Even after a few days of trying to think about the order of how things happened, where I started to recognize the fact that there was a game in the back room, it still eludes me. I’m sure there was a game in the back room, along with the two pan games that ran every day, but I really wasn’t aware of it.
I had made a few friends at the OX and started to make it known that I wanted to deal poker and get out of the bartending. I talked to Brian about it, and his concern was that I had only been there a few months and I wouldn’t be able to deal until I’d been there a year. My concern was that I was going to lie or do something to state that I had been a resident for at least a year because I knew I would never make it behind the bar as a part timer, financially or mentally.
Sometimes when I had the opportunity, I sat with some of the old-timers, like Squeaks, Dale, and a few others and talked to them about the fact that I wanted to learn to deal poker. Their advice was that I start watching the games and see what the dealer did. Believe me when you’ve never dealt poker before, or played the game, it’s all Greek. While I was talking to the boys that used to deal the games of old, I found out about Elmer the banker. Ray was another gent that came in to play every day and part of the old time crew. He was always very neatly dressed and clean shaven, like he was on his way to the office; he knew my dad. It’s funny to think about it, I never knew my dad but these poker playing guys did.
When Roy took over as the poker manager was when the whole poker scene appeared to explode at the OX. I now feel compelled to go out to my shed and dig through boxes to find the two albums I have of poker player pictures and start scanning them in.
The 5 card stud game was dealt mainly by one young gal that must’ve taken pity on my poor forlorn eyes as I brought drinks and watched the game when I could. One night when I came around the table she told me I could deal the next hand. HOLY SHIT! I told her I didn’t know how. She said she’d stand right behind me and help me if I had a problem. Of course I did it…are you kidding? I remember trying to shuffle and feeling like the deck was glued together, and the white hot flush running up my face when I tried to peel the cards off to deal them, and then flipping the next card face up to each player…what a joke. I was sure everyone at the table was laughing and wishing I would just die so they could go on with their poker game but I got through it. I dealt one hand and went back to the bar with a fire burning in my brain that I had to become a dealer.
The back room poker table picked up a cute little ‘runner’ named Cathy. Yah, they are cocktail waitresses and food servers in casinos but in the OX, they were runners. There were several old timers that ran for the back game before Cathy was brought in and they still did on her nights off. Those guys were scary looking, greasy unkempt hair, clothes that looked like they lived in them for the last week, hands and fingernails that would make you feel like you never wanted to eat again if they handed your plate of food to you, and don’t think they didn’t put their fingers on the rim of your glass when they were bringing it. I’m sure that Roy was the reason that Cathy was brought into the mix…it could have been Brian but Roy knew what was up with poker.
Brian asked me to take over Cathy’s two nights off as a runner to supplement my bartending job. I did accept but not for very long.
The back room game had a a dealer’s choice game. I believe that it was Holdem, Pineapple, 7 Card Stud, 7 Card Stud Low (Razz to the rest of the world), High Draw, and Low Draw. The “Open” game. A Dealer Button moved clockwise around the table, with each hand, and game choice was designated by the player that held The Button. I have no clue what the blind was but I’d guess it was a single blind and how it was handled in the stud games.
As much as poker has progressed in the last 30 years or so, it seems almost strange to put the tag “Open Game” on that game. State law set a $100 limit on the size of the pot. A cute little gimmick in which the state was trying to protect the people from losing their money and all it did was make it impossible for the poker players to protect themselves. It was impossible to beat.
Some of the counties in Montana did not adhere to the State law and in those counties, it was possible to play no limit, pot limit, and any limit structure the establishment spread. The brutal part of it was if the local law enforcement walked through the door during a hand, the betting went to normal during their visit. Picture this: You are stuck $1,000 in a $30-$60 game at the Empire in Billings MT, pick up A-A and flop a Set. The cops walk through and now you’re playing $3-$6 limit. Bad Beat City! Rumor had it that the local law was taken care of in these counties and they never looked very close at a game in progress but there were tales about it happening.
In Missoula all poker games stayed with the state set $100 pot limit law. The Open Game was supposed to be some huge deal when in essence, all it meant was a player could bet $52.50 with one caller. Why the strange amount? State law allowed a 10% rake on the size of the pot. This game held 5%. With one caller the pot would be $100 and $5 for the rake.
Imagine how much fun it was for a dealer to have one player bet $52.50, one caller at $52.50, it would cost the next player $35 to call and the next player $27 and on down the line until it became No Foldem Holdem. Once the Pot was made, everyone got change, the cards were dealt out and the pot pushed.
A few years later in that same game, just like trained pigs, 10 of us put in $11 each and cheered for a card to make our hand after the flop came. We had the pots made before the dealer could burn and put up the Flop, Turn, and River and then we started on the next hand. Hysterical or insanity! We had cheerleading squads on the rail that screamed and cheered for us when we won a pot and went into the death and agony role when we lost. Those games were fun, no skill, just shake the dice and start the next hand. This went on for hours one morning until we all killed each other or burned out. And we tipped the dealer and our cheerleaders on the rail…
The Open Game was dealt by Eve. She was a dark haired beauty and very protective of the fact that this was her game. She was the only person that dealt it other than a few minutes for a break and she knew she had found a gold mine. She never even had to lift a pick, sweat, or break a nail digging for it. She had a glass gallon jar setting on the floor that her tokes went into and she normally received a $5 toke for each pot she pushed.
One night I walked into the back room to see if anyone needed anything. A player in the 3 seat had on a pair of black gloves. He’s come to mind now and then over the last 30 or so years simply because he played every hand while I watched the game. Each time the bets were placed and the pot was made, he held a gloved hand to his mouth, clenched into a fist as if trying to press his lips through his teeth, and watched his money going across the table to everyone else. His face was torn between crying and screaming. At that time I wondered why he would stay at the table if he was in such torment. As the years have passed and I have dealt to and played with people from all over the world, I understand why he sat there.
That cute little five card stud dealer had become my friend. She told me she knew the head detective that did the background check for dealers and for sure I would get my license. A week later I went in and picked up my paperwork at the cop shop, filled it in, and BOOM baby, I had a license.