Peter Bart's "Infamous Players: A Tale of Movies, the Mob (and Sex)"

He was a tall, silver-haired man, square-jawed with a military bearing, always impeccably attired in a dark blue suit. It was only a few weeks into my Paramount job when I came to understand that His visits were a daily occurrence, but did not linger or chat with anyone other than (Paramount head of production) Bob Evans, nor did anyone on staff ever refer to him or acknowledge his visits. Korshak was the ghost who was always there but never there.

Evans had talked earlier about him once or twice, always in a manner that betrayed not only respect but near-reverence. Sidney Korshak was not so much his personal attorney (he never paid him) or even his mentor as he was his consigliere. And when Korshak arrived for an Evans audience, all other plans would be set aside. Whoever happened to be in the reception room would have to wait until the big man had come and gone from Evans' sanctum sanctorum. And this procedure was replicated by other power players at other offices in town, as I was to learn.

Sidney Korshak, it seemed to me, was the man who knew everything -- the big corporate deals as well as the personal peccadilloes. It was some time before I also realized that Korshak was the man who knew too much.

It was Korshak's role in life to dwell simultaneously in two separate and distinct worlds which, in his grand design, would remain hermetically sealed against each other. There was his celebrity world -- he liked to drop names like Kirk Douglas or Dinah Shore or Debbie Reynolds, or to casually mention that he'd just had dinner with Sinatra in Las Vegas, or with Nancy and Ronnie Reagan in Beverly Hills. But he would never mention his other friends, like Tony Accardo or Sam Giancana from the Chicago mob or Jimmy Hoffa from the Teamsters or Moe Dalitz from Vegas.

Korshak would allude to the corporate deals he made on behalf of Lew Wasserman or Howard Hughes, but he never confided what he knew about Bugsy Siegel's murder or Hoffa's disappearance.

Korshak's life was built around a web of secrecy, and he was convinced that he would always be able to move effortlessly from one world to the next. It was only later in his life that he, too, found himself trapped. As the dangers in his nether life became more ominous, Korshak was unable to extricate himself from his underworld bonds. The celebrities would continue to decorate his life, like glitzy toys, but the bad boys would always be hovering out there with their furtive demands and threats. …

Over the years my relationship with Korshak remained distanced but cordial. He never directly asked anything from me nor subjected me to his power games. When his son, Harry, began to produce movies at Paramount -- I never figured out precisely how this deal came about -- Korshak said to me he would "appreciate it" if I were to "look out" for Harry and provide advice if he began to stray. But when young Harry's career did not go well, Korshak was the first to inform his son that he would do well to pursue other career possibilities.In observing Korshak's superbly surreptitious maneuverings over time, I began to accept a reality none of us wanted to openly address. Sidney Korshak was a gangster, albeit a very civil and well-groomed gangster. The bad boys had achieved major clout in the entertainment industry, and Korshak, despite all his secrecy, represented the embodiment of that clout.

Ironically, while Korshak yearned for the trappings of "respectability," his pals in Hollywood venerated him, not for his cool or his great wardrobe or even for his lawyering skills, but rather for his fabled underworld ties. …Bob Evans, for one, had always romanticized the lore of the gangster -- hence his lifelong ambition to make the movie about the mythic, mobster-owned Cotton Club, which ultimately came to haunt him. Charlie Bluhdorn,founder of Gulf + Western, which owned Par, had a longstanding flirtation with the shadow world out of fringe financiers in Europe and ended up doing deals that resulted in prison sentences for his partners and almost for himself. (Paramount president) Frank Yablans subscribed to mobster mythology to such a degree that he even agreed to play the role of an underworld thug in a movie titled "Mikey and Nicky." He was in rehearsal on the film before an apoplectic Bluhdorn vetoed his participation (even the often reckless Bluhdhorn realized the potential jeopardy to his corporate image).

Thanks to Peter Bart

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Sonny Franzese, 93 Year-Old Mobster, Sentenced to 8 Years in Prison

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Mafia Princess Challenges Coco Giancana to Take a DNA Test to Prove She's Granddaughter of Sam Giancana

The daughter of assassinated Chicago mob boss Sam Giancana is challenging a Las Vegas woman to take a DNA test to prove she's Giancana's granddaughter.

Antoinette "Mafia Princess" Giancana, one of the mobster's three daughters, said she does not believe the claim by Coco Giancana, who identified herself as a granddaughter during a Tony Curtis-related interview last week with Vegas Confidential.

"This has really been upsetting to me and my sisters," said Antoinette Giancana, who moved from Chicago to Las Vegas about 14 months ago to be involved in the Las Vegas Mob Experience at the Tropicana . She added, "We don't know her or of her. I'd like to have a DNA test done. I just don't believe it."

Coco Giancana, who operates a local concierge service, said, "I don't have to prove anything to anybody. If she doesn't like it, that's tough."

According to Coco Giancana, Sam Giancana had an affair with a woman from Oak Park, Ill., who was a film star. "They had a baby. That was my mother."

The mobster visited the family home more than 100 times, said Coco Giancana. "I know where my mother came from and I know who came to our house and I know where the checks came from."

Coco Giancana moved here about 20 years ago, she said, after a career as a top model in New York City for Wilhelmina modeling agency. She grew up across from Jilly Rizzo's joint in New York and was befriended by Rizzo and Sam Giancana's friend Frank Sinatra, "who would take us backstage when I was 16."

Sam Giancana was killed at his Chicago home in 1975 in what appeared to be a mob hit. He was 67.

"There are so many people who claim they are related to us," said Antoinette Giancana.

Coco Giancana said she kept her grandfather's name "because I'm proud of it." She added that she's never taken a DNA test to confirm her link to the organized crime chief.

Her father, whom she did not identify, was a partner with Arnie Morton, who founded Morton's steak restaurants empire. She wasn't shy about filling in the blanks in her biography. During her modeling days, she said she dated the Cincinnati Reds' Hall of Fame catcher Johnny Bench over a 10-year period starting in the 1970s.

Thanks to Norm!

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Al Capone and Frank Sinatra Classic Cars Head to Auction

During the annual Collectors’ Automobilia and Motorcars sale at the Quail Lodge Resort and Golf Club in Carmel, California, 14 classic cars that were once owned by Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Clark Gable, Al Capone and `Hopalong Cassidy' will be sold by Bonhams.

The cars that will be put up for auction on August 14 are a part of the collection of Sidney and Jenny Craig, owners of a famous American weight loss, weight management, and nutrition company.



From the highlights of the auction, Sinatra’s 1958 Cadillac Eldorado Brougham and Martin's 1962 Ghia L6.4 coupe are expected to fetch the most. Sinatra’s Brougham is estimated between $275,000 - $325,000, while Martin’s Ghia estimated at $185,000 - $225,000.

In fact, Martin was the second owner of the vehicle, as the Ghia was first owned by Gary Morton (Lucille Ball’s second husband). The car was later modified for Martin by the King of the Kustomizers, George Barris.

Other highlights of the show include:

• a 1933 Duesenberg Model J Torpedo Victoria Convertible, first owned by Hopalong Cassidy
• a 1931 Ford Model A Roadster featured in one of the Andy Hardy movies starring Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland
• a 1930 Cadillac 452 V-16 Sedan outfitted with 1/4-inch steel armor plating and five-ply bullet-resistant glass attributed to Al Capone’s Chicago mob
• a Mercedes-Benz 300SL Gullwing Coupe formerly owned by Clark Gable
• the Flajole Forerunner concept car
• a Cadillac V-12 Dual Cowl Phaeton
• a Bentley 3.5-liter Park Ward Drophead Coupe

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Photo of Robert De Niro Hanging Out on Movie Set with Real Mobsters

Robert De Niro is another "GoodFella" who has hung out with the Gambino crime family.

