Lincoln Shot in Reno: The Hit That Almost Was

If Reno had a movie script in 1949, Lincoln Fitzgerald’s ambush would’ve been the jaw-dropping climax. On November 18, Fitz, a seasoned casino operator and co-owner of the Nevada Club, was shot twice while leaving his Mark Twain Drive home. It wasn’t just a brush with death; it was a full-on reminder that the gambling business could be as treacherous as the card tables inside.

The hit had all the makings of a gangster drama. Rumors flew, tying the attack to Detroit's infamous Purple Gang, a group of mobsters Fitzgerald may have tangled with during his earlier gambling ventures in Michigan. Yet, despite the buzz, no one was ever arrested. Fitz hung on to life by what doctors called sheer willpower, recovering after months in the hospital, though he remained physically marked by the attack. The question of “who ordered the hit” is a mystery Reno gamblers still love to whisper about over whiskey and cards.

From Grease to Glitz: Kilroy’s and Coin-Stuffed Dreams

While the Nevada Club experienced a decline in business during its final years, it was the favorite of many gamblers. Of particular interest were the mechanical slot Jennings machines dating from the 1940s and the general lack of glitz in the club. This was a place lost somewhere back in the mid-1960s, and that's just what a lot of folks liked.

Not every casino in Reno catered to the glamorous, high-rolling types. Upstairs at the Nevada Club, Kilroy’s diner stood as a shrine to simplicity, where regulars fueled up on greasy spoon classics. Perched near the Keno counter, it was the kind of place where a guy could order a coffee, place a bet, and get a slice of pie that was somehow better than it had any right to be.

But even a charmingly rundown diner couldn’t escape the march of time. When the Nevada Club shut its doors in December 1997, Kilroy’s went with it, its broken neon sign auctioned off alongside everything else in the building. This wasn’t just any auction — it was a liquidation of memories.

Monte Carlo Magic: A Roulette Revolution

Fitzgerald wasn’t just a gambler, he was a visionary. While most casinos stuck to double-zero roulette wheels, Fitz introduced the Monte Carlo wheel at the Nevada Club. With a single zero, it offered players better odds, and boy, did they love it. Gamblers especially the system players who treated roulette like a math problem flocked to the wheel like moths to a neon flame.

The Monte Carlo wasn’t just a gimmick; it was a legend in its own right, helping put the Nevada Club on the map. Fitz knew how to work the balance between attracting gamblers and keeping the house’s edge intact. The wheel stayed in play for decades, becoming one of the casino’s most popular draws. It was bold moves like this that kept the Nevada Club buzzing, even when flashier casinos tried to outshine it.

The Nevada Club was also famous for the way it paid jackpots. The absence of hoppers in those days prevented the machines from dropping the total amount of a large payout, so most casinos hand paid the customer with currency. The Nevada Club machines dropped twenty coins when a jackpot hit, and the balance of the payout, in coins, was prepackaged in a brown paper bag bearing the Nevada Club logo and handed to the winner. Naturally, with all those coins instantly available to them, many customers played their winnings right back into the machines.

Strictly Business: Fitz’s Management Mantra

If you worked for Lincoln Fitzgerald, you knew the rules. No fraternizing with coworkers. No leaving during your shift. No spilling your wages to anyone. These weren’t just policies they were gospel. Fitz didn’t just run the Nevada Club; he commanded it. Employees who broke the rules were shown the door faster than a bad blackjack hand.

But for those who stuck around, loyalty paid dividends. Fitz was famously generous to his long-term staff, rewarding them with above-average wages and bonuses. Sure, you couldn’t talk about your paycheck (or risk being fired), but the whispers around downtown Reno made it clear: “Fitz was good pay.” His tough-love approach earned him a reputation as a fair but no-nonsense boss. Employees like Emma "Ma" Baker and Dan Fagan stayed with the Nevada Club for decades, becoming as much a part of its history as the slot machines and the Monte Carlo wheel.

Personal Note: I know that Fitz did interview every new employee. During the early 70's I worked next door at Harrah's. During one of those years I dated a beautiful blonde keno runner from Harrah's for the better part of a year. One day she came home upset. She had applied to be a cocktail waitress at the Nevada Club. Fitz told her - I can not hire you because you are too pretty - pretty girls are TROUBLE.

The Last Jackpot: Closing the Doors on History

By the late 1990s, the Nevada Club had become a relic of a bygone era. Its mechanical slot machines and old-school charm couldn’t compete with the flashy, corporate mega-casinos springing up around Reno. On December 28, 1997, the lights went out for good. The closure marked the end of an era not just for the casino, but for a simpler time when gambling was less about glitz and more about grit.

But for those of us who loved the Nevada Club, it wasn’t just a casino it was a piece of Reno’s soul. The memories of slot machines paying out in coin-stuffed paper bags and pies from Kilroy’s diner will always shine brighter than the neon lights of its successors. Call me sentimental, but the Nevada Club wasn’t just part of Reno - it was Reno.