Casino Comps
June 4th, 2009 | 
Author: There are actually books on gambling that'll give you tips and secrets for getting complimentary meals, lodgings, and shows, all courtesy of your friendly casino. Ditto the many junkets you can sign up for to casinos everywhere.
With a couple of exceptions, I have passed on 'em all. No thank you. I've done this for several reasons, but primary among them is that I don't want my gambling monitored. Being "rated" is the term they use at the tables, the translation of which is that the pit boss is feeding a computer on how much you're betting, how often you're betting, and exactly how you're doing.
I don't care how much of a cool cat you are, or how much you insist that it won't affect your play. It will! When you're concentrating on your action you need to focus 100 percent on what you're doing. You shouldn't be looking over your shoulder at the pit boss, wondering, "Am I 'rated' enough to get us comped at the show tonight?" Frankly, pal, if you're betting green or black chips at the table, just a couple of wins in even one or two hands will be enough dough for you and your wife to handsomely "toke" the maitre d' for ringside in the showroom, and that way you'll be your own man at the tables.
Outside of the run I had at the Sahara, where the casino executive handed me a suite on an open-end basis, I've passed on the comps. I did, just once in the mid-1970s, accept a casino's offer of a gambling weekend at Lake Tahoe. It was an offer that I just couldn't refuse. Checking my mail at home, I found a tall and impressively ornate special delivery package awaiting me, hand-addressed in the manner of a scribe of old to "Sir Arnold of Levy."
Intrigued, I opened it and found a parchment proclamation, announcing that Sir Nathan of Jacobson would like to have the Extreme Honor & Pleasure of the presence of the (aforementioned) Sir Arnold of Levy and His Lady at the gala opening of Kings Castle Casino at Lake Tahoe, Nevada.
What really got my attention was that the Proclamation said our first-class round-trip air fare would be paid. I was sold, and off to Reno we went. (No airports in Tahoe back then.)
Arriving at Reno, we found that the only way to get to Kings Castle was by cab over the mountain roads. Frankly, except for my two years in Korea during the war, I was never so scared in my life as traversing those narrow and treacherous lanes. When we checked in, we had to cool our heels outside our room,- the carpenters were still inside hammering away.
We couldn't even go to the casino to play a few hands of blackjack or even play the slots,- Kings Castle's gambling license wasn't valid until the next day.
Tuckered out from the long plane ride and hazardous trip across the mountains, we were happy just to finally hit the sack. Sleeping soundly, we were jolted awake at 6:00 A.M. by the incessant ringing of a fire alarm. The lame excuse we got later was that they had to test it, but I suspect the real reason was to get the hotel full of freeloaders out of the sack and into the casino so they could start to get a return on their investment.
In the casino I gazed upon as many movie stars as I've ever seen in one place. Present were Lana Turner, Ray Bolger, Barbara Stanwyck, Edward G. Robinson, Jack Benny, and many more. But it wasn't Lana Turner or Ray Bolger … it was Lady Lana of Turner and Sir Ray of Bolger. Some of the pagings were quaint and some rather comical: Sir Pat of Kelly, Sir Abe of Cohen, Sir Groucho of Marx.
The weekend was colorful and diverting, but gambling-wise nothing to write home about. The real excitement for me was the three months of Indian wrestling I had to go through—including letters to both the Nevada Governor and the Casino Control Commission—before I was reimbursed for our first-class air fare. So, as a general rule, be your own person and resist all the tempting comps proffered. When you walk away from the tables a winner on your own terms, you'll be happy you followed my advice and kept your gambling independence.
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