Arnoldy, shotgun at the ready, heard a broadcast over his radio that he thought was the arrest signal. But due to the noise from the constantly running air conditioners, he couldn’t be sure. He hesitated for just a few seconds, then directed his team into action. When Davino and Matecki detected the lawmen approaching they scurried to the front of the building and possible escape. But when they looked down on Sahara, they saw a number of agents and officers on the sidewalk below them pointing weapons in their direction. Knowing the game was up, they surrendered without incident. A few seconds later Guardino’s head popped up through the hole in the roof and he was taken into custody.
At street level, other agents and cops were already busy apprehending the lookouts. Neumann and Cullotta were nabbed a short distance from Bertha’s. Agent Gary Magnesen and two Metro officers arrested Joe Blasko. In a 2004 interview, Magnesen recalled the incident.
“One of the Metro officers was in uniform and driving a black and white. Our plan was for the marked car to come up on the van from the rear with its lights flashing and headlights illuminating the van’s interior. Another detective, armed with a shotgun, and I with a pistol approached the van from the front and ordered the occupant out. Up until that point we thought it was Blasko inside, but we weren’t positive. In fact, some of the cops didn’t want to believe that their former colleague had really gone to the dark side. When Blasko got out, the cop recognized him and said, ‘Son of a bitch.’ This was the best joint operation I was part of while in the Bureau.”
No weapons were found on Blasko or any of the other arrestees.
When agents and officers entered the store, they found that the gang’s second hole in the roof had been accurate, located directly over the safe. Burglary tools were found nearby and several holes had been drilled into the safe in an effort to open it. Leo Guardino had been a busy man during his short time inside the building.
Joe Yablonsky and Kent Clifford held a press conference shortly after the arrests were made. They told reporters that Frank Cullotta, age 43, Joe Blasko, age 45, Leo Guardino, age 47, and Ernest Davino, age 34, all of Las Vegas, were in custody. Also arrested were Lawrence Neumann, age 53, of McHenry, Illinois, and Wayne Matecki, age 30, of Northridge, Illinois. The six men were charged with burglary, conspiracy to commit burglary, attempted grand larceny, and possession of burglary tools. They were all lodged in the Clark County Jail.
When reporters asked how the lawmen happened to be in the area at the time of the burglary, Yablonsky and Clifford weren’t very specific. They denied that the arrests were the result of an informant’s tip. But they did admit being aware that Bertha’s was scheduled to be hit on the Fourth of July. The story the reporters were given that night wasn’t exactly true, though. And there had really been seven gang members present at Bertha’s, not six.
What the reporters weren’t told was that Sal Romano, an expert at disabling alarm systems, was working as a part of the HITWG’s counter-surveillance team that night. Unbeknownst to the rest of the crew, two agents from the FBI’s Tucson office, Donn Sickles and Bill Christensen, had flipped Romano several months earlier. Based on information he provided, the lawmen knew virtually every detail of the gang’s plan well before July 4. When the signal was broadcast to arrest the burglars, Romano was immediately removed from the area and placed in the Witness Protection Program. His role in the Bertha’s operation wasn’t made public until several years later.
But the Outfit knew there had been a traitor and they didn’t like it. It wasn’t Romano individually; it was that he, Weasel Fratiano, and others were becoming snitches. A pattern seemed to be developing that made Chicago nervous. Once-trusted members and associates were making deals to save their own skins. Honor among thieves seemed to be rapidly becoming a thing of the past.
Prostitution
Sheriff McCarthy was making good on his promise to fight organized crime. Other issues, however, were giving him real headaches. One major problem that came to the forefront in late 1981 was the world’s oldest profession. Prostitution was illegal in Clark County.
The Valley Times ran an article on November 3 stating that the situation was so bad that tourists were unable to walk the Strip without being confronted by working girls. There had been 15,000 prostitution-related arrests so far in the year, with a scant 48 convictions. The girls tended to be aggressive and didn’t like to take no for an answer. They sometimes physically grabbed onto a male and tried to take him along with them. If he had a female companion with him, she’d be invited to either come and watch or join the action.
