Supermob

by Gus Russo

  After its November debut, the Bistro's regulars included Ronald Reagan, Paul Ziffren, Pat Brown, Lew Wasserman, Gray Davis, the Kennedys, Gregory Peck, Kirk and Anne Douglas, and Donna Reed—all friends and/or clients of Korshak's. Predictably, countless Hollywood movie deals and labor issues were concluded with handshakes across the Bistro's tables, while the VIP upstairs realm was the setting for the infamous scene in the 1975 movie Shampoo, wherein Julie Christie introduced Warren Beatty to oral pleasures available under the Bistro's tables.

  Without doubt, the most coveted table was Table Three, in the corner just off to the left of the entrance. A profile of the restaurant in the Los AngelesTimes noted, "At the end of the row is the 'lawyers' table. It's the only downstairs table with a phone. Frequenters are Greg Bautzer, Gene Wyman, and Sidney Korshak."14 At the request of a Howard Hughes girl procurer named Walter Kane, Niklas installed a telephone on the table. Director Alfred Hitchcock had his own opinion of those who commandeered the precious table. He told Niklas, "On an abstract level, the corner table is a metaphor for narcissism, the driving force that propels the cult of celebrity." Niklas agreed, adding, "The need to have the number one table is a territorial imperative, which can turn otherwise civil men and women into barbarians."15

  However, both the table and the Hughes phone were soon appropriated by one of Howard's mortal enemies. The truth was that it was Sidney's table, much as Table One in Chicago's Pump Room had become his domain, and when it came to his table, Korshak betrayed a prickly thin skin on occasion, especially when it involved old rivalries. Once, when Korshak's attendance had not been anticipated, he arrived to discover that Hughes's aide Walter Kane was back sitting at his table, using the phone.

  "Who the hell's at my table?" Korshak asked Niklas. When told it was an associate of the man who'd betrayed him in the RKO affair, Korshak turned on his heels and was not seen in the Bistro for a year.16

  Kurt Niklas understood Sidney's protective attitude toward the table. "The corner table at the Bistro was his office," Niklas wrote in his autobiography. "He was in the restaurant so often that people would call and ask, 'Is the Korshak table available today?' He held court there like an errant pope."

  The Bistro interior (Marc Wanamaker/Bison Archives)

  The Reagans at the Bistro with owner Kurt Niklas (second from left) (Mimi Niklas)

  Korshak's daily routine was known to many. "He often ate alone at noon every day at the Bistro," said Hollywood AP columnist James Bacon.17 Casper Morcelli, who came to California after selling papers in Philadelphia for Moe Annenberg, became the Bistro's headwaiter from opening day until 1993. He recently recalled Sidney's modus operandi at the restaurant:

  Sidney always came in by himself, early in the morning, before we opened the place. Sidney was well dressed. I never saw him with a tie askew. There was a jacket code there, so most of the patrons were well dressed.

  He'd do his paperwork, or meet with the boss [Niklas], and then the people would start coming in to meet with him. I saw him every day of the week except Sundays. He didn't come for dinner much. He sat at the corner table almost every day.18

  Original Bistro maitre d' Jimmy Murphy, who later opened his own popular restaurant, Jimmy's Tavern, well remembered Korshak's dietary regime. "He ate very simply," Murphy said. "In the daytime he drank iced tea. He'd eat a Bistro hamburger, or some grilled fish—very simple. Later in the day he'd have a bullshot or a martini or a glass of wine—he wasn't a big drinker. He always dressed immaculately, with silk shirts, and so on."19

  Both Morcelli and Murphy have nothing but good memories of Korshak. "I loved him," Morcelli said. "He was very generous. He was so soft, yet so tough at the same time. He was just fantastic. He'd come up to me and say, 'How ya doin', Cas? Everything okay? The family okay?' He was there for anybody, even a busboy. He'd help anybody." Murphy's recollection was equally effusive: "He was always a gentleman and respected the help. He was a good tipper. At Christmastime he would give me a bundle of dollar bills. He'd take care of the chef and the others as well. He would always ask me, 'Jimmy, are you having any problems? How's the family?' I liked him a lot."

