There were four large hotel/casinos on Nevada’s South Shore of Lake Tahoe. The other three had long-ago 86’d ALL bikers, not just the Angels, for various anti-social activities. Harrah’s was the LAST place that allowed them entrance and, man, did they appreciate it. They couldn’t wear their “colors,” but we knew who they were, as they still had the tattoos and other accoutrements of the outlaw-biker world. They were on their “best behavior,” when they were guests of Harrah’s; no fighting, no riding their motorcycles in the casino, no things like that. We were polite to them and they, in turn, were polite to us.
I’d only worked there about a month, when I got into my first rugby scrum with someone who did not wish to be handcuffed. He was a 19 year-old, blond-haired, surfer-dude, with shoulder-length hair (important later). Ted Koorganoff, you remember him, he’s the one who bled all over the security office, after being sucker-punched by a negro. He had been called to a pit to check this fucker’s ID and, while conversing with him, was sucker-punched by the punk. He got only a small cut (no blood) at the bridge of his nose, but broke his fucking thumb in the fight which followed. (He walked, quite proudly, through the casino, for the next two weeks, giving one and all, the “Thumbs Up.” By the time I arrived, in response to the Double-X which had been called, Ted had been joined by four other security officers, and all of them were struggling to cuff this guy. I joined up with my comrades, trying to take the fucker to the floor. One security dude was trying to choke surfer-boy out, but he wasn’t having any luck. Suddenly, we were all in a pile on the floor, with surfer-dude on his belly, facing me, with his mouth snugged-up against my crotch. I’m not an overly religious person, but I was praying, “Please, God, don’t let him bite my wienie.” We were in that position, for what seemed like several minutes, as I tried to choke him out, quite unsuccessfully. Ted finally got him cuffed, we stood him up, and we were all treated to Ted’s famous, “Fuck with me, and you lose your hair, motherfucker,” game of pay-back. With one hand on the cuff-chain, and the dude bent over at the waist, Ted used his other hand to pull blond hair out of the guy’s head, and discard it onto the casino floor. It was a short frog-walk to the security office and, when we got there, Ted continued pulling hair, until the kid was fucking BALD.
About a 1/2-hour later, the graveyard security shift-supervisor came on duty, and I was in the office with him. I said, “Man, you should have seen it; Koorganoff pulled every hair out of that kid’s head. He was BALD, when he went to jail.” The supervisor, who hadn’t seen the kid, was going, “Yeah, right,” thinking that I was grossly embellishing the story. I said, “You think I’m bullshitting you? Look at this,” as I picked up the two plastic trash cans, each of which was 1/2-full of blond surfer-hair, and showed the contents to him. “And this doesn’t count what’s still out in the casino.” Ted had to go to Barton Memorial Hospital and Medical Malpractice Center, to have his hand X-rayed and bound-up, with his thumb sticking up, which he proudly displayed for two weeks.
Now, the the Hell’s Angels connection: During one of those fights, as I quickly found out, you’re not aware of anything about your surroundings, not even the identity of your fellow security officers; you’re zoomed in on the scofflaw, and the sanctity of your private parts. Therefore, I was completely unaware of the fact that about six feet away from the scrum, a biker chick was yelling, “Kill security, fuck those assholes, kill those motherfuckers.” As soon as we got surfer-boy to the office, an announcement was made, “Double-X to South Valet Parking, Double-X to South Valet Parking.” I wish I would have responded to that Double-X, because it was a classic. As about ten security officers arrived at the valet parking area, they observed a huge biker, beating the shit out of a biker chick, and saying, “You dumb bitch, you could get us kicked out of THIS casino; the last one that lets us in.” He was punching the shit out of her face. Biker dude saw all those security officers arrive and stopped pounding on the chick. The SOs indicated that they were pleased to see the ass-kicking and urged him to continue, which he did, while they watched. Such was the “bond” we had with outlaw bikers, including the infamous Hell’s Angels, from Oakland and Frisco.