Frankly Speaking

by Frank Legato

Slot Heroes, Craps and Surf Music

Here’s our popular monthly feature, which I just made up, to highlight inspiring stories from the floors of our nation’s casinos. It’s called “Heroes of the Slot Floor.”

This month’s installment is titled, “Don’t Screw with a Slot Player in New Jersey.”

According to the Atlantic Daily Voice, a South Jersey man whipped out a box cutter and held it to the neck of an Atlantic City slot-machine player, demanding the player’s money and jewelry. (I’m guessing Eternal Nº5 earrings from Chanel. White gold, $10,500 a pair. That’s what I wear when I play slots.)

As it turns out, the slot player in Atlantic City wasn’t about to give up his wallet or Nº5 earrings to some schmuck with a box cutter. He stood up and counter-attacked, and another player joined him in slamming the guy until he ran away.

It was like the guy tried to rob Batman.

Anyway, a casino security guard had no problem tackling the guy as he tried to run away. He was charged with robbery and weapons offenses, and he’ll most likely be residing soon where box cutters take on an entirely different purpose.

Speaking of casino crime, last month, a guy in Pennsylvania found out about the state’s “defiant trespass” law. This 41-year-old guy from Norristown, Pennsylvania somehow got himself kicked out of the Valley Forge Casino Resort last September. News reports didn’t reveal just what it was he did for the folks at little, friendly Valley Forge Casino to tell him to leave, and to please never come back.

But the stories do say what happened when he showed up at the casino August 6. He was arrested by state police and cited for “defiant trespass.”

According to the Sanatoga Post, defiant trespass is a crime in Pennsylvania that occurs “if someone comes onto or stays on your property after being told to stay away.”

Man, I’m from Pennsylvania, and I never heard of that law. I’m thinking back to all the times I could have cited that law to evict houseguests. (Mostly relatives, though, so I’d drop the charges after they were cuffed and hauled away.) (Hey, they’re family.)

Next, I just read on a popular news website that the Railroad Pass Casino, the oldest casino in Nevada, is celebrating its 90th anniversary.

The office of Global Gaming Business is in Boulder City, a municipality in which, somewhat ironically, gambling is illegal. But a stone’s throw from our office is the Railroad Pass, just over the city line in Henderson. It opened in 1931, the year Nevada legalized casino gambling.

In addition to gambling, the place was a speakeasy the first couple of years. Before Prohibition was repealed, according to the article, workers building what would become the Hoover Dam could whisper the password “gaiety” at a backroom door to drink from a 55-gallon drum of brandy, mixed with their favorite flavor.

I may just visit there on my next trip to Las Vegas— not to drink from a big drum, as romantic as that seems. I’m searching out cheap craps. My perennial favorite, South Point, has regrettably ditched the $5 craps minimums. It’s $10 now, which can be a challenge, me being a humble reporter and all. I know they used to have a $1 craps table at Railroad Pass, so $5 will make me a high roller.

Moving on, I see Casino Vicksburg has brought live entertainment back. First up last month was Heritage Wrestling’s “Inaugural Brawl,” always a hoot, I’m sure. Why is it the Inaugural Brawl, though? Do they dress up like incoming and outgoing U.S. presidents before, you know, womping each other with folding chairs?

Following the Brawl will be the Beach Boys in October, no doubt sponsored by Life Alert. Mike Love is scheduled to belt out the tour’s showcase song, “I’ve Fallen And I Can’t Get Up.” Showtime is planned for 6 p.m., but it may have to be pushed back as 70-year-old roadies set up amplifiers, sound systems and life support equipment.

Because the Beach Boys are old, get it?

Hey, in my house growing up, the Beach Boys were the next big thing after Mitch Miller. Or was it Spike Jones? I just remember that I was pretty much on my earliest Catholic school nuns when the Beach Boys first appeared. I’m sweating over Sister Rose and her first-grade steel ruler, and the Beach Boys are singing about Little Deuce Coupes.

But I’ve strayed off the point.

As if I had a point in the first place. Oh, yeah, Beach Boys in Mississippi. I forget sometimes.

I’m no spring chicken either, you know?