ROBERT E. LEE'S $500.00 BILL

"THE TONIGHT SHOW," starring Johnny Carson was a hit late night TV talk show from 1962-1992, (4,531 episodes). The format combined guest performances and interviews. To fill in gaps, the show produced its own comic segments. My favorite of these routines was, "CARNAC THE MAGNIFICENT."

Johnny portrayed the mystic, Carnac. The schtick was introduced by Carson's sidekick, Ed McMahon.  Accompanied by exaggerated applause, Carnac came on stage dressed in a flowing black robe and turban with a rakish plume. 

McMahon would hold sealed envelopes for the audience to see, hand them to the clairvoyant and say, "Carnac, these envelopes have been hermetically sealed and left in a mayonnaise jar on Funk and Wagnalls porch since noon today! Nobody knows the contents of these envelopes. But you, in your infinite wisdom will ascertain the answers to these questions without hearing the question first." 

Carnac's wry response would be something like, "That's right bean-bag breath."
CARNAC WOULD HOLD THE ENVELOPE TO HIS TEMPLE AND CONCENTRATE ON DIVINING AN OUTRAGEOUS PUN FOR AN ANSWER. I THINK THE BEST EXAMPLE WAS, "INFIDEL." ED McMAHON WOULD TYPICALLY REPEAT THE ANSWER AND CAUSE A SARCASTIC REMARK FROM CARNAC. THEN CARNAC WOULD SAY IT AGAIN, "INFIDEL." AFTER HE OPENED THE ENVELOPE, HE'D READ THE NOTE INSIDE AND ANNOUNCE, "WHERE'S CASTRO'S LIVER?"

I can't count how many dozen Carnac skits I saw in my youth but I was in college I looked-up; hermetically, in the dictionary. It meant; airtight. In practical terms to assure that something is airtight, you might want to use a sealant like hot wax. 

Other than Carnac, this hermetic sealing concept has only popped-up one other time in my life.



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In my craps dealing days at the Stardust Casino in Las Vegas, my friend and coworker Robert E. Lee was a positive influence both inside and outside work. But nobody had more skeletons in their closet than him. In my 40+ years in the gaming industry--hell, in my entire life--Bob despite some hardcore eccentricities was the most universally beloved person I ever met. Few people had the talent and patience to defuse rabid degenerate gamblers, entertain and earn money for fellow dealers while also placating the most bi-polar, self-serving management stooges.

Seven eighths of the time, Bob was happy, funny, smart and generous. But upon a more in depth investigation, you'd discover he fought depression, his humor could be hurtful, he made tons of careless life choices and could be cheap and petty. So it might be disappointing to some readers that this piece barely scrapes Bob's hallmark; his addiction to sex.  Because the theme of this article will be a combination of his seldom seen negative qualities.
BOB LEE WAS BORN IN RURAL TENNESSEE. HE WASN'T RELATED TO THE FAMOUS CONFEDERATE GENERAL, BUT HE WAS NAMED AFTER HIM. MUCH OF BOB'S RICH PERSONALITY CAN BE TRACED BACK TO HIS MASTERY OF SOUTHERN CHARM AND HOSPITALITY.

I was (24) and Bob was (48) when we first met.  As I have discussed in previous stories his lovable nature was most noticeable because he was the unlikeliest babe hound.  Bob was small-framed, with kinky, graying hair and his wrinkled, leathery face that made him look older than he was.  Still, many times, I witnessed him literally charm the pants off women (craps players) regardless of age, ethnicity, marital status, body shape or looks.

In a similar fashion, his chatty, outgoing swagger and cute demeanor seduced customers and made him a legendary, tip earning magnet.

Bob took a liking to me and in a short time, he became my mentor. While never asking for anything in return, his beneficence in time and energy taught me important life skills plus; stock market strategies, real estate and other investment bonanzas as well as gardening, do-it-yourself home repairs, auto maintenance and so much more.

Still, I thought it strange that he gave me so much attention while not being involved with his own sixteen year old son and having little regard for his wife.  Far worse, it was discomforting to hear him bitterly rail against her.  Each time he and I met, he reminded me if I ever met Mrs. Lee, if she asked about our tip income, I was expected to cut the number in half.  Luckily, I never met her!

Unlike today's casinos, a lot of Stardust craps dealers took their daily tips (tokes) as undeclared income, (the I.R.S. caught up with many of them).  Bob didn't declare his and secretly kept his ever-growing cache from his misses.



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One night at work, Bob tried to turn me onto a penny stock. Lereck Oil was selling at twelve cents a share.

He said, "They're making a big merger announcement tomorrow and if we don't get in on the ground floor, we'll miss-out on the initial bump."

On less than four hours sleep, Bob was going downtown to be his broker's first customer of the day. I was intrigued but not enough to lose a night's sleep, to gamble, based on his say so, on a blind item.  I turned down the opportunity.

I CHOSE TO BELIEVE BOB.  BUT 38 YEARS LATER, I FOUND NOTHING ABOUT LERECK OIL ON THE INTERNET.  IF HIS CLAIM WAS ACCURATE, HE SIX-TIMED AN INVESTMENT OF $4,000, IN FOUR DAYS.

A week later, Bob came by my condo to show off the white, 1963, split window coupe Corvette he just bought for cash with the sale of his Lereck Oil stock.

He stroked the hood, "This beauty is an investment."

I said, "It looks like mental masturbation."

