By ErickSanders March 10, 2024 - 1:22pm

LAS VEGAS - At 1:30 a.m., Chris Andrews, sportsbook director at the South Point Hotel, was sleeping at home when a stranger approached the casino's betting window and said he wanted to bet $300,000 that the San Francisco 49ers would beat the Kansas City Chiefs in the Super Bowl The supervisor woke Andrews up. A supervisor woke Andrews up to approve the bet, but the customer realized he did not have enough cash on hand.

 

On Friday morning, Andrews went to work to ask for an update on "Mr. 300,000." The Mister returned about an hour later with a cone from the hotel's ice cream store and some money that he had exchanged for chips at South Point, this time betting $243,000 on San Francisco. Andrews had a brief chat with the man and wished him luck.

Andrews and South Point's right-hand men, Jimmy Vaccaro and Vinnie Magliullo, have a combined 147 years of Nevada betting experience and a philosophy from the days when relationships and human touch dominated a rapidly changing industry. For them, bookmaking continues to be a blend of art and science, adjusting odds according to the bets of respected "wiseguys." In other words, they can instantly identify a person and know if he or she is sharp or square.

 

On the street, sharp money mostly favored San Francisco in this year's Super Bowl, while recreational bettors heavily favored Kansas City. But Andrews suspected that "Mr. 300,000" was "square," albeit with extremely deep pockets, and his betting history supported that. He had lost about $22,000 to South Point in the last Super Bowl, a colleague informed Andrews. In other words, the colleague said, "He's just a gambler."

 

Winning a six-figure bet out of the Square is like finding a diamond ring," Vaccaro said in the sportsbook's back office, giving reporters a rare opportunity to observe Las Vegas' most respected bookmaker in action on the busiest weekend of the year at topcasinosverige.com.

Chris Andrews, director of the South Point Sportsbook. (Mikayla Whitmore, The Washington Post)

South Point does not have the bottomless advertising budget needed to get Peyton Manning or Jamie Foxx to pitch their sportsbooks. Nor does it pay media stars like Bill Simmons and Pat McAfee to promote an elaborate same-game parlay that would benefit the hotel. Instead, the hotel's sports book, located about eight kilometers south of the Strip, lures customers with reasonable odds, friendly service, and $1.50 hot dogs.

 

One of the last family-owned hotels in town, it is owned by Michael Gaughan, 80. He was sitting in his sportsbook office two days before the Super Bowl with mustard on his lower lip from a lunchtime meal. He sits next to a sign taped to his mini-fridge that reads, and enjoys making himself at home there: "Do not drink Dr. Brown's Root Beer. This is for Mr. Gaughan only." There is also a bottle of Grey Poupon in the fridge, which Andrews keeps for professional bettors who once complained that the hotel only served yellow mustard.

 

Nationally, most sports betting is done online, but Andrews says his sportsbook does about three-quarters of its business in person.

 

Amazed by the thousands of bettors passing through the casino to bet on the Super Bowl, Andrews reminded Magliullo: "We don't play on advertising or anything like that. Value, value, value, that's what we do. "

 

Gaughan offers $2 Budweiser on NFL Sundays, Andrews' idea to make the Super Bowl point spread odds -105 instead of the usual -110 (a discount of about $5 for every $100 wagered), and anything else that can increase attendance. I support anything.

South Point offers hundreds of Super Bowl props, but fewer than its online competitors. (Mikayla Whitmore for The Washington Post)

 

One of the few remaining family-owned casinos in Las Vegas, South Point is located six miles south of the Strip. (Mikayla Whitmore for The Washington Post)

 

Hot dogs at South Point are still $1.50. (Mikayla Whitmore for The Washington Post)

Greed was a frequent topic of conversation in the back office before Las Vegas' first NFL title game. Businesses "have been wanting to kill the money tree since yesterday," Gaughan said, complaining that a hotel on the Strip charged $160 for valet parking that weekend.

