FOUR NIGHTS UNDERGROUND: Austin’s Quasi-Legal Slot Machine Rooms. by Kevin Curtin People will tell you there are no casinos in Austin. But if you know what to look for, you’ll see slot machine rooms everywhere: in the side of a mechanic shop or a pole barn along the interstate, in low rent strip malls or dilapidated buildings. Many of them go all night and they let you smoke inside. Almost all of them have a bulletproof booth for the teller. They have tricky names – sometimes called “game rooms” or, more often, “sweepstakes.” I could show you two dozen of them inside Austin’s city limits, plus a handful of corner stores where you can spin the reels. And people will tell you, you can’t win.  After all, Texas law prohibits gambling devices that award cash prizes. One cloudy exemption is for these “eight-liner” machines (a video screen slot machine with eight lines), but it hinges on the premise that what you win are novelties valued at less than $5. Even that is up for debate, as then-Texas Attorney General, now Governor, Greg Abbott offered a strict legal opinion in 2012, saying it would be illegal for a business to give bingo supplies as prizes from an eight-liner machine. But if you can’t win on these machines, then how did I just walk out of a corner store with $36 in cash that I won off a couple $1.50 bets? I’ll tell you why, because I hit three Aztec calendar symbols in a row and it triggered a bonus game where I got 20 free spins and every time a poorly rendered JPEG of a beautiful Brazilian woman popped up on the screen, I got more money.  These slot machine businesses are a great example of a topic where everything you read online about how they operate turns out to be wrong when you actually experience them. So, this week, I spent four nights going to “sweepstakes” rooms in Austin –  winning some, losing more – to share a glimpse of a gambling scene that’s invisible to the majority of Austinites. It’s after midnight and I enter a lounge that, from the outside, appears seedy even by my loose standards. There are five women kneeling on the floor, playing a game of dice with dollar bets. The decor’s awful: unframed pictures of WWII bombers, a felt painting of a heron, and a Bible verse (Ezekiel 25:17) cover the walls and the games are all just computer monitors with a mouse and pad. I’m the only white person in there. I give the banker $20 and she gives me a printed code to enter on the station I want to play. She explains that the most they’ll pay out is $500 in cash and if I win more I have to go through some sweepstakes rigamarole to claim the rest of my winnings a week later. My $20 goes fast on a Route 66 themed game, but it was nice to smoke a blunt inside and the late-night people watching is worth it. The doors of a nondescript aluminum building open to an impressive array of legit-looking slot machines and multi-player table games. There’s a makeshift bar where people are getting beers from, but when I ask about drinks, I’m told “What drinks?” Again, I’m the only white person in there. Playing the penny slots with varying bets, I’m breaking even and eventually hit the cash out button with $17 on a ticket. I give the ticket to the teller and he disappears for ten minutes, then I see him again and ask for my money, and he disappears again. When I find him a third time, I tell him that I need my money to use the food truck outside – figuring it was probably operated by the same owners – and he gives me $15, which I spend on a falafel wrap that is delicious.   I’m at my local convenience store, where they’ve recently installed three slot machines. The clerk knows I’m not a cop because I’ve been buying smokes from him for a decade, so he gives me the lowdown. The machines are stickered by the state of Texas and so the owners pay taxes on them, but they can’t officially give out cash prizes. Instead, you redeem your prize money in store credit that can be used on anything except for booze, tobacco, and lottery tickets. “But I know you, so I will pay you in cash,” he said. He opens the register and shows me receipts from people who had won that day. The highest one is $400. I grab a bottle of Fanta and a bag of BBQ chips and sit down at a machine, alternating between a game called Brazilian Beauties and another one with a Bruce Lee theme. I’m playing 15 lines, 10 cent bets, which amounts to $1.50 per spin. At first I’m tanking but when I’m down to my last $3, the symbols start aligning and cash out with a $36 profit. “I told you man,” he says as I check out. “These machines hit.” This is the first game room where there’s a uniformed security guard at the door, but he’s eating a box of take-out and doesn’t even look up at me as I pass. The room looks like a converted garage that has never seen a vacuum cleaner and, upon entering, two people separately approach me asking what I need – and since clearly neither of them