Harolds Club, a casino founded in 1935 in Reno, Nevada, acted uniquely when it came to giving customers money back!

Historian and author Alicia Barber explains in her report, Looking Back: The Special Refund Policy at Harolds Club.

Reno Joe in the Mapes lobby

1950-1956

A novel, animated gambling device began to appear in Nevada casinos in 1950. It debuted in the lobby of Reno’s Mapes hotel-casino in the fall and “got a big play from visiting Shriners,” reported the Nevada State Journal (Nov. 12, 1950).

They were one-armed bandits, or life-sized outlaws whose torso was a slot machine and whose arm and gun-toting hand constituted the lever.

Donning a white plastic cowboy hat, a red bandanna over their lower face, jeans and boots, the men’s eyes lit up in red when a player got a payout. In some models, they shouted “jackpot” when the bars aligned horizontally. The Mapes’ version garnered the name “Reno Joe.” 

The showcasing of Reno Joe resulted in numerous calls from Silver State casinos to the manufacturer for large orders of the Bandit. However, because Character Manufacturing Co. (CMC), on South Virginia Street in Reno, hand carved and custom made each one with individual characteristics, it only produced them in limited numbers. The brand of slot machines it used in them also differed occasionally but typically was a Mills or a Pace.

A Popular Novelty

In 1951, the Nevada Club in Reno installed in its bar area four Bandits, ones wearing hatbands bearing the casino name. They held Jennings Standard Chief slot machines, at the request of Lincoln Fitzgerald, the club’s co-owner and gaming manager.

The same year, LIFE magazine published in its May 18 issue a photo of the five Bandits in Stockmen’s Hotel and casino in Elko, in Northeastern Nevada. Those boasted gray and white polka-dot bandannas and red slot machines.

To entice people to play the slots, the Las Vegas Club in Southern Nevada, in 1952, commissioned 15 Bandits for its casino. They were beefier and better resembled men than Reno Joe, and had two arms and patterned shirtsleeves. Some lacked the bandanna.

These slots became the club’s icon, getting face time on advertising matchbooks and decal-postcards. The message on the latter was to see for oneself “the 15 generous gentlemen of the Old West at the Las Vegas Club.”

Other casinos, too, including Vegas’ Mint, purchased and incorporated the Bandit into its gambling offerings.

Artists And Products

Character Manufacturing Co. (CMC) began in 1948. During that time, various individuals carved its products.  One of the first was Sundance Cravat, a well-known Reno cowboy skilled in various handcrafts, including wood carving.

CMC hired cowboy artist Frank Polk when he claimed he could do a better job than had been done. During 1951 and 1952, Polk crafted more than 90 pieces for the company.

Other slot machine figures CMC made were the Gold Miner and the Cocktail Waitress, which was plastic. The latter was noteworthy for various wigs and apparel each of them wore. Reno’s Golden casino added 21 Cocktail Waitresses in 1956. They nearly met their demise during the fire ten years later that razed the building but were saved.

(CMC’s slot-less products included oversized, hand-carved Native Americans and talking horses.)

Sources

Reno, Nevada, 1940s

1945-1946

In the Bank Club, a co-proprietor of a local gambling saloon, Andrew Jackson “Jack” Blackman, shot to death James Lannigan, a small-time thug, on October 30, 1944, an action for which he was acquitted.

In the Palace Club, bouncer Frank Richardson brutally assaulted Alfred E. Cushman on November 11, 1945, leading to a legal resolution in Cushman’s favor.

In the Town House, four employees, on July 9, 1946, bound and beat up Edwin X. Beisel, to whom the court also awarded damages.

“It is nothing out of the ordinary to have disturbances, petty quarrels and arguments in such establishments. The nature of the business invites such occurrences and in order that responsible order may be preserved it has long been the custom to employ ‘strong arm’ boys who can throw out the disturbing elements” noted the Reno Evening Gazette (Jan. 22, 1945).

The above and other high-profile crimes in Reno, Nevada casinos got some locals considering changes to the status quo of security in gambling houses, to solve in part what had become the “bouncer problem” (Nevada State Journal, Dec. 12, 1945).

