Feeling Lucky: The Production of Gambling Experiences in Monte Carlo and Las Vegas (Worlds of Consumption) 3031330943, 9783031330940

Citation preview

WORLDS OF CONSUMPTION

Feeling Lucky

The Production of Gambling Experiences in Monte Carlo and Las Vegas Paul Franke

Worlds of Consumption Series Editors

Hartmut Berghoff Institute for Economic and Social History University of Göttingen Göttingen, Germany Jan Logemann Institute for Social & Economic History University of Göttingen Göttingen, Niedersachsen, Germany

This series brings together historical research on consumption and consumerism in the modern era, especially the twentieth century, and with a particular focus on comparative and transnational studies. It aims to make research available in English from an increasingly internationalized and interdisciplinary field. The history of consumption offers a vital link among diverse fields of history and other social sciences, because modern societies are consumer societies whose political, cultural, social, and economic structures and practices are bound up with the history of consumption. Worlds of Consumption highlights and explores these linkages, which deserve wide attention, since they shape who we are as individuals and societies.

Paul Franke

Feeling Lucky The Production of Gambling Experiences in Monte Carlo and Las Vegas

Paul Franke Philipps University Marburg Marburg, Germany

ISSN 2945-6010     ISSN 2945-6029 (electronic) Worlds of Consumption ISBN 978-3-031-33094-0    ISBN 978-3-031-33095-7 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-33095-7 © The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors, and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. Cover illustration: MHJ/Getty Images This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG. The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland

Dedicated to my parents, Reinhold and Christine Franke, who were always willing to bet on me.

Acknowledgments

Fitting for a historian working on casino gambling, I’m indebted to a lot of people. This book would not have been possible without intellectual, organizational, and emotional support. First and foremost, I have to thank Michelle Standley, my editor, who has helped me tremendously to transform a pile of pages into a manuscript. I want to thank Hartmuth Berghoff for his support in publishing it in the Worlds of Consumption Series, and the staff at Palgrave Macmillan. This project began with my PhD thesis, which was supported by a fellowship at the International Max-Planck Research School Moral Economies in Modern Societies (IMPRS), which allowed me to pursue my research. I want to thank my supervisors Alexander Nützenadel and Paul Nolte for their academic guidance and productive feedback. The IMPRS and the Max-Planck Institute for Human Development allowed me to engage with a number of inspiring scholars. Many not only offered feedback and advice but read my materials and listened to half-baked ideas during lunches and often fairly extended coffee breaks. My fellow IMPRS doctoral students were the ones to whom I often turned for counsel, questions, and the occasional venting of frustrations with my project, academia, and everything else. I owe a great debt to all of them, but especially to Björn Blaß, Timon de Groot, Till Grossmann, Anna Danilina, Çiçek Ilengiz, Thomas Lindner, Thomas Rohringer, Marvin Bähr, Alexandra Esche, Lena Rudeck, Helge Jonas Pösche, Sören Brandes, and Petru Szedlacsek. Stephanie Siewert and Adam Bresnahan read drafts of my PhD and helped me immensely improve it. vii

viii 

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

As program coordinator, Julia Wambach fostered an incredible atmosphere and supported me especially on the final stretches of the PhD, for which I will always be thankful. Monika Freier’s efforts to make us feel at home at the IMPRS, intellectually and emotionally, were also tremendously helpful. I would like to thank Laura Rischbieter for her advice on how to approach this project in the first place. Gian Marco Vidor helped me compose the many emails to the archives in Monaco and thus made my research trip there a great success. I have to thank Robert Miller for giving me advice on possible sources and materials in the French archives and for sharing his experiences of doing research in Monaco. Martin Lutz shared my enthusiasm for the concept of moral economies and was always approachable. I’m especially grateful for his advise on how present my research. Without the personnel at the archives and libraries in Germany, the US, France, and Monaco, none of this would have been possible. I would like to thank the hardworking and passionate staff at the Special Collection of the University of Nevada Las Vegas. They not only supported my research during my time as an Eadington Fellow but also identified interesting sources and made me feel welcome during my very first stay in the US. Su Kim Chung, Delores Brownlee, Emily Lapworth, and Joyce Moore transformed my stay in Vegas into one of my most productive research phases. David Schwartz has been an inspiration since I read his books during my time at Bielefeld University. The staff at the Fond Régionale and the palace archives in Monaco could not have been more helpful and patient with me and my French. I would like to thank Thomas Fouilleron for his support during my stays there. I cannot stress enough how much I owe to the many teachers I had at Bielefeld University, where the initial ideas for this book were formed. I will always be thankful to Klaus Nathaus and Vito Gironda for offering encouragement and intellectual support since my undergraduate years. Thomas Welskopp inspired me both as a scholar and as a teacher. I feel immensely privileged that I had the opportunity to learn from him. I want to thank Mark Gottdiener for answering the email of a very enthusiastic but confused German student with a lot of questions about Las Vegas. I dedicate this book to my parents: Reinhold and Christine Franke. When I say they were always willing to bet on me, I specifically mean that they believed in me and my academic goals, even when I was in doubt. Marcus Carrier, Marit and Matti Sanken, Eric Rupprecht, Phillipp Randa, and my brother Konrad Franke accompanied me on this long journey

 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 

ix

from the first idea to the final publication and without them, I’m sure I could not have completed it. Corinna Schmitt has been there for me way before I wrote even the first line of this book. She listened with incredible patience to my ramblings, offering support, and pushing me to keep at it. She gave me the courage to pursue this project. Writing about casinos, Ralph Tegtmeier observed that gambling houses remain a mystery. He nonetheless believed that a historian “with uncompromising, analytical toughness” could get to their actual history. I don’t know if I fulfilled this mandate. What I do know is that with the help of a whole team of advisors and colleagues, friends, and strangers, I gave it my best shot.

Contents

1 Introduction:  The Garden of the Hesperides and the Oasis in the Desert—Monte Carlo and the Las Vegas Strip  1 1.1 Casinos and Consumer Capitalism  6 1.2 Playing by the Rules: The Moral Economy of Gambling for the Middle Classes  7 1.3 “Rouge Gagne Souvent, Noir Quelquefois, Mais Blanc Gagne Toujours”: The Blanc Clan of Monte Carlo 12 1.4 Coming to the Oasis: Casino Entrepreneurs Arrive in Las Vegas 14 1.5 Structure 17 2 Cities  Only Capitalism Could Have Built 21 2.1 Arriving at Monte Carlo 24 2.2 Devising a Script for Monte Carlo 24 2.3 Scripting Via Transportation 27 2.4 Gardens for the Casino 30 2.5 Casino-Driven Urbanization 33 2.6 Exclusion 38 2.7 Las Vegas: Strip City and the Suburban Gambling Experience  42 2.7.1 Paradise: The Strip as Company Town 43 2.7.2 The Strip’s Capitalist Urbanization 47 2.7.3 Exclusion 51 2.8 Conclusion 55

xi

xii 

Contents

3 Monte  Carlo Casino (1863–1911): Creating a Bourgeois Gambling Experience Under Capitalist Conditions 57 3.1 The Atrium: Transforming Visitors into Gamblers 59 3.2 The Theatre: Making Entertainment Work for the Production of Gambling Experiences 65 3.3 The Gambling Rooms: Controlling Consumption by Controlling Consumers 71 3.3.1 The “Kitchen”: Gambling for the Masses in the Salle Mauresque and the Salle Garnier 73 3.3.2 The Sale Rose: Gender and the Casino as a Male Space  78 3.3.3 The Salles Touzet and Salle Médecine: Separating the Gambling Crowd 80 3.4 Conclusion 84 4 Las  Vegas Casinos (1945–1976): Creating and Selling the American Gambling Experience 85 4.1 The Sin City Era (1950–1966): The Desert Inn and the Sands  87 4.1.1 Trendsetter: The Desert Inn 88 4.1.2 The Pinnacle: The Sands 94 4.2 Caesars Palace, Circus Circus: The Beginnings of Corporate Las Vegas (1966–1970)106 4.3 The International New High-Rise Casino-­Hotels and the Expansion of the Las Vegas Consumption Experience (1969–1976)113 4.4 Conclusion: The MGM Grand, the Las Vegas Gambling Experiences, and Defining American Gambling115 5 Working  in the Casinos, How Casinos Worked—Managers and Workforce in the Production of Experiences119 5.1 Executives of the SBM: Transfer of Knowledge Within a Family Business122 5.2 From Illegal Entrepreneurs to Las Vegas Executives: Practical Knowledge and the Transformation of American Gambling128 5.3 Croupiers and Dealers: Producing the Gambling Consumption Experience at the Tables134 5.3.1 The Croupiers: Attempting to Turn Humans into Automatons135 5.3.2 Dealers: Surveillance and the Art of Not Caring141

 Contents 

xiii

5.4 Service Personnel: Producing the Gambling Consumption Experience on the Floor145 5.4.1 Las Vegas Showgirls: The Icons of the Strip and the Question of Prostitution149 5.5 Conclusion: Producing Gambling Consumption Experiences Through Practical Knowledge and Emotional Labor154 6 The  Production of Consumption Experiences Through Gambling Practices157 6.1 Monte Carlo: The Commercialization of European Gambling and Adapting It to the Twentieth Century159 6.2 Las Vegas: The American Gambling Experience174 6.3 Conclusion184 7 Happy  Losers, Happy Consumers: Gamblers as Consumers and Seekers of Experience187 7.1 Gamblers at Monte Carlo: Playing Aristocrats and the Bourgeoisie as “Splashers,” “Flutters,” “Professors,” and “Muses”190 7.2 Gamblers in Las Vegas: The Hollywood Crowd, Thrifty Housewives, and Grateful Losers202 7.3 Conclusion: Similar Games, Different Experiences210 8 Outlook:  Atlantic City, a “Millionaire’s Concrete Slum” and “Vegas on Steroids”213 9 Conclusion:  Feeling Lucky, Casinos, Consumption, and Capitalism219 Sources229 Index247

About the Author

Paul Franke  is an assistant professor at the Philipps University Marburg and Associated Researcher at Centre Marc Bloch, Germany. He specializes in the cultural history of markets and economies, the history of illegal economies, urban history, and the history of gambling.

xv

List of Figures

Fig. 3.1

Fig. 3.2

Fig. 3.3

Fig. 3.4

The Monte Carlo casino in 1912. The main entrance was located north, the terrace and theatre in the south. The main gambling room, the so-called kitchen, was composed of the Salon Renaissance, the Salle Mauresque and Salle Garniers (later renamed Salle Schmitt in 1898). The more private Salles Touzet featured primarily trente-et-quarante. The Salle Blanche is seen to the south of the Salle Garnier. Self-made illustration based on depiction in Smith, Monaco and Monte Carlo58 The main entrance at the place du casino of the Monte Carlo Casino ca.1890. The atrium would have been right behind the main entrance. One can see the expanding rooms on the left-hand side, stretching eastward. The casino would grow even further in the upcoming decades. Casino van Monte Carlo Monte-Carlo Entrée du Casino (titel op object), G.J., RP-F-F1655360 The atrium between 1890 and 1900. The SBM offices are located on the second level. One can see the headlight and lamps that countered the gloomy atmosphere the SBM worried would discourage potential gamblers. Casino entrance, atrium, Monte Carlo, Riviera, ca. 1890. (Between and Ca. 1900) Photograph. https://www.loc.gov/item/2001699319/ 61 The Salle Mauresque in the Monte Carlo casino was the central gambling room. It featured roulette, the game of the masses, and evoked visions of empire via its orientalist design. Interieur van de Salle Mauresque in het Monte Carlo Casino. Principauté de Monaco. - Casino de Monte-Carlo, Salle Mauresque, by Étienne Neurdein, RP-F-F01182-AP 72 xvii

xviii 

List of Figures

Fig. 4.1

Fig. 4.2

Fig. 4.3

The Sands in 1963. The casino is located to the left of the heart-shaped pool, with the hotel rooms resembling a suburban living situation. The casino area is located in the main building. Courtesy of the UNLV Special Collection. Aerial photograph of the Sands Hotel complex (Las Vegas), 1963, Martin Stern Jr. Collection sky000379. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada The Sahara circa 1955. The low-rise bungalow architecture becomes apparent. The pool area is central and secluded. The Casino and desert area are sharply separated. Typical for this period is the lack of a hotel tower and the emphasize on parking. Courtesy of the UNLV Special Collection. Aerial photograph of the original Sahara Hotel and Casino complex (Las Vegas), circa 1955 Martin Stern Jr. Collection sky000396. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada The floating craps table was a highlight of the Sands. It combined gambling with well-established leisure practices and the suburban space of the swimming pool. Courtesy of the Las Vegas Convention and Visitors Authority. Photograph of a floating craps game in the Sands Hotel swimming pool (Las Vegas), 1954, Sands Hotel Photographs, Image ID: 0287:0177 Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas

95

96

100

CHAPTER 1

Introduction: The Garden of the Hesperides and the Oasis in the Desert—Monte Carlo and the Las Vegas Strip

According to the ancient Greek myth, Hercules was tasked with stealing the golden apples from the garden of the beautiful nymphs of the West, who tended to the fruits of gold. Since antiquity, some have speculated that the Côte d’Azur was a likely candidate for the location of this paradise.1 Indeed, people travelling to the small principality of Monaco, wedged between the Alps and the Mediterranean, could find the Hesperides and the gold they guarded. Stepping into the Monte Carlo district, the very epicenter of the pleasure area of Monaco, the Hôtel de Paris, rises on the western side of the Place du Casino. It was built in 1864 to accommodate the hundreds of visitors who wanted to try their luck at roulette and trente-et-quarante.2 Since 1908 it has also featured several critically acclaimed restaurants. In one of them, the Salle “Empire,” there hangs a silent witness to the scene playing out in the hotel, the painting Garden of the Hesperides by Paul Gervais.3 Many visitors gazed upon this painting, from crowned heads and military officers to members of the bourgeoisie escaping winter in their home countries to oligarchs and 1  Marc Boyer and Maurice Agulhon, L’hiver dans le Midi: XVIIe-XXIe Siècles (Paris: L’Harmattan, 2009), 23. 2  Pierre-André Hélène, Palaces de France: Vie et Mémoire de L’extravagance (Geneva: Vögele, 2003), 85–89. 3  Hélène, Palaces de France, 89–90; Pierre Laplace, Les Hôtels d’hier & Aujourd’hui à Monaco (Monaco: Éd. V. Gadoury, 2010), 16.

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 P. Franke, Feeling Lucky, Worlds of Consumption, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-33095-7_1

1

2 

P. FRANKE

tourists wanting to get a glimpse at the “good life.” They imagined themselves leaving with treasure, just like Hercules had. For many Monegasque the connection to their home is more romantic: The golden apples refer to the oranges the small principality was once famous for and that grew on the small hill where Fortuna now reigns supreme.4 All, however, agree that it is a Herculean task to carry riches out of Monaco. The demi-god succeeded where so many ordinary humans have failed over the last 150 years. Las Vegas, Nevada, cannot provide such an ancient mythology. It certainly has its fair share of legends, though. They mostly revolve around visionaries and gangsters, and meetings in backrooms and in the smoke-­ filled offices of law enforcement agencies. Instead of Hercules, other colorful names populate these tales: Frank Sinatra, Elvis, Benjamin “Bugsy” Siegel, Tony “the Ant” Spilotro, Charles “Lucky” Luciano, and Howard “the Aviator” Hughes. Once people stopped in Vegas in search of water and rest while traversing the desert. For decades now, however, visitors have had similar ambitions to those who once gazed upon the Hesperides, thousands of miles away: they hope to carry away seemingly unattainable riches.5 Surrounded by mountains on all sides, located in a valley of the Mojave Desert, Las Vegas was far less hospitable than the Riviera. Before it became a gambling and tourist mecca, the region was an oasis for travelers between Salt Lake City, the Midwest, and Southern California.6 In the years after the Second World War the area became an oasis of a different kind. People now flocked here to tempt Fortuna as well, either as gamblers or as those who wanted to profit from gambling.7 Monte Carlo and Las Vegas, as different as they were, became more than just locations for a profitable casino industry. They transformed into gambling experiences, a distinctive way of how people played games and how they interpreted playing them. Casinos in Monaco and Vegas offered 4  Thomas Veszelits, Die Monaco AG: Wie Sich die Grimaldis Ihr Fürstentum Vergolden (Frankfurt: Campus Verlag, 2006), 15–16. 5  Steve Durham, “The Modern Era: Nevada,” in The History of Gambling in America: Balancing Costs and Benefits of Legalized Gaming, eds. Kathryn Hashimoto and Steve Durham, (Upper Saddle River, N.J., London: Prentice Hall; Pearson Education, 2009), 41–44; James F. Smith, “Ben Siegel: Father of Las Vegas and the Modern Casino-Hotel,” Journal of Popular Culture 25, no. 4 (1992): 1–15. 6  Ingrid Eumann, “Las Vegas: From Space to Place,” in Taking Up Space: New Approaches to American History, eds. Anke Ortlepp and Christoph Ribbat (Trier: Wissenschaftlicher Verlag, 2004), 169–170. 7  Peter N. Stearns, Battleground of Desire: The Struggle for Self-Control in Modern America (New York: New York University Press, 1999), 161–162.

1  INTRODUCTION: THE GARDEN OF THE HESPERIDES AND THE OASIS… 

3

an all-encompassing consumption experience, which transcended the mere act of wagering money on uncertain outcomes. Historical agents in the gambling industry tried to infuse gambling here with a specific cultural, emotional, and moral meaning. Playing felt different here, despite the fact that cards, dice, roulette wheels, and slot machines did not differ greatly from those on offer elsewhere. From the second half of the nineteenth century onward, gambling was a well-established and commercialized service throughout Europe. And although gambling did not emerge as a significant force until after the Second World War, clandestine and private gambling had been taking place throughout the whole state of Nevada for over a half a century prior. It was not gambling as such that attracted people to Monte Carlo and Vegas, but it was the unique feeling they attached to their experience at the tables, the casinos, and even to the cities themselves. Feeling Lucky tells the story of how entrepreneurs, casino managers, architects, and officials sought to produce gambling experiences across more than a century and a half, examining how they sold it and how visitors consumed it. While it compares Monte Carlo and Vegas, it does not claim that they offered the same gambling experience. Indeed, people have often puzzled over how greatly they have differed in the past and continue to differ in the present. Monte Carlo, despite being built for the bourgeoisie, seemed stiff, aristocratic, and intimidating to many Americans. They could not understand and decode Monte Carlo’s spatial set-up, the gambling practices, and the architecture of the place; they were accustomed to a different gambling and consumer culture. The whispers in the casino, the almost silent and ritualized, centralized gambling in Europe’s biggest temple to Fortuna, seemed boring, repressed, and strange to them. Gamblers familiar with European gambling culture experienced it quite differently: they found Monte Carlo intense, exciting, and even uplifting. They regarded American gambling as loud, vulgar, and trivial. The perceived differences in gambling cultures did not arise by chance, nor can they be fully attributed to national differences. Rather, the planners, managers, and entrepreneurs behind Monte Carlo and Vegas consciously attempted to produce distinctive consumption experiences in contexts shaped by their different industrial and organizational structures, occupational biographies, technologies, and particular markets.8 8  Richard A. Peterson and N. Anand, “The Production of Culture Perspective,” Annual Review of Sociology 30 (2004): 313–314.

4 

P. FRANKE

The fact that people played roulette at Monte Carlo and found it completely different from gambling in Biarritz or on the Strip was not the result of ahistorical forces, nor the individual genius of visionaries, or an elusive, macro-cultural zeitgeist. It was the result of non-linear, economically driven production processes within a highly specialized industry, made up by entrepreneurs and workforces. It also took place in specific spaces and entailed particular practices that emerged from the consumers’ side. I choose the terminology of “production” to emphasize the fabricated, yet nonetheless real, nature of the respective gambling experiences. Historian John Findlay captured the historical and even contemporary approach moral critics, policy makers and even scholars have taken to gambling, when he posed the question, were all the people who have come to Vegas truly “suckers and escapists”?9 As with other forms of consumption, historically, connoisseurs of highbrow culture, philosophers, and sociologists have viewed gambling as a consequence of human nature or an activity to which the weak-minded and easily manipulated were prone. This notion rested on the principal, shared on the left and right political spectrums, that the masses should engage in leisure and consumption that would educate and improve them.10 Historian Susan Matt argues that many scholars and policy makers have made a distinction between the supposedly “real” needs and necessities of the people and artificial, supposedly “false,” ones that are created by the economy.11 Commercial gambling fits this description as well. Historians and sociologists have questioned these narratives of manipulation, yet gambling, historically linked with vice, has still not been analyzed in terms of consumption. I argue, however, that a sophisticated industry made up of companies, managers, workforces, architects, and gambling professionals sought to produce, sell, and present gambling in Monte Carlo and Las Vegas as a product that was, in turn, bought and consumed by the many thousands of people who have 9  John M. Findlay, “Suckers and Escapists? Interpreting Las Vegas and Postwar America,” Nevada Historical Society Quarterly 33 (1990): 1. 10  Matthew Hilton and Martin Daunton, “Material Politics: An Introduction,” in The Politics of Consumption: Material Culture and Citizenship in Europe and America, eds. M.  J. Daunton and Matthew Hilton, (Oxford: Berg, 2001), 19; Heinz-Gerhard Haupt, “Der Konsument,” in Der Mensch des 20. Jahrhunderts, eds. Ute Frevert and Heinz-Gerhard Haupt, (Essen: Magnus, 2004), 301–304. 11  Susan J. Matt, “Emotions in the Marketplace,” in A Destiny of Choice? New Directions in American Consumer History, eds. David Blanke and David Steigerwald (Lanham MD.: Rowan & Littlefield, 2013), 29–41.

1  INTRODUCTION: THE GARDEN OF THE HESPERIDES AND THE OASIS… 

5

visited these two gambling destinations. For these participants, gambling in Monte Carlo and Vegas was an experience, spatially and temporally bound. As a service, it took place within consciously constructed spatial arrangements, within casinos in Monte Carlo and on the Vegas Strip, over the course of the mid-nineteenth to late twentieth centuries. This is a cultural history of consumption. It applies perspectives from cultural history to an economic subject, answering the call to write economic history as cultural history.12 Using the term “experience” should not imply that I am attempting to show how people “really felt.” It reveals the concrete methods by which historical actors sought to produce and sell something immaterial, like an experience. In keeping with the history of emotions, I understand experience as a powerful historical force— something that has differed between eras and places and informed choices available to historical actors. In these ways the experiences that transpired in Monte Carlo and Vegas over the course of the mid-nineteenth to late twentieth centuries worked similarly to other structural elements that have shaped the past.13 The aim is to compare the production of consumption experiences as part of a historical process and thereby draw attention to macro-historical developments. Investigating this production process as a part of the history of consumer capitalism means that it is not useful to conceptualize Monaco as some sort of aristocratic-European Vegas, or Las Vegas as an American Monte Carlo. Neither are a model for the historical development of all casino cities.14 This methodology enables this study to concentrate on larger historical developments rather than on its isolated manifestations.15 12  Hartmut Berghoff and Jakob Vogel, “Wirtschaftgeschichte als Kulturgeschichte: Ansätze zur Bergung transdiziplinärer Synergiepotentiale,” in Wirtschaftsgeschichte als Kulturgeschichte: Dimensionen eines Perspektivenwechsels, eds. Hartmut Berghoff and Jakob Vogel (Frankfurt: Campus Verlag, 2004), 21–25. 13  See Rob Boddice, “Historian and Emotions,” chap. 1  in The History of Emotions, Historical Approaches (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2018). 14  Hannes Siegrist, “Perspektiven der Vergleichenden Geschichtswissenschaft: Gesellschaft, Kultur und Raum,” in Vergleich und Transfer: Komparatistik in den Sozial-, Geschichts- und Kulturwissenschaften, eds. Hartmut Kaelble and Jürgen Schriewer (Frankfurt, New  York: Campus Verlag, 2003), 305–306, 314. 15  Jürgen Kocka and Heinz-Gerhard Haupt, “Comparison and Beyond: Traditions, Scope, and Perspectives of Comparative History,” in Comparative and Transnational History: Central European Approaches and New Perspectives, eds. Heinz-Gerhard Haupt and Jürgen Kocka, (New York: Berghahn Books, 2009), 1–3; Thomas Welskopp, “‘Stolpersteine auf dem Königsweg’: Methodenkritische Anmerkungen zum Internationalen Vergleich in der Gesellschaftsgeschichte,” Archiv für Sozialgeschichte 35 (1995): 344.

6 

P. FRANKE

It is for these reasons that the chosen time frame is asynchronous and does not coincide with the mere starting point of gambling in either location. The focus is the production process, which implies a timeline for Monaco that stretches from the 1860s, almost a decade after gambling came to the principality, to 1950, when adaptions to the advent of mass tourism were made and gambling pushed onto the sidelines. For Las Vegas, the starting point is 1945, the year in which entrepreneurs of the nascent casino industry tried for the first time to actively construct a specific Las Vegas gambling experience. The end of this process can be seen in 1976, the year in which Las Vegas had almost completely been absorbed by nationally operating corporations and casino gambling was legalized in the state of New Jersey, and Atlantic City emerged as a second major location for gambling. These events ushered in a new approach to the casino business in the US and globally.

1.1   Casinos and Consumer Capitalism Scholarship of gambling and capitalism are often linked, via a shared focus on speculation.16 This book relates the history of gambling to the role of consumption. Within a capitalist economic order, products and their use become increasingly inseparable. Consumers contribute to this merging of material and immaterial, as they construct, or appropriate their identities via consumption, often in ways unforeseen by the producers.17 Capitalism  Gerda Reith, The Age of Chance: Gambling in Western Culture (London, New  York: Routledge, 2002), 89–91; Matthew Hilton and Martin Daunton, “Material Politics,” in The Politics of Consumption, 6–9; Andrew Sayer, “Approaching Moral Economy,” in The Moralization of the Markets, eds. Nico Stehr, Christoph Henning and Bernd Weiler (New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Publishers, 2006), 79, 92–93; Vicki Abt, “The Role of the State in the Expansion and Growth of the Commercial Gambling in the USA,” in Gambling Cultures: Studies in History and Interpretation, ed. Jan McMillen (London: Routledge, 1996), 196–197; Joshua C. Tate, “Gambling, Commodity Speculation, and the ‘Victorian Compromise’,” Yale Journal of Law & the Humanities 19, no.1 (2007), 98–105; Stuart Banner, Speculation: A History of the Fine Line Between Gambling and Investing (New York: Oxford University Press, 2017), 2, 67–74; Urs Stäheli, Spectacular Speculation: Thrills, the Economy, and Popular Discourse (Stanford, CA.: Stanford University Press, 2013), 19–42. 17  Kai-Uwe Hellmann, Soziologie Der Marke, (Frankfurt: Suhrkamp, 2003), 387–400; Peterson and Anand, “The Production of Culture Perspective,” 324–326; Dominik Schrage, Die Verfügbarkeit der Dinge: Eine Historische Soziologie des Konsums (Frankfurt, New York: Campus-Verlag, 2009), 9–14. 16

1  INTRODUCTION: THE GARDEN OF THE HESPERIDES AND THE OASIS… 

7

in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries is marked by economic organization, networks, and actors seeking to produce an experience of fascination linked to certain spaces and objects, which they then sell along with their products. Actors in capitalist economies have been able to conceive of products that hold an attraction that cannot be explained by their material value alone.18 Human geographer Nigel Thrift calls this the “secular magic”19 of capitalism: the ability to create additional value via this fascination, an allure that cannot be rationally described and is therefore “magic” in a secular sense.20 Monte Carlo and Vegas are thus more than icons or images. Casino entrepreneurs, specifically, and the gambling industry, in general, have linked them to specific modes of behaviors and ideas about consumption. Entrepreneurs sold a gambling experience that they sought to produce within particular spatial contexts and via the establishment of certain gambling practices. With this in mind, this book investigates these spaces and practices, and the historical agents that planned and used them.21 This history of the production of gambling experiences is thus a history of consumer capitalism in action.22

1.2  Playing by the Rules: The Moral Economy of Gambling for the Middle Classes The gambling industry, which according to the words of 1950s US senator Charles W.  Tobey was unproductive and did not contribute to “human happiness,”23 is still notorious for its “get rich quick” allure and lack of a real product. It seems to mock capitalist values, which center around efficiency and personal responsibility, and focus on monetary gain through ingenuity

18  Nigel Thrift, “The Material Practices of Glamour,” Journal of Cultural Economy 1, no.1 (2008): 9–10. 19  Nigel Thrift, “The Material Practices of Glamour,” 9–10. 20  Nigel Thrift, “The Material Practices of Glamour,” 9–10. 21  Hellmann, Soziologie der Marke, 42. 22  Hellmann, Soziologie der Marke, 48–49. 23  David G.  Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu: The Casino Resort on the Las Vegas Strip and Beyond (New York, London: Routledge, 2003), 70.

8 

P. FRANKE

and hard work.24 These values themselves are shifting and not necessarily canonized. There is no inherent opposition between a moral and capitalist economy. Values and moral sentiments are embedded in capitalist economics and economic practices: capitalist societies have developed their own moralities to serve as foundations for their markets. They have focused on free markets as mechanisms to facilitate more freedom within their societies. Capitalist commodification has often partially aligned with democratization; it has made goods and services available to large parts of the populace. Whether these assertions are true is still up for debate, more important is the fact that economic exchange and consumption remain social interactions and are thus embedded in societal structures, judged according to established systems of power and morality.25 The argument that economic conduct is guided and structured by morals is of special importance for this book: the gambling experiences offered and acquired at Monte Carlo and Las Vegas constituted their own moral economies, locally and temporarily. First introduced by the British social historian E.P. Thompson, the notion of the moral economy is based on the idea that morals and values structure the ways which people engage with the market place and conceptualize the exchanges of goods.26 In the case of Monte Carlo and the Strip it might be more appropriate to speak of “moralizing economies,” in which historical actors—entrepreneurs, planners, managers, and the workforce—turned to spaces and practices to legitimize gambling and gamblers for their targeted market: the middle classes.27 Their shared focus on the middle classes was crucial to their success, economically and morally. The middle classes they focused on, however,  Reith, The Age of Chance, 5–7; Ute Frevert, “Moral Economies, Present and Past,” in Moral Economies, eds. Ute Frevert et  al., Geschichte und Gesellschaft, Sonderheft 26 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2019), 20–25; Stearns, Battleground of Desire, 66; Gary Cross, “Coralling Consumer Culture: Shifting Rationales for American State Intervention in Free Markets,” in The Politics of Consumption: Material Culture and Citizenship in Europe and America, eds. M. J. Daunton and Matthew Hilton,(Oxford: Berg, 2001), 287–288. 25  Andrew Sayer, “Approaching Moral Economy” in The Moralization of the Markets, 79; 92–93; Frank Trentmann, “Before Fair Trade: Empire, Free Trade and the Moral Economies of Food in the Modern World,” in Food and Globalization: Consumption, Markets and Politics in the Modern World, eds. Alexander Nützenadel and Frank Trentmann (Oxford, New York: Berg, 2008), 266–269; Ute Frevert, “Moral Economies, Present and Past,” in Moral Economies, 23–26. 26  Edward P. Thompson, “The Moral Economy of the English Crowd in the Eighteenth Century,” Past & Present No.50 (1971): 76–79. Edward P. Thompson, Customs in Common (Pontypool, Wales: Merlin Press, 2010), 260–263. 27  Evelyn S.  Ruppert, The Moral Economy of Cities: Shaping Good Citizens (Toronto, Buffalo: University of Toronto Press, 2006), 10–11, 191–198. 24

1  INTRODUCTION: THE GARDEN OF THE HESPERIDES AND THE OASIS… 

9

differed from each other. In order to signify that I use the adjective “bourgeois” and the noun “bourgeoisie” to identify the values, consumption practices, and members of the middle classes to which Monte Carlo wanted to appeal, while reserving the adjective “middle-class” and plural noun “middle classes” for Americans to which Las Vegas wanted to appeal. This is not a strict demarcation line of identities between Americans and Europeans; it acknowledges the specific and historically significant meaning and normative power of “middle class” in the context of the US. Recent publications on the global history of the middle classes use the terms “bourgeoisie” and “middle classes” synonymously or use the moniker “bourgeois” to address cultural practices and identities, while using “middle class” in a socio-economic sense.28 Although the image of Monte Carlo as a space for elites persists to this day, historical analysis reveals quite a different picture. The rise of Monte Carlo as a gambling town and a consumption experience was based on its appeal to the bourgeoisie: the white, European middle classes in the Age of Empire.29 Monte Carlo’s focus on the bourgeoisie linked the casino to consumer capitalism as it emerged in the latter half of the nineteenth century, which commodified and expanded the bourgeoisie’s access to goods and services.30 The bourgeoisie and middle classes in Europe and the US were not monoliths. They were diverse in economic standing, political alignments, and national characteristics, representing a heterogenic social group that adapted, shifted, and changed. It is for this reason that I have chosen to use the plural, “middle classes.” Nonetheless, there are a couple of distinctive elements of the bourgeoisie and middle classes in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Both were defined by distinctive lifestyles, tastes, and values connected to their position as emerging classes between the old aristocracy, traditional peasants, and the growing industrial workforce of laborers. These social and economic conditions of the middle classes, in turn, led to the formation of a set of idealized practices and values 28  Christof Dejung, David Motadel and Jürgen Osterhammel, “Worlds of the Bourgeoisie,” in The Global Bourgeoisie: The Rise of the Middle Classes in the Age of Empire, eds. Christof Dejung, David Motadel and Jürgen Osterhammel (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2019), 8–18. 29  Christof Dejung, David Motadel and Jürgen Osterhammel, “Worlds of the Bourgeoisie,” in The Global Bourgeoisie, 1–8. 30  Robert Miller, “Constructing a Spatial Imaginary: The Formation and Representation of Monte Carlo as a Vacation-Leisure Paradise, 1854–1950” (PhD diss., University of Kansas, 2016), 5–6.

10 

P. FRANKE

centered around their material living conditions and a growing sense of loosely defined bourgeois identity. As way to contrast themselves to the old elites, workers, and peasants, they valued individual achievement, in both business and education, making success in these realms important markers of their bourgeois identity or their claim to it. They rejected inherited privileges as a marker of distinction, heralding instead moderation and self-betterment through education, moral steadfastness, interest in the public good, emotional control, and a vibrant social life. These practices were often associated with consumption and leisure and to the spaces devoted to them: coffeehouses, the theatre, reading rooms, opera, clubs and associations, balls and soirées, walks in public gardens, and increasingly travel.31 Monte Carlo offered these activities in abundance, fitting a general historical pattern as a spa town. By the 1860s European spas had already become a part of middle-class leisure and travel practices, which had shifted from a focus on health to one on pleasure. Members of the burgeoning middle classes who visited spas no longer needed to legitimize their stay on the basis of a doctor’s approval. Spas provided opportunities in line with the urban pleasure and consumption patterns of the bourgeoisie: window shopping along the boulevards; consuming commodities like tobacco, coffee, tea, and other luxury foods; and participating in cultural events. At the spas, urban amenities and medical water treatment existed alongside gambling, which merged and unified these various aspects of bourgeois consumption and self-representation.32 The moralizing economy of Monte Carlo aligned gambling with bourgeois consumption and thus values. A similar process began in Vegas, although under very different circumstances. Las Vegas aligned itself to the American middle classes, thereby moralizing gambling. This alignment served to legitimize casino entrepreneurs who used economic success to gain a foothold in US society. A middle class in the form of a distinctive Victorian middle class existed in the US as well.33 The US 31  Christof Dejung, David Motadel and Jürgen Osterhammel, “Worlds of the Bourgeoisie,” in The Global Bourgeoisie, 2–11. 32  Jill R. Steward, “Moral Economies and Commercial Imperatives: Food, Diets and Spas in Central Europe: 1800–1914,” Journal of Tourism History 4, no.2 (2012): 182–183. 33  Marcus Gräser, “‘The Great Middle Class’ in the Nineteenth-Century United States,” in The Global Bourgeoisie: The Rise of the Middle Classes in the Age of Empire, eds. Christof Dejung, David Motadel and Jürgen Osterhammel (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2019), 64–75.

1  INTRODUCTION: THE GARDEN OF THE HESPERIDES AND THE OASIS… 

11

middle classes encompassed many different professions, political party allegiances, and living conditions, making clear distinctions difficult. They nonetheless shared certain uniting factors in terms of economic status, values, taste, and lifestyle. Culturally and socially, the middle classes were organized around the ideal of the nuclear family with explicitly gendered roles: a breadwinning dad, homemaking mom, and two to three kids. This notion emerged as a contrast to individuals and families that deviated from this normative ideal. This normative ideal was anchored institutionally and structurally, with policies and practices that favored the hegemonic demographic: white, Anglo-Saxon, Protestants. By extension, it excluded ethnic and racial minorities like African-Americans and Hispanics, who had limited access, if any at all, to the opportunities necessary to fully integrate into the hegemonic, American middle classes.34 This powerful, normative middle-class ideal entrenched not only ethnic and racial hierarchies but also socio-economic ones: it overemphasized the economic importance of white-collar workers, even as most Americans remained “on an occupational basis, working class.”35 The white, nuclear family with a white-collar breadwinner thus formed the backbone of the capitalist order of the US, a supposed guarantee of the promises of the American Dream and the societal order after the Second World War.36 As historian Lawrence R. Samuel notes, the US presented itself domestically and the conflict with the Soviet Union in the Cold War as history’s first “middle-class nation,”37 making the middle classes and their economic practices a focal point in society. Consumption played a role in the shoring up of the US middle-class’s identity. It also played a role in the larger political landscape. The materialistic aspects of the middle-class lifestyle had a double effect: the state sought to stabilize the political order as part of a larger effort to create and preserve opportunities for the middle classes to consume. The question of who could consume under which circumstances and within what kind of 34  Lizabeth Cohen, “Citizens and Consumers in the United States in the Century of Mass Consumption,” in The Politics of Consumption: Material Culture and Citizenship in Europe and America, eds. M.  J. Daunton and Matthew Hilton (Oxford: Berg, 2001), 204–208, 215–216; Lizabeth Cohen, Consumers’ Republic: The Politics of Mass Consumption in Postwar America (New York: Random House, 2008), 9, 15, 129–136, 410. 35  Lawrence R. Samuel, The American Middle Class: A Cultural History (Hoboken, NJ: Taylor and Francis, 2013), 70. 36  Jürgen Martschukat, Die Ordnung des Sozialen: Väter und Familien in der Amerikanischen Geschichte seit 1770 (Frankfurt, New York: Campus Verlag, 2013), 28, 42. 37  Samuel, The American Middle Class, 70, 138.

12 

P. FRANKE

spaces was economic and political ones. Being recognized as a consumer, implied political rights, if not the claim to such, especially in twentieth-­ century US, which the historian Lizabeth Cohen has dubbed a “consumers’ republic.” After 1945, being a responsible, active, and acknowledged consumer implied being a good American citizen.38 This legitimation was one key aspect of the gambling consumption experience on the Strip. It gave consumers the security of knowing they would not be cheated or exposed to physical danger and allowed them to see themselves not as deviants or elements on the fringes of society but as confident consumer and citizens.

1.3   “Rouge Gagne Souvent, Noir Quelquefois, Mais Blanc Gagne Toujours”: The Blanc Clan of Monte Carlo Monaco eventually became the place to which people flocked in search for the metaphorical golden apples, but in the mid-nineteenth century nothing indicated that turn of events. After its geopolitical importance began to decline in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, the principality found itself in a peculiar situation: it was a feudal remnant, poor and remote, situated in a Europe of cohesive territorial and national states.39 It shared this conundrum with other feudal remnants like the various principalities of the German Confederation whose princes lacked the means to support independent statehood and self-rule. Many of them, such as Nassau and Baden, turned to spas and thus casino gambling to survive financially. In Monaco, Prince Florestan I and his wife Caroline Grimaldi worked to find a solution to their economic precarity, especially after the European revolutions of 1848 reached Monaco. The revolutionaries proclaimed the towns of Roquebrune and Mentone, at the time part of the principality, “free cities,” inviting Italian troops into their territory. Five years later, Caroline’s and Florestan’s son, prince Charles III, struck a deal with Napoleon III: the emperor would support Charles’s claim to independence, allowing Monaco to become a space with liberal 38  Lizabeth Cohen, “Citizens and Consumers in the United States in the Century of Mass Consumption,” in The Politics of Consumption, 203–204; Matthew Hilton and Martin Daunton, “Material Politics,” in The Politics of Consumption, 20–23; Gary Cross, “Coralling Consumer Culture,” in The Politics of Consumption, 283; Cohen, Consumers’ Republic, 396–406, 527. 39  Jean-Baptiste Robert, Histoire de Monaco, 2nd ed. (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1997), 3.

1  INTRODUCTION: THE GARDEN OF THE HESPERIDES AND THE OASIS… 

13

gaming laws.40 The Grimaldis now sent their Parisian lawyer and confidante Adolphe Eynaud to Germany, searching for entrepreneurs willing and able to build a gambling house in the underdeveloped Monaco.41 In Hessen-Homburg, a small German state near Frankfurt, 1848 had also set things in motion. François Blanc, a Frenchman in charge of the local Kursaal casino since 1841, witnessed how Austrian troops occupied the spa town. The revolutionary Frankfurt National Assembly had banned casino gambling and had asked Austria to enforce the law in nearby Homburg. The occupation did not last long; it was, however, enough to convince Blanc that it was time to leave.42 Because the German Confederation was hostile toward casinos and the Prussian government was uncompromising with regard to its ban of gambling, many casino entrepreneurs, Blanc among them, saw the writing on the wall.43 His relationship with the princes of Hessen-Homburg was growing increasingly strained too. The house of the Landgrave looked down on the Frenchman from Provence who had struggled since his youth to become a successful entrepreneur.44 His (very) young and non-noble German wife, Marie, did not help to improve his standing in the eyes of the old nobility. All these factors played a part in the couple’s decision to start over with the Grimaldis, even if the ruling house of Monaco proved equally difficult to deal with as their German counterparts.45 François Blanc was used to starting over: he had been involved in gambling operations in the Palais Royale at the heart of Paris’s gambling scene. Then the July Monarchy (1830–1848) outlawed most casino games in 1837.46 Blanc and his brother Louis had ventured on to Luxembourg, and from there to Homburg, where Louis Blanc died soon after. Now, François and Marie, his new confident, would move on once more.47 40  Xan Fielding, The Money Spinner: Monte Carlo and Its Fabled Casino (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1977), 11–13; Egon Caesar Conte Corti, Der Zauberer von Homburg und Monte Carlo 1841–1872 (Frankfurt: Societätsverlag, 2008), 172–174; Robert, Histoire de Monaco, 70–73. 41  Stanley Jackson, Inside Monte Carlo (London: W.H. Allen, 1975), 18. 42  Fielding, The Money Spinner, 45–46. 43  Russell T. Barnhart, Gamblers of Yesteryear (Las Vegas, Nev.: GBC Press, 1983), 164. 44  Mark Braude, “Spinning Wheels: Cosmopolitanism, Mobility, and Media in Monaco, 1855–1956,” (PhD diss., University of Southern California, 2015), 47–48; Jackson, Inside Monte Carlo, 25; Fielding, The Money Spinner, 36–38. 45  Jackson, Inside Monte Carlo, 37–39. 46  Bénédict H. Révoil, Monaco et Monte-Carlo, (Paris: Nabu Press, 2010), 218–220. 47  Angelika Baeumerth, Königsschloss Contra Festtempel: Zur Architektur der Kursaalgebäude von Bad Homburg vor der Höhe (Marburg: Jonas Verlag, 1990), 162–167.

14 

P. FRANKE

After much intrigue, preparations, and negotiations, which often bordered on extortion, they made the final deal in March 1863. The Grimaldis granted Blanc permission to run a casino in Monaco for 50 years. In return, he would pay 100,000 francs each year to the prince and would establish a company operating the gambling establishment as well as the water and gas supply of the principality, among other responsibilities, for the public. The capital of the new company, the Sociéte des Bains de Mer et Du Cercle Étranger de Monaco (SBM), consisted of 15 million francs, divided into 30,000 stocks.48 The company would become the pillar for Monegasque development and transformed the Blanc clan into a dynasty that more than once clashed with the Grimaldis of the Rock on the other side of the bay. That was especially true for Camille Blanc, François’s heir, who took over in 1877, until he was ousted by the Grimaldis.49 After an interlude, he was replaced by René Léon as casino manager, who turned the SBM from a paternalistic state-within-a-state into a profitable company during the 1920s.50 Finally, the casino was taken over by Greek shipping magnate Aristotle Onassis, who, after struggling with Prince Rainier III, lost it to the princely government in the 1960s.51

1.4   Coming to the Oasis: Casino Entrepreneurs Arrive in Las Vegas Remoteness and economic hardships played a central role in Las Vegas as well. The city’s early history was deeply connected to the westward expansion of Americans. Just like Monaco, the area had been home to people for thousands of years, including Native American tribes, like the Southern Paiutes. Yet most histories begin with the building of a Mormon fort there.52 In 1905 Union Pacific saw the potential for a station. Las Vegas thus became a small railroad town. In 1909 the surrounding area was organized as Clark County. Apart from the railroad and its convenient location between Salt Lake City and Los Angeles, Las Vegas had little going for it.53 As part of the “American West,” the vast and diverse region between the 100th meridian and the Pacific Coast, Vegas was dominated  Robert, Histoire de Monaco, 76–79.  Boyer and Agulhon, L’Hiver dans le Midi, 320–323. 50  Fielding, The Money Spinner, 119–121. 51  Jackson, Inside Monte Carlo, 218–220. 52  Eugene P.  Moehring and Michael S.  Green, Las Vegas: A Centennial History (Reno, Nev.: University of Nevada Press, 2005), 4–9. 53  Joshua Specht, Red Meat Republic: A Hoof-to-Table History of How Beef Changed America (Princeton, Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2019), 81–119; Schwartz, 48 49

1  INTRODUCTION: THE GARDEN OF THE HESPERIDES AND THE OASIS… 

15

by land speculation and in need of investments from outside. The “Wild West” was both shaped by big businesses, such as cattle breeding and mining, as well as by the federal government, who owned much of the land. Military installations and huge government projects were typical for the West as a whole. They also had a huge impact on the development of Las Vegas as a region.54 One of the most significant economic investments in the area took place in 1928, when the federal government decided to build the Boulder Dam, later named Hoover Dam, nearby. Bringing more than 5000 workers to the region, as well as 165 million dollars in federal funds, the Las Vegas region experienced a “federal trigger.” When work on the dam was finished in 1935, Vegas had grown dramatically in population and in tourism, with over 300,000 visitors in 1934.55 Nevada nevertheless lacked highly developed economic structures in terms of industries. The political machine of the state, located in the north, and especially strong in Reno, introduced a number of liberal laws in 1931, declaring Nevada a “wide open state.” While often regarded as the launching pad of gambling, initially the laws of 1931 did not give preference to games of chance. Rather, they legalized multiple activities which had traditionally been regarded as morally problematic by East Coast elites: gambling, easy marriage and divorce, prize boxing, and highly regulated prostitution.56 Suburban Xanadu, 26–28; Hal Rothman, The Making of Modern Nevada (Reno, Nev.: University of Nevada Press, 2010), 43–44. 54  Anne M. Butler and Michael J. Lansing, The American West: A Concise History (Malden, Mass: Blackwell Publishing, 2008) 154; 161–177; Rothman, The Making of Modern Nevada, 82–101. Defining “the” American West is difficult and depends as much on geography as on the particular research question. I employ the definition suggested by the Bill Lane Center for The American West: “What is the West?” https://west.stanford.edu/about/what-west. 55  Daniel K. Bubb, Landing in Las Vegas: Commercial Aviation and the Making of a Tourist City (Reno, Nev.: University of Nevada Press, 2012), 16–19; Moehring and Green, Las Vegas, 76–79. 56  Mark H. Haller, “Bootleggers as Businessmen: From City Slums to City Builders,” in Crime & Justice in American History: Historical Articles on the Origins and Evolution of American Criminal Justice, ed. Eric H.  Monkkonen, (Westport, CT.: Meckler, 1992), 304–306; Mark H. Haller, “The Changing Structure of American Gambling in the Twentieth Century,” in Crime & Justice in American History: Historical Articles on the Origins and Evolution of American Criminal Justice, ed. Eric H. Monkkonen (Westport: Meckler, 1992), 333–334; Vicki Abt, “The Role of the State in the Expansion and Growth of the Commercial Gambling in the USA,” in Gambling Cultures, 192–194; Edward E. Baldwin, Las Vegas in Popular Culture (PhD diss., University of Nevada Las Vegas: 1997), 8–10.

16 

P. FRANKE

The casino industry and Las Vegas benefitted greatly from the 1931 laws and the end of Prohibition in 1933. Yet this did not guarantee success.57 The oasis was open to potential gamblers and those who wanted to run casinos in the open rather than underground. Since legal investors were hard to come by, many casinos on the Strip had to rely on organized crime to secure financial resources. This made mid-twentieth-century Las Vegas very different from other gambling locations in Nevada. Most of the state’s gambling industry was dominated by family businesses, such as Harrah’s, a Reno-based casino owned and run by William F.  Harrah.58 That is not to say that organized crime played no role in the casino business outside of Las Vegas. William J. Graham and James C. McKay, two of Reno’s foremost gambling entrepreneurs for much of the 1930s, had deep connections to organized crime.59 These connections however did not result in the production of a specific consumption experience. Until the early 1970s, such operations stayed away from Las Vegas, since it was assumed that the town served a different market and catered to a different sort of consumption experience.60 For this reason, Las Vegas became dominated by people from social backgrounds associated with immigrants and organized crime, especially those of Jewish or Italian descent. In contrast to other parts of Nevada—where gambling remained largely dominated by locals, such as Graham and McKay, or traditional Mormon elites with a WASP background—former bootleggers from immigrant families could pursue their business on the Strip.61 Following the end of Prohibition, many former bootlegging and gambling entrepreneurs came to Vegas either to invest in the existing casinos or to build their own casinos-hotels, continuing their previous activities under the protection of Nevada’s ­liberal gambling laws. Men, and a few women, from the networks of organized crime were thus able to build legitimate careers in Vegas. Los Angeles’s law enforcement began to crack down on many of the city’s  Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 26–28.  William N. Thompson, “Harrah, William F.,” in Gambling in America: An Encyclopedia of History, Issues, and Society, ed. William N. Thompson, (Santa Barbara: ABC Clio, 2015), 179–180; Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 103. 59  “Reno Crime ‘Bosses’ found Guilty Here,”; New York Times, February 13, 1938, 1; Al W. Moe, The Roots of Reno—Northern Nevada’s Early Casinos and the Sins it took to Build Them (Scotts Valley, CA.: BookSurge Publishing, 2008), 31–61 60  Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 161–162, 197–198. 61  Mark H.  Haller, “The Changing Structure of American Gambling in the Twentieth Century,” in Crime & Justice in American History, 334–337. 57 58

1  INTRODUCTION: THE GARDEN OF THE HESPERIDES AND THE OASIS… 

17

off-shore gambling clubs in 1939 as well as its underground establishments. This set into motion a migration of experienced, self-taught gambling managers from the Pacific Coast to Vegas.62 They, too, found an oasis for gambling in Vegas.

1.5  Structure Feeling Lucky explores the link between casinos, consumption, and capitalism. It aims to explain how consumer capitalism enabled casino industries to produce and sell consumption experiences. Rather than mystifying them as unique destinations with an almost magical lure, it integrates the history of Monaco and Las Vegas into the larger history of capitalism in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. It thus focuses less on the level of macro-economic structures or the parallels between gambling and speculation and more on the micro-level of gambling practices and interactions. It investigates how casino entrepreneurs, executives, and architects sought to make gambling into a consumption experience. In doing so, it presents a history of commodification of emotions as well as of capitalist business and consumption practices from below. Casinos wanted to sell gambling to the middle classes, people willing and able to spend money on leisure. Avowed gamblers, by contrast, saw casinos and casino towns as opportunities to engage in games of chance that would allow them to preserve their political, cultural, and moral identities as members of the middle classes. The book follows the routes that most casino visitors took. It starts in the city spaces and then moves into the casinos themselves, through their rooms and to the tables. Chapter 2 describes the role of city spaces in the production of the consumption experience. It shows how the casinos districts of Monte Carlo and the Strip were developed and built as an extension of gambling spaces. Consumer capitalism and the exclusion of non-consumers, the establishment of a moral economy, and a strong, yet sometimes strained, private-public partnership were the pillars of urbanization. Chapter 3 moves the gaze from the city to the consumption spaces: the casinos. Starting with the Monte Caro casino, it examines the architecture 62  Hal Rothman, Devil’s Bargains: Tourism in the Twentieth-Century American West (Lawrence, Kansas: University Press of Kansas, 1998), 293; Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 55–57.

18 

P. FRANKE

and design of the spaces in terms of their spatial scripts and atmosphere. Both played a significant role in producing the gambling experience. The SBM designed its flagship to enable visitors to view their gambling consumption as “normal” and harmless, while also providing the setting to experience games of chance as a belle époque spectacle. The atrium, theater, and gambling rooms each served a specific function in this process. Each focused on bringing gambling together with visions of empire, hedonism, and bourgeois sociability. Chapter 4 turns to the Strip casinos. These include the Desert Inn, Sands, Caesars Palace, Circus Circus, and the International. It considers both exterior and interior design to show how they employed spatial and emotional scripts to influence gambling behavior and perception. It reconstructs the ways in which architecture and business practices diffused gambling throughout the spaces and merged it with entertainment and theming to present games of chance as leisure activities suitable to the white suburban middle classes. Chapter 5 takes a closer look at the historical developments and changes in the professional biographies of entrepreneurs and their workforces. This includes the recruitment and training process of the gambling personnel and the role that emotional labor played in shaping gambling experiences in Monte Carlo and Las Vegas. In both contexts, entrepreneurs with experience in previous gambling ventures put structures in place that trained the gambling personnel, like croupiers, and dealers, to be unemotional, professional, and so limited in their agency that to some observers they appeared as if they were a part of the spatial arrangement. At the same time, however, casinos trained the service personnel to project fun and leisure into the space. Management in Monte Carlo and Vegas differed in certain important aspects: gambling in Monte Carlo acquired its uniqueness in part from the fact that the SBM leadership consisted of people familiar with European spa culture and from among gambling experts. In the mid-to-late nineteenth century, this included men who had previously worked in other gambling ventures in France and Germany. Overtime, the Grimaldis and SBM shareholders replaced these individuals with managers who had no ties to the Blanc clan. They thus brought with them new perspectives on gambling. This shift, in turn, changed parts of the consumption experience in Monte Carlo. In Las Vegas, a generation of former bootleggers and illegal gambling entrepreneurs had the opportunity to do legally what they had previously done in secret. Between 1945 and 1976,

1  INTRODUCTION: THE GARDEN OF THE HESPERIDES AND THE OASIS… 

19

these men and women produced a new gambling experience based on their previous illegal activities. Chapter 6 delves into gambling practices as a means to produce a specific consumption experience. The way Monte Carlo and Strip casinos offered games and how people played them suggests a great deal about what Monte Carlo and the Strip meant for consumers. Monte Carlo offered roulette and trente-et-quarante. These games defined the Monte Carlo gambling experience: non-competitive, centralized, and easy to control. The games played in Las Vegas included blackjack, craps, and roulette. The difference in games points to differences in the consumption experiences as well. Not all games, however profitable, could be used at both locations: while slot machines and the dice-game craps were a huge success in Vegas and used to define the gambling experience there, the SBM had significant difficulties adopting them. Management and gamblers saw them as “vulgar” and incompatible with the spatial set-up and emotional atmosphere. Chapter 7 deals with the players themselves, showing that gamblers had many different agendas when they stepped into the casino. Not all of them were professional gamblers or out for financial gain. Many treated gambling as a casual, leisure activity, while others adapted to the casino business in unforeseen ways to lay claim to particular cultural identities, to make a living, or to engage in consumption practices that had previously been unavailable to them. The chapter also shows how in Monte Carlo and Las Vegas race and gender remained powerful categories of exclusion and how the moralizing economy, upon which the gambling experiences depended, went hand in hand with marginalization along these established divides. The asynchronous comparison between both casino cities helps to explain why in Monte Carlo gambling was a centralized, ritualized affair that focused on groups and was carried out in opulent settings often associated with the aristocracy, yet nonetheless was also coded as distinctively middle class. On the Strip, by contrast, gambling was loud and diffused throughout the space. Strip casinos imitated and emulated suburban life and consumption before shifting toward elaborate fantasy worlds. They also catered to gamblers who regarded themselves not as part of an audience but as individual consumers. They thus favored games that allowed for autonomous decision-making and sociability that did not require them to merge with the crowd.

20 

P. FRANKE

In many ways, Feeling Lucky is a “making of story,” about cities which acquired a strange and captivating allure of mystery around them. It is more than a mere descriptive account, however, of the historical development of these gambling resorts. It aims to integrate Monte Carlo and the Strip into a broader history of consumer capitalism and gambling into the history of consumption. Gambling, it suggests, is not an ahistorical phenomenon, a mere part of the universal human condition, nor did its historical development foreshadow an age of speculation and risk-taking. Gambling practices shifted, changed, and adapted in accordance with the historical processes taking place within Europe and North America over the course of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Recent scholarship on Monte Carlo has downplayed the role of gambling in the history of the city’s development, paying more attention to the role of class and the rise of tourism. I argue, however, that the history of gambling is not a separate story but intertwined with the history of consumption and, essentially, with the growth of consumer capitalism. In order to better understand the interconnections between these developments and to appreciate its continued relevance and impact on cities, policies, and economies, it is necessary to reconstruct gambling practices, its spaces, and its economic dimensions.63 Showing how capitalist thinking and approaches enabled businesses to produce, and consumers to buy, experiences also allow for a reconceptualization of emotions in their role of consumption. This study thus also works to deconstruct the supposed dichotomy of producers and consumers and enables an empirical study of consumer capitalism in action.

 Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary, 5–6; Braude, Spinning Wheels, 9–39.

63

CHAPTER 2

Cities Only Capitalism Could Have Built

From the first half of the nineteenth century on, gambling entrepreneurs increasingly began to shape urbanization processes in order to promote their business interests. This chapter offers a long durée perspective of the capitalist urban planning that began to take place a century before the onset of de-industrialization in Europe and North America in the late twentieth century. The comparison between the urbanization processes of Monte Carlo and Las Vegas suggests a new chronology of the history of consumer capitalism. I argue that instead of looking at Monte Carlo and Las Vegas as mere “casino cities,” capitalist urban city planning should be seen as part of a broader effort on the part of casino executives to using space and emotions to produce consumption experiences. By embedding gambling within a reconceived urban context, they hoped to link it with the values, tastes, and patterns of consumption of their desired market: the middle classes. To cater to this demographic, casino executives, decades and continents apart, used urban space to transform visitors into gamblers, to guide them toward their casinos, and to help transform gambling into a legitimate activity. In this pursuit, casino executives in Monte Carlo and Las Vegas saw exclusion as a key instrument. To cater to the envisioned bourgeois and middle-class consumers, they built mechanisms of exclusion into their respective urban spaces. In his book, Neon Metropolis, Hal K. Rothman

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 P. Franke, Feeling Lucky, Worlds of Consumption, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-33095-7_2

21

22 

P. FRANKE

described Las Vegas as a city that “only capitalism could have built.”1 For him this means that planners focused on consumption, rather than production, on the service instead of heavy industry, and on the social mobility of blue-collar workers.2 In a similar vein, sociologists like Sharon Zukin have stressed the role of “Disneyfication.” This term, derived from an analysis of the amusement park, describes how planners and business owners created themed and commodified spaces aimed at encouraging consumption that ultimately marginalized local social and cultural elements that they deemed obstacles to this end.3 According to the logic of Disneyfication, the Strip is the mere tip of the iceberg. It hints at capitalism’s impact on aspects of culture and society that took place in a supposedly postindustrial age. In this reading, the Strip is a herald of the looming “unfettered capitalist urbanization”4 that would continue over the course of the 1980s into the early 2000s. By taking the urban space of Monte Carlo into account, however, a new narrative emerges, one that shows how much bigger the iceberg might be. Monte Carlo fits the description of how consumer capitalism could serve as an urban planning principle.5 The comparison also introduces a new periodization and questions whether Disneyfication is unique to Las Vegas or the second half of the twentieth century. In Monte Carlo, government officials and casino executives employed capitalist logic as basic principles to reconfigure urban space. That does not mean both cities were the same.

1  Hal Rothman, Neon Metropolis: How Las Vegas Started the Twenty-First Century (New York: Routledge, 2003), xiv. 2  Reith, The Age of Chance, 118; Ingrid Eumann, “Las Vegas,” in Taking Up Space, 172; Jörg Häntzschel, “Das Paradies in der Wüste: Las Vegas,” in Urbane Paradiese: Zur Kulturgeschichte Modernen Vergnügens, ed. Regina Bittner, (Frankfurt: Campus-Verlag, 2001), 302. 3  Sharon Zukin, The Cultures of Cities (Cambridge, Mass: Blackwell Publishing, 1995), 64–69; 259–260; Klaus Ronneberger, “Disneyfizierung der Europäischen Stadt? Kritik der Erlebniswelten,” in Die Stadt als Event: Zur Konstruktion Urbaner Erlebnisräume, ed. Regina Bittner, (Frankfurt: Campus Verlag, 2001), 87–90. 4  Johannes S. Al, “The Strip: Las Vegas and the Symbolic Destruction of Spectacle,” (PhD diss., University of California, Berkeley, 2010), 29–30. 5  Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary, 98.

2  CITIES ONLY CAPITALISM COULD HAVE BUILT 

23

The underlying strategies and tools, however, bear a striking resemblance.6 The historian Cornelius Torp recently made the argument that “casino cities” existed as distinct forms of urban formations. In such cities, the middle classes could reconcile their militant anti-gambling stance with their own gambling practices.7 In both cases, entrepreneurs built urban spaces to make games of chance part of a respectable, legitimate consumption pattern that allowed consumers to conserve their social and political identities while patronizing casinos. Such a dichotomy begs for a systematic historical comparison between Monte Carlo and Vegas. On the surface, they seem to be polar opposites: Monte Carlo as a place for nobles and rich turn-of-the-century industrialists; Las Vegas as a place with a much broader appeal and a “come as you are” approach.8 Both Monte Carlo and the Las Vegas Strip were both built more or less from scratch as part of overall consumption spaces for gambling. Casinos were the hubs of the towns that quite literally grew around them. The SBM of Monte Carlo built a sanitized, cosmopolitan metropolis in emulation of Paris. To do so, they sought to eliminate elements that their middle-­class patrons might have regarded as dangerous or unpleasant. In Vegas, Strip casinos recreated a suburban environment, in line with the living and social conditions of the predominantly white middle classes of the postwar era. The appeal to these specific demographics structurally demanded the exclusion of what casino executives conceived as their market segment’s counterparts: women, people of color, the working classes, and groups that could be broadly describe as countercultural.

6  Kevin Hetherington, Capitalism’s Eye: Cultural Spaces of the Commodity (New York: Routledge, 2008), xi–xii, 28–31; Burkhard Fuhs, Mondäne Orte einer vornehmen Gesellschaft: Kultur und Geschichte der Kurstädte 1700–1900 (Hildesheim, New  York: Olms, 1992), 147–149, 332–335; Monika Steinhauser, “Das Europäische Modebad des 19. Jahrhunderts Baden-Baden: Eine Residenz des Glücks,” in Die Deutsche Stadt im 19. Jahrhundert: Stadtplanung und Baugestaltung im Industriellen Zeitalter, ed. Ludwig Grote, (Munich: Prestel-Verlag, 1974), 96; David Blackbourn, “Fashionable Spa Towns in NineteenthCentury Europe,” in Water, Leisure and Culture: European Historical Perspectives, eds. Susan C. Anderson and Bruce H. Tabb, (Oxford, New York: Berg Publishers, 2002), 12–15. 7  Cornelius Torp, “Von Bad Homburg nach Macau. Ursprung und Entwicklung der Casinostadt,” Historische Zeitschrift 308, no.3 (2019): 675–690. 8  Heiko Schmid and John Stewart, Economy of Fascination: Dubai and Las Vegas as Themed Urban Landscapes (Berlin: Borntraeger, 2009), 2–5, 125–140; John Hannigan, Fantasy City: Pleasure and Profit in the Postmodern Metropolis (London: Routledge, 2010), 151–174.

24 

P. FRANKE

2.1   Arriving at Monte Carlo The first thing visitors saw when they arrived by train from Monte Carlo was the shore and the casino with its two small towers. The station, wedged between the sea on the one side and the barren, rocky hill arising on the other, was busy with people arriving and departing. For those arriving, there was no way to go but up, toward the giant gambling house. Visitors could choose between a great stairwell—lined with tropical plants, statues, and other works of art—leading to the great terrace of the casino, a tunnel leading to Monte Carlo. Alternatively, after 1900, they could ascend on an electrical elevator that slowly but surely crawled up the hill. While attendants, drivers, and porters took care of the luggage, visitors arrived only minutes later at the top of the hill, the central hub of the casino town.9 They then stood in front of the Monte Carlo casino, flanked by the Hôtel de Paris and the Café Diwan. The great boulevards stretched in front of them, lined with shops, restaurants, and cafés. Gardens sprawled next to it, with palm trees and fragrant, colorful plants. The Place du Casino was the center of all streets, businesses, and in its the center was the casino itself, the heart from which the SBM and their executives oversaw their city and its population of pleasure seekers. François Blanc and his successors, including his son and heir Camille and later René Léon, regarded the town as an extension of their casino, created and maintained by them.

2.2   Devising a Script for Monte Carlo The urbanization of Monte Carlo aimed at constructing a scape that aligned the casino with the leisure habits and consumption patterns of the European bourgeoisie in the late nineteenth to early twentieth centuries. To that end, the town around the casino mimicked a sanitized version of the metropolis, the urban formation closely linked to bourgeois habits, preferences, and social spaces. This entailed particular design and building choices, which corresponded both aesthetically and politically with 9  Révoil, Monaco et Monte-Carlo, 229–232; Theodore Dreiser and Klaus H. Schmidt, A Traveler at Forty, The Dreiser Edition (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2005), 380–381; The National Archives (TNA) OG/CC/114326, Letter from Gena Smith to Florence Glynn, March 1880; Mark Braude, Making Monte Carlo: A History of Speculation and Spectacle (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2016), 162.

2  CITIES ONLY CAPITALISM COULD HAVE BUILT 

25

positive images of bourgeois urban culture. Of course, Monte Carlo was not, and indeed could not, be a metropolis. It remained a seasonally populated casino company town. Yet it had to appeal to a market of bourgeois pleasure seekers that valued urban amenities and culture. In this sense, Monte Carlo did not represent an alternative to the reality of the urban middle classes but a perfection of it.10 The city planning created the illusion of spending time and money in a big cosmopolitan city, while banning most aspects that would have diminished the enjoyment of it.11 The SBM town took its place among Paris and colonial destinations in the imagined and sometimes real leisure travel of the belle époque elite. “[T]he life of a rich man today,” observed one enthusiastic visitor, was “a sort of firework! Paris, Monte Carlo, big-game shooting in Africa, fishing in Norway, dashes to Egypt, trips to Japan.”12 It was not an easy feat to try to draw on established norms of the spa while also mimicking an idealized Parisian metropolis. SBM executives most likely imagined these models as intertwined. Monte Carlo’s urbanization combined notions of the French mission civilatrice (cleanliness, order, security, decorum) with the goal of enabling and furthering consumption and commerce. This was especially important as it bridged two crucial factors of Monte Carlo’s appeal to the bourgeoisie that might have stood in conflict with each other. In the nineteenth century, a growing anti-gambling sentiment emerged from the bourgeois values of temperance and industriousness. Yet, the SBM also wanted to produce a gambling experience that could become a respectable part of bourgeois lifestyles.13 To achieve this goal, the SBM established laws, introduced construction regulations, and built physical environments that would appeal to the new, travelling middle classes. Such measures contributed to the creation 10  Rüdiger Hachtmann, Tourismus-Geschichte (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2007), 38–47; Baeumerth, Königsschloss Contra Festtempel, 160; Gabriele Dietze and Dorothea Dornhof, “Metropolenzauber: Sexuelle Moderne und Urbaner Wahn,” in Metropolenzauber: Sexuelle Moderne und Urbaner Wahn, eds. Gabriele Dietze and Dorothea Dornhof, (Wien: Böhlau 2014), 8–12. 11  Monika Steinhauser, “Das Europäische Modebad des 19. Jahrhunderts Baden-Baden,” in Die Deutsche Stadt im 19. Jahrhundert, 96. 12  David Blackbourn, “Fashionable Spa Towns in Nineteenth-Century Europe,” in Water, Leisure and Culture, 19. 13   Cornelius Torp, “Gambling and the Civilizing Mission: Globalgeschichtliche Perspektiven auf das 19. Jahrhundert,” Geschichte und Gesellschaft 43, no.4 (2017): 535–548.

