“That’s the kind of clout people like my friend had at the time. They could get top-of-the-line entertainers into their joints by making a phone call, and they could end someone’s career the same way.”
Cheaters
Customers who were caught cheating the casinos met different fates, depending on whom they had plucked and for how much.
“At my place on the Strip, we didn’t go for the rough stuff,” Mickey said. “You might mess a guy up a little and he comes back later with a gun or goes to the cops or the Gaming Control Board. The main concern was recovering our money and making sure the cheater knew he wasn’t welcome back. But the cheats didn’t know that when they got hustled off to the back room. I’m sure a lot of them thought they’d never be seen again.
“Usually they’d offer to give it up [the money],” Mickey continued with a smile. “They weren’t very wise-assed or resistant at that stage of the game. But sometimes we’d make them lose it back. I remember this one guy who’d taken us for ten grand. We told him he could resolve the matter by going to a roulette table and staying there until he lost every dime. It was made clear to him that we’d be watching. After he’d lost his winnings he was to get out and never come back, not even to use the restroom. The guy couldn’t agree fast enough. He dropped the money he owed us, and a thousand of his own for good measure. We never saw him again.”
Sammy’s experience with cheaters at a downtown casino was slightly different. “If it was only nickel-and-dime stuff, we’d just toss them. But if they took us for anything substantial, they’d be in a cast or on crutches for a while.”
None of the roughed-up cheaters ever returned looking for revenge either. “Before we turned them loose, they understood what would happen if we ever saw them around again.”
Mario’s Strip employer reacted to some cheaters in a similar manner: “We had a room we jokingly referred to as the torture chamber. Some of the cheats left there with broken limbs. But I think the bigger problem for us was the deadbeats.
“These weren’t cheaters. They were honest gamblers who, due to stupidity or bad luck, lost all their money and had to ask for casino credit so they could play some more. The amounts differed with each individual, but a hundred thousand dollars or more wasn’t unusual. We checked these people out before extending the credit, of course. We knew where they lived, their income, and all that before they were approved.
“Most of them paid the money back without a problem, but a few seemed to forget about what they owed as soon as they got on the plane for home. We’d wait for a while, and if we didn’t hear from them they’d get a phone call from one of our executives. The tenor of the conversation would be cordial and go something like this: ‘We really appreciated your business and hope you come back soon. The next time you’re in town your meals, room, et cetera are on us. Oh, and by the way, to avoid any embarrassment, you really should take care of your marker.’
“That would do the job most of the time. If it didn’t, someone would pay a personal visit. It wouldn’t be pleasant for the deadbeat, but we invariably got our money back.”
The Skim
All three sources admitted that cash—lots of it—was removed from the casino count rooms before it was ever counted. At first the skim involved only the take from the table games, but eventually slot machine revenues were subject to manipulation as well. After the machines were emptied, the bags containing the coins or tokens were brought in and weighed to determine how much value they held. The scales were adjusted to show a lower-than-accurate weight, allowing a percentage of the take to go unrecorded. Whether the source of the money was from the tables or machines, the bottom line was the same: It was as though the money never existed. Although this activity was common knowledge to many of the managers, they typically weren’t directly involved in the process. And it wasn’t wise to show an interest in who took the money or where it went.
Sammy believes that authorities suspected him of being a courier for the skim. He cited an incident from the mid-’70s, when he was employed by one of the casinos under investigation. “My family and I flew to Phoenix for my father-in-law’s funeral. I had a rental car reserved and when I went to pick it up, the guy told me the FBI had been asking about me. They wanted to know how long I’d have the car and where I’d be staying. That kind of thing. I just went about my business and never heard anything more about it.”
The Wiseguys
According to Mario, Mickey, and Sammy, the wiseguys who ran or hung around the casinos weren’t all that imposing. On the contrary, Mario said: “As long as you didn’t cross them, they were mostly pretty good guys. They tended to be generous and helped a lot of the regular employees who were having financial or personal problems.”