Distinctive Attire Suggested

In 1945, a Washoe County grand jury recommended mandating that anyone policing in gambling clubs, saloons and the like wear a uniform or easily be identified while working. Later that year, Dr. Earl T. Martin of the Veterans of Foreign Affairs asked the city council to require bouncers to wear uniforms. He argued that patrolmen identified as such by their garb would have a psychological effect on guests, particularly current and former military members, and go a long way toward helping maintain order in gambling establishments. Although the councilmembers agreed to review Martin’s recommendation, nothing came of it. 

Police Officers V. Employees

In the following year, 1946, the third iteration of an ordinance on the issue was introduced at a Reno City Council meeting. It required that all gambling places with more than six game tables or other devices (excluding slot machines), have a uniformed Reno Police Department officer on the premises.

It required the gambling houses to pay the city clerk wages for these officers — $250 (about $3,200 today) per month per officer — and the city then in turn would pay the officers. The monthly salary was to graduate from $200 during their first year of service to $205 in their second and $215 subsequently.

The proposed ordinance also mandated that gambling licensees post a $10,000 ($129,000) bond, holding the city harmless from any liability from damages occurred during an incident involving a city police officer.

A Mysterious End

The council deferred action on the proposed ordinance at the subsequent meeting then didn’t act on it at the following two ones. The measure never even got to a vote.

“No reason for allowing the bill to die was ever mentioned in open meeting of the council,” reported the Reno Evening Gazette (April 5, 1946).

Sources

Ed Robbin

1941-1956

The Nevada Club (1941-1987) in Reno exemplifies the stereotypic mobsters-and-gambling connection that pervaded The Silver State for decades during the 1900s.

The business began as Robbin and Robbin, opened by Harry Robbin, 65, and his son Isadore Edward “Ed” Robbin, 45, in April 1941, and boasted 21, craps, roulette, bingo and slot machines. Located at 224 N. Virginia Street, it had been Langley’s Tango Club previously. Today, it’s part of Harrah’s property.  In November 1941, the name was changed to Robbins’ Nevada Club.

Three or four years later,* mobsters allegedly wormed their way into the club and usurped the Robbins’ control. Despite no evidence they sought any, the two familial proprietors suddenly had these “partners” in 1946:

• Lincoln Fitzgerald, 52
• Daniel “Danny” W. Sullivan, 55
• Myrton “Mert” C. Wertheimer, 60
• Raymond Reuben “Ruby” Mathis, 55

These new Reno gambling house operators were former members of the Chesterfield Syndicate, which had owned and run resorts, casinos, clubs and speakeasies primarily in the Detroit area. They’d recently relocated to The Biggest Little City due to a crackdown on illegal gambling in Macomb County, Michigan, in which they’d been involved for two-plus decades. Wertheimer, however, had moved from Florida, where he’d run casinos for Meyer Lansky.

Robbins’ Nevada Club “was the foothold the Detroit syndicate needed to transplant the operators into the Reno area,” wrote Jeff Sunzeri in The Nevada Club.

Name Is Changed

In March 1946, Robbins’ Nevada Club underwent a $250,000 (about $3.2 million today) makeover, including a building addition and a remodel of the existing part, likely funded by the newcomers. After, it debuted as simply the Nevada Club, offering 21, craps, roulette, keno, chuck-a-luck and slots. The building was three stories, one underground.

Paying The Price

Five months later, in August 1946, a Macomb County grand jury indicted Sullivan, Fitzgerald and Wertheimer with illegal gambling and obstructing justice by paying bribes and requested their extradition back to Michigan. Wertheimer surrendered and, ultimately, paid a fine. Sullivan and Fitzgerald, however, successfully fought and delayed extradition for two years. The duo was extradited in August 1948 and paid fines.

By that time, Wertheimer and Mathis had left the Nevada Club to run the gambling concession at George Wingfield, Sr.’s Riverside Hotel in Reno. Also by this time, Harry Robbin presumably had bowed out as well, as he already was at retirement age when he and Ed had launched Robbin and Robbin.

Out of Commission

About three months after being extradited to Michigan, someone shot Fitzgerald in his home’s driveway in November 1949, about three months after he’d been extradited to Michigan. Critically injured, he didn’t return to running the Nevada Club until spring 1950.