worked there, I can assume they weren’t talking about gambling advice. I go to a bank window and ask the teller how I pay, he gives me a printout of a random individual’s CashApp account and tells me to send it money and then it will appear on the machine when I log in. I can win up to $1,000, but notes that he’ll only pay me in denominations of $20… rounded down. I sit at a “fish table” game, which are popular at sweepstakes gambling enterprises. They’re a big table with 6 to 12 seats where players buy in and play a skill based game (usually catching fish) on a large video screen. This particular game hinges on players shooting a disorienting array of birds, bugs, and Chinese dragons that are flying all over the screen. It’s a lot of fun, even though I have very little idea what the strategy is. Every bullet I shoot costs money and different creatures I kill earn me different amounts of money back. At some point, I shoot a bunch of bald eagles and it triggers some sort of tornado bonus and suddenly I’m up $30. A smart person would have cashed out at that point, but I become enchanted with the delusion that I’m a natural phenom at King of Birds 2 and keep shooting. Within minutes, I’ve lost it all. So that was my experience with a handful of quasi-legal gambling enterprises in Austin that state regulators have a blind eye turned to. The biggest thing I learned is that everything you read on internet forums or Texas law websites about how you can’t actually win cash is wrong. To me, that makes sense because people who like to gamble expect to win money, and if you couldn’t win money, no one would play and there wouldn't be dozens of these businesses around town. POT SMOKERS AND NON-STUDENT SCUM That’s how the local paper described the protestors at a UT flare-up in the ‘60s.  “I said, Man, you need to be careful with that pistol . You know, there's 50 people behind me. You're waving that pistol around. And he said, A lot of people ought to be shot .” Bob Tom Reed recalls the 1969 Chuck Wagon arrests to Barry Underhill. Screengrab from The Rag archives. Sound familiar?  Protest and the push back share a long history at The University, and the fact that we live in the state’s capitol only magnifies the issues and the politics behind them. The dispatch above is from The Rag , and concerns the first in a series of confrontations at the UT Student Union’s Chuck Wagon in 1969. The institution in question, a cheap food place, hosted folk music get togethers. Bob Tom Reed describes the scene. “Janis Joplin used to come down there and play and all the guys in the comic and the underground scene . There was a couple of guys that never came in. They played flamenco music on these string guitars and they set out in the hallway. It was all marble. Had a great echo effect. ” Bob Tom Reed (courtesy Barry Underhill). Many of the mainstays had a rather fluid relationship with enrollment — in a semester, out a semester.  More concerning to administrators was how the music mixed with politics. “SDS* radicals and counterculture types were frequently found there and it was the scene of a great deal of personal organizing as we mixed easily with other students interested in listening to our positions in a relaxed atmosphere. It was the only place on campus where the radicals dominated, our liberated territory . If you wanted to rub shoulders with the militants, the CW was where you went.” David Hamilton, The Rag Blog, Feb 17, 2010. *Students for a Democratic Society Screengrab from The Rag archives UT Regents — through the Student Union Board — set a new rule: no one admitted without a valid student ID. That triggered protests. An initial arrest on a Saturday led to a mass demonstration on a Monday. The confrontation quickly escalated, as Hamilton outlines. Police at the Chuck Wagon, Nov 1969. Photo by Alan Pogue /The Rag Blog. They surrounded the building outside the CW and gave us a deadline to get out by 4 p.m. This allowed us a couple of hours to decide how to respond. Some civil disobedience volunteers decided that they would stay inside and get arrested in nonviolent protest while the rest of us, having pledged to bail them out, left in time to make the deadline. No such luck…the police stormed in at exactly 4 p.m. through the same two glass doors that the protesters inside were clearly using to leave. Officers started loading folks into the paddy wagon. Some heroic comrade slit one of the truck’s tires. This rendered it unable to proceed to the jailhouse except on the rim, the alternative being to change the tire on the spot while surrounded by hundreds of angry students hurling verbal abuse if not more tangible articles. In their confusion, the police left the rear door of the truck momentarily unguarded. Another hero of the revolution stepped forth from the crowd at that crucial moment and threw open the truck’s rear door, allowing our captured comrades inside to escape.” David Hamilton, The Rag Blog, Feb 17, 2010. The police, Hamilton notes, “were mightily pissed.” A Travis County Grand Jury indicted 21 people for the felonious destruction of public property, ie the truck tire. The charges were eventually pled out and dropped, but the cops did kill the scene.  