Chapter 54 - Are You Good at Math?
I'd come here once before with Big Tom Foley, but back then, my job was security, so I hadn't really paid close attention to the casino itself.
Heading down the stairs to the basement, there was another door, and after stepping inside, a long hallway appeared.
It looked like the right side of the corridor was walled off with a partition. A corridor this long is probably meant to buy time to escape in case the police raid the place.
"The boss isn't here today, so you'll be meeting with the manager. The weekly pay here isn't bad, so just ask for any job they have."
"Thanks for looking out for me."
Salvatore gave a brief chuckle. Guided by him, I came face to face with the manager of The Big Bankroll—a hefty man in his mid-thirties named George McManus.
"How old are you?"
"Seventeen."
"I heard your mother's Irish. We don't have any Asians working here, but if you've got skill, what do your race or nationality matter? Meyer and Irving recommended you. As long as you're in one piece and quick on the uptake, I don't see any reason not to hire you."
McManus asked what I was good at. When he asked if I was quick at math, I nodded, of course.
"If you're playing poker with five others, and you're dealt a King of Diamonds and Queen of Spades, but the dealer lays out Ten of Diamonds, Nine of Clubs, and Two of Hearts, what are the odds of you completing a straight?"
"······."
What kind of calculation is that?
This guy's messing with me.
Wage: 15 cents an hour.
The shift ran from 9 p.m. to 7 a.m.
Ten hours on the clock for a total of $1.50.
"New guy, Table 5."
On the tray were a glass of Old Overholt whiskey and a plate of fried potatoes and corn fritters.
I balanced it as I walked from the kitchen to the assigned table.
On the way, I locked eyes with Meyer Lansky, who was dealing cards at a poker table.
So that's what it means to be good at math.
After our brief eye contact, Meyer's hands moved expertly, shuffling and distributing the cards.
As someone who struggled with math, I was convinced everyone had their own strengths.
There's no reason to feel inferior.
Just look at Irving.
He was shuffling around with an enormous tray hung from his shoulders, hawking food to the customers.
It suddenly hit me again: if you're not smart, you have to work harder with your body—an unchanging truth.
"Watch where you're going."
"Sorry."
I set down the drinks and snacks at Table 5 and stood awkwardly in a corner.
The place was quite spacious, half bar and half casino.
Even though the management probably greased some palms, there was always the chance the place could get raided out of the blue.
That's why I figured the split setup was a kind of cover.
Since the clientele was upper class, the interior was quite upscale.
A golden chandelier on the ceiling cast a gentle light, the walls were finished with walnut, and green velvet curtains lent an air of sophistication.
The thick Persian Carpet muffled footsteps, making each step feel luxuriously soft.
Gentlemen in tuxedos crowded around the craps and poker tables, while women draped in sparkling diamonds lingered near the roulette wheel.
Waiters like me were stationed between the tables, taking orders and serving guests.
Right before the outcome was decided, a tense silence would fall— punctuated by the spinning roulette wheel, rolling dice, and the shuffle of cards.
Moments later, the quiet would explode into cheers or groans.
The busiest hours were from midnight to 3 a.m.
At some point, the crowd thinned like the tide going out, giving me a moment to catch my breath.
But then I was assigned another task.
"The truck's here. Head down and unload the goods!"
A crowd of us hustled up the stairs, where an RMCT (Reliance Motor Car and Truck Company) truck was parked out front, loaded with wooden crates.
"Be careful not to break anything!"
The wooden crates were filled with bottles of alcohol.
These were goods that had come in after passing through a brewery or changing hands in the supply chain.
Of course, since this was before Prohibition, the process was legal.
"Hey, newbie! Don't just stand there spacing out—move it, damn it."
Irving nudged me. The two of us grabbed a crate and carried it down to the basement warehouse.
There were a lot of hands, so unloading finished quickly.
About fifteen of us were on the job, but I didn't see any of the casino dealers.
Like me, the waiters, and the muscle-bound bouncers like Salvatore, were put to work loading and unloading.
Here, I was just a working machine.
The damn Boss filled every gap between jobs with more work.
But that meant there was a lot to learn.
Even a machine needs time for a little oil.
As soon as there was a short break, Irving spoke to me.
"First day's a lot, huh?"
"I can handle it well enough."
"Honestly, it's better than shining shoes, right? The hourly pay's not bad, either."
