It was two in the morning at Caesars Palace Casino in Las Vegas. I and Stella—my girl friend at the time—were feeling no pain, fresh out of the opening night, second show, at the Dunes, still rarin’ to go. Eartha Kitt was starring in Caesars lounge, so what the hell, for a two-drink minimum we decided it was a perfect way to cap the evening.

It was a midweek night and the lounge was only sparsely filled, so we plopped ourselves down at a ringside table, directly in front of Eartha and her backup quartet. Happy to see a couple of appreciative fans (we really whooped it up, applauding and cheering her every song) she played the show to us. I guess I did have a wee bit too much of the grape under my belt and I was in an alcohol-enhanced playful mood. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have dared to do what I did. Wickedly smiling up at Eartha, I lasciviously wiggled my tongue while at the same time rolled my eyes in simulated sexual ecstasy. It immediately caught her attention so, while the backup singers were doing a second chorus of a Cole Porter song, the following dialogue ensued between Stella and the Sex Kitten:

Eartha (to me): “Come backstage after the show.” Stella: “You leave my husband alone!” bet online
Eartha (to me): “Get rid of the broad and meet me backstage.” Stella (to Eartha): “No such thing! He’s coming home with me!”

Me, I was enjoying it all—a famous singer and my girl friend having a nasty cat fight over li’l ol’ me. Needless to add, the second the show ended Stella grabbed my arm, held tight, and yanked me out the door and into a cab and back to our hotel.
No, I didn’t go backstage, but I can say I ALMOST had a brief fling with a movie star during my daring fantasy life in Las Vegas.

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Make no mistake about it, it took me much too long and a much too painful apprenticeship at the green-felt tables to realize finally that the only way I can beat the casinos is to hit and run.

No longer did I fantasize about cleaning out the cashier's cage. Now I was content to nibble away, and, if I wasn't too greedy and didn't stay too long, I could frequently quit winners and have the fun of the thrill of the chase. As blackjack, and gambling in general, was for me nothing more than a stimulating and challenging avocation—my mail-order book business gave me a comfortable living, thank you—the extra cash, when I won it, was a windfall.

I was a foot-loose bachelor then, so I made a concentrated effort to spend it when I won it. That good-looking painting of Don Quixote in my apartment is a prime example, but my freewheeling spending habits sometimes took bizarre turns. (I'm happily married now and settled down, but when I think of what 1 did then, sometimes I shudder.)
A young single guy with a cozy Manhattan apartment and a free dollar didn't have much of a problem attracting chicks, so sex just wasn't on my agenda while solo hitting and running in Vegas. I had made it a point to keep my eye on my score card, not on the femmes.

It was sometime in 1973 at a blackjack table at the Sands when it happened. I was alone at the table, except for a lady sitting in the seat right next to mine who, to describe her accurately, looked the epitome of a faded movie star, very elegant and quite striking. I was betting black $100 chips while she was just "nickeling" it, betting $25 chips. In the space between us she had casually put down her Sands hotel key. While the dealer was shuffling for a new round, she deftly pushed the key closer to me, murmuring at the same time in a low stage whisper, "A black chip rents the key."

My initial reaction was negative but, looking closely at her and then down at the key between us, I impulsively pushed a second black chip onto the betting space in front of me. I won the hand and at the same time I won the lady—for a delightful half-hour upstairs.

This was before the Age of AIDS, so henceforth I made it my business to set up a pit stop or two along my casino route. Toward the end of my lecherous side trips I made it a point, whenever possible, to bed down a blonde, a brunette, and a redhead, not necessarily in that order. (The bell captains at many of the Strip and downtown hotels had a hen house full of cuties on hand at all times.) Yes, I readily admit to fucking away some of my casino winnings but here, too, you must agree that there was no way the casinos could ever win it back!

