Not all periods of transformation materialise into a new beginning. Sometimes, the end of an era is just that. The croupiers call out ‘No more bets please’ one last time and the ball rolls around the roulette wheel for one final bet; the doors to the casino close and no other doors, metaphorical nor physical, open in their wake. This is what happened at Crockfords in London, arguably the oldest casino in Britain, that has seen countless customers come and go over the generations. The Mayfair venue was first opened in 1828 by William Crockford, a working-class fishmonger who went on to establish a gambling hall for the elites.
When a modern iteration of Crockfords was opened in Westminster in 1934, it prided itself on being one of the biggest venues for chemin de fer, a particular variant of baccarat. By the time it had moved to what is now its final resting place on Curzon Street in 1983, it had been operating in one way or another for over 150 years and had built a solid reputation for itself. Despite being a relatively small location, the casino found itself making headlines several times over the years. In September 1999, it was rumoured that Kerry Packer lost around £11m ($14m) in one night, which broke the previous record held by Frank Saracakis, who lost £8m while also at Crockfords.
The news stories don’t stop there, though. Most famously, or perhaps infamously, the casino would be at the heart of a scandal in 2012 when it refused to pay out Phil Ivey while he played there. According to the casino, Ivey had won a £7.7m punto banco baccarat hand, but only by edge sorting – a way of recognising cards while they remain face-down. While this itself is not illegal and does not involve dishonesty, the casino ruled that it was still classed as cheating ‘under civil law.’ This case would end up being taken to the UK Supreme Court, which would rule that, while Ivey’s acts did not contradict anything in the Gambling Act of 2005 regarding cheating, his actions were still found to be ‘dishonest in a civil context.’ The courts ruled in favour of Crockfords and Ivey never receive his winnings.
For those frequent visitors, what else is there to do at the venue if you’re not feeling like playing on the tables? Well… Unfortunately, it seems like not much
So what happened to Crockfords, and why did it shut down? It clearly had clientele who were playing heavily each hand, if the snippets of news reports are anything to go by. Was it crushed by the rise of online casino, or was there something else going on?
Of course, it’s difficult to say for certain, but there were warning signs all along. First of all, Crockfords worked hard to maintain its timeless, classy demeanour. It upheld a membership fee and the interior was always maintained to the highest of standards. That being said, perhaps there simply isn’t room in the world for these small establishments anymore. A little like subscription models on the internet.
Crockfords operated a handful of gaming tables, including some variants that are difficult to find elsewhere in London. However, as part of the ‘old school’ image, the casino was completely absent of slot machines or any form of sports betting. Sure, it’s understandable. It can be difficult to uphold a refined atmosphere with the sound of slot machines whirring in the background, not to mention those flashing lights. But was there not a side room where they could’ve been squirrelled away for customers who wanted to play? It would’ve brought in another avenue of income for the casino, especially for those who visited often.
So, for those frequent visitors, what else is there to do at the venue if you’re not feeling like playing on the tables? Well… Unfortunately, it seems like not much. There were no other real attractions to the venue, other than the bar and restaurant. For visitors who weren’t local, there wasn’t even the opportunity to stay in accommodation at Crockfords. It existed purely as a venue to play a handful of table games.
But what about its loyal customers? The casino catered towards the rich and famous, with many of the tables’ lower limits set at £100. This is all well and good if your clientele visit each night. However, when your players have that much money and can afford to travel wherever they like to gamble, suddenly you’re not just competing with that neighbourhood, but the whole of London. Before you know it, you’re in competition with casinos – and, naturally, other forms of entertainment – all over the world. Casinos are a place for gambling, yes, but for many they’re also a place for socialising. Unless your entire group is happy with precisely what Crockfords is offering, it’s likely they’ll go somewhere else and, as with the nature of gambling itself, where the fish go, the sharks will follow. So is it any surprise to see that even the most loyal of customers would want to experience something new? The timeless vibe that Crockfords aspired to can only work if it’s truly undefeatable, which of course, we’ve seen time and time again with venues like the Bellagio in Las Vegas. But was Crockfords truly timeless, or was it simply hoping that it could last as long as it could on the business model it was sustaining?
