The Battle for Las Vegas: The Law vs. The Mob (7 page)

Suspicions of problems within the police department were quickly confirmed when the voices of Blasko and Leone were heard informing the bad guys of the law’s plans, including surveillance by both the feds and the locals. Blasko’s voice in particular was recorded on a regular basis communicating with the Spilotro brothers and Herb Blitzstein. The FBI heard the detective providing the identities of undercover operatives and informants, descriptions of vehicles used by surveillance personnel, and background information on loanshark customers. Stationed outside the Gold Rush in his police car, Blasko telephoned in such messages as, “It’s clear,” or “They’ve been tailing him,” as the police dispatcher talked in the background. He also made progress reports on his efforts to fix traffic tickets and get charges dropped. These revelations placed a serious strain on the working relationship between the federal and the local cops.

In addition to Blasko and Leone, agents were picking up other useful and interesting information. Tony Spilotro himself was taped coaching grand-jury witnesses before their appearances and taking calls from organized-crime figures from across the country. He also had contact with celebrities, including actor Robert Conrad and singer Barbara McNair. No evidence was produced of any wrongdoing on their part.

Interestingly, in 1972, McNair had married a guy named Rick Manzie. Manzie was described by the Chicago press as a “two-bit minor league toady” of the Chicago Outfit. Mobster-turned-informant Jimmy “the Weasel” Fratiano claimed that Tony had “bought a piece of Barbara,” giving him a vested interest in her success. But McNair’s new husband was a heroin addict and the newlyweds were both arrested for possession of drugs later that year. The busts made headlines and the negative publicity posed a threat to the singer’s future. In the years following, Manzie’s addiction continued and he ran up gambling debts at some of the Outfit-controlled casinos. In December 1976, Manzie was found murdered in his Las Vegas home, shot in the head at close range by a small-caliber handgun. His killing was never solved.

By the middle of June, after 79 days of wiretaps, 8,000 conversations had been recorded on 298 tapes. The FBI had amassed enough evidence to obtain search warrants for 83 locations. On June 19, the warrants were executed simultaneously, one of them at the Gold Rush. As agents converged on his store, Tony Spilotro bolted out the door and headed for his home a short distance away. Arriving at the house a few steps ahead of the G-men, he said he wouldn’t admit them until his lawyer arrived. The standoff lasted long enough for Tony to contact his attorney, Oscar Goodman, and to make sure certain incriminating items disappeared. In his biography
Of Rats and Men
, Goodman is quoted as saying of his client’s actions that day, “He ran into his house ... and there was plenty in the home the FBI would have been interested in ... but Tony held them at bay. He held sixteen FBI agents at bay all by himself while things were happening in the house to make sure that they came up with zip, which was exactly what they came up with.”

According to the
Los Angeles Times
, though, the searches, including the one of Tony’s house, were productive. Agents described the Gold Rush as “a veritable warehouse of stolen property” and said that a large percentage of its inventory came from a nationwide burglary and fencing ring. Some 4,000 pieces of jewelry were seized from the store, of which 1,400 were later identified as being stolen.

From Tony’s house, the police removed communications equipment, a handgun, handcuffs, stock certificates, confidential police intelligence reports, $6,000 in cash, even a private investigator’s report on Lefty Rosenthal’s activities.

The raid on John Spilotro’s house produced $196,045 in paper money, as well as financial records. Safety-deposit boxes belonging to the Spilotro brothers, Herb Blitzstein, and the Gold Rush contained rare coins in mint condition, $20 gold pieces, jewelry, bonds, and $40,000 in cash.

The feds had collected a lot of stuff, items that might have led to convictions and prison time for Tony and his boys. That was not to be, though. A U.S. magistrate later ruled that the raiding agents had gone far beyond the scope authorized in the search warrants and that nearly all the evidence gathered was inadmissible. Chalk up another victory for the Ant. But a downside arrived later in the year: In October, Tony’s name was added to Nevada’s Black Book, barring him from all casinos.

