Partners "Tex" Rickard and Will Slack, were among the first ramblers to rush to the Klondike when gold was discovered. They reached Alaska during winter-mad November, 1895, some two years before the gold-rush reached its peak. Their intention was not to relieve the earth of its golden burden through grunt labor. They had a better plan how to make their money multiply. It would be easier to relieve the relievers of their wealth - make their strike without enduring the hardships of the prospectors and miners. One might say it was equivalent to going through a revolving door on someone else's push.

They were no different than others who used the sparkle of the word "gambling" as bait to acquire millions during the boom-and bust period of the twentieth century. Others who shared his passion for gambling were: Lucky Baldwin, Soapy Smith, Wyatt Earp, Calamity Jane, Wilson Mizner, Jack London, Key Pittman and Klondike Kate.

While awaiting the winter thaw, Tex and Will traveled to Juneau and passed away idol hours playing poker. The town was lined with honky-tonks and gambling establishments of all stripes. There was no shortage of suckers with leather pouches full of fine gold dust. Half-breeds and rugged characters were ripe for dandified, professional gamblers who would put the screws on them faster than an undertaker.

In April the two partners pushed on to the Chilkoot Pass, weighted down by grub, clothing, accouterments and a mix-max of things a prospector might need. Tex later described their journey as the coldest and most difficult task of his entire life. Slak turned back to Juneau, but Tex was determined to make it to Circle City. He knew the town boasted of 29 saloons, gambling halls and brothels. The very thought ping-ponged his innards.

But there was something else that Tex didn't bargain for. As spring approached, the town turned to bog, festooned with moss and burning smudge pots that darkened the skies because the mosquitoes were immense and as thick as fog. Mosquito hazards took may lives. Oxen, mules and horses had to have their nostrils cleaned to keep them from strangling on the pesky bugs. Mud was knee-deep. Circle City was a standing death certificate. But Tex didn't plan on staying outdoors very long because soil rhymes with toil. Flatter than a flounder, he landed a job as a dealer in a gambling house owned by Sam Bonnifield. Sam was the Yukon's greatest and most famous poker player.

Tex learned from Sam. He watched him like a father protecting his daughter's virtue. One day Sam was handling the faro bank and Lou Golden had $5,000 in dust riding on the queen. Tex took a special interest in this game.

Sam turned the soda, the first card, a king. Then the second card, a queen - a winner! Sam left the faro box, throwing over his shoulder, "Tex, pay Lou nineteen and a half pounds of gold dust!" Lou had a lucky streak going and he didn't want to quit. He took his $5,000 in $100 chips and before dawn he had lost $22,000. In the months to follow, Sam had won enough gold dust playing poker to buy the finest casino on Circle City. "Here, Tex," he said, "She's all yours." God had harkened to his prayers. With Sam Bonnified as his bellwether, Tex had become a wealthy man. Confident that he had learned enough from Sam to take on the best professional gamblers that passed through Circle City, Tex played the best for the highest stakes. Quicker than abracadabra, he lost his entire gambling layout. He sauntered down the street to Sam's new casino and asked his old boss for a job. Sam hired him on as a bartender. Tex humbly settled into his new profession as he had always done during his existence in the Yukon and Alaskan horn of plenty.

Born to bone-poor parents on January 2, 1871, in Clay County, Missouri, George Lewis "Tex"Rickard learned early how to get someone to fight for him rather than to do battle himself - as was proven with his million dollar gates in New York's boxing arenas. Tex was only 8 but he could remember bullets flying wild and thunderous hoofbeats echoing in the thereabouts as hard-riding posses chased the James-Younger Gang. The following year the Rickard's moved to Cambridge, Texas, where Tex earned money shinning cowboy boots and listening to trailhands tell stories about cattle stampedes and gun fights.

Tex quit school in the third grade to help his mother and numerous children out after his father died. His first job was on a ranch near Henrietta for $10 a month. Tex grew up in the saddle, always looking for a way to make easier money. But it was tough going from wrangler to drag and full fledged trail driver. His role model, and he always had one, was Sheriff Cooper Wright, a lawdog who went about his job with the dispassionate, workmanlike brutality of the professional law-enforcer, not for money, but for the thrill of it all.

Tex wanted to be like him. In 1894 Tex was elected city marshal of Henrietta. He married Leona, and settled down in a cottage on the outskirts of town. Tex used his glib tongue rather then a fast gun to settle matters. He became a successful lawman. His wife died in childbirth a year after they were married. Alaska was mushrooming with gold discoveries. Reports were coming in constantly of new strikes. Tex saddled up and headed for this flourishing country with dreams of becoming a millionaire.

