Bret Harte’s “The Outcasts of Poker Flat”

First published in 1869, the short story “The Outcasts of Poker Flat” by the American poet and fiction writer Bret Harte presents readers with a thought-provoking sketch of the Old West in which poker’s complicated status within American culture is ably presented.

The story opens in late November 1850 in the interestingly named California town of Poker Flat. John Oakhurst, a professional gambler, correctly senses a sudden alteration in the town’s “moral atmosphere” thanks to the strange behavior of others to his presence. Sure enough, in a “spasm of virtuous reaction,” a secret committee has been formed “to rid the town of all improper persons,” Oakhurst included.

Two men have already been hanged, and soon Oakhurst and three others -- a man known as “Uncle Billy” (a thief) and two women, “Mother Shipton” and the “Duchess” (presumably prostitutes) -- are forcibly exiled. The narrator exposes the hypocrisy of the committee, noting how among those in charge of executing such justice were some who lost to Oakhurst at poker. In fact, he probably would have been hanged as well if not for “the crude sentiment of equity residing in the breasts of those who had been fortunate enough to win from Mr. Oakhurst.”

Oakhurst is described as receiving his punishment with “philosophic calmness.” “He was too much of a gambler not to accept fate,” we are told, and indeed it is this recognition of that which he cannot control Oakhurst has learned at the tables that marks his character and foreshadows the story’s conclusion.

We follow the four outcasts out of town as they travel toward neighboring Sandy Bar, a trek that requires a difficult passage through the Sierras. The trip could be accomplished in a day, but after traversing half its length the group attempt to persuade Oakhurst into stopping and setting up camp for the night. Using a poker metaphor, he argues against their “throwing up their hand before the game was played out,” but ultimately gives in.

While the others get drunk, a young man named Tom Simson happens on the group, accompanied by his girl, Piney. The pair are traveling in the opposite direction, leaving Sandy Bar for Poker Flat in the hopes of getting married starting a new life there.

Oakhurst knows Simson from having played poker with him before at Sandy Bar. In fact, Oakhurst cleaned out the youngster -- referred to in the story as the “Innocent” -- then afterwards gave him back the money he’d won, instructing him never to gamble again. For this gesture Simson remains grateful, and Oakhurst again helps Simson by arranging to allow him and Piney to camp with the others.

The skies -- and story -- take a dark turn, however, as they awake the next day to discover a snowstorm. And making matters worse, Uncle Billy has stolen off with the mules, leaving the remaining five no method of escape.

Only possessed with ten days’ worth of provisions, Oakhurst recognizes the situation as potentially dire, but keeps his concern to himself so as not to worry the others. They pass the time singing and listening to Simson retell stories from Homer’s Iliad, translating them into “the current vernacular of Sandy Bar.”

Meanwhile, Oakhurst is careful not to produce the pack of cards he carries with him, the implication being he doesn’t want to introduce poker into this scene of “square fun.”

Yet poker has prepared him well for the present trial. Long sessions have meant he’s “often been a week without sleep,” thus enabling him better to handle the test of physical endurance the trip has presented. Poker has also helped equip Oakhurst with a kind of mental fortitude to withstand the sudden misfortune that has befallen the travelers.

“Luck... is a mighty queer thing,” he tells Simson. “All you know about it for certain is that it’s bound to change. And it’s finding out when it’s going to change that makes you.”

He additionally notes the “streak of bad luck since we left Poker Flat” and how Simson has now been made to share in it. However, after a lifetime of riding out such downswings in fortune, Oakhurst soon comes to realize this to be one instance in which his luck will not changing.

They reach the end of their provisions, and Mother Shipton -- who, it is discovered, has been starving herself to save food for the others -- perishes. Oakhurst then takes Simson aside, provides him with a pair of snow shoes, then points him in the direction of the town where he and the others cannot go, Poker Flat. When the “Innocent” asks Oakhurst what he intends to do, the answer is brief and to the point.

“I’ll stay here.”

Alas, although we never learn of young Simson’s fate, his attempt to rescue the others fails as the final scene shows “the law of Poker Flat” discovering the Duchess and Piney having died. “You could scarcely have told, from the equal peace that dwelt upon them, which was she that had sinned,” the narrator observes.

The group also find Oakhurst “with a derringer by his side and a bullet in his heart,” having shortened his own life by an extra day or two in the hopes of extending those of the others. Before killing himself, Oakhurst pinned a playing card to a pine tree with his bowie knife, his choice of the deuce of clubs perhaps symbolizing the decreased value he’d estimated his remaining moments to possess.

On the card, the lawmen see that Oakhurst has written his own epitaph: “BENEATH THIS TREE LIES THE BODY OF JOHN OAKHURST, WHO STRUCK A STREAK OF BAD LUCK ON THE 23D OF NOVEMBER, 1850 AND HANDED IN HIS CHECKS ON THE 7TH DECEMBER, 1850.” (To the left is a still from the end of the 1937 film adaptation, one of several that have been made from Harte’s story.)

The story ends somewhat enigmatically with the narrator referring to Oakhurst as “at once the strongest and yet the weakest of the outcasts of Poker Flat,” although such a paradoxical character assessment can be explained.

