A completely invisible method is when another hustler is seated to the right of the mechanic. The cheat can then set a tiny step in the cards after the shuffle, which his partner can easily cut to. This can also be attempted without an accomplice by bridging the upper portion of the deck before presenting the cards to be cut. This creates a natural point for the cards to break and, if the mark cuts in a consistent fashion, he can often be manipulated to break at the desired position.
A more direct approach is the “hop” or “shift,” where the cards are simply re-cut in the action of taking them into the dealing hand. This is a big risk—and not for the faint of heart—but expert mechanics can solve most problems with the cut and there are dozens of methods to accomplish this move. Many use both hands and a few can even be performed with just one, but all require great skill and expert timing. A much easier method is a bluff hop where the bottom half is picked up first, followed by the original top half. You might think this would appear obvious, but by performing some action between picking up each of the halves, such as tossing in a chip or moving a drink, the deception is rarely noticed and if caught, can easily be passed off as a mistake.
A few years ago, a wealthy businessman explained to me a procedure for passing the cards in his high-stakes private poker games. The deck was shuffled by the player to the dealer’s right and cut by the player to the dealer’s left, meaning that the person who actually dealt the cards had no control over the position of any cards in the deck. This is not an uncommon procedure to prevent cheating but it is a pointless one if two hustlers get into the game. All they need to do is sit either side of one sucker and they can easily locate cards, false shuffle, and false cut before letting the man in the middle deal the cards after they are stacked. When demonstrating these techniques to my clients, it soon becomes clear that there are many ways to beat any game no matter the conditions. I can think of hundreds of ways to beat the cut, but the most fascinating is a method that can be watched closely and does not break the cutting procedure. It requires the greatest skill imaginable.
Dealing cards from the bottom requires many years of practice and a high degree of dexterity, but in the hands of an expert, it can look exactly like the dealer is taking cards from the top. You could watch a gifted mechanic for hours without ever suspecting that he was dealing from the basement. The cut is the biggest problem for these cheaters because, if there’s too much heat to move,* culled (secretly located) cards are sent to the middle and all of the work required to set up would be wasted. This was true until Allen Kennedy, a grifter from Pleasant Hill, Missouri, invented a brilliant, seemingly impossible solution: the center deal.
The idea was simple. Instead of reversing the cut, a tiny brief was held between the two halves of the deck and maintained during the deal. Then, instead of taking cards from the bottom, Kennedy would squeeze them right out of the middle and into his right hand as he pretended to take the top card. If this sounds impossible, you’re almost right! In fact, the technique is so difficult that almost everyone who heard about it thought it must be some sort of pasteboard fantasy. Even today, only a handful of experts can perform the deal deceptively because of the high level of skill necessary. Many performers have learned to fake the second deal for their demonstrations, but few, if any, would risk their neck on dealing from the middle in a live game.
Any cheater willing to perfect and use such a move would certainly have a powerful weapon at his disposal, but as one mechanic told me, the only guy who ever used the sleight was probably Allen Kennedy! Nevertheless, the mere fact that such a sleight exists shows us that card thieves, like con artists, will go to any lengths to get the money.
Up the Sleeve
The cheater’s arsenal is filled with ingenious sleight of hand designed to overcome almost any obstacle. Over time, countless mechanical solutions have been invented to aid hustlers and sold through supposedly secret catalogs. Many of these contraptions claimed to replace traditional sleight of hand, but while a few were genuinely useful, they required the operator to master a new set of skills to avoid suspicion.
The 1932 issue of H. C. Evans’s “Secret Blue Book” contains everything one might need to open and operate a small gambling joint or medium-size back-room casino. From cards, dice, wheels of fortune, and chuck-a-luck cages to cash boxes, measuring equipment, tables, and printed chips, Evans’s catalog was a one-stop shop for all your underground or gambling needs. In the same book, among the legitimate paraphernalia, you would also find a fascinating selection of crooked dice, marked cards, machines to pull cards into your sleeve, and specially shaped spinning tops for the game of put and take.
