Interview with
Amarillo Slim
By Dana Smith
Part 2
About a Kidnap, Emerald
Buttons, TV Shows, and
Beauty Pageants
It's hard not to notice
a man with as
distinctive an
appearance as "Amarillo
Slim," no matter how
large the crowd. Maybe
it's his custom made
ostrich boots, the ones
with the spades,
diamonds, hearts, clubs
and his name engraved on
them -- "I've got these
in 14 different colors,
brought nine pairs here
with me. No wonder they
had to send a limousine
for me." Or the emerald
buttons on his Western
shirt -- "That's the
best story you'll ever
hear!" Or just the total
persona of a gambler who
has helped more than any
other to bring
respectability to poker
-- "I've gone out and
done some things that
nobody else has." We
began by talking
buttons.
Dana Smith: Those are
mighty fancy buttons
you're wearing, Slim.
"Amarillo Slim" Preston:
I knew you were gonna
ask, hon. The best story
you'll ever hear is this
one. I usually wear
uncirculated $1.00 gold
pieces over the buttons
on my shirts (Benny
Binion wore them too)
and matching cuff links
with $5.00 pieces.
Anyway, I got kidnapped
about five or six years
in Columbia. I was wired
up, not tied up, and
taken in a helicopter
from Cartagena to
another town in
Columbia. I thought they
were gonna drop me out
over the jungle, you
understand? The guy who
got me is named Pablo
Escobar, reputed to be
the biggest drug dealer
in the world.
They thought that I was
a government man because
I didn't try to buy any
drugs, I didn't use any,
I didn't try to sell
any, and I was right in
the middle of things in
Columbia. I was just
there for the opening of
the Casino de Caribe.
For seven days they got
all the boss drug lords
to declare Cartegena
"Switzerland," and
everybody agreed not to
kill nobody, assassinate
nobody, do nothing
during that week -- for
seven days we were just
gonna gamble.
That got broken the
first night when one of
them blew some woman's
head off right on the
porch, squirting blood
on my boots.
Anyway, I'm in that
helicopter and they call
the boss guy on the
radio. "Describe him,"
he says. They do and
then he says, "Does he
have a map of Texas on
his finger?" I had worn
that Texas ring for a
long time but they had
stripped me of it.
They finally find out
who I'm supposed to be
and I'm OK, so in the
same helicopter that I
was taken as prisoner, I
was shown around the
country by the boss.
The sonnagun took me out
there to that big zoo,
told me it cost him
$8,000 a day to maintain
it. "See that chapel,
Slim? That's the one I
built for the poor
people."
So I says to him, "Hey,
you know you caught a
little heat in the
American press when you
killed that editor and
publisher of the Bogota
newspaper." Then he said
something about him
being killed in the
exact spot as the
attorney general and
offered to show me
where. Now that's who I
was with.
And he liked my buttons
... he loved them. So
just because he didn't
kill me or something, I
had a set of buttons
like mine made for him.
Six weeks later I'm in a
suite at Caesars in Las
Vegas and the phone
rings. A voice that I
recognized from the
helicopter ride as one
of his henchmen is
saying to me, "Slim,
this is so-and-so, how
are you? Pablo has sent
you something."
You can imagine what I
said. So I get all the
security together down
on the floor and go on
down to meet him. Well,
the boss had had a set
of buttons made for me
out of raw, uncut and
unpolished emeralds. I
swear to you that
they're about three or
four carats apiece, all
shapes and all good
colors. Now would you
think that a guy like
that would have emerald
buttons made for me?
Dana: I see that you're
also wearing one of your
World Series
bracelets.
Slim: Yeah, Mike Sexton
researched it and I got
at the final table four
times and I won all of
four of them. That's
unusual enough, but why
do I have five
bracelets? Did they give
me two bracelets one
year or what?
Dana: You almost got to
the final table earlier
this week, too. What
happened there?
Slim: I raised all my
chips against a
millionaire's chips,
I've got A-K and he’s
got A-Q. It comes 6-5-4
and then a ten. Now
here's what hurts: They
all get up and leave,
they know they're gone.
Then here comes a queen
and I'm out.
Dana: Do you enjoy the
Series as much as
you used to?
Slim: I enjoy the
camaraderie, the how are
you and how've you been,
and do you remember the
wa-wa-wa, and how are
your cutting horses ...
all that. Then I sit
down to play and visit
with everyone and in ten
minutes I feel like I'm
in the electric chair --
I'd rather be anywhere
else in the world. How
can I say it? I'm
pokered out. I must've
done something right
along the way, though,
because I have a lot of
friends.
The only thing that has
excited me in my life
during the last 15 years
is that about three
months ago, I was told
that I was one of only
two unanimous inductees
into the Legends of
Nevada at the
Tropicana Hotel and
Casino. A committee of
18 people chooses the
inductees. Benny Binion
and Howard Hughes and I
were all inducted, and
only two of us were
unanimous.
Now that makes a country
sonnagun feel good, you
know what I'm sayin'?
