Casino

by Nicholas Pileggi

  “We’re walking around inside and I say, ‘I hear a noise,’ and he’s saying it’s nothing. I looked out the living room toward the pool and I closed the blinds. We’re walking together and we’re coming out of the little den area and I pulled the stick out and popped him two times in the back of his head.

  “He turns around and looks at me. ‘What are you doing?’ he says. He takes off through the kitchen toward the garage.

  “I actually looked at the gun, like, ‘What the fuck have I got? Blanks in there?’ So I run after him and I empty the rest in his head. It’s like an explosion going off every time.

  “But he doesn’t go down. The fuck starts running. It’s like a comedy of errors. I’m chasing him around the house, and I’ve emptied the thing in his head.

  “I catch him in the garage. And as I catch him in the garage, he hits the garage door button, but I hit him before it goes down. I can see he’s getting weak. I drag him back into the kitchen.

  “I’ve got no more bullets. I’m thinking, what am I going to do with this guy? I grab an electric cord from the water cooler and I wrap it around his neck and it breaks. I was going to the sink to get a knife and finish this thing when Wayne walks in with more bullets.

  “Lisner is still gasping. He says, ‘My wife knows you’re here.’

  “I emptied the gun into his head. In the eyes. And then he just went down, like he deflated, and I knew he was gone.

  “Now I wanted the house to be clean. I had blood all over the place. Blood was all over him. My worry was that I’d leave a print in the blood somewhere on his body or clothes.

  “I hadn’t worn any gloves because Lisner wasn’t dumb. He wouldn’t have let me in the door if he saw me wearing gloves. So I made sure I didn’t touch anything. The only thing I knew I touched was the wall, when I hit him near the watercooler. And there, right away, as soon as he went down, I wiped everything clean real fast.

  “But there was the danger of my prints on his body, so I grabbed him by the ankles and Wayne opened the sliding door, and I dragged him to the pool and slid him, legs first, into the water. He went in straight, like a board. Like he was swimming.

  “I knew by soaking him in the pool the blood would dissolve and any of my prints on the body would disappear. I looked down as he floated there and I saw the blood starting to come up.

  “Then Wayne and I looked through the house. I wanted to make sure the guy wasn’t recording my conversation with him in the house. I looked downstairs and Wayne went upstairs. I found his phone book and took it.

  “We got back to my place and I took a shower with kitchen cleaner to get rid of any blood trace. Then we got rid of our clothes. We cut them into shreds, put them in a bunch of bags, and drove out into the desert, depositing them all over the place.

  “Wayne took a taxi to the airport and went back to Chicago. I then drove by the Lisner house, but there was no activity. So I drove over to the My Place Lounge. As I was pulling up, Tony pulled up with Sammy Siegel.

  “I asked him if he had a minute.

  “We walked to the side.

  “I said, ‘It’s done.’

  “He said, ‘Done?’

  “I say, ‘I just took care of it.’

  “He said, ‘Did you get rid of everything?’

  “I said, ‘Yeah. I put ten into him and I threw him in the pool.’

  “He looked at me and said, ‘Fine. As of this day we’ll never talk about this again.’ We never did.”

  “I was driving Tony to a place about sixty miles out of town for dinner, because between his heart and my licensing problems we didn’t want to be seen together in town. All the way out he’s telling me about how he’s under constant surveillance and how he’s just trying to make a living and live a quiet life. All I can do is ‘yes-yes’ him. Tony wasn’t telling me all this because he wanted an argument. He didn’t seem to put together the fact that he might have been making enemies of various people with the fact they they would secretly pass the word around about what he was or wasn’t doing. I don’t think he understood, right or wrong, that when you’re as hot as he was, every cop in the state had your picture up on their bulletin boards. Later, his lawyers found that the federal strike force had pictures of Tony and his whole family, and friends, even their lawyers. The agents and prosecutors had Tony’s picture on a dart board and nasty comments written in under most of the snapshots. That’s what happens when you’re the target. There isn’t a cop in the state that doesn’t know who you are and isn’t looking to either put you in jail or shake you down.

  “When we got to the restaurant outside town, two of his guys were already waiting. They had taken a booth in the back.