While making the 1999 film "Analyze This," about a neurotic gangster, De Niro consulted with the late Gambino soldier Anthony (Fat Andy) Ruggiano - and the Daily News has obtained a never-before-seen photo of the Oscar-winning actor with the big-time gangster in the actor's trailer.

The film may have been a comedy, but Ruggiano was no joke. Ruggiano, who died in March 1999, was inducted into the crime family when the boss was Albert Anastasia. He was involved in at least seven murders, including giving the approval to whack his son-in-law.

"He did a lot of work for the family," Ruggiano's turncoat son Anthony Jr. testified recently at the trial of a Gambino hit man. "Work" is mob jargon for gangland killings. "He killed somebody with a fellow named Joe," Anthony Ruggiano Jr. recalled. "He killed a florist in Brooklyn. He killed three people in a warehouse that was robbing crap games.

"He killed somebody with me . . . and they had this guy Irish Danny killed behind the Skyway Motel on Conduit Blvd."

De Niro, who is famous for scrupulously researching his roles, was introduced to Ruggiano by reputed Gambino associate Anthony Corozzo, a member of the Screen Actors Guild and an extra on "Analyze This," a knowledgeable source said.

Anthony Corozzo is the brother of high-ranking Gambinos Nicholas (Little Nick) Corozzo, a powerful capo, and reputed consigliere Joseph Corozzo. He also appeared in another film starring De Niro, "A Bronx Tale," and forgettable flicks "This Thing of Ours, "The Deli" and "Men Lie."

"Anthony is like a liaison with the acting community," the source said.

De Niro's rep, Stan Rosenfeld, said the movie was made a long time ago and the actor doesn't recall Ruggiano. "Bob seldom, if ever, discusses his research techniques," Rosenfeld said.

Attorney Joseph Corozzo Jr. denied his uncle brought Fat Andy to the set.

Jerry Capeci of the Web site Ganglandnews.com said it's no secret actors like to rub elbows with real tough guys, and the feeling is mutual. "Even Carlo Gambino, the epitome of the understated, low-key mob boss, couldn't resist the lure of posing in that now famous backstage picture with Frank Sinatra surrounded by a bunch of smiling wise guys," Capeci said.

During the filming of "GoodFellas," De Niro was interested in talking to the legendary gangster he was playing, but James (Jimmy the Gent) Burke was in jail and refused to meet with the actor, the source said.

De Niro is the latest alumnus from the film "GoodFellas" to have met with members of the Gambino family. Actor Frank Sivero posed for photos at Gambino hit man Charles Carneglia's junkyard, and actor Anthony Borgese was indicted last week for participating in an extortion with a Gambino soldier.

Thanks to John Marzulli.

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Mafia Names You Should Know and Remember

No conversation about the history of baseball is complete without mentioning the last names Ruth, Mantle and Bonds, just as no conversation about American politics is complete without saying the names Jefferson, Lincoln and Roosevelt. The Mafia is no different; it’s got its legends, its hall-of-famers, if you will. I know there are a lot of my readers who love to learn about the history of the Mafia. So, for those of you who love Mafia history, pay attention (and the rest of yous, shut your traps and just read the article). So here’s a history of Mafia names you should know and remember if you think you’re a true Mafioso.

Colombo
The Colombo family is one of the five families of New York. Before it was called the Colombo family, it was known as the Profaci family. The name changed in 1963 when Joseph Colombo became the capo. Joseph Colombo was unlike any capo before… or since. He didn’t shun the spotlight one bit. When the FBI began scrutinizing his activities, Colombo responded by calling it harassment against Italian-Americans. He even went so far as to organize the Italian-American Civil Rights League. His group began doing demonstrations such as picketing outside of the New York FBI building. He attracted the likes of government officials, as well as prominent entertainers like Frank Sinatra, to help his cause, and he received a lot of national attention. It was at one such Italian-American rally that Joe Colombo approached the podium and was shot three times in the head by a man named Jerome Johnson. A second gunman appeared and shot Johnson and disappeared into the crowd. To this day, nobody knows for sure who was really behind Colombo’s death. Many argue that is was Joey Gallo, a member of the Colombo family and critic of Joe Colombo’s. Others argue Carlo Gambino set it up.

"The Attorney General hates our guts. I think the President is behind it. I want to make the League the greatest organization in the country, the greatest organization in the world, so that people will be proud of us no matter what we do, where we are -- even if we are in prison."
- Joe Colombo

Gambino
Gambino is the name of one of the five crime families in La Cosa Nostra in New York. Gambino has become synonymous with Mafia life since the 1950s. At times, the Gambino family has been the most powerful of the five families of New York, and there was one man that made that happen: Carlo "Don Carlo" Gambino. To this day, the family still calls itself by the name of its greatest boss. Don Carlo ruled the outfit from 1957 to 1976, and eventually became the boss of bosses. During this time, his outfit was the most profitable it had ever been; he had at his command over 1,000 Soldatis and is said to have had rackets worth $500,000,000 per year. Gambino is most remembered for his ability to keep himself out of the press and out of jail -- he never spent a day behind bars.

“Judges, lawyers and politicians have a license to steal. We don’t need one.”
- Carlo Gambino

Capone
No list of famous gangsters would be complete without talking about Alphonse Gabriel "Al" Capone. He was known as “Scarface.” In his youth in New York, he insulted a sister of a Mafioso named Frank Gallucio. Capone apologized and said it was a misunderstanding, but Gallucio slashed him three times across the face, and that’s how he got his nickname. In 1921, Capone moved to Chicago and joined the Chicago Outfit. The rest is history, as they say. Capone became famous for the way that he completely took over the city of Chicago, including its police officers, judges and city officials. They were all on his payroll, and they all took orders from Capone. He lived in the Lexington Hotel, which the Chicagoans called Capone’s Castle. He didn’t need to shy away from the spotlight because he controlled just about everything in Chicago. Because of his power in Chicago, he caught the eye of the FBI. They called him a public enemy and began looking for ways to take him down. It was in 1931 that they got Capone for income-tax evasion, and Capone’s empire fell once and for all.

“This American system of ours -- call it Americanism, call it capitalism, call it what you will -- gives each and every one of us a great opportunity if we only seize it with both hands and make the most of it.”
- Al Capone

Luciano
Charles “Lucky” Luciano is one of the most famous and best-remembered of all gangsters. He is like the Joe DiMaggio of the Mafia. He got his name “Lucky” when he was kidnapped and attacked by three assassins in 1929; they beat him and stabbed him multiple times and left him to die on the beach in New York. He survived the ordeal, which is why they called him “lucky,” but he received the scar and droopy eye that he became famous for. What Luciano did from there is what makes him famous: he plotted to kill his capo, Joe Masseria, with Salvatore Maranzano on the condition that Maranzano make Luciano an equal capo when Masseria was gone. After he took out Masseria, Maranzano went back on his word; he declared himself the capo di tutti capi (the boss of bosses) and demanded payments from Luciano. Luciano tolerated this until he found out that Maranzano was plotting to whack him. When Luciano heard this, he sent his men to Maranzano’s office dressed as FBI agents, so they wouldn’t receive any resistance, and they mowed Maranzano and his closest men down, including the man that was supposed to assassinate Luciano. From this point on, Luciano ruled as the capo of the Genovese family. He is remembered by some to be the father of organized crime.

"I learned too late that you need just as good a brain to make a crooked million as an honest million.”
- Charles “Lucky” Luciano (born Salvatore Lucania)

Thanks to Mr. Mafioso

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Frank Sinatra Exhibit Planned for Mob Museum

Frank Sinatra's presence will loom large over the mob museum, if the project survives some political and economic hurdles.

