Columnist Dean Juipe: Bettor’s tale leaves some suspicious

Dean Juipe

Monday, Aug. 11, 2003 | 10:18 a.m.

Dean Juipe's column appears Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. His boxing notebook appears Thursday. Reach him at juipe@lasvegassun.com or (702) 259-4084.

He comes across as flashy and flamboyant.

The expensive home in Summerlin. The Corvette. The Mercedes SUV he bought primarily to transport his dog.

The impression he leaves implies a spirited lifestyle, complete with daily and multiple bets of $10,000, $15,000 and even more when and where it's allowed.

Either Alan Boston is a creative genius at what he does, or he's merely riding a hot streak. A third option -- that he's little more than a "beard" or front man for a betting syndicate -- has also been suggested.

Those who bet on sports for a living in Las Vegas and have done it for a number of years aren't quite sure yet. They see the spotlight that has been thrust on Boston and wonder if he's all he's cranked up to be.

"There's a test of time that he hasn't reached yet," said Lem Banker, a professional sports bettor in Las Vegas for 45 years. "Let's see him do what he says he's been doing for another five or 10 years.

"Until then, I look at him and see a guy who's getting a lot of publicity despite the fact the real big players try very hard to keep things low-key."

Any chance Boston had of remaining low-key was interrupted by his association with writer Chad Millman, who wrote a 2001 book on Boston and who authored an updated piece on the University of Pennsylvania graduate in the Aug. 4 edition of ESPN The Magazine. The book, "The Odds: One Season, Three Gamblers and the Death of their Las Vegas" took a brief stab at Banker along the way.

"The kid (Millman) looks up to (Boston) and knows nothing about Las Vegas," Banker said, adding that he quickly read the book before discarding it.

But the book has done well, reports owner Howard Schwartz of the Gamblers Book Shop downtown on 11th Street.

"We've sold hundreds," he said. "It's an entertaining book."

Schwartz knows Banker, Boston and everything else about gambling in Las Vegas. He also gained some insight into Boston when the latter appeared for a book-signing party at his store two years ago.

"He came in with a couple other guys and I thought he was confident but very arrogant," Schwartz said. "He puts on a good show."

Boston, 44, has been a Las Vegas resident for 14 years and says he came here with little more than $80 in his pocket. He says that the key to his success was finding two financial backers in 1997 who agreed to bankroll his picks.

Now he lives in a mansion, golfs at his leisure, plays high-stakes poker and bets virtually every game on the board when it comes to his specialty, college basketball. That's not bad for a man who once ran bets for his father, who worked for a bookie between Boston and New York, and who says he had drug and alcohol problems only a few years ago.

Schwartz is neither overly impressed nor overly suspicious.

"I know Lem doesn't like him and Lem can sniff out a phony as good as anyone," he said. "He and I both know a lot of guys who say they can pick 65 percent winners as they're living out of the back of an old station wagon.

"It's also possible (Boston) is just a 'beard.' Who's to know the money he's betting and living on isn't coming from another source? And there are references in the book, such as a lot of money moving, that weren't documented and that's a reminder that the public, the media and those who publish books and magazines can be easily fooled.

"It's possible the writer just got trapped in the story, and even if he made a few mistakes he's not libeling anybody.

"But (Boston) could also be a Horatio Alger, too. These things do happen. There are people who have an innate talent to find that (gambling) edge.

"My guess is that Boston may be legitimate and that he probably is."

But Boston's story serves a dual purpose for the casual reader and/or bettor.

First, for those inclined, it confirms the belief that a sharp gambler with great instincts and moxie can make a terrific living in Las Vegas when everything's going right. Conversely, it's a reminder that anyone seeking a supposed guru's opinion on a given game does so with a trust that may not always be warranted.

Does Boston, as he claims, actually pose as a reporter and get away with calling the scorer's table at a college basketball game to get last-second information on a particular injured player? Or is that the type of nonsense that is more typically splashed across print ads hyping a 900 number staffed by would-be authorities and undocumented "experts"?

In the case of Alan Boston, few beyond himself and the IRS know for sure. And the latter, unlike the former, is not talking.