In the late 1970s, after Richard Munchkin graduated from Columbia College in Chicago, he moved to Las Vegas and landed a job dealing blackjack at the old Castaways Hotel. "It was an unbelievable experience," Munchkin says. "The casino manager, Bill Friedman, was a fanatic about both Mickey Mouse and the Oakland Raiders. One day he walks through the casino wearing an Oakland Raiders football helmet with Mickey Mouse ears."
Even more outlandish were the gamblers Munchkin met. And the memories stayed with him long after he moved to California and began directing films. The plots of Munchkin's films, such as Ring of Fire and Evil Obsession, are outlandish. But they pale in comparison to the behavior of some of the high-stakes gamblers who have won and lost astronomical amounts in recent years.
And so, Munchkin conducted Q&A sessions with the likes of Billy Walters, Chip Reese and Doyle Brunson. The finished product is titled Gambling Wizards. And, yes, the gamblers are wizards at permutations and probabilities. But they're also warriors. There are victories, but also crushing defeats. Such as going broke. Such as being arrested. And worse.
Consider the words of career blackjack and poker player Cathy Hulbert, whose picture is in the Griffin Book, a database of cheats, card counters and other players whom casinos consider persona non grata. Hulbert has been arrested more than 50 times on trespassing charges. That never bothered her, because being detained in an American jail "was a chance to meet some new friends."
But there are worse things. In the late '70s, Hulbert was playing at the Las Vegas Hilton when "two security guards grabbed my shoulders and I went for a scuttling ride across the casino floor. They took my head, stuck it in the crap table and said, `Why don't you play some craps with that cheating money of yours?'"
It didn't make any difference to casino executives that Hulbert wasn't cheating. Because she was an expert counter--a winning player--she was the enemy.
High-stakes gambler turned golf course developer Billy Walters knows all about the attitude of casinos--and law enforcement--toward overly successful bettors. In the mid-1980s, Walters and Reese--who were next-door neighbors--operated the Computer Group, allegedly one of the most successful sports betting operations in history. After the Computer Group was mentioned in a book about sports betting, Walters was indicted.
"We were charged with--and listen to this, because nobody in the history of America, to my knowledge, had ever been charged with this--being part of a criminal conspiracy, conspiring to bet."
Walters was eventually found not guilty. But the verdict came after long hours of fear and trepidation experienced by the legendary Las Vegas gambler and businessman. Walters believed he had done nothing wrong, and decided to fight, despite a deal offered by prosecutors, and despite warnings from his attorneys that he and his wife could go to jail.
At first Walters wanted to accept the deal. But his wife said: "No. We're not pleading guilty to anything." She said, "These bastards are not going to do this to you."
Years later, after Metro Police seized $2.4 million in cash after raiding Walters' Sierra Sports betting office, the gambler again fought back. The money was eventually returned--with interest.
Gamblers like Walters, Reese and Tommy Hyland, who ran the most successful blackjack team in the history of the game, all realize that authorities consider them easy targets. In 1985, Hyland was playing blackjack with a computer strapped to his legs at Cable Beach Casino in the Bahamas when he was whisked away from the game and escorted to a back room. It didn't matter to casino executives or local authorities that playing with the aid of a computer was not against the law in the Bahamas at that time. "The asked me to pull up my pant legs. When I did, they saw the computer. They said, "You're in a lot of trouble. We make a nice casino down here for you Americans to enjoy yourself and this is the kind of thing you do."
The authorities then arrested Hyland's wife, who was on a beach sunbathing (she didn't play 21), and stuck her in a cell with an alleged murderer. They cleaned out the couple's safe-deposit box. They stuck Hyland in a filthy central lockup with 10 other prisoners and threatened him with a 10-year sentence. Finally, Hyland's wife was released, and after she hired two attorneys, Hyland was finally released after pleading guilty to fraud and paying more than $70,000 in fines. "I wasn't going to win any trial down there," Hyland says.
Throughout Gambling Wizards high-stakes players are often flush--and sometimes broke--but they always have honor, unlike the casinos, authorities and business associates they deal with.
