NEVADA'S GAMBLING FRONTIER · PART TWO
From Tonopah's gambling houses to the prizefighting rings of Goldfield and the gold rush at Weepah, a generation of Nevada entrepreneurs learned that fortunes could be made, and lost, without ever swinging a pick.
By the time Nevada's great mining booms began losing their luster, the gamblers had learned something the prospectors sometimes overlooked: a rich ore deposit might disappear, but the appetite for gambling rarely did.
Tonopah and Goldfield had already produced extraordinary fortunes. George Wingfield had risen from poker player to mining millionaire, while Tex Rickard had transformed a championship prizefight in the desert into a national sporting event. Banks, mining companies, and elaborate commercial buildings had replaced many of the tents and rough wooden structures of the early years. Yet the men who operated the gambling houses understood that prosperity was never guaranteed. A mine could close, a stock promotion could collapse, and a town that had seemed destined for greatness could begin losing its population almost overnight.
Among the businessmen who survived those changes was Nicholas “Nick” Abelman, a gambler, saloonkeeper, mining investor, and entrepreneur whose career would eventually connect the remote mining camps of central Nevada with the gambling establishments of Reno and Lake Tahoe.
Abelman was not a man who relied on a single business or a single town. He understood the value of having several opportunities available, particularly in a country where a promising mineral discovery could attract hundreds of customers almost overnight. He bought mining claims, operated saloons, invested in gambling establishments, and formed partnerships with men whose names would later become familiar throughout Nevada's casino industry.
His career also intersected with one of the most famous heavyweight champions in boxing history and with a gold discovery that briefly convinced Americans the old frontier was alive again.
The story begins far from Nevada, in the mining country of Michigan.
Nick Abelman Comes West
Nicholas Abelman was born in 1876 into a Lithuanian immigrant family that eventually settled in Bessemer, Michigan, near the Wisconsin border. The region was dominated by mining, lumbering, and the businesses that served workingmen who often spent their wages as quickly as they earned them. Saloons were important commercial establishments, offering food, liquor, entertainment, and opportunities to gamble.
As a young man, Abelman learned the saloon business while working with Clarence McLean. He became familiar with the mechanical gambling devices that were increasingly appearing in American drinking establishments, including early slot machines and nickel-operated roulette games. These machines provided a steady source of income for proprietors, requiring little attention compared with a poker game and appealing to customers who might not have the money or inclination to sit at a gambling table.
Abelman later worked in Detroit, but the reports coming from Nevada were difficult to ignore. The discoveries around Tonopah and Goldfield had attracted thousands of miners, investors, merchants, and speculators. Fortunes were being made from mineral claims, mining stocks, and businesses that supplied the growing population. For an ambitious young man who understood both gambling and the saloon trade, Nevada offered an opportunity to establish himself in a rapidly expanding economy.
He arrived in the Tonopah and Goldfield region in 1904, when Goldfield was still growing at an astonishing pace. According to family history and research assembled for The Roots of Reno, Abelman traveled west in an automobile, an unusual undertaking when many Nevada roads were little more than rough trails across the desert.
Travel between mining camps could be difficult even for experienced drivers. The roads crossed mountain passes, dry valleys, and stretches of country where water and gasoline were not always conveniently available. A broken axle or mechanical failure could leave a traveler stranded miles from the nearest settlement. Delivering merchandise to a remote saloon was equally challenging, particularly when customers expected liquor, food, and entertainment regardless of the difficulties involved in supplying them.
Abelman was willing to accept those inconveniences. He was twenty-eight years old, energetic, and prepared to invest in almost anything that appeared profitable. Mining claims interested him, but so did transportation, property, gambling devices, and the daily operation of saloons.
He soon became acquainted with George Wingfield, whose own career had begun around the gambling tables before expanding into banking and mining. Wingfield understood the value of men who could manage businesses in difficult surroundings, and Abelman possessed many of the qualities that made an entrepreneur successful in Nevada's mining camps.
Their interests would overlap for years.
The Gambling Houses of Tonopah
Tonopah had grown rapidly after Jim Butler's silver discovery in 1900. By the middle of the decade, the town had developed a substantial commercial district beneath the mines, with hotels, restaurants, stores, saloons, and gambling establishments competing for the business of miners and travelers.