26 

P. FRANKE

of a spatial script in Monte Carlo. As Norman Klein points out, such scripts allow “the viewer/user to enter and feel as though he has limitless options, even though the reality of the space is one of extreme precision engineered for a specific purpose.”14 Executives and planners constructed scripted spaces intended to enforce a particular set of rules and guide visitors’ desires and movement.15 They also wanted the script to create a unifying consumption experience for a diverse group of travelers. It would bridge separating factors, such as nationality and personal taste, to bring individuals together as bourgeois consumers through a reimagined urban environment. Visitors from Europe—especially Britain, France, and Germany—along with a growing number of Americans, came together as potential gamblers, who shared a singular experience. This also linked the SBM venture to forms of consumer capitalism that emerged in the latter half of the nineteenth century. The bourgeoisie defined themselves a distinctly urban class. They favored forms of leisure and consumption that could be found in the metropolis: coffeehouses, the theatre, opera, and clubs.16 By the late nineteenth century, the casino had become a part of this nexus, in which Monte Carlo came to play an important part. François Blanc and his successors therefore devised a script in which movement would be channeled from the entry points of Monte Carlo toward the casino via street layouts, transportation, and urban design. It also made gambling an inseparable part of leisure activities within Monte Carlo. By creating an association with bourgeois flâneur culture, urban amenities, and consumption opportunities, the Monte Carlo casino could temporarily and locally be freed of the stigma that gambling usually carried. Lastly, the script aimed to invoke emotional states and feelings such as pleasure, fun, excitement, and carefree attitudes that encouraged gambling.

14  Norman Klein, “The Electronic Baroque: Las Vegas, the Mall, and George Bush,” in Verb 4 -Conditioning: The Design of New Atmospheres, Effects and Experiences, ed. Albert Ferré, (Barcelona: Actar, 2005), 35. 15  Dennis R. Judd, “Visitors and the Spatial Ecology of the City,” in Cities and Visitors: Regulating People, Markets, and City Space, eds. Lily M. Hoffman, Susan S. Fainstein and Dennis R. Judd, (Malden, Mass., Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2003), 29. 16  Christof Dejung, David Motadel and Jürgen Osterhammel, “Worlds of the Bourgeoisie,” in The Global Bourgeoisie, 2–11.

2  CITIES ONLY CAPITALISM COULD HAVE BUILT 

27

2.3  Scripting Via Transportation Transportation was a key element in the capitalist urbanization of Monte Carlo. Trains represented the new, and increasingly, bourgeois tourism of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries: they transported masses of travelers in socially separated coaches to a leisure destination and changed travel from a dangerous undertaking into a spectacle. Train travel in the mid-to-late nineteenth century had become a way to consume nature via the gaze: the journey, which in the eighteenth century was not only a much more perilous endeavor, became a visual spectacle, as tourists watched the landscape from the windows of their train cars.17 In many ways, Monte Carlo was like a continuation of the spectacle these visitors witnessed by travelling, making the town part of the bourgeois touristic gaze, as soon as it came into sight.18 The importance of Monte Carlo’s train station eclipsed its immediate purpose of bringing tourists to the town. Additionally, it had to guide visitors’ behaviors and movement to align with the SBM’s aims. The planning process shows how casino executives laid out minute details of design to achieve this. Already in December 1864, the casino informed the Monegasque government what particular needs the station had to fulfill. The exchange between them about the design of the station hints at the dynamic that would shape Monte Carlo for almost a hundred years: the casino informed the government, which was watching from the sidelines. The wish list included the SBM’s desire for a station that would service primarily the casino, with two tracks that would increase the influx of gamblers, and a connection to both Nice and Genoa.19 The station was one of 17  Hachtmann, Tourismus-Geschichte, 74–75, 158–161; Victoria Peel and Anders Sørensen, Exploring the Use and Impacts of Travel Guidebooks (Bristol, UK, Tonawanda, NY: Channel View Publications, 2016), 2–14, 31–48; Hagen Schulz-Forberg, London-Berlin: Authenticity, Modernity, and the Metropolis in Urban Travel Writing from 1851 to 1939 (Brussels: PIE Lang, 2006), 91–93, 99–107. 18  Judith Chazin-Bennahum, René Blum and the Ballets Russes: In Search of a Lost Life (Oxford, New York: Oxford University Press, 2011), 73–74; Boyer and Agulhon, L’Hiver dans le Midi, 317–319; Anne-Marie D.  Hauteserre, “Tourism, Development and Sustainability in Monaco: Comparing Discourses and Practices,” Tourism Geographies: An International Journal of Tourism Space, Place and Environment 7, no.3 (2005): 300; Jackson, Inside Monte Carlo, 42; Thomas M. Kavanagh, Dice, Cards, Wheels: A Different History of French Culture (Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2005), 193. 19  Archives du Palais Princier, D20-6, Rapports mensuels du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, No. 2111, December 3, 1864.

28 

P. FRANKE

the very first points on the agenda of François Blanc between 1863 and 1870. It quickly became his pet project.20 The casino could exercise a lot of control over the planning process of the train station and even the train schedule because of its position of power in Monaco. The SBM owned most land in and around the hill on which Monte Carlo had begun to grow in the 1860s. In 1865 Blanc could thus offer it to the Paris-Lyon-Marseilles railway line for free in order to make sure the tracks would follow a route he laid out. The private agreement (Convention Privée Entre la Société des Bains et la Cie des Chemins de Fers P.L.M.), dated March 10th, 1865, handed over sizeable plots of lands to the railway company for the promise of building tracks and the train station itself in accordance with the casino’s needs and wishes.21 These surpassed mere technical issues: the SBM used its influence for the sake of the script: for example, most trains arrived at Monte Carlo during lunchtime.22 Not coincidentally, as most guests went to the casino after lunch or in the late morning. During a meeting of the casino administration in January 1868, Blanc had stressed that he thought it vital that a certain number of trains run at particular chosen times between Nice, the center of foreign travel to the Riviera and Monte Carlo.23 Among Blanc and his lieutenants, Frederic Stemler, Henri Wagatha, and later Antoine Bertora, there was no question that the tiny principality, smaller than most European capitals, would have to have two stations: one at Monaco-Ville for the locals and one in Monte Carlo for gamblers.24 It took almost four years to complete. In 1868, however, the principality had its two distinct railway stations, one of which the SBM shaped in every detail to comply with their script and without much interference from the princely government.25 20   Archives du Palais Princier, D20-6, Rapports mensuels du Commissairre du Gouvernement près le Casino, No.213, December 17, 1864. 21  Braude, Spinning Wheels, 55–56; Louis Boisset, Monaco, Monte-Carlo, Grandeur et Decadence d’une Maison de Jeu (Nice: Gauthier, 1884), 37. 22  Braude, Making Monte Carlo, 162. 23  Archives du Palais Princier, D20-7 Rapports mensuels du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, No.359, January 2, 1868. 24  Archives du Palais Princier, D20-6, Rapports mensuels du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, No. 214, December 24, 1864; Archives du Palais Princier, D20-6, Rapports mensuels du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, No. 213 December 17, 1864; Archives du Palais Princier, D20-6, Rapports mensuels du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, No. 2111, December 3, 1864. 25  Braude, Spinning Wheels, 55–56.

2  CITIES ONLY CAPITALISM COULD HAVE BUILT 

29

The design of the station reflected the hands-on approach the SBM had implemented. One goal was to channel people as fast as possible toward the casinos after they arrived. A French travel guide to the Riviera in 1914 stressed that the hotels (mostly run by the SBM) sent a large number of attendants, translators, and omnibuses to the train station which would make sure that people and their baggage would swiftly move on toward Monte Carlo proper.26 The train station itself had, by design, little to offer anyways: in his accounts from 1937, Frederick Pickard describes the immediate surroundings as downright ugly. The bare rock of the imposing cliff on the left side, distinct lack of urban furnishing, and the continuous flow of people toward the casino upon the hill above marked the space as transitional. The SBM personnel had meticulously organized the transport of people and their luggage, so it took only six to ten minutes for visitors to reach the town.27 The decision of the SBM to keep the train station inhospitable and to provide elevators, vehicles, and service personnel is a good example of how a spatial script worked subtly without requiring overt persuasion or force. People could stay or make their own way to Monte Carlo; yet everything and everyone around them seemed to suggest following the lead. Monte Carlo’s public transportation, mostly run by the casino, served a similar purpose. Buses, cable cars, and coaches served as connective tissue between hotels and the casino. The costs for the SBM were substantial: in 1878, the casino paid 80,741 francs alone for omnibus shuttle services.28 In 1886 the SBM authorized 76,200 francs for transportation within Monte Carlo.29 The gambling house became the hub of local infrastructure and transportation.30

26  Marcél Monmarché, Nice, Beaulieu, Monaco, Monte Carlo et Leurs Environs sous la Direction de Marcel Monmarché (Paris: Librairie Hachette et Ciel, 1913), 24. 27  Frederick W. Pickard, Monaco & the French Riviera (New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1937), 154–155. 28  Archives du Palais Princier, D 20, Assemblée Générale des Actionnaires de la Société Anonyme des Bains de Mer et du Cercle Etranger à Monaco, Rapport du Conseil d’Administartion, April 29, 1878. 29  Archives du Palais Princier, D20, Assemblée Générale des Actionnaires de la Société Anonyme des Bains de Mer et du Cercle Etranger à Monaco, Rapport du Conseil d’Administration, April 22, 1886. 30  Boyer and Agulhon, L’Hiver dans le Midi, 307.

30 

P. FRANKE

2.4  Gardens for the Casino Next to the great Boulevard were the casino gardens. The SBM viewed the gardens as central to the consumption experience that they wanted to foster. They allowed visitors to take a rest from the bodily and emotionally taxing gambling, yet kept them close to the immediate surroundings of the casino. The combination of smells, visuals impressions, and colonial fantasies of exotic climes could thus be transferred to the gambling action inside. Late nineteenth-century architectural sketches of Monte Carlo done for the SBM show how they conceptualized the gardens, hotels, and casino as a unit. The gardens were not important on their own; they legitimized gambling by combining the casino with accepted leisure practices and at the same time evoked emotions that casino entrepreneurs regarded as likely to convince visitors to play games of chance.31 In this regard, Monte Carlo followed a general trend that emerged in European spa towns in the mid-nineteenth century. By then, gardens were a standard part of spa towns and integral to the urban pleasure culture. Among the colorful plants, bourgeois patrons encountered people from their own class or even the aristocracy. They could go for walks to enjoy a natural setting that had been carefully curated to appear exotic and linked with colonial cultural associations.32 The value the casino company assigned to the gardens is indicated by the vast amount of resources it put into them. In 1878 the SBM spent 66,285 francs to maintain the gardens, and in 1879 the costs of extending the casino terrace and the gardens amounted to a staggering 65,541 francs. These sums represented a substantial investment, that the SBM regarded nonetheless as necessary for their overall project.33

 Michael Schmitt, Palast-Hotels: Architektur und Anspruch eines Bautyps 1870–1920 (Berlin: Mann, 1982), 133–143; Steward, “Moral Economies and Commercial Imperatives,” 182–183; Cité de l‘Architecture et du Patromoine, Centre d’Archives d’Architecture du XXe siècle: Fonds Niermans, Edouard-Jean (1859–1928), 043 IFA, Dépendances du Casino, quartier de Monte-Carlo, Monaco (Principauté de Monaco). 1913–1914; “Monte Carlo,” in Monacopolis: Architecture, Urbanisme et Urbanisation à Monaco, Réalisations et Projets, 1858–2012, ed. Nathalie Rosticher, (Monaco: Nouveau Musée National de Monaco, 2013), 271, 285. 32  Douglas P.  Mackaman, Leisure Settings: Bourgeois Culture, Medicine, and the Spa in Modern France (Chicago, Ill: University of Chicago Press, 1998), 138–140. 33  Archives du Palais Princier, D20, Assemblée Générale des Actionnaires de la Société Anonyme des Bains de Mer et du Cercle Etranger à Monaco, Rapport du Conseil d’Administration, April 29, 1878; Archives du Palais Princier, D20, Assemblée Générale des 31

2  CITIES ONLY CAPITALISM COULD HAVE BUILT 

31

The casino gardens thus had a particular purpose that dictated their design. Plans for them were drawn up as early as March 1864.34 Blanc and the SBM leadership imported many different plants from places as far away as the Canary Islands and the Americas in order to achieve an overwhelming landscape of sights and smells. The gardens featured a combination of bright plants with strong fragrances, like palm trees, succulents, aloe vera, and mimosa.35 Fragrance and color were two important factors for the selection of plants. Palm trees served as barriers between streets and gardens; aloe vera was regarded as medicinal and assumed to be familiar to bourgeois visitors. Shrubs added color. In general, the SBM favored foreign plants and presented them in a strict and ordered arrangement meant to trigger contemporary bourgeois fantasies connected to colonial locations.36 Bénédict-Henry Révoil, a French travel writer, compared Monte Carlo’s gardens in 1879 favorably to those in Paris, the metropolis that Monte Carlo tried to emulate. He spoke of a true “labyrinth” that would invoke feelings of being in an “intimate,” yet also “global,” space. He was impressed by the collection of cacti, roses, jasmine, bay laurel, eucalyptus, and palm trees.37 The gardens served to order the space around the casino as well. Following the French style, meaning symmetrical, they imposed strict forms on nature.38 They framed the boulevards leading to the casino, which remained visible from all points. Even if one left the gaming tables to stroll through the gardens, the way back to the gambling rooms was always short.39 The rocky hill, which before the casino had only featured Actionnaires de la Société Anonyme des Bains de Mer et du Cercle Etranger à Monaco, Rapport du Conseil d’Administration, April 25, 1879. 34  Archives du Palais Princier, D20-6, Rapports mensuels du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, No.174, March 19, 1864. 35  Braude, Spinning Wheels, 63–65. 36  Braude, Spinning Wheels, 63–65; Robert Miller, “The Construction of Spatial Imaginaries: Luxury, Spectacle, Cosmopolitanism, and the Formation of the Casino-Resort,” Occasional Paper Series 27, Las Vegas: Center for Gaming Research, University Libraries, 2014, 6, https://www.library.unlv.edu/center_for_gaming_research/2014/07/paper-robert-miller-construction-spatial-imaginaries.html; Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary 142–148. 37  Révoil, Monaco et Monte-Carlo, 229–232. 38  Miller, “Constructing a Spatial Imaginary,” 141; Miller “The Construction of Spatial Imaginaries,” 3. 39  Archives du Palais Princier, D20-6, Rapports mensuels du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, No.174, March 19, 1864; Louis Paulian “A Visitor to Monte Carlo,” The Graphic, February 6, 1886, 157–160; Révoil, Monaco et Monte-Carlo, 199–205, 229–232. Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary, 83–85.

32 

P. FRANKE

grass and a couple of lemon trees, had been completely altered. The SBM, as the French visitor Marie de Saint-Germain noted in 1875, had completely changed Monaco’s natural landscape, transforming it into a space in which order and intoxicating sensual impressions prevailed.40 The gardens helped with the difficult task of keeping visitors happy, relaxed, and entertained, while they lost large sums of money at the gambling tables.41 They provided a visceral surrounding that gamblers from the bourgeoisie and even the aristocracy decoded as soothing and enchanting. A wide array of accounts from Europe and America written before the Second World War attest to this. In 1873 the British journal The Graphic, with readers from all over the British Empire and even the US, described the atmosphere at Monte Carlo as almost otherworldly and completely removed from “ordinary life and the countries of reality.” Monte Carlo “obliterate[d] the mind and obscure[d] reason.” The article addressed how the gardens seemed to influence people and move them to the casino: “Those who pour molton wax into their ears are tempted through their vision, and those who are purposely blind are overcome by the delicious odours which pervade the place.”42 In 1880, Gena Smith, a British visitor to Monte Carlo travelling with her family, wrote in a letter home that the gardens made the place “more luxuriant than anything I ever saw.”43 William Cope Devereux, by contrast, who published an extensive guidebook about the Riviera, in which he called for the elimination of Monte Carlo, contrasted the beauty with its underlying, and for him nefarious, purpose: “An immense sum was lavished in making the place the delightful paradise it has become, less, of course, its Satanic evils.”44 In 1924 the British travel writer C.N. Williamson touched on the fact that the atmosphere, architecture, and gardens were part of the reason why Monte Carlo felt unique: “You stroll up the beautiful public gardens from the 40  Quoted in Adolphe Smith, Monaco and Monte Carlo (London: Grant Richards LTD., 1912), 120. 41  Paul Aubert La Favière, De Cannes à gênes. Guide pittoresque illstré (Paris: F. Robaudy, 1878), 101–110. 42  “A Visit to Monte Carlo” in Freeman’s Journal and Daily Commercial Advertiser (Dublin, Ireland), April 12, 1873. 43  The National Archives (TNA) OG/CC/114326, Letter from Gena Smithto Florence Glynn, March 1880. 44  W. C. Devereux, Fair Italy, the Riviera and Monte Carlo: Comprising a Tour Through North and South Italy and Sicily with a Short Account of Malta (London: Kegan Paul, Trench & Co., 1884), 68.

2  CITIES ONLY CAPITALISM COULD HAVE BUILT 

33

Casino, for instance, under the long, straight lines of shady palms. Every trickling fountain, every well-tended flower-bed on the emerald grass, tells you that you are in Monte Carlo.”45

2.5   Casino-Driven Urbanization François Blanc and his successors had started a rigorous urbanization program in 1863 that continued until the interwar period. It was capitalist in the sense that the casino company pursued it with the sole intent of building a city for consumers and consumption. Metropolitan pleasure establishments such as cafés, fine dining, and luxury shopping linked the casino here to bourgeois consumption preferences. The legitimacy of the casino and gambling at Monte Carlo profited from that, as both were now spatially and practically associated within the company town. From the very beginning, the SBM had no interest in urbanizing the whole principality. Executives restricted themselves primarily to Monte Carlo, where they tried to script visitors’ movements and perceptions. While privately financed urban infrastructure projects were typical for the mid-to-late nineteenth century, Monte Carlo’s urbanization was special, because it specifically furthered gambling consumption.46 Blanc and his executives Wagatha, Stemler, and Bertora were convinced that their large-scale gambling operation would only work within an urban framework dominated by the casino. In April 1863 François Blanc announced in the Journal de Monaco: “A whole town remains to be built! To work, then!”47 The task was anything but simple. The costs alone were an issue, but the construction also considerably altered Monaco’s topography and social fabric. Success was only possible because the casino’s power was extensive, blurring “the lines between entrepreneurial investor and sovereign.”48 This power, however, was a means to an end. Under Blanc, the SBM regarded building the casino town and running the gambling house as intertwined. Even when the parti (meaning the gambling) started to pick up in 1864, Blanc was not happy. He blamed the small progress of the Hôtel de Paris, his first grand hotel, for the lagging  C. N. Williamson, The Lure of Monte Carlo (London: Mills and Boon, 1924), 55.  Friedrich Lenger, “Großstadtmenschen,” in Der Mensch des 19. Jahrhunderts, eds. Ute Frevert and Heinz-Gerhard Haupt, (Essen: Magnus Verlag, 2004), 278–279. 47  A. Chabon, “Announcement,” Journal de Monaco, December 6, 1863. 48  Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary, 81. 45 46

34 

P. FRANKE

performance. Blanc knew much more was possible and indeed necessary in the long run. He aimed to construct a real pleasure town, on par, or even surpassing the German spas, whose doom approached in the 1860s with the spread of restrictive Prussian, soon becoming German, gambling laws.49 François Blanc succeeded in laying the foundation for the district, because of his resources that encompassed expertise, political connections, and money. While he set the agenda and authorized all urban projects, his head architects advised him. In the early stages of Monte Carlo those were the German Louis Jacobi and his French colleague Jules-Laurent Dutrou. Jacobi had already done extensive work for Blanc in Homburg and knew how to approach the massive undertaking at the Riviera.50 Blanc took a great interest in the outline of roads, the exact location of housing and mansions as well as in the necessary infrastructure projects, such as the gas supply and canalization. Jacobi, Dutrou, and their successors also worked on the casino’s building; there were thus only fluid boundaries between urban planners and the casino administration.51 Blanc’s ambitions were matched by their staggering bill, indicating how much the casino company was willing to spend to build a town. In 1865, two years after its foundation, the SBM devoted 750,000 francs, almost everything the company had made that year, to operating and building costs.52 Even though the SBM was a casino company first and foremost, it had more than 1000 construction workers on its payroll.53 During his 14 years in Monaco (1863–1877), François Blanc himself spent close to two million francs of his own money on infrastructure, renovations, roads, and 49  Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary, 98–101; Archives du Palais Princier, D20-6, Rapports mensuels du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, No. 173, March 12, 1864; Archives du Palais Princier, D20-6, Rapports mensuels du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, No. 214, December 24, 1864; Archives du Palais Princier, D20-6, Rapports mensuels du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, No.209, November 19, 1864. 50  Alain Decaux, Monaco et Ses Princes: Sept Siècles d’histoire (Paris: Perrin, 1996), 110–111. 51  Archves du Palais Princier, D20-7, Rapport mensuels du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, No.461, February 12, 1870; Archives du Palais Princier, D20-7, Rapports mensuels du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, No. 464 March 5, 1870; Archves du Palais Princier, D20-7, Rapports mensueles du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, No. 472, April 30, 1870¸. 472; Archives du Palais Princier, D20-9 Rapports mensuels du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, No. 870, July 6, 1878. 52  Braude, Spinning Wheels, 61. 53  Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary, 98–101.

2  CITIES ONLY CAPITALISM COULD HAVE BUILT 

35

providing utility services to the casino town.54 Investments in Monte Carlo’s development did not stop after Blanc’s death. In order to produce consumption experiences suitable for their gambling business, his widow Marie and SBM director Bertora continued work on the urban projects. Under their guidance, the SBM paid large sums for sewage operating costs (more than 8000 francs), gas supply and the maintenance of related facilities (47,626 francs) in 1878. The numbers for the following year, 1879, were equally high, and additional work on the main boulevard of Monte Carlo added over 60,000 francs. By contrast, the costs of the casino’s extension amounted to 895,224 francs.55 The goal of building Monte Carlo as a metropolis in miniature was more than a question of money though. The SBM had a particularly useful asset: in 1866, the same year that Monte Carlo was officially founded, the French prefect of the Seine-Département, Baron Georges- Eugène Haussmann, visited Monaco.56 Haussmann gave the casino executives advice on how to build an orderly, consumer-friendly city for the gambling house.57 One key feature of Haussmann’s program for the French capital that was mimicked in Monte Carlo was the boulevard.58 In the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, Monte Carlo’s boulevards guided visitors to the central Place du Casino. They were more than thoroughfares, however; they also represented spaces of spectacle and consumption. Lined with shops, restaurants, and cafés, the boulevards constituted the spatial link between the gambling house and other forms of leisurely consumption.59 Being a  Braude, Spinning Wheels, 61.  Archives du Palais Princier, D20, Assemblée Génerale annuelle des actionnaires de la Société annonymes des bains de mer et du cercle etranger de Monaco, April 29, 1878; Archives du Palais Princier, D20, Assemblée Génerale annuelle des actionnaires de la Société annonymes des bains de mer et du cercle etranger de Monaco, April 25, 1879; Archives Départementalés des Alpes-Maritime (ADAM), Fonds de la Préfecture, 04M 1351 Commissariat Spécial, Rapport 21, January 26, 1933, A/S du Budget de Monaco. 56  Philippe Saint-Germain and Francis Rosset, La Grande Dame De Monte-Carlo (Paris: Stock, 1981), 128–129; Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary, 98–101. 57  Saint-Germain and Rosset, La Grande Dame de Monte-Carlo, 128–129; Antoine Paccoud, “Planning Law, Power, and Practice: Haussmann in Paris (1853–1870),” Planning Perspectives 31, no.3 (2016): 343–359. 58  H. Hazel Hahn, Scenes of Parisian Modernity: Culture and Consumption in the Nineteenth Century (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010), 2–3. 59  Charles Rearick, Pleasures of the Belle Époque: Entertainment & Festivity in the Turn of the Century France (New Haven, CT., London: Yale University Press, 1985), 29; Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary, 83–85. 54 55

36 

P. FRANKE

flâneur was closely aligned with a metropolitan, bourgeois lifestyle, as it required leisure time, a respectable appearance, and an urban surrounding which featured shops and visual spectacles.60 The boulevard in Monte Carlo perpetuated this mode of seeing and engaging with city space.61 Hausmann’s city planning transformed urban spaces into a commodity and flâneurs into prospective consumers.62 Similarly, the SBM condensed and imitated the feeling of being in a metropolitan center. In 1882 the writer Thomas Pickering captured the opinion of many visitors to Monte Carlo: “It [Monte Carlo] has been described as a concentration of the noise and movement of the Paris boulevards within the limit of a hundred square yards.”63 In 1863 the hill called Spéluges was a wide-open space with a single casino. By 1873, ten years after Blanc’s proclamation in the Journal de Monaco, the new city named Monte Carlo had taken shape.64 At the turn of the century, the SBM town hosted grand hotels like the Hôtel de Paris, the Hermitage, and the Métropole, carefully designed gardens, 15 jewelers, 85 wineries, over a dozen flower shops, boutiques, cafés, and fine dining opportunities.65 The close alignment of these businesses with the casino seemed to make games of chance just another feature of the town.66 The casino company operated most of the shops and cafés and thus made sure not to let anything distract from the casino, the heart of the operation.67 As writer Stefan Chodounsky noted in 1908, even amidst all the shopping possibilities, for non-gamblers Monte Carlo did not have a lot to

60  Hahn, Scenes of Parisian Modernity, 149–150, 162; Hetherington, Capitalism’s Eye, 25–29, 91, 107. 61  Schmitt, Palast-Hotels, 84–87. 62  Hetherington, Capitalism’s Eye, 107–113; Nicolas Kenny, The Feel of the City: Experiences of Urban Transformation (University of Toronto Press, 2014), 178–179; Louisa Iarocci, The Urban Department Store in America: 1850–1930 (London, New  York: Routledge, 2014), 164. 63  Thomas H.  Pickering, Monaco: The Beauty Spot of the Riviera (London: The Fleet Printing Works, 1882), 11. 64  Révoil, Monaco et Monte-Carlo, 199–205; Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary, 125–127. 65  Charles Derennes. Fortune et le Jeu (Paris: Georges Anquetil, 1926), 287–291; Jackson, Inside Monte Carlo, 78–79. 66  . James H.  Bennet, Winter and Spring on the Shores of the Mediterranean (London: Churchill & Sons, 1870), 193–198. 67  Boyer and Agulhon, L’Hiver dans le Midi, 358.

2  CITIES ONLY CAPITALISM COULD HAVE BUILT 

37

offer. People would start gambling because, as he put it, “Nobody came to Monte Carlo to be bored.”68 Those who still resisted were often disillusioned about Monte Carlo. Daisy Cornwallis-West, the Princess of Pless, wrote in her memoirs: “Personally, I think it is a boring place as there is nothing to do but gamble, gossip and eat.”69 Mimicking the metropolis in general, and Paris in particular, was only half of what the SBM had to do to make the script work. It also had to sanitize the metropolis. Security was intrinsically linked to this notion. Because bourgeois political groups considered gambling a vice, associated with crime, violence, and sexual misconduct, the SBM had to provide a safe and clean environment for it.70 Blanc thus wanted to have considerable influence over the police in Monaco. In the nineteenth century, the SBM paid up to 500,000 francs a year to finance the Monegasque state, including the police. In 1878 the sum amounted to 52,224 francs for the Monegasque police alone, increasing to 57,987 francs in 1879.71 In 1870, after many visitors complained about incidents at the train station, casino director Henry Wagatha argued that a police station should be built there, not because it was really needed, but simply because he thought it would give people a stronger sense of order.72 Because even vaguely negative emotions might have discouraged gambling activity, the SBM went out of its way to deal with them. In 1878 Révoil observed: “M. Blanc dreamed of an earthly paradise to soften the rough edges of the demon of gambling, and he succeeded beyond his own vision.”73 The urban context of Monte Carlo countered the criticism that the place was still just another “gambling den.” Visitors began to articulate how different the SBM town appeared and felt if compared with clandestine gambling or the overcrowded metropolis.74 68  Stephan Chodounsky, Was ein Detektiv über Monte-Carlo Erzählt (Berlin: Richard Eckstein, 1908), 17. 69  Jackson, Inside Monte Carlo, 95. 70  Reith, The Age of Chance, 5–7; David Dixon, “Illegal Betting in Britain and Australia: Contrasts in Control Strategies and Cultures,” in Gambling Cultures: Studies in History and Interpretation, ed. Jan McMillen, Culture (London: Routledge, 1996), 92–93. 71  Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary, 80–83. 72  Archives du Palais Princier, D20-7, Rapports mensuels du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, No.455, January 1, 1870. 73  Révoil, Monaco et Monte-Carlo, 199. 74  Paul de Ketchiva, Confessions of a Croupier: The Inside Story of the Gambling Game from the Authoritative Angle of the “Bank” Revealed for the First Time (London: Hurst & Blackett, 1928), 1–2; Jackson, Inside Monte Carlo, 95.

38 

P. FRANKE

2.6  Exclusion The enforcement of the script and Monte Carlo’s urbanization process were intrinsically linked to exclusion mechanisms. The SBM claimed and dominated public space and removed people, practices, and structures that they deemed economic hindrances.75 Such practices of exclusion extended to things that they imagined as controversial for the bourgeoisie, including political dissention, physical labor, heavy industries, and ultimately the working classes. That the interests of the SBM did thus not always align with the ones of the local population is not surprising. The company used its power over most utility services to build Monte Carlo, yet also to marginalize other parts of the principality. Blanc, Wagatha, Stemler, and, later in the 1920s, René Léon remained casino managers building a city, rather than urban planners who also ran a casino.76 Separation from the Monegasque populace was part of the planning process from the very beginning. In this, the palace and the princely government supported the SBM. Adolphe Eynaud argued for a strict separation between Monaco-Ville, as a place for Monegasque life and business, on one side of the town, and as a place for gambling for visitors, on the other. Princess Caroline shared this position.77 Later, Blanc too wanted his casino as far removed from Monaco-Ville as possible.78 The urbanization of Monte Carlo reflected this. It favored, for instance, housing suited to non-locals and visitors with prices outside the range of what most members of the working classes and the Monegasque could 75  Zukin, The Cultures of Cities, 52; Gary S. Cross and John K. Walton, The Playful Crowd: Pleasure Places in the Twentieth Century (New York: Columbia University Press, 2005), 252–254. 76  Archives du Palais Princier, D20-6, Rapports mensuels du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, No. 195, August 13, 1864. Archives du Palais Princier, D20-7, Rapports mensuels du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino No 180, April 30, 1864; Archives du Palais Princier, D20-7, Rapports mensuels du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, No 458, January 22, 1870; Archives Départementalés des Alpes-Maritime (ADAM), Fonds de la Préfecture, 04M 1351 Commissariat Spécial, Rapport pour le Préfet des Alpes-Maritime/ Ministre de l’Intérieur, April 9, 1937; Archives Départementalés des Alpes-Maritime (ADAM), Fonds de la Préfecture, 04M 1351 Commissariat Spécial, Rapport 98, January 18, 1934, A/S de la Crise Politique à Monaco. 77  Braude, Spinning Wheels, 52; Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary, 55–59. 78  Archives du Palais Princier, D20 7, Rapport du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, No 470, April 16, 1870.

2  CITIES ONLY CAPITALISM COULD HAVE BUILT 

39

afford. When SBM publications of the period described Monte Carlo as a “ville de fleurs et de somptueuses villas,” a “city of flowers and superb mansions,” the link between the pleasure and luxury lodgings became one of Monte Carlo’s selling points.79 Mansions alongside grand hotels dominated large parts of Monte Carlo even in the twentieth century, while Monaco-Ville, a town of Monegasque nationals, was almost completely devoid of them.80 The mansions were not only expensive, but they isolated the inhabitants from one another and did not foster an atmosphere of being part of a neighborhood. Instead, people met at the casino, the cafés, and other bourgeois social institutions.81 Most visitors, however, choose one of Monaco’s grand hotels for their stay. Although associated with fîn de siècle glamor, the hotel represented a bourgeois approach to travel. The grand hotels might have been architecturally modeled after palaces of the aristocracy, yet access to them was solely linked to money, not inherited social status.82 That plutocratic element located them within the sphere of the economically dynamic and urban middle classes.83 François Blanc made an effort to build as many hotels and mansions as possible. By 1870 Monte Carlo already had over 19 hotels (the largest being the SBM-owned flagship, the Hôtel de Paris, which had 3000 rooms), and over 116 mansions, as well as 80 luxury apartments, rented out to visitors only.84 By 1913 a whole district of mansions had formed in

79  Fonds Régionale, Collection Monaco, Bulletin des employés de la Société Anonyme des Bains de Mer et du Cercle des Etrangers à Monaco, No.32, May 1, 1913. 80  Pickard, Monaco and The French Riviera, 147–149; “Grand Hotels” in Le Figaro, August 6, 1879, 7; Ralph Nevill, Light Come, Light Go: Gambling-Gamestars-Wagers, The Turf (London: Macmillan and Co., 1909), 326. 81  Révoil, Monaco et Monte-Carlo, 236–239, 246–247. 82  Fuhs, Mondäne Orte einer vornehmen Gesellschaft, 134–136; Hélène, Palaces de France, 33–40.; Schmitt, Palast-Hotels, 24–25; Schmitt, Palast-Hotels, 173–174. 83  Habbo Knoch, Grandhotels: Luxusräume und Gesellschaftswandel in New York, London und Berlin um 1900 (Göttingen: Wallstein, 2016), 119–120. 84  Boyer and Agulhon, L’Hiver dans le Midi, 311–315; Révoil, Monaco et Monte-Carlo, 236–239 Alain Callais, “Quelques Pages sur l’Histoire des Grands Hôtel de la Principaute,” in Récherchés régionale No.203.12, (2013), 3, https://www.departement06.fr/documents/Import/decouvrir-les-am/recherchesregionales203_12.pdf, 3; Martine Mari, L’Opéra de Monte-Carlo: 1879–1990 (Paris, Geneva: Champion; Slatkine, 1991), 6–7; Jackson, Inside Monte Carlo, 45.

40 

P. FRANKE

the northwest of Monte Carlo around the Boulevard du Nord.85 The building boom contributed to a tense relationship between locals and visitors. It became increasingly difficult to buy land or develop property because of the rise in prices.86 Monte Carlo was a tightly controlled space, which gave it a reputation as being an example of cleanliness, orderly conduct, and security, all the while remaining famous for an almost surreal level of hedonism. Indeed, Monte Carlo depended on both. The gambling experience had to be at once exciting as well as safe in order to be acceptable as a bourgeois leisure activity. The SBM tolerated excess up to a certain point but sought to put an end to criminal activity and other forms of behavior that they deemed disruptive. This included Monegasque people, who often complained about a lack of freedom in their own state, as the SBM’s grasp on the principality tightened before the 1940s.87 The SBM regarded the exclusion, the policing of the locals, and the sanitization of the metropolis as one, a fact not lost on visitors. In 1924 Williamson noted: “People who know nothing of Monte Carlo often vaguely imagine it a disorderly place. There could be no greater mistake. The overcrowded Principality is perhaps the most orderly place in Europe.” He warned against disorderly behavior: “You may not so much as make a noise in the streets of Monte Carlo at night. Why, even a quarrelsome cat or dog is suppressed, so why not a human being!”88 Just over a decade later, the British writer Frederick W. Pickard compared Monte Carlo even more explicitly with the metropolises it sought to emulate: “It [Monte Carlo] is probably the best policed town in Europe. In the evening its streets are as quiet as in the average village, and ladies can walk from the

85  Histoirsches Archiv zum Tourismus (HAT), Baedecker, Baedekers Riviera und SüdostFrankreich, 5th ed. (Leipzig: Baedecker, 1913); Histoirsches Archiv zum Tourismus (HAT), Baedekers Riviera und Südost-Frankreich, 5th ed. (Leipzig: Baedecker, 1902); Cité de l‘architecture et du patromoine, Centre d‘archives d‘architecture du XXe siècle: Fonds Bétons armés Hennebique (BAH). Subdiv. 52, 076 IFA, De 1908 à 1915.; Laplace, Les Hôtels d’Hier & Aujourd’hui à Monaco, 33; Béatrice Blanchy, “A Select Inventory of Architects and Urban Planners,” in Monacopolis: Architecture, Urbanisme et Urbanisation à Monaco, Réalisations et Projets, 1858–2012, ed. Nathalie Rosticher, (Monaco: Nouveau Musée National de Monaco, 2013), 644. 86  Fielding, Money Spinner, 73–75. 87  Fielding, Money Spinner, 63–66, 114–115; Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary, 12. 88  Williamson, Lure of Monte Carlo, 110–111.

2  CITIES ONLY CAPITALISM COULD HAVE BUILT 

41

opera to their dining place to their hotel with infinitely less fear of annoyance than in New York, London or Paris.”89 Both the government and the SBM associated unrest with the working classes and pushed it to the margins of Monte Carlo. The casino company settled the growing populace of construction workers and laborers needed to build Monte Carlo in the French town of La Turbie. The immigration of, mostly, Italian workers changed the social and cultural structure of the small town profoundly. In 1904 the section of the city where the SBM workers lived, was separated from the old La Turbie. Under SBM guidance and with the blessing of the French Republic, a new town was founded, Monte-Carlo Supérieur (later Beausoleil) as a city where the workers could live without compromising Monte Carlo’s script or appeal. Camille Blanc, at the time president of the SBM, became its first mayor. Gradually, Beausoleil was incorporated into Monte Carlo, losing at least to some degree the character of a working-class settlement that it had had in the first decades of the twentieth century. It remained, however, dominated by Italians, who provided cheap labor for the casino.90 This exclusion of the workforce that labored for the cosmopolitan company town was racially charged. Pickard combined a romantization of the labor needed to keep Monte Carlo going with the exclusion of the local populace and racial segregation: “Dark-faced peasants with Ligurian eyes sing Saracenic songs while they work for the little town of pleasure they have never seen.”91 The police of the principality paid special attention to people who could have undermined Monte Carlo’s atmosphere, which again focused on migrant laborers from Italy. Between 1866 and 1900 it removed Italian workers who rested or even lived on benches or under olive trees, keeping Monte Carlo free of homeless or poor people. In 1936 the police were tasked with finding and ejecting unemployed Italians from Monaco.92 Political authorities stated that they had a negative impact on  Pickard, Monaco and the French Riviera, 161–162.  Pickard, Monaco and the French Riviera, 160–162; Alain Callais, “Quelque Pages sur l’Histoire des grands Hôtels de la Principaute,” 3–4; Sabrina Bonarrigo, “Un Tramway Nommé Riviera Palace”: Monaco Hebdo, September 19, 2014; Yvan Gastaut, “Monaco, Beausoleil, face a l’immigratoion italienne (1860–1930) in Récherche régionale,” No 179, (2005) 1–2, 8, https://www.departement06.fr/documents/A-votre-service/Culture/ archives/recherches-regionales/recherchesregionales179.pdf. 91  Williamson, Lure of Monte Carlo, 75. 92  Archives Départementalés des Alpes-Maritime (ADAM), Fonds de la Préfecture, 04M 1351, Commissariat Spécial Rapport 319/2, November 19, 1936, A/S Décret-loi du 2 Mai 1936. 89 90

42 

P. FRANKE

tourism, claiming that encountering them would undermine the visitors’ consumption experience.93 The exclusion of workers was connected to the exclusion of certain businesses and economic ventures. The position of SBM is exemplified in the words of its casino manager Pierre Polovtsoff, who wrote in 1937: “Monte Carlo is an entirely artificial town, designed expressly for those who wish to lead an easy life and can afford to do so. Nothing sordid is allowed to interfere with the visitor’s enjoyment; for instance, there is no beggar to be seen in the place […] It has no factories or industries, and there is not the slightest risk of anything of the kind being established.”94 For Polovtsoff industries and the poor were a similar, if not part of the same, problem.

2.7  Las Vegas: Strip City and the Suburban Gambling Experience In 1959 a young woman from New York peaked down from the airplane into the darkness of an August night. After three stops, Philadelphia, Chicago, and Denver, the one in Chicago being especially dreadful, she and her family flew past an oasis of neon lights. They would continue to Los Angeles, but the young women wondered what it would be like to visit “Fabulous Las Vegas.” She asked herself whether she would be able to name the casinos that illuminated the night.95 She probably remembered the many neon signs that stretched along the narrow highway from Nevada toward L.A. and Southern California. From above, the casinos were islands of light, with darkness between them, individual extravaganzas, lining up on both sides of the highway. In 1959 the Las Vegas Strip was as densely built as at the end of the twentieth century. The highway was dominated by singular casinos, which consisted of wide clusters of bungalows, green spaces, and pool areas in the middle of the scattered structures. A few years earlier, between 1940 and 1950, the Strip had even more free space. Only a handful of casinos populated the area, like small villages for vacationers. Neon signs and large physical markers, like windmills,  Gastaut, Monaco, 3–4.  Pierre Polovtsoff, Monte Carlo Casino (London: The Mayflower Press, 1937), 11. 95  Anonymous American Women, Diary of Anonymous American Woman 1950: Scrapbook of Trip to Las Vegas (Alexandria: Alexander Street Press, 2004), 1–4. 93 94

2  CITIES ONLY CAPITALISM COULD HAVE BUILT 

43

advertised to the hundreds of motorists from California. Long before people like the young women from 1959 would travel to Vegas via airplane, most used their own car to drive from their suburban homes to the similarly suburban Strip. After 1970, the Strip had become much bigger, more compact, an amalgamation of giant towering hotels with themed architecture. If a plane coming from L.A. reached Vegas at night, the Strip could now be spotted from miles away.96 2.7.1   Paradise: The Strip as Company Town Strip casino executives gradually separated their casinos from the city of Las Vegas in order to offer a gambling experience that resonated with its white suburban middle-class market. Strip casino entrepreneurs combined gambling with the nightclub atmosphere, while gambling outside of the Strip remained grounded in the “Western-Frontier” theme and focused on the local market. When viewed from the longue durée, Monte Carlo and the Strip show similarities in regard to capitalist urbanization and consumption-driven city planning. Some are structural: both started out on the periphery of their respective polities. While Monte Carlo was originally the Spélugue, isolated from the town of Monaco, the Strip was originally the Highway 91 south of the city of Las Vegas and quite literally nothing but flat land. In both cases, casinos moved into this space with the blessing of local political authorities, created their own urban entities, and over time merged with the former centers while at the same time overtaking them in that role. However, while Monte Carlo lost its dominant position in the 1950s, the Strip had just claimed it. Unlike Monte Carlo, the Strip did not follow a masterplan. While the SBM, in the form of its presidents or casino mangers, like the Blanc dynasty or René Léon, reigned over its city, the Strip remained fragmented. When united by a common enemy—like city hall (with its zoning laws, taxes, and civic duties) or the federal government—casinos worked together. They also exhibited some tendencies toward cartelization. However, for the most part, they acted alone or in fierce competition. The same can be said for city hall and the county commission. Diffused, decentralized, and 96   Sally Denton and Roger Morris, Las Vegas: Geld. Macht. Politik (Frankfurt: Zweitausendeins-Verlag, 2005), 13.

44 

P. FRANKE

increasingly unconsolidated, Las Vegas political institutions bore little resemblance to the princely government of Monaco.97 The Strip hosted the defining element of the Las Vegas gambling experience with a focus on Hollywood glamour, nightclub entertainment, suburban vacation practices, and gambling that no longer reminded the white middle classes of the frontier or the number games associated with the inner cities and non-white minorities.98 The space south of the city offered multiple advantages for this development: land was cheap, available, and a viable location for casino-hotels in the emerging American car culture of the postwar years.99 The first casino to combine a focus on these tourists and potential gamblers with advantages of the suburban location and the architectural design of a big casino-hotel resorts was the Flamingo in 1946. It was not the first casino on the area that would become the Strip, however. The El Rrancho Vegas had already opened in 1941, the Last Frontier in 1942. The Flamingo was, however, the first casino-hotel, rather than a hotel with a casino, shifting the focus away from tourism to consumption, a novelty on the burgeoning tourist destination, the Strip, which until this point had featured motor hotels that would also include some possibilities to gamble, albeit on a limited scale. In the future, the Flamingo model would be the one to which most Strip casinos would subscribe.100 Other casino-hotels soon followed on the heels of the Flamingo: the Thunderbird (1948), Wilbur Clark’s Desert Inn (1950), the Sands and the Sahara (1952), and the Dunes (1955). Only then did operators and underworld investors gain enough confidence in the market to begin building the first high-rise casino-hotels on the Highway, the Riviera (1955), and the Tropicana (1957).101 The same period saw the introduction of the term “Strip” for highway 91. In the 1940s and early 1950s, locals and casino entrepreneurs used the term “Strip” mockingly as an unflattering comparison to L.A.’s Sunset Boulevard. Allegedly, downtown 97  Eugene P. Moehring, Reno, Las Vegas, and the Strip: A Tale of Three Cities 1945–2013 (Reno, Nev.: University of Nevada Press, 2014), 7. 98  Matthew Vaz, “We Intend to Run It: Racial Politics, Illegal Gambling, and the Rise of Government Lotteries in the United States, 1960–1985,” The Journal of American History 101, no.1 (2014): 71–75. 99  Al, The Strip, 34; Eugene P. Moehring and Michael S. Green, Las Vegas: A Centennial History (Reno, Nev.: University of Nevada Press, 2005), 139. 100  Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 51–55. 101  Bubb, Landing in Las Vegas, 53–54; Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 84–85.

2  CITIES ONLY CAPITALISM COULD HAVE BUILT 

45

casino entrepreneur and Angeleno Guy McAfee coined it first. Slowly but surely, it became the moniker for the area south of the city and the gambling scene in general.102 The script of the early Las Vegas Strip worked different from the one in Monte Carlo, as it tapped into different notions of leisure, travel culture, consumption habits, and popular imagery. It did, however, operate under the same premise of restricting movement, guiding people and their activities according to the needs of the casino entrepreneurs. It also excluded certain factors: groups, sentiments, and visceral impressions that did not fit the script. As an urban space, it grew around the casinos, but unlike Monte Carlo, it did not mimic a sanitized metropolitan experience. It emulated suburban living conditions and sensibilities. Casino executives and planners did so by architecturally reaching out to the highway, in the form of porte cochère, an elaborately designed, covered porch originally invented to cover cars driving up to the main entrances and large neon signs to mark their territory. At the Flamingo, the porte cochère still had this function but was also used to mark the transitional space between the empty desert road and casino.103 Neon signs, which dominated the Strip in the 1950s, had multiple functions in the script. They separated the Strip and the casino without imposing strict barriers between them. In practical terms, they made casinos visible from cars travelling on the highway from the east to Southern California. One of the earliest examples of this was the El Rancho Vegas, which used the phrase “at the sign of the windmill” in many of its publications and advertisement campaigns to draw attention from motorists and tourists. The sign was indeed a stylized windmill of the Old West, showcasing efforts to implement narrative features into the space of the Strip.104 By the 1960s, neon signs had transformed the barren desert road into a space of the “visual and sensory overload” that casino executives in the 1990s saw as a given.105 In the process, the Strip actually reclaimed neon  Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 41–43.  Christoph Ribbat, Flackernde Moderne: Die Geschichte des Neonlichts (Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner Verlag, 2011), 77–79. 104  Miss Lili St. Cyr at “The Sign of the Windmill” undated. Box 01 El Rancho Vegas Collection, 1953–1961. MS-00194. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 105  Paul Keller, “The Re-Emergence of Riverboat Gambling,” in Casino Design: Resorts, Hotels, and Themed Entertainment Spaces, ed. Justin Henderson, (Gloucester, Mass.: Rockport, 1999), 63. 102 103

46 

P. FRANKE

signs, which as advertisement tools had been in decline since the 1940s. The signs developed a symbiosis with each other, reinforcing the spectacular atmosphere of Las Vegas and projecting the casinos’ themes into the urban space. The lack of urban density, such as prevailed in downtown Las Vegas, made this usage possible and began to define the visual spectacle of the space. Casino entrepreneurs in the 1940s and 1950s imagined this as part of the script: the lights and the visibility would eventually lead people into their casinos.106 The Strip casinos fine-tuned the urban environment to resonate with their primary market: white, car-owing, middle-class visitors. The channeling of movement was a key part of this. As part of their urban planning, casino executives tried their best to limit the construction and use of side streets and sidewalks to keep the Strip as one central road. The long continuous boulevard helped to guide visitors and kept casinos at the center of attention, rather than giving people other options.107 The Strip slowly became its own casino-dominated urban entity; it nonetheless remained a highway, limiting movement of visitors in one direction.108 Guiding movement also played a major role in the construction of McCarran Airport and the influence casinos used to determine its location. 109 Although a joint venture of the city, state, and county, the airport shows how dominance of space led to lopsided benefits for the Strip. In the late 1940s, the name-giving Nevadan senator Pat McCarran, various airlines and local businesses, the casinos chiefly among them, formed an alliance to expand air travel to the city on a massive scale.110 With the growing importance of air tourism in the 1960s, the airport was not just expanded but relocated next to the Strip at Las Vegas Boulevard. It was now closely interlinked with the local casinos, which for the most part were just north of the huge terminal, right in between the airport and the city of Las Vegas. Casino executives had successfully argued that the airport should be located near the casinos to guarantee easy access for travelers to hotel facilities.111 In 1960, construction began on a new 262,000  Ribbat, Flackernde Moderne, 77–82; Ribbat, Flackernde Moderne, 81–82.  Eisner-Steward and Associates, Proposed General Plan Las Vegas Valley, Clark County, Nevada: Report, (South Pasadena, Calif.: Eisner-Stewart, 1966), 9; Al, The Strip, 26, 56. 108  Al, The Strip, 56; Bubb, Landing in Las Vegas, 51–54; Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 172; Ingrid Eumann, “Las Vegas,” in Taking Up Space, 169–177. 109  The Airport was renamed in 2021 and is now called Harry Reid International Airport. 110  Bubb, Landing in Las Vegas, 40–46. 111  Bubb, Landing in Las Vegas, 65–68. 106 107

2  CITIES ONLY CAPITALISM COULD HAVE BUILT 

47

square-foot jet airport at the Strip. Opened in 1963, 128 planes landed there daily. In 1959, 949,603 people landed at the Strip; by 1960, 1,079,202 did; and by 1965, the number of arrivals had reached a staggering 1,907,682.112 Historians of tourism, like Rudy Koshar and Daniel Bubb, have pointed out the important role that transportation has played for cities competing in the tourism market.113 However, as the Vegas case makes plain, these infrastructures helped certain businesses more than others. Strip casinos were able to tap into air travel as a source for attracting more gamblers. Some casinos like the Hacienda went even further in making sure that tourists who stepped onto a plane would end up at their gambling tables by establishing their own charter airlines.114 2.7.2   The Strip’s Capitalist Urbanization Like Monte Carlo, the Strip was urbanized with consumer capitalism as a guiding principle. The growth of the Strip turned the transitional space of the highway into what historian Eugene Moehring calls “Strip city,”115 the casino-dominated boulevard that sprawled its own suburbs. The Strip, however, remained a suburban space itself, catering to the suburban, white middle classes. For that reason, it refused annexation or even consolidation with Las Vegas. With the founding of Paradise in 1950, the unincorporated township made up by the Strip, casino managements became increasingly concerned with urban planning. They regarded it as necessary to transforming an assortment of isolated casinos into a cohesive urban space. Two motivations fueled this need. The first was the same as in Monte Carlo. The growth of the individual casinos and the efforts to produce a consumption 112  Bubb, Landing in Las Vegas, 71–73; McCarran Airport Passenger Figures 1954–1965, 1966. Box 2, Folder 6. Dunes Hotel and Casino Records, 1954–1992. MS-00328. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. Record of Passengers Enplaned and Deplaned McCarran Airport—Clark County Las Vegas, Nevada, 1966. Box 2, Folder 6, Dunes Hotel and Casino Records, 1954–1992. MS-00328. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 113  Rudy Koshar, German Travel Cultures: Leisure, Consumption, and Culture (Oxford: Berg, 2000), 24, 33; Hachtmann, Tourismus-Geschichte, 74–75. Bubb, Landing in Las Vegas, 40–46. 114  Bubb, Landing in Las Vegas, 48–51. 115  Moehring, Reno, Las Vegas, and the Strip, 20.

48 

P. FRANKE

experience demanded a cohesive economic, social, and cultural hegemony over the space in which the casinos were located. The lines between casinos and city space blurred for the executives, who saw the production of “their” consumption experience threatened by forces that they could not control. The other factor is more related to Vegas specifically. As the Strip was dominated by entrepreneurs who sought to legitimize themselves by being good businesspersons and citizens, they recreated living conditions that between 1945 and 1970 were synonymous with hegemonic American values: suburbia. After the Second World War, a good part of the nascent white middle classes moved to the suburbs, into homes that they owned, and into neighborhoods that unified their lifestyle and signaled their economic standing. Suburbanization also triggered political fragmentation. Many cities in the West and in the South had to deal with economically viable communities at their doorsteps. That was also true for the Las Vegas Strip.116 Following this, shopping malls and other consumption spaces were increasingly relocated to those suburbs, available only to the mobile, car-owning, mostly white middle classes.117 Gambling executives like Wilbur Clark and Moe Dalitz of the Desert Inn took on the responsibility of building county infrastructure and urbanizing the Strip as part of an effort to integrate it somewhat into American suburbia and make money as developers. Their efforts were, however, always guided by their roles as casino managers. The booming casino and tourism industries always needed more labor, and more and more people moved to Vegas to provide it. The surrounding Clark County thus grew dramatically over the course of the 1950s and early 1960s. In 1953, it had 65,000 inhabitants, but by 1963, the number had already climbed to 200,000.118 This led to a plethora of issues, especially in terms of infrastructure and housing, the later crisis had already begun in 1945. In a memorandum, the Chamber of Commerce debated the fact that many casino employees were effectively without a permanent home, and over

 Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 37–39.  For more on developments in the US economy see: Cohen, Consumers’ Republic, 5–6, 200–254. 118  “How $4,000 Rooms Help Attract Business” in The Hotel/Motor Hotel Monthly August 1963, Vol 71, No 845. Box 2, Folder 10. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada 116 117

2  CITIES ONLY CAPITALISM COULD HAVE BUILT 

49

500 families in the greater Las Vegas area could not afford to live where they worked.119 The development of residential homes is one example how the influence of the casinos on urban planning expanded.120 In the 1950s and early 1960, their efforts transformed a loose collection of casinos into a township that overshadowed downtown Las Vegas and catered to a suburban lifestyle.121 The flipside of this manifested as well: casinos dedicated considerable resources to shaping visitors’ behaviors, leaving many urban problems, like a working education system, public transport, and recreation for permanent residents unsolved.122 Casino executives planned housing to further their business models, just as their predecessors in Monte Carlo had. In 1947 the Thunderbird, for example, incorporated apartment buildings in its original design to host visitors or employees.123 In 1959 the Sands played with the idea of building a large apartment complex. Casino executives saw the residential districts as an extension of the casino itself. They required that the houses fit the design theme of the casinos. All units had to share the look and “atmosphere” of the Sands. The plans refer to visitors as “gamblers,” showing the true intentions of the casino.124 The Dunes developed a ­similar concept. They planned to build apartments and private estates and 119  Memorandum (undated), Business Correspondence, 1945–1948, undated. Box 11, Las Vegas Chamber of Commerce Records, 1911–2011. MS-00366. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 120  See, for example: Apartment Complex Survey prepared by Horwath and Horwath, January 30, 1963. Box 01, Folder 1. Toni & Wilbur Clark Collection, 1947–1991, MS 95-49, Special Collections & Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada; Chateau de Ville Apartments, 1962. Box 1 Folder 3 Toni & Wilbur Clark Collection, 1947–1991, MS 95-49, Special Collections & Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 121  Johannes Stefan Al, “Casino Architecture Wars: A History of How Las Vegas Developers Compete with Architectural Design,” Occasional Paper Series 30. Las Vegas: Center for Gaming Research, University Libraries, 2014, 4–6, http://gaming.unlv.edu/papers/ cgr_op30_al.pdf. 122  Al, The Strip, 20; Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 41–43. 123  Construction Started on new Resort Hotel South of Las Vegas, Business Correspondence, 1945–1948, October 28, 1947. Box 11, Las Vegas Chamber of Commerce Records, 1911–2011. MS-00366. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 124  Messing and Apt to Freeman March 20, 1959. Box 5, Folder 2. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada.

50 

P. FRANKE

to allow the inhabitants to use the hotel facilities, thus transforming them from locals into customers.125 One of the most ambitious projects was the Desert Inn’s “Chateau de Ville Apartments,” a 248-apartment complex planned in 1962. It was located 500 feet away from the Strip, featuring playgrounds and a pool. It replicated suburban living conditions near the casino.126 In another proposal, the Desert Inn planned to build an apartment complex for the booming convention business. The idea was that locals and long-term visitors could rent apartments and use the Desert Inn facilities, but when they were away, they could offer the rooms to casino guests. The planners spoke freely about the housing shortage in Vegas and the fact that it was both a necessity and a profitable enterprise for casinos to provide housing—as long as it suited their business models. The Desert Inn planned for a complex with 15 floors and 200 two-bedroom units that comprised a total of 72,000 square feet, all 400 feet away from the Strip.127 These developments were not unique for Las Vegas. The automobile and rapid suburbanization of the consumer economy and of the middle classes made the move outside cities a viable option.128 This, and the fact that the city of Las Vegas did not profit as much as it had hoped from the tax dollars paid by the casinos, led the city’s mayor Ernie Cragin to move against the suburban casinos. He made efforts to annex the Strip in 1950 (one of many attempts to do so), which ultimately led to the founding of the unincorporated township. With Paradise, Strip casinos officially separated themselves from the City of Las Vegas, acknowledging that they had constructed an urban context for their businesses outside of the political and geographical reach of the city.129

125  Architectural Plans and Blueprints, 1955. Box 1, Folder 3. Dunes Hotel and Casino Records, 1954–1992. MS-00328. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 126  Chateau de Ville Apartments, 1962. Box 1, Folder 3. Toni & Wilbur Clark Collection, 1947–1991, MS 95-49, Special Collections & Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 127  Horwath & Horwath Accountants and Authors A Prospected Apartments in Las Vegas, Nevada, Jan 30, 1963, Apartment Complex Proposal, 15–19. Box 01, Folder 1. Toni & Wilbur Clark Collection, 1947–1991, MS 95-49, Special Collections & Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 128  Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 37–39; Klaus Ronneberger, “Disneyfizierung der Europäischen Stadt?” in Die Stadt als Event, 91–92. 129  Moehring and Green, Las Vegas, 128–130; 149.

2  CITIES ONLY CAPITALISM COULD HAVE BUILT 

51

Similar to Monte Carlo, casinos used mechanisms of exclusion to protect their town. As architect Stefan Al put it: “the spectacle of the suburban Strip had dominated downtown because of the things it managed to keep out of and in sight.”130 2.7.3  Exclusion As in Monte Carlo, retail shopping and consumption were the driving forces behind the infrastructural politics of the mayor and city hall, usually justified by a relentless pro-growth rhetoric. The Strip built on that notion, by almost exclusively focusing on gambling. The greater Las Vegas metropolitan area had nonetheless a diverse economy, including industrial plants. The fragmentation of the urban entities, however, allowed for the exclusion and marginalization of local businesses. Policy makers and entrepreneurs thus turned downtown and the Strip into spaces devoted to consumption. Locals benefitted from improvements to their city, such as from the construction of street lighting, a better sewage system, and sidewalks, but only incidentally. A 1959 development proposal clearly identifies downtown Las Vegas shops and retailers as the primary beneficiaries. It barely notes any developments or plans that might have improved life for locals.131 Similarly, in the planning of the 1962 Desert Inn apartment complex, the “mayor” of the Strip township Paradise, Wilbur Clark, stressed that the lack of manufacturing industry in the Vegas area was an advantage for the casino industry.132 These policies of consumer-oriented urbanization could hardly be reversed, even when forces from outside were brought in. County  Al, The Strip, 20.  Letter from Sam Boyd (Mint Casino) to R.P. Sauer Director of Public Works, October 28, 1959. Box 9, Folder Downtown Publicity 1959–1969. Las Vegas Chamber of Commerce Records 1911–2014, MS-00366, Special Collections & Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada; Merchants Bureau, Petition for urban renewal October 23, 1959. Box 9, Folder Downtown Publicity 1959–1969. Las Vegas Chamber of Commerce Records 1911–2014, MS-00366, Special Collections & Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada; Open Letter of Mayor Oran K. Gragson, October 26, 1969. Box 9, Folder Downtown Publicity 1959–1969. Las Vegas Chamber of Commerce Records 1911–2014, MS-00366, Special Collections & Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 132  Chateau de Ville Apartments, 1962. Box 1, Folder 3. Toni & Wilbur Clark Collection, 1947–1991, MS 95-49, Special Collections & Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 130 131

52 

P. FRANKE

commissioners had some sway on urban planning in Paradise and cooperated with institutions outside the gambling industry. When it came to the Strip, however, they were presented with policies as if they were already a fait accompli. Such an instance of this took place in 1966, when Eisner Steward and Associates Planning Consultants, a company from California, proposed a much-needed plan for the general development of Clark County.133 Some policies, especially those with a potentially negative impact on the spatial script of the Strip, were ultimately scrapped. The plan of Steward and Associates built on the notion that private business should have considerable power in shaping urban policies, whereas direct political involvement should be kept to a minimum.134 The consultants acknowledged that the Strip was built to provide an urban setting for consumption and that it was dominated by casinos. They argued that any urban planning should neither compromise the ability of the individual casinos to attract customers nor isolate possible gamblers within their walls.135 At the same time, the report stressed the issue of “sensory overload” which might be harmful to the unique atmosphere of the Strip. The plan stated: “The increased height of buildings and resulting intensity of resort activity will also create problems of congestion. If the proper resort atmosphere is to be retained, reasonable control of building intensity is essential.” It even suggested what should be marginalized and excluded from the scene: “The visual quality of the ‘Strip’ should be further protected by restricting the types of land use to those that are compatible with tourism. Incompatible uses of all kinds, including outdoor storage and used car lots, should be prohibited.”136 The casino-driven urbanization had made efforts to diversify the local economy difficult. When in 1968 Las Vegas city government inquired from another consultant firm whether Las Vegas could also host manufacturing industries, their estimation was rather grim. Because the urban authorities and infrastructure were too fragmented and in general too single-mindedly designed for casinos, the consultants determined that any other sort of industry would probably fail.137  Steward and Associates, Proposed General Plan, 1–5.  Steward and Associates, Proposed General Plan, 44–45. 135  Steward and Associates, Proposed General Plan, 41. 136  Steward and Associates, Proposed General Plan, 45. 137  Eugene P.  Moehring, Resort City in the Sunbelt: Las Vegas, 1930–1970 (Reno, Nev.: University of Nevada Press, 1989), 161–162. 133 134

2  CITIES ONLY CAPITALISM COULD HAVE BUILT 

53

As it had been in Monte Carlo, the concealment of manufacturing and businesses that were deemed unaesthetic had already been a core policy on the Strip. The restrictions on casino buildings proposed in the plan were something new. This would have been a serious limitation for the established business model of casinos having almost complete control over their construction. None of the changes to casinos themselves were thus adopted.138 Mechanisms of exclusion encompassed the means to control the behavior of locals when it came to dealing with potential gamblers and tourism. Local practices were monitored to determine whether they furthered consumption and the production of the Strip’s gambling experience. For example, in 1946, Hannagan, the public relations company working together with local businesses, and the Chamber of Commerce sought to curb the practice common among small hotels, shops, and mechanics of cheating tourists, arguing that they would have negative effects on the tourism industry. Cheating or taking advantage of visitors undermined the efforts of local casinos to present their gambling as legitimate and safe. That the cheating took place at non-gambling establishments did not matter. Even for the public relations’ company Hannagan, it was not only about creating images but it was about policing behaviors.139 Challenges to the sensibilities or consumption patterns of the white middle classes came from many directions. Especially as at the end of 1960s, serious rifts appeared in aging suburban America. In the mid-­1950s, city and county community leaders decided to build a convention center. It was meant to enable the Strip to tap into the growing convention market. Casinos assumed that travelling businesspersons could be transformed into gamblers once they booked a room in one of the nearby casinos-­ hotels.140 The city wanted to build the center as close to Las Vegas proper as possible. Many casino executives were nonetheless unwilling to concede in this matter. They secured a considerable amount of influence over the  Al, The Strip, 27–28.  Agenda Retail Merchants Division Meeting Las Vegas Nevada Chamber of Commerce at the Corral Room Hotel El Rancho Vegas, July 11, 1947. Box 12, Folder Correspondence 1947–1948. Las Vegas Chamber of Commerce Records 1911–2014, MS-00366 Special Collections & Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. 140  Moehring, Resort City, 122–123; “Major Bid as Convention Site Made By Vegas” Billboard, October 24, 1953, 65; “Las Vegas Plans Arena, Expo Hall,” Billboard, September 22, 1956, 88; “Cities, Towns, Schools, Fairs Maintain Construction Boom,” Billboard, September 23, 1957, 79. 138 139

54 

P. FRANKE

planning process, as hotel room taxes contributed significantly to the building budget. They thus could dominate the Las Vegas Convention and Visitors Authority (LVCVA).141 Executives used this influence when young people and the new late 1960s counterculture wanted to use the convention center. Their intentions seemed innocent enough: rock music. When in 1970 Alice Cooper and Janis Joplin wanted to play in the convention center, Strip casinos clashed with youth organizations and local promoters over the issue. Fans of rock were not part of the market to which casinos wanted to appeal. Due to legal age restrictions and their limited financial resources, young people were not a gambling crowd and thus had no place in Vegas.142 Local promotors, by contrast, saw a chance to cultivate the city as a location for rock music and tried to boost business by appealing specifically to those under 21 years of age. Jay Sarno, the man behind Caesars Palace and Circus Circus, vigorously opposed the event. Sarno went so far as to suggest that Strip casinos should assemble a private security force in order to keep young rock’n roll fans out of the city. The city government tended to agree with the casino executives, who saw little benefit in allowing artists like Joplin to play in Vegas if such concerts would not increase gambling business. The Convention and Visitor Authority only allowed rock concerts to take place under unusually strict limitations, a policy that alienated young people and local music promotors alike. In 1972 the musician Alice Cooper chose not to perform in Vegas on account of such burdensome regulations.143 The conflict underscores that Vegas as “Entertainment Capital of the World” could have hosted new, successful forms of pop culture, yet chose not to in order to remain focused on gambling and the, by the end of the 1960s, even more explicitly conservative, white middle classes.

 Moehring and Green, Las Vegas, 146–149.  Laura Deni “Nevada U. as Promoters,” Billboard, October 14, 1972, 28. 143  Laura Deni “The Great Rock Concert Controversy,” Billboard, November 14, 1970, 56; “A Billboard Spotlight on Las Vegas: Young Adults and their Contemporary Rock Music Are This Year’s,” Billboard November 4, 1972, 19–20; “More Rock Wanted at Las Vegas Center,” Billboard, May 6, 1972, 16. 141 142

2  CITIES ONLY CAPITALISM COULD HAVE BUILT 

55

2.8   Conclusion For many people Monte Carlo and Las Vegas are not places to visit or mere gambling towns. They are home. People work, raise families, and build communities there. Capitalist urbanization, the dominance of consumer-­oriented policies and of private businesses over policymaking, city building, and the ordering of space, nonetheless, shaped both towns to almost unprecedented degrees. The SBM and various executives of the Strip built cities because they ran gambling businesses. They offered a service that came with a lot of scrutiny, especially from the very same groups to which they wanted to appeal: the middle classes. For executives, this entailed reaching beyond the walls of their respective establishments. Their motives were diverse, complex, and particular to the time and circumstances. They nonetheless had a great deal in common. At the heart of the matter was control, or rather trying to achieve it. Control over movement to and within the casino city, economic practices that could either help or hinder the gambling business, and feelings, that, if left unchecked, might inhibit people from trying their luck at the tables. It was not enough that the individual casinos were run as legitimate businesses and fit the patterns of middle-class consumption habits. Their surrounding city spaces had to emulate an idealized version of the social world in which the respective middle classes imagined that they lived. For Monte Carlo that meant the mimicking of the modern metropolis with its touristic infrastructures, consumption spaces, and architectural forms, yet without the flipside of a growing mass of workers, and unpleasant social and cultural consequences. For the Strip, it meant the suburban bubble of white-picket fences, car culture, and isolation from crowded inner cities, paired with big-city nightclub entertainment. The city space had to transform tourists into gamblers. It was the prerequisite of then stepping into the casino in the first place. City space had to render locals invisible, be inaccessible for those who could not or would not patronize gambling establishments; yet it also had to remain accessible for potential customers. In Monte Carlo, this was possible because the princely government effectively shared its political power with the SBM in exchange for monetary gains. The Strip casinos carved out their city in a no man’s land and defended it from outside interference. In both cases, the private-public partnership was at times quite lopsided toward the casinos and always fragile. Monte Carlo and the Strip were sights of contestation, as much as spaces of cooperation between state authorities and

56 

P. FRANKE

private enterprises. In many cases, the line between both categories blurred. Executives switched fluidly between their roles as casino managers and city builders. The comparison between Monte Carlo and Las Vegas thus shows two important developments in the history of consumer capitalism. First, it shows how it not only furthered commodification, but also how it created and embedded consumption experiences within a particular space. Monte Carlo and the Strip were planned and built to produce experiences by scripting spaces, which in turn had to be controlled by entrepreneurs. Secondly, the comparison questions the notion that the process of de-­ industrialization that took place in Europe and North America after 1970 was a watershed moment in the urban histories of these regions. Monte Carlo already showed many characteristics that scholars have attributed to historical shifts and de-industrialization, including the role of consumption in urban planning.