As Brunson explains, "With gamblers, their word is their bond. ... If they say, `Let me have $50,000 and I'll get it to you tomorrow,' you'll get it tomorrow. You can't do that in the business world."
Even more outlandish were the gamblers Munchkin met. And the memories stayed with him long after he moved to California and began directing films. The plots of Munchkin's films, such as Ring of Fire and Evil Obsession, are outlandish. But they pale in comparison to the behavior of some of the high-stakes gamblers who have won and lost astronomical amounts in recent years.
And so, Munchkin conducted Q&A sessions with the likes of Billy Walters, Chip Reese and Doyle Brunson. The finished product is titled Gambling Wizards. And, yes, the gamblers are wizards at permutations and probabilities. But they're also warriors. There are victories, but also crushing defeats. Such as going broke. Such as being arrested. And worse.
Consider the words of career blackjack and poker player Cathy Hulbert, whose picture is in the Griffin Book, a database of cheats, card counters and other players whom casinos consider persona non grata. Hulbert has been arrested more than 50 times on trespassing charges. That never bothered her, because being detained in an American jail "was a chance to meet some new friends."
But there are worse things. In the late '70s, Hulbert was playing at the Las Vegas Hilton when "two security guards grabbed my shoulders and I went for a scuttling ride across the casino floor. They took my head, stuck it in the crap table and said, `Why don't you play some craps with that cheating money of yours?'"
It didn't make any difference to casino executives that Hulbert wasn't cheating. Because she was an expert counter--a winning player--she was the enemy.
High-stakes gambler turned golf course developer Billy Walters knows all about the attitude of casinos--and law enforcement--toward overly successful bettors. In the mid-1980s, Walters and Reese--who were next-door neighbors--operated the Computer Group, allegedly one of the most successful sports betting operations in history. After the Computer Group was mentioned in a book about sports betting, Walters was indicted.
"We were charged with--and listen to this, because nobody in the history of America, to my knowledge, had ever been charged with this--being part of a criminal conspiracy, conspiring to bet."
Walters was eventually found not guilty. But the verdict came after long hours of fear and trepidation experienced by the legendary Las Vegas gambler and businessman. Walters believed he had done nothing wrong, and decided to fight, despite a deal offered by prosecutors, and despite warnings from his attorneys that he and his wife could go to jail.
At first Walters wanted to accept the deal. But his wife said: "No. We're not pleading guilty to anything." She said, "These bastards are not going to do this to you."
Years later, after Metro Police seized $2.4 million in cash after raiding Walters' Sierra Sports betting office, the gambler again fought back. The money was eventually returned--with interest.
Gamblers like Walters, Reese and Tommy Hyland, who ran the most successful blackjack team in the history of the game, all realize that authorities consider them easy targets. In 1985, Hyland was playing blackjack with a computer strapped to his legs at Cable Beach Casino in the Bahamas when he was whisked away from the game and escorted to a back room. It didn't matter to casino executives or local authorities that playing with the aid of a computer was not against the law in the Bahamas at that time. "The asked me to pull up my pant legs. When I did, they saw the computer. They said, "You're in a lot of trouble. We make a nice casino down here for you Americans to enjoy yourself and this is the kind of thing you do."
The authorities then arrested Hyland's wife, who was on a beach sunbathing (she didn't play 21), and stuck her in a cell with an alleged murderer. They cleaned out the couple's safe-deposit box. They stuck Hyland in a filthy central lockup with 10 other prisoners and threatened him with a 10-year sentence. Finally, Hyland's wife was released, and after she hired two attorneys, Hyland was finally released after pleading guilty to fraud and paying more than $70,000 in fines. "I wasn't going to win any trial down there," Hyland says.
Throughout Gambling Wizards high-stakes players are often flush--and sometimes broke--but they always have honor, unlike the casinos, authorities and business associates they deal with.
As Brunson explains, "With gamblers, their word is their bond. ... If they say, `Let me have $50,000 and I'll get it to you tomorrow,' you'll get it tomorrow. You can't do that in the business world."