In Las Vegas, casino hosts like STEVE CYR outhustle one another to land the big whales -- guys like LARRY FLYNT, game-show magnate ROGER KING, and KERRY PACKER -- all of whom bet more than one million dollars per trip. KERRY PACKER once
tipped a singer in Las Vegas a hundred thousand dollar chip after listening to her for two songs. There is a slang term for big
tippers... it's called GEORGE. KERRY PACKER is a super George.
[Editor's Note: In the gambling lexicon, a "whale" is one of the world's wealthiest wagerers. These are casino players who can
bet from $50,000 to $250,000 a hand. The casino employee who harpoons the whales is known as the superhost. he's the
casino's front man, who makes all the arrangements for these leviathans -- airplane, limo, penthouse, gifts, parties, dinners,
shopping sprees, women.]
Most whales are used to running everything and everyone in their lives. They generally get whatever they want whenever
they want it. An international marketing executive has to see to it that they only get what they have coming to them in
return for their play. He knows that because of the habit of running their own businesses, whales'll run his business too if
he lets them. He tries not to let them, but it doesn't always work out that way.
The high roller with the most ferocious reputation for trying to run the business for the casinos where he plays is Kerry
Packer. In the casino world, Packer is the Prince of Whales. He isn't Asian. He's Australian. And he's the wealthiest man
in the country. Estimates of his fortune range, depending on the day, from $4.5 billion to more than $8 billion. He owns
Australia's largest television station, 60 percent of all magazines sold Down Under (including the venerable Women's
Weekly, inaugurated in 1933 by Kerry's father, Sir Frank Packer), pieces of Casino Sydney and Melbourne's Crown
Casino, and a host of other media, entertainment, gambling, and mutual-fund interests. His holdings have put him into
nearly perpetual conflict with the Australian government and other media moguls (his arch-nemesis is Rupert Murdoch).
It's probably apocryphal, but the story of the Packer family's road to riches starts with Kerry's grandfather, who found
10 shillings on the street in Tasmania and parlayed it into a passage to mainland Australia and a big win on a longshot
bet on a horse race. From those humble gambling roots, Packer, a tall heavyset man born in 1938 -- who's had a
series of heart attacks and a kidney transplant (the kidney was donated by one of his employees, who is now
reportedly setup for life) -- has become one of the few true-blue whales in the gambling world. he's easily the biggest
player known player.
Ironically, the chairmen, CEOs, and presidents of American casinos who deal with Packer don't consider him a
whale in the fully developed sense of the term. He's a quintessential hit-and-run high roller. A U.S. casino rarely gets
enough play from him to dig too deeply into his pockets. Unlike most gamblers, low roller and high, for whom love
and fever are the great motivators, Packer is aroused by pure sport. Just the thrill of it. Nothing can happen in the
casino that will significantly impact his standard of living. If he makes or loses $10 or $20 million in a session, it's
inconsequential. But he loves to see the impact his gambling has on the casino bosses. A cutthroat-style business-
man, Packer reportedly derives greater satisfaction in victory if he can see his opponent bleeding at the side of the
road as he walks off.
He likes to put fear into their hearts. If a boss acts like nothings's a big deal and Packer can do whatever he wants,
he doesn't get as much of a charge out of it. He starts perking up when he's told, "No, we can't really let you go
that far." That's when he knows he's reached the level where the casino is starting to feel uncomfortable. He keeps
pushing until he hears, "No, sorry, we can't do it." And then he pushes some more. He's exorbitantly generous to
widows and orphans and front-line casino workers, but he seems to take a perverse pleasure in undressing the
bosses.
And always in the back of his mind must be the knowledge that he could actually, single-handedly, bankrupt one
of these joints.
The story goes that Packer was flying somewhere -- Singapore, Bangkok, London -- from Sydney, and he called
the cage at the Darwin Casino at the northern tip of Australia, which was on his flight path. He asked the cage
supervisor how much cash was on hand. When he was given a number, he said no thanks. When the he
supervisor asked him how much cash he needed to stop off and play, he quoted three times the number.
The next time Packer called, Darwin had enough cash in the cage and he landed. He played, won, and emptied
the cage. He tipped everyone well and took off again, with a little extra walking-around money for his trip. He
doesn't go out and buy jewelry with the win. He doesn't celebrate. He just likes the feeling of having free cash
on him (who doesn't?) to spend on whatever strikes his fancy.
The stories of his gargantuan wins, losses, and tokes are the stuff of legend.
Packer is rumored to have taken the biggest loss ever in a U.K. casino, losing 11 million pounds (US $16 million
in 1999, playing blackjack over a three-week span at Crockfords Casino in Mayfair. (He's less hit-and-run in
England, where he lives part-time.)
On March 31, 1992, Packer waltzed into Caesars Palace and began firing it up. At midnight as the books for the
fiscal quarter closed, he was up $9 million. It was a loss of 37 cents per share for Caesars World and cut into the
company's earnings for the first quarter by a full 50 percent. Between midnight and dawn, Packer lost back the
$9 million and then some, and Caesars second-quarter earnings rose with the tide.
In 1995, he showed up at MGM Grand in the wee hours one morning, asking that an entire blackjack pit be
cleared of players. He went from table to table, betting six hands at $75,000 a hand. (A $75,000 bet for someone
worth $5 billion might equate with a 75-cent bet for someone who earns $50,000 a year. Several "PackerWatch"
web sites have a meter that calculates how long it takes him to earn your yearly salary. The $50,000 guy?
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