The news that Nevada might legalize gambling spread across the United States in an instant!Countless media outlets and reporters swarmed toward Carson City—by carriage, car, train-hopping, or even plane. Anything that could get them there first was fair game.
It wasn't just the media that went wild. Numerous religious groups, women's organizations, and anti-violence, anti-mafia activists all began paying close attention. As a Republican-controlled state, the full text of the bill quickly landed on President Hoover's desk.
Hoover was already overwhelmed by the tariff issue. Federal revenue had plummeted, and even if the entire IRS took to the streets to rob people, it still wouldn't be enough to keep the government running. The domestic market was collapsing, and running the U.S. government had never been more difficult.
Maybe legalizing gambling could bring in a few hundred million dollars in revenue for the federal government?Better keep a close eye on this.
As a Republican stronghold, Hoover still had some influence in Nevada—or perhaps Nevada was simply eager to strengthen ties with Washington. After all, every politician dreams of one day making it to D.C.
But no matter how closely Washington watched, it had little to do with Nair and his two partners. Their only concern was the progress of Nevada's state legislature in passing the commercial gambling legalization bill—the sooner, the better.
Outside the legislative hall, a massive crowd of reporters gathered—at least several hundred. Every hotel and inn in town was full. Telegram and telephone offices were packed, with lines stretching out the door and operations running nonstop.
Nair had already seen some journalist's drafts that read like:"Is Nevada Legalizing Gambling: A Collapse of Morality or a Distortion of Humanity?"Or:"Why Did XXXX Die Tragically in the Streets?""Why Did XXXX Scream in the Middle of the Night?""Why Are XXXX's Underwear Repeatedly Stolen? A Deep Dive into 18 Burning Questions about Nevada!"
Clearly, media is all about grabbing attention.
"Is the debate over?" Nair asked, having slept in a bit and showing a trace of apology.
They had spent the whole night discussing the matter. Nevada's lawmakers had been endlessly debating and refining the bill. As a result, Senator Heller's proposal had undergone a second reading and had been expanded to include new provisions—like requiring financial guarantees for license auction participants and mandating that gambling companies register in Nevada.
They wanted to prevent tax avoidance. These lawmakers were already taking a political risk getting this bill passed and did it for the sake of boosting state revenue—ultimately to fund their own government budgets. If companies ran off to register in tax-haven states, all their effort would be for nothing.
Every detail needed to be carefully considered. Restrictions on Italian mafias opening casinos were minimized wherever possible. Charles "Lucky" Luciano saw this as the top priority of his life right now—he was fully invested.
No one knew how he and Meyer Lansky managed to talk all night, catch only a brief nap around dawn, and still be energized, waiting outside the legislative hall for news. Nair, on the other hand, couldn't keep up. He'd slept until after ten before hurrying over.
"Not yet. They're still debating the operational model for gambling companies," Lansky said distractedly. Luciano, meanwhile, was fully absorbed in listening to the debate inside.
The rear door of the chamber was ajar, providing no soundproofing. The best eavesdropping spots had already been openly sold by state police earlier that morning. Compared to Luciano's deep pockets, those reporters and lobbyists didn't stand a chance.
The state police practically treated Luciano like a patron saint. They even brought him a chair and a bucket of iced beer. But he had no interest in drinking—he was too busy listening intently.
If everything went as expected, today would be the final day of the second reading. The debate had dragged on for eight full days—an unusually long time for a state with less than two million people. Arguably, even a New York City borough might have had more intense deliberations.
"Then the bill should pass today," Nair said, trying to squeeze forward for a better look.
"Yes," Lansky replied confidently with a smile.
So much money had been thrown at this. If it still didn't pass, there might soon be two more names—Charles Luciano and Meyer Lansky—on the list of people jumping off buildings due to the Great Depression.
Just as they finished speaking, the Speaker's voice rang out from inside, announcing the end of the second reading and the debate. Nair could feel Lansky's pulse quicken.
Let's take a moment to explain the legislative process for a controversial bill like this. In a "three-reading" system, the first reading involves introducing the bill and reading it aloud so that everyone understands its contents. The second reading is the debate stage, where legislators discuss the bill—sometimes intensely, sometimes casually.
This is also when the bill undergoes revisions. Outside political groups often exert influence at this stage. Legislators amend the bill to reflect the interests of the factions or voters they represent, aiming to reach a compromise draft that everyone can accept.
Then comes the third reading and the final vote. For contentious bills, lawmakers may opt for a clause-by-clause vote. This serves as a check on the ruling party by the opposition. Some bills run hundreds of thousands of words long, and reading just one section aloud might take half an hour or more. After that, a vote is held on that single clause.
In such cases, an entire legislative session could be spent reading the bill. If they don't finish before the session ends, the bill gets postponed to the next term.
It's democracy—but also not, depending on how you see it.
If they skip the clause-by-clause vote, the entire chamber votes at once after the third reading. If passed, the bill takes effect on a specified date.
Nevada opted for the clause-by-clause vote—not because of deep divisions between parties or interest groups, but simply to put on a show for voters: "Look, we're doing our best to block this bill!"
It's all for the votes. Putting on a show doesn't hurt.
As soon as the voting process began, Luciano visibly relaxed. He left his VIP seat and returned to Nair and Lansky's side, even asking Nair what he wanted for lunch—his treat. He made no effort to hide how relieved he felt.
Inside the chamber, everything proceeded as Luciano had predicted: every clause passed with a bare majority. One lawmaker opposed this clause, another opposed that one—it was all part of the act. They were performing the political theater of fierce confrontation between ruling and opposition parties.
Meanwhile, the media—fooled or not—got busy writing headlines for nationwide distribution.