Justi

1923-1945

Reno, Nevada’s Third Ward city councilman during the 1920s and 1930s was “owned by” the local Mobsters, acted in their interests and protected them, contended Harold S. Smith, Jr., Harolds Club co-owner, in his book I Want to Quit Winners. That councilmember was William A. Justi (1873-1945).

The Third Ward encompassed the “liberal” district, which included most of Reno’s gambling establishments (Nevada State Journal, April 18, 1945). The covered  area was between Sierra Street on the west, the railroad tracks on the north, the city boundary on the east and the Truckee River on the south.

Here’s some information about Justi that could support Smith’s allegations:

Mobster Affiliation

Justi worked at the Bank Club, overseeing its bar and cigar store, from 1919 or 1920 until his health failed a few years before he passed away. Heads of the local syndicate William “Bill” Graham and James “Jim” McKay owned the club from 1931 until after Justi died. The three men had to know one another from that association alone. Also, given that the Bank Club was a casino, did a councilmember and, thus, gambling-related policymaker, working there not constitute a conflict of interest? 

Political Dominance

served on the Reno City Council for 21 years, from 1923 to roughly 1944, through four mayoral administrations.* Why did he win every election?

“Mr. Justi dominated the ward and though several attempts were made to defeat him and also to change the ward boundaries by legislative action, they all came to naught and in late years, he had little opposition,”  the Nevada State Journal reported (April 18, 1945).

Further, “when efforts ware made later to change the ward system or provide for the election of councilmen at large, Justi always led the opposition to such moves,” according to the Reno Evening Gazette (April 18, 1945).

On the city council, Justi held a lot of sway, as indicated  by the Nevada State Journal.

“For eight years the entire policy of the city government has been determined by E. E. Roberts, its mayor, and by William A. Justi, the mayor’s chief representative in the city council,” noted the newspaper (April 21, 1931). Later, it reported, “Outspoken, [Justi] was one of the most influential members of the city council” (April 18, 1945).

Casino Interests

Right after Nevada legalized gambling in 1931, Justi introduced an ordinance that would limit gaming to a zone in Reno, bounded, respectively, on the west and east by Virginia Street and the city limit, and on the north and south by Commercial Row and First Street. That restriction would have benefitted the owners of the existing big clubs, including Graham and  McKay.

Justi’s fellow councilmembers, however, rejected the proposal. In fact, the council would not pass such an ordinance until 1947, instituting what would be called the Red Line.

Law Enforcement Control

Justi also was the city council’s police committee chairman, who had “direct charge of police activities under the mayor,” including the power to make arrests (Reno Evening Gazette, Jan. 29, 1929). Justi held the post from 1929 to 1935.   

He “wanted the position from the time he first became a member of the [city council],” reported the Reno Evening Gazette (Jan. 29, 1929). The newspaper later described that in that role, Justi “virtually controlled police affairs” (March 16, 1936).

In one instance in 1930, the Reno Police Department did not take the action that Justi wanted in regard to a man who fired shots in a Lake Street hotel. Justi expressed his displeasure and demanded they heed his word in the future.

“Justi let it be known around the police station that hereafter he will expect his recommendations in such cases to be observed,” according to the Reno Evening Gazette (Oct. 18, 1930).

Waived Procedures

While Justi was the police committee chairman, Graham and McKay seemed to receive special treatment from law enforcement. For instance, when Graham shot Blackie McCracken dead in June 1931 in the Haymarket, police officers arrested but didn’t book Graham and let him go free without paying bail. Witnesses described Graham’s actions as self-defense, in response to McCracken shooting through the club’s front door at around 4 a.m., allegedly intending to kill Graham for having fired him from his craps dealing job at the Stockade brothel.

Further, despite District Attorney Melvin E. Jepson requesting a grand jury inquiry of that fatal shooting and Judge Benjamin F. Curler indicating such a body would be called within the week, it looks like such an investigation didn’t happen, based on no media reports of the same. However, it is possible, albeit remotely, that a grand jury inquiry took place but just wasn’t reported on by the local newspapers.

In September of that year, Justi was seen displaying a gold badge containing two diamonds and engraved with “police commissioner,” which he received  from “friends” (Reno Evening Gazette, Sept. 12, 1931). Reno did not have such an official, yet subsequently, Justi was referred to in the local newspapers as “police commissioner.” Who gave him such an expensive gift and lofty title? And why?

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* The administrations were those of E.E. Roberts (1923-1933), Sam Frank  (1934-1935), John A. Cooper 1936-1937), August Frohlich (1938-1942) and Harry Stewart (1943-).

