Roulette Table: Faire sauter la banque
By Mark Pilarski
11 August 2006
Dear Mark,
I once heard that "breaking the bank" had something to do with a misbehaving roulette wheel that paid off vast sums of money to the person who figured out that it was malfunctioning. Is that where the term "breaking the bank" came from in relation to casino gambling? Mel G.
While bedside reading this past week, Mel, I happened to uncover the answer to your question in the just-released, revised version of Kevin Blackwood's Casino Gambling for Dummies. On page 160, he writes that in Monte Carlo in 1873, an Englishman named Joseph Jagger identified a biased roulette wheel where nine numbers were appearing more often than randomness would allow. "Jagger pounced, and before the casino bosses figured out what was going on, he walked away winning with $350,000, an enormous sum in his day," Blackwood wrote, regarding the man who broke the bank at Monte Carlo.
I'm with the Casino Gambling for Dummies author in that Joseph Jagger was the first famous gambler to get some publicity in 1873 for breaking the bank, but, Mel, it was a con artist, a public relations-thirsty casino owner, a song, and a music hall star that made the term "Break the Bank" most memorable.
In French, if a gambler wins more than the chips that exist on the table, he was said to have "faire sauter la banque," which actually means "blown up the bank", but is usually translated to our milder "broke the bank." If that were ever to happen, a black shroud would be placed over the table until reserve chips were brought to the game. The only time I ever saw a roulette table come to a complete halt was when a Super Big Gulp Slurpee tipped over on Red and Odd.
Although no gambler had come close to winning the whole reserves of the casino, the PR-savvy owner of the Monte Carlo casino, François Blanc, was always looking for ways to get greed-awakening publicity from stories of winning gamblers.
He found his poster-boy gambler in one Charles Wells, who in July of 1891 'broke the bank' twelve times in less than 11 hours, winning over one million francs. During one run, his number had come up in 23 of 30 successive spins of the wheel. In November of the same year, Wells returned and made another million francs in three days, including successful bets on the number five for five successive turns.
Despite hiring a slew of private detectives, Blanc could never figure out the Wells system. Wells always maintained that it was just pure luck, and the system he used was the Martingale, where you double your next bet after a loss, to make up for it. (Stupid system; don't trust it.)
What eventually was uncovered was how Wells got his bankroll in the first place. He conned wealthy investors into bankrolling bogus inventions like a musical jump rope and a fuel-saving invention for steamships. Although Wells broke the bank six more times, his luck went south, and he lost not only his own money, but also that of his investors.
Charged with bilking money from investors by fraud, he was extradited to England, found guilty at the Old Bailey and spent eight years in the slammer. Wells served another three-year stay for yet another fraud before eventually immigrating to France, where still another financial scam earned him five more years. Are you counting?
In 1892, Fred Gilbert wrote the popular song, The Man Who Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo, that was popularized by the music hall star, Charles Coborn, but the gambler was not Blackwood's Jagger, but flimflammer Charles Wells, who was the inspiration for the song.
By the way, Mel, as most gambling stories go, Wells died penniless in Paris in 1926.
Gambling Wisdom of the Week: "Lady Luck is like a politician. She has such few favors to give, and too many friends to give them to." -- John Gollehon, A Gambler's Little Instruction Book
11 August 2006
Dear Mark,
I once heard that "breaking the bank" had something to do with a misbehaving roulette wheel that paid off vast sums of money to the person who figured out that it was malfunctioning. Is that where the term "breaking the bank" came from in relation to casino gambling? Mel G.
While bedside reading this past week, Mel, I happened to uncover the answer to your question in the just-released, revised version of Kevin Blackwood's Casino Gambling for Dummies. On page 160, he writes that in Monte Carlo in 1873, an Englishman named Joseph Jagger identified a biased roulette wheel where nine numbers were appearing more often than randomness would allow. "Jagger pounced, and before the casino bosses figured out what was going on, he walked away winning with $350,000, an enormous sum in his day," Blackwood wrote, regarding the man who broke the bank at Monte Carlo.
I'm with the Casino Gambling for Dummies author in that Joseph Jagger was the first famous gambler to get some publicity in 1873 for breaking the bank, but, Mel, it was a con artist, a public relations-thirsty casino owner, a song, and a music hall star that made the term "Break the Bank" most memorable.
In French, if a gambler wins more than the chips that exist on the table, he was said to have "faire sauter la banque," which actually means "blown up the bank", but is usually translated to our milder "broke the bank." If that were ever to happen, a black shroud would be placed over the table until reserve chips were brought to the game. The only time I ever saw a roulette table come to a complete halt was when a Super Big Gulp Slurpee tipped over on Red and Odd.
Although no gambler had come close to winning the whole reserves of the casino, the PR-savvy owner of the Monte Carlo casino, François Blanc, was always looking for ways to get greed-awakening publicity from stories of winning gamblers.
He found his poster-boy gambler in one Charles Wells, who in July of 1891 'broke the bank' twelve times in less than 11 hours, winning over one million francs. During one run, his number had come up in 23 of 30 successive spins of the wheel. In November of the same year, Wells returned and made another million francs in three days, including successful bets on the number five for five successive turns.
Despite hiring a slew of private detectives, Blanc could never figure out the Wells system. Wells always maintained that it was just pure luck, and the system he used was the Martingale, where you double your next bet after a loss, to make up for it. (Stupid system; don't trust it.)
What eventually was uncovered was how Wells got his bankroll in the first place. He conned wealthy investors into bankrolling bogus inventions like a musical jump rope and a fuel-saving invention for steamships. Although Wells broke the bank six more times, his luck went south, and he lost not only his own money, but also that of his investors.
Charged with bilking money from investors by fraud, he was extradited to England, found guilty at the Old Bailey and spent eight years in the slammer. Wells served another three-year stay for yet another fraud before eventually immigrating to France, where still another financial scam earned him five more years. Are you counting?
