Casino

by Nicholas Pileggi

  GARMISA: She told me she checked in under Mrs. Barbara Russel, but some way they put it under her husband’s name. Your people probably tried to reach her and probably couldn’t reach her under Barbara Russel, it was under Dale Russel.

  SPILOTRO: Under Dale Russel?

  GARMISA: And it was under her name, it was for three stinking nights, it don’t mean, I’ll send her something. I swear to God, Tony, I love ya, it’s kind of you to call, but don’t worry about it. I told that to JP [Joey “the Clown” Lombardo], but …

  SPILOTRO: Yeah, but that’s not the idea, Lenny. When Joey says he’d like something done, it’s done.

  GARMISA: I know.

  SPILOTRO: Now, if they go there under Dale Russel, then we can’t find her.

  GARMISA: I didn’t know it either. So you know I just found out two seconds ago. So don’t worry about it, all right?

  SPILOTRO: … I want you to call Joey, and I want you to …

  GARMISA: I’ll call Joey.

  SPILOTRO: He’s home right now.

  GARMISA: I’ll explain to him right this second.

  SPILOTRO: In the meantime, I’m gonna double check it. But I could sure see what happened here.

  GARMISA: Just not, just found it out …

  SPILOTRO: Okay, Lenny.

  GARMISA: … on the other phone. I got to go. Thanks, Tony.

  SPILOTRO: Good enough.

  GARMISA: Okay.

  SPILOTRO: Bye, bye.

  The FBI recorded over eight thousand conversations on 278 reels of tape in seventy-nine days in the spring of 1978, and most of it was as mundane as the conversation over Gregory Peck’s secretary. Nonetheless, in June, the bureau launched a massive raid in which over fifty agents served everyone from Spilotro to Allen Glick with search warrants. The warrants, which were served in Chicago and Las Vegas, allowed agents to seize cash, filing cabinets, weapons, tape recordings, and financial records, and all of this was itemized on the front pages of the Las Vegas papers, along with the customary sentences linking Spilotro to Rosenthal and the Stardust. But within months almost all of the seized materials were returned to their owners; the widely publicized raid turned out to be a bust. Spilotro was free to continue operating.

  18

  “The truth is that Allen R. Glick has never, nor will he ever, associate with anything other than what is lawful.”

  SOMETIMES THEY CALLED him Genius and sometimes they called him Baldy; whatever he was called, Allen Glick was a mistake, and the mob wanted him out. In the beginning, Glick had looked like the perfect mark, but he was turning out to be much more trouble than he was worth. For one thing, he was too attractive a target: the press loved to kick him, to poke fun at his inexperience, to mock his seriousness, to imply that there was something suspicious about his stewardship. For another thing, he was considerably more clever than anyone at the Teamsters’ pension fund had expected.

  In 1976, as part of a routine investigation of Glick’s petition to raise additional funds to repay his debenture holders, the American Stock Exchange discovered that Glick had lent $10 million in Argent money to some of his private corporate subsidiaries—with no schedule to pay the money back. Then, in 1977, the Securities and Exchange Commission disclosed that within a week of receiving the Teamster loan back in 1974, Glick had taken $317,500 from it and used it to remodel his home and pay off personal debts. The SEC charged Glick with using Argent “as his private source of funds in flagrant disregard of his fiduciary duty to Argent’s debenture holders.” According to the Wall Street Journal, Glick had paid himself more than $1 million for his management services and charged the amount against his debt to Argent, thus unilaterally reducing the amount he owed. The SEC also accused Glick of dissipating Argent funds on several unprofitable ventures, including a government building project in Austin, Texas.

  “Wunderkind Las Vegas casino owner Allen Glick” had become “beleaguered Las Vegas casino owner Allen Glick.” The SEC was suing Argent; the slot machine skimming scam was still under investigation; the Tamara Rand murder was unsolved. Three hundred thousand dollars had been advanced to an advertising agency for ads in a local newspaper called the Valley Times—and some of the ads had never appeared. Contributions had been given to political candidates—and they had publicly given them back.

