Clarence Henderson
Henderson Consulting International, Manila, Philippines

Add your comments on this month's column to the APMF discussion board

If you like to gamble, you might want to check out the gaming tables of Casino Filipino. Filipinos, most of whom never met a game of chance they didn't like, throw themselves into the action in search of elusive dreams and easy come wealth. Like gamblers everywhere, most lose their money. Some are more addicted than others, some lose their pesos faster than others, but the house's built-in edge grinds most of 'em down. That's why Bugsy Siegel set up shop in the blazing Sahara of Nevada when everybody thought he was nuts and why American states are falling all over themselves to get into the casino biz.

In each and every game, the house beats the player by a certain percentage. Known as the "vig" (short for vigorish) in the pits of Vegas, the house's advantage ranges from 1.4% at baccarat to 5.27% at the roulette table to 22% at keno to off the charts at the well-named one-armed bandits. The bottom line: if you play casino games over a period of time, the theory of probability will catch up with you. Ain't no getting around it.

Blackjack generally conforms to this profile. However, even though the house makes huge profits from the great majority of players (chumps) who don't know how to play the game, there is one crucial difference. Instead of the vig staying fixed at a certain percentage against the player as in other casino games, the odds fluctuate depending on the composition of the deck or shoe. Sometimes they favor the house, sometimes they're dead even, and - the key point - sometimes they favor the player. Thus, the player with the discipline and savvy to study the game, learn basic strategy, and control compulsions has a shot at, as Edward O. Thorp put it in the book that first revealed this amazing secret to the world, "beat the dealer."

Bonus Gonzo Blackjack Tales:

Before talking about the Manila casino world, how about a couple of quick flashbacks? Don't worry, the tales have something to do with playing in Manila casinos on the eve of the millenium, and I'll retrieve the chain of thought eventually.

Story #1, early 1970's: In my youth, I found myself trapped in the maw of the military-industrial complex, alienated and burned out after a gut-wrenching year spent in Southeast Asia. When I returned to the world, as Vietnam vets put it, I still had two years left on my hitch. The setting was a radar site in Nevada's high desert, somewhere amongst Tucson to Tucumcari, Tehatchipi to Tonopah, a hundred miles southeast of Reno. The perfect environment for depressurizing and regaining my sanity after some crazy-making experiences.

I taught myself to count cards at the kitchen table, courtesy of Thorp and Revere, using pennies as silver dollars, nickels as five-dollar chips, on up the line. The friendly gaming tables of the local sawdust joints beckoned, however, and I soon made the El Capitan Hotel and Casino my home away from home.

When I worked graveyards, I bookended each shift with blackjack. On the way to work I stopped off to play for a couple of hours. Even though that was the busiest time of day, I usually located a third base seat, the seat to the right of the dealer, strategic position for optimal card counting. I gambled for small stakes, allowing me to avoid the bugaboo of the counter - being spotted by the pit boss and getting barred from playing. Besides, when the dealers and pit bosses learned that I lived in town and was one of Uncle Sam's boys, I was welcomed with open arms as a Regular.

After working all night, I headed back. The El Cap was dead at seven a.m. and I was usually the only player at a table. I wasted no time getting to know all the dealers, most of them older women too shopworn to make it as legal prostitutes anymore. They were for the most part lonely and welcomed the chance to chat leisurely with a friendly young guy in between hands. They did all they could to help me win and allowed me to share in at least some of the intriguing gossip of the casino floor. I was unfailingly polite and toked (tipped) generously in return.

The only problem was addiction. I soon became a "fucking degenerate" (that's what Nevada natives who are compulsive gamblers call one another with a rueful grin), unable to control my own evil impulses. I had lines of credit at joints all over northern Nevada. All I had to do was walk in and the pit boss would slide some chips in front of me. If I won, fine and dandy - I returned the chips and walked out the door with my winnings. If I lost, I signed a marker before leaving for the night. Valuing little things like kneecaps and fingers, I always paid up promptly and with a smile.

I became hooked on Texas Hold Em, now the standard for the World Series of Poker and high stakes games around the world, but brand new in the early '70s. I did pretty well in the local game, thanks largely to infusions of fresh meat in the form of California tourists ("turkeys") who had no clue and might as well have been throwing their money down the toilet.

