10

___________________________

The Beat Goes On

 

Jerry Lisner was arrested by the FBI on July 11, 1979, and charged with interstate transportation of stolen property, aiding and abetting, grand larceny, and conspiracy. Free on $75,000 bail, he was scheduled to go on trial October 29 in U.S. District Court in Washington, D.C.

In the late summer of that year, Lisner came back into Frank’s life. His reemergence posed potential problems for Frank and Tony, but the repercussions were much worse for Lisner himself.

It started when Frank got a call from a friend who owned a restaurant in town; he said they needed to meet. The friend brought another man along with him, a lawyer. “Do you know a guy named Jerry Lisner?” the lawyer asked Frank.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Lisner’s in trouble with the feds and he’s playing ball to get himself a deal. He’s been in front of a grand jury in Washington and he’s been cooperating with them. I found out that he’s mentioned you and Tony Spilotro. I don’t know you or this Tony guy, but I thought you ought to know.”

Frank thanked the informant, then got hold of Tony.

“I don’t like it, Frankie,” Tony said. “If this shit is true, it looks like they’re trying to indict one or both of us.”

“What do you want to do?”

After a brief hesitation, Tony said, “For right now, nothing. I want to check into this thing myself and I’ll get back to you.”

A few days later, Frank heard from Tony. He’d confirmed what the lawyer had said, plus a little more. “Listen to me,” Tony said. “This fucking Lisner is cooperating with the grand jury in Washington. He’s giving testimony about you and your affiliation with me. And he’s talking about that deal in Washington [the money-laundering scam] you tried to pull. Subpoenas are going to be issued.”

Tony’s information couldn’t have been more solid. The very next day the FBI served Frank with a subpoena to appear before the grand jury in Washington. After the feds left, Frank called Tony. “What should I do, Tony? Should I make up a bullshit story? Should I take the Fifth [exercise his right against self-incrimination] and force them to offer me immunity?”

“Get a lawyer out of D.C. and make up a story.” Then he added ominously, “We’ll deal with Lisner later.”

Frank went to Washington and retained a lawyer. After discussing his testimony with the lawyer, Frank was interviewed by a United States Attorney and some FBI agents. They gave him a grilling, but he stuck to his made-up story. He testified the same way when he went before the grand jury.

When Frank got back to Vegas, he told Larry Neumann what was going on. “Let’s kill the fucker right now,” Lurch said.

“We can’t just go around whacking people without permission. I’ve got to find out what Tony wants to do first. And if he wants Lisner hit, he’ll have to clear it with Chicago. While we’re waiting, try to get close to Lisner’s wife at the Aladdin. See what you can learn from her. If we want to feed any bullshit to Jerry, we’ll do it through her.”

Neumann did as instructed and became buddies with the Lisners, but he didn’t like them. He told Frank that when it was time to hit Lisner, he wanted to do the job. “I want to kill both of them, though. He’s got it coming and she’s a no-good fucking bitch. She’s got to go too.”

Tony finally made up his mind about Lisner and when he did, he was emphatic. He told Frank, “I want him fucking whacked. And if you don’t do it, I will.”

“Take it easy, Tony. I’ll handle it.”

“I just want to make sure you understand that I want that cock-sucker taken care of. I got the okay from Chicago and it’s gotta be done.”

“It’ll be done. Should I take Larry with me?”

“No, leave him out of it. Have Wayne [Matecki] come in from Chicago.” Whatever reason Tony had for rejecting Neumann’s participation, it probably saved Jeannie Lisner’s life.

“Okay. I’ll contact Wayne. Anything else?”

“Yeah, get hold of Lisner. Meet him for a few drinks or something, so he gets comfortable with you being around him.”

Frank contacted Lisner and invited him and his wife to meet him at the My Place Lounge. They had a good time, laughing and joking. Tony Spilotro stopped by, making the couple even more at ease. Tony turned on the charm and by the time the Lisners left, they seemed to be feeling pretty secure. The plan could now advance to the next stage.

Frank drove to Los Angeles and flew from the Burbank airport to Chicago. He made contact with Matecki and briefed him on the plan to murder Lisner. Matecki packed his bag and the two caught a plane back to Burbank, then drove to Vegas. Frank already had a work car stashed in the underground parking garage of his condo. The two killers assembled the rest of the necessary equipment: a .22 pistol, a police radio, and walkie-talkies. Everything was ready.

On October 10, 1979, Frank called Lisner. “Jerry, I need to discuss something with you, but I don’t want to do it on the phone. Can we get together tonight?”

“Sure. Why don’t you stop by my house and we’ll talk.”

“Good. This is private, though, so —”

Lisner cut Frank off. “Jeannie has to work. I’ll be alone, so you don’t have to worry.”

“Thanks, Jerry. I’ll be over.”