Irving seemed genuinely satisfied with his job. Irving did envy Meyer, who seemed more sophisticated and earned a higher hourly wage, but he knew his own place. Or rather, he underestimated himself.
"Meyer's smart. He's quick with numbers, too. Someone like me can't even be compared to him."
"You just haven't found your thing yet. I'm sure you're good at something, too. By the way—"
What was I supposed to make of the fact that they hired me based on employee recommendations?
On top of that, I was the only Asian here.
"Why did they hire me?"
"Didn't the Boss say anything? Oh, right, only the Manager, McManus, was here today."
Like a parrot, Irving repeated what McManus had said earlier: that he wanted to keep 'smart and capable young people' close by.
"Even Black folks work here, you know. Nobody really cares about race or nationality."
There used to be a Black community tucked away in one corner of the Tenderloin.
As more Black people gradually moved north to Harlem in Manhattan, the few who remained found work as musicians or staff at jazz clubs and nightlife spots.
"Boss Rostein only cares about what you can do. If you prove yourself, you could land a real position here, too."
That name sounded very familiar.
This place was a casino, and the boss's name was Rostein? For a moment, that name flashed through my mind.
"Is the boss Arnold Rostein by any chance?"
"Yeah, apparently he's really famous in the industry."
Just as Irving said, he was indeed famous.
And going forward, he'd only become even more so.
Arnold Rostein was the mentor who raised Mafia men like Meyer Lansky and Charles 'Lucky' Luciano.
Since it's come to this, I should build a direct connection with the boss. If it's Arnold Rostein, he's definitely worth it.
As I was thinking about who could introduce me to him—
Meyer Lansky showed up.
"Welcome, Ciaran. You wouldn't listen to me whenever I called you here, but the moment Salvatore convinces you, you come running."
"It just worked out that way. By the way, are you any good at math?"
"Why do you ask?"
I told him about the question Manager McManus had asked me earlier.
"Let's say you're playing poker with five people. You've been dealt the King of Diamonds and the Queen of Spades. The three community cards the dealer turns up are the 10 of Diamonds, 9 of Clubs, and 2 of Hearts. What are the odds you'll complete a straight?"
Meyer thought for a moment before speaking.
"Sounds like McManus gave you a poker problem. Since we're talking about a straight, the suits don't matter. You're holding a 9 and a 10. The community cards that have been revealed are a Queen, a King, and a 2. To make a straight, you need an 8 and a Jack, which is 11."
There are 52 cards in a deck.
Out of those, the dealer has revealed 3 cards, and six players have each been dealt two cards, so that's another 12 cards to subtract.
"If you take 15 out of 52, you're left with 37. Of those, you'll need any of the 8s and Jacks—spades, hearts, diamonds, clubs—for a total of 8 cards."
So, out of the remaining 37 cards, 8 will complete my straight.
"That's 21.6%."
"Knew it, Meyer. You really are a math genius."
Irving made a big fuss about it,
even though he didn't know if it was right or not.
Of course, I was the same way.
There was no way to verify it, so let's just say it's correct.
I'd heard that in casinos, the odds are adjusted according to the bets placed—it seems only someone like Meyer could actually figure that out. And as for the boss, Arnold Rostein, I recall hearing in the books that he was also good at math.
While we were talking, a group approached us.
"Hey, rookies. What are you two doing, just standing around?"
These were the bouncers who handled any problems that arose inside the casino. Italians like Salvatore were in charge outside, while the inside was managed by Jewish guys.
"Meyer, these are your friends, right?"
"Yeah, they're friends who used to shine shoes on the Lower East Side."
As always, there were plenty of people curious about my background. Pointless chatter went back and forth until, a bit later, another man joined the group and acted like he knew me.
"Isn't he the guy who used to hang around with the Marginals? Am I right?"
"The Marginals from Hell's Kitchen?"
They treated me like I was crazy, saying I lived on the Lower East Side but hung out with the gang from Hell's Kitchen.
Still, because Meyer was the boss's favorite, nobody crossed the line.
"Rookie. We'll be keeping an eye on you, so you'd better shape up."
"When the older guys give you a job, you jump right on it, got it?"
Let's just chalk it up to territorial behavior.
This, too, is an experience that will become part of who I am.
***
After finishing work, I took the streetcar home.
Mother was making breakfast, and my younger siblings were getting ready for school. Roa, who happened to be getting dressed, came running as soon as she saw me.
"Big Brother, is our family in trouble?"