Used As A Straw Man

Until this time, for nine years, all pertinent business applications, such as those for gambling licenses and building permits, had been in Ed Robbin’s name only. This suggests the syndicate members had used him as a front until they knew Nevada gaming regulators would approve them for a gambling license despite their tainted background.

That happened in 1952 after Fitzgerald, Sullivan and Ed Robbin formed the partnership, Nevada Club Enterprises Inc. Sullivan was the club’s general manager; Fitzgerald was the casino manager. Had Ed Robbin then become a co-owner in name only?

Move Made To Fly Solo

Four years later, Sullivan passed away at age 67 in September. Soon after, Fitzgerald bought Ed Robbin’s stake (Ed was 61) and became the Nevada Club’s only owner. Did Ed Robbin have any say in that?**

Fitzgerald continued to run the Nevada Club, along with his other casino properties, until his death at age 88 in April 1981. That event marked the departure of Chesterfield Syndicate members from the ownership and management of the iconic casino.

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* A newspaper article noted the Chesterfield quartet began operating Robbins’ Nevada Club in summer 1946, but perhaps it was earlier because Sullivan and Fitzgerald, at least, had been living in Reno since May 1945.

** Note that Ed Robbin had a 20 percent interest in Lincoln Fitzgerald’s Nevada Lodge in Crystal Bay at Lake Tahoe when it opened in 1958. (The Nevada Lodge previously had been the Tahoe Biltmore, the name it again has today.

Sources

1950-1979

The Harolds Club casino, in Reno, Nevada, held an annual winter holiday party for employees at its Harolds Trapshooting Club in the neighboring town of Sparks, on the Pyramid Highway.

The fêtes, which featured dancing, live music, food and alcohol, lasted 24 hours, so every worker could attend.

Photo from Wikimedia Commons: by AnelGTR

Craps game at Harolds Club

1952

“Someone very dear to you is being held and will be killed if you don’t give me the money.”

This was the content of the note, a bluff, Frederick Charles Will, handed to the manager of the American Trust Company branch in San Francisco on July 28.

Walter Blomberg, whose wife was at home that Monday afternoon, gathered and handed $20,000 in small bills (about $188,000 today) to the robber, a 33-year-old draftsman and war veteran originally from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

Will, aka Frederick Charles Klose, had Blomberg accompany him out of the Northern California bank and even onto a public bus — the escape vehicle — so as not to arouse suspicion among the other employees. At some point, the two men parted ways.

Just In Case

Will went to the apartment of a friend, Martha Dorn, where he opened the briefcase he had with him and showed her the money inside, scattering bills on the floor as he did so. He explained that he’d won $30,000 at the racetrack. She soon ushered him out, as she was expecting a guest. Before leaving though, he hid a wad of $20 bills in her sofa, which she would later discover and turn over to the authorities.

The Yen To Gamble

Next, Will spotted and asked an idle cab driver if he’d take him to Reno, Nevada. Anthony Gelini, 44, agreed. After switching to his personal car, Gelini drove Will to his apartment to pick up his roommate, Sidney Dubowy, also 33. From New York, he was an accounting student at Golden State College in the Bay Area.

Once all three were in the car and en route to Nevada, Will/Klose pulled out a gun and opened his briefcase to display the copious bills inside. “Well, I stuck up the bank,” he told Dubowy. “You didn’t think I would do it. But it was easy—just like in the movies” (Reno Evening Gazette, July 29, 1952).

Upon arriving in The Biggest Little City, at around 4 a.m., Will/Klose instructed Gelini to drive them to Harolds Club, which he did. Will and Debowy locked the briefcase in the car’s trunk and took the key with them into the casino, leaving Gelini outside to wait for them. The roommates gambled at the club for hours.

Now, What?

When they left Harolds, they discovered Gelini and his car were gone. While they were inside, he’d phoned his wife, relayed to her the events and instructed her to call the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) and local police. Then he’d sped back to The City by the Bay.

Subsequently, San Francisco Police Department officers retrieved from Gelini’s trunk the briefcase and the $17,000 inside. They asked Reno authorities to apprehend Will/Klose and Dubowy.

