Veni, Vidi, Velveeta...they don't make'em

...like they used to.

A recurring September event - dateline Reno circa 10 years ago or so

Veni ("I came" - & thanks for forcing a little bit of Latin into me Mrs. McKillip)

The Coyote, his bride and I
Were to meet early for our annual trek
To Reno, Nevada for the biker event "Street Vibrations"

Both had to work late

Reno's famous Virginia Street during Street Vibrations

The previous night
So they begged off our departure time
I had to get there earlier as I also had
A World Poker Tour tournament
I wanted to enter
I left ahead of them
The Harley packed light just for a couple of nights

I should have been forewarned things might be cockeyed that day
But I pressed on
There were warm temperatures on both sides of the Sierras
So I dressed light
T-shirt, shirt and light jacket
Figured I would endure the cold over Donner pass

The trip was smooth and uneventful
Set the cruise control on 80 and let'er rip...
I hit Reno in a couple hours with a little time to spare
So I headed for Chester's Harley Davidson
To present my HOG (Harley Owner's Group) fanatic card
And pick up my 'proof of life,'
A commemorative event pin for members only

Got that done then went to the wrong casino
To enter the tournament
They were both off the main strip
And I'm easily confused
But then repacked the bike
And found my way to the right casino in time

Vidi ("I saw")

There I quickly paid up
And had a few moments to grab a bite
Went to the table a couple of minutes early
Sat in my assigned seat
And noticed a player there who looked familiar
I asked, "Is it possible I have seen you on the rectangular screen?"
He said "Yes."

This is TJ
He doesn't look mean at all in real life.
(It took a Poker Hall of Fame pro
 to knock me out of that
tournament... I'd like to spin it that way.)

I said, "Please forgive me for forgetting but you are...?"
He said, "TJ" and the dealer said his last name but I couldn't make it out
So I said something dumb like; "Well, it's awesome to be sitting at the same table with you."
He turned out to be TJ Clotier
My first genuine poker pro and I was gambling with him
Me and eight others that is

I'm thinking; 'Wow, these are all pros here? I am in wayyyy over my head.

Velveeta (OK, so I didn't conquer, & enough Latin already.)

I broke (yes, a play on words) into tournament poker here in Sacramento a few months ago

And have played with some pretty tough hombres

So I was surprisingly comfortable with the table

Got about an hour and a half into the puppy

Was a couple thousand ahead

Then after small initial bets ("blinds"), TJ and I were head to head

After the flop I had a flush draw.

TJ was first to act and pushed all in with over 12 thousand in chips

There was a king in the flop
I correctly assumed he had another as one of his hole, or "pocket" cards

But was still surprised at the size of the bet

I knew I had a 15-20% chance, twice to hit the flush

It would be on the turn (sixth card) or the river (seventh and final) card

I had recently seen one of the top players in the world, Phil Hellmuth

Miss a flush in similar circumstances... three consecutive times in a televised tournament

So I had a little more vivid picture of my chances in spite of the odds

Yet, I had a chance to knock out a Hall of Fame poker player

I took the chance and called

It wasn't to be
My flush missed and I was out of the tournament

I again thanked TJ for the privilege of playing against him 

Wished the rest of the table luck
Two had been knocked out before me

And headed on my way with another precious memory

To tuck into the cranial treasure chest

In all, TJ is a really friendly person who plays fairly tight poker
(But I am truly unworthy of judging)

And entertains the entire table with short stories of his past adventures

That part I CAN judge...

As for the rest of the trip...

I had a $49 dollar room that night at Reno's Silver Legacy

Right on the strip and in the middle of the biker/vendor action

They close down Virginia Street
For bikes, spectators and vendors only

It was impressive how low key things were...

Not as many bikers and not as many vendors as years past

The recession has made it less than half of what it once was

But the Coyote, his bride and I still got a chance to mosey

Down the middle of the street,

Enjoying the night lights,  a damn good Santana tribute band

A couple of beers and a couple of stogies

So it was...beat out of a tourney, a low density crowd and few vendors but great friends, music, and atmosphere

Cheap and cheesy.. just the way I like it... Velveeta
...and a little spam can't hurt either! 

A Medical Service Corps Legacy... Unfulfilled?

Almost 35 years ago...lightening struck twice. A young MSC Captain and Air Force Hospital Administrator (SGA/Malmstrom) was promoted three years below the primary zone.