After dark Frank and Matecki put their radios and walkie-talkies in the work car and headed for the Lisner house at 2303 Rawhide Avenue. Frank concealed the murder weapon in his waistband. When they arrived, Frank told Matecki to wait in the car while he went to the door and rang the bell. Lisner responded and let him in. They stood in the hallway for a few seconds making small talk. Then Frank used a ruse to get Lisner away from the door. “What was that?” Frank said suddenly.

“What was what?”

“I heard a noise.” Frank pointed down the hallway. “I thought you were alone.”

“Nobody’s here but me. Come on, let’s take a look.”

Frank followed his victim into the living room. The hit man couldn’t wear gloves without looking suspicious to Lisner, so he was very careful not to touch anything that could retain his fingerprints.

“See, nobody’s here but you and me,” Lisner announced.

“Maybe the noise came from outside,” Frank suggested.

Lisner led the way toward the rear of the house to check the backyard. As they passed through the dining room Frank pulled his gun. He fired two rounds into the back of Lisner’s head from point-blank range. And then the situation became surreal. Instead of going down, Lisner turned around and said, “What the ... Why?” Then he started to run through the house toward the garage.

Frank caught up with him and emptied the rest of the bullets into his head. Lisner fell, but he was still alive, still moving. Frank had trouble believing what was happening. He got on top of the wounded man and held him down. Out of ammunition, his eyes searched for an alternate weapon. He saw a knife on a counter next to the door leading to the garage and made a grab for it; it was just out of his reach. Next he spotted an electric water cooler that was within his grasp. He ripped the cord out of the cooler to strangle his victim with, but when he wrapped it around Lisner’s neck, the cord broke.

Getting frustrated, Frank got up and dragged Lisner into the den. The man was still conscious and aware of what was going on. “My wife knows you’re here! She’s going to know you did this!” he screamed at Frank.

By that time Matecki had become concerned and came into the house; he was carrying an extra magazine of ammo with him. Frank reloaded the pistol and put pillows from a couch over Lisner’s head to muffle the gunshots. Frank then emptied the pistol into Lisner’s head again. It had taken ten rounds, but Lisner was finally dead. The killers dragged him outside to the pool and dumped him in. The body floated for a few seconds, then sank to the bottom.

Frank and Matecki went back into the house; there was blood everywhere. They wiped everything off, then checked the house for any security cameras or recorders. There weren’t any. They also looked for any papers or address books that might have had Frank or Tony’s name in them. They didn’t find any of those either.

After completing their search, the pair drove back to Frank’s place. They showered, scrubbed their hands with kitchen cleanser, and cut the clothes they had been wearing into little pieces. Then they drove the work car into the desert, scattering the dismantled gun and scraps of clothing. Finally, they parked the work car and Frank used his personal vehicle to drive his accomplice to McCarran Airport. Matecki was on a plane back to Chicago that same night.

The hit was big news all over town. The next night Frank met Tony at My Place; they talked in the parking lot. “I’ve got a couple of questions about Lisner,” Tony said. “We’ll talk about him now, but never again after tonight. Understand?”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

“How come you guys dumped him in the pool?”

“We wanted to get rid of some of the blood and any prints we might have left on his clothes.”

“That was a bit theatrical, wasn’t it?”

Frank shrugged. “We did what we figured we had to do.”

“How come you had to fire so many shots?”

“I was hitting him right in the fuckin’ head every time. But that small caliber didn’t work well, didn’t do the job.”

The two men didn’t discuss Lisner again.

Initially, the Lisner killing seemed to have been a total success. According to press reports, Metro was in the dark as to who killed Lisner or why. But the cops had their suspicions. They knew about the dead man’s legal problems. They knew about his cooperation with authorities. They knew who benefited from his demise. It didn’t take long for Frank to realize the law had an interest in him in regard to the murder. And because Lisner had been both a federal witness and defendant, the FBI was also able to get involved.

·  ·  ·

Shortly after the killing, Frank sold the work car to Herbie Blitzstein, the former Chicago bookie who helped operate Spilotro’s Gold Rush store. Blitzstein was working with the burglar Pete. Frank didn’t care for Pete at all. He wouldn’t follow orders and wasn’t kicking back the money he was supposed to. But Tony liked him and asked Frank to take him on some scores.

Frank protested. “Jesus, Tony. There’s something about that guy that bothers me. I’d just as soon not have him involved.”

“Frankie, I’ve got my reasons. Just do what I ask, huh?”

So, in spite of his misgivings, Frank let Pete hang around and took him on some jobs. But that wasn’t the worst of it. Later on, Pete began bringing around another thief, Sal Romano.

Romano was a burglar from Chicago and was familiar with Tony Spilotro, Frank Cullotta, and most of their crew. In the late 1970s, however, he came to the attention of agent Donn Sickles, who was working organized-crime cases out of the FBI’s Phoenix, Arizona, office.

