Cullotta: The Life of a Chicago Criminal, Las Vegas Mobster and Government Witness (24 page)

BOOK: Cullotta: The Life of a Chicago Criminal, Las Vegas Mobster and Government Witness
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Frank even got a call to do a job in Florida. He went via Chicago, where an Outfit guy gave him the details. A pawnshop owner in the Pompano Beach area had a line on some Jamaican dope dealers. The Jamaicans supposedly had about $500,000 in drugs and cash in their house. The tipster said they were ripe for a robbery.

Frank took a nervy kid from Chicago with him and drove to Florida. They met with the pawnshop owner, then checked into a hotel in Pompano Beach to wait for the call to pull the job. The tipster finally called and said the drug dealers had gone out of business. That score was off, but something else had come up: a home invasion. He said a friend of his was dating an old Jewish woman worth a ton of money.

Frank figured they could force their way into the old lady’s house and have the run of the place, but she turned out to be one of the toughest victims he ever faced.

That night Frank and his partner stole a car, changed the plates, and got guns from the pawnshop. The tipster knew that the woman to be robbed had recently been involved in a hit-and-run accident. When the two thieves got to her house, Frank’s partner flashed a fake badge at the woman and said, “I’m investigating the accident you were recently involved in. I need to come in and talk with you.”

“If you want to talk with me, you have to go through my lawyer. Goodnight,” she said and started to close the door.

“Wait a minute! We need to get this resolved tonight. Now let me and my partner come in to talk with you.”

“Don’t you understand English? I told you to talk with my lawyer. Get off my property or I’ll report you to your department!”

Finally, the younger thief shoved her inside the doorway and he and Frank followed.

“Fuck you!” she hollered as she was pushed into the bathroom, then she started to scream at the top of her lungs.

The lady had a five-carat emerald ring on one finger and a fourcarat cluster ring on another. The two thieves were trying to get those rings off her hand, but she was putting up a hell of a fight.

Then the old lady bit Frank’s partner; he got mad and broke her finger. It wasn’t pretty, but he managed to get one of her rings off.

The job had turned into a circus and Frank had heard and seen enough. He was pretty sure that with all the screaming going on, the whole neighborhood knew something was awry. He just wanted to get the hell out of there. The tipster’s buddy was serving as the getaway car driver and was apparently pretty anxious to leave the area. Frank’s partner jumped in the car, but before Frank could get inside the car started moving. Frank ran alongside and leaped in through a window.

The robbery netted only the one ring that was removed from the woman’s broken finger. It was taken back to Chicago and fenced through Michael Spilotro, another of Tony’s brothers, for $10,000. After paying the tipster, his partner, and travel expenses, Frank’s cut was so puny, he didn’t have to give anything to Tony.


 


 


 

As 1981 began, the police shooting of Frank Bluestein hadn’t been avenged by the mobsters. It wasn’t that Tony hadn’t given the matter any thought; he hatched a plot to exact revenge against Groover and Smith for Bluestein’s death. This idea involved a rather elaborate scheme that would allow the mobsters to escape responsibility for killing the cops by diverting the law’s attention elsewhere.

He met with Frank and explained the plan. “Frankie, I think I know how we can whack those fucking cops that killed Frank Blue. Do you think your friends in the Blackstone Rangers would give us a hand?”

“Yeah. A lot of them are out of prison now and will give me any help I ask for.”

“Good. Here’s what I want you to do when I’m ready. Get hold of the Rangers and have some of them come here. We’ll hit Smith and Groover, but we’ll make sure the Rangers are seen in the area. The cops will figure the blacks whacked ’em and come down on them hard. When they go into the Westside looking for suspects, it’ll be easy for your friends to start a little race war. The cops will have their hands full with the blacks and we’ll be in the clear. What do you think?”

“It sounds okay to me. Just let me know when.”

Frank doesn’t know what happened, but he never heard any more about it.

A more serious threat against Groover and Smith allegedly originated in Chicago, not Las Vegas. Metro was informed by the FBI’s Chicago office that they’d picked up credible information about contracts put out on the lives of David Groover and Gene Smith. A pair of hit men from Chicago were on their way to do the job.

