Instant riches, sudden death: It's all in the cards

As poker grows in popularity, Emeryville's Oaks club finds itself holding a royal flush

By Matt Vree
CORRESPONDENT

EMERYVILLE — Dealing poker at Oaks Card Club in Emeryville for almost 25 years, Roy Blackburn has seen just about everything there is to see in a poker room.

"Just last September, one of our regulars, El Dorado Bob, died of a heart attack right there at Table 3. I was dealing at Table 14, right next to him," the Oakland resident said, pointing into the thicket of players and tables and security guards on the club's main floor.

But in all his years of dealing people their destiny, Blackburn can't remember a time when poker was as popular as it is today.

"Ever since the World Series of Poker has been on TV, our business has noticeably increased, especially in the last year or so," he said. Poker, for so long a game of myth and mystery, has become a part of pop culture. Evidence of this phenomenon can be seen just about any night on television when ESPN, the Travel Channel, Fox Sports and even Bravo broadcast their popular poker shows.

And reaping the benefits of the poker explosion are card rooms such as Oaks in Emeryville and Bay 101, Lucky Chances and Artichoke Joe's on the Peninsula.

"Any card club you go to, the poker business, particularly hold'em, has been picking up," said Stephen Fowler, a shift manager at Oaks.

In Texas Hold'Em, the game of choice these days among professionals and amateurs, players are dealt two cards face down, and five cards are dealt face up in the middle of the table. These five are "community cards," meaning everybody uses them in their hands.

The first three community cards — the "flop" — are dealt at once, and the last two — the "turn" and the "river" — are dealt one at a time. Players bet throughout, on each successive card, and whoever finishes with the best five-card poker hand wins.

Sounds simple, but many poker professionals have spent their careers debunking the myth that anybody can do it.

Erica L. of Oakland, who doesn't consider herself a professional but who has been playing regularly at Oaks for almost 10 years, said she welcomes the newcomers.

"I don't feel bad about (taking their money), especially because these kids have an attitude," she said.

Oaks is not the dark, smoky, back-room-of-the-bar one might envision a poker parlor to be. It more closely resembles a vast conference hall, with high ceilings, bright fluorescent lights and more than 20 large gaming tables.

Its storied history begins in 1895, when Conger's Tavern opened its card room for business. In the mid-1930s, the gaming center was renamed Oaks Card Club, after the old Oakland Oaks baseball team, and it has existed at the same site at the corner of San Pablo and Park avenues ever since.

The crowd is typically a mix of ages and ethnicities.

"The explosion is good because it creates new players," Blackburn said. "You always need new players, because weak players eventually figure it out, or their wife figures it out for them, and they hang it up."

With the new poker players and big money a new casino in Oakland could generate, dealers are certain to face the temptation of leaving an old-fashioned card club for a bigger paycheck. But not Blackburn.

"I'm pretty well-ensconced here, and I've got my seniority, so I can't see myself leaving," he said.

On Thursday night, Erika was introducing a friend of hers, Chris Wilder of Los Gatos, to the game at Oaks. And even though it was his first time playing with anybody other than his buddies, Wilder was confident. He even felt bad for his opponents.

"I'm going to be taking their money, and I don't even know them," he said. "I don't know if they can afford it or what."

According to Blackburn, there are many players who can't afford it. He said they are easy to spot: always hanging on the rail surrounding the gaming area, the first ones there on payday and hitting up their friends for money once theirs runs out.

Blackburn was once one of them.

"I used to be a sick railbird," he said. "I lost my wife, my house, my car."

Blackburn said he tried Gambler's Anonymous, but it didn't work for him. The irony for Blackburn is that he didn't solve his gambling problem until he got a job at Oaks, the same place where he had lost all of his money.

"I got a steady income, and I got a girlfriend," he said. "If you are an addicted gambler like I was, if you don't find something equally powerful in your life, you can't stop. I found my girlfriend."

He said he occasionally tries to talk to and counsel some of the people he thinks might have a problem, but most don't want any advice.

"If you're really into this thing, other people talking to you isn't going to stop you," he said. "You've got to want to stop."

Many at Oaks seem to see the game merely as entertainment.

"We had a blast," Wilder said after four hours at the tables. "Most of the night, I was up about $100, although by the end of the night I was only up about $15. But coming out with more money than I started with, that's a successful night."


Matt Vree can be reached at mvree@yahoo.com.