In 1892, Fred Gilbert wrote the popular song, The Man Who Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo, that was popularized by the music hall star, Charles Coborn, but the gambler was not Blackwood's Jagger, but flimflammer Charles Wells, who was the inspiration for the song.
By the way, Mel, as most gambling stories go, Wells died penniless in Paris in 1926.
Gambling Wisdom of the Week: "Lady Luck is like a politician. She has such few favors to give, and too many friends to give them to." -- John Gollehon, A Gambler's Little Instruction Book
Roulette Table: Not your mother's Niagara Falls
DEIRDRE KELLY
From Wednesday's Globe and Mail
Niagara Falls, Ont. — When the Toronto-based Kontent Group went looking for a cool locale in which to launch Sir, its new Canadian men's fashion magazine, CEO and creative director Michael King focused on Niagara Falls as the venue for a lavish party for 40 style-savvy guests.
"It was very clear to us 12 months ago that Niagara was on the cusp of cool," King says. "It's why we wanted to be there."
He says he was drawn to the town's "new energy," embodied by the spate of upscale development, including the swank billion-dollar Fallsview Casino Resort where the Sir party took place last fall.
"Niagara isn't the shy little country girl your mom and dad knew," says King, who with Geoffrey Dawe publishes the trend-conscious magazines Inside and FQ, as well as Sir. "She's all grown up, wearing a Dolce & Gabbana dress, and ready to party."
Culture and coolness are the new buzzwords around the Falls. They ring particularly loud at Avaia, a spectacular $10-million equestrian-based act created by the newly formed Cirque Niagara in association with Russia's famed Kantemirov circus family, who specialize in Cossack trick riding. It runs until Oct. 8 under the new $1.3-million Celestial Palace tent built to hold 1,500 people at a time at Rapidsview Park, opposite Marineland.
And the buzz will get louder still when Fuego!, Carmen Mota's flamenco show, arrives direct from Spain on Aug. 2.
While it may not be on every hipsters' to-do list, this summer's lineup at the Fallsview's Avalon Ballroom is a who's who of crooners and rockers: Elvis Costello, George Thorogood, Julio Iglesias, and Mr. Vegas himself, Wayne Newton.
Ottawa native Paul Anka was the first to play the Avalon when it opened in 2004, and he has since been spreading the word that the venue is state-of-the-art. "I love it because it is unique," he says. "I love the people, and mostly I love being back in Canada."
Tony Bennett, who played the Avalon in June at the beginning of the season, concurs that the new Niagara has a certain cachet. "The Avalon is one of the best new rooms," Bennett says. "Everyone seems to care about it. A very relaxing and very cool place."
Swank hotels, restaurants, boutiques and entertainment are turning the Falls into an overnight destination as much as a day trip, Tourism Niagara spokeswoman Carrie Kormos says. "It's about extending people's stay, making them want to come for more than the waters but for the food, the shopping, the entertainment," Kormos explains. "Now, there's a more adult experience to the Falls than there was before. It's a lot more sophisticated."
At present, four million people visit the Falls each year. By 2016, if development keeps pace with demand, the projection is for 30 million annual visitors.
According to Fallsview spokesman Greg Medulun, "The new Niagara Falls is now a guys' getaway, it's now a girls' getaway. It's a special-occasion town at a level that is more than just 'Honeymoon Capital of the World.'" These views run contrary to those recently voiced by local historian Paul Gromosiak in the PBS special Niagara Falls, aired on June 21. He called the Canadian border town "a 21st-century sideshow," in reference, no doubt, to the gaudy attractions lining gadget- and gewgaw-crazed Clifton Hill, home of the House of Frankenstein, Dracula Castle and, well, you may have been there, seen that, bought the T-shirt.
Clifton Hill is still going strong, but, Medulun says, "that's a stereotype the new Niagara Falls is trying to move away from."
Eclipsing the theme-park aspect of the town are pleasure domes of glass and marble that are part of a $2-billion redevelopment project aimed at increasing tourism expenditure to $2.7-billion next year, up from $1.8-billion in 2001.
The catalyst for change has been Casino Niagara. Since its opening in 1996, overnight stays jumped from an estimated 2.9 million to 3.8 million in 2001. That number is expected to top 4.3 million next year.
Tony businesses were quick to follow Casino Niagara's lead. Chip wagons made room for a Wolfgang Puck restaurant franchise. Then there's the recently opened Dragonfly, a 12,000-square-foot Asian-themed nightclub with dragon and terra-cotta warrior statuary and a 1,250-square-foot ceiling that lights up and pulses to the music.
Toronto club impresario Charles Khabouth, who created Dragonfly from custom-made bars, flooring and fabrics imported from China, says it's the first real nightclub in Niagara Falls, and "the most beautiful in North America, by far."
Even Khabouth is surprised to see something this vibrant in a town he once left for dead. "The last thing I ever wanted to do was go to Niagara Falls," he says. "But I think the new casino has potential, and I think Niagara Falls in the next two years will change quite a bit. It'll be where everyone wants to go."
The "new casino" is the Fallsview resort and gaming complex. Dragonfly is situated inside its glass-and-chrome-domed complex, modelled on the belle-époque Galleria in Milan, and next to the resort's five-star restaurant 17 Noir, whose interior is as black as the roulette table that inspired its design.
Against this inky backdrop, the Sir party unfolded, as did the magazine's fall fashion shoot. Through the windows was a dramatic view of the Falls, mist rising high over the thundering roar of the water. It's an awesome sight that never fails to impress (despite Oscar Wilde's declaration that it is the second-most-disappointing thing a woman experiences on her wedding night).
Which brings us back to the honeymoon capital. The Falls are said to emit an "ionic force" that serves as a natural aphrodisiac. (For once, it's true what they say: There's something in the water.)
But in the newfangled Niagara, is there room for an old-fashioned honeymoon? Niagara Tourism's Kormos says on-site nuptials are actually being encouraged by means of a new "upscale" wedding chapel launched last Valentine's Day. At least one bride was serenaded by blues giant B.B. King, playing the Avalon, when he found out she was a fan. "It's us putting a unique spin on the honeymoon capital idea," Kormos says.