CHAPTER 3

Monte Carlo Casino (1863–1911): Creating a Bourgeois Gambling Experience Under Capitalist Conditions

The Monte Carlo casino (Fig.  3.1) as a consumption space produced a bourgeois gambling experience and provided its visitors with a stage for class performance. Class became a crucial aspect of casino culture. Bourgeois visitors to Monte Carlo emulated the upper classes but on their own terms. They did this despite the fact of also developing a growing confidence in their own distinctive middle-class leisure, consumption, and overall cultural practices and values. From the mid-nineteenth century onward, European casinos began to cater more to the middle classes than to the older cercles privés, and Monte Carlo was no exception. The SBM flagship building provided foreign visitors with a highly artificial, aesthetically pleasing, carefully designed, and monitored environment of consumption. Gambling was integrated into other class-performing leisure practices: patrons visited the spa, dined out, stayed in grand hotels, and even engaged in pigeon shootings on the casino terrace, thereby encroaching on previously aristocratic spaces and leisure pastimes.1 By incorporating, such activities into a gambling experience, the SBM sought to legitimize games of chance in Monte Carlo. In doing so, they also changed the experience of the games themselves.2 No casino manager, however, simply imposed an experience: they built upon existing tastes and expectations and gave them a particular shape. 1 2

 Dreiser and Schmidt, A Traveler at Forty, 384; Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary, 8.  Thrift, “The Material Practices of Glamour,” 9–10.

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 P. Franke, Feeling Lucky, Worlds of Consumption, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-33095-7_3

57

58 

P. FRANKE

Fig. 3.1  The Monte Carlo casino in 1912. The main entrance was located north, the terrace and theatre in the south. The main gambling room, the so-called kitchen, was composed of the Salon Renaissance, the Salle Mauresque and Salle Garniers (later renamed Salle Schmitt in 1898). The more private Salles Touzet featured primarily trente-et-quarante. The Salle Blanche is seen to the south of the Salle Garnier. Self-made illustration based on depiction in Smith, Monaco and Monte Carlo

Scholars of the history and theory of consumption have pointed out that consumption is a dialectic process. Consumers and producers shape it in constant interaction. This held true for gambling at Monte Carlo as well.3 The script as designed by the SBM laid out how people should move and how they should feel, so that a critical mass of patrons would enforce the scripts by their behavior. The SBM wanted to create a setting to inspire such emotions as suspense, playfulness adventurism, and excitement, but counterbalanced by a sense of security and familiarity. The executives also sought to manage the complex business model of a modern casino with its constant movement of people and money. As the  profitability  of  modern  casino ventures depended on continuous playing activity  by patrons, maintaining order represented a challenge. It required enough safety measures for people to feel secure, without becoming to intrusive. This required a mix of subtle, along with obvious, and ritualized security policies and actions, embedded within the space itself. The SBM dedicated considerable energy to 3

 Ruppert, The Moral Economy of Cities, 210.

3  MONTE CARLO CASINO (1863–1911): CREATING A BOURGEOIS GAMBLING… 

59

combining these factors into one script that was grounded in architectural elements and interactions with them. The casino depended on communicating and enforcing how patrons used the casino space and behaved on the casino floor. The decisions consumers made, the behaviors in which they engaged, and the sensory impressions they took away could be constantly observed and monitored by other people. Hence, as a group consumers participated in producing an emotional atmosphere. This simultaneously changed the experience for others. The SBM could not permit unmonitored or uncontrolled behavior to take place within their most important spaces.4 The casino building’s construction is more than just an episode of architectural history. It is indicative of the SBM’s practices and priorities. The company wanted a casino building that had enough gambling opportunities to satisfy the growing bourgeois market and an emotional atmosphere and spatial script that these visitors could decode and follow. Individual design decisions give insights into how the SBM wanted to transform games of chance by infusing them with meaning, in order to try to guide patrons’ movements and connecting the casino to the city space of Monte Carlo. The production of a consumption experience was not defined in advance on a drawing board and then simply made real. It was the result of constant experimentation and adaptation, of trial and error.

3.1   The Atrium: Transforming Visitors into Gamblers After visitors arrived at Monte Carlo, spent some time in their mansion, hotel, or apartment, took a walk along the boulevard, they eventually stepped into the casino. Passing through the main entrance (Fig.  3.2), 4  David Bell and Gill Valentine, Consuming Geographies: We Are Where We Eat (London, New York: Routledge, 1997), 124–125; David Kranes, “Play Grounds,” Journal of Gambling Studies 11, no.1 (1995): 91–95; Ben Malbon, “The Club: Clubbing: Consumption, Identity and the Spatial Practices of Every-Night Life,” in Cool Cultures: Geographies of Youth Cultures, eds. Tracey Skelton and Gill Valentine, (London, New York: Routledge, 1998), 271–273; Andreas Reckwitz, “Affective Spaces: A Praxeological Outlook,” Rethinking History 16, no.2 (2012): 254–256; Thrift, “The Material Practices of Glamour,” 10–12; Jeffrey J. Sallaz, The Labor of Luck: Casino Capitalism in the United States and South Africa (Berkeley, CA.: University of California Press, 2009), 12–14; Lizabeth Cohen, “Citizens and Consumers in the United States in the Century of Mass Consumption,” in The Politics of Consumption, 203–210.

60 

P. FRANKE

Fig. 3.2  The main entrance at the place du casino of the Monte Carlo Casino ca.1890. The atrium would have been right behind the main entrance. One can see the expanding rooms on the left-hand side, stretching eastward. The casino would grow even further in the upcoming decades. Casino van Monte Carlo Monte-Carlo Entrée du Casino (titel op object), G.J., RP-F-F16553

they were briefly subjected to a security check before entering a world of its own. The patrons’ visceral impressions of the atrium come across palpably in their firsthand accounts: “The atmosphere thickens,” travel writer Adolphe Smith observed in 1913. To him, it seemed to grow “heavy and overpowering like a drug.”5 He intuited the script embedded within the room. Smith continues: “There is something in the atmosphere that is strange and compelling; you realize that you are approaching the heart of something, that you are coming near the center of a system of tides and currents and influences.” These immaterial forces guided him to the

5

 Smith, Monaco and Monte Carlo, 376.

3  MONTE CARLO CASINO (1863–1911): CREATING A BOURGEOIS GAMBLING… 

61

gambling tables, pulling him to the green cloth like a “magnet.”6 Smith’s account gives some insights into the powerful allure the casino developed via its design and spatial arrangements. The atrium was big—almost imposing—immediately recognizable, exclusive, yet not intimidating. The hall connected the theatre in the south with the gambling rooms in the east. Visitors who turned to the left after entering the atrium could immediately see the gambling rooms. It featured 28 black marble columns, a high gallery on the upper floor, and chandeliers made from bronze (Fig. 3.3). Mirrors and an abundance of gold brightened and widened the room. It was an old trick: The reflections of light and the mirror-covered walls gave the illusion of grandness

Fig. 3.3  The atrium between 1890 and 1900. The SBM offices are located on the second level. One can see the headlight and lamps that countered the gloomy atmosphere the SBM worried would discourage potential gamblers. Casino entrance, atrium, Monte Carlo, Riviera, ca. 1890. (Between and Ca. 1900) Photograph. https://www.loc.gov/item/2001699319/

6

 Smith, Monaco and Monte Carlo, 376.

62 

P. FRANKE

and hid spatial constraints.7 Control and security were hidden in plain sight: the cloakroom and the office of the government commissionaire were located near the entrance, the offices of the SBM were above, in the gallery on the second floor. The administration oversaw everything from there, standing literally and figuratively guard over the masses entering their casino and headquarters.8 The gambling rooms were on the visitors left, the huge doors usually open. Roulette games could be heard and seen immediately after entering.9 In the atrium people encountered other gamblers, talking in hushed voices, socializing, and strategizing on how to snatch victory from Fortuna. Among the, predominantly male, bourgeois patrons, some women could be seen, some of whom were undoubtedly the (in)famous demi-mondaines, the courtesans. Like the city space of Monte Carlo, its casino featured a powerful script aimed at producing a gambling experience, by controlling movements, feelings, and practices. The script was devised to appeal to male, heterosexual bourgeois gamblers. The architecture of the atrium and the atmosphere of it were not supposed to be universal but to appeal to the primary market of the SBM.10 The casinos wanted to script the emotions of the bourgeois gambling crowd specifically, which required specific design choices. This is most reflected in the plans of 1878 and 1879. During these years, Charles Garnier and Jules Dutrou conceived of the atrium as the entry point to the “dream world” of the casino, transforming bourgeois visitors into gamblers.11 Garnier in particular had very specific plans concerning the atmosphere that the atrium’s architecture was to convey: “The glittering lights, the splendid attire, the animated and joyous faces, the meetings exchanged—all these elements together will create a festive atmosphere  Braude, Spinning Wheels, 104–106.  Révoil, Monaco et Monte-Carlo, 195–205; Pickering, Monaco, 71–74; Jean-Francois Pinchon, “Monte-Carlo: Le Triomphe de l’Éclectisme,” Monuments Historiques No. 175 (1991): 79–82. 9  Braude, Spinning wheels, 104–106; Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary, 113–121. 10  Corti, Zauberer von Homburg, 174; Pickard, Monaco, 166–167; Folli Andrea and Gisella Merello, “Les Fastes des Salles Garnier au Casino de Monte-Carlo,” in Les Riviera de Charles Garnier et Gustave Eiffel: Le Rêve de la Raison, eds. Jean-Lucien Bonillo et  al., 112–137 (Marseille: Éd. Imbernon, 2004), 116–119; Ralph Tegtmeier, Casino: Die Welt der Spielbanken—Spielbanken Der Welt (Köln: DuMont, 1989), 39–42. 11  Daniel Aubry, “Le Casino de Monte-Carlo par l’Image,” Annales Monégasques: Revue d’Histoire de Monaco, no.22 (1998): 8–10; Mari, L’Opéra de Monte-Carlo, 20–28. 7 8

3  MONTE CARLO CASINO (1863–1911): CREATING A BOURGEOIS GAMBLING… 

63

intended for pleasure.”12 The SBM and their architects aimed at putting visitors into an emotional state in which they would engage in gambling as a form of hedonistic consumption. The space therefore constantly exposed the crowd to it. As Smith’s observations reveal, guests felt compelled to eventually move on to the gambling rooms that seemed to reach out into the atrium. The mirrors were another distinct design elements meant to appeal to the middle classes; they literally enabled a mode of see-and-­ being-seen, associated with the bourgeoisie as French sociologist Jean Baudrillard points out.13 The SBM executives and the architects they hired shared the belief that a particular emotional atmosphere was integral to the creation of gambling as a consumption experience. They therefore sought to monitor and control social interaction that took place between guests and players within the space. The casino’s administration discouraged people from talking, eating, reading, or mingling in the gambling rooms, as they were solely intended for the games. Hence, the atrium was the dedicated space for these bourgeois practices. At the same time, they also kept people from leaving the casino premises.14 The SBM supported this by serving buffet dinners in the evening hours.15 In the atrium, some visitor would assemble in small groups chatting and smoking, while others would (re)enter the gambling rooms after attending an act of an opera in the theatre or taking a stroll in the gardens. Gambling was not absent from the atrium at any point though. Late nineteenth-century commentators noted that the games were the dominant topic of conversation.16 Socializing in the atrium was itself a distinct practice of the middle classes in which conversation in public consumption spaces like the café, the hotel, or the club took center stage.17 The French poet Stéphen Liégeard portrayed the atrium in the 1890s as a space in which to flirt, joke, smoke, read, converse, and socialize with peers. He also pointed out

12  Folli Andrea and Gisella Merello, “Les Fastes des Salles Garnier au Casino de MonteCarlo,” in Les Riviera de Charles Garnier et Gustave Eiffel, 118–119. 13  Jean Baudrillard, The System of Objects (London: Verso, 2005), 21. 14  Folli Andrea and Gisella Merello, “Les Fastes des Salles Garnier au Casino de MonteCarlo,” in Les Riviera de Charles Garnier et Gustave Eiffel, 116–119. 15  Laplace, Les Hôtels d’Hier & Aujourd’hui à Monaco, 19. 16  Paul Renouard, “A Visit to Monte Carlo,” The Graphic, February 6, 1886, 157–160. 17  Mackaman, Leisure Settings, 120.

64 

P. FRANKE

that the line between pleasure and social duty to engage in these activities remained fluid.18 Just as the town of Monte Carlo did, the casino atrium appealed in its design to a cosmopolitan crowd, bringing together elements from various styles in order to inspire associations in their bourgeois visitors with the exotic and the empire. Monaco too was represented in a highly stylized, fantasy version for bourgeois tourists: two paintings hanging in the atrium showed an idealized panoramic view of Monaco, replete with a romanticized scene of local peasants picking olives.19 There were practical reasons why the SBM chose to limit the presence of locals and foreign laborers to picturesque paintings. For although they constituted the bulk of the labor that made the bourgeois gambling experience possible, they themselves were not permitted to gamble or participate in that experience. Their depiction, however, helped in the staging of empire for the bourgeois clientele. European visitors themselves regarded the Monegasque people as racially ambiguous, if not downright suspicious. British writer Evelyn Waugh noted, for example, that the Monte Carlo project was also François Blanc’s civilizing mission, targeting “the frugal Italian Monegasques.”20 Others, especially British visitors, noted in their writings the supposed mixed-heritage of the locals, mostly referring to “Saracen blood,” and thus some sort of Arabic ancestry.21 Liégeard pointed out how the casino was devoid of Monegasque people, because their supposed racial heritage made them barely European.22 The atrium appeared as the center of the imperial world of the Belle Époque, bringing together “men and women from North and South and East and West, from San Francisco and St Petersburg.”23 In 1913 American writer Theodore Dreiser noted how styles in the atrium blended into one cosmopolitan, opulent mixture of references to imperial France, Italy, and Byzantium.24 The purpose was not lost on contemporaries. The Austrian writer Arnold Blankenfeld, for example, wrote in his critique of Monte Carlo the same year that the atrium was “Europe’s anti-chambre,” hinting 18  Stéphen Liégeard “Untitled Memoire,” January 25, 1879, quoted in Stéphan Liégard, La Côte D’azur (Paris: Quantin, 1887), 256. 19  Pickering, Monaco, 72–73. 20  Jackson, Inside Monte Carlo, 228. 21  Pickard, Monaco, 112, Smith, Monaco, 42. 22  Liégeard, Côte d’Azur, 264. 23  Smith, Monaco, 376. 24  Dreiser and Schmidt, A Traveler at Forty, 382.

3  MONTE CARLO CASINO (1863–1911): CREATING A BOURGEOIS GAMBLING… 

65

at its cosmopolitan appeal. Its real purpose, however, he wrote, was to expose people to the gambling rooms, to create an “excuse” for people to venture to the games. No one could pass by the atrium, whether they wanted to see a play, order a drink, meet friends, or read a paper. He wrote how one would already see, even feel, the gaming tables here. The space, in his words, was both “smart” and “diabolically” planned. It guided effectively, because it did so with “a soft touch.”25 In this case, the Monte Carlo casino used imperialist and orientalist designs that served imperialist fantasies for the purpose of boosting gambling consumption. The impression the architecture made nonetheless depended on the eye of the beholder. In the 1870s and 1880s some visitors described how they were immediately overwhelmed and fascinated by the rich décor upon entering the casino. Others complained that the pomp irritated them, an impression over which casino architects expressed constant concern.26 The atrium remained a transitional space, a soft barrier between the town of Monte Carlo and the gambling rooms. Before going there, however, the imagined visitor would have turned their attention to the theatre, right behind the line of black, onyx columns.

3.2   The Theatre: Making Entertainment Work for the Production of Gambling Experiences A turn-of-the-century postcard satirically depicts Romanian opera director Raoul Gunsbourg holding gambling utensils in his hand, standing next to the body of a dead man who apparently killed himself because of his gambling debt. The opera director towers over the suicide victim, together with François Blanc and Charles III, the initiators of the gambling resorts. Gunsbourg, embodying Monte Carlo’s art culture, is shown sharing responsibility with the prince who turned the principality into a casino resort and the entrepreneur who founded the gambling house. That a popular medium like the postcard used this depiction hints at how well

25  Arnold Blankenfeld, Monte Carlo: Land Und Leute, Spiel und Spieler (Berlin: Pormetter, 1913), 102–103. 26  Révoil, Monaco et Monte-Carlo, 199–205; Pickering, Monaco, 71–74; Pinchon, “MonteCarlo,” 79–82.

66 

P. FRANKE

critics understood the opera’s role in the SBM operation and how much its director contributed to the allure of the casino.27 Monte Carlo’s theatre was an integral part of the casino. Both figuratively and literally, casino and opera formed one single complex, contributing to the modular, eclectic structure of the building.28 Like the atrium, the opera was of critical importance for the casino as a whole, as it contributed directly to the construction of a spatial script and consumption experience.29 The SBM used it to put visitors into a gambling mood, to channel movement, and to legitimize games of chance by association with well-­ established forms of entertainment. The opera also represented a distinctly bourgeois space, where knowledge of music and literature as well as the social space of the auditorium corresponded with bourgeois tastes of the Belle Époque. The schedule of the gambling season dominated the construction of the building. Work began in the spring of 1878. Charles Garnier and his staff worked in multiple shifts, day and night, because the Frenchmen wanted to finish before the tourist season started. Low-wage Italian laborers were essential for the building process, as was the extension of working hours with the help of artificial light. Most of the more sophisticated pieces of art that were meant to impress the cosmopolitan visitors were finished in Paris and then transported to Monaco.30 The new post-­François Blanc leadership, specifically his widow Marie and his lieutenants Bertaro and Wagatha, saw gambling as dependent on entertainment and wanted to see rapid progress.31 In January 1879, the 600-seat opera opened.32 The whole construction process cost more than five million francs. 33 The resources put into the opera were an investment into the SBM’s primary

27  “La Ruine à Monte-Carlo” as depicted in: Thomas Fouilleron, Histoire de Monaco: Manuel pour l’Enseignement Secondaire, (Monaco: Direction de l’Éducation Nationale, de la Jeunesse et des Sports, 2016), 230; Monika Cure, “Text With a View: Turn-of-the-Century Literature and the Invention of the Postcard,” (PhD diss, University of Southern California, August 2012), 19–62; Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary, 202–204. 28  Pinchon, “Monte-Carlo,” 79–82. 29  Braude, Spinning Wheels, 73. 30  Pinchon, “Monte-Carlo,” 76; Andrea and Merello, “Les Fastes des Salles Garnier au Casino de Monte-Carlo,” in Les Riviera de Charles Garnier et Gustave Eiffel, 118–126. 31  Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary, 102–107. 32  Fielding, The Money Spinner, 80–83; Pinchon, “Monte-Carlo,” 76. 33  Andrea and Merello, “Les Fastes des Salles Garnier au Casino de Monte-Carlo,” in Les Riviera de Charles Garnier et Gustave Eiffel, 118–126.

3  MONTE CARLO CASINO (1863–1911): CREATING A BOURGEOIS GAMBLING… 

67

business model, showing that the production of gambling experiences was an essential to the company. Garnier also added additional elements to the orientalist, Moorish theme. His designs included two small minarets on the roof above the concert hall, which became one of the most recognizable features of the Monte Carlo casino. This choice fit the pattern of the time, as orientalist architecture was en vogue in spa settings and corresponded with the imperial fantasies of the European bourgeoisie.34 For contemporary visitors the design and artworks inside the theatre reflected “the real spirit of a casino, and suggest a moment of reckless enjoyment.”35 Orientalist designs could also be found in the gambling rooms and the façade of the casino, making it a key element for the atmosphere of the whole building. The Terre Provençale, a French travel guide from 1894, remarked how the theatre and the whole city space evoked “dreams of the Orient” in visitors.36 These designs were not particularly innovative. Garnier’s aim was to enhance the gambling experience in a way that visitors could easily understand. He thus sought to appeal to this established bourgeois tastes and cultural codes.37 As with the gardens, casino authorities reflected on even minute details. Marie Blanc, for example, objected to the use of too much gold in the opera room decorations, as she feared that it would remind the gamblers of the money they had lost.38 In practical terms, the theatre had to incorporate features that other great music houses of Europe did not. The theatre was not meant to be self-sufficient; rather, the SBM intended it to boost gambling consumption, a fact that the government, and even the directors of the opera like Gunsbourg, articulated frequently in internal reports.39 The opera was a bourgeois cultural and social space. Access to its pleasures provided them with the cultural capital that they valued. It was also 34  Jean-Michel Leniaud, “Le Choix Du Sud: Architectures D’art Et D’argent,” in Les Riviera de Charles Garnier et Gustave Eiffel: Le Rêve de la Raison, eds. Jean-Lucien Bonillo et  al., (Marseille: Éd. Imbernon, 2004), 165; Mari, L’Opéra de Monte-Carlo, 20–28; Fielding, The Money Spinner, 80–83. 35  Smith, Monaco, 317. 36  Paul Marriéton, La Terre Provençale: Journal De Route, 3rd (Paris: Passage Choiseul, 1894), 306–307. 37  Pinchon, “Monte-Carlo,” 81–82. 38  Jackson, Inside Monte Carlo, 46–47. 39  Archives du Palais Princier, D20-33, Rapports du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino. See the reports dated November 17, 1903, February 17, 1903, October 2, 1903; January 3, 1902. Mari, L’Opéra de Monte-Carlo, 12–14, 29–46.

68 

P. FRANKE

a link between sociability and class-coded leisure practices of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Gamblers and prospective gamblers usually attended concerts together during brief pauses from the action at the tables. The crowd of gamblers and concertgoers united on the casino premise, with the latter now being able to join the former in much the same fashion as they did in the auditorium. A strict social hierarchy, like the one of the Paris opera that Garnier had also built, was missing. Apart from the fact that the princely family had their own theatre box and that the SBM managers and government officials had their own seats, there was no hierarchical seating distribution along class lines. This, however, was no democratic project. The casino building and the city itself had already led to a mostly bourgeois crowd filling the ranks. Equality here meant being a consumer.40 The low or absent admission prices played into the casino’s bourgeois plutocratic policies and went hand in hand with the “first come first serve” style of seat selection.41 Even the schedules that Gunsbourg and his predecessors as opera directors devised were meant to encourage gambling. The latest shows took place only minutes before the last train left Monte Carlo. This left people stranded at the casino, where they could then gamble until the early hours.42 This is another example how a script could guide movements and practices without being regarded as an intrusive or restrictive measure. The lack of distinction between visitors to the opera and gamblers was part of the overall script embedded in the spatial layout. Patrons had to go through the main entrance and, the atrium, thereby exposing themselves to the sensorial impressions of the gambling rooms. The sounds of the nearby gambling tables, the sights of the gambling masses, the rich décor and design of the opera house that continued in the Salle Mauresque—the roulette room—were meant to inspire orientalist fantasies and encourage hedonistic behavior.43 In 1928 a former croupier described the theatre as an essential part of the casino complex that served the SBM’s aim of 40  Folli Andrea and Gisella Merello, “Monte Carlo Casino: Architectural Evolution and Projects (1856–1914)” in Monacopolis: Architecture, Urbanisme et Urbanisation à Monaco, Réalisations et projets, 1858–2012, ed. Nathalie Rosticher, (Monaco: Nouveau Musée National de Monaco, 2013), 570. 41  Braude, Spinning Wheels, 71; Sarah Zalfen, Staats-Opern? Der Wandel von Staatlichkeit und die Opernkrisen in Berlin, London und Paris am Ende des 20. Jahrhunderts (Wien: Böhlau, 2011), 184–214, 242–265. 42  Mari, L’Opéra de Monte-Carlo, 20–28. 43  Mari, L’Opéra de Monte-Carlo, 20–28.

3  MONTE CARLO CASINO (1863–1911): CREATING A BOURGEOIS GAMBLING… 

69

keeping people at the gambling tables.44 In 1890, one journalist described the cosmopolitan and social character of Monte Carlo and how the interior and exterior of the casino formed a single, unified space dedicated to gambling as “a world apart, in which nevertheless all other worlds mingle—a world truly apart from other worlds.” People came together, however, as consumers, more specifically as gamblers. As he noted guests quickly succumbed to the allure of gambling once they entered the space, “Within these halls of entertainment, in which the guests are of every nation and every grade, but all united in one common interest.”45 That interest was of course gambling. In the minds of the SBM leadership, as long as people were exposed to other people playing games in a fantasy world-like atmosphere, they would also return to the tables and inspire others to join.46 The entertainment, and the fluent borders between theatre and gambling rooms, is a persistent theme in observations about Monte Carlo.47 Internal reports from 1864 to 1904 indicate that the SBM saw its opera—and indeed most musical performances—as little more than incentives to get people to gamble.48 The goal of inspiring bourgeois guests to gamble also guided the choice of music. The SBM decided what kind of entertainment was provided in the theatre, including the length of the pieces, the genre, and the performances. Its goal was the same as with the architecture: creating an atmosphere that would encourage visitors to gamble. Internal reports show that the company wanted to achieve this by favoring short, easy, and popular pieces of music that dealt with lighthearted subjects, rather than lengthy, intellectually complex performances. The shows had to be accessible not just in terms of admission but also in popularity. This is why most of the big, experimental, or complicated productions rarely found their

 De Ketchiva, Confessions of a Croupier, 28–29.  Alphonse Karr “The Gambling Rooms of Monte Carlo,” The Graphic, November 29, 1890, 16–21. 46  Braude, Spinning Wheels, 73. 47  Dreiser and Schmidt, A Traveler at Forty, 387. 48  Archives du Palais Princier, D20-6, Rapports mensuels du Comissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, No.206, October 29, 1864; Archives du Palais Princier, D20-33, Rapports du Comissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, February 17, 1904; Archives du Palais Princier, D2-330, Rapports du Comissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, December 1, 1902. 44 45

70 

P. FRANKE

way on the opera’s schedule.49 Reports from the casino show that the administration did not concern itself so much with the individual pieces, as they did to the genre, which had to reflect the relaxed and pleasurable atmosphere that the SBM wanted to create.50 In December 1902, for example, the theatre hosted a great number of opera comiques, operettas, and two classical concerts.51 In the first weeks of February 1903, eight comedies were performed, with only one complete classical concert.52 Genres like comedies, vaudeville, and operettas were the forms of entertainment with which most bourgeois visitors were comfortable.53 Performances of just a couple of songs or only one or two acts were also common; this ensured that people could go back to the tables in time. Shows in Monte Carlo usually drew little acclaim from critics, who acknowledged that they were entertaining and accessible, but hardly anything more.54 The subjects completed the architecture by focusing on orientalist themes, in extravagant costumes and set pieces. Serge Diaghilev and the “Ballet Russe” performed sexually suggestive and orientalist pieces, like Cléopâtre and Schéhéraza.55 American newspapers and commentators noted “Russo-Oriental” and Eastern influences on the costumes in Monte Carlo’s ballets.56 These oriental themes were also dominant in the gambling rooms, especially the first one that people entered: the Salle Mauresque.

49  “Courier des Theatres-Monte Carlo,” Le Figaro, February 7, 1889, 3; B. Jouvin “Lettre Musical,” Le Figaro, April 5, 1869, 1. 50  See, for example: Archives du Palais Princier, D20-33, Rapports du Comissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, December 1, 1902; Archives du Palais Princier, D20-33, Rapports du Comissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, No. 599, January 3, 1902; Archives du Palais Princier, D2-33, Rapports du Comissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, December 11, 1903. 51  Archives du Palais Princier, D 2033, Rapports du Comissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, December 1, 1902. 52  Archives du Palais Princier, D 20-33- Rapports du Comissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, February 17, 1903. 53  Braude, Spinning Wheels, 71. 54  “Courier des Theatres-Monte Carlo,” Le Figaro, February 7, 1889, 3; Jouvin “Lettre musical,” in Le Figaro April 5, 1869. 55  Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary, 307; Jackson, Inside Monte Carlo, 108–114; Chazin-Bennahum, René Blum and the Ballets russes, 75. 56  Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary, 309–310.

3  MONTE CARLO CASINO (1863–1911): CREATING A BOURGEOIS GAMBLING… 

71

3.3   The Gambling Rooms: Controlling Consumption by Controlling Consumers The casinos of the Belle Époque shared some similarities with the department store, another space linked to late-nineteenth-century consumption culture and capitalism. Both were dedicated to serving the mass market in conjunction with the emerging urban pleasures of the turn of the century. In such a space, gamblers could act as self-confident consumers, which is how the casino treated them. Like in the department store, the consumer made their choice in a meticulously designed public space. Casino and department store were characterized by a tension between consumers’ autonomy, channeled movement, and scripted economic conduct. They had to host vast numbers of customers that had to be monitored and guided, and a workforce that had to be present, yet not detract from the hedonistic atmosphere.57 The spatial and emotional script of the Monte Carlo casino had to bridge these juxtapositions. The biggest gambling rooms, the Salle Garnier and Salle Mauresque (Fig. 3.4), were therefore not socially exclusive.58 Rather, they were dominated by people of the bourgeois middle classes, who could experience gambling here in a way that appealed to their tastes and allowed them to emulate an aristocratic lifestyle. The casino company aimed at maximizing their profits by providing a context and possibility of doing just that. Garnier and Dutrou conceived the gambling rooms’ designs to attract small-sum gamblers and tourists, the most profitable group of players since 1830s, the decade in which France banned casino gambling.59

57  Braude, Spinning wheels, 87–89; Jan Whitaker, Wunderwelt Warenhaus: Eine Internationale Geschichte (Hildesheim: Gerstenberg Verlag, 2013), 101–104; Geoffrey Crossick and Serge Jaumain, “The World of the Department Store: Distribution, Culture and Social Change,” in Cathedrals of Consumption: The European Department Store, 1850–1939, eds. Geoffrey Crossick and Serge Jaumain (Aldershot, Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2002), 10–16, 28–29; Iarocci, The Urban Department Store in America, 108–122, 155–160; Hetherington, Capitalism’s Eye, 107–120. 58  Fielding, The Money Spinner, 108–112. 59  Fuhs, Mondäne Orte einer vornehmen Gesellschaft, 153–156; Tegtmeier, Casino, 20–21; Jackson, Inside Monte Carlo, 127–129. For the modern casino as a place of mass tourism, see David Blackbourn, “Fashionable Spa Towns in Nineteenth-Century Europe,” in Water, Leisure and Culture, 14–15.

72 

P. FRANKE

Fig. 3.4  The Salle Mauresque in the Monte Carlo casino was the central gambling room. It featured roulette, the game of the masses, and evoked visions of empire via its orientalist design. Interieur van de Salle Mauresque in het Monte Carlo Casino. Principauté de Monaco. - Casino de Monte-Carlo, Salle Mauresque, by Étienne Neurdein, RP-F-F01182-AP

The gambling rooms also contributed to the production of a bourgeois, legitimate consumption experience.60 After the last big extension of the casino in 1910, the Monte Carlo casino featured six gambling rooms.61 Similar to the overall casino structure, they changed their form and relationship to the casino’s space. These changes often related to newly emerging styles of gambling, to the social groups playing in the casino, and to some of the challenges, with which the SBM had to deal in order to preserve the consumption experience. 60  Fonds Régional, Fonds patrimonial, Stewart R.  Clough, Les Tables de Jeux a MonteCarlo, (Cannes: Robaudy), 2–4; Fielding, The Money Spinner, 107. 61  Aubry, “Le Casino de Monte-Carlo par l’Image,” 8.

3  MONTE CARLO CASINO (1863–1911): CREATING A BOURGEOIS GAMBLING… 

73

3.3.1   The “Kitchen”: Gambling for the Masses in the Salle Mauresque and the Salle Garnier Stepping into the main gambling room, one visitor from 1882 remarked, it was like stepping into a fantasy of “Arabian nights.” He immediately recognized what role architecture played in this, as he pointed out that it “strengthens this dreamlike effect” on him.62 Dozens of chandeliers hung from the ceiling; natural light broke through the sunroof and were reflected from lavish gold and arabesque ornaments. The Mudéjar-style doorways signaled the orientalist character, as did numerous paintings with oriental subjects. At the heart of the room stood a number of big roulette tables, the most popular game. Sofas and rows of seats along the wall waited for those who watched the spectacular wins and much more frequent devastating losses of the gamblers that flocked to the green cloth. A tropical plant brought a fragrant and colorful element from the gardens into the casino. Between the 1860s and 1913, these designs were deliberately chosen and changed frequently.63 Their purpose was to produce a gambling experience that built upon orientalist fantasies, the hedonism with which it was associated, and to suggest that Monte Carlo offered a safe, legitimate spectacle for the bourgeois masses that were the target market of the SBM.64 The so-called kitchen, officially Salle Mauresque, or the Moorish room, Salle Garnier, and later still the Salle Schmitt, was the biggest of the gambling rooms. Unlike the more exclusive gambling that took place in the circle privé and circle super-privé in the adjacent rooms, the “kitchen” was where the vast majority of middle-class visitors gambled, watched the gambling, or marveled at the orientalist and extravagant designs.65 The frequent remodeling of the room reveals that the Monte Carlo gambling experience was not static, not something perpetuated on its own, but something that had to be maintained, reestablished, reimagined, and even defended. The architects regarded the gambling rooms as their top  Pickering, Monaco, 67.  Fielding, The Money Spinner, 56–57. 64   Aubry, “Le Casino de Monte-Carlo par l’Image,” 29; Braude, Making Monte Carlo, 65–67. 65  Archives du Palais Princier, D20-9, Rapports mensuels du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, No. 843, December 22, 1877, Archives du Palais Princier, D20-9, Rapports mensuels du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, No. 840, December 1, 1877; Archives du Palais Princier, D20-35, Rapports du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, No. 188, April 2, 1908. 62 63

74 

P. FRANKE

priority. 66 The architecture of the gambling rooms had the economic purpose of maximizing gambling yields.67 The casino administration thus took great interest in the designs and ultimately approved of the decisions.68 Internal reports from the casino in 1878 reveal that the SBM was quite pleased with the Salle Mauresque. Its location, design, and appeal to visitors received high praise. The government and SBM expected gambling activity to increase soon after the completion of the redesign.69 Paintings and décor not only set the stage for the script, but they themselves were part of it. The gilded Italian paintings in the Salon Renaissance, the classical French paintings in the Salle Garnier, and the pseudo-­Moorish theme throughout embedded narratives, fantasies, and emotions in the space, for a clientele that could read and to decipher them.70 Important elements were the colorful floors, wood paneling, and big windows; the room featured mirrors at the northern and southern edges of the space to make the room appear wider and more open.71 It was richly decorated with gold and featured imagery of the four seasons. The SBM saw it as so important that they completed its construction within three months.72 The orientalist influence, an appeal to fantasies about the Orient as a mystical, romantic, yet archaic space of male wish fulfillment, was underlined by the pseudo-Moorish designs.73 The imagery corresponded with fantasies of empire that the bourgeois gamblers harbored and created associations with the supposedly lavish, decadent East. Visitors regarded the gardens outside as an “Arabian” dreamscape, supported by the casino 66  Folli Andrea and Gisella Merello, “Les Fastes des Salles Garnier au Casino de MonteCarlo,” in Les Riviera de Charles Garnier et Gustave Eiffel, 116–119; Fielding, The Money Spinner, 56–57. 67  Jean-Michel Leniaud, “Le Choix du Sud,” in Les Riviera de Charles Garnier et Gustave Eiffel, 165. 68  Archives du Palais Princier, D20-9, Rapports mensuels du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino No.881, September 21, 1878; Archives du Palais Princier, D2-9, Rapports mensuels du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, No. 887, November 2, 1878. 69  Archives du Palais Princier, D20-9, Rapports mensuels du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, No.888, November 9, 1878. 70  Braude, Spinning Wheels, 104–106. 71  Bibliothèque Nationale de France (BnF), Charles Garnier, Agrandissement du Casino de Monte Carlo: plan du projet n°3 : échelle 0,005 p. m., 1878–1879, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ ark:/12148/btv1b53069261v.r=garnier%20monte%20carlo?rk=1008588;4. 72  Andrea and Merello, “Les Fastes des Salles Garnier au Casino de Monte-Carlo,” in Les Riviera de Charles Garnier et Gustave Eiffel, 129–132. 73  Edward W. Said, Orientalism, (New York: Vintage, 2003), 1–4.

3  MONTE CARLO CASINO (1863–1911): CREATING A BOURGEOIS GAMBLING… 

75

building with Garnier’s small minarets like towers on its dome, the Moorish design of the Café Divan on the Place du Casino, and statues of golden, naked Nubian slaves at the entrance of the gambling house. 74 This colonial, orientalist “hedonism” relied on the implicit associations with these elements, which Garnier enforced even more overtly: one wood panel depicted a series themed around the “oriental” opium den.75 The SBM was pleased with Garnier’s work, despite critics pointing out that the glamor and décors lacked artistic vision. They scoffed at the gold and abundance ornamentation. The casino seemed to be “trying to be even more luxurious and refined than the Sun King himself.” They ridiculed the gaudiness of it and belittled the popular and extravagant style: “So this is the modern style that Garnier hopes to offer to our century in its quest for new references, and which has yet to find its own distinctive formula for new decorative arts! The new style of the 19th century? Keep on searching, my dear Garnier.”76 Garnier did not intend for the gambling rooms to be works of high art but instead designed them to have an impact on consumers’ behavior. He aimed to transform spectators and mere visitors into gamblers and to accentuate the emotional atmosphere of pleasure and hedonism. Thus, whatever the architecture lacked in artistic value it made up for with the sophistication of its function.77 In 1882, travel writer Thomas Pickering wrote about the difference between the older casino and the new renovations made by Dutrou and Garnier, pointing out that before 1863, people showed dissatisfaction with the building while now they would be “dazzled by all they see, for it is undoubtedly one of the most effective constructions of the present day.”78 Pickering’s comments suggest that he, like other patrons, could recognize the building’s spatial script and intended purpose. Révoil, in his accounts from the late 1870s, offers a telling description of the gambling rooms. His writings about the roulette room place gambling at the center of the whole spatial complex of Monte Carlo and reflect upon the Moorish theme. According to Révoil, it was 74  Fielding, The Money Spinner, 56–57; Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary, 125, 210; Jackson, Inside Monte Carlo, 46–47. 75  Dreiser and Schmidt, A Traveler at Forty, 105 76  Folli Andrea and Gisella Merello, “Les Fastes des Salles Garnier au Casino de MonteCarlo,” in Les Riviera de Charles Garnier et Gustave Eiffel, 131–134. 77  Jackson, Inside Monte Carlo, 46–47; Jean-Michel Leniaud, “Le Choix du Sud,” in Les Riviera de Charles Garnier et Gustave Eiffel, 165. 78  Pickering, Monaco, 68.

76 

P. FRANKE

obvious that the style was better suited than any other for evoking fantasies of pleasure and luxury and thus made it easier for visitors to play the games.79 While such descriptions have often been taken at face value as testaments to the beauty of Monte Carlo, they also show that the design of the gambling rooms aligned with the practical knowledge that contemporaries had of consumption spaces. In pursuit of pleasure, visitors could easily decode the meaning behind the architecture and follow the script.80 Not all people came to the casino to gamble. The “kitchen” was as much a place to observe and participate in spectacle as it was a place to consume. In Monte Carlo, the tables stood at the center of the room, thus becoming the visual focal point of the space. The open spaces between the tables supported this spatial order by allowing unobstructed movement between them. This arrangement also ensured that the gambling action remained accessible and visible to everyone. Compared to today’s casinos, the number of tables, a mere dozen in each room, seems small, but the tables themselves were very large and centralized even further the gambling that took place there, making it an activity that could be experienced by a crowd. In Monte Carlo players shared the space and the games they played with each other. They played as a collective, as opposed to the games designed to be played by individuals like blackjack that would later become popular in Vegas. Gambling in Monte Carlo could thus be integrated into the bourgeois sociability already present in the atrium, as it was performance of class carried out in a centralized and ritualized way.81 The SBM organized its gambling deliberately as highly standardized and ritualized with the well-established vocal commands of the croupiers giving structure to the individual consumption at the tables and to the casino space as a whole.82 The company enhanced the spectacle further: it had a mourning ritual. If a table’s cash reserves were depleted, the croupiers asked the gamblers to be quiet, before the usual “messieurs, faitez vos jeux.” would restart the games.83 The fact that François Blanc, as an experienced casino entrepreneur, interrupted the gambling speaks to how much importance he ascribed to the experience of gambling as a spectacle.84 Similar motives were behind his son and successor, Camille’s decision to  Révoil, Monaco et Monte-Carlo, 199–205.  Kranes, “Play Grounds,” 93–95. 81  Braude, Spinning Wheels, 101–104; Reith, The Age of Chance, 80–81. 82  Fielding, The Money Spinner, 113–115. 83  Polovtsoff, Monte Carlo Casino, 136–138; Dreiser and Schmidt, A Traveler at Forty, 386. 84  Polovtsoff, Monte Carlo Casino, 136–138. 79 80

3  MONTE CARLO CASINO (1863–1911): CREATING A BOURGEOIS GAMBLING… 

77

allow people to sell lucky charms on the casino floor, when he told croupiers to respect individual rituals and the eccentric behavior of gamblers as much as possible.85 Architecture could make only a limited contribution to the production of the consumption experience. The crowd’s behavior and those of the individuals within it also made a sizeable impact on how others around them perceived the space and the activities that took place there. The impressions people had of the gambling rooms could shift dramatically depending on the months they visited. For example, Pickard described that in February one could “get quite a thrill from the crowds around each table, the gorgeous and brightly lighted rooms, the subdued but continuous murmur from the players, the calls of the croupiers, and particularly, perhaps, from the extent of the brilliant scene.”86 The same space, however, could be “disappointing.” The lack of crowds and spectacle could have a negative impact on the visitors’ emotions: “the entrance room is clear of tables, and one walks across the vacant space rather dispiritedly to the lights and activity of Salle Schmidt [sic, the remodeled Salle Mauresque] beyond. Even here it is quite likely that only five or six tables will be in use, while the side rooms are almost certainly deserted.”87 The gambling experience depended on business practices, spectacle, and architecture, as well as on the visitors’ implicit cultural knowledge that enabled them to decode it. Players accustomed to other forms of gambling, such as Americans during the interwar era, had a hard time making sense of the space. Monte Carlo’s consumption experience, although built around familiar ideas like entertainment and mass tourism, often alienated them. Americans were less familiar with the underlying meanings of architecture and the emotional style of the whispering European gambler.88 Adaptation was key. The SBM could produce gambling experiences, but could not do so arbitrarily. The orientalist designs and the gambling spectacle depended on the values and tastes that made them decodable for the target market segment: the European bourgeoisie. When leisure patterns shifted, tastes changed, or new markets presented themselves, the SBM had to adapt the casino. The Salle Mauresque was no exception.

 Jackson, Inside Monte Carlo, 98–99.  Pickard, Monaco, 167–168. 87  Pickard, Monaco, 167–168. 88  Dreiser and Schmidt, A Traveler at Forty, 385–386. 85 86

78 

P. FRANKE

3.3.2   The Sale Rose: Gender and the Casino as a Male Space When wandering though the casino, gambling, listening to a comedic piece of music before making conversation in the atrium, under the watchful eyes of the ever-present casino detectives, visitors who ventured south of the Salle Schmitt would find themselves in a bright, white room, serving as smaller gambling room annex and bar. Its most impressive feature was a mural that depicted three naked women, in graceful poses modeled after the three graces. More sexually suggestive than the Botticelli original, Les Trois Graces Florentines by Paul-Jean-Louis Gervais is even today one of the most striking decorative elements at the Monte Carlo casino. More importantly, it offers a window into how notions about gender shaped the spatial production of gambling experiences here.89 The painting shows how the SBM incorporated male sexual fantasies into the buildings design, catering toward the male gaze, despite the fact that more and more women gained access to the casino as gamblers. The company struggled to differentiate between traveling women, female gamblers, and prostitutes, or demi-mondaines, who frequented the casino and the district surrounding it. Over time, they became part of the Monte Carlo’s allure. In general, the SBM could not outright ban women from the tables, but it implemented strategies to judge their “moral character” before letting them inside the casino. The idea of building a gambling room exclusively for women took shape under the leadership of Camille Blanc around the turn of the century. Camille responded to criticisms that the SBM was failing to provide space for female gamblers and consumers and thus to separate them from the demi-mondaines and prostitutes. The figure of the demi-mondaines and the history of the Sale Rose and Salle Blanche help explain how Monte Carlo coded gambling as male, heterosexual consumption experience.90 The demi-mondaines and the courtesans could usually be found in the casino atrium. Many visitors frowned upon these young women, dismissing them as questionable moral characters. They were nonetheless a staple in Monte Carlo. Especially at the turn of the century, many bourgeois commentators condemned the fact that, as somewhat respectable consumers, female gamblers had to share the same space with the deceitful 89  Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary, 113–121; Callais, “Quelque Pages du ll’Histoire des Grands Hôtels de la Principaute,” 2–3. 90  Jackson, Inside Monte Carlo, 34.

3  MONTE CARLO CASINO (1863–1911): CREATING A BOURGEOIS GAMBLING… 

79

demi-mondaines.91 At the same time, the courtesans had a distinctive place in the cosmopolitan pleasure culture.92 Famous demi-mondaines of the Belle Époque became something of an attraction at the casino. Among them were women like Liane de Pougy and Carolina la belle Otero, notorious courtesans who spent a lot of time in Monte Carlo and were embroiled in a spectacular rivalry that fueled rumors and stories in which the casino featured heavily.93 Not only did they frequent the atrium, but they also became part of the building itself. They are two of the three naked women featured in Les Trois Graces Florentines.94 The sight of Pougy and Otero in the flesh—fanciful or real—sparked outrage among many bourgeois visitors.95 The demi-mondaines were part of Monte Carlo and remained highly visible aspects of it. Yet for the casino’s bourgeois patrons, they also posed a threat to the legitimate consumption experience and were thus constantly under scrutiny. The casino itself was often feminized,96 referred to as a “siren,” as it drew innocent males to their doom.97 Camille Blanc’s initial idea to provide a gambling room for women was meant to protect the casino from bad press and give “respectable” women a place to enjoy games of chance. It is telling that the SBM president approached the issue from the perspective of space. His solution to the “problem” of women at the casino centered on building a new annex to the casino, the room next to the Salle Blanche. The Salle Blanche was first planned as a conversation and reading room, bringing these bourgeois leisure activities into the casino. In the end, however, it became a gambling room, showing once again that as much as the SBM tried to please middle-class tastes and sensibilities, gambling took precedence.98 The female gambling room, nevertheless, never  Blankenfeld, Monte Carlo, 155.  Claude Conyers, “Courtesans in Dance History: Les Belles de la Belle Époque,” Dance Chronicle 26 (2003), 219–230. 93  Fielding, The Money Spinner, 108–112. 94  Aubry, “Le Casino de Monte-Carlo par l’Image,” 38; Andrea and Merello, “Les Fastes des Salles Garnier au Casino de Monte-Carlo,” in Les Riviera de Charles Garnier et Gustave Eiffel, 129–132. 95  Williamson, Lure of Monte Carlo, 86; Fuhs, Mondäne Orte einer vornehmen Gesellschaft, 238–244. 96  Williamson, Lure of Monte Carlo, 49. 97  Edmund von der Lahn, “Am Spieltisch von Monte Carlo,” Neue Züricher Zeitung, April 11, 1909, 1–4. 98  Smith, Monaco, 324. 91 92

80 

P. FRANKE

materialized, though the reasons for this are unclear. The Salon Rose became a bar with gambling tables and smoking room, separating smokers from non-­smokers rather than men from women.99 As women became more self-confident consumers and had an increased presence, their exclusion became a more serious and debated issue. Women were always present at Monte Carlo, as gamblers, demi-­ mondaines, spectators, companions, and travelers in their own right. Before the Second World War, however, their access was not a given. The fact that people marveled at the sight of la belle Otero and her rivals at the Salle Blanche did little to change that. 3.3.3   The Salles Touzet and Salle Médecine: Separating the Gambling Crowd The presence of female gamblers was just one challenge the Monte Carlo casino faced. Around the turn of the century and in the immediate years before the war, more and more public figures, writers, and critics complained about the casino’s lack of sophistication, the encroaching bourgeoisie, and, in their eyes, the even worse nouveaux riches who were taking over the principality at the Riviera.100 The end of the Great War also meant the end of Europe dominated by the aristocracy. How and to what extent the decline of Europe’s old elites impacted the casino, however, is unclear.101 Monte Carlo’s business model focused on the mobile and wealthier middle classes, who were willing and able to travel and sought to imitate aristocratic lifestyles. That did not go unnoticed. In 1909 Ralph Neville, a British writer of books on pleasure sites, analyzed: “The authorities of the [Monte Carlo] Casino, however, seem now to have decided on a more democratic policy, no favour shown to anyone. From a financial point of view this is probably not unsound, a vast number of small players, who drop a certain amount of five-franc pieces and then depart to make for others, being probably more profitable to the bank than a few heavy gamblers.”102 Monte Carlo also promoted forms of plutocratic equality, at  Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary, 123.  Boyer and Agulhon, L’Hiver dans le Midi, 324–330; Margarita Dritsas, “Water, Culture and Leisure: From Spas to Beach Tourism in Greece During the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries,” in Water, Leisure and Culture: European Historical Perspectives, eds. Susan C. Anderson and Bruce H. Tabb (Oxford, New York: Berg Publishers, 2002), 196; Fuhs, Mondäne Orte einer vornehmen Gesellschaft, 303–308. Pickering, Monaco, 68. 101  Fielding, The Money Spinner, 107; Jackson, Inside Monte Carlo, 44–45. 102  Nevill, Light Come, 334 99

100

3  MONTE CARLO CASINO (1863–1911): CREATING A BOURGEOIS GAMBLING… 

81

least among male consumers, which clashed with the hierarchies of aristocratic culture.103 SBM archives reveal a steady presence of the old elites among the bourgeois gamblers; often the company compiled lists of their names and reported them to the palace and government officials. The sources make clear, however, that the company valued masses of gamblers more than individuals, showing the degree to which gambling was already integrated into a capitalist mass market.104 Camille Blanc did not want to sacrifice the market segment of the social elites and very wealthy. It did not seem possible, however, to integrate them into the exiting gambling spaces. Their designs and social scripts marked them as thoroughly bourgeois consumption spaces. Indeed, their profitability depended on that. The SBM president approached this problem from the same vantage point as his father had, and like the company would continue to: by building new spaces that catered to non-bourgeois groups. The result was the construction of the Sporting d’Hiver, a new casino in Monte Carlo in 1904. It was organized around the established lines of a gentlemen’s club but was in realty a fully fledged casino for a more elite clientele. It also served to organize activities like regattas and motorsports, bridging gambling, and new forms of leisure.105 The Sporting d’Hiver was remodeled and even moved between buildings between 1904 and the 1930s, indicating that it was more than a side project.106  De Ketchiva, Confessions of a Croupier, 16–17; Fielding, The Money Spinner, 113–115.  Archives du Palais Princier, D20-54, Admission dans le Salle de Jeux, Liste des Fonctionnaires qui peuvent fréquentee les Salons. 105  Archives du Palais Princier, D 20-54 Admission dans les Salles du Jeux, Report of the Comissaire du Gouvernement to the Directeur du Cabinet Civil, April 1, 1922; Reith, The Age of Chance, 97, 122–123. 106  Cité de l‘Architecture et du Patromoine, Centre d’Archives d’Architecture du XXe siècle: Fonds Niermans, Edouard-Jean (1859–1928), 043 IFA, 1914. Agrandissement Casino, Monte-Carlo: coupe transversale (éch. 0,02 PM). (Objet NIEED-E-14-1. Doc. AR-28-09-12-01); Cité de l‘Architecture et du Patromoine, Centre d’Archives d’Architecture du XXe siècle: Fonds Niermans, Edouard-Jean (1859–1928), 043 IFA, Casino Monte Carlo No.43/93, Vestaire du Casino Plan de Bars; Cité de l‘Architecture et du Patromoine, Centre d’Archives d’Architecture du XXe siècle: Fonds Niermans, Edouard-Jean (1859–1928), 043 IFA, Casino Monte Carlo No.43/93, Deuxieme Sous-Sol; Cité de l‘Architecture et du Patromoine,; Cité de l‘Architecture et du Patromoine, Centre d’Archives d’Architecture du XXe siècle: Fonds Niermans, Edouard-Jean (1859–1928), 043 IFA, Document 43-71-15 1906–1907. “Le Palais du soleil,” Grand casino, Beausoleil (Alpes-Maritimes): coupe longitudinale sur la Salle de Baccara (éch. 0,02 PM); Cité de l‘Architecture et du Patromoine, Centre d’Archives d’Architecture du XXe siècle: Fonds Niermans, Edouard-Jean (1859–1928), 043 IFA, Document P-43-69-100 1904–1910. Casino municipal de Nice (Alpes-Maritimes): vue de la Salle de la roulette, n.d. (cliché Giletta). 103 104

82 

P. FRANKE

The SBM also tried to bring the aristocracy and the very rich into the flagship casino. Even as early as 1880 and early 1890s, well before plans emerged for the Sporting d’Hiver, Camille Blanc thought about constructing new casino rooms that would cater to these groups. Such would feature more elaborate designs, specifically the Empire style, and would adopt social conventions taken from aristocratic institutions. Such conventions included a stricter dress code, higher admission prices, and for Monte Carlo an unusual obstruction of movement between rooms. Camille Blanc brought in two new architects, Joules Touzet and Médecine, to design additional private gambling rooms, lending their names to them in the process: the Salles Touzet and Salle Médecine.107 The rooms expanded Monte Carlo’s business model and consumption experience in two ways: first, they helped foster the SBM’s continuous focus on gambling as Monte Carlo’s primary activity, and second, they fostered an element of social exclusivity. Touzet started work on them in November 1890. Built in only six months and highly sophisticated in their decoration and function, they are a testament to the company’s ever-­ expanding knowledge of how to build casino spaces.108 The purpose of social exclusivity and (re)integrating elites into the SBM operation was reflected in the design choices. Measuring 21 by 24 meters, the Salles Touzet was integrated into Garnier’s existing design of having a strong and recognizable north and south façade, making them stand out, without making them intrusive or foreign. The inside was dominated by high-quality woods like mahogany and works by Italian artists, mostly Pompeo-Tassano. Four giant paintings dominated the room: Folly, Fortune, Night, and Morning. They represented the continuous efforts to link motifs of leisure, extravagance, beauty, and fun with the casino’s décor. Ceiling windows in the shape of female faces allowed natural light to come into the room and further strengthening the gendered aspects of the spectacle.109 Naked female forms were also shown in the forms of French paintings, contributing to the erotic, seductive atmosphere, without becoming too vulgar. A painting of a blindfolded, naked Fortuna greeted all visitors, bringing together gambling, art, and male-coded eroticism. Games, however, prevailed as the core activity, with the tables for

 Jackson, Inside Monte Carlo, 100–101.  Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary, 113–121. 109  Folli Andrea and Gisella Merello, “Monte Carlo Casino,” in Monacopolis, 571. 107 108

3  MONTE CARLO CASINO (1863–1911): CREATING A BOURGEOIS GAMBLING… 

83

roulette and the more elite trente-et-quarante dominating the room.110 In his book on Monaco, Smith judged the rooms to be just as heavily decorated as the older gambling rooms, although he noted a lack of artistic sophistication. At the same time, he acknowledged that the paintings and color schemes seemed to transform the emotional state of visitors, making them more inclined to gamble.111 The Salles Touzet became the first cercle privé of the casino and represented the SBM’s attempt to introduce effective class boundaries in the consumption space of the casino. 112 The room was strictly separated from the other gambling rooms. Unlike the half-open structure of the Salle Mauresque and Salle Garnier, where visitors could walk easily from one into the other, the Salles Touzet was cloistered off, lacking direct connections to the theatre and atrium.113 The Salles Touzet did not suffice in the end. Even after their completion in 1890 and the opening of the Sporting d’Hiver, the SBM added another gambling room to the main casino. A circle super-privé in the form of the Salle Médecin. 114 The Salle Médecin, also called Salle Empire, because of its lavish designs, was the last big large-scale changes to the Monte Carlo casino, made between 1910 and 1911 by the only Monegasque architect employed by the SBM. It used designs that appealed even more to the elite clientele whose patronage the SBM sought to maintain. It featured an Ionic colonnade, centered on a series of columns encompassing large windows and onyx-tiled galleries. The use of marble, multicolored stones, and mirrors reveal its indebtedness to the architecture of the era of Louis XIV, an era of aristocratic extravagance.115 Over a span of 40 years, five architects worked on the Monte Carlo casino. They all tried to build a casino where leisure, luxury consumption, performances of class, and social interaction could elevate gambling to a legitimate practice and transform mere visitors into gamblers.116  Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary, 116.  Smith, Monaco, 323–324. 112  Pickard, Monaco, 167. 113  Smith, Monaco, 326; Jackson, Inside Monte Carlo, 100–101; Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary, 123–125. 114  Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary, 123–125. 115  Robert Ducher and Jean-Francois Boisset, Caracteristique Des Styles, (Paris: Flammarion, 1988), 126–129. 116  Mari, L’Opéra de Monte-Carlo, 20–28; Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary, 113–121. 110 111

84 

P. FRANKE

3.4  Conclusion Walking through the Monte Carlo casino, patrons could choose a room that reflected their gambling tastes and preferences: the Salle Mauresque, later named Salle Schmitt, catered toward small-time gamblers that spent hours wagering small sums as part of a large group made up of bourgeois tourists. The room in its various iterations was truly the heart of the Monte Carlo casino, providing a spatial setting in which hedonistic, orientalist fantasies gave visitors the feeling that they were not merely gambling but were engaging in a unique experience. The Salle Blanche and Salle Rose, by contrast, show that the supposed openness of Monte Carlo, in which anyone with money could have access to the gambling experience, was indeed deeply entrenched in the power relations of the Belle Époque: women, although tolerated, had to struggle to gain access. For the SBM and many male visitors they were a part of Monte Carlo’s allure. The Salles Touzet continued this theme in terms of socio-economic class. Monte Carlo was a space of consumer capitalism, in which gambling was a commodity. Although it remained a social marker and occasion for the performance of class, since the days of the Rhenish spa between the 1830s and 1860s, it had been part of the capitalist mass market. Social exclusivity prevailed when it came to the working class, locals, and to some degree women. The middle-class males were Monte Carlo’s primary consumer group. To appease the aristocratic and upper-­ class elements of the gambling crowd, the eclectic casino structure cloistered them off into separate gambling rooms, with their own designs and scripts to go along with the differences in class. The atrium served as the transitional space of the casino, deliberately blurring distinctions between visitor, spectator, and gambler deliberately in order to bring patrons to the tables and thereby transform them into gamblers. It also set the scene with its orientalist designs that tapped into fantasies of empire that the predominantly European, white visitors harbored. The theatre is a reminder that although Monte Carlo provided opportunities to socialize, consume, or watch musical performances, it remained first and foremost a business with a specific purpose. Entertainment was as elaborate as it was deliberate. The comedies and lighthearted performances, the architecture, costume, and set designs all added an additional element to Monte Carlo’s emotional script. They helped to put visitors in the mood to gamble.

CHAPTER 4

Las Vegas Casinos (1945–1976): Creating and Selling the American Gambling Experience

For the white suburbanites who flocked to the Strip it may have come as a surprise that architects and executives had designed and produced the exciting chaos they encountered, after checking into their casino-hotels. The sprawling masses of gamblers, the maze of blackjack tables, the rows of noisy slot machines, mixed with ever-present music from the lounge, and the showroom seemed to suggest everything but detailed planning. The famous singer and actor Dean Martin would be at the bar, mixing a drink, and would grab a microphone and ask, “How’d all these people get in my room?” before reaching for another bottle of liquor. “Oh well, I guess I’ll fix me another salad.” Then he would sing, sometimes even a full song, before stopping and winking at the crowd. “You wanna hear the whole song?, Buy the record.” The audience would laugh and the lights would switch to the stage, where Frank Sinatra would take over, singing the songs people knew and loved. They had paid next to nothing to see this show or at least much less than they would have at home or in the big cities of the East Coast. No waiter bothered them or insisted they order a drink minimum. Sinatra would continue to perform before entertainer Joey Bishop would rudely interject, “Stop singing and tell people about all the good work the Mafia is doing.”1 Then a shriek would be heard, as 1  Shawn Levy, Rat Pack Confidential: Frank, Dean, Sammy, Peter, Joey & the Last Great Showbiz Party (London: Fourth Estate, 1998), 3–4, 126–127.

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 P. Franke, Feeling Lucky, Worlds of Consumption, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-33095-7_4

85

86 

P. FRANKE

someone, somewhere, had won at craps. The atmosphere was wild, chaotic, enthralling. Most of the gamblers and spectators in the scene belonged to the US middle classes from the pre-dominantly white suburbs. As visitors, they stepped into a space that looked and, to a certain degree, felt unpredictable. Gambling on the Strip was part of a familiar yet unusual leisure space: The casino was a motor hotel on the highway, a suburban vacation destination, and a big-city nightclub.2 The lines between these functions were blurred, as the casinos erased the distinctions between them.3 On the Strip, casino executives who had experience with running hotels, nightclubs, and clandestine leisure institutions merged the appeal of casinos with elaborate entertainments like Sinatra and the Rat Pack, slowly changing people’s perception of gambling. At their core, Strip casinos aimed to produce gambling experiences by trying to control movements, feelings, and their customers’ consumption practices through the use of spatial-emotional scripts. They sought to produce and sell a gambling experience that bridged contradictions: wagering hard-earned money in games with uncertain outcomes, in a space with rumored unsavory connections, was presented as exciting but safe. Everything seemed excessive: playing slots and dice in the pool, seeing a live circus show while putting everything on credit, listening to a combo in the lounge, while perhaps also playing another round. At the same time, everything was grounded in patterns of leisure that were widely accepted by the white suburban middle classes. The nightclub had become a staple of urban entertainment, the pool a suburban institution for relaxation, and the motor hotel a standard part of a family vacation. Architecture was key in this process. Strip casinos represented hermetic leisure spaces in a suburban setting. They were self-sufficient consumption spaces designed to isolate visitors from the outside world and to establish an atmosphere favorable to gambling activities. Casino executives and visitors stressed the “fun” aspect of gambling, as it legitimized their activities.4 Executives could claim to provide an entertainment service and thus harmless “fun,” while gamblers could negate criticism that they were  Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 28–32.  Jan McMillen, “From Glamour to Grind: The Globalisation of Casinos,” in Gambling Cultures: Studies in History and Interpretation, ed. Jan McMillen, 263–287 (London: Routledge, 1996), 276. 4  Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 28–32, 37–39. 2 3

4  LAS VEGAS CASINOS (1945–1976): CREATING AND SELLING… 

87

foolish by losing money senselessly. This particular stigma gained traction in the 1950s and early 1960s. Consumer activists and journalists suspected gamblers of harboring unrealistic monetary hopes, which they regarded as harmful for the economy and for society at large. The “fun” that casinos and consumers stressed was thus very specific, grounded as it was in a mid-­ twentieth-­century US characterized by emotional detachment, an almost cynical “coolness” with which one faced hardships and losses.5 Strip casinos enabled consumption that reflected this; gambling became an activity in which even losing was just “part of the fun,” and part of the Vegas experience. The history of Las Vegas casinos can be divided into three phases: during the first, in the early postwar years between 1945 and 1950, the gambling houses transformed from traditional Western-themed hotels into luxurious casinos, built to introduce visitors to a new consumption experience. The second stage, between 1950 and 1966, saw the rise of famous casinos such as the Desert Inn and the Sands. These casinos elaborated on their appeal to the middle classes, especially in the entertainment department. They also exhibited a new sophistication in their architecture, diffusing gambling throughout their structures, connecting it to all activities within them. During the third stage, between 1966 and 1976, the Strip shifted into “corporate Las Vegas,” a development that culminated in the city’s current image. New, themed casinos were built that changed how gambling felt to customers, even if they still preserved the casino’s basic spatial organization and business model in the face of a radical restructuring of the industry and its role in the American economy and society. Though the three phases were distinct, it is important to note that the change was evolutionary and gradual, rather than sudden and revolutionary.6

4.1   The Sin City Era (1950–1966): The Desert Inn and the Sands The Strip gambling experience transformed the act of playing games of chance into an activity greater than the sum of its parts, incorporating nightclub entertainment, a suburban lifestyle, and middle-class vacations.

5  Elizabeth Fraterrigo, Playboy and the Making of the Good Life in Modern America (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 80–104; Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 128–130 6  Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 147–151.

88 

P. FRANKE

Casinos were as much motels as they were clubs, “homes away from home” as much as up-scale gambling resorts. Already in the mid-1940s, the Las Vegas Chamber of Commerce stressed that the family oriented casino-hotel, offering a “cheerful atmosphere” and “moderate cost, entertainment,” was the future of Las Vegas. The Chamber wanted to move away from professional gamblers, locals, and elites. “What Las Vegas needs is a brand NEW crop of vacationers who will come, have a good time at a cost they can easily afford, and then who will return for more fun, season after.” Suburban families were the key demographic: “After this war the entire family is going to travel. The kids will be brought along and should assume as much importance in the resort operators’ eyes as the adults who actually spend the money.”7 Between 1945 and 1966, then the Strip merged features of the illegal nightclubs of the Prohibition era, with the advent mass tourism, postwar car culture, and new urban planning possibilities south of the city. Wayne McAllister, an architect who had previously worked on nightclubs and coffee shops in Los Angeles, personified this direction. He knew the latest trends involving consumption-focused architecture aimed at the West Coast middle classes, and his casinos of the 1940s and 1950s, the Desert Inn among them, are windows into the new Strip.8 4.1.1   Trendsetter: The Desert Inn When Wilbur Clark’s Desert Inn opened in April 1950, he unlocked the doors with a silver key, which he then tossed into the desert. The PR stunt contributed to the narrative of an eccentric Las Vegas and demonstrated Clark’s confidence about the success of the casino: the doors of the Desert Inn would never close; the silver key would never be needed again.9 The Desert Inn, called “D.I.” by regulars and locals, was the fifth casino on the

7  Las Vegas, Nevada Frontier Playground by Monrow Manning Treatment Outline. Box 11 Folder Correspondence Advertisement publicity 1949. Las Vegas Chamber of Commerce Records, 1911–2020. MS-00366. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada 8  Chris Nichols, The Leisure Architecture of Wayne McAllister (Salt Lake City: Gibbs Smith, 2007), 10–13. 9  Publicity DI Las Vegas, For immediate Release. Box 1, Folder 2. Wilbur & Toni Clark Papers 1944–1991, MS-00361, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada.

