The Cold Six Thousand: Underworld USA 2
Page 57
Location: Banquet room/Sal’s Trattoria Restaurant/New York City/listening-post-accessed. Speaking: Robert “Fat Bob” Paolucci & Carmine Paolucci, organized-crime associates. (Conversation 31.8 minutes in progress.)
RP: You are seeing the fall of civilization as we know it.
CP: It’s just a phase. It’s like the Twist and the Hula Hoop. Right now, the shvoogs want their civil rights, so they burn a few buildings and make some woop-dee-doo. You want to stop all this riot bullshit? Give every shvoog in the country an air-conditioner and some Thunderbird Wine and let them ride out the heat in style.
RP: It’s more than the heat that gets them agitated. It’s that King and his soul brother Bobby Kennedy. They get them seeing things that ain’t there. They give them an excuse that they can pin their shitty fucking lives on, like “the white man fucked you, so what’s his is yours.” You get ten million fucking people thinking like that, and maybe one in ten acts, so you got a million angry niggers out for white scalps like fucking Cochise and Pocahontas.
CP: Yeah. I see what you mean.
RP: Someone should clip King and Bobby. You would save a million white lives, minimum.
CP: I dig you. You save lives in the long run.
RP: You clip those cocksuckers. You do it and save the world as we know it.
(Non-applicable conversation follows.)
DOCUMENT INSERT: 9/16/67. Bug-extract transcript. Marked: “Confidential”/“Stage-1 Covert”/“Eyes Only”: Director, SA D. C. Holly.
Location: Card room/Grapevine Tavern/St. Louis/listening-post-accessed. Speaking: Unidentified Males #1 & #2, presumed organized-crime associates. (Conversation 17.4 minutes in progress).
UM #1: He saw it. My brother, I mean. He’s in the National Guard.
UM #2: But that’s Detroit. You got a higher ratio of spooks to whites there.
UM #1: Don’t tell me it can’t happen and won’t happen everywhere else. Don’t tell me it won’t happen, because it will. You trace everywhere Martin Luther Coon goes and you see pins in the map that mark dead white people.
UM #2: That’s true. You got Watts, you got Detroit, you got D.C. You got riots in our nation’s capital.
UM #1: You also got the bounty. I realize that it’s something like half real—
UM #2: Yeah, at best, because—
UM #1: Because it don’t matter as long as Joe Patriot thinks it’s real and does the job.
UM #2: Pow. He does the job. That’s the goddamn thing.
UM #1: You got to believe there’s more bounties out there. Myth or not, it just takes one guy to believe.
UM #2: Coon’s a dead man. It’s—what’s that word?
UM #1: Inevitable?
UM #2: Yeah, right.
UM #1: We outnumber the niggers. Like 20 to 1. That’s why I think it’ll happen.
(Non-applicable conversation follows.)
DOCUMENT INSERT: 9/21/67. Las Vegas Sun headline and subhead:
HUGHES BUYS SANDS
PAYS $23,000,000 FOR HOTEL-CASINO
DOCUMENT INSERT: 9/23/67. Las Vegas Sun headline and subhead:
HUGHES ON ROLL
BILLIONAIRE RECLUSE EYES CASTAWAYS AND FRONTIER
DOCUMENT INSERT: 9/26/67. Las Vegas Sun headline and subhead:
LAS VEGANS PRAISE HUGHES:
HE’S KING 0’ THE STRIP!
DOCUMENT INSERT: 9/28/67. Los Angeles Examiner subhead:
KING ESCALATES ATTACKS ON “IMPERIALIST” WAR
DOCUMENT INSERT: 9/30/67. St. Louis Globe-Democrat subhead:
RFK ECHOES KING: DECRIES WAR IN SPEECH
DOCUMENT INSERT: 10/1/67. San Francisco Chronicle subhead:
RFK MUM ON PREZ’L PLANS
DOCUMENT INSERT: 10/2/67. Los Angeles Times headline and subhead:
NIXON TO PRESS:
KEEPING ′68 OPTIONS OPEN
DOCUMENT INSERT: 10/3/67. Washington Star subhead:
SOURCES CITE LBJ’S “CONSTERNATION”:
PREZ PUZZLED OVER KING’S BROADSIDES AGAINST WAR
DOCUMENT INSERT: 10/4/67. FBI field report. Marked: “Confidential”/“Eyes Only”: Director, SA D. C. Holly.
Sirs,
Per spot-tail Subject Ward J. Littell.
