The branches began opening in 1971, and each is a prism through which one can see an old neighborhood. As New York City has lost its grit, OTBs have persisted, like exhibits in the Damon Runyon Hustlers’ Hall of Fame, standing sentry against the march of upscale coffee chains, big-name retailers and new condominiums with exercise rooms.  Inside, there is an ever-narrowing slice of New York that still belongs to the hustler and the old timer. To the predominantly male clientele, these parlors are more than just a place to take a chance, they are unofficial social clubs with core groups of regulars.  “I have customers who spend 12 hours a day in here and bet one race,” said Karl Kelly, the regular bartender upstairs at the Seventh Avenue branch. “They just hang out with friends and spend five bucks for a whole day.  “You take these OTBs out of the neighborhood,” he added, “and you’re taking out all the flavor.”  A marketing study conducted last year by the Boston Consulting Group shows that the typical customer in a city OTB is a “middle-aged male who bets approximately 12 times a month.” The study breaks the bettors into four categories: OTB whales, OTB regulars, carefree gamblers and social enthusiasts.  The first three groups are all “heavy bettors” who gamble large portions of their incomes, the study says, but the enthusiasts, who, it says, are “focused on social experience,” are singled out as a source of untapped revenue, who should be catered to with better facilities.  The study points to other cities and countries, like France, that have lured younger customers by glamorizing betting and, for example, putting betting windows in trendy cafes.  “Many of our branches are like social clubhouses or gathering places,” said Ira H. Block, general counsel for the city’s OTB operation.  Mr. Block said that OTB did not collect demographic data on customers because bets are anonymous, but that the clientele is typically over 50 and is declining in number, despite OTB’s attempts to attract younger customers.  For at least six years, even as the number of outposts has shrunk, the total amount of money waged — the city’s “handle” — has consistently been more than $1 billion, roughly half the total revenue taken in from the six OTB operations in the state, each of which is independently run according to the same state regulations.  Some bettors said they did not believe the closings were a sure thing.  Bob Monahan of Glendale, Queens, who said he started going with his father to the track at age 7, displayed a gambler’s skepticism, suggesting it was simply a bluff by the city to leverage a deal in talks with the state. But, he said, he would rather stick to debating odds on four-legged beasts than two-legged politicians.  “I wouldn’t bet against Bloomberg,” Mr. Monahan said as he stood inside O’Neill’s in Maspeth, Queens, one of eight restaurants that double as OTB parlors, with a betting window at the bar and simulcast monitors on the tables. “He’s very sharp. He has the money to bet on bigger things like stocks and bonds.”  “Ask this guy,” Mr. Monahan said, pointing to a man in rumpled clothing, poring over his handicappers’ sheet. The man declined to comment, holding his finger to his lips and saying, “Officially, I’m not even here right now.” One of the first two locations scheduled to be shut is on Steinway Street in Astoria, a narrow hall with a core clientele of older men who speak Greek and read the tabloids. (The other is on Hylan Boulevard in New Dorp, Staten Island.)  The regulars show up, sip coffee, scribble on racing forms and test their hunches at the betting windows or computerized kiosks. With a backdrop of television screens showing races across the country, the customers chat and joke until post time, then spend a minute screaming at a television set together. After each race, the floor gets littered with a fresh batch of losing betting slips.  Some regulars in Astoria said they would most likely stop betting the horses if the place closed, while others said they would go to the Aqueduct or Belmont tracks to bet, or call a bookmaker or wager by phone using New York Racing Association accounts (the first and last of these are legal, the second, not).  At the Seventh Avenue OTB, Mr. Fellows, the retired actor, chewed his gum vigorously as the horses thundered down the stretch for Aqueduct’s second race on Thursday. His pick, Swept the Series, was first across the finish line — or won “going away” — and Mr. Fellows graciously accepted the congratulations of his cohort.  His mood changed, however, when asked about the possible closing of New York’s OTBs.  “I’ll probably just stop betting and go to the theater more,” Mr. Fellows said. “But for a lot of these men, this is their only form of entertainment.”  A version of this article appears in print on , on Page A1 of the New York edition with the headline: If OTB Goes, So Will a Relic of a Grittier City. Order Reprints| Today's Paper|Subscribe
Off-Track Betting parlors could be endangered, if plans to close all 71 outposts by mid-June stay on course.