1958-1959

Two major impactful events occurred, one in 1958, the second 1.5 years later, involving the Senator Club, which offered the game 21 and slot machines. Near the Nevada capitol in Carson City, this casino-restaurant-bar was popular among state legislators and politicians.

At the time, Stella C. Vincent and William “Bill” E. Duffin had co-owned the business, 63 percent and 37 percent, respectively, for about two years. Duffin, though, ran the place.

Impetus For First Upset

Cheating at the Senator Club came to light in January 1958 when Nevada Gaming Control Board (NGCB) investigator William Walts witnessed Nicholas “Nick” V. Goodman dealing seconds, using the second versus top card in the deck, during 21 games. The NGCB called Goodman in for a chat. Agents told him they’d received unfavorable reports about his conduct and warned him he better deal cleanly.

Four months later, three Reno insurance salesmen filed a complaint with the tax commission, alleging a dealer named Nick had swindled them at the Senator. They’d seen Nick burn a card in the middle of a hand (take it from the top and put it face up on the bottom of the deck). This is usually only done after each shuffle. Nick also allegedly turned the deck or dealt from the bottom mid-game, so he could access cards used in earlier hands.

Also in April, Michael MacDougall, a gambling detective the Nevada Tax Commission hired to survey the industry in The Silver State, reported he witnessed cheating at the Senator Club (and at the New Star in Winnemucca).

Hammer Comes Down

To address the alleged cheating at the Senator, the NGCB held a hearing, per protocol, in June, for Vincent and Duffin to explain why they should be allowed to keep their gambling licenses.  

At the proceeding, NGCB agents questioned all of the witnesses, the co-owners and Goodman. Duffin and Vincent asserted they didn’t know cheating was taking place. Goodman denied he’d knowingly cheated, ever.

In late July, the Nevada Tax Commission, on the NGCB’s recommendation, revoked both gambling licenses associated with the Senator Club. All gambling activity ceased there. This was the first big blow to the gambling business during the Duffin-Vincent time.

Picking Up The Pieces

The co-owners made the best of it. They kept open the restaurant and bar and installed a dance floor in the casino space. Later, in early 1959, they leased the gambling concession to an outside operator.

Goodman, however, didn’t fare so well. He was fired from the Senator Club, for starters.

“The case washed up Goodman as a Nevada dealer, although he has steadfastly maintained he was not cheating,” wrote the Nevada State Journal (Dec. 27, 1959).

Shocking, Irreversible Loss

At the end of shift early Christmas morning in 1959, Duffin invited the Senator Club employees leaving work and some patrons still there to join him for breakfast at the nearby Silver Spur café-casino. Reportedly, Duffin often showed such kindnesses, including driving home employees so they wouldn’t have to walk or take a taxi in the dark wee hours.

Following the meal, the group dispersed. Duffin, on his way through the parking lot, stopped to wish several Silver Spur employees Merry Christmas.

Once at his car, after he opened the driver’s side door, a handful of bullets hit him in the back and drove him to the ground.

Duffin died then and there.  

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It Really Happened! will publish Part II next Wednesday, April 20, 2022.

Sources

1955-1956

In March 1955, Nevada gaming regulators accused Caliente mayor Donald E. Rowan of cheating while dealing a 21 game — which is illegal — in the Shamrock Club. He’d operated the Clover Street gambling enterprise with his partner and father-in-law Joe Colombo for seven years. Rowan had been the elected head of this southeastern Nevada railroad community for six.

The charge jeopardized his mayorship (the election was a month away, and he was unopposed) and his entrepreneurship (he may lose his gambling license), both sources of income.

A Civil Servant

By 1955, Rowan, 46, had lived in Caliente for about 30 years. The Silver State native, born in Goldfield,  had worked for the Nevada Highway Department and during World War II, served as a medic with the U.S. Navy in the South Pacific.

Along with serving as mayor, Rowan’s civic contributions included having organized the Caliente Fire Department and being its first chief. Also, he’d formed and headed three local groups: the Rotary Club, Veterans of Foreign Wars and Chamber of Commerce.

Charge Of Bubble Peeking

As ordered, Rowan appeared on April 1 before the Nevada Tax Commission to state his case.

At the hearing, the commissioners alleged that one of their undercover agents and a commission investigator both witnessed Rowan and another Shamrock dealer, Bob Powell, bubble peeking. In this move, advantageous to the house, the dealer crimps the top card on the deck with their thumb, creating a bulge, or bubble, and then peeks at the card’s number.

Rowan declared innocence, saying, “I might hold my deck funny, but I wasn’t peeking.” He asked the commission to act swiftly because if they decided to revoke his gambling license, he would bow out of the run for mayor. He wanted to give Caliente residents (about 1,500 people lived there) some time to find a replacement, and the filing deadline for candidates was only eight days away.