I got all dressed up and
then a big screen 'bout
as big as Boulder Dam
came on at both ends of
the showroom and a
senator from Washington
lied and told what a
good sonnagun I am and
the governor and all the
prominent people said I
was as fine a man as
ever put powder in a
safe -- no, they didn't
say that, I'm just
kiddin,' hon. And they
played my song:
"Do you dare make a
bet with Amarillo Slim?
You play his game with
one condition for him.
From greens on the golf
to baskets in the gym,
do you dare make a bet
with Amarillo Slim?
Hell, the devil don't
bet with Amarillo Slim."
Everybody in the casino
stood when they played
it and that made me feel
good, hon. Can you
relate to what I'm sayin'?
Dana: Sure can. I guess
you've been everywhere,
done everything.
Slim: Just about. Had my
own tournament in Sun
City, South Africa; had
my own tournament in
Adelaide, Australia; had
Amarillo Slim's Super
Bowl of Poker and it
was the second biggest
tournament there was.
But this last honor,
that was special.
Now I'm in four halls of
fame: How in the hell
can one person be in
four of them?! I'm
in the poker Hall of
Fame, the Legends of
Nevada, the Seniors Hall
of Fame, and the
Horseshoe's Hall of
Fame. That makes you
feel a little bit
special, you know.
Dana: You have the
reputation of putting
poker on the map.
Slim: Yeah, you hear
that a lot. I went out
and did some things that
nobody else did. I've
done three specials for
60 Minutes on
Sunday nights, and hell,
I've been on the Carson
show 11 times with about
seven different hosts:
Flip Wilson, Joan
Rivers, Don Rickles,
once with Johnny, once
with Joey Bishop, and
the last one was with
Gabe Kaplan. I never
would go unless I had
something to say.
On the Bishop one, I had
Omar Sharif's deal with
Hoyle playing cards so
that I could plug the
cards, but Bishop
wouldn't bring it up.
Those breaks are a
little longer than you'd
think so I called his
hand on it, called him
this and that -- when
I'm mad I'm not very
shy. Freddy de Cordova
comes over to us and
says, "Something wrong,
Slim?"
"Yeah," I say, "you need
to tell this little
sonnagun that he needs
to ask me about Hoyle
playin' cards because I
don't give a damn about
you or him or this show,
I'm about to leave."
"And he will, too!"
Freddy says. So we sat
back down and Joey says,
"Oh, Slim, I understand
that you're with ..."
and here we went.
Dana: Part of that's
just plain business
sense, and you've always
had that.
Slim: Yeah. I didn't
have a thing in the
world to do with the
movie, Maverick,
but guess who did the
publicity for it? "Let
them sonnaguns that's
got something to do with
the show go do it," I
said. They had me do it
because I could get more
free publicity than
James Garner or Mel
Gibson could.
So I did Good Morning
America in New York,
I did Panorama in
Washington, D. C., I
went to Atlanta for
Georgia Today,
California for A. M.
Los Angeles and the
Carson show, all
that stuff. (I knew Mel
and James before that,
of course.)
Dana: You wrote a book.
Slim: Yeah, and you
can't get it nowadays.
It's hard to believe but
I didn't have one copy
of it until about a year
ago when an American
Airlines pilot called my
home telling me that he
had two, said that if
I'd sign one of them for
him he'd give me the
other one. I don't have
one copy of the movies
that I made, I don't
have one copy of any TV
show I've done. Isn't
that unreal?
Speaking of books, Susie
Isaacs came to me the
other day and said,
"Slim I'm writing a book
and I need an unusual
quote." I said, "Well,
I'll tell you, Susie,
very seldom do the lambs
slaughter the butcher."
She hollered over that
one.
Anyway, the original
title of my book was
"Amarillo Slim in a
World of Fat People,"
but some clever guy
changed the title to
Maverick Poker.
There's nothing in it
worth a damn, but there
were 29 authors at the
author's convention in
Los Angels the next year
-- Norman Mailer had
just done Marilyn and
Jonathan Livingston
Seagull (I called it
"The Birds") was just
out -- and I got all the
limelight.
You know what reverse
psychology is? I came
out from behind my table
and gave out books and
told all the press guys
in my line, "Why don't
you get out of this line
and go over there in
that best-seller's line
so you can get yourself
something fit to read?
My book isn't worth
nine-cents and eggs.
"Now guess what that
caused? The people that
were in the other lines
came over and got in
mine! That's reverse
psychology. (And let me
tell you that I've had
some very lucrative
offers from major
publishers.)
I went to Mailer's
publishing party that
night and Linda Loveless
showed up. She came
running over to me
telling me who she was
and all, and I said, "I
didn't read your book
about the sore throat,
but I know who you are."
The room broke up! I
seem to recall an
inference that she might
give me a free
demonstration of her
abilities, but I
declined. I had just
finished judging the
"Miss Nude U. S. A."
contest out there and
I'm the only judge
they've ever had that
exercised their option.
Dana: What option?
Slim: You could be as
they were if you wanted
to, so I'm up on the
stage and I take off
everything I've got on.