By that time, however, the two men had caught a flight back to San Francisco. Shortly after their return, law enforcement agents arrested them at their apartment. 

Willing Or Unwilling Accomplice?

Eventually, more than $19,000 of the stolen $20,000 was recouped. In August, Gelini went to collect the bank reward for recovery of the money but was denied it. Instead, he was arrested soon after, following indictment on the charges of comforting and assisting a fugitive, hindering and preventing his apprehension, and concealing and transporting stolen bank funds between states. He, too, was arrested.

“He is deeply involved,” Assistant U.S. Attorney Joseph Karsh told the grand jury. “He was never under any coercion at all, and there was opportunity galore when he could have gotten away.” He only came back “because he knew the jig was up.” Karsh’s office had evidence, he said, that Gelini had planned to take all of the money that he could if he hadn’t gotten the $5,000 promised him.

Gelini countered, “All I was trying to do was to be Will’s friend until I could make a break. Too many cab drivers have been killed by not being friends.”

A jury found Gelini guilty of receiving more than $100 of the stolen money, $140 specifically. He was sentenced to a year and a half of probation.

Punishment Meted Out

As for the other two, Will/Klose was indicted on charges of bank robbery and interstate transport of stolen funds. Dubowy was charged with receiving, possessing and concealing stolen funds under $100.

At arraignment in federal court, Will/Klose told the judge: “I don’t want no jury trial. I want to plead guilty and be punished for what I’ve done” (Reno Evening Gazette, July 30, 1952).

Dubowy said, “I’m just a good natured kid; I was taken advantage of.”

On sentencing, in November, Will/Klose was given eight years in prison for each charge, both stints to be served concurrently. Dubowy got three years’ probation.

Sources

1952

“One of the members of the Journal news staff stopped in at a [Reno, Nevada] casino one night last week, put a nickel in a slot machine and hit the jackpot. The attendant came with $7.50 and gave him another nickel to take the machine off pay.

He did it — you guessed it — three more bars. The attendant set off to fetch another $7.50.

Such a thing happens once in 50,000 tries” (Nevada State Journal, “Around Town” column, Dec. 7, 1952).

1940

“Apparently unaware that gold has been forbidden as a medium of exchange, a tall, dark complexioned cowpuncher walked into a [Reno, Nevada] gambling club last night and startled the dealer by casually dropping a handful of gold coins on the 21 table,” reported the Reno Evening Gazette (May 18, 1940).

At that time, personal ownership of gold coins and bullion had been illegal for seven years. It was punishable with a prison sentence of up to 10 years and a fine of double the amount of the value of the gold retained.

Photo from Pond5.com: by Fireflyphoto

Canada-born Jack Sullivan, né John D. Scarlett, had co-owned and run the Bank Club for two decades and prior to that, the Willows (it burned down in 1932) — both Reno, Nevada casino hotspots. He’d retired a mere six months before his death at age 72. He passed away on April 24, 1951 in a local hospital after a prolonged illness.

He left behind an estate valued at $844,952.00 (about $8 million today) and comprised of these assets:

TYPE	AMOUNT	BREAKDOWN
Cash:	$431,165.85
		$202,951.49 in a commercial account at Security National Bank
		$191,148.00 in a safety deposit box at First National Bank of Nevada
		$20,624.40 at the Bank Club
		$12,381.96 in a business account at a different FNB branch
		$4,060.00 in interest and dividends on investments
Bonds:	$245,893.45
Stocks:	$104,662.70
Loan Balance:	$25,000.00	(Amount due on loan he'd made to the Cal-Neva Lodge in 1948)
Miscellaneous:	$21,380.00
		$10,000.00 Diamond ring, 7 carat
		$4,500.00 Cadillac
		$6,880.00 Other
Real Estate:	$16,850.00
TOTAL:	$844,952.00

Post Mortem Withdrawals

The executor of Sullivan/Scarlett’s estate, First National Bank of Nevada, paid the federal taxes due, which amounted to $121,442.82. This reduced the estate value by 14 percent, to $723,509.18.