Museum organizers have big plans for a Sinatra exhibit, if things go their way.

One of the featured pieces in the museum would be a rare self-portrait of Sinatra, which depicts him as a sad-faced clown.

It was quietly purchased in October 2007 from Peggy King, widow of Sinatra pal Sonny King, the Las Vegas lounge legend who died three years ago this week.

Peggy King is convinced the museum is the perfect home for the artwork. Christie's, the famed auction house, has been pestering her for several years, she said, "but I didn't want it in a private home, where the public wouldn't see it.

"This is what Sonny would have wanted, and it's what Frank would have wanted."

Sinatra, who was the godfather of King's daughter, gave the painting to King in 1964 after they completed filming "Robin and the 7 Hoods." King played one of Robin's hoods in the 1964 film, which featured Sinatra and his Rat Pack pals.

Sinatra painted the self-portrait seven years earlier, while filming "The Joker is Wild." He portrayed Joe E. Lewis, a successful Chicago nightclub entertainer who got crossways with the mob and was left for dead after having his face slashed and his vocal chords cut.

After recovering from his injuries, Lewis returns as a stand-up comedian who battles alcohol problems.

Sinatra, who had a lifelong affinity for clowns, wore clown costumes during the film.

King's widow has been selling 16-by-20-inch canvas-like reproductions, known as giclees, from the King estate. About 100 of the 300 remain, and one recently sold for $5,500 at a charity for a children's cause, she said.

Thanks to Norm Clarke

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Wayne Newton Talks About Past Mafia Allegations and Frank Sinatra

This year marks the fiftieth anniversary of Wayne Newton's first Las Vegas, Nevada performance.

A quick story about Sinatra. A contemporary of his, another singer, brought his new album to Frank one night and said, "Frank, when you get some time, I want you to listen and tell me what's wrong with it." Frank said, "I can tell you before I listen." Frank wouldn't hurt people by being mean-spirited, but if you ask him, be prepared for his answer. The guy said, "What?" And Frank said, "Some singers are connected between the throat and the heart, which is the way it should be. You're not connected anywhere." This was probably 1984 or so, and Frank had just had it with bullshit. Everybody reaches that point eventually.

In the late 1970s, I made a bid to buy the Aladdin. And someone started the rumor that I had the backing of the Mafia. Those were the days that if you had your picture taken with somebody who was undesirable in the gaming industry, then of course you were guilty by association. That wasn't a problem for me, 'cause I was a guy from Virginia, half Native American, half German and Irish, so my background totally precluded me having any involvement with the Mafia. I was sitting in my TV room when the first report came on NBC News. My mother left the room in tears. And I was livid. Your first thought is, Where did they come up with this crap? Over a period of nine months, there were three broadcasts. One rumor was that Wayne Newton was going to be the star witness against the Mafia in Rhode Island or Connecticut. So my life is in danger. All of a sudden I get a call from Frank Sinatra, and he said, "Kid, just keep your nose clean and let us see if we can find out what this is all about." About three weeks later, I get a call from an FBI agent, and he said, "Your name has been removed from the hit list, go home." It took me seven years, but I won that lawsuit against NBC. Frank never mentioned it again.

Another quick story about Frank. He was working a place in Philadelphia, and one night the place was packed and young girls were screaming. I would later work at the same place, and the owner told me that it was a rainy night and Frank was late. It was a two-story building, and he walked out onto the porch above the alley to see if Sinatra was on his way. He said, "Right then, I see Frank jump out of a cab and run like hell down the alley, and when he got a hundred feet from the stage door, he stopped, took off his coat, hung it over his shoulder, straightened his hat, and slowly walked in." Now that's a picture worth remembering.

Thanks to Mark Warren

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Mob Hits Part of "The Complete Quincy Jones: My Journey and Passions"

Whether they were No. 1 songs for Michael Jackson or murders by the mob, hits have helped define Quincy Jones' life.

His father was a master carpenter who couldn't find work during the Depression, so he did jobs for black mobsters who ran the South Side of Chicago.

''All I ever saw was tommy guns and stogies and two-way windows and piles of money in backrooms and dead bodies all over the street and [a black policeman named] Two-Gun Pete shooting teenagers in front of Walgreens and gangs on every street,'' Jones said in a recent interview.

The Grammy-winning artist talks about these stories in his new book, The Complete Quincy Jones: My Journey & Passions: Photos, Letters, Memories & More from Q’s Personal Collection.

Jones recalled when he and his friends broke into an armory because they'd heard there was meringue pie and ice cream inside. After they ate the ice cream and had a pie fight, Jones broke into a supervisor's room and found a piano.

'I went over and touched that piano, and that piano told me, `This is what you're going to be doing the rest of your life.' ''

Jones went on to produce music with everyone from Frank Sinatra to Michael Jackson. He produced Jackson's Thriller, one of the bestselling albums of all time.

Jones said he's sad that Jackson, who is reportedly suffering from a rare lung disorder, hasn't released any new music recently, but ``hopefully he'll figure it out, and he's probably coming to grips with a lot of things in himself.''

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Relive the Roarin' Twenties in Al Capone Style in Chicago Today

Massacres, trap doors and Chicago jazz. It’s the way Al Capone and his Chicago Outfit experienced Chicago in the 1920s. The rich, bloody mark that Chicago’s mob bosses left on the streets is still — sometimes begrudgingly — remembered by many. Recently, we took a trip to Chicago to discover where the old speakeasies used to be and where the St. Valentines Day Massacre occurred, grabbing a pizza along the way.

Room 21

Don’t be fooled by the ornate designs, this restaurant has a dirty history. At the peak of Capone’s business, this was his largest speakeasy and brewery in all of Chicago.

At first glance, Room 21 is simply an upscale American restaurant with a large bar and a wide-open patio. In one corner, however, lies one of Capone’s best-kept secrets. “There was the original foundation here,” Manager John Nowowiejski said, motioning to the corner at the end of the bar. “But when we were doing some work putting the plumbing in for the cappuccino maker, we found something. So Jerry Kleiner, the owner said ‘tear it all down’ and we found this passageway.”

The passageway, now lit with an incandescent red glow, narrowly follows the edge of the building. You can see the original brick on either side, claustrophobically coercing you up the stairs. And under the newly added stairs, the top corner of a door peeks out. Leading to the street, the door was probably one of Capone’s exits.

Another door existed at the top of the stairs. “At the end of the passageway, we found a door with the number 21 hanging on it,” Nowowiejski said. “And that’s how we got the name of the restaurant.”

“We actually don’t know much of what happened here,” Nowowiejski said, opening the door at the end of the hall. The inside has been radically changed to a room with classical artwork and a table overlooking the kitchen. “The unknown about it adds to the mystique.”

Not only did Room 21 house Capone’s largest brewery, it was one of his largest busts. Eliot Ness of the Untouchables, the Chicago police group designed to deal with the mafia, led his team into the speakeasy with a 10-ton truck and seized two hundred thousand gallons of alcohol.

Getting there: Take the red line to Cermak/Chinatown and turn left until you get to South Wabash. 2110 S. Wabash St.

Green Mill Cocktail Lounge

To see one of Al Capone’s favorite clubs, head over to the Green Mill Cocktail Lounge. His booth is the first one you see walking past the old jazz posters and decorative walls. And don’t expect a menu; everything served here comes in a glass, not on a plate.

“Al Capone was also a regular here,” owner Dave Jemilo said. “He would sit in a booth by the wall so he could see both doors. That’s what you do. There was a way people could come from behind and get him, but he had guards to check his back.”

