The political interest groups gathered around the Carson City Capitol could never have anticipated that they were witnessing the passage of a bill that would influence the next half-century.
Inside the legislative chamber, after the third reading and a clause-by-clause vote, the bill to partially lift Prohibition passed, making Nevada the first state among the fifty to do so. Outside, liquor merchants, transportation companies, and agricultural firms erupted into cheers, overwhelmed with joy.
After all, this marked the first crack in the ironclad Prohibition laws. If they kept pushing, state by state, the total repeal of Prohibition would one day be inevitable.
Just as this crowd was ready to pop open the champagne and celebrate, Senator Harry Heller unexpectedly stood up in the Nevada Legislature and announced that he had another bill to propose during this special session.
Not only were the lawmakers puzzled, even the lobbyists outside froze in surprise. The partial Prohibition repeal had already passed—what was this sudden burst of diligence from a politician? Was the sun rising in the west? Was this temporary session, which had already dragged on for over a week, about to be extended?
In a corner, Niall and his two companions just smiled. Senator Heller, who had accepted a large sum from Charles "Lucky" Luciano, still retained a sense of political decorum. Along with his aides, he had drafted a new proposal in just two days.
The trio had reviewed a copy of the bill the night before. The main clauses were sound. In fact, Heller, a shrewd and cautious politician, had not only incorporated Niall's previous suggestions but constructively added a few more.
For instance, the casinos were to be operated solely by Native Americans. This was a symbolic "tiger skin," meant to frame the initiative as an expression of tribal self-determination on reservation land—something outsiders had no right to interfere with. He also added a provision stipulating that the state tax revenue from casinos must be invested in infrastructure, including highway networks and water systems within both the state and reservations.
So dignified and high-minded—he had even preempted the media's potential angle of questioning how gambling tax revenue would be used. Not giving critics any room to attack—what a savvy move!
What a quintessential American politician!
"My proposal to build casinos," Heller would say, "is intended to support the financially struggling Native American population during these difficult economic times. It offers them increased income and helps preserve their cultural heritage by channeling funding into community development."
Once the bill was introduced, many lawmakers smirked knowingly, while some remained neutral—after all, Heller had already secured some intra-party support beforehand.
The lieutenant governor, seated nearby, furrowed his brows, clearly unsure why Heller would introduce such a controversial proposal during a special session.
Outside, the lobbyists were even more stunned—Nevada might legalize gambling?
After all, the most profitable industries in the world were always the same: alcohol, tobacco, sex, and gambling. Cigarettes, for example, carried taxes that made up 70% of their retail price across countries like Japan, the UK, Australia, and the US.
Tobacco still wasn't heavily restricted in the US, but alcohol and gambling were strictly forbidden. If gambling could be legalized, early entrants would reap huge profits.
No time to waste—some lobbyists rushed off immediately. Without mobile phones and with unreliable long-distance calls, they turned to telegrams and public phones. News this explosive had to be shared fast.
Back inside the chamber, the bill proceeded to its first-round debate. Since the "blame" for gambling was shifted entirely onto the Native Americans, even seasoned politicians struggled to find solid grounds for opposition.
Claim it violated the Constitution? The Constitution didn't apply to tribal lands. Argue it breached public morals? Native Americans had their own set of values. Accuse the government of using it for tax revenue? That would be hypocritical—weren't politicians' salaries paid with tax dollars?
No one could muster a strong counterargument. When Senator Heller proposed auctioning off gambling licenses—secured by financial guarantees—for hundreds of thousands or even millions of dollars, Nevada's Republican governor Kenny Gene galloped into the legislature.
His first question: "How many licenses will be issued?"
Heller smiled and replied, "Between four and eight." Any more and they'd lose value. Everyone knew the game.
Then came the real kicker: once passed, the bill could bring in between $5 million and $10 million immediately for the Nevada state government.
And that was just the licensing revenue—annual casino tax income could surpass $10 million. For a state like Nevada, barely staying afloat with livestock farming, this was nothing short of economic rebirth.
Those legislators who had coordinated with Heller and taken money from Charles Luciano began clapping loudly and shouting their approval, declaring the bill timely and well-crafted.
Even some Democrats and labor-affiliated lawmakers were stunned by the projection of an extra $20 million in annual state revenue. With that kind of money, their office budgets could increase dramatically—maybe even personal expenses for their wives and children could be reimbursed. What was not to like?
Just like in Yes, Minister, when Hacker was nominated to serve as the UK's EEC Commissioner, his wife asked what the perks were. Hacker listed them: an official car, a villa, private jet, luxury hotels, endless gourmet meals, and European travel—all expenses paid. Plus, €20,000 a year in reimbursements.
The "expense account" game—who didn't understand how lucrative that was?
Unsurprisingly, the debates in the chamber focused not on whether the proposal was reasonable, but on how it could be improved—whether it might clash with constitutional amendments or with existing laws on tribal lands.
"Maybe it'll pass its third reading in just a few days," Niall said, flashing a victory sign to his companions.