  Glick’s problems were heightened by the fact that the Teamster empire was collapsing; he was a footnote in that collapse, but a highly entertaining one. Glick’s ongoing hubris was just begging for comeuppance. “The truth is that Allen R. Glick has never, nor will he ever, associate with anything other than what is lawful,” Allen R. Glick announced to the Wall Street Journal.

  One of the people who read the Wall Street Journal article on Glick’s loans to himself was Nick Civella, the Kansas City crime chief whom Glick had flown to meet four years earlier in the room with the lone lightbulb. Civella was furious that Glick had his hand in the till. It was hard enough stealing from a casino, without having the casino owner ahead of you in line. Civella would have called Glick himself to say so, but for one inconvenience: he was in jail, serving a short stint for making illegal bets on an interstate phone (his phone calls were monitored). But during a family prison visit with his brother Carl “Corky” Civella, Civella passed the word that something had to be done about Glick. So Carl Civella and his top lieutenant, Carl “Toughy” DeLuna, began a series of trips to Chicago to meet with the other mobsters who were partners in Argent with the Kansas City group. The plan was either to force Glick out or to force him to buy out the mob for millions of dollars in cash.

  The point man on this plan was Toughy DeLuna. DeLuna was an armed robber and hit man, but he had the soul of a bookkeeper: he kept meticulous notes of his travels and itemized all his expenses on three-by-five index cards and in notebooks. The names of the people were in code, but they were easily decipherable. Allen Glick was called Genius. Lefty Rosenthal was called Crazy—which DeLuna misspelled as “Craze.” Joe Agosto of the Tropicana was Caesar—misspelled “Ceasar.”

  In late 1977, DeLuna and Carl Civella flew to Chicago to meet with the boss, Joe Aiuppa, and the underboss, Turk Torello. “Talk was of Genius taking the place for himself,” DeLuna wrote on his index card, thus documenting the mob’s first attempt to get rid of Allen Glick by having him buy them out. The proposal was actually made to Glick by Lefty Rosenthal, as Glick testified years later.

  Q:

  Let me ask you this, Mr. Glick, did you and Frank Rosenthal ever have any discussions concerning Frank Rosenthal by the Argent Corporation?

  A:

  Yes, we did.

  Q:

  And approximately when did those discussions take place, if you recall?

  A:

  Sometime I believe in 1977.

  Q:

  And what was the nature of those discussions?

  A:

  Mr. Rosenthal came to my office one afternoon and informed me that he had the consent of the partners to propose a buyout, a buyout of the partners. And he outlined what he had in mind that he thought would be acceptable to the partners.

  Q:

  And what were those terms?

  A:

  He told me that he felt approximately $10 million in cash payments should be offered to the partners in order to regain their 50 percent ownership.

  Q:

  … Who, if anyone had been identified, was acting in a representative capacity of these alleged partners?

  A:

  Mr. DeLuna, Carl DeLuna. As we stated, Mr. Rosenthal. Mr. Thomas…. I would say, Mr. Dorfman….

  Q:

  Did you give serious consideration to that proposal, Mr. Glick, to purchase the Argent Corporation from the partners, the alleged partners, for $10 million.

  A:

  … I gave serious intentions as far as Mr. Rosenthal was concerned. As far as the concept in what he proposed to me, I didn’t give it serious consideration.

  Q:

  Did Frank Rosenthal take those suggestions s
eriously?

  A:

  I would just like to add to what I said. I took it serious because it came from Mr. Rosenthal. I didn’t take it serious as it was either a feasible or plausible thing to do. But yes, he did take it very serious.

  Q:

  How did you become aware that Frank Rosenthal took those discussions seriously with you?

  A:

  Sometime after that particular discussion, he came back to me and he said that on behalf of the people he represented—and he used the word “partners”—that was an acceptable proposal.