 

Two years ago, some Nevada casinos feared that the proliferation of legal sports betting would threaten their bottom line. Now, however, the business is booming like never before. Nevada took in a record $185.6 million in Super Bowl wagers, more than any of the other 37 states where sports betting is regulated. Andrews was expected to handle roughly $10 million of that.

 

But while sports betting may be more popular than ever, Andrews and his colleagues are discouraged by much of what the industry has morphed into. They complain about the "European model" of bookmaking that is taking hold across the country. There, customers who show a propensity for winning are actively limited in the amount they can bet, sometimes to pennies.

 

It's not gambling," says Richie Bacheli, a former South Point bookmaker who now works at Circa, a downtown hotel. ''People just want to take money from their guests.

 

South Point welcomes big bets from sharps so that it can improve its odds accordingly. Last weekend, Bill Clackenberger, a big, baby-faced pro bettor in a Kangol flat cap, showed up to bet thousands of dollars on Super Bowl props. Magliullo and Andrews chatted with him for a few minutes and treated him to dinner.

This is the old Las Vegas," said Andrews. I beat them every Super Bowl, and they still want to take care of me.

Andrews grew up a Pittsburgh Steelers fan. (Mikayla Whitmore for The Washington Post)

Betting since elementary school

In a small office adjacent to the betting counter are Andrews, Vaccaro, Magliullo, and several supervisors. The walls are decorated with memorabilia from Andrews' childhood team, the Pittsburgh Steelers, a poster from the 1939 comedy film "The Day the Bookies Cried," about a racehorse who wins after drinking beer, and a letter to Andrews from the late Senate Majority Leader Harry M. Reid Congratulating Andrews on joining South Point in 2016, Reed wrote: " The impact of your work in our community is admirable and appreciated."

 

Andrews, 67, sits in the center of his office. Two of his four computer monitors display color-coded wagers by amount. One of them was dedicated to Turner Classic Movies until just before kickoff. While booking millions of dollars, Andrews and his hungry men were more interested in discussing the acting in "Roman Holiday" than in determining the odds.

 

Andrews learned the game and the customer service that went along with it from his uncle, Jack Frange. Jack Frange was a respected sports bettor and wrote a little action behind the candy store. Andrews was booking classmates by the fifth grade and betting in the stands when his high school football team beat Joe Montana's team. When Andrews was 14 years old, Frange was charged with interstate gambling after an 18-month investigation. During that time, the FBI filmed him and his nephew at sporting events, dining out, and playing mini-golf. After the judge dismissed the case, Frange moved to Las Vegas, and Andrews followed him after graduating from Robert Morris University. He spent his first year in Las Vegas filling out $45-a-day betting tickets at the questionably run Stardust, portrayed in Martin Scorsese's "Casino."

 

Nearly 25 years later, Andrews, in his memoir "Then One Day.... " in which he states that a former FBI agent approached him and his uncle at dinner and told them that Franzi had been eavesdropping on his calls and copying his bets, admitting, "That was the best two football seasons I ever had."

Chris Andrews, Jimmy Vaccaro, and Vinnie Magliullo have a combined 147 years of industry experience. (Mikayla Whitmore, from The Washington Post)

Vaccaro, 78, works in a corner of an office with a desk and massage chair. A slender man with gray hair combed back, Vaccaro used to run a more glamorous sportsbook at The Mirage, handling "probably the largest bets in American history," according to Matthew Metcalf, former director of Circa's sportsbook.

 

Vaccaro, whose brother Sonny signed Michael Jordan to his first sneaker deal at Nike, is now a casual advisor to Andrews, a friend since childhood. When his work on the sports book is done, Vaccaro takes a steamy dip in the hotel spa to unwind and doze off. He seems to know the names of all the employees at South Point, including Andrews, whom he affectionately refers to as "the kid" when they are younger than him.

 

The 66-year-old Magliullo, as others have noted, resembles a young Robert De Niro. He used to run the sports book at Caesars Palace and has known Andrews since the late 1970s. Magliullo grabs a chair across from Andrews and talks in a serious tone - about how to adjust the lines, or whether cream of mushrooms is a stronger lunch option than chicken noodle soup.

 

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