Allowing Minors To Gamble

The tax commissioners also accused Rowan of allowing under-age youths to gamble and drink alcohol at the Shamrock, violations of Nevada law as well.

Rowan’s response was that he’d let his son, who’d just returned home from college, drink a little with his friends, but stopped it when the friends invited others to join them. The mayor added that the Shamrock Club hadn’t been in trouble with the Caliente police ever, and one member of the force was at the club often, playing in a band.

How The Votes Went

Despite Rowan claiming innocence and having a clean gaming record since entering the industry seven years earlier, the tax commissioners stripped him of his gambling license, which had covered 21, craps and slot machines. They based their decision on the alleged “unsuitable method of operation” of the Shamrock. Their unanimous vote for revocation put Rowan out of business.

On the mayoral front, though, developments were positive for Rowan. Caliente’s residents re-elected him in May 1955, and he’d go on to complete a second term.

No Reprieve In Sight

Rowan requested a reinstatement of his gambling permit, in June 1955. However, the licensing arbitrators disallowed it and told him he had to wait a year before reapplying.

When that time rolled around, Rowan tried again, to no avail. In fact, he never would be granted another gambling license.

Other men, however, would get licensed for gambling at the Shamrock Club, until 2005, at which time the proprietors stopped offering games of chance. Today, the enterprise is still in business but as the Shamrock Pub, at a different Clover Street address.

Did the tax commissioners treat Rowan fairly or not?

Sources

Earl Warren (front center) and the rest of the U.S. Supreme Court justices, 1967

1952-1968

Soon after two new federal taxes — the tax on wagers and the wagering occupational tax — went into effect in late 1951, problems with them arose. (See Part I for a description of and impetus behind the taxes.)

First Complication To Arise

The constitutionality of the occupational tax was called into question. In May 1952 U.S. District Court Judge George A. Welsh flat out declared it federal legislators’ unconstitutional infringement on states’ power and described it as “a police measure enacted by Congress under the guise of a tax bill” (Reno Evening Gazette, May 6, 1952). This ruling came during the trial of a Philadelphia gambler charged with failure to buy the gambling tax stamp.

An editorial in Florida’s Tampa Times pointed out the gambling stamp tax was “contradictory” and “hypocritical” (March 3, 1953).

“It is a case of the federal government on one hand sanctioning gambling, while state and local law enforcement officers are expected to stamp out gambling,” it read. “Winking at gambling because it has become a federal tax revenue producer would be outright hypocritical and against the wishes of the majority of Americans.”

Other critics argued the tax violated wager-takers’ Fifth Amendment right to protection from self-incrimination. On one hand, requiring them to register forced them to provide information that could implicate them in breaking their state’s state anti-gambling law, were that in fact the case, and in doing so, invite prosecution.  Many newspapers, including The Sacramento Bee and The Indianapolis News, published the names of stamp purchasers.

On the other hand, if the wager-takers ignored the federal law, to keep their underground gambling operation secret, they risked federal prosecution for not buying the stamp and registering.

Not So Effective

A second issue was the taxes weren’t achieving the desired ends. A year in, they hadn’t significantly reduced gambling; at best, they’d slightly deterred it. They hadn’t forced gamblers out of business; instead, the operators had gone underground.

The taxes also failed to bring in anywhere near the level of revenue expected. Congress had predicted an influx of about $400 million in the first year, but the actual figure was about $9 million, not even one-third of the predicted amount.

Whereas a flurry of stamp tax buying had occurred after the Revenue Act was passed, taking total sales to over 19,000, purchases dramatically fell off in 1952.

“The professional gamblers soon wised up and developed a ‘wait and see’ attitude,” reported The Tampa Times.

The reasons for the suboptimal results, according to Frank Lohn, chief of the Internal Revenue Bureau’s intelligence division, were that the bureau lacked sufficient staff to go after unpaid gambling taxes and that the constitutionality of the special tax remained undecided.

“Many gamblers believe the high court will overturn the law, and in the meantime they are not too afraid of violating it,” reported the United Press (Reno Evening Gazette, Nov. 1, 1952).

High Court Weighs In … Twice

That was not the case, however; the U.S. Supreme Court upheld the special tax, 6 to 3, in March 1953. About a year later, it ruled that purchasing a wagering stamp tax did not make the buyer immune from possible state prosecution, thus the self-incrimination problem persisted.

Fast forward 14 years to 1967. Significantly fewer gamblers nationwide were buying a tax stamp, 5,917 in that year, for example. About 2,000 gambling tax violation cases were advancing through the courts.

