He nursed a coffee on a weekday afternoon, and kibitzed with well-wishers and casino regulars.

To be heard, he raised his voice above the rhythmic, singsong jangle of 200 slot machines.

He spoke of the gaming impulse, so deeply rooted in the human psyche. His conscience clear, he reminded a stranger of all the good works financed by gambling in Alberta — the rec centres, the sports facilities and the humanitarian efforts of non-profit charities.

Advocates argue that North American casinos create 13 jobs for every $1 million they rake in, that they generate billions in tax dollars.

Opponents argue that the cost of social ills created by problem gambling far outweigh any economic pluses.

Mke Sturk, Business Edge
Sam Switzer, pictured at the Elbow River Inn Casino, has plans for a new entertainment complex.

Sam Switzer sidesteps such deep philosophy. “It’s honest recreation for a lot of people,” he said, shrugging.

Gambling, he repeated, has been with us since Eve rolled snake-eyes in the Garden.

So, it sometimes seems, has Switzer.

He’s 75 now, but looks 65. He’s been getting, spending, buying, building, haggling and selling in Calgary for 60 years.

Still vigorous, busy as a Vegas croupier during an Elks convention, Switzer slyly confessed a fondness for the new craps tables at his Elbow River Inn Casino.

No, he shook his head, he’ll never retire.

At the moment, he’s waiting for July, when Alberta Gaming is expected to conclude a review of casino licensing policies and to start processing bids for new projects.

When he gets the OK, the kid who grew up in the red light district, who got his start hustling produce on 14th Avenue S.E., will build his last legacy.

“It’ll be a Roman-style atmosphere, you know. That way (the decor) doesn’t get dated,” he said of the planned new casino/entertainment palace, north of where the Inn — to be closed, its site redeveloped — now stands between Macleod Trail and 1st Street S.E.

It sounds like a vision of Caesar’s Palace north, complete with split-level parkade — 53,000 sq. ft. of wheels, card tables, thrumming slots, overnight poker games, plus rooms for elegant dining, and music.

(Reports suggest it’ll cost $15 million, but Switzer says he’s still crunching numbers).

The entertainment component is key for Switzer.

He got a kick out of playing the impresario back in his salad days, when his swish rooftop restaurant, atop the Summit Hotel, introduced “continental dining” to the sirloin ’n’ spuds ranch crowd.

Switzer’s CV reads like the Yellow Pages. He dodged horse-drawn milk wagons to deliver edibles from Switzer’s Grocery, and he poured java at the counter of Sammy’s Cafe, near the Palliser.

He ran motels, peddled used cars at his Auto Mart (“I lasted six months”), built an apartment complex near the Elbow River which featured Calgary’s first rooftop pool, and opened the city’s first casino in 1974.

More recently, he built Chinatown’s Dragon City Mall, and had a hand in nurturing the startling new spirit of co-operation between the community of Victoria Park, the Victoria Crossing Business Revitalization Zone and the expansion-minded Stampede board.

But he’d rather reminisce about the Summit, where he booked fading stars of the era, such as Rosemary Clooney, Danny Kaye and Sally Rand, the 75-year-old peeler.

“One of our greatest draws,” murmured Switzer, a faraway gleam in his eye.

The Summit, since demolished, had everything — a cabaret and lounge, the rooftop noshery, plus a 375-seat beer parlour to keep the spit-kickers amused.

Switzer’s proud of the fact that his was the first Alberta tavern to hire female beer-slingers.

“They’ll help keep down the swearing and the fighting,” he told the Nervous Neds at the liquor board, which is pretty much how things turned out.

Swing-era superstar Cab Calloway once turned up for a Summit booking, during a sub-zero January blizzard. The Hi-De-Ho Man hated Sam’s band, so Switzer scuttled out to round up new players.

Calloway tolerated the replacements for the 10 p.m. show, but packed his bags before the 1 a.m. nightcap.

“You can take your weather and shove it. I’m leaving,” he told Sam, hailing a taxi.

Good fortune runs in the blood. During the First World War, Switzer’s father ducked out of a Polish army kitchen to visit the outdoor loo, when a bomb hit the building killing everyone inside.

All the rest of his life, Switzer Sr. attended synagogue twice a day.

Switzer inherited the familial knack for rolling sevens. Add that to 75 years of sweat, and you’ve got a winning hand at any table in town.