Sources

Ernest J. Primm, casino mogul

1956-1959

A thief absconded with $2,000 (about $17,500 today) from the Club Primadonna casino in Reno, Nevada on the first Friday of May 1956.

The missing 10,000 dimes, 2,000 quarters and 1,000 half-dollars, the reserve fund for the club’s slot machines, were taken from a wooden cabinet in the basement. Only two employees had keys to that room.

One of them, Thomas Knaub, seven months later, sued the owner of that Reno, Nevada club, Ernest J. Primm, alleging he’d made false public statements that Knaub had been involved in the robbery. Knaub, no longer in his employ, claimed Primm’s alleged slander of him had prevented him from landing a job.

Therefore, he sought $75,000 in general damages, $25,000 in punitive damages and $2,135 for lost wages — a total of $120,000 ($834,000 today).

The jury trial began three years later in June 1959. The first witness called, Primm, denied ever accusing Knaub of participating in the theft or telling other casino owners Knaub had taken part in it.

“I have never been contacted by one single establishment about Mr. Knaub,” he said. “I have never contacted any establishment about him.” Primm said he didn’t know who took the money, “and I still don’t know” (Nevada State Journal, June 16, 1959).

He added, however, he knew Knaub gambled in the local casinos. “I know one thing. A man that goes around town gambling and puts I.O.U.’s in doesn’t deserve a job,” Primm added.

The former assistant office manager, Margaret Stanley, next testified that in Knaub’s job as a Primadonna club cashier, he counted the cash every morning, made bank deposits and co-signed payroll checks. She said once he’d found and pointed out a $1,000 error in the bank deposit.

When Knaub’s attorney was about to question Stanley about a conversation she’d overhead in the past between Primm and another employee, Marjorie Standlee, the defense objected on the grounds that such conversations are confidential. The judge agreed, and Stanley’s testimony—the crux of Knaub’s case, per his attorney — was cut short.

Two days later, the judge, A.J. Maestretti, dismissed the suit because the plaintiff had failed to present a sufficient case.

Sources

Photo from Wikimedia Commons: by Greg Primm

1949

Casino owners balked when the question of going on daylight saving time (DST) arose in Nevada in 1949.

Gamblers’ Outcries

Charles Mapes, owner of the Mapes hotel-casino in Reno, made a few arguments:

• “It’s difficult to put on a floor show at 9 p.m. with the sun just going down. A spotlight can’t compete with the sun when it comes to showing an attractive star to best advantage. It cuts the glamour. She should be in a bathing suit at that time of the day.”

• Extended daylight reduced night life.

• It caused restaurant patrons to alter their eating habits and all crowd the restaurant at the same time, creating problems.

• It confused out-of-town guests about hotel checkout time.

Raymond “Pappy” I. Smith, co-owner of Harolds Club, also in Reno, cited loss of business, saying casino owners would “lose their shirts unless the clocks stay put” (Nevada State Journal, May 6, 1949) and were united in this opinion.

He said his casino had lost $1,000 ($10,000 today) per night the previous year due to DST, which had been effected due to a power shortage. This year, his business couldn’t withstand such a hit as revenue had decreased 56 percent. He pointed out that another club was $70,000 in debt ($707,500 today), primarily due to the influx of California visitors having plummeted the summer before.

Playing Hot Potato

By Nevada law (as of 1946), only the governor had the authority to call or not call for daylight saving time each year. Yet in 1949, Governor Vail Pittman left the choice to each of the 13 counties because “the heads of the local county and city governments are in a better position to know the needs and desires of their people in matters of this nature than is the governor,” he said (Reno Evening Gazette, May 2, 1949).

Immediately, in April, counties began deciding. White Pine County opted to begin DST on April 17. Elko County followed suit, choosing a May 1 start date. Nye and Esmeralda Counties planned to spring forward on May 15. Likewise, based on a slew of requests for it, Washoe County tentatively agreed to DST effective May 15 pending formal approval.

When the Washoe County commissioners next met, DST opponents, including the casino heads, made their cases against a time change. Then District Attorney Harold Taber informed the governing body that, after conferring with state Attorney General Alan Bible, the two had concluded the counties lack the power to proclaim DST legally.

Consequently, Washoe County reversed its stance and tossed the issue back to Pittman. Ormsby County (now Carson City) did the same, accusing him of “passing the buck” (Nevada State Journal, May 3, 1949).

Time Change Fallout

Pittman’s final word was he wouldn’t proclaim DST on a statewide basis. This left 4 counties with their clocks already set ahead or about to be and the remaining 13 counties on standard time.