4  LAS VEGAS CASINOS (1945–1976): CREATING AND SELLING… 

89

Strip, after the El Rancho Vegas(1941), the Last Frontier (1942), the Flamingo (1946), and the Thunderbird (1948). It is an example of how architecture and design contributed to a script that guided visitors’ movements in such a way as to make gambling feel “fun.” That meant fusing gambling with all other aspects of the hotel, such as nightclubs and leisure spaces. Games of chance were presented not only as safe and affordable but also as offering entertainment and spectacle. The D.I. served as a prototype of Strip casinos for the next decade and a half, both continuing trends started by its predecessors and introducing elements that would define the gaming houses that followed. The key to the spatial script was to integrate the suburbanites as gamblers into the space. Much like the Flamingo, the spatial organization of the Desert Inn answered to that principle: the casino proper was located just behind the lobby of the main building so that patrons had to cross it to get to all the other places. With 2400 square feet, it was spacious, yet indirect lightning and a rich decor helped create an intimate atmosphere.10 That supposed intimacy between gamblers, tourists, entertainers, and the workforce developed specifically between 1950 and 1966 as a main feature of casino-hotels on the Strip. Patrons felt welcomed and personally acknowledged—a phenomenon attested by the many “thank you” notes casinos received.11 Gambling was virtually everywhere, even when people did not approach the tables: the Desert Inn’s green floors and ceilings were covered with gambling, such as roulette wheels and cloverleafs.12 The D.I. combined legal gambling with a presentation and focus much more akin to those of a luxury resort.13 McAllister conceptualized the casino-hotel along the lines of the spatial design of the Flamingo: modern architecture with low-rise bungalows surrounding a garden and pool area, 10  Desert Inn Scrapbooks and Oversize Magazine misc. Press Clippings Oversized Box 2. Wilbur and Toni Clark Papers 1944–1991, MS-00361 Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 11  Dan Ormsby to Al Freeman, July 28, 1966. Box 6, Folder 1. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada; Many of these notes are archived. See: Correspondence of Elmo Ellsworth, 1965–1967, Box 1, Elmo and Charlotte Ellsworth Papers 1948–1977 Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. 12  Donald D.  Spencer, Mid Century Vegas: 1930s to 1960s (Atglen, Pa: Schiffer Publ, 2009), 49. 13  Nichols, The Leisure Architecture of Wayne McAllister, 135–137; Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 102–107.

90 

P. FRANKE

a central casino, nightclub, and restaurant complex immediately behind the porte cochere in the main complex. Unlike the posh, Hollywood-­ styled Flamingo, the Desert Inn had a ranch-house theme. A large neon yucca at the porte cochere signaled the entrance at the highway, and a row of flagstone columns formed a line at the lobby arcade, leading to the central hub of the structure: an opulent lobby that connected the registration area and casino.14 Casino executives staged gambling in these casinos as being fun and carefree, yet controlled and not at all dangerous. Distractions and responsibilities, whether physical (heat, hunger, exhaustion) or social (e.g., kids) in nature, could be contained by technologies and additional services such as the large-scale air conditioning, the availability of restaurants with cheap food and drink, and the daycare service, where responsible parents could leave their children in order to enjoy the raucous entertainment, alcohol, and gambling.15 More than that, the Desert Inn, just like the Flamingo, was built on its largely middle-class patrons’ fantasies of glamour and a “Hollywood lifestyle.”16 In architecture and consumption patterns both casino-hotels were in many ways similar to Monte Carlo’s: supposedly high class and metropolitan, yet anchored in an appeal to the middle classes.17 As in Monte Carlo, this appeal required fusing of well-established forms of leisure with gambling, while also containing visitors in the casino. The spatial arrangement of the pool area—in a courtyard with various plants— surrounded by bungalows and the hotel separated patrons completely from everything outside and mirrored the casino space inside the building that kept people in the near vicinity of gambling, presenting other leisure activities only along the way.18 Clark’s D.I. featured desert motifs that marked the shift from the frontier to the metropolitan nightclub. The Desert Inn represented a  Bubb, Landing in Las Vegas, 53–54.  Jan McMillen, “From Glamour to Grind,” in Gambling Cultures, 276. 16  Justin Henderson, “Introduction: That’s Entertainment!”, in Casino Design: Resorts, Hotels, and Themed Entertainment Spaces, ed. Justin Henderson (Gloucester, Mass.: Rockport, 1999), 9. 17  Al, The Strip, 47–49, Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 51; Smith, “Ben Siegel,” 1–2. 18  Photograph of courtyard area and outdoor swimming pool at the Flamingo Hotel (Las Vegas), circa 1940s, Flamingo Hilton Photograph Collection Image ID: 0067:0076. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 14 15

4  LAS VEGAS CASINOS (1945–1976): CREATING AND SELLING… 

91

continuation of previous trends and subtle shifts toward suburban gambling consumption spaces. Its ranch-style look did not refer to the frontier space as a place for gambling, but rather built on the tradition of the Flamingo and other luxury resorts to contextualize its gambling. There were no references to Western themes—no cowboy hats or frontier villages in the rooms, for instance, the way there were at the El Rancho Vegas.19 Instead of the Wild West, the Desert Inn sought to evoke associations with popular fantasies related to desert luxury and mid-twentieth-­ century US tourism.20 The casino executives had to make people excited about Las Vegas and create appealing spaces and activities once they arrived at the casino.21 These efforts transcended merely stylistic choices. Design elements established scripts and spatial orders that guided visitors’ perceptions to engage with gambling within the D.I. Even more so than in Monte Carlo, gambling spaces at the D.I. blended with other spatial set-ups, thereby making the games omnipresent and guiding patrons toward the tables and slots. Additionally, design motifs presented gambling as an acceptable leisure activity and recontextualized it as part of the plush nightclub and hotel building, rather than the old saloons. The script worked subtly, yet its architectural foundation was quite apparent. An anonymous woman who traveled to Las Vegas in December of 1950 recognized the common elements immediately and how casino and lobby merged into one cohesive space, noting, “We went inside the ‘Stardust,’ ‘Desert Inn,’ and the ‘Sands.’ All hotels have a casino, which is actually the lobby of the hotel. When you walk into the hotel from the main entrance, there the casino is.”22 19  “Desert inn’s 3000 rooms each entity in itself.” Oversized Box 2, misc. Press Clippings. Wilbur and Toni Clark Papers 1944–1991, MS-00361, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas; Larry D. Gragg, Bright Light City: Las Vegas in Popular Culture (Lawrence. KA: University of Kansas Press, 2013), 187. 20  Hartmut Berghoff, “From Privilege to Commodity? Modern Tourism and the Rise of the Consumer Society,” in The Making of Modern Tourism: The Cultural History of the British Experience, 1600–2000, eds. Hartmut Berghoff et al., (Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire, New York: Palgrave, 2002), 168–170. 21   John Beckerson, “Marketing British Tourism: Government Approaches to the Stimulation of a Service Sector, 1880–1950,” in The Making of Modern Tourism: The Cultural History of the British Experience, 1600–2000, eds. Hartmut Berghoff et  al. (Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire, New York: Palgrave, 2002), 152. 22  Anonymous American Women, Diary of Anonymous American Woman 1950: Scrapbook of Trip to Las Vegas (Alexandria: Alexander Street Press, 2004), 6.

92 

P. FRANKE

This omnipresence of images and representations of gambling was key to the script’s aspect of control. Gambling iconography, combined with the physical presence of gambling throughout the hotel and nightclub, helped make it an inseparable part of staying at the D.I. It had five craps tables, three roulette wheels, four blackjack tables, 75 slot machines, and a race book, for horses, although that never became a prominent feature.23 The nearby “Lady Luck” bar featured a roulette wheel that was used once every hour to determine a number associated with 1 of the 38 seats. The person whose number was drawn would win a prize, and gambling thus became a passive but integral feature of the bar. The gambling on the casino floor, meanwhile, took place behind a glass wall—a transparent and thus almost non-existent barrier.24 This lack of distinction between bar and casino had already been a feature of the Flamingo and made gambling an even bigger part of the “normal” space than it already was, thus also normalizing gambling and gamblers.25 The pool was also visible from the casino via glass walls. Swimmers and gamblers saw each other, but both were isolated from the highway surroundings.26 Gambling was always visible; it formed the background noise of the leisure activities available at the Desert Inn. The design combined the visibility of gambling with the visibility of gamblers, furthering an atmosphere that encouraged participation. Patrons playing games of chance were constantly on display. Even the bar in the lounge area included slot machines and roulette wheels with gambling motifs on the walls.27 23  “Spacious Casino offers Gaming patrons Tops in Playing Comfort,” Oversized Box 2, misc. Press Clippings. Wilbur and Toni Clark Papers 1944–1991, MS-00361, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. 24  “Plush Local Spa Introduces Latest Innovations for Patrons,” Oversized Box 2, misc. Press Clippings. Wilbur and Toni Clark Papers 1944–1991, MS-00361, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas; Al, The Strip, 53. 25  Film transparency of the casino area in the Flamingo Hotel (Las Vegas), circa 1950s, Manis Collection, Image ID: 0100:1803. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 26  Johannes Stefan Al, “Casino Architecture Wars,” 2–3; Film transparency of the swimming pool at Wilbur Clark’s Desert Inn (Las Vegas), seen from the patio area, circa 1950s, Manis Collection, Image ID: 0100:1695. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. 27  Film transparency of the bar in Wilbur Clark’s Desert Inn (Las Vegas), circa 1950s, Manis Collection, Image ID: 0100:1704, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas; Film transparency of the bar and lounge area at Wilbur Clark’s Desert Inn (Las Vegas), circa 1950s, Manis Collection, Image ID: 0100:1703. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas.

4  LAS VEGAS CASINOS (1945–1976): CREATING AND SELLING… 

93

This dominance of gambling even superseded the need to imitate suburban living conditions. When push came to shove, casinos readily eliminated elements on their premises that distracted from gambling. For example, the D.I. offered a childcare service—the so-called Doll house— near the main casino complex. It had its own kitchen, pool, and a staff of trained caregivers.28 The daycare enabled parents to gamble and represented a possible bridge between suburbia and casino. Other staples of suburban life, however, had no place in the casino. Not until later in the 1960s, for example, did rooms feature televisions—people who watched television didn’t gamble.29 The compromise between games of chance and suburbia was tangible in many design choices. Las Vegas Strip casinos were not aiming at professional gamblers, after all, but at middle-class patrons, living according to the white suburban family model. The hotel rooms were built for small families: many featured queen-sized beds with a separate bed for children and included individual bathrooms and thermostats. Most of the private spaces within the casino-hotel were oriented around the idea of the suburban living experience.30 In other subtle ways as well, the Desert Inn’s management and architects sought to eliminate any physical obstacles or inconveniences that might have prevented patrons from gambling. Clark himself designed the roulette games, setting the wheel directly into the table to make it easier for patrons and security to observe the ivory ball. Such small conveniences were combined with new technologies. Air conditioning, for example, was key for Las Vegas, enabling it to compete with Reno and its more temperate climate.31 Strip casinos initially employed swamp coolers, before switching to state-of-the-art air conditioning, which enabled round-the-­ clock gambling in the desert.32 The Sands’s manager  Jack Entratter 28  “Plush Local Spa Introduces Latest Innovations for Patrons.” Oversized Box 2, misc. Press Clippings. Wilbur and Toni Clark Papers 1944–1991, MS-00361, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas.; Al, The Strip, 53. 29  “Professor Landy Unfolds Mysteries of gambling.” Box 4, Folder 13. Dunes Hotel and Casino Records, 1954–1992. MS-00328. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada 30  “Desert inn’s 3000 rooms each entity in itself.” Oversized Box 2, misc. Press Clippings. Wilbur and Toni Clark Papers 1944–1991, MS-00361, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas; John A.  Jakle, Keith A.  Sculle and Jefferson S.  Rogers, The Motel in America (Baltimore, Md., London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2002), 17–19, 150; Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 87. 31  Steve Durham, “The Modern Era,” in The History of Gambling in America, 39–40. 32  Bubb, Landing in Las Vegas, 19–20.

94 

P. FRANKE

underlined the importance of this technology for the business as a whole, and that casino’s most expensive hotel rooms all featured air conditioning.33 And Entratter knew a thing or two about the gambling business: his casino represented the pinnacle of the Strip in the 1950s up to the mid-1960s.34 4.1.2   The Pinnacle: The Sands As much of a trendsetter as the Desert Inn was, it was the Sands casino-­ hotel (Fig.  4.1) that truly defined the Strip and thus US gambling for decades. It opened in December 1952 part of the early 1950s construction boom in Las Vegas.35 The Sands stood out as the most sophisticated planned gambling consumption space of its time. Entertainment, spectacle, gambling, and tourism formed a unity, something previous establishments had not managed to achieve. Architecturally speaking, the Sands was the epitome of the Las Vegas highway hotel. It employed the same basic form as the Flamingo, the Desert Inn, and most other Strip hotels: the central hub of the whole building was the casino, which dominated the main part just behind the lobby. It was a self-contained resort, resembling other popular postwar leisure destinations such as Miami Beach. With its bungalow homes, framed by green lawns and grouped around a pool, not to mention its convenient parking, the Sands combined suburban living conditions with a leisure infrastructure and a focus on consumption (Fig. 4.2). The sign on the Strip promoted of the various entertainers that people could see at the Sands and was intended to work as “brilliant sparkling neon bait.”36 The pool was visible from the entranceway yet separated from it by modernist sculptures. A roof structure provided protection from the sun. The basic design was inspired by the architecture of Beverly Hills much like the Flamingo’s had been inspired by Hollywood’s. Most rooms were located around the pool area. The casino, shops, entertainment facilities, and restaurants were located in the main building. The sounds within it 33  “Sands opens Million Dollar 83 Suite Building (12th April).” Box 2 Folder 10. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 34  “Desert inn’s 3000 rooms each entity in itself.” Oversized Box 2, misc. Press Clippings. Wilbur and Toni Clark Papers 1944–1991, MS-00361, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. 35  Bubb, Landing in Las Vegas, 53–54. 36  Nichols, The Leisure Architecture of Wayne McAllister, 137–144.

4  LAS VEGAS CASINOS (1945–1976): CREATING AND SELLING… 

95

Fig. 4.1  The Sands in 1963. The casino is located to the left of the heart-shaped pool, with the hotel rooms resembling a suburban living situation. The casino area is located in the main building. Courtesy of the UNLV Special Collection. Aerial photograph of the Sands Hotel complex (Las Vegas), 1963, Martin Stern Jr. Collection sky000379. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada

contributed to an atmosphere suggestive of fun: rows of slot machines stood at the edges of the room, making constant background noise; the voices and cries of gamblers winning and losing could be heard throughout; and music filled the space. The casino and hotel’s walls were festooned with murals of fin-de-siècle garden parties and of carnival in Rio de Janeiro.37  Photograph of dining booths backed by impressionistic murals in the Garden Room restaurant, Las Vegas, 1963, Image ID 0287 0071. Sands Hotel Photograph Collection. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas; Bill Smith “Country’s Top Act Spot Now Las Vegas—Gala Opening of New Sands Hotel Points up Importance of Nevada Fun Resort,” Billboard, December 27, 1952, 1. 37

96 

P. FRANKE

Fig. 4.2  The Sahara circa 1955. The low-rise bungalow architecture becomes apparent. The pool area is central and secluded. The Casino and desert area are sharply separated. Typical for this period is the lack of a hotel tower and the emphasize on parking. Courtesy of the UNLV Special Collection. Aerial photograph of the original Sahara Hotel and Casino complex (Las Vegas), circa 1955 Martin Stern Jr. Collection sky000396. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada

The script of the Sands exemplifies how most casinos approached spatial planning: diffuse gambling throughout its space, isolation of visitors on the premises, and using entertainment to support gambling consumption. Entertainment had two tasks in this regard. First, it had to be able to bring the white middle classes into the casino. It thus had to avoid inspiring any sense of real danger, offending middle-class sensibilities in a way that might have led visitors to exercise prudence at the tables. The atmosphere at the casino could not be too controversial or too intellectually challenging. As it had to be “fun” in the word of Al Freeman, public relations director of the Sands, so that visitors would feel like indulging and gambling.38 Charles J. Hirsch, who had worked as an accountant for the 38  Freeman Plan for Newsweek 6/27. Box 5, Folder 4. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada.

4  LAS VEGAS CASINOS (1945–1976): CREATING AND SELLING… 

97

Golden Nugget and from 1952 until 1965 and then until 1975 for the Sands, described how the creation of a favorable atmosphere for gambling demanded a specific notion of fun, which in turn was connected to what people witnessed: “Fun vs Grim Fun is the byword for Las Vegas as far as casinos are concerned. You only have to hear the players squeals of excitement around a wheel of fortune to understand that they are having the time of their lives.”39 The casino aimed to control what its visitors witnessed in the belief that it would influence how they would feel and what they would do. The aspect of isolation supported this notion as well. Beginning with the El Rancho Vegas in the 1940s, Strip casinos had become self-­contained suburban spaces. The Sands now went further and tried to use architecture to confine visitors on the casino floor as much as possible. Unlike the Desert Inn, which featured large windows toward the pool, the Sands allowed no natural light to penetrate the main building. The casino constituted a space where a sense of time was marginalized on purpose. Visitors could no longer tell how many hours they’d spent gambling their money away. Many guests felt reassured by this: it allowed them to downplay the extent to which they had been transformed from tourists into full-blown gamblers.40 An anonymous woman visiting Las Vegas described in her diary the ease of movement, the blending of consumption, entertainment, and gambling as fluid and indistinguishable from one another: On the way out of the dining room, we of course had to pass thru’ the casino, so there we stayed, playing nickel slot machines for at least two hours, winning then losing. Dad had very good luck on slot machine #37, and actually came out in the good! He then progressed to the ‘21’ tables, and the rest of us sat down in the Lounge—had a drink, and listened to the combo. Then we stayed for the show.41

Casino managers and architects sought to present all games as if there were a logical extension of a family trip. That included the restaurants,

39  These are taken from his notes concerning numerous talks around the country for the American Society for Quality Control (ASQC) Conference Materials. Box 1. Charles J.  Hirsch Papers, 1952–1987. MS-00291. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 40  Jakle, Sculle and Rogers, The Motel in America, 51–53. 41  Anonymous, Diary, 6.

98 

P. FRANKE

nightclub entertainment, and relaxing around the pool area.42 None of these other activities were meant to distract from gambling though, which is reflected in the physical layout of the Sands: the showroom and bar were only accessible through the casino floor. The casino and the bar were themselves indistinguishable since there was no physical wall separating them. The lights on the ceiling were not only designed to resemble giant roulette wheels but projected streams of light onto the blackjack and roulette tables. As in most casinos, the room was only dimly lit. At the Sands, however, they were specifically chosen to harmonize with the carefully maintained lawns grown on imported soil and to create a romantic image against the background of the desert. The overall color scheme was soft. The gambling tables, by contrast, were brightly illuminated, making them stand out as if under a spotlight. To further remind visitors that they were in a space in which gambling dominated, the motel wings of the Sands were named after famous horseracing tracks.43 The spectacle and the focus on gambling were connected to issues of security and control, however. Just as the scripts represented a fabricated freedom that aimed to give a sense of free choice while guiding visitors as much as possible, so did the design further the project of enabling control. The ceiling lights, for example, enabled supervision and the transformation of visitors into gamblers.44 This double function of a singular architectural element encapsulates the inherent tension of the casino space as a tightly controlled yet consumption-focused space in which people were encouraged to “be a sport and gamble a little.”45 Strip casinos like the Sands made gambling the background to every activity, rather than presenting it as a spectacle merely to be watched as in

 Ann Geracimos, “In Las Vegas Women and Children are Loser,” Herald Tribune, May 10, 1963; Riddle, Major: scrapbook, 1970s–1980s. Box 4, Folder 23. Dunes Hotel and Casino Records, 1954–1992. MS-00328. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 43  Jakle, Sculle and Rogers, The Motel in America, 51–53; Nichols, The Leisure Architecture of Wayne McAllister, 137–144; Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 123–124. 44  Sallaz, The Labor of Luck, 6–7, 62–64; Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 78–80. 45  Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 40. 42

4  LAS VEGAS CASINOS (1945–1976): CREATING AND SELLING… 

99

Monte Carlo.46 The layout of the tables allowed customers to witness the gambling activities around them. Management believed this would encourage people to participate. Tables and slots were organized as a labyrinth, forcing people to encounter gambling constantly and without the orientation of a clear center. The design also made it harder for players to leave the consumption space.47 The dimmed lights, the overwhelming soundscape, the bustling activity all concealed the meticulous order underpinning the space, giving it the appearance of spontaneity, a key aspect of twentieth-century “fun.”48 One of the most prominent features of the Sands further illustrates the efforts of casino owners to produce the consumption experience of gambling by grounding it in spatial arrangements: slot machines were placed at the edge of the swimming pool and a craps table on the water, allowing patrons to play craps and slot machines while using the pool. Although it became one of the most iconic symbols of Las Vegas, dealers, service personnel, and management treated poolside gambling to it as they would any regular table in the casino.49 The floating craps table (Fig.  4.3) physically removed patrons from their everyday surroundings and put them into a space, the pool, which 46  M.N. Friedman to Rissmann, December 20, 1965, Box 34 Folder 4. Homer Rissmann Collection, MS-2008–2007. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada; Las Vegas; Sands Hotel Summary Daily Operations Report July 30, 1975. Box 5 Charles J.  Hirsch Papers 1952–1987, MS-00291. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas; Al Freeman to Carl Cohen February 20, 1959. Box 1, Folder 5. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada; Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 4–6. 47  Sallaz, The Labor of Luck, 6–7; Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 34–37. 48  Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 34–37; Nichols, The Leisure Architecture of Wayne McAllister, 142–145; Photograph of gamblers inside the Sands Hotel and Casino, Las Vegas, circa late 1950s to early 1960s, Sands Photograph Collection 0287 0386. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas; Photograph of empty casino in the Sands (Las Vegas), circa 1950s, Sands Photograph Collection Image ID: 0287:0127a. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. 49  Tanned and Faded Suggested Picture Layout, Box 8, Folder 1. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada.; Al Freeman Letter from September 16, 1955. Box 5 Folder 2. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada; Findlay, “Suckers and Escapists?”, 1–16.

100 

P. FRANKE

Fig. 4.3  The floating craps table was a highlight of the Sands. It combined gambling with well-established leisure practices and the suburban space of the swimming pool. Courtesy of the Las Vegas Convention and Visitors Authority. Photograph of a floating craps game in the Sands Hotel swimming pool (Las Vegas), 1954, Sands Hotel Photographs, Image ID: 0287:0177 Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas

4  LAS VEGAS CASINOS (1945–1976): CREATING AND SELLING… 

101

was traditionally associated with leisure and touristic activities. The pool coded the Sands as a space suitable for suburbanites. In the 1950s the pool had become a largely white suburban phenomenon and marker of class.50 It was a space that middle-class patrons identified as safe and appropriate for their tastes and lifestyle. They gambled, swam in the pool, ordered a drink from waiters in tuxedo tops and Speedo bottoms, or simply observed the spectacle poolside under the shade of an umbrella.51 Entertainment, much like architecture, had little value of its own. It served the gambling business. This was achieved by spatial closeness and by making it cheaper than it would be in the big cities. Executives and the Chamber of Commerce believed that if visitors felt that they were saving money on tickets and food and drinks, then they would be more inclined to risk it at the tables.52 The Sands’s manager Jack Entratter, and casino director Carl Cohen, understood that the elaborate entertainment would operate at a loss. Similar to the Desert Inn the Sands was a casino first and a resort second. Entertainment was a tool useful for keeping patrons at the tables, enticing them to gamble away money over extended periods of time. Dalitz and Clark spent between $180,000 and $200,000 a year on entertainment, most of which came at a loss for the casino. In a sort of reciprocal exchange, profits from gambling supported other services, which in turn legitimized gambling. As Clark put it in 1957: “We lose on food, break even on rooms and the bar makes a little money.”53 The Desert Inn and the Sands are prominent examples, but statistics from other Las Vegas casinos affirm that they too either broke even or lost money financing entertainment, food, and drink. For example, up to the 1970s, the Holiday Queen, the

50  Jeff Wiltse, Contested Waters: A Social History of Swimming Pools in America (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2007), 154–156, 180–183. 51  Sallaz, The Labor of Luck, 137–138; Schwartz, Xanadu, 10, 93–95; Bell and Valentine, Consuming Geographies, 124–132; Reckwitz, “Affective Spaces,” 254–256; Jan McMillen, “From Glamour to Grind,” in Gambling Cultures, 276. 52  Las Vegas, Nevada Frontier Playground by Monrow Manning Treatment Outline. Box 11, Correspondence Folder Advertisement publicity 1949. Las Vegas Chamber of Commerce Records, 1911–2020. MS-00366. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 53  Misc. Press Clippings from Hawaii January 1957. Oversized Box 2. Wilbur and Toni Clark Papers 1944–1991, MS-00361. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas, Nevada.

102 

P. FRANKE

Holiday Inn, and the Riverboat casinos showed similar trends.54 In the case of the Sands, the casino proper generated almost three times as much profits as food and beverage combined—over $60,000, compared to roughly $20,000 a day—during the high season.55 Musicians and comedians performed over several days, sometimes weeks, in a particular casino. Especially in the late 1950s and into the 1960s, Las Vegas became one of the prime entertainment venues in the US. In 1955, the Strip as a whole paid roughly $175,000 for entertainment.56 The hired entertainer did not necessarily have to be the most current or popular name. They simply had to draw the desired middle-class patrons to the casino. At the same time, the casino leaderships aimed to use them to evoke feelings of excitement and a care-free attitude, which, they believed, would in turn stimulate gambling behavior. At the Sands’s Copa Room, for instance, the big entertainers performed in a nightclub atmosphere with small tables and a restaurant. It also had probably the best-­ known showroom, hosting the Rat Pack of Frank Sinatra, Sammy Davis Jr., Dean Martin, Peter Lawford, and Joey Bishop. More than any others, these five artists became a symbol of the “devil-may-care” attitude and charm for which the Sin City era is remembered. They also represented the liberal consensus of the US middle classes before the late 1960s. The 54  Holiday Queen Casino 1 year Monthly Average, December 16, 1972. Box 19, Folder 1. Claudine Williams Papers, 1963–2009. MS-00094, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada; Holiday Queen casino One year Average; Holiday Casino Cash Flow (1st year of Operations). Box 19, Folder 1. Claudine Williams Papers, 1963–2009. MS-00094, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada; Holiday Queen Casino Complimentary Analysis, 1972 Check Register. Box 19, Folder 1. Claudine Williams Papers, 1963–2009, MS-00094. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada; Holiday River Queen Opening and Operating Schedule of Money Requirements and use thereof Revenue Comparative Analysis Year to Date. Box 19, Folder 1. Claudine Williams Papers, 1963–2009. MS-00094. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 55  Sands Hotel Master Gambling Report July 1975, Box 4. Charles J.  Hirsch Papers, 1952–1987, MS-00291. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada; Sands Hotel Summary Daily Operation Report July 30, 1975 (Wednesday) Box 1. Charles J.  Hirsch Papers, 1952–1987. MS-00291 Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 56  Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 93–95; Transcript of interview with Thomas Barbarite by Dennis Chamberland, March 3, 1981, 1987 Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada, 12–13.

4  LAS VEGAS CASINOS (1945–1976): CREATING AND SELLING… 

103

Rat Pack made jokes about race relations, organized crime, and themselves. They did so in a nonconfrontational manner, one that did not challenge the status quo or offend their target audience. They represented the “good life” for male, middle-class men who embraced heterosexual masculinity and maintained at least a vague sense of social responsibility, while nonetheless exhibiting a degree of cool detachment from it. Even at the time, Sinatra and the Rat Pack were far from the most successful entertainers in the US, even at the time. They were, however, exactly what the Sands needed in terms of the consumption experience. Their jokes and lyrics were sarcastic and rebellious, but never subversive or offensive. It was the exact image casino entrepreneurs wanted to impart to their patrons, so much so that Sinatra was offered a minor interest in the casino.57 Freeman, Entratter, and Cohen, all attributed the increase gambling activity during the Rat Pack residencies to their performances.58 When the Sands’s management thought about paying up to $30,000 a week for a show in the summer of 1965, for instance, they deemed its artistic value of secondary importance. Most important was that it would contribute to the script. They hoped that “something could be done during the afternoon lull to pull people into the casinos. A matinee in the Copa room should certainly take care of this problem.”59 Nor did they measure the revenue generated by the showrooms, instead paying attention to the performance at the tables during the appearance of particular performers.60 This pattern persisted in the late 1960s and 1970s. In 1970, for example, Elvis Presley was hired at the International after a prolonged absence as a live performer. Now older and appealing to a more mature demographic, he was no longer a symbol of youth culture or rebellion but an inoffensive, household name for the masses. Together with Barbra Streisand, he provided entertainment that was meant to be compatible with a mass market for potential gamblers, rather than being on the

 Fraterrigo, Playboy, 150–152, 166; Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 124–132.  Levy, Rat Pack Confidential, 125–132 Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 124–128; Fraterrigo, Playboy, 150–152; Geoff Schumacher, Sun, Sin & Suburbia: An Essential History of Modern Las Vegas (Las Vegas, Nev.: Stephens Press, 2004), 103; Gragg, Bright Light City, 148–156. 59  Pete Summers to Al Freeman August 9, 1965. Box 6, Folder 1. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 60  Lawrence Dandurand and Rossi Ralenkotter, “An Investigation of Entertainment Proneness and Its Relationship to Gambling Behavior: The Las Vegas Experience,” Journal of Travel Research 23, no.12 (1985): 15–16. 57 58

104 

P. FRANKE

cutting edge of the music industry.61 Other performers of the time directly addressed what was expected by them. Wayne Newton “Mr. Las Vegas”62 stated in 1973, “When people think of a performer in Las Vegas, their mental image is tuxedo.”63 Entertainment and the image potential visitors had of it were tied to middle-class sensibilities, which by the late 1960s and early 1970s had become almost conservative. If Elvis, Streisand, and the Rat Pack did not sell a lot of tickets, compared to younger acts, the casino management saw their value in putting visitors in the mood to gamble.64 In this Las Vegas and Monte Carlo share common characteristics. Even the brand of entertainment was similar: inoffensive, simple, and comedic. These structural similarities are tied to differences however: when Marlene Dietrich was ejected from the Monte Carlo casino, because she wore pants, Entratter used it as a PR coup to highlight the democratic and thus supposedly American character of the Sands, stating that Dietrich was welcome in his casino and that ejecting her meant “refusing a gift of a million dollars in loose cash just because it isn’t wrapped in fancy goldfoil.”65 However, casino managers had to carefully consider which and how much entertainment was suitable for creating a favorable atmosphere for gaming. They did not want to distract patrons from the tables. In 1955, Freeman wrote to Entratter about a planned fashion show, for example. He argued that as long as the show took place during evening hours and did not last too long, it would draw people to the hotel and eventually to the casino. As long as these conditions were respected, he contended, the act would not distract people from gambling—a concern that had apparently came up in previous discussions on the subject.66 Some entertainers were unhappy with the fact that their value as artists had less importance than ensuring that patrons focused their attention on gambling. Singer 61  Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 158; Mike Weatherford, Cult Vegas: The Weirdest! The Wildest! The Swingin’est Town on Earth! (Las Vegas. Nev.: Huntington Press, 2001), 130; Eliot Tiegel, “Presley’s Grand Hostelry Switch,” in Billboard, October 7, 1972, 1, 66. 62  “Mr. Las Vegas,” Billboard, November 4, 1972, 23 63  Eliot Tiegel, “Call Wayne Newton Mr. Las Vegas,” Billboard, December 8, 1973, LV-12. 64  Dandurand and Ralenkotter, “An Investigation of Entertainment Proness and Its Relationship to Gambling Behavior,” 15–16. 65  Associated Press 2 pm July 5, story called in to Jack in refutation to Marlee Dietrich being kicked out of Monte Carlo casino 7/2. Box 2 Folder 31. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 66  Freeman to Entratter, July 29, 1955. Box 5, Folder 3. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada.

4  LAS VEGAS CASINOS (1945–1976): CREATING AND SELLING… 

105

Lena Horne stopped performing in Vegas in 1963, stating to Billboard: “I’m just tired of it all. Take Las Vegas. I’m tired of being a shill. I’m in one room; some belly dancer is in the next room. And it’s just as crowded in there.”67 Such criticisms did not end the practice, however. In a 1976 interoffice memo, Horst Dziura, the management director of the Flamingo Hilton, laid out the agenda for the upcoming New Year’s Eve celebration. The event included various music shows and fine dining, as well as a large party. Dziura made it clear to all departments involved in the event that preference in service should be given to people whom management could depend upon to gamble heavily.68 The different entertainment options also reflect the different gambling experiences on offer on the Strip and in the more traditional Nevadan and Las Vegas downtown casinos. The smaller gambling houses in the city center still employed the traditional frontier image, which catered to locals. Their entertainment featured predominantly country music. By contrast, casinos on the Strip had moved away from that and toward the “Playboy” emotional style of the Rat Pack and others, described by Elizabeth Fraterrigo. It was a detached, almost sarcastic, yet hedonistic male emotional pattern, that indulged without losing control, celebrated heterosexual virility and adventures without compromising middle-class social values. Emotional styles are distinct patterns and practices of emotions that are displayed in and felt in reference to associated spatial set-ups, explain why not simply any emotional appeal would do.69 Billboard directly addressed the artistic and spatial differences between the two types of entertainment, quoting locals: “Elegant, flashy show rooms don’t allow country people to project, some people contend. The atmosphere must be casual and westernly, they point out, and that is the motif found in the

 “Unquoted,” Billboard, April 6, 1963, 12.  Horst Dziura, New Year’s Eve Memorandum, December 22, December 1976, Box 1. Flamingo Hilton Hotel Records, 1946–1983. MS-00239. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. Lynnette Little, ‘Professor’ Landy Unfolds Mysteries of gambling, in: Casino Post November 1979, Box 4 Folder 13, Dunes Hotel and Casino Records 1955–1992, MS-00328. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 69  Benno Gammerl, “Emotional Styles: Concepts and Challenges,” Rethinking History— The Journal of Theory and Practice 16, no.2 (2012): 162–166. 67 68

106 

P. FRANKE

downtown clubs.”70 Of course, this Western style was no more authentic than the Rat Pack’s studied coolness. It just appealed to different markets. Beginning in the late 1960s and into the 1970s, many developments that had started with the Desert Inn, the Flamingo, and the Sands intensified. Up until then, such casinos had employed general themes, to establish a new type of consumption experience and to separate themselves from downtown Las Vegas’s frontier form of gambling. But with the opening of Caesars Palace in 1966, casinos exhibited a new sophistication in terms of embedding narratives within architecture and consumption.

4.2   Caesars Palace, Circus Circus: The Beginnings of Corporate Las Vegas (1966–1970) “Resort City? Why, what’s happened to Las Vegas, the so-called ‘sin city,’ gambling capital of the world, swinger’s’ paradise?”71 asked Billboard in August 1966. In the mid-1960s the US began to enter a politically turbulent era. At the same time, lawmakers in Nevada agreed that it was time to bring “big business” into the casino industry, as individual entrepreneurs like Howard Hughes began to show interest in Las Vegas properties. These two major developments pushed the city to enter a new phase.72 The Sin City of the Copa years and the Rat Pack evolved slowly, as the casino entrepreneurs who had dominated the past two decades started to retire, sell their assets, or reenvision the look, design, and spatial scripts of their casinos. Organized crime approached the limits of what it could finance and the state began to allow casino organizations to raise capital by selling stock. Caesars Palace and Circus Circus casinos embody these new dynamics, as well as the increasing reliance on theming in building up these fantasy worlds. Caesars Palace combined tried and tested spatial designs with a new dedication to its theme. It also focused even more on visual opulence, featuring, for example, a line of water fountains framed by an arch of 70  “It ain’t Nashville, but it’s still country music,” in Billboard August 27, 1966, LV-28; Ingrid Eumann, “Las Vegas,” in Taking Up Space, 170–171; Gragg, Bright Light City, 29; Al, The Strip, 34; Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 78–80; Natasha D.  Schüll, Addiction by Design: Machine Gambling in Las Vegas (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2012), 113; Bubb, Landing in Las Vegas, 51–54. 71  “Las Vegas … changed its image,” Billboard, August 27, 1966, 14. 72  Bubb, Landing in Las Vegas, 65–68; Sallaz, The Labor of Luck, 171–173; Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 107–111.

4  LAS VEGAS CASINOS (1945–1976): CREATING AND SELLING… 

107

marble columns that led to the main entrance. Gone were the suburban elements within the space and the bungalows of the Desert Inn and the Flamingo, and although Caesars Palace had a giant sign, it was dwarfed by the fountains and the colossal pseudo-temple architecture. The main entrance led to the lobby of Caesars Promenade and then directly into the casino, Caesars Forum, with shops and a showroom organized in a circle around the gambling space. In the courtyard was a pool around which most of the hotel rooms were arranged in a hexagon.73 The oval-shaped casino featured Italian-marble columns made to appear old, crystal chandeliers, 25-foot-tall Italian cypresses brought in from Southern California, and water fountains.74 As envisioned by motel entrepreneur and gambler Jay Sarno. Caesars Palace represented a new way of conceptualizing casinos. He put the theme of the gambling house front and center of all aspects of its presentation. Between 1945 and 1966, casinos had appealed to white suburbanites by perfecting their living conditions and combining them with consumption, nightclub entertainment, and fantasies of Hollywood glamour. Sarno and Caesars Palace moved away from that. From now on, games of chance were no longer blended with the imaginary frontier, vague Hollywood fantasies, or beach resorts like Miami. Rather, they became part of full-­ blown fantasy worlds and increasingly elaborate simulations. Before Caesars Palace and Circus Circus, casino themes had been somewhat subtle or undefined. The “Arabian Nights” theme of the Dunes, for example, was already conceived of in 1954–1955, aimed at evoking a dream world of heterosexual male orientalist fantasies linked to the harem, by using “Persian-Indian motifs” and by giving rooms such suggestive

73  Caesars Palace Press Kit, Jay Sarno Papers 1965–2001, MS-00548, Box 1 Folder 5 Special Collections & Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 74  David G. Schwartz, Grandissimo—the First Emperor of Las Vegas: How Jay Sarno Won a Casino Empire, Lost It, and Inspired Modern Las Vegas (Las Vegas: Winchester, 2013), 52–88, 120–129, 141; Caesars Palace: Convention and conference facilities information, undated. Box 1, Folder 1. Jay Sarno Papers 1965–2001, MS-00548, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas, Las Vegas, Nevada; Caesars Palace Press Kit, 1966. Jay Sarno Papers 1965–2001, MS-00548, Box 1, Folder 5. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada.

108 

P. FRANKE

names as “eunuch” and “concubine.”75 They had never, however, tried to imitate real or historical places.76 In that they were part of larger shift within American society and in the country’s economy. In the late 1960s the suburban middle classes had lost a great deal of their appeal as a cultural reference point for potential consumers, that is gamblers. After 1968, the liberal consensus that was so important for acts like the Rat Pack had come to an end. Nor did gambling any longer need to be legitimized by integration into a suburban cultural environment. Las Vegas was by now well established as a gambling experience.77 However, this should not be taken as a sign that the suburban middle classes ceased to be the primary market for the Strip. On the contrary, as shown before, Sarno sought to block efforts to broaden Las Vegas’s appeal to fans of rock and roll. As architectural and design principle however, suburbia was played out. In Las Vegas and elsewhere in the late 1960s and 1970s, theming emerged as a dominant new feature of consumption and spatial planning. The city features heavily in sociologist Mark Gottdiener’s work on themed environments within the US. He defines themed spaces as “socially constructed, built environments […] designed to serve as containers for commodified human interaction.”78 Such environments have to be understood by inhabitants and users who rely on motifs to guide them through prescribed spatial narratives.79 These larger developments help to explain the shift in architectural design that took place in Las Vegas casinos during the 1960s.80

75  Alfred Gottesmann to Bill Yates March 21, 1955. Box 1, Folder 15. Dunes Hotel and Casino Records, 1955–1992. MS-00328. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada; Joe Gottesmann to Bill Yates April 7, 1955. Box 1, Folder 15. Dunes Hotel and Casino Records 1955–1992, MS-00328. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada; Joe Gottesmann to Bill Yates December 2nd, 1954, Box 1, Folder 15 Dunes Hotel and Casino Records 1955–1992, 93-08, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. 76  Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 133–137; Steve Durham, “The Modern Era,” in The History of Gambling in America, 46–47. 77  Samuel, The American Middle Class, 68–92. 78  Mark Gottdiener, The Theming of America: Dreams, Media Fantasies, and Themed Environments (Boulder, Colo.: Westview Press, 2001), 5. 79  Gottdiener, The Theming of America, 4–6. 80  Gottdiener, The Theming of America, 106–116.

4  LAS VEGAS CASINOS (1945–1976): CREATING AND SELLING… 

109

There were also factors specific to the city that help explain the shift toward fantasy worlds. Las Vegas casinos are no mere semiotic signs but rather the result of a production nexus that encompasses the laws they operate under, the professionals that built them, the markets they wanted to attract, and the technologies available to them.81 Sarno’s choice to build a casino that spoke to fantasies of ancient Rome was grounded in changing conditions on the Strip.82 Architecture had emerged as one field of competition on the expanding and, by the mid-1960s, rather densely packed Strip. Theming helped to distinguish individual casino resorts from each other and thus ideally to attract potential patrons. One factor driving Sarno’s decision to change the established formula was related to tourism: by the late 1960s Las Vegas had become a truly national holiday destination and was welcoming more and more visitors— over a million people arrived at McCarran Airport after 1960 on nationally operating airlines like Delta and United.83 The older casino structure, which mimicked suburban areas, was simply unable to accommodate the masses.84 Caesars Palace did not end the established business practices of the Las Vegas Strip. In many ways, old patterns persisted, especially when it came to the basic spatial order of the casino with a central gambling space, that diffused games of chance into the hotel and into shopping and other leisure areas.85 The major difference between Caesars Palace and casino-hotels like the Desert Inn and the Sands was its commitment to a fantasy that aimed to transplant visitors into an environment removed from everyday reality.86  Peterson and Anand, “The Production of Culture Perspective,” 311.  Schwartz, Grandissimo, 71, 104–105, 127–132. 83  Record of Passengers Enplaned and Deplaned McCarran Airport—Clark County Las Vegas, Nevada—1966. Box 2, Folder 6. Dunes Hotel and Casino Records, 1954–1992. MS-00328. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 84  Bubb, Landing in Las Vegas, 71–73; Jakle, Sculle and Rogers, The Motel in America, 51–53. 85  Floorplans of the casino: Caesars Palace Press Kit. Box 1, Folder 5. Jay Sarno Papers 1965–2001, MS-00548, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada; Caesars Palace ephemera. Box 1, Folder 4. Jay Sarno Papers 1965–2001, MS-00548, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 86  Hartmut Berghoff, “From Privilege to Commodity?”, in The Making of Modern Tourism, 168–170; Jörg Häntzschel, “Das Paradies in der Wüste,” in Urbane Paradiese, 301–302; Schumacher, Sun, Sin & Suburbia, 80, 238; Gottdiener, The Theming of America, 110–116. 81 82

110 

P. FRANKE

Within Caesars Palace references to ancient Rome appeared everywhere, from cocktail napkins to the beverage servers’ costumes to the logo on the restaurants’ menus, as well as part of the architecture of hotel and casino.87 Caesars Palace and the themed casinos of the 1970s employed these elements to construct a spatial and emotional script that would produce a new sort of gambling experience, one that would simulate an all-­ encompassing imagined world in which visitors would lose themselves completely.88 Author David Kranes describes how this mechanism worked in relation to the script and guidance of movement: “One enters a specific fantasy which gently draws and surrounds. There is lovely play between Roman accuracy and theatrical whimsy. One is allowed to ‘buy’ the fantasy and have a certain ironic distance from it at the same time. The fantasy is guiding the visitor, but it is always doing that guiding with respect.”89 This respectful distance allowed players to get lost in their own gambling consumption and highlights how the Las Vegas consumption experience aimed to transform visitors’ perception of games, by linking them with the visual and emotional impressions associated with living a fantasy of Rome. The theming of Caesars Palace was more related to such fantasies than to reality. Sarno never wanted to truly replicate the Eternal City; he merely employed narratives that tapped into fantasies about the Roman Empire as a place of indulgence in which visitors would feel encouraged to consume and gamble. Interior designer Lee Cagley explained the appeal of Rome to gamblers in an interview: “All of that just goes to peoples’ heads.”90 Caesars Palace, Cagley claimed, had to look and feel like a cleaner, more stylized version of ancient Rome in order to put people in a state in which they were willing to risk money at the gambling tables in order to truly live in the fantasy to be a Caesar. The simulation extended to the staff of Caesars Palace, which, for the first time, were integrated into the theme. Gender played a major role in this regard. The imagined primary target group of Caesars Palace remained the middle-class, white, heterosexual man. Female employees were dressed 87  Ribbat, Flackernde Moderne, 80; Hal Rothman, “Colony, Capital, and Casino: Money in the Real Las Vegas,” in The Grit beneath the Glitter: Tales from the Real Las Vegas, eds. Hal Rothman and Mike Davis (Berkeley, CA.: University of California Press, 2002), 319–320; Schwartz, Grandissimo, xii, 267–268. 88  Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 133–137; Kranes, “Play Grounds,” 95–101. 89  Kranes, “Play Grounds,” 101. 90  Transcript Interview with Lee Cagley, 10–11, Oral History Research Center, University of Nevada Las Vegas.

4  LAS VEGAS CASINOS (1945–1976): CREATING AND SELLING… 

111

to inspire and speak to their sexual fantasies. On opening day, for instance, female hostesses were asked to introduce themselves as “slaves” to the predominantly male patrons.91 While most casinos had featured some kind of uniform for their employees, Caesars Palace used real costumes: short and rather revealing toga dresses for “cocktail waitresses” and Roman armor for male animators.92 The logo of the casino—in which a young, attractive women in a revealing tunic fed grapes to a rather large man dressed as Caesar and lying on a sofa—clearly spoke to heteronormative male fantasies. The restaurant was styled after Cleopatra’s bark and floated in real water. Fortuna, the Roman goddess of luck and a widely recognized gambling motif, appeared frequently as a statue and in pictures.93 Even the name Caesars Palace became part of the narrative. The use of “Caesars” plural indicated that everyone coming here was treated like, and became, Caesar. Once again, and despite the recognizable presence of female gamblers and consumers, the imagined patron of Caesars Palace remained male.94 Theming could not, however, replace the primary commercial activity of a casino: gambling. Sociologists like Sharon Zukin acknowledge the economic function of space, yet also suggest that the space itself is consumed.95 Sarno’s second casino, Circus Circus, is instructive in this regard because it failed at first. Having opened two years after Caesars Palace, Circus Circus broke away from the formula of the Strip casino. Envisioned as a casino for high rollers, it lacked a hotel but introduced entrance fees.96 91  Barbara Land and Myrick Land, A ´Short History of Las Vegas (Reno: University of Nevada Press, 2004), 160. 92  Schwartz, Grandissimo, 70–71, 105; Land and Land, A ´Short History of Las Vegas, 160. 93  Caesars Palace Press Kit, Box 1 Folder 5 Jay Sarno Papers 1965–2001, MS-00548 Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 94  Schwartz, Grandissimo, 70. 95  Zukin, The Cultures of Cities, 58. 96  Architectural drawing, Circus Circus (Las Vegas), lower-level plan, October 17, 1967, Homer A.  Rissman Collection, sky000952, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada; Architectural drawing of Circus Circus (Las Vegas), upper-level plan, October 17, 1967, Homer A.  Rissman Collection, sky000953, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada; Architectural drawing, Circus Circus (Las Vegas), detailed proposal sheets, main floor plan, section A, November 17, 1967, Homer A. Rissman Collection, sky000957, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas.

112 

P. FRANKE

Sarno’s plan for Circus Circus represented the first real attempt to change the Strip paradigm while still producing a consumption experience. He tried to eliminate the Las Vegas casino’s biggest liability, the hotel. His reasoning was compelling. By then, Las Vegas featured dozens of hotels, and so most casino-hotels were constantly expanding their hospitality facilities. But being fully booked didn’t generate revenue: only bringing visitors to the gambling tables did.97 Circus Circus was spatial spectacle rather than a leisure-consumption space, and the most extravagant casino Las Vegas had seen thus far. It featured monkeys performing tricks on the side of the casino floor and an elephant in circus dress walked between the gambling tables; trapeze artists presented a live acrobatic show above the tables and the patrons’ heads; music played constantly; images of nude women and clowns entertained the crowds.98 It failed massively. Although Circus Circus presented a unique spectacle in a highly themed space, it did so without making gambling its central activity. In any casino-hotel, patrons could leave and gamble somewhere else. The spatial script of casinos aimed at preventing this by guiding visitors to the tables within the same establishment. Sarno underestimated this, and his new casino suffered from a lack of patrons from the start. The spectacle of Circus Circus actually slowed down gambling activity. For starters, the animals were hard to control. The elephant, for example, produced large amounts of excrement directly on the casino floor. The circus acts also proved a distraction. Sarno even joked about how hard it was to train his dealers and gambling staff to ignore the trapeze artists. More importantly, gamblers often looked away from their activities and up at the ceiling. In other words, the spectacle was competing with the guests’ consumption and gambling activities, something other casinos carefully avoided.99 In the future, when casinos expanded in size, they used themes to sell gambling and leisure together, rather than making the fantasy itself the selling point. 97  Pete Earley, Super Casino: Inside the “New” Las Vegas (New York: Bantam Books, 2001), 85–86. 98  Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 133–137. 99  “A childhood dream come true.” Box 1, Folder 8. Jay Sarno Papers 1965–2001, MS-00548, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada; “Circus Circus opens on Las Vegas Strip,” December 22, 1968. Box 1 Folder 9. Jay Sarno Papers 1965–2001, MS-00548. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada; Schwartz, Grandissimo, 141–144, 154; Earley, Super Casino, 78–79; Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 133–137.

4  LAS VEGAS CASINOS (1945–1976): CREATING AND SELLING… 

113

4.3   The International New High-Rise Casino-­Hotels and the Expansion of the Las Vegas Consumption Experience (1969–1976) The casinos of the 1970s represented a shift toward both corporate management and mass tourism. They largely disposed of the suburban framework, as the Strip had slowly outgrown its older low-rise structures and the intimate nightclub atmosphere. The International casino had no more use for the suburban framework, which could no longer accommodate the masses pouring into Las Vegas. Nor was suburbia still a relevant cultural reference that could serve to shape perceptions of gambling. The International broke with the more intimate setting many casinos had used to bring together entertainers, visitors, and gamblers. The nightclubs found at older casinos had been smaller venues. There, people felt part of an exclusive group without having to spend much money to do so. Post-1969 Las Vegas hotels, like the International, however with its giant showrooms and impersonal 1500 room hotel, put an end to that. Gambling was still an integral part of the leisure complex, and food, beverages, and entertainment stayed cheap to minimize feelings of loss. To an extent, corporatism and theming had replaced the intimacy and rowdiness of the casinos from the 1950s and early 1960s. In making the Las Vegas gambling consumption experience bigger, the International and its successors also gradually altered it.100 Even the workforce picked up on the loss of intimacy and personal connections, attributing it to the corporate takeover.101 In 1973, employees and visitors marveled at the extravagance and Hollywood feel of the place, yet they also lamented the “coldness” of the giant casino and its corporate management. Nonetheless, they acknowledged that Las Vegas was now a place of refuge: here there was no economic crisis, no recession, just fun and escapism. In the context of the economic decline and the challenges to established societal norms of the 1970s, the casino’s ability to transport guests to a more optimistic, happier place was a welcome respite.102

 Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 151–154.  James P.  Kraft, Vegas at Odds: Labor Conflict in a Leisure Economy, 1960–1985 (Baltimore, Md.: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2010), 33. 102  Laura Deni, “Tropicana and MGM Grand Set this Year’s Extravaganza Pace,” Billboard December 8, 1973, 40. 100 101

114 

P. FRANKE

Part of the appeal of the International was its shift toward mass tourism and individualized vacationing. It addressed its visitors not as members of a coherent class but rather as individual tourists. Its isolation of visitors was even more sophisticated. A triangle- and y-shaped megalith structure with a porte cochere so big that it overtook the highway, the International is much more in line with what twenty-first-century visitors expect from a Las Vegas casino. This new type of casino was a resort in which people were completely shut off from the outside world. With a showroom with over 2000 seats, a nightclub, a golf course, table tennis and badminton facilities, seven restaurants, each with its own theme (Italian, French, Bavarian, etc.), as well as a lounge and of course a casino, it dwarfed previous Strip casinos.103 The Las Vegas gambling experience was at this point dominated by slot machines, the least social of all casino games. People played them individually and continuously. The casino became less about integrating the middle classes into its framework and more about enabling mass tourism and individual consumption within the casino space. This resulted in the aforementioned perceived “coldness” that went hand in hand with the fact that casinos had been gradually losing their own identities. As they were integrated into corporate and increasingly national strategies, workers and gamblers no longer felt privileged or appreciated as individuals. Where the Sands was a name people would recognize and were proud to patronize, casinos were now integrated into larger national brands and standardization processes. For example, Kirk Kerkorian had opened the International in 1969 and then sold it and the Flamingo to Hilton in 1971.104

103  Architectural drawing of the International Hotel (Las Vegas), interior elevations key plan, August 5, 1968, Martin Stern, Jr. Collection, sky000731, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada; Architectural drawing of the International Hotel (Las Vegas), casino gaming plan, August 5, 1968, Martin Stern, Jr. Collection, sky000738; Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada; Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 151–154. 104  Dave Palermo, “Kirk Kerkorian: The Reticent Billionaire,” in The Players: The Men Who Made Las Vegas, ed. Jack Sheehan (University of Nevada Press, 1997), 164–166.

4  LAS VEGAS CASINOS (1945–1976): CREATING AND SELLING… 

115

Hilton had shown interest in the casino business for years.105 Now it invested heavily in the Flamingo, adding another 3000 rooms to the hotel. And though it added “Hilton” to the hotel’s name, making it the Flamingo Hilton, the company opted for a slight alteration to the property rather than complete rebrand. Waiters and other staff members stopped wearing tuxedos, for example, exchanging them for the hotel’s corporate uniform.106 The Flamingo as a place to gamble and live a middle-class Hollywood lifestyle merged with Hilton’s brand and corporate identity, which stood for excellent service. At the same time, Hilton used the Flamingo franchise to expand inside Nevada, spawning Flamingo Hiltons in Reno and Laughlin and attempting to export the brand and the consumption experience it stood for to other places,107 though that did not work out to the extent the company had hoped. The Flamingo Hilton was still a Las Vegas casino, not transferable, not replaceable.108 As the modern corporate casino became less intimate and personal, Strip executives and their corporate bosses sought new ways to keep parts of the unique consumption experience intact. To do so they used broadly recognizable and not gambling-specific brands.

4.4   Conclusion: The MGM Grand, the Las Vegas Gambling Experiences, and Defining American Gambling After building the International, Kerkorian became owner of the Metro-­ Goldwyn-­Mayer (MGM) studios in Hollywood in 1970. His next casino, the MGM Grand exemplifies how branding, theming, and architecture supplemented the suburban idea with a resort that focused on the individual, rather than on class, appeal. The hotel used popular imagery taken from its films to create the setting and atmosphere of the casino-hotel. 105  The connection of Hilton to the casino industry remains elusive. The company supported the Corporate Gaming Act and had previously partnered with Meyer Lansky and other figures of organized crime to run hotels and casinos in Cuba before 1959: Jack Colhoun, Gangsterismo: The United States, Cuba, and the Mafia: 1933 to 1966 (New York: Or Books, 2013), 23; Robert Lacey, Little Man: Meyer Lansky and the Gangster Life (London: Arrow, 1992) 239–257. 106  Smith, “Ben Siegel,” 13–15. 107  Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 162; Rothman, Devil’s Bargains, 327–336. 108  Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 162.

116 

P. FRANKE

The name derived from the 1932 MGM classic Grand Hotel. The casino was enormous, stretching over 2.5 square miles and featuring 10 craps tables, 70 blackjack tables, 6 roulette games, 6 Big Six wheels, 16 poker tables, and over 1000 slot machines.109 Gambling had become mass leisure activity, acceptable to large swaths of American society. The MGM Grand used its theme and architecture to build a movie fantasy world in which the masses of tourists could imagine themselves as being a movie star. Its entrance had a strong role to play in this:110 the transition space gave visitors the feeling that they were stepping into a large movie theatre and walking on the famous red carpet. The aim was the same as in previous decades: it sought to provide a spatial script for people to follow that would encourage them to gamble and feel good about it. As such, the MGM Grand was a highly specialized consumption space and employed architecture to that end.111 When stepping into it, patrons had to walk through a true labyrinth, and they could immerse themselves in its daylight-free zone for the duration of their vacation.112 The impact of the Strip on American gambling was profound. As gambling historian Schwartz points out, the Strip “defined American gambling.”113 He elaborates: “Within three hours of their homes, most Americans could find ‘Vegas-style’ gambling, be it on a riverboat, Indian reservation, or land-based casino. But they have to go to Las Vegas to soak in the ‘Las Vegas Experience.’”114 Las Vegas was now the sometimes explicit, sometimes tacit model for gambling in the US. It also maintained

109  Proposal for the MGM Grand Hotel (Las Vegas), circa 1972, Martin Stern, Jr. Collection, sky000003, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada; Kraft, Vegas at Odds, 34. 110  Architectural drawing of the MGM Grand Hotel (Las Vegas), porte-cochère sections and details, June 12, 1972, Martin Stern, Jr. Collection, sky000825, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 111  Johannes Stefan Al, “Casino Architecture Wars,” 6–8; Robert Venturi, Steven Izenour and Denise Scott Brown, Learning from Las Vegas: The Forgotten Symbolism of Architectural Form, 22. rev. ed (Cambridge: MIT Press, 2006) 34–59; Nichols, The Leisure Architecture of Wayne McAllister, 10–11. 112  Schumacher, Sun, Sin & Suburbia, 70–71; Photograph of a rendering of the proposed MGM Grand Hotel (Las Vegas), before 1973, Martin Stern, Jr. Collection, sky000359, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 113  Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 197. 114  Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 206.

4  LAS VEGAS CASINOS (1945–1976): CREATING AND SELLING… 

117

an aura that could not be transplanted but depended on the local spatial set-up and atmosphere. This gambling experience had gradually transformed games of chance. In the 1940s, it had been part of the frontier lifestyle. Strip casinos like the Flamingo, Desert Inn, and Sands had reimagined it, however. They had integrated gambling into the nightclub, the suburban leisure space of the motor hotel, and made it part of vacations for the increasingly mobile, car-­ owing, white middle classes. Entertainment and consumption made it “fun,” meaning spontaneous, indulgent, and affordable to families centered around the ideal of a married couple with two to three kids. Patronizing the casinos was, in this atmosphere and space, as natural as going for a swim in the pool, eating at a restaurant, or enjoying music in the show room. In the late 1960s, casinos no longer needed to integrate gambling directly into suburban spaces. They moved on to fantasy worlds such as ancient Rome or a hyper realistic circus. As the middle classes lost their cultural dominance over the Strip, even as they maintained their economic dominance, casinos cultivated new ways of contextualizing gambling in themed spaces, as did most consumption-focused businesses in the US. In the 1970s, the challenge was less about making gambling appealing to the middle classes, which were anxious about losing their claim to moral and political hegemony if they patronized casinos, and more about integrating gambling into standardized mass tourism. Themes and spatial orders like the ones at the MGM Grand provided such a possibility.

CHAPTER 5

Working in the Casinos, How Casinos Worked—Managers and Workforce in the Production of Experiences

Thomas Barbarite, who worked as a dealer at the Dunes, the Aladdin, and the Flamingo in the 1950s and as a pit boss at Caesars Palace in the 1960s, described in an oral-history interview how working in the casino felt to those dealing the cards, serving the drinks, and exchanging the chips: “It’s none of the glamour, it’s just a lot of hard work for a lot of people.”1 Producing consumption experiences in the casinos was a group effort by managers, dealers, croupiers, and beverage servers. In June 1950, Life magazine published a photo of the Desert Inn staff in the casino room. At the center was Wilbur Clark, president and general manager, surrounded by his secretary, publicity director, and maître d’hotel. In the foreground were the casino operator, race-bet manager, and the casino and slot machine manager. The picture reveals the workforce structure of Strip casinos and provides a glimpse into its dynamics of gender- and race-based discrimination. For starters, the staff was almost exclusively white. Women were hired only as lifeguards, maids, “cocktail girls,” “showgirls,” and “change girls.” The titles alone reveal at the gender restriction for these positions. The gambling staff included 4 (male, white) floor bosses and 50 dealers. In addition, there were 10 bellboys, 14 cooks, 6 secretaries, 2 1  Transcript of interview with Thomas Barbarite 03/03/1981, OH-00077, 7, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada.

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 P. Franke, Feeling Lucky, Worlds of Consumption, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-33095-7_5

119

120 

P. FRANKE

auditors, 29 beverage servers (“cocktail waitresses”), 6 front-desk clerks, 10 waiters, 45 waitresses, and 30 chambermaids.2 Looking at the workforce shows how rapidly the industry grew and how the more intimate atmosphere of the 1950s and 1960s made way for the mass tourism of the late 1960s and 1970s. With its over 200 employees, the Desert Inn was regarded as a big casino in 1950, but just like the buildings, the workforce quickly expanded in the following decades. In 1962, Carl Cohen of the Sands had 217 people working for the gambling department alone, while the entire casino-hotel had around 727 employees.3 In the 1970s, a casino like the MGM Grand already had over 4500 employees led by 7 corporate officers, 7 senior directors, and 57 lower-­ level managers and supervisors.4 Every part of the workforce was carefully selected and integrated into the casino operation. Like the space in which gambling took place, those who worked within it were instrumental in designing and selling the gambling experience. Similarities in the biographies of François Blanc and men like Moe Dalitz or Jay Sarno are few and far between, yet all of them were autodidacts. Not until late in the twentieth century were casino managers specifically trained as such. Practical knowledge gained by working in gambling or being brought up in the business qualified people to operate a casino. François Blanc and his right-hand men Wagatha, Stemler, Hartlieb, Wicht, and Bertora had all started out in the first half of the nineteenth century. They had been part of a new generation of entrepreneurs hired because of their skill by ruling princes to run commercialized gambling operations, because of their skill. In Las Vegas, most casino operators had experience from motel ventures or illegal gambling, as part of the shadow economy of the Prohibition years. In both cases the entrepreneurs sought to produce gambling experiences that focused on legitimacy, fun, and excitement. What that meant however differed, as these concepts shifted over time and varied considerably between Europe and the US. But they all sought to ensure forms of 2  “Nevada brings it into open and gets rich,” in Life Magazine, June 19, 1950, 100–101, Oversized Box 2. Toni and Wilbur Clark Collection, 1947–1991, MS 95-49, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 3  “Entratter marks Sands Tenth Anno with Special Guest Thomas Shows,” October 12, 1962, Box 2, Folder 31. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 4  Kraft, Vegas at Odds, 31–35.

5  WORKING IN THE CASINOS, HOW CASINOS WORKED—MANAGERS… 

121

gambling that was free of cheating and conducted by groups that did not trigger the moral anxiety of prospective patrons. This demanded a workforce that excluded certain groups. Those that the bourgeois or middle-class establishment deemed controversial or suspicious were seen as unsuitable, even if they were capable of running the games. The SBM did not hire female croupiers until well into the twentieth century and Marie Blanc’s position of power should not obscure the fact that the SBM leadership and workforce were distinctly male and white. Strip casinos were openly discriminatory: in 1958, casinos and the city commissioner buckled under the pressure of male dealers and banned women from dealing cards in Las Vegas. The ban on female dealers remained in effect until 1970. Not until the Consent Decree of 1981 were women offered more equal opportunities outside of the service department.5 In the minds of the casino executives of the Sahara, the Desert Inn, the Flamingo, and the Sands, women had a particular role in the production process: attracting male visitors.6 African-Americans were also discriminated against. Even after the civil rights movement the casinos used their power over the labor market to hire only whites in lucrative positions, generally only offering African-Americans positions in housekeeping.7 One parallel between Monte Carlo and Las Vegas was management’s insistence that dealers and croupiers maintain a detached demeanor. Both the SBM and Strip casinos carefully trained and selected these men, in order to present the games as safe, professional, and non-competitive. The aim was to create an atmosphere in which games were fun and part of the leisure framework. What constituted “fun” however differed. Monte Carlo focused on well-regulated spectacles of gambling in which individual gamblers could demonstrate emotional control and bet as individuals and yet witness the games as part of a whole group. The workforce as a whole was encouraged to cater to this sense of ritualistic, centralized gambling. On the Strip, on the other hand, the casino leadership demanded that the personnel treat the gamblers as individuals, playing as self-­ determining subjects. 5  Joanne L.  Goodwin, Changing the Game: Women at Work in Las Vegas, 1940–1990 (Reno, Nev.: University of Nevada Press, 2014), 158–161. 6  Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 57–61. 7  Earnest N. Bracey, The Moulin Rouge and Black Rights in Las Vegas: A History of the First Racially Integrated Hotel-Casino (Jefferson, N.C.: McFarland & Company, 2009), 80–84.

122 

P. FRANKE

Much depended on the careers of a rank-and-file workforce, whose training developed within the organizational structure of the casinos.8 Sociological and anthropological studies have pointed to the importance of emotional labor as part of a new service-oriented and theme-based economy.9 The longue durée comparison of Monaco and Vegas reveals that in terms of labor, the modern casino industry is part of a larger trend. The similarities between SBM and Strip executives and workforces are thus structural. The way the SBM and Strip casinos trained, treated, and selected their employees helps to show how consumer capitalism enabled a new style of labor to both preserve and create a lasting experience.

5.1   Executives of the SBM: Transfer of Knowledge Within a Family Business When two American journalists came to Monte Carlo in 1925 to interview SBM casino director René Léon for an article, they saw a side of the gambling house, that players flocking to the tables rarely encountered. They were led to the second floor, through multiple doors guarded by uniformed and ununiformed personnel, and ushered into the office of “a young man of sparkling blue eyes, sandy hair, short croppy mustache and a winning smile.”10 Casino director René Léon had started to reform the company that François Blanc had founded, turning it into a twentieth-­ century business that still lived off the massive losses of the players he figuratively and literally oversaw from his office above the casino atrium. The article compared him to a “czar,” which was far from the worst thing Léon had been called. Monegasque politicians also compared him and other SBM officials to dictators.11 The Blancs conceived of the SBM and its project because their professional biographies allowed them to make use of larger shifts in Europe’s gambling industry and of the political changes underway in the  Peterson and Anand, “The Production of Culture Perspective,” 311–314, 326–327.  Hannigan, Fantasy City, 1–8, Ruppert, The Moral Economy of Cities, 90; David Grazian, On the Make: The Hustle of Urban Nightlife (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2011), 66; Rothman, Devil’s Bargain, 286; Zukin, The Cultures of Cities, 52. 10  Raymond Carroll, “Monte Carlo Director Cleans House – Rene Léon, in Interview with American Writer, Promises “Honest Gambling”, if there is Any such thing,” The Milwaukee Journal, January 11, 1925, 5. 11  L’Eveil Démocratique de Monaco  - Organe de l’Union Démocratique Monégasque 901. February 1935, 1–9. 8 9

5  WORKING IN THE CASINOS, HOW CASINOS WORKED—MANAGERS… 

123

mid-nineteenth century. Like other casino entrepreneurs of his generation, François Blanc came from a petit-bourgeois background. Men (and they were almost exclusively men) like him gained their foothold in the casino business as post-revolutionary France was becoming the cradle of small gambling establishments.12 This gave Blanc and his peers a new perspective: their “know-how” and capital made them irreplaceable for the ruling princes of small states, which needed additional tax revenue.13 The casino of Monte Carlo was part of a greater development, in which games of chance became a commodity on a competitive market organized by capitalistic entrepreneurs. Blanc had worked in the gambling business since at least the 1840s, building and managing the casino in Homburg. In Monaco, he did not simply copy his projects from Hessen, but elaborated on them, using the Monegasque space to his advantage. Blanc had success because he had dealt with gamblers and governments before. He used his knowledge of casino operation to design games and gambling spaces to entice players without compromising the business of the casino: he sold the experience of gambling as a service and devised several strategies to present games as exciting and as a spectacle, all of which were in line with the behaviors of players that he had observed for decades before he invested in Monte Carlo. The key to designing casino games was to preserve their character as games of chance, but to allow the group of bourgeois small-time gamblers that played them to be perceived as a spectacle and something active. Drawing on a strategy he had already employed in Homburg, for example, Blanc eliminated the second zero on his roulette wheels. The loss of the second zero significantly boosted players’ chances of winning without giving them the upper hand overall.14 Blanc also understood how a casino had to look and feel. For this reason, he brought in architects like Dutrou and Jacobi to redesign the gambling house to include such features as a pigeon-shooting range, gardens, and

12  Manfred Zollinger, “Banquiers Und Pointeurs: Geschichte Des Glücksspiels Zwischen Integration Und Ausgrenzung Vom 18. bis zum 20. Jahrhundert,” (PhD diss., Universität Wien, Dezember 1990), 263–268; Fielding, The Money Spinner, 38–41; Kavanagh, Dice, Cards, Wheels, 132–133. 13  Zollinger, Banquiers und Pointeurs, 263–268; Baeumerth, Königsschloss contra Festtempel, 162; 164–167. 14  Tegtmeier, Casino, 15; Barnhart, Gamblers of Yesteryear, 139–141.

