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Posted by on Sep 10, 2012 in Blog, Essays, General Poker, Personal | 4 comments

September 11, 2001 — Poker’s Most Shameful Day?

 

 

I.  INTRODUCTION

This is one of the more unusual columns I’ve ever written.

The spark of inpiration was more like a slow-burning fuse  It came from something that’s been bothering me for 11 years.

Feelings of diappointment and anger have simmered inside me since 9-11-01.  So, I chose today to confront those feelings and ultimately share what I learned and the peace I have come to about this affair with readers.

On the very day when our world changed in a way it would and could never be quite that same as before, I was astounded to learn that not just one, but two major poker tournaments were played on September 11, 2001.

In Los Angeles, an event at the Heavenly Hold’em tournament (No-Limit Hold’em) at the Commerce Casino attracted 122 entrants.

In Las Vegas, there were two major tournaments played that day as part of the Queens Poker Classic, held at the Four Queens Casino.  A No-Limit Hold’em tournament at noon attracted a field of 89 players.  A 7-Card Stud event played later that day had 65 entrants.  So, that’s 276 poker players who seemed to think a poker tournament was more important than the nation and our way of life being under attack.

As I began to write about this and attempt to discover how and why anyone could be so insensitive to such an overwhelming emotional experience, I came to an entirely different conclusion about the ways people deal with tragedy and pain.  In short, I learned not to judge.

 

II.  AT HOME — THE BACKSTORY

First, here’s some background.

By September of 2001, I was technically unemployed.  I left a comfortable job in the nation’s capital to pursue what I really wanted to do.  I spent most of my weekends in Atlantic City playing poker.  I spent my weekdays at home in Crystal City, VA — just across the Potomac River from Washington, DC — writing about poker and gambling, as well as betting on sports.  Life was good.

At the time I followed the poker tournament circuit very closely.  Six years earlier I had created CARD PLAYER MAGAZINE’S “Player of the Year” system.  I tracked all the results from around the country myself and announced who had won the “Player of the Year” honor in my each of my year-end columns, which appeared in late December.  Because I couldn’t miss a single day of results, I followed every major tournament held around the country — including Heavenly Hold’em and the Queens Poker Classic which were played in September.

Like everyone else, I was stunned by what took place on September 11th.  Part of the tragedy occurred within sight of my apartment balcony, which overlooked the Pentagon.  What was normally a magnificent ninth-floor view of the Pentagon, Arlington National Cemetery and all the famous monuments became an observation point of utter disbelief and unspeakable horror.

A few days after September 11th, I returned to my duties and began looking over recent poker tournament results again, which had to be entered into my “Player of the Year” database.

I was astounded to discover that none of the three tournaments scheduled that horrible day had been canceled.  They went on just as planned.  Even more baffling — well over 200 players had decided to enter.  One of these tournaments was the Queens Poker Classic, which took place at the Four Queens in Downtown Las Vegas.  At one time, the Four Queens was a big deal.  It was spread over two weeks and even had a $10,000 buy-on championship.  Stu Ungar won it one year.  All the biggest names in poker used to enter and play.

 

III.  POKER’S MOST SHAMEFUL DAY?

I could not imagine a more revolting decision by so many ill-mannered people.  While our nation was under attack, while the entire nation’s air service was suspended and millions were stranded everywhere, while thousands of bodies were still buring beneath rubble of twisted metal, and while every sane person in the universe over the age of 6 was either in front of a television set or seeking comfort by connecting with others in a giant umbrella of solidarity, a few hundred utterly insensitive buffoons were joking it up at the poker table.  At least, that’s what I thought.

Before continuing — there’s a historical precedent here worth mentioning.  Poker most certainly did not learn from the mistakes of the past.

Perhaps the only similar event in modern history which had such a profound impact on our nation was the Kennedy Assassination.  How did society react to that shocking event?  More specifically, what happened to recreational activities that were scheduled that weekend back in November 1963?

Days after the president was murdered, the National Football League decided to go ahead and play its full schedule of games.  Years later, NFL Commissioner Pete Rozell cited that decision to continue with the games — so soon in the shadow of a national tragedy — as one of his biggest regrets.  In the NFL’s case, that turned out to be three days afterward.  In short, everyone agreed — it was wrong to play those games.

But in the case of a few poker tournaments — and specifically, one event held in Las Vegas, the time lapse between the buildings collapsing and the start of the tournament was just under five hours.

Not a day or two.  FIVE HOURS.

Question:  What kind of moron would decide to go ahead and hold a poker tournament under such conditions?  Couldn’t the competition be delayed a day?  Isn’t there anything that deserves universal respect — at least temporarily?  Moreover, who were these thoughtless players who chose to play, seemingly indifferent to the tragedy that had impacted millions of their fellow citizens?

I mean — what would it take for them to “get it?”  Would they still choose to play poker a few hours after a presidential assassination?  What about an earthquake?  What about a nuclear attack?  Would 276 people still show up expecting cards to be dealt if the missles were flying?  Where does one draw the line?

