The Billionaire Who Wasn't Read Online Free PDF Page A

playing for a couple of years and retiring rich. “So we decided not to quit,” said Rolles. “We kept playing. Then all of a sudden one morning, about 5:30, things started going not right. We got into our trouble zone, and covered our twelve numbers and put all the money on. We went twenty, twenty-five spins of the wheel without hitting one group of twelve numbers, and we thought that could never happen. Well, it happened. We put our last bets out and the twenty-fifth spin came and they didn’t hit, and so I wanted to bet everything on the next one—I was ready to bet my life almost.”
    But Feeney wouldn’t let him. “No,” he said. “We’re through.” They cashed in their chips and left. They still ended up well ahead, by $1,600 apiece. Feeney got his typewriter and camera out of the pawn shop, and the pair drove on to California, where with two other friends they rented a cottage for the summer in Santa Monica, on the outskirts of Los Angeles. They spent some idle days playing volleyball on the sands. Rolles remembered
Chuck slipping off in the mornings to take a course at UCLA. “Three of us would kind of sleep in, but Chuck would go off to summer school in the morning to take lessons in Russian.” At Cornell, Feeney had taken extra credit hours in French and Russian. At the time, he had half a notion that he might end up in intelligence. The National Security Agency had tried to recruit him at a debriefing on his discharge. An official told him, “People like you can continue to serve your country. Just sign here.” He thought about it for a few seconds, then said, “No, thanks.”
    After a month, Chuck Rolles, who hadn’t done his military service, got his draft notice to report to Pensacola, Florida, and the pair set off on the long car journey back to the East Coast. They drove through Nevada again and stopped at a little casino by a remote gas station. It was now Feeney who wanted to test the system a bit further. Rolles told him that he had had it, and he would wait in the car. He settled down to sleep as Feeney disappeared into the casino. He came back after thirty minutes and said, “Let’s get the hell out of here.” “He never told me how much he lost,” said Rolles.
    Feeney never played games of chance again. “I have always been down on gambling since then,” he said. “We had the good fortune to make $3,200 divided by two before our system went belly-up, and to stop playing before we lost all of that.”
    The word went back to the tavern in New Jersey that Feeney and Rolles had made big money on the roulette wheel and that the system worked. The guys there put their money together and sent two representatives out to Nevada to cash in. They lost everything.

CHAPTER 3
    Banging the Ring
    By midsummer of 1956, Chuck Feeney still had no idea what to do with his diploma. But after Cornell he felt confident he could go anywhere in the world. He had a bankroll of $2,000 based on his casino winnings, and he still had four months left of the thirty-six months of government money from his GI scholarship. To claim the remainder, however, he had to enroll in a course, either in the United States or abroad. Many hours spent in the Hotel School library reading books on tourism and travel had stimulated his urge to see the world. He had always wanted to go to Europe, and the bankroll was burning a hole in his pocket. He went to the French consulate on Fifth Avenue and Seventy-fourth Street in Manhattan to inquire about tuition fees in French colleges. To his surprise, he learned that university education in France was free. That was even better. He bought a cheap ticket for a Cunard liner and within a few weeks he was in Paris. After signing up for a month’s intensive course in French at the Sorbonne, he wrote off to colleges in Grenoble and Strasbourg asking for admission.
    In early September 1956, the