Sickles’ office received a Teletype from the Chicago field office about a burglar who was believed to have moved from there to Tucson. His name was Sal Romano and he had the reputation of being a pretty good alarm and lock guy. After receiving the information, Sickles and another agent named Bill Christensen began checking on Romano to find out where he was and what he was doing.

One of the things they did was contact the Tucson Police Department to see if they’d experienced any recent burglaries matching Romano’s modus operandi. Sure enough, some coin-operated laundries were getting knocked off and Romano looked like a good fit. The police initiated a video surveillance and Romano was caught on tape doing a laundry burglary. The cops let Sickles know when they were going to make the arrest and he went to the station to see if Romano would be willing to talk with him, specifically if he might be interested in working a deal to stay out of jail.

Sickles and his partner got to speak wit h Romano and the burglar was willing to cooperate. He told them about burglaries he’d done in various places, including some with Tony Spilotro’s people in Las Vegas. He also said that a lot of the goods stolen in Vegas were fenced in Tucson. Romano was released without being charged, but he had to produce credible information in order to stay free. Based on what he told them, the agents were able to retrieve some of the items stolen in Las Vegas from the fences in Tucson.

Romano wasn’t asked to target any specific person or group, but the agents kept him on a short leash and always knew where he was. When the informant decided to go to Las Vegas and pal around with some of Spilotro’s associates, the Phoenix agents contacted Dennis Arnoldy and Joe Gersky at the Las Vegas field office and told them what was going on. That was the beginning of the excellent cooperation and coordination among various field offices and agents in handling Romano and the information he provided.

·  ·  ·

Frank’s Upper Crust was located in a strip mall. The FBI was interested in learning what went on in the back room of the restaurant, so they applied to a federal judge for a warrant to install eavesdropping equipment to find out. It wasn’t an easy placement for the G-men. The fact that the adjoining and affiliated My Place was open around the clock further complicated the job. Agents ended up accessing the roof and installing a camera and microphone down an airshaft. It was ticklish and time-consuming, but they got it done without being detected. That was the good news. The bad news for the law was that the bug was discovered less than 24 hours later.

Things began to go downhill for the agents when Leo Guardino went into a back room to take a snooze before Frank picked him up to go on a burglary. He climbed on top of a chest-type freezer and before he closed his eyes, he saw something shiny in the ceiling. He pushed up a ceiling tile and found the bug. Then he picked up a phone and called Frank at home. Without going into detail, Guardino summoned his partner to the restaurant.

When Frank arrived, Guardino motioned him into the back room. Using hand signals he directed Frank’s attention to the eavesdropping equipment. The two men left the room to discuss what to do.

Next to My Place Lounge in the shopping center were a clothing store and a real-estate office. Only a small firewall separated the stores. A crawl space above the ceilings ran through all the stores. Because it was a Sunday, the real-estate office and the clothing store were closed. Guardino was dispatched to go into the crawl space above the ceiling and follow the wire to the monitoring equipment. He returned from his mission and reported he’d traced the line to the real-estate office.

This time both Guardino and Frank went into the ceiling and dropped down into the real-estate office. Frank ripped the wires out of the equipment there, then crawled back to the restaurant, removing the camera and microphone as he descended from the ceiling.

Frank next went to My Place and called Tony. “Bring that camera to my house. We’ll check it and find out who it belongs to,” Tony said.

When Frank got to Tony’s, he found Joe Blasko there. Blasko was an ex-cop; while he was on the force, Tony recruited him to provide information on police activities. When he was caught on FBI wiretaps passing sensitive data to the mobsters, he was fired. Afterward he continued to advise Tony on police-related matters. Frank considered him to be Tony’s stooge, and the Ant threw him a bone every once in a while to keep him happy.

Blasko checked the camera and found a metal tag that had been painted over. He removed the paint with alcohol and it said “Property of the U.S. Government.”

Tony was angry. “The fuckin’ FBI,” he fumed.

“What are we going to do now?” Frank asked.

Tony pointed at the camera. “I know a Jew who can use shit like that. I’ll give it to him. Then we’ll sit back and see how the G is going to handle this.”

·  ·  ·

Not long after the transmissions from the Upper Crust stopped, agents Charlie Parsons and Emmett Michaels met at their office to discuss their options. They came to the conclusion that the bugging equipment was government property and had been legally installed. Under those circumstances they saw no reason why they shouldn’t go to the restaurant and get their property back. They decided to call on Frank the next day.