Sammy witnessed less interaction between the wiseguys and casino employees, but noted, “I never had any problem with them. In fact, I liked most of them. I did my job and they didn’t bother me.”
Mickey agreed. “As long as you did what you were supposed to do and didn’t stick your nose where it didn’t belong, you had nothing to worry about. But if your curiosity got the best of you and you got too inquisitive, well, that could get you in trouble.”
Tru Hawkins
Tru Hawkins, a radio personality on Las Vegas radio station KDWN, provides a different perspective of Vegas at that time. Hawkins’ family moved to Las Vegas from California in 1945, when Tru was two years old. He got his first entertainment-related job, monitoring the KLAS radio transmitters at night, in the early 1960s. Later in the decade, he landed an on-the-air spot with KORK radio. An adult music station, it featured songs by artists currently appearing in Vegas. In the mid-’70s, Tru became the first morning man at KDWN, which also played adult music. The station later converted to talk radio and Hawkins now hosts the popular “Tru Hawkins Show.”
Tru has personal recollections of Las Vegas from throughout the years, as well as stories his father shared with him about his employment at the Riviera starting in the mid-1950s.
“My father was hired at the Riviera as a cashier. He had a reputation as someone who could keep his mouth shut and it wasn’t long before he was promoted to be manager of the casino cage. The money was stored in locked boxes until it was transferred to the bank. It was the practice to place one of the boxes filled with hundred-dollar bills on a shelf next to the back door to the cage. Mysteriously, in a short time an empty box would replace the full one. Those employees who were aware of the switch knew better than to question what was going on. Too much curiosity could be hazardous to their careers, or even their health.”
Based on Tru’s own experiences and what his father told him, two different pictures of the mobsters emerge. “If they liked you, they could be kind, considerate, and generous. On the other hand, if you crossed them, they were capable of cutting out your liver without thinking twice about it. Most everybody who worked around those guys knew that’s the way it was.
“When I’d bump into one of the heavies, they’d ask, ‘How ya doin’, kid? Ya need anything? Can I do anything for you?’ There was this one wiseguy who was a suspect in multiple murders. He learned that the son of one of the employees at the casino he was affiliated with had a serious medical problem that couldn’t be treated locally at the time. He arranged for the kid and the parents to be flown to the UCLA Medical Center and stay there until the boy was taken care of. He didn’t even discuss it with the father ahead of time. He just told him that everything was arranged and to be on the plane. It didn’t cost the parents a dime.”
Tru’s occupation also allowed him to meet with Lefty Rosenthal on occasion. “In the ’70s, I was working at the radio station and moonlighting as an announcer at KTBT-TV. At the same time, Frank Rosenthal was doing a weekly variety show that was taped at the Stardust and broadcast from the TV station. I ran into Lefty around the station every so often. He was one of the most charming guys you’d ever want to meet. But I knew he wasn’t anybody you’d want to get on the wrong side of.”
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br /> Regarding Las Vegas itself back then, Tru remembers it as a great place to live. “It was growing and there was a lot of stuff going on, but it was still a small town in a way, too. There’s no place else I’d have rather been.”
Joe the Bartender
“Joe” arrived in Las Vegas in 1966 and worked as a bartender in several clubs and casinos through the 1980s. He has his own memories and opinions of that era.
“It was a great town then, small and almost crime-free. Everybody knew there were mob guys running things and you didn’t cross them. I wasn’t in the gaming part of the operations and had very little contact with the wiseguys. I made sure I kept it that way.”
Joe remembers a particular incident illustrating how the casinos dealt with employees who had sticky fingers. “I was working at a Strip casino and when I came in for the graveyard shift one night, I saw one of the dealers being escorted into the dealers break room by some security types. The dealers on break left the room in a hurry. Shortly afterward, a terrible series of screams came from inside. It turned out that the dealer had been caught hiding chips in his tie. He’d apparently been stealing for quite a while and had to be taught a lesson. They broke every one of his fingers on both hands and then threw him out. They also put the word out on the guy to the other casinos so that he’d never be able to get another casino job. It wasn’t pretty, but that’s the way it was. It sure made the other employees think twice before they’d try to give themselves a pay raise.”
