THE CHAIRMAN: Did you ever play baseball?
MR. ROSENTHAL: I respectfully decline to answer the question, as I honestly believe my answer might tend to incriminate me.
MR. ADLERMAN: Mr. Rosenthal, were you formerly employed by Angel-Kaplan as a handicapper?
MR. ROSENTHAL: I respectfully decline to answer the question, as I honestly believe my answer might tend to incriminate me.
MR. ADLERMAN: Are you a professional gambler and layoff bettor?
MR. ROSENTHAL: I respectfully decline to answer the question, as I honestly believe my answer might tend to incriminate me.
MR. ADLERMAN: Do you know Fiore “Fi-Fi” Buccieri?
MR. ROSENTHAL: I decline to answer on the grounds that my answer may tend to incriminate me.
MR. ADLERMAN: Are you acquainted with Sam “Mooney” Giancana?
MR. ROSENTHAL: I decline to answer on the grounds that my answer may tend to incriminate me.
MR. ADLERMAN: Have you ever attempted to bribe any football players?
MR. ROSENTHAL: I decline to answer on the grounds that my answer may tend to incriminate me.
MR. ADLERMAN: Have you ever specifically tried to bribe any football players in the Oregon–Michigan games?
MR. ROSENTHAL: I decline to answer on the grounds that my answer may tend to incriminate me.
Lefty took the Fifth Amendment thirty-seven times.
Lefty went back to Florida, but the heat was on. Robert Kennedy had pushed a bill through Congress prohibiting the interstate transmission of any gambling information, making Lefty’s phone calls about team injuries, lineups, odds, and even weather conditions against the law and subjecting him to arrest.
In 1962, when the FBI’s long-awaited crackdown on gamblers arrived and J. Edgar Hoover personally announced the arrests of hundreds of gamblers and mobsters all around the country, Lefty was among those arrested. Over the next year he was routinely arrested for bookmaking, handicapping, traffic infractions, using profanity, disorderly conduct, loitering, and gambling.
The FBI planted two transmitters in his apartment. The court-authorized bugs, which were part of the Justice Department’s crackdown on illegal gambling and the mob, remained in Lefty’s apartment for a year and a day. (Lefty found out that he had been bugged only when Gil Beckley was indicted in a federal racketeering case and during the pretrial discovery motions one of Beckley’s lawyers spotted the FBI affidavits acknowledging the bug in Lefty’s house.)
Then the Florida State Racing Commission announced that Rosenthal’s license to own racehorses or even enter a racetrack, a jai alai fronton, or a dog track anywhere in the state was being revoked. Despite the advice from his friends, Rosenthal insisted upon petitioning the Racing Commission for a hearing—which succeeded only in causing more publicity, all of it bad, for himself.
Eventually all of the bookmaking charges against Lefty would be dismissed or dropped. In fact, every charge—aside from a Miami traffic infraction—was dismissed without trial, until 1962, when Rosenthal was indicted in North Carolina for attempting to bribe Ray Paprocky, a twenty-year-old NYU college basketball player from New York. Once again, his main accuser turned out to be David Budin, the same government informant who said he had been present at the alleged bribery attempt in Ann Arbor—an episode that Rosenthal had never even been indicted for. In fact, the only charges that were filed in the Ann Arbor bribery case were against Budin, for registering under a false name at the Dearborn Inn.
In the North Carolina case, however, Rosenthal’s lawyer, a local attorney familiar with the players and the court, told him that the North Carolina judge hearing the case had made it very clear that if Rosenthal insisted upon going to trial and was found guilty, he would be guaranteed a long prison term.
Lefty told his lawyers he didn’t want to plead guilty. The negotiations between the prosecutors and Lefty’s lawyers went on for more than a year. Finally, Lefty’s lawyers said the prosecutors and judge would accept a no-contest plea from Lefty. Lefty wouldn’t acknowledge the charge; he would simply not contest the accusations against him and accept the court’s verdict.
6
“You can’t imagine the relief I felt just to get away from those maniacs.”
BY 1967, FRANK Rosenthal’s fight with the state of Florida ended—and the state of Florida won. Western Union stopped providing Lefty’s Select Sports Service with the wire and—the crowning blow—the telephone company pulled their lines out of Lefty’s house.