From Wednesday's Globe and Mail
Niagara Falls, Ont. — When the Toronto-based Kontent Group went looking for a cool locale in which to launch Sir, its new Canadian men's fashion magazine, CEO and creative director Michael King focused on Niagara Falls as the venue for a lavish party for 40 style-savvy guests.
"It was very clear to us 12 months ago that Niagara was on the cusp of cool," King says. "It's why we wanted to be there."
He says he was drawn to the town's "new energy," embodied by the spate of upscale development, including the swank billion-dollar Fallsview Casino Resort where the Sir party took place last fall.
"Niagara isn't the shy little country girl your mom and dad knew," says King, who with Geoffrey Dawe publishes the trend-conscious magazines Inside and FQ, as well as Sir. "She's all grown up, wearing a Dolce & Gabbana dress, and ready to party."
Culture and coolness are the new buzzwords around the Falls. They ring particularly loud at Avaia, a spectacular $10-million equestrian-based act created by the newly formed Cirque Niagara in association with Russia's famed Kantemirov circus family, who specialize in Cossack trick riding. It runs until Oct. 8 under the new $1.3-million Celestial Palace tent built to hold 1,500 people at a time at Rapidsview Park, opposite Marineland.
And the buzz will get louder still when Fuego!, Carmen Mota's flamenco show, arrives direct from Spain on Aug. 2.
While it may not be on every hipsters' to-do list, this summer's lineup at the Fallsview's Avalon Ballroom is a who's who of crooners and rockers: Elvis Costello, George Thorogood, Julio Iglesias, and Mr. Vegas himself, Wayne Newton.
Ottawa native Paul Anka was the first to play the Avalon when it opened in 2004, and he has since been spreading the word that the venue is state-of-the-art. "I love it because it is unique," he says. "I love the people, and mostly I love being back in Canada."
Tony Bennett, who played the Avalon in June at the beginning of the season, concurs that the new Niagara has a certain cachet. "The Avalon is one of the best new rooms," Bennett says. "Everyone seems to care about it. A very relaxing and very cool place."
Swank hotels, restaurants, boutiques and entertainment are turning the Falls into an overnight destination as much as a day trip, Tourism Niagara spokeswoman Carrie Kormos says. "It's about extending people's stay, making them want to come for more than the waters but for the food, the shopping, the entertainment," Kormos explains. "Now, there's a more adult experience to the Falls than there was before. It's a lot more sophisticated."
At present, four million people visit the Falls each year. By 2016, if development keeps pace with demand, the projection is for 30 million annual visitors.
According to Fallsview spokesman Greg Medulun, "The new Niagara Falls is now a guys' getaway, it's now a girls' getaway. It's a special-occasion town at a level that is more than just 'Honeymoon Capital of the World.'" These views run contrary to those recently voiced by local historian Paul Gromosiak in the PBS special Niagara Falls, aired on June 21. He called the Canadian border town "a 21st-century sideshow," in reference, no doubt, to the gaudy attractions lining gadget- and gewgaw-crazed Clifton Hill, home of the House of Frankenstein, Dracula Castle and, well, you may have been there, seen that, bought the T-shirt.
Clifton Hill is still going strong, but, Medulun says, "that's a stereotype the new Niagara Falls is trying to move away from."
Eclipsing the theme-park aspect of the town are pleasure domes of glass and marble that are part of a $2-billion redevelopment project aimed at increasing tourism expenditure to $2.7-billion next year, up from $1.8-billion in 2001.
The catalyst for change has been Casino Niagara. Since its opening in 1996, overnight stays jumped from an estimated 2.9 million to 3.8 million in 2001. That number is expected to top 4.3 million next year.
Tony businesses were quick to follow Casino Niagara's lead. Chip wagons made room for a Wolfgang Puck restaurant franchise. Then there's the recently opened Dragonfly, a 12,000-square-foot Asian-themed nightclub with dragon and terra-cotta warrior statuary and a 1,250-square-foot ceiling that lights up and pulses to the music.
Toronto club impresario Charles Khabouth, who created Dragonfly from custom-made bars, flooring and fabrics imported from China, says it's the first real nightclub in Niagara Falls, and "the most beautiful in North America, by far."
Even Khabouth is surprised to see something this vibrant in a town he once left for dead. "The last thing I ever wanted to do was go to Niagara Falls," he says. "But I think the new casino has potential, and I think Niagara Falls in the next two years will change quite a bit. It'll be where everyone wants to go."
The "new casino" is the Fallsview resort and gaming complex. Dragonfly is situated inside its glass-and-chrome-domed complex, modelled on the belle-époque Galleria in Milan, and next to the resort's five-star restaurant 17 Noir, whose interior is as black as the roulette table that inspired its design.
Against this inky backdrop, the Sir party unfolded, as did the magazine's fall fashion shoot. Through the windows was a dramatic view of the Falls, mist rising high over the thundering roar of the water. It's an awesome sight that never fails to impress (despite Oscar Wilde's declaration that it is the second-most-disappointing thing a woman experiences on her wedding night).
Which brings us back to the honeymoon capital. The Falls are said to emit an "ionic force" that serves as a natural aphrodisiac. (For once, it's true what they say: There's something in the water.)
But in the newfangled Niagara, is there room for an old-fashioned honeymoon? Niagara Tourism's Kormos says on-site nuptials are actually being encouraged by means of a new "upscale" wedding chapel launched last Valentine's Day. At least one bride was serenaded by blues giant B.B. King, playing the Avalon, when he found out she was a fan. "It's us putting a unique spin on the honeymoon capital idea," Kormos says.