The town was no longer a collection of tents surrounding a few promising claims. Its more successful mines employed substantial numbers of workers, while merchants and property owners invested in permanent buildings. The railroad improved transportation, and Tonopah became an important commercial center for the surrounding mining districts.
Yet the gambling houses retained much of the atmosphere of the earlier frontier.
A miner could spend an evening playing poker after receiving his wages, while a mining promoter might entertain investors over drinks before attempting to sell them an interest in a promising claim. Business arrangements were sometimes discussed across gambling tables, and a successful saloonkeeper could become acquainted with bankers, mining executives, politicians, and professional gamblers.
The money circulating through those establishments represented hard work for the men who earned it. During Goldfield's labor disputes in January 1907, mine operators proposed wages of $4 a day for ordinary underground and surface work, $4.50 for certain more demanding assignments, and $5.50 for skilled labor. A miner earning $4 a day might collect $24 for six days of work, assuming he remained employed throughout the week. That was respectable money, but mining was dangerous, employment could be irregular, and the cost of living in an isolated desert community was often higher than in established cities.
To understand what those wages meant, consider the price of an automobile. By 1915, a new Ford Model T could be purchased for around $390, nearly one hundred days' gross wages for a miner earning $4 a day. The comparison is imperfect because wages and automobile prices changed over the intervening years, but it illustrates the scale of the investment. A miner might spend a week's earnings in a single evening at the gambling tables, yet replacing that money could require six long shifts underground. For a fortunate gambler, the tables offered an escape from ordinary wages. For an unlucky miner, they could erase the rewards of a week's dangerous work.
The Tonopah Club had been among the town's important early establishments. George Wingfield had dealt games there while building the bankroll that helped finance his mining investments. Other houses followed, including the Cobweb, the Bon Ton, and establishments whose fortunes rose and fell with the surrounding mines.
Abelman became particularly associated with the Big Casino, one of Tonopah's important gambling operations. The establishment provided him with a continuing source of income, but his interests extended well beyond its tables. He bought and sold mining claims, invested in property, and maintained connections with businessmen throughout central Nevada.
He understood that a saloon could be profitable even when a mining investment failed. A promising claim might consume money for years before producing anything of value, but a well-managed gambling house could collect revenue every evening. The trick was to operate in a town where enough customers still had money to spend.
That required more than dealing cards and serving drinks.
Jim McKay and Bill Graham Enter the Picture
Two of the most formidable characters in Nevada's early gambling history eventually became associated with Abelman's Big Casino: James “Jim” McKay and William “Bill” Graham.
Both men developed reputations for toughness, and both had connections with George Wingfield. Graham, born in San Francisco in 1888, had worked as one of Wingfield's bodyguards. McKay was older and already familiar with the rougher side of the gambling business.
According to the research assembled for The Roots of Reno, Wingfield encouraged Abelman to bring McKay into the Big Casino with a twenty-percent interest. Graham subsequently acquired a similar share, giving the establishment two men capable of dealing with trouble while providing them with an opportunity to learn the business from an experienced operator.
In the years before modern casino surveillance, protecting a gambling house depended heavily on its employees. Professional cheats traveled between mining towns, sometimes working together to manipulate card games or steal money. Arguments over gambling debts could turn violent, particularly when customers had been drinking. A proprietor needed dependable dealers, experienced floor employees, and men willing to enforce the house rules.
McKay and Graham were well suited to that responsibility, although their methods were not always subtle.
The arrangement also illustrates the importance of personal connections in Nevada's early gambling industry. Wingfield had the financial resources and influence to help associates establish themselves. Abelman had an operating business and considerable experience. McKay and Graham supplied a willingness to handle the unpleasant situations that inevitably arose around gambling tables.
Their partnership was useful, but it was not destined to last.
Abelman generally preferred maintaining relationships that allowed him to conduct business without attracting unnecessary attention. McKay and Graham were more comfortable with intimidation and physical force, and differences in temperament eventually contributed to the dissolution of their partnership.
The two younger operators moved toward opportunities in Reno, where Wingfield's growing interests offered the possibility of more permanent and profitable establishments. Abelman remained associated with Tonopah and continued pursuing mining ventures and gambling operations throughout the region.
The separation did not mean that the men disappeared from one another's lives. Nevada's gambling fraternity was relatively small, and former partners frequently encountered each other in new businesses and changing circumstances.