Sheriff McCarthy responded that he not only had insufficient personnel to mount the foot patrols necessary to deal with the problem, but that the laws were inadequate. The District Attorney said he couldn’t do much with bad arrests and weak cases. The judges argued that they were only able to impose sentences based on the laws currently on the books. Whatever the reasons, more aggressive enforcement was demanded. And that responsibility fell to Metro.
Although the public generally supported McCarthy’s efforts to combat organized crime, people seemed more concerned about prostitutes than the thieves and killers of the Spilotro gang. Why?
In the opinion of one retired detective, most of the violence related to Spilotro was gangster-on-gangster and didn’t have a visible impact on the average citizen, some of whom even found that the mob’s presence added intrigue and excitement to Las Vegas. Spilotro’s burglars targeted businesses or wealthy residents and tourists for the most part, again not involving a large segment of the overall population. But when a situation became more personal, attitudes changed; when a resident couldn’t take his visiting uncle on a tour of the Strip without being propositioned, well, that was just too much.
The former cop compared the public attitude toward organized crime to that of a farmer who has a rat-eating snake in his barn. “He may not like snakes, but as long as the reptile doesn’t pose a threat to him or his family and it helps to control the vermin population, he’s willing to let it go about its business.”
The prostitution problem became a major campaign issue the following year.
Cullotta Jailed Again
Frank Cullotta had been released from jail on bail following his arrest for the Bertha’s burglary. But in November he was back in the slammer for a previous caper. In this case, a woman’s home had been burglarized and her furniture stolen. The missing items were subsequently found in Cullotta’s residence. He was indicted for possession of stolen property. Due to already being free on bond from the Bertha’s arrest, the judge set a high bail. But the resourceful Cullotta was able to come up with the assets necessary to extricate himself from the crowbar hotel.
Spilotro’s Days Are Numbered
To close out the year for Sheriff McCarthy, his son Michael—already on probation for a drug conviction—was arrested for driving under the influence of alcohol or drugs following a traffic accident on Flamingo Road.
Meanwhile, events occurring in 1982 proved to be the turning point in the law’s fight against Tony Spilotro and his street-crime activities.
Left—Bugsy Siegel opened the Flamingo Hotel & Casino in 1946. This was the first Strip resort financed primarily with mob money (courtesy of UNLV Special Collections).
Below—Moe Dalitz (center) with Barbara Schick and Lee Majors 1979 (courtesy of UNLV Special Collections)
Above—Meeting of the Chicago Outfit, circa 1970s. From left to right (front row)—Anthony “Joe Batters” Accardo, Joseph “Black Joe” Amato, Joseph “Little Caesar” DiVarco, James “Turk” Torello; (back row)—Joseph “Doves” Aiuppa, Martin Accardo, Vincent Solano, Alfred Pilotto, Jackie Cerone, Joseph “The Clown” Lombardo (courtesy of Gene Smith).
Right—Allen Click, President of ARGENT Corp. which owned the mob-controlled Stardust and Fremont Hotel and Casinos, circa 1978 (courtesy of UNLV Special Collections).
Left—Tony Spilotro with his criminal defense attorney Oscar Goodman (courtesy of Gene Smith).
Left—Sheriff John McCarthy (courtesy of John McCarthy).
Below—John McCarthy was sworn in by Judge Paul Goldmann, 1979 (courtesy of John McCarthy).
Bottom—Sheriff John McCarthy inspects recruits, 1979 (courtesy of John McCarthy).
Top—Bertha’s Gifts & Home Furnishings, 896 East Sahara, 1981 (courtesy of Dennis N. Griffin).
Left—Herb Blitzstein, Tony Spilotro’s trusted lieutenant (courtesy of LVMPD).