Roulette Table: To become George Best airport is a humiliation worthy of North Korea
The proliferating habit of changing placenames is a reflection of insecure societies unable to embrace their past
Simon Jenkins
Friday July 14, 2006
The Guardian
Sombre news from Ulan Bator. In honour of Mongolia's 800th anniversary, its airport has been renamed after Genghis Khan. This reflects the newly assertive stature of the former communist state. Its president, the Leeds-educated Nambaryn Enkhbayar, has announced that the spirit of the great khan would once again "lead the Mongolian people to prosperity".
Genghis (or Chingis) Khan is revered as one of the world's great leaders, indeed as the 29th greatest according to an American website's league table. He created an empire from the Caspian to the Pacific, defeating Chinese, Persian, Russian, even European armies. He is credited with a belief in meritocracy, decimalisation, female emancipation, freedom of religion and flat taxes (after a fashion). He also specialised in mass slaughter, razing cities to the ground (saving only the engineers and artists), and pouring molten silver into the ears of insurgent leaders or, if they preferred, suffocating them under his table while he ate dinner. Neoconservatives still often declare themselves "well to the right" of him.
How all this will play with tourists landing at Ulan Bator airport is not clear. Genghis Khan told his generals to treat foreign foes by "robbing them of their wealth, bathing their loved ones in tears, riding their horses and clasping to your bosom their wives and daughters". This brings to mind a number of airlines of my acquaintance. Genghis was the Ruler of All Those Who Live in Felt Tents, which is ominous given the name of the local currency, the tugrug. As for recent DNA estimates that, in the course of his conquests, he became a blood ancestor of some 16 million Asiatics, or 0.25% of the world's population, the new terminal must qualify as a monument to Asian family values. This may or may not be part of the latest Ulan Bator adventure offer: "Train as a Mongol warrior".
I am more concerned by the proliferating habit of changing placenames. This week Liverpool had a bad attack of Genghis Khan syndrome in proposing to rename Penny Lane because it recalls a slave trader, James Penny. The fact was previously unknown to millions familiar with the song of the same name, not to mention the Beatles themselves. If political correctness is to rule Merseyside, what about Liverpool itself? The name must have struck terror into every slave's heart? Why not rechristen it Mandelaville?
There is no reason for this to stop. Colchester has a Stalin Road, running next to Churchill and Roosevelt roads, and Stanley in Durham has a Lenin Terrace. These commemorate a time when Britons regarded Russia as an ally, as it was, in the war against Hitler. I sympathise with estate agents, but history is history. I am sure dozens of Mafekings, Lucknows, Waterloos and Maidas might upset someone somewhere.
Changing placenames is what banana republics do. Cities are creations of centuries of strife and settlement. Only insecure societies dare not recall their past, however chequered. We ridicule Latin American capitals for naming streets after revolutionary dates, and communist states for naming boulevards after "blessed" or "serene" dictators. Even America, normally robust in these matters, demeans itself by naming the airports in its capital after recent Republican leaders, Dulles and Reagan, thereby inviting Democrats to retaliate. In New York, the beautifully named Idlewild was degraded to JFK. Are we now to have a splurge of Nine-Eleven Avenues and War-on-Terror Freeways?
When Robert Mugabe became president of Zimbabwe (Rhodesia) he set about renaming the streets in Harare (Salisbury). Rumour had it that he wanted to name the grandest after his good friend Samora Machel, so he could relegate his disliked neighbour, Kenneth Kaunda, to an alleyway next to the goods yard. I am sure wars have been fought for less.
It was much to Nelson Mandela's credit that after 1993 he refused to change South Africa's name or the names of cities and provinces. He wanted to reassure the whites that this was a constitutional evolution, not a revolution. He saw South Africa's history as a shared one, in which the past, however troubled, was part of the present. It could not be obliterated at the stroke of a geographer's pen. Mandela's successors have sadly proved less loyal to this maturity. Southern Transvaal has become Gauteng, and even the capital, Pretoria, is in the throes of transformation to Tshwane.
This may not be the week to deplore the loss of India's Bombay, along with Calcutta, Madras and Bangalore, to the recent upsurge in regional chauvanism. As in Africa, the British empire did its fair bit of name-changing in honour of that ubiquitous nomenclature imperialist Queen Victoria. But Indians speak a hundred languages and mostly acknowledge English as their shared one. Did they feel humiliated until they could address their letters to Mumbai, Kolkata, Chennai and Bengaluru? Many of the new names were already in use anyway, leading one Bangalore newspaper to announce that the city of Bengaluru would in future be known as Bengaluru. Europe somehow manages with different global and local names for Moscow, Naples, Munich and Florence.
Britain long played host to invading names, be they Brithonic, Celtic, Roman, Saxon, Viking or Norman. Each wave left its linguistic imprint on the landscape, but the earlier usually won. Nothing is so essentially old as the name of a geographical feature. As Colin Renfrew pointed out in Archaeology and Language, placenames were the local words most commonly adopted by invaders. The reason was that early travellers needed to know where they were and dared not rename geography, especially rivers (hence the science of hydronomy). Thus survived the oldest trace elements of past tongues. I am told that Scotland's lost language of Pictish must be studied largely through names.
The Romans imposed names only on their camps, often embracing a Celtic predecessor. Lincoln combines the Latin colonia and the Celtic llyn or lake. Lancaster is a camp, castra, by the River Lune. Adrian Room's admirable Penguin dictionary of placenames gives Pontefract as a rare all-Latin example, meaning broken bridge. Celtic lives on in Devon, Kent, York, Avon and Severn. The Anglo-Saxon invasion brought -tons, -burys and -hams, while the Vikings brought -by and -kirk. Across much of eastern England the tapestry of mixed settlement can be charted through placenames.
The recent emergence of name-change syndrome in Britain is regrettable. An early sign of the tackiness of Blair's court was its 1997 debate over whether to rename Heathrow as Diana international airport (not to mention the Diana Dome). Mercifully, this iron-age camp and medieval settlement survived such threats to its identity. But what harm did lovely Speke Hall do to Liverpool that it should be wiped off the airport map in favour of John Lennon? As for Belfast City Airport, being renamed after George Best is a humiliation worthy of North Korea.