Shortly thereafter, he received a touching letter and package from his old boss and mentor. The letter thoughtfully recounted their previous shared experiences and the package contained a pair of Major mess dress shoulder boards. The letter mentioned previous owners and passed ownership of the boards to the new Major.

Not long after, the Major, with his combined enlisted years was nearing 24 years of service. Although they both were happy with their service life, he and his wife compared notes and decided to start a new career. He applied for retirement and along with that, elected to pass the shoulder boards on to a new Major, next in a long line of succession. Rather than present them for wear, he encased them in a commemorative shadow box along with a request to continue the legacy when the time seemed right.

Now, some 35 years later and likely some 55 years since first acquired by Corps Chief Colonel James. Polkinghorn (RIP), the trail of the shoulder boards has gone cold. But perhaps, an MSC who reads this will pick up the trail and the boards will live once again...

Here is some:

Byron wrote this thoughtful history and passed them on to Krzys...

...who sent this beautifully penned letter stating that he,
in turn passed them on to Brian Riggs.

Brian then passed them on to Mike O'Gorman and that is last we know of. I have not been able to locate Mike. I did track down someone with the same name at the CDC in Atlanta but have been unable to contact him to see if he is indeed the same "Mike."

The World's Greatest Drag Racer (nah)

Terciera is a Portuguese island within a group known as the Azores.  Its area covers almost 400 square kilometers, roughly one and a half times the size of Sacramento, California.  Because of its relatively small size, the island's speed limits max out at 60 miles an hour and even that doesn't show up very often.  This attribute is what 'drives my story.

A red and white '55 chevy sedan...
like mine although I didn't have those
mighty fine chrome wheels.

There is a US Air Force base there, Lajes Field. I was assigned there as a young Air Force airman and public health technician in early 1965. Toward the end of my 2+ years there, I was able to purchase a 1955 Chevrolet - not because I needed it on that small island but because I was in love with idea of independence and that decent looking ride represented it.  It was red and white and had a 265 cubic-inch "small block" V8 in it with an automatic transmission.

Because of the slow speeds our cars were typically driven on the island, many "experts" claimed the engine's cylinders would load up on carbon and run badly as a result.  The Lajes base commander humored these folks and allowed periodic "carbon blow-outs," another name for drag races, on a relatively unused portion of the base runway.  Not long after I got that Chevy, I decided I was going to participate. I had never done it before so it sounded pretty exciting to me.

On the day of my big race, I was observing the methods of other participants as they lined up at the starting line.  I noticed virtually all of them with automatic transmissions would put their car in gear with one foot on the accelerator and the other foot on the brake.  Then they would increase rpm's as much as possible yet keep the car from moving forward. You could clearly hear the rpm's run up as they did this. Using this technique, when the "go" signal hit they could get a jump off the line.

Then, my turn came.  I pulled up to the line and carefully stopped exactly where the starter told me.  The adrenaline was running pretty pure at that moment...the car wasn't running bad either.  I put it in gear while holding my left foot on the brake and began running up the engine with the accelerator.  Something felt a little funny with the resulting torque there but I didn't dwell on it as I was still a little unfamiliar with the car and the fast start technique.  Then...it was "GO!"

I released the brake just as I floored the little V8 and came out of the gate...backward.  I had put the car in reverse instead of drive.  The car was white and red and that is what I became...white to red in a burst of embarrassment.  The starter was in good humor though and he let me proceed after changing gears then completing my (very slow) run.

That folks, was my first and last drag race.  Shortly thereafter, I sold the Chevy as I was due to separate from the Air Force and head back home to Seattle. (Hmmmm...I wonder if I won a trophy that day and simply forgot to pick it up?) 

God...And The One Iron

Lee Trevino once said; "If you are caught on a golf course during a storm and are afraid of lightning, hold up a one iron.  Not even God can hit a one iron."

San Antonio, Texas in the mid-1980s - I was on my last career assignment with the US Air Force.  Julieann, our son Tyler and I lived on Randolph Air Force Base there in some really comfortable old Spanish style officer quarters.

I had laid off golf for a few years while attending grad school and working some terrific but intense jobs. I found out the course on the air base was very inviting, my work represented pretty regular week day hours and I had a bunch of colleagues who played so I decided to get back in the game. It was a once a week thing for a  few of us and I found a good set of used irons to add to my bag.

