The Battle for Las Vegas: The Law vs. The Mob

by Dennis Griffin

  “Everybody on the Strip is scared to death of the little bastard. He struts in and out of the joints like Little Caesar,” the Los Angeles Times quotes one casino owner as saying at the time. The same piece also quotes a store owner who first met Spilotro when Tony stopped in to buy clothes for his son. “When he came in the store the first time, you almost wanted to pat him on the head, until you looked into his eyes.” Tony’s eyes, described as pale blue and reptilian, looked through people, not at them. Many who dealt with Tony, including law-enforcement personnel, agreed you could find death in those eyes.

  Another Witness Dies

  Spilotro’s fast rise as a force to be reckoned with in Vegas was interrupted again in 1974, when he was indicted by a federal grand jury in Chicago. This time he was one of six defendants charged with defrauding the Central States Teamsters Pension Fund of $1.4 million. Among his co-defendants were Joseph “Joey the Clown” Lombardo, one of Tony’s superiors in the Chicago Outfit, and Allen Dorfman, believed to be a catalyst in arranging financial transactions between the Teamsters and organized crime. Dorfman had been convicted in a Teamster kickback case a few years earlier.

  The government’s scenario was complex, involving several companies and thousands of bookkeeping records. It could be a difficult case to get across to a jury. But the feds had an ace up their sleeve. The operator of one of the companies used to siphon money from the pension fund was cooperating. Prosecutors believed that their key witness, 29-year-old Dan Seifert, a Chicago businessman, would be able to walk the jurors through the maze of transactions in a manner they would be able to understand. If the prosecution proved successful, Tony and his pals would be off the streets for a long time.

  In September 1974, three months before the trial was scheduled to begin, Seifert, his wife, and their four-year-old son stopped by Seifert’s plastics factory early on a Friday morning. Four armed men wearing ski masks materialized and chased Seifert through the plant. They caught and killed the young husband and father with a shotgun blast to the head.

  Seifert’s murder had a chilling effect on the other witnesses. When the trial began, they crumbled on the stand as Tony’s eyes bored into them. Spilotro was soon dropped from the case. All five of the other defendants were subsequently acquitted. Being an important witness in any case against Tony Spilotro was turning out to be extremely hazardous.

  Meanwhile, back in Vegas and California, three more people met suspicious and untimely demises. Many suspected the murders were either carried out at Tony’s behest or by the mobster himself. Spilotro was even charged in one of the homicides.

  William Klim

  On June 23, 1973, William “Red” Klim, a Caesars Palace employee, was shot and killed gangland style in the parking lot of the Churchill Downs Race Book. There were multiple theories regarding scenarios as to the motive for Klim’s murder. One held that the deceased was cooperating with authorities in an investigation of illegal bookmaking that targeted Lefty Rosenthal. Another suggested that the dead man had information pertaining to Spilotro’s implication in a fraud against the Teamsters Pension Fund. Yet another designated Klim as a loanshark who refused to pay the Ant a tribute. All three theories involved Tony either directly or as Rosenthal’s protector.

  Although Spilotro was charged with Klim’s murder the following year, the case against him fell apart when witnesses were unable or unwilling to positively identify the killer.

  Marty Buccieri

  Marty Buccieri was a pit boss at Caesars Palace and a distant relative of Chicago underboss Fiori “Fifi” Buccieri. He reportedly had connections to most of the Vegas crime figures worth knowing and had used those connections to facilitate the granting of a number of Teamster Pension Fund loans to Allen Glick, CEO of Argent (Allen R. Glick Enterprises), the Outfit-installed owner of the Stardust, Hacienda, Fremont, and Marina casinos. In the summer of 1975, law-enforcement sources learned that Buccieri had approached Glick and demanded a $30,000 finder’s fee for his help in obtaining the loans. At one point he’s said to have physically threatened Glick. The Argent boss then informed Lefty Rosenthal—the behind-the-scenes power of the operation—of the incident.

