corporation or public entity to take or not take an action, as required by law. Summerfield/Trathen asked the Nevada Supreme Court to order the county treasurer to  accept the license fees Trathen had collected minus 6 percent becuase the treasurer had refused to do so the prior month, April. (Another mandamus action related to the new gambling law was taken earlier in the month in Las Vegas.)

“The case attracted wide interest through the state, as sheriffs of other counties might be able to collect a commission on gambling licenses” the Reno Evening Gazette noted (July 8, 1931).

Not Like The Others

On July 8, 1931, the higher court dismissed the writ of mandamus and issued its ruling, which was unanimous: Nevada sheriffs aren’t authorized to retain any part of the gambling license fees they collect. They said the 1931 gambling act, unlike the 1915 law, lacked a provision for such a commission.

What the new legislation did spell out was that sheriffs were responsible for unpaid fees; they were “held liable on [their] official bond for all moneys due for such licenses remaining uncollected by reason of [their] negligence,” reported the Nevada State Journal (July 9, 1931).

Sources

Photo from Police Motor Units

1949-1979

Harolds wasn’t the only Northern Nevada club with gambling that the Smiths owned for decades. In 1950, the renowned gambling family purchased Jabberwock Gun Club, located on the Pyramid Lake Highway in what today is Spanish Springs,* and renamed it Harolds Trapshooting Club.

“For more than two decades, [it] was where the elite met to compete,” according to the Trapshooting Hall of Fame website.

Well-known locals who frequented it included Evelyn Primm, wife of Ernest J. Primm, owner of the Club Primadonna; Raymond A. Smith, Pappy’s son and co-owner of Harolds Club, along with his wife Olga Smith; and Charles “Charlie” Mapes, Jr. and his sister Gloria Mapes Walker, co-owners of the Mapes hotel-casino.

The Smith patriarch, Raymond I. (“Pappy”) had been instrumental in getting the trapshooting club established. He and Charlie Mapes each had donated $2,500 to secure the building, and Pappy subsequently invested $24,000 into developing the facilities.

Upon opening, in January 1949, they included 12 traps, eight skeet fields and two flyer fields along with a lounge, sundeck, dining room, bar and locker rooms. Later, cases displayed guns of famous trapshooters like Fred Etchen and Arnold Riegger, and the walls showcased hundreds of photos of event attendees. Eventually, the fields would number 32.

The Requisite Gambling

By March, Pappy had gotten licensed for and had added gambling and a bar to the “gun club,” as it was called familiarly among Harolds Club employees. Initially, one craps table and three or four 21 games were available. Over time, though, the offerings grew to six to eight 21 tables, two craps tables, a roulette wheel and 50 to 60 slot machines.

The gaming concessions were open only during shoots. On those days, a pit boss and dealers from Harolds Club would pack up a car there with money, trays and whatever else was needed. This included a bankroll of about $50,000 (about $518,000 today) — which the boss carried around in his pocket all day — and close to $100,000 in chips ($1 million today). They’d drive the 12 or so miles out of Reno to the gun club and be open for business at 7 a.m.

In between shooting, guests would gamble, and there were some big-time players, said Marcia Schwarz, a former Harolds Club dealer who’d worked at the gun club a few times. Some shooters had lines of credit as high as $10,000 or $20,000 (roughly $103,000 to $207,000 today).  

“I saw the biggest action that I ever saw in my life at some of those shoots,” wrote Dwayne Kling, former Harolds Club pit boss, in A Family Affair. “In those days you could bet seven hands on a 21 game, and we would have people that would bet $1,000 each on all seven hands. We’d also let them bet $1,000 on the crap table.”

The gambling operation stayed open until the patrons were done playing, which meant the staff members could be there until the wee morning hours, occasionally all night long. Typically, when they left for the day (or night), they returned to Harolds Club and dropped off the money, chips and equipment. Sometimes, though, when the gambling went all night, the employees couldn’t fit that in, and massive amounts of money would remain in the gun club.

Showman Harold

Of the three Harolds Club owners — Pappy and sons Harold S., Sr. and Raymond A. Smith — Harold was enamored with the gun club and shooting the most. He was involved in developing and hosting the inaugural Golden West Grand, the first major Amateur Trapshooting Association tournament, in 1952. He dreamt up the trophy of an engraved, silver belt buckle containing a historic $20 gold piece.

At the events, he’d often pass out gifts to shooters and guests. One year he distributed 1,000 white Stetson cowboy hats; another year, it was slot machine-shaped bottles filled with Jim Beam. He’d give rides to contestants’ wives and children up and down the yard line in a yellow dune buggy or on his motorcycle while decked out in a New York Yankees uniform and cowboy hat.

A Dead Target

Harolds Trapshooting Club closed on June 30, 1979, when the casino and the landlord of the gun club property failed to agree on terms for a new lease.

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* On the site of the former Jabberwock/Harolds today are the Lazy 5 Regional Park and the Washoe County Library’s Spanish Springs branch.

Sources

1953

1960-1961

Singer Tony Martin applied for a gambling license to acquire a 2 percent interest for $50,000 ($410,000 today) in the Riviera hotel-casino in Las Vegas. Investigation into his background revealed he’d served two days in a Los Angeles jail in 1947 after having pleaded guilty to speeding.

Consequently, Nevada’s gambling regulators required he explain the arrest and why he hadn’t disclosed it on his application before they’d consider him for the permit.

