Oh Hell! is a card game unique in the fact that it never fails to live up to its title for everyone who plays it. It's not like most card games. Take 21 for instance. When you sit down to play 21, you could easily play oodles of hands and never once get 21. Ever. You could play baccarat (which comes from the Italian word for zero) and never once get a zero. Although, come to think of it, you wouldn't want a zero. You'd want as close to a nine as you could get. That makes me wonder why that game is named zero instead of nine. Is that an ironic title? At any rate, Oh Hell! is neither an ironic title nor a title whose realization could elude you. It doesn't even matter if you end up winning the game. At some point on your journey to victory, no matter how decisive, you will experience frustration, just like all the losers, worthy of the name of the game. Nor does it matter how many people are playing. You could have, say, nine people playing a game of Oh Hell!. I guarantee you that all nine will, at some point, get pissed off enough to exclaim the name of the game.
Nine is the number of people who play it at 48 Broad Street. That's how many people make up the mixed brood who live there, presided over by Frank Roggebusch and his third wife, Faith. Between the two of them, they have seven little kidlings to take care of. Well actually, I shouldn't call them little or attach the syllable "-ling" to any word referring to them. Perhaps that would only work for the youngest (by far) of the bunch, Bawrence Barney Roggebusch. Bawrence to his dad and stepmom. Barry to just about everyone else on the planet. That was yet another cool thing about Oh Hell!. Since it neither involved betting money nor was difficult to figure out, anyone could play it, including nine-year-old droopy-eyed bed wetters like Barry.
Frank introduced everyone to Oh Hell! not long after they all moved to 48 Broad in January 1983. It was a Saturday night, as it usually was when they played. Dinner, always prepared by Frank, was done. The dishes, always a team effort, were done. Not much was on TV, which of course has been the case with Saturday nights since time immemorial. So Frank suggested they all come back to the kitchen for this cool new card game he wanted to show them. In no time flat, Oh Hell! became by far and away the favorite pastime of the 48 Broad brood. By the time we arrive at the spring of 1986, when 48 Broad takes place, the Roggebusches were playing it with just as much frequency and heated intensity as ever.
So how do you play? I'll explain it to you just as Frank did on that night 25 years ago. Okay. Each player is dealt a certain number of cards. Let's say ten. That's a nice round number. Of course, that meant the Roggebusches would play with two decks of cards, since one deck only has 52 cards. Anyway, so each person at the table starts with ten cards. Before play can begin, each player has to announce to Frank how many hands they think they'll win. This is called their bid. Frank then uses the soft-tip pen (black, blue, red, or green) to record all the bids on his yellow legal pad, on which he has a grid mapped out with everyone's names on the left. This is how he keeps track of all the bids and all the scores. After all ten hands have been played, each person gets a score. If the player wins the number of hands they bid, they get that number plus ten. If they don't win thier bid, though, their score is reduced by the difference between the number of hands they did win and the number of hands they bid on. The only exception is if that loser had the highest score after the previous hand. If the high scorer gets the wrong number of tricks, then their score drops by that same difference...multiplied by five! Okay? So for example, let's say you're the (un)lucky schmo with the highest score, and then on the next round, you predict you're going to collect three tricks. In other words, you tell Frank that you bid three. But then your luck goes to shit, and you win five. Instead of your score being reduced by two points (the difference between five and three), your score is reduced by ten points. Man. Nothing like the pressure of staying on top, eh? You may not think there'd be much pressure. After all, you're sitting at your computer right now, all relaxed and comfy. What pressure could there be in a card game with no cash at stake? Trust me. If you were playing Oh Hell! right now, and at some point you were leading the pack, especially a pack as volatile and carnivorous as the Roggebusches, the pressure to keep bidding correctly would squeeze more sweat from your forehead and pits than sitting next to a frickin' water heater in a tiny dark closet with the door locked. Inevitably you'd fuck up and then watch Frank, no doubt with wet-lipped glee, write down your new, and much reduced, score. And he'd do so in a very slow and meticulous fashion, as if trying to rub your face in it. Say it with me now: Oh Hell!
Just a quick note about bidding. Everyone at the table can bid whatever they want. Except for the dealer. Let's say you're the dealer. It's the beginning of the game, and you have to deal around the table until everyone's got ten cards. The first person to bid is the person to your left. And then we work around the table until we arrive at you. The dealer is always the last person to bid. If you're at the Roggebusch table, that means eight other people get to bid before you. Let's say each person has bid one. That means each of those eight people are convinced that they have one card in their hand that will win them one trick and that the other nine cards in their hand aren't good enough to justify a higher bid. Since eight people have bid one trick each, that means eight tricks out of ten have been accounted for. Let's say you, the dealer, would like to bid two. Too bad. You can't. That would add up to the number of cards dealt, and that's not allowed to happen. You get me? The total number of tricks bid on must NOT equal the number of cards dealt to each person. So in this example, you may bid zero, one, or anything higher than two. If the other eight had bid on a collective ten tricks, then the dealer may not bid zero. If the other eight bid on a collective number of tricks higher than ten, then you the dealer can bid on whatever you want.