·  ·  ·

Frank spent the rest of Sunday at the restaurant waiting for the G to do something, but nothing happened. On Monday morning he and Eileen got the restaurant ready for business. He told her to be very careful about what she said and that the phones might be tapped. Then he looked out the window and saw a sea of suits; he was sure they were FBI. Five or six agents came inside. Two of them went to the pay phone and the others sat at separate tables. Frank took a seat at a table with Ernie Davino. In his pocket he had the FBI’s microphone that he’d ripped out of the ceiling the previous day. In case he was about to get searched, he removed it and set it in an ashtray. The ever-reliable Eileen noticed the move, came over, and took the ashtray. She removed the mike, went next door to My Place, and flushed it. The suits didn’t pay any attention to her.

Frank walked up to one of the men and asked, “Are you with the FBI?”

The man laughed. “Me with the FBI? No way.”

“I know you guys have to identify yourselves if you’re asked.”

“Sorry. You’re mistaken,” the man said.

Frank knew it was a lie, but decided not to challenge him any further and returned to his seat. The agents hung around a few more minutes and then left.

Charlie Parsons returned in about an hour with Emmett Michaels. Parsons asked Frank outside to talk. He said, “We want our camera back.”

Frank said, “I don’t have your fucking camera.”

“We know damn well you’ve got it. If you don’t give it back, we’ll ride you day and night.”

“You can go fuck yourself. I wouldn’t give you the camera back now even if I did have it.”

“Contact your lawyer and have him give me a call,” Parsons said. He and Michaels left, but they weren’t happy.

Frank contacted Tony and told him about the FBI’s visit. Tony tried to reach his lawyer, Oscar Goodman, but Goodman was out of town and couldn’t fly back. So he called Dominic Gentile, a lawyer originally from Chicago. Frank also got in touch with his own lawyer, John Momot. Gentile was dispatched to handle the FBI. The lawyer contacted Charlie Parsons and arranged a meeting at the Upper Crust that night. Frank, Tony, Gentile, Parsons, and Michaels all got together to talk.

While Parsons was pleading his case that the camera was government property and had been placed pursuant to court order, Tony was standing with his hand stuck inside his shirt. Michaels said to him, “You look like a little Caesar standing there like that.”

Tony didn’t find the agent’s comment amusing. “Fuck you, you bald-headed motherfucker.”

Michaels and Tony eyed each other like a mongoose and a cobra as the tension built. Knowing any further comments could escalate into a physical confrontation, Frank intervened. He said to the agents, “Look, this is my place and your beef is with me. If you’ve got anything to say, say it to me, not Tony.” That defused the situation and there was no further interaction between Michaels and Spilotro.

After some negotiating, the agents said that if they got their camera back, that would be the end of it. Gentile called Frank and Tony aside to talk it over. Frank wanted to play hardball, but Tony figured if the camera was returned, the feds would back off a little. Frank reluctantly went along with him. Frank told Parsons he’d get his camera back, but that the mike was probably somewhere in Lake Mead.

That night Frank picked up the camera from Tony’s friend and got it to Parsons. It wasn’t until later that he figured out how the agents determined where to plant their bug.

·  ·  ·

Around the same time the FBI placed their surveillance devices in the Upper Crust, Metro detectives got in the bugging business as well. Their target was the vehicle operated by Ernie Davino, an old restored Caddy Frank had sold him.

Frank found out about it three days after giving Charlie Parsons his camera back. He was in the restaurant when he received a phone call from a man he didn’t know. He didn’t recognize the guy’s voice and the caller wouldn’t give his name. He said, “Right now your man has a transmitter on his car. I’m listening to a police radio and can hear what they’re saying. They’re following this guy Ernie Davino around.”

Ernie was getting ready to drive to Chicago to deliver some merchandise and was out getting an oil change when Frank tried to get hold of him. As soon as Ernie got home Frank went over to talk with him.

“I got word the cops are on you,” Frank said.

“You might be right. I’ve been noticing some cars that always seem to be around me.”

“There’s one way to find out for sure,” Frank said.

They went out to Davino’s car and found a tracking device under the right fender. Walking away from the car Frank told Davino, “We should probably pull the goddamn transmitter. But in case the cops did anything wrong here, I want to check with John Momot first.”

Davino agreed. “Good idea. Maybe he’ll be able to back those bastards off a little.”

They left Davino’s car parked and drove Frank’s vehicle to the restaurant. When they walked in, Eileen said a man had brought in some audiotapes. She didn’t know who the guy was, but it seemed likely it was Frank’s mystery caller from earlier.

The tapes were recordings of Metro’s surveillance of Ernie Davino. The two men listened to the radio transmissions as the cops followed Davino around. When his car was being serviced, one of the cops said, “Holy Christ! The car’s up on the rack and they’re changing the oil. I hope they don’t see that transmitter.”

Another cop said, “Yeah. If they do I’ll drive in there and rip it out of their fucking hands.”

