We need to hear about the crack ho's.
Moose, it's not a story. It's the truth. I was there. I'm drunked up tonight so I won't comment any further. But thank you so much Moose.
Who the hell could or would make that up? Great stuff, can't wait for more!
Who the hell could or would make that up?
Frank Scoblete for openers. No accusations but you did ask!
*stomps feet, whistles*
We need to hear about the crack ho's.
Lot's of crack ho's. They hung out in Atomic Liquors....if Joe or Stella weren't there. The Atomic was half a block from the Western. The owners, Joe and Stella Sobchic were devout catholics and didn't tolerate that sort of thing. But their bartenders did. The crack ho's went for about $40 a pop. Jackie Gaughan owned the Ambassador East right across the street from the Atomic. $20 hotel rooms and a bar. Crack Ho's were in there too. A can of beer was 50 cents, well drinks were 75 cents. It was an alky bar from hell.
The Western had $16 hotel rooms in the annex. A room with two single beds so, when we could afford it, two guys would split the cost of the room. The Western didn't have a slot club but if you hit for a $50 jackpot or higher you got a meal comp for two in the café. It was a full course meal that included a drink and dessert. The comps became "blackmarket currency." The floor attendents sold them for two bucks apiece. The café was packed for lunch and dinner everyday....and everyone was using the meal comps. You hardly ever heard the cash register ring. Jackie didn't know it but he was feeding all the down and outers of lower Fremont Street for free.
When I got there in April of 92 the WSOP was going on up at Binion's. Between bingo sessions I would spend time walking through the downtown casinos and stopping in to watch the poker. That's when the lightbulb went off in my head and I told myself I was going to have to learn to play poker. But it's hard to play poker when your bankroll is only 20 or $30. I watched all three days of the final event. Hamid Dastmalchi won it. And a guy named Tuna Lund came in third. I would learn a lot more about Tuna as the years went on. He had a slot team that was nation wide.
By late May it was getting too hot in Vegas. One of the tricks of a homeless drifter is don't get caught where it's too hot or too cold. You have to travel with the seasons. So I hitchhiked north out of Vegas. But I would be right back on lower Fremont Street that coming fall.
The thread outlasted the casino.
That would be more remarkable, but for the fact that threads on, oh, Fitzgerald's and Sahara for instance, have also outlasted those casinos ;)
Awesome story, this is what makes this site. The true thug lifestyle gotta love it!! I want to hear more of these stories & can you tell you all on this site of you are looking for some fun just travel along with micley you will be delighted, Only way to fly . keep em comin mickey..
Thanks, silicone. 1992 was the watershed year in my life. It was the year that the process began of a high school dropout that didn't even take algebra converting himself from a homeless drifter into a full blown professional gambler. It didn't happen overnight. It took me four long years of learning curve before I threw the sleeping bag away. It all began right down at the Western.
I started out that year with a fairly good job in Dutch Harbor, Alaska loading and off loading ships for $18 an hour. I say fairly good because the town was expensive as hell to live in. In Dutch we sarcastically called a hundred dollar bill a "Dutch Harbor ten." In early April of 92 my father fell dead of a heart attack in Tupelo, Mississippi. I had $1500 to my name and the airlines wanted $1100 for a one way ticket to Memphis. I knew that if I chose to go to my father's funeral it would put me back on the street again. I chose to go. I buried him then hit the Interstate and thumbed to Las Vegas. I had $300 and change on me but I needed to be standing in Seattle with $550 to fly back to Dutch. I figured I would take a shot at the blackjack in Las Vegas to get to the $550. That plan didn't work....I went broke instead. But in hindsight I'm glad I went broke. Because it sent me off on a journey through the heart of the gambling world....the greatest adventure of my lifetime.