THE DICE DEALER

Monday, Nov. 19, 2007 | 7:05 a.m.

As a child in Las Vegas, Don Anderson thought dealers were rock stars, the height of class and cool. Once, in a grocery store, a dealer who recognized his mother picked up the tab with a quick nod to the cashier.

And in Anderson's young man's existence, Caesars Palace dealers were the pinnacle.

Anderson nearly grew up in a casino.

Anderson's father came to Las Vegas in 1957 and met his wife, a cocktail waitress, when he was directing the food and beverage department at the Sahara. The family had a house off the Strip but also lived in a bungalow on the Sahara property, holding parties and rubbing shoulders with casino executives, mob associates and entertainers such as Don Rickles and Jerry Lewis.

During the crackdown on the mob in the 1970s and 1980s, many executives left the business and Anderson's father went with them, buying and running the Bob Taylor's Ranch House restaurant in North Las Vegas. Anderson still had his sights set on gaming, and after earning a college degree on a football scholarship, returned to Las Vegas to work various jobs, including valet and bellman, at the Las Vegas Hilton.

Then his break: getting hired as a craps dealer - one of the most challenging casino jobs - at Caesars Palace. He was the youngest dealer on the floor.

Dealing dice to constant crowds of gamblers was a rush.

"You wouldn't look up from the time you opened your game until the time you went home. You could be on a $5 or $10 crap game and go on break and your game would be reserved for $1,000 when you came back. You just never knew what to expect."

The management culture has changed.

Dealers can no longer rely on their seniority to bid on preferred shifts or days off, he says. And because calling in sick costs points that can add up to termination, dealers often come in to work sick, afraid to accumulate points that can be used against them in a review. Although dealers in Las Vegas haven't pressed for a smoking ban in casinos, Caesars dealers have asked to stand on rubber safety pads like those used by checkers in groceries and retailers to relieve back, neck and foot pain - to no avail.

And years ago, dealers who were sick, incapacitated or absent would be assured of having tips set aside for them - either by other dealers or management. In recent years, dealers, who have historically counted and split their own tips among themselves, have tussled with management over the right to control how much to give their peers in special circumstances.

"Under the old school mentality, a union wasn't needed because we knew we'd always be taken care of," Anderson said. Nowadays, he said, all bets are off.