The World of Vigorish

Hello. I want to get the line on the leading college games on Saturday.

O.K. . . . Here we are. Baylor-California: Baylor 7-point favorite. Texas Christian 19 over Kansas. Notre Dame 14 over Southern Methodist. Pittsburgh 7 over West Virginia . . .

How about the National League pennant race?

As of today, Brooklyn 4 to 1 over Milwaukee. Cincinnati is out.

Thus went a long-distance phone call between New York and Federal 8-5656 in Minneapolis. The number belongs to Athletic Publications, Inc., popularly (though inaccurately) known as "the Minneapolis Clearing House." Last week subscribers to its highly specialized services kept the phones jumping. The football season had opened, and soon the world would stop for the World Series. Behind the cheering squads, the home-run heroics and the whole windblown outdoor excitement of one sport ending and another beginning lurked an excitement of a very different kind. Millions of Americans bet heavily not merely on horses but on all sports. There would be hundreds of thousands of dollars wagered on Saturday's halfbacks, even more on the strong arms of Series pitchers. And from high rollers to "little jerks" (as the big bookmakers call hole-and-corner operators), every smart-money boy knew he would get the sharpest line from Leo Hirschfield's handicappers at Athletic Publications, Inc.*

The U.S. nourishes about a dozen other oddsmaking establishments. Some beef up their income by peddling parlay cards (insidious lists of the week's games with which small handbooks tempt small bettors); some even book bets on the sly. None are as large, or as furiously legitimate, as the Clearing House.

The Odds-Makers. A World War I marine, sometime law student and businessman (lighting fixtures), Leo Hirschfield in 1940 bought out Minneapolis' Gorham Press, which published a weekly football record. Under its new name, the press now puts out schedules and record books, covering basketball, football and baseball. And it operates a daily oddsmaking service for clients (who pay up to $25 a week), gives the line by phone on college and National Football League games, college and National Basketball Association games, quotes the day's prices on baseball games in both major and minor leagues.

Just how the three Clearing House handicappers combine their predictions to work out the odds quoted to customers is their big trade secret. But they collect their information in a perfectly prosaic manner: they subscribe to 59 daily and Sunday newspapers, study 97 college papers (including the Harvard Crimson and Yale Daily News). "We don't hire coaches or students to work for us as agents," says Hirschfield. But so accurate are his odds over the long run that the rumor--however unfounded--persists that he has knowing operatives on every campus.

Hirschfield, now 60, is inevitably thought of as the adviser to a ring of clever bookmakers. This upsets him. and his unvarying reply is: "I am no outcast.

I am a member of the finest Jewish country club in Minneapolis. I myself do not gamble, but I am not naive enough to feel that I can impose my philosophy on others. Semioccasionally, there is a flurry of publicity concerning gambling." Publisher Hirschfield is well aware that there are both bettors and bookmakers. "This," says he. "is no fault of mine. If I were to sell you a car, do you think I'd ask if you planned to use it to rob a bank?"

The Bookies. At the other end of the telephone wires that lead from Leo Hirsch field's bright, well-staffed office (15 full-time employees) lies a largely unknown world that is nevertheless a permanent part of U.S. sports. Backbone of that world are the bookies--the innumerable small "retailers" and the few large "wholesalers." Often on the run, often prey to mobsters muscling in on their business, the bookies have learned how to live on the shifting margins of the law. While bookmaking is illegal in all states except Nevada, federal law demands a 10% tax on all bets accepted. The bite is big enough to put any bookie out of business, for competition has driven the book's margin of profit--"vigorish" or "juice," as it is known to the trade--down to a modest 4.8% on football and basketball, only 2.4% on baseball. Bookies who go through the motions of paying their taxes simply try to get away with listing all bets at 10% of their actual figure, i.e., a $1,000 wager goes into the ledger as $100. The tax then dwindles to a modest 1%. As long as he fools the Feds, the bookmaker has a chance of staying solvent.

Despite the small vigorish, bookmakers find baseball their No. 1 sport. The big action is indicative of baseball's freedom from corruption. No sensible bookie is interested in a crooked game; it is he who would pay off on a fixer's bet. Football ranks No. 2, well ahead of basketball, which has yet to recover from the 1951 scandals. A few bookmakers and gamblers, in fact, are not yet sure the scandals are over. The biggest bet a wise book will take on most college games is $3,000.

The Gamblers. Who are the men that keep the bookies in business? The number of small-time gamblers is incalculable. But there are only about ten men in the U S. who recognize each other as big gamblers. By loose definition, a big gambler bets at least $5,000 on, say, a football game gets his money down on as many as 15 games in a single afternoon, risks upwards of $1,000,000 a year.

Among the top ten are three big oilmen and a former lawyer. Also on the list is an Ohio gambler whose method made history. Ranging through football-talented Ohio and Pennsylvania in the 1940s, he spotted prospective stars, would sometimes offer to send them to college. The boys never knew his profession, but the evening before a big game he would put through a friendly call, find out in passing about the team's prospects. Most respected big gambler of all is a former securities analyst who lost his job with a large bank because, among other things, he insisted on offering odds on which employees would be fired when. (He quoted himself at 3 to 1, was fired so soon that he said: "Maybe I should have been even money.") Noted for both his intelligence and his integrity, the analyst is the supreme court of gambling. Important disputes are sent to him for adjudication. His rulings are a major part of gambling's unwritten but intricate code.

Analyst or parlay-card player, bettor or bookie, all these men are really matching their wits with such oddsmakers as Leo Hirschfield. To hear Hirschfield tell it he and his handicappers are simply exercising their skill at prediction. Last week, sportsman that he is, he even quoted a price on the election: Eisenhower at 3 1/2 to 1. "Lucky I'm not a betting man," said he. "Because, frankly. I want the Democrats to win. But what are you gong to do? That's the odds."

*Even though last week they called some big ones wrong, including three of the four that led the line. Results: Baylor 7, California 6; Southern Methodist 19, Notre Dame 13; Pitt 14, West Virginia 13.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.