124 

P. FRANKE

an opera. The casino thereby linked the leisure activities and social spaces of the old elites with those of the new bourgeoisie.15 This set him apart from previous concessionaires, who had a different professional biography and failed to see the casino in such a role. The strong alignment with mass tourism, accomplished by such things as chartering two ships going from Monaco to Genoa and back, and his emphasis on railroad construction were not just intuitions.16 He based them on his previous ventures and on the possibilities the SBM offered as an organizational structure.17 Blanc, like many French gambling entrepreneurs who came to Germany after the 1836 gambling ban in France, had witnessed how bourgeois travelers formed a new target group for casino gambling. They saw that it was now possible to operate and run games as a capitalist (meaning consumption-oriented) leisure business.18 As an organizational structure the SBM facilitated these innovations by acting as a kind of corporate overlord to the city space of Monte Carlo. It allowed Blanc to make use of a number of middle managers, as well as to reproduce and pass down practical knowledge of the casino business. This became necessary after both François and Marie, and later their heir Camille, gradually retreated from running the day-to-day-operations.19 In the SBM a network of casino managers acted together, constrained by the boundaries set up by the company’s organizational architecture.20 They acted according to the guidelines formulated by Blanc, overseeing the recruitment of croupiers and service personnel, the building of urban and  Boyer and Agulhon, L’Hiver dans le Midi, 311–315.  Baeumerth, Königsschloss contra Festtempel, 198–202; Barnhart, Gamblers of Yesteryear, 176–177. 17  Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary, 80–83; Fielding, The Money Spinner, 24–26; Baeumerth, Königsschloss contra Festtempel, 172–173; Patrizia R.  Battilani and Smeralda Costa, “How Social Values Shape Recreational Sites,” in Water, Leisure and Culture: European Historical Perspectives, eds. Susan C.  Anderson and Bruce H.  Tabb, (Oxford, New York: Berg Publishers, 2002), 211–213. 18  Jean-Michel Leniaud, “Le Choix du Sud,” in Les Riviera de Charles Garnier et Gustave Eiffel, 155 Baeumerth, Königsschloss contra Festtempel, 162; 164–167; Kavanagh, Dice, Cards, Wheels, 136. 19  Jackson, Inside Monte Carlo, 44; Fielding, The Money Spinner, 77–79; Baeumerth, Königsschloss contra Festtempel, 172. 20   Archives du Palaiss Princier, D20-7, Rapports mensuels du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le CasinoNo. 472, April 30, 1870; Archives du Palais Princier, D20-9, Rapports mensuels du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, No. 821, July 22, 1877; Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary, 102–107; Corti, Zauberer von Homburg, 166. 15 16

5  WORKING IN THE CASINOS, HOW CASINOS WORKED—MANAGERS… 

125

casino infrastructure, the acquisition of gambling equipment, the resolution of gamblers’ complaints, and the fulfilment of their wishes. They also monitored the playing crowds, deciding how to change procedures if a table’s performance was lackluster.21 They formulated their own policies and business practices as well. As middle managers they closely watched over casino operations and developed keen knowledge about gambling and gamblers.22 They were veterans of casino administration, but most had no formal business education. They drew their knowledge from their experience working for the Blanc family.23 All of them had stakes in the SBM and were connected to the Blanc clan, which ensured their loyalty. Antoine Bertora, for instance, had served as François secretary and was a close associate and friend of Marie’s. Gustav Stemler had been Blanc’s right-hand man for many years during the Homburg period and was well connected in the German town, including with Marie Blanc’s family.24 Henri Wagatha had even married one of Marie’s sisters and was in charge during Blanc’s lengthy stays in Paris.25 A sharp distinction between managers and family is thus difficult to make. This represents one constraint of the SBM until the 1920s: it was founded as a family business and dominated by the Blanc clan. This made it harder for outsiders like René Léon to reform it through such measures 21  Archives du Palais Princier, D20-7, Rapports mensuels du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, No. 460, February 5, 1870; Archives du Palais Princier, D20-34, Rapports du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, November 6, 1906. 22  Corti, Zauberer von Homburg, 190–191. 23   Stadtarchiv Bad Homburg, Nachlass Louis und Heinrich Jacobi, E 002  – 225, Dienstverhältnisse der Mitglieder des Direktoriums der Anonymen Gesellschaft, Aufnahme des C.F.A. Hartlieb Anstelle des verstorbenen F. Trittler, June 8, 1860; Archives du Palais Princier, D20-7, Rapports mensuel du Commissaire du Gouvernement prés le Casino, No. 460, February 5, 1870; Archive du Palais Princier, D20x, Assemblée Générale des Actionnaires de la Société Anonyme des Bains e Mer et du Cercle Etranger à Monaco, April 29, 1878;; Archives du Palais Princier, D20, Assemblée Générale des Actionnaires de la Société Anonyme des Bains e Mer et du Cercle Etranger à Monaco, April 25, 1879; Archive du Palais Princier, D20, Process verbale de l’assemblée générale ordinaire des actionnaires de la société anonyme de bains de mer et du cercle étranger à Monaco, November 24, 1883. 24   Stadtarchiv Bad Homburg, Nachlass Louis und Heinrich Jacobi, E 002  – 428 Abrechnung der Schenkungen an Verwandte der Marie Blanc, Bd 2 Nov. 1876–May 1886. 25  Révoil, Monaco et Monte-Carlo, 220–223; Stadtarchiv Bad Homburg, Nachlass Louis und Heinrich Jacobi, E 002 – 421, Schriftverkehr von Louis Jacobi mit Elise Wagatha geb. Hensel November 9, 1877–February 13, 1899; Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary, 102–107.

126 

P. FRANKE

as putting stronger emphasis on the American market. The SBM had been founded as a company operating a spa, meaning the Monte Carlo consumption experience was grounded in the tradition of spa-based gambling. A new direction for the company, and by extension for the consumption experience, thus depended on a new generation of managers. This new perspective came with René Léon in the interwar period. Léon was a gambler, a motorist, a mathematician, and a person familiar with jazz and nightclub culture. It is therefore no surprise that the SBM under his de facto leadership continued to put a stronger focus on racing events, gambling, and more contemporary forms of leisure interesting to tourists and especially Americans. The hiring of Léon did not break with all the SBM’s traditions, however. He was a friend of Léon Radziwill, an SBM shareholder, French-Polish noble, and François Blanc’s grandson.26 Léon introduced new policies in the fields of entertainment and gambling, shifting to a gambling experience that appealed to tourists rather than the classic nineteenth-century hivernant. He believed that the SBM, six decades after its founding, was stuck in the past and ill-equipped to handle the tourists showing up at the Riviera with a hunger for twentieth-century entertainment.27 The new management introduced beach activities and leisure practices shunned by the SBM before the 1920s.28 This approach took the form of the Monte Carlo Beach and Sporting d’Été.29 This summer casino featured an event space in the area east of Monte Carlo at Larvotto. Here the increasing number of American tourists could see showgirls and jazz performances and could go to the cinema.30 The moral economy remained a core feature of the Monte Carlo gambling experience, though it had to adapt to twentieth-century standards and shifts in clientele. Léon shared the Blancs’ emphasis on offering “clean” gambling in a modern resort. For him Monte Carlo was engaged in a constant struggle to maintain a moral economy of gambling: “What I can tell you is that if there is such a thing as honest gambling anywhere in the world, we shall have it in Monte Carlo, or there will be a new managing director […] You know that Monte Carlo is a cup of sunshine by the  Braude, Making Monte Carlo, 143–145.  Braude, Making Monte Carlo, 158. 28  Boyer and Agulhon, L’Hiver dans le Midi, 321–323, 330–332. 29  Archives Départementalés des Alpes-Maritime (ADAM), Fonds de la préfecture, 04M 1351, Commissaire Spßecial, Rapport 1546, November 7, 1934, A/S de la situation économique dans la Principauté de Monaco. 30  Chazin-Bennahum, René Blum and the Ballets russes, 77–80. 26 27

5  WORKING IN THE CASINOS, HOW CASINOS WORKED—MANAGERS… 

127

gift of nature—there shall be no dark and sinister shadows in the man-­ made casino.”31 The main obstacles for the self-proclaimed reformer were the staff and its corruption.32 He argued against tips, claiming they furthered dishonesty and fraud, and he strictly enforced the policy of prohibiting fraternization between croupiers and guests. The mere suggestion that croupiers could be bribed via tips would be dangerous to Monte Carlo’s legitimacy.33 In the first decades of the Monte Carlo casino, small amounts of “gratitude” were allowed, on the condition that the player tip all employees at the table. Individual gratitudes were banned straight away. Only the chef de parti was allowed to accept them, and then only for the whole table, making it hard for players to use tips to influence individual croupiers. Additionally, the casino would keep 50 percent of all tips in order to discourage croupiers from actively working to receive them.34 In the years before the Great War, the SBM was constantly reevaluating how to handle tips—who was eligible to get them, how to monitor them, etc. Many SBM employees seemed to earn considerable amounts in tips, and the issue was raised a number of times within the SBM between 1913 and 1916.35 The new market of increasingly American tourists inspired the SBM to adapt new practices. Léon’s choice to hire Elsa Maxwell, an American socialite, event planner, and public relations expert, as a new official brought in another personality not connected to the traditional European casino business. Maxwell had previously worked in similar positions in Italy. She was part of the new SBM leadership campaign to open Monte Carlo up to Americans, especially in the Sporting d’Été with its new style of beach tourism and Jazz Age entertainment. Maxwell was well acquainted with running exclusive events and making connections to VIPs, an essential strategy Monte Carlo deployed during these years. This made the  Carroll, “Monte Carlo,” 5; Fielding, The Money Spinner, 125–127.  Archives Départementalés des Alpes-Maritime (ADAM), Fonds de la préfecture, 04M 1351, Commissariat Spécial, Rapport 1403, July 24. 1933, A/S de la crise politique à Monaco. 33  Carroll, “Monte Carlo,” 5. 34  Fielding, The Money Spinner, 103–106. 35  Fonds Régionale, Bulletin des employés de la Société Anonyme des Bains de Mer et du Cercle des Etrangers à Monaco No3, July 1, 1911, 1 Fonds Régionale, Bulletin des employés de la Société Anonyme des Bains de Mer et du Cercle des Etrangers à Monaco, No. 64, April 1, 1916, 1–4; Fonds Régionale, Bulletin des employés de la Société Anonyme des Bains de Mer et du Cercle des Etrangers à Monaco, No.93, June 1, 1920, 3–5. 31 32

128 

P. FRANKE

Sporting Clubs as casinos for the new summer season appear more in line with mass tourism, while the Monte Carlo casino remained grounded in the old Belle Époque style.36 Maxwell’s position exemplified a shift within the organizational structure of the SBM from a family and spa business to a twentieth-century tourism company. Officially, Léon hired her as a press agent, but Monegasque officials were confused about her title and function. Public relations had always been one of a casino manager’s tasks, yet never had the company hired someone to exclusively plan events for the press. As tourists’ tastes changed, however, the management of the SBM found itself ill-equipped to meet their needs and demands. As a socialite and experienced event organizer, Maxwell had an intimate understanding of the new kind of tourism and was well connected to the highest echelons of society.37

5.2  From Illegal Entrepreneurs to Las Vegas Executives: Practical Knowledge and the Transformation of American Gambling The Strip gambling experience, as a close alignment of nightclub entertainment, suburban vacation practices, and legitimate games of chance, was enabled by the kind of entrepreneur the Strip attracted in the postwar era. Similar to the executives of the SBM, Strip entrepreneurs profited from the practical knowledge they had gained and the networks they had built before coming to Las Vegas. Nevada represented the legal framework in which they could do on larger scale legally what they had done before illegally. Las Vegas specifically offered them a sort of blank slate, a space untapped by already established gambling entrepreneurs.38 36  Fielding, The Money Spinner, 122–128; Archives Départementalés des Alpes-Maritime (ADAM), Fonds de la préfecture, 04M 1351, Comissaire Spécial Beausoleil, Rapport 1300, June 12, 1932, A/S des casinos monégasques. 37  Braude, Making Monte Carlo, 179–187. 38  Robert T. Anderson, “From Mafia to Cosa Nostra,” in Crime & Justice in American History: Historical Articles on the Origins and Evolution of American Criminal Justice, ed. Eric H. Monkkonen (Westport: Meckler, 1992), 4; Daniel Bell, “Crime as an American Way of Life: A Queer Ladder of Social Mobility,” in Crime & Justice in American History: Historical Articles on the Origins and Evolution of American Criminal Justice, ed. Eric H. Monkkonen (Westport: Meckler, 1992), 24; Nichols, The Leisure Architecture of Wayne McAllister, 134–135; Rothman, Nevada, 106–139; Mark H.  Haller, “Bootleggers as Businessmen,” in Crime & Justice in American History, 308–310; John Dickie, Cosa Nostra: Die Geschichte Der Mafia (Frankfurt: Fischer, 2006), 86–99.

5  WORKING IN THE CASINOS, HOW CASINOS WORKED—MANAGERS… 

129

The presence of these illegal entrepreneurs shaped a new kind of casino in Las Vegas. The economic success of illegal casinos, paired with the way Nevadan lawmakers adapted gambling regulations between 1931 and 1969, meant that Strip casinos developed into economic ventures partially financed and run by people who for all intents and purposes were criminals. The Strip was a constant site of negotiation between consumers, business executives, and politicians about how much criminal presence was necessary and possible at America’s prime gambling location. The first entrepreneur to take advantage of the Strip’s location was Thomas Hull, who opened the El Rancho Vegas in April 1941. As a Californian, Hull had witnessed the rapid expansion of the suburban lifestyle and the role the car had played in it. He also came from the hospitality industry and understood tourism and hotel operations. The El Rancho Vegas started off as a kind of hybrid: it was located on Highway 91, independent of the actual city of Las Vegas, yet part of the traditional gambling halls and clubs located downtown.39 A year later, the Last Frontier opened even further south. Not only was it larger than the El Rancho, it was also more effective in exploiting the possibilities offered by the remote, non-­ urban environment of the highway. It could still tap into the growing market of people traveling by car to and from Southern California by forging a connection with popular tourism of the American West and gambling.40 That Hull had built a hotel with a casino rather than a casino-hotel can also be attributed to his background: with no experience in illegal ventures, he lacked the knowledge to build such a business. After 1945, underground clubs served as both training grounds for Strip entrepreneurs and as backdrops against which they defined the moral economy of the suburban gambling experience.41 Hull had been a businessman, but the Strip, however, also needed bootleggers. Alcohol trafficking and illegal gambling businesses were tightly intertwined: Americans had consumed both illegally, and both could be found within the same spaces. The practices of the illegal entrepreneurs of the Prohibition era bore remarkable parallels to those of American mainstream business, shifting from  Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 34–37; Al, The Strip, 36–38.  Bubb, Landing in Las Vegas, 36–37; Al, The Strip, 40; Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 48–51. 41  Robert T. Anderson, “From Mafia to Cosa Nostra,” in Crime & Justice in American History, 8–11. 39 40

130 

P. FRANKE

production to consumption and treating their “marks”42 as consumers. They applied the logic of market supply and demand and used political corruption in the cities to their advantage.43 Their establishments offered gambling and drinking to the middle classes, which turned toward illegal businesses to fulfill their demands for both.44 The people running these parlors were often from ethnic groups that were marginalized in mid-­ twentieth-­ century urban America: Italian-Americans and Jewish-­ Americans first and foremost. For young men from these immigrant backgrounds, the illegal economy of Prohibition offered a path to success and a chance to climb the social ladder. Making money from bootlegging and illegal gambling turned a generation with few ties to WASP-dominated America into successful entrepreneurs of consumer capitalism. They would eventually be identified as part of the so-called Mafia in the 1940s and 1950s, although this label obscures the sophistication diversity of the network of illegal entrepreneurship that existed.45 The habitus of these men adapted to the pride they felt in light of their achievement: participation in the success story that was American capitalism. They wore nice suits, frequented cocktail parties, and regarded themselves as good businessmen, which seemed to transform them from the children of mostly unwanted immigrants to proper Americans.46 This was  Grazian, On the Make, 17–20.  Daniel Bell, “Crime as an American Way of Life,” in Crime & Justice in American History, 16; Mark H. Haller, “Bootleggers as Businessmen,” in Crime & Justice in American History, 296–297, 308–310. 44  Mark H. Haller, “Bootleggers as Businessmen,” in Crime & Justice in American History, 301–304; Jan McMillen, “From Glamour to Grind,” in Gambling Cultures, 272–273; Daniel Bell, “Crime as an American Way of Life,” in Crime & Justice in American History, 17–21. 45  Daniel Bell, “Crime as an American Way of Life,” in Crime & Justice in American History, 25–31; Mark H.  Haller, “The Changing Structure of American Gambling in the Twentieth Century,” in Crime & Justice in American History, 313–315, Mark H. Haller, “Organized Crime in Urban Society: Chicago in the Twentieth Century,” in Crime & Justice in American History: Historical Articles on the Origins and Evolution of American Criminal Justice, ed. Eric H. Monkkonen (Westport: Meckler, 1992), 341–346; Sallaz, The Labor of Luck, 167–171; Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 72–76. 46  Thomas Welskopp, Amerikas Große Ernüchterung: Eine Kulturgeschichte der Prohibition (Paderborn: Ferdinand Schöningh, 2010), 319–338, 368–397; Daniel Bell, “Crime as an American Way of Life,” in Crime & Justice in American History, 20–231; Mark H. Haller, “Organized Crime in Urban Society,” in Crime & Justice in American History, 346–348; Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 142–146; Alan R.  Balboni, Beyond the Mafia: Italian Americans and the Development of Las Vegas (Reno: University of Nevada Press, 2006), 50–53, 90–93. 42 43

5  WORKING IN THE CASINOS, HOW CASINOS WORKED—MANAGERS… 

131

directly reflected in their efforts to build respectable, suburban casinos for the white middle classes, the form Strip casinos would eventually take. The set of skills that Strip managers had acquired and that qualified them in the eyes of Nevadan lawmakers had their origin in the Prohibition era. Illegal entrepreneurs learned to think in terms of regional, national, and transnational markets, keeping an eye on the demands of possible consumers. If you operated an underground club, so their logic went, you might as well put slot machines and card tables in it, hire a jazz band, and offer illegal sporting bets. Many bought or built nightclubs, blurring the lines between the legal and illegal parts of their business. By the time Prohibition ended in 1933, it had had helped foster the rise of a new type of American businessman (and, albeit to a much lesser extent, business women), well-versed in how to run a nightclub, well connected to politicians, and eager to offer Americans services that others had no interest in selling.47 Presented with this opportunity, illegal entrepreneurs started to invest in Las Vegas casinos, because here gambling was still open to newcomers. In other parts of the state, businesses had already a firm grip on the market. In Las Vegas, a new crop of entrepreneurs built new casinos with a new way of gambling.48 Although the individual biographies of this new group of entrepreneurs differed, one can distinguish certain recurring archetypes: the underworld financier who bankrolled casinos but kept out of sight; the managers who had risen through the ranks of illegal business and were trusted by the shadow investors to run a casino; the bootlegger who had been a criminal, but now had moved on to run an legitimate business, even if it largely resembled his previous, illegal ventures. Meyer Lansky, for example, was a criminal financier, who bankrolled the Flamingo yet entrusted management of the property to his friend and associate Gus Greenbaum.49 Lansky had run illegal gambling joints in New  York and was fully aware of what was needed to make these businesses a success: good service, good entertainment, and honest games. 47  Mark H. Haller, “Bootleggers as Businessmen,” in Crime & Justice in American History, 296–297; Vicki Abt, “The Role of the State in the Expansion and Growth of the Commercial Gambling in the USA,” in Gambling Cultures, 190–192; Jan McMillen, “From Glamour to Grind,” in Gambling Cultures, 272–273. 48  Steve Durham, “The Modern Era,” in The History of Gambling in America, 45–46; Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 197–198, 103; Al, The Strip, 33. 49  Lacey, Little Man, 152–154.

132 

P. FRANKE

Even illegal casinos could hardly afford to cheat customers. Cheating gamblers could, of course, produce short-term winnings, but the practice had disastrous effects on the local market, as people would grow suspicious of any new club that opened afterward. Lansky and his associates knew that they did not need to cheat if they ran a well-organized casino, as the statistical advantage of the house would produce sufficient winnings on its own. Lansky had specialized in organizing money for underground gambling clubs since the 1930s, leaving others to run the actual operation.50 The Strip offered the chance to repeat this legally and on a larger scale. An example of a casino manager who had risen through the ranks of illegal networks is Jack Entratter of the Sands. He is also the reason why the Sands was the leading casino in terms of entertainment, as he had a background in this business. During Prohibition, Entratter had worked as a security guard and bouncer at a hotel in Miami before being recommended to Frank Costello. A leading figure in New York’s crime syndicates, Costello owned the famous Copacabana nightclub and hired Entratter as a manager. When Costello became an investor in the Sands, he needed someone he could trust and who knew how to run a state-of-­ the-art entertainment business. He chose Entratter and sent him to Vegas as both a shareholder and the entertainment director of the Sands, a title concealing the fact that Entratter actually ran the casino-hotel after it opened in 1952. The former Copacabana manager ran the casino like a nightclub facility for the suburban middle classes, following the policies he established during his tenure in New  York.51 He was paired with Carl Cohen as casino manager, who had worked in illegal gambling for most of his life. Cohen had previously been a bookie in Ohio and had joined other illegal gambling enterprises in the state before coming to Las Vegas. Cohen came with a whole crew of dealers with whom he had worked in the past.52 Cohen and Entratter represent a type of Strip executive that

 Lacey, Little Man, 85–87.  Biography, Box 63 Folder 6, Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada; “Sagebrush Showman” Jack Entratter. Box 63, Folder 6. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada, Nevada; Balboni, Beyond the Mafia, 27, Rothman, Devil’s Bargain, 323–326. 52  Levy, Rat Pack Confidential, 99–102. 50 51

5  WORKING IN THE CASINOS, HOW CASINOS WORKED—MANAGERS… 

133

reshaped gambling there: connected to organized crime yet not himself a stereotypical gangster. The man Cohen had worked for in the Midwest, Moe Dalitz, is the most prominent example of a bootlegger, who became in charge of a legitimate casino. Dalitz led the so-called Mansfield Park Gang, a syndicate operating in Cleveland and outside of Chicago. A bootlegger, gambler, and real-estate entrepreneur, Dalitz also represented the societal aspirations of the Strip entrepreneurs, who built up casino gambling in order not only to make money but to assert their right to a respectable place within American society. Together with longtime gambler and casino entrepreneur Wilbur Clark, he headed the syndicate that effectively ran the Desert Inn.53 In 1976 he made a revealing statement illustrates how many illegal entrepreneurs saw themselves after almost 20 years in Las Vegas: For 30 years now I have lived in Nevada. I am considered a good citizen of Nevada. I have done all the things a good citizen should do. I have been charitable. I have been honest. I have raised a family. My life has been just as good as anyone’s in this room… I have very candidly told you that I was in the liquor business when it was considered illegal. I told you that I was in the casino business… In none of these businesses is moral turpitude involved. These are things that if people didn’t patronize a casino we couldn’t have one. If people didn’t drink liquor it wouldn’t have been necessary to bring it over. I did nothing more than the head of Seagram’s, than the head of G&W [Gooderham and Worts], the head of Canadian Club. They assembled all this merchandise for runners to bring across… We didn’t regard this as a hideous affair. I don’t think you do either in your heart.54

Not all entrepreneurs were men. Many women held influential positions within casino hierarchies, sometimes working as casino mangers themselves. Their professional biographies were not all that different from those of their male colleagues. Claudine B. Williams of the Silver Slipper and Holiday Casino, for example, was one of Las Vegas’s most prominent female casino executives and socialites in the 1960s and 1970s. Her career started in the illegal gambling clubs of Texas and California, where she

 Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 102–107.  Mark H. Haller, “Bootleggers as Businessmen,” in Crime & Justice in American History, 294–312. 53 54

134 

P. FRANKE

met her later business partner and husband, Shelby Williams, a professional gambler.55 These men and women even stayed in important positions after big investors like Howard Hughes and Kirk Kerkorian took over from organized crime as the casinos’ primary source of capital after 1966. Cohen and Entratter remained in their respective positions, for example. The new owners valued their expertise and contacts, so they were able to continue their careers under new leadership.56 In the period between 1966 and 1976, mainstream American businesses gradually bought out those run by organized crime, but a lot of executives continued their careers under the new regimes. Only after some time could they be replaced by people whose careers had started in corporate structures. Companies first had to devise their own training procedures in order to groom the next generation of casino executives, who lacked the practical knowledge gained in earlier eras.57

5.3  Croupiers and Dealers: Producing the Gambling Consumption Experience at the Tables The moral economy of gambling, the legitimate, consumption-oriented play that the SBM and Strip casinos wanted to create, required them to select and train croupiers and dealers able to contribute to it. In Monte Carlo croupiers helped to produce a ritualized, centralized, and emotionally controlled experience, in an atmosphere of shared, silent suspense. In the loud, seemingly more chaotic atmosphere and soundscape of a Las Vegas casino, dealers catered to gamblers as individual consumers. The roles of European croupiers and American dealers were nonetheless similar, even if here were substantial differences in as income, organization, and prestige. For the players, the croupiers and dealers were the faceless, emotionless embodiment of chance and often the secretive factor in their games. For management, they were both indispensable and a possible point of disruption, as they could cheat, collude with players, perform sloppily, and/or act out of personal interest. Croupiers and dealers had to be anonymous for the customers and familiar to management. They were subjected to scrutiny by their superiors and their customers at all times.  Goodwin, Changing the Game, 22–38.  Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 147–151. 57  Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 111. 55 56

5  WORKING IN THE CASINOS, HOW CASINOS WORKED—MANAGERS… 

135

5.3.1   The Croupiers: Attempting to Turn Humans into Automatons The croupiers’ activities represented a constant compromise between security, speed, and service. In general terms, speed was equated with profit: Monte Carlo needed the continuous playing activity, for the “edge,” or statistical advantage of the house, to yield the most profits. Security was of paramount importance to the casino’s legitimacy: it meant that the players could count on the games being honest and their not being cheated. The casino needed to protect itself against both cheating players and fraud by croupiers. Service encompassed treating players with respect and as customers, rather than competitors. The SBM leadership wanted croupiers to encourage gambling while ensuring that customers had not misgivings about their consumption. Players had to feel safe and excited about their gambling experience, and the SBM made compromises in terms of speed, and thus of profit, in order to meet the emotional needs of gamblers.58 Croupiers had to appear as reliable, honest conductors of the games, as authority figures who had no stakes or agenda of their own. They must not act like players but rather as part of the game’s apparatus. The SBM tried to micromanage interactions between croupiers and players. For gamblers, on the other hand, the croupier was a mystical figure. There is an abundance of popular literature throughout the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries on the men who stood behind the table, dealing the cards and spinning the wheel. The casino leadership thought the easiest way to protect the moral economy of gambling was to establish an elaborate hierarchical system at the gambling tables. Croupiers operated the games, but in the eyes of management they also constituted the weakest link in the operation: theft, collusion with gamblers, and mistakes were dangerous for the casino financially and could disrupt the consumption experience the SBM sought to produce. The SBM operated primarily European roulette, as well as trente-et-quarante, that is, games that required multiple croupiers at a single table. At a roulette table, four fully trained croupiers would sit in pairs on both sides of the table, taking turns spinning the wheel, in 15 minutes intervals, ensuring that no single croupier would be too tired to spin the wheel in the way they had been trained to do. Usually, an apprentice would handle the chips and tokens. The trainees would be seated at  Sallaz, The Labor of Luck, 12–14.

58

136 

P. FRANKE

the end of the table in order to learn the procedures. The sous-chef would watch them all, while the chef de parti would observe him and the table from a much higher chair elevated above all gambling activity. The chef de parti had the last word on matters pertaining to the table and would make announcements when a table’s cash reserves of a table were depleted, for example. His superior, the inspecteur, answered only to the directeur de jeux, the top casino manager. Management asked employees to watch players as well as each other, creating an atmosphere of pervasive surveillance.59 The trente-et-quarante tables were organized along similar lines, although only more experienced and better paid croupiers operated the card games since they required advanced mathematical skills, in the calculation of wins and losses. Under these circumstances the speed necessary for the casino to maintain a constant flow of profit could be maintained only by croupiers who had mastered their profession.60 Such mastery involved in two distinct yet related tasks: operating games on a technical level and performing the emotional labor that the SBM hoped would produce a non-competitive and legitimate gambling experience. The croupier’s training encompassed all aspects of the game so that management could control these day-to-day operations, making them reliable and at least to some degree predictable. This made customers, who often had little to no understanding of how far the influence of the croupiers truly went, trust the croupiers to be fair and unbiased, while the SBM could count on stable profit margins. Seasoned gamblers understood that the casino had no incentive to train croupiers to cheat. In his Monte Carlo Anecdotes of 1910, for example, the experienced player Victor Bethell wrote: “In any case, and under the most favourable conditions, I am perfectly certain that a croupier cannot spin a particular number, or be sure of making the ball to land near it; and the very strongest argument of all to support my theory is, that if he could the Bank would not exit very long.”61 Bethell understood that honest games brought in enough profit for the casino and that cheating would have had disastrous consequences for the SBM.

 Braude, Spinning Wheels, 100.  Fielding, The Money Spinner, 71–73. 61  Victor Bethell, Monte Carlo Anecdotes and Systems of Play (London: William Heinemann, 1910), 28. 59 60

5  WORKING IN THE CASINOS, HOW CASINOS WORKED—MANAGERS… 

137

SBM executives saw reliability and emotional detachment as specific forms of emotional labor. Emotional labor describes how workers and employees are required to show and react to certain emotions in their work environment. Although it is not always part of the job description, emotional labor touches on the fact that business required workers to suppress or to show specific emotions in order to be considered productive employees.62 Just as the SBM used the architecture of the Monte Carlo casino to establish an atmosphere of legitimate consumption, so too did it employ its workforce to contribute by providing emotional labor. The croupiers were to be perceived as incorruptible and impartial. The key promise that casinos made to their customers was that the games would be honest, and winnings would be paid. The way the croupier had to conduct the games was thus supplemented with instruction about how they had to conduct themselves when providing emotional and physical work. Croupiers were not supposed to speak with customers, aside from the ritualized “messieurs, faitez vos jeux” and other stock phrases structuring the games. Any form of personal relationship with a gambler was discouraged and punished. Patrons regarded Monte Carlo croupiers’ lack of emotional involvement—even though gambling was a highly emotional affair—as a skill, one that was at times perceived as quite intimidating. For Devereux, the croupiers were essentially part of the casino space, indistinguishable from the architecture. In his 1884 book about Monte Carlo, he described their movements as “hard-eyed” and “mechanical,” dedicated only to gambling, just like the space in which they worked.63 In 1898, Swiss-born British writer Charles William Heckethorn wrote about the emotional style of croupiers in strong words: “They settle down into automatons, only fit to handle the rake, with no more interest in the work than the farm-labourer has in handling his rake. From being croupiers they begin in a short time to croupier into a state of mental sluggishness, their life-s stream becomes covered with the mouldy film of indifference.”64 62  Arlie R.  Hochschild, The Managed Heart: Commercialization of Human Feeling (Berkeley, CA.: University of California Press, 2007), 3–12; Susan J.  Matt, “Current Emotion Research in History: Or, Doing History from the Inside Out,” Emotion Review 3, no. 1 (2011): 121. 63  Devereux, Fair Italy, the Riviera and Monte Carlo, 64–65. 64  Charles William Heckethorn, The Gambling World—Anecdotic Memories and Stories of Personal Experience in the Temples of Hazards and Speculations with some Mysteries and Iniquities of Stock Exchange Affairs, (London: Hutchinson & Co, 1898), 266–267.

138 

P. FRANKE

Heckethorn gives us some insights into the tension that existed between the fun and the serious components of the consumption experience in Monte Carlo. While in terms of architecture, leisure and legitimacy could be interwoven, the croupier could not engage in both. He had to perform in a way that left no doubt as to the professional nature of the gambling taking place there. The croupier thus appeared as a kind of machine that officiated games. His job was to be precise, impartial, and most of all, free of the human qualities to which players could appeal. In 1908, a German-­ speaking writer called the croupiers Automaten, machines with a single purpose and without human characteristics.65 Contemporaries like Blankenfeld acknowledged that this was the intention of the SBM, describing the croupier in 1913 as a human being who was trained to show no emotion and form no attachments to the people at the table. Croupiers thus had a mixed reputation: nobody doubted their professionalism, but they were also described as cold and heartless by many.66 Their training stood in sharp contrast with the agency players exhibited. Players, too, were told to control their emotions, but their emotional capacities and humanity were not questioned. An incident from the 1880s shows just how seriously Monte Carlo croupiers took these imperatives. During a bombing that resulted in the failure of the lighting system, the croupiers stayed at their positions, despite the ensuing panic and confusion.67 There were a number of prerequisites to becoming a croupier: excellent personal hygiene, mathematical skills, and a stable personal life. Even though interacting with players was forbidden, their manners were expected to be flawless. They were precisely trained as to how to spin the wheel, as it had to be done the same way every time at any given table. Instilling a good memory was also part of the training, as croupiers had to remember who wagered what amount on which number. A shift usually lasted for six hours, a long time given the strain of the activities and the required emotional impassivity.68 Management scrutinized their personal lives, both before they were hired and during their tenure. Their marriages, circles of friends, and lifestyle were monitored by casino security, whose influence stretched far beyond the walls of the casino.69 In 1921,  Chodounsky, Detektiv, 59–63.  Blankenfeld, Monte Carlo, 122–123, 129–135. 67  Barnhart, Gamblers of Yesteryear, 185. 68  Fielding, The Money Spinner, 103–106. 69  Jackson, Inside Monte Carlo, 69–70; Archives Départementalés des Alpes-Maritime (ADAM), Fonds de la préfecture, 04M 1351 Commissariat Spécial, Rapport 404, February 19, 1933, A/S des tricheurs aux jeux au Sporting de Monte-Carlo. 65 66

5  WORKING IN THE CASINOS, HOW CASINOS WORKED—MANAGERS… 

139

croupiers still had to live in Monaco or get a special permit to live in a nearby town so that the casino administration could keep an eye on them and their private affairs.70 The goal of making the croupier incorruptible in order to create a legitimate gambling experience stood in contrast with the belief of novice players that one could strike a deal with or influence the games by manipulating the croupier. Female gamblers were often accused of engaging in these kinds of tactics, especially by moralist critics of Monte Carlo, but also by former croupiers. As they saw it, while the croupier was a professional and in control, the female gambler, by contrast, got lost in her excitement, becoming a victim of the game before victimizing “innocent men” herself by seducing and cheating them.71 Some thought that the ban on fraternization was harmful for the croupiers. Smith thought that working for the casino and being subjected to such an emotional regime would have detrimental effects on the mental health of the croupiers. He argued that the trained indifference to wins and losses paired with the lack of human contact would eventually exert a negative effect on croupiers’ quality of life. His observation may seem dramatic, but it shows just how tight the SBM controlled its gambling workforce and how their emotional labor was experienced by visitors.72 One anecdote from the late 1920s illustrates how croupiers were presented and perceived as professionals and yet deprived of the ability to undertake individual action: during a heated game in the summer casino at the Sporting d’Été, a chip fell from the restaurant from a higher level onto a gambling table. It remained untouched by the croupiers and was treated as a token in a bet. After its number won multiple times, the owner showed up again and collected his winnings. Whether this story is true is not as important as the way in which it depicts the croupier: as a mere tool of both chance and the rules of the casino. Even something as bizarre as a chip untouched for hours did not trigger a response from the gambling employees, who acted according to the official rules of the game and kept the wagering process going.73 70  Archives du Palais Princier, D20-61 Personnel, Reglement General du Personnel  Complété et précisé en conformité des Décisions des Conseils d’Administration, April 26, 1920 and August 31, 1921, 5. 71  De Ketchiva, Confessions of a Croupier, 19–23, 33–34. 72  Smith, Monaco, 348–352. 73  Fielding, The Money Spinner, 122–125.

140 

P. FRANKE

The SBM asked a lot from its workforce and saw them as valuable resource. Learning the emotional style and the skills necessary to conduct games in line with the casino’s stringent rules was an arduous process for aspiring croupiers and a huge investment for the company. As René Léon put it in 1925: “One cannot get new chefs and croupiers like butlers and cooks.”74 Indeed, the lack of skilled personnel was a problem for Blanc’s predecessors: under previous administrations of Monaco’s casinos between 1856 and 1858, most dealers were “décaves”—broke gamblers from Nice—and unemployed waiters. While such men knew the rules of roulette, they were hardly able to perform the emotional labor required by officials in a successful legal casino, and they certainly could not master the skills necessary to produce a tailored consumption experience.75 Blanc’s advantage in that regard was that he could use his Homburg staff to train and supplement his Monaco contingent. In the early days of 1863, Homburg’s casino was used to train SBM personnel. Blanc’s lieutenants Trittler, Hartlieb, and Stemler monitored the recruitment.76 These well-­ trained croupiers were bound to Blanc and his casino company, which barred them from working for the competition.77 Nor were the large number of seasonal workers allowed to work in another casino.78 Croupiers had to look and perform a certain way, and the école de jeux was the place where they learned how to do it. After the decline of Homburg, the SBM founded the école as a principal institution for training croupiers. Gaining admission to the training program of the SBM was no easy task, involving a very strict application process.79 In 1895, for example, 20 men (no women) were accepted into the école de roulette, among  Carroll, “Monte Carlo,” 5.  Fielding, The Money Spinner, 27–30. 76  Archives du Palais Princier, D20-7, Rapports mensuels du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, No 488, August 20. 1870; Archives du Palais Princier, D20-34, Rapports du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, March 2, 1906; Braude, Spinning Wheels, 57–58; Boyer and Agulhon, L’Hiver dans le Midi, 301–305, 321–323. 77  Stadtarchiv Bad Homburg, Nachlass Louis und Heinrich Jacobi, E 002–220, Vertrag Carl Irlaub, aus Friedrichsdorf, 1870; Stadtarchiv Bad Homburg, Nachlass Louis und Heinrich Jacobi, E 002-220, Verpflichtung von Lehrlingen der Spielbnk „Roulette-­ Employé“, August 4, 1870. 78  Archives du Palais Princier, D20-61 Personnel, Reglement General du Personnel  Complété et précisé en conformité des Décisions des Conseils d‘Administration, April 26, 1920 and August 31, 1921, 12. 79  Stadtarchiv Bad Homburg, Nachlass Louis und Heinrich Jacobi, E 002-290, Letter of August Müller to the SBM, December 25, 1875. 74 75

5  WORKING IN THE CASINOS, HOW CASINOS WORKED—MANAGERS… 

141

them 10 Monegasques, 9 Frenchmen, and 1 Swiss. Those 20 were lucky: a large number of applicants were rejected because they were too young or old—the SBM only accepted people over 21 and under 35—and under the condition that the company deemed their lifestyle as acceptable. The SBM could pick and choose as there were usually far more applicants than open positions within the school.80 Around 1900 croupiers were educated for at least six months in the vaults of the casino in minute detail. Standardization in all procedures to ensure fair games and calculable business was key.81 5.3.2   Dealers: Surveillance and the Art of Not Caring As in Monte Carlo, dealers in Las Vegas had to perform emotional labor and uphold the moral economy. They had the responsibility of operating individual tables, making sure that all games were honest, orderly, and engaging. Similar to the croupiers in Monte Carlo, dealers were subjected to rigorous control and supervision. A corrupt dealer could do more harm than a cheating player. They could directly damage the casino’s reputation and promise of honest gambling. The emotional labor required of dealers in Las Vegas was both similar to and different from that in Monte Carlo. If in the former the “fun” was louder and less ritualized, the dealer still had to be a serious, unwavering professional. The 50 dealers of the Desert Inn posing for the Life photo represented the workings of a Las Vegas Strip casino in their peculiar position, teetering between legitimacy and fun, offering leisure experiences while never relinquishing control or being free from it themselves. The spatial layout of Las Vegas casinos supported the subtle surveillance of the gambling action: tables were typically organized in an oval arrangement, allowing for easy supervision from a central authority 80  Archives du Palais Princier, Personnel, D20-61 Letter from the SBM to Monsieur Boeuf, March 7, 1895; Archives du Palais Princier, Personnel, D20-61 Letter from the SBM to Monsieur Pierre Abussatto, March 13, 1895. Fonds Régionale, Bulletin des employés de la Société Anonyme des Bains de Mer et du Cercle des Etrangers à Monaco, No 10, December 1, 1911, 1–2. 81  Jackson, Inside Monte Carlo, 69–70; Fielding, The Money Spinner, 103–106; Fonds Régionale, Bulletin des employés de la Société Anonyme des Bains de Mer et du Cercle des Etrangers à Monaco, No1, June 15, 1911, 1–2; Fonds Régionale, Bulletin des employés de la Société Anonyme des Bains de Mer et du Cercle des Etrangers à Monaco, No 5, August 1, 1911, 2; De Ketchiva, Confessions of a Croupier, 15–17.

142 

P. FRANKE

figure.82 Throughout the 1950s and 1960s, a single dealer worked a table, while a floor manager supervised between two and six tables and dealers at once. These “floormen” were directly responsible for overseeing the cash flow of the tables and assuring the legitimacy of the games. Ten to twelve tables formed a so-called pit, which was administered by the so-called pit boss, who reported directly to the manager on duty or shift manager. In 1960, a Strip casino featured three pits on average. The pits were a space of intense gambling action and were thus highly charged emotionally. As much as Strip casinos tried to foster a loose and exciting atmosphere, they were only able to do this because their rigorous controls complemented this strategy. They made sure management exercised control over the games and over all people involved. Pit bosses in particular acted as enforcers of the policies upper management had formulated. With only the casino director above them, shift managers enjoyed a wide range of power, from crediting players to taking disciplinary action.83 The casino floor was a complicated, tightly knit fabric of spatial arrangement and workforce hierarchies, enabling supervision and control of the staff.84 In the period of the involvement of organized crime, from the 1940s up to the end of the 1960s, floor managers and pit bosses dealt with most day-to-day business decisions. They were also the most influential staff members in terms of hiring and firing dealers, thereby cultivating a close yet asymmetrical relation with “their people.” In many instances, when an investor brought in a new floor manager, dozens of dealers were let go because the new manager hired from his pool of associates and friends. This relationship of trust and dependency made it easier to conduct the skimming processes in which casinos engaged.85 One of the difficulties Strip casinos had in maintaining a moral economy was that they needed to skim money from winnings in order to pay off investors from organized crime syndicates. However, they had to do it in a way that prevented employees from taking money for themselves.  Sallaz, The Labor of Luck, 6–7.  Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 5. 84  See, for example, Accounting Regulation 6.010. Box 19, Folder 1, Claudine Williams Collection 1963–2009, MS-00094, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada; Introduction to the Gaming Business, May 27, 1970, Box 18, Folder 4. Claudine Williams Collection 1963–2009, MS-00094, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 85  Balboni, Beyond the Mafia, 57–58; Sallaz, The Labor of Luck, 153–155. 82 83

5  WORKING IN THE CASINOS, HOW CASINOS WORKED—MANAGERS… 

143

Between the tables and the cashier, they implemented minute procedures to make sure that no one could take chips or money. Every resupply by a table or transfer of money to the cashier required the dealer, the box men, and the employees working for the cashier to sign three separate documents, producing a paper trail. The procedure effectively made sure that management could keep track of any cash movement on the casino floor, until it was brought to the counting room, where skimming could be done in secret.86 Casinos like the Hacienda sometimes marked their chips in order to set traps for dealers suspected of cheating. These instances were only rarely reported, however, as they would have effectively undermined the casino’s moral economy.87 While skimming had to be done in secret, transparency was key for procedures at the gambling tables. Management wanted to keep an eye on the details of the games and engage consumers. In Monte Carlo such methods of surveillance would have been impossible: there were too many players at one table at the same time. In Las Vegas, however, dealers reacted to every individual action, as the gambling itself was more individualistic. Every aspect of a dealer’s work, from shuffling and dealing cards to paying out wins, had to be confirmed orally for the player and via trained gestures for the “eye in the sky.” Combining every action with a hand gesture allowed security guards and supervisors to keep tabs on the game.88 In order that the dealer appear as impartial conductor of the game, Strip casino management strongly discouraged personal connections to players. Neither this sort of emotional labor nor the task of adhering to the carefully designed gambling procedures was possible without rigorous training. Before 1945, many dealers had been independent, running tables in a saloon or club. Just like their bosses, they were self-trained experts in the games that they had run in the past, sometimes illegally. These men

86  Accounting Regulations No. 10 Regulation 6 1967, Box 19 Folder 1, Claudine Williams Papers, 1963–2009, MS-00094, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada; Saverio Scheri, The Casino’s Most Valuable Chip: How Technology Transformed the Gaming Industry, 1st ed (Palo Alto, CA: Institute for the History of Technology, 2005), 16–17. 87  “Insider Stealing three decades ago,” Casino News, February 16, 1990. Box 1, Folder 2. Richard B.  Taylor Papers, 1920–1993. MS-00341. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 88  Earley, Super Casino, 4–5, 117–120, 249–250; Sallaz, The Labor of Luck, 45.

144 

P. FRANKE

were accustomed to cheating or enhancing their wages by stealing.89 Strip casinos thus had good reasons for defining precise procedures and monitoring them constantly. As in Monte Carlo, the casinos invested in meticulous training to this end. Dealers not only had to learn how to handle equipment but were also expected to know the odds of every game by heart. Shift managers, pit bosses, and floormen were also told to make sure every table had the same odds for players, and changes could only be made by the shift manager.90 Casinos were not just paranoid. If dealers tried, they could and did influence gamblers’ behavior. Many dealers worked for tips that triggered negative responses from management. Tips would be made by wagering money for the employees, a practice which directly introduced a conflict into the gambling procedures, since it would give the dealer an incentive to let the house lose. Dealers thus developed strategies to provide emotional support for gamblers who tipped well without cheating the casino. On a small scale, they nearly emulated the casino’s strategy: without explicitly encouraging players to do so, many dealers tried to persuade customers to tip frequently by making subtle comments and small gestures.91 As in Monte Carlo, dealers were not supposed to feel responsibility for wins and losses, as the gambling experience in a capitalist, consumer-­ oriented casino was meant to be non-competitive. In an oral-history interview in 1978, Daniel David Atti, who dealt first at the Golden Nugget downtown before moving to the Strip, spoke about professional conduct and observed that lack of emotional attachment was key. Asked about losing to payers he stated: “The best dealers are the ones that don’t care. It’s not my money, the casinos can afford it. There is no real reason for a dealer to cheat.”92 In this regard, casinos fit patterns of modern capitalism, in  Sallaz, The Labor of Luck, 149–153, 137–138.  A.J.  Shoofey to all concerned April 6, 1965, Sub: Odds Limit. Box 19, Folder 1. Claudine Williams Papers, 1963–2009, MS-00094, Special Collections & Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 91  Transcript of interview with Thomas Barbarite 03/03/1981, OH-00077, 9–10, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas; Interview with Daniel David Atti 03/19/1978, OH-00050, 21, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada; Sallaz, The Labor of Luck, 19–20. 92  Interview with Daniel David Atti 03/19/1978, OH-00050, 21, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 89 90

5  WORKING IN THE CASINOS, HOW CASINOS WORKED—MANAGERS… 

145

which emotions themselves can be commercialized and sold but are also required to be controlled by entrepreneurs within their workforce.93 Sallaz points out: “Service industries are also unique in that managers seek to control not only workers’ physical effort, but their emotional labor as well.”94 For Las Vegas that meant that the casino was not actively playing against the customer, that its personnel had no clear-cut interest as to who won and who lost. The emotional labor of the dealer consisted in appearing calm, collected, and uninvolved. This did not mean that dealers were not occasionally subjected to disrespectful treatment by players. Atti remembered that the most common form of maltreatment was for players to blow cigarette smoke into a dealer’s face during a losing streak. The important thing, in his words, was to keep calm and not engage with players who got frustrated.95

5.4  Service Personnel: Producing the Gambling Consumption Experience on the Floor Because croupiers were supposed to be completely focused on the games, it fell to the SBM service personnel to cater to the numerous other needs of players. Service personnel were responsible for making gamblers feel like valued customers, being catered to enabled bourgeois gamblers to emulate the aristocracy and social betters, while acting as self-confident consumers. Even small-time players could command the staff and call upon one of the servants present on the gambling floor, whether they played in the so-called kitchen or in the exclusive Salles Touzet. While attendants performed numerous tasks, from serving beverages to collecting items that had fallen from the tables, croupiers kept an eye on the players, ensuring that no cheating took place.96 The attendants represented the personal link between the guests and the casino. They brought food, drinks, and ice water. This service kept players on the casino premises and thus gambling.97 Some of the attendants worked as part of the security force, controlling tickets and entry  Hochschild, The Managed Heart, 137–138; Grazian, On the Make, 17.  Sallaz, The Labor of Luck, 11. 95  Interview with Daniel David Atti 03/19/1978, OH-00050, 21, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 96  “A day at Monte Carlo,” The Graphic March 31, 1894, 353. 97  Blankenfeld, Monte Carlo, 129–135. 93 94

146 

P. FRANKE

cards, although the SBM also employed a number of house detectives and guards.98 The detectives’ activities were mostly hidden, making the attendants the only visible group whom gamblers could air grievances, express wishes, or pose questions. Attendants also helped to control the flow of people since they were the ones checking entry cards and making mental and physical notes about people inside the casino.99 Each part of the workforce was associated with a specific task and emotional labor. In 1937, Pierre Polovtsoff, director of the Sporting Club and a close associate of René Léon, made explicit that emotional labor was part of an SBM bartender’s duties: “As for the barmen, besides consoling losers, helping winners to celebrate, and mending their heads the next morning, they must also arrange the love affairs of the tarts and gigolos—a ticklish business, very often.”100 Because of the emotional labor, many players trusted service personnel to a great extent. Some even saw them as allies and would trust bartenders and attendants with their money, leaving them their pocketbooks so that the players would at least keep some money after a losing streak.101 The SBM service personnel was, for the most part, still working with the framework of the European spa. Until the Sporting d’Été which was specifically designed to appeal to interwar leisure practices and American sensibilities, their demeanor remained alien to US visitors. In contrast, service personnel at Strip casinos provided guests with what American suburbanites regarded as a classy but also a “devil may care” attitude. These differences were very apparent in the emotional labor that workers in Las Vegas performed. Beverage servers, showgirls, and entertainers made the casino a leisure space as much as dealers did. Highly gendered roles connected to sex and eroticism were part of this difference. The female-coded demi-mondaines and “the muses,” the female advisor to gamblers, hinted at the erotic freedom heterosexual men (and to some degree women) might enjoy at Monte Carlo. In Las Vegas, casinos incorporated this promise into their workforce. In the Life photograph depicting the staff of the Desert Inn, one can spot 29 “cocktail waitresses.” The female-gendered name reveals a lot: serving drinks on the casino floor was considered a female occupation. However, their role in  Blankenfeld, Monte Carlo, 141–144; 215–221.  Williamson, Lure of Monte Carlo, 114–119; Révoil, Monaco et Monte-Carlo, 199–205. 100  Polovtsoff, Monte Carlo Casino, 130–131. 101  Polovtsoff, Monte Carlo Casino, 131. 98 99

5  WORKING IN THE CASINOS, HOW CASINOS WORKED—MANAGERS… 

147

the production of the consumption experience transcended serving drinks. Management defined how these women were supposed to feel in the casino.102 Showing certain emotions was meant to help build a positive atmosphere that visitors could emulate and participate in so that they would feel good about their gambling. The Silver Slipper casino executives Art Lurie, Shelby Williams, and others were very concerned about such things when defining bar operations in 1966. Waitresses were to approach customers with a friendly, open demeanor and to fulfill more extravagant wishes. These included mixing drinks at the table and singing for them if asked to.103 In 1968, the Last Frontier ordered its beverage servers not to engage with other employees but to stay focused on their assigned area and tend to their guests’ wishes without losing their positive attitude.104 Women were usually tasked with the emotional labor that was meant to evoke feelings of appreciation and fun in customers, while males represented professionals (e.g., dealers) or figures of authority. In a written complaint, a visitor to a Strip hotel expressed surprise that his first complaint, which he had made in person, had been directed away from his hostess and toward a man, who came to fill in for the female employee immediately after he raised his voice.105 Just like dealers, beverage servers were under constant scrutiny. Even small missteps when handling cash could lead to termination, although waitresses were hardly the focal point of casino security as they were not involved directly with either gambling or skimming.106 The waitresses were widely regarded as sexually available, not least because casino executives consciously hired attractive young women whom they required to dress in revealing clothing. When in 1969 the Dunes casino began its policy of requiring its beverage servers to wear very short miniskirts, it also barred them from wearing boots that had not been 102   Transcript Interview D.D.  Cotton February 14, 1997, ohr000021, 52, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 103  Art Lurie to Sam Diamond, T.W.  Richardson, Shelby Williams, Interdepartmental Correspondence June 28, 1966, Bar Operation, Box 11, Folder 2, Claudine Williams Papers, 1963–2009, MS-00094, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 104  Kraft, Vegas at Odds, 108. 105   Anonymous Complaint 2723/’75, Box 17 Folder 3, Claudine Williams Papers, 1963–2009, MS-00094, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 106  Kraft, Vegas at Odds, 100–101.

148 

P. FRANKE

approved by management. Many women refused to do this, however, which ultimately led to an arbiter being called in. Even the arbiter made it clear that being attractive and desirable was an essential part of being a “cocktail waitress” and spoke about the women as if they were mere accessories to the casino space.107 Customers tended to share this point of view. It was seen as acceptable to complement casino executives “on their girls,” which included both waitresses and showgirls.108 One Shirley Dane wrote to Elmo Ellsworth from the Riviera in 1967: “Needless to say, most of our time was spent in the casino and we unanimously agreed that you have the most pleasant cocktail waitresses on the Strip.”109 Dane’s letter shows how the emotional labor of the waitresses played an important part in the casinos’ efforts to produce an enjoyable consumption experience that centered on heteronormative, male pleasure. In 1975, cocktail waitresses were often asked to pose next to gambling equipment, making them part of the scenery and spatial design of the casino and turning them into objects for male sexual fantasies.110 Middle management asked both showgirls and beverage servers to play into these stereotypes of sexual availability and cheerfulness. Until 1966, the Sands’s management expected cocktail waitresses and showgirls to entertain high rollers and other gamblers. It is difficult to tell how far these practices went. Apparently, though, in 1966 pit bosses criticized Entratter and Cohen for prohibiting them from giving women such tasks.111 These policies created an environment in which a lot of women, especially beverage servers or “cocktail waitresses,” were subjected to sexual harassment. Unlike showgirls, they were far less protected from unwanted advances by customers. One woman went on record with her frustrations: “I’m sick and tired of being pinched like a tomato.”112 Black beverage servers such as D.D.  Cotton, who worked as a server at both Caesars  Kraft, Vegas at Odds, 110–111.  Letter to Freeman, June 29, 1959. Box 1, Folder 5. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 109  Shirley Dane to Elmo Ellsworth (Riviera), September 11, 1967, Box 1, Elmo and Charlotte Ellsworth Papers 1948–1977, MS-00197, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 110  Dunes Hotel Levin, General Director of Design, 1975, Dunes Hotel Series. Box 20, Folder 5, Dunes Hotel and Casino Records 1955–1992, MS-00328. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 111  Garrison, Howard Hughes, 62–63. 112  Kraft, Vegas at Odds, 43. 107 108

5  WORKING IN THE CASINOS, HOW CASINOS WORKED—MANAGERS… 

149

Palace in 1966 and later at the Tropicana, had contend not only with the casino’s structural sexism but with overt racism by customers. She remembered being called a “black bitch” and more offensive racial slurs while serving drinks.113 She kept working because she hoped to advance in the gambling business, and it was expected of her to tolerate such abuse.114 Many women attributed the bad treatment to the overall atmosphere of the casino. The hedonistic gambling paired with images clearly related to sex played into the idea that male patrons were entitled to the women’s bodies. Because “cocktail waitresses” were supposed to be cheerful and project a sense of fun on the casino floor, men often interpreted their emotional style as implicit consent (if they cared about consent at all). With sex being very present in the casinos’ imagery and the imagination of management and players, many visitors regarded the scantily clad, service-­ oriented waitresses as just another attraction. Left alone by management, women found their own ways of coping with the situation: many advised younger waitresses to buy a cheap engagement ring and wave to casino security guards in order to make guests believe they were married. Others made deals with security for additional protection from groping men.115 5.4.1   Las Vegas Showgirls: The Icons of the Strip and the Question of Prostitution The image of the showgirl encapsulated the emphasis Las Vegas casinos placed on entertainment as part of their consumption experience. More specifically showgirls expressed the city’s implicit promise of sexual adventure. They performed elaborate dance routines, often in risqué dress. Male patrons were encouraged to see showgirls as part of the city and integral to the playboy lifestyle for which it stood. Gambling, drinking, and sex,

113   Transcript Interview D.D.  Cotton February 14, 1997, ohr000021, 24, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 114   Transcript Interview D.D.  Cotton February 14, 1997, ohr000021, 24, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 115  Transcript Interview D.D.  Cotton February 14, 1997, ohr000021, 31–31, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada; Kraft, Vegas, 43.

150 

P. FRANKE

alongside nightclub entertainment, were part of the larger image of the casinos projected by both the media and the casinos themselves.116 Breaking with old stereotypes of gambling and prostitution, the showgirl was a more glamorous, almost mythical figure, presiding over the “Folies Bergère” at the Tropicana, the “SaHarem” at the Sahara, and the “Lido de Paris” at the Stardust, to name just a few.117 There were economic reasons behind the growing importance of showgirls in the casinos’ arrangements. They were cheaper than big-name entertainers so casinos could cut costs without giving up on spectacular entertainment. This justified the resources management devoted to creating and maintaining the acts. For instance, the Copa Girls of the Sands cost $950,000 annually, a budget that included sets, costumes, training, and the roughly $130 weekly wage of each performer as well as food and living expenses. In addition to those he brought with him from the Copacabana nightclub, Entratter hired many women himself. Many pursued a career in entertainment afterward, something that the management of the Sands actively advertised in order to attract new employees.118 Costs could vary, of course: in 1954 the Dunes had a showgirl budget of $20,515 per year for 12 women.119 That showgirls were employed so that guests could look at them is made clear by the recruitment process. Entratter’s standard procedure was to send out casting calls or hold beauty pageants in search of women who 116  Las Vegas Holiday August Vol. 1 No. 2. 1968 10–13, Box 2 Folder 2 Sands Hotel Collection 1952–1977, MS-00417, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 117  Fraterrigo, Playboy, 150–152; Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 93–95; Ann Gera Cimos “In Las Vegas Women and Children are Losers,” Herald Tribune, May 10, 1963, Major Riddle Scrapbook, Box 4, Folder 23. Dunes Hotel and Casino Records, 1954–1992. MS-00328. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada 118  6/13 1955 Outline for Mosby UP Story, Box 5, Folder 2. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada; Freeman to Jim Bacon March 28, 1955. Box 5, Folder 2. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 119  Every woman made around $130, with featured women making up to $550, the rest of the money went into stage design, costumes, and the assistant staff of the producer, as well as the choreographer who made up to $300. See, for example, Preliminary Entertainment Budget Dunes. Box 4, Folder 18, Dunes Hotel and Casino Records 1955–1991, MS 93-08, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada.

5  WORKING IN THE CASINOS, HOW CASINOS WORKED—MANAGERS… 

151

had certain qualities: a height of five feet four inches, weight of 116 pounds, bust seize between 32 and 34 inches, 24-inch waist, 34-inch hips, petit features, and “oval rather than round faces”—“the American Girl” look.120 Not always professional dancers, showgirls were sometimes hired on the basis of their looks and personal connections alone. Many were in their 20s or even teens and were trained to follow carefully crafted choreographies. In the 1960s, showgirls typically worked six days a week, performing two shows a night for around $200 per week. Many were then asked to socialize with (male) guests on the casino floor. Unlike other members of the casino workforce used as “shills” at the tables, showgirls were usually allowed to keep their winnings if they gambled. Here, too, race played an important role: most showgirls were white, with the notable exception being those who worked at the non-segregated Moulin Rouge.121 Showgirl duties went beyond merely dancing. They were also asked to provide emotional labor that included stimulating gambling behavior on the floor itself. Male guests complimented executives on “their” attractive showgirls, who were asked by management to fraternize with journalists and important guests as well as other patrons of the casino.122 Ffolliott Fluff LeCoque, a dancer who worked in Vegas from 1947 onward, described this practice as important to the atmosphere of the casino, linking it to the growing competition on the Strip following the building boom of the early 1950s: In the early days, like when I first came to Las Vegas and was at the Last Frontier, [dancers] didn’t mix. That was not required. It really didn’t start to happen until they started building more hotels, like the Flamingo and the Desert Inn, and the El Rancho Vegas [….] So then the whole idea was to have beautiful girls just for atmosphere, really. Just for atmosphere [….] Later, dancers had to mix. That meant that you would have to stay in between shows and they wanted girls to sit in the bar. And you usually had

120  “The man with 4215 Girlfriends” December 4, 1957, Box 17 Folder 21, Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 121  Kraft, Vegas at Odds, 39–40. 122  Letter from Life Magazine Beverly Hills to Freeman June 29, 1959. Box 1, Folder 5. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada.

152 

P. FRANKE

to stay from one to two hours after the shows and dress the bar. Now if you wanted to gamble with somebody, you could do that.123

Casino leadership willingly and consciously exposed showgirls to the male gaze that framed them as sexually available. At the same time, it forced managers to draw a sharp line between their female employees and sex workers, sometimes in a very aggressive manner. For instance, Al Freeman, executive of the Sands in the PR department, once threw a journalist into a pool after he demanded that he be allowed to have sex with a Copa Girl as part of his stay.124 The conflict around burlesque shows on the Strip between 1956 and 1958 offers insight into how casinos played on the sex appeal of the showgirls while also working to maintain a clear division between showgirls and sex workers. During these years, casinos and executives disagreed about topless performances, debating whether they were appropriate. Starting with the Dunes in 1956, Harold Minsky, a successful producer from New York, started bringing burlesque and topless shows to a number of casinos, like the Aladdin.125 This triggered a harsh response from visitors, executives, and public figures alike. Among them was Entratter, who banned burlesque from the Sands, insisting that the Copa Girls perform clothed. Entratter received a number of letters from visitors thanking him for keeping parts of the Strip “clean” and safe for upstanding citizens, suburban families, and gamblers.126 One of the main arguments against burlesque performances was that it would bring showgirls and casinos much too close to prostitution and “cheapen” the Strip as a whole. Burlesque performers vigorously contested this point, criticizing the Sands and other casinos for their  Goodwin, Changing the Game, 82.  Letter by Freeman, May 16, 1960. Box 1 Folder 5. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada 125  The Issue Stardust, Nude Dancers Controversy. Box 3, Folder 7. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada; Freeman to Jim Bacon March 28, 1955. Box 4 Folder 1. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 126  Letter to Entratter, August 1, 1958. Nude Dancers Controversy, Box 3, Folder 7. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. Letter to Al Freeman August 7, 1958. Nude Dancers Controversy, Box 3, Folder 7. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 123 124

5  WORKING IN THE CASINOS, HOW CASINOS WORKED—MANAGERS… 

153

antiquated morals. They defended their art on the ground that it was professional and fun and far from detracting from the consumption experience of the Strip would enrich it. Yet showgirls working at the Sands voiced concerns that burlesque performances would turn all female dancers into potential prostitutes in the eyes of male patrons.127 Gail McQuary, who joined the SaHarem in 1957, said in an interview that they “were good girls”128 and recalled how management was protective of them. She explicitly stated that the SaHarem did not dance topless and would have never been asked to do so. Rather, she stressed the intense schedule they had to follow and their professionalism.129 That McQuary, years after the fact, would feel the need to insist that she and her fellow performers were not involved in any sort of prostitution is an indicator of how overtly sexualized showgirls were and how deep the conflict between burlesque and non-burlesque performers ran. As a whole, the controversy showed that casinos had to walk a narrow path: they understood that sex was seen as part of the Las Vegas experience, but at the same time they had to preserve the moral economy of gambling. This meant trying to convince the American middle classes that casinos were legitimate spaces for leisure and not dens of prostitution of the sort associated with the Wild West and saloons. This too related to the professional biographies of Strip entrepreneurs and their history in illegal gambling. As historian Daniel Bell noted: “Aside from the fact that manners and morals have changed, prostitution as an industry doesn’t pay as well as gambling. Besides, its existence threatened the tacit moral acceptance and quasi-respectability that gamblers and gambling have secured in the American way of life. It was, as any operator in the field might tell you, ‘bad for business.’”130 Strip casino entrepreneurs drew lines between their casinos and prostitution for both strategic and personal reasons. It was bad for business and stood in the way of their own integration into American society. 127  Life Magazine August 18, 1958; Las Vegas Review Journal, Monday, August 4, 1958, 2. Nude Dancers Controversy, Box 3 Folder 7. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada; Sunday News, September 7, 1958, 9. Nude Dancers Controversy, Box 3 Folder 7. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 128  Goodwin, Changing the Game, 94. 129  Goodwin, Changing the Game, 94–95. 130  Daniel Bell, “Crime as an American Way of Life,” in Crime & Justice in American History, 15.

154 

P. FRANKE

5.5  Conclusion: Producing Gambling Consumption Experiences Through Practical Knowledge and Emotional Labor The management and workforce of casinos were central to the production process of gambling experiences. Modern casinos, whether in Monte Carlo or Las Vegas, were spaces of leisure and work. Executives, dealers, croupiers, and service personnel worked together, if within a strict hierarchy, to achieve this. Casino leaderships shaped their workers via selection and training into part of the production nexus of gambling experiences. Managers themselves were shaped by their professional biographies and constrained by the ways they had learned to run a gambling business. Seemingly small details in organizational structure could lead to much bigger differences in how gambling was thought of, practiced, and experienced.131 A croupier and dealer might have both spun roulette wheels and dealt cards, but they did so in very different ways and based on very different understandings of how the act of wagering money was meant to feel. In Monte Carlo and Las Vegas, casino entrepreneurs learned their trade by running games in other contexts, both illegal and legal. This allowed them to plan and design a gambling experience to sell to middle-class patrons. The SBM integrated metropolitan pleasures, an emphasis on safety, and the emulation of the old elites with emotional control and the sensibilities of the emergent bourgeoisie. It thus opted for a centralized, ritualized, and controlled experience of gambling, one driven by croupiers as central figures and marked by a silent suspense that appealed to gamblers as a group. Its croupiers acted as a unit, with as dozens at one table conducting games as “automatons,” without emotions or stakes of their own. Though Las Vegas dealers acted not as a group but as individual game conductors, they were by no means more autonomous than their Monte Carlo counterparts. Dealers were meant to be polite and to spread cheer, but without appearing involved in the games as individual agents. They addressed individual consumers according to scripts devised by management. In both cases the emotional labor of restraint was complemented by the service personnel, who had to pick up the leisure-oriented end of the  Sallaz, The Labor of Luck, 4–5.

131

5  WORKING IN THE CASINOS, HOW CASINOS WORKED—MANAGERS… 

155

experience. Especially in the case of Las Vegas this included calling beverage servers “cocktail waitresses” and presenting them and the showgirls as available to the heteronormative male gaze. Las Vegas casinos suppressed legalized prostitution in order to maintain a balance between social conservatism and a sexualized image in the leisure-nightclub framework. The creation and maintenance of this moral economy was especially important to them, in their struggle not only with the stigma of gambling in general but with their own pasts and often ongoing ties with criminal networks.

CHAPTER 6

The Production of Consumption Experiences Through Gambling Practices

In 1956 an American journalist published a short article about his stay at the Monte Carlo casino in the Sarasota Herald Tribune. Although he apparently liked to gamble, doing so in Monaco seemed to have been a disappointment to him. For one, the craps table—one had been introduced by the 1950s as a concession to the casino’s US market segment— clashed with the overall atmosphere and with the emotional style of European gamblers. “It takes a bold man to shout in the awesome majesty of the great salons, even after making three straight passes. When this correspondent joined the half-dozen persons at the dice layout, the traditional cry of ‘baby needs a new pair of shoes’ stuck in my throat. I slunk over to the roulette wheel and lost my money in aristocratic silence.”1 He went on to complain that Monte Carlo was stuck in the past and that he couldn’t fathom how people could play roulette in silence and how emotionally repressed the players were in general: “When Sir Winston Churchill hit a 35-1 shot on number 17 […] the group around the table applauded.”2 His critique is in part the result of a shift in perception regarding casino design and architecture. In 1956, the SBM flagship appeared different to 1  “Monte Carlo Casino in Need of Crapshooters,” in: Sarasota Herald-Tribune, April 11, 1956, 10. 2  “Monte Carlo Casino in Need of Crapshooters,” in: Sarasota Herald-Tribune, April 11, 1956, 10.