For quite a while after the Bluestein shooting, a verbal battle had raged in the press between the department and the Bluestein family’s lawyers. Several civil cases had also been filed and it seemed that was all that was going on. So the news of a hit was a real shock to the police department.

Kent Clifford, the boss of the two detectives, went berserk when he heard it. There were certain rules the opposing sides played by. One of them was that you didn’t put contracts out on cops. He was certain that even if Tony didn’t actually order the hits, he damn sure knew about them. Nothing like that was done in Las Vegas without Spilotro’s knowledge and approval.

Gene Smith moved his family out of state for their protection; cops were assigned to stay at his house. Detectives were waiting for the alleged hit men when they arrived in town and checked in at the Fremont Hotel. They were under surveillance around the clock. One of the people they met with was Ron Bluestein, Frank Bluestein’s brother. The supposed cop killers were in Vegas for about a week, but only came near Smith’s place once. They stopped a couple of blocks away, then left the area. The cops eventually confronted them and had a little chat. The men headed back to Chicago shortly afterward.

The immediate threat was over, but the cops wondered if someone else would show up to make an attempt on the lives of the detectives. In Kent Clifford’s mind, the only way to remove the danger once and for all was to have the contracts lifted. He also wanted to know whether Spilotro had authorized the hits on his own. There was only one way to find out for certain. In an unprecedented move, Clifford went to Chicago to have a face-to-face with Tony’s superiors.

Clifford issued an ultimatum to the Outfit bosses: Lift the contracts on my cops, or else.

The top mobsters had a meeting and lifted the contracts. Informed of their decision, Clifford returned home.

Clifford arrived back in Las Vegas thinking that the resolution of the Groover and Smith matter would return things to normal. It did, but only temporarily. At around 10 p.m. on April 9, 1981, someone launched a shotgun attack on the home and vehicle of Tony Spilotro and the nearby house of his brother John. No one was hurt during the shootings, but both houses and their parked vehicles were damaged. At 10:47 p.m., John Spilotro reported the incident to the police. The subsequent investigation failed to identify the assailants.

The Spilotro side believed the police were behind the shootings. A newspaper story reported that a witness claimed to have seen Gene Smith in the vicinity of the Spilotro houses loading a shotgun. Metro denied the charges. The Spilotros demanded the Clark County District Attorney’s office conduct an independent inquiry. The results of that investigation failed to identify the shooter(s) and the police were cleared, but those results weren’t acceptable to the Spilotro brothers. Tensions were running high.

The additional violence and war of words were the final straws for Kent Clifford. He called Oscar Goodman and asked to have a meeting with the Spilotros. The session was held soon afterward in the lawyer’s office with the Spilotros, Goodman, and Clifford present. The conversation got pretty heated. But when Clifford left the meeting, all parties appeared to understand that the personal stuff was over.


 


 


 

On May 26, 1981, the police observed Larry Neumann seated in a parked vehicle in the vicinity of the Upper Crust. Interviewed by detectives, they determined that Neumann was an ex-felon who had failed to register with the police department upon his arrival in Las Vegas. After Neumann was taken into custody on that charge, his car was searched. Found in the glove box was a .380 Mauser semi-automatic pistol. A check of the weapon revealed it had been stolen in a burglary on April 9. As a result, Neumann was additionally charged with receiving stolen property and as an ex-felon in possession of a concealed weapon. Neumann’s arrest would play an important role in events the following year.


 


 


 

Frank’s financial problems continued to worsen. In addition to increased expenses, he was finding it more difficult to pull off local scores, because of the mounting pressure from Metro and the FBI. But the lawmen weren’t only slowing down Frank’s income from criminal activity; they were also affecting the revenue from his legitimate restaurant business. On top of that, it seemed to Frank that every time he turned around, Sal Romano was lurking about.

The Upper Crust was no longer operating in the black. The cops and FBI were around constantly, harassing not only the gangsters but the customers, too, many of whom were celebrities. Frank wasn’t taking in enough to cover payroll, so he had to make up the difference out of his pocket. There wasn’t much choice but to put the place up for sale.

