During Nevada’s 1957 legislature, State Senator Kenneth Johnson (R-Ormsby), voiced his concerns about some of the state’s gambling licensees* simultaneously co-owning Cuban casinos.

He feared that:

• Nevada licensees might form alliances with U.S. mobsters in Havana, who primarily ran gambling there

• Nevada licensees might use those relationships to hide mob interests in their Silver State gambling enterprises

• U.S. lawmakers might grow intolerable of the political ties between Nevada licensees/their agents and the Cuban government

• U.S. lawmakers might, therefore, pass a law that eradicates legal gambling in Nevada

“I don’t like to see them use the stamp of respectability given them by Nevada as a magic wand to go into similar business ventures in other part of the world,” Johnson said (Reno Evening Gazette, Jan. 26, 1957). “From now on I’m going to dedicate my efforts to protecting Nevada’s gambling monopoly.”

Johnson, therefore, was tasked with studying the effects on the state of its licensees being involved in Cuban gambling.

Potential Stain On Nevada

Before he could report his findings as planned, prior to the next (1959) legislative session, events took place that forced Nevada’s gaming regulators to take a stand immediately.

In December 1957, Albert Anastasia was murdered. He’d been a boss of the Giambino crime family and head of Murder, Inc., the Mafia’s enforcement branch that was founded by notorious, New York mobster Meyer Lansky, who also was an associate of Charles “Lucky” Luciano.

New York police were investigating the angle that mobsters involved in Cuba’s gambling industry, Lansky in particular, had Anastasia whacked because he’d tried to horn in on that territory.

Cuba Gambing Exposé

In March 1958, LIFE magazine published an article, “Mobsters Move in on Troubled Havana and Split Rich Gambling Profits with Batista.” The subtitle was, “Old Familiar Faces from Las Vegas Show Up in Plush New Casinos with Plenty of Fast ‘Action’ to take Tourist Dollars.”

Of the surreptitiously taken photos in the piece, one depicted Meyer Lansky and a woman leaving the Riviera casino. The description noted that he carried a “satchel reported to have contained $200,000 from cashier’s office” and went on to state, “Lansky was returning to U.S., where he was picked up for questioning in the Anastasia murder case.”

Meyer Lansky, known as the mob’s accountant, had gambling interests from coast to coast in the United States and had been a key player in the Mafia’s development of Las Vegas. Another image showed Meyer’s brother, Jake Lansky, in Cuba’s Nacional casino.

Spotlight On Silver State

The LIFE article stated Nevada’s casino industry was spotless: “Ever since the Nevada boom hit full stride in the ’40s, the gambling mob has been ‘legit,’ shunning the back streets and peepholes, running scrupulously honest tables, keeping books and paying income taxes.” (This was partially valid.)

The piece, though, also revealed that some Silver State licensees were entangled with major mobsters in Cuba, where the industry wasn’t so clean. (This was true.)

The Lanskys managed Cuba’s Nacional casino while owner Wilbur Clark, co-owner of the Desert Inn in Las Vegas, was the front man and three other Desert Inn shareholders were investors. Meyer also owned a piece of the action at the Havana Riviera casino with three Nevadans tied to the Sands and the Fremont hotel-casinos in Sin City.  

The other Nevada gaming licensee involved in Cuban gambling was Clifford Jones, the co-owner of the Thunderbird Hotel in Las Vegas, who owned a percent interest in the Havana Hilton casino.

“Nevada, which has already been and is under fire, cannot stand idly by when licensees participate in activities which in any way bring notoriety or discredit to the state,” the Nevada Gaming Control Board (NGCB) wrote in a report (Reno Evening Gazette, April 25, 1958).

The rumor in Cuba then was that the all-powerful in Las Vegas orchestrated the LIFE exposé and were supporting Fidel Castro to collapse Havana gambling. Many Nevada gamblers didn’t like the industry’s booming success in the island nation where the swanky hotels and casinos were larger than any in Las Vegas.

In Or Out?