  A few days later, Buccieri was found shot to death. The law immediately suspected that Tony Spilotro was involved. Others in the know disagreed, citing the use of a 25-caliber weapon, rather than the .22 that was supposedly a Spilotro trademark. Regardless of the identity of the perpetrator, though, it’s logical to conclude that Glick was a dangerous man to argue with or threaten.

  Tamara Rand

  Tamara Rand was an erstwhile friend and business partner of Allen Glick. She invested heavily in his Vegas casinos and, in spite of having no gaming experience, had signed a contract as a consultant at the Hacienda for $100,000 per year. Rand believed that through investments she had purchased five percent of Glick’s casinos, so when Glick denied such a deal, she filed suit against him for breach of contract and fraud. A court trial could have blown the lid off the mob’s hidden interests in the Las Vegas casinos. Consequently, on November 9, 1975, just days after a bitter argument between her and Glick, Tamara Rand was murdered at her home in San Diego.

  Unlike the gun that killed Buccieri, the murder weapon in Rand’s case was a .22, the reputed weapon of choice of Spilotro and his associates. Although Tony was a prime suspect in the Rand killing, there was insufficient evidence to charge him with the murder. One report even circulated that Tony had a solid alibi for the day in question. According to that story, while Rand was being rubbed out in San Diego, Tony was in Las Vegas chatting with an FBI agent who, for unknown reasons, had flown in from Chicago for a visit.

  But former law-enforcement officers familiar with the Rand case and the Spilotro investigations don’t recall Tony being cleared because of any such visit. They consider the report to be “dubious,” and maintain that Spilotro was never taken off the table as a suspect.

  At any rate, Tony gradually faded from the headlines in the Rand murder. That wasn’t the case for Allen Glick, however. The relationship that had existed between Glick and the victim created a firestorm of speculation and media interest. By Thanksgiving, Glick was forced to issue a statement. He not only denied any involvement in the Rand murder, but also proclaimed that Argent had no connection to organized crime. Many in Las Vegas and law-enforcement circles found the latter contention to be absurd. Spilotro even got back in on the act by stating through his lawyer that he had absolutely no connection to Argent. Those in a position to know also greeted this declaration with great skepticism.

  Around the time of the Buccieri and Rand murders, additional information about Allen Glick’s activities began to surface from an unexpected source.

  Newport Beach

  In the 1970s, Bob Gatewood was a sergeant working with the police department in Newport Beach, California. He was assigned to the Organized Crime Unit. One day in 1973, he received a phone call from a friend, a Marine he’d met while undergoing SWAT training at Camp Pendleton. They’d become close and socialized together with their families.

  Gatewood’s friend told him he’d retired from the Marine Corps and taken a new job as a bodyguard for Allen Glick, who had a residence in an exclusive area south of Newport Beach. The ex-Marine had come to the conclusion that his new employer had some very shady associates and was probably involved in something illegal. He felt morally obligated to do something about it, but wasn’t sure exactly what.

  Due to his work in intelligence, Gatewood was familiar with Glick and his reported ties to organized crime and the Teamsters Pension Fund. During the discussion, Glick’s bodyguard revealed that his position required that he accompany Glick on trips and at social gatherings, as well as receive a copy of the guest list to every event hosted by his boss. The former Marine agreed to provide information regarding Glick’s activities and acquaintances, but only to Gatewood.

  After the phone call, Sgt. Gatewood entered the information into the database of the national Organized Crime Intelligence
Unit. He was soon receiving calls from agencies across the country, including the Nevada Gaming Control Board and, later, Las Vegas law enforcement.

  For the next two years, the informant fed information to Bob Gatewood, who in turn passed it on to Nevada authorities. During that time the bodyguard became increasingly concerned for his personal safety and that of his family. He had his home checked for bugs and wiretaps. Sergeant Gatewood advised his friend that he could terminate his cooperation whenever he felt the situation had become too dangerous, but the flow of information continued until the informant switched jobs. He has since passed away from natural causes.