Now comes the crucial question: How, for the love of New Jersey, do you win a hand at Oh Hell!? Let's stick to the above example, where you are one of the nine Roggebusches, and it's your turn to deal. After you've dealt all the cards, you put the remaining deck next to you and turn over the top card. Let's say it's a...oh I dunno...a three of diamonds. That means diamonds are now trump for that round. So if someone is dominating a trick with an ace of clubs or something, and it's your turn and you throw out a two of diamonds, then you beat that ace, and if no one throws out a higher diamond, you win that trick. As with bidding, the first person to start the first trick is the person to your left. That person can throw out whatever they want. Whenever a new hand starts, the first person has free reign. So let's say, to kick things off, the person to your left throws out a seven of clubs into the middle of the table. The next person now must throw out a club. If it's higher or lower than a seven depends on if that person wishes to win that hand. If that person has no club, then they can throw out whatever. After all ten people have tossed out a card, then whoever has the highest club wins the trick. But again, if someone chucks out an ace of clubs, but then someone else who has no club throws down a whatever of diamonds, then that diamond card wins. Whoever wins that hand will then be the first person to throw down the first card to start the next trick. Whoever wins that trick will then be the first to start the trick after that. That's the way it proceeds until all ten tricks have been played. Then Frank will pick up his pen and go around the table to see who won the number of tricks they wanted, and who didn't.
And now the person on your left has to deal. Each person will get nine cards. Everything above will then be repeated. After all nine tricks have been played and the scores adjusted accordingly, then the next person will deal eight cards. You see where this is going, don't you? The deck of cards works its way around, with each round having one less card. Eventually we get to the point where each person is dealt one measly card. That's always fun (not!), because most everyone will bid zero, and then the dealer won't be allowed to bid one. Lovely. After that, everyone gets two cards. We now work our way back up to ten.
Please note that the above is just an example. You can play with as few, or as many, people as you want. There's also no rule saying you have to start with ten tricks. You can start with more (good luck!) or a little less. Don't start too low, though. The game'll go by too fast. Nor, once you get down to one card, do you necessarily have to work your way back up to whatever number you started at. That's just how Frank Roggebusch prefers to do it. Who are his pupils to say no?
One more thing about the Oh Hell! tradition at 48 Broad. After the game, Frank likes to doodle a bit on the score sheet, sketching stuff like World War II fighter planes and tanks. To cap off the evening, everyone puts a dollar into the middle of the table. Frank reshuffles the deck and deals everyone seven cards face-up. Now it's like poker. Whoever's got the best hand will win the nine dollars. You might think that's no big deal, right? It's just nine dollars. But it means there will be a second winner for the night. They like to spread the love at 48 Broad.
Nine is the number of people who play it at 48 Broad Street. That's how many people make up the mixed brood who live there, presided over by Frank Roggebusch and his third wife, Faith. Between the two of them, they have seven little kidlings to take care of. Well actually, I shouldn't call them little or attach the syllable "-ling" to any word referring to them. Perhaps that would only work for the youngest (by far) of the bunch, Bawrence Barney Roggebusch. Bawrence to his dad and stepmom. Barry to just about everyone else on the planet. That was yet another cool thing about Oh Hell!. Since it neither involved betting money nor was difficult to figure out, anyone could play it, including nine-year-old droopy-eyed bed wetters like Barry.
Frank introduced everyone to Oh Hell! not long after they all moved to 48 Broad in January 1983. It was a Saturday night, as it usually was when they played. Dinner, always prepared by Frank, was done. The dishes, always a team effort, were done. Not much was on TV, which of course has been the case with Saturday nights since time immemorial. So Frank suggested they all come back to the kitchen for this cool new card game he wanted to show them. In no time flat, Oh Hell! became by far and away the favorite pastime of the 48 Broad brood. By the time we arrive at the spring of 1986, when 48 Broad takes place, the Roggebusches were playing it with just as much frequency and heated intensity as ever.