Subject Littell continues to divide his work time between Los Angeles, Las Vegas, and Washington, D.C. He is currently working on the Las Vegas end of negotiations for the purchase of the Castaways Hotel and on the Washington end of conferences pertaining to appeals on the behalf of Teamster President James R. Hoffa. Subject Littell also continues to be intimately involved with Janice Tedrow Lukens. I have concluded, along with the other assigned agents, that Subject Littell assumes the presence of sporadically initiated tails and thus drives different workday routes in order to thwart them. That said, I should also state that Subject Littell has not been seen engaging in any sort of activity that might be deemed suspicious.
Spot-tails to be continued on the ordered basis.
Respectfully,
SA T. V. Houghton
DOCUMENT INSERT: 10/9/67. Hate-mail extract. Compiled by: FATHER RABBIT. Sealed and marked: “Destroy Without Reading in the Event of My Death.”
Mail sender: Anonymous. Postmark: St. Louis, Missouri. Recipient: Dr. M. L. King. From page 1 (of 1):
Here’s another ditty for you, Coon;
The Bounty Man’s going to get your black ass soon;
Fear the NSRP, John Birch and the Klan;
Fear the wrath of the righteous All-White Man;
Better get your shroud and wait for Judgment Day;
The White Man says you’ve outlived your stay;
Grab your pickaninnies, your wine and your dope;
Grab your watermelons and don’t you mope;
Better head for Africa lickety-split;
The White Man’s going to tar your hide in shit;
When that happens all the white folks will go hooray!
And say we killed that nigger who outlived his stay!
DOCUMENT INSERT: 10/30/67. Hate-mail extract. Compiled by: FATHER RABBIT. Sealed and marked: “Destroy Without Reading in the Event of My Death.”
Mail sender: Anonymous. Postmark: Pasadena, California. Recipient: Senator Robert F. Kennedy. From page 8 (of 8):
THE WORLDWIDE JEWISH PIG ORDER HAS CHRISTENED YOU WITH THE BLESSING OF THE RAPIST POPE AND THE LEARNED ELDERS OF ZION WHO HAVE CAST A SPELL OF PUS OVER THE CHILDREN WHO DARED TO FIGHT THE JEW INFIDEL IN THE NAME OF THE ARAB DIASPORA. YOUR UGLY MOTHER KNOWS YOU ARE THE SPAWN OF THE HEBREW COCKSEED AND THE RABID GOAT. THE JEWISH CANCER MACHINE FEARS THE HEADACHE DOCTOR. HE SMOKES MARLBORO CIGARETTES NOT GEFILTE FISH. HE SAYS RFK MUST DIE! RFK MUST DIE! RFK MUST DIE! RFK MUST DIE!!!!!!!
103
(Las Vegas, Los Angeles, Washington, D.C., New Orleans, Mexico City, 11/4/67–12/3/67)
Dominoes: the Dl/the Sands/the Castaways. On tap: The Frontier.
Ten pins: Non-Mormon skim men snitched to the Feds. Old skim hands in custody.
Littell planned. Littell sowed. The Boys reaped. Bribes/PR/extortion. Blackmail/philanthropy.
It took four years. Drac owns Las Vegas now. It’s Drac’s kingdom complete.
Three units down. More up. Eight pending. Drac buys Vegas. Drac owns Vegas—cosmetically.
The Boys exult. The Boys praise Littell. The Boys co-opt Wayne Senior. Wayne Senior deploys. Wayne Senior recruits:
Mormons for the DI. Mormons for the Castaways. Mormons for the Sands. Mormon floor men/Hughes-vetted/legit. Mormon skim men/non-vetted/non-legit.
More hotels on tap. More Mormon hires pending. Drac gets the inked deeds. Drac gets the glory. The Boys get the money.
Littell braced the Boys. The Boys agreed: Let’s suspend the skim. Let Drac move in. Let the ink dry. Let the shouts subside.
Skim then. Rig the vacuums. Put the hose to Drac.
Littell said we’re ready. I’ve pegged sixty-one businesses. They’re pension-fund-indebted. They’re subornable. They’re cake. We revive the skim. We suborn
said businesses. We divert profits and plant foreign casinos.
It looked good on paper. It was good for him. It upped his retirement stakes.
Retire me. I’m stretched thin. I’m scared. Drac scared him. Drac talked PR. Drac talked financial disclosure.
I’ll buff my image. I’ll audit my books. I’ll publish clean stats. Don’t do it. I’ve pilfered. Don’t disclose my tithe stats.
Retire me. I’m stretched thin. My love life’s a mess. I dream about Jane. I make love to Janice.
Janice found work. Janice bought a golf shop. She sold golfwear at the Sands Hotel. She built a rep.
She did trick shots at her indoor range. She built a rep. She ragged herself like Barb did. She built a rep. She performed. She drew customers. She made money.
She still limped. She still cramped. She still spasmed up. She drank less now. She clowned less. She tattled less. She laid off the Tedrows. She’d outgrown their spell.