I also judged the
married ladies thing,
the Mrs. America
contest, once at the
Hilton. "Let's let Slim
welcome the ladies to
Las Vegas and the
Hilton," Barron Hilton
suggested.
It looked like recess in
heaven -- all the little
angels were there,
damned they were
beautiful! So after
yakking with them for a
while, I said, "There
one thing about this
contest, ladies. I can't
speak for the integrity,
the ability, or the
honesty of these other
three judges, but you're
lookin' at one cowboy
sonnagun that will
take a bribe!"
The press loved it, you
hear me? And I hadn't up
in my suite but a few
minutes when I got a
coupla calls.
Dana: You're good with
the press, one reason
why you receive so much
respect from poker
players -- they know
that you've done a lot
to bring poker out of
the backrooms.
Slim: When I first meet
a guy and he asks me
what I do, I generally
say, "I'm a gambler,"
because I want to see
his reaction. I want to
know if he thinks that a
gambler is someone who
just crawled out from
under a rock or hustles
bribes or deals in
narcotics. I don't do
any of those things. I'm
a gambler but I've been
accepted. You know what
that means?
I've spoken twice at the
National Press Club in
Washington, D. C., and
that's reserved for
foreign and national
dignitaries. I've even
addressed the United
States Senate -- and I'm
a gambler, you
understand? You shoulda
heard the questions they
asked me: One big-shot
senator asked me
something and I
answered, "Well, sir, I
really and truly don't
think that's any of your
business," and the room
broke up. No one else
would talk to him that
way, but I got away with
it.
Dana: Do you stake a lot
of guys in poker?
Slim: No ma'am. I help
some guys but I don't
stake a lot of guys.
Here's why: Turn it
around and you could
never arrange a scenario
when I would ask them to
stake me. If I was cold
broke and destitute, I
wouldn't ask anyone
around here to stake me,
so I'd feel like a fool
if I staked one of them.
Everyone who wants to
borrow says, "Oh, I'm
good for it."
I answer, "You're good
for it? Then why don't
you get it from somebody
you know here in Vegas?
I live in Amarillo." You
look at it like you're a
mark, a sucker, a fool,
know what I mean?
I did it for a little
while when I first came
out here because I was
used to dealing with
people on a different
level, people who were
reputable and honorable.
I never did lend anybody
$20,000 that I didn't
get paid -- and I never
did lend anybody $200
and get it back. Now
that tells you
something: He's a $200
sonnagun to start with
if that's all he asks
you for.
Dana: What are doing
these days, Slim?
Slim: Nothin'. I'm the
same as always, the same
everyday. I don't play
that much poker anymore,
hardly play at all. I'm
building some golf
courses and go quail
hunting nearly every
day. And I go to all the
sporting events, the
Masters golf tournament,
the World Series of
Poker, the Super
Bowl of football,
the National Finals
Rodeo, go to Europe
three or four times a
year, get a six-pak of
young blondes and
cabaret once in a while.
I'm not being boastful,
just tellin' you what I
do with my time. I don't
think I'm pretentious
about anything.
My wife and I are very
fond of and protective
toward our three
children. We have six
little filly grandbabies
and one little boy
grandchild, and they are
our life. We have a
6,800 square-foot home,
looks like a hotel -- I
have my own golf course
in my back yard, a
professional tennis
court, a king-sized
swimming pool.
I'm 70 years old now, my
birthday's December 31st
and Benny's was
Christmas Day. I hear
everyday from people,
"Slim, you're the same
as you were 30 years
ago." I'm at peace with
me and you and my Maker,
the whole world, you
know what I mean? And I
don't take this gaming
as seriously as most
people.
Dana: You don't need it
to make a living.
Slim: Probably not. I'm
in an unusual position.
A guy called me about a
month ago who was doing
a book about Stu Ungar.
I told him I wouldn't be
a good person to talk to
about Stu. I'm real
square about drugs and I
don't make no bones
about it. "I wouldn't be
very complimentary," I
told him. He said he
understood, and that's
why he wanted to talk
with me. I liked ... no,
I tolerated ... Stu but
I resent what he stood
for, you know what I'm
sayin'?
Mike Sexton says to me
the other day, "Slim I
have your phone number,
it's been the same
forever, but what's your
mailing address?"
"Mike," I answer, "all
you've gotta do is send
it to Amarillo Slim,
Amarillo, Texas, and
I'll get it." No one in
the world believes that,
but it's true. Some
author from Virginia
mailed me a letter at
that address along with
a $10 bill and a
return-address postcard.
I was to keep the $10
and mail the postcard
back to him.
The letter was stamped
"Insufficient Address"
by the post office but I
got it anyway. Then
somebody called the long
distance operator at
area code 806 and asked
for the phone number of
Amarillo Slim -- and the
operator gave it to him.
As well as I love life,
that's the truth!
In my hometown, I'm
known. Amarillo's a good
town and the population
has been the same for
the past 30 years, never
varies -- every time
some woman gets
pregnant, some man
leaves town.
Dana: You're bad, Slim
Slim: I don't mean
nothin' when I talk bad,
OK?
Dana: I understand -- I
read your book, you
know. |