Unfortunately, as soon as I won a few bucks at the local game I'd start itching for the Big Time. I'd hit the road, perhaps to Reno's old Mapes Hotel, decrepit and stinky yet elegant in an old-time sort of way, or maybe to the Union Plaza or Four Queens in the heart of Vegas' Glitter Gulch. Those games were populated by pros who were quite happy to see my smiling face (speaking of fresh meat). They all carried thick wads of c-notes neatly folded in their silver-turquoise money clips and played to win without mercy. Me? I had the requisite turquoise money clip, and it was also thick with bills. However, most featured Washington rather than Franklin, although I was exceedingly careful that only Ben's smiling face was visible. Not surprisingly, I incurred significant bruises and usually limped back to my desert home with my tail between my legs.

By the time I made it to the end of my military hitch, I had tamed most of the demons and was no longer quite as compulsive. My blackjack game had gotten better and I even drew some pleasure out of finally getting barred from a casino, some sawdust place in Tonopah if I remember correctly. I had developed a local reputation and damn near stayed in Nevada after I got discharged to be a professional dealer. Sometimes, in odd states of mind, I think I shoulda gone for it. ...Geez, I coulda been a pit boss by now.

Story #2, 1982: Lest the reader think that I've wasted my life gambling compulsively, a quick rebuttal. After surviving my hitch and returning to civilian life at age 23, I went straight, left the joints of towns like Elko and Winnemucca behind in my rear view mirror, and overcame most (if not quite all) of my addictions. I spent several years being earnest and getting way overeducated, working my way through Indiana University and on to the ivied halls of Cornell University. In all, almost a decade without so much as a game of chance.

In late '82, as part of my academic job as development economist and statistical analyst, I journeyed to the Philippines as a USAID consultant. Upon hitting Manila, I quickly located the nearest Casino Filipino. Waves of nostalgia, indeed. The games were leisurely, the women beautiful, the sounds and vibes familiar as I located an open third base seat. I was pleased to discover that I had retained enough of my earlier knowledge to more or less track the deck. My basic strategy remained intact (hell, I suppose that when I'm delirious and dying of Alzheimers at age 85 I'll still be able to tell you to always hit a 16 against an 8, double down on 10 against everything but face cards and aces, stand on 12 against 5 or 6, and hit 13 against 2-3-4).

Casino Filipino, however, was a far cry from the old El Cap. The pace was excruciatingly slow, even dream-like, and the Filipinos clustered around the tables were chattering to one another like they had known each other since childhood. Little old ladies were scrambling from table to table placing side bets, including on my hand. However, I quickly forgave the fundamental weirdness of the experience, especially since my winnings on the first night were sufficient to pay my hotel bill for a good two weeks.

I returned the following night, hoping for more of the same. While I didn't win that night, I actually got a pretty good bonus. Seems I was hustling the Filipina playing next to me and gave her my business card and local phone number. I got a call the next day from her cousin, curious to check out the visiting Amerikano. I talked her into dinner that same night, proposed three days later, and have remained partnered with her for the past 17 years. And all thanks to the depths of sin and degradation (first it's a little emerniscent of wine from a teaspoon, then beer from a bottle, and before you know it your son'll be playing for money in a pinchback suit, as Dr. Harold Hill would say).

Fast Forward: Back to Manila's Gambling Scene:

Sorry about the nostalgia, couldn't resist. Now that I am no longer a senseless young fool, and no longer likely to put the house, jewelry, stereo, TV, or clothes on my back in hock, I find the occasional foray to the blackjack tables in Manila quite therapeutic, ranking right up there with a good deep tissue massage or basketball game, if not sex. Following are a few things to bear in mind when you play here.

First and foremost, relax! The game is played at a snail's pace and neither the dealers nor players are ever in a hurry. Seemingly endless side bets are allowed; on a busy night, every betting spot has several piles of chips lined up. It's consistent with the Filipino preference for group activities and the socializing is a key part of the game. However, it takes forever for the payoffs on each hand to be made. The pace is also slowed by the friendly banter and teasing that goes on between dealer and players. The dealers cheer blatantly for the players to win, commiserate with them when they lose, and look absolutely heartbroken when they hit a natural (21).