The LIFE article spurred the Silver State’s gambling regulators to act. In April, they demanded that the eight licensees with financial interests in Cuban casinos choose Nevada or Cuba, as they no longer could operate in both places.

All of the gamblers selected Nevada and claimed they’d divest their Cuban holdings but noted it might take some time.

A new Nevada regulation followed that bars all state gambling licensees from engaging in casino operations in any other state or nation.

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* Gambling licensees and/or casino owners or operators are referred to as gamblers

Sources

Photo from the University of Miami Libraries’ Digital Collections

When Fulgencio Batista returned to power as president in Cuba in 1952, he aimed to foster a gambling empire from which he could generate revenue for his coffers. To facilitate casino development, he and his administration:

• Restricted gambling licenses to hotels or nightclubs worth $1 million or more

• Waived taxes, which were as high as 70%, on all building materials imported for new hotels

• Deemed all casino pit bosses, stickmen and dealers to be skilled technicians, so they’d qualify for entry into Cuba under two-year visas versus the typical six-month ones afforded to incoming workmen

• Subsidized construction costs of new hotels

Government-backed banks provided $6 million of the $14 million to construct the Havana Riviera, for instance. The pension fund of the Catering Workers Union of Cuba provided most of the $24 million for the Havana Hilton. Casino operators typically leased space for their operations from the hotel owners; a rate of $1 million per year was typical.

Consequently, lavish hotel and casino construction boomed, as did the gambling business. Cuba became what Mexico had been during Prohibition — a playground for wealthy Americans.

“Havana’s casinos are elegant salons with expensive chandeliers, brocade draperies and a mink-stole clientele … At the roulette tables the smallest chips are a quarter. At the craps tables they are a dollar — but nobody who really amounts to anybody thinks of betting less than a $5 chip,” described LIFE magazine (March 10, 1958).

Government taxes on the new casinos “were set ridiculously low: $25,000 for a license plus 20 percent of the profits,” LIFE reported. While this was the official cost, the true under-the-table fee was $250,000. “And no one has even tried to guess how big a cut the politicians demand at the end of the month.”

Further, Batista’s brother-in-law, Roberto Fernandez y Miranda, had a monopoly on the country’s slot machines from which he collected half the profits.

Las Vegas Gamblers Want In

Despite the corruption in Cuba (or perhaps because of it), eight Nevada licensees perceived an opportunity to make money by capitalizing on Havana’s gambling trend and dropped at least $400,000 into casinos there.

• Owner Wilbur Clark and associates, Thomas McGinty, Moe Dalitz and Morris Kleinmann, of the Desert Inn in Las Vegas leased space adjoining the Hotel Nacional de Cuba in which they opened and operated a $1 million casino called Wilbur Clark’s Casino International.

• Hy Abrams, owner, and Benjamin “Bugsy” Siegel, investor, in the Sands in Las Vegas, and Jack Davis, investor in the Fremont hotel-casino in Las Vegas held a share of the Havana Riviera casino.

• Clifford Jones, co-owner of the Thunderbird hotel in Las Vegas, owned an interest in the Havana Hilton’s casino.

For these men, their investments were ultra-high risk and tenuous, as government depravity was rampant and political strife was high in Cuba.

“For the gamblers, the one completely unknown factor is the position of Batista himself,” LIFE noted. “If he fell from power, the gambling mob would have to make a whole new set of deals with a different bunch of politicians. The gambling trade might slow down.”

Sources

El Rancho in Las Vegas, Nevada in the 1950s

1951-1952

Gambling boomed in Las Vegas, Nevada immediately following Senator Estes Kefauver and his committee’s nationwide investigation into organized crime.

The 27 hearings the group conducted in 14 United States cities in 1950 and 1951 (Las Vegas was in November 1950) “turned a bright, hot light on illegal gambling in other parts of the country,” reported the Reno Evening Gazette (May 31, 1951).

“With illegal gambling considerably reduced in Miami, Chicago, Cleveland and the other big cities, the big spenders out to make a fast buck on the wheel or crap table are flocking to Las Vegas,” the newspaper added. “Weekend reservations at the flossier* hotels like the Last Frontier, Flamingo, Desert Inn, Thunderbird and El Rancho are getting scarce for next winter. Motels and private rooms are jammed all the time.”