My accountant, along on a Vegas trip with me, was a strait-laced, one-woman man. He envied my Don Juan Vegas adventures, but had no guts to sample the wares. He tagged along, curious to see me in action. During a stop at a downtown casino I excused myself for a black-chip "quickie." Melvin, curious to see what makes a hooker tick, asked me to see if she'd talk to him after our matinee. Once upstairs, I wickedly plotted the seduction of my CPA: I paid her in advance and told the gal if she could actually bed him down, I had another black chip for her. The challenge excited her, so she was upstairs, lying in wait for Melvin the accountant. Melvin I guess smelled a rat, and insisted that she come down to talk to him in the lobby. He never did meet the hooker. The upshot was that the gal got paid, but Melvin didn't get laid.

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Now that I've given you all the standard rules, and some variations of mine that have served me well, let's show it all in action, with chips in play.

You're at a blackjack table, the only player. It is a "No Mid-Entry" table—nobody can enter the game until the shoe is finished. You are betting $10 on just one hand. (Casinos will let you play two hands. Some will even allow three.) You're dealt two 8's, and the Dealer has a 6 showing, the worst card-up he could have. You immediately split your 8's, placing a second $10 bet next to the second 8. Now you're dealt two more cards—and one is another 8. The other dealt card is a King. You "stand" on your King/8, as you have a playable total of 18. You now split the third 8, putting another $10 bet next to it. Again, the Dealer deals you two more cards, one each for the two 8's. You get a 3 and an Ace. Now you have a total of 11 (8 + 3) on one hand, and you "double-down," placing an additional $10 on it. As for the other half of the second split, it now shows a total of 9 or 19, Player's choice (remember, the Ace can be 1 or 11). With the dealer showing a 6, you promptly "double-down" again on the 8/Ace hand—you play it now as a total of 9—and place still another $10 bet on the cloth next to it.

Okay, time out. Let's rehash that last paragraph and see exactly what happened, and what the wagering was, on what started out as an ordinary pair of 8's and one simple $10 bet.
You started with that lone $10 bet. Upon splitting the 8's you added a second $10 wager, for a total of $20 on the table. Of the two new cards dealt, one was a King, which gave you a comfortable King/8 total of 18, with which you stood. The other card was yet a third 8, which enabled you to split yet again, so you put down another $10 bet. Your bets down now totaled $30.

Two new cards were dealt to you; one was a 3 and the other an Ace. With an 8/3 count of 11 you doubled-down, and bet still another $10 on the hand. Total bets down now: $40. Here's that last (and controversial) move, your doubling-down on the 8/Ace count—normally a comfortable 19—gambling on the dealer going bust with that deadly 6 as his up-card.
With this last $10 bet you now have parlayed your original $10 wager to an impressive $50—on a table situation where the odds are in your favor. Here you have the dealer sitting with the worst possible up-card a blackjack dealer can have.

This is a perfect example of taking advantage of every opportunity you are dealt. The strong odds were in your favor, with the dealer's deadly 6 as his show card. Of course there is no iron-clad guarantee that you would win the hands, but you must always keep in mind that in gambling you always must take full advantage when the odds are in your favor. If you expect to leave the casino with their money, pal, that's the only way you can come out ahead in the long run.

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The bare rule-of-thumb basic strategy in the game is for the player to hit if his total is 16 or less when the dealer shows a 7, 8, 9, or 10 value card, or an Ace. With eight decks there are lots of 10 value cards in the shoe, so the player has to assume a 10 or a picture card as the dealer's hole card. On the other hand, if the dealer shows a 4, 5, or a 6, basic strategy is for the player to "stand," and to let the dealer draw and possibly bust.
When the dealer shows a 2 or a 3, you face a choice. Here's where I differ from many so-called blackjack experts. When single or double decks were more common years ago, I'd stand on the dealer's 2 or 3. Now, with the 8-deck shoe, I have to swim against the current of the prevailing wisdom mentioned above—to consider the dealer's hole card a 10 spot. With all the cards that can help the dealer's total on a 2 showing, I always hit my 12 or 13 count.

