Is This Story OK, Johnny?

From time to time I have poked a little fun at Oklahoma Johnny Hale and his Seniors tournaments, which at last count encompassed at least 14 separate "World Championship" events yearly. OK Johnny has taken this ribbing in good spirits. Each time he sees me after one of these columns has run, his standard response is, "You know what they say in Oklahoma: 'I don't care what you say about me, as long as you spell my name right.'" I suspect, from subtle tells, that he is actually a bit less tolerant of me than he lets on. I picked up one clue when I noticed that when he smiles at me, he also clenches his teeth and rakes his fingernails across his cheek.

I would like to apologize – sort of. I really should be more respectful of these Seniors tournaments because my sweetie won the very first one, which was held at Len Miller's Oceanside Card Club. The trouble was, she was only 17 at the time. Johnny had offered to get her in by selling her fake ID for an additional $50, but she didn't have that much money in those days. He desperately needed her participation in order to have two full tables, so he ruled that since she was a senior in high school, that qualified her.

Whatever else I might say about him, I freely admit that the man is ingenious.

My sweetie was also one of the original inductees into the Seniors Hall of Fame. The initial people so honored consisted of a small and truly elite group of players that included the likes of Johnny Moss. The next year, the qualifications were relaxed a smidgen. Anyone could be admitted by paying a $25 service charge and buying a copy of Oklahoma Johnny Hale's book. (Yes, I know that his book hadn't yet been written at that time. Please don't let little details get in the way of my story.)

I ran into Oklahoma Johnny again during the World Series. When I spotted him, he was trying to sell one of his books to a player. The man didn't seem too interested, so Johnny was using one of his most persuasive sales techniques: He was sitting on the guy's chest and choking him.

"This is a very important book," OK Johnny was yelling at him. "It's about my life."

"I don't give a damn about your life," the man gasped.

"I'll autograph it specially for you," Hale persisted.

"I don't need your autograph."

Johnny applied the closer: "Buy it or I'll slash your tires."

The man gave up and pulled some bills out of his wallet. "Well, thank ya kindly, suh," Johnny drawled in his best Southern gentleman accent. "Now let me help you back into your wheelchair."

As he got up and dusted off his pants, Hale spotted me. "Oh, hi, Max," he said. "Boy, seems like everybody is dying to buy my book, aren't they?"

"Yeah, I noticed. Say, you wouldn't really have slashed the tires on that guy's wheelchair, would you?"

"'Course not," he replied, folding up his pocketknife. "Say," he remarked, changing the subject. "You're gonna be real proud of me. I'm startin' a new tournament and this time I'm bein' real humble. I didn't even name it after myself."

"Really? Who did you name it after – Carol Ann Hale?"

Johnny smiled and raked his fingernails across his left cheek, since his right one was still bandaged.

He handed me a flyer that, sure enough, contained his wife's photo as well as his. I should never have given up my day job as a psychic, I thought. It took me about two hours to read and decipher the thing, because along with the photos of the two co-hosts, and the usual flags, emblems, and logos, it interwove data and dates and age qualifications for one-table satellites and four-table satellites, and supersatellites, and super-supersatellites, for two different tournaments, The Seniors at the Series (age 50 and older) and The Second Chance Poker Tournament at the new Las Vegas home of "The Seniors" World Championship of Poker, Palace Station Hotel & Casino, where participants have to be 17 years old (I mean 21). The flyer announced $100,000 for first place at the Second Chance event, with an asterisk and 4-point type explaining that the guarantee was based on 200 or more players. Then there was even more information about Hale and Gabe Kaplan (Welcome Back Kotter) inviting a few friends to yet another tournament, a one-table charity event in the center of the Palace Station casino with "one or more valuable diamond rings" going to the winner.

After I had finally digested all the information, I shook my head in grudging admiration. "So, you have another tournament. Congratulations," I said, shaking his hand. "But how do you keep up with all of them? You know what you should do? You should franchise them out, like McDonald's."

I backed away, fearing that this time I had gone too far and he would finally swing at me. But, I saw that instead of raking his cheek, he was rubbing it.

"You know, son, that's the first good idea you ever came up with. As a matter of fact, I've been negotiating to have a Seniors World Championship of Barstow at Big Denny's Barstow Card Casino, but with so many of my tournaments going on, I've been neglecting my regular job as an aluminum siding salesman. Now, for a small fee – oh, let's say just $1,000 – how about I let you have the franchise to run this valuable and prestigious event, and … "

As he picked up a piece of paper and began scribbling down numbers, I ran off and jumped into the elevator, where the poor guy in the wheelchair was still sitting. He was in a daze, one arm dangling down, grasping Hale's book.

I looked at the guy in sympathy. "Boy, that OK Johnny is some salesman, isn't he?"

"I'll say," he replied. "This is the tenth book he's made me buy."