McKay and Graham would eventually become influential figures in Reno's gambling industry. Their experience in Tonopah had provided an education that could not be obtained from a textbook.
But the mining towns were also providing an education to another ambitious young man, one who had no intention of becoming a casino proprietor.
His name was Jack Dempsey.
Jack Dempsey Learns to Fight in Nevada
By 1915, Goldfield and Tonopah were no longer enjoying the spectacular growth that had made them famous a decade earlier. Mining continued, and both towns still supported hotels, saloons, gambling establishments, and theaters, but the excitement of the earliest discoveries had faded.
Prizefighting remained popular, however. Nevada's mining communities had a long tradition of supporting boxing matches, and the contests attracted gamblers who were eager to wager on the outcome.
Nine years earlier, Tex Rickard had brought Joe Gans and Battling Nelson to Goldfield for their historic lightweight championship fight. The event demonstrated that a spectacular sporting contest could attract visitors from across the country and produce substantial business for local hotels, restaurants, and gambling houses.
The fighters appearing in the mining camps during 1915 were considerably less famous.
Among them was William Harrison Dempsey, a young heavyweight from Colorado who would eventually become known as Jack Dempsey, the Manassa Mauler.
Born in 1895, Dempsey grew up in a working-class family and spent much of his youth moving through the West. He worked in mining districts, rode freight trains, and accepted boxing matches wherever he could find an opponent and a modest purse. He was strong, aggressive, and determined to make his living with his fists, but he had little money and none of the fame that would later surround him.
When Dempsey reached Nevada, he was still learning his profession.
On May 31, 1915, he faced Johnny “Swede” Sudenberg at Goldfield's Hippodrome. Sudenberg was the more established fighter, an experienced local favorite who intended to demonstrate his superiority over the nineteen-year-old visitor. Before the contest, Sudenberg expressed confidence that he could win by knockout. Dempsey, however, was taller and possessed longer reach, advantages that would prove important during the ten-round battle.
The following day's Goldfield Daily Tribune reported that Dempsey repeatedly intercepted Sudenberg's advances with straight left punches. During the opening five rounds, the young fighter used his reach to keep his shorter opponent at a distance. By the sixth, Dempsey had discovered that he could also fight effectively at close quarters, landing short, powerful blows that repeatedly snapped Sudenberg's head backward. Sudenberg continued pressing forward, refusing to surrender the initiative, but Dempsey landed many of the cleaner punches. Referee Emory Arnold declared the contest a draw after ten rounds, a decision the newspaper considered reasonable because Sudenberg's aggression had balanced Dempsey's superior accuracy.
The financial arrangements were nearly as memorable as the fight. Accounts differ over whether Dempsey's guaranteed purse was $100 or $150, but either amount represented several weeks of a miner's wages. Dempsey later remembered the contest very differently from the contemporary newspaper, describing a terrible beating that left him barely conscious. In his account, someone transported him in a wheelbarrow to the hillside shelter where he had been sleeping. When he recovered and went looking for his money, he discovered that his manager had gambled away the purse and left town.
The newspaper had reported a competitive fight in which neither man was seriously hurt, while Dempsey remembered one of the worst experiences of his career. The contrast illustrates how sporting legends can change with the passage of time.
The gambling tables that had enriched men such as Wingfield and Abelman could just as easily swallow the earnings of a boxer who had endured ten punishing rounds to collect his purse.
Dempsey did not leave Nevada after the beating.
A Rematch at Tonopah's Airdome
The Goldfield contest had attracted enough attention to make a rematch worthwhile. Nick Abelman, already established in Tonopah's gambling and saloon business, became involved in arranging Dempsey's appearance at the town's Airdome. On Sunday evening, June 13, 1915, approximately 1,100 spectators gathered to watch Dempsey and Sudenberg fight again. Goldfield sent a substantial contingent of supporters, including about sixty passengers who arrived on a special train and several automobile parties that made the trip across the desert.
The fight began with an astonishing display of aggression. Dempsey attacked immediately, using his superior height and reach to batter Sudenberg before the local favorite could establish his defense. According to the following day's Tonopah Daily Bonanza, Sudenberg went to the canvas three times during the opening round, with another fall recorded as a slip. Dempsey landed punches to the jaw and body, and for a few moments it appeared that the contest might end almost as soon as it began. Sudenberg survived, however, and gradually recovered his composure.