As for insurance, surrender, and "Let It Ride," forget it. All three are bad, bad bets. If you want more details about these three sucker bets you are welcome to read all about them in another blackjack book. I won't waste time on these shams.

While the dealer is rigidly constricted by his options, the player is allowed splendid leeway which, if managed properly, can be a decided advantage to him in the game.
First, there is the player's option of splitting pairs. When the player is dealt two identical cards, he may separate them, making them the first cards of two separate hands.

Sometimes it's an advantage and sometimes it isn't. The only hard-and-set rule for splitting pairs is with Aces and 8's, which the player should almost always split. Exception: Where the dealer shows an Ace, an 8, 9, or a 10 point card, I don't split 8's. If the dealer shows a 5 or a 6, it is advantageous for the player to split all pairs—I even split 10 point pairs in this case, which can be construed as either daring or lunatic. (Many times I shake up the pit boss when I split 10 pointers,- it's done so infrequently that they are often rattled by my move.) In some casinos you can split a third time (except with aces), and if the same card shows up a fourth time, some casinos will even let you split it still again. In the next section I will give you graphic examples of what can and does happen with multiple splittings.

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I should assume that the reader has a working knowledge of blackjack, but being a casino habitué for forty years I have learned to assume nothing.
Blackjack is a simple game built on a simple concept. The player's object is to get a higher total than the Dealer, but not to exceed the sum of 21.
Today, partly to frustrate card counters, most casinos use a "shoe" that contains six or eight decks of cards. The shoe is an elongated plastic or wooden box with a clear plastic cover. It allows the dealer to deal from it, one card at a time. Once the decks of cards are shuffled and "cut" by the player, the cards are placed in the shoe, and the game is ready to begin. It must be said that cutting the cards is not a gilt-edged guarantee that the cards aren't stacked. The hand is quicker than the eye, and a good "mechanic" can easily "fix" a deck right in front of you.

Later I'll tell you about an episode that turned me off forever from playing blackjack in any hand-held dealing games.
To begin a game of blackjack, the player places his bet on the designated space on the cloth in front of him. The dealer then deals a card face-up to the player and a card face-up to himself.

The dealer now deals a second face-up card to the player, but for himself he deals the card face-down and tucks it under his open card. This is the dealer's hidden "hole" card. The numerical value of the cards dealt corresponds with what is printed on them, with the exception of the picture cards (Jacks, Queens, and Kings), which are all counted as ten-pointers, and the Ace, which has a value of one or eleven, player's choice.
Now the cards are out. If the player gets an Ace along with a ten or picture card, he has a "blackjack," and promptly receives one-and-a-half times his wager. If, however, the dealer also gets a blackjack, it is a "Mexican Standoff"—a tie game that neither dealer nor player wins or loses. In fact, if the player and dealer have any identical amount, it's a "push" and nobody wins.

If neither the dealer nor the player gets a blackjack, the game proceeds. Depending on his two-card total, the player may request a "hit," meaning an additional card, or several "hits," depending on his judgment of his two-card count and the dealer's "open" card. This is an advantage for the player, as he has the discretion of hitting or standing pat (staying) with his hand, while the dealer is boxed-in with iron-clad rules that compel him to hit any total up to and including 16, and requiring him to stand on any total of 17 or more. In other words, if the player has 18 and the dealer has a total of 17, the dealer cannot draw another card to try to beat him. The dealer's advantage, however, is that if the player draws and "busts" (gets a total of more than 21) the dealer takes his money even if, after dealing to other players, he draws and busts too.

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Yesterday at my local fish store I bought a pound of Alaskan crab claws. Like a cat loves cream, I go ga-ga for crab claws. I suspect that, to exploit this weakness, a clever casino-baited trap was set for me, and I was always eager to fall into it. In Las Vegas decades ago I used to win pretty regularly at "my" Sahara. It was my cash-cow. I'd then go off to the Thunderbird, now just a Vegas memory. The T-Bird wasn't one of my A-list casinos, but I'd often head straight to their small and cozy seafood bar for their mouthwatering King Crab claws.