  On one level, Korshak enjoyed the camaraderie afforded by the restaurant. "His Bistro table was like a movie set," said friend Leo Geffner. "He knew all the movie stars. The starlets would all come by and kiss his cheek."20 Hennie Burke, the current owner of Duke's Coffee Shop on the Sunset Strip, has been a social acquaintance of the Korshaks' for decades. "I knew Sid from the old days," Burke said. "We all traveled in the same circle with Pat Brown and the rest. I still play tennis regularly with Anne [Mrs. Kirk] Douglas and Bee Korshak over at Janet Leigh's house. We all used to go over to the Bistro after playing, and Sid would always be sitting at his table. He'd immediately send over a bottle of champagne for the girls." Burke's memory of Korshak echoes those of Murphy and Morcelli, and she sounded wistful in her description of him. "He was the most wonderful man—almost like an angel," she recently said with a tinge of emotion. "He was powerful, but he treated all his friends like family, which means he'd do anything for you."21

  Timothy Applegate, longtime counsel for Korshak client Hilton Hotels, recently remembered having dinner with Korshak at his table: "I met him once for lunch and once for dinner at the Bistro. When I met him for dinner, Greg Bautzer was just getting up and leaving. Sidney sat down and said, 'I would have introduced you but you don't want to know that asshole anyway. He's got the biggest ego in Los Angeles.' I replied that I previously had been told that he had 'the biggest ego in the Western United States.' "22

  What was most consequential about Korshak's Bistro days, however, were the business deals that were struck there—both face-to-face and over the phone. Niklas, Murphy, and Morcelli all remember Korshak's furtive conversations on the Table Three phone that soon came to comprise two lines, and the meetings with such corporate titans and political lions as Al Hart, Lew Wasserman, Paul Ziffren, Pat Brown, and Gray Davis. There were also confabs with "Dodgers people" such as Walter O'Malley and team manager Tommy Lasorda. Niklas wrote, "I personally knew two-dozen businessmen who paid him twenty to fifty thousand dollars a year for 'protection' from labor unions."

  Often, Korshak's business benefited both his legit clients and his Chicago patrons simultaneously. Such was the case in 1963, when Korshak helped Lew Wasserman and the underworld, both of whom were facing exposure by one of America's best-known talents, and one of organized crime's most vocal opponents, composer and television pioneer Steve Allen. The Chicago native and creator of the late-night-talk-show genre became an outspoken anticrime activist in 1954, when he chanced upon a photograph of a man who had been severely beaten after speaking out against the installation of pinball machines in a store that was situated near a neighborhood school. Allen, under the threat of advertiser desertion, produced a two-hour documentary on labor corruption for New York's WNBT, from where his TonightShow originated. After the show aired, one of the interviewees, labor columnist Victor Reisel, was blinded by an acid-thrower, and Allen endured slashed tires on his car and stink bombs set off in his theater. Then there came physical threats. One anonymous caller referred to the Riesel attack and told Allen, "Lay off, pal, or you're next."

  But the hoods totally misread Allen, who was only emboldened by the threats. Over the years, Allen continued to take every opportunity to sound the clarion call against not only the underworld, but its Supermob enablers. Allen made frequent trips to Chicago, where he spoke at benefits for the Chicago Crime Commission, and his Van Nuys office contained over forty binders labeled "Organized Crime," holding thousands of notes and newspaper clippings.

  But the entertainer's stance had a powerful impact on his career. "I was blackballed in many lucrative establishments," Allen recalled shortly before his death in 2000. "I was only invited to play Vegas twice in my entire career." This alone deprived Allen of millions of dollars from a venue he would have owned if given the opportunity.

  In 1963, Allen was hosting the syndica
ted late-night Steve Allen Show when he received a call from Sidney Korshak. "I was asked to take it easy on Sidney's friends," Allen recalled. Not long after politely refusing Korshak's request, Allen felt the power of the underworld-Supermob collusion once again. "We had a terrible time booking many A-list guests for the show," Allen explained. It was clear to Allen that Korshak, in connivance with the Stein-Wasserman entertainment megalith, MCA, had chosen to deprive the Steve Allen Show of its talent roster, which at the time represented most of Hollywood's top stars. (A subversion by Korshak would have served two purposes since Korshak was also good friends with Allen's late-night competition at NBC, Johnny Carson.)