At the time that this edition of the blue book was published, H. C. Evans & Company were in their fortieth year of successfully supplying games both fair and false and had a strong clientele on both sides of the table. Much of their merchandise was designed to give dishonest gaming establishments an unfair or unbeatable edge (there are six pages dedicated to hidden electromagnets), and a few items were sold purely for players to beat fair games, but the majority of the crooked confections were intended for gamblers to cheat each other. The truth was that many of the items being sold were fanciful contraptions with as much practical value as a pair of x-ray specs from the back pages of a comic book, but a few ingenious devices were (and still are) genuinely used by grifters and con men.
The variety of cheating devices is staggering and a few collectors have been able to build breathtaking assortments of now-rare items. In a handful of glass cabinets scattered across the globe, the catalogs of H. C. Evans, the K.C. Card Company, and others come to life and the toys and tools that were once sold from those pages can be handled and used. My own collection is tiny by comparison and visiting these secret museums can be a roller coaster ride of wonder and envy.
Most of these contraptions were impractical, but a few remain genuinely useful if the cheater is willing to master the necessary skills. “Bugs,” for example, are a simple method for hiding a card under the table and are usually nothing more than a spring or clip that would hold a card in place until needed. I own several bespoke bugs. They’re about as effective as another method: sticking a plastic spoon to the underside of a table so a card can be held out by the bowl of the spoon. A close friend uses cheap plastic clips that come with their own glue spot, ready to stick anywhere. No matter what method of holding a card is being used, the cheat must still learn to invisibly remove cards from the table and insert them into the bug, which takes both gall and skill—neither of which can be purchased from a catalog.
The wide selection of “hold-out” devices perfectly illustrates the variety of methods and ideas that serve the same purpose: to steal a card, hide it, and then secretly return it to play. “Bean shooters” are made of flexible plastic with a long, thin wire that can be threaded into the lining of a jacket at the mouth of the sleeve. A length of elastic is attached and pinned near the shoulder to create constant tension, so when the bean shooter is slid out of the sleeve and a card is inserted into the clip, it automatically returns to its hiding position. This simple device allows a cheater to turn any garment with a suitable sleeve into a seemingly practical hiding place for stolen cards. In truth, the bean shooter is an incredibly difficult gadget to operate. To consistently be able to extract the apparatus so that it meets the palmed card reliably takes practice, and even in the hands of an expert, the action required to steal or return a card can easily be spotted.
More elaborate machines appear to solve these problems by extending a metal plate called a “thief” out of the sleeve and back again, and the arm-pressure holdout features a switch that the cheater can operate by merely leaning on the table so that the lever is squeezed, extending a metal arm until the thief has been loaded. Elastic bands then return the device to the safety of the sleeve. I love this machine; I own one and often include it in my demonstrations, but I would never use one for real. It might have been worn in real games by a few brave souls, but as ple
asing as this Jacob’s-ladder contraption might be, it is more likely to put a bullet in your head than an ace up your sleeve.
With a holdout device the cheat must learn to palm cards so that the machine can steal and return them to the same position, but many hustlers hold out without devices, simply keeping a card palmed until they find an opportunity to use it. One technique even allows a hustler to place his hand flat on the table with his fingers spread; I’ve even seen security footage of someone sitting for over fifteen minutes with his hand apparently glued to the same spot until he finally got the cards he was waiting for! With a machine the hands are almost always clean (empty), and when used by an expert, the secret action is completely invisible. The 1932 edition of Evans’s “Secret Blue Book” contains a dozen methods to accomplish this but only one that has endured and that I have actually seen used during play.
Examining the wide selection of holdout devices offered in the Evans catalog, it is obvious there was clearly a great deal of interest in all these crooked devices. Many were intended to be nothing more than expensive novelties, especially once buyers realized the dangers of trying to use them under fire (in a live game with genuine danger of being caught). However, the Kepplinger device, named after its inventor, was a clear exception.