When I bussed into Atlantic City, there was only one casino I always made sure to stop at: Resorts International. You guessed it, they had a cozy little seafood bar where I gorged myself on their succulent King Crab claws. Any gambling money I have spent there was really snapped up by the crabs!

Going to a casino for a meal can be an adventure. At Resorts I always went the same route: Right off the bat I'd win a couple of green chips, just enough for me to pig out with a plate load of King Crab claws, a bowl of clam chowder, and a small bottle of red wine. (Yes, I know it is de rigueur to have white wine with fish, but I happen to like red wine with my crab claws, thank you.) Most of the time I easily made my modest meal-money goal, and then headed straight to the seafood bar with my two green chips. But occasionally, just occasionally, disaster did strike, and it ended up costing me a king's ransom for my plate of King Crabs.

For me, the seafood bar was a fur-lined bear trap. For you, the bait may take a different shape. There are a hundred other casino enticements, promotions, freebies, and star entertainers, to name a few—all designed to get you inside. Loss-leader buffets, gratis gifts, a complimentary pull on a Million Dollar Slot, even free money, just to lure you in. Some casinos will go so far as to refund your cash on adverse slot machine action. I once got suckered into such a promotion . . . but that's a chapter in itself.
Watch Walt Disney's cartoon feature Pinoccbio, where the littie wooden boy gets lured onto Pleasure Island, only to end up being turned into a braying ass. Make sure you don't get brainwashed by casino enticements into doing stupid things too. Don't empty your wallet and turn yourself into a horse's ass.

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Shouldn't Will Power really be called "Won't" Power, as in "I WON'T do it"? Once, just to test myself, I bused to Atlantic City with the firm determination to ONLY win $1,500. Not $1,550. Only $1,500. Period. Needless to say, I played it especially carefully, and kept an extra careful score card. My sixth casino that afternoon was Resorts, home of the famous clam bar that featured the best King Crab claws in town—my one seafood weakness.

I was only $235 away from my $1,500 goal. A $235 bet on a "hard" 17—the dealer showed a five—was a winner when the dealer busted. Now I had a dilemma: Should I break my promise to myself and place another bet of two green chips—$50—to "comp" myself for the crab claw feast awaiting me just a few steps from the casino entrance?

I suddenly remembered that black day at the Stardust in Las Vegas fifteen years earlier. That was when, heading for the cashier's cage, I saw that all I "only" needed were two more black chips to neatly fill my $5,000 tray. That's when I left my now-empty tray on top of a slot machine. Wary of a repeat performance, I prudently decided this time to dig into my wallet and splurged as I treated myself to a hearty order of King Crab claws, along with a tall frosty stein of draft beer.
#44*4
There is a very valid, logical reason for both Vegas and Atlantic City to have windowless and clockless casinos. With no clocks and no windows, Time in the casino has no dimension for the player. Day or night, it's always the same time in the casino. That's why earlier in this book I emphasize the importance of having a wrist-watch with you on your casino visits.
In all my casino years, most all payout booths generally have been located as far back as possible in the casino. When you pause and think about it, you have to admit it is a clever ploy on the casino's part. When you cash out, and turn around headed to the exit, you have to pass a gauntlet of gambling games, plus rows of enticing slot machines. Oh, how many times in the early days did I win it, and then lose it all back on my way out of the casino! Even now, occasionally I'll daringly hit-and-run at a blackjack table I'm passing on the way out just to "even up" a total, i.e., turn $385 into $400, or to try to win a green ($25) chip to dabble at the slots before I venture to the next casino.

My advice here is to do as I say, not as I do. If you won your predetermined amount, cash out and GO! Wear blinkers if you have to, but haul your ass out the door, and off to the next casino.

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