Bingo Calls Out Die-Hards Charities Benefit, But New Gambling Operations Are Cutting Into Crowds

Ernest Bourguignon wore two bows on his head as he stared into the face of the Grim Reaper.

He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t surprised. He wasn’t winning.

Bourguignon, who celebrated his 88th birthday Tuesday night at the bingo parlor, looked anxious to get back to the game. Fellow player Elizabeth Mitzimberg and parlor staff embarrassed him for his birthday with a large man dressed in Grim Reaper garb.

Bourguignon shrugged and grinned as the man bellowed at him. Minutes later, Bourguignon went back to the game. He’s a bingo junkie.

“I pass the time, meet people,” said Bourguignon in a thick French-Canadian accent. “Otherwise, especially since my wife passed away, I’d be alone. After reading a couple of hours, I get tired.”

From the young to the old, people gathered this week as they always do at the Spokane Youth Sports Association bingo parlor on East Sprague. Bingo’s not just for blue-hairs anymore, if it ever was.

Teenagers in tie-dyed shirts, mothers and daughters, old friends and loners play. There’s a former married couple, now best friends, who play together. There’s Vera Haralson, 72.

“I’m a widow with no family,” said Haralson, who plays 16 to 20 hours a week. “This is one place I can go unescorted. It’s really my means of recreation.”

Despite the die-hards, crowds are thinning. At this parlor, an average of 154 people show up for each of the 12 sessions a week. Five years ago, 234 people played at an average session.

Player numbers have dipped slightly statewide, said Frank Miller, the director of the Washington State Gambling Commission. Spokane’s numbers have dropped more, because the parlors are competing with more gambling operations, he said.

The six large charitable bingo halls in Spokane County donate profits to organizations such as Big Brothers & Sisters, the Spokane Guilds’ School, the American Red Cross and youth sports leagues and centers.

The drop in attendance has caused adjustments. Bingo halls gamble with newer, better and glitzier promotions, such as speed bingo, trips to Reno and new cars.

None of that matters to the regulars. They’ll play regardless.

“I play six days a week,” Bourguignon said. “Then my day off. I used to play seven days a week. I’m slowing down.”

The atmosphere in the Spokane Youth Sports bingo hall usually is tense. Players want their special chairs. They raise and bow their heads collectively to look at the numbers drawn on TV screens, seconds before they’re called.

Many players scan dozens of cards at a time. They zigzag over the cards with daubers in hand, plopping down only on the right numbers. A missed number can mean a missed bingo.

The game of bingo at the parlors isn’t the garden-variety children’s game. It’s not just B-I-N-G-O anymore. It’s creating shapes and designs and blackouts.

On some games, players vie to be the first to get five spots in a row. On more complicated games, they win by creating goal posts with a football, postage stamps, four-leaf clovers, a kite, a railroad and a pyramid.

Players rush to the bathroom and the food line between games. They collectively sigh and sometimes swear when someone else calls “bingo.”

“I don’t know where he’s finding these numbers,” muttered Mary Moore. “I ain’t got ‘em.”

It’s like the health craze never happened in the bingo hall. Sure, some people eat salads, but most of the grub is fried.

Non-smokers are safe, cloistered in a blocked-off room on the side of the main room. Most of the players in the main area appear to be slowly smoldering, as if packs of cigarettes were good-luck charms. Some keep a cigarette burning in the ashtray as they smoke another.

Bingo workers circle the room, filling glasses with coffee or water and emptying ashtrays.

The lucky charms are everywhere - trolls with rainbow hair, animal tails, a stuffed Dalmatian dog and a doll of George Harrison playing guitar in his Beatles days.

Fern Swecker had an eclectic shrine in front of her 36 cards: a picture of her niece, a black construction paper cutout of a panda bear on a beach chair, and a key chain with an angel hologram.

“It doesn’t work every time,” Swecker said. “Sometimes, the angel’s sleeping.”

Bingo player Elizabeth Mitzimberg’s good-luck charm is Bourguignon. She first started playing bingo with the slight man about three years ago. Mitzimberg was late for the session, the hall was full and Bourguignon crooked his finger to her because he was next to an empty seat.

That night, unlike most nights, Mitzimberg stayed for the last, most expensive session. She won a car, but opted for $10,000 instead.

Since then, Bourguignon always saves her a seat. Mitzimberg checks his cards and marks the numbers he misses. Sometimes, Bourguignon meets her at work and they eat lunch.

“I usually give him a call, make sure he’s all right,” said Mitzimberg, 49. “He’s pretty neat. He’s like my adopted grandpa or father. And he’s eligible. The best bachelor in town.”

, DataTimes ILLUSTRATION: Color Photo