Then in January 1968, in another twist, the Supreme Court, in a 7-to-1 decision, ruled that the stamp tax law violated people’s Fifth Amendment right, but the justices didn’t declare it unconstitutional. Instead, they essentially gave wage-takers a way to avoid prosecution for noncompliance: claim self-incrimination.

The sole dissenter, Chief Justice Earl Warren, said the decision made the law unenforceable and unconstitutional. Justice and treasury department officials predicted it would hamper crimefighting at the federal, state and local levels and jeopardize current prosecutions.

Fix For The Problem

In 1974, Congress passed Public Law 93-499 to replace the two wagering taxes mandated in 1951. The new statute required certain gamblers to buy a $500 (about $2,800 today) wagering tax stamp annually and pay 2 percent on all bets they take. December 1, 1974 was the effective date, and the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms was tasked with enforcement.

This law avoided the Fifth Amendment issues inherent in the previous one. It did so by prohibiting the federal government from divulging, to any law enforcement agency, private group or citizen, the information gamblers gave, as required, about themselves, their partners, employees and customers.

Types of gambling exempt from the new law were casino betting, state-licensed parimutuel wagering, state lotteries and coin-operated machines on which a stamp tax was charged. 

As with the prior wagering taxes, the purpose of Public Law 93-499 was to “increase federal revenues and curtail an important source for financing criminal activities” — certain types of gambling, reported The Sun-Telegram (Jan. 19, 1975).

Part I

Sources

1951

Gambling is the lifeblood of organized crime.

This was U.S. Senator Estes Kefauver’s conclusion after the Special Committee on Organized Crime in Interstate Commerce, which he headed, concluded its investigation.

The Kefauver Committee’s work, in part, involved conducting hearings in 14 U.S. cities, during which they grilled (sometimes, unsuccessfully) about 600 witnesses, including big-time Mobsters, some of their associates and officials knowledgeable about Mob activity. The 15-month query shone a spotlight on gambling taking place at the time and for years before, most of it illegal, prohibited by law in most states.

The hearings were televised, and Americans tuned in, rapt. The broadcasts opened their eyes to the who, what,  where, when and how of gambling and other organized crime happening all around them. By March 1951, 72 percent of U.S. residents were familiar with the Kefauver committee and what it was doing.

Crackdown On Some Gamblers

As a result of the Senate committee’s findings, Kefauver recommended the federal government impose a 10 percent tax on all gambling. At the same time, U.S. residents, facing a likely federal personal income tax increase, expressed dissatisfaction at gambling operators (gamblers) paying little or no taxes on the loads of cash they made.

These two factors in large part pressured Congress to act, and it did in 1951 but not to the extent Kefauver had suggested. It imposed two taxes* on a subset of gamblers, individuals who received bets from people — bookmakers, numbers writers, and punch board and lottery operators.

The goal was to force these people to pay heavy taxes or go out of business, and in doing so, shrink the  gambling industry nationwide and generate a good chunk of revenue for the U.S.

Trio Of Mandates

One of the new federal levies, called the tax on wagers, was 10 percent of all gross receipts.

The other was an occupational tax, often referred to as the gambling stamp tax. It required wager takers to buy a special tax stamp every year by December 1 and display it in their place of business or, for those without such a location, on their person. The stamp cost $50 (about $525 today).

Anyone required to pay the special tax also had to register with the local Internal Revenue Bureau (IRB) collector and provide their name, home and business addresses and the name and home address of their partners, employees and clients. Once the bureau received the information, it provided a copy to local law enforcement officials and maintained its own public list of all gambling stamp purchasers.

These wagering-related taxes went into effect on November 1, 1951.

Failure To Comply

The penalty for not purchasing the $50 tax stamp was a fine of at least $1,000 ($10,300 today) but not higher than $5,000 ($51,500 today).

Gamblers who had a stamp but didn’t display it were fined, $50 for those who’d forgotten to do so and $100 for those who outright refused to do so.

Providing false information on the relevant forms was punishable by up to $10,000 in fines and five years of imprisonment.

Regarding the 10 percent tax on wagers, IRB Commissioner John B. Dunlap told the United Press that “cases of willful evasion or attempt to defeat the tax will be promptly referred to the department of justice with recommendation for criminal prosecution” (Nevada State Journal, Dec. 5, 1951).

Early Stamp Numbers

By the first deadline, December 1, 1951, a total of 7,706 gamblers had applied for the federal gambling tax stamp. The state of Washington submitted the most applications, at 1,412. Next was Montana, with 902. Nevada, where gambling was legal and wide open, accounted for only 33 applications.

It wasn’t long before problems with these latest federal taxes arose.

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Look for Part II next week.

* Congress enacted the two taxes on wage takers through the Revenue Act of 1951, which also temporarily raised federal individual income and federal corporate taxes.