By the fourth round, Dempsey was showing signs of fatigue. Sudenberg defended himself more effectively, ducking punches and attempting to counterattack. Both fighters complained about low blows during the contest, and the battle became increasingly physical as the rounds accumulated. Dempsey rallied in the eighth, landing several powerful rights that left Sudenberg groggy, but neither man could finish the other. By the tenth round, both were exhausted, exchanging punches without enough strength remaining to deliver a knockout blow.
Referee Minnick raised both fighters' arms and declared the ten-round contest a draw. The decision was controversial. The Bonanza reported dissatisfaction among spectators, many of whom believed Dempsey had earned the victory through his early knockdowns and superior punching. The International Boxing Research Organization later emphasized the importance of the original newspaper account, which established that the official result was a draw rather than the victory credited to Dempsey in some older boxing records.
For Abelman, the evening demonstrated the commercial appeal of prize fighting. More than a thousand people had attended a boxing program in a town whose population and mining economy had declined from their earlier peaks. Some spectators had traveled specifically from Goldfield, and the gathering provided additional customers for Tonopah's restaurants, hotels, saloons, and gambling establishments. The prize fighters were the attraction, but the surrounding businesses had every reason to welcome the crowd.
The two fighters were expected to meet again later that summer, but the proposed match was abandoned when sufficient money could not be raised to satisfy them.
Prizefighting in the mining camps depended on the same uncertain economy that supported the gambling houses. A prosperous town could offer an attractive purse and fill an arena with paying spectators. A struggling town might have difficulty collecting enough money to bring two fighters into the ring.
Dempsey continued traveling through the West, fighting whenever an opportunity appeared and gradually developing the aggressive style that would make him famous.
On February 1, 1916, he met Sudenberg again, this time in Ely, Nevada. Dempsey won by knockout in the second round.
Three years later, on July 4, 1919, he defeated Jess Willard in Toledo, Ohio, to become heavyweight champion of the world. His victory transformed him into one of America's most celebrated athletes, and the young fighter who had once struggled to collect a modest purse in Goldfield became an international sporting celebrity.
For those who had watched his early contests in Nevada, the transformation must have seemed extraordinary.
The mining towns had given Dempsey some painful lessons, but they had also provided opportunities to develop the skills that carried him to the championship.
While Dempsey was fighting his way toward fame, Nick Abelman was confronting a different challenge: Nevada's changing laws and the increasingly difficult economics of the mining camps.
Prohibition Comes to Nevada
Nevada adopted statewide prohibition before the federal Volstead Act took effect in January 1920. For saloonkeepers whose establishments depended on liquor sales, the restrictions created serious complications.
The demand for alcohol, however, did not disappear.
In Nevada's mining towns, drinking had long been part of everyday commercial and social life. Saloons were gathering places where miners exchanged news, businessmen discussed investments, and gamblers spent their evenings. Removing legal liquor sales did little to eliminate the desire for those activities.
Instead, prohibition created new opportunities for men willing to transport and sell alcohol despite the restrictions.
Abelman and his associates were among those who continued operating in this uncertain environment. According to research assembled for The Roots of Reno, Abelman and Bill Graham were arrested in 1919 after state officers intercepted their automobile while they were transporting whiskey toward Tonopah.
The men had been traveling from Millers, a small railroad settlement west of town, when officers stopped them. The incident resulted in substantial fines, but it did not eliminate the demand for liquor in the mining district.
For experienced saloon operators, prohibition changed the risks of doing business without fundamentally altering the economics. Customers still wanted liquor, and businesses still had an incentive to provide it. The possibility of arrest and confiscation merely increased the cost of participating in the trade.
Abelman continued investing in mining properties and searching for opportunities beyond Tonopah. He had already witnessed the rise and decline of several Nevada mining districts and understood that a new discovery could revive business almost overnight.
Rawhide, Bullfrog, Manhattan, and other settlements had demonstrated the familiar pattern. Prospectors arrived, claims were staked, temporary buildings appeared, and saloonkeepers followed. Some camps developed substantial populations and survived for years, while others disappeared almost before their promoters finished advertising them.
For a gambling operator, timing was everything. Arriving early could mean securing a valuable location and establishing relationships with customers before competitors appeared. Arriving too late could mean investing in a business just as the miners were preparing to leave.
