No one who knew ‘Jamup’ ever waited in a Las Vegas line

Back when people in the casino business had nicknames, Allan Hirschorn’s many friends called him “Jamup.”

He liked to say he was raised in the racket. He ascended from lowly bar boy downtown to become one of Steve Wynn’s top casino marketing specialists. Hirschorn, who died April 7 after suffering from a brain tumor, considered himself a pure host who could make the impossible happen for high rollers and good customers who wanted to live like one.

It may sound strange to those unacquainted with the gaming business, but the host-facilitator has long played an important role in generating good customers and keeping them happy. Back before some casino corporations turned customer relations into an antiseptic algorithm, the hosts were walking barometers of high roller health. They knew who had money and how much credit they could handle. Jamup, who could pull front-row tickets and gourmet dinner reservations like aces from up his sleeve, belonged to that generation.

“He didn’t have a college degree,” veteran casino host Gene Kilroy recalls. “He graduated from the University of Hard Knocks. But he befriended people. And he knew how to read people, and how to connect them. One time Kirk (Kerkorian) was in the Bahamas, and they couldn’t get clearance through security. Jamup made one call: They got clearance. That was him. And he never asked for a favor for himself. He always asked for favors for other people.

“I’ve always said that if you see people waiting in line to go somewhere in this town, you know they don’t know Jamup. Nobody who knew Jamup ever waited in line.”

Hirschorn was a colorful and well-connected Vegas guy. He rubbed elbows with casino barons, the well-washed rich and entertainment icons. He even knew his share of notorious fellows — some of whom were good customers.

But for my money, the best part of Jamup’s story isn’t where he ended up. It’s where he started.

The affable fellow, who in the Bahamas would cater to Australian billionaire Kerry Packer and the Shah of Iran, spent the first decade of his life in a Columbus, Ohio orphanage.

Hirschorn was proud of those humble beginnings, grateful for his adoptive parents and enthused about his stint in the U.S. Coast Guard. He was also proud of the fact that in a 46-year career he’d worked at almost every job in the casino from Las Vegas to Nassau and back.

If he’d ever had a hard-knock life, Jamup didn’t let it show.

Hirschorn was a big believer in on-the-job training. His resume stretched from the Fremont as bar boy and the Castaways as a bartender, to dealing at the Tropicana and catering to customers at Caesars Palace before leaving for Paradise Island and returning to Las Vegas at The Mirage and Bellagio.

“To be an executive host like I was, you really have to come up from the bottom,” he said in an interview for my book, “Vegas Voices: Conversations with Great Las Vegas Characters.” “Start as a bar boy, a shill making eight silver dollars. Be a bartender, a crap dealer, a ‘21’ dealer. Corporations don’t understand that. They think they can get a guy out of UNLV. Unless you’ve worked in the business, you don’t understand the mentality. You have to get that felt in your fingernails. Get that eight dollars a day and try to get five dollars a day in chips like I used to do at the El Cortez. It made me a stronger person. When they get a guy out of UNLV and put him to work as a marketing executive, what do they know? They really don’t get it, but I do.

“You have to understand the mentality of the game, and Jamup paid his dues.”

Maybe I’m feeling just a little sentimental, but I miss the era of Las Vegas when casino guys had nicknames.

John L. Smith’s column appears Sunday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday. Email him at Smith@reviewjournal.com or call 702-383-0295. Follow him on Twitter @jlnevadasmith