The comped megasuites, limos, shows, booze and gourmet meals - it's all part of the elaborate courting ritual between Las Vegas casinos and high rollers. And when a gambler ascends to the level of "whale," willing to wager millions in the course of a single visit, forget the red carpet; that player's feet need barely touch the ground. We're talking private G3 jets, super-stretch SUVs waiting at the airport, and humongous lines of credit simply awaiting a signature. Just show up and take a shot.
Casinos employ hosts to attend to the needs of their elite players, to ensure they want for nothing and can focus on the matter at
hand: gambling. Burn through a bundle, and your host can soothe the sting with extravagant VIP treatment. Win a bundle and they
really go into overdrive, doing whatever it takes to keep you from walking out the door and losing it somewhere else. (In a casino's
eyes, no player ever wins money. He's merely borrowing it.)
Players are often more loyal to their hosts than to the casinos themselves. Even the biggest whales love the idea of free stuff -
whether it's the biggest suite in the joint, front-row concert tickets, or a shopping spree for their wife (or mistress) - those perks
alone won't get them to stick around and take a shot at the tables. True whales choose their casino with the same scrutiny they
use when weighing a business deal, which only makes sense since they're risking their millions against unfavorable odds.
Because the casinos crave their astronomical action, whales can negotiate the terms of their play prior to their arrival.
Sometimes this means handing them back a percentage of their losses; it's not unheard of for a casino to refund 20 percent.
Steve Cyr is the most successful whale hunter in the business, a relentless deal-closer whose job is to seek out the biggest
players and lure them in to the casinos he represents. If a whale is comfortably ensconced at a rival casino, Cyr will do
whatever it takesto convince him to consider a change. He is remarkably effective because he speaks their language: money.
Come with Cyr and you'll get a better deal, a better shot at winning, and receive unparalleled perksfrom his vast network of connections. "You can call me on Super Bowl Sunday and sit on the 50-yard line," he smiles.
"I'm kind of like Jerry Maguire," he explains. "I negotiate with the casino head: We can get that [player], but we have
to do this. Then I negotiate for the player. I say, "Listen, you wouldn't go into a court of law without an attorney. You're
a whale. You shouldn't go into a casino without a good independent host. I'm on your side."
After years of being employed exclusively by various casinos, where he earned a steady paycheck but chafed
against their rules and cautious attitudes, Cyr created H-Six, which he calls in "independent consulting company" that
provides him and his players with greater flexibility. (The Company's name refers to his host number back when he
was with the Hilton.) His partner in H-Six is his wife, Tanya; they met when he was an independent host witht the
Hard Rock and she was a bartender at the property's Pink Taco restaurant. Cyr knew that big-shot players from
other casinos liked to visit the Hard Rock to party and flirt with the young women; Tanya used to tell him about the
$100 tips they'd throw around the restaurant.
"Forget about the tips," Cyr told her. "I started to educate her to listen for buzz words: 'I'm in the Mansions,' 'I got
fight tickets,' 'I'm in the Palazzo suites' [at the Rio]. 'I came in on the MGM private plane.' 'I've got a $100,000
credit line.' Those are the guys I wanted to know. [I said] turn 'em on to me, and I'll split my commissions with
you." This arrangement netted them $15,000 in the first month. Tanya quit her bartender gig and started working
with Cyr full-time, and their partnership blossomed into marriage.
Unique amont casino reps, the Cyrs have deals in place with a number of properites and offer their players
unrivaled VIP service at all of them. Their major clients include the Atlantis ("as beautiful as Bellagio, in the
Bahamas"); Barona in San Diego ("extremely high limits, they let my guys bet up to $100,000 a hand"); Norwegian
Cruise Lines; Mohegan Sun ("6,000 slot machines, it's unbelievable"); and the Golden Nugget in Las Vegas.
"It's a one-stop shopping for high rollers," Cyr proclaims. "Wanna go on a cruise? Call me. Vegas is too hot? How
about San Diegeo? It's cold in New York, but you don't want to come all the way west? Okay, come down to
Atlantis."
Vegas is where Cyr lives and made his name, and the Nugget is his kind of casino: beneath the glitzy veneer it's
a gambling joint, pure and simple, with the biggest table limits in town, player-friendly rules and exceptional odds.
Just as important for Cyr, the owners - Tim Poster and tom Breitling, two dot-com multimillionaires in their 30s -
are a refreshing change from the bureaucracies he battled while hosting for larger corporate-owned casinos. The
Nugget gives Cyr the latitude he needs to "harpoon" whales with incentives they won't get anywhere else. "I've
had Larry Flynt down three or four times in the last few months, because they let him bet 50 [thousand] a hand,"
he says.
That's the advantage I have over the other 500 hosts in this town," he says of the properties he represents. "If
you're a host at the Mirage, you've got to pump up the Mirage. If you hear about a big player at Venetian, you're
stuck. I get in my car, go over to the Venetian and have dinner with him - 'I'm Steve Cyr, independent host' - and
I try to get him. Maybe he doesn't need me and the Nugget for that trip, but the next trip he [might] want to go to
Barona or Atlantis. Now I've got him. And [I say,] 'next time you're in town, you owe me a trip to the Nugget.' I
can do more for him than just one property."
One of Cyr's most coveted whale is media mogul Larry Flynt, who used to take his blackjack action to Caesars
while Cyr was at the Hilton. Every Monday for six months, Cyr had a $125 gift basket of fruits and chocolates
delivered to Flynt's Los Angeles office. On two occasions, Cyr showeed up at his office unannounced to make his
pitch; the second time, Flynt granted him an audience and Cyr promptly offered him a hundred grand just to play
at the Hilton. Flynt flew in, with a camera crew from "48 Hours" in town, and won a million that first night. He
evenetually had 17 winning trips in a row and beat the Hilton for $9 million. Whales like Flynt, who play purely to
win, stick to basic stragegy and don't succumb to the distractions of Vegas, are dangerous to a casino's bottom
line. "He's a very disciplined player," says Cyr. "If Larry wins a million on Friday, unlike most guys who will try to
double it by Sunday, he goes home; he's got his own G3 [jet]."
