Those squirrels are smart. In the summer when there are plenty of acorns and nuts in the forest, they take the excess food, tuck them in their cheeks, and put them away for the winter. It's a method of saving and survival that humans have not yet developed.
During my early years of playing poker in California and Nevada, we played a lot of limit. Often quarters were used as antes or to make change and many pots were heavy with quarters.
One of the rules of the card rooms in those days was that a player could not remove money from the table. The problem is that many of the players would enter the games with a small bankroll. To survive and enter the next cash game or tournament, we had to figure out how to get some of that cash off the table.
That is how we came up with the concept of squirreling away the profits.
Many a night I would slip a few quarters into my hand and then casually drop them into my boot.
Hey, it adds up. A dollar here, two dollars there, and before you know it your boots are mighty heavy with silver. When you walk across the casino floor, it creaks from your extra weight.
I would fill up my boots with quarters and then slip into the restroom where I would empty the boots of their cash. There were times when there were so
many quarters; it was hard to get those leather boots off.
I paid my rent and made car payments from the squirreled away cash. Other players, of course, suspected what was going on, but in the heat of battle, it was hard to pick up on players who were doing the squirreling.
Sometimes I long for those good old days. It was fun outsmarting the other players and making sure my bankroll remained intact. Other players did the same thing and we knew who we were. We'd exchange grins as we tromped across the casino floor.
There were times when I would lend a friend money for a buy-in into a cash game. We would make out a deal for repayment and before the other player left, I would wink and warn him, 'Don't squirrel away any of the profits.' He would laugh and assure me of his honesty.
For years one of the most popular games in Las Vegas was the seven-card stud competition at Sam's Town on the Boulder Highway. It was a limit game with I believe a $30 buy-in. The table was full of quarters and there was a lot of squirreling going on.
One night I remember ordering a beer from an attractive redhead. She was dressed like every man's PLAYBOY model drem ih red, black, sequins, laced stockings and high heels. I didn't have a dollar to tip her and said, 'Sorry, darlin', I'll get you later.'
She gave me a playful kick and said, 'Why don't you just reach into your boots?"
Some of the tight-fisted players did not react kindly to players who squirreled away the money. I remember an elderly Jewish player who was part of old Las Vegas complaining about players who stole money from the table.
'They're nothing better than thieves,' he said.
'Hey, Bernie, maybe they need the money for bus fare,' one player said. Bernie glowered.
'Let them earn it like everybody else,' he said. 'Poker is not a game for thieves.'
Really?
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 ).
