Fast forward to the 80’s, Reno Nevada, Harold’s Club. Standing at the crap table is a 340-pounder with shoulder length hair, sunglasses and a black cowboy hat. Old Tubby grabbed up the dice and had long hand that equaled all long hands. The dice were rolling numbers, everyone was making money and the noise was unbelievable with all the yelling and hurrahs. People were coming in off the street just to watch the fat boy shoot. Up and down Virginia Street the word was out about some fat slob with a long hand.
At the conclusion of this roll I was spent, so turning to the stick man I said, “What’s a fellow got to do to get a drink around here?” He rolled his eyes for effect, saying for all to hear, “What do we call you BIG SHOOTER?” I paused for a second then replied, “Tubby, just call me Tubby.” The stickman kind of laughed then yelled, “Lets have a drink over here for Tubby---ah yea, for Tubby Nevada!” The crowd around the table laughed then yelled, pass the dice to Tubby Nevada.
Later that evening as I walked from place to place strangers would say, “Hello Tubby Nevada,” or ask if I was the guy? Pretty hard to disguise 340 pounds of cowboy hippy that was the talk of the street. As my evening ended at the Nevada Club a lady came up, bought me a drink and told me how much money she made off my long hand. She said, “Thanks Tubby Nevada.”
So you see my friends, I have always been tubby, in fact later in life down right fat, but that’s the night I became Tubby Nevada. Tally-Ho and thanks for the visit.
Tubby stuff for your consideration.