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

by Dennis Griffin

  The trouble began in 1974, when Rosenthal applied for a gaming work card. Unfortunately for him, applicants deemed to be key employees of a casino were subjected to rigorous background investigations, with their friends and associates receiving special scrutiny. Lefty’s relationship to Tony Spilotro and the Chicago Outfit sealed his fate. His application was initially denied, but an appeal of the decision was decided in Lefty’s favor. Then the Nevada Supreme Court upheld a lower court’s ruling that the denial of Rosenthal’s application had been hasty and that he’d been deprived of his ability to hold a key casino position without prior notice or the opportunity to be heard. But the reprieve was only temporary.

  The Nevada Legislature quickly passed legislation mandating that anyone found to be unqualified for a gaming license couldn’t be employed by, or have any contact with, a casino licensee except as an entertainer. In an attempt to sidestep the whole licensing issue, Lefty gave himself the non-gaming title of Food & Beverage Director. When that description didn’t fly, he became Entertainment Director.

  To partially justify the latter title, Lefty taped a weekly variety show at the Stardust that was broadcast by a local TV station on Saturday evenings. “The Frank Rosenthal Show” was described by some as surreal and by others as horrible, but it drew an audience. Guests included such celebrities of the day as Frank Sinatra, O.J. Simpson, and Frankie Valli, along with a bookmaker or two. Lefty offered comments about his ongoing fight with, and his less than flattering opinion of, the Gaming Control Board. Although some viewers found Lefty’s antics humorous, others weren’t amused. The Outfit, craving anonymity for their Las Vegas operations, now had two apparently loose cannons making lots of news: Tony and Lefty. On top of that, Nick Civella, head of the Kansas City Mob, which was receiving money from the casino skim, felt that Rosenthal was getting too chummy with the FBI and might “flip” if the going got tough.

  Gaming regulators and law enforcement didn’t believe for a minute that Rosenthal’s activities at the Stardust were confined to the entertainment department. They were sure he was the Outfit’s inside man and that Allen Glick was the front man. The legal and public-relations clashes between the two sides continued. In June 1978, Gaming Control again told Lefty that his duties required him to obtain a gaming license. The hearings over Lefty’s status and eligibility to be licensed turned increasingly heated as Rosenthal, in frequent outbursts, attacked the Gaming Commission and its chairman, Harry Reid, now a United States Senator, in the most colorful terms. Career-wise, the whole episode turned out to be a disaster for Lefty—he was not only refused a license, but his name also joined Tony Spilotro’s in the infamous Black Book. He was out of the casino business and, thanks to being “booked,” couldn’t even set foot inside a gaming establishment. Subsequent appeals of the Commission’s actions failed. But for the Outfit, it wasn’t all that bad. Although they lost their inside man, they still had Allen Glick. And Lefty could be replaced.

  As bad as this turn of events was for Lefty professionally, it paled in comparison to what was going on in his personal life.

  The Rift

  Lefty couldn’t have been particularly happy when Tony Spilotro showed up in Las Vegas, knowing the potential impact of their relationship on his future licensing possibilities. Those concerns proved to be well-founded. But for the up-and-coming gaming tycoon, they weren’t the worst of it.

  The first four years of marriage had been fruitful for the Rosenthals. They had two children, first Stephen and then Stephanie. Lefty’s position at the Stardust came with a hefty contract. Geri lived the good life and money was no object. On the surface, their lives seemed nearly ideal. But behind the façade, Geri Rosenthal was an unhappy woman. She entered into matrimony somewhat reluctantly and as time passed, she seemed to regret that decision.

  When Lefty’s professional life became difficult as he fought the gaming regulators, his children provided an escape from the stress. Both youngsters were natural swimmers. Geri and Lefty spent a lot of time working with them in the family swimming pool on hot desert afternoons. The kids eventually became members of the Las Vegas Sandpipers swim team. The proud parents attended all of their tournaments and the doting father served as the official announcer at the meets, except for the races in which his children participated. When Rosenthal was ousted from the casino business in 1978, he remained upbeat, calling the decision a “blessing in disguise,” as it allowed him to devote more time to Stephen and Stephanie.