And if Capone ever needed a quick escape route, he had his own way out. “There was a trap door for him behind the bar where he could escape if need be,” Jemilo said. “There was a series of tunnels and passageways that would lead outside. I’m the only one with the key, and I wouldn’t let you down there anyway.”

Jack “Machine Gun” McGurn, one of the men responsible for the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre, was a part owner of the club at one point. And when the headlining singer left for a rival club, McGurn took action himself.

“His favorite singer at the club was Joe E. Lewis, but Lewis was offered a better deal at Rendezvous Club,” Jemilo said. “McGurn told Lewis that he signed a deal for life at Green Mill, but Lewis quit anyways. So a week later, McGurn went to Lewis’s hotel and cut off his tongue and slit his vocal cords so he could never sing again. He almost died, but he eventually came back as a comedian and became a famous comic.”

Frank Sinatra later immortalized Joe E. Lewis in The Joker Is Wild, a movie detailing the whole fiasco.

Getting there: Located off the Lawrence stop on the Red Line in Uptown, the Green Mill Cocktail Lounge is the perfect place for a drink before or after a show at the Aragon. 4802 N. Broadway Ave.

Chicago Pizza and Oven Grinder Co.

The St. Valentine’s Day Massacre of 1929 was the turning point for the infamous Chicago Outfit. While Capone was enjoying a vacation in Florida, part of his south-side gang, two dressed up as police officers, allegedly lined up four of Bugs Moran’s north-side gang inside a garage. With Moran’s gang against the wall, Capone’s henchmen opened fire. Jack “Machine Gun” McGurn, part owner of the Green Mill Cocktail Lounge, was the purported leader of the shooting.

Across the street on the second floor of what was a boarding house, two other members of Capone’s gang kept watch. And today, on the first floor, is Chicago Pizza and Oven Grinder Co., a unique and original restaurant located in the middle of Lincoln Park.

You can still see where the massacre took place, but there is no garage left. “Mayor Daley tore down the garage and now it’s an empty lot,” Manager Cathy Gallanis said. “No plaque or anything about it. He didn’t want a reminder of what happened.”

As for the pizza here, it isn’t what you would normally expect, Gallanis said. It’s called pizza pot pie. “We take a ceramic bowl layered with our homemade dough and then add a layer of cheese. Then we ladle in our homemade sauce, with or without sausage, and throw in whole, fresh mushrooms. We put some white or wheat dough on top and cook it. Then at the table, we flip it over and that’s it.”

Recently featured on Rachael Ray, Chicago Pizza and Oven Grinder Co. will continue to serve its unusual cooking. “In a world of franchises, we try to be unique and original,” Gallanis said. “We’ve had the same menu since we opened in 1978.”

Getting there: Get off at the Armitage stop on the brown line and head east on Armitage Street then north on Clark Street to pay homage to one of the most violent events of the 1920s, and one of the most forgotten places too. 2121 N. Clark St.

Tommy Gun’s Garage

To literally relive the Prohibition era (the drinking side of it, not the dry), head south to Tommy Gun’s Garage. Owners Kris Adams and Sandy Mangen emulate the original speakeasies to a tee, not leaving out any details.

“We’re running an illegal speakeasy here,” Adams said. “There are no signs out front, and we have a doorman to check everyone who comes in. He wears gloves so he won’t leave any fingerprints and he will only let you in if you say the password.”

The servers are not just servers, but gangsters with holsters or flappers with dresses. After dinner, the entertainment begins. “The show is basically a musical comedy review, “ Adams said. “We have the sing and dance numbers in the beginning and after that we have vaudeville skits with an Abbott and Costello type act. The show has a lot of audience involvement. At one point, the cops show up and bust everybody there.”

Getting there: Get off the El at Cermak/Chinatown on the Red line and turn left. Reservations are required, so call (312) 225-0273, and don’t forget the password. 2114 S. Wabash Rd.

For its tame Midwestern reputation, Chicago has a rich and violent history riddled with secrets and hidden tunnels. Next time you go downtown, add interest to your usual destinations by making a night of a mafia hangout. Your historical knowledge will impress your friends, your date, or your parents alike — and chilling where Capone chilled? Badass.

Thanks to Alex Freeman

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The (redacted) Museum: The Las Vegas Museum of Organized Crime and Law Enforcement

Las Vegas hopes its newest museum will be a hit.

The city is opening The (redacted) Museum: The Las Vegas Museum of Organized Crime and Law Enforcement, which will showcase southern Nevada's colorful and storied past in organized crime.

The City Council unveiled the name Tuesday, along with logos resembling court documents with material blacked out. The first redaction obscures the word "mob."

"I don't think anybody is able to do tongue-in-cheek the way Las Vegas can do it," said Mayor Oscar Goodman, a former criminal defense lawyer who represented organized crime figures before representing residents in City Hall.

The museum is expected to open in spring 2010 in downtown Las Vegas at the site of the former federal courthouse where Goodman tried his first case.

As city officials unveiled the plans, council members tossed around T-shirts that said: "There is no such thing as a mob museum nor have I ever been there."

"Does this mean the mayor's going to be cleaning out his garage?" joked Councilwoman Lois Tarkanian.

Goodman joked of his possible contributions to the exhibits: "They've been in my backyard trying to dig up some of the old relics, but so far I've fended them off. We'll have a lot of Oscar-abilia in there."

Plans for the museum are supported by the FBI, which has pledged to locate organized crime artifacts in Washington and lend them for displays. The former head of the Las Vegas FBI office, Ellen Knowlton, is chairwoman of the museum's board.

Officials say the museum won't glorify organized crime, but instead will give a candid look at its influence on Las Vegas, how law enforcers worked to extract illegal influences from gambling, how mob operations in cities around the country were connected and famous hearings on organized crime.

The city believes the museum could draw as many as 800,000 visitors each year and is part of an attempt to revitalize downtown Las Vegas.

The mob theme was picked after a poll of 300 tourists showed more than 70 percent ranking the idea among its top three concepts. Other options included a behind-the-scenes look at gambling, a museum on magic or a museum dedicated to Las Vegas icons such as Frank Sinatra and Elvis Presley.

Thanks to Oskar Garcia

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Martin Scorsese Biopic on Frank Sinatra to Dismiss Mob Rumors

Martin Scorsese will direct a major biopic about the life of Frank Sinatra, according to film producer Tina Sinatra, Sinatra's youngest daughter. But it will not be a Sinatra version of GoodFellas, Scorsese's gangster classic.

Instead, the combative singer-actor, who did socialize with crime figures, will be shown as innocent of any true involvement with the Mafia or other gangsters.

"Marty has always wanted to do this," Sinatra told Sun Media during a phone interview from Los Angeles.

Sinatra, who also produced the 1992 mini-series, Sinatra, said Scorsese is in a reflective period and is willing to present the truth about her father, who died on May 14, 1998.

That means dismissing scurrilous rumours that Sinatra was a stooge for the Mafia, Tina Sinatra said. Borrowing a metaphor from her father's own words, Sinatra said, "He never drove the getaway car." So, in the forthcoming Universal Pictures film, "I don't want him to be driving the getaway car. That would not be fair. But I trust him (Scorsese) implicitly."

Sinatra admitted it is premature to officially announce Scorsese for the biopic. Initially, she referred to the director as "the most prominent Italian-American filmmaker" working today in Hollywood.

When Sun Media guessed Francis Ford Coppola, she said: "We adore him but he didn't step up to it."

When Scorsese's name followed, Sinatra offered this: "I can't tell you yet but you're warmer."

Laughing, Sinatra later confirmed it was Scorsese. "You'll be reading about it very soon ... oh, go ahead and print it, I don't care!"

Thanks to Bruce Kirkland

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Was Marilyn Monroe Whacked by the Chicago Mob?

