Journey to Paradise

There I was. Stuck in smoggy Los Angeles. I had resigned one of the best reporting jobs i ever possessed with the Los Angeles Herald-Examiner.

Like the other reporters, I had suffered and learned beneath the wrath of a legendary city editor named Tom Caton.

Tom or Master Caton as we sometimes referred to him, was a 6-3 former bronco rider from Kansas. He could outdrunk and probably outfight any member of his staff. And when he pointed his finger, reporters not only rose to their feet. They jumped.

After four glorious years working under Caton, I was ready to move on. The Los Angeles smog was affecting the health of my newborn son, Dale. We needed to find a better climate.

After turning in my resignation, we packed up for our exodus from Los Angeles. By going through Editor & Publisher Magazine, i set up an appointment to be interviewed for a writing job with the Republican Majority in Seattle, WA.

As our loaded down car snaked along Highway 1 through northern California, I leaned back into the comfort of my leather seat and relaxed.

It wasn't easy being a father in the 1960s, especially if you are a gadabout journalist like me. Although I had sworn before a minister to love and honor my wife, nobody had told me there would be such alluring creatures out there who could make me forget I was married, at least for the moment.

I had learned to play winning poker in Gardena and Lake Elsinore, CA. where the favorite games were five-card lowball and seven-card stud. Texas Hold'em and Omaha High-Low would come later.

As we neared the downtown lights of Seattle, I saw a familiar neon sign blinking off to my right: POKER, PAN, COCKTAILS, 24-HOUR ACTION. I turned to my wife with a smile.

'We'll be spending the night here, darlin',' I said. She laughed.

Seattle was a great place to play poker. Your opposition was a generally hard-drinking mix of cowboys and lumberjacks who would as soon raise you on nothing as wink at a nearby cocktail waitress.

I played poker in a ginmill that night. There was lively action, pretty cocktail waitresses who wore garters around their shapely legs, and card tables with seats open.

That night I won over $600. As I cashed in my chips, i turned stop my wife and said, 'This is our journey to paradise.'

There were over 500 applicants for the job of writer with the Republican Majority. I came in third.

We stayed in Seattle two more days and then pushed off for Brownsville, PA., a small industrial community about 20 miles from where I had grown up. The publisher of the Brownsville Daily Herald was looking for someone to edit his daily newspaper. He liked my credentials and offered me the job. I told him i would take it.

As we neared Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming, my wife Nan pointed off to the left. 'Are we staying here tonight?'' she said. The bright neon sign promised POKER, PAN, COCKTAILS, 24-HOUR ACTION.'

My winning streak continued. We stayed at the hotel two nights before pushing off for Brownsville.

After our more than 4,000 mile trip, we arrived in Sutersville, PA. I had a wonderful reunion with my family. Then we drove to Brownsville where I was introduced to poker Brownsville-style, which i will write about in a future issue. Thanks for reading.

Author: Geno Lawrenzi Jr.

(Geno Lawrenzi Jr. is an international journalist, magazine author and ghostwriter and poker player who lives in Phoenx, AZ. He has published 2,000 articles in 50 magazines and 125 newspapers. If you want to share a gambling story or book idea with him, send an email to glawrenzi@gmail.com ).