Frank called Tony and told him about the bug. “The G and now Metro,” Tony said in disgust. “Those cocksuckers are on us big time. Who’s this fuckin’ guy that tipped you?”

“I told you I don’t know. I’m just glad he got hold of me, whoever he is.”

Tony was silent for a few seconds. Then said, “You guys are causing all this goddamn heat. You’d better cool it or they’ll be up our ass every fuckin’ minute.”

Frank resented the implication that the bugging incidents were the fault of him and his crew. Here was Tony, the guy running the whole show, acting like he had nothing to do with anything. But it was obvious to Frank that Tony was getting nervous and when Tony got nervous, he got mean. “Look, Tony, we’re keeping as low a profile as we can and still take care of business. We’re not spending lots of money or buying lots of stuff. They think we’re doing all these scores, but they can’t prove anything. That’s why they’re on us; they’re trying to find out what we’ve got going.”

Frank contacted John Momot. He and Davino met the attorney at a service station. The Caddy was put up on a hoist and Momot took a picture of the transmitter. Then Frank pulled the device off the car and gave it to the lawyer. Momot said it could come in handy later on to make a case for police harassment.

·  ·  ·

Metro detectives were also very curious about what took place at the Upper Crust. Officers assigned to the Spilotro investigation regularly conducted surveillance of the eatery. Two of those detectives were David Groover and Sergeant Gene Smith. On the evening of June 9, 1980, the pair was in their unmarked police vehicle parked nearby when a car with Illinois license plates pulled in.

Tony Spilotro and Frank Cullotta were sitting at a table outside the restaurant. The operator of the vehicle went inside, apparently to order a pizza to go, then came back out and joined Frank and Tony at their table. They talked for several minutes until the new guy’s pizza was ready. At that point he got back in the Lincoln and drove away.

The detectives weren’t sure who this new player was, but it was obvious he was acquainted with Tony and Frank. Smith and Groover decided to follow the Lincoln to see what information they could gather about who the driver was and what he was up to.

As soon as the car pulled out onto Flamingo Road, the driver started speeding, doing 80 or better, and driving recklessly. With Groover behind the wheel, the detectives kept pace with the Lincoln, but made no effort to stop it at that time. Eventually, they figured there was enough probable cause on the traffic violations to pull the car over and check out the operator.

At that time, Groover and Smith didn’t know that the driver of the Lincoln was Frank Bluestein, a 35-year-old maitre d’ at the Hacienda Hotel & Casino, one of the properties controlled by the Chicago Outfit. Also known as Frank Blue, his father, Steve Bluestein, was an official in the local Culinary Union and had been subject to a 1978 search warrant as part of the FBI’s investigation of Tony Spilotro.

The officers pulled over the Lincoln and Groover approached the vehicle. The driver lowered his window. Suddenly Smith hollered, “Watch out, Dave! He’s got a gun!”

Groover returned to the police car and stationed himself behind the driver’s door. Both officers yelled at the driver that they were cops and to put down his gun. Bluestein never said a word, but instead of getting rid of the weapon, he turned slightly in his seat, opened his door, and started to get out of the car. The gun was still in his hand and, according to police, aimed toward Smith. Believing the man was about to shoot, the officers opened fire.

The shots rang out at approximately 11:45 p.m. and several of the rounds struck Bluestein. He was rushed to a nearby hospital where he died a couple of hours later. A .22 handgun that had allegedly been in Bluestein’s possession was recovered at the scene.

·  ·  ·

Frank and Tony were well aware that Groover and Smith were watching them as they sat outside the restaurant that night. In fact, they made gestures at the cops to make sure the officers knew they’d been detected. It was a game they played all the time. The baiting was interrupted when Frank Bluestein pulled up and got out of the Lincoln. Bluestein was acquainted with the gangsters through his father, Steve. He’d moved into town from Chicago a few months earlier and was working in the showroom of the Hacienda.

After exchanging pleasantries, Frank said to him, “I see you’ve still got Illinois plates on your car. Are you going to get a Nevada registration?”

“Someday I will. I just haven’t had the time yet.”

“You’d better get it done pretty soon,” Frank advised. “These fuckin’ cops here are real cowboys. Any time they see a car with Illinois plates, they think you’re a gangster from Chicago.”

“You know, I think somebody’s been following me around,” Bluestein said.

“It’s probably the goddamn cops,” Frank told him.

“No, I don’t think so; I think it’s somebody looking to rob me. Anyway, I’ve got a gun in the car. If anybody tries anything, I’ll be able to take care of myself.”

“Do yourself a favor. Get rid of that fucking gun. I’m telling you, these fucking cops are nuts. If they think you’ve got a gun, they’ll shoot you,” Frank warned.

When Bluestein’s pizza was ready, he got up to leave. “Get rid of that piece and get the right plates on your car,” Frank told him again as Bluestein walked away.

