Have comps always been a thing? With players clubs, it seems that play is very easy to track, but I remember a time where there were no players clubs at all. Did they have any way to track our play prior to these systems? I remember a system that the Golden Nugget had back in the '80s where a little box attached to the slot machine spit out a carnival ticket for every $5 dollars you played through. After you collected enough tickets, you could exchange them for something. I know a lot of people claim that comps are getting harder to come by, but I'm pretty sure there was a time not so long ago that comps were mostly non-existent. Can you fill us in?
Yes, we can fill you in. But it's a big subject with two distinct eras, pre- and post-players clubs, and there's a lot to say about both. We'll cover the pre today, the post tomorrow, and the future of comps on Friday. And we'll try to keep them brief.
To start, 50 years or so passed between the introduction of legal casino gambling in Nevada (1931) and the first automated comp system that, as you remember correctly, showed up at the Golden Nugget in Atlantic City in the early 1980s. In the earliest days of wide-open casino gambling in Nevada, comps were basically unknown. Essentially, there was no need for them, since competition was limited and there was plenty of business to go around.
But that started to change when two brothers, Harold and Raymond Jr. Smith, opened a one-room card club on Virginia Street in the heart of downtown Reno. The Smiths, including their father Raymond, better known as "Pappy," brought their carnival experience to the fledgling gambling business, Harold's Club, starting in 1935. They immediately launched a scheme to improve the shady image of casinos and gambling, and by implication of Reno and Harold's Club, with a nationwide advertising campaign via the famous Harold's Club or Bust billboards. The Smiths also introduced revolutionary concepts to the newly legal casino gambling, such as eye-in-the-sky catwalks for game protection, female dealers, and restaurants that served decent cheap food.
For the purposes of this answer, they also launched casino credit: Anyone who lost at the tables or machines and asked could receive a loan of up to $50 for transportation home; if they repaid it, they could borrow again.
In addition, the Smiths inaugurated junkets, in which they chartered trains from California and offered known players free rides to and from Reno.
And Harold's Club was the first casino to serve free drinks to anyone gambling, watering them down sufficiently to minimize the loss-leader hit to the bottom line. Of course, at one time, Harold's Club was the largest seller of alcohol in the U.S., so they could well afford the free diluted alcohol.
The whole strategy of extending conspicuous generosity to players was so successful that it became standard casino operating procedure and developed into the comp system that, in general, we know today.
From free drinks, free or discounted food, and free or reimbursed transportation expenses, comps evolved to include hotel rooms, but it wasn't until the early 1940s that casinos were actually built with any. The El Rancho Vegas, the town's first full-service resort, opened at the corner of Sahara Avenue and Las Vegas Boulevard in 1941 with 65 motel rooms. Tourists and passers-through might rent one for a night or two, but they were mostly controlled by the casino bosses, who reserved them for their big players (and the "boys" when they showed up).
Once rooms were a bona fide comp, the bosses might arrange for working girls to go with them. And when showrooms appeared on the scene not too long thereafter, tickets to the live entertainment went to any player who knew to request them.
Thus, the Big Five complimentaries -- booze, food, room, company in the room, and show -- were available to the big players of that era. Flash $50 bets and you were all set up, straight from the pit. For alcohol, a pit boss used a loud clicker to summon a cocktail waitress. For a meal, he walked over to the restaurant and spoke directly to the maitre d'. In one pocket, he had a slug of room keys (and had the bell captain supply the female companionship); in another, he had a slug of show tickets. The pit bosses had what was known as "the power of the pencil," the ultimate juice job. All it took was a flick of the wrist and if you qualified and were a sport, you received the keys to the casino candy store.
Ah, those were the days -- before databases full of average bets and time at table, theoretical-loss percentages and lifetime-loss records, comp equivalencies, Central Credit files, Suspicious Activity Reports, free-drink meters, paid parking, etc.
Fall by tomorrow for comps in the slot club era.
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Tim Hutchison
Aug-25-2021
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Dave in Seattle.
Aug-25-2021
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Andyb
Aug-25-2021
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IdahoPat
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rokgpsman
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