All in all, it does take some getting used to. I try to maintain a certain zen state of mind and meditate a bit as things unfold. Counting cards is second nature, and there are so many delays I have plenty of time for checking out the many cute Filipinas and fending off the occasional hooker. In other words, take the time to watch the human drama unfold. Your bankroll will stretch a long time, and there's no way you can go bust at the machine gun speed administered by a Vegas dealer on speed.

The excruciatingly slow pace is good and bad for the erstwhile counter. On the plus side, there's plenty of time to count and the cards are all dealt face up. Practice for a while with one of the many blackjack programs for your PC and you'll be able to keep a pretty accurate count. On the downside, the number of hands dealt per hour is so limited that you really, really have to be patient waiting for the odds to shift in your favor. Even when that happens, it's a matter of small changes in percentages; even when the deck is favorable to the player you will still often lose. Card counting only pays off over the long term, with serious commitment and discipline. I reckon that you get to play no more than 20% of hands per hour at Casino Filipino as compared to Vegas, which means it can take a long time indeed for profits to be made.

Gambling is, of course, a serious addiction for many, in Manila casinos as elsewhere. If you watch carefully, you will observe human beings in various phases of deterioration. The house doesn't extend credit to the hoi polloi, although there are loan sharks about. You might perchance observe a somewhat shopworn but nonetheless still beautiful Filipina playing beside you early in the evening. Later, she'll sit down beside you again, but those glittering diamond earrings she had on earlier are no longer there, hocked to one of the little old ladies who hang out in the women's room of the Sofitel with ready cash (at incredible discounts) for those who absolutely must keep on playing. (Hey, I wasn't in there, I heard about it on the street).

The rules here are about as favorable to the player as you'll find anywhere. The dealer stands on soft 17, you can split any two cards, and double on splits -- all plays that shift the odds ever so slightly in your favor. The pit bosses don't pay much attention to the players and card counters are so unusual that there's apparently no risk of being barred, no matter how wildly you vary your bets. If you play good basic strategy you will have to put up with incredulous stares and insults in muttered Tagalog, as the average Filipino player plays very poor blackjack. However, you must stick to your guns and play the game properly if you want to win.

As you can probably tell by now, I have tremendous confidence in my blackjack game and strongly believe in the science of card counting. However, my lovely wife insists that I carry a mojo bag and put on a certain magickal oil before I hit the floor. Not wanting to take any chances, I abide by her wishes and make occasional visits to the comfort room to apply the oil as instructed, once on each wrist and then on the forehead (the third eye). You never can tell. Besides, the stuff stinks so bad that it repels women, which might actually be why she makes me use it.

Wishing you suwerte (good luck)...

Note: The Philippines Amusement and Gaming Corporation (PAGCOR) runs three casinos in Metro Manila (Hotel Sofitel/Grand Boulevard Hotel, Roxas Boulevard by the Aristocrat Restaurant, tel. (632) 526-0122; Holiday Inn Manila, United Nations Avenue, tel. (632) 523-8691; Heritage Hotel, Roxas Blvd. corner EDSA, tel. (632) 891-7851). Other PAGCOR facilities are located in Angeles City (Century Resort Hotel), Olongapo, Tagaytay (Taal Vista Hotel), Cebu (Waterfront Island Hotel and Casino, Mactan Interational Airport, tel. (6332) 340-5194), Bacolod (Goldenfields Complex, tel. (6334) 20504/20809), Davao, and Laoag. Blackjack table limits are generally P 200-4000 (US $5-100) or P 300-6000 (US $7.50-$150). For more information on card counting, consult Edward O. Thorp's classic Beat the Dealer, Lawrence Revere's Playing Blackjack as a Business, or Ken Uston's Million Dollar Blackjack. You can access a good discussion group at rec.gambling.blackjack, and purchase serious gambling books online at www.conjelco.com.

Clarence Henderson

Comments, questions?... Post a note to the APMF discussion board (See left hand sidebar) or email Clarence direct