ROADSIDE REST

The Bet Filled the Pot with Bulls and Steers Plus a Horse and Saddle to Cover the Bar Bill

TEXT BY DON DEDERA ILLUSTRATION BY JIM DANDY During our recent vacation in New England, my provincially prideful brother-in-law William Sullivan Kovel wondered aloud if Arizona had any Indians to compare with his Mashantucket Pequots.

Deep within their tribal woodlands, the Pequots have erected a 190,000-square-foot gambling palace (eclipsing the 175,000 feet in Las Vegas' MGM Grand), where on any given day as many as 45,000 gamblers keep some 9,500 casino employees occupied. The annual take nudges a half billion dollars, and because there are only about 350 Pequots, they scarcely miss the $100 million-plus voluntarily contributed to the Connecticut state treasury.

"Tell me," urged Bill, "with all of its Indians, does Arizona have anything like that?"

Well, no, I had to confess. But of course, inspired by the multimillionaire Pequots, Native Americans in 26 of the United States have joined in the action. At last count, 184 of the country's tribes were operating 274 locations with legalized gambling open to the public. Not surprisingly, Arizona, with the nation's largest American Indian population, offers a fair share of gaming opportunities on reservation lands.

As the Great Spirit only knows, there's plenty of Arizona reservation room to grow. Arizona's tribes represent the largest minority in the state, and they own a third of the state's area, together with huge resources and vital water rights. While gambling remains generally illegal off the reservation, 16 of Arizona's 21 tribes have opened casinos, and more are on the way. In recent plebiscites, two of Arizona's better-known peoples, the Navajos and Hopis, rejected tribally operated gambling enterprises.

But elsewhere rivers of dollars roll through communities desperately impoverished only a few years ago. Every kid on the Fort McDowell reservation today is guaranteed funds for a college education; the Yavapai Apaches, all but ignored for decades on the outskirts of the old Territorial capital of Prescott, have jumped big time into the economic mainstream; at the mountain community of Payson, environmental concerns shut down the sawmill, and today the town's biggest payroll is associated with the casino run by the once-poor Tontos. Where will it all end? Hard to say, but gambling seems natural to the human condition.

I have in hand a clipping from the May 9, 1887, Coconino Sun published in Flagstaff.

Apparently Frank Vanderlip, a local cattleman, challenged Capt. B.B. Bullwinkle, rancher and Civil War veteran, to a game of draw poker. At the moment, the men lacked large amounts of cash, so they agreed to play one steer ante, two steers to open, and no limit.

At a popular saloon, as reported by the Sun, "The Captain dealt and Vanderlip anted one steer. Both came in and the game opened with four steers on the table. The Captain drew two tens and caught an unexpected full house, while Vanderlip passed out."

Then the game picked up pace. Cowboys, merchants, even professional gamblers, crowded around the card table to witness the accelerated wagering.

"The next hand was a jackpot and it took three deals to open it. Vanderlip finally drew two jacks and opened the pot with a fine breeding bull, which counted for six steers. The Captain covered this with five steers and a two-year-old heifer and went him twelve better.

"Vanderlip drew another jack, saw the twelve cows and went him fifty steers, twenty twoyear-old heifer calves better.

"The Captain looked at his hand and placed upon the table sixty-five cows, five bulls, one hundred two-year-olds, fifty prime to medium steers, with a side bet of a horse and saddle to cover the bar bill.

"Vanderlip made his bet good with an even two hundred and fifty straight half breeds and twenty-four mustangs and the Northeast quarter of the Southwest quarter of Section 10 Township 24 Range 2 east, and called.

"The Captain held three aces and got up and put into his hip pocket seven hundred sixty-two steers, bulls and heifers and a good cow ranch with a large herd of mustangs."

But in the best tradition of the times, the game was not the end of Vanderlip. He soon recovered his losses and went on to become president of the Chase National Bank of New York.

So all of this is in answer to Bill Kovel's question, "Can Arizona boast of anything like the Pequot casino in Connecticut?"

The answer is no, not quite, but tell me when did a Pequot ever buy drinks for the house by pledging his horse and saddle?

Arizona Highways 49