1953-1959

Australian-American actor Errol Flynn was going to open one of the world’s largest casinos, one that would rival Monaco’s Monte Carlo, in the Virgin Islands when gambling was legalized there, he said in 1953. Were the enterprise to be successful, he’d move permanently to the Caribbean, where he’d open his own studios and continue producing movies.

The closest he ever got to that pipe dream, though, was playing a dealer in the 1957 film, The Big Boodle. In the role, he gets saddled with fake money a pretty lady gives him while working at the Casino, a gambling house in Havana, Cuba.

About two years after that movie debuted, Flynn passed away.

Barriers To Fruition

Perhaps what foiled his casino plan was that none of the three Virgin Islands legalized gambling during his lifetime. (That did change eventually, in 1994, when Saint Croix, not Saint John or Saint Thomas, passed a referendum to allow casino gambling.)

Maybe Flynn’s casino didn’t happen for other reasons. For instance, his financial situation was such he couldn’t have funded, even partly, such an undertaking himself. It’s possible, actually likely, he wasn’t even ever serious about it.

Sources

1950

In the morning, gambler Nelson Harris, 34, telephoned two Fort Worth, Texas criminal attorneys and said he was on his way over to discuss a life and death matter. He and his wife Juanita, 25 and pregnant, due in a week’s time, quickly loaded into the car to drive there, but didn’t get anywhere.

The car exploded after Harris pressed its starter, killing the three of them instantly.

Minutes after the blast, which shattered windows in nearby homes and apartments, the Harrises’ home phone rang, which a neighbor answered. According to him, a man on the other end said, “Tell the ______ ______’s friends they’ll get the same,” then hung up.

Harris had been a member of the Green Dragon narcotics syndicate, for which he’d served time, and after, had owned a gambling café, Nelson’s Place, on Jacksboro Highway, dubbed the “Highway to Hell” for all the houses of vice located on it.

Police investigated multiple possible motives for the assassination. Recently, Harris had been playing and wining a lot at floating craps games in Fort Worth and Houston, which had perturbed a gambler running them. A recent tip from Harris, an informant to the feds, had led to agents raiding a Dallas narcotics ring. Harris may have known too much, as a cache of business records found among his belongings after his demise detailed payoffs to police.

No one was convicted for the Harris murders.

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Part I and Part II.

Sources

1949

The Smiths, who owned and operated Harolds Club in Reno, Nevada appropriately named their casino Roaring Camp.

Generally, a roaring camp was “a gold-prospecting camp characterized by wild behavior, unrestrained drinking and gambling,” according to the Oxford English Dictionary.

Specifically, Roaring Camp was an actual mining settlement in California’s Amador County, on the Mokelumne River where forty-niners prospected for gold.

Also, Roaring Camp was the name of the fictional California gold mining town in American author Bret Harte’s 19th century short story, “The Luck of Roaring Camp.”

Harolds’ Roaring Camp isn’t around anymore, but California’s Roaring Camp is, as a tourist spot, Roaring Camp Mining Co.

Source: Reno Evening Gazette (Nev.), March 30, 1949.

1934

A man named Hans Brucksmer played about $15 worth of nickels (about $300 today) in a slot machine at a place of business in Seattle, Washington and got only four coins back. He lifted the machine and took it to the local police station.

There, holding the device under one arm, he filled out a complaint form, claiming the machine had cheated him! (It’s unknown what he thought the machine’s purpose was.) Of course, no recourse was given to Brucksmer as his claim was meritless.

What did happen, though, was the police arrested and jailed the owner of the establishment for possessing illegal gambling paraphernalia.

Source: Reno Evening Gazette (Nev.), “Loses Nickels So He Complains Against Machine,” April 6, 1934.

1936

A single penny got Los Angeles store owner Ethel Jamison convicted.

One day at her shop, Police Officer James Mulligan placed a penny in the slot machine, pulled the lever, received a penny premium and cashed it with her.

He arrested her, as slot machines were illegal in California, and the case went to trial. The jury found her guilty of possessing a gambling device. She was punished with a 30-day suspended jail sentence.

Source: Reno Evening Gazette (Nev.), “Transaction of Lonely Cent Gets Woman Jail Sentence,” Oct. 17, 1936.