"Hm?"
"Why are you working night and day like this? You don't have to buy me meat, Big Brother. When I grow up, I'll buy it myself with my own money."
Roa's eyes began to well up. Mother, who was frying potatoes, shook her head.
"I tell her everything's fine, but she just doesn't believe me. Ciaran, would you please talk to Roa?"
I bent down so I was eye-level with Roa and gently patted her head.
"It's not because we don't have money—I'm working to learn, that's all. It'll just be for a little while."
"Sit down. How long is 'a little while'? For me, 'a little while' really means just a little while. The time it takes to chew meat is pretty long, too."
"...Hmm. Well, it'll take much longer than it takes to chew meat. Anyway, for now, I'll buy you the meat, but when you're grown up, you have to buy me some, okay?"
Roa nodded, leaned in close, and whispered,
"I don't know about Little Brother, but I promise I'll buy you some, Big Brother. I'll even cook it myself. I watched everything you did."
"Oh, I'm looking forward to it. You'd better grow up fast."
"But to grow big, I need more meat. This really never ends."
Looking caught in a dilemma, Roa rubbed her temple and shook her head. Just then, Liam asked,
"But Brother, where are you working?"
"Tenderloin."
Liam drew in a sharp breath. At his age, there's no way he doesn't know what kind of place Tenderloin is.
"I heard some kids at school work there, too, and the stories I've heard are pretty..."
"What do you mean, 'pretty...'?"
"Never mind. You don't need to know."
"Little Brother, you know what Roa said. If you stop in the middle of saying something…"
"What?"
"See? Now you're curious, aren't you? You'll spend the whole day wondering about it, wondering and wondering."
Liam could probably guess what the rest was.
He probably wanted to say that the Tenderloin is a dangerous place, full of temptations.
It's just for a short time, just a short while.
After we finished eating, the family scattered in all directions.
I stayed home alone, drew the curtains, lay on the bed, and tried to get some sleep.
I pictured the layout of the casino and the placement of the staff in my mind.
It was only a single day, but I learned quite a bit.
First of all, it's impossible to launch a business of that scale overnight. You need seasoned dealers and people skilled in management.
I slept late into the afternoon, then dropped by my mother's company for a meeting.
Once work was done and evening came, I took the streetcar again and made my way about three kilometers down Broadway to the Tenderloin.
While working, there was also some subtle discrimination. Among the waiters, there was also what you might call a pecking order, and they tried to dump their work on me or boss me around.
Sometimes, someone would try to start trouble by calling me "Chink," and I kept a mental checklist of every one of them.
On my fourth day working at the casino like that,
I finally met the boss who had hired me.
He was a man in his mid-to-late thirties, with short hair slicked back and a prominent hooked nose.
Arnold Rostein, the boss of The Big Bankroll Casino, came up to the kitchen where I was working.
"I'm Ciaran Graves, the new hire."
"I know. By the way, I see McManus got obsessed with his math problems again."
Rostein looked at the tray I was holding and let out a wry smile. All the nearby employees wore confused expressions.
Rostein's next move left them even more bewildered.
"To think they handed you a tray—shows they really don't know how to judge people. Come with me for a moment."
He was the biggest gambler and entrepreneur in America, known as "The Brain."
Arnold Rostein understood better than anyone that, as his operations grew, he needed talented people.
That's how he later became the mentor who nurtured legendary mafia figures like Meyer Lansky, Charles "Lucky" Luciano, Bugsy Siegel, and Dutch Schultz.
I figured it was time to get my piece of the pie.
When I followed Rostein into his office, a familiar face greeted me. It was Big Tom Foley from Tammany Hall.
Maybe it was because of my uniform, but Tom Foley's smile quickly turned into surprise.
"So you really work here— as a waiter, huh. My lifesaver, reduced to serving tables..."
"This all happened while I was away. I'm a bit surprised myself."
Rostein quietly looked to Tom Foley for his reaction.
"So, what's the real reason you're bothering to wait tables here?"
A few days ago, I'd let Tom Foley know that I was working here.
I wanted this kind of conversation to happen.
"I want to gain some experience."
"Experience?"
"I've started to take an interest in casinos."
"So that's what it is. I thought something was up."
Tom Foley nodded as if he understood, then turned to look at Rostein.
"Give him a hand, will you?"
"Anyone with talent is always welcome here."
Today, I had added a powerful new connection in Arnold Rostein.