Above—2004 prison photo of Lawerence Neumann (courtesy of Illinois Dept. of Corrections).
Left—Bertha’s burglars, July 4, 1981. From left to right: Ernest Davino, Lawrence Neumann, Wayne Matecki, Leo Guardino, Joe Blasko, and Frank Cullotta (courtesy of Gene Smith).
Top—Sgt. Gene Smith of the LVMPD, circa 1975 (courtesy of Gene Smith). Center—Spilotro’s associate Frank Cullotta (courtesy of LVMPD). Bottom—Clark County DA and Organized Crime Prosecutor Jim Erbeck (courtesy of Jim Erbeck).
Clockwise from top left—FBI Agents Dennis Arnoldy, Lynn Ferrin, Gary Magnesen, Charlie Parsons, and Emmet Michaels (all courtesy of subjects).
Left—Gene Smith received this autographed photo of Tony Spilotro anonymously (courtesy of Gene Smith).
Below—Tony Spilotro and Oscar Goodman, April 1, 1980 (courtesy of UNLV Special Collections).
Above—Tony Spilotro’s brothers. John Spilotro, left, moved to Las Vegas and assisted in operating the Gold Rush. Michael Spilotro, right, resided in Chicago and had criminal affiliations there. He was murdered with Tony in June 1986. (courtesy of LVMPD).
Left—Lefty Rosenthal’s car after getting bombed outside Tony Roma’s restaurant (courtesy of Mike Bunker).
Left to right: Special Agent Mark Kaspar, Tony Spilotro, Special Agent Dennis Arnoldy, and Supervisory Special Agent Charlie Parsons (courtesy of Las Vegas Review journal).
Above—Tony Spilotro’s 1 983 mug shots (courtesy of Gene Smith).
Left—Kent Clifford, Commander of the LVMPD Intelligence Bureau under Sheriff McCarthy (courtesy of Kent Clifford).
Below right—John Moran, Sheriff McCarthy’s undersheriff and political nemesis (courtesy of LVMPD).
Below left—TV reporter and newspaper columnist Ned Day was Tony Spilotro’s antagonist, circa late ’70s (courtesy of UNLV Special Collections).
Tru Hawkins, life-long Las Vegan and host of the “Tru Hawkins Show” on KDWN Radio (courtesy of Tru Hawkins).
10
1982
T he first quarter of the year began relatively calmly for Sheriff McCarthy, but things were brewing under the surface that would make for an exciting final eight months. An election battle loomed, which promised to turn nasty. There was more controversy involving the Intelligence Bureau and Commander Clifford’s tactics. And there was a major breakthrough in the Spilotro investigation.
John Moran Announces
In early April, John Moran formally announced that he was tossing his hat into the ring to challenge his former boss for the county’s top law-enforcement position. First though, he had to win in a primary contest against several other candidates.
Moran was 60 years old at the time and had been a cop in Las Vegas since 1948. He’d served as Chief of Police in the old Las Vegas Police Department from 1972 until the merger to form Metro in July 1973. As part of the consolidation agreement, Moran was installed as undersheriff to Ralph Lamb in the new department. Like John McCarthy, Moran was also a former Marine.
The apparent animosity between the two men, assuming both won their respective primaries, was bound to make for an entertaining election season.
Turning Point
On April 20, a jury convicted Frank Cullotta on the possession of stolen property charges from the previous November and he was sent back to jail. But this time, he faced the likelihood of being adjudicated a habitual criminal, for which he’d receive a possible sentence of life in prison.
Although his present incarceration had nothing to do with Bertha’s, Cullotta knew he was in big trouble over that case. The prosecutors had him and his fellow burglars by the short hair and they were all looking at some serious prison time. But it was worse for Cullotta. He’d been in charge of the Bertha’s gig and had bungled it badly. Why hadn’t he detected Romano’s treachery in time? Why hadn’t the law’s surveillance of Bertha’s been spotted? Romano had turned rat; how reliable would Cullotta be if the law turned up the heat? Tony Spilotro and the Chicago bosses were no doubt asking those questions.