Martin did so, to their satisfaction, and received a gambling license in spring 1961.

Photo from Wikimedia Commons: by NBC Radio

Tango game, Las Vegas, Nevada

1946

Some Las Vegas, Nevada casinos handed out women’s nylons as slot machine and tango game* prizes.

When the city’s board of commissioners found out, they banned it, threatening repeat offenders with losing their gambling license.

It wasn’t the hosiery the officials took offense to; it was the casinos offering merchandise to encourage the playing of traditional games of chance.

“We are endeavoring to maintain gaming on a high plane and feel bound to discourage and eliminate any practice which may impugn the dignity of our gaming establishments,” they said (Nevada State Journal, Oct. 12, 1946).

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* Tango is similar to bingo and keno

Token from the Old Cathay Club, a casino, restaurant and bar open in the mid-1950s in Reno, Nevada

1955-1966

Harry Chon, licensed operator of the gambling operations at the Old Cathay Club* in Reno, Nevada, found himself in an uncomfortable spot, under pressure from two parties, in 1956.

The story begins about a year earlier, when two other men, Horace Fong and his godfather, Moon Wah, applied unsuccessfully for a gambling license for the same property. Of the two, only Wah had casino experience, and he’d been convicted recently of tax evasion in California.

Soon after, Fong re-applied — this time with Chon named as the co-licensee — but to no avail because the Nevada Gaming Control Board (NGCB) deemed Fong unsuitable, likely due to his relationship with Wah.

Then Chon alone sought and was granted a gambling license to lease space from Fong and run a casino in it. Fong operated the other entities on the property, a restaurant and bar.

Rumblings Then Temblor

In spring 1957, the NGCB heard rumors that individuals other than Chon were running the gambling at the Old Cathay. It was verboten to change casino interests without approval first from gaming regulators, so agents investigated.

Chon confided in them he’d hired a man named Fred Down to manage the casino, but Down did what he (Down) wanted and had brought in George Chinn to be the pit boss, despite Chon having urged him not to. Chon also admitted he, himself:

• Lacked access to the safe as Down had the combination
• Didn’t know how much the house’s bankroll contained from day to day
• Didn’t have any say over hiring or firing employees

The NGCB cited Chon on five counts:

• Transferring interest to an unlicensed person
• Permitting concealed interests in the club
• Misrepresenting on his license application the casino’s financial structure
• Improperly maintaining the bankroll
• Unsatisfactorily conducting business

The board ordered Chon to explain in person why he should be allowed to keep his license. In the interim, he voluntarily shuttered the Old Cathay casino, on March 15, to remove some of the people associated with it, he said.

Testimony Given

At the hearing, Chon relayed a different story, perhaps because Fong, Down and Chinn also were there. He denied telling anyone he lacked control over his club and the workers and that Down wouldn’t do what he said. Chon claimed it was his choice to not have the safe combination because he tended to spend money when he consumed too much alcohol.

However, he did concede to having expressed his concerns about Chinn to Down. (Chinn had had a run-in with the state some years prior when it was discovered he’d held a secret interest in the Yukon Club in Reno.) Chon said Down’s response had been that he and Chinn were friends but he’d take care of it later.

Chon explained he’d often traveled to and from San Francisco and spent three days a week there where he oversaw a grocery store.

Also, he vehemently denied that he’d allowed unlicensed parties to operate the casino, specifically Fong, Down and/or Chinn, or that he’d abandoned his gambling permit.

Fong and Chinn attested to not holding any interest in the Old Cathay Club.

The NGCB’s auditor testified that Chon had initially signed the casino checks but within a month of opening the doors, Down had assumed the task. He noted Chon had contributed $18,000 to the bankroll, but it hadn’t been recorded in the club’s accounting records.

It seems some bad characters had used Chon, without his knowledge, as a front man for the Old Cathay Club then took over.

The NGCB Rules

In May, pursuant to the testimony provided at the proceeding and their own findings, the board members determined that Chon:

• Hadn’t, willingly at least, allowed any transfer of interest in the casino, but they strongly doubted he truly controlled it
• Hadn’t allowed a concealed interest in the gambling house
• Hadn’t misrepresented information on his license application
• Had funded the bankroll via loans, but against the rules, the transactions hadn’t been recorded
• Had improperly maintained the bankroll and admitted he couldn’t control it
• Had conducted the business unacceptably

Consequently, the agents unanimously agreed Chon was unfit for a gambling license and, therefore, recommended it be revoked. In agreement, the tax commission pulled it.

Chinn Goes For It

With Chon out, Chinn, already on the NGCB’s radar as being shady, applied for a gambling permit in June to run the casino at the Old Cathay but under the name, California Club, noting he would invest $42,000 in it.

As expected, regulators denied the license because of “unsatisfactory past operation” (Nevada State Journal, June 27, 1957).

Chon, Take Two

Fast forward six years. Chon, who had his gambling license taken away, applied to have it reinstated. That time it was for Basin Street, a casino at 246 N. Lake Street, also in Reno. NGCB agents decided to give him another chance, as his prior infractions hadn’t been egregious and he’d closed his casino voluntarily before any state action. They voted 2 to 1 to give him one on a six-month conditional basis.

Chon ran that gambling house for two and a half years.

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* The Old Cathay Club previously had been called Confucius and before that, the Lido Bar. It was located at 222 Lake Street in Reno (now a parking lot across from Greater Nevada Field).

Sources