About twenty minutes later, Eileen came out of the restaurant and told Tony he had an important phone call. Tony went inside and came back out with a shocked look on his face. He said, “That was Herb Blitzstein on the phone; they just killed Frankie Blue.”

Frank was stunned. “Who killed him?”

“The fucking cops,” Tony said. “I’m going over there to find out what happened.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, Frankie. Stay here and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

An hour later Tony returned with Herb Blitzstein and Steve Bluestein, and he was in a foul mood. “The cops claim they tried to get Frankie to get out of his car and that he reached for a gun. That was when they opened up on him,” Tony said. “It was Smith and Groover and they put a lot of bullets into him.”

Frank recognized the names of the two cops as the same ones who’d been tailing him and Tony earlier that evening. He considered Smith to be a trigger-happy maniac. Bluestein had admitted having a gun in his car, but Frank wondered whether or not he’d actually pulled it.

Tony said, “We gotta do something with these fucking coppers. I know if we whack one of them, we’ll have to fight the Army, Navy, and Marine Corps. You just can’t win against these cocksuckers. I gotta figure out a way we can get them corked without it coming back to us. I’ve gotta think about this, the bastards.’”

While Tony was considering how to punish the police, the Bluestein family went on the offensive. They alleged that the gun the police found in Frank’s car the night of the shooting had been a plant, intended to mask what was really a police execution. However, at the coroner’s inquest two weeks later, evidence was introduced that the weapon in question had been purchased in Chicago by Frank’s brother, Ron Bluestein. That information effectively knocked down the planted-gun accusation and the shooting was ruled a justified use of deadly force.

The legal system had spoken, and neither Tony nor the Bluesteins liked what was said.

·  ·  ·

Frank continued to tolerate Pete the burglar and Sal Romano, but his dislike and distrust of each man increased with the passage of time. Although he couldn’t understand why, Tony Spilotro seemed to think they were both stand-up guys, and his was the opinion that mattered most.

One night Romano was in My Place with a girl. They were at the far end of the bar, talking and laughing with a couple of other women. Romano called Frank over and introduced him to his girlfriend. Frank said hello and they talked a little bit. Frank didn’t find out until much too late that the girl was actually an FBI agent and Romano was wearing a wire in his cowboy boot.

Eileen got bad vibes from him too. “Is that Sal guy a friend of yours?” she asked later that night.

“No, I can’t stand the son of a bitch. Why?”

“I heard him talking on the phone and something didn’t sound right. I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something about him I don’t like.”

Although Frank and Eileen turned out to be right in their feelings about Romano, at the time all they had were their suspicions.

·  ·  ·

On August 5, 1980, just weeks after Frank Bluestein was killed, Oscar Goodman filed a class-action lawsuit alleging police harassment of Tony Spilotro and his associates. Goodman asked the court to restrain Sheriff John McCarthy from continuing a program of harassment that had been ongoing since November 2, 1979.

In an article in the Las Vegas Sun on that date, Goodman is quoted as saying, “I believe the lawsuit will protect the citizens of the state of Nevada from false arrests, harassment, and possibly injury or death that has taken place in the past.” Goodman charged that Bluestein’s death was the direct result of police harassment. He added of the alleged police conduct, “I think it’s un-American. These are really Gestapo-like tactics. It literally has become a police state in this community.”

In the lawsuit itself, the lawyer said, “The object and purpose of this program is to make unlawful any unfounded investigatory detentions and arrests of Spilotro and any persons observed in his company or known to be an associate of Spilotro.”

In addition to McCarthy, the suit named nine Metro intelligence officers, including Kent Clifford, and 20 unnamed officers as defendants.

The Sun article went on to report the specific charges leveled by Goodman. He said that since November 1979, the police had: kept Spilotro and nearly a dozen of his friends under intensive surveillance; stopped and interrogated Spilotro and his friends without lawful or reasonable ground under the false guise of making some police investigative inquiry; and made false accusations or alleged minor traffic violations as a pretext for jailing persons known to be associated with Spilotro.

Attacking the Sheriff directly, Goodman said, “[McCarthy] didn’t care whose rights were being violated. He said it was legitimate police work.”

The attorney said the killing of Bluestein was the “last straw” in leading to the filing of the lawsuit. In Goodman’s opinion, Metro officers had conducted a high-speed chase of Bluestein, who had committed no violations of the law, and gunned him down while carrying out Metro’s harassment policy against Spilotro.

·  ·  ·

Frank’s dislike for Pete the burglar came to a head one night outside the Upper Crust when the two men got into a dispute about an alleged tip on a potential burglary target.

Pete and Joe Blasko stopped to see Frank at the restaurant. They asked him to come outside to talk. Pete said, “What happened to the tip I gave you about that Oriental rug place to rob?”