Is London City airport now to become the Anschutz Memorial Gateway, with roulette-table runways, and Stansted to become Posh-and-Becks international? Is Euston Road to be renamed the Avenue of the 7th of July and Downing Street renamed Blair Close? Have we come to that? It rather makes me long for Genghis Khan.
simon.jenkins@guardian.co.uk
Simon Jenkins
Friday July 14, 2006
The Guardian
Sombre news from Ulan Bator. In honour of Mongolia's 800th anniversary, its airport has been renamed after Genghis Khan. This reflects the newly assertive stature of the former communist state. Its president, the Leeds-educated Nambaryn Enkhbayar, has announced that the spirit of the great khan would once again "lead the Mongolian people to prosperity".
Genghis (or Chingis) Khan is revered as one of the world's great leaders, indeed as the 29th greatest according to an American website's league table. He created an empire from the Caspian to the Pacific, defeating Chinese, Persian, Russian, even European armies. He is credited with a belief in meritocracy, decimalisation, female emancipation, freedom of religion and flat taxes (after a fashion). He also specialised in mass slaughter, razing cities to the ground (saving only the engineers and artists), and pouring molten silver into the ears of insurgent leaders or, if they preferred, suffocating them under his table while he ate dinner. Neoconservatives still often declare themselves "well to the right" of him.
How all this will play with tourists landing at Ulan Bator airport is not clear. Genghis Khan told his generals to treat foreign foes by "robbing them of their wealth, bathing their loved ones in tears, riding their horses and clasping to your bosom their wives and daughters". This brings to mind a number of airlines of my acquaintance. Genghis was the Ruler of All Those Who Live in Felt Tents, which is ominous given the name of the local currency, the tugrug. As for recent DNA estimates that, in the course of his conquests, he became a blood ancestor of some 16 million Asiatics, or 0.25% of the world's population, the new terminal must qualify as a monument to Asian family values. This may or may not be part of the latest Ulan Bator adventure offer: "Train as a Mongol warrior".
I am more concerned by the proliferating habit of changing placenames. This week Liverpool had a bad attack of Genghis Khan syndrome in proposing to rename Penny Lane because it recalls a slave trader, James Penny. The fact was previously unknown to millions familiar with the song of the same name, not to mention the Beatles themselves. If political correctness is to rule Merseyside, what about Liverpool itself? The name must have struck terror into every slave's heart? Why not rechristen it Mandelaville?
There is no reason for this to stop. Colchester has a Stalin Road, running next to Churchill and Roosevelt roads, and Stanley in Durham has a Lenin Terrace. These commemorate a time when Britons regarded Russia as an ally, as it was, in the war against Hitler. I sympathise with estate agents, but history is history. I am sure dozens of Mafekings, Lucknows, Waterloos and Maidas might upset someone somewhere.
Changing placenames is what banana republics do. Cities are creations of centuries of strife and settlement. Only insecure societies dare not recall their past, however chequered. We ridicule Latin American capitals for naming streets after revolutionary dates, and communist states for naming boulevards after "blessed" or "serene" dictators. Even America, normally robust in these matters, demeans itself by naming the airports in its capital after recent Republican leaders, Dulles and Reagan, thereby inviting Democrats to retaliate. In New York, the beautifully named Idlewild was degraded to JFK. Are we now to have a splurge of Nine-Eleven Avenues and War-on-Terror Freeways?
When Robert Mugabe became president of Zimbabwe (Rhodesia) he set about renaming the streets in Harare (Salisbury). Rumour had it that he wanted to name the grandest after his good friend Samora Machel, so he could relegate his disliked neighbour, Kenneth Kaunda, to an alleyway next to the goods yard. I am sure wars have been fought for less.
It was much to Nelson Mandela's credit that after 1993 he refused to change South Africa's name or the names of cities and provinces. He wanted to reassure the whites that this was a constitutional evolution, not a revolution. He saw South Africa's history as a shared one, in which the past, however troubled, was part of the present. It could not be obliterated at the stroke of a geographer's pen. Mandela's successors have sadly proved less loyal to this maturity. Southern Transvaal has become Gauteng, and even the capital, Pretoria, is in the throes of transformation to Tshwane.
This may not be the week to deplore the loss of India's Bombay, along with Calcutta, Madras and Bangalore, to the recent upsurge in regional chauvanism. As in Africa, the British empire did its fair bit of name-changing in honour of that ubiquitous nomenclature imperialist Queen Victoria. But Indians speak a hundred languages and mostly acknowledge English as their shared one. Did they feel humiliated until they could address their letters to Mumbai, Kolkata, Chennai and Bengaluru? Many of the new names were already in use anyway, leading one Bangalore newspaper to announce that the city of Bengaluru would in future be known as Bengaluru. Europe somehow manages with different global and local names for Moscow, Naples, Munich and Florence.
Britain long played host to invading names, be they Brithonic, Celtic, Roman, Saxon, Viking or Norman. Each wave left its linguistic imprint on the landscape, but the earlier usually won. Nothing is so essentially old as the name of a geographical feature. As Colin Renfrew pointed out in Archaeology and Language, placenames were the local words most commonly adopted by invaders. The reason was that early travellers needed to know where they were and dared not rename geography, especially rivers (hence the science of hydronomy). Thus survived the oldest trace elements of past tongues. I am told that Scotland's lost language of Pictish must be studied largely through names.
The Romans imposed names only on their camps, often embracing a Celtic predecessor. Lincoln combines the Latin colonia and the Celtic llyn or lake. Lancaster is a camp, castra, by the River Lune. Adrian Room's admirable Penguin dictionary of placenames gives Pontefract as a rare all-Latin example, meaning broken bridge. Celtic lives on in Devon, Kent, York, Avon and Severn. The Anglo-Saxon invasion brought -tons, -burys and -hams, while the Vikings brought -by and -kirk. Across much of eastern England the tapestry of mixed settlement can be charted through placenames.