Abelman had spent more than twenty years learning that lesson.
In the 1920s, he would have another opportunity to put it into practice.
Weepah Before the Gold Rush
The story of Weepah is usually associated with the spectacular gold discovery of 1927, when two young prospectors attracted national attention and sent fortune hunters into the desert west of Tonopah.
But Nick Abelman's connection with Weepah began earlier.
A family photograph preserved by Marilyn K. Burson shows Nick and his wife, Marie, with friends at Weepah in 1926. Nick is kneeling at the far right, while Marie stands near the center of the group.
The photograph is especially valuable because it places Abelman in the district before the celebrated discovery that made Weepah famous.
Family notes supplied by Abelman's nephew, Bill Pettite, describe Nick's mining interests in the area and his plans for a saloon and gambling operation. The notes suggest that he had already selected a location where he expected to serve prospectors and other visitors.
A contemporary newspaper account adds further context. The Palisade Times of May 13, 1926, described poker activity associated with the Weepah Club, establishing that gambling was already part of the district's social life before the following year's gold rush.
This is an important distinction.
Weepah did not suddenly acquire its first prospectors, businessmen, and gamblers in 1927. The district already had people searching for mineral wealth, and entrepreneurs were already considering how to profit from their presence.
Abelman was one of them.
He had been through enough mining booms to recognize that the most dependable profits were not always made by the man who discovered the richest ore. The fellow who owned the saloon, operated the gambling tables, or supplied the miners might enjoy a steadier income than the prospectors who spent their days searching the surrounding hills.
That did not mean Abelman had abandoned mining. On the contrary, he continued acquiring interests in promising properties and evaluating new discoveries.
He was simply unwilling to depend entirely on what might be found beneath the ground.
And in 1927, Weepah suddenly offered the possibility of both kinds of fortune.
A Discovery That Captured the Country
In early 1927, Frank Horton Jr. and Leonard Traynor discovered exceptionally rich gold-bearing ore in the Weepah district, near Lone Mountain west of Tonopah.
The discovery attracted extraordinary attention because of the richness of the reported samples. Newspapers carried accounts of valuable gold specimens, and the story quickly spread beyond Nevada. After years in which the country's great western mining booms had seemed to belong to an earlier generation, Weepah offered the tantalizing possibility that another fortune might still be waiting in the desert.
Prospectors, investors, mining promoters, and curious spectators began traveling toward the district.
The country was isolated and difficult to reach. Roads were rough, water was limited, and the settlement had little of the infrastructure needed to accommodate a sudden influx of people. Those difficulties had not discouraged the prospectors of 1900, and they did not discourage the fortune hunters of 1927.
The new rush, however, looked different from the great booms of Tonopah and Goldfield.
Automobiles were now commonplace. Instead of arriving exclusively by horseback, wagon, or stagecoach, prospectors drove into the district in cars and trucks. Some slept in their vehicles, while others erected tents and makeshift shelters near the promising claims.
By 1927, the final year of Ford Model T production, a new touring car was priced at approximately $380. A vehicle still represented a substantial investment, but it was no longer a luxury reserved exclusively for wealthy businessmen. Prospectors could carry tools, blankets, food, and water into remote districts without depending entirely on horses, wagons, or scheduled stage service.
That mobility made the Weepah rush different from the great discoveries of the preceding generation. A man could hear about a promising strike, load his automobile, and set out across Nevada's desert roads with relatively little preparation. But owning a vehicle did not guarantee success. Gasoline, tires, mechanical repairs, food, and the cost of staking and working claims could quickly exhaust a small bankroll. A spectacular discovery might promise a fortune, yet reaching the district and remaining there long enough to find valuable ore required money of its own.
The methods of transportation had changed, but the motives were familiar.
Men who had spent years working ordinary jobs imagined discovering enough gold to retire. Experienced prospectors searched the surrounding hills for extensions of the rich deposit. Investors sought opportunities to acquire promising claims before their values increased.
And the businessmen who followed mining excitement recognized that the newcomers would need food, supplies, transportation, entertainment, and places to gamble.
Weepah briefly became another chapter in Nevada's long history of towns built on the expectation of sudden wealth.