The I-Team looked into one of Chicago's most feared mob hit men, Frank "The German" Schweihs and whether he was behind the mysterious death of Hollywood legend, Marilyn Monroe in 1962.

Frank Schweihs' cancer kept him from being tried with the rest of the family secrets clan last summer. But on Thursday morning in federal court, prosecutors will proceed with their plans to try Schweihs this fall on charges of mob crimes and murder.

There won't be paparazzi nor any mention of Marilyn Monroe, even though her death and the death of a Chicago manicurist have been pinned on Schweihs.

In Chicago in 1962, the Dan Ryan Expressway opened. Mayor Richard J. Daley was in his second term. Integration started in the Chicago schools. The Cubs lost 101 games. And Frank Schweihs was a rising star in the Outfit, living in the west suburban home of his Outfit boss. By '62, Schweihs had been arrested as often as his age - he was 32 years old - for crimes from burglary to homicide. But he seemed to carry a get-out-of-jail-free card.

Even though he was German, Schweihs hung out in Greektown and it may have been during a night out there that he met a tall, slender 18-year-old manicurist, Eugenia Pappas. They called her Becca. They began to date to the dismay of her family.

"My sister came to see me eight days before she was murdered and I said, 'Please don't be involved with anyone like that because when you die, they just step over your body,'" said sister Diane Pappas.

It was advice not taken. Becca's body was found floating in the Chicago River. She had been shot through the heart, according to police, while sitting in the passenger seat of a car. Chicago detective Richard Cain, who led that investigation, was himself secretly on the mob's payroll. Schweihs was questioned but never charged.

Diane Pappas said she doesn't know what Schweihs' motive would've been.

"I wouldn't know. She was a naive 18-year old girl and that's all I know. She was smitten with him," Diane Pappas said.

The Pappas family cringed at reporting that Outfit bosses had ordered Schweihs to silence Becca because he had told her about his role in another murder.

A 1993 book about Marilyn Monroe, written by an L.A. private eye, concludes that "Eugenia Pappas found out about Marilyn Monroe," from Schweihs, who was then ordered to kill her. Whether that is true, Monroe's death was never officially ruled a suicide due to lack of evidence. Many investigators believe Monroe was *murdered* by the Chicago Outfit because of her connections to the Kennedy family and Chicago mob boss Sam "Momo" Giancana.

A police informant reportedly stated that Giancana deployed Schweihs and Anthony "Ant" Spilotro to kill Marilyn Monroe and make it look like a drug overdose.

John Flood spent 41 years in metro-Chicago law enforcement, most with the Cook County sheriff's police. He is now retired in Las Vegas and is considered an Outfit expert. Flood says there's a possibility they were involved because of the close relationship of Giancana, the Chicago boss, and Frank Sinatra. They would meet in Reno.

Flood says Schweihs, or Schways as he knew him, was the prime suspect in dozens of gangland hits.

"A cold-blooded, tough killer who would murder anyone if ordered to," Flood said of Schweihs.

In 1989, Schweihs was convicted of shaking down porno store owners and was recorded on an FBI tape boasting that he was the boss and no one else.

When the Family Secrets indictments were handed up in 2005, Schweihs went into hiding and was finally arrested in a Kentucky apartment house at age 76, living with a girlfriend, while his long-ago girlfriend can never rest in peace.

"How is that justice? Walking around for 45 years doing horrible deeds like he's always done? That's very unfortunate," said Diane Pappas. "I hope he goes to jail for the rest of his life and suffers pain with the cancer."

And after 45 years, Diane Pappas heeded the suggestion of her late husband, a career Chicago cop, not to be too public in accusing Frank Schweihs. A crotchety, bad tempered hoodlum, Schweihs has never buckled under the weight of authority and will likely take to his grave, whatever he may know about a Hollywood death that stunned the world and a Chicago murder that has divested a family.

Thanks to Chuck Goudie

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Sinatra to Get His Own Stamp

Ol' Blue Eyes will get his own postage stamp next spring.

The stamp commemorating Frank Sinatra was announced Wednesday by Postmaster General John Potter, who called the crooner "an extraordinary entertainer whose life and work left an indelible impression on American culture."

"His recordings, concert performances and film work place him among America's top artists, and his legendary gift for transforming popular song into art is a rare feat that few have been able to replicate," Potter said.

The stamp image will be unveiled next Wednesday — Sinatra's birthday — at a ceremony in Beverly Hills, Calif.

While the stamp will be for first-class mail, the rate has not been announced. Currently the letter rate is 41 cents but the postal governing board is thought likely to raise the price next year.

Under new rules a hike in the letter rate would be limited to the rate of inflation, probably to 42 cents if it does go up in the spring.

During his career Sinatra won an Oscar, several Grammy awards and was recognized at the Kennedy Center Honors in 1983. President Reagan awarded him the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 1985.

He was born in Hoboken, N.J. in 1915 and died in 1998. The Hoboken Post Office was renamed in his honor in 2002.

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Rat Pack' Party Girl Will Confront Former Cop/Mafia Hit Man in Court

Janie McCormick, of Vadnais Heights, will finally get the chance to throw the book at the former New York hero cop turned Mafia hit man who allegedly bamboozled her out of $45,000 of her life savings.

The book in this case is "Breaking My Silence,'' the title of McCormick's soon to be self-published memoir of her life as a childhood sex abuse victim and former Las Vegas "Rat Pack'' party girl during the 1960s and early '70s. The tale was supposed to first be a script that convicted rogue cop Louis Eppolito reportedly pledged to write himself and turn into a movie.

McCormick, whose encounter with the corrupt former cop before his federal racketeering trial was the subject of a 2005 column, was informed last week by federal authorities that they want her to testify against Eppolito at his federal tax-evasion trial.

The timing couldn't be better for McCormick. The book should be out shortly after the trial starts Sept. 24. "I want to look at that rat fink face to face,'' says McCormick, now a 66-year-old great-grandmother living the suburban life. "If I have the book in my hands, I just might throw it at him."

Eppolito, 57, and his former New York Police Department detective partner, Stephen Caracappa, were convicted last year of federal racketeering conspiracy charges for setting up or carrying out at least eight mob-directed slayings while they wore the badge.

The charges shocked even a city long accustomed to cyclical and high-profile police corruption scandals. The two men were sentenced to life prison terms. But a judge tossed aside the convictions a month later on the grounds that the five-year statute of limitations on racketeering had expired. The two men remain in custody pending appeal.

Before the New York trial, Eppolito and his wife were indicted in Las Vegas - where the two rogue cops relocated after their retirements - on charges the couple avoided paying hundreds of thousands of dollars in income taxes. The couple has denied wrongdoing.

The undeclared income came mostly from Eppolito's work selling movie scripts to Hollywood as well as his appearances as a character actor. Eppolito played bit roles in notable Hollywood films, including the classic mob flick "Goodfellas'' and Woody Allen's "Bullets Over Broadway.''

Receipts of the $45,000 McCormick allegedly paid Eppolito for the busted movie deal are part of the evidence federal prosecutors are expected to present at trial.

McCormick, who borrowed against a house-cleaning service she operated in the White Bear Lake area, Dust Busters of Minnesota, was forced to declare bankruptcy and set aside her quest to tell her story. The alleged scam nearly derailed the quest and also her desire to raise awareness about prostitution and sexual exploitation.

Surprisingly, Eppolito is barely a footnote in the book, which is told in a gritty and blunt style. It's a name-dropper sure to raise eyebrows, if not some controversy.

McCormick discloses in the book how a stepfather molested her. In dialogue-rich narrative, she also chronicles how that abuse, which stretched from when she was a toddler to adolescent years, paved the road to prostitution.

