In 1953 most entertainment at Myrick’s Mill was of the outside variety, but when the weather was too hot, too cold, or too wet someone was always ready for a game of checkers. Others might try a hand at the horse race machine or the slots, the one armed bandit as some called the slots.

The side of a cardboard box with squares drawn off in pencil and alternate squares shaded made a good checkerboard. Bottle stoppers served as the checkers. One player turned the caps up, and the opposite player turned the caps down. No need to worry about losing a checker, a critical piece of the game. The stopper holder on the side of the drink box provided a continual supply of checkers. Two cowhide bottom chairs on either side of the checker board sitting atop an empty wooden nail keg and the game was set for play. Except for women who didn’t hang around the store in those days, the game was no respecter of age, race, creed or color. Anybody played and everybody played. Come to think of it, I bet those games might have led to the anti-discrimination language that congress adopted which now appears on all government contracts and papers. There were no preferences, no handicaps given to equalize the players, either. Seasoned old veterans were often challenged by a young’n and beaten to shame, a game not granted to the young player out of courtesy or deference to his youth or fear of a damaged young psyche. The young’n simply was a better player and beat the stew out of the old gent.

While a checker game was in progress, a couple of others might be playing the slots. Yep, slot machines that paid off in real coins were legal and available at the old store at Myrick’s Mill in the early 1950’s. Mr. Gene Rozier, Sr. from Jeffersonville came around once a week, drank a coke, and offered friendly conversation while oiling and adjusting the machines. If it was around lunch time, he might have lunch of sardines, or potted meat, or Vienna sausage, saltine crackers, cheese and wind up with a big penny wheel for desert.

I’ll never forget all the pennies, nickels and dimes that he raked into those heavy canvas sacks. I thought Mr. Gene must have been the richest man in the county. Then he’d count out some of the money for Daddy in exchange for providing a place in the store for the machines. There were a couple of slot machines with pictures of lemons, oranges, plums, and apples, all spinning wildly when the big lever was pulled and eventually slowing enough for each wheel to into position.. If three apples stopped in the window, the player had won with nickels jingling as the machine paid the winning player. My favorite was the horse race machine. About 7 horses were lined up at the start line. Each horse had a slot where the player would drop a nickel on the horse of his choosing. Up to seven people could play the game at once, each playing a different horse. Or a person could play alone, dropping a nickel on the horse of his choosing or play all horses at once. Once all nickels were dropped in the slot, and the lever pulled, seven horses raced toward the finish line, with horses either lagging or pulling ahead of the other just like a real live horse race. There were even jockeys on each horse. If a player’s horse reached the finish line first, then he was a winner of that game and was paid with nickels jingling as they fell to the cup.

I never remember anyone spending long hours or a lot of their money on the machines. But, they sure did seem to have a lot of fun, even if the machines did keep more than they gave. Almost everyone expected it, though. There were few illusions. As a kid, I played the machines, too. Then, Daddy told me that I’d never get ahead of the machine; to quit putting my money in them. The machine would always keep more of my nickels than it would give. After hearing that, I kinda lost interest, but enjoyed watching other folks think they could fool the machine into paying them more than they spent playing.

Slickbuddy never gave up the probability of winning. We’ll visit with him next week.

©2003 - William C. Humphries, Jr.