When news of a strike on the Klondike River echoed across Circle City, prices of houses dropped from $500 to $25 and the price of sled dogs rose from $25 to $1500 each. Overnight, Circle City became a ghost town; Tex and Harry Ash were among the first to pull up stakes and file claims along Bonanza Creek. They hadn't planned on manual labor. They sold their claim for a profitable $60,000. Tex and a man named Tom Turner went to the junction of the Klondike and Yukon Rivers where the tent city of Dawson was already mushrooming. They opened up the Northern saloon. Within six months the two man had garnered a profit of $155,000. But Tex's luck at the poker tables once again turned sour and he lost every cent they had, plus the Northern. All during the following year he worked as a poker dealer and bartender at the Monte Carlo, owned by Swiftwater Bill Gates, one of the slyest gamblers of his day. With the desperation of a pulp fiction writer scrounging for material, Tex tried to make more out of his $20-a-shift payday. He avoided sleazy professional card sharks and con artists that passed though town. He gambled honestly, but not successfully. Tex lost all he had, but he said the magnitude of it all produced a feeling of excitement that was irresistible.

If ever news of a uproarious gold strike shook America the Dawson gold rush took all the honors. It was sheer, utter tragedy for most of the mad-rushers. They perished from hunger, from accident, from gunfights, from cold and privation. Therefore, it is astonishing that Dawson's population doubled, then tripled by 1898. One of those sturdy enough to survive insurmountable hazards was Wilson Mizner, a gambler who worked alongside Tex Rickard at the Monte Carlo.

Lifelong friends, their meeting was like that of Robinson Crusoe and Friday. Mizner was smarter than a beekeeper. Tex was a patient learner. It was Mizner who first opened Tex's eyes about the possibilities of making money by promoting prize fights. Although they lost money on their first promotional venture, Tex , a dedicated rainbow chaser, was absorbed by the excitement that fists of iron and granite jaws brought. He especially enjoyed beating the publicity drum. He dusted insignificant puglists with gold. and consequently the sparkle never left them.

The gold rush magnetized men like Frank Slavin, tagged the Sydney Cornstalk. He got loaded in the Monte Carlo and was knocked silly by Dawson's most notorious bully, Biff Hoffman. Mizner and Tex broke the fight up, and convinced the two men to stage a prize fight where everyone could see who the best man was. It was the first "Tough Man" contest ever staged.

Tex and Mizner erected seats in the town dance hall and sold tickets at their casino for $15 general admission, $25 ringside. The first punch did the trick, Hoffman was disposed of with the only blow delivered.

Tex sold out to Minzer and moved to Rampart, where the Yukon hugs the Artic Circle. From Dawson on, he learned to work with Other People's Money.

Tex, Rex Beach the novelist, and a few others spent a dismal winter chopping wood for river streamers. Then Tex heard of a new gold strike in Nome. Tex and Jim White pooled their earnings of $100 and headed for Nome. Here, they set up the town's first gambling layout on Front Street. Rex Beach followed later. It was a shoe-string operation. A lumberman was talked out of supplying planks for a wooden floor. A whiskey salesman was soft-soaped into supplying liquor on a promise-to-pay basis. Cigar salesmen, and even workers were talked into going along with the operation. Tex and Jim were in business -- with other people's money.

They were netting a cool $1,000 a day. Tex gained a reputation as being the best and most honest poker player in town, so he was intrusted with being the town banker. He put aside money and accumulated pokes for people who trusted him. Some of them were killed in accidents, died of fever, or killed in street brawls. So the money went unclaimed. Though thousands of gold dust lay in pokes behind the bar, and although Nome knew no law, the saloon/casino was never robbed.

When law finally arrived in Nome the town was worse off than ever. Judge Noyes and Alex McKenzie worked underhandedly to fleece the unschooled miner. In mining litigation, the judge appointed McKenie as court receiver while the claim was argued in court. While Judge Noyes was setting legal blockades to stall the trial, McKenzie would be working the disputed claim and the miners were eventually robbed of whatever holdings they sought. Ultimately, both McKenzie and Noyes were sent to prison, but miners had lost millions. Rex Beach based his greatest book, The Spoliers, ( made into motion pictures five times) on this matter. Tex continued to stage fights and pay the contestants by passing the hat among spectators. He used the fights as a draw to his gambling casino and made money from booze and gambling which followed such events. It was Tex who pioneered the way for fight promoters who follow his example today.

