Bettor Days

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Big Daddy is one cool customer. A backslapping good old boy who owns a string of lucrative “casual gourmet” restaurants, he’s also a world-class golf hustler, a rapacious competitor and one of the most feared and loathed men in Las Vegas. Big Daddy, a k a “the Wizard of Odds,” a k a “Rick Matthews,” is the kingpin of the so-called Brain Trust, a shadowy cabal of gamblers who wager enormous amounts of money on sports events, using a supercomputer and a SWAT team of injury and weather experts to take advantage of minor discrepancies in the point spreads set up by the Vegas linemakers. 


It’s a multimillion-dollar business — and legal — but there’s a wrinkle: they like to bet hundreds of thousands of dollars per game, and whenever the casinos sniff out betting syndicates like the Brain Trust, they show them the door in a heartbeat. That’s because in addition to risking huge losses each week, the bookmakers are forced to adjust their betting lines — sometimes by two or three points for a football game — whenever the “smart money” wades in, since they desperately need other customers to bet the other side to balance their action and stand a chance of making money. 


As a result, the syndicates deploy couriers to make their wagers in secret, scrambling to stay one step ahead of the casino managers, whether in Las Vegas or in the growing number of offshore operations. “It’s a game that almost nobody can conquer,” Michael Konik writes in “The Smart Money.” “Big Daddy is the man who can beat it. He’s the man who sends thousands of bettors and bookies scrambling for the phone when he releases one of his plays.”

Konik should know: for several years he was a bagman for the Brain Trust. Much of this memoir tells of how Konik, a Los Angeles-based journalist and the author of several books about gambling, goes from low to high roller as he perfects his front as a “square,” or unsophisticated gambler, while shuffling sacks of cash from casino to casino and laying huge wagers for his bosses. He also has to joust with suspicious bookies, persuade them to keep his room and meals comped, and maintain his rocky relationship with his girlfriend — but he quickly warms to his work and its perks.

By and by, though, the casinos begin to catch on and roll back his betting limits, and he’s reduced to finding “outs” for his bets with online sportsbooks in Costa Rica and the Caribbean — outfits with dubious reputations but willing to take bets of $50,000 and up. Before long, the occupational hazards begin to take a toll: “extortion” by cyberbookies, the outright pirating of bets and the siphoning of Brain Trust wagers to rival betting groups. “As much as I enjoy the charade, being a richly compensated human mule taxes my psychic endurance,” Konik admits. “I feel like I’m addicted to the constant pursuit of more. It’s what Las Vegas encourages in the most monastic souls.”

Speaking of monastic souls, Konik’s real mentor turns out to be Big Daddy’s right-hand man, Brother Herbie, a seminary student turned “degenerate gambler” who gives Konik his few glimpses into the Brain Trust’s inner workings. That’s a source of continuing frustration to the author, and to the reader: Konik never gets more than a peek, and even he admits that “the relentless opacity of Big Daddy’s operation is driving me crazy.” (Konik originally pitched his book anonymously as “44” — his Brain Trust handle — claiming he needed to protect the privacy of his sources, but his real identity was quickly revealed, along with that of Rick Matthews, who turned out to be Bill Walters, a Las Vegas developer.) The trouble is, however folksy and unflappable he seems (“How you doin’, pardsy-wardsy?”), Big Daddy remains a cipher — which, come to think of it, may be exactly as he intended: he knew his loyal courier would write this book one day, and in his business it pays to be elusive.

The other problem with “The Smart Money” is that the thrill of the chase becomes much less thrilling once the action shifts from smoky Vegas betting rooms and parking-lot handoffs to the faceless online sportsbooks. It’s fun to hang out with guys named Pencil Stevie and Gino the Suit, but wringing flesh-and-blood drama from wire transfers and long-distance phone calls isn’t easy. I suspect Big Daddy and 44 come to regret that as well, given the time they spend griping about the “ineptitude and inhospitableness” of the Vegas bookmakers as their business gets driven overseas.
Toward the end of the book, Konik is pretty well outed, and leaves the Brain Trust to set up his own mini-syndicate, “the Hollywood Boys,” manned by a fresh army of friends and acquaintances who serve as couriers. But even as he reaches new heights (in his best week his operation makes $608,000), he feels “clinically depressed” and, in a crisis of faith, abandons “this ugly business, populated by clumsy extortionists and liars.”
By this point, most readers will share his disgust and exhaustion, but also the certainty that for a particularly obsessive breed of gambler, all that matters is the never-ending quest for the perfect point-spread differential. That, and the knowledge that there’s a bottomless pool of squares out there.
“We’ll have plenty of other games to bet on,” Big Daddy says in what passes for the ultimate gambling wisdom. “It’s all one big long game.”