Sources

As Mark Estes, 28, played blackjack at a table in Nevada’s Las Vegas Hilton casino one day, he counted the cards. This involved remembering the cards dealt during each game and using a mathematical formula to calculate the odds of success of betting on any given hand.

Suddenly, the University of Nevada, Las Vegas grad student found himself in a back room on the property, being told he’d “wind up in the desert with a hole in his head” if he was caught counting cards again at the Hilton, Estes alleged. Because he refused to leave the casino after this threat, the staff had him arrested for trespassing.

Card counting was legal then, and Nevada gambling authorities didn’t regulate it. House rules of many of the state’s casinos disallowed the practice, and these enterprises could and did eject card counters and take other actions, like extra card shuffling, to impede their efforts.

Right To Play Cards

Estes, with help from the American Civil Liberties Union sued the Hilton, the Nevada Gaming Commission (NGC), the Nevada Gaming Control Board and the Las Vegas Police Department to try to stop Nevada casinos from refusing to play card games with card counters.

Estes’ complaint asserted the following:

• Card counters had to the right to play cards in a casino in any way they wanted.
• The state of Nevada was obligated to protect card counters.
• Nevada was encouraging unlawful conduct by allowing casinos to throw out card counters.
• Casinos can’t just let people most likely lose play cards in their establishments.

In his suit, Estes asked the court to declare illegal the existing gambling regulation that requires casinos to ban people whom the state deems to be “inimical to the interests of the State of Nevada, or of licensed gambling, or of both,” reported the Las Vegas Sun (Jan. 21, 1977).

“The case, expected to be a landmark for the NV gaming industry, will test the practice of card counting and whether casinos are in their rights when they eject a counter,” wrote the Reno Evening Gazette (Aug. 19, 1977).

Persisting In The Cause

After Hilton Casinos Inc. and the NGC asked the court to dismiss Estes’ case, Judge Joseph Pavlikowski did just that. Based on a previous ruling by the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals, he determined that nobody has a constitutional right to play cards.

Estes appealed, and two years later, the Nevada Supreme Court heard arguments in the case. Estes’ attorney asserted that blackjack/21 is a game of chance, and players who have a chance of beating the house can’t be banned. Card counters are simply using their intelligence, he said, and casinos can’t kick out better players.

Hilton Casinos’ attorney countered that casinos’ right to ban certain players is a private business decision, one that Nevada gaming regulators recognize.

Ultimately, the high court jurists ruled in the Hilton and, thus, all Nevada casinos’ favor.

Battle Buddies

Before Estes took up the sword, another card counter, Kenneth “Ken” S. Uston, had launched the battle in 1976, when he’d sued Las Vegas’ Flamingo, MGM Grand and Marina Hotel and Casino for $14 million for what he’d claimed was “illegally” prohibiting him from playing cards at their establishments. This suit differed from Estes’ in that it didn’t allege state wrongdoing.

In federal court in 1978, U.S. District Judge Roger Foley decided Uston’s case. Foley ruled that Nevada casinos may disallow card counters from playing cards in their gambling house.

Over the years, Uston filed several lawsuits related to Nevada casinos’ treatment of card counters, but he lost them all.

For Ben Affleck and all other card counters, present and future, these two Davids, Estes and Uston, fought the Goliath of Nevada casinos, but unlike in the Biblical story, they didn’t prevail.

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Do any of you count cards? If so, how much of an advantage would you say it gives you?

Illustration from Pond5.com

Sources

The colorful career of San Francisco-born Joseph Zemansky (1877-1953) spanned three industries and two countries. After childhood in Sacramento, he spent several decades in California before settling in Nevada.

Here are 10 highlights of Zemansky’s professional life and experiences:

Gambling

1) Zemansky helped establish and operate the immensely popular Agua Caliente Casino and Hotel in Tijuana, Mexico, which opened in June 1928. Along with four others, he was part of the Mexican Development Co., the group behind the resort and initial owners of its gambling concession.

2) Zemansky and his Mexican Development Co. partners came under Internal Revenue Bureau (IRB) scrutiny in 1930 for not reporting for tax purposes their share of $550,000 ($8.9 million today) that the group’s head Wirt Bowman divvied between them. The likely skimmed money had come from Bowman’s records-less Agua Caliente “concession fund,” or bribe fund more accurately. When tax men questioned the quartet, three denied ever receiving any money, and the other two, Zemansky included, claimed they’d only borrowed money from the fund. Lacking proof, the IRB dropped the issue.

3) Zemansky had dealings with the Mafia. He and his brother-in-law Barney Morris opened a bingo club in 1934 in Kansas City, Missouri called Club Fortune. The two owned half, and the Kansas City Combine boss John Lazia owned the other half.