  Q:

  And what did you say to Mr. Rosenthal?

  A:

  I told him that there was no possible way that something like that could be transacted. I was not interested nor would I allow myself to be involved in anything of that nature, because what he was talking about is $10 million in cash, nonreportable income. I said that it was not something that I would want to be involved in. He said that he represented to the partners that I okayed and sanctioned his representation of an affirmed act in regards to this buyout as he termed it. I didn’t know what to think, because as far as I was concerned Mr. Rosenthal was a pathological liar, psychotic, and I just dealt with him on a daily basis keeping those definitions in mind as to what type of person he was.

  Q:

  And how did Mr. Rosenthal react to your refusal then to go along with this $10 million buyout?

  A:

  He was very upset, and he said that the partners would certainly be hostile to his negative response for me. Once again, the threats surrounded all of the sentences, as far as his descriptions to me of what actions the partners would take. That I did consider serious even though he was a pathological liar in other areas….

  Q:

  In the original concept, as you and Mr. Rosenthal discussed it, what role, if any, did Frank Rosenthal envision for himself?

  A:

  … That he would be the chief executive officer, and that he would want to run the company as, in fact, president of the new company.

  Q:

  And would he have any other ownership?

  A:

  Yes. He would have a fifty percent ownership interest….

  Allen Glick went on behaving as if he believed he had some power in his own corporation. Rosenthal tried to force him to sell the Lido Show to Joe Agosto at the Tropicana, but Glick refused. As a result, Carl Civella and Carl DeLuna continued to fly to Chicago to plot against Glick, and DeLuna continued to write down everything that happened—unwittingly creating an incredible paper trail for the law enforcement agents who eventually uncovered it.

  In January 1978 they met with Frank Balistrieri, Joe Aiuppa, Jackie Cerone, and Turk Torello, who was being treated for stomach cancer. According to DeLuna’s notes: “Talk was entirely of replacing Genius. Craze [code for Frank Rosenthal] was supposed to be there but couldn’t come.” On April 10, he met again with Aiuppa, Cerone, Torello, and Tony Spilotro, who was apparently in the neighborhood and dropped by. According to those notes: “Talk was of who should see Genius. It was decided to be me.” On April 19, DeLuna returned to Chicago with Carl Civella to meet with Aiuppa, Cerone, and Frank Rosenthal: “The talk again was of me going to see Genius. (We had talked of it ten days ago. Note card of 4-10.) Craze gave me his home number. He and I agreed that our first meet would be at the avocatto’s [lawyer Oscar Goodman’s office] and we made a tentative appointment for next week. 22 [Joe Aiuppa] suggested waiting since ON’s [Nick Civella’s] almost here [released from prison] but MM [Carl Civella] said he’d like for us to get it done before ON [Civella’s return]. So that’s why for Craze and I with Genius next week.” DeLuna meticulously noted his expenses for the trip: $180 out, $180 in, and $7 in parking fees, for a total of $387, leaving a cash-on-hand balance of $8,702.

  In late April, Carl DeLuna flew to Las Vegas and had a meeting that was the final chapter in the education of Allen Glick, as Glick later testified.

  Q:

  Mr. Glick, I want to direct your attention to on or about April 25, 1978 and ask you if you had an occasion to meet with Carl DeLuna?

  A:

  Yes I did.

  Q:

  Where did you meet Carl DeLuna?

  A:

  I met Mr. DeLuna in Mr. Oscar Goodman’s law office.

  Q:

  And who is Oscar Goodman?

  A:

  Oscar Goodman is a Las Vegas attorney.

  Q:

  Did you know Mr. Goodman prior to that?

  A:

  Yes. At one time he represented Argent Corporation.

  Q:

  And who was present on that date?

  A:

  It was myself, Mr. DeLuna and Mr. Rosenthal….

  Q:

  Did you see Mr. Goodman present that day?

  A:

  No I did not.

  Q:

  You entered that office, what did you observe?