  “We had just sat down when a guy comes over to the table. ‘Mr. Rosenthal,’ he says, ‘let me introduce myself to you. I’m the owner of this property. I’ve seen your picture in the paper and I wanted you to know we’re all rooting for you. How’s the service? I hope you enjoy your dinner.’

  “I told him everything was fine and thanked him, except I felt awful that he spotted me. Then, instead of going away, he turns to Tony. ‘And Mr. Spilotray’—he pronounced Tony’s name with an A—‘can I introduce myself to you?’

  “Tony stands up and puts his arm on the guy’s shoulder and sort of walks him about twenty feet away, just out of earshot.

  “I can see Tony’s shaking the guy’s hand and I’m watching the guy’s smiling face and then I see he goes white and turns around and walks into the kitchen.

  “When Tony sits down he’s all smiles.

  “‘What the hell did you tell that guy?’ I asked him.

  “‘Nothing,’ he says.

  “What happened was that Tony walked the guy away and said: ‘My name isn’t Spilotray, you motherfucker. You never saw me in your life. And Frank Rosenthal wasn’t here either. And if I hear you telling anything to anybody, this place is going to become a bowling alley and you’re gonna be in the fucking racks.’”

  Spilotro was wired, he was tailed, he was harassed, he was arrested, he was indicted. But he was never convicted. In his first five years in Las Vegas, there were more murders committed than in the previous twenty-five. He was indicted in the murder of a Caesars Palace box man named Red Kilm, but the case never got to trial. He was suspected of killing Barbara McNair’s husband, Rick Manzi, who was involved in a drug deal that went sour, but nothing ever came of it. Spilotro would walk into court waving and smiling, with his lawyer, Oscar Goodman, as the television cameras ground away. Says Frank Cullotta: “The more reporters Oscar saw, the further away he’d park his goddamn car so he’d have more time to be interviewed. Tony swore by Oscar. In all the years he was out there, he never spent more than a couple of hours in jail waiting for bail. When I’d warn him about Oscar, who as far as I was concerned was a publicity hound, Tony’d just nod and chew on his thumb. He used to chew on the cuticle of his right thumb. If you looked at it sometimes it was all raw and chewed away.

  “Later on, when Oscar got rich, Tony’d look up at the big brick building Oscar built on Fourth Street and say, ‘I built that building,’ Like he was proud of it. But I never understood why Tony liked Oscar so much. The guy was a lawyer. He made a fortune off Tony. I could never trust a man who wears a fake Rolex.”

  12

  “That’s one of the problems with marrying a ten, or even a nine.”

  AFTER TWO OR three years, Lefty’s marriage looked like a bad bet. Geri had given birth to a son, Steven, whom she adored; but she found the domestic life Lefty wanted her to live far too restrictive, especially since he refused to play by the rules he expected her to follow. Lefty was working day and night at the casino, and Geri began to suspect he was seeing other women. She told her sister she had found receipts for jewelry and presents in his pockets when she took his suits to the dry cleaners. When she accused him of fooling around, he told her she was crazy. He accused her of being drunk and taking too many pills.

  So Geri started going out. Sometimes s
he’d stay out all night. Sometimes she’d disappear for a weekend. On more than one occasion Lefty hired private detectives to track her down. He would turn up at her favorite bars and demand that she come home immediately. Finally he threatened to divorce her. He met with her in Oscar Goodman’s office and produced affidavits attesting to her addictions to alcohol and pills. He made it clear that her days of power and wealth were over and that she would lose custody of her son as well.

  “Geri didn’t want to lose everything,” her sister, Barbara Stokich, said, “but Lefty would only take her back if she agreed to have another child and make a greater effort at staying away from the pills and liquor. I know Geri didn’t want to have another child, but that was the only way she had to keep from getting thrown out on the street. She used to tell me he was a very powerful man. That he owned the judges and courts. That she wouldn’t stand a chance against him.

