12
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On July 4, 1981, the Hole in the Wall Gang went after a score estimated to be worth $1 million. What happened that day and the resulting aftermath became a turning point in the law’s battle against Tony Spilotro, Frank Cullotta, and their gang. There are two distinct sides to this story: the cops and the robbers. The opposing forces planned their activities carefully, not wanting to leave anything to chance. But the law had one big advantage over the burglars: They had Sal Romano.
Bertha’s Gifts &Home Furnishings, located at 896 East Sahara, was an upscale furniture and jewelry store. When Frank first arrived in Vegas in 1979, one of the guys he hung around with told him about the store and took him there to case it. It was family-owned and had been in business for more than 40 years. Frank’s source told him that the store was loaded with jewelry and antiques; if the place could be hit, it would probably be worth seven figures.
Frank checked the store inside and out. He struck up a conversation with one of the sales clerks and got some information from her. He looked around for alarms and sensors and located the vault. After that he explored the outside of the building, then discussed the results of the survey with his associate.
Frank believed Bertha’s was directly alarmed to the police station. His friend suggested pulling a big truck alongside the building and popping a hole in the wall next to the vault. Frank said it was a good idea, except that they’d be right off the main street and could easily be spotted by passing police cars or citizens. And if the wall next to the vault was made of steel, they’d have to cut through it. Using torches at night would be sure to draw attention. Frank needed to think about it some more.
In the meantime, he and the other guy had a falling out and he didn’t do anything more about it. But the idea was always in the back of his mind. During the intervening two years, Frank developed a plan for attacking the store. When his financial situation turned critical, he decided it was time to take another look at Bertha’s.
The store was alarmed, but that could be overcome by going in through the roof. From there, it was just a matter of dropping down through the false ceiling right on top of the vault. If the vault was encased in steel, it could be penetrated using torches; if it was in cinder block, it could be easily chopped through.
Frank discussed his idea with Tony. The Ant liked it and added a couple of things to the plan. “We’ll fence everything through my brother Michael in Chicago; that way our money will be guaranteed. And I want to use Joe Blasko on the job.”
Frank wasn’t enthused about Blasko; he figured once a cop, always a cop. “Why Blasko?”
“The guy needs money and I’m tired of carrying him. We’ll use him as a lookout and make him earn his keep.”
They scheduled the burglary on the night of the Fourth of July, a Saturday. Not only would there be lots of noise with all the fireworks going off, but the cops would be busy handling traffic and fireworks calls. Because it was a long holiday weekend, they’d be able to drive the merchandise to Chicago and be back in Vegas before the crime was even discovered. In addition to him and Blasko, the crew would consist of Neumann, Guardino, Davino, and Matecki. Frank thought that other than Blasko, it was a good crew.
· · ·
With the details of the Bertha’s job in place, it was a matter of waiting until the date for the burglary arrived. While counting down the days, Frank was sent to Chicago with some kickback money for the Outfit from Tony.
When he made his delivery to Joe Ferriola, they talked about all the heat being put on the gang in Vegas. The next words out of the bigshot’s mouth were, “Who in the fuck is murdering all those people out there?” He mentioned a few names, including Jerry Lisner.
Frank denied that he or Tony had anything to do with the murders in question and the subject was dropped. He was bothered by the conversation, though. The man who asked him the question was the one to give Tony permission to murder Lisner. Now he was acting like he knew nothing about it and wanted to know who was responsible. After giving it more thought, Frank came to the conclusion that Tony had lied to him. He’d authorized the Lisner killing on his own and Chicago knew nothing about it. What the fuck was going on? Why would Tony do something that stupid? Frank asked himself. He didn’t know the answers. But he did know that committing a hit without prior approval was the kind of thing that could get him and Tony both killed, and he didn’t like it.
When Frank returned to Vegas, he didn’t mention his concerns to Tony, but they did discuss other things. “I’ve got a job I might need to have done,” Tony said. “I want you to prepare for it. Make sure Larry is ready to go and get one other guy. Who else can you get?”
“What’s the job?”
“I might want to get rid of the Jew [Rosenthal].”
“For something like that, I can have Wayne come in from Chicago.”