1913-1915

Circumstances of a lawsuit in the U.S. led to an unusual occurrence, even for Nevada: the federal government taking over and running a Silver State casino.

It was The Big Casino, a combination casino, dance hall, hotel and restaurant, in Tonopah, then one of the state’s few remaining true mining towns. At the time, William S. Johnson and G.W. Summerfield owned the business.

The Ball Starts Rolling

The impetus for this unprecedented action was a lawsuit William Johnson’s ex-wife Roxa S. Johnson filed in mid-1913, asking the court to set aside the former couple’s divorce decree. A Nevada judge had granted it about 3.5 years earlier, on Dec. 14, 1909, on grounds that Roxa had abandoned William.

The two had married in 1890 in Ohio, and their union had resulted in a son Clemmer, born in 1896. At some point, the Johnsons had moved to Tonopah, Following the legal split, Roxa and Clemmer had relocated to and lived in Los Angeles. William had stayed put.

Details Of The Suit

In her filing, Roxa claimed she’d been deceived under false pretenses into signing an agreement noting William would give her an existing $13,000 (about $369,000 today) note and pay her $76 ($2,000) per month. His estate, however, was worth multiple times that, an estimated $110,000 ($3 million today).

Roxa also alleged she’d been induced to sign another document that waived notice of the divorce and allowed the case to be heard within an hour. She’d noted that while she’d waited in the office of William’s attorney for him to return, he’d filed the action, and the judge had granted a divorce decree. Roxa had signed the forms at 12:30 p.m., and the case had concluded before 2 p.m.

Further, she claimed the divorce had come about through fraudulent means. Specifically:

• The agreement she’d signed had no legal standing
• Roxa hadn’t known anything about a divorce action until the judge issued the decree

  William’s abandonment claim and his testimony supporting it had been false; she and William had been living together up to three days before the divorce request was filed

• No mention had been made of there being a minor child
• William had claimed he lacked financial means
• A default hadn’t been entered in the case

Judge Hits Pause Button

As a result of Roxa’s lawsuit, in August, Federal Judge William W. Morrow issued an injunction and restraining order to William, barring him from disposing of any of his property until the case got resolved.

Along with The Big Casino, William’s assets included the one-year-old Green Goose Tavern and other real estate, in Tonopah; 27,498 shares of the Nye County Land and Livestock Company; securities in other commercial entities; and about $3,000 ($85,000) in cash and diamonds.

Morrow also appointed a receiver, T.F. “Frank” Bonneau of Tonopah, to take control of and maintain William’s assets until further court order. William sought to have the receivership vacated, arguing that it was detrimental to his casino business and that the order was illegal, given that William wasn’t the sole owner of The Big Casino. The co-proprietor’s efforts, however, were unsuccessful.

Uncle Sam Becomes Gambler

Thus, on Aug. 21, 1913 the U.S. government assumed control of and began operating The Big Casino. Joe Monahan was in charge of the gambling component.

“These were mad, merry days at the dance hall,” reported The Tonopah Daily Bonanza (June 10, 1915). “Uncle Sam enjoyed a splendid revenue … he took the roof off and let the blue sky shine in. He brought forth card tables and other gambling devices and told his patrons to go the limit.”

For about two months, the government was “raking in the money” from this popular enterprise.

That revenue ceased, though, in mid-November, when the Nye County Commissioners revoked the business’ liquor license.

“Finally local authorities decided that Uncle Sam was entirely too rotten in his methods for a God-loving, law-abiding mining camp,” the Bonanza reported.

Once it became a dry establishment, patronage plummeted, and Bonneau closed the place soon after.

The Resolution

A few weeks later, on Dec. 15, 2013, The Big Casino reopened under new, non-governmental management, that of Charles Enquist, a previous owner. Liquor was allowed to flow again and did.

As for Johnson v. Johnson, it dragged on for two years, into 1915, but William wasn’t around for most of it. He died in March 1914 from heart trouble.

Ultimately, the court found Roxa had a legal right to much more than what she’d agreed to, about $80,000 ($2.2 million), according to Court Master Lester J. Summerfield, who’d heard testimony about and had assessed William’s assets.  

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Sources

1936

Gambler Leo Barnes and his wife had only been in Denver, Colorado for about six months, having moved from Kansas City, Missouri. On the night of Dec. 8, the couple got in their car to go somewhere.