They were Ray Cook "Affluent" irons. Ray was a noted San Antonio golf club inventor and entrepreneur. I got what I thought was  a pretty good deal on them at around $150. The shafts were "stiff," meaning you had to have a pretty fast swing to properly compress the golf ball and the combination of speed and shaft flexibility would give you more distance on your shots.  The irons were also noteworthy for having offset heads and I liked the way I hit them. I was still young enough to handle them so I was in business. The set did include one club I was unfamiliar with though...a "1" iron. I would not find out until much later that most golfers didn't carry one and that they were also known as a "driving iron."

My standard swing back then for distance irons and woods was to go at it as hard as I could. That meant I had a lot of fairly spectacular hits...and plenty of misses. Playing strictly by the rules and only on weekends my scoring average was somewhere in the 90's...not terrible but nothing to write home to mom about either.  It also meant I could hit the 1 iron...just often enough to keep me wanting more. It enabled a higher trajectory than a "3" wood for me too which meant I could use it to carry trees when recovering from my frequent errant drives.

The Affluents with their brother, "1 iron" travelled with me to Sacramento when I retired from the Air Force and I continued to swing it often. I was in my early 40's and had enough swing speed to continue making good contact. It was a good 250-yard club give or take, sometimes giving, often taking.

Then the one iron broke, right at the heel. I wasn't ready to quit it and it wasn't available in Sacramento so I called an old Air Force pal in San Antonio, Bob Bunker and asked him to buy me a replacement and ship it to me. He did and I played with it for another ten years before I slowed down and bought a set of regular flex Pings.

I got rid of the Affluents and some other old clubs in a garage sale or at Goodwill I don't remember which. Then a few years later, I came under the grip of nostalgia and would occasionally hit up eBay to see if an old 1 iron was lurking somewhere. A couple of weeks ago I found one and it is now here in my office. I believe I will try it out on the driving range just for grins after I have it regripped as the old one is kind of slippery. It doesn't really matter if it works or not though as it will now occupy a place of honor in my mini-man cave. Hell, I may even eventually use it as a cane!

But once in a while...once in a while I'll haul it out to the patio to keep me company while I smoke a stogie, sip a port and reminisce.  It's never too late to have a happy childhood or, for that matter relive it right?!   

Stones Gambling Hall & Chris Moneymaker

Last Friday, Stones Gambling Hall held their kick-off Texas Hold'em tournament as part of their Spring Classic series. Their guest professional participating that day was 2003 World Series of Poker winner, Chris Moneymaker.

As part of his play, Chris was rotating among various tournament tables and after a while, he joined our table at a seat one of the earlier entries had busted from. He made a comment to our tournament director about whether there was a bounty on him. There wasn't, so I reached in my pocket, pulled out a dollar bill and offered it up as a bounty. I caught a little justifiable heat for that.

Chris had maybe half a starting stack of 20k in chips and shortly after arriving, shoved all in from 3rd or 4th position on our 9 player table. Players folded around to me in the hijack position and I looked down at AK off with about 30k in chips. I declared "all in" to isolate him and he turned over AJ off.

The cards ran out blanks and I had successfully knocked out the former world champ! The players there and I had a good time commenting on that plus... I got to keep my bounty.

Note:  Some of the details here may be baloney and for that I claim the senior fog of memory. However, certain essential details are facts...the cards were as written, I did get the knockout, there was a bounty offered...and Chris was a fine gentleman in good humor throughout. He reentered shortly thereafter and was still there when I eventually got knocked out.

MSCs and Ethics - Can You Uphold Them In Your Next Life?

Most all of us, at one point or another, have given thought or will be giving thought to our transition from military to civilian medical service.

There are a lot of things that can make this transition a little intimidating beginning with; "Am I worthy?"  Other considerations; "Am I good enough?...smart enough?...strong enough?"  It's as fundamental as, how to get your resume to 'speak' civilian instead of military terminology. It gets as complex as, how to get along in health care organizations that seem to have no real common cause...other than money that is.

Once you jump in the middle of all this you will very often find a mix of ethics ranging from humanitarian to business and that...can be disturbing when the business ethic transcends all.

In military health care, the vast majority of us are united in a common cause, various versions of "quality health care to maintain maximum readiness." It's all about patients, their families and the overall population-at-risk.