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 P. Franke, Feeling Lucky, Worlds of Consumption, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-33095-7_6

157

158 

P. FRANKE

people than it did 50 years earlier. In the Belle Époque and interwar years, it appealed to the bourgeoisie and was easily decoded as a space for middle-­ class tourists. By the mid-twentieth century, however, sensibilities and social identities had changed: Monte Carlo appeared now as an artifact of times gone by. That does not wholly explain, however, the uneasiness the American journalist felt while gambling. The playing of the most popular dice game in the US clashed with the overall consumption experience the SBM had produced in Monte Carlo. In the correspondent’s description customary American behavior at the craps tables, shouting and calling the action, was frowned upon at Monte Carlo. The space and its architecture made the game feel out of place. That in the end he capitulated, walked over to the roulette table, and lost his money in “aristocratic silence”3 connects these issues with class. Playing roulette here was a European—meaning aristocratic—practice of the past. In reality, however, playing roulette in an emotionally controlled manner had been the norm since Monte Carlo’s inception as a middle-class-focused gambling space in the mid-­ nineteenth century. The Sarasota Herold Tribune article alludes to the different gambling styles of Monte Carlo and Las Vegas. This extended far beyond the rules they followed. How gambling was experienced, performed, presented, and organized depended on historical conditions. A praxeological approach makes it possible to analyze gambling and gamblers as historical entities that have undergone change. Framing gambling as consumption allows for an analysis that takes practices and their contexts seriously in terms of their power to change attitudes and perceptions of it. As sociologist Gerda Reith argues: “It [gambling] is a form of consumption, but it is a special type of consumption, with a unique experimental component.”4 Gambling consumption was thus intertwined with practices because it was offered as a service and its experience as a product. At the center of the analysis are the interactions at the gambling tables. They reveal different approaches to and patterns of gambling practices in Monte Carlo and on the Strip. The Monte Carlo consumption experience was centralized, ritualized, and built around the croupier as the conductor of games. Gambling practices in Las Vegas focused on empowering individual gambling consumption, with patrons being regarded as active individuals rather than as groups that participated in a ritualized wagering  “Monte Carlo Casino in Need of Crapshooters,” in: Sarasota Herald-Tribune, April 11, 1956, 10. 4  Reith, The Age of Chance, 127. 3

6  THE PRODUCTION OF CONSUMPTION EXPERIENCES… 

159

process. The Strip thus favored an entirely different kind of gambling: one focused on louder, more expressive, and empowered individual consumers. In both contexts, games evolved and changed as technology and shifting consumer tastes challenged the gambling experience executives had planned. In Monte Carlo machine gambling and games like craps represented such challenges. In Las Vegas, management incorporated blackjack, slot machines and new technologies as they became available and perpetuated gender dynamics via gaming practices to strengthen the moral economy.

6.1   Monte Carlo: The Commercialization of European Gambling and Adapting It to the Twentieth Century Gambling at Monte Carlo was an experience for the consumers and a capitalist practice. The casino used economies of scale, profit maximization, and specialization to sell a service and experience to customers as well as to commodify an ancient leisure activity. Monte Carlo united a focus on consumption and evoking emotions, with economic calculations of revenue margins in a luck-based business.5 For the American author, Theodore Dreiser, travelling through Europe before the Great War, Monte Carlo represented a world unto itself, a strange land populated by fascinating people doing puzzling things: I saw one such later—in the cercle privé at Monte Carlo—a red-bearded man of fifty, tall, intense, graceful. It was rumored that he was a prince out of Russia - almost anyone can be a prince out of Russia at Monte Carlo! He had stacks of gold, and he distributed it with a lavish hand. He piled it in little golden towers over a score of numbers; and when his numbers fell wrong, his towers fell with them, and the croupier raked great masses of metal into his basket. There was not the slightest indication on his pale impassive face that the loss or the gain was of the slightest interest to him. He handed crisp bills to the clerk in charge of the bank and received more gold to play his numbers. When he wearied, after a dozen failures - a breathing thong watching him with moist lips and damp, eager eyes - he rose and strolled forth to another chamber, rolling a cigarette as he went.6

5 6

 Braude, Spinning Wheels, 92.  Dreiser and Schmidt, A Traveler at Forty, 418.

160 

P. FRANKE

Dreiser touches upon a lot of things in this excerpt, ranging from the possibility of emulating European nobility in Monte Carlo, to the power of being an active consumer via the exchange of money, to the spatial ambience. Like many other writers, he addressed the emotional state of the gambler, his seeming lack of feelings, which stood in contrast to the atmosphere around him. This marks one distinction between gambling in Monte Carlo and the US. Monte Carlo, with its gambling tables in the middle of the room and rows of chairs lined up at the walls, transformed gambling into a centralized spectacle. While people played at the tables, spectators watched from the sidelines. Emotional outbursts such as shouting, laughing, or crying were frowned upon. In the European spa tradition that Monte Carlo built upon, gamblers were to gamble like the men Dreiser observed in his detachment and stoicism. That did not mean that gambling was intended to be unemotional or boring. Americans simply couldn’t decipher the emotional style.7 Like anyone who stepped into one of Monaco’s casinos, the Americans who traveled there had to make sense of the objects, spaces, and people they were confronted with. To players familiar with European casinos, Monte Carlo was the pinnacle of gambling, but both the experience of gambling and the spatial setting that Americans encountered here were unfamiliar to them. Games in Monte Carlo were chosen, designed, and adapted to fit these emotional styles and enable gambling as a leisure and consumption activity for the bourgeoisie. Many games played in Monaco originated in the gambling scene of Paris. From there, this new bourgeois, consumer-oriented mode of playing games of chance gradually spread across the private gambling circles of the elites and the Rheinish spas.8 The most important of these games were roulette and trente-et-­ quarante, though they weren’t directly transplanted.9 Monte Carlo’s and the SBM’s approach to gambling organization was heavily influenced by 7  Research files, Monaco (mostly Monte Carlo) 1883 (photocopy), 1980s, undated Theodore James, jr. “Casinos of the Continent—High rolling in Europe,” 44. Box 1. William R. Eadington Professional Papers 1949–2009, MS-00646, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada; Harvey A. Levenstein, Seductive Journey: American Tourists in France from Jefferson to the Jazz Age (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998), 174–175. 8  Rearick, Pleasures of the belle époque, 207. 9  Fielding, The Money Spinner, 38–41; Kavanagh, Dice, Cards, Wheels, 132–133; Baeumerth, Königsschloss contra Festtempel, 158–160.

6  THE PRODUCTION OF CONSUMPTION EXPERIENCES… 

161

capitalist thinking. The Monte Carlo casino aimed at profit maximization; thus, speed and accessibility became focal points of the games. Roulette was one of the fastest games, which was one of the reasons the SBM and European casinos favored it so much. More bets in shorter intervals meant more profits for the gambling houses. For players, roulette was exciting and easy to grasp. While in competitive games, like poker, strategy and skill could make a difference, and while blackjack encouraged players to reflect upon the situation after each card dealt, roulette was fast-paced and its results instantaneous. Plays could be repeated easily without much thought. It could thus be played continuously, without pause, yet still draw players in, making it a first choice for casinos.10 And yet even, roulette had to change in order to fit into and the new capitalist framework the SBM operated within. It had to be centralized, non-competitive, and made part of elaborate rituals. It also had to be profitable by design, meaning the casino had to win without playing. The goal of casino gambling as capitalist enterprise was to yield revenue for the bank, unlike private gambling opportunities such as those with aristocratic circles of the eighteenth century, in which gambling debts remained a personal affair.11 Despite the inherent randomness of gambling, modern casinos could rely on a number of policies to maximize their revenue: in addition to the statistical advantage it enjoyed, it enforced a strict betting range (the minimum for roulette was five francs, for the more elitist trente-et-quarante 40 francs), meaning a player had to wager above certain minimum amount, yet could not go above a certain sum. This minimized the chances of one lucky gambler winning big and gave the casino time to win at other tables. It also encouraged continuous playing activity. Experienced gambling entrepreneurs like François Blanc were thus never spooked by big wins, as the very structure of modern casino gambling ruled out the chance of a player’s breaking the bank.12 As Blanc put it: “The house must either have more capital than any individual player or must establish a limit so that superior capital can never be brought into play against it.”13 He approached gambling not as a player but as an entrepreneur. In 1895, the casino  Reith, The Age of Chance, 95.  Manfred Zollinger, Geschichte Des Glücksspiels: Vom 17. Jahrhundert bis zum Zweiten Weltkrieg (Wien, Köln: Böhlau, 1997), 47–85. 12  Fielding, The Money Spinner, 26–27; Jackson, Inside Monte Carlo, 27–28. 13  Jackson, Inside Monte Carlo, 27. 10 11

162 

P. FRANKE

administration provided each table with a cash reserve of 60,000 francs, which shows not only how much people gambled but also why it had become almost impossible for players to break the bank. With up to eight roulette tables, the casino had a huge advantage in capital that individuals could not match.14 Before François Blanc casino concessionaires had closed tables where players could break massive wins which led to the impression that the casino could not cover its debts or was close to bankruptcy. Blanc changed the policy and prioritized the protection of the emotional atmosphere of excitement and continuous playing activity rather than the hindering of gamblers on a winning spree.15 Some of his guests were aware of this. In his memoirs, George Sala, a passionate gambler and famous British journalist who visited Homburg as well as Monte Carlo, wrote,16 “We did not break the bank at Homburg, but the bank broke us, not swiftly, but with playful procrastination, such as is used by the cat when she plays with the mouse before devouring it.”17 According to nineteenth-century observers like Révoil, Blanc and the SBM had masterfully harnessed the emotional vulnerability of players.18 by transforming the gambling tables into the “Isles of Calypso”, the mythical place where the nymph held the hero Odysseus captive by manipulating him with her beauty and allure.19 Looking at gambling practices and materials, it becomes obvious that players and casino management conceptualized the games as consumption. Gambling in Monte Carlo followed a multitude of long-established standards that consumers in Europe expected to be upheld. It offered roulette, the game of the masses, and trente-et-quarante, a card game that was cordoned off in more exclusive rooms and that required more money to participate in.20 The practices at these gambling tables, the objects that were used there, and the ways in which players interacted are more than just interesting details. Practices produce and reproduce atmospheres,

14  John J.  Waller, “Behind the Scenes at Monte Carlo,” in The Pall Mall Magazine, December 1895, 26. 15  Edmund von der Lahn, “Am Spieltisch von Monte Carlo,” in Neue Züricher Zeitung, April 11, 1909, 4; Fielding, The Money Spinner, 30–35, 48–52, 92–93. 16  Barnhart, Gamblers of Yesteryear, 180–182. 17  Barnhart, Gamblers of Yesteryear, 154. 18  Révoil, Monaco et Monte-Carlo, 210–218. 19  Révoil, Monaco et Monte-Carlo, 210–218. 20  Corti, Zauberer von Homburg, 157–160.

6  THE PRODUCTION OF CONSUMPTION EXPERIENCES… 

163

spaces, and structures.21 Consumers who stepped up to the tables and participated in the games interacted and thus (re)produced these arrangements.22 No game embodied the gambling experience of Monte Carlo like roulette. It occupied the central space in the gambling rooms where it fused spectacle with continuous playing activity and allowed players to both emulate the aristocracy and behave like consumers. It catered to small-­ time and middle-class players who were interested in the spectacle as much as in the games itself.23 Roulette allowed bourgeois gamblers in charge of their own money to act self-determined in a way befitting their class identity. Roulette was the most popular game in Monte Carlo: at the turn of the twentieth century, the Monte Carlo casino featured around 17 roulette and 6 trente-et-quarante tables.24 Players generally bet on the outcome of a spin of the wheel, into which an ivory ball was thrown.25 For casino use, entrepreneurs changed the game, from its older variant, making it easier to understand and providing the house with a statistical advantage. For these purposes, they introduced numbers, zeros, and colors.26 In general, casino entrepreneurs altered and shaped gambling practices in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries in ways that played into the statistical advantage of the house. Compared to the Palais Royale or private roulette-like games, for example, the number of players playing casino-­ style roulette increased, while the sums they individually wagered decreased. Gamblers also usually played for longer and at a faster clip, now that the casino could set the pace. The casinos at the Rhenish spas and later at Monte Carlo had become standardized and commercialized, which had turned gambling into a commodity and casinos into a specialized industry. In this context, it seems that many casino patrons viewed the simple joy of playing and being able to participate and consume as a

21  Sören Brandes and Malte Zierenberg, Doing Capitalism—Praxeologische Perspektiven, in Mittelweg 36 (2017):3–25, 5–9; Elizabeth Shove, Mika Pantzar and Matt Watson, The Dynamics of Social Practice: Everyday Life and How It Changes (Los Angeles: Sage, 2012), 1–13, 63–77. 22  Reckwitz, “Affective Spaces,” 254–256. 23  Pickard, Monaco, 167. 24  Fielding, The Money Spinner, 103–106; Smith, Monaco, 357. 25  Rearick, Pleasures of the belle époque, 207. 26  Vicki Abt, “The Role of the State,” in Gambling Cultures, 179.

164 

P. FRANKE

legitimate end in itself. In that regard, gambling was indeed a (consumer) capitalist practice.27 Roulette is an example of how casino games were changed to fit the new consumer-oriented and capitalistically operated enterprise.28 At the Palais Royale it had been common for the wheel to spin for more than 15 minutes, while in Monte Carlo the intervals between games were made much shorter in order to maximize profits.29 In certain instances, the SBM adopted measures to heighten the spectacle of gambling at the roulette tables. Up until the 1920s, for example, in order to excite players, the SBM celebrated the elaborate ritual of covering closed tables with black cloth, as if in mourning, when the reserves there were depleted. The chef de parti would ring a bell and call for an usher to get more casino tokens: the players had successfully “killed” a table.30 For entrepreneurs, roulette represented an ideal casino game. It could be easily explained and combined with spectacular rituals. People could even play it with small sums. Most important, from the casino’s perspective, the game always generated high revenues.31 Roulette allowed players to act as self-determined consumers, because it demanded them to make a number of decisions. Though the tokens and gambling equipment were handled mostly by the croupiers, who conducted the games and set the pace, the bets were made by the players. Playing roulette thus involved consumer autonomy and decision-making within a controlled and centralized spectacle. The individual betting decisions fostered an exciting and tense atmosphere, as they encouraged risk-­ taking. The power to choose linked the game to the new consumer identity, in which choice became an important feature of consumption practices. In Monte Carlo, gamblers had the chance to bet on the following outcomes in different combinations: the colors, red or black, and a specific number between 0 and 36, with the winnings depending on how many numbers the player chose. If a gambler bet on a single number and won, the winnings would be the original wager multiplied by 36, for example. People could also bet on neighboring numbers called “jour à 27  Reith, The Age of Chance, 80–81; Sallaz, The Labor of Luck, 5; Schrage, Die Verfügbarkeit der Dinge, 137–138; 249. 28  Reith, The Age of Chance, 76–77, 95. 29  Fielding, The Money Spinner, 38–41. 30  Fielding, The Money Spinner, 92–93. “Correspondence de Monaco,” Le Figaro December 1, 1871, 1. 31  Braude, Spinning Wheels, 107.

6  THE PRODUCTION OF CONSUMPTION EXPERIENCES… 

165

cheval.”, in which case the winnings would range from 12 to 18 times the wager. Another possibility was to bet on pair or impair, that is, even or odd numbers, which paid out two times the wagered sum. The last alternatives were manqué and passé. Here a player could bet on whether the ivory ball would stop on a number between 1 and 18 (manqué) or 19 and 36 (passé). The greater the risk, the higher the possible winnings. The green zero ultimately secured the house’s edge, as even bets on red and black, pair and impair, manqué and passé would not be equally divided over time with the existence of the green zero. If the zero won, players’ money was moved into “prison.” If the player won, they could get back their “imprisoned” money; if not, it was lost.32 The numbers on a roulette wheel were not continuous but randomly distributed.33 The random distribution of numbers was meant to strengthen the appearance of pure chance and the randomness of the results.34 New players in particular were often unsure as to what to bet on. Most settled on a color, a sound strategy that, thanks to the green zero, nevertheless meant that they would lose over half of their bets.35 Révoil describes roulette as the most popular and easiest game for gamblers at Monte Carlo, emphasizing that players played roulette because of the simplicity of its rules and the excitement it generated. For him, the reason many gamblers failed to win was their inability to manage their emotions: successful players had to be rational, almost to the point of having no emotions at all. In his opinion, players either got desperate to win back what they’d lost or believed they’d continue to win even more. Both cases were equally disastrous. The SBM took measures such as emotional reactions into account when creating the casino’s otherworldly and lavish consumption spaces, which would act as a counter to feelings of desperation and encourage players to continue playing.36 In order to facilitate this emotionally controlled profitable and legitimate gambling for players despite the odds, the SBM micromanaged 32  Ian M.  Helfant, The High Stakes of Identity: Gambling in the Life and Literature of Nineteenth-Century Russia, Studies in Russian literature and theory (Evanston (Ill.): Northwestern University Press, 2002), 123. 33  Paulian, “A Visitor to Monte Carlo,” The Graphic, February 6, 1886. 34  William N. Thompson, “Wheels of Fortune, and Others Wheel Games,” in Gambling in America: An Encyclopedia of History, Issues, and Society, ed. William N. Thompson, 364–371 (Santa Barbara: ABC Clio, 2015), 365. 35  Williamson, Lure of Monte Carlo, 129–130. 36  Révoil, Monaco et Monte-Carlo, 210–218.

166 

P. FRANKE

games by giving its workforce precise instructions and taking great precautions when dealing with the equipment.37 The perception that the house maintained the integrity of the games countered narratives of cheating by patrons and casinos alike. After incidents in which patrons tried to manipulate games by taking advantage of the wear and tear on the mechanical wheel, for example, SBM personnel checked that all tables were set up in the same way, and every table had to pass a test in which the ball was thrown into the wheel counter its motion, whereupon it would spin at least seven times. All tables were built of interchangeable parts so that they could disassembled and reassembled every day, making it impossible for people to play the exact same table two days in a row.38 The table itself was a lot less mysterious than many gamblers imagined. In the words of Smith, who had the chance to witness the assembly process and to test a roulette wheel in Monte Carlo: “There was nothing concealed and nothing to conceal. I was welcome to touch, feel, move, lift, examine.”39 The handle of the wheel was bronze, as was the cylinder on the inside; the tip and outer hull of the cylinder were copper; the inner metal workings were steel; the outer edges of the wheel were wood; and the ball was ivory. Unlike the steel that held the cooper cylinder, most of the other materials were not conductors of electricity and thus not susceptible to electric manipulation (many gamblers subscribed to the theory that the wheels were manipulated via electricity). They were also visually impressive and well integrated into the Monte Carlo casino’s lavishly decorated gambling rooms.40 The look of the table was important, but so were the security features. The higher chair of the chef de parti helped him keep an eye on everything going on at the table, even when he shared the space with up to 16 gamblers. Players’ seats were not nearly as comfortable: gamblers had almost no room for their legs. Limiting the space underneath the table made it difficult to store or hold an object while sitting down, thus making it harder to hide something from the croupiers. Most people had to stand in rows behind the chairs and reach between or over the heads of other players.41 Security and management closely monitored the individual tables, to  Fielding, The Money Spinner, 71–73.  Fielding, The Money Spinner, 76–77. 39  Smith, Monaco, 364. 40  Smith, Monaco, 364–367. 41  Williamson, Lure of Monte Carlo, 114–119. 37 38

6  THE PRODUCTION OF CONSUMPTION EXPERIENCES… 

167

which the SBM had assigned numbers in order to keep track of people and gambling procedures. That way, different actions could be taken if players won heavily, came close to winning all of a table’s cash reserves, or abandoned it in favor of another one.42 These measures helped roulette become a legitimate casino game in Monte Carlo. Both the SBM and the gambling public regarded it as virtually impossible to cheat at roulette, because any sort of manipulation would have meant interfering with the ritualized and closely watched spinning of the wheel. Cheaters would have had to manipulate either the croupiers or the equipment itself during the game, something deemed impossible.43 The SBM even established its own manufacturing department, the so-called atelier, where the company built its own gambling equipment in order to ensure its integrity.44 Maintaining of centralized, spectacular, legitimate, and consumer-­ oriented qualities of the Monte Carlo gambling experience was more difficult with other games, particularly in instances in which their style and materiality clashed with either the emotional demands of the players or the profit margins of the casino. Petits-chevaux (the little horses) is a good example of this. It was one of the most played games of the Belle Époque; the first version appeared in 1871. The game consisted of a big cubical machine with small mechanical horse figurines on it that moved in circles. A croupier would pull a lever or flip a switch and the figurines would start to move. A randomized mechanism would determine which one would be faster than the others. Such a mechanism was basically a random-number generator and thus similar to a slot machine. This was precisely the issue since the SBM had constant problems with slot machines. They did not 42  Archives du Palais Princier, D20-33, Rapports du Comissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, May 14, 1904; Archives du Palais Princier, D20-33, Rapports du Comissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, May 2, 1904; Archives du Palais Princier, D20-33, Rapports du Comissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, October 30, 1904; Archives du Palais Princier, D20-34, Rapports du Comissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, November 9, 1905; Archives du Palais Princier, D20-34, Rapports du Comissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, November 19, 1905; Archives du Palais Princier, D20-34, Rapports du Comissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, May 17, 1906. 43  Corti, Zauberer von Homburg, 163. 44  Fonds Regional, Bulletin des employés de la Société Anonyme des Bains de Mer et du Cercle des Etrangers à Monaco, No 15, February 16, 1912, 3. Thierry Depaulis, “Die “Kleinen Pferde”: Ein Casinospiel der Belle Epoque,” in Spiele der Menschheit: 5000 Jahre Kulturgeschichte der Gesellschaftsspiele, ed. Ulrich Schädler, (Darmstadt: Wiss. Buchgesellschaft, 2007), 173–178.

168 

P. FRANKE

integrate well into the atmosphere and the consumption experience of the casinos in Monaco. Even the earliest versions of slots required the handling of the gambling equipment by the players themselves, not by the croupiers. They made sounds that disturbed the murmuring and discreet atmosphere of the casino, and they were not a spectacle that people enjoyed watching.45 Both petits-chevaux and its successor game, boule, however, could be played in a way that fit the Monte Carlo experience because they consisted of a central table with a layout similar to roulette’s and had one croupier handling the game. These features encouraged players to play it like the table games they were used to. The horse racing theme also corresponded to a leisure tradition of early twentieth-century Europe.46 This familiarity made machine gambling palatable for guests. The Sporting Club in Monte Carlo featured petits-chevaux between 1904 and 1907, after it had gained popularity.47 It was later replaced by boule, a similar game that rose to prominence in the 1920s.48 Boule employed the same design as petits-chevaux, but it worked differently. A ball was spun in a circle before it ended up in one of nine stationary pockets. The tables showed images of races and tracks or featured small horse figurines. Boule replaced petits-chevaux in the 1920s because the mechanical parts of the electric horse races were difficult to maintain. Boule is an example of a compromise in standardized and commercialized gambling: the casino offered patrons a version of machine gambling they enjoyed but that also featured lower maintenance costs than petits-chevaux. The centralized, ritualized, and legitimate gambling experience in Monte Carlo was maintained in all rooms and with all games, including the card game trente-et-quarante. Even though it targeted a richer audience, trente-et-quarante adhered to the same pattern as all other games at Monte Carlo in that it was organized around the croupier as the

 Schüll, Addiction by Design, 80–81.  Marschall Fey, Slot Machines: An Illustrated History of America’s Most Popular Coin-­ Operated Gaming Device (Las Vegas: Nevada Publications, 1983), 99; Jackson, Inside Monte Carlo, 247–251; Fielding, The Money Spinner, 133. 47  Thomas C. Day, Casino Tokens of Monte Carlo (Colorado Springs: American Numismatic Association, 1988), 4. 48  Thierry Depaulis, “Die “Kleinen Pferde”,” in Spiele der Menschheit, 173–175. 45 46

6  THE PRODUCTION OF CONSUMPTION EXPERIENCES… 

169

conductor of the game and the gamblers as consumers of spectacle and excitement.49 Players could make their own decisions but did not compete with each other or with the bank. They did not directly play a hand of their own but rather watched the croupier, called a tailleur, handle the cards as he repeated the same procedure over and over again. Trente-et-quarante was played with six decks and opened with one of the tailleurs dealing two rows of cards—one called noir, the other rouge—after the players had placed their initial bets. One could bet on four outcomes: rouge winning, noir winning, or whether the first card of the eventual winning row would be of the same (couleur) or the opposite (inverse) color. The tailleur would deal one row until it counted somewhere between 31 and 40. If both rows ended up with a 31, the “refait” appeared, which, like the green zero in roulette, sent players’ wagers to the “prison.”50 Unlike with roulette, however, players only had the chance to get these wagers back if they had “insured” their money beforehand by paying 1 percent of it to the bank regardless of the outcome of the game. This added another element of suspense as well as the possibility that the casino might win some money from cautious gamblers who’d bought “insurance” in the unlikely event of the refait. It also encouraged people to play small sums without “insurance,” as a 15-franc wager, for example, would require with 5 francs to be insured.51 Although trente-et-quarante was played with cards, it was not as interactive as blackjack, for example. Players chose their bet and then watched the tailleur deal two lines of cards until a line won. They were not dealt the cards individually, did not draw them themselves, and could change their wager between cards. It was a typical Monte Carlo game: ritualistic and centralized and played in a group, albeit with individual wagers. Trente-et-quarante was not as popular as roulette, as it was targeted at a clientele who played for larger sums than most visitors were willing to stake. In Monaco’s casinos it was available only in the more exclusive rooms or the Sporting Club and thus not in the rooms most players entered first. Additionally, it was more complicated than roulette and thus not appealing to casual players. Révoil describes how people kept on

 Révoil, Monaco et Monte-Carlo, 210–218; Kavanagh, Dice, Cards, Wheels, 191–193.  Alan Wykes, Gambling (London: Aldus Books, 1964), 171–176. 51  Bethell, Monte Carlo, 40–52. 49 50

170 

P. FRANKE

playing the game to their own detriment.52 This somewhat limited its usefulness to the SBM, especially since its advantage over players was “merely” 1.5 percent.53 In general the SBM expected roulette to do better than trente-et-quarante. A casino report from 1878 clearly shows that the SBM regarded it as a surprise if trente-et-quarante attracted more gamblers than roulette or if the game generated more revenue.54 Trente-et-quarante did, however, provide the SBM with a game it could present as specifically made for its more elite clientele in terms of emotional appeal. Both the company and contemporary observers considered trente-et-quarante a calmer game than roulette, and its players were supposedly more in control of their emotions than roulette players.55 This impression was surely linked to the differences in how both games were played. With the continuous decision-making required of the player, the possibility of the refait, the insurance, and the less noisy, less crowded spatial context trente-et-quarante appeared to be a slower-paced and less hectic game than roulette. Therefore, those who played it seemed to be more in control of themselves and their emotions.56 While trente-et-quarante and petits-chevaux were adaptable to the Monte Carlo experience, other games were not. In the twentieth century, slot machines were used only sparingly and only after the Second World War. They had been part of American gambling culture and consumption since the interwar period.57 Their noises, appearance, and lack of cultural significance made them difficult to place within the casinos of the SBM and ultimately disqualified them from being integrated into the Monte Carlo gambling experience. Casino executives regarded them as vulgar and trivial.58

 Révoil, Monaco et Monte-Carlo, 210–218.  Kavanagh, Dice, Cards, Wheels, 191–193. 54  Archives du Palais Princier, D20-9, Rapports mensuelsdu Comissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, No 847, January 26, 1878. 55  Williamson, Lure of Monte Carlo, 154–155. 56  Wykes, Gambling, 280–287. 57  Mark Dickerson, “Why ‘Slots’ Equals ‘Grind’ in Any Language: The Cross-Cultural Popularity of the Slot Machine,” in Gambling Cultures: Studies in History and Interpretation, ed. Jan McMillen (London: Routledge, 1996), 152. Wykes, Gambling, 68–69. 58  Boyer and Agulhon, L’Hiver dans le Midi, 294–296; Fielding, The Money Spinner, 136–140; Jean-Baptiste Robert, “État Et Structures Urbaines À Monaco De 1949 À 1974,” Annales de la Faculté des Lettres et Sciences Humaines de Nice, no.25 (1975): 169–170. 52 53

6  THE PRODUCTION OF CONSUMPTION EXPERIENCES… 

171

A first experiment with craps, the popular American dice game, also failed after its introduction in 1949.59 SBM croupiers actually anticipated the same challenges it would pose to the journalist of the Sarasota Herald Tribune mentioned earlier. In 1949, the SBM sent directeur de jeux Louis Ceresole and head croupier Albert Jauffret to Detroit, where the headquarters of Wells Gambling Equipment was situated. Here they inspected dice polishing machines and learned how to play craps. While the rules themselves posed no issues, the way of actually “shooting” craps did. The particular calls the dealer had to make—sentences like “It’s a big dick!”, and “Eight the hard way!”—seemed out of place to the SBM employees, as they were used to the less emotional announcements made during roulette. The company experimented with translating these phrases into French, though without the hoped-for results.60 As a set of practices, gambling also depended on objects with which people interacted at the tables. Chips, plaques (larger plastic cards for large sums), and coins were thus essential to the gambling experiences. The quote of Dreiser’s at the beginning of the chapter illustrates this: the exchange of money into gold was part of the ritual that made Monte Carlo gambling so intriguing. For the mostly bourgeois visitors, the coins and stacks of tokens had also a distinct emotional appeal. Unlike the old nobility, who had to treat gambling losses as unimportant in order to be regarded as proper members of society, bourgeois gamblers could marvel at the riches on display at the tables. In a way, the ease with which one could change money into tokens and chips empowered consumers, too. They decided how much they wanted to exchange and into which denominations of tokens and chips, as well as when to go back to the cashier or the tables. Additionally, casino employees handling these transactions treated them as customers. This allowed gamblers to act as self-confident economic subjects, counteracting the popular image of the bewitched and victimized gambler.61 The process of changing chips and plaques into money revealed which market segment the SBM catered to. Monte Carlo accepted almost every type of currency, but it preferred those form the Latin Monetary Union,

 Fielding, The Money Spinner, 133.  “Monte Carlo takes up “Les Craps”—Casino Men in U.S. jumble the Jargon, finally learn the hard way,” LIFE March 28, 1949, 51–52. 61  Braude, Spinning Wheels, 107. 59 60

172 

P. FRANKE

thus underscoring the French and Continental European, but also the cosmopolitan character of the resort.62 Casino tokens also further obscured the distinction between the casino and the city district. As the influence of the casino grew and Monte Carlo became its own distinct urban space within the principality, casino coins gradually became a parallel currency in Monaco. Most stores and services accepted them as money. Already during François Blanc’s time as head of the SBM, casino tokens were visually almost indistinguishable from “real” money.63 In 1909 players wagered banknotes of various currencies, as well as special pieces of paper with the sums written on them.64 In the 1860s, casino tokens were still metal coins, minted in Paris and showing their value on one side and the SBM logo on the other.65 The coins had different colors and sizes according to their value. Although the coins were made of solid metal, the rough handling by players and croupiers during the intensive gambling at the tables made it necessary to ship in replacements constantly, a vivid detail that gives some indication of the speed and ferocity of Monte Carlo gaming.66 For the purposes of handling huge sums, the casino usually used rouleaux, gold coins draped in paper so that they would form tubes, with written information on them such as their value.67 There were rolls of 500 francs and 1000 francs, making it easy for the croupier to calculate amounts with just a glance.68 The casino stamped the tokens with ink when players first exchanged them so that it could keep track of which coin or token they had taken. At the end of the day, SBM employees would wash all color from the coins.69 This process shows how much nineteenth- and twentieth-century commercialized gambling had changed when compared to the eighteenth century. When, for example, the famous Casanova gambled with his peers, they would use tokens whose value they defined ad-hoc, and they would then nominate one player to act as the bank. In Monte Carlo these 62  Wykes, Gambling, 286–289; Day, Casino Tokens of Monte Carlo, 6; Barnhart, Gamblers of Yesteryear, 180–182. 63  Day, Casino Tokens of Monte Carlo, 5–6. 64  Lahn, Spieltisch, 1–2. 65  Archive du Palais Princier, Savelli, Histoire des jeux à Monaco et du Casino de Monte Carlo, 10. 66  Day, Tokens of Monte Carlo, 5. 67  Fielding, The Money Spinner, 46. 68  Smith, Monaco, 346. 69  Day, Tokens of Monte Carlo, 7.

6  THE PRODUCTION OF CONSUMPTION EXPERIENCES… 

173

processes were standardized and impersonal, with the players (as consumers) clearly distinct from the providers or organizers.70 The history of casino tokens in Monaco also shows that the SBM designed the consumption experience down to the smallest particulars. The Sporting Club, for instance, was supposed to feel more exclusive than the Monte Carlo casino and thus featured its own plaques and tokens.71 Indeed, the designs of tokens was seen as so important that higher SBM managers constantly reflected upon it. René Léon, for example, briefly reintroduced gold coins instead of tokens in early 1934. He believed this would stimulate gambling behavior. Gold coins had not been used in Monte Carlo since before the Great War, and so they immediately sparked the interest of newspapers and gamblers alike.72 Players seemed to like to play for (and with) real gold, and they often hesitated before exchanging the coins back into money. Many chose to keep them, either as souvenirs or because of their actual value. This led Léon to bring back tokens, ending the experiment that same year.73 The sight of tokens, chips, and money in the casino seems to have had a big impact on the emotional state of prospective gamblers, something the casinos counted on. Their efforts to transform guests into players included the transformation of wagering tokens into a full-blown bodily experience. For visitors like Dreiser, the display of riches and opulence contributed to the allure of gambling in Monte Carlo: I shall never forget my first sight of the famous gaming tables. Aside from the glamour of the crowd—which was as impressive as that of an opera first night or grand reception—and the decorative quality of the room, which was unduly rich and brilliant, I was taken with the sight of the quantities of real money scattered so freely over the tables, small piles of gold louis, stacks of eight, ten, fifteen, and even twenty-five francs, layers of pale, crisp bank notes whose value was anywhere from one hundred to one thousand francs.74

 Giacomo G. Casanova, Aus Meinem Leben (Stuttgart: Reclam, 1989), 270–297.  Day, Tokens of Monte Carlo, 9–19. 72  Archives Départementalés des Alpes-Maritime (ADAM), Fonds de la préfecture, 04M 1351, Commissariat Spécial Rapports 200, February 5, 1934, A/S des casinos monégasques remboursant les plaques de jeu en dollars-or. 73  Fielding, The Money Spinner, 127–129. 74  Dreiser and Schmidt, A Traveler at Forty, 386. 70 71

174 

P. FRANKE

His description of the stacks of money and the ambience of the rooms reveals how interconnected the various elements of the experience were. Dreiser’s marveling tone was typical of the time, as most visitors were not used to such surroundings or such displays of wealth. In another remembrance, from 1908, the European writer Chodounsky linked the opulent impression of the gold coins and banknotes on the gambling tables with the architecture of the casino. The gold on the tables and the rich décor together made up the consumption space so that the writer freely admitted how overwhelmed he felt at the sight.75

6.2  Las Vegas: The American Gambling Experience In 1957 Frank C. Randak, the social chairman of Alpha Ta Omega, wrote Al Freeman to say that his fraternity was planning to have a “Las Vegas Night”: “We have rented professional gambling equipment from a firm in Detroit at a cost of $150 and we have done much research on gambling to help us plan the party well and give it an air of authenticity. […] We cannot duplicate the casino of the Sands Hotel […] however, pictures, menus, matchbooks, and pamphlets from an actual casino would go a long way toward filling this gap.”76 The demand for these objects, most of which were not even directly related to gambling, was so high that most casinos could not satisfy it. Between 1956 and 1957, the Sands alone received over 36,000 requests for souvenirs, a number far beyond management’s capacity to fulfill.77 Las Vegas had begun to define the legitimate gambling experience to Americans, and they wanted souvenirs like matchbooks and menus to commemorate it. Although organizers like Frank Randak acknowledged, that they could of course not truly replicate the Strip, these small objects could serve as a connection with the authentic Las Vegas, they could identify. All over the country during the 1950s and 1960s, church groups and charity organizations hosted events dubbed “Las Vegas Nights.” Americans gambled for a good cause, using either play money or real cash, which  Chodounsky, Detektiv, 30–43.  Frank C. Randak to Al Freeman, February 19, 1957, Box 7 Folder 4, Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 77  See, for example, Al Freeman to Ms Viogel, March 12, 1957 Box 7 Folder 4, Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 75 76

6  THE PRODUCTION OF CONSUMPTION EXPERIENCES… 

175

they then donated. To recreate an atmosphere reminiscent of Las Vegas, they wrote en masse to the city’s casinos asking for objects like promotional materials, decks of cards, dice, whole gaming tables, and even cocktail napkins and ashtrays.78 “Las Vegas Nights” were a peculiar phenomenon. The uniqueness of the Las Vegas consumption experience had become a widely accepted idea in American culture, with authentic objects from the Strip being seen as essential for recreating the experience of Strip casinos. The Las Vegas gambling experience was focused on gambling as individual consumption. Gamblers could approach the tables as self-confident and self-determined consumers rather than as group of spectators, or a group of gamblers, as in Monte Carlo. The choice of games was broader, ranging from table games to machine gambling to raffles, wheels of fortune, and sports betting. At the center of the casinos, both physically and metaphorically, were table games like craps and blackjack, while slot machines were relegated to the edges of the room. The games were diffused throughout the space and far less rigidly ritualized than in Monte Carlo. Every table followed its own rhythm and dealers interacted with customers on an individual basis. Craps, a dice game with a history stretching back to the seventeenth century, was central to the Las Vegas gambling experience. It is played collectively, but unlike roulette, the player takes on a far more active role. For example, it is the player who rolls the dice while the people around them bet with or against the “shooter.” A player wins when a specific combination of numbers is rolled; the casino wins when the player “craps out.”79 Players shouted, cheered, and passed the dice, none of which would have ever occurred in Monte Carlo. No croupier would have allowed a player to spin the wheel, but craps fostered participation on behalf of the shooter and encouraged players to make noise supporting  There are hundreds of such requests: Veda Heinze to Al Freeman, July 5, 1957. Box 7, Folder 4. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada; Joe Brandeis to Al Freeman April 3, 1956. Box 7, Folder 4. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada; Leonard Freidman to Al Freeman. October 26, 1955. Box 7, Folder 4. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada; Mrs Carl L Pearson (American Legion Auxiliary) to Al Freeman July 20, 1957. Box 7, Folder 4. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 79  Reith, The Age of Chance, 77. 78

176 

P. FRANKE

them. Such displays of emotions, even if in a supportive vein, would have been poorly received by players in Monte Carlo, who expected themselves and others to maintain their composure. Craps created a sense of active playing and an active audience amid a soundscape of excitement, rather than the pure spectators of Monte Carlo. No one rolled against the shooter, but everyone had stakes in the game.80 Although players focused on the shooter and their own bets, they also celebrated together and engaged in rituals to bring the shooter luck. It was highly well suited for fostering a fun, social, and memorable consumption experience for those playing and for those watching others play.81 Las Vegas casinos designed craps to enable these practices but were careful not to relinquish too much control over the gambling experience. The casino leadership knew that allowing players to take an active role also came with issues. Casino games worked via the edge, so continuous playing activity was essential for the profit margin. A craps table is operated by four dealers: the boxman sitting behind the casino’s bank; another two at each side of the table, managing payouts and bets for their respective sides; and a stickman on the opposite side of the bank. The stickman announces the results of the dice, orders payouts, and gives the dice to players.82 Stickmen remained in control, but casinos instructed them to respect the autonomy of consumers as much as possible. For example, although continuous playing activity was beneficial for the casino, dealers and stickmen were ordered not to pressure people into playing or suggesting another bet. The gambler had to feel unpressured while playing, and management regarded the professional conduct of its dealers as essential to guarantee this. As the manual of the Holiday Inn casino put it: “[…] there is no need to ask a player, ‘same bet,’ nor do you wish to press it. Give him the money, and let him make the decision.”83 Craps was gambling, but it was driven by the self-confident, independent consumer in search of fun. The adoption of craps in Las Vegas took some time. In the 1940s, casinos like the El Rancho Vegas featured mostly European games like roulette. As more and more operators from illegal gambling ventures settled on the  Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 168–169.  Wykes, Gambling, 136–147; Kraft, Vegas ad Odds, 74–76. 82  Interview with Daniel David Atti, 03/19/1978, OH-00050 Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 83  Rules to Follow Craps Dealers in Introduction to the Gaming Business. May 27, 1970. Box 17. Claudine Williams Papers, 1956–2009. MS-00094. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 80 81

6  THE PRODUCTION OF CONSUMPTION EXPERIENCES… 

177

Strip, they brought with them new games. The basic layout of the craps tables followed patterns that operators had long been employing in illegal gambling venues. Much like dealers and architecture, gambling practices were also imported from the East Coast, California, and the Midwest.84 What craps had in its favor as a casino game was that despite its rather complex rules, it was not all too intimidating: in 1960, the Sands estimated that 28 percent of its patrons played it upon their first visit to the casino. As with the casino’s decks of cards, the dice were used so intensively that they had to be regularly replaced. Most pairs (at a price of $1.25 a pair) were in use for only around six hours, before they were given away or reused as key chains in the souvenir shop.85 The other table game that dominated the public image of Las Vegas and its gambling experience was blackjack. Even more than craps, blackjack empowered gamblers, demanding constant decisions, in the search for a winning strategy. A player’s decision to hit or stay represented a focus on the individual of the kind, that Monte Carlo or even craps did not have. Players had their own hand composed of cards dealt to them specifically. The player was the empowered decision-making consumer, the dealer a mere tool. The possibility of formulating a strategy and impacting the odds significantly would have normally disqualified blackjack from being part of the casino. Gambling entrepreneurs could, however, adapt it. The casino trained dealers not to show emotion or act as competitors in front of players, but management also made its strategies transparent. Dealers were instructed on how to play, introducing a sharp distinction between them and the players. The players enjoyed autonomy in decision-making, the dealer did not. The question of whether to take or not to take a card was defined by management for the dealers. They instructed dealers to take another card until they hit 17 or, in some casinos, 16. If the dealer had any number under that they were required to take another card, even if this move was disadvantageous for the house and the danger of busting was imminent.86 This was no secret either. Indeed, in most casino-hotels 84  Transcript of Interview with Robert Francis Bergin, 03/05/1981, OH-001899-10, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 85  Cameron shipp—Facts and Figures—Entratter material, October 6, 1960, Box 2 Folder 31, Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 86  “21” and the uneducated player in: Sahara Magazine, 1975, Vol. 2 No. 1 Box 2, Folder 2. Dunes Hotel and Casino Records, 1954–1992. MS-00328. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada.

178 

P. FRANKE

this order was printed on the green cloth at the blackjack table, there for all players to see and plan accordingly.87 Additionally, dealers were instructed to always deal from left to right, to collect winnings and pay them out in a standardized way, and to call a floorman when any irregularity cropped up, no matter how small.88 Players had an advantage, as they knew that the dealer in front of them had to take another card, even if he already had, for example, a 15. The casinos did not want to be perceived as an opponent, and the rule dictating how a dealer had to play aimed to situate the employee more in the role of conductor than opponent. The transparency of this rule, the fact that it was literally written on the table, also mitigated against the house’s being seen in a hostile light. Since players were not competing with each other, playing blackjack in Las Vegas was about beating the deck, which is to say, chance; it was not about outfoxing the dealer, who merely did what they were ordered to do. The lack of self-determination of the dealer did not mean that they could be phased out and replaced by machines, however. Casinos still had to meet players’ expectations, and so they were forced to compromise in their search for new ways to enable players to wager faster and more frequently. The more games were played, the more the inherent advantage of the house would produce winnings. As part of such a strategy, in the late 1960s and 1970s, casinos tried introducing automatic card shufflers for blackjack. This had the potential to speed up the game considerably. Management hoped to prevent potential human mistakes and get the shuffling done much faster. As dealers were already severely limited in their agency, its automatization in some capacity seemed the next logical step. Gamblers, however, were vocal in their displeasure with the shuffling machines. Strip casinos responded by abandoning machines and allowing dealers to shuffle by hand.89 Rather than maximizing their advantage at

87  Photograph of a blackjack dealer and a cocktail waitress at the Sands Hotel casino, Las Vegas, circa late 1960s, Sands Hotel Photographs pho000449, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas; Gamblers at the blackjack (“21”) table at the Sands Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas, Sands Hotel Photographs, 0287 0140, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. 88  Twenty One in: Introduction to the Gaming Business, May 27, 1970. Box 17. Claudine Williams Papers, 1956–2009. MS-00094. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 89  Sallaz, The Labor of Luck, 12–14.

6  THE PRODUCTION OF CONSUMPTION EXPERIENCES… 

179

the tables, casinos opted to keep the integrity of the consumption experience and its emotional appeal intact. The Strip experience demanded that certain games be tweaked. American-style roulette is an example of this. In the mid-twentieth century, roulette was a mainstay of casinos for over a hundred years. But it was played in different ways in the US and Monaco. On the Strip it was not the center of spectacle and was thus designed to be less crowded and ritualized. It was also not the focal point of the room, but one of many table games. As with blackjack, croupiers worked alone and not as part of a large ensemble. The crowds they served were smaller, which allowed them to cater to individual players. Management and players also tended to see roulette as a “female game,” that is as less active and requiring less strategy. The game itself was subtly different too: American-style roulette featured two green zeros, which greatly reduced players’ chances of winning.90 Strip casinos tended to feature more and smaller tables rather than a few, larger ones, which diffused crowds rather than concentrating them in the center. In Monte Carlo, a game could last up to two minutes, while American roulette was considerably faster. In Las Vegas, one game would last one minute, and sometimes the wheel was spun 100 times in just one hour.91 Monte Carlo had adapted machine gambling, like boule, to fit the playing style of roulette, while on the Strip roulette was altered to resemble blackjack. One croupier dealt with a small crowd of individual gamblers who wagered not in the center of the room but on multiple tables throughout the space. The rules of roulette still applied, but it was adapted to fit the image consumers and casinos entrepreneurs had of Las Vegas-­ style gambling. Other games changed their social, cultural, and interactive aspects as well, adapting to new technologies and shifts in consumption habits. Slot machines are an example of this. Among casino executives, slot players were regarded as passive and thus often “female.” The gendered aspect was ascribed to the less tense atmosphere surrounding slots. Table games were fast-paced and under constant surveillance: dealers, security, and  Kraft, Vegas at Odds, 74–76.  William N. Thompson, “Wheels of Fortune, and Others Wheel Games,” in Gambling in America, 364–367; Film transparency of a Roulette wheel, Las Vegas, circa 1930–1950, Manis Collection Image ID: 0100 0143. University of Nevada, Las Vegas University Libraries; Photograph of gamblers at roulette table, Sands Casino, Las Vegas, circa 1955–1965, Sands Hotel Photographs Image ID: 0287 0137. University of Nevada, Las Vegas University Libraries. 90 91

180 

P. FRANKE

players were constantly on the lookout for irregularities and cheaters. But because they were highly complex machines, slots were thought by management to be too hard to manipulate by ordinary customers, obviating the need for surveillance. Slots also offered little to no room for skill or strategy—another reason slots players appeared passive.92 Yet slots players were not passive at all: people adapted their playing to the machines in ways management did not foresee. Before the digital integration of slots and credit cards, people had to pause in their gambling to go to the cashier in order to exchange bills for coins, and when they did this, they put cups on the handles to “reserve their” machine. Casinos adapted their design in reaction to these consumer behaviors and installed cupholders. When people wanted to play more, casinos linked machines so that people could play multiple slots at once, something that became common in the 1990s but that first occurred in the 1960s.93 Executives in the 1950s and 1960s saw the slots as an asset because the consumption experience they produced was a mass phenomenon: people witnessed other players’ jackpots, which management believed would stimulate their desire to keep gambling.94 Casinos adapted again and grouped slots together in long rows, to intensify the soundscape and allow more people to play. In the 1950s and 1960s, people liked to play together at a single machine, often sharing one. In the 1970s and 1980s, however, when more and more machines were installed in the casinos, that changed. Now people isolated themselves while playing the slots. They wanted to 92  Willem A.  Wagenaar, Paradoxes of Gambling Behaviour (Hove: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, 1999), 15–18; Gary Cross, “Coralling Consumer Culture,” in The Politics of Consumption, 287–288; Stearns, Battleground of Desire, 299–301; Schüll, Addiction by Design, 74–75. 93  One example is described in this letter to the Holiday Inn: Complaint to Robert Ownes, Holiday Casino August 29, 1976, Box 17 Folder 1973–1983. Claudine Williams Papers, 1956–2009. MS-00094. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 94  For example, Complaint to Robert Owens, Holiday Inn Casino August 29, 1976, Box 17 Folder 3. Claudine Williams Papers, 1956–2009. MS-00094. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. In this letter a customer complaints about a misunderstanding with a casino employee. He also describes how he and his daughter-in-law played the slots in multiple lines, walking from machine to machine. For the general trend of playing slot machines together, see Kah-Wee Lee, “Containment and Virtualization: Slot Technology and the Remaking of the Casino Industry,” http://digitalscholarship.unlv.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1007&context= occ_papers (accessed October 12, 2015), 7–8.

6  THE PRODUCTION OF CONSUMPTION EXPERIENCES… 

181

get lost “in the zone,” to be numbed emotionally and bodily by the experience. The machines still contributed to the atmosphere of the casino as a whole, but slot players became uninterested in the soundscape they helped to create.95 Such a change has been observed by anthropologists like Natasha Schüll, but historians have yet to tackle the discrepancy between earlier ways of playing slot machines and contemporary practices.96 The shift seems to be linked to the general change in casino spaces from the more intimate nightclub setting of the 1950s and 1960s toward the mass tourism and resorts of the 1970s and the decades that followed. Slots allowed for participation on the gambling floor, while offering the maximum amount of independence from the crowd. In a way, slot machines epitomized the individualistic approach of Americans toward gambling, in which the consumer enjoyed autonomy over experience, albeit at the price of getting lost in “the zone.” Even though slots remained random-number generators, their sound effects and elaborate themes enabled people to regard themselves as active consumers. Pushing a button, throwing in a coin, and pulling a lever were small activities, but they had the potential to create the illusion of the need for skill and strategy.97 The shift from playing slots together to a more isolated playing is reflected in the spatial makeup of the casinos. In the 1960s, most slot machines did not yet have chairs, meaning people had to stand while playing.98 People did not get lost in the continuous betting but would walk around, chat, and leave. The lack of chairs is important, because it shows that between 1945 and the late 1960s, executives and architects did not foresee or support the consumption practices focused on a single machine for extensive periods of time. Chairs were only gradually adopted in the late 1960s, and even then, gambling practices were slow to adapt. In 1965, for example, the rows of slot machines at the Las Vegas casino Four Queens had chairs in front of them, but each machine was still being played by up to four people at once.99 The materiality of the machines mattered greatly for players and the casinos changed their designs constantly in order to facilitate gambling  Reith, The Age of Chance, 106–109.  Schüll, Addiction by Design, 1–6. 97  Reith, The Age of Chance, 106–109. 98  Scheri, The Casino’s Most Valuable Chip, 46–47; Spencer, Mid century Vegas, 152. 99  Spencer, Mid century Vegas, 99. 95 96

182 

P. FRANKE

that felt right to consumers and had a healthy profit margin. Differences in gambling cultures led to different designs. When in 1966 a new machine was introduced that worked via a button rather than a handle, gamblers rejected the easier (and faster) machine, as they missed the haptic experience of pulling a lever. In 1968, a second button-operated machine by Raven Electronics failed for much the same reason. These machines were popular on the international market, however, revealing just how much gambling practices were dependent on consumer preferences shaped by different traditions. In the US, gamblers were used to pulling the lever at a slot machine, and any change to that could take place only gradually. In Las Vegas, gamblers rejected the new forms of machine gambling, while in other national contexts people cared far less whether they pushed a button or pulled a lever.100 While the SBM had trouble integrating slots into its casinos, Las Vegas casinos employed them fairly early on. In order to do so, however, game-­ playing machines, which had been around since the turn of the century, first had to be turned into gambling machines. The first models, for example, could not calculate prices on their own. Instead of a payout in proportion to their wager, winners received cigarettes, tobacco, a free drink, or candy from the bar or establishment where the machine was located. Winner had to reclaim their winnings from the operator, who in most cases presided over not a casino but a small venue like a bar, gas station, or general store. These “nickel in the slots” machines were thus not suitable for a casino. Casinos needed machines that were visually appealing, that were based purely on chance and paid out in cash, and that could operate independently.101 The Las Vegas consumption experiences depended on easy access to the machines and to the sense of excitement they engendered. Adapting the machines to casino use spurred technical innovation. Their designs were streamlined toward simple play mechanics that created a feeling of suspense at the same time. Charles Fey’s invention in the 1890s of a slot machine with three wheels enabled the slots to make payouts themselves, something that went hand in hand with a general reduction of complexity. Fey first used classical gambling symbols, such as hearts, spades, and horseshoes, in his machines, but he eventually changed them in order to  Fey, Slot Machines, 195–201.  Schüll, Addiction by Design, 80–81; Reith, The Age of Chance, 78; Mark Dickerson, “Why ‘Slots’ Equals ‘Grind’ in any language,” in Gambling Cultures, 154. 100 101

6  THE PRODUCTION OF CONSUMPTION EXPERIENCES… 

183

distance his “entertainment machine” from gambling. Slot machines at this point had various names, such as “fruit machines,” since many used pictures of fruits rather than gambling symbols in order to distinguish them from games of chance. Fey’s Liberty Bell paid out when a player got three bell symbols, one on each of its wheels, which featured five symbols in total. Hardwired into even this early machine was the insight that gambling had to have an emotional appeal, which Fey accomplished through the installation of a simple mechanism: a timer. Now the wheels turned around a metal pipe with a timed break mechanism that would stop only one wheel at a time, from left to right. There was no mechanical reason for the timer: it was added purely to build suspense. It allowed the gambler to get wrapped up both in the illusion of stopping the machine at the “right time” and in the illusion that one could “get close” by getting two winning symbols, for example. These were illusions: the results were calculated in advance. Stopping one wheel at a time only served the purpose of enhancing the fun, while the new overhaul separated the process of claiming and meting out prizes from the operator of the establishment.102 To create still more excitement, the machines used in Las Vegas were modernized versions of the Fey slot machine designed by Herbert Stephen Mills. Mills decreased the chances of winning for the players yet drastically increased the sums of possible payouts as well. He also extended the window, allowing players to see not only the row they eventually got but also the symbol combination above and beneath. While these additions were, technically speaking, hardly big achievements, they increased the suspense and the feeling of “getting close,” revealing how much casinos—the biggest buyers of slot machines—focused on the emotional aspects of gambling rather than on introducing new mechanics.103 Even though the way people played slots changed and their design and sophistication adapted, some aspects remained the same. They were loud and colorful in order to keep players interested. They were tailored to contribute to the general atmosphere and soundscape that was so vital to the production of the consumption experience of the Strip casino.  Kah-Wee Lee, “Containment and Virtualization,” 3–6.  Fey, Slot Machines, 195–211, Schüll, Addiction by Design, 80–81 Mark Dickerson, “Why ‘Slots’ Equals ‘Grind’ in any language,” in Gambling Cultures, 154 Steve Durham, “History from the Civil War Through the Great Depression,” in The History of Gambling in America: Balancing Costs and Benefits of Legalized Gaming, eds. Kathryn Hashimoto and Steve Durham, (Upper Saddle River, N.J., London: Prentice Hall; Pearson Education, 2009), 33–35. 102 103

184 

P. FRANKE

Manufacturers like Jennings in particular succeeded in this field and became popular with Strip executives because their machines were the most outlandishly designed and made the most noise.104

6.3   Conclusion Slot machines, the blackjack tables, and the game of craps reveal a fundamental difference between the Monte Carlo and Las Vegas Strip gambling experiences. Las Vegas casinos were focused on empowering individual gambling consumption, with people being regarded as active individuals rather than as groups participating in a ritualized wagering process. Between 1945 and 1976, blackjack, craps, and even slots encouraged social interaction, individual decision-making, and continuous gambling activity, whether by taking another card, rolling the dice, or pulling the lever one more time.105 The barrier-free, supposedly chaotic gambling floor and the strong focus on middle-class gamblers further propelled the image of American gambling as a democratic, egalitarian experience, even though in truth the casino space was highly monitored and controlled, not to mention racially segregated.106 Gambling fit the pattern of the postwar consumer republic. It was consumption for empowered individuals from the white suburban middle classes.107 In Monte Carlo, gambling was a spectacle practiced at the center of the gambling rooms and in a group. Its emotional style was different from Las Vegas’s. Players expected each other to control their emotions and behave according to the bourgeois value of temperance. At the same time the opulence of gambling, embodied by the tokens and coins used and the elaborate rituals of playing roulette, allowed gamblers to emulate the old elites. In both contexts casinos adapted games to fit their targeted market segment and the playing styles of their respective patrons. In Monte Carlo games were centralized, ritualized, and focused on the group. The games were conducted by groups of croupiers. In Las Vegas, on the other hand,  Fey, Slot Machines, 181–182.  Reith, The Age of Chance, 95–96. 106  Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 3–4. 107  Lizabeth Cohen, “Citizens and Consumers in the United States in the Century of Mass Consumption,” in The Politics of Consumption, 204–208; 215–216 Schrage, Die Verfügbarkeit der Dinge, 9–14. 104 105

6  THE PRODUCTION OF CONSUMPTION EXPERIENCES… 

185

the casinos catered to a gambling crowd that expected to be addressed as self-confident and individualistic consumers with agency. Gambling practices on the Strip also distinguished Las Vegas casinos from Monte Carlo, which many Americans experienced as boring, depressing, and snobbish. The different games and ways of playing depended on different cultural prerequisites, as well as on different objects, atmospheres, and spaces that enabled and disabled the consumption experience. The actions of consumers deserve special attention in this regard. Their social backgrounds and approaches to gambling in the contexts of Monte Carlo and Las Vegas will therefore be explored in the following chapter.

CHAPTER 7

Happy Losers, Happy Consumers: Gamblers as Consumers and Seekers of Experience

If there are allurements at Monte Carlo, no one is bound to yield to them. No one is bound to visit the place; it is a long way from England—yet the majority of visitors are English—and so any one having started for the place has, before reaching it, time for reflection and repentance, and consequent change of route. Let those whose means are limited, and who cannot resist temptation, not expose themselves to it by going to Monte Carlo, as people who cannot skate should not go on the ice.1

With these rather harsh words, the British writer Heckethorn dismissed those who suggested that it was Monte Carlo itself that produced countless “décaves.” These were the broken gamblers who had lost most or all their money. Heckethorn was one of a growing number of predominantly bourgeois voices in the late nineteenth century that blamed individuals, not the casino, for the moral corruption with which gambling had come to be associated. In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the emerging bourgeois ideal of the rational human who balanced passions with reason was at odds with gambling as an irrational practice connected to all manner of superstition. European newspapers and bourgeois associations judged games of chance to be an unproductive of wasted time and money, two essential resources in the new capitalist economic order. Only the nobility could afford not to care about frittering such precious assets away 1

 Heckethorn, The Gambling World, 259.

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 P. Franke, Feeling Lucky, Worlds of Consumption, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-33095-7_7

187

188 

P. FRANKE

at the gambling tables, so the thinking went. Games of chance were regarded as an aristocratic and wasteful practice. It was also held to weaken the minds of gamblers and lead to the erosion of society. The bourgeois British Anti-Gambling League founded in 1890, went so far as to equate the crusade against gambling with the struggle for the survival of the “Anglo-Saxon race”. Around 1900, the anti-gambling movement began to incorporate medical discourses: gambling would destroy the nerves, would lead to alcohol addiction, and would undermine social institutions like the family.2 Heckethorn’s stress on personal responsibility is in line with the bourgeois morality that put all blame on the gamblers for exposing themselves to temptation. Travel writer William Cope Devereux, on the other hand, put the blame squarely on the shoulders of the casino in his 1884 book, blaming the institution for seducing otherwise honest people into becoming self-destructive gamblers. He was especially concerned with how readily young women succumbed to Monte Carlo’s “enchanting scenery,” once they started to gamble there was no telling how far they would fall.3 As already discussed, casinos in both Monaco and Las Vegas devised meticulous procedures and strategies to guide people through their spaces and to the tables in hopes of persuading them to wager money in games that by design put players at a disadvantage. Their spatial script gave credence to the trope that gamblers were either irrational or fools who did not understand that they could do almost anything in a casino but win. These stereotypes also informed sociological, psychological, and historical approaches to gambling. Historian Thomas Kavanagh has shown that gamblers have historically mostly been framed as victims.4 This has led to similar critique of Las Vegas: in Playtown USA, published in 1955, Katharine Best and Katharine Hillyer criticize the self-­ destructive hedonism of Las Vegas gambling and urged visitors to devote themselves to sports instead. Ed Reid and Ovid Demaris’s The Green Felt

2  Torp, “Gambling and the Civilizing Mission,” 526–535; E.  J. Carter, “Breaking the Bank: Gambling Casinos, Finance Capitalism, and German Unification,” Central European History, no. 39.2 (2006), 185–200. 3  Devereux, Fair Italy, the Riviera and Monte Carlo, 66–67. 4  Kavanagh, Dice, Cards, Wheels, 1–4.

7  HAPPY LOSERS, HAPPY CONSUMERS: GAMBLERS AS CONSUMERS… 

189

Jungle of 1963 moreover presents the Strip as a perverted Disneyland, where the Mafia manipulates people into losing money.5 Viewed from a longue durée perspective, however, the history of gamblers in Monte Carlo and Las Vegas intervenes in such discourses. By reconstructing how gamblers and their practices changed over the decades, it becomes apparent that they were not mere passive participants but rather acted as self-reflective participants and consumers, aware of the consumption in which they took part. When they stepped into a casino, gamblers had multifaceted agendas, not all of which were exclusively linked to making money. They judged their own consumption as successful if it corresponded to the experiences they had sought out. Casinos as modern capitalist enterprises did more than provide people with the opportunity to gamble; they fine-tuned spatial arrangements, materialities, and business policies to allow people to have experiences they were willing to pay money for. Sociologist Evelyn Ruppert argues that consumption spaces do not control consumers; they enable the transformation of “half-formulated” desires into finished products by giving them contexts and meaning.6 Conceptualizing gamblers as consumers makes it possible to move beyond the argument that people were tricked into gambling. People rejected games of chance if they did not fit into the consumption experience they sought out. They had demands and expectations that the casinos had to meet in order to secure their patronage. Gamblers wanted to play, but only in ways that offered them satisfaction on multiple levels. Many people who went to the casinos were motivated not merely by the chance of winning at the tables. They also went as spectators and thrill seekers, looking for entertainment and as tourists seeking leisure. They came as members of the middle classes eager to engage in previously aristocratic or upper-class consumption patterns, while also affirming their own identities via consumption. Even when perusing written complaints, one finds that most players considered that their experience was lackluster not because of losses incurred but rather because they felt unfairly treated by staff or had a subpar vacation overall. They did not treat gambling as a financial investment, nor did they expect financial returns. 5  Ribbat, Flackernde Moderne, 86–88; Jonathan Foster, “Stigma Cities: Birmingham, Alabama and Las Vegas, Nevada in the National Media, 1945–2000,” Psi Sigma Siren, no.3.1 (2005), 25–26. 6  Ruppert, The Moral Economy of Cities, 210.

190 

P. FRANKE

7.1   Gamblers at Monte Carlo: Playing Aristocrats and the Bourgeoisie as “Splashers,” “Flutters,” “Professors,” and “Muses” Monte Carlo contributed to a new consumption-based leisure culture in which consumers could participate in a certain lifestyle without eliminating social differences. The casino allowed the bourgeoisie to confirm their status in the tumultuous period of the late nineteenth century while also slowly eroding the position of the nobility and upper echelons of society. Literary historian Ian Helfant, for example, has touched upon gambling as a practice of identity formation in Russian culture, showing how the Russian gentry used gambling to define itself.7 The casino also enabled a broad range of gambling consumption that exceeded merely playing the games. It made it possible to observe gambling as a spectacle from the rows of chairs next to the walls, to entering into social (and sometimes sexual or romantic) relationships, and to pushing gendered power dynamics to their limits or to confirm them. It did so by connecting these agendas with a new type of consumption that was grounded in wagering money on uncertain outcomes. Monte Carlo was a city inhabited by seasonal vacationers brought together by their consumption habits.8 The statistics between 1911 and 1929 show the cosmopolitan and touristic character of Monte Carlo’s population. In 1911, around 1034 families spent the winter there, 97 percent of them in hotels. The most represented nationalities were English (31 percent) and French (15 percent).9 In 1913, over 9000 of the 23,000 inhabitants of Monaco lived in Monte Carlo, most likely as hivernants. The principality became a densely populated space, with 10,300 inhabitants per square kilometer.10 According to the Monegasque census published in 1929, there were around 25,000 residents of Monte Carlo, with 9600 of whom were Italian, 9100 French, and 2200 English.11 Casino records also note that many of the international guests visited the gambling house. In a report to the Monegasque government in 1922, the casino listed 101,437 visitors to the gambling rooms for the 1921–1922  Kavanagh, Dice, Cards, Wheels, 1–4; Helfant, The High Stakes of Identity, ix–xv.  Boyer and Agulhon, L’Hiver dans le Midi, 10–14. 9  Boyer and Agulhon, L’Hiver dans le Midi, 324–330. 10  Robert, Histoire de Monaco, 80–82. 11  Braude, Spinning Wheels, 57. 7 8

7  HAPPY LOSERS, HAPPY CONSUMERS: GAMBLERS AS CONSUMERS… 

191

season alone. In the 1920–1921 season, 132.456 people were admitted to the gambling rooms. The most heavily represented nationalities were French (50,612), British (19,308), and Italian (8113). There were also 7753 Americans, reflecting their growing market segment during the interwar period. The impact of the Great War is also apparent in these statistics, with only 59 Germans and 129 Austrians listed. The gambling revenues of the Monte Carlo casino for the 1921–1922 season are listed as over 58 million francs.12 These statistics allude to the possibilities Monte Carlo offered the largely bourgeois and European gambling crowd. Since the nineteenth century, capitalism had done away with legal remnants of the ancien régime according to which one’s social status legally restricted what one could consume. Capitalism gradually replaced these restrictions with money, which made prices the most important restriction to gain access to goods and services.13 In Monte Carlo, one could emulate certain cultural and economic practices to become an hivernant, even though this label had originally been reserved for the socio-economic and cultural elite.14 The tir aux pigeons, a structure that was part of the casino itself, embodied this. It was a huge facility that looked out over the southern sea facing the cliffs, behind the casino terraces.15 Pigeon shooting was, like illegal gambling, one of the most prominent leisure activities in Belle Époque Paris. It thus made sense for Blanc and, later, Léon to include it in the casino’s entertainment portfolio.16 Because it was regarded as not only an aristocratic but also a male activity, pigeon shooting was well suited to the SBM’s desired demographic: male members of the bourgeoisie seeking the sort of spectacle and sport formerly reserved for Europe’s traditional elites. The tir aux pigeons was also ideally located to keep potential gamblers close to the 12  Archives du Palais Princier, D 20-54 Admission dans les Salles du Jeux, Report of the Commissaire du Gouvernement to the Directeur du Cabinet Civil, April 1, 1922. 13  Fuhs, Mondäne Orte einer vornehmen Gesellschaft, 39–42, 68–72; David Blackbourn, “Fashionable Spa Towns in Nineteenth-Century Europe,” in Water, Leisure and Culture, 9. Werner Plumpe, Das Kalte Herz: Kapitalismus: die Geschichte einer andauernden Revolution (Berlin: Rowohlt, 2019), 14–16, 83–88, 140. 14  Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary, 5–6; Fuhs, Mondäne Orte einer vornehmen Gesellschaft, 44, 68–72. 15  Révoil, Monaco et Monte-Carlo, 259–262; Devereux, Fair Italy, the Riviera and Monte Carlo, 50–51. 16  Révoil, Monaco et Monte-Carlo, 259–262. “Pigeon Shooting at Monaco” in Morning Post London, January 28, 1886, 3; “International Pigeon Shooting” in Morning Post London, January 31, 1877, 2.