Nick Abelman and the Weepah Opportunity
For Abelman, the excitement surrounding Weepah was not an entirely new experience. He had witnessed similar scenes at Tonopah, Goldfield, and other mining districts, and he knew how quickly a promising discovery could transform a quiet stretch of desert into a crowded settlement.
His earlier presence in Weepah gave him an advantage that many newcomers lacked.
According to the family notes preserved by Bill Pettite, Abelman already had mining interests in the area and had been considering a location for a gambling and saloon business before the rush began. He also maintained relationships with men who could help establish and operate such businesses.
Among his associates was Steve Pavlovich, who became involved in developing a saloon and gambling operation in the district.
The opportunity was straightforward. Prospectors arriving at Weepah needed supplies and places to spend their evenings. Mining investors and promoters required meeting places, and the excitement surrounding the discovery encouraged gambling of every description.
For some visitors, the greatest gamble was the money invested in a mining claim. For others, it was the money placed on a poker table.
Abelman understood both.
There is another intriguing detail in the family research. Pettite's notes refer to a Tonopah newspaper account suggesting that Abelman benefited from advance knowledge of the Weepah discovery. The original report has not yet been located, and the claim should be treated cautiously until the newspaper can be examined.
What can be established is that Abelman was present in the district in 1926, before the discovery that attracted national attention, and that gambling activity already existed there.
That is a more interesting story than simply portraying him as another businessman who arrived after the newspapers announced the strike.
He was an experienced mining entrepreneur who had already recognized Weepah's potential.
The Gold That Made Headlines
One of the more colorful contemporary accounts appeared in Time magazine in March 1927. The article described the excitement surrounding the discovery and identified Nick Abelman, spelling his surname “Ableman”, as a man who examined the promising ore brought in by the young prospectors.
The spelling was wrong, but the appearance of his name in national coverage is significant. It places him close to the events that produced the rush and illustrates how his experience in mining extended beyond owning claims or operating gambling establishments.
Abelman knew enough about ore and mining prospects to be consulted when valuable specimens appeared. He had spent years investing in mineral properties, traveling through mining districts, and evaluating opportunities that might produce a profit.
The young discoverers had found something extraordinary, and men with experience in the mining business wanted to understand just how valuable it might be.
The newspaper excitement encouraged speculation. Reports of exceptionally rich ore circulated rapidly, and prospective investors attempted to determine whether Weepah would develop into another Goldfield or become one more short-lived mining camp.
The distinction mattered enormously.
A spectacular sample did not necessarily mean that an entire mountain contained similarly rich ore. Mining companies needed deposits large enough to justify development, equipment, transportation, and continuing operating expenses. A few remarkable specimens could attract national publicity without guaranteeing a lasting industry.
That uncertainty had been part of Nevada's mining economy for generations.
At Weepah, it was about to become painfully familiar.
The Rush Begins to Fade
For a brief period, Weepah appeared to offer the possibility of another great Nevada mining boom. The excitement attracted prospectors and investors, and businesses developed to serve the people who arrived.
But the richest ore proved limited, and the expectations created by the initial discovery were difficult to sustain.
As the excitement diminished, many newcomers began leaving. Some had invested money in claims that failed to produce the hoped-for returns. Others discovered that operating a business in an isolated mining district was considerably more difficult when the stream of new arrivals began to slow.
The pattern was familiar to anyone who had spent time in Nevada's mining camps.
A discovery produced excitement. Excitement attracted people. The arrival of people encouraged businesses and speculation. Then the actual mineral production determined whether the settlement could survive.
At Tonopah and Goldfield, rich deposits had supported substantial mining operations and permanent communities. At many smaller camps, the initial enthusiasm had far exceeded the value of the ore that could be profitably extracted.
Weepah's moment of national attention was brief.
For Abelman, the episode represented another opportunity in a career built around the uncertain fortunes of Nevada's mining districts. He had been present before the rush, had pursued mining interests, and had recognized the commercial possibilities that accompanied a new discovery.
But he was no longer the young man who had arrived in Nevada in 1904.
He was approaching fifty-one, and the mining towns that had supported his businesses for more than two decades were changing.
It was time to consider a more permanent home.
From Tonopah to Reno
By 1927, George Wingfield had long since established himself in Reno, where his mining fortune had helped finance extensive interests in banking, real estate, and other businesses.
