In 1984 after eight years as a reporter on the Phoenix Gazette in Phoenix, AZ., I decided it was time to return to my roots. I wanted to go back home again to the place where I was born.
I was married, had a family, and had a pretty good reputation as a journalist. I found out through Editor & Publisher Magazine that the Brownsville Daily Telegraph in Brownsville, PALK 30 miles from where my parents and brothers lived, needed an editor. I applied for the job over the phone and was hired.
My parents, siblings and sister were glad to see me back. After a great homecoming, I found a house in California, PA., just a couple of miles from Brownsville, rented it, and went to work.
Brownsville was famous for several things. It had a well-known brothel in the downtown area, its police chief Sam Nicola boasted he was the only chief in America who didn't carry a gun, and it was the town selected to film a movie, 'Maria's Lovers,' starring Robert Mitchum, John Savage and Nastasia Kinski.
The town was also wide open when it came to gambling. Within a week of moving into the area, I discovered there were at least three poker games operating. One was at the Elks Club, another was in a private home, and a third was in the nearby town of Redstone Arsenal.
Nicola and his wife, Fanny, played at the Elks Club and the private residence. But Sam warned me to stay away from Redstone Arsenal.
'It's a dangerous place,' he said. 'The Mafia runs the game and I don't think it's a safe place for you to play poker.'
I thanked Sam for his advice. He was a good police chief and a good poker player. He also warned me about a lodge hall in the town where my family and I were living. There was a rumor circulating in the area that the two hired killers who murdered a union leader named Yablonski had been recruited from the lodge hall.
I enjoyed editing the Telegraph. I had a good staff of two female reporters and a long-haired photographer who wouldn't hesitate to go on dangerous shoots for the newspaper. We covered a teachers' strike that shut down the schools in the district.
Our coverage of the strike brought threats. I received phone calls that my house would be burned down if I continued running editorials trying to force the teachers back to work. I ignored the threats, continued publishing the editorials, and the threats were never carried out.
While covering a demonstration by the teachers, my photographer Jack just missed being hit in the head by a building brick thrown at him. He managed to get a picture of the man who tossed the brick. It turned out to be the high school football coach and he was arrested the following day by the police.
The poker games at the Elks Club and at the home of Mugsy and John Belvis proved interesting and profitable for me. Mugsy was a sweet lady who baked wedding cakes for the community. She and Fanny Nicola were terrible poker players, but they were a lot of fun and Mugsy always presented us with a special bonus around midnight at our poker games -- a large piece of wedding cake.
I was curious about the dangerous game at Redstone Arsenal and decided to visit the place. The game of five-card stud was held in an upstairs room over a bar in the downtown area. On a rainy night, I drove to the bar and entered the place.
Three attractive girls were seated at the bar. They smiled at me and without many words let me know they were available.
'Thanks but unfortunately I'm married,' I said, smiling.
One of the women shrugged. 'Too bad. We could have had fun.'
I laughed and told them I was there to play poker. One of them led me up a creaky stairway to the room where the game was already in progress.
A dark-skinned Italian greeted me. When he learned I was Italian and a journalist, he feigned indignation.
'Don't write any stories about this place,' he warned, half-jokingly. 'It might not be healthy.'
No problem, I told him, assuring the players I was there only to play poker.
Five-card stud is a chancy game and one of the easiest poker games in the world to cheat at. I had made myself a vow to not risk too much money in the game and stuck to my policy. I played for a couple of hours, won about $100, and then bid the players good evening.
Before I left the room, I turned to the man who ran the game.
'Sam Nicola warned me about this game,' I said. 'He told me it was a dangerous place to play poker.'
The Italian laughed.
'Sam's right. Give him my regards. You're welcome back here any time,' he said, shaking my hand.
Author: Geno Lawrenzi Jr.
(Geno Lawrenzi Jr. is an international journalist, magazine author and ghostwriter and poker player who lives in Phoenx, AZ. He has published 2,000 articles in 50 magazines and 125 newspapers. If you want to share a gambling story or book idea with him, send an email to glawrenzi@gmail.com ).
