TEXAS HOLDEM ONLINE POKER

College whiz kids, Marlboro-smoking blue-collar guys and savvy white-collar professionals squeeze in elbow-to-elbow for six hours at a time in Baton Rouge bars, hoping to parlay their buy-in of $9 or $25 into hundreds.

By day, Charlie Bongiovani, 52, sells tile and carpeting. But on Monday nights he joins son Brad, president and creative director of Rocket Science Design, and about 100 others to play in the Louisiana Poker Tour.

"They call me Bluff Daddy because if I'm still in when it gets late I start playing recklessly because I'm old and I need to go to bed," Bongiovani says.

He says it's fun, safe and brings people together.

It's also illegal.

As it turns out, the hottest fad going in local bars is considered gambling under the law. Playing at home is unlikely to get you in trouble, but club owners risk fines and having their liquor licenses suspended or even revoked.

And so in a state where it's perfectly legal for chickens to hack each other to death with razor-armed feet, and where Fideaux the pit bull can maul Wilbur the pig, and where the working man can dump his paycheck into the riverboat casino cage, it's illegal to play America's hottest game in public.

Until last year, Texas Holdem was confined mostly to smoky back rooms, discreetly nurtured by wily veterans. Each spring, the world's top pros competed in Las Vegas for the World Series of Poker title, which ESPN dutifully covered and aired between motocross and Australian rules football.

Last year the Travel Channel exploded on the scene with riveting coverage, giving viewers a peek at the pros' secret hole cards as well as their steely stares.

But more importantly, it offered a Cinderella story that has captivated poker players everywhere. A jowly novice from Tennessee named Chris Moneymaker (yes, that's his real name) won the $2.5 million World Series of Poker grand prize. Hidden behind dark wraparound shades and the obligatory ratty baseball cap, he survived the best players in the world- legendary Doyle Brunson, irritable Phil Helmuth, and cool and calculating Howard Lederer.

The trend has caught fire in Baton Rouge as well. Night games all over town are popping up, and new players take it up every week.

Last year the Varsity held a casino night where chips were free, so there was no actual gambling. Red Star Bar briefly hosted a tournament. But it got too big for the downtown bar, so organizers moved it to Tiger Bar near LSU. Across town, Big Mike's hosts a growing weekly game. Enthusiasts say other, smaller games are played at bars all over town almost every night of the week. Another group formed a club and reportedly plays occasionally in rooms rented at local hotels.

So how could Texas Holdem take off in public places if it's against the law? It may be because authorities have sent mixed signals.

Several local bar owners and tournament organizers say they specifically asked authorities and were told the games were OK, though at least one owner contacted by Business Report says he was told they are illegal.

Business Report asked assistant parish attorney Gene Booth, who handles the legal work for the city-parish Alcoholic Beverage Control office. He said poker gambling is patently illegal in public places, which includes bars. Booth is aware some club owners asked the ABC about hosting poker matches, but believes they were told not to.

But the owner of Big Mike's Bar, Mike O'Neal, says an ABC employee who answered the phone when he called said the weekly tournaments are allowed so long as the bar doesn't share in the take.

"ABC said as long as I don't take a cut, it's legal," says O'Neal, who's been in the bar business for 14 years. "And I know other bars are doing it too."

O'Neal says he simply allowed patrons to organize the tournaments based on that understanding. The events have boosted business on slow Monday nights, and he's even hired an extra waitress to serve players, who sometimes number 90 or more.

"It's still going up," O'Neal says. "It's one of my top three nights of the week, and it's making a huge difference."

Red Star Bar owner Frank McMains, who briefly hosted Holdem poker tournaments but has since stopped, says he contacted city-parish and state officials to find out if the game would be legal, and both agencies told him it is.

"Why would they now object?" McMains asks.

Tiger Bar owner Todd Duhon was surprised to learn of the legal issue. "I'm not profiting from their gambling," Duhon says.

But ABC officials told at least one bar owner otherwise. Trent Graves, former general manager of the Varsity, says officials with the state Office of Alcohol and Tobacco Control told him in no uncertain terms poker gambling is illegal.

"The guy with the state told me if you have to put up so much as a baseball cap to sit down and play, then it's illegal," says Graves, who is now a co-manager of The Chimes.

The Varsity hosted casino nights last fall. The contests were free to enter, so weren't considered gambling. Still, after talking to state officials, he and the owners decided to discontinue casino night to avoid even the possibility of running afoul of the law.

But demand for Holdem poker tournaments did not die down.

That doesn't surprise Bryan Gibson, who teaches social psychology at Central Michigan University and studies gambling behavior. Holdem poker has grown as a national phenomenon not unlike "Survivor" and "American Idol"- reality TV shows where viewers can watch people jostle for millions.

Holdem poker takes it a step further, giving astute people a way to participate. "You don't need book smarts to succeed in Holdem, but you definitely need to be intelligent and have good thinking skills," Gibson says. "You have to ask yourself what others might have, what their betting patterns mean, and have good ability to process that information."

The craze did not go unnoticed by LSU business student Conrad Sulzer, who decided he would like to bring the poker enthusiasts together. He started with a modest game that quickly outgrew his apartment. Then he moved the game downtown to the Red Star Bar, and finally to Tiger Bar near LSU. Sulzer and co-organizer Brad Bongiovani created an organization called Louisiana Poker Tour, which hosts a Web site (www.louisianapokertour.com). In just a few months, their group signed up 140 members.

Almost 100 players turned out on a recent, soaked Monday night at the Tiger Bar to relish the tense competition, oblivious to the fact that in a few days word would spread of a possible regulatory kibosh.

Somewhere among the players, squeezed 10-to-a-table, is the Louisiana Poker Tour season points leader, John Michael Assad. A soft-spoken LSU student with long John Lennon hair and an Abe Lincoln chinstrap beard, he routinely places among the top finishers, though he's never won for the night. Somewhere else in the crowded room is his father, the man who taught him how to play cards.

Assad discreetly peeks at his hole cards (a pair of 7s), then quickly sets his mind to work crunching the odds. A biological engineering major, he brings considerable mathematical smarts to bear.

"This table is re-raise happy," he confides during a short stand-up break, one of many. That means he's at a table of aggressive players, which he plans to exploit. But by 9 p.m. he's out, taken down by someone playing loose, or against the odds. Assad's pair of 7s falls to a straight, which his competitor only completes on the final card, known as the river.

"It happens," Assad says, unfazed. He's out $10 for the night, but still well in the lead for the season.

But now, Baton Rouge's Hold'em craze may not have much time- at least not in public places.

When told about the comments of ABC officials, tournament organizer Sulzer said he'd have to regroup. "We'll finish out the season, take a month off and look into it. We'll figure out what the deal is."

The tournaments, he says, are free of cheating, they offer good entertainment, and he and his partner have not profited from them. "I definitely feel like it should be legal. We're not taking a rake, we're not a casino."

But the law is the law.

Brad Lewis, a local real estate appraiser and Texas Holdem enthusiast who has placed as high as 25th at Big Mike's, spoke for many players still unaware of the gloomy news from city hall.