  While the children provided solace for Lefty, the same couldn’t be said of Geri. She’d become increasingly disgruntled with her situation, drinking to excess, taking drugs, and frequently staying out all night. Lefty was concerned about her behavior for more than one reason. In addition to the strain her conduct was placing on their marriage, on a professional level he had to worry about whom she was spending her time with and what she was saying to them. Lefty, after all, held a powerful position in the gaming industry, operating in the shadowy world of organized crime. His enemies or rivals could use his wife to obtain information to blackmail him. And the law ... always lurking in the background ... had an army of undercover operatives and informants with their noses to the ground in pursuit of usable intelligence. To help him keep track of Geri, Lefty demanded that she carry a mobile phone with her at all times. For Geri, the situation was becoming intolerable.

  As if the Gaming Control Board, the law, and his wife weren’t causing the oddsmaker enough grief, his old buddy Tony Spilotro was now running amok. Lefty encouraged Tony to keep a low profile, but the Ant seemed intent not only on expanding his criminal empire, but actually hogging the law-enforcement and media spotlight. In fact, Tony wanted Lefty’s full support in his efforts. When Rosenthal refused, the relationship between the two men grew tense at best.

  And then it happened. In July 1978, right on the heels of his gaming license being denied, Geri admitted to her husband that she was having an affair. That news was bad enough. Worse yet, her lover was none other than Tony Spilotro himself. Lefty must have been angry and hurt, but he was also scared. He made Geri promise not to tell Spilotro that she had confessed. There was no telling what the bosses in Chicago would do if they discovered their Las Vegas enforcer had become involved with their embattled inside-man’s wife.

  Tony would certainly know that and with the relationship between him and Lefty already deteriorating, he’d fear that the aggrieved husband might make a complaint to Chicago. Lefty knew that people who posed a threat to Tony tended to have a brief life expectancy. He told Geri that if the volatile Spilotro learned Lefty knew the truth, he’d probably kill them both. They had no choice but to continue on as though nothing were wrong. It would be difficult, but their lives probably depended on it.

  So, while Lefty struggled under his many burdens, Tony Spilotro cruised along, seemingly immune from being taken to task for any of his alleged wrongdoings. In fact, the Ant was simultaneously extending his influence and laying the groundwork for future expansion—westward.

  The California Connection

  Although Tony Spilotro was based in Las Vegas, his mob-related duties weren’t limited to Sin City or Nevada. He was also active in neighboring California, specifically Los Angeles, where he carried out the instructions he received from Chicago. Los Angeles did have its own crime family, but the Chicago Outfit held it in low esteem. For years, the City of Angels gangsters, referred to as the “Mickey Mouse Mafia,” had been tolerated by the Chicago bosses, who did pretty much what they wanted to in Los Angeles, but hadn’t actually taken total control of organized crime there. Tony wasn’t the first mobster to do Chicago’s bidding in the Southwest, though. Another man had been there before him.

  The underworld relationship between Chicago and Los Angeles went back to the Capone days, when Scarface Al had sent a hood named Johnny Roselli out west to look after Chicago’s interests. Other Capone men had preceded Roselli and had already infiltrated the Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees, the union backbone of
the movie business. Johnny settled in Beverly Hills, married actress June Lang, and became friends with many of the film industry’s most influential people. One of his pals was Harry Cohn, president of Columbia Pictures. Cohn later testified that his relationship with Roselli kept Columbia virtually free from labor problems.

  Other studios decided not to cozy up to the Chicagoans, however, and they experienced a tougher time keeping their facilities up and running. Roselli and company offered to help bring labor peace to these uncooperative companies for a price. The amount was reportedly $1 million. But the intended victims didn’t just roll over and pay the money; they reported the attempted shakedown to the law.

  Johnny and an associate named Willie Bioff were convicted in 1944 and sentenced to 10 years in prison. Paroled in three years, Roselli returned to Hollywood and took positions as an associate producer and consultant to several studios. It was almost as though the conviction never happened.