That journey ultimately led her to become, as she describes it, a member of the elite "Queen Bee'' club of casino call girls working Sin City.

She was dubbed "Baby Jane'' by the hotel casino pit bosses who matched her with high rollers, and most of McCormick's clients "were show business personalities or millionaires good for the hotel business,'' she writes in the book.

She describes liaisons with the likes of Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Peter Lawford, Vic Damone and comedians Joe E. Lewis and Jerry Lewis, whom she describes in the book as "one of the nicest men I ever met.''

She also relates how legendary golfer Sam Snead recruited her one time to keep rival Arnold Palmer up all night before the morning of a major Vegas tournament. Snead ended up winning it. McCormick recalls she got an expensive chinchilla jacket for her work.

She also details a traumatic abortion, an abusive "house pimp'' and shoddy silicone breast implants that led to a double mastectomy later in life.

Media communications and libel law attorney Mark Anfinson, hired by McCormick to vet the book, calls it "powerful and compelling stuff.''

"I'm very surprised that a publishing house has not picked this up,'' Anfinson said. "When you review copy for invasion-of-privacy concerns, you want to remain detached. But it was exceedingly hard to do with (the book) because it was so moving. It has a ring of authenticity as you go through it.''

McCormick hopes the book will give her some credibility as she tries to persuade legislators to enact tougher laws and enforcement directed at the demand side of the sex trade - the "johns.'' She believes, as others do, that American law enforcement has mostly given the customer a pass. She cites Sweden and Norway as countries that do a better job of going after the men who drive the trade.

She's dead right. As she writes in her book about the Rat Pack stars and other well-heeled Las Vegas clientele: "I often thought about how these men passed us working girls around like dessert trays ... I also wondered, after spending thousands of dollars on some dames, [how] these guys could go back to their wives and kids, hold up their heads, and look at themselves in the mirror.''

Thanks to Ruben Rosario

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Mob Menu: Donuts Followed by Jail for Sonny Franzese

At age 89, John "Sonny" Franzese still enjoys sitting for a bite with his friends. The problem, according to federal authorities, is when the octogenarian mobster inevitably puts his criminal interests on the menu.

For the third time since 1996, Franzese was back in federal lockup _ this time after authorities spotted him sharing donuts with associates in the Colombo crime family, violating his parole. In the two earlier arrests, Franzese was nabbed after meeting with alleged mobsters in a coffee shop and a restaurant.

It's enough to give the reputed family underboss indigestion. "It's really sad," said his son, Michael Franzese, who followed the elder Franzese into organized crime before leaving the mob and becoming a born-again Christian. "I believe he wasn't very active (with the Colombos) at all, but then again, I'm not with him 24/7. Many of his friends are dead."

No surprise there, since the elderly Franzese's contemporaries included mob veterans like Joe Colombo (RIP, 1978) or Alphonse "Allie Boy" Persico (RIP, 1989). But authorities said Franzese was spotted more than once in recent weeks sharing breakfast pastries with 21st century Colombo members.

Franzese was picked up last Wednesday during a scheduled check-in with his parole officer, said FBI spokesman Jim Margolin. He will remain behind bars pending resolution of his case, which could take up to three months, according to Tom Huchison of the U.S. Parole Commission.

If Franzese has a weakness for old friends, he also has an unfortunate predilection for meeting them in public places _ a major problem, since his parole bars him from any contact with organized crime figures.

A November 2000 sitdown for coffee with three Colombo associates at a Long Island Starbucks landed him behind bars for three years. A February 1996 bowl of spinach soup at Pucinella's restaurant in Great Neck led to a two-year term after authorities identified his dining companions as mobsters.

A decade earlier, Franzese was popped after a mobbed-up meal at Laina's Restaurant in Jericho. In all, Franzese has racked up five parole violations _ and gone to jail for each one _ since his November 1978 release on a bank robbery conviction.

By then, Franzese's reputation as a stand-up guy was already well-known among the Colombos.

He was once a frequent patron at the Copacabana nightclub, taking in headliners like Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr. And he was among the investors in the legendary movie "Deep Throat." But the up-and-coming mob star's career was derailed by a 1967 bank robbery conviction and subsequent 50-year jail term, which included parole restrictions that now extend though 2020 _ when Franzese would be 102 years old.

Franzese has not been convicted of any new crimes in the last 40 years.

When Michael and his father speak now, the discussions still focus on family _ Sonny's seven grandchildren (another son, John, went into federal witness protection). Michael says the old man is no longer in the best of health, and sometimes has trouble recognizing his voice.

The arrest, in an odd culinary twist, also denied Franzese one last good meal: A friend says they were due to share dinner in a Long Island restaurant just hours after his arrest.

Thanks to the Niagara Gazette.

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90-Year-Old Sonny Franzese, Reputed Head of Colombo Crime Family, Jailed

A 90-year-old Colombo crime family leader who rubbed elbows with Frank Sinatra and other celebrities during his heyday was arrested for associating with known mobsters, his fifth parole violation in 25 years, the FBI said.

John "Sonny" Franzese was arrested Wednesday when he appeared for a regularly scheduled visit with a probation officer, said Jim Margolin, an FBI spokesman.

It was the fifth parole violation for Franzese. Among the others: He was jailed for three years after a November 2000 meeting at a coffee shop with three Colombo family associates. Another time, he spent two years behind bars after federal agents watched him enjoying a bowl of spinach soup with mob associates at a restaurant.

Margolin had no details this time on where Franzese had violated his parole or what he might have been eating or drinking at the time.

Franzese was being held in jail and was to appear in court next week. He didn't have a lawyer, Margolin said.

Despite his age, Franzese reportedly ascended to Colombo underboss two years ago after family boss "Big Joey" Massino was convicted of racketeering and became a federal witness. Massino, who spent 14 years running the family, became the first sitting boss of one of New York's five Mafia families to flip. But Franzese was involved in organized crime long before Massino's ascension. He was a fixture at the Copacabana nightclub, where he often spent time with Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr., according to Jerry Capeci, author of several books on organized crime and operator of the Web site ganglandnews.com.

Franzese also had a financial stake in the legendary porn movie "Deep Throat."

Franzese's parole restrictions continue through 2020, when he would be older than 100. It was unclear how much prison time he might face on the parole violation.

Since going to jail in 1970 for a bank robbery, Franzese had spent more than two decades -- on and off -- behind bars. He was initially paroled on that charge in 1978, and the first of the parole violations was in 1982.

Franzese wasn't the only aging mobster in court Wednesday. Matthew "Matty the Horse" Ianniello, 86, was sentenced in New Haven, Connecticut, to two years in prison for racketeering conspiracy and tax evasion. The case was part of a federal probe of the trash hauling industry in Connecticut and New York.

Thanks to CNN.

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Goodbye Fellas

Friends of ours: Joseph Valachi, Bugsy Siegal, Frank Sinatra, Sam Giancana, Al Capone, Lucky Luciano, Meyer Lansky, Frank Costello, Carlo Gambino, Paul Castellano, John Gotti

The perspective on organized crime that Thomas A. Reppetto developed from his career in law enforcement and more than 20 years as president of the Citizens Crime Commission of New York City, tempered by a Harvard Ph.D., paid off handsomely in his 2004 book, “American Mafia: A History of Its Rise to Power,” which described the mob’s growth to its pinnacle in the mid-20th century. The writing was lucid, concise and devoid of sensationalism, rare qualities in the plethora of books by turncoat mobsters and their ex-wives, journalists, cops and aged Las Vegas insiders. This equally well-written sequel, “Bringing Down the Mob,” chronicles the Mafia’s near demise over the past 50 years. Following this specific thread of American history, general readers will benefit from Reppetto’s cogent examples of how changes in the culture at large affected both the mob itself and the tactics employed by law enforcement. Organized-crime buffs will be familiar with much of the material, but unaccustomed to seeing it assembled into so big and coherent a picture.

