You may not recognize the name today, but there was a time crossroad gambler Jack Newton was the second-best known Newton in Las Vegas.
Gentleman Jack never filled a showroom that I know of, but he could size up a card game in a flash, and ferret out the crimpers, daubers, and second dealers in the time it takes most players to remove their coats.
Newton lived a life that might be hard to explain to strangers and those unfamiliar with the nature of ethics and honor among gamblers. I would say he was a fine guy and very honorable: He only enjoyed cheating cheaters.
He didn’t spend the rest of his time playing pinochle in the Sunday choir, mind you. He played for high stakes all over the world and mixed with every strata of the fraternity (a politically correct way of saying both the legal and illegal crowds.) But all in all his longtime friends Doyle Brunson, Jack Binion and the late casino queen Claudine Williams sang his praises.
I was reminded of the late Newton — the gambler, not the crooner — the other day when the news broke about the 60-month sentenced received by one of Newton’s friends, sports betting legend Billy Walters, who mired himself in a federal insider trading case that netted him $32 million in profits and $11 million in avoided losses before the government came calling. United States District Judge Kevin Castel called Walters “a cheater and a criminal, and not a very clever one.” Yes, but not one without a lot of influential friends. Walters’ defense attorney submitted laudatory letters from dozens of solid citizens, who praised everything from his rags-to-riches story to his charitable works on behalf of Opportunity Village.
Newton, to my knowledge, never swam in water quite that deep, but he played cards and backgammon for big money from Las Vegas to Biarritz. He once ran a casino in Greece. He also dealt with professional gambling’s conditional ethics and its wavering definition of honor throughout his long life.
One of the players Newton loved to take a shot at was Nick Simpson, who was once a Golden Nugget card room manager but – according to street legend – specialized in taking money by any means necessary.
“What set him apart was there was nothing he wouldn’t do to win,” Newton recalled in his gambling memoir, Confessions of a Crossroad Gambler. “He never hesitated to fleece honest players, and there were plenty of them. He played high, and since he rarely lost, Lord knows how big his bankroll was. His picture was next to ‘card shark’ in the dictionary.”
“Shoeshine Nick” was one of the better players, but he really excelled at cheating, as Newton explained.
Newton, of course, was no stranger to making a deck dance himself. It was inevitable that they would meet across the green felt, and when they did Newton eventually discovered Simpson scraping his favorite cards. Newton countered with a tiny reflecting mirror glued to the inside of a finger that enabled him to identify the cards he was dealing.
Newton eventually wore down Simpson, caught him switching cards and beat him right down to his pocket lint. Although I don’t know if Newton ever cheated at the stock market, the Simpson beat down was one of Gentleman Jack’s innumerable successes, aided by bending the rules more than a little.
He was born in Arkansas in 1922 and grew up playing cards at his mothers store during the heart of the Depression.
“I am a professional gambler and have been all my life,” Newton said with pride. “In retrospect if I could change my life, I would change very few things.”
Of Newton’s ability to compete against the best players at any table, Walters himself enthused, “He beat all the pros, every single one of them that he went up against.”
Even if he occasionally needed a little help to do it.
But that was Jack Newton, the crossroad gambler who was a cheater with a sense of ethics.
John L. Smith is a longtime Las Vegas journalist and author. Contact him at jlnevadasmith@gmail.com. On Twitter: @jlnevadasmith.