Bob said, "That's funny.  I gottta use that line.  But really.  This is original paint.  They call it ermine white.  And check out the red interior.  And those seats are real leather.  But what's really important is, I'm looking to retire in a couple of years.  So I take some chances but they're calculated chances."

BOB'S NEW CAR ALSO HAD "BE-BACK" VANITY LICENSE PLATES.  BE-BACK WAS A CATCHPHRASE (PLUS A TIME), HE USED WHEN TELLING THE WOMEN HE PICKED UP TO RETURN.

We wandered into my backyard garden that Bob had helped me cultivate. The former cement-like flower beds were now flourishing with vegetables and fruit. Had he not showed how to chop through the crusty earth, I never would have seen the moist soil, inches below the seemingly impenetrable desert surface.

Bob held up a stout zucchini and made sexual jokes about its length until saying, "After paying for the car, I added the leftover stock money to the stash I was telling you about. I now have over  30K laying around the house.  If my wife ever stumbled onto it, I'd be fucked."

I said, "How much did you invest?"

He ignored me, clawed at my soft, fertile soil and said, "You just gave me a great idea. I gotta go."

Two months went by. At work, I was trying to think of a way to ask Bob if he reached a solution to his hidden money dilemma. Those thoughts were interrupted when a player tried to buy-in on our craps game with a $500.00 dollar bill.

THE $500.00 BILL FEATURES THE PORTRAIT OF OUR 25th PRESIDENT, WILLIAM McKINLEY. IN 1934, THE U.S. GOVERNMENT, TO REDUCE THE RISK OF COUNTERFEITING AND SMUGGLING, STOPPED PRODUCING ALL BANKNOTES OVER $100.00. THESE BIG BILLS ARE SO RARE TODAY, THAT THE ONE I SAW THAT NIGHT IS THE ONLY ONE I EVER SAW IN CIRCULATION.

Before my immediate supervisor (the boxman) authorized the transaction, he stopped the game to examine the bill and confer with his boss (the floor person).  I'm sure they didn't know what they were looking for, as they resembled a forensic team searching for traces of plague. We remained at a standstill until our pit boss Chick Halversen was called over. He was perplexed too and paged the shift manager.

Bob said, "I'll take the chance Chick, I'll buy it off the game right now."

Halversen said, "It's out of my hands.  Let's hold it on the side, keep the game going till Pug, (shift boss Aldo "Pug" Pugliese) gets here."

Bob whispered to Don (another dealer), "I don't have enough.  Can I borrow a hundred off you?"

Don smiled, "Sure.  But what kind of collateral can you put up?"

"Collateral?  I'll give it back after we get our tokes."

Don said, "Last Christmas, remember you insisted on holding my $300.00 watch hostage overnight.  You called that collateral for forty stinkin' bucks.  Damn Bobby, what goes around comes around..."

Pugliese burst into the scene and met with Chick.

He took a scant glance and said, "I was having espresso with Donnie Steinmetz and you called me over here for this nonsense! Drop it and get a fucking roll."

The buy-in was completed but Bob called out, "Wait!"

Pug said, "Now what?"

Bob nodded at Don and said, "Can I buy the bill off the game right now?"

The big boss motioned for the bill to be plunged into the drop box and said, "Yeah but not here."

Bob said, "But?"

Pug said, "If you want it that bad, meet me at the casino cage with the money at 8:AM sharp! If you're ten seconds late, I know plenty of mugs who collect that kind of shit."

The next night I asked Bob, "Did you get the $500.00 bill?"

He said, "Yeah and its the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Why?"

"Because a couple of months ago, like an idiot, I buried that thirty grand under my rutabaga patch."

I said, "So?"

"You know when Carson does Carnac, right? Well, I stuck the whole business in a mayonnaise jar."

I shrugged, "Okay."

"Well I decided to dig it up to put the 500 bill in with the other money. I was shocked, a lot of the bills were in real bad shape. They were getting greenish-black from mold and the some of the edges were disintegrating."

I said, "Geez."

Bob continued, "Remember in the Carnac routine when Ed McMahon said the envelopes have been hermetically sealed...well that's what you have to do when burying paper. If you don't, when moisture seeps in, BAM, in no time, it fritters away to nothing."

I said, "You are lucky."

He said, "Its a good thing Vegas has a million casinos."

I said, "Why?"

"Because, I can't admit to the bank that my rotten, decaying money came from an underground horde that I'm hiding from thieves, my wife or the fucking IRS. But money grubbing whores like casinos, take anything, no questions asked...even if you wiped your butt with every bill."

I smiled, "You're right.  Wow, you tip-toed around a major disaster."

Bob sighed, "Yeah.  First I sold that $500.00 bill to the pawn broker off Ogden Street for $570.00.  But it'll take forever to 'launder.'  the rest. I have over three-hundred infected bills that need to be switch-out...one at a time."

"At least now you'll know to hermetically seal the next jar."

"Steve, are you nuts!  The only reason why I'm not burying money any more is...YOU'LL know.  I'm not saying I don't trust you.  But I DON'T trust you.  You see where I'm coming from.  Just knowing you know, will eat at me. How could I sleep at night, ever again."



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About ten years ago, I met a man in Atlantic City who told me Bob Lee was still dealing craps at the Stardust, in 2005.  I'm guessing, something must have gone terribly wrong.  How ironic that a man whose second greatest passion was dedicated to finagling every angle to retire at (50) was still bent over a dice table at (73).   The poor sap, I bet the movie rights alone to that sad story would be worth a fortune.