Metro also liked Cullotta for the 1979 Jerry Lisner murder and attempted to interview him about that killing while he was locked up. He’d rebuffed them so far, but he knew what they wanted to talk about. The cops didn’t give up easily and kept the pressure on. And then the FBI arrived on the scene with new information that proved to be pivotal in the effort to attain Cullotta’s cooperation.
Even though he was keeping Metro at bay, having been around crime and criminals for most of his life, Frank Cullotta could sense when all was not well in his world. The fact that Spilotro had violated mob protocol and wasn’t taking care of him and his family spoke volumes. It was a bad sign indeed.
According to Gene Smith, “Frank and his girl had no money coming in and Tony wasn’t looking out for him. Frank told me later that he placed calls to Tony from jail and Tony wouldn’t come to the phone. Nancy would tell him that Tony wasn’t home. Frank saw the writing on the wall.”
Cullotta Rolls
On the afternoon of Friday April 30, FBI agent Charlie Parsons had a job to do before beginning his weekend. He contacted Cullotta’s lawyer—who also represented other organized-crime figures—and asked to meet him and his client at the jail. Parsons left his office at around 5 p.m. and drove to the meeting. He explained to the two men that he had obtained credible information that the Chicago Outfit had authorized a contract to have Cullotta killed.
“We had a policy that if we were aware someone’s life was in danger, we had to inform that person, regardless of who he was or what we thought of him,” Parsons explained. “I told them that it had been a long week and that I would be brief. I made my announcement and left. The threat was real, but my matter-of-fact delivery was intentional, designed to get Cullotta thinking.”
The strategy worked. Shortly after arriving at his office Monday morning, Parsons received a phone call. The caller said he was the man Parsons had talked with Friday afternoon. He wanted to meet again, this time without his lawyer.
For Tony Spilotro, things were about to start unraveling.
Frank Cullotta wanted to live, and preferably as a free man. In return for that chance, he was willing to talk. In just a few days, he had a new lawyer—one without mob connections—and an agreement with local and federal prosecutors. He would admit to various charges and serve a federal prison sentence determined by a judge and based on a recommendation from prosecutors. Any local charges that were not part of the plea arrangement would be dropped. After doing his time—which turned out to be eight years—he, his wife, and their daughter would be placed in the Witness Protection Program. To get that deal, Cullotta had to cooperate fully and honestly with law enforcement and testify in court proceedings as necessary.
Less than two weeks after Charlie Parsons had informed him of the contract on his life, Frank Cullotta was out of jail and his family was under law-enforcement protection. Still technically in the custody of Clark County, he was housed in various hotel and motel rooms around Las Vegas. For security purposes, the longest stay in any one place was two nights. Debriefing, which began immediately, was a joint effort by Metro and the FBI from the start.
“We worked hand in hand with the FBI,” Gene Smith said. “Frank remained in our custody for about a month before we formally turned him over to the feds. Metro was respon
sible for his security during that stage and we knew the bad guys wanted him dead. I told my men, tongue in cheek, that if Cullotta got killed, there had better be a number of dead cops around his body to keep it company.”
In addition to hotel rooms, Cullotta spent some of his time as Metro’s guest in a well-equipped motorhome the cops had obtained during a drug bust. “Frank liked to fish and we took him out to Lake Mead for a couple of days so he could do some fishing. He really enjoyed that,” Gene Smith recalled.
The lawmen treated Cullotta with respect and a bond soon developed between them. “He called me Lieutenant Gene,” Smith said. “He came to think of himself as part of the team. I remember he’d say to me in his Chicago accent, ‘We’re gonna get these guys, ain’t we?’
The Battle for Las Vegas: The Law vs. The Mob Page 14