All In

Inside the raucous room, "Jonathan Strauss" massages his forehead with his sweaty fingertips, systematically plotting his next move. It's a familiar posture for Strauss, an Orthodox Jew who has analyzed ancient Talmud texts with regularity for much of his life. But tonight, he opts for the dominance and control that he feels while playing cards, something studying religious texts, while spiritually rewarding and fulfilling, sorely lacks. The Yeshiva University senior wants to appear timid, but confident; he need to seem apprehensive, yet still secure. "I'm all-in," he finally proclaims as he slides all of his chips toward the dealer.

Convinced he's made the right choice, he removes his hat and wipes his brow with his shaky wrist. A baseball cap has replaced his usual black yarmulke for the evening. To play his best, he must be respected by his peers. From the moment he stepped foot into the club that night, he began to assimilate into the crowd of gruff guys he has come to know only by their first names and patented poker play.

* * * *

Within the last two years, ESPN has revolutionized interest in the game of poker with its coverage of the World Series of Poker (WSOP). Young adults intensely monitor the television screen to learn the tricks of their favorite players' trade. They determine which players' style best fits their own character on and off the green felt, and strive to achieve that gambler's excellence in their own house games. Professional players like Howard Lederer and Phil Ivey have transcended their fleeting celebrity status, instead emerging as American idols to perhaps millions of adolescents.

But they have changed the face of the game as well. Poker is now a business venture more than a leisurely activity. Friendly weekly card games have mostly vanished in favor of higher limit, higher risk opportunities that don't have the imposed threat of alienating friends after beating them out for a large pot.

* * * *

When someone at the club claims he would be better off spending his money on a prostitute rather than dropping a couple of hundred at the card table, Strauss remains silent. He laughs uncomfortably while rotating a $25 chip through his fingers and anxiously waits for the next hand to be dealt. His opponents are there to escape from their wives, girlfriends, jobs and lives; they instead turn to this pop-up utopia buried beneath an apartment building on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. Everyone there recognizes each other as regulars owing to the hundreds of hours they have all frequented the illegal club.

On this particular December night, the festive holiday cheer on the streets has been replaced inside by fierce competition. Strauss eyes his watch, knowing that he must head out in a few minutes, before the clock strikes four, in order to make it back in time to squeeze in a nap before his morning Judaic classes resume.

With Orthodox Jews finally waking up to serious issues like drug and alcohol addiction, the threat of compulsive gambling should come as no surprise. Yeshiva, despite academic advancement, still serves primarily as a compromise for many parents wishing to send their children to college. If their children must attend college, reason many parents, at least Yeshiva's environment will protect them from the ills of the outside world. But many of these parents have ignored the possibility that their children, in spite of being better sheltered at Yeshiva than at an alternative secular college, still face challenges inside this modern variation on the Garden of Eden.

As such, many parents have only recently begun to reform their naïve impressions of Yeshiva as sacred, safeguarded soil. Yeshiva's adaptation to contemporary society, and to produce young adults who can compete on the highest level, has seemingly also allowed for some of the bad to sneak in with the good. The official student handbook, for instance, forbids all forms of gambling on inside Yeshiva's university housing. But students have long violated school regulations and entertained betting games in the privacy of their dorm rooms. In light of the underground culture, maybe things haven't changed as much at Yeshiva, sans a realization and implicit acceptance of gambling's longstanding pervasiveness.

* * * *

Strauss and his friends used to play a couple times a week in his room for a $20 initial buy-in. On a particularly bad night, any player could lose twice that amount, justifying it as equivalent to a night out in pricy New York City. Still, chances were that the next night he would have a better run of cards and recover his losses. The night's big winner would even occasionally sponsor a pizza in order to assuage any hostility among his buddies. But with the advent of, and exposure to, televised gaming courtesy of the WSOP coverage, the Travel Channel's World Poker Tour, and Bravo's Celebrity Poker Showdown, many students have responded by upping their antes.

Strauss is now one of a dozen Yeshiva students who spend up to three nights a week gambling at underground clubs, trying to prove that they belong. Even when they lose, and most do, they eventually return, hoping to break their string of bad luck. But in such a bloodthirsty setting, with better players and playful bettors, luck seems to be less of a factor than fear. In no-limit games, an aggressor can have his way with a table; a minimum $50 buy-in may last only a few hands before being gobbled up by a stacked superior.

Despite knowing he is regularly outmatched, Strauss still maintains that he would prefer to play at these clubs rather than in his living room with fellow students whom he knows he can bully. "We used to struggle to just get enough guys to play, calling around and organizing," said Strauss. "At the club there's always a full game where you can make real money." There, he buys in for the table maximum, $300, and hopes that he can make it last the night. But when it's gone, so is he. The games have the convenience of being a mere 25 minute subway ride away and the professionalism of Atlantic City casinos, complete with waitresses and masseuses on hand.