When Barnes stepped on the car’s starter, an explosion blew him through the roof. He suffered lacerations and burns on his left thigh but survived. His wife was unharmed.

Barnes suspected it’d been Denver Mobster Ova “Smiling Charlie” Elijah Stephens who’d tried to kill him.

A few months earlier, a judge had ordered the closure of Stephens’ Blakeland Inn, in Denver, which had offered roulette, craps and slot machines along with steak dinners and dancing women, and where Barnes had managed the dining room briefly. Out of a job, Barnes had opened his own games at the Cottonwood Ranch not far away. Stephens had demanded Barnes give him a third of the gambling profits or not survive the week. Barnes had refused.

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Part I and Part III.

Sources

Accardo

1935-1965

Tony Accardo, né Antonino Leonardo Accardo (1906-1992), is credited with reviving and expanding the Chicago Outfit’s gambling business in the 1940s after the organization’s head Paul “The Waiter” Ricca named him underboss. Accardo himself had his hand in various gaming enterprises before and after, too.

Accardo is the great-grandfather of the National Football League’s Bosa brothers:* Nick, defensive end for the 49ers and Joey, outside linebacker for the Chargers.

Individual Participation

As early as 1940, Accardo and some Outfit partners owned and operated the prosperous Owl Club, an illegal casino-nightclub in Calumet City, Illinois, on the corner of Douglas and Plummer avenues.

The Mobster-gambler also ran book, oftentimes under the name Joe Batters, a nickname Al “Scarface” Capone had bestowed upon him for his prowess in thrashing people with a baseball bat. In the early 1940s, for example, Accardo conducted a bookmaking enterprise out of the Ogden building at 192 N. Clark St. in Chicago’s Loop.

Not only was Accardo an operator of games of chance; he also was a player and thus, a gambler in both senses of the word. Reportedly, he was one of the best patrons of his own joint, the Owl Club. Even when he older and less mobile, he kept up the activity, placing bets via the telephone.

Group Activities

While underboss, Accardo shifted the Outfit out of labor racketeering and into other areas of organized crime, including gambling. He pushed the syndicate into three specific areas: slot machines, wire service and casinos.

Slots: The Chicago Mob broadened its footprint by placing slots in various establishments beyond the main street gambling house. These included gas stations, restaurants and bars and the group’s favorite targeted outlet, social clubs and fraternal organizations. The Catholic War Vets, the American Legion Posts, the CIO Steel Workers Club, the Polish Democratic Club, and the Italian American Republican Club, are just some of the many local ones.

After successfully flooding its territory in and around Chicago with slots, the Outfit expanded geographically. It hit the neighboring cities first, then nearby states and eventually Nevada.

“Accardo made sure that all the legal Las Vegas casinos used his slot machines,” wrote John William Tuohy in the article “Accardo.”

Wire Service: During the mid-1940s the Outfit took over the Continental Press Service, the wire service that distributed race results throughout the U.S. It did so by killing the operator, James Ragen, after he’d refused to partner with the Chicago Mob.

Once under its control, Continental “became so big and lucrative that an investigating Senate committee later called it the ‘life blood’ of the syndicate,'” reported the Chicago Tribune (Nov. 18, 1984).

Casinos: Three, during the 1950s, the Outfit pursued gambling in a bigger scale. It moved into owning stakes in and skimming millions from casinos. It stuck primarily to legal gambling jurisdictions, first Havana, Cuba, while that lasted, and then Nevada. For instance, by 1961, Chicago owned controlling interests in the Riviera, Stardust, Fremont and Desert Inn, in Vegas.

Despite having a major hand in the Outfit’s gambling (and other lines of business), Accardo always denied being one of the organization’s members never mind a boss. Instead, he claimed he merely was a beer salesman for a Chicago brewery.

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* How Accardo and the Bosa Brothers Are Related

Sources

1953

Harrah’s in Reno, Nevada proposed, to event officials, the casino host an exhibit about gambling at the California State Fair. With a backdrop of silver dollars, the display was to contain gambling equipment and pamphlets on how to play various games, among other items.

The idea went over about as well as the handling of a casino cheat caught in the act.

“What they are advertising is against our state law,” said Dr. J. E. McConnell, a member of the fair board of directors. “I can’t see why we should give them anything — even lip service.”

