When author Barbara Holland inherited her mother’s
summer cabin in 1990 and moved to the northern Blue Ridge
Mountains of Virginia, she named her memoir: "Bingo
Night at the Fire Hall: The Case for Cows, Orchards, Bake
Sales and Fairs." For Holland, bingo and the
simple, pastoral life that was fast disappearing in her
new home were synonymous.
The reality is a bit different. While gray-haired retirees
still flock to regular bingo games in churches, synagogues,
Veterans of Foreign Wars posts or Moose and Elk lodges
in places such as Grundy, Norfolk and Danville (Virginia
Bingos), others crowd into huge bingo establishments,
such as the Bingo Palace in Virginia Beach to play all
night with 30 cards spread around them, vying for large
jackpots.
Bingo is big business in the Old Dominion. In 2004, gross
revenue for charitable gaming, including bingo, totaled
more than $400 million. More than 14 percent went to charitable
purposes (12 percent is required). More than 75 percent
of gross sales are paid out in prizes (“Virginia
Department of Charitable Gaming: 2005 Annual Report to
the Governor and General Assembly”).
Bingo and other charitable gaming, such as raffles, have
been regulated in the Old Dominion since 1973. Originally,
games were licensed by local jurisdictions. Then a state-wide
Virginia Gaming Commission was established. In 2003, the
commission was replaced by the Virginia
Department of Charitable Gaming. The department is
tasked with enforcing charitable gaming statutes, but
also sees its role as educational. It offers security
tips on its Web site -- bingo games often handle large
amounts of cash -- as well as training opportunities for
game organizers.
How did this simple game, played on a card with random
numbers in a five-by-five matrice, become so popular?
Modern bingo traces its origins to the 1920s. According
to one account, a toy salesman named Edwin Lowe came upon
a country carnival in Jacksonville, Florida, in 1929.
He approached a crowd playing a game on a table covered
with numbered cards and beans. Called Beano, it was a
variation of 16th-century Italian game known as Lotto
that had become popular in the U.S. in the late 18th and
19th centuries. The salesman returned home and began inviting
friends to his home to play this new game. One player
became so excited when her winning number was called that
she supposedly yelled “Bingo” instead of the
appropriate “Beano!” (Origins
of Bingo)
Lowe began producing the games and soon was approached
by a priest, who had been using the game as a fund-raiser.
The cleric had run into a problem, because each game produced
several winners. Lowe then paid a retired mathematician
to devise 6,000 new bingo cards with non-repeating number
groups. By 1934, Lowe employed 1,000 employees spread
on nine floors of an office building. They operated 64
presses 24 hours a day to keep up with demand for the
estimated 10,000 bingo games played each week.
While the game is not the fad it once was, today bingo
still attracts dedicated advocates, who will play several
times a week, hoping for the evening’s $1,000 jackpot
(the maximum allowed under Virginia law). A typical weekly
game at a fire hall, such as the Burke Volunteer Fire
Department, might consist of 25 games. Players buy books
of games for $8. Each book might have 24 faces and players
will juggle as many games as they can handle. Different
patterns, such as a single line, two lines, a center cross,
an L, a Y or a cover-all in which every number is covered,
would be required to win individual games. Simple games
yield a $100 prize.
The game has its own jargon, from equipment used to the
way numbers are called. Players use felt-tipped pens called
“daubers” to mark a called number. When a
player is one number away from winning, she tells the
caller she is “set.” A BBC Web site offers
advice to British number callers, who play a game similar
to bingo, called “house.” They are encouraged
to “speak as clearly as possible and try to be a
little melodic in tone.” The callers are urged to
shake-up the numbers now and then – not because
it helps keep the selection random, but for effect. “Everyone
will believe that you are a very fair and trustworthy
caller, indeed.” Should callers pick consecutive
numbers, they are advised to “give a slight shake
of the head and ‘tut’ almost inaudibly.”
This supposedly preempts players from blaming the caller,
rather than equipment, on the coincidence.
Back to Virginia’s bingo games. All is not always
sweetness and light. A cash-heavy industry sometimes runs
into problems. A 2004 article in the Virginian-Pilot
(“State Regulators Cracking Down on Multimillion-Dollar
Bingo Industry,” August 9, 2004) reported that some
of the bingo games in the Hampton Roads area, which hosts
most of the large commercial bingo halls in the state,
had run into trouble. The Virginian-Pilot reported
that the state revoked the license of one game when its
organizer was found to have bought a Cadillac with some
of the proceeds. Other groups have given up their charity
bingo games because of competition for players, difficulty
in recruiting volunteers and the disappearance of funds.
Overall, though, state regulators say most games, which
benefit many types of non-profit groups, are organized
well.
Bingo is also criticized by those concerned with gambling
as an addiction. “It doesn’t matter if it’s
horse racing or slot machines or bingo,” said the
director of a compulsive gambling treatment center in
a 2002 Washington Post article. “There
are people who are vulnerable. It’s like saying
beer won’t lead to alcoholism, only hard liquor.
It’s sheer nonsense. Alcohol is alcohol; gambling
is gambling.”
But the debate could eventually be irrelevant. Holland
may be right in seeing bingo as a nostalgic throw-back
to a simpler time. Competition from online gaming, slots
and other games of chance is luring bingo players away
to more lucrative jackpots. Across the Potomac in Maryland,
where slots are looming on the horizon, some bingo halls
are even closing their doors. For now, though, when the
dots line up, the traditional cry – “BINGO!”
-- echoes in halls and lodges throughout the Old Dominion.
All in the name of charity.
May 1, 2006
Nice & Curious
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Last Modified:
Friday, June 27, 2008
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