In fact, in 1951, Nevada yielded the highest ever gambling tax revenue to that point, of $1.5 million ($13.7 million today). That meant gamblers cumulatively bet about $1 billion ($9.2 billion) in the state over the 12-month period.

Spin On The Story?

Just as the industry was flourishing, a potentially detrimental news story came out. It noted some of 30,000 crooked gambling devices – loaded dice, marked cards and wired roulette wheels – discovered in a Phoenix, Arizona warehouse were destined for Nevada. Specifically, packets of illegal dice bore the monogram of various Las Vegas and Reno clubs, according to Sheriff Cal E. Boies, who’d stumbled upon the cache.

Strangely, though, soon after his initial report, Boies backtracked and said the equipment wasn’t slated for Nevada, only New Mexico and other parts of Arizona.

“However, it was learned that a reliable Phoenix source had actually seen the crooked dice monogrammed with the names of certain Las Vegas clubs,” reported the Reno Evening Gazette (Dec. 30, 1951).

The members of the Nevada Tax Commission, which regulated gambling then, scrambled to quell the evolving public relations nightmare for fear rumors of crooked casinos in the state would keep away people wanting to play games of chance. The regulatory agency immediately sent one of its investigators, Ray Warren, to Phoenix to determine if in fact Silver State gaming clubs were involved.

Warren quickly reported he hadn’t found any evidence to indicate any of the gambling devices were to be going to Nevada. He added the crooked dice in question were not loaded and merely were displayed souvenirs of the manufacturing shop owner, which he’d purchased 10 years prior when he’d lived in Reno and Las Vegas.

The same day, tax commission secretary, Robbins Cahill, emphatically denied on the record that any crooked gambling equipment had been sent to or intended for any Nevada casinos.

“He added that no major casino in Nevada has ever been caught using loaded dice and that, on the contrary, the clubs’ biggest problem in that respect was to prevent players from trying to exchange crooked dice for the carefully inspected and closely watched dice used by the casinos,” noted the Nevada State Journal, Jan. 1, 1952).

*Flossier: superficially stylish, slick

Photo from the University of Nevada, Las Vegas University Libraries’ Digital Collection: “Dreaming the Skyline: Resort Architecture and the New Urban Space”

Sources

Howard Hughes, 1973

1968

Howard Hughes, billionaire industrialist, received the Nevada Gaming Commission’s blessing to buy the Stardust hotel-casino in Las Vegas for $30.5 million and moved forward with the acquisition.

He already owned five such properties on the Strip — the Castaways, Silver Slipper, Frontier, Sands and Desert Inn. (Adding the Stardust would’ve given him control of about 14 percent of Nevada’s gambling volume.) 

A few days before the deal’s closing, however, the U.S. Department of Justice asked Hughes to delay it by 90 days so it could investigate whether the Stardust purchase would violate the Sherman Anti-Trust Act.

Instead, he abandoned the transaction altogether.

Louis Tom Dragna

1960-1967

Los Angeles mobsters, Louis Tom Dragna and John “The Bat” Battaglia, conversed in a hotel-casino cocktail lounge on the Las Vegas Strip one day in February 1960. But their visit was cut short when Nevada Gaming Control Board (NGCB) agents appeared with local police who arrested the two.

They charged them with vagrancy and threatened to arrest them the next time they appeared in Sin City (they soon after dropped the vagrancy charge).

Gaming authorities didn’t want either man in any Nevada casino, which they formalized via the “Black Book” two months after the undesirables’ arrest. The black book, whose creation had been in progress prior to the Dragna/Battaglia incident, contained the names of individuals casino operators had to keep out of their facilities or lose their gambling license.

The NGCB strictly enforced it, having those on the list kicked out of gambling clubs. Repeat offender Johnny Marshall (aka Marshall Caifano), triggerman for the Chicago syndicate with 18 arrests on his record between 1929 and 1951, found himself booted out several times.