Tex was a gambling man and a true gambler never quits. While gambling in a competitor's casino one night he called a large opening bet more on a hunch than anything. He noticed the other player was nervous and peeling his top card off, then sliding it to the bottom. Tex could spot the corner pip of each card. So he read the hand, then after calling made a raise. He was raised back and Tex raised again. The bets were called and the nervous player stood pat. Tex drew cards to a pair of kings, then fired back a big raise. He made the opener lay his hand down, simply because he had read the hand and knew he had his man beat.

"Keep your hands still and your fingers across the backs," Tex's old bellwether, Sam Bonnified, advised him. "Gamblers take every edge."

Seven years was enough in the Northern deep freeze for Tex. He sold his establishment for $50,000 and took another $15,000 he had put aside from gambling and headed for southwestern Nevada in 1904. A friend, Kid Highley, tagged along.

The Kid told Tex that the Goldfield strike was expected to be even richer than the one that had smoldered on the Comstock Loade at Virginia City. Tonopah was already booming and prospectors from that area had left for newer pickings in Goldfield, some 25 miles to the south. In Goldfield, Tex, Kid Highley and Jim Morrison pooled their money to open the Northern. Grand Opening was on February 15, 1905.

Goldfield had never seen the likes of the Northern. There were fourteen gambling tables of various sorts. One of the pit bosses hired to oversee the operation was Wyatt Earp. Six barrels of whiskey were sold over the 60-foot, mahogany bar every day. Three shifts of 12 bartenders were kept busy round the clock. The gambling tables were surrounded by an awe-inspiring attendance that fully magnetized the excitement.

Tex again assumed the role of "town banker," keeping gold for drunken miners behind the bar. The operation became so big that he hired a bookkeeper named Billy Murray whose job it was to add cash taken in or deduct cash paid out to each person. The balance was carefully recorded. Murray later recalled that he handled some $10,000 a day for two years or a gross of about $7 million. The shaping of Tex Rickard as a premier fight promoter of the Sweet Science began in Goldfield when newspapers across the nation ballyhooed a world title fight between Joe Gans and Battling Nelson for the lightweight championship. He realized that such a fight would draw thousands of fight fans who would want to drink and gamble. He hoped the fight itself would make money. Working fast, Tex wired important fight officials, suggesting the match, then rendezvoused with Goldfield's most prominent officials to lay the plan before them. A $30,000 gold purse was raised, with Tex contributing $10,000 himself. The members of the Goldfield Athletic Club raised an additional $100,000 for promotional purposes. Now that all the details had been ironed out, Tex got acceptance from the two fighters. The announcement appeared in the Goldfield Sun:

THE BATTLE OF THE CENTURY Battling Nelson and Joe Gans will engage in a fist fight in Goldfield on Labor Day. Billy Nolan, for the Dane, named the preliminary conditions..."

Reno residents tried to steal the fight, but The Sun triumphantly reported: "Like a conquering hero or governor just before election day, Joe Gans sailed into Goldfield last night and was met at the station by prominent citizens who escorted the fighter downtown to remain for half hour the cynosure of hundreds of eager eyes....L.M. Sullivan met him at the train and took him in his auto ..."

Meanwhile, Tex fed a constant stream of publicity into any media that was interested:
GANS LAUGHS AT DELAYS AND IS SURE OF AGREEMENT
BILLY NOLAN HAS A FEW WORDS TO ENCOURAGE FIGHT FANS
NOLAN SAYS NOTHING BUT AN ACT OF GOD CAN STOP FIGHT
CALENDAR OF EVENTS LEADING UP TO THE FIGHT

It was duly reported that Rickard put up $30,000 for Battling Nelson and Joe Gans to split. Nelson was guaranteed $20,000 and $2,000 for signing and $500 for expenses. The $34,000 total purse was the largest ever offered for a lightweight championship fight up to that time.

Newspapers printed detailed dossiers of both fighters. Battling Nelson, "the Durable Dane" was born in Copenghagen, Denmark, on June 5, 1882. In 132 fights, from 1896 to 1923, he won 37 of 57 by knockouts, drew in 19, lost 15 and was kayoed twice. Joe Gans, "the Old Master," was born November 25, 1874, in Philadelphia. He had 156 fights from 1891 to 1909 and won 54 of 114 by knockouts. He won five on fouls, drew 10, 18 were no-decision, lost three, and was kayoed five times.

Tex was able to convince newspaper editors that this was the biggest sports news of the century and sports writers began arriving in Goldfield from as far away as San Francisco and New York. Miners left their diggings in the hills to get their bets down one way or the other on the fight. George Siler was chosen to referee the slugfest.