“At first I went back home,” Rosenthal says. “I thought I could continue my betting back in Chicago. But I was wrong. I got to Chicago in time for the football season and I was doing okay, except it became clearer to me after every weekend that I should have been playing in Las Vegas instead of Chicago.
“I had a penthouse on Lake Shore Drive in Chicago and my beards in Las Vegas to make my plays for me, but I was getting frustrated.
“I’d ask my man in Vegas, ‘What have they got on a certain game?’ Meaning, what is the spread the Vegas bookmakers had on the game?
“My guy would check and call me back and he’d say, ‘Seven.’
“I’d say, ‘Take it.’
“Then he’d come back and say, ‘It’s now six and a half.’
“‘Jesus!’ I’d say, ‘Hurry up and get me the six and a half.’
“Two minutes later he’s back again.
“‘Now it’s six,’ he’d say.
“‘SIX!’
“‘What can I tell you, Frank? The line is moving.’
“This was going on week after week. Finally, I remember one weekend when I really liked the game. I eventually won the bet, but that was the day I decided that if I was going to make my living betting sports I couldn’t do it long-distance. I’d have to go to Las Vegas. Take all my stuff and move out there, where I could sit down and watch the number until I was ready to pounce.
“On the day I left, Tony was supposed to pick me up outside the Belmont Hotel, drive me out to Fiore’s farm to say good-bye, and take me to the plane. And of course, Tony was late.
“Buccieri had a summer home on Lake Geneva, Wisconsin. It was about an hour’s drive from Chicago. It was a huge place with horses and gardens and a rifle and skeet range where Fiore entertained on the weekend.
“When Tony finally arrived he was more than an hour late. Tony was always late. He was late for his own wedding. Honest. But to be late for Fiore was dumb, because Fiore hated to be kept waiting.
“Tony finally shows up with two pals. One of them is in jail now. He was a really dangerous guy. A genuine tough guy. And I would have to say that he was about the meanest sonofabitch I ever did know. Ever. Ever. I’m talking about everybody I ever met.
“He hated me. Really hated me. With a passion. He hated everybody. He even hated Tony, but he was afraid of Tony. I don’t think Tony knew how much this guy hated him, but I did.
“Tony ran the guy ragged. ‘Do this! Do that!’ Tony would insult him. I saw the guy get so frustrated in a hotel room where Tony was berating him, screaming at him, poking him in the chest, that the guy started pounding his own head into the wall by his ears. I was there. I saw it. Tony just laughed.
“By the time we finally got to Fiore’s, there’s hardly any time for even a cup of coffee. I think Fiore had given up on us. He was out riding on his horse. He had to come back and get off so we could meet for a few minutes before I had to leave. Mostly, I think, he just wanted to say good-bye. We hugged and I got back in the car and we headed for the airport.
“Now I’m hot at Tony because he was so late. He screwed me up with Fiore, and now I was going to miss my goddamn flight out to Vegas. Fuck! There were very few direct flights to Vegas from Chicago back then.
“He doesn’t say anything, but he starts moving. We get on the freeway. First of all, as a driver, Tony was extremely good. That was one of his things. And by now, he’s going about ninety-something miles an hour. We’re in traffic. We’re in and out of cars. I’m sitting next to him an
d I’m terrified.
“He’s got the guys in the back and they’re terrified. And wouldn’t you know it, here come the sirens. The coppers.
“As soon as I heard the sirens I said, ‘God damn it! Now I’m really gonna blow my goddamn flight.’
“He’s calm as you can imagine. He chimes in, ‘You ain’t blowing shit. Just shut up!’
“The sirens are getting louder, but he doesn’t even slow down. And now there are two cop cars chasing us. And we’re racing. He stays ahead of the coppers for miles, skipping around cars, screeching tires, and all the time saying, ‘Don’t worry about it. You’ll make your plane. Don’t worry about it.’
“Finally, with the cops’ cars still coming up behind us, he shoots into the airport and pulls up right in front of my terminal. He tells one guy to hurry up and get my bags checked. Then he tells the other guy to go up and hold the gate.