So how do you play? I'll explain it to you just as Frank did on that night 25 years ago. Okay. Each player is dealt a certain number of cards. Let's say ten. That's a nice round number. Of course, that meant the Roggebusches would play with two decks of cards, since one deck only has 52 cards. Anyway, so each person at the table starts with ten cards. Before play can begin, each player has to announce to Frank how many hands they think they'll win. This is called their bid. Frank then uses the soft-tip pen (black, blue, red, or green) to record all the bids on his yellow legal pad, on which he has a grid mapped out with everyone's names on the left. This is how he keeps track of all the bids and all the scores. After all ten hands have been played, each person gets a score. If the player wins the number of hands they bid, they get that number plus ten. If they don't win thier bid, though, their score is reduced by the difference between the number of hands they did win and the number of hands they bid on. The only exception is if that loser had the highest score after the previous hand. If the high scorer gets the wrong number of tricks, then their score drops by that same difference...multiplied by five! Okay? So for example, let's say you're the (un)lucky schmo with the highest score, and then on the next round, you predict you're going to collect three tricks. In other words, you tell Frank that you bid three. But then your luck goes to shit, and you win five. Instead of your score being reduced by two points (the difference between five and three), your score is reduced by ten points. Man. Nothing like the pressure of staying on top, eh? You may not think there'd be much pressure. After all, you're sitting at your computer right now, all relaxed and comfy. What pressure could there be in a card game with no cash at stake? Trust me. If you were playing Oh Hell! right now, and at some point you were leading the pack, especially a pack as volatile and carnivorous as the Roggebusches, the pressure to keep bidding correctly would squeeze more sweat from your forehead and pits than sitting next to a frickin' water heater in a tiny dark closet with the door locked. Inevitably you'd fuck up and then watch Frank, no doubt with wet-lipped glee, write down your new, and much reduced, score. And he'd do so in a very slow and meticulous fashion, as if trying to rub your face in it. Say it with me now: Oh Hell!
Just a quick note about bidding. Everyone at the table can bid whatever they want. Except for the dealer. Let's say you're the dealer. It's the beginning of the game, and you have to deal around the table until everyone's got ten cards. The first person to bid is the person to your left. And then we work around the table until we arrive at you. The dealer is always the last person to bid. If you're at the Roggebusch table, that means eight other people get to bid before you. Let's say each person has bid one. That means each of those eight people are convinced that they have one card in their hand that will win them one trick and that the other nine cards in their hand aren't good enough to justify a higher bid. Since eight people have bid one trick each, that means eight tricks out of ten have been accounted for. Let's say you, the dealer, would like to bid two. Too bad. You can't. That would add up to the number of cards dealt, and that's not allowed to happen. You get me? The total number of tricks bid on must NOT equal the number of cards dealt to each person. So in this example, you may bid zero, one, or anything higher than two. If the other eight had bid on a collective ten tricks, then the dealer may not bid zero. If the other eight bid on a collective number of tricks higher than ten, then you the dealer can bid on whatever you want.
Now comes the crucial question: How, for the love of New Jersey, do you win a hand at Oh Hell!? Let's stick to the above example, where you are one of the nine Roggebusches, and it's your turn to deal. After you've dealt all the cards, you put the remaining deck next to you and turn over the top card. Let's say it's a...oh I dunno...a three of diamonds. That means diamonds are now trump for that round. So if someone is dominating a trick with an ace of clubs or something, and it's your turn and you throw out a two of diamonds, then you beat that ace, and if no one throws out a higher diamond, you win that trick. As with bidding, the first person to start the first trick is the person to your left. That person can throw out whatever they want. Whenever a new hand starts, the first person has free reign. So let's say, to kick things off, the person to your left throws out a seven of clubs into the middle of the table. The next person now must throw out a club. If it's higher or lower than a seven depends on if that person wishes to win that hand. If that person has no club, then they can throw out whatever. After all ten people have tossed out a card, then whoever has the highest club wins the trick. But again, if someone chucks out an ace of clubs, but then someone else who has no club throws down a whatever of diamonds, then that diamond card wins. Whoever wins that hand will then be the first person to throw down the first card to start the next trick. Whoever wins that trick will then be the first to start the trick after that. That's the way it proceeds until all ten tricks have been played. Then Frank will pick up his pen and go around the table to see who won the number of tricks they wanted, and who didn't.
And now the person on your left has to deal. Each person will get nine cards. Everything above will then be repeated. After all nine tricks have been played and the scores adjusted accordingly, then the next person will deal eight cards. You see where this is going, don't you? The deck of cards works its way around, with each round having one less card. Eventually we get to the point where each person is dealt one measly card. That's always fun (not!), because most everyone will bid zero, and then the dealer won't be allowed to bid one. Lovely. After that, everyone gets two cards. We now work our way back up to ten.
Please note that the above is just an example. You can play with as few, or as many, people as you want. There's also no rule saying you have to start with ten tricks. You can start with more (good luck!) or a little less. Don't start too low, though. The game'll go by too fast. Nor, once you get down to one card, do you necessarily have to work your way back up to whatever number you started at. That's just how Frank Roggebusch prefers to do it. Who are his pupils to say no?
One more thing about the Oh Hell! tradition at 48 Broad. After the game, Frank likes to doodle a bit on the score sheet, sketching stuff like World War II fighter planes and tanks. To cap off the evening, everyone puts a dollar into the middle of the table. Frank reshuffles the deck and deals everyone seven cards face-up. Now it's like poker. Whoever's got the best hand will win the nine dollars. You might think that's no big deal, right? It's just nine dollars. But it means there will be a second winner for the night. They like to spread the love at 48 Broad.