What distinguishes Oakhurst -- or makes him the “strongest” -- is his correct understanding of the way poker requires one to accept the influence of luck, both good and bad. In other words, it is not an immoral game for “improper persons,” but an activity for mature adults able to accept and withstand the game’s inevitable ups and downs.

Such is life, of course, with the death-causing snowstorm revealing the cruel indifference of Nature (or “fate”) that Oakhurst also accepts with “philosophic calmness.”

That said, poker isn’t for everyone. Young Simson -- the “Innocent” -- isn’t prepared for its challenge, something Oakhurst recognized after playing with him back at Sandy Bar. Nor are those committee members whose response to losing at cards is to punish the victors with execution or exile, and to group poker with other activities thought to violate their self-righteous (and hypocritical) sense of virtue.

Meanwhile, Oakhurst is the “weakest” of the outcasts for the same reason, his understanding of the situation having encouraged his noble self-sacrifice. And it is worth noting that poker has prepared him to accept losing -- to know when it is time to “hand in his checks.”

“The Outcasts of Poker Flat” neither champions nor condemns poker, but rather evokes the game to suggest certain ideas about human nature and our relative willingness and/or ability to withstand misfortune. Harte’s story also provides an interesting commentary on poker’s ambiguous status in American culture both then and now, showing how the game has much to teach us -- if we can be mature enough to accept its lessons, that is.

On the Poker Haters

Was thinking a bit about why so many folks find poker such an objectionable activity. Probably because I heard the fellows over on PokerRoad Radio talking about the issue over the weekend (on the 3/1 episode).

In a brief “Poker News” segment they mentioned how Barney Frank had managed to secure a 46th co-sponsor to sign on to his Internet Gambling Regulation and Enforcement Act (H.R. 2046). I’d heard that last week. Incidentally, I’m not sure why Julia Carson’s name continues to appear on the list of co-sponsors (She died in December.) I suppose the deceased still count as co-sponsors (?).

Anyhow, co-hosts Joe Sebok, Gavin Smith, and Ali Nejad mentioned that bit of news, then goofed around a little while, trying unsuccessfully to determine just how many individuals actually comprise the House of Representatives. Such information would be helpful when trying to determine whether 47 supporters of the IGREA (including Frank) signified a meaningful number. (Answer below.)

Then they briefly lamented the UIGEA, the general prejudice against gambling, and the particular demonization of poker. Sebok pointed out how a segment of society believes “gambling -- it’s evil, it’s wrong.” Gavin Smith brought up the old bingo argument, asking why bingo is okay when poker is not. “Because it’s socially acceptable,” answered Sebok.

What makes poker socially unacceptable for so many? There are probably other explanations, but off the top of my head I came up with three different reasons why. Incidentally, all three arguments assume poker is gambling (a view with which I don’t happen to disagree), although all three also minimize or altogether fail to acknowledge poker’s skill component (a view with which I take issue).

The first objection comes from those who believe playing poker indicates the possibility of some kind of psychological disorder -- a symptom, perhaps, of a serious malady in need of correction. Those who make this objection tend not to distinguish between poker and other forms of gambling. I’ve written about this idea before in a post where I talked about mentioning to a co-worker that I played poker and his response was to ask if I thought I could develop a gambling problem. In the documentary No Limit: A Search for the American Dream on the Poker Tournament Trail, Mike Sexton says he believes “gambling is inherent in our blood.” Those who believe the person who gambles is exhibiting a psychological disorder may in fact agree with Sexton; the difference, though, is that while Sexton accepts this condition as a part of who we are, those others believe it a flaw that needs to be rectified.

The second objection is the moral one -- that poker playing is an example of an activity that fails to conform to societal codes of conduct. This objection also frequently is made with regard to other forms of gambling, although as Sebok suggests, one is more likely to see it directed toward poker than toward bingo or the lottery. There are various factors potentially in play here (including faith/religion), but it is the law -- the most patent influence on our notions of “codes of conduct” -- that has the most relevance in this context. Whereas poker is legal in certain places and under certain conditions, other forms of gambling enjoy a great deal more legal sanctioning, thereby causing them to be viewed as conforming to society’s mores -- to be morally unobjectionable.

The third objection is the ethical one, and I think this is the one that more often applies to poker than to other forms of gambling. With ethics we start talking more particularly about “good” and “bad” conduct. There are some who view all forms of gambling as “bad” because of the potential for it to cause harm to those who gamble and to others. Then there are those who especially object to poker because of how the game is played. To succeed, we must take money from other poker players; thus is our welfare dependent on others’ suffering (in a sense). Unlike the lottery or other games where we all play against the house (a faceless, unsympathetic foe), poker pits us against one another, encouraging what some believe to be “bad” forms of treating one another. An irony: that which we poker players might say makes poker more of a skill game than other forms of gambling -- the fact that we are competing against others, and not solely subjecting ourselves to chance -- is precisely that which some say makes poker ethically dubious.

By the way, there are 435 members of the House, meaning at the moment Frank still needs another 171 of the remaining 388 Congressmen and women to come along to have a majority. A long, long way to go . . . .

And, to be realistic, I gotta believe most of those remaining 388 are gonna be held back from supporting the IGREA by one or more of these objections. Don’t you?