Losers in Love

Today, dear class, I am not going to write about gambling.

Today I am going to write about love.

Now it has been said, probably by poets and philosophers, that gambling is love and vice versa. I won't comment on that.

Somehow, I have managed to separate the two over the years and we will leave it as that.

People sometimes lose at love. It doesn't matter how much money you have or how powerful you are. It happens.

Bill Harrah was one of the wealthiest casino owners in Reno, NV.

He owned Harrah's Resort and proudly displayed a fleet of antique cars that was worth millions.

He heard about a country western singer named Bobbi Gentry. She was a southern beauty who was born in a small delta town in Mississippi. She had written a song called "Ode To Billie Joe" and it had turned into a Top 40 hit.

Harrah booked Gentry to appear at his resort. Something happened after they met. Harrah, who was in his 70s, fell in love with Gentry who was less than half his age. He extended her booking, took her to top restaurants and cocktail bars in The Biggest Little Town in the West and showered gold coins at her feet.

Oh, Bill was smitten and he didn't mind letting the world know. At the end of her engagement, Harrah proposed to her. He would give Billie the world if only she would marry him.

Reluctantly, Gentry said yes.

She liked Bill. She admired him for his accomplishments. But she was a young star on the go, shooting through the night, and she didn't know if Harrah could keep up with her.

They were married and Harrah tried to make her happy. It didn't work. The marriage failed and they were divorced. To her credit, Billie didn't ask Harrah for a settlement. They remained friends who respected one another long after the divorce papers were signed.

The second loser in love was a wealthy Los Angeles business owner. He was married, had a family, owned a construction company, and loved to gamble in Las Vegas.

One weekend in Las Vegas, he visited a strip bar called the Palomino. That night he watched a stripper dance and he fell in love with her.

The stripper's name was Gloria and she lived in Phoenix where she taught school. Her secret life was stripping and she made big money doing it.

Dave, the construction company owner, showered her with money and affection. She reluctantly accepted the money but didn't return the affection. She didn't love Dave. She was content to live her life as she preferred to live it. Dave returned to Los Angeles, his wife, and his family, a shattered man.

The third loser in love?

Who else but yours truly?

I was living in Tucson, AZ., working as a reporter on a daily newspaper. One evening I was lured into a western honky-tonk bar, where I met Red and Pete, the brothers who owned the place.

While a country band played, I drank and talked with the brothers. They introduced me to Lisa, a beauty in a western outfit.

"She's a singer," said Red, downing a shot. "One of the best there is."

That night Lisa said Patsy Cline, Hank Williams, Ray Price and on and on. I'm sure the alcohol helped it but I fell in love with her voice and with Lisa.

For a week or so I hung out at the bar. Sometimes I would see Red, sometimes Pete, but I always had my eyes open for Lisa. I had just bought an MGA sports car and I invited Lisa to go with me on a ride. She accepted the invitation.

We drove into the desert, the top down, the Arizona wind whistling in our ears. I started talking to Lisa. Somewhere along the road I stepped over the line and told her about the way I felt about her.

For a while she remained quiet. Then she told me she was dating Red.

"He's an alcoholic, he's married and he's a drug user," she said. "But I love him. What else can I say?"

I increased the speed of the tiny sports car. We were going 80...then 90...then over 100 miles per hour. I glanced at Lisa. She sat there stoic, unafraid. Our eyes met. I smiled and a relaxed grin covered her face.

I drove into Tucson and stopped outside the bar.

She gave me a hug and a kiss.

"I hope I'm making the right choice," she said.

"So do I," I said, and almost meant it.