Nixon Was a Five-Card Man

My “Poker in American Film and Culture” course includes a couple of readings I’ve written about here on Hard-Boiled Poker before -- a 1932 short story by the humorist James Thurber called “Everything Is Wild” and a 1963 essay by the historian John Lukacs titled “Poker and American Character.”

The Thurber story I discussed once in a post titled “Hold’em’s History Makes a Good Mystery.” The story involves a “dealer’s choice” game in which a few different variants are called -- including some made-up ones -- and one of them suggests elements of hold’em which led me to share that as an early, not necessarily reliable bit of evidence regarding hold’em’s origins.

I also many years ago included “Everything Is Wild” in Episode 13 of the Hard-Boiled Poker Radio Show, if you fancy hearing a reading of the very funny story.

Meanwhile the Lukacs essay received lengthy treatment in a couple of different posts, which if you go read them kind of add up to my lecture about the article. Here’s Part 1 of that discussion, and here’s Part 2.

All I want to say about the readings today is to point out a parallel between the main character in Thurber’s story, Mr. Brush, and Lukacs, both of whom express distaste with any variant of poker that diverges from what Lukacs calls “classic” poker.

In the story, Brush gets stuck playing a game in which others all want to play variants involving wild cards, and he “hated any silly variation of the fine old game of poker.” In the essay Lukacs also complains about poker being corrupted (in a sense) by the introduction of wild-card games, in which (he says) “the human factor is weakened and the factor of chance is correspondingly increased.”

Both Brush and Lukacs see wild-card games as indicative of bigger problems with society, in fact, with the way they tend to favor luck over skill suggesting a kind of immaturity among the thrill-seekers who favor them. Lukacs explicitly links wild-card games with a more general “erosion of the American national character,” something you can read more about, if you like, by following those links above.

Richard Nixon was another one who favored “straight” or “classic” poker over any variants including wild cards or anything diverging from traditional games. Five-card stud was his favorite game, and the one he played the most while taking thousands off fellow soldiers in the Pacific during WWII -- money he in fact would use to help fund his first Congressional campaign in 1946.

Many years later on September 7, 1972, then President Nixon had some visitors stop by the Oval Office just before noon -- the former governor of Texas John Connally (at the time heading up the “Democrats for Nixon”) and John and James Roosevelt, sons of FDR. The meeting was recorded, and while the audio is choppy and at times indistinct, Nixon’s disdain for wild-card games is nonetheless clear.

Nixon tells the Roosevelt sons about the home he owns in San Clemente, the famous “La Casa Pacifica” he bought from the widow of financier Henry Hamilton Cotton in 1969. Speaking of FDR, Nixon notes how “Cotton was a great supporter of his, of course” and how FDR even stayed there one night, something the sons sounds as though they might not have known.

“There was a rumor they were all supposed to play cards or something one night... poker, probably” Nixon continues animatedly, well knowing that FDR was a card player just like himself. “What did he play?” he asks John and James of their father. “Did he play five-card or did he like wild cards?” Before they can answer, Nixon declares his position on the issue: “I’m a five-card man, I like it.”

One of the sons -- it’s hard to tell which -- says something about how “once in a while one or two of the others would want to go play a wild game.” People are talking over one another, with other ambient noise making it hard to distinguish every word being spoken. But you can hear Nixon’s response pretty well:

“Wild cards is not poker,” Nixon says. “When you’ve got five cards, you know just what the odds are.”

It isn’t surprising to hear Nixon -- like Mr. Brush and Lukacs -- voicing a negative opinion regarding wild-card games. It also isn’t hard to think of Nixon when Brush spitefully invents his own wild-card games in Thurber’s story (e.g., “Soap-in-Your-Eye”) -- games for which he is making up the rules as they go and thus his opponents cannot possibly win.

Makes me think of the old sketch from the National Lampoon Radio Hour in which Nixon plays Monopoly (the 1/26/74 episode):

RMN: “All right, Bebe. You get Baltic Avenue. Now I’m the banker so give me $500 for the deed.”
Bebe: “But Mr. President, Baltic doesn’t cost $500. It’s only $60.”
RMN: “Ha.. well, Bebe, let’s just ask Chuck and Fred Buzhardt here. Fellas, what do you say? You’re my advisors...?”
Chuck & Fred (in unison): “The President’s right, Bebe. Give him $500 for Baltic.”
RMN: “Now... my turn...”

Everything Is Wild: On the Packers-Seahawks Game; or, Simultaneous Botch

With about eight-and-a-half minutes left to go in the fourth quarter of the NFL game between the Green Bay Packers and the Seattle Seahawks last night, Seattle got the ball on their own 20 down 12-7, hoping to begin a long late-game drive to victory.

On the first play of that drive, quarterback Russell Wilson threw a pass down the right sideline that was intercepted by Packers cornerback Jerron Williams, a play which appeared as though it might help lock up a win for Green Bay. But a penalty against the Packers’ Eric Walden for roughing the passer nullified the interception, and Seattle retained possession.