  “So she gave in and they had Stephanie in 1973, but that didn’t solve their problems. In fact, in many ways it made things worse, because Geri always resented being forced to have Stephanie. Steven was wonderful. He was a boy. Geri loved having a boy. But being forced to have a child and for that child to be a girl—a girl in competition with her daughter Robin—made Geri very upset. She could never warm to Stephanie. And I don’t think she ever forgave Frank for making her go through the second pregnancy.”

  “I knew things weren’t going all that well at home,” says Lefty, “but I didn’t know how bad they were for quite a while. Geri was still hard to figure. Some days she’d wake up happy, and other times you couldn’t be around her. Everything you said was a fight.

  “She didn’t like it when I got on her about her drinking, and she didn’t like it when I got on her about letting Steven, who was seven, beat up on Stephanie, who was only three.

  “Geri just adored Steven. She spoiled him rotten. He was her prize. A beautiful Gerber baby. She favored him over her daughter.

  “Also, Geri was very strong-minded. She didn’t give a damn what people said or saw. And the people who knew us both tried to keep what they knew to themselves.

  “For instance, I didn’t know the hypnotic powers Lenny Marmor still had over Geri long after I married her. I knew they had to remain in touch because of Robin, but I didn’t know that when Geri would go to Beverly Hills for a shopping trip with Allen Glick’s wife, Kathy, she’d meet Marmor there.

  “Geri and Kathy would take off in the Argent Lear once or twice a month. A limo would pick them up at the airport in Burbank, and they’d go to some store and start browsing. After a few minutes, Geri would just walk out. She wouldn’t even tell Kathy where she was going. She would just disappear and then, three or four hours later, she’d find Kathy somewhere, either at the airport or somewhere, and they’d fly back together. No explanation. No nothing.

  “Kathy Glick would tell her husband, but Allen, out of fear of getting involved or whatever, wouldn’t tell me. So I really didn’t know what was going on. Geri knew that no one was going to give her up, and she was right.

  “Two of my closest friends, Harry and Bibi Solomon, two of the straightest people I’ve ever met in my life, finally tipped me off. Occasionally they would go out with Geri if I was working. One night, I made a reservation for them at the Dunes Hotel. It was the top restaurant. Music. Dancing. Gourmet food.

  “Later, Harry came to me and said he had a confession to make. He was that kind of guy. He said, ‘I know you’re not going to forgive me, but I’m going to tell you anyway. I should have told you sooner. I’ve been busting ever since.’ I said, ‘Come on, Harry, get to the point.’

  “He said: ‘Let me tell you what happened. We were having dinner, and the music was playing. And a fellow came over to the table and asked Geri to dance, and I told the guy to hit the road. I said to her, ‘What are you, crazy?’ She said, ‘Mind your own business,’ and she gets up from her chair and walks over to the table where this guy was sitting and she says, ‘I’ll accept that dance.’

  “Harry went bananas. He didn’t know what to do. He asked for the check. When Geri finished the dance, Harry said, ‘Geri, I’m not going to tell Frank about this. I will never be at your table again without Frank being present.’ Geri didn’t care. She thought they were nuts.

  “Geri had always lived her own life. She didn’t want to change. Looking back, I think the only real reason she stayed with Lenny Marmor all those years—and remember, this is a guy who never even sent her a birthday card—was that Lenny never tried to stop her from doing anything she wanted to do.

  “That was his power over her. He didn’t care what she did—as long as she made money. And I think Geri preferred that to somebody like myself who was always after her about this and that and the other thing.

  “When Geri was hustling out here, Lenny didn’t say, ‘Stop! I love you. I don’t want you doing that anymore.’ No sir. Lenny let her do whatever she wanted. He didn’t care. Drink? Sure. Take pills? Okay. Lenny never told her not to do anything, because she was making money.

  “Then I come along, and probably for the first time in her life, there’s a guy laying down rules. Well, Geri never took to anybody’s rules but her own.”

  “Geri was a stoned gypsy rat,” Tommy Scalfaro, who worked as Lefty’s driver, said. “Her attitude depended upon her drug supply. When she took Percodan, she was friendly and warm. She’d want to give you money. She couldn’t do too much. She had the kids all dressed and looking good.

  “When she ran out of Percodan, she was mean. It was ‘motherfucker’ this and ‘motherfucker’ that. She’d start arguments with Lefty. It could really get ugly.