“I don’t know about any tip,” Frank said. “You never told me about it.”

Standing off to the side, Blasko egged Pete on. “Don’t let him shit you; he knows what you’re talking about. He doesn’t want to give you your cut.”

“How about it?” Pete asked. “I gave you the tip and you’re supposed to take care of me.”

“You’re a fucking liar,” Frank said to Pete. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And if you don’t believe me, you can go fuck yourself.”

Pete threw a punch at Frank and the two men started wrestling, with Blasko trying to pull them apart. Frank got one good punch in, then grabbed the metal lid to a trash can. Before he could crack Pete in the head with it, Blasko grabbed him and shoved him up against a wall. At that point Guardino and Davino came out of the restaurant and broke things up. Pete and Blasko left a couple of minutes later.

Frank was like a madman; he went looking for Tony. When he found him he said, “You’ve gotta let me whack this fuckin’ Pete. He’s a no-good lying cocksucker and he’s gotta go.”

“I’m sorry, Frankie. I know you’re pissed off, but I’ve got to say no.”

Like a good salesman, Frank wasn’t ready to give up with the first refusal. “The bastard came to my goddamn place, called me a liar, and swung on me. You’ve told me that he’s even held back money from his scores. Let me get rid of the motherfucker.”

“I know the kid’s no good, but I can’t let you do it. Pete’s the out-of-wedlock son of an Outfit big shot and he’s under my protection. You’ve got to put it on the shelf.”

Finally, Frank understood why Tony ordered him to let Pete hang around. He was Outfit-connected. But that didn’t cut any ice with the enraged Frank. He tried one more time. “I can do it so Pete’s old man won’t know what happened to him.”

“I’m sorry, Frankie. The answer is no.”

Frank said okay, but it wasn’t okay. For the first time he was going to defy Tony, he was so mad. He told Davino to stay close to Pete and Blasko, to be their friend. Tony had taught him, when setting up the Lisner hit, that if you get people to like you and be comfortable around you, it’s easier to take them out when you need to.

Ernie did as he was told, but Blasko got suspicious and ran to Tony. He said he thought he and Pete were being set up. Tony assured him that he hadn’t given the okay for anybody to be whacked.

After his talk with Blasko, Tony called Frank. “What the fuck are you trying to do? I told you to put this thing on the shelf, didn’t I?”

Frank denied that he had anything up his sleeve. “Hey, I wanted to do it, but you said no. Those guys are just being paranoid.”

“Okay, case closed. It’s all over with,” Tony said. “But I’ll tell you what. Pete’s becoming a real pain in the ass and I’m going to encourage him to move back to Chicago.”

Reluctantly, Frank had no choice but to cancel his murder plans.

·  ·  ·

Not long after issuing the order that saved Pete’s life, Tony called Frank. “Pete burglarized a radio store and he’s got a lot of police radio stuff. He wants to give you a couple of walkie-talkies.”

“Look, Tony, I don’t like that fucking kid and I don’t want anything from him.”

“Come on, Frankie. He didn’t realize how tight you were with me when you had that beef with him. Now he wants to make amends.”

Frank relented. If taking those walkie-talkies would make everybody happy, he’d do it.

Pete called Frank later and brought the radios to him. “I hope there are no hard feelings,” Pete said. “I’d like us to be friends.”

“No, no hard feelings. Let’s forget about it.”

“You know, there’s an awful lot of heat on me out here and I’ve decided to move back to Chicago. They’re after you guys big time, too. Have you thought about going back?”

“I’m not in a position to leave; I’ve got too many obligations here,” Frank said.

Pete left without telling Frank one very important thing: The radios were stolen in Chicago, not Las Vegas. That meant anyone caught in possession of them in a state other than Illinois would be subject to federal charges.

Even though Frank had only accepted the radios to placate Tony, they were good units and he decided to hang onto them for possible future use.

·  ·  ·

Tony also appeared to be somewhat lax about security when it came to tolerating Sal Romano. Ignoring Frank’s warnings, he didn’t seem to be overly concerned about whether Romano had loose lips or was an out-and-out informant. Frank didn’t know what to make of it, especially because Tony took extraordinary precautions to keep the Gold Rush and other places he frequented free of electronic listening devices. Tony’s caution and, perhaps, his increasing paranoia, were also in evidence during a meeting at the house of his brother, John Spilotro. Frank, Tony, John, and Joe Blasko were there.

Tony said, “Why don’t we all go into the Jacuzzi and talk?”

Frank laughed. “Are you nuts? I don’t even have a swim suit with me.”

“Don’t worry. John’s got suits for you and Joe,” Tony said.