  Bob Gatewood was never told exactly how the information his friend provided was used, but he believes it was instrumental in facilitating the investigations into Glick’s involvement with organized crime.

  Other Endeavors

  In addition to loansharking, Tony had other money-producing irons in the fire, burglary and fencing stolen property chief among them. Burglars working for Spilotro eventually earned the nickname the Hole in the Wall Gang (HITWG). This handle resulted from their method of gaining entry into commercial buildings by making a hole in the wall or roof. But the thieves didn’t limit themselves to breaking into businesses; they stole from private residences and hotel rooms with equal zeal. Jewelry and cash were prime targets.

  The size of the burglary crew fluctuated depending on the nature of the job. Some small capers might require only one or two men, while a major heist could need six or seven. In the latter case, extra help was sometimes imported from Chicago or elsewhere.

  The proceeds from a job were split among Spilotro and the burglars. For a big haul, Tony was obliged to send some of the profit to his Chicago bosses. He also had to pay a certain amount of overhead. Valets, maids, desk clerks, and others who provided information regarding the value and activities of potential victims were compensated for passing on the information.

  One of these scams was operated out of two locations, a major Strip property and a popular restaurant, and involved valet parkers. The valets identified affluent guests and struck up conversations to obtain additional information about the guest’s plans. For locals, valets could usually find address information with the registration papers in the vehicle. In the case of visitors, the name of their hotel was extracted during seemingly idle chitchat. Then, indicating long and short-term parking areas, the valet inquired as to how long the guest would be leaving their car. If the answer reflected a lengthy stay, the valet turned over the car to a burglar who, armed with keys to the residence, could conduct a leisurely burglary, using the victim’s own vehicle to transport the booty. For out-of-towners, a friendly desk clerk at their hotel was contacted for specific room information. If the target’s plans didn’t allow the time for an immediate theft, the information was filed away for possible future use.

  So, depending on the size of the score and the number of ways the loot had to be split, an individual burglar might earn enough money from a job to be able to take a few weeks off and live it up. However, if through faulty intelligence or bad luck, the break-ins weren’t profitable, the thieves might be forced to strike again quickly just to maintain a basic standard of living.

  Well, maybe “forced” is too strong a word. As a retired detective familiar with Spilotro’s burglars told me: “Those guys loved to steal. It was what they did. They could be sitting in a restaurant with ten grand in their pockets and they’d go across the street to a convenience store to steal a pack of gum. They wanted the big money, sure. But stealing, in and of itself, was a necessity for them. They were addicted to it.”

  As Tony’s status grew, additional sources of income materialized, too. The Ant and his gang weren’t the only street criminals in Las Vegas. Other crooks, not mob-connected, wanted to share in the bounty and there was more than enough to go around. But Tony was running his budding underworld empire like a business. Legitimate entrepreneurs are required to get business licenses and pay related fees; if they’re caught operating without the necessary permissions, they’re subject to sanctions. Enterprising criminals wanting to get, or stay, in business also had to follow a certain protocol. They needed to get Tony’s blessing and pay him a share of their profits, known in gangland parlance as a “street tax.”

  And it wasn’t wise to think you could simply ignore Tony and go about your business without his finding out about it. He knew everything that went on within the Las Vegas criminal element. No one did anything—from contract killings to burglaries, robberies, fencing stolen property, or loansharking—without his approval and without paying him a monetary tribute where appropriate. And the sanctions for violating Tony’s procedures could be much more severe than those imposed by a governmental licensing agency.

  Tony Spilotro was becoming ever more powerful, and his organization was growing.

  The Dunes

  By 1975, Tony’s entourage had increased dramatically with the arrival of his brother John and an influx of bookies, loansharks, burglars, and other heavies from Chicago. He decided to switch his base of operations to the Dunes, another Strip hotel-casino financed with Teamster money. This time he didn’t open a shop; he used the card room of the casino as his office. Tony carried around a wad of money so he could accommodate those in need of loans. When he wasn’t conducting business, he enjoyed fleecing suckers at the poker table or trying his hand at sports betting.