Seeds scattered and something new took root. Call it the psychedelic dandelion. CHAOS CREATES courtesy Burton Wilson The two guys in the hallway outside the Chuck Wagon that Bob Tom talks about? They were Shiva’s Headband co-founders Spencer Perskin and Kenny Parker. Bob Tom played guitar in the band. They came together at the newly formed Vulcan Gas Company, and in ‘69 scored a big recording deal with Capitol Records. Future Armadillo Art Squad legend Jim Franklin, recently arrived from Galveston, lived upstairs. He drew gig posters and art for The Rag. Jim Franklin, Houston White, courtesy Houston White. The club’s seed money came from a novel (then legal) drug deal involving mescaline and LSD — if you haven’t seen Barry Underhill’s animated explainer, here it is again. And look for Underhill’s feature length documentary on the Vulcan later this year. The Vulcan Gas Company Project, Animation and Interviews by Barry Underhill. Another illustrator from this era went by Jaxon. Jaxon quietly printed up 1,000 copies of his graphic novel God Nose after hours at the State Capitol, on a Xerox machine. “God Nose portrays God as an old man with a white beard and a crown, sitting on a golden throne in Heaven. He and Jesus discuss modern life, including such controversial topics as birth control and racism. At one point, Jesus returns to Earth to be a folk singer and to try out surfing. God also visits Earth, at one point materializing into the bedroom of a couple as they are about to make love.” God Nose Wikipedia. God Nose dropped in 1964. Five years later, Jack “Jaxon” Jackson co-founded Rip Off Press with a fellow cartoonist Gilbert Shelton and a few others. Shelton created the Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers. Jackson passed away in 2006 . (Counterclockwise from Top Left) God Nose Original Cover, Illustration by Jaxon. Fred Todd, Jack Jackson, Gilbert Shelton in 1970. Courtesy Rip Off Press. THE TRADITION CONTINUES Jackson’s son, Sam Angus Jackson, says he was practically born with a pen in his hand. He grew into a career as a multi-discipline artist, perhaps best known now for his collaborations with Uchi and chef Tyson Cole.  THE NEXT GENERATION OF CHEFS The Visit Austin Foundation hosted their annual Give Back Gig on Wednesday at Assembly Hall, a new East Austin venue. Chefs from from The Garrison, ATX Cocina, Olamaie and Hestia shared collaborations with students from the Travis Early College High School culinary program. It was a tasty and touching affair, featuring mini-docs about the mentorship experience followed by dish samplings. Olamaie owner Michael Fojtasek spoke to us about giving back to the community. “We believe that our work in the community will continue to enrich our lives and those around us. Whether it's riding 300 miles on a bicycle to raise money to fight childhood hunger or providing a space for RAICES and other activists work, our stance is that we have a responsibility to that community because we can.” - Michael Fojtasek Lorin Peters (founder of Cookie Rich) was the night’s MC. Twin musicians TheBROSFRESH closed out the night in style. They’re fresh off opening for Black Pumas in their home state, Louisiana. Get in on them ASAP. HAPPYIN’ THIS WEEKEND HOT LUCK FEST 05/23 - 05/26: A DIY Casserole of of the culinary and music world. Passes are on sale now. Check out their website for full lineup! AUSTIN SKETCH FEST: 05/23 - 05/27: Austin Sketch Fest showcases the best scripted comedy from Austin and the wilderness beyond. Austin Sketch Fest is produced, booked, and organized by ColdTowne Theater. HIT MAN AT AUSTIN FILM SOCIETY 05/24 - 05/26: Catch one of five showings of Richard Linklater’s new film Hit Man at AFS. Q&A with special guests at each showing! NORTH LOOP POP-UP MARKET 05/25: Over 45 hard working curated and creative small shops full of unique items for you to love! FLORES MARKET 05/26: Free live music, free drinks, a vendors market, and a screening of Problemista at 8:30PM.  LIVE ON LADYBIRD LAKE 05/26 3PM-5PM: Catch a set by Alesia Lani on Ladybird Lake! Entrance is between MoPack and Redbud Island. Rent or bring your own kayak, paddle board, or tube! Go see something, tell us about it, we’ll share more stories next week. Let’s build something together. We’d be forever grateful for your help, and an easy way to do so is by subscribing to the Happy Heat Substack. What comes in goes right back out in artist commissions and live shows. To which you’ll get to come! For the first 100 subscribers, we are offering 20% off forever. Get 20% off forever