“I’m not sure right now I want to do this, so don’t do anything until I tell you. I’m going to bring in a couple of other guys, one from California and the other from Arizona. They’re going to dig a big hole in the desert. They’ll cover it with plywood and dirt. You’ll know where the hole is, because I’ll take you there and show you. When I’m ready to get rid of the Jew, I’ll tell you. Then you scoop him up from the street. Don’t kill him on the street, Frankie. Kill him when you get to the grave we’re going to dig. Then dump him in and cover him up. That will be the end of that.”
Frank wasn’t surprised. The relationship between Tony and Lefty had long since deteriorated past the point of no return. The only question was whether Tony would seek permission from Chicago to take Rosenthal out or make the decision on his own, as he had apparently done in the Lisner killing. In either case, Frank worked for Tony, not the Outfit. If the order to kill Rosenthal came, he’d carry it out and worry about the consequences later.
This plan, like Tony’s plot to bring the Blackstone Rangers in on the killing of Groover and Smith, never went any further. Frank didn’t get much time to reflect on Tony’s plans for murder, though. As the date for the Bertha’s caper drew closer, he received some upsetting news.
· · ·
This time Frank’s information came from two sources he considered highly credible. He believed that what they told him was the smoking gun that would surely convince Tony Spilotro that having Sal Romano hanging around was risky business.
Two Chicago cops whom Frank had known for years and worked for Bill Hanhardt in the CIU were in Las Vegas on vacation and they stopped at the Upper Crust to see him. They asked if he knew Sal Romano; he said he did. One of the cops said, “We don’t know about this guy. We busted him at O’Hare Airport with a load of furs he’d stolen here in Vegas. Because we had him for interstate transportation, we turned him over to the feds. Well, they haven’t done anything with it. He hasn’t even been indicted. We’re looking at this Romano as maybe being an informant now. We’re not sure, but it doesn’t look right. We figured we’d pass this on to you while we were here.”
Frank gave the cops $500 each and got their rooms comped. And then he told Tony what he’d learned. Tony said, “You gotta take this stuff at face value. How much can you trust these guys? They’re cops!”
It was apparent to Frank that Tony had been completely taken in by Romano. And he found Tony’s response short-sighted in the least, and suicidal at most. But there was worse to come.
· · ·
Not long after talking with the Chicago cops, Frank got about the worst news he could imagine: Out of the blue Ernie Davino told him that he’d asked Sal Romano to come along on the Bertha’s job. Frank was livid. “You had no goddamn business bringing him in! Tony and I make those decisions, not you.”
“I only asked him because I figured he could help out with the alarms.”
“We don’t fucking need him. Everything’s covered. I don’t trust the son of a bitch and I don’t want him in on the job.”
Frank went to Tony and gave him the news. Spilotro wasn’t happy about it either, but he said, “If Sal is bad like you think, the damage is already done; he knows. You might as well let him come along.”
“I’d rather just pass on the whole thing.”
“There’s too much money involved and it’s too close to back off now.”
“Sal installed a burglar alarm in your house. I wouldn’t doubt but that he bugged your place.”
Tony dismissed the idea. “If he did, the cops would have arrested me by now. Sal did a nice job putting that system in for me, Frankie; he’s a good man. You’ve just got a hard-on for him for some reason.”
Frank didn’t give in. “He’s bad fucking news and I don’t want any part of him.”
Tony relented slightly. “Tell you what. Take him on the job, but have Larry watch him. Tell Larry that if Sal does anything funny, he should take him out.”
So as the Fourth of July drew near, Frank found that his crew now consisted of himself and six other guys. Four of them he trusted. A fifth, Blasko, he didn’t trust completely. And the sixth, Romano, he didn’t trust at all.
· · ·
In June, the thieves began to fine-tune their plan for Bertha’s. Tony Spilotro obtained police radio equipment from Chicago and Frank lined up additional gear and a couple of vehicles to use.
One of Tony’s devices unscrambled police calls and scrambled the gang’s transmissions. Frank wanted to have a van available, but didn’t want to rent one in his name in case things didn’t work out. He knew a man who ran a steam-cleaning business and had a van with all his equipment inside and a big Superman logo on the outside. Frank made arrangements to use the van on the Fourth of July for a fee. Joe Blasko would set up in the van across from Bertha’s with the police scanners, walkie-talkies, and a CB radio. Frank sent Larry to Chicago to get some acetylene tanks and torches. Getting stuff from out of town would make it tougher to trace than if it was obtained locally. Neumann stole what was needed and brought it back. The burglars had a ladder, picks, sledgehammers, and cutting tools, about everything they could possibly need. Finally, they scrounged up a station wagon to bring the equipment to the scene.
