Hobby was seated next to me at the Bike in a Texas Hold 'Em game.
"Look at that chunk of glass," he said as he gestured toward a player at the end of our table.
The object was cut like a diamond, but about the size of an egg. The player put it atop his hole cards as he contemplated his bet.
This is not unusual as many players, top pros among them, use such devices.
"I should have something like that," Hobby said.
"It's a bit garish, don't you think? Maybe you could have something more subtle, like a miniature of your yacht or Rolls?" I said, tongue-in-cheek.
"That's gauche, Joe. I'd like something personalized, but not gaudy."
"I'll think about it, Hobby."
As we drove back to Marina del Rey, I recalled an article I read recently.
It told about a Native- American woman from Santa Monica, known as Morning Mist, whose specialty is animal totems.
According to Indian folklore everyone has a unique animal spirit they are akin to. There are apparent benefits in knowing your animal. "Hobby, I've got an idea for the thingee that you can put on top of your cards. How about an animal totem?"
"Like a totem pole?" I explained what I knew of totems. Hobby was very interested.
"How about a Koala bear? They're cute."
"No. It doesn't work that way, Hobby. You don't choose your totem, they have to choose you."
"Huh? How does that work?"
"Tomorrow we'll visit an Indian lady who will unlock that mystery for us."
Morning Mist's studio was in her home, a small cottage circa 1930, a few blocks from the beach. A large attractive woman, say fiftyish, in a floor length robe greeted us. Her hair was in a single braid worn in front almost reaching to her waist.
"I am Morning Mist. Are you Mr. Crest?"
"Yes, and this is Hobby Newton."
A man appeared from around the corner of the building, an old unruly looking fellow with grey hair. "What do you want?" he shouted.
"Edgar, don't you be scaring off my customers. You go away now!" the lady answered back.
"Totems not for white men," he said as he turned and walked away.
"I'm sorry about that. Please come in. The old one does some work for me and thinks he's the Indian expert."
"I'd like a totem, but I know very little about them," Hobby said with his disarming boyish grin. "We'll sit and have some tea while I explain."
Morning Mist was a wonderful expositor. Hobby and I were fascinated with her story about animal totems. She then asked Hobby questions about his life and interests. Taking Hobby's hands into hers, she closed her eyes and chanted for several minutes. When she released Hobby's hands she said, "I have seen him. He is a cougar, a mountain lion."
"Wow. That's cool. A cougar. I like that."
"And he likes you, too. That is what makes a totem special. I will carve your totem from synthetic ivory. Would you like a pendant or a free-standing form?"
"Free-standing and about this big," Hobby indicated with a spread of his fingers. "How soon?"
"It will be ready in about two weeks. I will call you."
As we walked toward the car the old Indian man appeared from behind a bush and said, "White men not wanted here." We ignored him.
A few weeks later when we were entering the Commerce Casino Hobby said, "Tonight I shall use my new totem." It was an impressive carving which had the brownish color of an old Japanese netsuke piece.
"We'll soon find out if it will bring you any luck," I commented.
Who can say what influences Lady Luck, but Hobby was enjoying her full measure. He was on a run the likes of which I'd never seen before. I dropped out of the game to watch as he took on some top competitors and continued to best them. Soon, one after another they left the game until Hobby was heads up with a well-known player. After a half-hour Hobby had taken most of his chips and the man gave up.
"You had one hell of a night, Hobby," I said as we were driving home.
"Joe, it must be the totem. I've never been so hot."
"Don't get carried away, Hobby. It's just a coincidence.
But there was something strange. While you were playing I saw the old Indian guy that was at the cottage. He was watching your table. I'm quite sure it was him."
"Just a coincidence, Joe, forget about it. I can't wait to try my totem again. Want to go to Morongo tomorrow night."
"Sure."
It was just like at Commerce. Hobby was cleaning up the table as I watched from the sidelines. There was someone else watching too, the old Indian. Suddenly he moved toward Hobby, snatched the totem, threw it to the floor and crushed it under his boot. "This is wrong, white man," he shouted. Security quickly moved in and subdued him.
Hobby was shocked. We picked up the pieces as best we could. Hobby cashed in and we left. "That crazy bastard destroyed it. What am I going to do?"
"We will visit Morning Mist and find out, Hobby."
She met us at the door to her cottage. "I heard what happened at Morongo. I am very sorry. I told Edgar never to come here again. Please, (she motioned) inside."
Hobby put the pieces of his totem on the table. "I don't think we got all the pieces. It was badly crushed. Can you make another one?" he asked.
She put her hands over the pieces, shut her eyes and chanted for several minutes.
When Morning Mist opened her eyes they bore witness to her name as tears flowed. "Your totem has left you. There is still much pain and sorrow in our relations with white men. You are a good man and you did no wrong, but your totem cannot return."
"I can't get another one?" Hobby asked.
"I cannot help you anymore," she said sadly.
I sprung for lunch at Bernie's Seafood House to compensate for Hobby's grief.
"It's a bummer, Joe."
"So's life, Hobby, but look at it this way. You've had great luck. And you may still be on a run!"
"Yeah. Maybe I am," he replied with some enthusiasm. When we came out of the restaurant we saw that someone had broken the tail light of Hobby's Rolls.
He shook his head and said sadly, "Maybe I can find another Indian lady and get a new totem."