In 1950 and ’51, the Kefauver Senate committee’s televised hearings on the Mafia introduced mobsters into American living rooms, the lasting images being close-ups of Frank Costello’s manicured hands — he did not want his face on camera. The public outcry was short-lived and the Mafia cruised comfortably until 1957, when, in Apalachin, N.Y. (population 350), more than 60 Mafia notables attended a conference that was raided by the state police. As Reppetto says, the media have often presented the raid as “some hick cops stumbling on a mob conclave.” He debunks that interpretation and shows how the publicity moved the resistant J. Edgar Hoover to action, so that “from Apalachin on, the United States government was at war with the Mafia.”

As attorney general, Robert F. Kennedy led the next sustained attack on organized crime. He focused obsessively and successfully on Jimmy Hoffa, who was allied with the Mafia while serving as president of the two-million-member Teamsters union. Kennedy also brought before the TV cameras Joe Valachi, a low-level Mafia soldier who, with some coaching, provided extensive information “without revealing that much of it had been obtained through legally questionable electronic eavesdropping.” A new name for the Mafia emerged from the hearings — La Cosa Nostra — which allowed Hoover to say he had been right all along: there was no Mafia; there was a Cosa Nostra organization, exposed by the F.B.I.

In the 1960s and ’70s, Las Vegas provided a battlefield on which the F.B.I., armed with bugging equipment (and caught using it illegally in 1965), defeated the mob, which had been involved from the start of significant gambling in Nevada in the 1940s. Bugsy Siegel put up one of the first casinos on the Strip, the Flamingo. Las Vegas was designated an “open city,” in which any mob family could operate. As Reppetto writes, mobsters “secured Teamster loans to build casinos that they controlled through fronts, or ‘straw men.’ ” (Frank Sinatra lost his license as owner of a Nevada resort for allowing the Mafia boss Sam Giancana, reputedly his “hidden backer,” to frequent the hotel.) These casinos had overseers appointed by the controlling family to run “the skim,” cash siphoned off before the casino take was put on the books for tax purposes. The poorly chosen overseers played a large role in bringing down the mob in Las Vegas, generally being far too violent and unsophisticated to operate in a milieu that demanded a veneer of respectability. Reppetto points out the factual basis of much of Nicholas Pileggi and Martin Scorsese’s script for the film “Casino ,” including the chilling scene of Joe Pesci squeezing a victim’s head in a vise until an eye pops out (although that incident actually happened in Chicago). The mob’s management of Las Vegas turned out to be “a disaster,” Reppetto says. “Once it was the Mafia that was well run, while law enforcement plodded along. ... The situation was now reversed.” In the 1980s, corporations began to take control of the casinos.

One of the great hurdles the government had to clear at the start of its war on the Mafia, Reppetto says, was that the approach required to bring down a criminal organization ran “counter to general principles of American criminal justice”: “The usual practice, investigating a known crime in order to apprehend unknown culprits, was reversed. Now the government was investigating a known criminal to find crimes he might be charged with.” The most potent weapon was developed in 1970 — the RICO statute, to which Reppetto devotes a full chapter, pointing out that it took its creator, G. Robert Blakey, a decade of proselytizing before prosecutors would employ it.

A minor quibble: I think the book gives short shrift to the effect of the witness protection program, without which far fewer mobsters could have “flipped” over the years. As to Reppetto’s belief that the Mafia is in serious decline? At any time in the past, asking an average American to name major mob guys might well have elicited several of the following: Al Capone, Lucky Luciano, Meyer Lansky, Frank Costello, Carlo Gambino, Paul Castellano, John Gotti. Who comes to mind today?

Thanks to Vincent Patrick whose novels include “The Pope of Greenwich Village” and “Smoke Screen.”

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Former Sinatra, Giancana Playground Gets New Boss

Friends of ours: Sam Giancana
Friends of mine: Frank Sinatra

Tom Celani, a Bloomfield Township gambling executive who was instrumental in the successful statewide ballot that led to Detroit's three casinos, has received approval from Nevada authorities to run the Cal-Neva Casino, once owned by Frank Sinatra.

Celani, who at one time owned 10 percent of Detroit's MotorCity Casino, will run the Cal-Neva Casino through his company Luna Entertainment. The casino is on the north shore of Lake Tahoe. The Nevada Gaming Commission approved the gambling operating license late last month, and Celani plans to take over the operation within several days. He will spend up to $7 million to upgrade the 80-year-old casino resort.

Gary Burkart, chief marketing officer of Luna Entertainment, said the fact Celani received his first gambling license in Nevada is significant for his future development plans in Las Vegas. "Tom wants to do something big on the Las Vegas strip," Burkart said. "Without having an existing license, it takes a lot longer to get a new one." Celani wants to be able to move quickly when he spots the right property for sale in Las Vegas, Burkart said.

The Cal-Neva Casino has an interesting history. In the late 1920s and early 1930s, the casino became a playground for celebrities and socialities.

Sinatra purchased the casino in 1960 and added the Celebrity Showroom and a helicopter pad on the roof for his friends and guests appearing on stage at the casino Visiting celebrities included Peter Lawford, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr., Julie Prowse and Marilyn Monroe. In 1963, law enforcement officials spotted Sam Giancana, a Chicago mob boss, at the resort and yanked Sinatra's gaming license.

Celani has a long history in the gaming business. In 1988, he co-founded Sodak Gaming Inc., which distributed gaming devices like slot machines to Indian tribes in South Dakota. He built the company into a $150-million-a-year business before selling it a decade later.

In the mid-1990s, he developed and ran the Little River Casino Resort in Manistee for the Little River Band of Ottawa Indians. Celani also owns the Red Dolly Casino in Black Hawk, Colo., about an hour's drive from Denver.

Thanks to Joel J. Smith

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The Battaglias: From Siciliy to the Chicago Mob to the NHL

It was during a conversation about restaurants, Italian food and his Sicilian roots that Bates Battaglia mentioned his grandfather.

He said the old man's name was Sam and that no, Sam was not in the food service industry like Bates' father, Richard.

The Toronto Maple Leafs forward was speaking softly and politely -- like he always seems to -- as he explained that Sam "took a different" path in life. He said if a reporter wanted to know what that path was, he could punch Sam Battaglia's name into the Internet and find out for himself.

Sam Battaglia embodied the American Dream. He was nobody when he started out, nothing more than a poor uneducated son of Italian immigrants scratching out a living on Chicago's rough-and-tumble west side.

By the time of his death in 1973, everybody in town knew the Battaglia name. Sam had made it. He went out on top. But his American Dream was lived out in a sinister and shadowy otherworld populated with two-bit hoods, killers for hire, politicians on the take, corrupt cops, compromised union bosses and a code of honour that was written in blood.

"Sam Battaglia was the Don of the Chicago mafia," says Jack Walsh, the special agent for the Internal Revenue Service who finally caught up with Battaglia in 1967 and sent him to jail for 15 years. "Battaglia's street name was Teets, and he ran the Chicago Outfit from his farm out west of the city."

Bates Battaglia never met his grandfather. He was born two years after the authorities released the old man from prison so he could die at home, quietly, a victim of cancer.

Bates' parents divorced when he was a little kid. He and his two brothers, Anthony and Sam, would spend the school year -- and hockey season -- in the Chicago area with their mom, Sandra. Once school was out, they headed to Florida where Richard had become a successful restaurateur.