  A:

  I entered the office and there was an entree room where Mr. Goodman’s secretary sat, and I went past Mr. Goodman’s secretary into Mr. Goodman’s personal office.

  Q:

  And when you entered that personal office, what did you observe?

  A:

  I entered Mr. Goodman’s office and behind Mr. Goodman’s desk with his feet up on the desk was Mr. DeLuna.

  Q:

  Tell the ladies and gentlemen of the jury what occurred in that office on April 25, 1978.

  A:

  I entered Mr. Goodman’s office. Mr. DeLuna, in a gruff voice, using graphic terms, told me to sit down. With that he pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket—he was wearing a three-piece suit, I believe—out of his vest pocket … and he looked down at the paper for a few seconds. Then he looked up at me and he informed me he was sent there to deliver one last final message to me from his partners. And he began reading the paper. Do you just want me to—

  Q:

  Describe as best you can recall what was said and done other than profanities.

  A:

  He said that he and his partners were finally sick of having to deal with me and having me around and that I could no longer be tolerated. He wanted me to know that everything he said would be the last time I would hear it from him or anyone else because there would be no other opportunity for me to hear it unless I abided by what he said. He informed me that it was their desire to have me sell Argent Corporation immediately and I was to announce that sale as soon as I left Mr. Goodman’s office that day after the meeting with Mr. DeLuna. He said that he realized that the threats that I received perhaps may not have been taken by me to be as serious as they were given to me. And he says that since I perhaps find my life expendable, he was certain I wouldn’t find my children’s life expendable. With that he looked down on his piece of paper and he gave me the names and ages of each one of my sons. And he said that if he did not hear within a short period of time that I announced the sale, that one by one he would have each of my sons murdered. With that he continued on with his general demeanor, which was vulgar and animalistic. And the meeting ended with me saying that I was willing to sell—which I was before that meeting—and that I would do it.

  Q:

  Did Mr. DeLuna indicate anything about his own personal expendability?

  A:

  Yes he did.

  Q:

  What did he say?

  A:

  He said that if I thought that for some reason I didn’t take him serious or for some reason he wouldn’t be around there would always be someone to replace him and there would always be someone to take the place of the partners when they left.

  Within days of his meeting with Carl DeLuna, Allen Glick went to the Nevada Gaming Commission and told them he was going to sell his interest in his casinos. But he made no public announcement; he wanted to wait until he could get a deal in place. He began a series of unsuccessful negotiations: at first he tried to sell his partners on an arrangement under which the
casinos would be leased from him; then he negotiated with several groups of would-be purchasers, many of them, he said, put together by Rosenthal. They included Allen Dorfman, Bobby Stella, and Gene Cimorelli, Argent executives loyal to Rosenthal, and the Doumani brothers.

  Meanwhile, in May, a murder occurred in Kansas City that had no connection whatsoever with the casino business. For several years the Civella family had been at war with another local crime family over control of some topless bars in a new Kansas City development. In November 1973, Nick Spero, a member of the other crime family, had been found shot to death and stuffed in the trunk of his car; now, in May 1978, his brothers Carl, Mike, and Joe had been shot in a bar, and Mike had been killed. As a result, the Kansas City FBI had stepped up its telephone surveillance of the Civella family and had planted a bug in the back of Villa Capri, a local pizzeria.

  “We put the bug in there because we were looking for information on the murder,” retired FBI agent Bill Ouseley said. “Instead, at about ten thirty on the night of June 2, 1978, Carl DeLuna and Nick Civella’s brother Corky sat down in the back of this two-tabled sliced-pizza restaurant and they start talking about buying and selling Las Vegas casinos, and about ordering Allen Glick to sell his casinos. They talked about the various groups lined up to buy Glick’s casinos and how they wanted the group backed by their man—Joe Agosto at the Tropicana—to take over, and not a Chicago-mob-backed group that included Lefty Rosenthal, Bobby Stella, and Gene Cimorelli.”