Lucky Sneak Peek
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Last Saturday was the final Concert for my residency. I played some of the songs I’ve written for Árabe and songs written by participants in the workshops. It was so fun to share what everyone wrote and to hear their inspiration and process. Some songs were performed by participants, others were stripped down acoustic lullabies, some made you cry, and others made me want to dance. They are all works in progress and I’m hoping that participants will want to write more lyrics and more songs in the future. You can watch the whole concert on YouTube here!
One of the songs I shared from Árabe was Lucky which is about gambling. I imagine it being played on mandolin and with more string instruments. Below is the draft essay with more about the history and background of gambling in my family and in El Paso, as well as the song.
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Mega millions, Texas lotto, scratch offs, bingo, slots, craps, blackjack, sports betting, and horse racing - you name it, my grandparents play it. They’ve given scratch offs for Christmas since I was in elementary school, had family reunions in Vegas, and even had their own lucky 7s slot machine in their living room where we would recycle quarters playing before meals.
I remember going to Sunland Park Racetrack and Casino and sitting with my Gido in the Turf Club. The club was full of tiered tables so no matter where you sat you had a view of the freshly combed track through the tinted windows. My brother, cousins, and I would sit with our lemonades and chicken strip baskets picking the horses we wanted to win purely based on their names. On the opposite end of the racetrack was the buffet where my Grammie would sometimes take me to get alfredo pasta, fried fish, jello, bread rolls, and enchiladas. In the middle of the building was the casino, my Sito’s domain, an elusive dark area shielded by heavily tinted sliding doors which was finally opened up to me when I was 21.
Showing my ID to the guard, I walked through the sliding doors with my Sito breathing in the cigarette smoke. She quickly started looking around the open area filled with flashing machines and short dinging sounds, assessing which machines were in use, and motioning for me to follow her to a quieter corner.
“Now, here is the denomination” she said pointing to the bottom right corner of a slot machine that read 1 cent.
“You put in your money here, see what lines win with this chart, and select your betting lines here,” motioning to the buttons reading 5x, 10x, 15x, and MAX BET. The chart had every color line sprawled in every possible winning line combination. It was confusing and looked like a transit map.
“Never think you’re going to come in here and make rent. You only spend what you’re willing to lose and don’t go into that room.” It was labeled High Roller and had a minimum of $5 which was hefty compared to the penny machines.
“Here’s some masadi and call me if you need me.” She turned and was off.
I watched her beeline for the poker machines and stop to talk to the custodial worker before making her decision about where to sit. I’ve learned that my Sito has friends in every casino from New Mexico to Vegas. People who work there and regulars that share information about which machines have hit, which ones are due, and commiserate about their losses.
I walked through the aisles, looking out for the 1 cent machines, settling on a Double Cherries crank slot that sat in front of one of the few windows in the room. I took a seat in the black pleather seat, always comfortable because they want you to stay, and slid my money in. I bet the least amount, 5 cents, and played until I cashed out with a grand total of $0.02. I kept that 2-cent voucher and stuck in my mirror as a reminder of my luck.
These casino outings have become a routine with my Sito. Whenever I’m in town, we go to play the slots together. Her winning, me playing for the free games off Double Cherries and free drinks.
Do the lines know she’s playing
As she punches the max bet
Pouring all the weeks frustrations
Into her dicey outlet
Watching those sevens tumble
Away like her concerns
it always hits the sweet spot
increasing her returns
She walks knowing the landscape
Every buzzer, crank and word
Her eyes always searching for
The ones her ears’ not heard
The usuals know what’s coming
When she closes in on one
Winning doubles and free games
It’s something more than fun
Play play play lucky
Lucky in the bones
Bones that hold the tricks of knowing
Knowing ties of old
Play play play lucky
Lucky in the bones
Bones that know the touch of loving
Loving all you hold, all you hold
Is it a Danger or a dedication
Comfort or a culture
A risk or a ritual
A streak or a skill
an escape or an expense
Temptation or tradition
A condition or a cure
Or just a habit for the thrill
to Play play play lucky
Lucky in the bones
Bones that hold the tricks of knowing
Knowing ties of old
Play play play lucky
Lucky in the bones
Bones that know the touch of loving
Loving all you hold, all you hold
She never told her secrets
Til her granddaughter came
Came to her church of worship
To learn to play her game
How to bet, how much and when to quit
When to move on and when to hit
Sharing her history bit by bit
So that she can play on and on, on and on…
Play play play lucky
Lucky in the bones
Bones that hold the tricks of knowing
Knowing ties of old
Play play play lucky
Lucky in the bones
Bones that know the touch of loving
Loving all you hold, all you hold
In the late 1800s, El Paso was a gambling city. Although it was and still is illegal in Texas, El Paso was largely funded by the fines collected from gamblers. During the Mexican Revolution a significant number of middle-class Mexicans moved to El Paso which spurred a construction of social institutions in Central Downtown and the Sunset Heights district where my family lived. One of these social institutions was Casino Mexicano located in the Toltec building which was a men’s club that was frequented by Pancho Villa. Today it has a bar and bail bonds. Prohibition followed in the 1920s, and El Paso and Juarez became a major tourist center because gambling, drinking, and other vices were more tolerated here than in other parts of the state.
Syrians love to gamble too. I don’t mean to generalize but I have not met one who didn’t! The 1924 book by Dr. Philip Hitti “The Syrians in America,” mentions how gambling was the chief vice of Syrians and that very few came to the United States knowing how to gamble but even fewer stayed long without knowing and practicing it. My Sito’s mother used to organize a card game near H&H Car Wash in downtown El Paso, and her sister Marlene loved Stardust Casino in Vegas so much that the original 50s casino promo picture was printed on the back of her funeral program. The National Association of Syrian and Lebanese American Federation club held its yearly convention in Vegas and even the infamous Arabic El Paso Chagra brothers loved Vegas. They operated out of El Paso and Las Vegas drug smuggling marijuana from the border, laundering money through gambling ventures, and were later convicted for being involved in the assassination of John H. Wood Jr. the federal judge who was killed by actor Woody Harrelson’s dad in San Antonio.
Sunland Park Casino opened in 1959 and is right across the New Mexico border only 10 minutes away from my house. It’s our go to casino to play slots and watch horse races. There aren’t as many live races as there used to be and the number of crank machines is dwindling, being swapped out for the flashy electronic slots with big screens featuring wisteria trees and busty women from every country. But to be with strangers who are all hoping to hit the jackpot or just leave with what they came in with, to spend time with my Sito, and to just play whether I win or lose (which is most of the time), is something I’ll always say yes to.
In a review of one of my albums, a critic said that I sounded like a Vegas lounge singer. It wasn’t meant as a compliment but when I told my Sito she smiled and said “Oh wouldn’t that be something.”