“It was presumed that the counties can remain on daylight time as long as they want to — although such action by commissioners is not legal technically,” noted the Nevada State Journal (May 10, 1949). “In other words, as long as nobody raises the point legally, any county can adopt daylight time — or any other time system — it wants if its residents are satisfied.”

Sources

Illustration from pond5: “Antique Clock Face” by StellaL 

Lucky, the horse, and its owner, Susan Wallace, play roulette at the Club Cal-Neva in Reno, Nevada

1950

Susan Wallace, a 24-year-old, “plucky blonde” who resided in Hollywood, California, needed money to further her opera studies (Nevada State Journal, Jan. 8, 1950). 

In early January, she sent telegrams to the casinos in Reno, Nevada — Harolds Club, Harrah’s Club, Bank Club, Club Cal-Neva, Palace Club, Riverside hotel — asking if they’d be amenable to horse roulette and if their casino could accommodate a horse and its size.

Unlike rat roulette, where the rodents are part of the gambling equipment, equine roulette involves a horse actually playing the game . . . well, with a bit of help.

Wallace would be in The Biggest Little City in a few days, she informed them, and wanted her white stallion — which she’d named Lucky because of his past gambling success — to play roulette with her there.

“‘Lucky,’ the horse, has never been known to draw to a soft 17 or crapped out in a friendly game in the stables among his buddies or in any flourishing casino,” reported the Nevada State Journal (Jan. 5, 1950).

Varied Responses

Three clubs replied via Western Union. A Harolds Club official asked how old Lucky was, noting the legal age for gambling was 21. Well, whew!  Lucky was eight in horse years, which was said to be equivalent to about age 32 in a human, so he was legal.

Ed Dowd of the Riverside Hotel told Wallace he wanted to host her and Lucky when the property expansion, in progress at the time, was done.

The Club Cal-Neva was the only casino to extend an invitation. It was through the manager Morrie Brodsky with this dispatch: “‘Under due consideration, Club Cal- Neva extends to you and your horse ‘Lucky’ all our gambling courtesies and privileges heretofore known only to man. Please be advised gaming limits and house policy must be adhered to. May the best animal win. Please advise your date of arrival. Regards’” (Nevada State Journal, Jan. 8, 1950).

Raising Awareness

Four days later, upon her arrival with Lucky, Wallace informed the press that a group of Los Angeles men, who believed in Lucky’s gambling acumen and Wallace’s singing ability, had given her $10,000 (nearly $1 million today) for the trip and gambling. A percentage of her and Lucky’s winnings would be hers to use for operatic training. She said she planned to stay in Reno as long as her money lasted or until she won a certain, undisclosed amount.

Whinnying At Roulette

On the 8th, the Homo Sapien-Equus duo hoofed it over to the Club Cal-Neva where they engaged in Lucky’s favorite game of chance. To play, Wallace would extend a silver dollar, which Lucky would grasp between his teeth. He’d move his head back and forth along the numbers and drop the coin on one of them. For each wheel turn, he’d select three numbers, and Wallace would bet on the same ones.

“Tourists raised their eyebrows and were quite surprised but most Reno residents dismissed the entire affair as one of those things they had to contend with,” noted the Nevada State Journal (Jan. 10, 1950).

On the second day, Wallace admitted gambling with Lucky was a publicity stunt to further her singing career, either with her winnings or from a well-paying singing job that might result from the press coverage.

After three days of play, the two were up by $600. The subsequent day they lost, but Wallace wouldn’t say by how much.

Media Go Silent

How the woman and horse fared subsequently or how long they were in Reno weren’t reported. Could this mean they stopped playing that day and left town soon after? Or did they perhaps lose the whole $10 grand before returning home?

Sources

1947

John Clark Bosworth, of Reno, 47, was sentenced to 10 days in the local jail for playing with fake $25 chips in a Las Vegas casino.

What do you think? Was this a light or heavy sentence?

Photo from freeimages.com, by John Nyberg

Clockwise: Vegas Vic, Bucky Buckaroo, Last Chance Joe, Wendover Will

1940s-Today

They’re one of a kind. Dazzling. Captivating. Iconic. Pure Nevada.

They’re the mascots of the state’s gambling industry. They graced the facades of casinos in the gambling meccas, and some still do. Rather than merely signs, they’re like citizens, but atypical ones — larger, brighter and cartoony.

