Danny Gans Does Poker

Danny Gans was named Vegas "Entertainer of the Year" 10 straight years for very good reason. His impersonations of personalities ranging from George Burns to Johnny Carson to Michael Jackson are both dead-on and hilarious. My sweetie and I loved his show when we saw it recently, but we also noticed that many of his impersonations were the same ones he used when we first watched his act years ago. So both of us went backstage and suggested that he add a roster of colorful poker players to freshen up his routine.

"You can't keep doing George Burns forever," we pointed out. "And poker players are the real celebrities now." I explained how much material I had gotten for my column from these characters. For a small broker's fee, we offered to bring over a bunch of them for him to study.

He liked the idea, and agreed to hold an audition. I couldn't wait to see what happened, because I suspected that Danny had more in store for him than he expected.

Barbara and I managed to round up a good number of players, and on the appointed day we herded them into the Mirage's Danny Gans Theater. In deference to his years (his Social Security number is 002), Dirty Wally was the first poker character permitted to take the stage and start talking … and talking … and talking. He went on endlessly about all his wives and girlfriends who were half his age (about 60 or so), the 175 imaginary tournaments he had won, the 100 or more movies he had starred in that nobody ever heard of, his heroic service in the war, and so on, and so on. Repeatedly, Gans thanked him and tried to get him off the stage, to no avail. He finally had a stagehand club him on the head and toss him in an alley.

Next to show up was Phil Hellmuth - late, as usual. His gracious comment for being asked to be part of Gans' act was the same one he made upon being inducted into the Poker Hall of Fame last year: "What took so long?" From there he began complaining about not being the first one to speak. "Couldn't you wait for me?" he stormed. "Don't you know I have 11 bracelets? And why would you want all these other nobodies, in the first place? I'm all you need."

With that, Hellmuth threw himself on the ground and began kicking his feet and sobbing. Barbara took pity on him, led him away, and changed his diapers.

Gans began having second thoughts about our bright idea. The next poker luminary to walk up to him was Oklahoma Johnny Hale, garbed in his flashiest Western wear dripping with logos. "Ah shore wanna thank y'all for invitin' an' ol' country boy like me to yore festivities. Allow me ta give y'all somethin' in return." He pulled one of his books out of a big satchel he was carrying, asked Gans how he spelled his name, autographed it, and handed it to him.

"Thank you," Gans said.

"Y'all welcome. That'll be forty dollars, suh."

Gans sighed. "Well, I guess I've got your act down, Johnny. Thanks for coming." Before leaving, Hale tried to work the room hawking his books, and finally had to be escorted out by an usher.

Next up was Ralph the Rattler, who hissed out an invitation for everyone to come to his home game. Gans shuddered as the Rattler slithered offstage.

At that point Huck Seed wandered in. He wasn't one of the invited players, but as long as he was there, he was asked to go up on deck. He stood there for five minutes without saying a word. "He needs a mime, not an impersonator," Gans muttered. "Too bad Marcel Marceau isn't around anymore."

The next name poker player was John Bonetti. He immediately began dropping f-bombs and shook his finger at Gans. "I hoid ya plannin' ta woik me over an' make it look like I coise an' use doity woids. Ya soitenly better not try ta joik me around. Fuggedaboudit!"

"He'd be wonderful to impersonate, wouldn't he?" Barbara asked.

"Wonderful? I couldn't understand a word he said!" Gans replied.

The parade continued. Mike "The Mouth" Matusow did his turn. As expected, he argued and complained and criticized everyone and everything he saw. Another name crossed off the list.

Doomsday Don was next to take the stage. He looked around apprehensively. "Is it safe in here?" he asked. "Has it been checked for explosives? I heard that terrorists are planning to blow up Las Vegas."

"I guess he isn't too funny, is he?" I apologized as Gans glared at me.

Last but certainly not least (in size, anyway) was my prize specimen, Big Denny. As he lumbered onstage, Gans stared at him in awe. "I'd need a gorilla suit to do a convincing impersonation of that guy," he said.

"Hey, when does we eat?" Big Denny bellowed.

"Uh, I'm afraid that dinner wasn't part of the arrangement," Gans answered.

"Who's dat bum?" Big Denny demanded to know.

"That's Danny Gans," I explained. "He's the big headliner here - the one who's looking for new characters to impersonate."

"Oh, yeah? Hey, maybe I kin use him in my showroom at da Barstow Card Casino. Da customers been gettin' tired of listenin' ta Aunt Sophie try ta sing."

"Thanks anyway, but I'm very happy at the Mirage."

"Don't be so sure, wise guy. I'll pay ya fifty bucks a show an' give ya a nice discount on a room at da hotel."

"Why don'cha just get lost, ya big ape," Gans taunted him, doing a perfect Big Denny imitation.

I tried to stop Gans, but it was too late. Big Denny was not accustomed to being taunted, and was most definitely not amused. He began raging out of control, ripping out theater seats and tossing them around like confetti. He had gotten to the fourth row before a squad of security guards arrived and managed to subdue and drag him off.

"Well, Danny," I asked, "what do you think?"

Gans looked at us for a very long time, not sure whether to laugh, cry, or just shoot us. At last he gave his answer. "I think I'll stick with George Burns."

Max Shapiro, a lifelong poker player and former newspaper reporter with several writing awards to his credit, has been writing a humor column for Card Player ever since it was launched 20 years ago. His early columns were collected in his book, Read 'em and Laugh.