Sure it can often be a madhouse of multidisciplinary purposes...docs, dentists, nurses, technicians, administrators can't always be on exactly the same wave length on the best way to get from point A to point B.  But...when "it" hits the fan, we all come together and we have historically done some wonderful things for our fighting men, women and their families.

When you move to a civilian health care environment, particularly in management, you will very often find this "common cause" lacking or even non-existent.  The business ethic often dominates the scales, outweighing the humanitarian cause we are so accustomed to in a military environment.

This can do some pretty serious damage to your outlook on things if you are not prepared for it.

When I left the Medical Service Corps, I spent a couple of years working in an HMO, implementing the very first TRICARE - then called CHAMPUS Reform Initiative (CRI) contract. My gang and I were responsible for supporting all MTFs and over 350,000 beneficiaries in Northern California. I can tell you most of us loved the cause of supplementing the military health care system. I can also tell you that encountering the harsh reality of a business environment was difficult.  It's not the 'need to make a profit to remain viable' part...it's more the 'need to put increasing EPS over compassionate, quality care.'

A year and a half or so after we successfully implemented the contract, our new CEO did some business process re-engineeering and absorbed all the military contract operations into their commercial counterpart functions. Dozens of people who had worked so hard to successfully implement the federal functions were laid off.

I was the COO of Northern California CRI and was not laid off but put in a token position - my job, to travel to the military medical facilities we supported and reassure them that services they had grown accustomed to would not be diminished.

I slept on that for a night, considering my new responsibility to spin a story I didn't believe was true. The next morning I discussed my predicament with my wife and when I arrived at work, announced my resignation. Almost 30 years later, TRICARE continues successfully and still, I do not regret my decision. After all, it was the great team I was privileged to work with that garnered the accolades in an independent Rand Corporation study...a study that affirmed the benefits of the program and set the stage for its expansion to the rest of the US and overseas.

Shortly thereafter, the former Chairman of the Board of the HMO, Dr. Jim Schubert hired me to help him start a consulting firm.  We built it over a seven year period and along the way worked for many health care firms ranging from the largest in the U.S to some of the smallest. After that, I started my own consulting firm, assisting health care organizations in continuing or rolling out new programs in support of state and federal contracts.  For me, one of the biggest benefits was being able to walk away from the organizations that had toxic environments fueled by...I guess "greed" would be the right word to use here. I was also fortunate to have several clients for more than 20 years, occasionally assisting many non-profit health care organizations in the pursuit of renewed or new contracts, mostly Medicare and Medicaid. 

Along the way, I continued to encounter many instances where the humanitarian cause was subordinate to the business end of things. It is a delicate balance, the one between stakeholders and patients I know, and it is often tilted too far toward the corporate pocketbook. So you need to be prepared for this eventuality as you will likely encounter it at some point in your life after the Corps.

How do you hang on to your sense of ethics?  My only advice; follow your heart and help when you can.  You will sleep good at night.  Plus, you will retain some warm thoughts about your days serving in a bastion of moral code...the Air Force Medical Service Corps.

For excruciating detail, including feeble attempts at humor, click here: The Last Resume.
 

"Doctor Major Keith Curtis Sir!"

Mid 1974 - Notified of "direct commission" as officer in the Air Force Medical Service Corps.
What an exciting time that was!  All noted in this episode: "Yes!  Lightening Can Strike...". The Luke AFB newspaper even published an article about it: "Is the Sergeant, er, Lieutenant In?"

Late 1974 - Notified of first assignment as Second Lieutenant to USAF Hospital at Mountain Home, Idaho.
Julieann and I were always pretty dialed in to living somewhere in the West so this was a gift from the powers that be (It was Colonel Harold Batiste I believe).

Dec 31st,  1974 - Left Luke Air Force Base, Arizona.  Last day as Air Force Staff Sergeant. Drove to Idaho.
We had a 1970 Cougar that sported a 351 Cleveland V-8.  We were ready to tackle the world.

Jan 1st, 1975 - Reported for duty at Mountain Home Idaho.  First day as genuine brown bar.
First job:  Hospital Squadron Commander. This was a crazy experience to be sure.  Overnight, I had to turn from someone who didn't care about Air Force Grooming standards as mandated in the infamous Air Force Regulation 35-10, to someone who had to enforce it.

Spring, 1975 - Attended Health Services Administration course at Sheppard Air Force Base, Wichita Falls Texas...to learn fundamentals of being a health care administrator.  Instructors/gurus; "Smokey Stover", Major-Logistics; "Mac" McClean, Captain-Registrar-Patient Affairs; Gary Weishauer, Captain-Resource Management.  Overall course supervisor, Keith W. Curtis, Major, MSC, PhD.

