I was in Mississippi recently to do tournament write-ups for the
World Series of Poker Tournament Circuit event at Grand Casino Tunica, and the first thing I noticed was how friendly everyone was. The security guards greeted you warmly, shook your hand, wished you luck, and treated you like a rich relative. Compare that to the security thugs at Big Denny's Barstow Card Casino, who throw you against a wall, pat you down, and grab a few bills from your wallet before allowing you to gain entrance.
It was also nice to see how agreeable the local players were. There were no hostile remarks, thrown cards, or tantrums. And unlike the habitués of L.A.-area casinos, everyone seemed to have a job. In fact, the winner of the $5,000 championship event, Mark "Pegasus" Smith, has five of them! He breeds thoroughbreds; races them; is a real-estate developer; owns a public utility waste-water facility; and is chief deputy coroner for a county in Mississippi.
Another attractive feature of Mississippi is that prices of everything are so reasonable that it's like visiting another planet. Gas is a lot less expensive, and for maybe $150,000, hardly enough for a down payment on a one-bedroom condo in places like L.A., you can buy a mansion. I noticed a billboard offering full-service funerals, including 20-gauge steel coffins, for $995. The only way to get buried more cheaply elsewhere would be to get on Big Denny's bad side and have him drop you in a hole in the desert for free.
On the other hand, the South is hardly a health-food mecca. As I once wrote, everything there is fried, including the Jell-O. Still, man does not live by spinach alone (especially E. coli spinach), and sometimes you need to indulge. My sweetie and I took a side trip to Memphis, and a restaurant called Rendezvous that everyone recommended has the best barbecued pork ribs on the face of the earth.
Another highlight of our Memphis excursion was watching the famous trained ducks at the five-star Peabody Hotel do their twice-daily march from their lobby fountain into an elevator taking them to their rooftop quarters. What I could never figure out, though, was how they managed to push the elevator button.
We also were intrigued to see that all of the horse-drawn sightseeing carriages had dogs reclining on the drivers' seats. No, the canines didn't drive. It's a carryover tradition from the time when downtown Memphis wasn't safe, and dogs were used to protect the drivers from muggers.
Then we had the pleasure of meeting Bernard Lansky, the renowned clothier who designed all of the personal and stage wardrobe for Elvis Presley. At age 79, he still checks in every day to run his store. Bernie, by the way, told us he is the nephew of mob mastermind Meyer Lansky, who gave the go-ahead to Bugsy Siegel to build the Flamingo, thus launching the future metropolis of Las Vegas. Lansky (Meyer, not Bernard) is also believed to have agreed to the rubbing out of Siegel for stealing the casino's money. Bernie's wife, Grace, by the way, is a dedicated Internet poker player. "But the only thing I play," Bernie said, "is the cash register."
The high point of our Memphis visit, though, was touring Elvis' legendary home, Graceland. While I'm not a particular fan of his, I found it astonishing. And what really blew me away was discovering how much Elvis and I had in common.
Get this. We both trained as tank crewmen with the Third Armored Division; we both were named "Outstanding Young Men of the Year" by the Junior Chamber of Commerce; we both shared the same hobbies of motorcycling, target practice, and racquetball; and, of course, we both were movie stars. The only differences, as far as I could tell, was that he didn't write as well as I do, but had more hair. To be honest, though, my experiences in these varied endeavors were somewhat less rewarding than his were.
Take the Army business. My most memorable moment as a tanker was also my most painful. During training maneuvers, I was left in charge of a tank, with the responsibility of firing a blank shell every time an "enemy" tank came into view. I was walking on top of it during a drizzle when one approached, and in my haste to get below, I slipped and fell down a front turret, bashing my leg against the steel rim. Still, I managed to painfully drag myself to the rear of the vehicle and shoot the cannon. I never got a purple heart for my bravery, just a purple leg.
The Jaycee thing? Elvis was named one of America's 10 outstanding young men of the year in 1970 for changing the world of music. I got my trophy 10 years earlier after I won two consecutive journalism awards for feature writing. Unlike Elvis, however, the stories didn't change anything in the world. One was about a beauty-pageant hopeful, the other about a dog named Smokey who roamed neighborhood stops each day looking for handouts. The judges may have been amused, but it was hardly Pulitzer Prize material.
The hobbies? Well, I did ride a motorcycle - once ... for an hour. Planning to buy a hot little Suzuki from a poker pal named Steve Rado, I asked to first test it. I had no prior experience, but was doing great until I attempted a too tight U-turn. The bike fell on me and I was left pinned down in traffic until a driver stopped and helped me hobble to the side of the road. I'd still be there, lying in the weeds, if Rado hadn't come searching for me. I returned the dented bike, and went off to see a doctor about my dented hip.
Target shooting was much worse. Many years ago, I was leaving a rifle range when someone fired a pistol the size of a small howitzer. The blast hit me so hard that I was left with permanent ringing in my ears. If you ever want to whisper something to me, please do so on my right side. My left ear ain't that good anymore.
Racquetball didn't damage me physically, only emotionally. I thought I was getting good, playing at a gym I belonged to, until I played a couple of games against famous football legend Jim Brown. The guy showed no mercy and squashed me like a bug. After that, I kind of lost interest in the game.
As for the movies, Elvis starred in a whole bunch of musicals that attracted legions of adoring fans. My film career consisted of a 20-second comedy bit in a
National Lampoon Strip Poker production, and an interview in
All In, a film about the tournament trail, recently released on DVD. I came off great. The only problem is that I was identified as Max Stern.
Anyway, those are our similarities. It's too bad Elvis' hobbies didn't include scuba diving and skiing, because I could include some near-death experiences in those activities. But despite all of the highlights in my life, I don't expect fans to someday make pilgrimages to my grave as they now do to Elvis' … but who knows?