The Sun reported the excitement: "The street of Goldfield were literally jammed last night with a holiday crowd of persons from all walks of life. Trains rolled in at intervals all night, the last arriving at 5 A. M. Drilling contests (a favorite in all boom camps) proceeded the fight. Waters and Hill of Tonopah drilled 37 inches in 15 minutes. Burro and foot races followed..."

It was probably the greatest day in the brief history of the great gold camp called Goldfield.

The fight took place on September 3, 1906. Gans outclassed Nelson during the scrap. In the 42nd round Gans crumbled to the canvas from a low blow and Nelson was disqualified. The fight was profitable to Rickard to the point of $13,000. Their rematch took place on July 4, 1908, in San Francisco. Nelson dropped Gans five times and knocked him out in the 17th round to become lightweight king.

In 1908 Tex sold out his interest in the Northern an followed the stampede 150 miles across the wastelands to Rawhide. Within two weeks he had erected a new Northern gambling hall and saloon. He cleared $25,000 on his opening night. When a blazing fire destroyed the Northern, Tex, broke again, moved on to Ely, Nevada. Tex raised a hundred thousand dollars to promote the fight between Jack Johnson and Jim Jefferies which was held before a record breaking crowd in Reno, July 4, 1910. The once-mighty Jefferies was no match for Johnson's rapier-like jabs and superb defense. Battered, exhausted and bleeding profusely, he was stooped in the 15th round.

Tex's first big gate was $270, 775. He was now ready for the million dollar gates. His career reached its peak when he promoted the fight between Jack Dempsey and George Carpentier at Jersey City. His second Dempsey-Tunney title fight at Chicago in 1927, drew an astounding two million six hundred thousand dollars. After Tunney's retirement, Young Stribling, Johnny Risko, Jack Sharkey and Max Schmeling were slated to fight an elimination tournament for his vacated throne. Tex Rickard went to Miami, Florida with the intention of matching Stribling with Sharkey. While he was there, Tex died following a gangrenous appendix operation on January 6, 1929, leaving behind him as a monument, a wonderfully new Madison Square Garden, since obsolete and replaced.

Mike Jacobs became his successor and beneficiary of the Joe Louis era.

Successful promoters must have a flair for gambling. They are involved in a precarious profession. A lucky punch and his title holder is yesterday's headline. All his plans and hopes are smashed by one hard, lethal timely blow.

Rickard could not have flourished without backers with lots of money. He once boasted he had been perfumed by the smell of 600 millionaires willing to gamble. He also had credit with powerful bankers who had the utmost respect for the onetime saddle-pounder, gold-rusher, Alaskan boomer and gambling proprietor who became the greatest boxing promoter the world has ever known. ***

A Bit About Bill Kelly

From 1965 to present Bill Kelly has written for dozens of magazines and newspapers either as a staff writer or free-lancer. His 15,000 published articles include modern crime and gangsters, celebrity interviews, old West gambling stories, treasure stories, tales of the old West, and boxing. His most memorable interviews were conducted with John Wayne (Wayne's last interview), Henry Fonda, Rocky Marciano, Muhammad Ali, Joe Louis, Sugar Ray Robinson and Ike Williams.

His California tabloid experience includes The Los Angeles Herald Examiner, Orange County Register, Valley Tribune, and Valley Star, where he doubled as Managing Editor and feature writer.

Kelly's magazine experience includes Gambling Scene Magazine, Poker Digest, Treasure Search, Oklahoma State Trooper, California State Trooper, Virginia State Trooper, Boxing Digest, Boxing Illustrated, KO Magazine, Hollywood Studio, Country Review, Sports Illustrated, and too many true crime magazines to list here.

Kelly's true crime stories, and his book, Homicidal Mania, can be viewed on http://www.cybersleuths.com/

For additional true crime by Bill Kelly: editor@crimemagazine.com

His stories on New Mexico History are currently running in the On-Line New Mexico Magazine: http://www.southernnewmexico.com

Autographed copies of Bill Kelly's books, Gamblers of the Old West ( $25 plus $3.50 shipping & handling) and Treasure Trails and Buried Bandit Booty ($14.95 total) can be purchased by contacting the author at: wildbill@cosmoaccess.net

Bill is currently looking for a publisher for his manuscript, Empty Saddles. This book contains interviews with 50 of the 1940 B-cowboy movie stars including Gene Autry, Roy Rogers, Bob Steele, Sunset Carson, and many more. This book is the result of 25 years research and writing, and Kelly considers this his finest work to date.

Bill Kelly is a writer for hire. His Kelly's Korner was at one time syndicated and well received. He is especially interested in reviving this column for an interested tabloid.