Gambling and gambling devices

A hundred years ago a gentleman named John Philip Quinn wrote a book titled Gambling and Gambling Devices; the copyright on the first edition of his that I have is 1896. Mr. Quinn was himself a reformed gambler—and cheat—who had at some point developed a conscience, or so he said. He became a born-again Christian. His book, his second, the follow up to his Fool’s of Fortune, is fascinating reading.

The book, again Gambling and Gambling Devices, described all kinds of cheating methodologies, many of them–for the era—very high tech. Card holdouts, loaded dice, marking systems, sleight of hand skills, and what we might refer to today as various methods of psychological warfare were included. Quinn’s avowed purpose in writing his epic exposé was to warn the unwary to be wary when involved in any form of gambling and especially when the game included strangers.

In an era where the economy seems to be in a continuous downward spiral, some things, some industries may yet prosper. One such industry is the food industry; people eat when they’re depressed. Another such industry is the gaming industry. “Hope springs eternal,” as they say, and as desperation mounts, often the most vulnerable are apt to make the worst of choices. Their rationale of course is that since things can’t get any worse, they may as well go “all in” and hope for the best. Well, the premise that allowed them to take the big gamble was of course a false one, i.e., it was possible for things to get worse. Mister Quinn discovered this in midlife and made the change and became a teetotaler, at least in terms of gambling.

Gambling can be addictive and can be driven by ego or economic desperation or simply the thrill of the chase. I confess that as a young man I was caught up in such a chase. I loved to play poker, and I won! Well, I won until one day my “ego” led me to move up in class, i.e., a higher limit game than I was used to. They killed me. They destroyed me! They economically raped me! But, there was a silver lining. Being the military genius that I obviously was, and realizing that I had no hope of ever being really any good at the game, I never played again. And glorious now to recall, I was so distraught and distracted that day that I called up my then girlfriend, who was at the time touring with the Ice Capades in Canada, and proposed; she divorced me 17 years later. The moral to this last might be to never make major decisions when distraught, desperate, or confused. Quinn would have understood and empathized.

Truth be told, gaming and risk taking and wild and wooly decision making are not in themselves necessarily bad things. They are human things that, as the gods of such would have it, are fraught with consequences. It is the consequences that intelligent people must look to before making the leap. Failure to keep this latter maxim in mind “is” necessarily bad. Put another way, don’t do it if you don’t know what you’re doing; or if in doubt don’t do it. It ain’t gonna work out most times, folks, so figure it out and act accordingly.

I mentioned above that John Philip, the guru of us reformed sinners, had become a devout and born-again Christian. In the interest of fairness, I should also point out that at age 47, he ran off with the preacher’s daughter; she was 16. Well, we are all guilty of “some” poor choices, I guess, even Mr. Quinn.

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