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Las Vegas Gambling invaded by a different sort of Organized Crime

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Former Las Vegas Sun columnist and current contributor Jeff Haney recently wrote a tribute piece to "Five Neat Guys" from Las Vegas. Haney's article provided inspiration for my look at "Five Not-So-Neat Guys" here in Las Vegas.

It would be easy to name legendary mobsters like Meyer Lansky, Bugsy Siegel and Tony Spilotro among the city's bad boys. However, I never met any underworld figures from the days when the Mafia controlled the city. Sure, I've heard stories about Frank "Lefty" Rosenthal running the Stardust and Syd Wyman controlling the Dunes, but I never had a chance to interact with any of these infamous characters.

My introduction to Las Vegas came in 1985. During my senior year at Northwestern University, I took advantage of a low-priced airfare advertised in the Chicago Tribune and went on a three-day trip to "The Gambling Capitol of the World." In the mid-1980s, the leaders of Las Vegas, led by the Convention and Visitors Authority, were bent on transforming the city's image from a mob-controlled Sin City to a resort destination featuring first-class hotels and five-star restaurants.

While the plan worked and the popularity of Las Vegas skyrocketed, the high crime rates remained. The dangers of Las Vegas extended beyond the reach of the traditional Mafia.

Organized crime of a different sort came to Las Vegas in the summer of 2001 when a few of the 9-11 terrorists planned their devious attacks, while staying at the sleazy Econo Lodge on Las Vegas Boulevard. Published reports indicate the terrorists also made several visits to Olympic Garden, a gentleman's club located on the north end of the Strip. The presence of terrorists in Las Vegas confirmed this city's status as a dangerous town loaded with desperate people.

Thankfully, I never crossed paths with any of the 9-11 terrorists, but I have met my share of shady characters. I've run across literally thousands of gamblers over the past quarter-century, spending countless hours speaking with those who share my love of sports and sports betting.

Through the years, I've learned gamblers merely represent a cross-section of this country's population. The vast majority of gamblers are honest, hard-working people. Despite the negative image of gamblers in popular American culture, most surveys indicate the average gambler to be better educated and more affluent than the average American adult.

Like most subcultures, however, gambling has its dark side. Listed below, with apologies to Jeff Haney, is my list of "Five Not-So-Neat Guys" in Las
Vegas. The only qualification to appear on my list is a face-to-face meeting with yours truly in the confines of a Nevada race and sports book. Here we go:

GARY AUSTIN......The bettor-turned-bookmaker once operated Gary Austin's Race and Sports Book on the corner of Las Vegas Boulevard and Sands Avenue. The stand-alone operation offered high limits in every sport. The management there rarely rejected any wagers.

Sports Illustrated featured Austin in a flattering article on February 25,
1980. By 1985, Austin was on the run, escaping from the millions of dollars he owed gamblers and creditors. Reports say Austin fabricated a story about a robbery at his establishment to avoid paying winning bettors. He closed his doors after the alleged robbery and never reopened.

Austin's name is synonymous with outstanding debts. He's best known in the sports betting community as a "stiff."

I did not get beat by Gary Austin, but my friend, poker player Brent Carter, carries in his wallet an uncashed winning ticket from Gary Austin's Race and Sports Book worth $6300.

Gary Austin, I wonder in which central american country are you?

BILL BRENNAN.....I met Bill Brennan in the late 1980s. He was an employee at the now-demolished Stardust Hotel and Casino. Brennan enjoyed talking sports with serious bettors.

It was a Monday night in September of 1992 when Brennan decided to pull a daring move. As a sports book cashier at the Stardust, Brennan plotted to leave the property with a backpack full of cash. Claiming he was headed to a nearby McDonald's for a quick break, Brennan walked out of the Stardust with nearly $500,000 worth of cash and casino chips.

Brennan's plan worked to perfection. It's been nearly two decades since he robbed the Stardust. The case remains unsolved.

Bill Brennan, where are you?

BRUCE EVANS.....I played tennis with Bruce Evans. He was a great guy, a funny guy and a hardcore gambler.