192 

P. FRANKE

casino. Just as with the theater, where visitors had to pass through the atrium, so too did sport shooters have to go to the casino terrace in order to gain entry.17 Although the SBM sold tickets to the tir aux pigeons, it never turned a profit.18 That was not the point, however. As Polovtsoff, part of SBM management during the interwar era, pointed out, the tir aux pigeons was never meant to make money but rather to stimulate gambling activity.19 The multiple nationalities, the growing American market, and the inclusion of twentieth-century tourism practices by Léon, Polovtsoff, and their allies were linked to class identities as well. The Great War and the growing economic and political turmoil it left in its wake had a profound impact on the demographics of visitors to Monte Carlo.20 Many contemporaries commented on this shift and linked the change in the visitors’ nationalities to the emergence of new emotional styles and gambling behaviors. In the interwar period, accounts like the one of former croupier Paul de Ketchiva contributed to the narrative that Monte Carlo had lost its glamour as the nature of its clientele changed. Writing in 1928, de Ketchiva claims that before the Great War, [Monte Carlo] was a different place to what it is to-day. With both the German Empire at the height of its power and the Imperial Tsarist court at St. Petersburg riding the crest of the wave before its fall, Monte Carlo was a riot of kings, queens, princes, grand dukes, barons, countesses—in fact, nine out of ten of the frequenters to the casino had a handle to his name—either authentic or spurious! Then everyone had money and knew how to lose it.

He links new consumption practices and gambling with national character, lamenting: To-day the only people who have money are the American and German profiteers—who don’t know how to lose it. They lose—but they do not do it so gracefully as the old noblesse—who shrugged their shoulders and ordered another bottle of champagne when they lost a mere fifty thousand  Braude, Spinning Wheels, 67.  Archives du Palais Princier, D20-33, Rapports du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, No. 599, January 3, 1902; Archives du Palais Princier, D20-33, Rapports du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, February 17, 1903. 19  Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary, 29. 20  Fielding, The Money Spinner, 97–102. 17 18

7  HAPPY LOSERS, HAPPY CONSUMERS: GAMBLERS AS CONSUMERS… 

193

francs, and at once took solace in the arms of one of the beautiful demi-­ mondaines who lined the walls of all the salles at Monte Carlo.21

De Ketchiva describes the supposed shift from the graceful members of the nobility of the Belle Époque to the crass nouveaux riches. This perception that the culture of the casino had shifted, runs counter to its actual history. Since the 1840s, casino gambling and the Rheinish spas had emerged as bourgeois gambling spaces.22 In Homburg and later Monte Carlo, gamblers had been mostly members of the bourgeoisie. As discussed in the previous chapter, most visitors wagered small amounts in the “kitchen.” It was not national differences but rather bourgeois culture and values that framed the perception of gamblers by other visitors. In 1895, for example, after witnessing an Englishman win a large amount at roulette, a young French woman told a British journalist: “I wish it was a Frenchman winning, for they are poor and the English are so rich; but I don’t care; it is a treat to see somebody taking it out of the tables for they don’t have any pity on us. I hope his friend will take him away soon, and not let him return, or he’ll be sure to lose it all again. They all do.”23 To men and women like her, national identity may have influenced how they regarded the gambling experience, but the greater opponent—chance itself as represented by the table—transcended such national loyalties. In Monte Carlo everyone was first and foremost a gambler, who knew they would not beat Fortuna. Both the casino and bourgeois gambler expected fellow players to exhibit what they called “good digestion,” that is, keeping their emotions in check and not becoming visibly aggravated by setbacks at the tables.24 Players who lost control of their emotions were judged harshly by other players, for failing to conform to the bourgeois—and specifically male-­ coded—value of being in control.25  De Ketchiva, Confessions of a Croupier, 16–17.  David Blackbourn, “Fashionable Spa Towns in Nineteenth-Century Europe,” in Water, Leisure and Culture, 14–15; Hachtmann, Tourismus-Geschichte, 80–81; Mackaman, Leisure Settings, 138. 23  “Breaking the Bank,” The Graphic, February 23, 1895, 208. 24  Paulian, Visitor Monte Carlo, 186–187. 25  Fuhs, Mondäne Orte einer vornehmen Gesellschaft, 320–321; Martina Kessel, “Das Trauma Der Affektkontrolle: Zur Sehnsucht nach Gefühlen im 19. Jahrhundert,” in Emotionalität: Zur Geschichte der Gefühle, eds. Claudia Benthien, Anne Fleig and Ingrid Kasten, (Köln: Böhlau, 2000), 157; Stearns, Battleground of Desire, 30–32; Bell and Valentine, Consuming Geographies, 130–132. 21 22

194 

P. FRANKE

Gamblers in Monte Carlo generally knew they would lose money. In 1910, gambling advisor Victor Bethell noted how gambling was seen not as a contest but as a social event and that it felt so natural in Monte Carlo that even non-gamblers tried it at least once while there: Fortunately, most of them [visitors] take to it more as a pastime than a vice. They gamble to amuse themselves, and few of them lose more than they can afford. Some take it up in the same way that many others take to cycling, playing golf, and bridge, i.e., more or less because they are driven to it. They visit Monte Carlo […] because all their friends go there, and having arrived, they find they are ‘out of it’ unless they join in the universal pastime of roulette. There are many to whom it matters not whether they win or lose; in fact, the majority come fully prepared to part with a certain sum.26

As Bethell observes, gambling had a social and class-affirming character and the presence of a script seemed to push visitors to participate. Winning was possible and desirable, but it was not necessarily the whole purpose. Visitors quickly soured on gambling done by people, who represented social groups they regarded as deviant or in an overly emotional or competitive way. An example of this can be found in a letter from Ysobel Roxolo’s Letters from Monte Carlo of 1923. Roxolo notes: I rarely play at the Sporting Club, there are such a lot of un-attached old women monopolizing the tables, with their little five francs pieces. They squabble so over whose piece it is or which has won that there is not much pleasure in playing there. I hear management are anxious to get rid of them all, so that more desirable people may come in.27

By drawing on letters, travel accounts, and guidebooks, it is possible to reconstruct a typical day for a visitor to Monte Carlo. The patterns that can be observed in these sources show that people used the casino as a social space, as a chance to present themselves as men and women of means, and as a way to pass the time. Gambling took center stage in these activities, but gamblers were not coerced into playing. Usually, guests walked around Monte Carlo, enjoying the urban amenities. After lunch,

 Bethell, Anecdotes, v.  Ysobel Roxolo, Letters from Monte Carlo (Boston: The Christopher Publishing House, 1923), 41. 26 27

7  HAPPY LOSERS, HAPPY CONSUMERS: GAMBLERS AS CONSUMERS… 

195

people gambled and met friends in the gambling room.28 Following afternoon tea, group of gamblers and their companions returned to the casino tables. Concerts and music started in the evening. In between performances, many guests used the time for a quick intermezzo of gambling.29 Most people played in the evening, a practice not actively promoted by the SBM but that emerged from the preferences of consumers. Many players suggested that it would be “vulgar” to get up before noon and preferred to come to the tables in the afternoon, in the belief that one could properly enjoy gambling only after lunch. The casino adapted accordingly and started to close gambling tables in the morning.30 Gamblers generally had to come early to get a place at the table. If a player wanted to secure a seat or if they believed that a certain chair was a good luck charm, they usually hired someone to come in early and occupy a place at the table. The placeholder could keep half of their winnings while occupying the seat, plus an extra sum, if they were able to get the requested seat for their “employer.”31 The spatial script the SBM devised for the city and casino did influence gamblers, but they also used the possibilities of Monte Carlo to have a gambling experience that seemed worthwhile to them: playing at the times of their choosing and as part of a class-affirming vacation. The stigma of gambling, nonetheless, made some people uncomfortable. Not everyone who came to Monte Carlo admitted they were there to gamble, citing instead the favorable climate or the beauty of the surrounding nature as reasons to stay there. Such evasions, which clung to the medical discourses of the spa prevalent in the first half of the nineteenth century, were often mocked by travel writers.32 Claiming not to be a gambler could also be a strategy for those who had truly lost everything at the green cloth and now depended on help from others. Being a gambler, or even a “décave,” remained a moral flaw, hence the SBM’s efforts to integrate the casino into the legitimate metropolitan pleasurescape. Even if they gambled a lot, Monte Carlo made it easy for people to claim not to be gamblers. Some who had lost their money disavowed their habits in order to secure their viatheque—a credit given by the casino to leave Monaco—or additional payments from the  Nevill, Light Come, 338; Polovtsoff, Monte Carlo Casino, 22–23.  Roxolo, Letters, 24; Lahn, “Spieltisch von Monte Carlo,” 1–2. 30  Smith, Monaco, 357; Nevilll, Light Come, 337–338. 31  Williamson, Lure of Monte Carlo, 129. 32  Dreiser and Schmidt, A Traveler at Forty, 390–391. 28 29

196 

P. FRANKE

government. In a letter to the palace, an American woman named A.E. Howe claimed to have come to Monaco for medical reasons, even though she had quickly lost 6000 francs over the course of December and January. She asked the prince for money, claiming: “I’m not a gambler, I have never been to Monte Carlo before.”33 The agent of the Cook Agency from Nice, for example, witnessed the spectacle of the gambling rooms in 1920 and was fascinated by the power the casino rooms exerted over people.34 Even those who wagered money had different approaches to what they would do in the casino. The assumption that once at the casino people would gamble is certainly not wrong. Yet there was a huge range in how gamblers made the Monte Carlo experience work for them. Over the years, players divided the gambling crowd into a number of archetypes: “décaves,” or broken gamblers; “flutters,” or spectators; “splashers,” or novices who gambled erratically; “habitué,” or notorious gamblers; “system players,” that is, those who followed some sort of pattern when wagering; “professors” who sold them said systems; and “muses,” young women who offered their intuition, among other things, to male patrons.35 Gambling practices varied according to the different agendas. Those who came to watch the gambling settled into the chairs at the edge of the casino room, enjoying the atmosphere and the ritual. They came to “flutter,” meaning to watch the games, and would often start to gamble themselves just to see how it felt. The appeal of watching the games ranged from voyeurism to suspense and even happiness over other people’s winnings.36 SBM security and the directeur de jeux kept an eye out for such non-gamblers. Sometimes attendants asked them to leave if they refused to partake in the games after lingering for too long.37 People who came to be entertained could eventually join the crowd at the tables but would not be forced to do so immediately.38 The service intérieur—the SBM security—sometimes denied them access to the casino the next day, but it 33  Archives du Palais Princier, D20-60 Casino- Réclamation des Joueurs, Letter from A.E. Howe to his Royal Highness, March [undated]. 34  Archives du Palais Princier, D20-60 Casino- Réclamation des Joueurs, Letter from Ex. Colonel Mustafa Barriza, Agence Cook Nice to Son Altesse, le Prince de Monaco, November 4, 1920. 35  “A Visit to Monte Carlo,” The Graphic, February 6, 1886, 159. 36  Williamson, Lure of Monte Carlo, 114–199. 37  Fielding, The Money Spinner, 104–105. 38  Pickard, Monaco, 178–181.

7  HAPPY LOSERS, HAPPY CONSUMERS: GAMBLERS AS CONSUMERS… 

197

never removed them, as doing so would create too much commotion. In 1912, casino security mostly asked people to leave if they judged them as lacking the funds necessary to gamble. The detectives watched individual gamblers carefully in making their assessments in order to be sure not to kick people out on the basis of false information.39 To a certain extent, the SBM supported the voyeurism of spectators. It closed tables when the parti was going exceptionally slow, in turn pushing the crowd to a few tables, giving the appearance of massive gambling action.40 In November 1903, for example, the SBM issued 10,148 admission slips but for a two-­ week period opened only eight roulette tables and two trente-et-quarante tables during that time.41 The SBM mostly worried about the so-called décaves, gamblers who had lost all or most of their money. The casino administration worried that seeing desperate people might cause others to stop playing. The presence of “décaves” also undermined the spectacle and hedonistic atmosphere of the gambling rooms. There were also concerns over security: the desperate “décaves” might resort to criminal activities. The solution was the viaticum or viatheque. Between 1864 and 1924, the SBM would offer a credit to gamblers who had lost all their money. If the “décave” accepted the viatheque, he or she had to leave Monaco. The process was as intrusive as it was thorough. The gambler had to approach a casino official and tell him that they had no money left and wanted to leave. The official, most likely a casino detective, would lead the person through one of the hidden doors of the gambling rooms into an office. Here the gambler would receive a small yellow slip of paper and was asked to write down his or her personal information. Afterward, they were sent upstairs to the administration offices of the SBM.  There another casino official would conduct a detailed interview, inquiring about the gambler’s personal life and the events leading up to their unfortunate 39  Smith, Monaco, 337–339; Archives du Palais Princier, D 20-54 Admission dans les Salle du Jeux Report of the Comissariat Spécial de Casino to the Gouverneur Général, September 5, 1882. 40  Archive du Palais Princier, D20-7, Rapports mensuels du Commissaire du Gouvernemnet près le Casino, No.4466, March 1, 9, 1870; Archives du Palais Princier, D20-33, Rapports du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, June 17, 1904; Archives du Palais Princier, D20-33, Rapports du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, November 1, 1903. 41  Archives du Palais Princier, D20-33, Rapports du Commissaire du Gouvernement près le Casino, November 17, 1903.

198 

P. FRANKE

situation. If all this information checked out, the “décave” was handed the money.42 If players decided to tempt fortune at the tables, many did so by employing various strategies: from using systems bought from the so-­ called professors to asking one of the “muses” to use her lucky charms. “Professors” and “muses” alike waited in the gambling rooms, approaching losing or new players and offering their services as advisors or heralds of good fortune. “Professors” would either sell small handbooks or advise their clients from nearby, indicating the numbers they believed they should bet on.43 They made a living proposing risk management strategies to players in leaflets, dedicated magazines, and the press.44 The most animated strategizing among players took place in the atrium of the Monte Carlo casino itself, a location designed to facilitate social interaction. The SBM profited from the theorizing and discussions there, as it introduced gambling into that space. Not all players were convinced that a system to win could be devised. Another nineteenth-century contemporary stated simply: “[…] a gambler with a system must be, to a greater or lesser extent, insane.”45 The mistrust of systems was also based on the perception that the SBM encouraged their use, confident that they would not yield the desired results and would instead encourage people to gamble even more.46 Not all efforts by self-proclaimed gambling experts were aimed at players, however. Some used systems to blackmail the casino. A certain Mr. M. Masbou from Paris, for example, wrote to the prince in 1904, claiming that he had a system for sale that could destroy the SBM. Camille Blanc had refused to buy it from him, and so he offered it to Albert I, either for money or for a “high position in the casino administration,” which would turn him from a “dangerous adversary” into an ally.47 42  Williamson, Lure of Monte Carlo, 112–114; “Gambling at Monte Carlo,” in The Graphic February 23, 1895, Nevill, Light Come, 358–360. 43  “A Visit to Monte Carlo,” The Graphic, February 6, 1886, 158–159. 44  See, for example, the publication Noire et rouge: Permanences relevées a l’une des Tables de Roulette du Casino de Monte-Carlo (Paris: R. Godfroy, Éditeur 1891); Fond Régional, Fonds patrimonial, Marcel Boll, “Le Baccara: Chemin de Fer, Banque,” in: Nouvelle Académie des Jeux (Monaco: Le Triboulet, 1944); Fond Régional, Ed Marlo, Shoot the Works—A Complete Manual of Dice Manipulation, (Chicago: Magic Inc., 1943). 45  Barnhart, Gamblers of Yesteryear, 150. 46  Heckethorn, Gambling World, 264–265; Smith, Monaco, 358–362. 47  Archives du Palais Princier, D20-60 Réclamation du Joueurs, Letter M. Masbou to the Gouverneur, September 10, 1904.

7  HAPPY LOSERS, HAPPY CONSUMERS: GAMBLERS AS CONSUMERS… 

199

In keeping with normative notions of gender in nineteenth-century Europe, “professors” were male while “muses” were female. Men offered systems, women offered intuition and inspiration. Even the habitus they occupied reproduced gendered power dynamics. “Professors” provided expertise and advice. They would sell pamphlets in the casino or at the central Place du Casino. Some would stand next to gamblers and act as silent partners. The often young and attractive “muses,” by contrast, provided encouragement and advice as assistants, standing behind the male gamblers and sometimes making bodily contact with them. They acted as inspirational presences, living lucky charms. In return, they usually received money or gifts.48 For these women, gambling included unstable relationships with men, something the demi-mondaines of the atrium could also provide, although their arrangements were most often openly connected to sex work rather than superstition, exploitation, or manipulation. Belle Époque observers believed that men and women had different emotional proclivities. Aggressiveness and rationality were linked with masculinity, and a lack of self-control, emotional, or otherwise with femininity.49 Bourgeois commentators expressed a general mistrust of female consumers. If a woman engaged in gambling, such commentators also questioned her moral character. Smith, for example, praised the local Monegasque women who were barred from gambling as “classical beauties” exhibiting “modest behavior.” For him, they served as a powerful corrective to the women visiting Monte Carlo.50 Like Blankenfeld, Smith presented female gamblers as victims of their supposedly weak nature: “Well worthy of being mentioned among notable players are those pathetic women, wives or sweethearts, who seek to redeem the lost fortunes of their husbands or lovers. The most wonderful and cheering thing about it is that they are sometimes successfully.”51 Men were generally regarded as the more serious gamblers, sometime to their own detriment. In 1903, one commentator stated that men tended to view gambling as a contest and were doomed to fail because of it. Women were more lighthearted

 Lahn, “Spieltisch von Monte Carlo,” 1, 4; Jackson, Inside Monte Carlo, 27–28.  Kessel, “Das Trauma der Affektkontrolle,” in Emotionalität, 156–167, 172–173; Levenstein, Seductive Journey, 107–114; Fuhs, Mondäne Orte einer vornehmen Gesellschaft, 238–244. 50  Smith, Monaco, 349. 51  Smith, Monaco, 389–390 48 49

200 

P. FRANKE

and less bent on winning and were thus better equipped to deal with losses.52 Men constantly projected sexual fantasies onto gambling women or onto any women present at the casino, for that matter. These images also produced and reproduced women’s supposedly weaker nature as consumers.53 These ambiguities appeared in many different media: a political cartoon from 1920, “How to lose one’s chemise in the pre-war decade of feverish gambling,”54 shows a young woman betting her dress. She slams the piece of clothing onto the gambling tables, revealing her body to a group of puzzled men. Most members of the crowd seem either shocked or aroused, only the other young women present smile.55 Although this picture is only one example, it is representative of the general European discourse on the female gambler before the Second World War. According to both bourgeois critics of Monte Carlo like Devereux and anti-gambling associations, gambling women were both easily manipulated and t­ hemselves manipulative. Such women, though at times in need of protection, were also a danger by seducing men to finance their own gambling habits.56 In this regard, female gamblers were part of a larger historical development, which saw a new freedom of movement in the city and the emancipation of consumers in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.57 The New York Times was shocked at the sight of husbands encouraging their wives to gamble at spas, thereby neglecting their duty to protect them from gambling’s powerful allure.58 Confronted with such constant scrutiny in the casino, female gamblers had to deal with various stereotypes. Civic reformers, doctors, and hygienists expected them to be overly dramatic and unable to resist the urge to play and consume. Contemporaries  Nevill, Light Come, 359.  Nevill, Light Come, 270; Smith Monaco, 369, 469. 54  Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary, 68–73. 55  Miller, Constructing a Spatial Imaginary, 68–73. Corti, Der Zauberer von Homburg, 266–267. 56  Devereux, Fair Italy, the Riviera and Monte Carlo, 66–67; De Ketchiva, Confessions of a Croupier, 22; Dreiser and Schmidt, A Traveler at Forty, 395; Braude, Spinning Wheels, 131–136; Hachtmann, Tourismus-Geschichte, 62–65. 57  Judith R.  Walkowitz, City of Dreadful Delight: Narratives of Sexual Danger in LateVictorian London (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992), 41–81; Hannah Frydman, “Capitalism’s Back Pages: Immoral Advertising and Invisible Markets in Paris’s Mass Press, 1880–1940,” in Capitalism’s Hidden Worlds, eds. Kenneth Lipartito and Lisa Jacobson, (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2020), 122–126. 58  Braude, Making Monte Carlo, 106–109. 52 53

7  HAPPY LOSERS, HAPPY CONSUMERS: GAMBLERS AS CONSUMERS… 

201

like Blankenfeld saw pathological gambling as a primarily female problem.59 The former croupier de Ketchiva noted in 1928: “To retain their positions croupiers have to be, if not actual woman-haters, at least very wary of the fair sex—for they find themselves during the season the butt for the attentions of some of the most beautiful and unscrupulous women in the world. On occasion one has to be positively rude to be safe.”60 Women had gained access to Monte Carlo but were constantly under suspicion of being morally corrupt themselves or of having a corrupting influence on others. Whether man or woman, most new players stuck to simple plays. They bet on a single color. Many believed this to be a better approach than that of the so-called splasher. “Splashers” would bet wildly on numbers, both colors, impair and manqué, all at the same time and without much consideration.61 Lucky charms were also quite popular. The nineteenth century is often associated with a sober Victorian morality, reason, and rationality, yet belief in the occult, miracles, and luck charms was commonplace.62 Roulette players harbored numerous superstitions. Many, for example, would bet on the coat-check number they were given at the casino cloakroom.63 Others rubbed coins in their hands or touched the statue of Louis XIV in the Hôtel de Paris, believing it would bring luck.64 There was no single type of player in Monte Carlo. Modern consumer capitalism offered people choices as to how to conceptualize their consumption of games, and the SBM did its best to monetize the ever-shifting tastes and preferences people brought to the casino. There were limits, however: for most Americans who came to Monte Carlo after the Great War, the town was a synonym for European gambling as a whole, which they associated with the aristocracy and glamour. They were thus often 59  See for example: Blankenfeld, Monte Carlo, 84–88; Zollinger, Banquiers und Pointeurs, 169–178. 60  De Ketchiva, Confessions of a Croupier, 22. 61  Williamson, Lure of Monte Carlo, 154–155. 62  Alison Butler, Victorian Occultism and the Making of Modern Magic: Invoking Tradition (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011), 162–183; Lukas Pokorny and Franz Winter, “Introductory Remarks,” in The Occult Nineteenth Century: Roots, Developments, and Impact on the Modern World, eds. Lukas Pokorny and Franz Winter, (Cham: Palgrave Macmillan, 2021), 1–12; Ute Frevert and Heinz-Gerhard Haupt, “Einführung - Der Mensch des 19. Jahrhunderts,” in Der Mensch des 19. Jahrhunderts, eds. Ute Frevert and Heinz-Gerhard Haupt (Essen: Magnus Verlag, 2004), 13–14; Reith, The Age of Chance, xiii–xv. 63  Chodounsky, Detektiv, 63. 64  Jackson, Inside Monte Carlo, 98–99.

202 

P. FRANKE

disappointed by what they saw, heard, and felt once they arrived. American visitors described Monte Carlo as too serious, for one. Diaries, letters, and newspaper articles describe the strangeness of their encounters with European gambling culture and the uneasiness they felt in Monte Carlo. They pictured gambling as loud and visibly exciting, much more in line with the emotional style of gambling in the US. But in Monte Carlo it was silent and emotionally restrained. One American woman described Monte Carlo as a mausoleum. Many Americans also had different ideas about what behavior was acceptable for women in public. They were thus surprised to encounter women at the casino in Monte Carlo who drank, smoked, and wore makeup.65 The discrepancies in emotional styles between European and American gamblers were part of a larger development, according to historian Peter Stearns. He described the emergence of a new emotional style in the US at the turn of the century and in the interwar period, one based on a liberalization of consumption possibilities that allowed for excess as a valve for bottled-up emotions. Monte Carlo thus confronted Americans with an emotional culture and style unfamiliar to them.66 This difference in perception underscores that there was a shared, sensed, and felt consumption experience of gambling at Monte Carlo among certain groups. It could bridge some, but not all cultural, national, and social differences. What constituted a worthwhile gambling experience also differed depending on an individual’s subjectivity, which was shaped by factors such as their socio-economic status, gender, age, and cultural background.

7.2   Gamblers in Las Vegas: The Hollywood Crowd, Thrifty Housewives, and Grateful Losers Gamblers in Las Vegas were just as serious in their pursuits as their European counterparts. But they nonetheless gambled differently. The gambler represented a controversial figure in the US, rooted in the moral gray area of the frontier and the saloon. Gambling seemed to be at odds with sound economic behavior and the American capitalist values of

 Levenstein, Seductive Journey, 174–175, 249.  Peter N.  Stearns, American Cool: Constructing a Twentieth-Century Emotional Style (New York: New York University Press, 1994), 1–16, 262–282. 65 66

7  HAPPY LOSERS, HAPPY CONSUMERS: GAMBLERS AS CONSUMERS… 

203

working for economic success.67 Policy makers, reformers, and the progressive associations regarded it as irrational and closely associated it with the dangers of alcohol. As with Prohibition, anti-gambling sentiment grew stronger in the first decades of the twentieth century, but unlike alcohol, games of chance remained largely banned after 1933 outside of Nevada.68 The close relationship between the saloon, the speak-easy, and gambling transformed the label of “gambler” from someone playing games of chance into someone connected to organized crime. Especially for the middle and upper classes on the East Coast, “gamblers” were people who directly or indirectly stole from honest hardworking people.69 From the coast it seemed that gambling was pushed further west, as games of chance moved with the frontier on the edges of civilization.70 Las Vegas casinos produced a consumption experience as a counter-narrative, offering the chance to gamble without subjecting one’s moral character to scrutiny. That was by no means easy. Casinos had to constantly defend their reputations. Additionally, they also had to contend with shifts in leisure and consumption patterns. As consumers asserted their agenda by choosing one casino or one game over another, casino executives were forced to constantly adapt. The scripts put in place by management and enacted by the workforce were powerful yet not omnipotent, and gamblers challenged them if they felt dissatisfied or wronged.71 They complained about accommodations, about bad service, about subpar games. The gambling experience in Strip casinos was, like most services, connected to the effort to keep consumers happy. In the case of gambling this came with a unique challenge: it was most profitable for the house if people stuck with it over

67  Vicki Abt, “The Role of the State in the Expansion and Growth of the Commercial Gambling in the USA,” in Gambling Cultures, 196–197. 68  Foster, “Stigma Cities,” 26–27; Wendy Selby, “Social Evil or Social Good? Lotteries and State Regulation in Australia and the United States,” in Gambling Cultures: Studies in History and Interpretation, ed. Jan McMillen (London: Routledge, 1996), 78–81; Steve Durham, “History from the Civil War through the Great Depression,” in The History of Gambling in America, 32–36; Vicki Abt, “The Role of the State in the Expansion and Growth of the Commercial Gambling in the USA,” in Gambling Cultures, 192–194. 69  Mark H.  Haller, “The Changing Structure of American Gambling in the Twentieth Century,” in Crime & Justice in American History, 315–319. 70  Gary Cross, “Coralling Consumer Culture,” in The Politics of Consumption, 286–287. 71  Gary Cross, “Coralling Consumer Culture,” in The Politics of Consumption, 286–288.

204 

P. FRANKE

long periods of time, inevitably losing more money than they won. In other words, casinos had to keep players happy despite making them lose.72 The perception of the Strip as a site of legitimate, leisurely gambling for upstanding citizens developed slowly after the first casinos settled south of the city. After the Flamingo opened in 1946 and the local Chamber of Commerce stepped up its efforts to attract tourists to the city, Las Vegas became a potential destination for domestic tourists.73 In 1948, the Chamber hired a consultant company, Consultants Ltd., and tasked it with assessing what tourists in relevant markets thought of Las Vegas. They discovered that a mere two years after the opening of the Flamingo, gambling had become an important activity for visitors. But it also revealed that Las Vegas had not yet became synonymous with a gambling experience that appealed to a key demographic: the white suburban middle classes. To conduct the survey, Consultants Ltd. had a female employee pose as either a housewife or an assistant of a businessman making inquiries about possible vacation destinations. She spoke with seven leading hotels, ten travel agencies, and Western Airlines and Standard Oil’s travel services. The resulting report concluded that most agencies recommended a stay in Vegas for a couple of days. In the words of the report: “They say there is nothing to do in Las Vegas itself except gamble, and if you do that long enough you will just lose your money.”74 The travel agents stressed that Las Vegas was very similar to Palm Springs, a typical travel destination for Californians, and offered it as a financially sound alternative. One (unnamed) leading travel agency informed the woman: “Don’t know anything about the hotels or where to go when you get there […] It’s no more crooked than any other gambling place. They are all set against you, and you mustn’t expect to win, but they’ve always been that way.” Gambling was clearly the main attraction, yet none of the travel agents

72  Vicki Abt, “The Role of the State in the Expansion and Growth of the Commercial Gambling in the USA,” in Gambling Cultures, 179; Sallaz, The Labor of Luck, 6–7. 73  Memorandum Spot Survey Concerning Las Vegas made in San Francisco 1948. Box 10 Public Relations surveys and Reports, 1948. Las Vegas Chamber of Commerce Records 1911–2014, MS-00366, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 74  Memorandum Spot Survey Concerning Las Vegas made in San Francisco 1948. Box 10 Public Relations surveys and Reports, 1948. Las Vegas Chamber of Commerce Records 1911–2014, MS-00366, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada.

7  HAPPY LOSERS, HAPPY CONSUMERS: GAMBLERS AS CONSUMERS… 

205

regarded it as especially worthwhile and apparently felt obliged to warn the (female) caller about gambling’s consequences. The moral economy was also not yet established. Gambling and the crowd it drew to Las Vegas in those early years was presented as another issue. In a phone conversation with the woman conducting the 1948 report, one hotel employee stated: “Las Vegas is your spot. It’s strictly for fun and not too expensive. The only thing wrong is that you might find some people there you wouldn’t care so much about—Hollywood crowd, professional sports and a lot of loose women—but Reno is much worse in that respect.” Throughout the report there are numerous references to the “LA crowd” and to the “Hollywood” crowd and “Hollywood people,” indications that most travel agents were suggesting to their middle-­ class clients that Vegas was not (yet) made for them. This would change in the 1950s when the Desert Inn and the Sands opened their doors. In the 1940s, however, white suburbanites did not yet flock to the tables just because casinos called; the gambling houses struggled to gain the attention of and a favorable standing with their target demographic. The reference to “loose women” alludes to the moral danger that gambling and its seemingly natural extension prostitution represented to middle-class visitors, something Las Vegas struggled to overcome in the following years.75 The survey revealed that the Strip and the gambling experience it stood for were undergoing a slow shift in perception with the target demographic by the late 1940s. Though many travel agents regarded gambling as a guaranteed loss of money, they nonetheless advised their clients to try it at least once. One agency praised the State of Nevada for its efforts to clean up gambling in Las Vegas.76 This becomes apparent in the late 1950s, when another detailed study, this time by the Sands, offers some insights into who gambled and how. These statistics show that gambling was no longer reserved only for the “Hollywood crowd” or for serious gamblers. The Strip had become a popular destination and gambling a legitimate leisure activity for the white 75  Memorandum Spot Survey Concerning Las Vegas made in San Francisco 1948. Box 10 Public Relations surveys and Reports, 1948. Las Vegas Chamber of Commerce Records 1911–2014, MS-00366, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 76  Memorandum Spot Survey Concerning Las Vegas made in San Francisco 1948. Box 10 Public Relations surveys and Reports, 1948. Las Vegas Chamber of Commerce Records 1911–2014, MS-00366, Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada.

206 

P. FRANKE

middle classes. The statistics also put paid to the notion that female gamblers did little more than play slot machines halfheartedly, complicating the received stereotypes on which casinos had been basing their business decisions. The Sands, for example, collected data for over six months. The results were the following: of the casino’s nine million visitors, roughly 5,475,000 were women. The Sands had 57,000 visitors every week, 32,000 of them women. Unsurprisingly, most checked in on Fridays and Saturdays. Of the 1000 women interviewed, most were married (740) and had children (615). Only 138 were single. More than half (645) stated they had never gambled. At the same time, most women played for roughly four hours each day. The majority came from East Coast urban centers, like New York, Boston, and Philadelphia. The married portion of the interviewees were housewives and secretaries, indicating their middle-class status. This was also reflected in their means of travelling: more than three quarters arrived via car. On average, they stayed two days. Most compared their vacation in Vegas to resorts in Hawaii and Miami. Of those who gambled, 816 women said they had won money and felt good about their gambling. Only 214 wanted to hide their winnings from their husbands, while most either wanted to vindicate themselves as gamblers in the eyes of their partners or use the money for joint activities. Most played roulette (574), followed by blackjack (312) and dice (214). Their reasons for preferring roulette varied, but many said it was easy to socialize while playing it. Respondents also tended to see blackjack as a male-dominated game, with many stating they had experienced a hostile atmosphere when playing it. Most said they enjoyed the thrill of gambling, although the majority played for small stakes and employed systems they had either heard of or devised themselves. They looked to the dealers for guidance and decided on which table to play at by judging the personalities of the casino employees. One woman, for example, specifically looked for older men wearing rings, as she believed they would foster a relaxed atmosphere.77 The interview sample reveals that most players at the Sands, regardless of gender, were casual gamblers on vacation who played a lot during their stay but also engaged in other activities at the tables. Women wanted to 77  Draft Ann Masters—Chicago American for “More High Heels than Brogoues at Las Vegas Wheel.” Box 5, Folder 2. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada.

7  HAPPY LOSERS, HAPPY CONSUMERS: GAMBLERS AS CONSUMERS… 

207

win when gambling, but they also wanted to socialize and enjoy the atmosphere. The emotional appeal of the dealers mattered to them, and they acted as independent consumers, even if they were travelling with a partner. Despite the fact that they lost money, they tended to view their consumption as succesful and in a positive light.78 In 1974, a man named Clarence Brul wrote to a casino: “My wife and I enjoy gambling, shows and the weather in Las Vegas so we usually spend a week there and leave $1,000 […] We just enjoy gambling and really don’t expect to win.”79 In an anonymous letter from 1975, one gambler thanked the casino “for having such a wonderful place to eat and have fun trying to beat the house odds at the 21 table and the slots that all wives like to play.”80 The letter revealed not only how gendered the various games were—blackjack was a game for men and slots were for “all wives”— but also how quickly players in Las Vegas accepted the seeming futility of trying to beat the odds. Similar attitudes were expressed in a September 1976 letter from one H. Klein: “You have a splendid establishment. It is a warm friendly casino and we lose quite frequently at your tables in the quarterly visits we make there, roughly six to eight thousand a year.”81 Klein also complained about a manager and waitress who had asked him to pay 21 cents for a coffee he thought was free.82 His complaint reveals that losing large amounts of money at a nice casino was no issue for him, but that he still insisted on good service and fair prices for refreshments while doing so. For a lot of visitors, successful gambling did not necessarily involve winning money. Sometimes people would try to maximize their

78  Master Gambling Report July 1975. Box 4. Charles J.  Hirsch Papers, 1952–1987, MS-00291. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 79  Clearence Brul to Holiday Inn Casino, May 7, 1974. Box 17, Folder 3. Claudine Williams Papers, 1956–2009. MS-00094. Special Collections and Archives, University, Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 80  Note 2723 dated 1975. Box 17, Folder 3. Claudine Williams Papers, 1956–2009. MS-00094. Special Collections and Archives, University, Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 81  Complaint by H Klein, September 5, 1976, Box 17 Folder 3, Claudine Williams Papers, 1956–2009. MS-00094. Special Collections and Archives, University, Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 82  Complaint by H Klein, September 5, 1976. Box 17, Folder 3. Claudine Williams Papers, 1956–2009. MS-00094. Special Collections and Archives, University, Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada.

208 

P. FRANKE

fun without counting on winning at all. One couple described their strategy at the Strip as follows: We will toss to see who plays first. The player will make small side bets, not to exceed one dollar a bet. In this manner, the player can have the excitement of playing, and the other the excitement of watching because half of the stake is his money […] When we shall lose $20 […] we will take the remaining $20 and go to the Desert Inn. Then the other will play. We can have fun at two of the most popular casinos, probably for hours and hours.83

Not all customers were so relaxed about their experiences. On a questionnaire from the Hacienda, under the section “Are there any additional services that you’d like to have for you?” one gambler remarked in 1959, “Show me how to win at the gaming tables.”84 This demonstrates the kind of ironic yet satisfied emotional style casinos wanted to cultivate in all of their customers. Gambling on the Strip in the late 1950s and early 1960s was a social activity for middle-class couples on vacation rather than something reserved for VIPs and gangsters. Visitors played and played a lot, but they saw their gambling as part of a larger leisure package trip. A clear indicator that Strip vacations and gambling had become perfectly acceptable can be observed in the thank you notes written by guests to the gambling house or to executives. Eloise and her husband John Calvin Rice, for example, wrote to Al Freeman in 1963, describing their time in Vegas and thanking him and the staff for their vacation. They mentioned the good service, entertainment, and how helpful their dealer was in explaining the games. They regarded themselves as amateur gamblers, but they also emphasized how much they enjoyed playing the games. Their typical day consisted of breakfast, shopping, dining, and then gambling, before going to the pool and then catching a show in the evening.85 Erwin Miller form New York 83  George Dixon, American Phenomenon: Spectacular Resort has Something—often a lot—for Everyone in the Family, in: The Diplomat, September 1959. Oversized Box 2 Wilbur and Toni Clark Papers 1944–1991, MS-00361, Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. 84   Kenneth L.  Schwarz, Room 1105, March 14, 1959. Box 22, Homer Rissman Architectural Records, 1947–2001. MS-00452. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 85  Eloise and John Calvin Rice to Al Freeman, July 26, 1963. Box 5, Folder 6. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada.

7  HAPPY LOSERS, HAPPY CONSUMERS: GAMBLERS AS CONSUMERS… 

209

wrote about all the exciting activities in which one could engage in Vegas, but he clearly prioritized gambling. He stated that when he caught “gambling fever” everything else fell by the wayside.86 This is also attested by supporting evidence from the casino. Gamblers on the Strip consumed other products in addition to the games. Players at the Sands bought $1100 worth of tobacco and $15,000 in drinks every week. Knowing that most tourists set themselves limits for gambling, management even introduced some checks and balances to prevent guests from losing everything on their trip. Many people played on credit, ranging from $100 to over $100,000. As an executive of the Sands put it, “[…] people with set limits are never allowed to exceed their limit—causes bad reactions at first refusal, but when a person realizes it is for his own good, he calms down.”87 The strategy made sense: it sacrificed short-term profits for the preservation of the gambling experience, which depended on people leaving happy after they had left a lot of money at the tables. Most people coming to Las Vegas did so once a year, stating that they came for the overall experience rather than just to gamble, and most were members of the white suburban middle classes.88 This was key for the legitimization and moral economy of Las Vegas. Because of how it felt and who could gain access, gambling here did not pose a danger to the economic and moral cohesion of society.89 In contrast to Monte Carlo, women were seen as the solution rather than the problem. For Al Freeman, public relations director of the Sands, women were the entry point to the white suburban middle classes. This is why the Sands advertised the possibility of playing blackjack in a “ladylike” fashion and all of its services, like dining and the showroom, as so affordable that even “the most thrifty housewife” would appreciate them.90 This was not 86  Erwin Miller to Freeman, (undated). Box 5, Folder 6. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 87  Cameron shipp—Facts and Figures—Entratter Material, October 6, 1960. Box 2 Folder 31. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada. 88  Lawrence Dandurand and Rossi Ralenkotter, “An Investigation of Entertainment Proness and Its Relationship to Gambling Behavior,” 13–14. 89  John Dombrink, “Gambling and the Legalisation of Vice: Social Movements, Public Health and Public Policy in the United States,” in Gambling Cultures: Studies in History and Interpretation, ed. Jan McMillen (London: Routledge, 1996), 49. 90  Peg Read William to Al Freeman, April 27, 1954. Box 5, Folder 6. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Special Collections, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada.

210 

P. FRANKE

meant to emancipate the housewife from labor; rather, it was meant to persuade her to accept gambling as a morally sound leisure activity. Casinos did not subvert existing power dynamics, as upholding them was part of their efforts to preserve the moral economy. This extended to discrimination along racial lines. The appeal to the white middle class was also based on strict segregation in Las Vegas and its casinos. Until the 1960 Moulin Rouge agreement, named after the only non-segregated casino in Las Vegas, African-Americans could not stay at the casino-hotels or gamble.91 Part of appealing to the white suburban middle classes was the exclusion of people of color as consumers; their presence had the potential to make gambling and thus the casinos morally suspect in the eyes of white visitors.92 Casinos did hire African-American entertainers and musicians. Yet, in most cases, such entertainers would not have been allowed to stay at the hotel of the casino in which they performed. Notable exceptions, like Sammy Davis Jr., were made from time to time, and sometimes white entertainers, Frank Sinatra among them, would insist that their African-American co-stars be allowed to stay in the hotel. Such instances, however, were rare.93

7.3   Conclusion: Similar Games, Different Experiences According to Nigel Thrift, capitalism’s power to enhance products with an intangible allure is based on the sensory experiences and emotional satisfaction that products trigger in consumers.94 Gambling as a service fits that pattern. Monte Carlo and Las Vegas transformed games of chance into a desirable, morally legitimate experiences because of their unique environments, not because of their unique games. Casinos adapted their environments to suit their agenda of attracting visitors and encouraging them to gamble. Despite the fact that they were operating in an environment, aimed at eliciting a particular response, gamblers in Monte Carlo and Las Vegas 91  Bracey, The Moulin Rouge and Black Rights in Las Vegas, 73–75; Claytee White, “The March that never happened: Desegregating the Las Vegas Strip,” Nevada Law Journal 5, no.71(2004): 79–83. 92  Sallaz, The Labor of Luck, 153–155; Bracey, The Moulin Rouge and Black Rights in Las Vegas, 80–84. 93  Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 28–32, 130–132. 94  Thrift, “The Material Practices of Glamour,” 10–12.

7  HAPPY LOSERS, HAPPY CONSUMERS: GAMBLERS AS CONSUMERS… 

211

could, and did, approach games of chance in various ways. Some merely watched the games and enjoyed the spectacle. They came to the casino to “flutter” or to sit at the periphery of the room and watch other players gamble. Of course, many eventually participated, impressed by the spectacle they were witnessing. Others gambled for fun and made games of chance part of their leisure routine. Some gamblers debated systems and employed mathematical schemes in an attempt to overcome the house’s advantage, while others relied on superstition and lucky charms. Naturally, a class of semi-professional hangers-on sprang up to meet this demand for gambling advice and support. “Muses,” young women who accompanied gamblers to the casino, provided emotional support and favors of various kinds in exchange for payment in various forms. “Professors” sold systems as leaflets or gave counsel to players directly at the tables. In Las Vegas winning was by no means always the highest priority. Many gamblers enjoyed the experience of playing at Las Vegas and accepted their losses with good grace. This was vital to the casino’s success. Visitors had to feel good about losing money. Patrons in Las Vegas casinos enjoyed gambling as part of a larger leisure experience that include attending shows and consuming affordable food and drinks in memorable settings. As part of such an experience, gambling felt normal. Taking gambling and gamblers seriously means being open to the possibility that their purpose transcends the dichotomy of irrational and rational actors that critics and, to a certain degree, scholarship clung to. Gamblers in Monte Carlo and Las Vegas were not tricked into playing; they themselves chose how to engage in the games and what made up a worthwhile experience. They incorporated the games into their vacation and leisure practices and insisted on standards in the offered services. In that regards gamblers in Monte Carlo and the Strip—similar to the patrons of the Belle Époque arcade, the theme-park visitor, and the suburban-mall shopper—play an important role in the history of the consumer capitalism of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.

CHAPTER 8

Outlook: Atlantic City, a “Millionaire’s Concrete Slum” and “Vegas on Steroids”

Aristotle Onassis, the shipping magnate and businessman, acquired the majority of SBM’s shares in 1953. He was not looking for a garden full of golden apples but a place to store his wealth away from the eyes of tax collectors. Onassis also had the ambition of turning Monaco into the headquarters of his business empire. After years without a powerful investor at the helm of the SBM, it seemed that the days of François Blanc, in which an entrepreneur would share the principality with the reigning prince, were back. Onassis held court on his yacht in the bay or at the old Sporting d’Hiver, which became his official seat of power.1 At first, the prince and the businessman worked together, but Rainier III was ultimately unwilling to enter into the sort of close relationship with the SBM investor that his ancestor Charles III had. He had other plans. Tensions quickly arose as the prince asserted himself. From François and Camille Blanc to René Léon, the SBM had always had a strained relationship with the Grimaldis. Sometimes they would compromise; sometimes one side would claim victory over the other. But a tenuous balance of power was generally obtained. This would not be the case this time. After almost a century of cooperation and compromise, Rainier and Onassis’s clash in the 1950s signaled the end of the union between the casino and the palace.

 Jackson, Inside Monte Carlo, 190–191.

1

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 P. Franke, Feeling Lucky, Worlds of Consumption, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-33095-7_8

213

214 

P. FRANKE

Rainier wanted to break the SBM’s hold over the Monegasque economy, ending its control of the country’s urban development and tourism. At this point the once mighty casino company was no longer the institution it had been in previous decades; Onassis saw the Monte Carlo casino and the infrastructure behind it as merely one part of his vast business network.2 And so even if Onassis had won his struggle with the prince, the old SBM of the interwar era was long gone. After numerous public disagreements and failed attempts at reconciliation, Rainier III made his move in 1966, the year Caesars Palace opened its doors on the Strip.3 The prince introduced a law creating 600,000 new shares of the SBM to be held by the government of Monaco, which thereby became the new majority holder. Onassis sued him, but to no avail. In 1967, a Monegasque court approved the law. The casino was never fully nationalized, but the dual monarchy of gambling house and palace that had dominated Monaco’s development since 1863 ceased to exist. The casino remains one of the main attractions of the principality to this day, but the economy has diversified. The SBM no longer exercises exclusive domain over it or over the surrounding urban space. Monaco has shifted toward branding and marketing techniques in line with modern tourism and in order to attract businesses as part of a larger global competition.4 While the SBM was absorbed into Rainier’s project of transforming Monaco into a modern Mediterranean resort city-state, Las Vegas moved on from being an oasis of gamblers and illegal casino entrepreneurs to a town that catered to big business. With Howard Hughes and Kirk Kerkorian, single investors consolidated vast properties on the Strip. Now Hilton, Holiday Inn, and other publicly traded hospitality companies have moved in. The trends that started with the International and the MGM Grand continued in the 1970s and 1980s: casinos became huge theme park-like resorts that sold themselves as places for family vacations. “Sin City” became “Disneyland in the Desert,” with casinos that featured rollercoasters, event entertainment, and less sexualized performances by famous artists.5 Slot machines became the most prominent games, while 2  Fielding, The Money Spinner, 134–138; Robert, “État et Structures Urbaines à Monaco de 1949 à 1974,” 184. 3  Jackson, Inside Monte Carlo, 218–220, 240–247. 4  Fielding, The Money Spinner, 140–142; Hauteserre, “Tourism, Development and Sustainability in Monaco,” 290–310. 5  Bubb, Landing in Las Vegas, 94.

8  OUTLOOK: ATLANTIC CITY, A “MILLIONAIRE’S CONCRETE SLUM”… 

215

tables were still employed for the sake of producing an atmosphere of social gambling. Steve Wynn’s Mirage (1989), the new MGM Grand (1993) with its “Emerald City,” and Bally’s (renovated between 1993 and 1995) set the tone. They resembled enclosed resort landscapes that could serve thousands of people.6 Although Wynn’s casino boasted 3095 hotel rooms and 2251 slot machines, he nevertheless proclaimed: “I’m more a Disney person than a casino guy.”7 As if to underline the changes, the Sands was demolished in 1996. It was replaced by the Venetian, a casino that emulated its namesake city with gondolas, canals, and an artificial sky.8 This marked the beginning of new phase in Las Vegas’s history. The Sands had been the symbol of the Copa years, of the Las Vegas of Sinatra and the Rat Pack. Those years were over. Las Vegas’s new casinos sought to recreate fantasy lands, imitating places and simulating whole realities. They even copied Monaco. The Monte Carlo opened in 1996, followed by New York, New York in 1997, and the Paris in 1999. Las Vegas not only tried to be Disneyland; its casinos sold the experience of being in sanitized versions of urban tourist destinations.9 Las Vegas, once an isolated oasis, now became a model to be emulated. The state government of New Jersey decided to hold a referendum to legalize casino gambling in Atlantic City. State legislators saw the growing involvement of big business in Las Vegas as an opportunity to push crime out of the gambling industry. Las Vegas’s growth as a metropolitan region, casinos as providers of jobs and a source of state revenues made so-called Sin City seem economically  attractive and as something to be learned from. Since the turn of the century, Atlantic City had been a traditional seaside resort and host to the Miss America pageants. Las Vegas-style casinos built for tourists seemed to be a good fit to revitalize its economy after decades of decline. New Jersey’s experiences with the gambling business were nonetheless mixed, as many casinos failed to turn sizable profits, at

 Bubb, Landing in Las Vegas, 94.  Mark Seal, “Steve Wynn. King of Wow!,” in The Players: The Men Who Made Las Vegas, ed. Jack Sheehan (Reno, Nev.: University of Nevada Press, 1997), 168–169. 8  Jörg Häntzschel, “Das Paradies in der Wüste,” in Urbane Paradiese, 301–302. 9  Moehring and Green, Las Vegas, 206–211; Justin Henderson, “Monte Carlo Hotel and Casino,” in Casino Design: Resorts, Hotels, and Themed Entertainment Spaces, ed. Justin Henderson (Gloucester, Mass.: Rockport, 1999), 57. 6 7

216 

P. FRANKE

least not as quickly as had been anticipated. Even more troubling was the fact that gambling siphoned tourists from the city.10 The biggest issue for Atlantic City was that the Strip-style resorts did very little to support the city’s traditional tourism business. Ironically, this resulted from the fact that they worked like they were supposed to: the resorts brought people to the city yet transformed them so successfully into gamblers that they spent most of their time and money inside the casinos. Atlantic City got a gambling, rather than a tourism, industry.11 In the 1980s and 1990s, the same people and companies operated in New Jersey and in Las Vegas, turning Atlantic City into a secondary market. The Atlantic City casinos were profitable. They could not, however, rival Las Vegas in terms of revenue or significance. Indeed, many entrepreneurs regarded Atlantic City as a way to expose the East Coast to gambling. Tourists who traveled to Atlantic City, they reasoned, would eventually try the Las Vegas experience. Even if a city decided to invest heavily in casinos, tourists, entrepreneurs, and players still considered the Las Vegas Strip the “real” gambling experience.12 The public’s perception of gambling was changing too. In 1980, the American Psychiatric Association officially recognized compulsive gambling as a disorder. This change in classification implied a shift away from focusing on supposedly flawed individuals to the activities and structures that contributed to the formation of an addiction.13 The period between 1970 and 1990 was a time when casino gambling expanded in both the US and internationally. Countries around the world adopted gambling houses in the hope of strengthening their economies. The economic crisis made taxing gambling and gamblers politically attractive. Governments presented it as a tax on the rich, although in reality it was paid by middleand working-class gamblers and thus constituted “a large-scale levy to be culled from the middle, working, and even underclass.”14

 Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 176–179.  Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 176–179. 12  William R. Eadington, “Ethical and Policy Considerations in the Spread of Commercial Gambling,” in Gambling Cultures: Studies in History and Interpretation, ed. Jan McMillen (London: Routledge, 1996), 254–255; John Dombrink and William N.  Thompson, The Last Resort: Success and Failure in Campaigns for Casinos (Reno, Nev.: University of Nevada Press, 1990), 1–24. 13  Reith, The Age of Chance, 7. 14  Sallaz, The Labor of Luck, 241. 10 11

8  OUTLOOK: ATLANTIC CITY, A “MILLIONAIRE’S CONCRETE SLUM”… 

217

It took some time, but eventually Las Vegas and Monte Carlo faced a competitor. In the 2010s the former Portuguese colony of Macau in China emerged as the biggest gambling city in history, dwarfing all casinos in Nevada and on the Riviera. In 2013 Macau’s gambling revenues eclipsed those of Las Vegas by a factor of six.15 It had become such a profitable location for gambling that Forbes described it as “Vegas on steroids.”16 Both Singapore and China tried to integrate casino gambling into their respective economies, Singapore by making use of the city-state’s territorial advantages and China by exploiting Macau’s status as a specially governed district. Governments in Asia wanted to take advantage of the legal opportunities presented by former colonial territories: they offered contact with the global economy but within confined spaces. Both Macau and Singapore have long histories of gambling that predate the colonial and post-colonial eras but have been partially absorbed by Vegas-style casinos and casino companies as they move into Asian markets and shape urban spaces according to their needs.17 Until recently, it seemed almost certain that Macau would take over as the primary gambling location in the world—with, for example, the SiGMA Group, a gaming-focused event and media company, stating Macau to be the “gambling capital of the world.”18 At the same time, it was nonetheless still commonly referred to as “Asia’s Las Vegas,”19 rather than as its own brand. While the revenues of Macau’s casinos were well beyond those of Las Vegas and Monte Carlo, both cities still defined casino gambling to such a degree that journalists and casino companies operating there compared Macau to them rather than the other way around. With the continuous expansion of the gambling industry, it is difficult to say what the future holds for Monaco, Las Vegas, or Macau. In  Chris Valentine, “Macau: The Monte Carlo of the Orient,” Oddculture.com, http:// oddculture.com/macau-the-monte-carlo-of-the-orient (accessed August 3, 2018); Tony Cheung, “Macau, ‘Las Vegas of Asia’, Trades in Casino Chips for Microchips as Part of China’s Tech Ambitions,” South China Morning Post, June 16, 2018, https://www.scmp. com/news/hong-kong/hong-kong-economy/article/2151036/macau-las-vegasasia-trades-casino-chips-microchips. 16  Kenneth Rapoza, “Macau Is ‘Vegas On Steroids,’” Forbes, August 1, 2013, https:// www.forbes.com/sites/kenrapoza/2013/08/01/macau-is-vegas-on-steroids/ #4e35b6a56a4e. 17  Torp, “Von Bad Homburg nach Macau,” 700–710. 18  “Macau-Gambling Capital of the World” SiGMA Group, accessed March 20, 2023, https://sigma.world/play/blog/gambling-capital-of-the-world/. 19  Cheung, “Macau.” 15

218 

P. FRANKE

2021, China’s central government stopped backing Macau’s casino industry politically, resulting in plummeting stocks and the loss of $4.8 billion in its market value.20 The growth of internet gambling poses unique challenges for the casino, replacing the physical space with the virtual. Las Vegas in particular faces problems that go beyond economics and include the environmental factors. Shortages of water and rising temperatures now represent serious issues for Nevada in general and Las Vegas in particular.21 Monte Carlo still enjoys a great deal of success as a tourist resort and tax haven, yet it is also called the “millionaire’s concrete slum”22 or a “sunny place for shady money” in the press.23 If the Asian market continues to entice the global economy and should the geopolitical center shift further East, maybe one day people will call Las Vegas “America’s Macau” and Monte Carlo “the Macau of the Riviera.”

20  Enoch Yiu, and Zhang Shidong, “Macau casino stocks lose almost US$5 Billion in selloff as China’s gambling crackdown snares junket boss,” South China Morning Post, November 29, 2021. 21  Launce Rake, “Water Crisis: Conflict. or Resolution? Why Two Saltman Center Experts Say Mediation Is Key to Resolving the Water Woes of the American West,” UNLV News Center, (accessed February 15, 2017), https://www.unlv.edu/news/article/water-crisisconflict-or-resolution.;Abrahman Lustgarten, “Unplugging the Colorado River: Could the end be near for one of the West’s biggest dams?”, New York Times, May 22, 2016; Dan Hernandez, “The hellish future of Las Vegas in the climate crisis: ‘A place where we never go Outside,’” The Guardian, September 3, 2019. https://www.theguardian.com/usnews/2019/sep/02/las-vegas-climate-crisis-extreme-heat-hellish-future. 22  Jackson, Inside Monte Carlo, 253. 23  Stefan Schmitz, “Die Grimaldi AG,” Stern, May 22, 2014, 80–83; Kim Willsher, “A sunny place for shady people but Monaco doesn’t want Mark Thatcher,” The Guardian, December 21, 2005, https://www.theguardian.com/world/2005/dec/21/france.uk; Jane Ciabattari, “The French Riviera: ‘A Sunny Place for Shady People,’” BBC Culture, July 11, 2014 (accessed December 20, 2021), https://www.bbc.com/culture/article/ 20140711-a-sunny-place-for-shady-people.

CHAPTER 9

Conclusion: Feeling Lucky, Casinos, Consumption, and Capitalism

The concept of capitalism, its definition and analytical scope, remains the subject of debate across multiple disciplines. In his history of capitalism, Werner Plumpe observes that the distinction between capitalism, feudalism, and other economic systems is difficult to pinpoint empirically. He also stresses that any definition of capitalism can be challenged historically, as any sort of capitalist system remains a changing set of economic, political, cultural, and social characteristics without a clearly identifiable center or set of core principles.1 Recent historiography has thus debated whether capitalism is an economic order or part of a world system with regional and/or temporal variations. As the historians Kenneth Lipartito and Lisa Jacobson ask, “Is capitalism a single structure with variant forms, or do capitalism and non-capitalism coexist as separable entities with different dynamics, histories, and futures?”2 They suggest focusing on practices and relations that together make up the economy. In this reading, capitalism is not a system that imposes actions from above or a force from the outside reshaping preexisting economic structures; it is an economic order (re)

 Plumpe, Das Kalte Herz, 19–36.  Kenneth Lipartito and Lisa Jacobson, “Mapping the Shadowlands of Capitalism,” in Capitalism’s Hidden Worlds, eds. Kenneth Lipartito and Lisa Jacobson, (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2020), 9. 1 2

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 P. Franke, Feeling Lucky, Worlds of Consumption, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-33095-7_9

219

220 

P. FRANKE

created by interactions between historical actors.3 In a similar manner, German historian Thomas Welskopp argues against understanding capitalism as an “economic system” or “societal formation.” He proposes defining it as a “specific mode of economic and societal action,”4 a shifting set of practices that together make up a capitalist economy. Such a historical analysis might be better served by shifting emphasis from trying to explain capitalism in general to a more nuanced, microscopic analysis of how capitalism occurred, developed, and was—quite literally—done. Such a shift in emphasis would allow for historical agents, in all their complex relationships and actions to come back into the story of a system that would otherwise remain elusive.5 Casino gambling is a good angle from which to examine the history of capitalism for multiple reasons. Historians, sociologists, and geographers have all identified gambling as a capitalist practice. Gambling requires huge amounts of capital, allows people to make money based on their investment, works independently from the sphere of production, and is part of the massive global service industry.6 Scholars, political commentators, and economists have used the image of the casino to describe capitalism as unhinged, especially in moments of crisis.7 In his 1936 book General Theory of Employment, Interest, and Money, John Maynard Keynes describes how fortunes were lost in seconds at the stock exchange because “casino capitalism” had lost all restraint. In the mid-twentieth century, Democratic US senator Estes Kefauver saw casino gambling as a genuine threat to the mainstream economy. Commercialized gambling, he claimed, was a morally corrupting, unproductive force that could affect other businesses.8

3  Kenneth Lipartito and Lisa Jacobson, “Mapping the Shadowlands of Capitalism,” in Capitalism’s Hidden Worlds, 10–11. 4  Thomas Welskopp, “Zukunft Bewirtschaften: Überlegungen zu einer praxistheoretisch informierten Historisierung des Kapitalismus,” Mittelweg 36. Zeitschrift des Hamburger Instituts für Sozialforschung: Praktiken des Kapitalismus, eds. Sören Brandes et al., 26, no.1 (2017): 87. 5  Thomas Welskopp, “Zukunft Bewirtschaften,” in Mittelweg 36, 87–93. 6   Jan McMillen, “Understanding Gambling: History, Concepts and Theories,” in Gambling Cultures: Studies in History and Interpretation, ed. Jan McMillen (London: Routledge, 1996), 15–16. 7  Reith, The Age of Chance, 89–91. 8  John M. Keynes, The General Theory of Employment, Interest and Money, (Basingstoke, Hampshire: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007), 159; Schwartz, Suburban Xanadu, 1.

9  CONCLUSION: FEELING LUCKY, CASINOS, CONSUMPTION, AND CAPITALISM 

221

Historians of Las Vegas such as Hal Rothman point to Las Vegas in particular as the place where capitalism found a home.9 Gerda Reith goes even further: “Las Vegas is less than a hundred years old and has no conventional economic infrastructure, no personal taxation and no existence without the gambling economy.” The city, she adds, does not produce anything real and is “based almost entirely on the provision of service, and sustained by almost unlimited consumerism.” According to Reith, it is thus “an ideal example of a post-Fordist economy: a giant monument to the excess of capitalist materialism.”10 This book reveals how one key feature of capitalism is the way in which it introduces the possibility of adding value to goods or services that transcends their material dimension.11 The highly differentiated production processes in a capitalist economy allowed entrepreneurs to give their products an identity and meaning to consumers that were grounded in—yet not completely restricted by—their material qualities. The complex, competitive, decentralized markets of modern capitalism proved to be a challenge for providers and consumers. Although goods and services became less distinguishable, consumers still had to decide for themselves which offer to pick. Producers, on the other hand, used advertisements, product design, and theming to add an immaterial value to their product during the fabrication process. From the mid-nineteenth century on, consumers increasingly not only used but also experienced products. They sought to integrate them into their lifestyle, economic behavior, and biographies as part of an ongoing effort to consolidate their own identities as individuals and as members of a distinctive socio-economic class.12 They could not, however, arbitrarily attach this additional value of a consumption experience to just any product. They had to connect it with its qualities and characteristics. Users and consumers had to be able to decode it and be persuaded to accept it.13 The first chapter looks at the urban spaces in which these casinos operated. Casino companies, it argues, shaped their urban surroundings to appeal to their primary market: the middle classes. The comparison between Monte Carlo and Las Vegas shows that the shift in the role of  Rothman, Neon Metropolis, 11–13.  Reith, The Age of Chance, 118. 11  Thrift, “The Material Practices of Glamour,” 9–10. 12  Hellmann, Soziologie der Marke, 11–18, 40–51, 68–85, 226–229, 377–390. 13  Hellmann, Soziologie der Marke, 294–295. 9

10

222 

P. FRANKE

cities from places of production to spaces of consumption was not only a phenomenon of postindustrial metropolises but was connected to nineteenth-­ century capitalist urbanization and the production of consumption experiences. Aiming at transforming visitors into gamblers, Monte Carlo and the Las Vegas Strip operated as company towns and casino cities; they thus put in place specific spatial scripts to guide their visitors’ movements and activities.14 This went beyond the projection of consumer-friendly images within the urban space and included the deliberate construction of environments that left a powerful sensory impression on visitors.15 Monte Carlo and the Strip gradually morphed into urban spaces centered around casinos in almost every aspect of their spatial, social, and cultural organization. Casino executives in both contexts regarded their urban surrounding as an extension of their casinos and therefore put a great deal of effort into their design, appeal, and social structure. To this end, casinos organized Monte Carlo and the Strip to effectively exclude certain social groups, behaviors, and structures that did not suit this agenda. Locals, physical work, heavy industry, crime, and non-consumers were either pushed out of the city or rendered invisible. To note such similarities does not mean to imply that Monte Carlo and Las Vegas were the same. The SBM was founded and operated as a concession-­ based spa company that built up Monte Carlo as a Belle Époque mock metropolis. As an urban district, Monte Carlo was built around the casino. The Monte Carlo casino formed a bigger unit along with the grand Hotel du Paris, cafés, and gardens. The Las Vegas Strip, by contrast, was built as an anti-urban structure, incorporating suburban living conditions into its landscape. In order to escape urban regulations and taxes, multiple casino owners and executives settled outside of the actual city of Las Vegas. They formed their own urban entity in the shape of Paradise in Clark County to protect their businesses from the reach of city officials. Casinos grew into small neighborhoods, providing housing for their employees, paying for public services, and offering customers a 14  Susan S. Fainstein, Lily M. Hoffman and Dennis R. Judd, “Introduction,” in Cities and Visitors: Regulating People, Markets, and City Space, eds. Lily M. Hoffman, Susan S. Fainstein and Dennis R. Judd, (Malden, MA, Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2003), 8–9. 15  Alexa Färber, “Urbanes Imagineering in der Postindustriellen Stadt: Zur Plausbibilität Berlins als Ost-West-Drehscheibe,” in Selling Berlin: Imagebildung und Stadtmarketing von der preussischen Residenz bis zur Bundeshauptstadt, eds. Thomas Biskup and Marc Schalenberg, (Stuttgart: Steiner, 2008), 279.

9  CONCLUSION: FEELING LUCKY, CASINOS, CONSUMPTION, AND CAPITALISM 

223

suburban living experience. Similar to other cities in the Sunbelt, Las Vegas fits into the larger story of urbanization in twentieth-century America, whereby social and economic suburbanization drove development.16 The differences between Monte Carlo as a mock metropolis and the suburban Strip are based on different geographical realities but also on differences in the characteristics of the respective middle classes to which they wanted to appeal. The European bourgeois travelers in late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries regarded gambling as a metropolitan leisure activity and wanted to integrate it into their consumption culture. That required spaces like the opera, coffee houses, and the boulevard. After 1945 the American middle classes became an increasingly suburban socio-economic group. Rather than mimicking a metropolis, the Strip and its casinos thus integrated themselves into middle-class suburbia. The next chapters deal with the casinos themselves. Casino spaces hosted the gambling, entertainment, and leisure activities in highly complex building structures. These were not merely aesthetic spaces but economic and social ones.17 The architectural history of casinos reveals how design shaped consumption practices. The Monte Carlo casino was a modular building that fused spaces for gambling with those intended for socializing, drinking, smoking, reading, and listening to music. Despite being a multifaceted consumption space, the structure aimed at transforming mere visitors into gamblers and to associate gambling with other leisure activities that would normalize it as morally acceptable. Designers and planners did this in part by ensuring that gambling was omnipresent when visitors stepped into the space to meet with friends, shoot pigeons, or attend an opera. The casino space suggested freedom of movement and a variety of activities. Yet it was deliberately designed to bring people to the tables and surrounded them with gambling at every turn. Strip planners also sought to combine gambling with leisure, consumption entertainment, and the isolation of players within the casino. Their architectural design and gambling experience was, however, quite different from Monte Carlo’s. After the Second World War, a new type of casino became the norm on the Strip: a low-rise bungalow structure of buildings 16  John M.  Findlay, “The Wishful West,” in City Dreams, Country Schemes: Community and Identity in the American West, eds. Kathleen A. Brosnan and Amy L. Scott (Reno, Nev.: University of Nevada Press, 2011), 10–11. 17  Henri Lefebvre, The Production of Space (Oxford, UK, Cambridge, Mass.: Blackwell Publishing, 1991), 11–12.