When the crew got together at an apartment one last time to go over the plan, Sal Romano was wired and the FBI was parked out on the street, listening to every word that was said.
· · ·
With full knowledge of the Hole in the Wall Gang’s plans, the lawmen of the FBI and Metro prepared their ambush. The team was headed on-scene by the FBI’s Charlie Parsons and Joe Gersky and Metro’s Gene Smith. Their bosses—Joe Yablonsky and Kent Clifford—were nearby and available if needed to make any command decisions.
Although the actual crime wouldn’t take place until after dark, the lawmen were at work much earlier. Surveillance teams were active around Bertha’s all day, monitoring activity and making sure they were thoroughly familiar with the area. They had to keep an eye on the bad guys as well, looking for any indication of a change in their plans or other last-minute situations.
With two different agencies participating in the operation, communications were critical. Their radios had to have a common frequency, one that wasn’t known to the burglars. A secret frequency was obtained and divulged only to those with a need to know. At the same time they continued to use the regular frequencies, those likely to be monitored by the thieves, to disseminate bogus information as to the location and status of personnel. In the late afternoon, the balance of the agents and officers deployed to the field.
The main observation point overlooking the roof of Bertha’s was from the top of a nearby five-story building. Charlie Parsons, Joe Gersky, and videotape personnel took up positions there. Gene Smith worked with the surveillance detail, riding with an FBI agent. The burglars were not to be arrested until they actually entered the building, making it a burglary rather than the lesser charge of an attempted crime.
The cops knew that the crooks planned to use at least four vehicles, three of them to conduct counter-surveillance activities and one to transport the three men who would go on the roof and do the break-in. Representing the gang’s forces on the ground were Frank Cullotta driving a 1981 Buick, Larry Neumann in a late-model Cadillac, and an unknown individual—possibly Joe Blasko—in a white commercial van with the name of a cleaning business and a Superman logo on the side. Sal Romano would be functioning as a lookout, using either his own vehicle or riding with one of the others. The occupants of each vehicle would be equipped with two-way radios and police scanners. The actual burglars—Matecki, Guardino, and Davino—would arrive by station wagon and go on the roof to gain entry to the store. They would also have radios to keep in contact with the lookouts on the ground.
At around 7 p.m. the gang’s counter-surveillance units began to appear. Cullotta and Neumann, with Romano in his car, repeatedly drove around the area, apparently checking for a police presence or anything that seemed suspicious. In turn, they were being tailed by cops and agents. The white van took up a position in the driveway to the Commercial Center shopping plaza, across the street from Bertha’s. From this vantage point the operator had an unimpeded view of the store. As the man in the van watched, he was under constant surveillance himself.
While this game of cat-and-mouse continued, the whole operation almost came to an abrupt end. Gene Smith and the FBI agent were stopped at a traffic light when a car pulled up next to them. Out of the corner of his eye, Smith saw that the driver of the other car was none other than Frank Cullotta. The cop—who was well-known to Cullotta—went to the floor of the vehicle as fast as he could. The light changed and Cullotta pulled away. It’s almost a certainty that had Smith been spotted in the area, the burglars would have scrubbed their plans.
At approximately 9 p.m. a station wagon bearing Matecki, Guardino, and Davino arrived and parked behind a Chinese restaurant located at 1000 East Sahara. A police surveillance vehicle parked nearby went unnoticed by the burglars. The three men exited their vehicle and unloaded tools and equipment, including a ladder. They next proceeded to the east side of Bertha’s and gained access to the roof, hauling their gear up with them.
From the roof a few buildings away, the videotape was rolling.
Plugging into electric outlets located in the air-conditioning units, the burglars went about their business, using power and hand tools to penetrate the store’s roof. Everything was going smoothly for both sides. Other than Lt. Smith’s close call with Cullotta, the only thing that had gone wrong for the law so far was that a member of the surveillance team had to be treated for dehydration.
Agent Dennis Arnoldy was in charge of a four-man team, two FBI and two Metro, responsible for arresting the thieves on the roof. They relaxed as best they could in the back of a pickup truck in the parking lot of the Sahara Hotel &Casino, located on the Las Vegas Strip a few blocks from Bertha’s.
