It started out like any other vacation.
Sightseeing, chowing down at some famous food spots, and in this case, gambling.
Jimmy, Bert, and Harold hit the slots at The Sahara, then tried some blackjack at The Frontier.
They had lunch at Westy's and watched the girls dance at The Flamingo Club.
Don't let the senior-citizen status fool you - Jimmy and Bert could still get down.
***
"Well," Bert began, enjoying one last bite of his tuna on rye.
"Well what?" Jimmy fired back, puffing on his cigar.
Smoke billowed everywhere throughout Binion's Horseshoe Casino, and there was plenty billowing from Jimmy, as Harold had to turn and cough.
"Should we start our search?" Bert suggested.
Jimmy gave a wry smile.
"We ain't gonna find him," he said, as if the two knew this cold reality all along. "Finding H.D...eh, I was just throwin' that out there..."
"What, to get us to Vegas?" Bert scoffed, following with a lengthy belch.
"Let's at least try, old friend," Bert persisted, refusing to concede.
This is when things got interesting.
***
They started the only place they could: Caesars Palace, where Marvin Harding apparently dealt blackjack when he arrived in Vegas in 1971.
The young dealers working there never heard of him. They were gracious enough to give it thought, but the name didn't ring a bell.
The search committee poked around further, asking management and the bartender that was working at the time, Rusty.
Nada.
They asked the drink girls, they asked the 18- or 19-year-old kid fixing one of the slot machines.
Nothing, zilch.
They started to wonder if Marvin Harding ever actually came to Vegas.
Frustration got the best of them and they did some more gambling and drinking at Binion's.
But after his third White Russian, Bert got a head full of steam and decided they should revisit the manager's office at Caesar's.
The manager was a young gal, maybe 30, and Bert posed the idea of checking employee records.
Danielle, the manager, did say they started inputting all employee information into the new computer.
But the information only went as far back as 1975.
They gave it a whirl anyhow.
There it was, lo and behold.
Harding, Marvin...blackjack dealer...
He had worked at Caesar's until '76 and then properly gave his two-weeks notice.
Reason for leaving? Was offered a better salary at The Golden Nugget down the street.
After three hours of amateur sleuthing, the search committee was finally getting somewhere.
***
If Marvin Harding was still working at The Golden Nugget in 1982, he wasn't on this day.
As "Pac-Man Fever" blared from the radio in the nearby arcade, the search committee briskly made their way to the blackjack table - Bert hobbling quickly on his bad knees - and found no Marvin.
They were told by the dealer that there was no Marvin Harding working there at all.
But from a nearby bar stool, opportunity called.
"I know Marvin Harding," said a short, rotund, bald guy named Stew Peters. "Hell, we used to rap here all the time..."
The group immediately ordered themselves a round of drinks, plus one for their new friend.
After venting his anger about an impending football players strike on the horizon, Stew was urged to share with them his knowledge of Marvin's possible whereabouts these days.
"Well, lemme see...," he offered, leaning back in his seat. "I saw Marvin...he was fed up...said he was tired of dealing - blackjack that is...and he just walked out..."
There was an awkward pause.
"And that was...when?" Jimmy prodded.
"Oh...about three years ago," Stew answered.
Jimmy, Bert and Harold hung their heads.
But not for long.
"I do believe...he still hangs out at Sisko's, down on Fourth," Stew suggested.
They bought their new friend another round, and headed out.
***
Sisko's was a dive bar if there ever was one.