The call had been highly sketchy-looking. The quarterback Wilson had been running with the ball, and Williams lunged at his feet to tackle him as he threw. It definitely looked as though it should not have been a penalty.

But I wasn’t that surprised by the flag. That’s because I had just watched yet another weekend’s worth of crazy, unpredictable, and flat-out incorrect calls by the so-called “replacement referees,” the ones working games while the regular, experienced refs are locked out from working over a labor dispute.

That is to say, like many fans, I had started to become accustomed used to such weirdness -- e.g., unexpected flags, surprising calls, etc. I realized I’d instinctively begun to temper all responses to plays, delaying my reaction as I waited to see whether or not what I had just seen would be called back, or a ruling would be revised, or a challenge would be upheld, and so on.

I wasn’t even pulling for either team, especially. I picked the Packers to win in Pauly’s Pub “pick ’em” pool, but so did most everyone else, which meant a win or loss wouldn’t really affect the standings. But I nonetheless realized I was starting to get weary of all the uncertainty that came with trying to follow the game.

Others on my Twitter feed had been commenting on the game and the poor officiating throughout the night. That’s when I thought I’d weigh in, too.

“The NFL has turned into a game of do-overs and didn't-counts,” I tweeted. “No play ever is as it appears.”

Little did I realize what was to come. And how that observation would subsequently apply.

Another blunder from the refs would follow, an incredible, obviously wrong call of defensive pass interference that gave Seattle 30-plus yards of field position. Seattle ultimately saw their drive stall deep in Green Bay territory, the Packers had to punt it back with less than a minute to go, and the Seahawks drove down to the Packer 24-yard-line. Three incomplete passes later, they faced a fourth down with just eight seconds left. Seattle would have to throw into the endzone on what was likely going to be the last play of the game.

You know what happened next. Wilson threw the pass. Green Bay safety M.D. Jennings went up above a crowd to catch it. Seattle receiver Golden Tate pushed Packer defensive back Sam Shields to the ground, jumped for the ball and landed next to Jennings, kinda sorta jamming his hands where Jennings held it against his chest. Two referees -- neither of whom had been close to the area of the catch -- rushed over, took a quick look, then at the same time one signaled touchback (an interception) while the other signaled touchdown.

Madness ensued, punctuated by a reiteration of the touchdown call, a very rapid replay review to confirm, a much-delayed extra point by Seattle, and a 14-12 Seahawks win. Norman Chad swiftly tweeted a jokey comparison to the infamous conclusion to the 1972 Olympic gold medal basketball game between the U.S.-U.S.S.R., which was actually quite apt.

“No play is ever as it appears” I had said. This one clearly appeared one way, was ruled differently, and as a result the wrong team won the game.

It was not a “simultaneous catch” (that thus goes to the offensive player). It was a simultaneous botch.

Football is a game that like most involves a certain element of chance. Having referees fail to enforce rules consistently or accurately adds significantly to that chance element. The obvious analogy from poker would be to introduce certain changes in the rules or to create a variant which necessarily heightens the luck of the game -- i.e., which lessens players’ ability to affect outcomes.

Just a couple of minutes after my tweet, political commentator and comedian Bill Maher offered an analogy from poker to characterize how odd NFL football had become. “So the NFL with replacement refs is now like a card game with Jokers included as wild cards,” he said. “Every 10 plays or so it just makes no sense.”

Maher really is making two different points, the first of which corresponds to the one I’m saying about chance in poker. Adding wild cards certainly does increase the luck element in poker. As John Lukacs wrote in his 1963 essay “Poker and American Character,” poker becomes more of a “gambling game” as more wild cards are introduced. “It is a contest not between human personalities who represent themselves through money and cards,” complains Lukacs, “but between cards held fortuitously by certain individuals.”

Maher’s second point is more like the sentiment I had just tweeted. And distinct from what he’s saying about playing with jokers which is kind of a tangential idea referring to how players unfamiliar with wild-card games find them confusing. From a spectator’s point of view (I was saying of the NFL), the game frequently “makes no sense” with all the “do-overs” and “didn’t counts.”

And, of course, plays that aren’t as they appear.

I might draw a poker analogy from James Thurber’s great 1932 short story “Everything Is Wild” that features a character named Mr. Brush inventing a poker variant on the spot he claims goes by the names of “Soap-in-Your-Eye” and “Kick-in-the-Pants.” (Hear the story read on episode 13 of the Hard-Boiled Poker Radio Show.)

The game is utterly incomprehensible, with multiple (and changing) wild cards and plays foreign to other variants. As a result no one other than Brush has any idea what is going on as they play. (There’s a partial explanation in the paragraph to the left.)

Of course, the game that Brush invents is not designed to be a context for actual competition -- it is a big ruse fashioned by himself for his own amusement and to get back at others whom he believes are too enamored with wild-card games.