224 

P. FRANKE

forming a courtyard and modeled after the highway motel. While most of their predecessors were hotels and motels with separate spaces for gambling, these new structures did not try to maintain such a strict spatial separation. They focused much more on gambling. The casino floor now formed the center of the spatial order, with leisure opportunities, restaurants, and show rooms contributing to the spatial script and emotional atmosphere. In this way, casinos created an all-encompassing consumption experience. Affordable food and drink, entertainment by famous celebrities, and good service allowed visitors to engage with continuous gambling activities and contributed to the atmosphere of leisure. Management chose which entertainers to hire and which shows to produce based not on ticket sales but on whether the acts would be accepted by suburban white middle-class families. This group constituted the casino’s target audience, as they had money to spend, were mobile, and were willing to travel for leisure. Over the course of the 1950s and 1960s, American attitudes about gambling in casinos shifted: they no longer viewed it as an unseemly and dangerous activity. Moral critics, however, continued to look dimly on gambling in general and to attack Las Vegas specifically for its links with organized crime. Chapter 5 deals with the careers and professional biographies of the casino entrepreneurs and the respective workforces and their role in the production process of consumption experiences. The backgrounds and training of executives, managers, croupiers, dealers, and service personnel determined the ways in which the casinos conceptualized and planned gambling consumption experiences. In both contexts, autodidacts dominated the industries. François Blanc, his associates, and René León in Monte Carlo and Moe Dalitz, Jack Entratter, Carl Cohen, and others in Las Vegas had learned how to run casinos as up-and-comers in an industry that grew on the margins of the established economy. Practical knowledge about casinos gained by working in gambling or being brought up in the business qualified individuals to operate a casino. In Monte Carlo, the SBM’s leaders had all gained experience in France and Germany in the early nineteenth century, when casino gambling was changing from a business anchored no longer in private circles but in the capitalist mass market. They applied their knowledge and training to Monte Carlo and transformed it into a gambling experience for the middle classes. In Las Vegas, most casino operators gained experience in illegal gambling in the shadow economy during Prohibition. These formative years shaped the executives who went on to run Las

9  CONCLUSION: FEELING LUCKY, CASINOS, CONSUMPTION, AND CAPITALISM 

225

Vegas. They were used to mixing gambling with alcohol, rowdy entertainment, and an urban pleasure culture removed from the original frontier setting. The casino workforce was equally important for the production of consumption experiences; employees interacted with consumers directly and took part in the gambling themselves. The emotional labor of the workforce and its organization formed the cornerstones of the production process long before the emergence of postindustrial capitalism. Dealers and croupiers in particular shared similarities in that regard. Despite the differences in their respective gambling traditions and practices, casinos in both Monte Carlo and Las Vegas trained these men to display little emotion, to handle gambling in a thoroughly professional manner, and to betray as little personality as possible. Management defined how the workforce had to address visitors, deal cards, and spin the roulette wheels. Planners wanted croupiers and dealers to appear as if they were an extension of faceless chance, not adversaries of the players. Consumers interpreted their conduct as cold and impartial—emotional states that reinforced the casinos’ intention to offer clean gambling as part of their moral economy. Between 1863 and 1976, in both Monte Carlo and Las Vegas, most of the employees in the gaming sector were white males. Indeed, gender- and race-based discrimination were integral to producing a gambling experience that sought to appeal largely to heteronormative white middle-class men. Women and African-Americans remained on the margins and were only slowly and partially integrated into these spaces. The roles of the service staff were distinct from those of the croupiers and dealers, as they were responsible for the excitement and lightheartedness of the casino. Beverage servers, showgirls, and attendants were supposed to convey relaxation and fun. In Las Vegas in particular, they were meant to arouse male sexual fantasies. Female employees were presented in ways that allowed male patrons to see and treat them as sexual objects. This further complicated the casinos’ relationship with sex workers. Strip casino managers used large parts of the workforce to appeal to the male gaze yet tried to avoid being stigmatized as hospitable to prostitution. After discussing consumption spaces and the workforce, the study addresses gambling practices and consumers, comparing the different gambling practices in Monte Carlo and Las Vegas. The more centralized games in Monte Carlo focused on a small number of tables centrally located within the building. In accordance with bourgeois values of self-­ discipline, the gamblers surrounding them were expected to remain in

226 

P. FRANKE

control of their emotions. This atmosphere favored roulette, trente-et-­ quarante, petits-chevaux, and boule. Entrepreneurs gradually adapted the games to fit into the gambling houses as spaces of commercialized gambling within a capitalist framework. The SBM chose materials for the games that would correspond with the design and atmosphere of the casino as a whole and favored games whose playing style resembled roulette’s, by far the most popular game in the nineteenth century. The SBM favored gambling that was played in groups, with the croupiers handling the equipment and the players betting continuously in a ritualized fashion. The games in Monte Carlo followed traditions previously established in the spa towns that allowed visitors to emulate a metropolitan, extravagant lifestyle. In Las Vegas, casinos were more concerned with preserving the consumer’s sense of agency at the tables. Blackjack, craps, and slot machines were thus prioritized, while roulette was pushed to the sidelines. As in Monte Carlo, table games were at the center of the gambling space. They provided the sensation of visible excitement and fun crucial to the Las Vegas experience. Most players enjoyed blackjack, which in many ways encapsulated the Strip consumption experience. It favored individual consumers and their decisions in a setting that pitted them against the deck—not against the dealer or fellow players. Management dictated how dealers had to play, further minimizing their agency. Because players knew how the dealer was supposed to play, they could adapt their own strategies, giving them a feeling of empowerment as consumers. This pattern prevailed at the slot machines as well. The machines of the 1950s and 1960s were designed to support excitement and fun, in the moment despite their being preprogrammed ahead of time. Masking such predetermination gave gamblers the illusion of being able to influence the outcome. The machine’s spinning wheels would not, for example, all stop at once but one at a time, which gave players a false sense of “getting close.” Slot machine designers thus adapted to the consumption experience that casinos had in mind. Between the turn of the century and the 1960s, slots changed from a mechanism for leisure to pure gambling devices. In the past, they could be found in gas stations and convenience stores and people could play them for bagatelles such as sweets and tobacco. Once they became as the biggest buyers of slot machines, however, casinos put an end to such diversity and pushed manufactures to standardize designs in order to make all machines cash-based. Gamblers engaged with this equipment in various ways, but first and foremost as consumers. Rather than treating games of chance as economic

9  CONCLUSION: FEELING LUCKY, CASINOS, CONSUMPTION, AND CAPITALISM 

227

investments, casino goers integrated their visits into their leisure and vacation activities. In Monte Carlo and Vegas, players valued spectacle, comfort, and a wide range of entertainment as part of their gambling experience. Most acknowledged losses openly and sometimes jokingly. Consumers accepted the fact that they could and probably would lose money. In guidebooks and in letters to friends, family, and the casinos, players talked about their gambling primarily as a leisure activity that they found rewarding, even if they lost. The multifaceted agendas of consumers are sometimes hard to grasp, especially in the service industry. By looking at the consumption experience people expected, historical scholarship can further contextualize economic conduct and how it changed over time. Casinos as modern capitalist enterprises did more than provide possible income or profits. They allowed patrons to participate in rituals linked to the urban middle classes while at the same time emulating those classes to which they did not belong: in the case of Monte Carlo, the old elites or aristocracy; in the case of Las Vegas, exclusive circles like the “Hollywood crowd.” Consumers had agency in gambling. They rejected forms that did not fit with the consumption experience that they expected or wanted. The comparison between Monte Carlo and Las Vegas shows that those expectations formed and changed over time, rather than growing out of a static national culture or a universal human predisposition to gamble. Casinos had to make gambling attractive and thus conform to the wishes of their patrons. Gamblers did not randomly wager money whenever the opportunity presented itself. They chose and rejected, accepted and enjoyed, gambling … if they felt lucky. This book is more than a history of two gambling cities. The production of experiences has been fundamental to the growth of modern consumer capitalism. In the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, products are distinguished by their branding and how people (are supposed to) experience them, rather than by their material qualities alone. Competitive markets thus foster an environment in which the production of consumption experiences is a fundamental part of product development and business strategies, as well as consumer sensibilities. In the past three decades, cities have also become more and more akin to products in a competitive global market. In their attempt to appeal to the wealthy, highly mobile class of investors, they have also become increasingly seen as homogenized and interchangeable. This tendency toward ever-greater homogenization raises questions as to why and how certain places maintain or cultivate a

228 

P. FRANKE

sense that they are somehow unique or distinctive. Rather than dismissing emotions and experiences, examining how they are produced and reproduced can reinvigorate economic and cultural histories which try reconceptualize the history of capitalism from the angle of specific products, services, or practices. Gambling in particular is in need of new histories. As a shifting ensemble of economic and cultural practices of social interactions and business models, games of chance can be studied in order to investigate a wide variety of questions, such as the power and allure of goods and services in modern capitalism. While the production, consumption, and the commodification of experiences and emotions are focal points of this book, it understands consumer capitalism as “a field of analysis.”18 Instead of imposing a strict chronology of events that define the history of capitalism, Feeling Lucky acknowledges that certain aspects differed both between Monaco and Las Vegas and across time. It reveals histories of capitalism as a complex set of interactions; as planning, controlling, and scripting spaces out of economic motivations; as conceptualizing leisure; and as an ever-changing set of assorted practices of consumption. Consumer capitalism was not the same in both cities, nor were there two varieties of an ahistorical pure capitalism. As a field of analysis, capitalism allows for investigations of a production process that took place in both cities and across centuries. This production nexus of the respective gambling experiences existed within very different constraints.19 These sometimes  overlapped, as they were adapted, and reenacted by historical actors. This book therefore proposes to write a history of gambling and casinos as a history of consumer capitalism, tracing which of its characteristics transformed, disappeared, or made a comeback.

18  Kenneth Lipartito and Lisa Jacobson, “Mapping the Shadowlands of Capitalism,” in Capitalism’s Hidden Worlds, 12. 19  Peterson and Anand, “The Production of Culture Perspective,” 313–314.

Sources

Monaco Archives du Palais Princier D20 Rapports du Comissaire du Gouvernement. D20-54 Admission dans les Salles de Jeux. D20-60 Casino—Réclamation des Joueurs. D20-61 Personnel. Savelli, Histoire des jeux à Monaco et du Casino de Monte Carlo.

Fonds Régional Fonds Monaco Bulletin des employés de la Société Anonyme des Bains de Mer et du Cercle des Etrangers à Monaco. Marcel Boll, « Le baccara: chemin de fer, banque » in: Nouvelle Académie des Jeux (Monaco, 1944). R. Stewart Clough, Les tables de jeux a Monte-Carlo, (Cannes: Robaudy).

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 P. Franke, Feeling Lucky, Worlds of Consumption, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-33095-7

229

230 

SOURCES

Fonds Patrimonial Noire et rouge: Permanences relevées a l’une des Tables de Roulette du Casino de Monte-Carlo. Paris: R. Godfroy, Éditeur 1891.

USA Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas, Nevada Claudine Williams Papers, 1963–2009. MS-00094. Charles J. Hirsch Papers, 1952–1987. MS-00291. Dunes Hotel and Casino Records, 1954–1992. MS-00328. El Rancho Vegas Collection, 1953–1961. MS-00194. Elmo and Charlotte Ellsworth Papers, 1948–1977. MS-00197. Flamingo Hilton Hotel Collection, 1946–1983. MS-00239. Flamingo Hilton Photograph Collection Homer A. Rissman Collection. MS-2008-07. Homer Rissman Architectural Records, 1947–2001. MS-00452. Jay Sarno Papers, 1965–2001. MS-00548. Las Vegas Chamber of Commerce Records, 1911–2014. MS-00366. Las Vegas News Bureau Collection. Manis Collection, 1936–1957. MS-00288. Martin Stern, Jr. Collection, 1950–1990. MS-00382. Richard B. Taylor Papers, 1920–1993. MS-00341. Sands Hotel Public Relations Records, 1952–1977. MS-00417. Wilbur and Toni Clark Collection, 1944–1991. MS-00361. William R. Eadington Professional Papers, 1949–2009. MS-00646.

Oral Histories at UNLV Special Collection Daniel David Atti 03/19/1978, OH-00050. Thomas Barbarite 03/03/1981, OH-00077. Transcript of interview with Thomas Francis Bergin, 03/05/1981, OH-00189. Transcript Interview D.D. Cotton 02/14/1997, ohr000021.

Library of Congress Casino entrance, atrium, Monte Carlo, Riviera. ca. 1890. [Between and Ca. 1900] Photograph. https://www.loc.gov/item/2001699319/.

 SOURCES 

231

France Archives départementales Alpes-Maritimes (ADAM) Fonds de la Préfecture, Document 04M 1351, Vie politique et économique monégasque, crise politique et économique, mouvements de grève, agissements des services secrets, situation de la Société des Bains de Mer, surveillance du parti communiste: rapports de police, coupures de presse

Cité de l‘architecture et du patromoine, Centre d’archives d’architecture du XXe siècle Fonds Bétons, armés Hennebique. Subdiv. 52. Ifa 076. Fonds Niermans, Edouard-Jean (1859–1928). Ifa 043.

Bibliothèque nationale de France (BnF Gallica) Charles Garnier, Agrandissement du Casino de Monte Carlo.

Germany Stadtarchiv Bad Homburg E 002—Nachlass Louis und Heinrich Jacobi.

Historisches Archiv zum Tourismus (HAT) Baedecker, Baedekers Riviera und Südost-Frankreich, Leipzig 1913. Baedecker Baedekers Riviera und Südost-Frankreich, Leipzig 1902.

United Kingdom The National Archives, OG/CC/1143, Letter from Gena Smith to Florence Glynn.

Newspapers and Magazines Billboard Freeman’s Journal and Daily Commercial Advertiser Forbes The Graphic

232 

SOURCES

The Guardian The Milwaukee Journal Journal de Monaco The New York Times Morning Post London Neue Züricher Zeitung Sarasota Herald Tribune South China Morning Post Stern LIFE Le Figaro L’Eveil Démocratique de Monégasque The Pall Mall Magazine

Monaco—Organe

de

l’Union

Démocratique

Websites https://sigma.world/

Bibliography Abt, Vicki. “The Role of the State in the Expansion and Growth of the Commercial Gambling in the USA.” In Gambling Cultures: Studies in History and Interpretation, edited by Jan McMillen, 179–198. London: Routledge, 1996. Al, Johannes S. “The Strip: Las Vegas and the Symbolic Destruction of Spectacle.”. PhD diss., University of California, Berkeley, 2010. ———. “Casino Architecture Wars: A History of How Las Vegas Developers Compete with Architectural Design” Occasional Paper Series, 30. Las Vegas: Center for Gaming Research, University Libraries, 2014. https://digitalscholarship.unlv.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1036&context=occ_papers Anderson, Robert T. “From Mafia to Cosa Nostra.” In Crime & Justice in American History: Historical Articles on the Origins and Evolution of American Criminal Justice, edited by Eric H. Monkkonen, 3–11. Westport: Meckler, 1992. Anonymous American Women. Diary of Anonymous American Woman 1950: Scrapbook of Trip to Las Vegas. Alexandria: Alexander Street Press, 2004. Aubry, Daniel. “Le Casino De Monte-Carlo par l’Image.” Annales Monégasques: Revue d’Histoire de Monaco, no. 22 (1998): 7–64. Baeumerth, Angelika. Königsschloss Contra Festtempel: Zur Architektur der Kursaalgebäude von Bad Homburg vor der Höhe. Marburg: Jonas Verlag, 1990. Balboni, Alan R. Beyond the Mafia: Italian Americans and the Development of Las Vegas. Reno, Nev.: University of Nevada Press, 2006.

 SOURCES 

233

Banner, Stuart. Speculation: A History of the Fine Line Between Gambling and Investing. New York: Oxford University Press, 2017. Barnhart, Russell T. Gamblers of Yesteryear. Las Vegas, Nev.: GBC Press, 1983. Battilani, Patrizia R., and Smeralda Costa. “How Social Values Shape Recreational Sites.” In Water, Leisure and Culture: European Historical Perspectives, edited by Susan C. Anderson and Bruce H. Tabb, 209–222. Oxford, New York: Berg Publishers, 2002. Baudrillard, Jean. The System of Objects. London: Verso, 2005. Beckerson, John. “Marketing British Tourism: Government Approaches to the Stimulation of a Service Sector, 1880–1950.” In The Making of Modern Tourism: The Cultural History of the British Experience, 1600–2000, edited by Hartmut Berghoff et  al., 133–157. Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire, New York: Palgrave, 2002. Bell, Daniel. “Crime as an American Way of Life: A Queer Ladder of Social Mobility.” In Crime & Justice in American History: Historical Articles on the Origins and Evolution of American Criminal Justice, edited by Eric H. Monkkonen, 12–33. Westport: Meckler, 1992. Bell, David, and Gill Valentine. Consuming Geographies: We Are Where We Eat. London, New York: Routledge, 1997. Bennet, James H. Winter and Spring on the Shores of the Mediterranean. London: Churchill & Sons, 1870. Berghoff, Hartmut. “From Privilege to Commodity? Modern Tourism and the Rise of the Consumer Society.” In The Making of Modern Tourism: The Cultural History of the British Experience, 1600–2000, edited by Hartmut Berghoff et al., 159–179. Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire, New York: Palgrave, 2002. Berghoff, Hartmut, and Jakob Vogel. “Wirtschaftgeschichte als Kulturgeschichte: Ansätze zur Bergung transdiziplinärer Synergiepotentiale.” In Wirtschaftsgeschichte als Kulturgeschichte: Dimensionen eines Perspektivenwechsels, edited by Hartmut Berghoff and Jakob Vogel, 9–42. Frankfurt: Campus Verlag, 2004. Bethell, Victor. Monte Carlo Anecdotes and Systems of Play. London: William Heinemann, 1910. Blackbourn, David. “Fashionable Spa Towns in Nineteenth-Century Europe.” In Water, Leisure and Culture: European Historical Perspectives, edited by Susan C.  Anderson and Bruce H.  Tabb, 9–23. Oxford, New  York: Berg Publishers, 2002. Blanchy, Béatrice. “A Select Inventory of Architects and Urban Planners.” In Monacopolis: Architecture, Urbanisme et Urbanisation à Monaco, Réalisations et Projets, 1858–2012, edited by Nathalie Rosticher, 640–646. Monaco: Nouveau musée national de Monaco, 2013. Blanke, David, and David Steigerwald, eds. A Destiny of Choice? New Directions in American Consumer History. Rowman and Littlefield, 2013.

234 

SOURCES

Blankenfeld, Arnold. Monte Carlo: Land und Leute, Spiel und Spieler. Berlin: Pormeter, 1913. Boddice, Rob. The History of Emotions. Historical Approaches. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2018. Boisset, Louis. Monaco, Monte-Carlo, Grandeur et Decadence d’une Maison de Jeu. Nice: Gauthier, 1884. Boyer, Marc, and Maurice Agulhon. L’hiver dans le Midi: XVIIe-XXIe Siècles. Paris: l’Harmattan, 2009. Bracey, Earnest N. The Moulin Rouge and Black Rights in Las Vegas: A History of the First Racially Integrated Hotel-Casino. Jefferson, N.C.: McFarland & Company, 2009. Braude, Mark. “Spinning Wheels: Cosmopolitanism, Mobility, and Media in Monaco, 1855–1956.”. PhD Dissertation, University of Southern California, 2015. ———. Making Monte Carlo: A History of Speculation and Spectacle. New York, NY: Simon & Schuster, 2016. Bubb, Daniel K. Landing in Las Vegas: Commercial Aviation and the Making of a Tourist City. Reno: University of Nevada Press, 2012. Butler, Alison. Victorian Occultism and the Making of Modern Magic: Invoking Tradition. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011. Butler, Anne M., and Michael J. Lansing. The American West: A Concise History. Malden, Mass.: Blackwell Publishing, 2008. Callais, Alain, “Quelques Pages sur l’Histoire des Grands Hôtel de la Principaute,” in Récherchés régionale No.203.12 (2013), https://www.departement06.fr/ documents/Import/decouvrir-­les-­am/recherchesregionales203_12.pdf. Carter, E.  J. “Breaking the Bank: Gambling Casinos, Finance Capitalism, and German Unification.” Central European History, no. 39.2 (2006): 185–213. Casanova, Giacomo G. Aus Meinem Leben. Stuttgart: Reclam, 1989. Chazin-Bennahum, Judith. René Blum and the Ballets Russes: In Search of a Lost Life. Oxford, New York: Oxford University Press, 2011. Chodounsky, Stephan. Was ein Detektiv über Monte-Carlo erzählt. Berlin: Richard Eckstein, 1908. Cohen, Lizabeth. “Citizens and Consumers in the United States in the Century of Mass Consumption.” In The Politics of Consumption: Material Culture and Citizenship in Europe and America, edited by M.  J. Daunton and Matthew Hilton, 203–221. Oxford: Berg, 2001. ———. Consumers’ Republic: The Politics of Mass Consumption in Postwar America. New York: Random House US, 2008. Colhoun, Jack. Gangsterismo: The United States, Cuba, and the Mafia: 1933 to 1966. New York: Or Books, 2013. Conyers, Claude. “Courtesans in Dance History: Les Belles De La Belle Époque.” Dance Chronicle 26 (2003): 219–243.

 SOURCES 

235

Corti, Egon Caesar Conte. Der Zauberer von Homburg und Monte Carlo 1841–1872. Frankfurt/Main: Societätsverlag, 2008. Cross, Gary. “Corralling Consumer Culture: Shifting Rationales for American State Intervention in Free Markets.” In The Politics of Consumption: Material Culture and Citizenship in Europe and America, edited by M. J. Daunton and Matthew Hilton, 283–299. Oxford: Berg, 2001. Cross, Gary S., and John K.  Walton. The Playful Crowd: Pleasure Places in the Twentieth Century. New York: Columbia University Press, 2005. Crossick, Geoffrey, and Serge Jaumain “The World of the Department Store: Distribution, Culture and Social Change.” In Cathedrals of Consumption: The European Department Store, 1850–1939, edited by Geoffrey Crossick and Serge Jaumain, 1–45. Aldershot, Burlington: Ashgate, 2002. Cure, Monika. “Text With a View: Turn-of-the-Century Literature and the Invention of the Postcard,” PhD diss., University of Southern California, 2012. Dandurand, Lawrence, and Rossi Ralenkotter. “An Investigation of Entertainment Proneness and Its Relationship to Gambling Behavior: The Las Vegas Experience.” Journal of Travel Research 23, no.12 (1985): 12–16. Day, Thomas C. Casino Tokens of Monte Carlo. Colorado Springs: American Numismatic Association, 1988. Decaux, Alain. Monaco Et Ses Princes: Sept Siècles d’Histoire. Paris: Perrin, 1996. Dejung, Christof, David Motadel, and Jürgen Osterhammel “Worlds of the Bourgeoisie.” In The Global Bourgeoisie: The Rise of the Middle Classes in the Age of Empire edited by Christof Dejung, David Motadel and Jürgen Osterhammel, 1–40. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2019. Denton, Sally, and Roger Morris. Las Vegas: Geld. Macht. Politik. Frankfurt: Zweitausendeins-Verlag, 2005. Depaulis, Thierry. “Die “Kleinen Pferde”: Ein Casinospiel der Belle Epoque.” In Spiele der Menschheit: 5000 Jahre Kulturgeschichte der Gesellschaftsspiele edited by Ulrich Schädler, 173–179. Darmstadt: Wiss. Buchgesellschaft, 2007. Derennes, Charles. Fortune et le Jeu. Paris: Georges Anquetil, 1926. Devereux, W.  C. Fair Italy, the Riviera and Monte Carlo: Comprising a Tour Through North and South Italy and Sicily with a Short Account of Malta. London: Kegan Paul, Trench & Co., 1884. Dickerson, Mark. “Why ‘Slots’ Equals ‘Grind’ in any Language: The Cross-­ Cultural Popularity of the Slot Machine.” In Gambling Cultures: Studies in History and Interpretation. Edited by Jan McMillen, 152–166. London: Routledge, 1996. Dickie, John. Cosa Nostra: Die Geschichte Der Mafia. Frankfurt: Fischer, 2006. Dietze, Gabriele, and Dorothea Dornhof. “Metropolenzauber: Sexuelle Moderne und Urbaner Wahn.” In Metropolenzauber: Sexuelle Moderne und urbaner Wahn, edited by Gabriele Dietze and Dorothea Dornhof, 7–22. Böhlau: Wien 2014. 2. Dombrink, John. “Gambling and the Legalisation of Vice: Social Movements, Public Health and Public Policy in the United States.” In Gambling Cultures:

236 

SOURCES

Studies in History and Interpretation, edited by Jan McMillen, 43–64. London: Routledge, 1996. Dombrink, John, and William N. Thompson. The Last Resort: Success and Failure in Campaigns for Casinos. Reno: University of Nevada Press, 1990. Dreiser, Theodore, and Klaus H.  Schmidt. A Traveler at Forty. The Dreiser Edition. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2005. Dritsas, Margarita. “Water, Culture and Leisure: From Spas to Beach Tourism in Greece During the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries.” In Water, Leisure and Culture: European Historical Perspectives, edited by Susan C.  Anderson and Bruce H. Tabb, 193–209. Oxford, New York: Berg Publishers, 2002. Ducher, Robert, and Jean-Francois Boisset. Caracteristique Des Styles. Paris: Flammarion, 1988. Durham, Steve. “History from the Civil War Through the Great Depression.” In The History of Gambling in America: Balancing Costs and Benefits of Legalized Gaming, edited by Kathryn Hashimoto and Steve Durham, 26–37. Upper Saddle River, N.J., London: Prentice Hall; Pearson Education, 2009a. ———. “The Modern Era: Nevada.” In The History of Gambling in America: Balancing Costs and Benefits of Legalized Gaming, edited by Kathryn Hashimoto and Steve Durham, 38–50. Upper Saddle River, N.J., London: Prentice Hall; Pearson Education, 2009b. Eadington, William R. “Ethical and Policy Considerations in the Spread of Commercial Gambling.” In Gambling Cultures: Studies in History and Interpretation, edited by Jan McMillen, 243–262. London: Routledge, 1996. Earley, Pete. Super Casino: Inside the “New” Las Vegas. New  York: Bantam Books, 2001. Eisner-Steward and Associates, Proposed General Plan Las Vegas Valley, Clark County, Nevada: Report. South Pasadena, Calif.: Eisner-Stewart, 1966. Eumann, Ingrid. “Las Vegas: From Space to Place.” In Taking Up Space: New Approaches to American History, edited by Anke Ortlepp and Christoph Ribbat, 169–177. Trier: Wissenschaftlicher Verlag, 2004. Fainstein, Susan S., Lily M.  Hoffman, and Dennis R.  Judd. “Introduction.” In Cities and Visitors: Regulating People, Markets, and City Space, edited by Lily M.  Hoffman, Susan S.  Fainstein and Dennis R.  Judd, 1–19. Malden, MA, Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2003. Färber, Alexa. “Urbanes Imagineering in der Postindustriellen Stadt: Zur Plausbibilität Berlins als Ost-West-Drehscheibe.” In Selling Berlin: Imagebildung und Stadtmarketing von der preussischen Residenz bis zur Bundeshauptstadt, edited by Thomas Biskup and Marc Schalenberg, 279–296. Stuttgart: Steiner, 2008. Fey, Marschall. Slot Machines: An Illustrated History of America’s Most Popular Coin-Operated Gaming Device. Las Vegas: Nevada Publications, 1983.

 SOURCES 

237

Fielding, Xan. The Money Spinner: Monte Carlo and Its Fabled Casino. Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1977. Findlay, John M. “Suckers and Escapists? Interpreting Las Vegas and Postwar America.” Nevada Historical Society Quarterly 33 (1990): 1–15. ———. “The Wishful West.” In City Dreams, Country Schemes: Community and Identity in the American West, edited by Kathleen A. Brosnan and Amy L. Scott, 10–35. Reno: University of Nevada Press, 2011. Folli Andrea, and Gisella Merello. “Les Fastes des Salles Garnier au Casino de Monte-Carlo.” In Les Riviera de Charles Garnier et Gustave Eiffel: Le Rêve de la Raison, edited by Jean-Lucien Bonillo et  al., 112–137. Marseille: Éd. Imbernon, 2004. ———. “Monte Carlo Casino: Architectural Evolution and Projects (1856–1914).” In Monacopolis: Architecture, Urbanisme et Urbanisation à Monaco, Réalisations et Projets, 1858–2012, edited by Nathalie Rosticher, 566–574. Monaco: Nouveau Musée National de Monaco, 2013. Foster, Jonathan. “Stigma Cities: Birmingham, Alabama and Las Vegas, Nevada in the National Media, 1945–2000.” Psi Sigma Siren, no. 3.1 (2005): 1–36. Fouilleron, Thomas. Histoire De Monaco: Manuel Pour l’Enseignement Secondaire. Monaco: Direction de l’Éducation Nationale, de la jeunesse et des sports, 2016. Fraterrigo, Elizabeth. Playboy: And the Making of the Good Life in Modern America. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011. Frevert, Ute. “Moral Economies, Present and Past.” In Moral Economies (Geschichte und Gesellschaft Sonderheft 26), edited by Ute Frevert et al., 13–44. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2019. Frevert, Ute, and Heinz-Gerhard Haupt. “Einführung  - Der Mensch des 19. Jahrhunderts.” In Der Mensch des 19. Jahrhunderts. Edited by Ute Frevert and Heinz-Gerhard Haupt. Essen: Magnus Verlag, 2004. Frydman, Hannah. “Capitalism’s Back Pages: Immoral Advertising and Invisible Markets in Paris’s Mass Press, 1880–1940.” In Capitalism’s Hidden Worlds, edited by Kenneth Lipartito and Lisa Jacobson, 119–138. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2020. Fuhs, Burkhard. Mondäne Orte Einer vornehmen Gesellschaft: Kultur und Geschichte der Kurstädte 1700–1900. Hildesheim, New York: Olms, 1992. Gammerl, Benno. “Emotional Styles: Concepts and Challenges.” Rethinking History - The Journal of Theory and Practice 16, no. 2 (2012): 161–175. Goodwin, Joanne L. Changing the Game: Women at Work in Las Vegas, 1940–1990. Reno: University of Nevada Press, 2014. Gottdiener, Mark. The Theming of America: Dreams, Media Fantasies, and Themed Environments. Boulder, Colo.: Westview Press, 2001. Gragg, Larry D. Bright Light City: Las Vegas in Popular Culture. Lawrence, KA: University of Kansas Press, 2013.

238 

SOURCES

Gräser, Marcus. ““The Great Middle Class” in the Nineteenth-Century United States.” In The Global Bourgeoisie: The Rise of the Middle Classes in the Age of Empire, edited by Christof Dejung, David Motadel and Jürgen Osterhammel, 64–84. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2019. Grazian, David. On the Make: The Hustle of Urban Nightlife. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2011. Hachtmann, Rüdiger. Tourismus-Geschichte. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2007. Hahn, H.  H. Scenes of Parisian Modernity: Culture and Consumption in the Nineteenth Century. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010. Haller, Mark H. “Bootleggers as Businessmen: From City Slums to City Builders.” In Crime & Justice in American History: Historical Articles on the Origins and Evolution of American Criminal Justice, edited by Eric H.  Monkkonen, 294–312. Westport: Meckler, 1992a. ———. “Organized Crime in Urban Society: Chicago in the Twentieth Century.” In Crime & Justice in American History: Historical Articles on the Origins and Evolution of American Criminal Justice, edited by Eric H.  Monkkonen, 341–365. Westport: Meckler, 1992b. ———. “The Changing Structure of American Gambling in the Twentieth Century.” In Crime & Justice in American History: Historical Articles on the Origins and Evolution of American Criminal Justice, edited by Eric H. Monkkonen, 313–341. Westport: Meckler, 1992c. Hannigan, John. Fantasy City: Pleasure and Profit in the Postmodern Metropolis. London: Routledge, 2010. Häntzschel, Jörg. “Das Paradies in der Wüste: Las Vegas.” In Urbane Paradiese: Zur Kulturgeschichte modernen Vergnügens, edited by Regina Bittner, 297–302. Frankfurt u.a.: Campus-Verl, 2001. Haupt, Heinz-Gerhard. “Der Konsument.” In Der Mensch des 20. Jahrhunderts, edited by Ute Frevert and Heinz-Gerhard Haupt, 301–323. Essen: Magnus, 2004. Hauteserre, Anne-Marie D. “Tourism, Development and Sustainability in Monaco: Comparing Discourses and Practices.” Tourism Geographies: An International Journal of Tourism Space, Place and Environment 7, no. 3 (2005): 290–312. Hélène, Pierre-André. Palaces de France: Vie Et Mémoire De l’Extravagance. Genève: Vögele, 2003. Helfant, Ian M. The High Stakes of Identity: Gambling in the Life and Literature of Nineteenth-Century Russia. Evanston, Ill.: Northwestern University Press, 2002. Hellmann, Kai-Uwe. Soziologie Der Marke. Frankfurt: Suhrkamp, 2003. Henderson, Justin. “Introduction: That’s Entertainment!” In Casino Design: Resorts, Hotels, and themed Entertainment Spaces, edited by Justin Henderson, 9–10. Gloucester, Mass.: Rockport, 1999a.

 SOURCES 

239

———. “Monte Carlo Hotel and Casino.” In Casino Design: Resorts, Hotels, and themed Entertainment Spaces, edited by Justin Henderson, 57–59. Gloucester, Mass.: Rockport, 1999b. Hetherington, Kevin. Capitalism’s Eye: Cultural Spaces of the Commodity. New York, NY: Routledge, 2008. Hilton, Matthew, and Martin Daunton. “Material Politics: An Introduction.” In The Politics of Consumption: Material Culture and Citizenship in Europe and America, edited by M.  J. Daunton and Matthew Hilton, 1–32. Oxford: Berg, 2001. Hochschild, Arlie R. The Managed Heart: Commercialization of Human Feeling. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2007. Iarocci, Louisa. The Urban Department Store in America: 1850–1930. London, New York: Routledge, 2014. Jackson, Stanley. Inside Monte Carlo. London: W.H. Allen, 1975. Jakle, John A., Keith A.  Sculle, and Jefferson S.  Rogers. The Motel in America. Baltimore, MD, London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2002. Judd, Dennis R. “Visitors and the Spatial Ecology of the City.” In Cities and Visitors: Regulating People, Markets, and City Space, edited by Lily M. Hoffman, Susan S. Fainstein and Dennis R. Judd, 23–38. Malden, MA, Oxford: Blackwell Pub., 2003. Kavanagh, Thomas M. Dice, Cards, Wheels: A Different History of French Culture. Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2005. Keller, Paul. “The Re-Emergence of Riverboat Gambling.” In Casino Design: Resorts, Hotels, and themed Entertainment Spaces, edited by Justin Henderson, 63–66. Gloucester, Mass.: Rockport, 1999. Kenny, Nicolas. The Feel of the City: Experiences of Urban Transformation. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2014. Kessel, Martina. “Das Trauma der Affektkontrolle: Zur Sehnsucht nach Gefühlen im 19. Jahrhundert.” In Emotionalität: Zur Geschichte der Gefühle, edited by Claudia Benthien, Anne Fleig and Ingrid Kasten, 156–177. Köln: Böhlau, 2000. Ketchiva, Paul de. Confessions of a Croupier: The Inside Story of the Gambling Game from the Authoritative Angle of the “Bank” Revealed for the First Time. London: Hurst & Blackett, 1928. Keynes, John M. The General Theory of Employment, Interest and Money. Basingstoke, Hampshire: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007. Klein, Norman. “The Electronic Baroque: Las Vegas, the Mall, and George Bush.” In Verb 4 Conditioning: The Design of New Atmospheres, Effects and Experiences, edited by Albert Ferré, 34–44. Barcelona: Actar, 2005. Knoch, Habbo. Grandhotels: Luxusräume und Gesellschaftswandel in New  York, London und Berlin um 1900. Göttingen: Wallstein, 2016. Kocka, Jürgen, and Heinz-Gerhard Haupt. “Comparison and Beyond: Traditions, Scope, and Perspectives of Comparative History.” In Comparative and

240 

SOURCES

Transnational History: Central European Approaches and New Perspectives, edited by Heinz-Gerhard Haupt and Jürgen Kocka, 1–30. New York: Berghahn Books, 2009. Koshar, Rudy. German Travel Cultures. Oxford: Berg, 2000. Kraft, James P. Vegas at Odds: Labor Conflict in a Leisure Economy, 1960 - 1985. Baltimore, Md.: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2010. Kranes, David. “Play Grounds.” Journal of Gambling Studies 11, no. 1 (1995): 91–102. Lacey, Robert. Little Man: Meyer Lansky and the Gangster Life. London: Arrow, 1992. La Favière, Paul Aubert. De Cannes à gênes. Guide pittoresque illstré. Paris: F. Robaudy, 1878. Land, Barbara, and Myrick Land. A ´Short History of Las Vegas. Reno: University of Nevada Press, 2004. Laplace, Pierre. Les Hôtels d’hier & Aujourd’hui à Monaco. Monaco: Éd. V. Gadoury, DL 2010. Lee, Kah-Wee. “Containment and Virtualization: Slot Technology and the Remaking of the Casino Industry.”. Occasional Paper Series 14. Las Vegas: Center for Gaming Research, University Libraries, University of Nevada Las Vegas, 2012. http://digitalscholarship.unlv.edu/cgi/viewcontent. cgi?article=1007&context=occ_papers Lefebvre, Henri. The Production of Space, Cambridge, Mass.: Blackwell, 1991. Lenger, Friedrich. “Großstadtmenschen.” In Der Mensch des 19. Jahrhunderts, edited by Ute Frevert and Heinz-Gerhard Haupt, 261–291. Essen: Magnus Verlag, 2004. Leniaud, Jean-Michel. “Le Choix Du Sud: Architectures d’Art et d’Argent.” In Les Riviera de Charles Garnier et Gustave Eiffel: Le Rêve de la Raison, edited by Jean-Lucien Bonillo et al., 153–179. Marseille: Éd. Imbernon, 2004. Levenstein, Harvey A. Seductive Journey: American Tourists in France from Jefferson to the Jazz Age. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998. Levy, Shawn. Rat Pack Confidential: Frank, Dean, Sammy, Peter, Joey & the Last Great Showbiz Party. London: Fourth Estate, 1998. Liégard, Stéphan. La Côte d’Azur. Paris: Quantin, 1887. Lipartito, Kenneth, and Lisa Jacobson “Mapping the Shadowlands of Capitalism.” In Capitalism’s Hidden Worlds, edited by Kenneth Lipartito and Lisa Jacobson, 1–24. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2020. Mackaman, Douglas P. Leisure Settings: Bourgeois Culture, Medicine, and the Spa in Modern France. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998. Malbon, Ben. “The Club: Clubbing: Consumption, Identity and the Spatial Practices of Every-Night Life.” In Cool Cultures: Geographies of Youth Cultures, edited by Tracey Skelton and Gill Valentine, 266–286. London, New  York: Routledge, 1998.

 SOURCES 

241

Mari, Martine. L’Opéra De Monte-Carlo: 1879–1990. Paris, Genève: Champion; Slatkine, 1991. Marriéton, Paul. La Terre Provençale: Journal De Route. Paris: Passage Choiseul, 1894. Martschukat, Jürgen. Die Ordnung des Sozialen: Väter und Familien in der Amerikanischen Geschichte seit 1770. Frankfurt, New York: Campus, 2013. Matt, Susan J. “Emotions in the Marketplace.” In A Destiny of Choice? New Directions in American Consumer History, edited by David Blanke and David Steigerwald, 29–41. Lanham, MD: Rowan & Littlefield, 2013. ———. “Current Emotion Research in History: Or, Doing History from the Inside Out.” Emotion Review 3, no.1 (2011): 117–124. McMillen, Jan. “From Glamour to Grind: The Globalisation of Casinos.” In Gambling Cultures: Studies in History and Interpretation, edited by Jan McMillen, 263–287. London: Routledge, 1996a. ———. “Understanding Gambling: History, Concepts and Theories.” In Gambling Cultures: Studies in History and Interpretation, edited by Jan McMillen, 6–42. London: Routledge, 1996b. Miller, Robert. “The Construction of Spatial Imaginaries: Luxury, Spectacle, Cosmopolitanism, and the Formation of the Casino-Resort.” Occasional Paper Series 27. Las Vegas: Center for Gaming Research, University Libraries, 2014. https://www.library.unlv.edu/center_for_gaming_research/2014/07/paper-­ robert-­miller-­construction-­spatial-­imaginaries.html ———. “Constructing a Spatial Imaginary: The Formation and Representation of Monte Carlo as a Vacation-Leisure Paradise, 1854–1950.”. PhD diss., University of Kansas, 2016. Moe, Al W. The Roots of Reno – Northern Nevada’s Early Casinos and the Sins it took to Build Them. Scotts Valley, CA: BookSurge Publishing, 2008. Moehring, Eugene P. Resort City in the Sunbelt: Las Vegas, 1930–1970. Reno, Nev.: University of Nevada Press, 1989. ———. Reno, Las Vegas, and the Strip: A Tale of Three Cities 1945–2013. Reno, Nev.: University of Nevada Press, 2014. Moehring, Eugene P., and Michael S.  Green. Las Vegas: A Centennial History. Reno, Nev.: University of Nevada Press, 2005. Monmarché, Marcél. Nice, Beaulieu, Monaco, Monte Carlo et leurs Environs sous la Direction de Marcel Monmarché. Paris: Librairie Hachette et Ciel, 1913. “Monte Carlo.” In Monacopolis: Architecture, Urbanisme et Urbanisation à Monaco, Réalisations et Projets, 1858–2012, edited by Nathalie Rosticher, 235–438. Monaco: Nouveau musée national de Monaco, 2013. Nevill, Ralph. Light Come, Light Go: Gambling-Gamestars-Wagers, The Turf. London: Macmillan and Co., 1909. Nichols, Chris. The Leisure Architecture of Wayne McAllister. Salt Lake City: Gibbs Smith, 2007.

242 

SOURCES

Paccoud, Antoine. “Planning Law, Power, and Practice: Haussmann in Paris (1853–1870).” Planning Perspectives 31, no. 3 (2016): 341–361. Palermo, Dave. “Kirk Kerkorian: The Reticent Billionaire.” In The Players: The Men Who Made Las Vegas, edited by Jack Sheehan, 158–168. Reno, Nev.: University of Nevada Press, 1997. Peel, Victoria, and Anders Sørensen. Exploring the Use and Impacts of Travel Guidebooks. Bristol, UK, Tonawanda, NY: Channel View Publications, 2016. Peterson, Richard A., and N. Anand. “The Production of Culture Perspective.” Annual Review of Sociology 30 (2004): 311–334. Pickard, Frederick W. Monaco & the French Riviera. New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1937. Pickering, Thomas H. Monaco: The Beauty Spot of the Riviera. London: The Fleet Printing Works, 1882. Pinchon, Jean-Francois. “Monte-Carlo: Le Triomphe de l’Éclectisme.” Monuments historiques 175 (1991): 76–82. Plumpe, Werner. Das Kalte Herz: Kapitalismus: die Geschichte einer andauernden Revolution. Berlin: Rowohlt, 2019. Pokorny, Lukas, and Franz Winter. “Introductory Remarks.” In The Occult Nineteenth Century: Roots, Developments, and Impact on the Modern World, edited by Lukas Pokorny and Franz Winter, 1–12. Cham: Palgrave Macmillan, 2021. Polovtsoff, Pierre. Monte Carlo Casino. London: The Mayflower Press, 1937. Rearick, Charles. Pleasures of the Belle Époque: Entertainment & Festivity in the Turn of the Century France. New Haven, CT, London: Yale University Press, 1985. Reckwitz, Andreas. “Affective Spaces: A Praxeological Outlook.” Rethinking History 16, no. 2 (2012): 241–258. Reith, Gerda. The Age of Chance: Gambling in Western Culture. London, New York: Routledge, 2002. Révoil, Bénédict H. Monaco et Monte-Carlo. Paris: Nabu Press, 2010. Ribbat, Christoph. Flackernde Moderne: Die Geschichte Des Neonlichts. Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner Verlag, 2011. Robert, Jean-Baptiste. “État et Structures Urbaines à Monaco De 1949 à 1974.” Annales de la Faculté des Lettres et Sciences Humaines de Nice, no. 25 (1975): 169–192. ———. Histoire De Monaco. Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 1997. Ronneberger, Klaus. “Disneyfizierung der Europäischen Stadt? Kritik der Erlebniswelten.” In Die Stadt als Event: zur Konstruktion urbaner Erlebnisräume, edited by Regina Bittner, 87–97. Frankfurt: Campus-­ Verlag, 2001. Rothman, Hal. Devil’s Bargains: Tourism in the Twentieth-Century American West. Lawrence, Kan.: University Press of Kansas, 1998.

 SOURCES 

243

———. “Colony, Capital, and Casino: Money in the Real Las Vegas.” In The Grit beneath the Glitter: Tales from the Real Las Vegas, edited by Hal Rothman and Mike Davis, 307–334. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2002. ———. Neon Metropolis: How Las Vegas Started the Twenty-First Century. New York: Routledge, 2003. ———. The Making of Modern Nevada. Reno: University of Nevada Press, 2010. Roxolo, Ysobel. Letters from Monte Carlo. Boston: The Christopher Publishing House, 1923, Ruppert, Evelyn S. The Moral Economy of Cities: Shaping Good Citizens. Toronto, Buffalo: University of Toronto Press, 2006. Said, Edward W. Orientalism. New York: Vintage, 2003. Saint-Germain, Philippe, and Francis Rosset. La Grande Dame de Monte-Carlo. Paris: Stock, 1981. Sallaz, Jeffrey J. The Labor of Luck: Casino Capitalism in the United States and South Africa. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2009. Samuel, Lawrence R. The American Middle Class: A Cultural History. Hoboken, NJ.: Taylor and Francis, 2013. Sayer, Andrew. “Approaching Moral Economy.” In The Moralization of the Markets, edited by Nico Stehr, Christoph Henning and Bernd Weiler, 77–97. New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Publishers, 2006. Scheri, Saverio. The Casino’s Most Valuable Chip: How Technology Transformed the Gaming Industry. Palo Alto, CA: Institute for the History of Technology, 2005. Schmid, Heiko, and John Stewart. Economy of Fascination: Dubai and Las Vegas as Themed Urban Landscapes. Berlin: Borntraeger, 2009. Schmitt, Michael. Palast-Hotels: Architektur und Anspruch eines Bautyps 1870–1920. Berlin: Mann, 1982. Schrage, Dominik. Die Verfügbarkeit der Dinge: Eine Historische Soziologie des Konsums. Frankfurt, New York, NY: Campus-Verlag, 2009. Schüll, Natasha D. Addiction by Design: Machine Gambling in Las Vegas. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2012. Schulz-Forberg, Hagen. London-Berlin: Authenticity, Modernity, and the Metropolis in Urban Travel Writing from 1851 to 1939. Brussels: PIE Lang, 2006. Schumacher, Geoff. Sun, Sin & Suburbia: An Essential History of Modern Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nev.: Stephens Press, 2004. Schwartz, David G. Suburban Xanadu: The Casino Resort on the Las Vegas Strip and Beyond. New York, London: Routledge, 2003. ———. Grandissimo - the First Emperor of Las Vegas: How Jay Sarno Won a Casino Empire, Lost It, and inspired Modern Las Vegas. Las Vegas: Winchester, 2013. Seal, MarkSteve Wynn. King of Wow!. In The Players: The Men Who Made Las Vegas, edited by Jack Sheehan, 168–183. Reno, Nev.: University of Nevada Press, 1997.

244 

SOURCES

Selby, Wendy. “Social Evil or Social Good? Lotteries and State Regulation in Australia and the United States.” In Gambling Cultures: Studies in History and Interpretation, edited by Jan McMillen, 65–85. London: Routledge, 1996. Shove, Elizabeth, Mika Pantzar, and Matt Watson. The Dynamics of Social Practice: Everyday Life and How It Changes. Los Angeles: Sage, 2012. Siegrist, Hannes. “Perspektiven der Vergleichenden Geschichtswissenschaft: Gesellschaft, Kultur Und Raum.” In Vergleich und Transfer: Komparatistik in den Sozial-, Geschichts- und Kulturwissenschaften, edited by Hartmut Kaelble and Jürgen Schriewer, 305–339. Frankfurt, New York: Campus, 2003. Smith, Adolphe. Monaco and Monte Carlo. London: Grant Richards LTD, 1912. Smith, James F. “Ben Siegel: Father of Las Vegas and the Modern Casino-Hotel.” Journal of Popular Culture 25, no. 4 (1992): 1–21. Specht, Joshua. Red Meat Republic: A Hoof-to-Table History of How Beef Changed America. Princeton, Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2019. Spencer, Donald D. Mid Century Vegas: 1930s to 1960s. Atglen, PA: Schiffer Publishing 2009. Stäheli, Urs. Spectacular Speculation: Thrills, the Economy, and Popular Discourse. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 2013. Stearns, Peter N. American Cool: Constructing a Twentieth-Century Emotional Style. New York: New York University Press, 1994. ———. Battleground of Desire: The Struggle for Self-Control in Modern America. New York: New York University Press, 1999. Steinhauser, Monika. “Das Europäische Modebad des 19. Jahrhunderts Baden-­ Baden: Eine Residenz des Glücks.” In Die deutsche Stadt im 19. Jahrhundert: Stadtplanung und Baugestaltung im industriellen Zeitalter, edited by Ludwig Grote, 95–128. Munich: Prestel-Verlag, 1974. Steward, Jill R. “Moral Economies and Commercial Imperatives: Food, Diets and Spas in Central Europe: 1800–1914.” Journal of Tourism History 4, no. 2 (2012): 181–203. Tate, Joshua C. “Gambling, Commodity Speculation, and the “Victorian Compromise”.” Yale Journal of Law & the Humanities 19, no. 1 (2007): 97–114. Tegtmeier, Ralph. Casino: Die Welt Der Spielbanken - Spielbanken Der Welt. Köln: DuMont, 1989. Thompson, Edward P. “The Moral Economy of the English Crowd in the Eighteenth Century.” Past & Present 50 (1971): 76–136. ———. Customs in Common. Pontypool, Wales: Merlin Press, 2010. Thompson, William N. “Harrah, William F.” In Gambling in America: An Encyclopedia of History, Issues, and Society, edited by William N.  Thompson, 179–180. Santa Barbara: ABC Clio, 2015a. ———. “Wheels of Fortune, and Others Wheel Games.” In Gambling in America: An Encyclopedia of History, Issues, and Society, edited by William N. Thompson, 364–371. Santa Barbara: ABC Clio, 2015b.

 SOURCES 

245

Thrift, Nigel. “The Material Practices of Glamour.” Journal of Cultural Economy 1, no. 1 (2008): 9–23. Torp, Cornelius. “Gambling and the Civilizing Mission: Globalgeschichtliche Perspektiven auf das 19. Jahrhundert.” Geschichte und Gesellschaft 43, no. 4 (2017): 526–556. ———. “Von Bad Homburg Nach Macau. Ursprung und Entwicklung der Casinostadt.” Historische Zeitschrift 308, no. 3 (2019): 675–710. Trentmann, Frank. “Before Fair Trade: Empire, Free Trade and the Moral Economies of Food in the Modern World.” In Food and Globalization: Consumption, markets and politics in the Modern World, edited by Alexander Nützenadel and Frank Trentmann, 253–276. Oxford, New York: Berg, 2008. Vaz, Matthew. “We Intend to Run It: Racial Politics, Illegal Gambling, and the Rise of Government Lotteries in the United States, 1960–1985.” The Journal of American History 101, no. 1 (2014): 71–96. Venturi, Robert, Steven Izenour, and Denise Scott Brown. Learning from Las Vegas: The Forgotten Symbolism of Architectural Form. 22. rev. ed. Cambridge: MIT Press, 2006. Veszelits, Thomas. Die Monaco AG: Wie sich die Grimaldis Ihr Fürstentum vergolden. Frankfurt: Campus-Verlag, 2006. Wagenaar, Willem A. Paradoxes of Gambling Behaviour. Hove: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, 1999. Walkowitz, Judith R. City of Dreadful Delight: Narratives of Sexual Danger in Late-Victorian London. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992. Wegren, Stephen K. The Moral Economy Reconsidered: Russia’s Search for Agrarian Capitalism. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005. Weatherford, Mike. Cult Vegas: The Weirdest! The Wildest! The Swinginest Town on Earth!. Las Vegas, Nev.: Huntington Press, 2001. Welskopp, Thomas. ““Stolpersteine auf dem Königsweg”: Methodenkritische Anmerkungen zum Internationalen Vergleich in der Gesellschaftsgeschichte.” Archiv für Sozialgeschichte (1995): 339–367. ———. Amerikas Große Ernüchterung: Eine Kulturgeschichte der Prohibition. Paderborn: Ferdinand Schöningh, 2010. ———. “Zukunft Bewirtschaften: Überlegungen Zu einer Praxistheoretisch Informierten Historisierung Des Kapitalismus.” In Mittelweg 36. Zeitschrift des Hamburger Instituts für Sozialforschung: Praktiken des Kapitalismus, edited by Sören Brandes et al. 1., Auflage, 81–97. 2017. Whitaker, Jan. Wunderwelt Warenhaus: Eine Internationale Geschichte. Hildesheim: Gerstenberg Verlag, 2013. Williamson, C. N. The Lure of Monte Carlo. London: Mills and Boon, 1924. Wiltse, Jeff. Contested Waters: A Social History of Swimming Pools in America. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2007. Wykes, Alan. Gambling. London: Aldus Books, 1964.

246 

SOURCES

Zalfen, Sarah. Staats-Opern? Der Wandel von Staatlichkeit und die Opernkrisen in Berlin, London und Paris am Ende des 20. Jahrhunderts. Wien: Böhlau, 2011. Zollinger, Manfred. “Banquiers und Pointeurs: Geschichte Des Glücksspiels zwischen Integration und Ausgrenzung vom 18. bis zum 20. Jahrhundert.”. PhD diss., Diss., Universität Wien, 1990. ———. Geschichte Des Glücksspiels: Vom 17. Jahrhundert bis zum Zweiten Weltkrieg. Wien, Köln: Böhlau, 1997. Zukin, Sharon. The Cultures of Cities. Cambridge, Mass.: Blackwell, 1995.

Index

A African-Americans and exclusion from middle class, 210 and work in casino, 210 Airport, 46 Aristocrats, 190–202 Atlantic City, 6, 213–218 B Ballet Russe, 70 Beausoleil, 41 Belle Époque, 18, 25, 64, 66, 71, 79, 84, 128, 158, 167, 191, 193, 199, 211, 222 Bertora, Antoine, 28, 33, 35, 120, 125 Beverage servers, 110, 119, 120, 146–148, 155, 225 See also Waitresses

Blackjack, 19, 76, 85, 92, 98, 116, 159, 161, 169, 175, 177–179, 178n87, 184, 206, 207, 209, 226 Blanc, Camille, 14, 41, 78, 79, 81, 82, 198, 213 Blanc, François, 13, 14, 24, 26, 28, 31, 33–39, 43, 64–66, 76, 120, 122–126, 140, 161, 162, 172, 191, 213, 224 Blanc, Marie, 67, 121, 125 See also Hensel, Marie Boulder Dam, 15 See also Hoover Dam Boulevard, 10, 24, 30, 31, 35, 36, 46, 47, 59, 223 Bourgeoisie, 1, 3, 9, 10, 24–26, 32, 38, 63, 77, 80, 124, 154, 158, 160, 190–202 Burlesque shows, 152

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 P. Franke, Feeling Lucky, Worlds of Consumption, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-33095-7

247

248 

INDEX

C Caesars Palace, 18, 54, 106–112, 119, 148–149, 214 California, 43, 52, 133, 177 Capitalism American, 130, 202 consumer, 5–7, 9, 17, 20–22, 26, 47, 56, 84, 122, 130, 201, 211, 227, 228 and consumption, 17, 43, 219–228 definitions of, 219 economic order, 6, 187, 219 entrepreneurs, 123 as field of analysis, 228 history of, 6, 17, 20, 219, 220, 228 logic, 22 practice, 159, 164, 220 thinking, 20, 161 and urbanization, 22, 27, 43, 47–51 See also Capitalist Capitalist, 6–8, 11, 17, 20–22, 27, 33, 43, 47–51, 55, 57–84, 124, 144, 159, 161, 164, 187, 189, 202, 219–222, 224, 226, 227 Casino executives in Las Vegas, 21 in Monte Carlo, 21 Casino gardens, 30, 31 Casino tokes, 164, 172, 173 See also Chips Chamber of Commerce, 48, 53, 101, 204 Charles III, 12, 65, 213 Chef de parti, 127, 136, 164, 166 Chips, 119, 135, 139, 143, 171, 173 See also Casino tokes Circus Circus, 18, 54, 106–112 Civil rights movement, 121 Clark County, 14, 48, 52, 222 Clark, Wilbur, 44, 48, 51, 88, 90, 93, 101, 119, 133

Class, 9, 20, 23, 26, 30, 38, 57, 68, 83, 84, 101, 114, 115, 158, 163, 192, 211, 216, 221, 227 and performance of, 76, 84 Cohen, Carl, 101, 103, 120, 132–134, 148, 224 Commercialization, 159–174 Consumption, 3–12, 16–26, 30, 33, 35, 42, 44, 45, 47, 48, 51–53, 55–59, 63, 65–67, 71–83, 86–88, 90, 91, 94, 96, 97, 99, 103, 106–108, 110, 112–117, 119, 126, 130, 134–145, 147–149, 153–155, 157–185, 189, 190, 192, 201–203, 207, 219–228 and history, 5, 20 Convention center, 53, 54 Conventions, 50, 53, 82 Copa Room, 102, 103 Cosmopolitan, 23, 25, 41, 64–66, 69, 79, 172, 190 Costello, Frank, 132 Courtesans, 62, 78, 79 See also Sex workers Craps, 19, 86, 92, 99, 116, 157–159, 171, 175–177, 184, 226 Croupiers depiction of, 139 and female gamblers, 139 D Dalitz, Moe, 48, 101, 120, 133, 224 Dealers, 18, 99, 112, 119, 121, 132, 134–147, 154, 171, 175–179, 178n87, 206–208, 224–226 Décaves, 140, 187, 196, 197 Desert Inn (D.I.), 18, 44, 48, 50, 51, 85–117, 119–121, 133, 141, 146, 151, 205, 208 D.I., see Desert Inn

 INDEX 

Dice, 3, 86, 157, 158, 171, 175–177, 184, 206 Disneyfication, 22 Dreiser, Theodore, 64, 159, 160, 171, 173, 174 Dunes (casino), 147 Dutrou, Jules-Laurent, 34, 62, 71, 75, 123 E École de roulette, 140 El Rancho Vegas, 45, 89, 91, 97, 129, 151 Emotion, 17, 20, 21, 30, 37, 58, 62, 74, 77, 105, 137, 138, 145, 147, 154, 159, 165, 170, 176, 177, 184, 193, 202, 225, 226, 228 and history of, 5 Emotional labor, 18, 122, 136, 137, 139–141, 143, 145–148, 151, 154–155, 225 Emotional style, 77, 105, 137, 140, 149, 157, 160, 184, 192, 202, 208 Entertainment in Las Vegas, 44, 87, 88, 94, 97, 101, 102, 104, 105, 113, 132, 149, 208, 225, 227 in Monte Carlo, 69, 77, 104, 227 role in casinos, 16, 56 Entratter, Jack, 93, 94, 101, 103, 104, 132, 134, 148, 150, 152, 224 Exclusion of African-Americans, 210 of women, 78 of workers, 42 Experience production of, 119–155, 227 selling of, 120 Eynaud, Adolphe, 13, 38

249

F Feeling Lucky, 3, 17, 20, 219–228 Female consumers, 199 Female gamblers, 78, 80, 111, 139, 199, 200, 206 Fey, Charles, 182, 183 Flamingo, 44, 45, 89–92, 94, 106, 107, 114, 115, 117, 119, 121, 131, 151, 204 Flâneurs, 26, 36 Floormen, 142, 144 Flutters (gamblers), 190–202, 211 Freeman, Al, 96, 103, 104, 152, 174, 208, 209 G Gamblers agency, 138, 184, 226, 227 American, 202 as consumers, 169, 187–211 and emotions, 75, 121, 173 European, 77, 157, 202 Female, 78, 80, 111, 139, 199, 200, 206 See also Players Gambling behaviors, 18, 102, 151, 173, 192 as consumption, 158 entrepreneurs, 16, 18, 21, 124, 128, 161, 177 in Europe, 3 experiences, 2–4, 6–8, 18, 19, 25, 40, 42–54, 57–117, 120, 126, 128, 129, 135, 136, 139, 144, 154, 159, 163, 167, 168, 170, 171, 174–184, 193, 195, 202–205, 209, 216, 223–225, 227, 228 in Las Vegas, 4, 5, 205 in Monte Carlo, 4, 5, 18, 76, 160, 162, 173

250 

INDEX

Gambling (cont.) as part of identity, 190 personnel, 18 as a practice, 190 resorts, 20, 65, 88 rooms, 18, 31, 58, 61–63, 65, 67–83, 163, 166, 184, 190, 191, 195–198 spaces, 17, 81, 91, 107, 109, 123, 158, 193, 226 as speculation, 6, 17 in the US, 116, 202 Garden casino, 30, 31 and spa culture, 18 Garnier, Charles, 62, 66–68 Gender and gambling, 225 roles, 11, 146 work, 129, 142–143, 157–159, 162 Gendered power dynamics, 190, 199 Germany/Germans an gambling laws, 34 German Confederation, 12, 13 Golden Nugget, 97, 144 Great War, 80, 159, 173, 191, 192, 201 Greenbaum, Gus, 131 The Green Felt Jungle, 188–189 Gunsbourgh, Raoul, 65, 68 H Habitué (gamblers), 196 Hacienda (casino), 47, 143, 208 Harrah (company), 16 Harrah, William F., 16 Hessen-Homburg, 13 Hilton, 114, 115, 214 Hivernants, 126, 190, 191 Holiday Casino, 133 Hollywood, 44, 90, 94, 107, 113, 115, 202–210, 227

Homburg, 13, 34, 123, 125, 140, 162, 193 Hoover Dam, 15 Hotel casino-, 44, 85, 88–90, 93, 94, 109, 112–115, 120, 129, 132, 177, 210 grand, 33, 36, 39, 57 See also Motor Hôtel de Paris, 1, 24, 33, 36, 39, 201 Hughes, Howard, 106, 134, 214 Hull, Thomas, 129 I Illegal gambling, 18, 120, 129–133, 153, 176, 177, 191, 224 Imperial, 64, 67 See also Imperialist Imperialist, 65 International (casino), 113 Italians, 12, 16, 41, 64, 66, 74, 82, 107, 114, 190, 191 J Jacobi, Louis, 34, 123 K Kerkorian, Kirk, 114, 115, 134, 214 Ketchiva, Paul de, 192, 193, 201 Kitchen, 58, 73–77, 93, 145, 193 See also Salle Mauresque L Lanksy, Meyer, 115n105, 131 Last Frontier, 44, 89, 129, 147, 151 Las Vegas Downton, founding of, 47, 50 post-war situation of, 23, 44, 87, 88, 94, 128

 INDEX 

relationship to the Strip, 225 Leisure, 4, 10, 17–19, 24–27, 30, 36, 40, 45, 57, 68, 77, 79, 81–83, 86, 89–92, 94, 100, 101, 109, 112, 113, 116, 117, 121, 124, 126, 138, 141, 146, 153, 154, 159, 160, 168, 189–191, 203, 205, 208, 210, 211, 223, 224, 226–228 Léon, René, 14, 24, 38, 43, 122, 125, 126, 140, 146, 173, 191, 192, 213, 224 Los Angeles, 14, 16, 42, 88 M Macau, 217, 218 Machine gambling, 168, 175, 179, 182 See also Slot machines Mafia, 130, 189 See also Organized crime Mansions, 34, 39 See also Villas Market capitalist mass, 81, 84, 224 conceptualized, 8 Maxwell, Elsa, 127, 128 Mechanical gambling, 137 MGM Grand, 115–117, 120, 214, 215 Middle classes consumption, 9, 11, 21, 48, 53, 55, 57, 63, 96, 130, 184 US politics, 11, 86, 102, 117, 223 Mock-metropolis, 222, 223 Monegasque, 2, 14, 27, 37–40, 64, 83, 122, 123, 128, 141, 190, 199, 214 Monte Carlo, 1–43, 45, 47, 49, 51, 53, 55–59, 62, 64–66, 68–70, 73, 75–82, 84, 90, 91, 104, 121–124, 126, 127, 134, 135,

251

137–139, 141, 143, 144, 146, 154, 157–177, 179, 184, 185, 187–202, 209–211, 215, 217, 218, 221–227 Monte Carlo casino, 24, 26, 51, 57–84, 104, 127, 128, 137, 157, 161, 163, 166, 173, 191, 198, 214, 222, 223 Monte Carlo (urban district) funding of, 15, 197 scripting of, 18, 24–26, 28, 29, 33, 37, 38, 41, 45, 46, 52, 56, 58–60, 62, 66, 68, 71, 74–76, 81, 84, 86, 89, 91, 92, 96, 98, 103, 106, 110, 112, 116, 154, 188, 194, 195, 203, 222, 224, 228 urbanization of, 17, 21, 22, 24, 25, 27, 33, 38, 43, 51, 55, 222, 223 Moral economy definition of, 129 of gambling, 7–12, 126, 129, 134, 135, 153, 225 See also Moralizing economy Moralizing economy in Las Vegas, 19 in Monte Carlo, 8, 10, 19 Motor, 44, 86, 117 Moulin Rouge, 151, 210 Muses (gamblers), 146, 190–202, 211 N Nevada, 2, 3, 15, 16, 42, 106, 115, 133, 203 O Onassis, Aristotle, 14, 213, 214 Opera, 67–70, 124, 173, 223 building, 68

252 

INDEX

Organized crime casino funding in Las Vegas, 23, 137, 140 and Las Vegas, 16 See also Mafia Orient, 67, 74 Orientalism, See Orientalist; Orient, definition of Orientalist elements in casinos, 75 in Monte Carlo, 65 Orientalist design, 65, 67, 72, 77, 84 Orientalist fantasies, 68, 73, 84, 107 Orientalist theming, 70 P Palais Royale, 13, 163, 164 Paradise (township), 47, 50–52 Paris, 13, 23, 25, 31, 36, 37, 41, 66, 68, 125, 160, 172, 198, 215 Petits-chevaux, 167, 168, 170, 226 Pit boss, 119, 142, 144, 148 Place du Casino, 1, 24, 35, 60, 75, 199 Players and agency, 138 American, 77 as consumers, 173 and emotions, 138, 170, 193 European, 157 female, 179 system, 196 types of, 201 See also Gamblers Police, 37, 41 Polovtsoff, Pierre, 42, 146, 192 Presley, Elivs, 103 Professors (gamblers), 190–202 Prohibition, 16, 88, 120, 129–132, 203, 224 Prostitutes, 78, 153 See also Sex workers

R Racism in Las Vegas, 19 in Monte Carlo, 19, 41 Rainier III, 14, 213, 214 Rat Pack, 86, 102–106, 108, 215 Reno, 15, 16, 93, 115, 205 Revolution, 12 Riviera (casino), 44 Riviera (geographic area), 2, 28, 29, 32, 34, 80, 126, 148, 217 Rock music, 54 Roulette in Monte Carlo, 4, 19, 163, 165, 167 in the Palais Royale, 163 in the US, 179 S Sahara (casino), 44, 121, 150 Salle Blanche, 58, 78–80, 84 Salle Garnier, 58, 71, 73–77, 83 Salle Mauresque, 58, 68, 70–77, 83, 84 See also Kitchen Salle Médecine, 80–83 Salle Rose, 84 Salles Touzet, 58, 80–84, 145 Sands, 18, 44, 49, 87–94, 109, 114, 117, 120, 121, 132, 148, 150, 152, 153, 174, 177, 205, 206, 209, 215 Sarno, Jay, 54, 107–112, 120 SBM founding of, 34, 140, 222 leadership, 18, 31, 69, 121, 127, 135 organizational structure of, 124, 128 and paternalism, 14 Scripts, 18, 24–26, 28, 29, 33, 37, 38, 41, 45, 46, 58–60, 62, 66, 68, 71, 74–76, 81, 84, 86, 89, 91,

 INDEX 

92, 96, 98, 103, 106, 110, 112, 116, 154, 188, 194, 195, 203, 222, 224 and definition of, 26 Second World War, 2, 3, 11, 32, 48, 80, 170, 200, 223 Segregation, 41, 210 Sex workers, 152, 225 Shift manager, 142, 144 Showgirl, 119, 126, 146, 148–153, 155, 225 Siegel, Benjamin‚ ‘Bugsy, 2 Silver Slipper, 133, 147 Sinatra, Frank, 2, 85, 86, 102, 103, 210, 215 Skimming, 142, 143, 147 Slot machines, 19, 85, 92, 95, 97, 99, 114, 116, 119, 131, 159, 167, 170, 175, 179, 180n94, 181–184, 206, 214, 215, 226 See also Machine gambling Sociéte des Bains de Mer et Du Cercle Étranger de Monaco, 14 See also SBM Spa district See also Kurbezirk Spa town, 10, 13, 30, 226 Speculation, 6, 15, 17, 20 Splasher (gambler), 190–202 Sporting Club, 128, 146, 168, 169, 173, 194 See also Sporting d’été; Sporting d’Hiver Sporting d’Été, 126, 127, 139, 146 Sporting d’Hiver, 81–83, 213 Stardust (casinos), 91, 150 Stemler, Gustav, 125, 140 Strip, 4, 8, 12, 16–20, 22, 23, 42–56, 85–89, 93, 94, 97, 98, 102, 105, 108, 109, 111–117, 119, 121, 122, 128, 129, 131–134, 142–144, 146–153, 158, 159, 174, 175, 177–179, 183–185,

253

189, 203–205, 208, 209, 211, 214, 222, 223, 225, 226 Suburban living conditions, 45, 50, 93, 94, 222 and middle classes, 18, 43, 86, 108, 132, 184, 204, 209, 210 suburbia, 48, 93, 108, 113, 223 Suburbanization, 48, 50, 223 Sunbelt, 223 T Tailleur, 169 Tax, 43, 50, 54, 123, 213, 216, 218, 222 Tourism beach, 127 shift in twentieth century, 27, 192 Trente-et-quarante, 1, 19, 58, 83, 135, 136, 160–163, 168–170, 197, 226 U Urbanization, 17, 21, 24, 25, 33–38, 51, 52, 223 and capitalism, 22, 27, 43, 47–51, 55, 222 V Villas, 39 See also Mansions W Wagatha, Henri, 28, 33, 37, 38, 66, 120, 125 Waitresses, 111, 120, 146–149, 155 See also Beverage servers World War Two, see Second World War