The recent emergence of name-change syndrome in Britain is regrettable. An early sign of the tackiness of Blair's court was its 1997 debate over whether to rename Heathrow as Diana international airport (not to mention the Diana Dome). Mercifully, this iron-age camp and medieval settlement survived such threats to its identity. But what harm did lovely Speke Hall do to Liverpool that it should be wiped off the airport map in favour of John Lennon? As for Belfast City Airport, being renamed after George Best is a humiliation worthy of North Korea.
Is London City airport now to become the Anschutz Memorial Gateway, with roulette-table runways, and Stansted to become Posh-and-Becks international? Is Euston Road to be renamed the Avenue of the 7th of July and Downing Street renamed Blair Close? Have we come to that? It rather makes me long for Genghis Khan.
simon.jenkins@guardian.co.uk
Roulette Table: Gambling for gasoline
A new high stakes game
Charles Walsh
Now let's get this straight.All you have to do to get free — that's free as in F-R-E-E — gasoline is to hop on I-95 north and drive the 78-point-something miles from Bridgeport to Ledyard and risk a lot of money. (Note: mileage may differ depending on where your bank is.)
Ledyard is the tiny town in eastern Connecticut with a big city called Foxwoods Resort Casino inside it. (If you have ever eaten an entire roast turkey, bones and all, at one sitting, you know how poor Ledyard feels.)
The attraction of Foxwoods is, of course, not the resort, but the many games of chance offered in its acres of casinos.
Foxwoods management announced the free gasoline offer earlier this week as an incentive for gamblers who may be starting to think the drive to the casinos at $3.24 or so per gallon of gas might not be worth the thrill of risking one's life savings to an outfit that cannot lose.
The way it works is this: Gamblers earn a "Wampum" point for every $90 they gamble at the casino. Each point can be exchanged for $1 worth of gas. at Exxon and Mobil stations. True, at current rates a dollar buys you slightly more than a teacup of gas. Still, it adds up.
A mere $300 in wagering gives you a bit more than gallon of gas. A motorcyclist might make it home on that much. A Humvee driver won't get out of the garage.
Once at Foxwoods you park the car, truck, minivan, SUV, motorcycle or what ever mode of personal transportation you have chosen in the spacious parking garage supplied for your convenience. Or, you may choose the convenient and status-conferring valet parking that tends to make people think you are a high roller, the ultimate compliment for casino-goers.
Once in the casino, proceed straight to the gaming area of your choice. We suggest choosing the highest-stakes game that the management and your bank account will allow. Good choices are a $100-minimum-bet blackjack or craps table or a no-limit roulette table. Immediately, even before being seated, start throwing bets down like there is no tomorrow — considering the current state of the world, that's entirely possible.
Conceivably, a really reckless gambler might lose enough money in a half-hour to earn a fill-'er-up, please.
The best bet for amassing gas credits would be to buy into a high-stakes poker game for, say, $100,000. Go all-in for another hundred thou and you've earned Wampum points worth 2,222-plus gallons of engine juice.
One small hitch.
The casino, killjoys that they are, put a $500 limit on how much a customer can put on the gas card.
So forget the big-time wagering.
Such is the lure of free gasoline, however, that on Tuesday and Wednesday long lines formed at window where the gas cards were dispensed. Gamblers were willing to wait three hours to get their bonuses.
Now that the casino has begun trading gambling points for more than merchandise sold in their own shops, there is no telling where it will stop.
? The Problem Package: For every $5,000 wagered, customers get two Wampum points good for one minute of time at selected financial or psychological counselors. Card may not be used to pay for psychoactive drugs.
? The Altruistic Package: Every $200 wagered entitles the gambler to a Wampum card that can be given to a homeless person who can, in turn, exchange it for one-third of a home-cooked meal.
? The Real Estate Package: Ten Wampum points are awarded each time a gambler takes out a second mortgage on a home or business in order to continue playing the dollar slots. The points can be exchanged for free valet parking.
Charles Walsh's column appears Tuesday and Friday. You can reach him by phone at 330-6217 or bye-mail at cwalsh@ctpost.com.
Charles Walsh
Now let's get this straight.All you have to do to get free — that's free as in F-R-E-E — gasoline is to hop on I-95 north and drive the 78-point-something miles from Bridgeport to Ledyard and risk a lot of money. (Note: mileage may differ depending on where your bank is.)
Ledyard is the tiny town in eastern Connecticut with a big city called Foxwoods Resort Casino inside it. (If you have ever eaten an entire roast turkey, bones and all, at one sitting, you know how poor Ledyard feels.)
The attraction of Foxwoods is, of course, not the resort, but the many games of chance offered in its acres of casinos.
Foxwoods management announced the free gasoline offer earlier this week as an incentive for gamblers who may be starting to think the drive to the casinos at $3.24 or so per gallon of gas might not be worth the thrill of risking one's life savings to an outfit that cannot lose.
The way it works is this: Gamblers earn a "Wampum" point for every $90 they gamble at the casino. Each point can be exchanged for $1 worth of gas. at Exxon and Mobil stations. True, at current rates a dollar buys you slightly more than a teacup of gas. Still, it adds up.
A mere $300 in wagering gives you a bit more than gallon of gas. A motorcyclist might make it home on that much. A Humvee driver won't get out of the garage.
Once at Foxwoods you park the car, truck, minivan, SUV, motorcycle or what ever mode of personal transportation you have chosen in the spacious parking garage supplied for your convenience. Or, you may choose the convenient and status-conferring valet parking that tends to make people think you are a high roller, the ultimate compliment for casino-goers.
Once in the casino, proceed straight to the gaming area of your choice. We suggest choosing the highest-stakes game that the management and your bank account will allow. Good choices are a $100-minimum-bet blackjack or craps table or a no-limit roulette table. Immediately, even before being seated, start throwing bets down like there is no tomorrow — considering the current state of the world, that's entirely possible.
