Ernest Primm

I found this on the internet today, have looked for a picture of him for years, this is Ernie Primm who owned the  Primadonna where I worked in the late 50's and early 60's. Primm had been part owner in the Palace Club from 1943 to 1951. Primm had learned the gambling business in California, like Harrah and Smith. Primm had run card clubs in southern California before coming to Reno.

The story I heard was that he had two card clubs in Gardena, California, and had a finance company in between the two. Also heard he got his start from nothing but an idea and some guts.

He got to Gardena with nothing. He contacted an influential citizen, politician, and told him he was starting a private club, and gave two such individuals free membership. Then he showed those names to others who would like to be association with them, and got paying members that way. No cash, all checks. Then he went to the bank with those checks, with plans for his new club and they loaned him the money to build it, and that was how he got his start.

He hired me on sight, with an assist from Mr. Alan Roberts, casino manager. After I worked for him for a while, and with the help of my Shift Manager, Mr. Don Eammelli, I got aa suit job and sat box, and then a little time on the "floor."

He was very good to me. He would come in every morning about the same time. He had a nice Cadillac, would drive from home to a parking lot in town, and an employee would drive him to the front of the Primm, he would get out and walk in the front of the club. Dave, the bartender, would get a phone call from the parking lot and have an Old Fashioned ready for him at the end of the bar. He took a sip but I don't think he ever finished it. He would ask us how well we did on the table. If we had a good night he might have a drink waiting for us when we got off. One real good night, didn't make it home for a few days.

He walked in one morning and decided he wanted the bar on the other side of the room, took them a few days and nights, major renovation, but they got it done. He and his wife adopted a child or two. I remember him carrying in a boy perhaps two years old, all dressed up, proud as could be of his son. He was wearing little Alligator shoes .... his young wife was an expert trapshooter and, I think, perhaps an attorney. Story goes that she came to Reno for a divorce, got it, worked at Harolds Club, asked around who the most eligible bachelor in Reno happened to be, went to work at the Primm as a 21 dealer and ended up marrying Ernie. She was a lovely, gracious woman. I have briefly talked with her when she would bring the children in to see Dad.

The Primm was a great job, gave me many opportunities, Ernie was a true gentleman .... all who were successful in the casino industry were of the same ilk ..............

I have lived through much of the change .........

Today is Martin Luther King Day, 2012.

I was born in 1932, and I was introduced to my Mother, Father, Brother, and Sadie. I think I knew that Sadie worked for my family, but to me she was family. I knew she had different colored skin, but she was just Sadie.

We had neighbors on Brown Street, in Dayton, Ohio, who occasionally used the N word in negative ways, so I guess I learned early that "they" were somehow different. Sadie put in her days work, and then went home after the dinner dishes were done. She had a large part in raising me, through high school. She "covered" for me a few times, helped me take care of Rags, my dog, and was a part of our family, up to a point.

Friends would ask about Mom and Dad and Dean, and generally, "How is Sadie?" On one occasion, and one occasion only, my guess is I was 7 or 8. I wanted to do something, and Sadie told me I couldn't. I got made and caller her the N word. To this day, one of the worst days of my life, the feelings I had, after I blurted that out. I have regretted that probably more than anything else I have done in my life.

Riding the old Brown Street Bus, never gave it a second thought, but "they" generally sat in the back of the bus. I can't say I am sure of that, because I never thought of it, and if they did it was just accepted.

Then, 1950, I went away to college in Charleston, South Carolina at The Citadel. Freshmen, or plebes, in the mess hall, were responsible for holding up empty platters and bowls, so they, the colored ladies that worked there, would take them back to the kitchen and get them refilled. I held up a platter, no one came, I yelled, in a rather loud voice, "Maam." All those around me were shocked. "That is not a Maam, that is a N word." I got my first demerits for that.

During my time there I heard many stories of pranks, mistreatment, and realized how Southerners actually felt and reacted  toward blacks. I was a fan of some black entertainers. Little Esther was performing in town. I went, had to sit isolated up in the balcony, separated.

I was not aware of any problems in the Navy in the early 50's, even though we were predominately white.

Then, in 1956, in Reno, blacks were not allowed in the casinos. There again, never gave any thought to it until I became good friends with an entertainer, Billy Ward and his Dominos. Billy could entertain on the stage at the Golden, but was not allowed out on the floor after the show. They had rooms in the Golden, and spent most of their off time in their rooms. On occasions we would have them out to our house for a home cooked meal. I had a friend, white girl, who saw his picture and wanted to meet him. I had to sneak them up to his room. They eventually got married, moved to California where mixed marriages were more in style.

Late fifties or early sixties, an incident occurred at The Primm  where we had a "situation" arise, a white woman lost money on the 21 table, her husband entered the club, he was black. Many phone calls went out all over Nevada, I am sure, and the doors opened for all. And, I was a part of it, kinda neat.