My anger and disappointment were directed at what I knew and what I was connected to — the poker industry.  It continued to bother me.  My outrage percolated for 11 years.

 

IV.  GETTING THE STORY BEHIND THE STORY

This appeared to be one of our industry’s most shameful moments.  Imagine trying to justify holding such a trivial pursuit to a non-poker player.  You can’t.  So, I had to try and learn more about why this all happened.  I had to try and find out who would decide to spend the whole day playing poker under those extraordinary conditions.

I found the tournament results.  Glancing over the payouts, I wondered if I knew any of the players that made the decision to play that day?  I was stunned by what I discovered.  Not only did I recognize several names — I also saw a close freind had finished in second place.  Even more shocking, this player was from New York!

While his city was being attacked and while his family and freinds may have been in danger, the New Yorker decided to enter a poker tournament.

The only word I could think of to describe this would be — baffling.

So, I emailed him a few days ago.

And, this is where our story suddenly takes a twist.

The person from New York I am talking about is named Scott Byron.

My e-mail to Scott Byron follows:

 

Dear Scott:  

 This is going to come across and very rude and perhaps even accusatory. 

Please forgive the tone of this in advance. 

You and I have been good friends for a long time and none of this has anything to do with that friendship.   Okay, disclaimer done.  Here it goes.  

I am going to write and post something I will call “POKER’S MOST SHAMEFUL DAY.”  This refers to a tournament that was held at the Four Queens back Sept. 11, 2001.  My position is the tournament should have been cancelled (at least the noon event).  Moreover, those who entered are pretty much a disgrace to humanity.  

I was astounded to go back and look at the results of that tournament and discover that you played, and happened to finish second.   Some idiot playing — I might understand.   You, knowing you and being from NYC, playing an event where those towers has just fallen a couple of hours earlier strikes me as absolutely baffling.   Hopefully, you can understand how stunned I was to see that you played in that tournament.  

If you care to, I would like to hear your explanation as to why you would chose to play something as trivial as a poker tournament on what was the most frightening day of our lifetimes?   You may speak on or off the record.  I am not sure I will use any of your quotes, and will not if you ask me not to.  But this is something I simply cannot understand, both from a professional and personal perspective.  

Thanks — one again, I hope you understand the spirit of the question.    

— Nolan

 

Scott Byron replied a short time later.  Here’s his very thoughtful perspective (which I was given permission to make public):

 

Nolan:

Sure, I understand.  I’ll tell you what happened.

First, I signed up for the tournament the night before.  So, it wasn’t an active choice I made that morning.  I set my alarm and woke up with about an hour to go until the tournament started, and by that point the towers had already fallen. 

I sat on the edge of the bed watching on TV for a while, but it was all very confusing at that time; the TV stations had not yet created a narrative out of the pictures.  It was very disjointed.  I remember at one point noticing that my head was tilted while I watched, which was an indication of my confusion about the whole thing.

Nobody knew where I was staying (which was the Lady Luck) except for my mom, who lived on Long Island.  Nobody had called me — as it turns out nobody could get through.  I tried calling my mom, but I couldn’t get through.

Nobody knew what or how to feel at that point.  Certainly not me.  I tried to think if I knew anyone who might be in danger, or if I knew anyone who worked in the towers.  To the latter, no.  To the former, the only thing I could think of was that it was possible that someone was in the subway passing under the WTC site when they fell, but that didn’t seem likely.

Just sitting there staring at the TV didn’t make much sense in that moment.  I decided I needed to find out what was going on at the tournament area.  I sort of assumed that they would cancel the event, and I would get my money back.  I showered and headed over to the Four Queens.

The same vibe was in the room there.  Nobody knew how they should act or what to do/not do.  They made a decision to carry on with the tournament, but offered refunds to people who wanted them.  They announced that they would let people keep their cell phones on the table, which was not allowed for the rest of the tournament.  All of the TVs in the room were tuned to the news.

I had about 15 minutes to decide.  The question was — do I go to my rather drab hotel room and stare at the TV all day, hoping for a call, or do I spend it with these people, watching the same footage, and hope for a call?  Remember at that time the poker world was a lot smaller — these were my friends from the poker circuit, not a mass of strangers.  We already knew at that point that nobody was going to be able to leave Las Vegas for a while, as the flights were already grounded.

So, I decided to play.  It gave me something to do, rather than just sit alone and stare at the TV.  Some people took the refunds, but not too many.  It was a relatively small event — 89 players if I recall?  They paused the tournament when President Bush addressed the nation.  I actually didn’t hear from anyone for 5 or 6 hours — calls just weren’t getting in or out of New York at all.  It wasn’t until dinner time that I was able to speak to anyone, which of course was well into the night in NY.  Some people I couldn’t reach for days.  Everyone was okay.