  With legalized gambling then beginning to take off in Las Vegas, Roselli extended his influence out to the desert. Within a few years he was able to have waitresses and dealers hired or fired with a phone call and arrange for casino executives to be canned for failing to show him proper respect. He also became the man to contact if you needed a comped room or the best seats for shows at Strip properties, such as the Dunes or the Flamingo.

  Roselli was a slender man, with snow-white hair and a penchant for wearing dark glasses. After divorcing June Lang, he developed a reputation as a ladies’ man. His female companions included such starlets and other notables as Judith Exner, who later wrote a book claiming affairs with President John Kennedy and Roselli’s Chicago boss, Sam Giancana. His power was such that the CIA recruited both him and Giancana in 1960 to participate in a plot to assassinate Fidel Castro. In the 1960s, Johnny Roselli was indeed a man to be reckoned with.

  The beginning of the end of Roselli’s reign as Chicago’s top man in Los Angeles and Las Vegas—and the opening for Tony Spilotro—started in 1969. He and three others were convicted in connection with a major card-cheating scam at the Friars Club in Beverly Hills. Victims of the scheme included millionaire industrialists such as Theodore Briskin, celebrity comedians Zeppo Marx and Phil Silvers, and singer Tony Martin. That conviction earned Roselli a five-year prison sentence. Around the same time he was called before a federal grand jury investigating allegations of organized-crime influence in several Las Vegas casinos. In spite of being granted immunity for his testimony, Roselli claimed he told the grand jury nothing. Roselli’s denial may or may not have been truthful, but the subsequent jailing of three Mafia figures led Chicago to doubt his sincerity. Over the years, many gangsters have learned that even being suspected of having loose lips can eventually prove fatal.

  Roselli was released from prison in 1973. Seeking to reestablish himself, he sought the help of the Los Angeles gangsters he’d been friendly with. Unfortunately for the ex-con, the L.A. family was down to about a dozen members, compared to the 200 or 300 in families located in cities of comparable size. The Mickey Mouse Mafia wasn’t in a position to help Roselli, or anyone else. To add to his problem, he was also aware that while he was incarcerated, a new tough guy named Tony Spilotro had moved into Las Vegas.

  In desperation, Roselli turned to an old friend, Aladena “Jimmy the Weasel” Fratiano. Although he lived in the San Francisco area and not Los Angeles, the Weasel was a former West Coast enforcer for the mob who reputedly had 12 notches on his gun. But Roselli was out of luck again; Fratiano was also on the outs with the mob. In his book The Last Mafioso, Fratiano recalls a conversation during a dinner meeting with Roselli at a Tony Roma’s restaurant in Los Angeles in 1974.

  Fratiano: “Spilotro’s got your old job in Vegas. You know, arbitrating beefs like you did in the old days. He’s doing things you never did. He’s shylocking, has a crew of burglars working ...”

  Roselli, cutting in: “Spilotro’s a watchdog for Joe Aiuppa. But this guy’s an animal, a punk with no class, no finesse. He’s just a soldier. He’s Aiuppa’s messenger boy, a tool, but I hear he’s acting tough. You can’t play tough in that town and last.”

  Fratiano: “But he’s also a worker. This guy’s clipped [murdered] some people.”

  Roselli: “Sure. If Aiuppa wants any work done in this end of the country, he gets Tony and tells him to go ahead and take care of it.”

  In two years Johnny Roselli’s number was up. The gangster left his sister’s home in Florida on July 28, 1976. Ten days later his remains were found in a 55-gallon drum floating in Miami’s Biscayne Bay. Apparently, Roselli’s lanky body had been a tough fit; his legs had been chopped off and stuffed into the barrel alongside his head and torso. Like many gangland killings, Roselli’s murder was never solved. Regardless of who was responsible for it, Roselli’s death clearly benefited Tony Spilotro. No one was left in Southern California to undermine his authority.

  Fratiano himself went on to become an annoyance to the Outfit. He turned into a swaggering loudmouth, bragging that he was the toughest mobster in California. He attempted to muscle a Beverly Hills lawyer with mob ties, allegedly putting a dead fish in the attorney’s mailbox to intimidate him.