  Despite the talent embargo, Allen concocted a wonderful program with his staple ensemble of brilliant ad-libbers such as Louie Nye, Don Knotts, Bill Dana, and Tom Poston, as well as quirky personalities like madman Gypsy Boots, and then unknown Frank Zappa, who appeared as a performance artist, bashing an old car with a sledgehammer. But Allen's 1963 run-in with Korshak would not be his last encounter with gangster intimidation.23

  When Korshak's clients were unable to appear at Bistro Table Three, business was handled on his personal table phone. His Windy City pal Irv Kupcinet remembered Korshak's MO. "He could turn more tricks with a telephone call than anyone I knew," Kup said in 1997. At the Bistro, Jimmy Murphy remembered that some of Korshak's business dealings seemed to be more sensitive than others. "Sidney would get a call, then go outside to use the pay phone," said Murphy. Jimmy "the Weasel" Fratianno was among many who witnessed Korshak carrying a bagful of coins should he need to call his Chicago handlers, for whom he always used the pay phone in the lobby. It was widely accepted that Korshak used the untraceable pay phone to converse with Humphreys or Alex.

  In later years, Korshak was seen being driven to even more secure locations for making phone contact.24 The L.A. police spied Korshak entering a Beverly Hills phone booth with a bag of coins, and making a series of calls. One of Korshak's favorite secure phones was located inside the legendary Drucker's Barber Shop on Beverly, just north of Wilshire.25 Like others, Hilton Corporation counsel E. Timothy Applegate, who was the liaison between the company and Korshak for many years, heard the stories of Sidney's clandestine forays to Drucker's. "I was later told by a union guy that once a week Korshak would go down to Drucker's Barber Shop and meet with local mobsters," said Applegate.26

  Proprietor Harry Drucker had come to Beverly Hills from New York in the 1940s, the move financed by his pal Bugsy Siegel.27 In New York, Drucker was Siegel's and Frank Costello's barber in Arnold Kirkeby's Waldorf-Astoria, where Joe Kennedy was occasionally seen accompanying Costello for a trim. When Bugsy moved to Beverly Hills, he took Drucker with him. As a favor, Drucker also set up the barbershop at Vegas' Tropicana Hotel, which was partially financed by Costello.28

  Beverly Hills native Don Wolfe, whose stepfather Jeffrey Bernerd copro-duced Alfred Hitchcock's early films (The Lady Vanishes and The 39 Steps), was a Drucker's regular and has vivid memories of the popular tonsorial parlor: "The shop was upstairs, above Jerry Rothschild's Men's Shop, where Bugsy got his suits and jackets. Drucker's had a reception desk on the first floor, and you had to be buzzed in to go up to the barbershop. I later learned that it was because Drucker's was also a bookie joint." Wolfe recalled that Drucker's possessed one amenity that significantly added to the attractiveness of the shop. "There was a glassed-in barber chair with a phone in it," said Wolfe. "Bugsy got his hair cut there almost every other day it seemed. I saw Bugsy there often using that phone. Drucker told me that Bugsy used that phone because he suspected his phone was tapped. When they moved the barbershop to Wilshire, they moved the glassed-in booth as wTell." Over many visits, Wolfe saw other notables using Drucker's secure hotline, including Ronald Reagan, Elvis Presley, and Earl Warren.29 Johnny Rosselli was also known to be a fan of both Drucker's haircuts and his enclosed booth.

  Not all sensitive Bistro conversations were conducted by phone or at Table Three. On occasions, Korshak's business was taken outside. "He was a very low-key guy for a very powerful man," said Jimmy Murphy. "Sometimes he would go to the little bench we had outside for a very private conversation." Casper Morcelli also remembered how Korshak liked to take frequent strolls in the tony Beverly Hills neighborhood: "He used to walk a lot after lunch—he knew the whole of Beverly Hills." Longtime NBC investigative producer Ira Silverman saw the walks as part of a long tradition of hoods who preferred to discuss business where they couldn't be watched. "Sidney would take a walk, much like the boys in New York do," opined Silverman.30

  One of Korshak's most frequent lunch companions was Andy Anderson, head of the Western Conference of Teamsters. Anderson had started working for the Teamsters in 1954 and rose in the hierarchy, slowly becoming the man Korshak associated with and with whom he finalized legal issues after Hoffa was sent to jail. "We'd negotiate with Sidney on the parking lot at the baseball stadium, the racetracks, the liquor industry, the breweries, the food industry, the motion picture industry," said Anderson.