  “She’d scream that Lefty was fucking this one or that one, and she was going to go out and do it too. ‘I saw you with Donna,’ she’d yell. ‘I saw you rubbing asses with Mary,’ she’d say. ‘You keep that up and I’m going to go out and do some of that too.’

  “Who the hell knew what she was doing? Lefty wasn’t home all that much anyway. He was running the casinos and trying to stay ahead of the control board over his licensing. He was very fastidious. Everything had to be perfect. He was obsessed with getting his jackets and suits to fit perfectly. Once a week he would go back to his tailor and the guy would cringe. Lefty was always bothering him about a quarter of an inch or an eighth of an inch on his left side. Lefty adjusted his collar, sleeves, cuffs all day long.

  “He had more suits than you can imagine. He had a closet thirty feet long and it was lined with suits. Then he had slacks and shirts and sweaters, and every one of them had to be perfect.

  “And here he was married to a pill freak. He had a Percodan prescription for his ulcer, and she would send me to the pharmacy to get it refilled every two weeks. But he hardly ever touched them.

  “When I first met Geri I could see she was going to be trouble. She kept referring to Lefty as ‘Mr. R.’ and started asking me questions. I could sense that she was getting me prepped to run her errands. In fact, right off the bat, she started suggesting that I go to Burger King and get her kids hamburgers. Pick up her dry cleaning. She’d not only send you on errands, but she’d try to belittle you in the way she’d give you your orders.

  “If I hadn’t put my foot down, she would’ve had me running all over town. I beefed to Lefty and she hated me from then on, but I didn’t give a fuck.

  “Geri would go to the malls. She’d go to California and shop. The maid and the maid’s daughter raised the kids.

  “Lefty spent all his time at the casino or meeting with people from the casino. A couple of times I had to pick him up at three in the morning and drive him to a 7-Eleven, where he’d meet with people from Chicago.

  “He’d still be in his pajamas, and he’d jump out of our car and jump into the other guy’s car. I didn’t want to look too close, but sometimes it looked like Lefty was giving the orders, and sometimes it looked like he was taking them.”

  “About a year after Allen Glick took over the corporation he had a party at his place in
La Jolla,” Lefty said, “and Geri and I went. There were about three hundred or four hundred people there.

  “He had six Learjets taking people from Vegas to San Diego. This from a guy who had to borrow seven thousand dollars in pocket money from me when he first took over the company and the checks hadn’t come through. He paid me right back, by the way.

  “For the party, he gave me the use of two jets just for my friends.

  “When we got there, it turned out Glick had me sitting next to him, and Geri was on my other side.

  “On our way up there I had told Geri: ‘No fucking drinking.’ We had been jamming about her drinking problem for a while, but I didn’t know what I was up against.

  “At that point in my life I didn’t drink, really. I didn’t know that it was something some people couldn’t control. I didn’t know about uppers and downers. I was really very naive. I was a square. But I insisted we go to the party and she not have one drink. No booze. ‘This is business,’ I said. Oh yeah, oh yeah.

  “So the party starts, and here comes a waiter with a tray and Dom Pérignon champagne, and she takes a glass. I say to myself, ‘You bitch.’ There are three hundred people there. I don’t want her to get loaded and make a scene.

  “She drinks the glass down. I’m looking at her, but she doesn’t say shit to me. She doesn’t acknowledge I’m even looking at her.

  “Someone asks her to dance. She got up and danced. Then I saw the drink hit her. No one else could see it, but I knew her so well I could see the drink bang in.

  “After the dance, she comes and sits down, and the waiter comes around again with the tray and she nods. The waiter puts a glass of champagne in front of her.

  “I whisper to her: ‘Listen, bitch, you put your lips to that glass, I’ll knock you off that chair.’

  “She looks at me and says, ‘You don’t have the guts.’

  “‘Yes I do,’ I say.

  “Now, I notice that Glick is looking at me, but he can’t hear what we’re talking about. I said to her, ‘I don’t care how much of an embarrassment it causes, and I don’t care if it costs me my job, but if you put that glass to your lips, you’re going off that chair.’