Members of our MSC class quickly became aware of the Curtis management style - sort of a blustery, straight forward, size-those-young-whippersnappers up Lombardi style that could be a little intimidating at first.  He was right in our faces most of the time and we took to calling him "Doctor, Major Keith Curtis Sir" in recognition of his obvious pride in having a PhD.  This, never to his face of course.

Some of us thought he pursued the "Dr." title to give him a more equal platform with the whacky group of physicians (can you say "Berry Planners?") we had in the Medical Service back in those days.  For those of you don't know, Berry Plan docs were draftees in various stages of their medical training.  Many were disgruntled (understatement) because they were in the military making a lot less money than their civilian counterparts.

We all made it through though...with very few hiccups, some great presentations from our instructors and guest speakers and some heavy O'Club partying to work off the tension.

I'll never forget, but I wish I could remember more, about the parting presentation to our class by "Doctor, Major Keith Curtis Sir."  He had obviously taken a lot of time to prepare it, using color - I think fluorescent chalk on blackboard plus slides.  His theme was a metaphor that went something like this; as MSCs, our job was to stick our hands in a "bucket of worms" and pull out something good.  I was pretty dazzled although a few of my classmates thought it was over the top.  But then again that was me, a North Dakota kid who had a patent on the word Naiveté.

Circa 1986 - The next and last time I recall seeing the Doctor was when he was a Colonel and Administrator of Big Willy.  He had a couple of MSC interns with him and had stopped by the MSC assignments section at MPC where Paul Murrell and I were working.  He gave me 'that look' and said something like; "So where do you want to be one day?  In my job (as Administrator)?" He was referring to Wilford Hall Medical Center of course and I said; "Absolutely!"  I left out the "Doctor Colonel Keith Curtis Sir" part out of my response and as a result now live to tell about it...

Spring 1987 - I loved the Corps but retired out of MPC and the Air Force with 24 years, almost half as an enlisted person.  My second career in health care management went well plus Julieann and I got to raise our kids in one spot from then forward.  Nevertheless, I have often wondered with some regret what it would have been like to stick around and compete for that Big Willy job...in the place where I pulled graveyard shift KP, peeling potatoes in the fall of 1963.

Circa 1990? -  The good Doctor had retired and went on to become a management professor in the Health Care Management masters program at (I believe) the University of Oklahoma in the city.  While there, he also wrote a textbook on management; "From Management Goal Setting to Organizational Results." Special price for university students...$85.  I wanted to buy one but not at university prices.

Years later, I managed to locate a used copy on Amazon for a lot less and bought it.  The book turned out to be an academic treatise  quoting folks like Toffler, Maslow and Drucker.  It had good basics and memorization pain for grad students but not for me as I had already studied most of those.  I wanted to read something more visceral...about sticking my hands in a "bucket of worms" and pulling out something good.  I wanted to be able to say; "Keith...you were right and I have done it.  Thanks for the heads up!"  So I'll just write it here.  Now.

"Dr. Major Keith Curtis Sir" was a damn good man.  I am proud to have known him. 

To My Pals (You Know Who You Are)

Okay…these are the sites I draw my news from.  It’s all mainstream stuff and I’m sure “fake news” often creeps in but they are nothing at all like extremist left and right fringe media.  I also like to focus on transcripts, live telecasts on CNN (Congressional News Network) and what appear to be facts supported by multiple sources like Snopes, Truth or Fiction and Politifact.  Can all of these sources be wrong at times?  Of course they can but on the whole - they are the best we’ve got. And don’t forget Twitter - knee jerk thoughts posted in 240 characters or less straight from the horse’s mouth…and very often from the horse’s ass.

To me, fringe media exists for one purpose - to exploit and incite fear and bias in their audience.  I’m going to include fringe politicians in this as well although I realize our definitions of “fringe” vary widely.

Unfortunately, I believe pointing this all out is…pointless as old white guys, “OWGs” have their minds made up and that’s that.  It’s a new day though and I wish I was going to be around to see what is sure to transpire over the next 10-20 years.  It’s going to be a noble experiment and, like the Affordable Care Act, I am sure there will be hiccups but again, as with the Act, the good (“preexisting conditions”) will outweigh the bad.  I sincerely believe lives will be saved and the Common Man will have a better opportunity to work and live a decent life.