As for the two rogue cops, after the raids Blasko was fired and overtly went to work for Spilotro. Leone retired for health reasons and moved back to New Jersey. Both men were later indicted for their actions, but neither stood trial. Charges against Leone were dropped due to his deteriorating health. Blasko’s case was dismissed due to evidentiary problems.

The impact of the resulting scandal, however, was far-reaching within the law-enforcement community. Other agencies treated the Vegas police like lepers, refusing to interact with them. National organizations declined to grant the locals membership because of their apparent inability to protect sensitive intelligence information. But the cops weren’t the only ones with image problems. The FBI’s Las Vegas office had also come under fire for alleged inappropriate conduct.

Compromising Comps

Starting in the late 1960s, the word within federal law-enforcement circles was that agents working out of the FBI’s Las Vegas office were “freeloading” all over town. They were reportedly receiving free meals and drinks from the very individuals and casinos they were supposed to be investigating or keeping an eye on.

Richard Crane, head of the federal organized-crime strike force in Southern California and Nevada from 1970 to 1975, knew that this conduct, if true, had to be confronted and rectified. Crane complained to Justice Department officials in Washington and an inspection team was sent to Las Vegas to find out what was going on. After a couple of weeks the inspectors left, having supposedly chastised the offending agents. Crane was satisfied—until he began receiving word that the inspection team itself had taken advantage of the available comps! He heard reports that the investigators had enjoyed their stay and left without accomplishing anything; meanwhile, the agents assigned locally were continuing to take advantage of casino largesse. An Internal Revenue Service agent Crane trusted confirmed the allegations. Crane again complained to Washington, but when he left government service in 1975, the problems in Las Vegas continued unchecked.

Jack Keith, agent in charge of the Vegas office from 1974 until 1977, discussed the situation with a
Los Angeles Times
reporter after his retirement. “The precedent was set by one of the first agents in charge in Las Vegas. When he ate at a casino, he never even signed the check. He just got up and left.”

Keith offered an explanation of why things got out of hand. “The town was a cesspool. The atmosphere permeated everything. The old-timers were part of it and didn’t even know it. No man should have been allowed to stay in that town for more than three years. Some of the agents had been there for ten or fifteen years. I told them there was no such thing as a free lunch and that some day they’d have to pay for it.”

But allegations of taking a few meals or seeing some free shows weren’t the end of it. Things got worse. When the Dunes and later the Aladdin were wiretapped, the men being taped were content to discuss golf, the weather, and women. Some of the agents working the taps believed that the lack of productivity was due to leaks originating from other agents. Similar to the situation the police found themselves in, other FBI field offices became reluctant to share information with their Vegas colleagues.

Another complaint to Washington resulted in yet another inspection team being sent to Sin City, in June 1977. This time the investigators weren’t compromised. Within a few months, a dozen local agents were censured or reassigned, or opted for early retirement. This housecleaning set the stage for the success of the battles yet to be waged.

Working for “The Man”

What was it like to work for Allen Glick’s Argent Corporation when it controlled the Stardust and other casinos? One woman who was in a unique position to know shared her experiences in a 2004 interview. To help protect her privacy, I refer to her as “Connie.”

Connie arrived in Las Vegas in August 1969. Within a couple of weeks, the 23-year-old had gotten her first casino job in the payroll department of the Thunderbird Hotel & Casino. She was later transferred to the accounting department, where she made the arrangements for guests who were visiting the hotel on room, food, and beverage comps and handled casino credit for all the junkets. This gave her an opportunity to learn how casinos operated from marketing and customer-service standpoints and to work with some of the best professionals in the field. In 1972, Connie went to work for Circus Circus, adding to her knowledge of the casino business and customer service. In 1976, she accepted a position in the accounting department of Argent’s corporate office, located in the Stardust. This turned out to be a turning point in her casino career.

“In those days Las Vegas was a warm friendly escape for fun and relaxation, a place that catered to your every whim. Customer service was the buzz phrase then. The casinos didn’t care about the bottom line in the areas of food, beverage, or rooms. It was the numbers from the gaming operations that counted,” Connie recalled.