J. P. Kepplinger was so successful with his invention that in the late nineteenth century he became known in California as “The Lucky Dutchman.” His machine allowed him to move cards in and out of play invisibly and with much higher precision than other methods. The secret was a series of lines and pulleys, contained within a combination of bespoke narrow tubes and hinges that allowed the wearer to control the thief with a line of tight chord suspended between the knees. By opening and closing one’s legs under the table, the action of the holdout can be imperceptible.
Kepplinger made so much money that he eventually became complacent, taking too much from the same group of players until they became sure he was cheating; unable to see any evidence from across the table, they resorted to violence. In the middle of a big hand, Kepplinger was suddenly grabbed from behind and lifted out of his chair. When his coat was removed, the device was discovered. All seemed lost for the card shark until his attackers demanded that he make three more machines for them to use! The group teamed up and were soon the scourge of San Francisco’s card rooms.
The Kepplinger concept became a powerful utility device that is still used today. Whereas the original device was sewn into a jacket, variations like the Martin holdout allow the machine to be strapped to the arm and worn under the wearer’s shirt. Modern versions are operated by the foot, so there is no need to cut holes near the knees. This variation is known as a “toe-spread” (as opposed to a “knee-spread”), a name that once caused great pain to a close friend of mine.
After waiting years to find a working device, BF called me and asked if I could fly out and give him a lesson on how to operate it. Since I’m not a professional card shark, I had never used one under fire, but I could show him how to set it up and the sleight of hand required to position cards for the steal. Since it was intended for use in a magic trick, I agreed to help and jumped on the next plane to Madrid. When I arrived at his apartment, BF was limping. Since talking to me, he had been experimenting with his machine but complained that operating it hurt so badly, he was ready to give up and sell the damned thing. Confused, I asked him to demonstrate what he had been doing, and by the time he had finished setting up the machine, I was laughing so hard I could barely breathe.
My friend had figured out how to strap the apparatus to his arm and how to wear it under his clothes, but when it came to operating it with his foot, BF took off his sock to reveal a big toe that had turned completely black. He looped the wire around the same toe and then pushed his foot gently into a shoe. Grimacing, BF proceeded to demonstrate, but the amount of pressure required to operate the thief was so high that BF was literally strangling his toe to death! Had I not intervened it might have fallen off before he figured out that the wire was supposed to be placed over the outside of his shoe. In fact, many holdout men wear cowboy boots because the pointed toe is easier to use than a rounded one.
Gambling devices rarely come with instructions, so knowledge is often sold or traded between individuals. The prospective cheater then retires to practice for many hours a day until he or she can move without being detected. BF went on to use his machine in front of an audience, inviting them to stare at his hands as cards vanished and appeared before their eyes. If a magician can use a Kepplinger machine under those closely watched conditions, what chance would you have of spotting one in a game?
While the mechanics of this particular holdout have changed little since 1888, there are several ingenious variations on how and why it is used. One idea is to replace the thief with a mirror, angled to give the operator a table-level view of the cards being dealt, revealing enough information to gain a powerful advantage. A modern version of the same idea uses a tiny camera that is extended to see cards being dealt from a shoe. An even more sophisticated scam recorded the indices (the value and suit in the corner) of cards as the cheater rubbed a plastic cut-card along eight decks before inserting it for the dealer to cut. The rubbing action opened the deck just enough for the camera to see each card riffling off the plastic cut-card. This information was played back so the hustlers were essentially playing from a stacked deck. The “Secret Blue Book” also features shiners (mirrors) hidden in stacks of chips that allowed a crooked dealer to see every card he dealt. Modern variations contain tiny cameras and transmitters that can peek at cards being dealt by almost anyone at the table.