This little rant will not change a thing though within this little email group we have had going for many years - there are far too many divides.

So with this, I am bailing on the hurt and disappointment I feel when I see one of us being lured into the extreme edges of race (muslims, etc.) and guns (bump stocks and automatics) along with other issues of our time.

Thanks Dooooooooods.  It’s been a hell of a ride, culminating in a fantastic reunion in Las Vegas a year or so ago.

"It’s not hard to see at all…

Except for those who refuse to look."

- 6/25/2018

PS - I wrote this a couple of days earlier but decided to hold off on sending. I was considering some advice once shared with me by our very own Harold W. (Bill) Grinstaff that went something like this; “When you write something that some might find disturbing, put it in a drawer overnight and let it simmer.  You might change your mind and decided to defer.  Well, I did...and I didn’t.

"Leadership" - Just What the Hell is It?

Yes, I had to study it in grad school, and yes, I had to study it in the military.  But wait...what the hell IS leadership really?! Reduced to its purest elements and in no particular order, I would say it, at least the successful "it," consists of nine critical factors:

1. Sincerity - Believe in people.  If you are not sincere in this, they will pick you off from a mile away.
2. Enthusiasm - It's infectious...really!
3. Curiosity - The search for understanding... for knowing what is right, and what is wrong.
4. Innovation - A hunger to do things better.
5. Decisiveness - You have to be ready to get out on that limb when it's called for.
6. Compassion - The genuine desire to help.
7. Humor - To diffuse stress and discomfort in yourself and others when the pressure is on.
8. Smile - A killer, light up the room sort of smile.  If you don't have it that's okay...see #7.
9. Tolerance - Of ambiguity that is.  This is a biggie.  If you can't do this... you can't lead. Period.

Aside from whatever schools might teach you, I believe these elements have to be part of you...going in.

Now here's some old fashioned and modern day "click bait" (Without links...you can Google them ok?) for wannabe' leaders:

• High Reliability Organization
• Lean Management
• Management by Objectives
• Zero Defects
• Performance Improvement Program
• Six Sigma

Yeah man; these and others like them will have you buried in the books for a while. While I generally shy away from newly spun management fads, certain elements of all these programs can add value for a leader and his gang.  Examples include wrapping some measurable objectives (MBO) around your organizations goals and using statistics (6S) to help you track and locate areas you can improve.

From my old "I Love Me"
Collection.  It's about "spirit."
Thanks Charlie Brown!

As an aside and personally, I would like to have a Certified Project Manager at my elbow to help me and my gang figure out the best way to get from point A to point B. Assuming of course...we are headed in that direction.  Also assuming we have a bunch of independent and dependent variables to consider.  (Now I am really wandering off course here right?!)

So a successful leader has to have some built in attributes and should cherry pick some useful management tools.  What attributes and tools would you add?  Or do you think a good leader should be something else entirely?

My credentials?  I have worked for some of the most amazing bosses. I have led some wonderful Air Force health care teams.  I have also led dozens of wonderful, whacky, sometimes toxic and most often talented multi-disciplinary health care contract teams in well over half the United States.  (For more on this, Google "herding cats.") 

"Louie Louie...Oh No!..."

No, not the "Louie Louie" of legendary music fame.
That is just what the millennials call "click bait" and yeah, I am as guilty as anyone of spinning that stuff from time to time.

Actually, here I am referring to "Louie" the tournament Texas hold'em poker player of Sacramento's now defunct Casino Royale fame. I played with Louie in a number of tournaments at that Casino although it was not my preferred location for weekday events.

I would often begin the day at Capital Casino and at times would be eliminated early. There was no reentry option at Capital back then so when it happened, I and few others would race up the freeway a few miles to what we called " Plan B", actually Casino Royale, to enter their tournament. Timing was usually tight though as both tourneys began at the same time and entries closed an hour or so after they started.

Louies favorite, Casino Royale

Louie was a quiet, friendly old guy, bearded, possibly of Mexican-American descent.  With a habit common to  more than a few tournament players, he carried a back pack filled with a lot of sundries one might include in anticipation of a long day at the tables. I think most people, upon meeting Louie would think of him as a sweet, innocent old man....(kinda like me without the "sweet" and "innocent" part).