  Anderson and Korshak first met in the 1960s, when Anderson was called upon to negotiate a Teamster warehouse contract with discount-shoe magnate Harry Karl, who brought Korshak along as his counsel. "Sidney would talk, but he was careful of what he said," Anderson remembered. "He was careful of who he sat with when he had lunch. I noticed—he didn't have to tell me—I could see it." The friendship grew over years of doing business together. "When I was the director of the Teamsters in the Western Conference, I even hired one of his sons to do some work for us," Anderson recalled.31

  Most importantly, Korshak introduced Anderson to Lew Wasserman, and the threesome often met secretly at Korshak's home to nip labor problems in the bud before a strike could ever rear its head. The trio celebrated their friendship with an annual lunch at The Cove, in the Ambassador Hotel. 32 "The Teamsters never struck Lew," Anderson declared. "And it was because of Sidney."

  F. C. Duke Zeller, who wrote DeviVs Pact: Inside the World of theTeamstersUnion based on his experiences working as government liaison and personal adviser to four Teamster presidents over fourteen years, recently said, "Virtually every Teamster leader on the West Coast, in the Western Conference, answered to Sidney Korshak. Everything and everybody went through him out in Los Angeles."33 Andy Anderson disagreed with the analysis. "Sidney's and my acquaintance progressed to an equal and cordial working relationship," Anderson stated.34 I definitely came to attention when he called me, but he never asked me to do anything untoward and was of assistance to me many times. Sid always watched out for me—in the sense that he would say, 'If there's somebody you're confused about, tell me and I'll let you know.' And he used to do this, but he never told me what I had to do; he told me what not to do.35

  Occasionally, Korshak's dining partners fell into categories far below those of the typical Beverly Hills habitue. Jimmy "the "Weasel" Fratianno has written of meeting Korshak at Table Three; Johnny Rosselli and Moe Dalitz also broke bread on occasion with Korshak. "I saw Sid and JR [Rosselli] together many times," said Rosselli's goddaughter, actress Nancy Czar. "They were either at Chasen's or the Bistro. They knew each other from Chicago."36

  Gianni Russo, who had been delivering messages from the Eastern bosses (e.g., Costello, Accardo, and Marcello) to Korshak at Chicago's Pump Room, now did the same at the Bistro. "There were about four key guys in this country, and Sid was one of them," recalled Russo. "He was connected to everybody. I used to sit at his table at the Bistro and never paid a dime. He would never conduct business in his house. None of those guys ever did. Nobody could understand it—I was a young kid then, delivering these messages—I don't even know what they were. But Sid was an amazing man. A lot of times we'd have to sit and wait, so we'd have coffee and talk, and he became like a mentor to me. He just felt I was a nice kid and didn't know what I was doing around these people. He was usually drinking Jack Daniel's or Scotch."

  Korshak at a Paul Ziffren soiree (Dominick Dunne)

  Like every
one else, Russo was impressed with Korshak's impeccable appearance. "Sid was a gentleman and a great dresser," said Russo. "He taught me how to dress. I used to wear the gold chains—what they call the wopsi-cle." And just as he had displayed his interest in watches to Shecky Greene in Vegas, Korshak expressed it again to Russo. "Pick one good watch," Kor­shak said. "Forget everything else." When it came to appearances, the Fixer emulated the dashing Wasserman, one of whose favorite expressions was "Dress British, think Yiddish." Korshak's sartorial expertise was fully appreciated by the young gofer. "It was because of Sid that I cut out that New York gangster bullshit," Russo said.*'37 Leo Geffner was also impressed with Korshak's attention to sartorial detail. "Sidney was always impeccably dressed—the best suits," said Geffner. "I never saw him without a tie unless he was home, and even the sport shirts he wore at home would have been the three-hundred-dollar kind."38

  Jimmy Murphy recalled some of the less than savory associates who met with Sidney at the Bistro: "He also met with some strange, shady-looking people at the Bistro. Sometimes they would go to the private room upstairs for lunch. Sometimes people just dropped off envelopes for him. There's no record of that, that's for sure." In his Bistro lunches with Korshak, Anderson recalled sometimes being joined "by these characters. Sidney would introduce me, and he'd say about me, 'He's okay, we can talk in front of him.' Then, after they left, he'd say, 'You never met them.' "39