You never know who you are going to meet at a poker table.
I have taken this position in the past and have told members of this website stories about some of the fascinating characters I have come across while playing poker. A few have been the owner of a 50,000-acre cattle ranch from Hawaii, Steve McQueen, Desi Arnaz and a clown in the Clyde Beatty Circus.
And an accused killer.
His name was Wally wearing a droopy mustache, glasses, and a kind smile. Wally was in his 50s and his heritage was polish. He had worked at hard jobs all his life as a coal miner, steel mill sheetman and cement mixer. And he had killed a man deliberately.
I didn't know about the charges against Wally when I meet him. We were playing poker at the Elks Lodge in Brownsville, PA. The table was made up of the usual guys and gals. Sam Nicola, the town's police chief. His wife, Fanny. Betty, a divorcee in her 40s. Dave, a young coal miner. Andy, well into his 90s, a coal miner who had worked with horses in his native Russia. Mugsy Belvis, who made wedding cakes. And Wally.
Wally was a strange face to me. I waited until he went to the bar for a drink and asked Sam who he was.
Sam smiled thinly. 'Wally is charged with murder,' he said. 'He killed a guy who was dating his daughter and supplying her with drugs.'
Dave nodded. 'Just blew him away with a shotgun. Blam. The guy was gone.'
The shooting had occurred six months ago, they told me. Most of the people in Brownsville were sympathetic to Wally. The judge had lowered the bond to release him from jail. According to Sam, he had hired an attorney and was in a plea bargaining process.
I had just joined the Brownsville Daily Telegraph, a daily newspaper, as editor three months earlier.
'Do you think he'll get off?', I said.
'He'll get off,' said Sam, discarding his cards into the muck. 'He has a good attorney and a good case. The guy he killed was scum.'
Wally returned to the table with a beer. He was a gentleman and talked a lot. He wanted to know about me, where I went to school, how I had decided to go into journalism, did I like sports? I answered all his questions. We got along well.
He was a decent poker player. When he got a good hand, he took it easy on me. I appreciated that.
After a couple of hours, the game began breaking up. Sam and Fanny excused themselves and left the table. Dave went to the restroom.
I asked Wally about the charges against him.
'It's costing me money,' he said, sipping his beer. 'Around $25,000. But it was worth it. He almost ruined my daughter with those drugs. She's in rehab.' He hesitated before looking at me. 'But he'll never mess up another girl's life.'
I stuck out my hand and we shook.
I saw Wally several times after that. He played poker with us on a regular basis. Then one evening as we took our seats, Niccola said, 'Did you guys hear about Wally? He beat the rap. The judge gave him probation. He won't have to spend any time in prison.'
Dave started clapping his hands. We joined him. Betty said, 'Okay. Now let's play poker.'
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 ).