Not a particularly good poker player, Louie nonetheless showed up  at the Royale regularly and made contributions in the form of tournament entry fees. Over time, I noticed he also liked to occasionally pull out a small spiral pad and make notes. I thought it might have been to note play details for his future reference as some of the more serious players do.

One day at a Capital Casino I overheard another tournament player mention Louie's name and when I asked was told he had been banned from play at the Casino Royale. Apparently Louie had been pocketing chips from his tournament stack for use in later events.  He must have thought by adding accumulated chips it would give him more chances to end up cashing in some future tourney. I am guessing his notes may have included a running total of chips he had stored in his famous back pack.

Around that time, Capital Casino added a reentry option to tournaments there and that ended our rush to join the "Plan B" event at the Royale. Not long after, I heard that the Royale had let Louie rejoin the tournaments there and as a result many of their regulars had angrily quit patronizing it.

The Casino Royale later moved and then closed.  I don't know what happened to Louie. He is the only known cheater I have encountered in a dozen years of studying the nuances of playing tournament hold'em poker.

I kinda' miss old Louie. Sure he was cheating, but I don't think I ever saw him hit a final table let alone cash.

Three Guns - Looking Down the Muzzles

First Gun - 1964...

He had just turned eighteen.  A brand-new Air Force Airman Third Class, he was a medic, a Preventive Medicine Specialist stationed at Cannon Air Force Base near Clovis, New Mexico.

There wasn't much money floating around at the time so the junior enlisted men would often pool theirs and buy some liquor to party  in one of the barracks rooms during their nights off.

One weekend night a handful of them were partying in a room and were all pretty drunk. The discussion had turned to marksmanship when one of the airman bragged he could shoot an apple off the top of another's (my) head. A .22 rifle was produced. They were illegal to have in a barracks at time. All weapons were supposed to be checked in for safe-keeping with the Base Air Police.  Nevertheless there it was.

He sat in a chair with an apple on his head while across the room the self-proclaimed marksman aimed his rifle and pulled the trigger.  There was a pretty loud noise, the apple split and behind it appeared a hole in the metal wall locker.  There were some complimentary remarks made and they carried on with the party as if that were a normal occurrence.

Second Gun - Ten years later...

He was a brand new Lieutenant in the Air Force Medical Service Corps.  First job...Hospital Squadron Commander  at Mountain Home Air Force Base, Idaho.  Just a few months in, the base commander had called an early morning shakedown inspection beginning at 5am.  After a short night's sleep, he and his First Sergeant and a couple other senior NCO's assembled at the squadron barracks and began a room-to-room search for contraband; primarily drugs and weapons.

After a few rooms were complete, he knocked on a door announcing their presence.  The door suddenly opened and the Lieutenant was staring down the barrel of a shotgun.  The airman inside insisted they would not be confiscating his weapon.  Before the Lieutenant could react, the First Sergeant stepped between them.  The First Sergeant knew the airman well and quickly diffused the situation by explaining they would just have the airman's shotgun stored in the base armory for safekeeping.

Third Gun - Seven years later...

He was a junior Captain less than a year into his job as Hospital Administrator at Malmstrom Air Force Base near Great Falls, Montana.  He had a lot of hospital experience by then, as enlisted man and officer.  He loved the job and spent a lot of time out and about in the hospital, seeing if staff needed anything to help them do their jobs better. Often, he could offer assistance and sometimes, with medical funds limited, all he could offer were condolences.

One evening around dinner time, he was talking with the staff in the Hospital Emergency Room when he noticed a button under the reception counter.  He asked the NCO in charge what the button was for and the NCO said; "I'm not sure. Let's press it and see what happens."  So he did (Let's add a little emphasis on "naive" right here okay?).  The ER phone rang almost immediately and one of the staff answered it.  Part of the conversation mentioned the "button" and the calling party then asked to have the Administrator put on the line.  It was the Security Police announcing they had received an emergency signal from the ER and asking if everything was "all right.'

The Administrator, now realizing it was a 'panic button' said it had been pushed by mistake.  The caller said; "Sir, please open the emergency room door and step outside with your hands raised.  He complied with the request and as soon as he was through the door, looked to his right toward the entry ramp.  There were two Air policeman there, backs against the wall with their revolvers aimed at him.  He explained the situation and all three went into the ER.  After satisfying themselves there was no emergency, the police left and the Administrator suddenly knew a lot more about hospital operations.