Jim McKay and Bill Graham had also found opportunities in northern Nevada. Their experiences in Tonopah's gambling houses had prepared them for a city whose economy was increasingly influenced by visitors, entertainment, and the money associated with Reno's divorce trade.
Reno offered advantages that the isolated mining camps could not match. It had established railroad connections, a larger commercial district, hotels, and a steady flow of travelers from California and other states. Unlike a mining camp dependent on the discovery of another rich vein, Reno had several sources of economic activity.
The city's gambling business was still developing, and wide-open gaming would not receive statewide legalization until 1931. Nevertheless, experienced operators recognized that Reno offered opportunities for businesses capable of attracting visitors throughout the year.
In 1927, Nick and Marie Abelman sold their Tonopah home and moved north to Reno.
The decision marked the end of an important chapter in Abelman's career. He had spent more than twenty years following mining excitement, operating gambling houses, investing in mineral properties, and building relationships with men who would become influential figures in Nevada's casino industry.
He had also survived the decline of several mining booms, the uncertainties of prohibition, and the changing economics of the state's gambling business.
Those experiences would prove valuable in Reno.
Abelman continued working with longtime associates, including Steve Pavlovich and Bert Riddick. His later career would include gambling establishments in Reno and ventures at Lake Tahoe, where a new generation of operators was beginning to recognize the potential of combining gambling with hospitality and entertainment.
On March 31, 1932, the Ship and Bottle Club opened at 222 North Center Street in Reno, an establishment associated with Abelman's expanding interests. Its opening date and address are recorded in Harvey J. Fuller's Index of Nevada Gaming Establishments.
The move from Tonopah's gambling houses to Reno's licensed clubs illustrates a transformation that was taking place throughout Nevada.
The old mining camps had provided the experience, capital, and personal connections. Reno offered a more permanent market in which those lessons could be applied.
The Men Who Carried the Frontier Forward
The history of Nevada gambling is often told through its most famous casinos and the wealthy men who owned them. But the foundations of that industry were laid long before the modern resort era.
They were established in mining camps where gambling houses opened beside saloons, where fortunes changed hands over poker tables, and where businessmen learned to recognize opportunities in places that other people considered too remote or too uncertain.
George Wingfield had used gambling winnings and mining investments to become one of Nevada's most powerful financiers. Tex Rickard had demonstrated that a spectacular sporting event could attract thousands of visitors to a gambling town. Jim McKay and Bill Graham had learned the business in Tonopah before becoming influential operators in Reno.
Jack Dempsey had experienced the other side of that world. He arrived in Nevada as a nearly penniless young fighter, endured punishing contests in Goldfield and Tonopah, and eventually became heavyweight champion of the world.
And Nick Abelman had pursued a career that touched nearly every aspect of the mining-camp economy: gambling, liquor, transportation, property, and the continuing search for valuable ore.
His presence at Weepah before the celebrated 1927 discovery provides a particularly revealing glimpse of that career. Even after two decades in Nevada, Abelman was still searching for opportunities in the desert, still investing in mining claims, and still considering where another gambling establishment might prosper.
The great mining booms were fading, but the men who had learned their trades in those towns were not finished.
They were moving toward Reno, Lake Tahoe, and other communities where gambling would gradually become a more permanent and increasingly important part of Nevada's economy.
The frontier had not disappeared. Its businessmen had simply found new places to operate.
And in 1931, when Nevada legalized wide-open gambling, those men, and others who followed them, would be ready.
Continue Exploring Nevada's Gambling Frontier
Part One: Tonopah, Goldfield, and the Men Who Gambled on Gold
Discover how Jim Butler's silver strike, George Wingfield's remarkable rise, and Tex Rickard's famous Gans–Nelson prizefight helped establish Nevada's early gambling economy.
Coming in Part Three: Reno, Hawthorne, and the Road to Modern Nevada Gambling
Follow the gambling business north to Reno and south to Hawthorne, where entrepreneurs such as Barney O'Malia and Woody Loftin helped transform local gambling houses into lasting casino businesses.
Discover More in The Roots of Reno
The gambling men of Tonopah and Goldfield did not vanish when the mining booms faded. Many carried their money, connections, and experience to Reno, helping shape the city's early casino industry.
In The Roots of Reno, Al W Moe follows these personalities and the development of gambling in northern Nevada in greater detail.
Explore The Roots of Reno and discover the history behind the casinos.