McConnell said the proposal sounded “as if we’re being taken for a bunch of country yokels.”

(This wasn’t the first gambling-related story involving a regional fair.)

Source: Nevada State Journal, “Californians Scorn Exhibits on Gambling,” July 18, 1953.

1952

The life of wealthy, prominent businessman with several connections to the gambling industry, Thomas “Tom” A. Keen, 56, was abruptly ended at about 10:07 a.m. on Tuesday morning, February 5. 

After giving some duck eggs to a neighbor, this San Mateo, California resident walked back home. He grabbed his coat, kissed his wife good-bye and went to their detached garage to leave for work.

Once in his green Cadillac Fleetwood, he stepped on the starter. Dynamite hidden under the floorboards ignited and blew up. The fatal explosion propelled Keen’s body into the car’s back seat and sheared off his legs.

Car parts took flight. One side of the garage blasted apart. Windows of the Keen’s 16-room mansion shattered, covering the driveway and sidewalk with glass. Two windows of a home across the street also broke into pieces.

“The terrific explosion scattered flesh, metal and wood over a wide area,” reported The Humboldt Times (Feb. 6, 1952). “It was heard for blocks by residents.”

Connections To Gambling

Example of a more modern dog racing tote board

The San Mateo, California resident had worked for the past couple of decades years in the field of dog racing and horse racing. First, he’d built and operated the dog racing tracks in Belmont and Bayshore City in The Golden State. He’d co-invented the mechanical hare used in the sport. When California outlawed dog racing, he’d shifted his business focus to manufacturing and supplying totalizators,* also called totalizers and tote boards, for race tracks. Currently, he was president of the International Totalizer Company, based in Belmont.

Keen’s work took him around the U.S., to states where dog and horse racing were legal. Most recently, he’d been to Phoenix, Arizona to install one of his totalizators at a dog track. One month earlier, he’d installed five of his quinella** machines in the Miami Beach Kennel Club for purposes of demonstration.

Keen had ties with many dog and horse track operators, many of them connected. At the time, Mobsters controlled many such tracks in the country.

The Tucson-born track betting equipment mogul owned stakes in many tracks, including Sportsman’s Park in Cicero, Illinois; the Multnomah Kennel Club in Portland, Oregon; and the Mile High Kennel Club in Denver, Colorado.

“He had no one to fear,” said Keen’s friend and sports shop owner Joe Darcy. “He was never afraid. He did nothing but good for hundreds of people. Who could have done something so horrible?”

Keen

Theory No. 1

According to San Mateo Police Chief Martin McDonnell, Keen likely was killed because he took business into a territory out of which he’d been warned to stay. His department’s investigation led McDonnell to deduce Keen had been killed because he’d tried to place his quinella machines in a certain Florida hotel. The chief also surmised there most likely had been two killers, carrying out the assassination on behalf of a Mobster boss somewhere on the East Coast.

Theory No. 2

The second hypothesis was put forth by the California Crime Commission, which had held an unprecedented closed hearing in early May 1952 to investigate the Keen case. In its final report, the commission purported that Keen had been murdered because he’d owed the Olmo Group bookmaking enterprise about $20,000 (roughly $210,000 today).

Allegedly, Keen had been an Olmo customer and a heavy bettor and had refused to pay his debt even after the group’s enforcer Richard “Big Dick” C. Trabert had tried “persuading” him to do so. As a result, supposedly Mobster-gambler Emilio Giorgetti and John O’Neil, also part of the Olmo ring, had been forced to cover the loss. (Keen’s estate at the time he passed away was worth $204,000 (about $2 million today).

The San Mateo County District Attorney Louis B. Dematteis, who wasn’t corrupt, didn’t give the bad debt theory much credence, he said. The timing — Keen being murdered two years after the Olmo Group had disbanded — didn’t make sense. Dematteis thought it more probable the murder was tied to more recent events.  

The actual motive behind the murder of Thomas Keen remains a mystery; the crime still is unsolved.

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* A totalizer is the system for running parimutuel betting. It’s an electrically operated board that flashes the changing odds and total bets before dog and horse races and the payoff amounts after.
** A quinella, or quiniela, is a bet in which the first two places in a race must be predicted, but not always in the correct order. Quinella machines, which displayed these types of bets, were used in dog, but not horse, racing.

Part II and Part III.

Sources