* * * *

Realizing that some of its students are quickly approaching that confusing intersection between Jewish law and socially sanctioned addiction, Yeshiva is set to open a counseling center on campus in the spring of 2005. The staff will be comprised of interns from Yeshiva's professional schools which teach and focus on mental health. In addition, the center will boast several Sganei Mashgiach, spiritual advisors, to help establish a pastoral counseling program. The center will try to address the needs, stresses and dilemmas of Yeshiva's student body.

Rabbi Chaim Marcus, one of five Sganei Mashgiach already on staff, has considered the perils of the societal popularity of poker. "This is a very dangerous habit to be forming," he said. "It will take out of having a meaningful, productive existence." Jewish law acknowledges the possibility that gambling has dangerous potential and harmful power to overtake a person's discretion. A professional gambler, for instance, is prohibited from testifying in Jewish court because he is deemed untrustworthy. The occupation is determined to be reprehensible and widely considered one maintained by a derivative form of theft. But the law is indefinite, Rabbi Marcus explained, regarding a person who only gambles occasionally and doesn't exclusively rely on it for his source of income. According to Jewish law, "recreational gambling is not uniformly seen as bad. There are those that are more lenient in regard to this," Rabbi Marcus said.

Yet, those who choose to extend the rabbinical prohibition to include all varieties of gambling cite the "slippery slope" mentality as the prime reason for a unilateral ban. They conclude that while gambling itself may not be sinful, it could lead to more substantial wrongdoings like a dependence on it caused by uncontrollable urges. In this regard, Jewish law matches psychological analysis; the slippery slope, in all areas, emphasizes the need to set boundaries.

Dr. David Pelcovitz, professor of psychology and education at the Azrieli Graduate School of Jewish Education and Administration, noted, "the research says that roughly 4% of people who gamble are at risk of having it degenerate into serious problems. The only problem is that it's somewhat Russian roulette; there's no way of predicting who's going to be in that 4 percent."

* * * *

It was Strauss' father who first introduced him to the game of Texas Hold'em when Strauss was just ten years old. "He played in a weekly game at home and I liked to watch. So one day, when he decided I was old enough, he taught me how to play," Strauss said. For many years though, Strauss was one of the few students at his elementary and high school familiar with the game. "It wasn't nearly as popular then. Now I hear about little kids playing all the time, even at school. It just wasn't like that when I was in school a few years ago," he added.

After high school, Strauss, like many Orthodox youth, studied in Israel for a year. He spent much of his day learning, eating and sleeping with a few breaks inside the rigorous schedule for personal entertainment and rest. During those short recesses, Strauss and his friends worked their way through a number of games such as chess, backgammon and darts before quickly growing tired of each one.

Hold'em emerged midway through the year and was the one game that outlasted its transitory phase. "I was bored of all the other games we had been playing and poker always had this mysterious appeal," he said. "I had played for chips before and seen others play for money and I liked it." Strauss managed to strike a balance between his studies during the day and poker playing at night. "It was relaxing after a long day, and I didn't feel like I was just wasting the free time away," he said.

* * * *

Until recently, one of the bodegas near Yeshiva's campus was a haven for gamblers and sports fanatics, an illegal operation running in the back that took in thousands of dollars of bets each Sunday during the football season. Many students and sports enthusiasts posed as grocery shoppers in order to get their prized money line, designed to resemble an ordinary receipt, announcing the day's match-ups and lines. When the business shut down over the summer - rumors of a police bust were never verified - some aficionados opened up online accounts. With internet accessibility, students can now manage their online betting accounts from their dorm rooms and free of public scrutiny.

Nevertheless, the overall attractiveness of poker on television has in part carried the message that this is a game, and a lifestyle, that is not merely tolerated, but largely supported. Vast viewing of WSOP episodes on the Yeshiva dorm network has sparked interest in students, many of whom never knew how to play prior to the televised explanation and walk-through. And it has surfaced beyond cyberspace. Just listen closely during lunch hour in the school cafeteria, and you can overhear impassioned discussion related to poker technique and methodology. Even a student who doesn't play for money, instead settling for a free account that many websites provide, has the power to amaze attentive crowds with his own tales of fortune.

* * * *

The Yeshiva handbook explicitly states that "all residents of University Housing are expected to conduct themselves in accordance with these norms and Torah ideals." However, since many of the violations seem to be occurring off-campus, we are left to wonder who is in fact responsible for supervising students' gaming obsession.