Arnoldy and his team weren’t expecting their prey or the lookouts to be armed. These were veteran criminals who knew that if they were caught with guns, the charges against them and the potential penalties would be more serious. The lawmen certainly hoped that would be the case and that the arrests would be made without bloodshed.
As the burglars progressed in their efforts to get through the roof, Arnoldy and his men made their way to the scene. Using a ladder, they too got onto the roof. An impressive fireworks display exploded in the sky over Las Vegas as the lawmen secreted themselves behind vents and air-conditioning units to wait for the predetermined arrest signal to be broadcast.
At that point a minor snag developed. When the burglars broke through, they realized they hadn’t hit their target: the store’s safe. Recovering quickly, they soon made another entry in the right place. At approximately 10:40 p.m., Leo Guardino dropped through the opening and into the store, carrying the tools necessary to break into the safe.
The act of burglary was complete.
Arnoldy, shotgun at the ready, directed his team into action. When Davino and Matecki detected the lawmen approaching, they scurried to the front of the building and possible escape to the street below. But when they looked down they saw more agents and officers on the sidewalk pointing weapons in their direction. Knowing the game was up, they surrendered without incident. A few seconds later Guardino’s head popped up through the hole in the roof and he was taken into custody.
At street level, other agents and cops were already busy apprehending the lookouts. Neumann and Cullotta were nabbed a short distance from Bertha’s. Agent Gary Magnesen and two Metro officers arrested Joe Blasko.
One of the Metro officers was in uniform and driving a black-and-white. As planned, the marked car came up on the van from the rear with its lights flashing and headlights illuminating the van’s interior. Another detective, armed with a shotgun, and Magnesen with a pistol approached the van from the front and ordered the occupant out. Up until that point, it was thought that Blasko was inside the van, but no one knew for sure. In fact, some of the Metro cops didn’t want to believe that their former colleague had really gone to the other side. When Blasko emerged from the vehicle, the veil of uncertainty was gone.
No weapons were found on Blasko or any of the other arrestees.
When agents and officers entered the store, they found that the burglars’ second hole in the roof had been accurate, located directly over the safe. Burglary tools were found nearby and several holes had already been drilled into the safe in an effort to open it. Leo Guardino had been a busy man during his short time inside the building.
Joe Yablonsky and Kent Clifford held a press conference shortly after the arrests were made. They told reporters that Frank Cullotta, age 43, Joe Blasko, age 45, Leo Guardino, age 47, and Ernest Davino, age 34, all of Las Vegas, were in custody. Also arrested were Lawrence Neumann, age 53, of McHenry, Illinois, and Wayne Matecki, age 30, of Northridge, Illinois. The six men were charged with burglary, conspiracy to commit burglary, attempted grand larceny, and possession of burglary tools. They were all lodged in the Clark County Jail.
When reporters asked how the lawmen happened to be in the area at the time of the burglary, Yablonsky and Clifford turned vague. In fact, they lied outright when they denied that the arrests were the result of an informant’s tip. The reporters also weren’t told that Sal Romano, an expert at disabling alarm systems and an FBI informant, was working as a part of the gang’s counter-surveillance team. When the signal was broadcast to arrest the burglars, Romano was immediately removed from the area and placed in the Witness Protection Program. His role in the Bertha’s operation wasn’t made known to the general public until much later.
In many respects, the Bertha’s bust was a great victory for both the FBI and Metro. For one, it proved that the two major law-enforcement agencies had overcome their prior differences and could work together. For another, it was instrumental in getting one of the key criminal players to switch sides and become a government witness, sending shockwaves from Las Vegas to Chicago and beyond.
· · ·
Although the involvement of Sal Romano in the Bertha’s job had dampened Frank’s enthusiasm for the score, he put his concerns aside and went along on the heist. It turned out to be a night he will never forget.
The crew split up into two groups. Blasko, Neumann, and Cullotta were responsible for monitoring police activity and keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. Blasko was in the van parked in the entrance to the Commercial Center shopping mall opposite Bertha’s. Neumann and Cullotta cruised the area in their cars. Romano was told to ride with Neumann. When he wanted to know why he couldn’t be alone, Neumann told him there was no need for him to be anywhere but with him; they would listen to the police calls on the radio. Neumann was prepared to take Romano out of the area and kill him if he pulled anything funny. Guardino, Matecki, and Davino drove the station wagon and were assigned to do the actual burglary.