Then they paid the legal fees for the settling the estate, which totaled $65,307.16:

$42,619.40 went to Woodburn, Forman and Woodburn, the executor’s counsel
$17,187.76 went to FNB as a statutory commission
$3,500.00 went to Joseph P. Haller, the widow’s attorney
$2,000.00 went to McCarran, Rice, Wedge and Blakey, the heirs’ law firm

These expenses further reduced the estate’s value, by 9 percent.

What remained of Sullivan/Scarlett’s estate was $658,202.02 (about $6.3 million today).

Distribution Of Wealth

Sullivan/Scarlett left a will, which had been created in 1948, three years before his passing. He’d bequeathed the following:

To his widow: Half of all community property and the remainder of the estate after the other commitments were paid; the latter came to about $130,000.

To his daughter: $200,000. Held in a trust, the money was to be invested in U.S. government bonds and she was to be paid $400 a month from the investment returns until age 50. At that time, the trust was to be liquidated and the principal paid to her. 

In the event of her passing, the money was to be distributed equally to Sullivan/Scarlett’s three grandchildren once the eldest reached aged 21.

To his four sisters: $10,000 each.

Scarlett had left nothing to his brother, noting in the will that he’d provided for him when Sullivan/Scarlett was alive.

By year’s end, the gambler’s estate had been disbursed.

Sources

Photo from the University of Nevada, Reno Special Collections

1949

“Eight the hard way!” “It’s the Big Dick!” “Next shooter, please!” “Seven, you lose!”

When translated into the French language, these common phrases shouted by stickmen during craps lose their pizazz and bite, their je ne sais quoi, so to speak: “Dix difficile!” “C’est le gros Richard!” “Au suivant, s’il vous plaît!” “Le sept est perdant.”

This was the quandary Louis Ceresol faced when he set out to import the American dice game to the Casino de Monte-Carlo in Monaco in 1949. “C’est impossible,” the director of gambling said, referring to achieving a similar effect in the language of love. Ultimately, Ceresol opted to have his croupiers banter in English.

After all, he was instituting craps at the 80-year-old gambling house primarily for its American patrons, who were more familiar with it than with the French games it offered then: single-zero roulette, baccarat, chemin de fer and a high-low card game.

“Too often, Ceresol says, the American tourist comes into the Monte Carlo casino with his hands in his pocket and goes out with them still in his pocket,” reported the Nevada State Journal (Feb. 20, 1949).

The casino operation needed reviving after losing $450,000 (about $4.6 million today) in fiscal year 1947-1948. Ceresol hoped its American guests and craps would be the antidote, as about 200,000 tourists from the United States were expected to visit Europe in the coming year.

Casino de Monte-Carlo representatives, Albert Jauffret, left, and Louis Ceresol, intently view a dice polishing machine

Nevada Delivers Model

To learn the ins and outs of craps, Ceresol and his associate, head croupier Albert Jauffret, visited the States in February for a firsthand education. Their first stop was Las Vegas, Nevada, specifically the Flamingo.

“I am here to be taught the new dignity of modern gambling,” Ceresol said (Reno Evening Gazette, Feb. 15, 1949).

Next was Reno, Nevada, where they spent time at the Golden and other major gambling clubs. With a tape recorder and movie camera in hand, they recorded numerous games to later use to train their croupiers.

While in Nevada, Ceresol placed an order with George R. Weinbrenner, president of B.C. Wills & Co., a Detroit-based gambling equipment manufacturer, for a craps layout called the Improved Idaho Style Double Side Dealer.

Can’t Get Enough

The next stop for Ceresol and Jauffret was Sun Valley, Idaho. Subsequently, the duo continued their craps tutorial, stopping in numerous U.S. cities, including Boise, Idaho; Los Angeles, California; El Paso, Texas; Chicago, Illinois; Detroit, Michigan; and Cincinnati, Ohio. In doing so, they took in numerous games, many operated illegally, and even spotted some occasional cheating, Ceresol said. The Monte Carlo representatives arrived about a month later than originally planned in Jersey City, New Jersey, from where they set sail to Europe.

“They have wired home that they are bringing home the doctrine of the hard eight, the boxcars, Petit Joseph, come betting and the field,” reported Bob Considine (Stars & Stripes, May 28, 1949).

Sources

Photo from LIFE magazine, March 28, 1949