He slept with Janice. Jane shared the bed. Jane bludgeoned/Jane shot-gunned/Jane bled.
Retire me. I’m stretched thin. It hurts to sleep. My hate life’s a mess.
He worked with Wayne Senior. They haggled business points. Wayne Senior talked Image.
Shitfire—looks count. Screw hate tracts—I know Dick Nixon.
Wayne Senior talked Image. Wayne Senior talked change. Wayne Senior did not talk BLACK RABBIT. Wayne Senior performed. Wayne Senior delivered.
He saw Nixon. He passed the word. He said Dick will run. He said Dick wants that sitdown. He said Dick wants your cash.
Littell called Drac. Drac agreed. Drac said he’d pay that percentage. Littell called the Boys. The Boys whooped and crowed.
Dick likes money. Dick will grant “favors.” Wayne Senior says so. He’ll run. He’ll gain ground. He’ll win primaries. He’ll get the nomination. He’ll meet with Littell.
Retire me. I’m stretched thin. I hate Wayne Senior. I hate Tricky Dick. I love Bobby. I love Bobby’s kid.
He passed through D.C. He met Paul Horvitz. He culled Jane’s file. He retyped her notes. He snitched second-line mobsters to Bobby.
He met Paul four times. He delivered four parcels. Paul was wowed. Paul cited Bobby. Bobby was very impressed. They held the data. They verified facts. They withheld disclosure.
Paul said our deal holds. We’ll hold your dirt—until late ’68. Paul said Bobby might run. LBJ might retire. Let’s await ’68.
He met Paul. He played southern poof. He deployed a fake beard and drawl. They talked politics. He weaved lies. He described his life in Mississippi.
School in De Kalb. Liberal values. Southern gentility. The Klan drove him out. He moved north. Displaced aristocracy.
Paul heard his tales. Paul endured dinner dates. He’s lonely. He’s old. He loves Bobby.
Retire me. I’m stretched thin. I indulge fantasies.
He traveled. He worked. He tithed the SCLC. He ran tail checks. He caught tails. He diversionaried.
He calculated. He tail-scanned. He nailed the rotation: Spot tails/one day on/nine days off. He confirmed the nine to one ratio. He tail-checked accordingly.
Paranoia: valid and justified. Nine days free. One day restricted. Act accordingly.
Mr. Hoover never called. Ditto BLUE RABBIT. He did the bug jobs. Agents directed him. BLUE RABBIT disappeared. He got no pouches. He got no attaboys. He got no thank-yous. He got no welcome back. He got no tix to BLACK RABBIT.
It scared him. It said they’ve upscaled BLACK RABBIT. It said they’re doing bad things.
He met Bayard Rustin once a month. They had lunch in D.C. Bayard said he almost got blackmailed—child, what a scene!
Bayard ran it down. Bayard described mirrors and mike plants. Bayard described a fruit squeeze. It felt like Freddy Otash. It could be Pete B.
Pete was bereft then. Barb had left him. Pete sulked accordingly. Littell tracked the date Bayard gave him. Littell tracked probability.
He was bugging Mob spots then. He braced Freddy T. Freddy declined work. Freddy had work. Freddy said Fred O. gigs me.
Don’t ask Pete. He might say yes. He might say I pulled that queer squeeze.
Retire me. I’m stretched thin. My friends frighten me.
He met Bayard. Bayard talked. Bayard said Martin scares me. He’s making plans. They’re his boldest yet. He’ll make more enemies.
Rent strikes/boycotts/poor people’s unions/poor people’s marches/poor people’s heresies.
Littell heard it. Littell remembered—it’s Lyle Holly’s prophecy.
Bayard was scared. Martin was crazed. Martin breathed enmity. His plans would shock. His plans would divide. His plans would stir enmity. His plans would trash his triumphs. His plans would spark backlash. His plans would build heresy.
Littell saw it:
It’s Martin Luther/1532. It’s Europe aflame. There’s the Pope. He’s Mr. Hoover. His old world’s aflame.
Retire me. I want to watch. I want to watch passively.
Jimmy Hoffa’s in jail. I’ll file his appeals. Retire me. I travel to excess. I country-hop. Please retire me.
He flew south. He hit Mexico City. He made four trips and met with Sam G. They talked colonization. Sam talked travel spree.
Sam toured Central America. Sam toured the Caribbean. Sam brought interpreters and money. Sam talked to dictators. Sam talked to puppet thugs. Sam talked to rebel fiends.
Sam did gruntwork. Sam did groundwork. Sam laid seeds. Sam said I love your cause. I support it and pledge fraternity. Here’s some money. There’ll be more. You’ll hear from me.
Sam spread seed money. Sam seeded all ideologies. Plant seeds—sow revolt and repression—casino ideology.
