Saratoga's Past Makes For Column-like Feature

I loved the history and the stories of the Capital District. This casino night fundraiser allowed me to explore the glorious past of the Spa City.

Section: LOCAL
Page: B3
Date: FRIDAY, August 26, 1988

MONTE CARLO NIGHT EVOKES SARATOGA PAST

By Laura Vecsey

Staff writer

Luckily, time has been kind to the traditions and institutions of this city. The springs whose water beckoned the dyspeptic to take "the cure" still gurgle up along a fault line to the earth's surface, and the thoroughbreds and their entourages still make an annual pilgrimage. Every year, Saratoga wins ownership of August.

The only tradition luck ran out on in the Spa city was the game of luck itself: casino gambling.

From the late 1800s to the 1950s, gambling flourished in clubs and lakeside roadhouses before racketeering investigations finally drove it out. To borrow a horse-racing phrase, it's been a long, dark day for games of chance in Saratoga Springs.

However, in the name of charity, the lights were turned on again Thursday in Congress Park's Canfield Casino - once one of the world's most opulent gambling parlors with high ceilings, chandeliers and vaulted archways.

With the clatter of a small, wood ball skittering around the roulette wheel, the bygone era of gambling returned, brought back by Saratoga Catholic High School, which sponsored a Monte Carlo night to bankroll an athletic program for its 155 students.

The school is one of several non-profit organizations in the city licensed by the state to hold gaming events. School boosters booked the Casino from the city for two nights at $400 a pop during the Saratoga meet, hoping to attract out-of- towners to help fill their coffers in exchange for a little after-track fun and games.

According to the chairman of the booster club, a good night might bring the school as much as $3,500. But the $2 maximum at the blackjack and roulette tables was tiddlywinks compared with bets placed by the turn-of-the-century rich and famous like James Pierpont Morgan and Diamond Jim Brady.

One Princeton, N.J., advertising executive who said he has visited Saratoga every August for the last 12 years, said he had read all the books and knew the history and traditions of gambling at the casino.

Richard, who declined to give his last name, had a simple philosophy.

"When you feel bad, don't play," he said, scattering black chips across the numbers 16, 14 and 13 on the roulette table. "The force has to be with you."

Richard carried a little luck into the casino, having picked the top two finishers in the 6th race at Saratoga for a rewarding return on his exacta bet.

"Cordero and Valasquez, the doublemint twins," Richard said, eyes intent on the board. He tossed another black out onto the number 29.

"Why did you pick that?" his companion asked.

"That's what the stock market has been doing lately," he said.

The dealer let the roulette wheel spin and called out the number: 29. Richard's companion buried her head in her arms in disbelief. Richard pumped his fist like a tennis player who had just won the U.S. Open.

"I was a very happy camper after the 6th race," he said. "Then I had a $91 dinner at Chez Pierre. It was very good, but I've got to win it back."

By 9 p.m., it seemed that he might achieve his goal, unlike Willie K. Vanderbilt, who almost 100 years earlier - it is told in Hugh Bradley's book "Such Was Saratoga" - tried the same tactics.

"The story is told of Willie K. Vanderbilt calling at the Grand Union Hotel one evening to escort two ladies to dinner at the lake. The ladies were slow in coming downstairs. Mr. Vanderbilt, idling upon the piazza, noted the lights gleaming from the Club House across the way. He decided he might as step across and win enough money to pay for dinner. His decision cost him $130,000."

Built by Troy street-fighter turned gambler and politician John Morrissey in 1870, the Club House, as it was known, operated high-stakes gambling for wealthy visitors. Saratogians were not allowed to gamble there, nor were women.

In 1893, the Club House was taken over by Richard Canfield, and in the next 14 years, he created one of the most expensive and luxurious gambling resorts in America. He opened a huge restaurant next to the gambling parlor and employed noted French chefs and 50 waiters, and stocked a $40,000 wine cellar.

Though gambling was illegal, the casinos were allowed to flourish for decades. According to city historian Heidi Fuge, "the casinos were good for business. Canfield divided his profits with local charities and hospitals, winning local sentiment."

Besides, Fuge said, the casinos provided excitement to visitors. The last horse race was run at 6 p.m. and "you can't drink spring water all the time," she said.