“I agree with any measures necessary to keep the hoodlums out of Nevada,” said Nevada Governor Grant Sawyer. “The operators have a great responsibility to cooperate. We might as well serve notice on underworld characters right now that they are not welcome in Nevada and we aren’t going to have them here” (Nevada State Journal, Nov. 2, 1960).

Hashed Out In The Courts

That year, Dragna tested the constitutionality of the black book in the courts. He sought a federal court injunction against it and the members of both state gaming agencies. He claimed they caused Las Vegas hotels to refuse him entry, depriving him of his rights as a U.S. citizen.

Marshall also sued each gaming regulator along with Governor Sawyer for ($100 apiece) and the Desert Inn (for $150,000), whose staff had kicked him out.

In 1961, a U.S. District Court judge dismissed Dragna and Marshall’s suits on the grounds that gambling isn’t a protected federal civil right and the matter was a state one.

Marshall Pursues The Cause

Within the following year, Dragna dropped his appeal upon being sentenced to five years in prison for extorting the manager of a boxing champion.

As for Marshall’s case, the appellate judges remanded it to federal district court for trial. One justice suggested that “Nevada has as much right to keep suspect persons out of its casinos as Texas ranchers have to ban cattle with hoof and mouth disease” (Nevada State Journal, May 13, 1962).

Subsequently, Marshall lost in federal court and again appealed. In 1966, six years after gaming authorities distributed the black book, the U.S. Court of Appeals upheld its use. It noted that neither being put on the list nor being denied entry to casinos was unconstitutional.

The U.S. Supreme Court, in 1967, refused to hear the case, finally answering the civil rights question.

Sources

Las Vegas Strip (in red) runs through Winchester, Paradise

1950-Today

When people are on the Las Vegas Strip, they’re really in Paradise — the town, that is.

In 1950, a rumor surfaced that the City of Las Vegas’ boundaries would be expanded to include the then multimillion-dollar luxury resort area on South Las Vegas Boulevard. Disliking the idea, the proprietors of the hotel-casinos there collectively strategized to get the area in which their properties sat deemed an unincorporated town. That status would prevent the city from annexing it without the owners’ unanimous approval.

Money was the primary reason the Strip businesses opposed incorporation into Vegas. Costs — gambling and liquor license fees and taxes, for instance — within the city were higher than outside, specifically a tax rate of $5 per hundred dollars’ valuation versus $3.48.

In December the Clark County commissioners approved designation of a one-mile wide and four-mile long stretch as the unincorporated town of Paradise, said to be named after the Pair-O-Dice, a club whose property eventually became the Last Frontier.

These men comprised the newly formed, required town board:

• Gus Greenbaum / Flamingo: manager and associate of Meyer Lansky and Benjamin “Bugsy” Siegel (Greenbaum was Paradise’s board chairman)

• William J. Moore, Jr. / Last Frontier: developer, executive director and vice president

• Wilbur Clark / Desert Inn: front man for Cleveland mobster Moe Dalitz, the principal owner

• Marion Hicks / Thunderbird: architect and manager

• Beldon Katleman / El Rancho Vegas: owner

A major change for the properties in the new township was the lack of access to city services, including sewage disposal and fire protection services. Also, half of all gambling fees collected in Paradise had to be spent on public improvements within the town as opposed to throughout the county, as was the case before.

“What is good for the valley is good for the Strip. We hope this move will bring you better roads, better schools and better everything,” Greenbaum said at a town meeting.

In early 1951, property owners in Paradise Valley, the southern part of the Las Vegas Valley, sought and received approval to annex their unattached land to the newly established Paradise. This expanded the area to 54 square miles.

Paradise Divided

Later, out of the northern portion of Paradise, a second township was created, 7.5 square miles, that became known as Town A. The larger, remaining portion of the original unincorporated Paradise became Town B.

Eventually Towns A and B received official names.