  Fratiano was summoned to Chicago for a face-to-face with Doves Aiuppa. Warned to clean up his act, he was allowed to return to California. Rather than follow those orders, however, Fratiano instead boasted that he planned to hustle money from some rich Las Vegas gamblers who were old friends of the Chicago bosses. That proved to be an unwise move. As far as Chicago was concerned, enough was enough. The Weasel had to go.

  By 1977, Fratiano was sure he was a marked man. He was also convinced that Johnny Roselli’s replacement, Tony Spilotro, had the contract on him. Criminal associates tried to lure the Weasel back to Chicago, but he didn’t go. Another “friend” called and told him he needed to get to a phone booth right away for a confidential call. It was a ruse Fratiano had used himself to get his victim out in the open. He refused to budge. The FBI had Fratiano under surveillance at the time and knew his days were numbered. The feds contacted him and made him an offer he couldn’t refuse: Testify against his organized-crime colleagues and enjoy the relative safety of the Witness Protection Program, or await a visit from Spilotro or one of his men. Omerta, the vow of silence, fell by the wayside and Fratiano became a government witness.

  According to FBI documents, Fratiano told FBI agents during an April 1978 interview that Tony Spilotro had contacted him and offered $10,000 if he refused to provide prosecutors with information against any of the gangsters the government was pursuing. More money would be forthcoming if he continued to keep silent. Fratiano asked that the $10,000 be paid to his attorney, but the cash was never received. He also confirmed that he believed it was Spilotro’s intent to kill him.

  Through Fratiano and other informants, the feds opened a second front in their war against Tony.

  Teflon Tony

  John Gotti, the infamous former head of New York City’s Gambino crime family, was dubbed the Teflon Don for his ability to gain acquittals whenever the law took him to court. In fact, from the time he ascended to the throne in 1985 until his conviction in 1992 for violations of the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act (RICO), Gotti and his lawyers had made a habit out of beating up on prosecutors. But Gotti was finally convicted and served time while he was making his way up the career ladder. And the sentence for his only conviction while he was the boss was a beauty: life without the possibility of parole.

  Although Tony Spilotro never officially attained “Don” status, the attention he received from the law was nearly the same as that bestowed on higher-ranking mobsters. In spite of being almost continuously under investigation and a suspect in some 25 murders and countless other felonies, Tony conducted his affairs for more than a decade without being convicted of even a minor offense. Part of the reason for that impressive run could be his skills as a criminal; another likely factor was that his reputation and willingness to use violenc
e made witnesses against him scarce. A third and equally important aspect was his lawyer, Oscar Goodman.

  Goodman was born in Philadelphia and graduated from the University of Pennsylvania Law School. After moving to Las Vegas in 1964, he opened his own law practice. It wasn’t long before he became one of the city’s premier criminal defense attorneys, representing many high-profile clients. Among them were Harry Claiborne, a federal judge who was convicted of tax evasion in 1983 and impeached by the United States Senate, Allen Glick and his Argent Corporation, Lefty Rosenthal, and Tony Spilotro.

  Goodman was a fiery advocate for his clients and he wasn’t shy about attacking his law-enforcement foes, both in and out of court. In Of Rats and Men, author John L. Smith chronicles the life and career of Oscar Goodman. At the beginning of that book are quotes from several people, including two from Goodman that may illustrate his attitude toward his opponents and the existence of organized crime. “I’d rather have my daughter date Tony Spilotro than an FBI agent,” and “There is no mob.”

  Whether these words accurately reflected Mr. Goodman’s feelings or were only issued for public consumption, one can imagine that Tony, Allen, and Lefty appreciated hearing their legal representative say such things. But Goodman wasn’t merely rhetoric; he produced for those who placed their trust in him.

  Together, Tony and Oscar, each using his own unique talents, made a team that prosecutors seemed unable to beat.

  On The Home Front

  As busy as he was, Tony wasn’t on the job 24/7. As a former Las Vegas TV reporter told me, “Tony didn’t spend all his time whacking and hacking.” He did have a wife and son. In an effort to find out if there was another side to the Ant, I spoke with Nancy and Vincent Spilotro. Per agreement, Tony’s business activities were not discussed.