“It was truly the best time to live in the city of gambling, entertainment, and twenty-four-hour fun. There was an ambience then that has since been lost, an atmosphere that set Vegas apart as the entertainment capital of the world.”

Connie’s talents were soon noticed by her immediate boss, Frank Mooney. “One morning, Mr. Mooney called me into his office. He said that I was one of his most valued and talented employees and my abilities had come to the attention of others. Frank Rosenthal had contacted him and asked that I be transferred to the marketing department, to work for Martin Black, Argent’s Vice President of Marketing. Mr. Mooney said he hated to lose me, but my outgoing personality made me a natural for the new position and it would be an exceptional opportunity for me.”

Connie accepted the transfer and soon realized that she’d found her niche. “It was an interesting office, to say the least. A girlfriend of one of the well-known wiseguys worked there. Well ... she didn’t really work. She spent most of her time filing her nails, but she collected a nice paycheck.

“After about six months, Martin Black left the company and I took over his position. In those days, there were no female casino executives in Las Vegas. It was a man’s world and a good-old-boy town. Women had their place in accounting, secretarial, or food and beverage service, but
never
in a decision-making position in the casino industry. I was the first.”

Initially, Connie heard comments from her peers that she had bed-hopped her way up the career ladder. When the more curious ones asked how she’d attained her promotion, she answered, “My brains aren’t in my ass; they’re in my head.” Those kinds of questions quickly faded as Connie proved to be extremely competent in her new position.

Connie worked closely with Lefty Rosenthal and was put in charge of his weekly television show. “It was a delightful challenge and a very exciting experience. I handled all aspects of the show,” she recalled.

“My father was my first mentor and Mr. Rosenthal became my second. He gave me opportunities that no one else would have ever given me. He was a perfectionist in every sense of the word, but a very fair person. He was soft-spoken and always treated me with the utmost respect. I met his wife frequently. She was a beautiful woman and was always a lady when I was around her. I will always hold Mr. Rosenthal in the highest esteem.”

On paper, Allen Glick was the boss of Argent. But one particular incident proved to Connie who the
real
boss was and how protective Rosenthal could be of those he liked.

“One day I was asked to fly to San Diego to do some editing on our first television show. Upon returning the next day, I was called into Mr. Glick’s office. He wanted to know where I had been and who gave me permission to go. I told him. He was anything but nice as he gave me the choice of never again doing what Mr. Rosenthal asked me to do or being fired. I’m sure my loyalty to Mr. Rosenthal was evident to Mr. Glick. But as a young single mother with two children to support, his words scared me and my mind went into freeze mode. I didn’t know what to do and stewed over it the rest of the day.

“That evening as I was leaving the casino, I passed Mr. Rosenthal and several of his associates, who were on their way to the Moby Dick restaurant, their favorite place to meet in the Stardust. Mr. Rosenthal said hello to me and I replied back, but without my usual enthusiasm or smile.

“After taking a few more steps, I heard my name called. I turned around and Mr. Rosenthal motioned me over to him; he wanted to know if everything was okay. I told him no, it wasn’t. I explained about my session with Mr. Glick. Mr. Rosenthal then asked me to come with him to the Moby Dick.

“Inside the restaurant he had the maitre d’ bring a phone to our table. He called Mr. Glick, who had already returned to his home in La Jolla, California. The conversation from Mr. Rosenthal’s end went like this: ‘Good evening, Allen. I hear that you had Connie come to your office today on a matter that doesn’t really concern you. We need to get something straight, Allen. I run things around here; Connie works for me, not you. And if you ever approach her or threaten to fire her again, I’ll break both of your legs. Do you understand? That’s good. Good evening, Allen.’ He hung up the phone and told me I didn’t have to worry about anything like that happening again. From that point on, Mr. Glick never bothered me again. In fact, he didn’t even speak to me.”

For Connie, what had been her dream job ended when Argent was dismantled as a result of the casino skimming investigations. She was a target of the Gaming Control Board for a period of time and was called to testify. She was eventually dropped from the investigation and wasn’t charged with any wrongdoing.