Neither parent told the Battaglia boys much about their grandpa, beyond Richard telling them that his father had been "well-respected. And that he was one of the nicest men, and that that's the way a lot of people knew him." But the kids around Chicago knew otherwise. And they talked, as kids do. It was out on the street playing road hockey where Bates learned that the man he knew as Grandpa was a notorious mobster.

"This is my family," Bates says. "This is who I am, and this is where I came from. And I wouldn't change anything about it.

"I'm proud of who I am, and who my family are."

Sam Battaglia first drew notice in Chicago in 1930 when he committed a stop-the-presses-style crime. At the time, he was a member of the 42 Gang, a wild bunch of juvenile crooks who ran amuck in Al Capone's kingdom of sin, stealing cars, robbing cigar stands and holding up nightclubs in the hopes that the big boss was paying attention.

At the age of 22, Sam Battaglia pulled a gun on the wife of the mayor of Chicago, William Hale Thompson, and asked her to hand over her jewels. He left the scene with US$15,500 worth of shiny trinkets, plus the gun and badge of the woman's police escort. The authorities were unable to positively identify Battaglia as the culprit. But Capone and his cronies were indeed paying attention. In no time, the young gangster nicknamed Teets -- because he had had his front teeth knocked out -- was on his way up the organized-crime ladder.

Bates' father is Sam Battaglia's youngest son. Richard currently resides in Raleigh, N.C., the city to which he moved in 1999 after his boy made it with the Carolina Hurricanes.

Richard understood that young athletes tend to get rich before they get wise, so he encouraged Bates to put his money in to something he could touch, such as real estate. The hockey player, who turns 31 next week, now owns two condominiums, a beach house, a house, a bar and a building in Raleigh's restaurant district that he and his dad plan to transform into an upscale Italian eatery once he stops playing. "We want it to be a place where you're not coming in dressed like a bum," Bates says.

In the meantime, Richard tends to the bar -- Lucky B's -- and shops around for other potential investment opportunities in the Raleigh area. (When Bates is home for the summer, his father cooks dinner four times a week for he and his younger brother, Anthony, a winger with the Columbia (S.C.) Inferno of the East Coast Hockey League.)

Asked how the son of the one-time Don of the Chicago Outfit can be playing chef to his boys instead of running a crew of his own in Chicago and Richard, polite like Bates though more verbose, answers: "How do you know I wasn't? You are asking me something I can't talk about."

Richard will say that whatever he did is in "the past," that he is "not real proud of it," and that he has never been in jail. He is simply Bates' dad now, and happy to be that.

He was a star high school athlete in his own day. Football and baseball were his games. Much like his boys, he only learned of Sam's line of work when the kids in the neighbourhood started talking.

Richard remembers Steve Sullivan, an Irish brat with a big mouth who later became his best friend, making some crack about his father when they were playing baseball as 10 year olds. "I ran over to the dugout and started beating the s--- out of him," Richard says. "That was my dad he was talking about. Steve didn't know that hurt me. He was just a little kid and being a smart ass.

"What really hurt me was that I would see my dad on TV for certain things, and I didn't understand it."

To Richard, Sam was the father who came home every night to have dinner with his family. And on Friday nights, he was the dad who piled through the front door of his house with all his buddies in tow to partake in one of his mother's multi-course feasts. The men would sit around the big round basement table after dinner smoking cigars and talking.

Richard, Steve Sullivan, and the rest of the Oak Park Pony League baseball team made it to the 1960 World Series in Williamsport, Pa.

Richard remembers standing at home plate on a perfect sunny day, looking out to right field and seeing his father -- with a couple buddies in tow -- strolling along the fence line. "I got real excited -- and it kind of gets me now, just thinking about it," Richard says. "And don't you know it, I hit a home run right over their heads." The crime boss threw a big party for all the parents and the players after Oak Park won the championship game. There was lots of food and drinks. Sam paid for the whole thing.

Sam Battaglia had hit the big time, and was a millionaire several times over with a fortune built upon extortion, loan sharking, burglary and the Chicago Outfit's No. 1 moneymaker: gambling.

Battaglia's star in the Outfit's galaxy was approaching its zenith in the early 1960s. Sam (Momo) Giancana, Battaglia's old pal and a fellow graduate of the 42 Gang, was running the whole show. Giancana had brought La Cosa Nostra out of the back rooms of Little Italy and into the national spotlight. He was a friend of Frank Sinatra. He ran around with one of the singing McGuire sisters, and he allegedly held discussions with the CIA about putting a mob hit out on Cuban leader Fidel Castro.

Giancana was jailed in 1965 for refusing to testify before a federal grand jury. In his absence, Battaglia assumed control of the Outfit. By then, the Chicago mafia was a far-reaching and influential empire. "They could produce more money and votes for politicians than any other organization in Chicago or even Illinois," Walsh, the IRS special agent, says. "They had tremendous power. They had master control in Chicago."

Battaglia's command centre was an opulent racehorse farm he owned in Kane County. Every morning his driver, Jackie (the Lackey) Cerone, would pick Sam up at his home in Oak Park and take him out to the property.

Battaglia was an untouchable, and then he made a mistake.

The Outfit, with the help of some crooked people who held influential political offices, was extorting money from building contractors in Northlake, Ill. Rocco Pranno, a.k.a. Jim Martell, was running the operation with Battaglia's blessing. Construction would be halted midstream on a major project under the pretext that an engineering firm needed to review the contractor's plans. The builder was then charged a hefty fee to continue the work, leaving Pranno and his partners to divide the spoils.

It was not long after Battaglia replaced Giancana that the new boss replaced Pranno with Joe Amabile, a.k.a. Joe Shine. Pranno was not happy with the new arrangement. Neither were his associates. One of them started talking to Walsh. The mafia turncoat wound up being the government's star witness in a sensational 11-week trial that resulted in Battaglia's conviction on extortion and conspiracy charges. (The witness is still alive, and Walsh refuses to divulge his identity).

During the court case, the special agent's wife began receiving calls at home. The voice on the phone would describe in detail the clothing Walsh's children wore to school that day. Walsh approached his superiors about it, and a meeting was arranged with the defendant so prosecutors could inform Battaglia of what was happening on the outside. "The old mafia had a code," Walsh says. "This was the only time anyone heard Battaglia speak, except for me when he said he wouldn't talk to me. "But he told them: 'Tell the kid he doesn't have to worry any more. It won't happen again.' "And I never got another call."

Sam Battaglia was arrested 25 times in his life: for burglary, larceny, assault and attempted murder. He was also the prime suspect in seven unsolved homicides.

His grandson, Bates, is a winger of modest talent on a mediocre Toronto Maple Leafs team but a budding property baron/restaurant owner in Raleigh.

Bates' younger brother, Anthony, is still waiting for his NHL dream to come true.

His older brother, Sam, runs a successful chiropractic practice on Chicago's west side -- on the same street where his grandfather got his start. He has an 18-month-old son, also named Sam.

Bates says about the closest he and his brothers have come to a life of crime was a juvenile addiction to Martin Scorsese's mafia film, Goodfellas. "We were so in to that movie," he says. "You see that and the hype and what the [mobsters] get, and it looks like a cool lifestyle at points. "But any one who has actually been in that life, or around it, like my dad, will tell you that you have those guys who you think are your best friends and they will turn on you in a second."

Richard Battaglia likes to talk about the "circle of life," and about how amazing it is that a dirt-poor family from Sicily can come to Chicago to chase the American Dream and, within a few generations, produce two sons who are professional athletes and another who is dedicated to healing. "Listen," Richard says. "I am proud of my dad, and I love him more than anything, and I wish he was alive today to see this. "The old days are gone and past, and I'm gone and past, and this is the new era where the Battaglia boys are going to do a lot of good things. "And that's the way it is."

Thanks to Joe O'Connor

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