In 1998, when games like Texas Hold'em hadn't so profusely materialized yet, a Commentator reporter set out to explore how rampant gambling was on his campus. He asserted that the administration overwhelmingly determined that "gambling is far less prevalent here than it is at most other universities."

Senior University Dean of Students Efrem Nulman said then, "Since we as an institution are aware of [student gambling], we are going to do everything we can to stop it." Unanticipated and uncontainable forces, however, have led Nulman, and other concerned administrators, to reassess the situation six years later.

Recently, Dr. Nulman said he has observed "a tremendous preoccupation with gambling [right now]...popular culture has said not only is this something we enjoy and endorse, but now it's becoming a fad." Nulman hopes that it is indeed a fad and that the fascination will eventually diminish. But he also wants to make sure that people recognize that poker didn't spring up overnight. "There's no question the numbers are up, but also no question it's always been there," he stressed. "There's been drugs, alcohol and gambling in the last forty years. It's always been here."

With no definitive cure or proven method of prevention, Nulman emphasizes the need for parents and educators to strive for a level of understanding when it comes to their children's need to experiment. He believes that assemblies and scare tactics, the most popular modes of prevention, are ineffective because the misinformation and exaggeration that is conveyed only raises students' skepticism and breeds mistrust. Furthermore, some parents mistakenly assume that they are doing their children a service by shielding them from these issues altogether. Nulman commends these noble efforts but believes that ultimately "what goes on in terms of a students' decision to gamble or not to gamble...is determined by the college student [alone]."

* * * *

In a similar vein, Yeshiva's zero-tolerance drug policy hasn't proven a successful deterrent on that front either. Problem cases are mostly kept confidential out of fear that a scandal will hurt enrollment at Jewish day schools and, in turn, at Yeshiva. Nulman, however, revealed that, over the years, he has sent a number of Yeshiva students to all forms of "Anonymous" meetings, some after the addiction had surfaced, others to inhibit its development.

Despite the school's strict codes of conduct, in November 2004, Nulman met with thirty pre-selected Yeshiva students to discuss substance abuse, a sign that the school has finally begun to accept its prevalent presence. He said that it was important that nobody there felt that, by speaking candidly about his social practices, he was incriminating himself and subject to punishment. Moreover, it was vital for the students to know that the institution still supported them, and wanted to help them, despite their questionable choice of recreation.

With substance abuse finally being openly addressed at Yeshiva, it warrants the question of whether gambling will be tackled in the same manner. Gambling, on the other hand, appears, to many, as more manageable than drugs and alcohol because it does not involve a bodily dependence. But perhaps that is what is so alluring to these college students; they can get that high while justifying they have done nothing wrong to attain it. "I could be doing a lot worse. What's the big deal with playing cards at night?" one student casually remarked. Although arguably less severe than the other addictions, gambling is much more widespread at Yeshiva, creating an epidemic that has roped in many students who would probably otherwise not have turned to harmful substances for momentary enjoyment.

* * * *

Nulman encourages parents to face the realities of their children's teenage years. He replaces the often haunted words of "child at risk" with the more heartfelt and sympathetic "normal adolescent." He advises parents to review expectations and limits with their children and to stay involved. Harm reduction, he suggests, is an alternative approach to drug education. It attempts to prevent abuse but still recognizes that certain individuals don't respond to "Just Say No." It also aims to minimize the short and long term negative consequences of substance abuse and addiction and may lead to a complete recovery.

In efforts to curb youth fixation on alcohol, some synagogues have recently begun to remove liquor from their Sabbath service Kiddushes. Yet remarkably, synagogue casino nights and Chinese auctions--charitable contributions the justifying factor--are popping up at alarming rates. With so many adults hopping on board the poker craze too, the move toward moderation is evidently not universal.

Perhaps the most ominous of these accepted cultural events was the lounge night hosted by the Yeshiva Student Union last week. Event organizers apparently deliberately changed the title of the evening from casino night to lounge night at the last minute to mitigate criticism and attention. Nevertheless, the venue was chosen because of its draw for students, many of whom enjoy gambling even as a recreational activity.

Dr. Pelcovitz, however, warns people not to overreact just yet. "Are we hitting the point where anything seen as fun is put down as one more slippery kind of vice that could get you into trouble?" he wondered. "We don't have enough data to know if this is that kind of problem."

* * * *

As the sun comes up, Strauss quietly sneaks back into his bedroom making sure not to wake up his roommate. Tiptoeing past his book bag, he creeps on by a stack of closed textbooks on his desk. He places his overstuffed wallet, over $300 fuller, on his dresser and climbs into bed. He has to be well rested for his triumphant return later that evening.