Don’t Bet Against This Determined Woman,...

Virginia Lewis is a gambler with the Midas touch.

She survived an abusive marriage, reared two children and, with little formal education, became a successful entrepreneur in the casino business, a particularly risky pursuit historically dominated by tough personalities.

“I’ve never been afraid that I could do anything, through sheer persistence,” said Lewis, 38. “I’ll read whatever it takes. I’ll listen to whoever is interested in giving me any information available. I’m just not afraid to try anything.”

Lewis was the first in Colorado to open a casino, called the Gold Mine, when limited-stakes gambling became legal in three former mining meccas in October, 1991. Although 38 casinos have failed, she prospered and acquired a second, called Jazz Alley.

People familiar with Lewis attribute her success to high priority on customer service, a deeply ingrained work ethic and a passion for perfection.

“She uses very clear judgment and really says and does the right things,” said Tom Lettero, a casino marketing vice president for the MGM Grand Hotel in Las Vegas.

“I was very impressed with the level of communication she had with her customers when she got them into her building,” he said. “Location has helped her, but she’s very smart business-wise.”

On a recent wintry day, Lewis sat in a dim bar inside Jazz Alley, watching patrons plunk quarters in slot machines as she reflected on her life, a mosaic spanning nearly two decades of 75-hour work weeks.

The seventh child in a family of 13, Lewis was born while her mother was on a fishing trip near their hometown of Locust Grove, Okla. “All I know was Liberace was playing while she was giving birth,” Lewis said. “They called up some doctor and he was half drunk. It was a real country birth.”

Lewis grew into a loner who loved to read as the family moved from town to town in Oklahoma, Nevada and California.

As a teen-ager, she fell in love and married, beginning a five-year journey that would prove to be the most difficult of her life.

“It was rebellion,” she said. “I wanted my mother to tell me no, and she didn’t and I was shocked. And you know, at age 16, you’re so stubborn you go ahead and go through with it.”

When they returned from a weekend honeymoon, Lewis’ husband lost his job, the first of many. Lewis dropped out of high school and worked at a Burger King in Henderson, Nev. Three months later she was pregnant.

Things went from bad to worse after their second child arrived. The more her husband failed, the harder Lewis worked. She got her high school equivalency diploma, started college and worked nights as a casino photographer.

Her husband became abusive and they separated, but he remained in their lives. “It was a nightmare,” she said, recalling nights she slept on a couch near the front door to protect the children. “His heart was breaking that he was doing this to me, but he couldn’t stop.

“I think I had to prove I was stronger than him. I think that’s when he finally gave up, when he realized I wasn’t going to back down.”

The day their divorce was final, Lewis was 21 with two children to support, but said she wasn’t worried. “I always felt like I was going to get somewhere. I didn’t know where that somewhere would be, but I always felt like I was going to be successful,” she said.

She tried a home-renovation business and a restaurant before she met and married Jim Lewis. They ran a successful bar in Palm Desert, Calif., before they got gambling fever.

Their first venture was a casino on the Flandreau Santee Sioux Indian reservation in eastern South Dakota. It opened successfully, but they sold out when a new tribal leadership sought to renegotiate their contract.

The family headed for Colorado’s legalized gaming towns: Central City and Black Hawk, side by side in a narrow, winding canyon 40 miles west of Denver; and Cripple Creek, near Colorado Springs.

At a main intersection in Black Hawk, Lewis spied a 1950s-era nondescript service station. That was to be her gold mine.

She worked feverishly to get the new casino ready in six months, often catching a few hours’ sleep on the office couch. The first year, the Gold Mine netted $4.6 million. It has remained profitable, but Lewis declined to reveal figures.

In July, 1992, she and her husband took over Jazz Alley, at the far end of a dirt-packed Main Street, which curdled into ankle-deep mud during rainstorms.

They sunk all their profits into Jazz Alley, but it lost tens of thousands of dollars a month for 13 months. Although her husband wanted to quit, Lewis refused. The casino made money for the first time in October.

Her long working hours took a toll on the marriage, which ended in divorce. Jim Lewis remains a business partner, but has moved to Texas.

Lewis considers work her entertainment, describing the casino business as a cocktail party where “they were paying me to come.”

She has little time for outside activities, beginning her workday around 7 a.m. and continuing until nearly midnight. She watches little television, but regularly reads magazines, from Forbes to Vanity Fair.

Lewis’ other priorities are her children, Jennifer, 21, and Mike, 22.

She views the setbacks that life has dealt her as challenges to conquer with quiet resolve.

“You know, if I didn’t have a dime today, I could start over. It wouldn’t scare me a bit. I’ll go clean houses and I’ll clean them better than anyone else,” she said.

“I do have a normal fear of failure because, boy, that hurts, you know, when you’re not successful. But I’m not afraid that I couldn’t start over again.”