In 1953, Town A was named Winchester. At the time, it encompassed the Sahara, El Rancho Vegas and Thunderbird hotel-casinos on the Strip’s northern end, as well as Last Frontier Village, the Las Vegas Park Race Track, numerous motels and some private homes. The Town A residents liked the name Winchester for its Western flavor and chose it over other suggested monikers, including McCarran, Sunset Heights, Empire, Silverado, Tiffany and Valhalla.

“In addition to getting a new name, the town figures to be one of the richest per capita in the world, since it covers practically all of the multi-million-dollar resort hotel industry, plus several costly motels and the expectation that another $20 million in new hotels will be erected in the near future,” reported the Reno Evening Gazette (Oct. 8, 1953).

Town B recaptured the original name, Paradise. Much larger in land size, it included the Desert Inn, Sands and Flamingo hotel-casinos on the Strip’s southern end and the Paradise Valley ranch area.

Attempt At Unification

In 1975, Governor Mike O’Callaghan signed Senate Bill 601, which would’ve doubled the size of Las Vegas by expanding its boundaries to include the Strip (Winchester and Paradise), Sunrise Manor and East Las Vegas — all unincorporated towns. The goal was to consolidate the various city and county governments and services.

However, before the change could be carried out, the Nevada Supreme Court, in June 1976, ruled that the legislation was unconstitutional for various reasons. One was because the law was passed during a special session, which is illegal per the Nevada Revised Statutes.

“I think that ends it for good,” said Senator James Gibson (D-Henderson), who’d introduced the bill. “It will probably kill [a] merger for quite a while in the future” (Las Vegas Sun, June 8, 1976).

Though relatively unknown except to locals, Paradise and Winchester still exist today, independent of Las Vegas.

Sources

1950

The $1.6 million Desert Inn resort had just opened in Las Vegas, and a gambling naif nearly put it out of business. A 22-year-old sailor, who didn’t know much about gambling, bet $1 on craps and had a run of 27 straight passes. During it, the people around him started winning, too.

“There was pandemonium. People were screaming and yelling. Those in the back were offering up to $500 (about $5,000 today) for a place to stand at the table so that they could get their money down,” Wilbur Clark, front man for the Cleveland’s Mayfield Road Gang and mobster Moe Dalitz, told the press 12 years later.

The hot streak cost the casino $260,000 of its $300,000 ($2.6 of $3 million today) bank.

Pat McCarran, U.S. Senator for Nevada, 1947

1933-1954

His unfavorable personal opinion about gambling notwithstanding, Patrick “Pat” A. McCarran (D-Nev.) — U.S. Senator between 1933 and 1954 — acted repeatedly on the industry’s behalf. Had he not, it’s likely gaming wouldn’t have emerged as The Silver State’s greatest revenue-producing economic sector — a positive or negative, depending on one’s view.

Because gambling had become vital to Nevada — or “woven … in its various forms into the warp and woof of the state’s economic structure,” in the words of McCarran — he believed he had no choice but to do what he could to keep it thriving. But he felt like a “whore,” he said, defending gamblers (casino owners and operators), whom he considered “tinhorns.”

“In the climactic decision of his long and turbulent career, [McCarran] characteristically chose to justify and defend his beloved Nevada rather than take it into one more battle with poverty and want,” wrote the authors of The Money and The Power.

Inside His Bag Of Tricks

Here are 7 of McCarran’s pro-gambling efforts:

1) He intervened to get underworld denizens gambling licenses.

When Moe Dalitz, Cleveland mobster, applied for a gambling permit for the Desert Inn casino in Las Vegas in 1949, the Nevada Tax Commission said no based on his criminal background — bootlegging and illegal gambling. McCarran discussed the matter in person with one of his powerful friends, Salvatore “Sam” Maceo, Texas organized crime boss who previously had partnered with Dalitz in illegal liquor distribution.

After the McCarran-Maceo tète-a tète and supposed intervention by Maceo subsequently, state gambling regulators granted Dalitz a license.

2) He helped gamblers surpass other obstacles.