In the early 1990s, Evans served as a racebook supervisor at the Riviera Hotel and Casino. He also moonlighted as a "runner," or betting agent, for the big-money syndicate of Billy Walters.

Evans was responsible for nearly a quarter-million dollars of Walters' money in a safe-deposit box at The Mirage. Unfortunately, Evans not only placed wagers ordered by Walters, but he also made bets on his personal selections involving pro and college football games.

Bad move.

After a terrible streak of losers, Evans was desperate to recoup more than $100,000 in losses, so he went double-or-nothing on Super Bowl XXX. The game featured Dallas and Pittsburgh. The Cowboys were favored by 13 points. Evans laid the double-digit spot. Dallas won 27-17, failing to cover the pointspread.

Evans left the city, never to be heard from again.

Bruce Evans, where are you?

Postscript: Shortly after Evans' disappearance, word spread quickly throughout the sports betting fraternity that Billy Walters was the victim of a robbery. The buzz on the street detailed Evans' derelict behavior. Rumor spread about a reward being offered for any information leading to the capture and conviction of Evans. Here's the way I remember the reward offering: $25,000, if you bring back Bruce Evans to Las Vegas or $50,000, if you bring back a DEAD Bruce Evans.

CHARLES McCOY.....I had a brief, but memorable exchange with Charles McCoy during March Madness 2004. McCoy was a 28-year-old individual who was responsible for a series of two dozen sniper attacks over a ten-month period in 2003. The shooting spree left one dead and terrorized the Columbus region in Ohio for nearly a year.

I spoke with McCoy during a random meeting at the Stardust Race and Sports Book. I spotted him near the back of the book where the betting sheets for the horse races were displayed. Our discussion went something like this:

"My name's John, what's your name?"
"I'm Mike."
"Are you a sports bettor or a horseplayer?"
"Both."
"Are you staying here at the Stardust?"
"No."

It turned out McCoy was staying at the Budget Suites, a low-rent motel located adjacent to the Stardust. He spent only a few days in Las Vegas before being captured by FBI agents who were working on a tip from an alert Stardust customer.

Unbeknown to me, I was talking to the man later identified as "The Ohio Sniper." McCoy is currently serving a 27-year prison sentence for the senseless murder of 62-year-old Gail Knisley.

GRANT BEAUCAGE.....He wasn't a friend of mine, but I'll call him an acquaintance. I knew him as "Terry," a likable sort who enjoyed gambling and drinking. It seemed he was always rooting home a six or seven-team parlay. I'd often see "Terry" at the Stardust with a drink in each hand. There was a reason "Terry" was drinking.

His real name was Grant Beaucage. He was a Canadian fugitive on the run in Las Vegas after being accused of stabbing his ex-wife 32 times in a shopping center parking lot. Before his trial for murder, Beaucage somehow escaped
Canadian authorities and headed to Las Vegas where he managed to avoid capture for nearly three years.

Beaucage's freedom ended when Reader's Digest published a feature story titled, "World's Most Wanted." A casino employee alerted authorities after recognizing Beaucage's picture from the published article. Beaucage was captured shortly thereafter playing a slot machine at the Stardust.
He is currently serving a life sentence for first-degree murder.

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The Man Behind Las Vegas Lines

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Bob Scucci learned much of what he knows about the sports betting industry at one of the most unlikely places: the family dinner table. That's because both his mother and father worked in Las Vegas sportsbooks. After the family moved

to Las Vegas from New Jersey when Bob was in high school, his father took a job at the old Rose Bowl sportsbook and his mother took a post at the Showboat sportsbook. Dinner table discussions were a lesson in Sports Betting 101. And Scucci has used that knowledge to get where he is today, managing the Race & Sportsbook at the Stardust. Because of the history behind the hotel/casino and the fact that the book sets the first Las Vegas line for football, his job is one of the most recognized and revered in the industry.

"My dad probably taught me the most, whether he knew it or not," said Scucci. "We would have conversations at the dinner table and it wouldn't even be like he was trying to teach me anything. It was just a normal discussion. And, over the course of those years, it just, by osmosis, sunk in. Some things are just second nature. You don't realize it until you are actually working in the industry that things kind of come naturally."

The Stardust sportsbook is famous for setting the opening Las Vegas line for football. At 5:30 p.m. on Sundays during the NFL season Scucci, with help from consulting services, posts the first lines and lets the professional bettors take the first crack at them. The sportsbook holds a lottery for line placement in order to avoid a free-for-all to the window. Bettors are allowed to make five wagers before they have to move back to the end of the line. During the first couple hours of action, the line on an NFL game can move as many as two points. The lottery, however, has decreased in popularity over the last several years.

