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Back around 2000 or so, I stumbled across the web site of Ed Walters, a pit boss for the Sands in the '60s, who knew Frank Sinatra and the rest of the Rat Pack. I thought it would be great to interview him for Casino Player, the publication I wrote extensively for. Originally, late editor Adam Fine wanted to run the piece in two parts because it was too long. Sadly, he never found the room (since it was the beginning of the magazine's dwindling ad space). The story turned out pretty good and and it remains one of my favorite pieces.
If you're interested in Sinatra, Dino, Sammy, vintage Vegas, Bogart or gambling, this is a must read. In our interview, Walters dished alot and told me stories about the gang that I 've never heard before.
Like I said, it's a tad long, feel free to bookmark and peruse at your leisure.
Reflections of a Pit Boss: Sinatra, the Sands and a Thousand Swingin' Nights
Former pit boss Ed Walters remembers it was a bad night for the Sands.
The baccarat pit was down around 80 large to some European high roller.
Walters was nervous because they were on their way to losing more. Way more.
It was the early sixties. 80 thousand clams meant around $300,000 by modern standards. After alerting casino manager Carl Cohen, it was clear that there was only one thing to do.
Get Frank Sinatra.
The young pit boss didn't want to flirt with the Chairman's famous mood swings -- especially at 2 a.m. - and told Cohen, "I don't wanna call Frank. He won't listen to me."
"Look, don't be afraid of Sinatra." Cohen said. "He'll help us out." But why even call Sinatra in the first place?
If there was one thing Cohen knew, it was that the singer understood the casino business. The high roller was in town with his wife, who was a huge Sinatra fan. If they kept her there, the husband would keep playing, hopefully long enough for the house odds to kick in. Simple as that.
After placing a call to his suite, the usually-nocturnal Sinatra showed up in pretty good spirits. Walters immediately informed him that the player was hotter than a two-dollar pistol.
"Relax," Sinatra said.
"But we got a lot of cash out..."
The Sultan of Swagger took one last drag of his cigarette, looked at Walters with those ice-blue peepers, and casually said, "Stop worrying, let me handle it. Just tell the dealers to pick up the speed and let's keep the action going."
Sinatra headed to the table with that trademark gait of confidence, took a seat smack dab next to the wife, asked for two grand, and started playing. She couldn't believe it. With Sinatra at the table, no one moved.
Cohen was right.
Two hours later, the house recouped its losses -- and then some. When the game broke up, a relieved Walters watched the tuxedoed Sinatra walk past the gold ropes of the pit, smiling.
"You owe me one, Kid..." he said with a wink.
Walters just heaved a huge sigh and thought, "Man, I sure as hell do."