4) The Mob allegedly victimized Zemansky. When Lazia was murdered, his successor, Charles Carrollo, assumed Lazia’s 50 percent of Club Fortune. Then in 1938, Carrollo forced Zemansky and Morris to sell him their half for a ridiculous price, $1 according to one report, $10,000 according to another. (The club generated about $60,000 a month, about $1.1 million today!) The transaction took place, but Zemansky asserted Carrollo hadn’t coerced him and Morris into it and the deal had been profitable.

5) Zemansky debuted another Club Fortune in 1937, this one a nightclub in Reno, Nevada with a casino, cocktail lounge and entertainment, which became known for its large, tango offering. After a successful, 10-year run, Zemansky closed the business in 1947 when the property lease expired.

“At the time it was the outstanding night spot in Western Nevada, featuring an unusual decorative theme of potted palms,” wrote the Reno Evening Gazette (Jan. 12, 1953).

Other Business

6) Zemansky’s other businesses included: Diamond Palace, a pawn shop and jewelry store he and his brothers ran for years, and the House of Props, which rented furnishings, sets and objects to movie studios and theater companies, both in Los Angeles, as well as Heaney’s Jewelry & Loan Co. in Reno, co-owned with George Heaney.

7) Zemansky discovered and, for several years, managed boxer Jack Johnson who went on to become a world heavyweight champion.

Crime

8) Zemansky was robbed twice at his Los Angeles home, in 1933 and 1934. The second time, two masked gunmen bound Zemansky, his wife and nephew with neckties, made Zemansky open the vault and stole $5,000 ($100,000 today) in jewels and $200 ($4,000) in cash.

9) Zemansky was arrested in Reno in August 1945 for leaving open Club Fortune’s basement door, thereby violating a city ordinance. His punishment was a $10 ($150 today) fine.

10) Zemansky passed away from a heart attack at age 75 on January 12, 1953. He was in San Bernardino at the time with his wife, visiting her sister on their way to Palm Springs.

Do you have any additional information about Zemansky to share? 

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Sources

With their involvement in Nevada casinos behind them, Silver State residents, Clifford “Cliff” A. Jones and Jacob “Jake” Kozloff, together accrued a string of gambling enterprises in and around South America.

Who They Were

Kozloff (1901-1976), was a Russia-born businessman who’d owned the Lebanon Valley Brewing Company in Pennsylvania for two decades. He’d sold it and moved to Las Vegas in the late 1940s. There, he’d invested in various hotel-casinos over the ensuing years, including the Thunderbird, Frontier, Golden Nugget, Royal Nevada and Hacienda.

Missouri-born Jones (1912-2001) was an attorney, had founded the Jones, Jones Close & Brown law firm and had been the lieutenant governor of Nevada between January 1947 and December 1954. He’d held interests in Las Vegas resorts, including the Last Frontier Hotel, Lucky Strike Club, Pioneer Club, Westerner Club and Silver Palace.

Kozloff

Jones

Driving Forces

Both men had a reason to focus on opportunities outside of the U.S. Regarding Jones, the Nevada Gaming Commission in 1958 made him (and other Nevada gambling licensees in a similar situation) choose between his Nevada and his international holdings. (Then, Nevada law disallowed simultaneous ownership of gambling enterprises inside and outside Nevada). Jones divested of his domestic holdings and kept the one he held in Cuba, the Havana Hilton casino, until Fidel Castro became Cuba’s prime minister. At that time, in January 1959, Castro closed all of the country’s casinos, kicking out all of the Americans, many of them Mobsters, who owned and ran them.

As for Kozloff, Nevada’s gaming regulators had denied him a state gambling license in 1956.

New Casino Ventures

In four years’ time, doing business as Caribbean American Investment Inc., a Liberian corporation, partners Jones and Kozloff added the gambling concessions at four international casinos, all in different countries, to their holdings. They were as follows.

1958: HAITI

The duo first had success in Haiti, when, in 1958, government officials asked them to run the Casino International in Port-au-Prince. Kozloff and Jones became the casino’s primary shareholders. According to their gambling agreement, the Nevadans got 60 percent of the gross casino revenues, the Haitian government got 20 percent and the rest went toward maintenance.

“Since putting new life in Haiti’s government-owned casino, [Kozloff and Jones] announced plans to enlarge their horizon to include a chain of gambling parlors strategically placed throughout the tourist-popular West Indies,” reported The Miami Herald (March 15, 1959).

Casino International

1959*: ARUBA

Caribbean American Investment next garnered the casino concession at the new, $5 million Aruba Caribbean hotel sited on the white sands of the island’s Palm Beach. New York architect, Morris Lapidus, who’d designed many Miami Beach buildings, designed the property for owner Condado Caribbean Hotels Inc. This Chicago-based company also owned the Executive Hotel in the Windy Cindy, eventually the headquarters of James “Jimmy” R. Hoffa’s International Brotherhood of Teamsters.