“The first guy jumped out of the car and went to the head of the line with my bags, and when the clerk said something to him, he said something back and the clerk backed down. Tony’s other guy ran ahead to the gate and got them to hold it open for me.
“When I finally got on board and took off, you can’t imagine the relief I felt just to get away from those maniacs.”
Lefty was on his way to Las Vegas, and so was his rap sheet. The Chicago Crime Commission was preparing to alert the Las Vegas police that Frank “Lefty” Rosenthal, a thirty-eight-year-old outfit bookmaker, handicapper, and layoff man, was about to arrive. The Crime Commission would routinely send the résumés of outfit members and their associates to Las Vegas as part of an unofficial intelligence-sharing program that had been going on for years. The Las Vegas police were informed that Lefty Rosenthal had at least a dozen gambling arrests and no convictions, had pleaded no contest in 1961 to the attempted bribery of a college basketball player in North Carolina, and had taken the Fifth Amendment thirty-seven times before a congressional subcommittee looking into connections between gambling and the mob.
“I’m not in Las Vegas a week before there’s a knock on the door,” Rosenthal says. “I remember I had the flu. It was the coppers.
“I let them in. ‘What can I do for you?’
“‘You’re under arrest.’
“‘What for?’
“‘Burglary,’ they say.
“‘That’s nuts!’ I say. I’m genuinely amazed. I know I haven’t done anything.
“‘Don’t get wise with us,’ they say, and they cuff me. They walk me out of the hotel right through the lobby, and they take me over to Metro Police headquarters and into Gene Clark’s office.
“Clark was sitting there. Chief of detectives. Real cold. A big strong guy. He said, ‘You know, you don’t appear to be as tough as your reputation.’
“‘Mr. Clark,’ I said, ‘I agree.’
“‘I’m not looking for your sarcasm,’ he says.
“‘I’m not offering any sarcasm,’ I say.
“I see him nod to the detectives who brought me there and they leave the room. Now I’m in there alone and I’ve got my hands cuffed.
“‘I want you out of this town by midnight tonight, and don’t come back,’ he says. ‘We don’t want your type around here. Do you understand me?’
“‘I think I do,’ I say.
“‘So when are you leaving?’
“‘I don’t know,’ I say.
“With that he gets up from his desk and comes around behind me, and suddenly he grabs me by my throat and he starts squeezing. He squeezes so tight that I began to lose my breath. I got dizzy. I could feel I was going to faint. Then he released me.
“‘You got the message, Lefty,’ he says. He called me Lefty. ‘Be out of here by midnight, because there are a lot of holes out there in the desert and you don’t want to fill one of them.’
“When they let me go, I called Dean Shandell, a friend of mine, at Caesars. He was a pretty big guy. Knew his way around. A top guy. I knew he was tight with the sheriff. I told him the story. He told me to meet him at the Galleria. It’s now about eight or nine at night. I went to the lounge and we started to talk. I asked him: ‘What’s going on out here? Why did I get arrested for burglary in my own room?’
“At that moment we looked up and who should come in the place but Chief of Detectives Gene Clark and the two detectives who picked me up earlier.
“‘You don’t have a good memory, do you?’ he says. ‘The last plane out of here is about to leave.’
“Dean got up and said, ‘Why don’t you leave him alone?’
“‘Mind your own business,’ Clark tells Dean. ‘This is from the sheriff.’ And with that he arrests me again. After a night in the can, I was put on a plane for Chicago the next morning.
“After a few days calling around, I made arrangements to return. The sheriff told Dean they hassled me only because I had such a hot profile. The FBI and the Chicago cops said I had all kinds of affiliations, but at that point, the truth was, I was strictly freelance. So I went back.
“I moved into the Tropicana Hotel. I was spending all my time in the hotel room reading the newspapers. Or I’m over at the Rose Bowl Sports Book with Elliott Price. It was down the street from Caesars, and it was a betting and booking operation. I was running my bets out of the Rose Bowl. Then at night I’d go to the Galleria, at Caesars, and hang around with guys like Toledo Blacky, Hunchback Bobby, Jimmy Caselli, and Bobby Martin.
