An outrageous tale of fast cash, pretty women, dirty politics and extravagant greed in the Bayou State Louisiana is our most exotic state. It is religious and roguish, a place populated by Cajuns, Creoles, Rednecks, and Bible-thumpers. It is a state that loves good food, good music, and good times. Laissez les bons temps rouler -- let the good times roll -- is the unofficial motto. Louisiana is also excessively corrupt. In the 1990s, it plunged headlong into legalized gambling, authorizing more games of chance than any other state. Leading the charge was Governor Edwin Edwards, who for years had flaunted his fondness for cold cash and high-stakes gambling, and who had used his razor-sharp mind and catlike reflexes to stay one step ahead of the law. Gambling, Edwin Edwards, and Louisiana's political culture would prove to be a combustible mix. Bad Bet on the Bayou tells the story of what happened when the most corrupt industry came to our most corrupt state. It is a sweeping morality tale about commerce, politics, and what happens when the law catches up to our most basic human desires and frailties. “Impeccably reported and often hilarious.” ― The Economist “Bridges is a formidable reporter . . . astonishing.” ― Jonathan Yardley, The Washington Post Book World Tyler Bridges is a reporter for The Miami Herald , where he was part of a team that won the 1999 Pulitzer Prize for investigative reporting. He covered the legalization of gambling in Louisiana as a reporter for The Times-Picayune of New Orleans. He is the author of The Rise of David Duke . BAD BET ON THE BAYOU The Rise of Gambling in Louisiana and the Fall of Governor Edwin Edwards By Tyler Bridges Farrar, Straus and Giroux Copyright © 2001 Tyler Bridges. All rights reserved. ISBN: 0-374-52854-3 Chapter One Vote for the Crook December 31, 1991, New Year's Eve. The large crowd at the craps table at Caesars Palace in Las Vegas was whooping it up. "Come on, mister! Two! Two!" cried out an eye-catching woman wearing a red and black jacket over a glittering metallic blouse. Her blond hair was picture perfect, her lipstick apple-red. The sixty-four-year-old silver-haired man standing to her right at the head of the craps table smiled at his young girlfriend's exuberance. Of medium build, he glided through life at his own pace. He could be cold, but when he turned on his charm, which was more often than not, few people could resist him. An acute sense of humor usually accompanied his charm, but his funniest remarks came not through storytelling?although he could tell humorous stories?but with lightning-quick comments that played off what others said.     On this evening, he was dressed casually: a flannel shirt, blue jeans, cowboy boots, and a leather belt sporting his initials, EWE. But as Edwin Washington Edwards shuffled a pile of yellow chips in anticipation of a winning roll of the dice, it was clear that he was no casual gambler. Each chip was worth $1,000, and he was playing with a pile of twenty to thirty chips. Whenever it was time to bet, Edwards laid down his chips with confidence and aplomb, showing no more anxiety than if he were putting down a $5 after-dinner tip. "Hard eight for a thousand," he called out to a dealer as he tossed a yellow chip onto the green felt. "For Mom and the kids!"     For a brief spell, Edwards was the "shooter," rolling the dice for all bettors gathered around the table. After a few throws, he turned the dice over to his companion, Candy Picou, a twenty-seven-year-old nursing student. She was easily the most animated player at the table. "Come on, mister! Two! Two!" she yelled as players prepared to roll the dice. At one point, Edwards handed her a couple of the $1,000 yellow chips. She waved them excitedly in the air.     Of all the games at a casino, Edwards liked craps best. It was fast-paced, and it was exciting. So any delays in the game frustrated him. Repeatedly, when the dealers were sorting out payments between rolls of the dice, Edwards called out in a Cajun accent familiar to Louisiana voters: "Give him the dice! You got to roll to win! You got to roll to win! Come on, mister, roll the dice! What, are you giving him lessons down there?"     Edwards's luck that day was uneven. At times, he bet on winning numbers, which caused Picou to shout in delight. But there were other rolls when he came up empty. His pile of $1,000 chips dwindled. Roll after roll, Edwards cried out for the number he wanted, and when it didn't turn up, he banged his fist hard on the table. Gradually, his luck improved. His numbers began to hit, one after another. The table erupted in cheers, and Edwards raised his arms in triumph. His mood brightened, and he began bantering with a group of men at the other end of the table. "Ocho! Ocho!" they called out.     "Ocho?" Edwards asked. "What language is that?"     "Spanish," came the reply. "It means eight."     "Eight? We're looking for a five,"