"In recent years it seems like people want to think about it a little bit before they rush to the counter," Scucci commented. "So there hasn't been as many people that want to join up in the lottery. They just prefer to wait until the numbers are up and then gradually pick their spots. For the first hour and a half, the numbers are bouncing around all over. If you are talking about 1 ½ points on every game and you are taking $10,000 a whack, it doesn't take long to have a $30-$40,000 decision on each game."

Since the Stardust sportsbook is a favorite of professional bettors in Las Vegas, Scucci is used to sweating it out. While the goal of most sportsbooks is to get 50 percent of the action on both sides of a game, it doesn't always work out that way. The Stardust has taken some big losses in the years that he has been there (Scucci served as the right-hand man for former manager Joe Lupo, who took a position as vice president of operations at the Borgata in Atlantic City, for six years before taking over last October). Putting out the first line can be a liability, said Scucci, because there are no other numbers out there to compare to his lines and because the pros are usually there to attack a bad

number. When the Las Vegas sportsbook industry does well, the Stardust usually follows suit, but when the industry as a whole has a bad week, Scucci usually takes a harder hit. "Occasionally, but not often, when the industry does well we may not do as well at all because we take all the early hits that the other casinos don't take," he added. "But I feel we can draw enough off of it that it's worth the liability."

One of the most unique things about the Stardust sportsbook is its ability to draw an even mix of locals and tourists. Now that the south end of the Strip is the place to be in Las Vegas, Scucci's sportsbook is still keeping pace with the big boys in terms of handle. Tourists want to visit the Stardust because of its history and atmosphere and locals like the wide variety of parlay cards and the chance to take advantage of the opening numbers. "We probably have the highest percentage of locals of all the Strip properties," said Scucci.


Limits for NFL games are $10,000 for sides and $2,000 for totals and college football limits are $5,000 for sides and $1,000 for totals. Scucci's philosophy is not to set the lines by predicting the outcomes of games, but rather set the number according to the way he thinks the public will bet. And he always has to be concerned about the professional bettors, who are lurking around every corner at the Stardust.

"To make money in this business isn't just to give the bettors what they want, because that's not in our best interest," he said. "However, knowing which way they are going to bet is always a help. There are a lot of factors that go into making the numbers. The whole key is to not give away too much value to someone who is making a living betting on sports. We know which way the public is going to bet, predominantly. The public likes to bet favorites, they like to bet a lot of home favorites and they like to bet a lot of overs. There's a pattern that we know the public will bet on these games and a lot of times we just have to go into a game knowing that they are going to bet this way but we let them bet it because we feel like this 2 ½ (as an example) is the right number. So we let them lay the 2 ½. If they win they win and if we win then so be it. But we are not going to move it to 3 or 3 ½ just because we know the public is going to bet it because at that point the sharp guys are going to say 'at 3 ½, it's a buy.'"

The sportsbook also offers two contests in order to attract business. The public is invited to play the weekly free All-American Football Contest, in which $10,000 is awarded weekly, and the Stardust Invitational is an annual battle among 16 of the best handicappers in the nation who compete for a $10,000 prize in a head-to-head format. The weekly contest takes place live in the sportsbook and always gathers a good crowd.

According to Scucci, the Stardust is the only sportsbook in Las Vegas that gives bettors the information they need to beat the house. The sportsbook offers its patrons a handicapping library with wall-to-wall information about sports betting. In order to make betting easier for locals, Scucci has implemented Sportscall, a telephone betting system that differs from traditional phone accounts in that it is geared toward the average bettor instead of the high-limit player.

Since taking over in October, one of the most difficult aspects of his new job, said Scucci, is following in the footsteps of Lupo, who was one of the most respected and well-liked managers in the industry. This will be his first full football season without his former mentor.

"He was great to work for - he really knew his stuff," said Scucci. "When somebody is that well respected you have some big shoes to fill and you've got to rely on your own confidence in your abilities to hopefully do the job that he did. You realize that everything falls on your shoulders now. I kind of felt like the first March Madness without him it was noticeable. From years of working with him and having that symbiotic relationship where we would bounce ideas off each other, I found myself, at times, turning to ask his opinion and realizing he is not around anymore. A couple of times I have felt like giving him a call in New Jersey and asking him 'what do you think about this or that?'"

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