l think l had heard "ball" as a verb once before, but hadn't figured out what was meant, at the time. But the way Rita looked at me when she used
"...to ball." left no doubt; l was her choice, that night for "overnite visitor". l
remember, for a few instants, feeling sorry that she had unknowingly picked
such a total loser. She deserved better; she was certainly no loser in any aspect of her life; smart, beautiful, unbelievably talented singer. she had her own distinctive singing voice (and delightful speaking voice) as well as the recognizable voices of some of the most popular singers of her time. So l resolved to try not to seem so much of a loser while l enjoyed time with a real
winner.We spent four nites and a few days together before she went to her next gig, which was at Harold's in Reno.
The hotel desk job at the Commercial was mostly fun. About half the people
l'd see, during my time at work were personally known to me. Some, l had
not seen for a while since l'd been away for a few years; it was great to see
(most of them) again. One day l rented a room to a Native American couple
and two of their sons. l put them in one of our better rooms (newly re-done)
with two double beds. Marvin, the bellman told me that they liked the room
(and said so) without being asked. l worked until 4PM that day. About 5PM,
Marvin successfully located me on my dedicated stool at the bar in The
"Paddock", located directly across the street from the Commercial's main
entrance. He said that the General Manager wanted me to go to the room that l had rented to the Native Americans and remove them. l told Marvin to tell the
G.M. that l said "no". Soon, the G.M. was with us. He repeated his demand
that l remove "the Indians" (his words) most people , in that time, used that
word. l told him that if my hiring had been done correctly, l would have been told not to rent rooms to non-whites and that would have done it. lf l hadn't
agreed, l would have been free to look for a job elsewhere. But since l wasn't
told about the discrimination practiced here, l don't think l should have to clean
up the mess on this one.
He thought l should, even though he intended to fire me. But not for renting the room to non-whites, or refusing to escort them out: when he thought he might fire me for the room rental, he had pulled my file and noticed that in the
previous week, (the week that had Rita in it) my earnings were $200 short of
paying my food and drink tabs. ( Rita especially liked rib-eye steaks and broiled
lobster tails, washed down with Glenfiddish Scotch.) Not to say the high tabs
were on her. l ate and drank my share (more than her, really.) And it was my
responsibility to pay it. So the firing was about not paying my tab in a timely
manner.(when the bill is presented on payday.) lt didn't surprise me, really.
l always look at receipts l've paid before l toss them and usually, even when
drinking, keep track of what's spent.But, in my experience, keeping track isn't
always followed by keeping up.
The next day, l rode the local to West County and paid Mom, Dad, Buddy, Buddy
and Sis a couple days visit. Mom cooked some fine meals. Visiting was a little
strained. After just a couple of years we found conversation a bit uncomfortable.
Over all, though it was a good visit. Except for one thing l did (or must have done) while there. Strangely, l don't now actually remember coming across my step-dad's check book, recently re-filled with fresh blank checks, but l do remember having it later and writing a bunch of checks from it over the next few months. On balance, l think it was a pleasant visit for all of us even if we
were all happy to see it end. Also, that visit marked the last time that all six of
us would be together. Mom offered a ride to the train station or l would have missed the train.
l was barely aboard when the train pulled out. Before l found a seat, l was approached by a big, loud, loquacious, colorfully- dressed man who introduced
himself as Pierre Arteaux. He said he was a French-Canadian lumberjack, in the
U.S. for the first time, and here on a mission. From his home in Alberta, he had
driven his old Chevy to a place about twenty miles north of Winnemucca. A tow
truck dropped him and his car at a garage in Winnemucca. The car needed another engine, so he dumped it. The owner of the garage that towed it gave him a few bucks for it and Pierre caught the next train to Reno where he would
work his newly-discovered system to beat the roulette wheel and make him a fortune. Somehow, he mistakenly boarded, not the next train TO Reno, but the
next train FROM Reno. l was interested enough in his system to let him keep
thinking that Reno was our destination. He told me that the trip had cost him
more than he expected and he really needed a partner to provide some start-
ing money. He said "This system starts paying right away, so it won't take a
fortune to get a good start. Once started, it's all gravy".
"Well, great" l said "looks like we're coming into Reno, already".
"l can't wait", he said. "l've waited all my life for this day. l thank my lucky stars" he said, looking skyward, l'm finally here. Right here in Reeeee, wait a
minute, that's not West", he says, pointing to the rear-end of the receding train,
from which we had so recently departed. Who knew? The guy,Pierre knew the sky like the back (and front) of his hand. (it was one of his hobbys). he jumped
up, did an airborne 180 and said "All right, oriented". Then, to me "What is this town", pointing to the ground. ln those years, the train stopped within 100' of
the Commercial Hotel Railroad Street entrance. Before Pierre knew what was
happening, we were in the Commercial Casino.
Pierre would not explain how the system worked but said he would pay me half
of his winnings for providing the starting cash, which $300. We walked around the busy casino looking for someone l knew who might loan me a stake. An
hour or so later,l was about to give up on the cash quest. Pierre had given up on me earlier and was himself looking for a financier. Just then, l ran into a friend
from West County, a friend of the family,really but he liked me and agreed to
help.
l get back to Pierre, who had no luck raising funds. We chose the roulette table
with the pretty young lady dealer who, almost immediately began piling up our
winnings. We took a dinner break in The Brand Room steakhouse (Rita's
favorite Elko dining place when she was with us. l remember it was between
nine and ten o'clock and our winnings-in-hand totaled 11K. Only 1K less than
than Art Warren "invested".This is turning out to be a great system and l have
no idea how it works. And l never would. A couple of hours after dinner, we are at 16K when a functionary from management visits us at our wheel and presents me with a statement of account for food and drink tabs and Pierre tells
me to pay it out of our winnings and adds"pay the guy that loaned us our starting cash now, too. Of course, it had to come from the winnings pile, but
it was great that there would be no argument about it. l commend Pierre, even
to this day.
lt was still far from dawn, when everything, at the roulette wheel, started moving in the wrong direction, except the wheel. Over about an hour's time
l twice went outside the casino to visit my friends at The Paddock and cashed
two forged checks, totaling $700. Pierre cut back on bets enough that we went
all the way to dawn before all of our winnings were lost.
Not as drunk as l'd been on earlier visits, that nite,but still staggering (the
losses, the losses) l tried to pass one more of step-dad's checks. The bartender
said "Sure". The cop that entered then, said "Put your hands behind your back
and turn around".
No comments:
Post a Comment