Coin Slot

Coin Slot Magazine - #052 - 1979 - June [International Arcade Museum]
They'll nickel &
dime you to death
One-armed
bandits tell
our history
By KAY MILLER
Minneapolis Star Staff Writer
"We howdied, but we. neve.
shook," grins 45-year Jack Grav-
lin. "Make yourself to home/9 he
says, gesturing toward the more
than 150 vintage coin-operated
gambling machines that clutter his
backyard work shed in Northfield.
Now, he's no expert, he warns,
as he begins a folksy discourse on
slot machines in American culture.
But he is full of facts about the jan
gling one-armed bandits, gum ball
machines and other game-of-
chance machines.
His stories are gleaned from 70-
year-olds, slot-machine magazines
and other slot enthusiasts. As he
begins his stories, he drops a quar
ter into a highly burnished 1940
Wurlitzer nickelodeon. Five plays
for two bits. A mechanical arm
carrying a fat 78-rpm record
cranks out from the stack and a re
volving turntable spins the record
to a suspended needle.
"Hey there, Mr. Teardrop
The crooning voice fills the shop.
Gravlin smiles a rakish smile and
does a quick two-step.
"The kids today would hear that
and they'd think it was something
new," he said.
clubs.
He was making big money—-75
cents an hour—doing everything
from carting the slots to sweeping
the floor. Slots were intriguing
even then. "We!!, I had an interest
at the time, but I didn't have no
pocketbook. Even today, people
want an arm and a leg for them."
With good reason. The slot ma°
chines are captivating.
"Talk about a gambling ma
chine," Gravlin says, excitedly
hauling down an innocent-enough
looking gum ball machine, circa
1912. "Take a chance, Be an E-Z
winner," screams the yellowed la
bel covering part of the glass
globe. "E-Z to play. E-Z to win.
You can win $2 worth of trade."
The label sounds like a carnival
hawker. "Only 5 cents. Every ball
has a number inside—look for the
winners."
Then came the Depression. And
nickel machines became luxuries.
"They had to find a way to get the
pennies from people and this was
it," he says, pointing to rows of
gum ball machines, which, in their
day, were gambling devices.
'These all came out when a
nickel was a lot of money and a
dime was a lot of money and no
body heard of a quarter."
GUM BALL machines, like the
"New Deal," took their names
from the era. They graced the cor
ners of dusky bars, casinos and
nightclubs, urging drinkers to take
a chance. The bartender saw to it
you got your «iue.
Like other' gambling devices,
they often paid off in trade—ci
gars, gum, candy or maybe a beer
or two. Slot machines gave cash
.com
m
:
u
m
payoffs. u For
se overseeing the ma
m
d fro chines,
-
bars owners got a cut of
e
e
d
d
said, was in the early
after a the
was pretty much left
nloa '50s
a il rc up to take. the "It bartender
gambling devices w were
made
.
what they'd
o
w
D but
w
legal in Minnesota,
before
the
do," Gravlin says. Some machines
w
/
:/
real crackdown t on
with different denomina
h tp slot machines operated
came. The whole business went
tions of slugs bought from the bar
GRAVLIN'S fascination with
these devices began when he was
18 and delivering slot machines for
Crosby & Co. in Faribault. That, he
underground and for years you
could play a one-armed bandit in
Minnesota's resorts and exclusive
© The International Arcade Museum
tender.
Can payoffs be rigged? It's a silly
question. "Sure," Gravlin laughs.
30
But he's not about to disclose the
secret. "That's a process I want to
keep for myself."
Even at their worst, slot ma
chines did more than offer a guy a
chance at jackpots of maybe $8.
Just watching them work was en
tertaining. After pulling the lever,
people could watch their nickels or
dimes parade up visible coin esca
lators. Behind glass faces, the coins
marched in mechanical circles and
cascaded down short drops only to
be carried back up on a metallic
conveyor. It's engaging, like
watching the bright lights on a
Ferris wheel.
As the cherries, oranges and
golden bells of a 1934 slot machine
clink into line, your fortune is told.
"You will be popular—can you
bear it?" is lettered across the or-
ange that spins into place.
"Though when Greek meets
Greek, you don't have to listen/'
reads the second orange clinking
swiftly in place. "And don't come
around again till payday," chides
the final orange. The sequence
doesn't necessarily make sense.
SLOT MACHINES were manu
factured in the late 1800s and are
part of our heritage, Gravlin says.
"Most people I talk to about this
era, they'd like to see it come
back," he says.
Forget about the fun of gam
bling—slot machines were almost
patriotic. "Every machine paid a
certain amount of tax to the state,"
he says.
The machines were part and par
cel of that honky-tonk era. "My
dad said he remembers when pros
titution was wide open in Minne
apolis. But gambling went out,
prostitution went out and all the
good things went out and put a lot
of people out of work," Gravlin
says. You can't tell whether he's
joking.
Many of the slot machines of the
era were manufactured in Chicago
and shipped throughout the mid
west long before Las Vegas and
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