So, in my 79 years I have lived through the entire scenario. Sammy Davis could appear at the The Mapes, a police escort with sirens blaring, limos, coming up South Virginia, a grand entrance, but they had to leave the hotel right after his show, probably in 1956.

There have been many changes during that time, and I still can't use the N word.

Don Eammelli

Late fifties, I went to work at The Primm in Reno. It was somewhat of a "step up" from where I had worked before. I was hired by one of the finest gentlemen I had ever known, Mr. Alan Roberts, and it was owned by another gentlemen, Mr. Ernie Primm.

I was put on the "graveyard" shift, 3 AM till 11 AM. I had worked a lot of graveyard and really liked those hours. You could either do your partying in the morning after work, or the time before you went on shift. I must admit I don't remember my first day, pretty nervous entering into this new, different way of dealing craps. Each club has its own way of dealing, and that was how it was done, and, they got bigger "action" at the Primm, and that made me nervous.

My graveyard boss turned out  to be Don Eammelli. He put me at ease right away. I eventually learned some of his background. He was from Steubenville, Ohio, a starting place for a number of casino employees. Don had also been a band leader in his younger days.

My first night, break time, Don challenged me to call a heads or tails on a silver dollar, to determine who bought the coffee. Don won. Don always won. His "flip" was so practiced that he could determine whether heads or tails by where he caught the coin. He sometimes would come over to the table and make a bet of one kind or another, he always won.

Early on, Don took me to a casino and introduced me to to the shift manager, Joe Hill. While we were talking, he opened a new pack of cards for a change on a 21 table. He rippled them a few times, fanned them, and said, "Uh Oh, a factory marked deck," and proceeded to turn over cards, naming them. Then he explained how sometimes, when they are trimming the deck that a blade gets a nick or something in it, and marks the deck. "Can't use those."

Don had him give them to me, good training for the future, check out the deck and learn for yourself. I took the deck home, used a magnifying glass, spent hours, looking for the mark. Don made me labor over that deck for a week or so. Then one morning, he laughed, said that Joe had marked them during the few short manipulations he had done while he had the cards. My lesson, don't trust anyone, don't believe what you see, and don't doubt what someone says they can do.

Don owned a number of houses and apartments around town. We rented one from him. I occasionally went with him to do maintenance on them and check things out. Don limped, had lost a leg in a car accident, he had done some work for the bank, and was driving back to Reno in a "repo" and had a wreck.

Don trained me, and helped me out, and eventually, I was given the opportunity to "sit box," next step up the ladder from a dealer, sit in the middle of the table, keep an eye on the customers, keep an eye on the dealers, hand out meal tickets, be nice to the customers, and try to look the part. I bought some Louie Roth suits, with cuffs on the sleeves, white on white monogrammed shirts, a Gensler Lee watch, with 33 diamonds on the face, alligator shoes, with tassels, tried really hard to look the part.

Don could leave the pit, sit at the bar, drinking water, check things out in the mirror on the back bar, and know everything that was going on in the pit.

One morning, there was an oriental playing 21, and Don was sitting at the bar watching him in the mirror. He was betting in a familiar pattern, like a "card marker" and I strolled over to Don to mention it to him. "I know, let him bet a few more hands." Then he casually strolled into the pit, got a few new decks out of the drawer, changed cards on one table, then casually changed them on the one where the oriental was playing. He said nothing, let him get another deck marked, Don changed them again. We took him for quite a bit of money before he caught on to what Don was doing.

Don was a "marker" and a "counter" and knew what to do when they sat down to play. That is how and why he so many properties around town. Don's problem, when gambling, he would get ahead, they would buy him drinks, then he would start losing, not all the time.

One evening, Don needed some extra money to make payments. Payed one of our security guards to follow him around, and when he got so much ahead, make him leave, and go home. They went to Harrah's Club, Don was "counting" .... a count system he had originated. He wanted to teach it to me, but I was afraid to learn, and, he was much smarter and had a much better mind than I did. His count system was simple, as cards were shown, he remembered three numbers, and those numbers let him know what his odds of winner were.

Don started winning, drinks started flowing his way, they all knew him, he got to his amount to leave, his guard came to the table, "Come on Don, time to leave." Don called security over, said the man was bothering him, them escorted him out, Don lost his money, and went home.

I could write a book about Don, and what he did, and what we did to him, pin wheel watches, a product that cleaned drains, having a picnic and eating chicken, in the median area, on South Virginia, cars whizzing by, the Cattysark and Milk Fund, Joe Conforte, Del Ray, the magician, so many stories.

I hope Don is still in Reno, and perhaps reads this. I think his two children still live there, not sure about Don. It would be nice to let him know what an important part he played in my life. If things had unfolded differently, who knows, I had some great people on my side.

Thanks, Don.