There is a street in Las Vegas that is the home of the homeless. It sits just off Las Vegas Boulevard about three miles from the downtown area.
The Salvation Army has a large homeless shelter that cares for individuals and even families, but there are never enough rooms to house all the people needing a place to stay or a meal to tide them over until the next day. As a result, they sleep on the street in cardboard containors or on old mattresses or moth-eaten blankets that have seen better days.
When I lived and worked in Las Vegas, I would sometimes drive over to the Salvation Army office to talk to the people who run the shelter. They were good people who were concerned about the homeless. They did their best to help them but were limited by space and a lack of money to assist people who were addicted to drugs, alcohol, mental conditions or old age. Still, they tried.
On one memorable trip to the Shelter, I was walking back to my car. It was a Saturday around 10 a.m. and as I walked down the bottle-strewn street I passed two men sitting on a blanket. They were having a late breakfast -- free sandwiches passed out by a Good Samaritan who had just passed out food and drinks to the homeless population on the street.
One of the men laid down his sandwich and said, "Say, Buddy, can I ask you a question?"
"Sure," I said, stopping. "What's the question?"
The man rose slowly to his feet. He had red hair and freckles and was in his 30s. "My buddy and I came to town to look for a construction job. Nobody hired us and our money ran out. We're down to our last thirty dollars. We got a car that's almost out of gas. Thank God for the Salvation Army. They gave us a place to sleep for a week but had to turn us out when our time ran out. Now we're trying to make enough money to get us back to our home town in Ohio where we came from."
'And you want a handout to get back home?" I started digging in my pocket for cash.
"Oh no," he said, putting up his hand. "We're not beggars. I just want to know if it's possible to beat the casinos. I was thinking we could maybe invest this money and do a little gambling and maybe make enough money to get us back to Ohio. If you were in our position, what would you play?"
I happened to have a deck of cards in my pocket. I sat down on the edge of the blanket and pulled out the cards.
"Now gentlemen, I want you to know I am not recommending that you do this. But the Union Plaza Casino has a seven-card stud game that you can buy in for $20. Have either of you guys ever played seven-card stud poker?"
"I have," said the redhead. "What about you, Jimmy?"
The other guy on the blanket who was also in his 30s said, "Yeah, I played it in high school. Some of my buddies played it in the back of a pool hall down the street from my house."
I smiled. "Then there's hope for you. I have an hour before I have to be at a certain place and I am going to give you a fast lesson in how to win at seven-card stud.'
Using pennies as chips, I began dealing the cards around the blanket. A couple of other homeless people gathered around, curious as to what we were doing. I told them to play only premium pairs or three high cards that could make a straight. I also told them to play if they had three cards to a flush. And I warned them against bluffing.
"With the small bankroll you gentlemen have, bluffs simply won't work," I said. "If you start out with a good hand, you'll generally wind up with a good hand. If the cards don't come, your decision is easy. Just fold the hand."
By the time I had to leave, Red and Jimmy were excited. They thanked me for my time and wished me luck. We shook hands and I went to my car and drove back to town.
I made my meeting and then played in a noon poker tournament at The Orleans. When I got knocked out of the tournament, I had dinner. Then, out of pure curiousity, I decided to drive to the Union Plaza to see if my two homeless friends were there.
Three tables were going in the poker room. Sure enough, Red and Jimmy were at one of them. Red was playing and Jimmy stood behind him. Red had a pile of chips that reached nearly to his chin!
'There he is," shouted Jimmy. "Our benefactor!"
Both of them rushed to me with big smiles.
i said, 'Looks to me like you boys have enough cash there to make it to Ohio and back."
"We sure do, pardner," said Red. "Thanks. Your advice was incredible. Hey, we didn't even get your name. " We exchanged names and shook hands.
"I'm about ready to cash in," he said. "We're going to gas up the car and we're heading east. We'll grab a motel in Phoenix and be fresh for the ride to Cleveland. We really can't thank you enough."
I told them I didn't deserve their thanks. They were the ones who took the risk and they deserved the money. They cashed in their chips whistling, left a tip for the dealer and left the casino -- happy winners who were no longer down and out in Las Vegas.
Author: Geno Lawrenzi Jr.
(Geno Lawrenzi Jr. is an international journalist, magazine author and ghostwriter and poker player who lives in Phoenx, AZ. He has published 2,000 articles in 50 magazines and 125 newspapers. If you want to share a gambling story or book idea with him, send an email to glawrenzi@gmail.com ).