By Darren Johnson
Campus News
There are no more OTBs in New York City, and while there are some Upstate and on Long Island, they are pretty dingy at this point, and much less trafficked. After all, one can legally bet the horses on a phone.
As well, there are so many other legal sports betting options now.
But there was one OTB one Thanksgiving that helped cement my interest in newspaper writing, and maybe this holiday season, you’ll find an equally quirky place to check out.
In case you don’t know, OTB is Off-Track Betting. Essentially, a gambling parlor with lots of TVs, and you can bet on races all over the country. OTB was started in 1971 in this state. Gambling-addicted Oscar on the early 1970s TV show “The Odd Couple,” when he wasn’t betting through a bookie or at the actual track, would go to one of these. Later, in the 1990s, on “Seinfeld” we see Elaine and Kramer visiting one.
But a few years ago, New York City closed their OTBs. Elsewhere, I still see the antiquated, fading signs for them in small towns off of winding secondary highways; often the single-story buildings look to be in need of repairs. Haphazardly mowed lawns with lots of weeds.
There always was a seedy side to these places. Even the sitcoms mentioned above picked up on that. They also were a place for political hacks to get jobs; carry some Republican or Democratic petitions and, if your candidate wins, maybe you’ll get a job at one of these places, if not the Board of Elections. It’s cynical, but it’s how the world works; and who cares about that, right? I don’t.
So how did OTB change my life?
Well, like Oscar, I’ve been a journalist who doesn’t shy away from placing the occasional wager, and I was in college when my journalism instructor gave the class the assignment to write a Thanksgiving story over the break. Do something different, he’d hoped.
I was studying on Long Island, but home was Upstate, well west of the Hudson, and trips there became more and more frustrating over time, as what was once a somewhat operational family had fallen into disarray, divorce, alcoholism, drugs and wild swings of emotion, usually negative. College had become my safe haven, and my buffer zone was mile-marked by at least a half dozen Roy Rogers restaurants along the New York State Thruway.
After a pretty depressing Thanksgiving – I’m sure there were some verbal if not physical altercations; perhaps someone was body slammed over an amber Pyrex of stuffing on a folding “kiddie” table – I can’t remember exactly which dysfunctional holiday this was – they all blur into one bad memory over time – I remember how it had gotten dark out so early, and I still had to do my journalism assignment.
As became typical for me when home, I just quietly slipped out and drove around in a beat up boat of a car, and, equating placing bets as a way to let off steam, saw that shining light for the hometown OTB. The signs were newer and brighter then, the stucco facades yet to warp and crack.
Surprisingly, there were a lot of people in the OTB this Thanksgiving. And that became my story. Getting facts about the type of people who had nothing else to do but go to a dingy gambling parlor on a holiday. Most were older. Some were alone. Some weary couples bickered. Many were just dollar bettors, letting off steam, like me. They closely studied their racing guide or a newspaper, quarterfolded, made notes on them with ballpoint pens or those little blue with gold lettered customized OTB golf pencils.
I can’t find that story now, so many years later, but remember I’d gotten some colorful quotes, and my professor ended up very impressed, raising an eyebrow. “This is very good,” he said, perhaps surprised, because I also was a chronic truant back then and often missed his class.
It taught me that I feel most comfortable around people who lack comfort, that I can be one of them, and get their stories without poking fun. I’ve never been accused by the people I cover of being an elitist or exploiting them. I learned that journalism can be colorful and interesting, too.
Perhaps this holiday season go somewhere different, off the beaten path, partake, and appreciate people who often aren’t appreciated.
Happy holidays from me to you.
And, I got a tip – bet the 4 horse at Aqueduct in the 5th. It’s a sure thing.
Darren Johnson is a college professor who owns Campus News and another newspaper, The Journal & Press, est. 1842, of Upstate New York.
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