Retire me. I get airsick. Casino smoke sickens me. Retire Pete. He’s tired too. His work sickens me. I disapprove—I’ve got no right—it’s hypocrisy.
Pete sold dope. Pete ran his cab stand. Pete ran his hotel-casino. Pete had Cuba. Pete had Vietnam. Pete had two-front lunacy. Pete missed Vietnam. Pete missed Barb more. Barb made him stay home. Pete curtailed his lunacy.
Pete stayed home. Pete travel-spreed. Pete went to Barb’s turf. Pete went to smalltown Wisconsin.
Pete called him. Barb called him. He got two versions. Vegas to Sparta—Pete leaves expectant—Pete returns whipped.
Pete worked his scams. Pete praised the war. Pete indulged habits. Barb slung hash. Barb reviled the war. Barb eschewed habits.
Love as stasis. Two takes. His-and-hers.
Retire Pete. Upgrade Wayne—le fils de Pete.
Pete had nightmares. Pete described them. Betty Mac/the crossbars/the noose. Pete had real pictures. He didn’t. That made it worse.
There’s Jane Fentress—Arden Breen/Bruvick/Smith/Coates. She’s dead by knife/dead by cudgel/dead by steel sap.
The pictures varied. One soundtrack held in. Mr. Hoover’s letter—addressed to Dr. King.
“What a grim farce.” “One way out.” “A liability.”
Retire me. I’ll try to live idle. I might not succeed.
104
(Vietnam, Las Vegas, Los Angeles, Bay St. Louis, Cuban Waters. 11/4/67–12/3/67)
More:
Troop infusions. Troop movements. Troops dead.
More:
Bomb raids. Ground raids. Resistance.
Resistance in-country. Resistance at home. Resistance worldwide. The war was MORE. The biz was LESS. Wayne knew it.
Less:
Territory. Profit growth. Potential.
The kadre shared lab space. The Can Lao co-opted. Why do it? The Can Lao shipped to Europe. The kadre shipped to Vegas. Note the dichotomy.
The kadre did good biz. The Can Lao did great biz. Note the discrepancy. The war defined MORE. The biz defined LESS. Note the inconsistency.
Their turf was restricted. West Vegas was sapped. They had no growth room. Pete pouched Stanton. Pete pouched once a month. Pete said let us GROW.
Out of Vegas. Into L.A. Into Frisco.
We’ve got Tiger Kamp. We’
ve got poppy slaves. We’ve got dope fields boocoo. We can GROW. We can earn MORE. The Cause will GROW.
Stanton said no. Stanton insisted. Wayne read his tone. Said tone was hinky. Said tone was quasi-weird. Pete wants MORE. Stanton wants LESS. Note the entropy.
Wayne wanted MORE. Wayne rotated east. Wayne saw more incessant. More troops smoking weed. More troops popping pills. More troops scared incessant.
Big “H” killed fear. They’d find it. Wayne knew.
The war thrilled him. The war rocked. The war grew. The “Cause” bored him. The “Cause” vexed. The “Cause” entropied.
Log it: Cuban runs/forty-plus/no at-sea resistance. It was boring now. It was impotent. It was quasi-weird.
The Cause was flypaper. Pete was a fly. Pete was stuck on 1960. Laurent was a fly. Flash was a fly. They buzzed Cuba persistent.
They talked stale shit. They talked coups and Reds. They talked domino jive. Bob talked stale shit. Bob talked race and Reds. Bob talked domino jive.
Bob vibed hinky. Bob vibed it weeks running. Bob vibed quasi-weird. Bob vibed anxious. Bob vibed scared. Bob vibed jazzed.
Bob vibed stuck. Cuba is flypaper. Cuba is quicksand. Cuba is glue.
Vegas is quicksand. Barb knows it. Barb extricates. Pete knows it. Pete stays.
Pete hit Wayne. Wayne took it. Pete apologized. Pete was frayed. Barb was in exile. The biz was exiled.
Pete wants MORE. Pete’s frustrated. Stanton’s entrenched. Pete’s stuck. Pete’s impeded. Pete’s fuse might fry.
Pete and Barb cut a truce. Said truce was a travel ban—Vietnam nyet. Pete was stuck. Pete was truce-restricted. Pete talked truce overrides.
I’ll fly to Saigon. I’ll brace Stanton. I’ll demand MORE.
And Stanton will wink. And Stanton will smile. And Stanton will mollify.
The war was MORE. The biz was LESS. Wayne Senior was MORE plus. They were equals now. Friends of sorts. Friends with non-Pete dimensions.
Pete seeks MORE. Pete seeks more dope turf and money. Wayne Senior seeks MORE. Wayne Senior dumps his hate biz. Wayne Senior disdains more money. Pete finds frustration. Wayne Senior finds Dick Nixon.