Conceivably, a really reckless gambler might lose enough money in a half-hour to earn a fill-'er-up, please.
The best bet for amassing gas credits would be to buy into a high-stakes poker game for, say, $100,000. Go all-in for another hundred thou and you've earned Wampum points worth 2,222-plus gallons of engine juice.
One small hitch.
The casino, killjoys that they are, put a $500 limit on how much a customer can put on the gas card.
So forget the big-time wagering.
Such is the lure of free gasoline, however, that on Tuesday and Wednesday long lines formed at window where the gas cards were dispensed. Gamblers were willing to wait three hours to get their bonuses.
Now that the casino has begun trading gambling points for more than merchandise sold in their own shops, there is no telling where it will stop.
? The Problem Package: For every $5,000 wagered, customers get two Wampum points good for one minute of time at selected financial or psychological counselors. Card may not be used to pay for psychoactive drugs.
? The Altruistic Package: Every $200 wagered entitles the gambler to a Wampum card that can be given to a homeless person who can, in turn, exchange it for one-third of a home-cooked meal.
? The Real Estate Package: Ten Wampum points are awarded each time a gambler takes out a second mortgage on a home or business in order to continue playing the dollar slots. The points can be exchanged for free valet parking.
Charles Walsh's column appears Tuesday and Friday. You can reach him by phone at 330-6217 or bye-mail at cwalsh@ctpost.com.
Roulette Table: Poker player prepares for tournament
By Timothy O'Connor
Summer Reporter
When he sits down at a poker table, David Wood gets aggressive.
"The way I play in casinos is a dangerous way to play," said the junior in the School of Management. "I'm the asshole. I'm the bad guy at the table that no one wants to mess with the first round, and the second round everyone wants a piece of me."
Wood is a finalist in AbsolutePoker.com's Win Your Tuition poker tournament. He has spent the past month preparing for the event, which takes place Aug. 8 in New York City, by figuring out how to win with bad hands.
"I'll just deal out some hands when I'm bored and just kind of look at what comes up and what wins," he said. "In order to take it further, I figured knowing some not-so-good hands that tend to win a good amount of times helps."
Wood's strategy for winning is to read the other players as the cards are dealt.
"I watch people look at their cards." He pulled out a pair of sunglasses and said, "I got my secret weapons. When I'm playing I put my sunglasses on. No one has any clue where my eyes are. I'm always watching every time they look at their cards."
Though the tournament is for an online poker site, the final will be played in person among the six contestants. Wood said playing in person was different than playing online.
"Some people like to play a lot different online and I guess I would have to say I'm one of those people," he said. "I don't focus as much on tells, I don't focus as much on anything except for statistics and just numbers."
When playing online, Wood said you have to pay more attention to bet sizes. In person, a player may throw in a lot of lower valued chips to make the pot seem larger and intimidate players. This is not possible in an online game.
"Poker is a mind game, period. But online, you have to be good, a lot better with numbers," he said. "I know some really good poker players that play in person that can't play online. They (have) great reads, but they can't read anyone online so they can't win."
Wood is currently unemployed and uses poker as a means of earning money.
"That's the best way to play for me because I know I got my balls on the line," he said.
Despite his success, he doesn't always win. A few years ago he had a bad experience at a Bahaman casino.
"I went to the roulette table and I was like, �Check this out,' (and bet) $100, $100, $100, $100 all on red. Black, black, black, black. It was $575 (that I bet) and I lost all of it in three minutes," he said.
But casinos aren't the only thing that gives Wood trouble. His friend, John Tyson, regularly beats him in poker.
"We know each other so well," said Wood, "but he knows how to play me."
That doesn't discourage Wood, however, because Tyson, a student at Ball State University, is on his way toward beginning his professional poker career by completing a tour in European circuits this fall.
"Dave's the better bluffer because he does it more often," said Tyson. "I'm better at calling his bets."
Tyson agreed that Wood tries to irritate other players.
"He's really, really aggressive all the time," he said. "It's really hard to play with him because he frustrates (everyone)."
Summer Reporter
When he sits down at a poker table, David Wood gets aggressive.
"The way I play in casinos is a dangerous way to play," said the junior in the School of Management. "I'm the asshole. I'm the bad guy at the table that no one wants to mess with the first round, and the second round everyone wants a piece of me."
Wood is a finalist in AbsolutePoker.com's Win Your Tuition poker tournament. He has spent the past month preparing for the event, which takes place Aug. 8 in New York City, by figuring out how to win with bad hands.
"I'll just deal out some hands when I'm bored and just kind of look at what comes up and what wins," he said. "In order to take it further, I figured knowing some not-so-good hands that tend to win a good amount of times helps."
Wood's strategy for winning is to read the other players as the cards are dealt.
"I watch people look at their cards." He pulled out a pair of sunglasses and said, "I got my secret weapons. When I'm playing I put my sunglasses on. No one has any clue where my eyes are. I'm always watching every time they look at their cards."
Though the tournament is for an online poker site, the final will be played in person among the six contestants. Wood said playing in person was different than playing online.
"Some people like to play a lot different online and I guess I would have to say I'm one of those people," he said. "I don't focus as much on tells, I don't focus as much on anything except for statistics and just numbers."
When playing online, Wood said you have to pay more attention to bet sizes. In person, a player may throw in a lot of lower valued chips to make the pot seem larger and intimidate players. This is not possible in an online game.
"Poker is a mind game, period. But online, you have to be good, a lot better with numbers," he said. "I know some really good poker players that play in person that can't play online. They (have) great reads, but they can't read anyone online so they can't win."
Wood is currently unemployed and uses poker as a means of earning money.
"That's the best way to play for me because I know I got my balls on the line," he said.
Despite his success, he doesn't always win. A few years ago he had a bad experience at a Bahaman casino.
"I went to the roulette table and I was like, �Check this out,' (and bet) $100, $100, $100, $100 all on red. Black, black, black, black. It was $575 (that I bet) and I lost all of it in three minutes," he said.