Blasko went in the bathroom first to change. Tony opened the door right after and walked in with the swimming trunks. He did the same thing when Frank went in. That’s when Frank realized what was going on. Tony thought someone was giving information to the cops and he was checking his guests for wires. It also gave him an opportunity to search their clothes if he wanted.

Frank thought the Jacuzzi thing was actually a good idea, though. There weren’t any transmitters in the water and the participants were able to talk freely. He wasn’t offended. His only regret is that Tony never made Sal Romano strip.

·  ·  ·

In late 1980, Frank, Eileen, and her two children moved to another home. Their new place was much larger than their old digs and they found themselves short of furniture. Like his father before him, Frank figured there was no sense in paying for what you could get free. He got his furniture okay, but it turned out to be far from free. In fact, it ended up costing him dearly.

Knowing Frank was looking for furnishings, Ernie Davino came to his aid. He knew of a woman and her husband who were going to be out of town for two months. In fact, Davino’s daughter was watching their house for them, so getting a key would be no problem. Frank had an associate rent a truck using a fake name, then went to the house and took everything. The stolen goods looked great in Frank’s new place.

However, Davino made a big mistake when he told Jerry Rossi, Frank’s brother-in-law, about the burglary. Jerry had another guy with him at the time who was an informant. He ran right to Metro and told them all about the score.

Metro raided Frank’s house early on the morning of November 20, 1980. The police kicked the door down while he and Eileen were still in bed. They handcuffed them both, with Eileen in her nightgown and Frank in his shorts. They identified all the stolen furniture. And they found the walkie-talkies Pete had given Frank. A prosecutor named Don Campbell was present during the search; he held the radios up and said, “We’ve got you now. We’ve got you with these radios.”

Frank didn’t understand why such a big deal was being made about finding the radios; the furniture was worth a lot more. He asked Campbell what he was talking about.

Campbell explained. “These radios were stolen in Chicago and you’ve got them here. There’s a federal law concerning the interstate transportation of stolen property, and you broke it.”

Frank and Eileen were taken to jail. The charges against her were dropped and she was released. Frank spent half a day locked up before he bonded out. After he was released, he told Tony that he was sure the cops were looking for those walkie-talkies. He believed they knew he had them before they broke his door in. If they did, the information had to have come from Pete. And his brother-in-law’s friend had provided the probable cause to get the search warrant. As far as he was concerned, the grin he saw on Don Campbell’s face that night was a confirmation of his suspicions. Frank had to admit it had been a good setup.

·  ·  ·

Possession of the stolen walkie-talkies landed Frank back in the federal system. It didn’t take prosecutors long to present his case to a grand jury. It was a proceeding that produced even more headaches for him.

The feds served Eileen with a subpoena. Although a wife doesn’t have to testify against her husband, Frank hired attorney David Chesnoff to represent her. For himself, he used John Momot, with Oscar Goodman as an advisor. And then the government subpoenaed his 16-year-old stepdaughter. Whether they actually thought Kimberly had information or were simply trying to increase the pressure on Frank is unknown, but Kimberly said she wasn’t going to talk with the grand jury; she had nothing to say. Frank retained Dominic Gentile to represent her. The creative Gentile decided to argue that his client didn’t have to testify due to something he called family privilege. When that news hit the papers, the federal prosecutors were stunned. It was a privilege that didn’t exist. However, the publicity cast the government lawyers in the role of bully, and Kimberly was never called to the stand.

The local case regarding the stolen furniture took a bad turn when the woman whose house was burglarized claimed she’d been threatened. According to her, a man approached her on the street and said she’d better not testify against Frank Cullotta or she’d be killed. The woman identified Jerry Rossi as the person who’d made the threat. The cops arrested Jerry and roughed him up in the process. When they cut him loose, he went right to Frank and told him the story. Frank figured they’d be after him next.

His hunch was right. Metro arrested him in the restaurant and booked him for intimidating a witness. He was taken before a judge who was friendly toward the cops. The judge scolded Frank in the courtroom, wanting to know who he thought he was to intimidate a witness. He revoked Frank’s bond and sent him back to jail.

Moving quickly, Frank’s lawyer arranged for him to go before a different judge a week later. Bail was granted, but it wasn’t cheap. Frank had to post a $100,000 bond. His mounting legal problems were not only starting to drive him crazy, but they were wiping him out financially as well.

To escape the pressure temporarily, Frank took a trip to Chicago. While he was gone, Guardino and Davino continued to pull burglaries. Frank got word that even though he wasn’t in town, the cops had come by his house to arrest him for one of those jobs. He contacted his lawyers in Vegas and asked them to check things out. They got back to him and said the cops were going to arrest him on the new charge, but a judge had promised he’d get a light bail, only $30,000 or so. He went back to Vegas, surrendered, and bonded out. Now he was loaded up with pending cases.

He was handling it, but it was beginning to get to him.