In 2010, security at Foxwoods Resort Casino in Connecticut became suspicious of two baccarat players who had been consistently winning and behaving in a way that suggested deception. When they removed the players from the casino floor, one was found to be wearing a modified version of the Kepplinger machine. He had been using the device while his partner covered any suspicious actions by waving a scorecard to distract the dealer. The casino’s security team was experienced enough to suspect that something was wrong; this consistent form of misdirection created a pattern they could identify, but the machine itself was almost undetectable. This one-hundred-year-old contraption was used to steal almost one million dollars from a modern casino, and while these two jokers got caught, more sophisticated hustlers are almost certainly getting away with the same scam elsewhere.
The old gaming catalogs record a point in time where there seemed to be a way to cheat almost any game. Some of these methods were so practical that they are still being used today, but as technology has continued to develop, cheating devices have become much more sophisticated. Computer software, used to process information for advantage players, can now be run on a smartphone and hidden in plain sight, instead of being taped under the player’s clothes with a network of wires. Crooked devices or gaffed apparatus alone don’t get cheaters very far. They all require skill—especially physical dexterity—to use successfully.
Hop
Gambling sleight of hand is all about getting the money and can vary from crude concealments to feats of skill so fantastic they are almost impossible to believe until you’ve seen them with your own eyes. In the last four hundred years, countless cheating techniques have been invented to achieve almost any outcome with an ordinary pack of cards. I have personally dedicated almost forty years to mastering hundreds of moves, and there is a growing community of magicians and cheating aficionados who collect and learn these methods without ever intending to use them. For a grifter, one good sleight, perfectly executed, can be the foundation of a cheating career. Very few are adept at more than a handful of techniques.
One exception was Roderick Dee, aka Rod The Hop.
I met Rod in 1997 and we quickly became friends. Whenever I was in Las Vegas, we would spend long nights trading secrets in The Peppermill restaurant on Las Vegas Boulevard. As a child, Rod was a keen amateur magician with a gift for difficult sleight of hand. As a te
enager, his interest drifted toward cheating and he was soon using his talents to steal from small money games. By the time we met, Rod was an expert mechanic but spent most of his time as a slot thief, using the latest technology to beat slot machines around Las Vegas.
With a deck of cards, Rod was unmatched. He preferred the smaller, plastic cards used in most card rooms at the time and could execute moves with frightening speed and accuracy. I had little to share in terms of cheating other than my personal methods and a couple of Gin Rummy moves I’d invented, but Rod had a voracious appetite for any form of deception. He loved good magic and we once spent several weeks improving conjuror’s moves by combining his approach as a cheat with mine as a magician.
Over the years that I knew him, Rod was in and out of prison, thanks to his addiction to easy money. He was always on the cutting edge of cheating devices for slot machines and at one point was using a method to register a one-dollar bill as a hundred, which the casinos insisted was impossible. That device was the last in a long line of doohickeys that included bright LEDs at the end of a long piece of plastic and stiff wire bent into the perfect shape to reach internal mechanisms, with countless variations adapted to different models of slot machine. Eventually, he returned to the card table as a mechanic for hire and was flown around the United States to deal winning hands for his employers. Not all of these were shady back-room games. Many were held in expensive homes owned by the rich and famous and Hop often found himself busting-out (beating) famous actors or sports personalities.
For Rod, his relationship with magicians proved to be a lifeline—an opportunity to use his skills to entertain. On several occasions he performed demonstrations of card table artifice for private groups. His close friendship with Jason England, a magician and expert on crooked gambling, helped Rod to stay out of trouble until Rod passed away in December 2013. Without Jason, I think Rod would have died in prison, because his love for conjuring was a powerful, positive influence on his life. For Jason and me, cheating is a world that we both might easily have slipped into, but knowing Rod has given us a valuable insight into what happens when you steal for a living. I might not believe in karma, but in my experience, cheating rarely has a positive effect on one’s life. Rod made hundreds of thousands of dollars in his career, but it was soon gone and his life was filled with troubles. For me, Rod was a dear friend, a confidant, and a constant reminder of the reality of being a cheat.
The Art of the Con Page 23
