Warren Nelson - University of Nevada, Reno

Cerrito. I decided that would be a great thing,
so for a year I worked as a Crap dealer, Wheel
dealer and “21” dealer in El Cerrito.
El Cerrito was run by Pechart and Kessel,
two famous gamblers of that time. I didn’t
know too much about them, but they really
had something going; they were making a lot
of money.
Tips were fantastic. I’d go to work at seven
o’clock at night; my Marine Corps job would
be over at four. I’d travel across the bridge
with some of the other dealers. I had to wear
my uniform because you couldn’t take it off at
that time. I would go into the cloakroom and
change into a civilian suit that belonged to a
friend of mine who outweighed me by about
thirty pounds. It was a double-breasted suit
and I couldn’t keep the pants up.
I was pretty scared going to work, scared
because the Marine Corps might catch me.
It was a court-martial off ense to be out of
uniform. Also, the gambling wasn’t exactly
legal; there was always the chance of a raid.
Th e money was so good that I chanced it.
I would easily make two or three hundred
dollars a week just working Saturday and
Sunday. If somebody got sick I’d work the
whole week. I probably learned as much about
the gambling business there as I had in my
previous experience.
Th e dealers were more or less going for
themselves; they were really stealing from
the bosses. I could see this stuff going on. A
friend of mine came over to me and asked if
I knew what was going on. I said I did and
had thought about quitting. He said not to
worry about it, the bosses knew what was
going on to some extent and for me to keep
my mouth shut. I watched what was going on
and could see that the bosses knew what was
going on. Everybody was getting just about
one hundred dollars a day besides their tips
and wages, was what it amounted to.
Military Service, 1942-1946
25
Observing this and seeing how it was
done has probably given me more insight on
how to protect myself in the business than
anything that ever happened before. Many
of these people are still in the business. Good
men, I don’t say they are dishonest; I don’t
think they were really dishonest then. I think
the bosses sort of said you do this because
Pechart, Kessel and a man named “Bones”
Remmer, who ran the place, would not pay
them more than fi ft een dollars a day. Wages
were higher in other places and these people
thought they had it coming and they took it.
“Bones” Remmer, who has been dead many
years now, was a famous guy at that time.
Th e dealers got their fi ft een dollars a day and
tips plus one meal. Th ey had a dining room
there that fed the players who were mostly
Jewish people, black-market people with lots
of money to show around. Th e players got the
fi nest steaks and wine while the dealers got
pot roast. One night four or fi ve dealers were
sitting there and one of them was pouring
catsup on his pot roast. “Bones” Remmer
came along and saw him doing this.
He called a waiter over and said, “Get that
catsup off that table; those are dealers sitting
there and that catsup costs four bits a bottle
on the black-market, get it off that table.”
One dealer looked at another and said,
“No catsup, huh? How much do you think
the fi ne should be?”
Th e other dealer said, “How about fi ve
hundred dollars.” Th e other agreed, so the
fi rst thing they did when they got back to the
tables was steal fi ve hundred dollars and put
it in the tokes. So that catsup went from fi ft y
cents to fi ve hundred dollars.
Th e fi rst night I worked on that job I had
this suit on I had borrowed from my friend.
My pants would slip all the time. I would
roll the ball, clean the layout and then when
I would try to roll the ball again I’d have to