The article explains how discouraged bettors usually toss their betting slips as soon as the race they have bet on on has ended, which may occasionally be a bit premature. Mr Leonardo has made it his “job” to pick up and check every discarded ticket on the floor of the bookies.Apparently during this time Mr Leonardo has not placed a single bet.
“It is literally found money,” he said on a recent night in the betting shop. He spends more than 10 hours a day there, feeding thousands of discarded betting slips through a ticket scanner in a never-ending search for someone else’s lost treasure.
“This has become my job, my life,” he said. “This is how I feed my family.”
Leonardo, who this season will a-mostly be wearing track suits, and wears his greying hair and bushy beard in long ponytails, is what is known in horse racing lingo in the States as a stooper — a person who hangs around racetracks and betting shop picking up tickets thrown away by others. Most tickets are losers, but enough are winners to make it worth his while. And then some!
“He’s a legend,” said one unemployed musician who lives in Manhattan. “Everyone knows that this is his turf, that all the tickets thrown out belong to him, period. It’s just been that way as long as I can remember.”
Stoopers are the foragers of the racecourse world. Stoopers have a relationship with the horse tracks that goes back to the advent of parimutuel betting in the early 1930s. There is an unwritten code in racing that says stoopers are tolerated as long as they are not perceived as harassing or stalking punters for their betting tickets.
Jesus Leonardo claims that stooping brings him $100 to $300 a day, and more than $45,000 a year. Last month, he cashed in a winning ticket from bets made on races at Santa Anita Park in California for $8,040. His largest result came in 2006, when he received $9,500 from a Pick 4 wager (choosing the winners of four consecutive races) at Retama Park Race Track in Texas.
It is all taxable income. “I file my winnings with the I.R.S. every year,” Mr Leonardo confirmed.
Another raving fan of Jesus is a short-order cook from Manhattan, and he said “Everybody in here loves Jesus. When Jesus wins, we all eat, and we all drink. Jesus is a very generous man.”
Apparently Mr Leonardo became a stooper by accident.
In 1999, he walked into that same betting shop in Midtown and placed a bet. He watched the race, was sure he had lost and threw away his Pick 3 ticket.
“But just as I was leaving,” he explained “I looked up at the screen and realized a (Stewards) inquiry had been made. All of a sudden, the results changed and I actually won $900.”
He began a frantic search for his ticket, picking up hundreds off the floor, and from ashtrays and rubbish bins. He could not find it, however, and began pleading with the manager on duty.
“She said there was nothing she could do about it,” Mr Leonardo said. “I was so upset, almost in tears. Finally, she said, ‘Look, if you want to take the litter home with you and look for your ticket, go right ahead.’ ”
He did. Although he did not locate his $900 jackpot, he found two other winners in the trash, worth a combined $2,000.
“I couldn’t believe it,” said Mr Leonardo, who had been supporting his family and his dream of writing songs by working odd jobs, including painting homes and cleaning windows. “I started thinking, there’s probably winning tickets thrown in the garbage every day.”
He has since returned nearly every day, waiting patiently for the shop’s rubbish to be placed outside on the pavement before claiming it and picking out hundreds of betting slips. He places them in a separate bin-liner, which he carries onto the Metro train for the ride home.
“At first, my wife thought I was crazy, but then she realized I was finding a lot of money in winning tickets, sometimes $200 a day,” he said. “After a while, she didn’t think I was so crazy.”
Over time, Mr Leonardo devised a plan to increase his winnings. He enlisted the help of two friends to pick up the rubbish at four other bookmakers around the city and take it to him for $25 per bag. By the time Mr Leonardo boards his train, he is carrying 2,000 to 7,000 discarded tickets.
At home, two other friends help him bundle the tickets in stacks of 300, which Mr Leonardo places in a red satchel. He heads back to New York in the morning and spends hours in front of a ticket machine, scanning each ticket. If anyone else needs the machine, he moves aside.
“It is such exhausting work that I give myself a lunch hour,” he said.
Get this….. Uncashed winnings at all betting shops and all racetracks in New York totalled more than $8.5 million over the past two years, according to the New York State Racing and Wagering Board.
That is why Mr Leonardo said he would not stop stooping anytime soon, not by a long shot.
“Look here,” he said to one of his pals after pulling a credit voucher from the machine for $6. “Another winner.”
This is one of the best stories I have read for a long time. This guy has shown a real entepreneurial spirit and he has a lesson to teach us all.
I hope you’ve enjoyed this post, and I’ll keep my eye out for more quirky stories from the horse racing world. What’s the most valuable thing you’ve ever picked up off the floor? Share your story by leaving a comment.
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