Frank was driving a new Buick Riviera with a CB radio built in. Neumann and Romano were in Neumann’s Caddy. Frank and Lurch had good communications and thought Romano was more or less neutralized.
The burglars unloaded their station wagon and got all their equipment up on the roof. When they were almost ready to break through, Romano was sent to move the station wagon closer to the store. He reported back to Neumann by walkie-talkie that the wagon wouldn’t start and he was unable to move it. Frank stopped by the allegedly disabled station wagon to see what the problem was. He turned the key and it started right up. He radioed Neumann, “There’s nothing wrong with this goddamn car. Where’s Sal?”
“I don’t know; he’s not with me.”
Frank’s instincts told him trouble was brewing. “Find the son of a bitch!”
Right about then the burglars radioed that they had gotten through and were inside the store. “I can see the vault. It’s only cinder block; we’re in,” Guardino gloated.
As Frank listened to Guardino’s good news, he checked his rear-view mirror and found a van right on his tail. He drove into a shopping center parking lot with a lot of people around and the van pulled him over. The occupants of the van jumped out, hollering “FBI!” and “Metro!” They got Frank out of his car and told him to put his hands on the hood and not to move. They searched him and his car. After that he was handcuffed, put in the van, and read his rights. As they left the parking lot for Bertha’s, Frank heard a radio transmission that Blasko had been captured, along with all the radio equipment. When they pulled up in front of the store, he saw Guardino, Matecki, and Davino face down on the concrete with their hands cuffed behind their backs. Neumann had been picked up, too. Everybody was accounted for. Except Sal Romano.
· · ·
Almost as soon as the burglars were booked into the jail, Frank started searching for Sal Romano. He wasn’t in the lockup; nobody had seen him and nobody knew where he was. Somebody said Romano must have gotten away.
“Bullshit,” Frank said. “He’s a fucking informant and he set us up.”
Joe Blasko didn’t believe it. “Tony would never have let that happen.”
Frank said, “I never trusted that bastard and I told Tony about it several times. But Tony knew it all, and here we are.”
The arrestees were put in cells side by side, so they were still able to talk. But because of concerns that the cells were bugged, they were careful about what they said. Blasko complained that he couldn’t stay in jail. He said he had obligations and asked Frank to get him bonded out first. Frank agreed and assumed Tony was already working on it. He wasn’t.
Frank called the Upper Crust and talked to Nick Rossi. His father-in-law said Romano had phoned wanting to know if he was the only one who escaped. When Rossi asked how he had managed to get away, Romano hung up on him.
Frank used one of the phone calls he was allowed to call the gang’s regular bondsman and find out why he wasn’t there getting the guys out. The answer was simple: Frank’s call was the first he’d heard about the arrests. Tony hadn’t contacted him. When the bondsman got to the jail, he got the crew out one at a time, Blasko first. Finally, everyone was out but Frank. The bondsman said he wasn’t getting out; the judge had revoked his earlier bond. Frank’s lawyers went into high gear and got a hearing before a different judge. He released Frank on yet another $100,000 bond. In the end, Frank put up all the bail money for the entire crew. Tony hadn’t contributed anything and things were getting lean on Frank’s end. He had to live, too, and had his own family to take care of.
Once he was out of jail, Frank discussed his ever-increasing legal problems with Tony. “Why don’t you change lawyers and hire Oscar [Goodman]?” Tony suggested. “He’s a lot sharper than Momot.”
“Why, just to prolong the inevitable?”
“Well, he can prolong things, but he can win cases, too.”
“What cases has he ever won for you?”
Tony became angry. “Look, do you want to listen to me or be a fucking know-it-all?”
Frank relented and met with Goodman; the lawyer wanted $10,000 to represent him. Frank gave him the money, but Tony continued his pattern of keeping his own cash in his pocket. Goodman delivered for Frank in the form of getting him continuances, lots of them.
· · ·
The media covered the Bertha’s story aggressively for the first several days after the burglary, pressing their law-enforcement sources for additional information. They were particularly interested in the arrest of ex-cop Joe Blasko and alleged ties to Tony Spilotro.