  Major Riddle and Morris Shenker owned the Dunes. Riddle was one of Spilotro’s favorite victims in the poker games. Tony and a couple of his cronies engaged in a “three-pluck-one” scam, where Riddle or some other naïve gambler sometimes lost thousands of dollars at a sitting. The Ant also had things his way when it came to sports wagering. Betting through illegal bookies, Tony made his picks, but didn’t tender any cash. If he won, he expected to be paid. If he lost, no money changed hands. The bookies had little choice but to take their lumps. As one retired FBI agent told me: “Who in the hell was going to refuse Tony’s action, or try to collect from him?”

  Tony’s presence at the Dunes didn’t escape the attention of the Gaming Control Board. Their first effort to address the problem was by privately notifying Riddle and Shenker. The owners talked things over with Tony and he agreed to make himself scarce. The very next night, brother John Spilotro showed up in the card room. Answering phone pages as John Adams, he conducted business in Tony’s stead. In a few weeks, Tony himself returned and it was back to business as usual.

  The following year, the gaming regulators made another, more formal, effort to get Spilotro out of the casino. Riddle and Shenker were summoned to testify at a private hearing as to why Tony was being allowed to operate out of their card room.

  Appearing first, Riddle said that until recently he didn’t even know who Spilotro was, much less that he had Mafia connections. He claimed to have known Spilotro only as Tony and had never heard his last name. After learning Spilotro’s identity, he asked Tony if he was lending money and using the Dunes as an office. Spilotro admitted making loans, but said they were interest-free. Riddle accepted that explanation as the truth. He concluded that Spilotro was “simply a good-hearted person.” Riddle added, “I wouldn’t want to talk to anybody nicer than Tony.”

  Next up was Morris Shenker. Not some run-of-the-mill novice when it came to legal proceedings, Shenker was a highly successful criminal defense attorney. He represented many of the nation’s top criminals before the Kefauver Committee in the 1950s and was Teamster President Jimmy Hoffa’s chief defense lawyer in the ’60s.

  Like Riddle, Shenker claimed to have been ignorant of Spilotro’s identity until recently. Now that he’d been made aware of who Tony was and his criminal associations, he vowed to take immediate action to remove the undesirable gangster from the Dunes.

  But Tony wasn’t waiting around to be ousted. He’d already found greener pastures.

  Moving On Up

  The Las Vegas Country Club and Estates, an exclusive walled community located near the S
trip with guard posts at the entrance, was considered the place to belong in Las Vegas. Founded by former Cleveland bootlegger Moe Dalitz, its members included bankers, lawyers, doctors, and casino bosses. Initially, Tony and his associates gained access to the club through the memberships of his friends, such as Lefty Rosenthal. Since only members could sign for food, drinks, and tennis and golf fees, this arrangement proved awkward. Tony decided the only thing to do was join the club himself. He tried, but the membership committee rejected his application in June 1976.

  Spilotro was furious. He complained to Rosenthal and others, demanding reconsideration. Under pressure, the membership committee realized the error of its ways and admitted the Ant. He was soon holding court in the card room, conducting meetings in the dining room, and playing gin rummy with some of the town’s leading citizens. His wife Nancy learned to play tennis and became a regular on the courts. Even with all this going for him, it wasn’t long before Tony found an even better deal.

  Gold Rush

  To accommodate the growing inventory of loot from his thriving burglary ring, Tony decided to open another jewelry store called the Gold Rush in a two-story building located on West Sahara, just off the Strip. It had a front door that could be operated by a buzzer located behind the counter; a private security company regularly swept the building for electronic bugs and monitored the building’s alarm system. The second floor housed communications equipment, including two radio transmitters and receivers and five scanners that monitored police and FBI activities. Gang members with binoculars were sometimes stationed on the roof or parked on the street looking for signs of law-enforcement surveillance operations.