“I was doing well on Sundays. It was a great season. Monday was always a special day. Monday night was the ultimate. At that time my focus was keen. I was betting against the biggest bookmakers in the country and I was way ahead.
“That season, I won every game of Monday-night football, except one. After a while, the fun was in watching the line change and knowing it was because of me.
“I’d see the game open at six. Nice and stable. No secrets. The game shouldn’t go below five or above seven. One point either way. But back then, when I was moving, I was able to move the spread on a game by as much as three points.
“I’d go home to watch each game. I’d turn off the phone. If I had a big wager on a game, I never watched with anyone. I watched it all by myself. I was too involved. I didn’t want to be distracted.
“Meanwhile, I’d met Geri. She was a dancer at the Tropicana. She was the most beautiful girl I ever saw. She was tall. Statuesque. Great posture. And everyone who met her liked her in five minutes. The girl had fantastic charm. No matter where we went, people would turn around and look at her. She was that striking.
“When I met her, she was also a chip hustler. She was a working girl. She had a couple of guys who she went with, and she made about five hundred thousand dollars a year.
“I used to meet her after work, but the more I used to go out with her, the more I saw in her. I realized that I was changing my attitude toward her one night when I went over to see her dance at the Trop. When she came out I saw that she was dancing topless. Suddenly, it bothered me. I walked out. Later I told her that I saw her but that I had to leave before the end of the show.
“She didn’t give it much thought. She just thought I was busy. I don’t think it even dawned on Geri that I was beginning to feel differently about her.
“She used to dance and finish up whatever hustles she had for the night, and then she’d meet me at Caesars. One night she said she had an appointment at the Dunes and that she’d meet me later.
“I don’t know, but I just got curious. I wanted to see what she was up to. Who she was with. So I did what I had never done. I went over to the Dunes to see her in action.
“When I got there the place was hot. She was throwing pass after pass at the craps table, and the guy with her was stacking rack after rack. She must have pulled in sixty thousand dollars for the guy, judging by the racks of hundred-dollar chips he had in front of him. She looked up, and when she saw me, she gave me a dirty look. I knew, she didn’t like that I’d come by to see her. She rolled again and crapped out.
“
Meanwhile, she had made the guy a small fortune. Of course, every time she made a pass I noticed that she was snatching little black hundred-dollar chips off his pile and dropping them into her purse.
“When the guy was getting ready to cash in the roll, Geri looked at him and asked, ‘Where’s my end?’
“The guy looked at her purse and said, ‘You’ve already taken your end in there.’
“It’s understood, after a girl makes a run like that for you, you give her five, six, seven grand. Geri hadn’t picked up anything like that, even in hundred-dollar chips.
“‘I want my end,’ she said very loudly. The guy reaches for her purse. He’s gonna empty her purse right there in front of us. But before he can do that, Geri leans over and grabs his chip racks and tosses them into the air as high as she can.
“Suddenly, the whole casino is raining hundred-dollar black chips and twenty-five-dollar green chips. They’re falling and bouncing off the tables, people’s heads and shoulders, and rolling along the floor.
“Within seconds everybody in the casino is diving for chips. I mean players, dealers, pit bosses, security guards—everybody’s fishing for the guy’s chips on the floor.
“The guy she was with is screaming and scooping up as many as he can. The security guys and dealers are handing him six and pocketing three. It’s a wild scene.
“At that point I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s standing there like royalty. She and I are the only two people in the whole casino who aren’t on the floor. She looks over at me and I’m looking at her.
“‘You like that, huh?’ she says, and walks out the door. That’s when I realized I had fallen in love.”
7
“You’ve never been with anybody like me, have you?”
WHEN LEFTY MET her, Geri McGee had been hustling in Las Vegas for about eight years. She owned her own house. She was raising an eleven-year-old daughter, Robin Marmor, whose father was Geri’s high school sweetheart, Lenny Marmor. She supported her ailing mother, Alice, and her sister, Barbara, who had been abandoned with two young sons by her husband. Occasionally Lenny Marmor would visit Geri and their daughter for two or three days, usually to borrow money for a surefire business deal. Occasionally Geri’s father, Roy McGee, a California auto mechanic, long separated from her mother, would visit.
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