Aruba Caribbean

“[Aruba] is being called the new Cuba at the Caribbean, since many Americans who previously  wintered in Cuba are now visiting Aruba to take advantage of the island’s miles of white beaches, its new hotel accommodations and the ever-popular gambling casino at the Aruba Caribbean Hotel,” reported The Salt Lake Tribune (Jan. 29, 1961).

1960: ECUADOR

Early in the following year, Jones and Kozloff expanded into Ecuador. They landed the gambling concession at the just built, elegant 250-room Hotel Quito located in and named after the country’s capital. At the resort designed by U.S. architect Charles McKirahan in a modernist style, the casino offered an array of games, including craps, blackjack, chemin de fer, poker, roulette and slot machines.

“The most popular feature of the hotel to the guests was the casino, operated on a high level by operators from Las Vegas,” Garth C. Reeves wrote in The Miami Times (Dec. 8, 1962).

Hotel Quito

1962: SURINAME

In 1962, Caribbean American Investment added to their portfolio a fourth casino, located at another new hotel. That one was the 80-room Torarica Hotel-Casino on the river in Paramaribo, the capital of Suriname,** formerly Dutch Guiana. Chicago’s Condado Caribbean Hotels also built and owned this property.

As for all of the above gambling opportunities, the two Nevadan gambling entrepreneurs never pursued them, Kozloff told The Miami Herald. Rather, officials in the various countries sought out him and Jones and proposed that the duo take on their casinos.

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* In 1959, before Aruba, it appeared as if the Puerto Rican government was going to grant the gambling concession at the new Barranquitas resort to Caribbean American Investment, but, ultimately, it decided against it.
** Until January 1978, the country’s name was spelled “Surinam.” Now, it’s spelled “Suriname.”

Sources

One Carlin, Nevada business owner learned the hard way that the state didn’t tolerate gambling operators cheating the players. 

Gino Quilici just had been granted a gambling license in August 1952 for the State Inn, in the small city about 270 miles northeast of Reno. Only three months later, the Nevada Gaming Control Board (NGCB)* found on the premises two illegal, “plugged,” three-reel, mechanical slot machines.

A $1 machine, sitting in the bar area, contained a percentage changer, or “jumper,” on the center reel, which prevented the three reels from showing a jackpot. A $0.50 machine in the café had a jumper on the right reel, preventing a jackpot and three other payoffs.

Quilici, who’d emigrated from Italy to the U.S. at age 15 in 1914, had owned the State Inn as well as the State Hotel, also in Carlin, since 1947. He’d held a gambling license for the hotel since 1950. His criminal record contained one conviction, for violating Prohibition in 1925 and for which he’d served 30 days in jail.

Made To Answer

At the hearing before the Nevada Tax Commission concerning the rigged slot machines in February 1953, Quilici testified that he’d bought the ones in question from someone in another state and hadn’t known they’d been tampered with.

The tax commissioners suspended Quilici’s gambling license for the State Inn for 15 days. This meant that for that period he had to turn around and keep his slot machines facing the wall. Presumably, Quilici complied. He was warned that next time the penalty would be more serious.

Events at that meeting set a precedent for how Nevada’s gambling regulators would, from that point on, deal with rigged slot machines cases. They’d impose a short suspension for first and minor offenses and longer suspensions or license revocation for second or large offenses. Previously, the agency had turned over the matter to local law authorities. In those instances, the cases oftentimes were dropped because prosecutors couldn’t prove the operators knew their slots were cheating customers.

Lesson Not Learned

Quilici tested the commission’s new policy six years later when NGCB agents again discovered a problematic slot at the licensee’s State Inn in April 1958. This time it was a $0.25 machine with a plug on the center reel, which kept a certain symbol from showing.

In this second incident, Quilici didn’t get off so easily; he was arrested. The machine was confiscated for possible use as evidence in court, if the case wound up there.

In fact, it did. Quilici stood trial in October. Again, he claimed ignorance. In less than 30 minutes, the jury found him guilty of allowing operation of a plugged slot at the State Inn. The judge fined him $1,000 (about $9,000 today).

The next month he had to answer to gambling regulators for this violation of the state gambling law. During that proceeding, Quilici resorted to the same defense. The tax commissioners revoked his gambling license for both the State Inn and State Hotel.

Tough, Economic Consequences

A gambling license revocation wasn’t for life in many cases, so a once-licensee could reapply for another one. Quilici requested a new license about seven months later, for eight slot machines at the State Inn and another eight slots at the State Hotel. The tax commission refused to grant him one due to his conviction on a gambling charge.

A month later, Quilici applied for a license for table games at the Star Hotel and Bar in Winnemucca, another of his properties.