But casinos aren't the only thing that gives Wood trouble. His friend, John Tyson, regularly beats him in poker.
"We know each other so well," said Wood, "but he knows how to play me."
That doesn't discourage Wood, however, because Tyson, a student at Ball State University, is on his way toward beginning his professional poker career by completing a tour in European circuits this fall.
"Dave's the better bluffer because he does it more often," said Tyson. "I'm better at calling his bets."
Tyson agreed that Wood tries to irritate other players.
"He's really, really aggressive all the time," he said. "It's really hard to play with him because he frustrates (everyone)."
Roulette Table: Don't rewrite the rules of online romance
They are widows and married millionaires and Yalies. They are Christian nonsmokers and truckers and Republicans. And they all want to date you. Well, maybe not you. But someone you could pretend to be, with a little imagination and a working laptop.
Everybody is blond and skinny in cyberspace. And that can be a problem. Just consider the number of marriages ending because one of the parties just met their one true love through Yahoo Personals. As one divorce lawyer recently told Lawyers USA: "A client will come in -- man or woman -- and say there's someone across the country I want to marry. When I ask them, 'Have you met at all?' the answer is, 'No, I just know this is my soul mate.' "
With online romance epidemic, some legislators and lawyers have started to clamor for something to be done about the great abundance of fraud and heartbreak in the world of cyberlove. But really, how would that differ from trying to regulate what happened on "The Love Boat"?
The biggest problem with Internet dating is the snake oil. There is, for starters, the guy in Atlantic City who pleaded guilty to 10 counts of wire fraud for scamming women around the country with fake Internet profiles. He'd tell women he met online that he needed money to move to their area, then spend it at the roulette table.
Lawsuits against Internet dating sites for the false statements of other customers have mostly gone nowhere, in part because Congress basically immunized such Web sites with the Communications Decency Act of 1996, which says providers can't be held liable for the lies of third parties.
That makes some sense. Why shoot the messenger?
Still, even in the wake of all the alleged fraud and abuse, efforts to regulate Web dating have been limited.
So why, in a field so fraught with possibilities for crime and fraud and theft, has the Internet dating industry met with so little regulation? Partly because it works. According to a survey by the Pew Internet and American Life Project, a nonprofit research organization, 17 percent of online personals users said their efforts resulted in a long-term relationship or marriage. And 15 percent of American adults now say they know someone who has married or been in a long-term relationship with someone met online. Serious criminal complaints, on the other hand, are fairly rare.
As with all things Internet, the policy tension here comes down to a clash of privacy interests. People really like dating in cyberspace in part because they can do it in the privacy of their home offices.
In return, they forgo some privacy when they post photos of their lower-back tattoos on MySpace.com. Heavy regulation would mean that the blurry lines between reality and fantasy and wishful thinking would be patrolled and enforced by cyberlove cops.
Most online dating services agree that most of their consumers are savvy enough to understand the rules, which aren't really all that different from the rules you'd have used at Studio 54 in 1975: Don't give out your last name or phone number, and assume that anyone who mentions their trust fund or diamond mine is a liar.
The reason we aren't really regulating Internet dating sites seems to be that the courts and Congress, the sites and their clients pretty much all agree that for love to blossom on the Web, there must be ample space for fantasy and hope.
Dahlia Lithwick covers legal affairs for Slate, the online magazine. Distributed by the Washington Post.
Everybody is blond and skinny in cyberspace. And that can be a problem. Just consider the number of marriages ending because one of the parties just met their one true love through Yahoo Personals. As one divorce lawyer recently told Lawyers USA: "A client will come in -- man or woman -- and say there's someone across the country I want to marry. When I ask them, 'Have you met at all?' the answer is, 'No, I just know this is my soul mate.' "
With online romance epidemic, some legislators and lawyers have started to clamor for something to be done about the great abundance of fraud and heartbreak in the world of cyberlove. But really, how would that differ from trying to regulate what happened on "The Love Boat"?
The biggest problem with Internet dating is the snake oil. There is, for starters, the guy in Atlantic City who pleaded guilty to 10 counts of wire fraud for scamming women around the country with fake Internet profiles. He'd tell women he met online that he needed money to move to their area, then spend it at the roulette table.
Lawsuits against Internet dating sites for the false statements of other customers have mostly gone nowhere, in part because Congress basically immunized such Web sites with the Communications Decency Act of 1996, which says providers can't be held liable for the lies of third parties.
That makes some sense. Why shoot the messenger?
Still, even in the wake of all the alleged fraud and abuse, efforts to regulate Web dating have been limited.
So why, in a field so fraught with possibilities for crime and fraud and theft, has the Internet dating industry met with so little regulation? Partly because it works. According to a survey by the Pew Internet and American Life Project, a nonprofit research organization, 17 percent of online personals users said their efforts resulted in a long-term relationship or marriage. And 15 percent of American adults now say they know someone who has married or been in a long-term relationship with someone met online. Serious criminal complaints, on the other hand, are fairly rare.
As with all things Internet, the policy tension here comes down to a clash of privacy interests. People really like dating in cyberspace in part because they can do it in the privacy of their home offices.
In return, they forgo some privacy when they post photos of their lower-back tattoos on MySpace.com. Heavy regulation would mean that the blurry lines between reality and fantasy and wishful thinking would be patrolled and enforced by cyberlove cops.
Most online dating services agree that most of their consumers are savvy enough to understand the rules, which aren't really all that different from the rules you'd have used at Studio 54 in 1975: Don't give out your last name or phone number, and assume that anyone who mentions their trust fund or diamond mine is a liar.
The reason we aren't really regulating Internet dating sites seems to be that the courts and Congress, the sites and their clients pretty much all agree that for love to blossom on the Web, there must be ample space for fantasy and hope.
Dahlia Lithwick covers legal affairs for Slate, the online magazine. Distributed by the Washington Post.