Players and coaches in these NFL games are very much in the position of Brush’s opponents right now, with rules being misinterpreted and misapplied with such frequency that it feels like the game itself is becoming something other than the one they’d formerly played, a game in which outcomes are being controlled less and less by what they do.

To say the NFL has become a “wild-card game” at present is an understatement. I can’t imagine having to play it right now for high stakes.

Hold’em’s History Makes a Good Mystery

In my “Poker in American Film and Culture” class we’ve talked about various poker games but haven’t gotten too caught up in the difficult task of determining precisely when each variant was first introduced. Fact is, when it comes to the history and culture of poker, there’s a heckuva lot else to occupy us.

Even so, I have made some effort to ensure the students know, for example, that when poker was played in the 19th century the game was almost always draw poker, that stud poker arrived somewhere near the end of the 1800s and by the middle of the 20th century was challenging draw as the most popular form of poker, that hold’em started up somewhere in there as well (although did not become the most popular game until much later), and that tourneys weren’t really a big part of the scene until very recently. Not a rigid timeline, but some awareness of the various “eras” of poker.

It’s good to have at least some idea of when the various games were played. When you pick up a Mark Twain story like “The Professor’s Yarn” (from Life on the Mississippi), it is worth understanding that the game being played in the story is five-card draw. And that they’re playing five-card stud in The Cincinnati Kid (the film version of which is set in 1930s, moved back a couple of decades from the era of Richard Jessup’s novel). And the game is hold’em in Rounders. And so forth.

That said, teaching the class has caused me to become more curious about pinning down some of these dates a little more precisely, especially with regard to Texas hold’em. Of all the games, there seems to be the greatest doubt about when exactly hold’em originated, with some claiming it started as far back as the early 20th century and others insisting it didn’t really come about until sometime after the second world war.

I’m not going to launch into a full investigation of the matter right now, but I will list a few sources that will probably serve as starting points for me when I do:

an article in the August 16, 1968 issue of Life magazine by A.D. Livingston titled “How to Tame a Wild New Poker Game Called ‘Hold Me’”

Jon Bradshaw's Fast Company (1975), specifically the chapter on Johnny Moss

Don Jenkins’ 1981 biography Johnny Moss: Champion of Champions

an article by Evan Moore in the September 14, 1986 issue of Texas: Houston Chronicle Magazine titled “Poker: The National Game of Texas”

Crandall Addington’s contribution to Super System 2 (2005), a short chapter titled “The History of No-Limit Texas Hold’em”

a May 2007 declaration by the Texas state legislature that Robstown, Texas was the birthplace of hold’em

chapter 1 (“Hold me, darling”) of Anthony Holden’s Holden on Hold’em (2008)

chapter 32 (“Hold me, Darlin’”) of James McManus’ Cowboys Full (2009)

Doyle Brunson’s 2009 autobiography The Godfather of Poker

These sources include references and/or suggestions that hold’em was first played “in the early 1900s” (the Texas legislature declaration), the 1920s (as Moss tells Bradshaw), the 1930s (the Moss bio), the early 1940s (the Moore article), the 1950s (Brunson), and even the early 1960s (Addington).

The question requires some genuine research to answer, though I’ll admit before I begin that I lean towards placing hold’em’s origin somewhere close to mid-century (perhaps the 1940s) rather than before.

I could be wrong, though. Earlier this week I happened to be rereading James Thurber’s hilarious short story, “Everything Is Wild,” first written in 1932, and realized it contained a passage that at least indirectly suggested the existence of game that could be said to resemble hold’em. In fact, it’s more like Omaha, a game that most certainly didn’t come about until much, much later.

The story -- which, by the way, you can hear on episode 13 of the Hard-Boiled Poker Radio Show (with Vera Valmore helping out) -- features a “dealer’s choice” poker game in which players are calling out various wild card games. My piece for Betfair today titled “These Jokers Are Ruining the Game!” actually brings up Thurber’s story, too, if you’re curious.

Anyhow, among the games played in the story there is one called “Poison Ivy,” “a variation of poker in which each player gets four cards, and five others are placed face down on the table to be turned up one at a time.” The lowest card among the five on the table becomes the wild card. In the end, two players are said to have made four aces, as “there were two fours in the hand on the table, and they were low.”

It’s a little confusing to follow, but it sounds as though the game involves building a five-card hand from the cards one is dealt and the five revealed one by one on the table -- in other words, there are “community cards” just like in hold’em or Omaha. Doesn’t really provide any concrete evidence regarding hold’em’s date of origin; in fact, Thurber could well have invented the game out of whole cloth as another example of an absurd wild-card game hated by the story’s protagonist, Mr. Brush. But the passage is suggestive nonetheless.

I expect to find other useful sources once I embark on my investigation. In any event, if anyone has any good tips on leads, please send them along.