“The application was deferred because the present operation did not indicate that he could handle another one,” it was recorded in the August 1959 NGCB meeting minutes.

In yet another effort, Quilici applied for the 16 slots total for his café and hotel, and in December, he, with his attorney, argued his case before the NGCB. Quilici stated he’d studied up on slot machines and now knew enough to determine whether or not they’ve been doctored.

“I won’t trust anybody but myself,” he said (Reno Evening Gazette, Dec. 2, 1959).

The board indicated it needed additional time to research and consider his case and, thus, deferred action on the repeat offender’s application.

Subsequently, in January 1960, on the NGCB’s advice, the tax commission refused Quilici a new gambling license on the basis of his previous license suspension and revocation.

A Different Tack

In July, instead of Quilici, Elijah I. Puett, owner of Puett Appliance Co. and a lifelong Carlin resident, applied for a gambling license for eight slot machines at the State Inn. The two businessmen had come to an arrangement wherein, in part, Puett would lease the machines from Quilici for $12.50 ($110) apiece each month, and Quilici’s employees would service them. It’s probable that Quilici also was to get a percentage of the earnings from the slots.

The commissioners denied Puett’s application with no prejudice to him, a man the NGCB agents found to be “of good character” (Meeting Minutes, January 1960), and cited Regulation 3.020, Section 1, as the reason.

That rule read, “The commission or the board may deem that premises are unsuitable for the conduct of gaming operations by reason of ownership of any interest whatsoever in such premises by a person who is unqualified or disqualified to hold a gaming license, regardless of the qualifications of the person who seeks or holds a license to operate gaming in or upon such premises.“

When it came to getting a new gambling license, like the people who’d played his plugged slots, Quilici wouldn’t hit a jackpot.

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* Formed in 1955, the Nevada Gaming Control Board served as the investigative team for the Nevada Tax Commission, which originally handled gambling licenses. In 1959, when the Nevada Gaming Commission was formed, it took over that responsibility from the tax commission.

Sources

1954

Two gambling-related issues — cheating by operators and prostitution — in Nevada’s town of Searchlight came to a head at the July meeting of the state tax commission, then responsible for overseeing gaming.

Regarding the roughly 300-resident community, commissioners 1) had heard rumors that its local ladies of the night mingled with customers in the casinos and 2) had been getting increasing complaints about the gambling clubs swindling their patrons.

Exercise Of Power

Until Searchlight addressed both problems to the satisfaction of the commissioners, they’d deny all gambling license applications, they said. And they did. In July, they refused to grant licenses to three of the town’s four casinos:

Oasis Club: one application by Belle Norheim then a second application by her sons Herman and Wilfred John Collier

Searchlight Casino: applicant Ernest Sandquist

El Rey Club: Gerald W. Judd and W. J. Martello applied for a reinstatement of their license as the commission had revoked it the previous year after discovering a rigged slot machine on the premises

Survival At Risk

The Crystal Club being the only licensed gambling house there at the time created an economic crisis for Searchlight, located about 60 miles south of Las Vegas. The community relied on its cut of gambling license fees to cover the $5,000 to $6,000 a year needed to operate. Its other income source, property taxes, contributed only about $800.

“We need licenses regardless of whom they are issued to,” Clyde C. Cree of the Searchlight town board told commissioners at their August meeting. “We want a town, gentlemen, I’m here to tell you that. We’d like to know what the tax commission wants cleaned up” (Reno Evening Gazette, Aug. 10, 1954).

Commissioners made it clear that Searchlight and its casinos needed to 1) keep gambling separate from prostitution and 2) stop the cheating of players. Cree agreed to make it happen.

“If it is a matter of the girls keeping the boys from getting licenses, then we’ll get rid of the girls,” he said.

The gambling agency gave Searchlight some time to get it done and, thus, deferred action on the town’s three pending license applications, at least until it next met.

Supposed Turnaround

At the subsequent monthly meeting, commission secretary Robbins E. Cahill reported what he’d found during his recent investigative trip to Searchlight.

The license applicants were willing to abide by the tax commission’s mandates, none of the clubs was engaged in prostitution and gambling there “was pretty well straightened out,” he said (Nevada State Journal, Sept. 10, 1954).

Therefore, the commissioners granted licenses for the Searchlight Casino and El Rey Club.

They, however, denied the Colliers brothers a license for the Oasis Club because they had criminal pasts, including prison time served in California for burglary. That ended gambling at the Oasis for good, leaving Searchlight with only three licensed casinos.

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Photo from Pond5.com: by egubisch

Sources

1944 stock certificate signed by Pat Mooney

1940-1953

In 1946, Pat Mooney, chief field deputy of the Nevada Internal Revenue (IR) Bureau office, made gambler-Mobster Elmer “Bones” F. Remmer* an offer he couldn’t refuse.

