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Strength in numbers

If bingo is your game-o, these
ersatz parlors will hit the spot

By Matthew Vandenbroek

YEE HAW! A winner is declared at Pontiac Cafe’s Honky Tonk Bingo.

Whether the prize is $500 or a free T-shirt, when you’re sitting on a bingo, the world is yours and everyone else is just a fool paying rent. Bingo is bursting in Chicago, from bars to church basements. We’ve rounded up some of the hottest cards on the table, where five simple letters and a couple of winning numbers could earn you a small fortune, or at least 15 seconds of fame.

California Clipper
Friendly bartenders, cheap connoisseur cocktails, a charming Art Deco setting and vying for “bags of crap” take the sting out of the new workweek at the Clipper’s Monday-night competitions. At the restored WWII-era Humboldt Park tavern, bingo masters Steve Spataro and Steve Sowely work their magic, interspersing old-school bingo calls with acerbic riffs on politics, ex-girlfriends and each other. (On a recent night, the two took turns critiquing each other’s college poetry.)

Besides enthusiastic applause, winners are showered with eclectic—though less than useful—spoils of victory that on past nights have included vintage Bette Midler vinyl, Jägermeister T-shirts and a VHS version of Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion. Especially lucky players take home the coveted “bag of crap,” an assortment of toys and doodads from the North Side trinket outlet Uncle Fun.

Judging by the packed booths, the Clipper’s bingo regulars are a dedicated bunch, but as they say, there’s always room for one more at the top. 1002 N California Ave at Augusta Blvd (773-384-2547). Mon, 10pm.

St. Helen’s Church and School
Bingo may proliferate in lowbrow taverns and hipster clubs throughout the city, but the true soul of the game is still in fluorescent-lit, concrete church basements like this, where the hard-core player clutches rosary beads and quietly mutters obscenities when a distant stranger cries out, “Bingo!”

And it’s tough to argue with the prize: cold, hard cash. A minimum bet of $15 buys you in for 12 games spanning two hours and paying out a total of $2,250. Games range from the $100 straight bingo to the final $500 marathon coverall, where players must fill all squares on a single board.The church’s avuncular volunteers call the numbers fast and furious, but with slow and clear enunciation: “Enn-nuh Thir-tee-thu-ree-ah.” Meanwhile, three rooms of players feverishly mark their cards with fluorescent ink dabbers. The atmosphere is pure action, with no time for chitchat or joking around.

This game is booze-free, but gambling seems to be enough of a drug. By the third game, it becomes easier to understand why Pete Rose was so willing to throw away a surefire Hall of Fame bid for the rush of big-money gaming. And a word to the wise: Get to the church on time…or early. The doors are locked soon after the action starts at 7pm sharp. 2347 W Augusta Blvd between Oakley Blvd and Leavitt St. Fri, 7pm.

The Pontiac Cafe
This gas-station-turned-tavern makes yet another transformation on Sundays when it becomes a raucous country roadhouse with live music, free-flowing Lone Star suds and top-notch bar food. But the real attraction is Honky Tonk Bingo, led by emcees and general mischief makers “Durwood Wilkes” and “Elston Yates.”

Perched beneath the Arkansas state flag, these two self-styled bumpkins keep the games fresh, flitting between traditional single-line bingo and custom variants like “Texas T,” “Brokeback Mountain” and “Hank Williams.” The highlight may be “Psychic Bingo,” in which Durwood dares players to declare themselves the winner without any numbers being called.

Be warned, though, the noisy atmosphere can sometimes make the calls hard to decipher. But a bona fide bingo will yield a prize that might include picture frames, beer cozies or other trinkets, along with a miniature cowboy hat. A spurious claim of victory, on the other hand, leads to some serious public humiliation at the hands of the hosts, and possibly ten nose-to-floor push-ups.

By the game’s end, the dubious redneck accents and hillbilly shtick may wear a little thin, but the two sets of traditional country music by Fulton County Line never do. Cards are free and there’s no cover, so what’s to lose? 1531 N Damen Ave at Milwaukee Ave. Sun, 7pm.

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March 4, 2005
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