One day Sal Romano came in the restaurant while Guardino, Davino, and Frank were there. Guardino and Davino had a job to go on; Frank couldn’t go along, so they decided to take Romano with them. The gang knew the G was on them day and night. Sometimes they saw them; most of the time they didn’t. But they just knew they were there; they could sense it.

Romano was wired that day. The FBI wasn’t supposed to allow informants to commit crimes, so when they heard the burglary being discussed, they had to do something to stop it. The surveilling agents suddenly became very visible, making sure they were spotted. It worked; there was no way Leo or Ernie would go on a job with the agents practically sitting in the back seat. The planned burglary was scrubbed.

Romano was always trying to get the other thieves to go to his condo to talk about scores. They went over to his place one day and took a lot of evasive measures to ditch the agents tailing them. It didn’t make any difference, though, because Romano’s apartment was completely wired, including a camera.

When they got to Romano’s place, Frank took a look around. It didn’t seem like someone’s home; it wasn’t cozy and didn’t have the feel of being lived in. Only a few clothes were in the closet. Some of them supposedly belonged to Romano’s girlfriend, who was actually an FBI agent. To explain away her absences from the apartment, the cover story was that she was an airline stewardess and frequently out of town. Frank’s inspection of the premise caused him to become even more suspicious of Romano. He was very cautious about what he said, but Guardino and Davino weren’t. The whole visit was recorded on audio and video.

When they left, Romano stayed behind. Back in the car, Frank mentioned his observations about the apartment. The other two laughed and said he was being paranoid. It seemed to Frank that other than his wife, everyone he talked to about Romano just shrugged it off. Nobody seemed to give a damn.

 

 

 

 

12 Bertha’s

On July 4, 1981, the Hole in the Wall Gang went after a score estimated to be worth $1 million. What happened that day and the resulting aftermath became a turning point in the law’s battle against Tony Spilotro, Frank Cullotta, and their gang. There are two distinct sides to this story: the cops and the robbers. The opposing forces planned their activities carefully, not wanting to leave anything to chance. But the law had one big advantage over the burglars: They had Sal Romano.

Bertha’s Gifts & Home Furnishings, located at 896 East Sahara, was an upscale furniture and jewelry store. When Frank first arrived in Vegas in 1979, one of the guys he hung around with told him about the store and took him there to case it. It was family-owned and had been in business for more than 40 years. Frank’s source told him that the store was loaded with jewelry and antiques; if the place could be hit, it would probably be worth seven figures.

Frank checked the store inside and out. He struck up a conversation with one of the sales clerks and got some information from her. He looked around for alarms and sensors and located the vault. After that he explored the outside of the building, then discussed the results of the survey with his associate.

Frank believed Bertha’s was directly alarmed to the police station. His friend suggested pulling a big truck alongside the building and popping a hole in the wall next to the vault. Frank said it was a good idea, except that they’d be right off the main street and could easily be spotted by passing police cars or citizens. And if the wall next to the vault was made of steel, they’d have to cut through it. Using torches at night would be sure to draw attention. Frank needed to think about it some more.

In the meantime, he and the other guy had a falling out and he didn’t do anything more about it. But the idea was always in the back of his mind. During the intervening two years, Frank developed a plan for attacking the store. When his financial situation turned critical, he decided it was time to take another look at Bertha’s.

The store was alarmed, but that could be overcome by going in through the roof. From there, it was just a matter of dropping down through the false ceiling right on top of the vault. If the vault was encased in steel, it could be penetrated using torches; if it was in cinder block, it could be easily chopped through.

Frank discussed his idea with Tony. The Ant liked it and added a couple of things to the plan. “We’ll fence everything through my brother Michael in Chicago; that way our money will be guaranteed. And I want to use Joe Blasko on the job.”

Frank wasn’t enthused about Blasko; he figured once a cop, always a cop. “Why Blasko?”

“The guy needs money and I’m tired of carrying him. We’ll use him as a lookout and make him earn his keep.”

BOOK: Cullotta: The Life of a Chicago Criminal, Las Vegas Mobster and Government Witness
12.92Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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