Here’s a look at four of them:

1) Vegas Vic (Las Vegas)

The 40-foot-tall cowboy resulted from an advertising campaign the Walter J. Thompson firm launched in 1946 that boasted “fun in the sun” and a smiling cowboy whose thumb directed toward Las Vegas. The ads appeared in Esquire, the Saturday Evening Post and other national magazines. A year later, a different agency personified in print the Western figure with the name, Vegas Vic, and a voice saying, “Howdy, pardner.”

In 1951, artist Pat Denner designed the Vegas Vic who’s become the icon, and the Young Electric Sign Company manufactured a neon version of him for the Pioneer Club. The cost was $90,000 (about $835,000 today). For the more than half-century since, Vic has remained at 25 E. Fremont Street, greeting passersby with “Howdy pardner, welcome to downtown Las Vegas.” He even gave an interview to the Las Vegas Sun in 2000.

2) Wendover Will (Wendover)

After Vegas Vic, in 1952, the team of Denner and the Young Company, created Wendover Will, another cowboy but much taller at 63 feet, for the State Line Casino in Wendover. Named after the border locale and the casino’s founder, William Smith, the neon mascot’s job was to lure travelers off of U.S. Highways 40 and 50 (today, Interstate 80) and into the gambling club/hotel/café/bar.

In 2001, when the casino’s ownership changed to the Wendover Nugget, 9-ton Wendover Will was donated to the city. He was restored and relocated to Wendover Boulevard in the heart of town, now West Wendover, where he stands today.

3) Bucky Buckaroo (Reno)

In the 1940s, caricaturist and commercial artist, Lewis “Lew” Hymers, designed Bucky, aka Nevada Bob, yet another cowboy but this one in the shape of Nevada.

Three or four versions were built, which hung on the marquee in the front and back of the Nevada Club at 224 N. Virginia Street. One of the Buckys, owned now by Will Durham, founder of the Nevada Neon Project, is 9 feet high and 7 feet long.

Unlike many of the neon signs manufactured in Nevada at the time, Bucky Buckaroo was made out of porcelain enamel rather than being painted, which helps it “look pristine,” Durham said. It’s impressive for 70 year old.

4) Last Chance Joe (Sparks)

Last Chance Joe is 35 feet high, 8 feet thick and 5,000-plus pounds! Roscoe “Duke” Reading designed the statue, and R.H. Grosh Scenic Studios in Los Angeles built it.

To construct him, workers first used structural angle iron to create his frame then covered it with chicken wire. Next, they applied many, many, many layers of papier mâché followed by two coats of celastic. Lastly, they painted and sprayed Last Chance Joe with plastic.

Once completed, they shipped him in three parts on a Southern Pacific flatcar to Sparks, where he was installed outside of Dick Graves’ Nugget for the 1958 grand opening.

Today, Last Chance Joe can be seen outside of the Sparks Heritage Museum at 814 Victorian Avenue.

Ever-Lasting Symbols

Whether in an original or new location, these vibrant, fun characters, along with many of their peers, endure as symbols — of a U.S. industry once unique to Nevada, gambling, and in turn, of the state’s historic identity. As well, today these icons boast the well-deserved label, Americana.

Sources

Photo of Bucky Buckaroo by Brian Ball, I Shoot Reno

1947

The Golden Gulch casino re-debuted on June 27 under new management, that of James H. Lloyd. He’d had the gaming rooms and bar remodeled “with decorations featuring the ornate Victorian motif and stressing the ‘golden gulch’ theme” (Nevada State Journal, June 28, 1947).

That night, all women guests were presented with a corsage of native sagebrush encircled with gold and silver ribbons.

The ad read:

“Reno’s newest, brightest spot opens in Friday, June 27 in Nevada’s most colorful old-time hotel . . . the historic Golden! Mining and cattlemen’s headquarters for a half century with restaurant, banquet rooms, casino and bar. Modern comfort . . . 1880 glamour!”

Keno-Pool game board placed at one end of the billiards table

1932

Bizarrely, Clarence Shockey’s stint as a Nevada gambling club manager was short. Here’s what happened:

Week One

July 11, Monday: The Reno City Council approved a gambling license for Clarence, who’d worked in real estate and oil drilling beforehand, both unsuccessful ventures.

July 12, Tuesday: Clarence obtained a building permit to remodel the interior of the structure at 232 N. Virginia Street at a cost of $2,000 (about $35,000 today).

July 20, Wednesday: An advertisement ran in the Nevada State Journal (NSJ) newspaper, announcing the grand opening of La Boite Amusement Palace* slated for 8 p.m. the next night. The club, touted as the first of its kind in the United States, was to feature vaudeville acts and keno-pool.