During those days, many entertainers would stop in the casino lounges for a drink after a performance and mingle with the patrons. Joe got to meet several headliners, including Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and Elvis Presley. “Almost all of them were great guys and treated the hired help with respect. There were a few assholes, though. These were the arrogant types who looked down on anyone getting paid an hourly wage. Fortunately, they were in the minority.”
According to Joe, in addition to being a nice guy, Frank Sinatra was also generous. He related what he called a story “well-known to be true.”
“I think it was in the late ’60s and Sinatra was appearing at Caesars Palace. It happened that the daughter of one of the cocktail waitresses had been severely burned in a fire. The waitress, a single mother, was trying to take care of the kid and hold down her job at the same time. Her situation was the talk of the casino workers. Sinatra heard about it and had the waitress sent to his suite. She was nervous, figuring he probably wanted a little hanky-panky. When she got to his room, he asked her how much she earned in a year, including tips. She told him and he had his assistant write her a check for that amount right on the spot. Sinatra told her to take a year off and tend to her daughter. Her job would be waiting for her. That’s the way it was then. Even the stars cared about the little people.”
This was the Las Vegas that Tony Spilotro came to in 1971. It was a booming action-packed town, with tourists pouring in by the plane and carload. Honest visitors and locals enjoyed the ample sunshine, ate well, did a little gambling, and watched some of the best entertainers on the planet perform, all at reasonable prices.
Those who weren’t so honest, however, found other ways to occupy their time and made plenty of money doing it.
5
The Spilotro Era Begins
Soon after settling into town with his wife Nancy and son Vincent, Tony Spilotro made his debut as a businessman. His first venture was opening a jewelry and gift shop at the Circus Circus Hotel and Casino. Using his wife’s maiden name in order to prevent drawing attention to himself, Tony did business as Anthony Stuart, Ltd. Concessions in major casinos were generally hard to come by, especially for people with known ties to organized crime. According to Nevada gaming regulations, any casino doing business with such people could lose its license. Nevertheless, Circus Circus owner Jay Sarno chose to ignore the rules and let the mob-connected Spilotro open his shop. The fact that Sarno had obtained around $20 million in Teamster loans may very well have influenced his decision.
However, using the Stuart name didn’t shield Tony’s presence from local FBI agents. Their Chicago counterparts had alerted them to the move the moment the Spilotros set out for Vegas. Still, even though Tony was a suspect in multiple murders in Chicago, agents anticipated that his role in Las Vegas would be merely that of a gofer for Rosenthal and his cronies. This was based on the belief that the various crime families with interests in Las Vegas casinos wanted to make money. For them to do so, their operations would have to maintain a low profile. Therefore, agents assumed, Tony wouldn’t do anything to make waves. They were wrong.
Loansharking
Right from the start, Tony had things on his mind other than cashiering in his own store. Las Vegas was a 24-hour town, growing larger by the day. Many of the residents and new arrivals took jobs in the hotels and casinos as maids, valets, cleaners, food servers, and dealers. Most were paid low wages and relied heavily on tips to supplement their income. Sometimes their money didn’t quite stretch to the next paycheck. These circumstances created a golden opportunity for someone who had money to lend and the ability to make sure he got it back. It was an ideal situation for an experienced loanshark like Spilotro.
Unfortunately, someone was already running loansharking operations in Las Vegas. His name was Gaspare Anedetto Speciale, known as Jasper to his customers, the police, and the FBI. He came to Vegas by way of New York and was with New York City crime boss Joe Columbo when Columbo was murdered in 1971. Mobsters visiting Sin City routinely sought an audience with Jasper and reportedly went through the ritual of kissing him on both cheeks when they met.