I don’t know anyone personally who died.  As it turns out there was one regular from the Mayfair Club whose company had an office in the towers, and he lost a few employees, but he wasn’t there.  Late that night watching a list scroll by of businesses which had offices in the towers, I saw his name scroll by (“Julian Studley Associates,” or similar) and my heart leapt.  That’s as close as I came to knowing someone, which surprises me because there were a lot of “business people” among the Mayfair Club regulars.

I don’t regret my decision at all.  Confusion was the primary emotion that first day — not anger or sorrow or even fright.  All those emotions came later.  Of course I felt the need to “do something,” like everyone did, but what could I do from where I was?  It didn’t seem like sitting alone in a hotel room and moping/mourning was the best way to spend that day.  I was scheduled to fly home a couple of days later, but I knew that I would be there for longer.  I had no imperative to go home (no job, then) and I knew that other people would be desperate to get out sooner than I had to, so I wasn’t going to take a seat on the first flight, either.

Much to my amazement, I haven’t had my decision to play seriously questioned by anyone until now.  I’ve told the story many many times, as people want to know my 9/11 story when they hear I’m from New York.  It’s an unusual story, for sure, winning $12K or so (there was a deal heads-up).  That day, it was a distraction, and a distraction was what I needed.  I have other stories from when I was finally able to get home later. I got a few chances to “do something” and I did.

If you want to read an exceptional personal account of the time, my friend Nicole Blackman wrote a piece you can read here:  NICOLE BLACKMAN BLOG

I’m in that piece a couple of times; I’m sure you’ll recognize me even though I’m not mentioned by name.

So that’s the bare-bones story.  Was the tournament trivial?  Of course.  But I spent the day with friends and strangers, watching TV like everyone else, while playing a game. We talked about how we felt, we speculated on what was happening and why.  We shared an experience.  I think that was better than sitting alone in an ugly hotel room.

— Scott

 

V.  UPON FURTHER REFLECTION

There are more than a few lessons here, and I just learned one of them.

I suppose the most important thing is not to jump to conclusions without getting the facts.  Moreover, people react to extreme situations in different ways and given there’s little or no previous example of what to do and how to react, we all respond differently.

In retrospect, September 11, 2001 was not poker’s most shameful day.  Perhaps continuing with the tournaments gave people some measure of comfort.  Perhaps playing in a poker tournament served as a much-needed distraction from the horrors of the day.  And perhaps all people should be entitled to deal with tragedy in their own way.

 

COMING NEXT:  AT THE PENTAGON — REMEMBERING SEPTEMBER 11, 2001

_________

 

4 Comments

  1. PokerStars opened to the public on 9/11. In 2006, I wrote on my blog:

    “On one evening in September I received an e-mail from the boss asking me to do an announcement on RGP that we were going to open for play-money to the public the next day. Throughout the last couple of weeks we’d done some invite-only tournaments just so a very limited number of people could test the site and report to us any bugs. We were now ready to go play-money beta. So, on September 10, 2001, I wrote up this announcement, saved it on my computer, and went to bed. I woke up the next morning, stumbled over to the computer, hit “Send” and then refreshed. That is how I learned about the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center. Ugh, boy did I feel like crap; god-knows how many people just died in NYC and here I am pimping out a poker site. I actually got surprisingly little flack for my most inappropriate post (you can read it here if you’re interested in its actual contents). I guess people were still too in shock to flame me.”

    Also notably, another mutual friend of ours, Dan Goldman would end up winning the first tournament in PokerStars history on the evening of September 11/01.

    Scott’s response sounds about right. It was a confusing day. No one was really sure what was going on. I remember being a university student at the time and not being sure whether to drive to school to attend lecture because I wasn’t sure if there’d be a lecture. It’s easy to reflect however many years later and say that we should have reacted in this or that way, but we didn’t have the benefit of realizing that this would be a defining moment in our history.

  2. Two thoughts…..

    If we don’t play poker the terrorists win.

    When did we stop the nationally televised reading of the names of those killed at Pearl Harbor?

  3. I was a dealer at the time and my shift started at 10AM Pacific time. I happened to wake up early and see the live shot of the second plane going into the WTC. After the shock wore off, I called work and assumed they were closing. Their response was, “We never close.” When I came to work there were still customers playing from the night before. Obviously every TV was showing coverage of the attack, but I could not fathom how people were continuing to play as if what happened was not a big deal.

    It took some time for me to realize that, for a lot of people, the cardroom crowd was their second family, in some cases their only family. Where else would they go? Home, to be alone? The cardroom was something stable in their lives. It was always there. There were people to talk to. At the start of the day I was somewhat disgusted with the people that were playing poker, but by the end of my shift I came to an understanding. They were not there for the poker. They were there to be among friends.

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  1. 9/11....Seventeen Years Later - Nolan Dalla - […] SEPTEMBER 11, 2001 — POKER’S MOST SHAMELESS DAY? […]

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