The gambling game, played by two or more people, is a combination of billiards and keno. When players shoot, balls either fall into the pockets on one end of the table or roll onto and stop in numbered holes on a keno board at the other.

Welker Cochran

July 21, Thursday: La Boite Amusement Palace debuted. Welker Cochran, then one-time national billiards champion, facilitated the keno-pool activities. Between games, various acts, from dancers to a four-piece orchestra, performed.

The club boasted large crowds for the first few nights, but then the guest count dropped off, becoming light.

Week Two

July 24, Monday: A fire broke out in garbage behind La Boite, but the fire department extinguished it before it could damage any nearby structures.

July 26, Tuesday: Five days after La Boite opened, Clarence filed to divorce his wife, Mabel D. Sumner Shockley, due to cruelty. He’d married her in San Francisco earlier in the year on January 25. Five months after their wedding, on June 30, Mabel had run a business personal ad in the Reno newspapers that had read: “Not responsible for any debts contracted other than by myself after this date.”

A month before Clarence married Mabel, in December 1931, he’d divorced his previous wife of six years, Mary Alice Welsh Shockley, in Los Angeles, also on the grounds of cruelty. He’d testified that she had had a pattern of leaving him when he’d lost money due to a failed business venture then returning when he’d gotten involved in a new, promising enterprise. 

The night of July 26, Clarence failed to open La Boite. The employees — ushers/entertainers/ticket takers and orchestra members — told the press they hadn’t been paid through that date and Shockley had shined them on. He’d arranged to meet them at 1 p.m. the previous day to settle up, but had postponed the meeting to 7 p.m. and then hadn’t shown.

July 27, Wednesday: Mabel didn’t contest the divorce, and the judge granted it.

July 29, Friday: An ad in the morning NSJ and the late afternoon Reno Evening Gazette promoted the re-opening of the La Boite Amusement Palace, under new management, that night at 7:30 p.m.

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Was Shockey just a flake or did someone, perhaps a local Mobster, run him out of town?

* A boîte is a small nightclub or restaurant featuring live music.

Photo of Keno-Pool Game Board from KenoPoolGame.com
Photo of Welker Cochran from the Library of Congress

Sources

1947-1953

Harolds Club bustled on Christmas Eve in 1947 with revelers enjoying the gambling and camaraderie when an unexpected event instantly silenced the din. Panic followed.

Since the previous morning, Reno, Nevada police had been trying to locate a suspect: white male, approximately 20 years old, 5 feet 8 inches, 150 pounds. He’d robbed two taxicabs at gunpoint — one for $17 and one for $5 (about $184 and $54 today, respectively) — and had failed a third attempt.

At around 12:30 a.m., detective sergeants Francis Quinn and James Franklin spotted the alleged criminal entering Harolds Club. They followed him inside, where they informed patrolman William Reeder, working his regular beat there, of the situation. The three quickly fanned out then closed in on their target.

“Take your hands out of your pockets,” Quinn ordered.

The young man shot at the officers. All three fell, wounded. They didn’t fire back for fear a bystander might get hurt. Meanwhile, casino guests darted under tables or ran. Amazingly, none was hit.

Pursuit Of Fugitive

The suspect fled out the door. He got into a taxicab and after riding for a few minutes, pulled a gun on the driver (who hadn’t heard about the shooting), robbed him of $20 ($216 today) and got out.

About an hour later, 15 policemen, sheriff’s deputies and FBI agents traced the gunman to a used car lot where they cornered him. Again, he tried to shoot his way free, but that time a gun battle ensued. A bullet entered his shoulder and another grazed his head behind his ear. At that point, he gave up willingly.

He was arrested and processed then taken to the local hospital for medical treatment.

The culprit, Bobby Carter, originally was from Kentucky. He’d deserted the Navy a few months earlier, having abandoned his post in an Eastern state. He’d gone to Reno from San Francisco.

Of the hurt police officers, Franklin suffered the severest injuries as a bullet entered his abdomen, ruptured his spleen, passed his internal organs then lodged in his back. Reeder sustained a gunshot wound to his hand and an abrasion on his torso. Quinn was hit in the right thigh. Physicians said they expected them all to recover fully.

Punishment Delivered

In January of 1948, Carter was found guilty of assault with a deadly weapon with intent to kill and was sentenced to a prison term of 1 to 14 years. (Strangely, at the time, the penalty for shooting someone was more lenient than that for grand larceny; 1 to 14 years was the maximum punishment for assault with the intent to kill whereas 2 to 14 years was the minimum for grand larceny!)

After serving about 5½ years, Carter was paroled, in May 1953.

Sources

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