If the gambling club owner purchased $52,400 ($699,000 today) worth of shares in the Mountain City Consolidated Copper Co. (MCCCC) then his 1945 federal tax debt in that same amount would be erased and prosecution avoided. Mooney would prepare Remmer’s tax return to ensure that be the case.

The Bay Area-based racketeer accepted. Remmer paid $2,400 ($32,000 today) for 6,000 shares at $0.40 apiece.

Like him, hundreds of other California and Nevada and business people, including convicted abortionist Gertrude Jenkins of San Francisco, took a similar deal over the previous handful of years. Here are some of The Silver State gamblers who did so between July 1943 and May 1946 and what they paid:

These and all of the other people who bought MCCCC stock had tax problems that disappeared subsequently.

Mining Misrepresentations

Along with Mooney, the key perpetrators of the scam were Ernest M. Schino, chief field deputy for the tax bureau in Northern California, and Martin Hartmann, an ex-con turned MCCCCC sales agent. They told prospective shareholders that the corporation owned a reputable, producing copper mine sitting on valuable property that included 14 mining claims, a mill site and water rights. They touted the fact that the land adjoined that of the producing Rio Tinto copper mine in Nevada’s Elko County, owned by Anaconda subsidiary Mountain City Copper Co., a different entity from MCCCC. 

In reality, MCCCC didn’t have a working mine. The company had no value, and, thus, the stock was worthless. The property was nothing more than “a rathole in Nevada,” Frank Dwyer of the San Francisco Stock Exchange told the San Francisco Examiner (Aug. 29, 1950).

Mooney founded and incorporated MCCCC in 1937, allegedly spent $137,000 on some work there, including a geophysical survey of the land and some underground work in 1944, but that was all. By 1950, MCCCC had about 600 shareholders, a major one being Robert L. Douglass, an IR collector in Nevada.

Compounding The Crime

As promised, Mooney calculated and filled out Remmer’s tax returns not just for 1945 but for all of the five years between 1942 and 1947, a violation of IR regulations. Specifically, the bureau’s employees were prohibited from doing any work that could affect a person’s tax liability and/or from moonlighting in any capacity in which their personal and professional interests would conflict.

Scandal Sees Sunlight

In early 1950, the San Francisco Examiner exposed the IR scheme and the workers involved. Subsequently, William A. Burkett testified before Senator Estes Kefauver’s United States Senate Special Committee to Investigate Crime in Interstate Commerce in San Francisco in November 1950, telling them what he knew about it.  He previously quit his position as the IR intelligence chief for Northern California after his department ignored his reports on the MCCCC stock extortion in what he alleged was a coverup.

“The Internal Revenue office hearing [before the Kefauver Committee] showed … that established law enforcement and investigative officers were in many cases the exploiters rather than the exploited in their relationships with the underworld,” William Howard Moore wrote in The Kefauver Committee and the Politics of Crime, 1950-1952.

Probe, Legal Action Ensue

After an investigation by East Coast U.S. Treasury agents into related tax cases going back to 1940, the federal government pursued a lawsuit against Mooney, Schino and Hartmann for a single extortion case, the one involving Jenkins, the abortionist, who purchased $5,000 worth of MCCCC shares. By this time, Mooney was 81 and retired, Schino was 55 and fired. Hartmann was 63.

A federal grand jury indicted the trio for attempting to defraud the U.S. government by attempting to obstruct the IR bureau’s prosecution of Jenkins for income tax evasion.

Ralph Read, head of the IR bureau’s intelligence unit in San Francisco, said that his team, after investigating the Jenkins case years earlier, concluded “there was nothing involving any Internal Revenue personnel” and “there was nothing in the nature of solicitation of a bribe or any act to influence an Internal Revenue officer” (San Francisco Examiner, Aug. 30, 1950).

In early 1952, federal prosecutors tried Mooney, Schino and Hartmann together. A jury found all three guilty.

Schino and Hartmann appealed the ruling, but in December 1953, the Ninth U S. Circuit Court of Appeals upheld it. Schino’s sentence was two years in prison, Hartmann’s was two years in prison plus a $5,000 ($49,000 today) fine. Mooney got two years’ probation and a $5,000 fine.

As for gambler-Mobster Remmer, he later was convicted of federal tax evasion and sentenced to a $20,000 ($194,000 today) fine and five years prison, of which he served 2.5.

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* Remmer’s gambling houses included the Cal-Neva Lodge at Lake Tahoe in Crystal Bay, Nevada; and in California, the Menlo Club, 110 Eddy and B&R Smokeshop in San Francisco; the 21 in El Cerrito; and the Oaks Club in Emeryville.

Sources