In deference to Jasper’s connections, Tony didn’t immediately try to displace him. On the contrary, “Tony kissed Jasper’s ass when he first came to town, just like everybody else,” as stated by retired FBI agent Michael Simon in a 1983 Los Angeles Times article. All the while, though, Spilotro bided his time, taking a share of the loansharking business without stepping on Jasper’s toes. His restraint was rewarded a few years later; when Jasper went to prison in 1976 on a federal racketeering conviction, Tony emerged as the undisputed king of Las Vegas loansharks. In this case, he accomplished his rise the way Chicago preferred, without bloodshed or publicity.
A Murder Indictment Goes Away
In August 1972, Tony’s efforts to establish himself in Vegas were interrupted by an incident from his past in Chicago: He was indicted for the 1963 murder of Leo Foreman. News of the indictment reached the Clark County Sheriff’s Department when Sgt. Charles Lee, a former Chicago cop now working in Las Vegas, received a call from a Chicago homicide detective he knew. The detective told Lee about the indictment and that two Chicago detectives were flying to Vegas that night to arrest Spilotro. They wanted a couple of local officers to go along as backup. No problem there. It was what came next that Lee found chilling.
The Chicago cop warned Lee to be careful about whom he shared the information with. According to snitches in the Windy City, someone in Lee’s department was on the Outfit’s payroll.
Sergeant Lee broke the news to his boss and they put a plan in place to uncover the alleged rogue cop after Spilotro’s arrest. Tony was taken into custody without incident and booked into the jail. After he was processed and taken to his cell, a covert surveillance of the jail began.
It wasn’t long before John DeMoss, a 32-year-old officer with the Organized Crime and Homicide Unit, signed into the jail with his niece. He explained that he wanted to give the girl a tour of the facility. Once inside, he stopped at Tony’s cell and spoke with the inmate. Afterward, he contacted an attorney for Tony, delivered a message from Rosenthal to Spilotro, and began making arrangements for bail. When confronted with his suspicious activity by his superiors, DeMoss opted to resign rather than undergo disciplinary proceedings. He wasn’t unemployed for long, though. Almost immediately he was hired as a supervisor at the Rosenthal-managed Stardust. The ex-cop was later named as a suspect in gangland killings in Nevada and California, but w
as never arrested.
Even without DeMoss’ help, Tony did okay. He was released from jail on $10,000 bail and, starting in September, shuttled back and forth between Chicago and Las Vegas. The arrangement allowed him to participate in trial preparation while continuing to take care of his Vegas interests.
“Scared to Death”
But there was a major concern for Tony regarding the Foreman trial: Sam DeStefano, his co-defendant along with Sam’s brother Mario, was planning to act as his own attorney. Even worse, Mad Sam had been diagnosed with terminal cancer. Rumor had it that he was contemplating making a deal with prosecutors to avoid dying in prison. There was no doubt that any such arrangement would require Sam to give up the Ant and Mario. Tony’s lawyer tried to get the cases severed, but failed.
With the legal system uncooperative, Tony went a different route. He took his pleadings to Tony Accardo. Five weeks before the trial, a person or persons unknown fired two shotgun blasts into Mad Sam’s chest. In June 1973, Tony was acquitted of the Foreman charges. He was off the hook in Chicago for the time being, but the trial and the circumstances surrounding it had served the undesirable purpose of bringing Tony into the law-enforcement spotlight.
A 1974 study by the Los Angeles Times found that in the three years Tony had been in Vegas, more gangland-style murders had been committed there than in the previous 25 years combined. A casino executive and his wife were gunned down in front of their home. Another casino executive was murdered in a parking lot. A prominent lawyer was blown up in his Cadillac. A loanshark victim went missing and another casino boss was beaten and crippled for life. It didn’t matter whether or not Spilotro was responsible for the violence. People, including the cops, believed he was, and as his reputation for viciousness grew, so did his boldness.
The Battle for Las Vegas: The Law vs. The Mob Page 4