When mobster Benjamin “Bugsy” Siegel and the Nevada Projects Corporation, the cadre of mobsters financing the new hotel-casino, were having the Flamingo constructed in Las Vegas immediately following World War II, in 1946, construction materials were in shortage. As such, the Nevada office of the federal Civilian Production Administration allocated scarce materials on a project priority basis.

McCarran jumped the Flamingo to the top of the list so it could, and it did, receive construction materials without delay.

3) He got the scope of the Kefauver inquiry broadened.

In 1950, when Senator Estes Kefauver (D-Tenn.) pursued launching a congressional investigation into gambling nationwide, McCarran got the target expanded to encompass all types of organized crime — prostitution, narcotics, loan sharking, murder, extortion and labor racketeering — to lessen the resulting consequences to Nevada’s gambling.

The probing body became the United States Senate Special Committee to Investigate Crime in Interstate Commerce, or in short, the Kefauver Committee.

4) He delayed Congress’ approving the Kefauver inquiry.

Among his efforts there, he begged for additional time for the Judiciary Committee, which he headed, to consider the proposal, raised potentially related legal issues and suggested the matter be sent to the Senate Commerce Committee for its review as well.

Kefauver, however, received a green light, and his team conducted hearings in 14 major U.S. cities during 1950 and 1951.

5) He fought Congress’ agreement to levy contempt citations against Kefauver witnesses in general.

When subpoenaed to testify during the hearings, numerous gamblers either failed to appear or when they did appear, they refused to answer questions. Kefauver wanted them slapped with a congressional contempt charge* for obstructing the investigation. McCarran fervently argued against the idea but lost that battle. Once Congress approved one contempt charge, a slew followed.

6) He got contempt charges against multiple gamblers quashed individually.

7) He helped thwart passage of a bill to tax all gamblers.

Growing out of the Kefauver Committee’s findings, the House Ways and Means Committee, in May 1951, voted to impose a “10 percent gross receipts tax on bookies, numbers rackets operators and others who operate gambling pools” (Nevada State Journal, May 17, 1951). Kefauver urged that the tax bill from the House must be amended to incorporate all forms of gambling.

McCarran called on some Nevada gamblers to lobby against the bill while he fought it at the Senate Finance Committee level. He pleaded his case, that the “cumulative result would spell tragedy for the State of Nevada” and gambling, as a major economic component, needed protecting.

What eventually passed were a 10 percent tax on all wagers concerning sporting events or lotteries and a $50 annual occupational stamp excise for bookmakers and lottery operators. These mandates comprised a small portion of the much larger Revenue Act of 1951.

For these and his other interventions in support of gaming, McCarran was lauded by some and criticized by others.

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* Contempt of Congress is the criminal act of obstructing the work of the U.S. Congress or one of its committees, a misdemeanor punishable by a $100 to $1,000 fine or one-month to one-year imprisonment.

Sources

1958

Tourists Robert and Lola McDurmon may or may not have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, depending on how you look at it.

After taking in four shows on the Las Vegas Strip, the couple from Oxnard, California unwittingly witnessed a crime drama unfold up close. After pulling into the parking lot of their hotel, the Desert Inn, at about 5:30 a.m. to call it a night, a shootout involving a lone man and two law enforcement officers ensued about 20 feet away.

The two were in Sin City in March on a trip Robert had earned for having sold a significant number of Ford autos at work — Moffett Ford in Santa Paula — the previous month.

What Witnesses Didn’t Know

Before the volley of gunshots, Robert Vincent Carter, 47-year-old unemployed accountant, had been imbibing liquid spirits at the Desert Inn’s Sky Room bar. He got into a heated argument with a businessman — Stewart Hollingshead, an executive with the R.M. Hollingshead Company, a New Jersey-based manufacturer.  Because Carter’s language was expletive filled, he was tossed out of the hotel-casino. He drove home, retrieved his 0.350 Magnum pistol and returned to the Desert Inn.

Once there, he grabbed the casino pit boss, Sonny Burnett, and, at gunpoint, forced him outside the building. At that moment, another hotel guest, businessman and friend of Hollingshead, Harold Shafer, was about to enter. Carter snatched him and released Burnett.

“I’m giving you 60 seconds to get that other guy out here,” Carter told Burnett, meaning he wanted him to retrieve the man who had Carter ejected from the property earlier. Burnett went inside.

With his pistol targeted on him, Carter maneuvered Shafer to a car near the hotel entrance and pushed him into the front passenger seat. Carter then got in on the opposite side. While that was happening, sheriff’s detectives, Hiram Powell and Don Peel, appeared on the scene.

“Drop the gun!” Peel said.

Instead of complying, Carter threw open his car door and fired a shot that sailed past one of Peel’s ears. The police duo responded with eight bursts, one bullet hitting Carter in the right temple.

During the fray, Shafer ducked and ran to safety.

Carter was transported to Southern Nevada Memorial Hospital and charged with two counts of kidnapping. Though his condition was critical, he survived.

In September, Carter pleaded guilty to a lesser charge of false imprisonment. He was convicted and sentenced, but it’s unknown what punishment he received.

Possible Triggers

What had set Carter off?

“He apparently just was in a belligerent mood and disturbed by family troubles,” said Sheriff W.E. Leypoldt (Reno Evening Gazette, March 11, 1958).

Carter and his wife, who worked as a cashier at the Desert Inn casino, had been having marital problems and, in the recent past, had been separated on and off, though they were together at the time of the crime. Leypoldt further speculated that the potent amphetamine, Benzedrine, which officers found in his car, together with alcohol may have helped cause Carter to “blow his top.”

An Unforgettable Trip

As for the McDurmons, they had quite the story to tell upon returning home. And tell they did, at least to the local newspaper, the Oxnard Press-Courier.

Sources

Bob Bamford and, right, Joe Alper, with Mark II

1960

“Las Vegas seemed to be both fascinated and frightened by the little computing machine,” reported Ray Duncan in the Independent Star-News (Dec. 5, 1960).

The referenced device, via a dial on its front, advised blackjack players how to proceed with each hand, get another card or hold. The electronic instrument remembered the cards played but, also, computed the math of various complex blackjack scenarios. Its operation required “some very fast and frantic switching on the part of its operators,” explained Duncan.

“[The inventors] maintained that their machine and their system has a carefully calculated mathematical edge over the house, if allowed to play freely without a mid-way reshuffle, and that in the long run its statistical expectation is to win at a small but steady rate.”

This 5-pound apparatus, which the reporter noted resembled a “small table radio sliced in two pieces,” was created by two unmarried engineers who worked at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena, California —  Bob Bamford, 30, and Joe Alper, 22. They called their contraption Mark II, as it was the third iteration; the media dubbed it the “Pasadena robot.”

Construction and testing of Mark II had taken about 100 hours, 100,000 blackjack games and $150 (about $1,200 today) for the components.

Taking It Live

Alper and Bamford traveled to Las Vegas, Nevada to try Mark II in a few casinos. They called ahead for permission, which the Flamingo, Desert Inn and Silver Slipper granted. The Sahara didn’t.

Starting at the Flamingo, they won $29 ($242 today) in the first 10 minutes — nearly $3 ($80) a minute. Consequently, the dealer reshuffled the card deck mid-game, which destroyed Mark II’s computing advantage. The engineers balked at that move and asked to play without mid-game shuffling. Ultimately, after much deliberation, the casino personnel said no.

The pair next tried the Dunes, where they were limited to betting $5 ($41 today) a hand, which again hindered Mark II’s abilities. However, despite the restriction, after three hours of playing, the Pasadenans won $107 ($896 today). 

“But this was nothing like the take they calculated to bring home with their $750 [$6,280 in 2018] stake, if they were allowed to play a straight, cards-as-they-come, bet-as-you-like game,” Duncan indicated.

The following day, the two couldn’t find a Vegas casino that would let them use their machine and that wouldn’t hedge against potential losses.

“We’re not gamblers here,”‘ one casino owner told them. “We’re in the gambling business.”

Bamford and Alper returned home and to their jobs.

Sources

Photo from the Independent Star-News (Pasadena, Calif.), Dec. 4, 1960