On July 6, the Las Vegas Review-Journal ran a front-page story about the arrests. The headline read, “Mob-linked ex-cop held in burglary try.” The article reported that the six men arrested were believed to be members of the Hole in the Wall Gang. According to the reporter’s police sources, the gang was responsible for $1 million in local thefts since 1979. All the suspects reportedly were connected to a Chicago organized-crime family.
A story appeared the next day in which it was divulged that the burglary arrests were part of an FBI mob probe. This article stated that unnamed law-enforcement authorities firmly believed the burglars were underlings to Tony Spilotro, who was the subject of an ongoing federal racketeering investigation. It was also mentioned that federal racketeering indictments might be sought against the thieves.
· · ·
While Frank was out on bail, Tony Spilotro told him that two men needed to be killed: Joe Blasko and Sal Romano.
“The big guy [Joe Blasko] is getting me nervous,” Tony said.
“Why? What’s he doing?”
“He’s sort of insinuating that I didn’t listen to you guys about Romano. Couldn’t I feel a problem coming on with the guy? And why did I let him in on the score? Stuff like that. I’m afraid the motherfucker is going to roll on me, Frankie. I want you to get rid of him.”
As far as Frank was concerned, that was a job that should have been done a long time before then. Tony subsequently backed off on the hit, saying Blasko was behaving himself and to let it go.
Tony still had killing on his mind, however. The next thing he wanted Frank to do was whack Sal Romano.
“I’d love to kill that son of a bitch, Tony. But how in the fuck are we going to get to him? He’s in Witness Protection being guarded by the U.S. Marshals.”
“I don’t know where they’ve got Sal stashed, but they’ll have to bring him into town to testify, and when they do we can get him.”
“I still don’t see how we’re going to know where he is.”
“I know the guy that caters food to the marshals when they’re protecting someone. When they bring Sal here, they’ll have to feed him. I’ll be able to find out where the food is delivered to and then we can whack him.”
“But he’ll have a lot of guys around guarding him. What about them?”
Tony said, “You gotta do what you gotta do if you want to stay free. Hit them, all of them. That’s it, an open-and-shut case.”
This plan never got past the talking stage either. Tony was making plans to have a lot of people killed, but seemed unable to issue the final orders. Frank saw this as a sign that Tony was losing it. He was under tremendous pressure from the law and Chicago wasn’t pleased about all the media attention he was getting. Frank was convinced that Tony had become paranoid to the point that he didn’t trust anybody.
As Frank pondered Tony’s behavior, he asked himself: Does he still trust me?
· · ·
All the stress Tony was under may have been slowly driving him crazy, but in spite of that he continued to play out the role in public. The women still flocked to him and when they went out to dinner, an entourage of groupies, wiseguy wannabes, and sometimes entertainment celebrities followed along. And nobody could pick up the dinner check but Tony.
The Ant also remained the guy people came to if they wanted something done. In a restaurant one night, somebody complained to Tony about a dealer at the Fremont. After dinner Frank, Neumann, and Guardino were sent to the casino to deal with the culprit. They broke his ribs and blackened an eye, then told him if there had to be a next time, it would be worse. The dealer straightened out and caused no further problems.
· · ·
Still free on bond, Frank and his family moved back to Chicago to escape his troubles in Las Vegas. Before leaving, he and Guardino sold the Upper Crust. The constant presence of agents and cops had caused business to drop off dramatically and the restaurant was operating in the red every month. They had bought it for $65,000, but only got $15,000 for it when it sold.
Frank made his move during the winter and it was bone-chillingly cold in the Midwest. Things didn’t work out too well for him and he managed to make just enough to pay the heating-oil bill and his lawyer’s fees. The Outfit guys he talked with complained about what was going on in Vegas, including the unauthorized hits. It was pretty obvious to him that they weren’t happy. He now knew for certain Tony had deceived him and continued to be bothered by it.
Frank’s trial for possessing the stolen furniture was coming up in Vegas and with things in the doldrums in Chicago, he moved back to Sin City.
When he made his decision to return, he wasn’t aware of how much his relationship with Tony Spilotro had deteriorated. He’d soon find out.
· · ·
Frank was scheduled to go on trial in April 1982. Not long before the court date, Eileen became suspicious of Tony Spilotro. It got her thinking that perhaps in Tony’s eyes, Frank had become expendable.
When the couple returned to Las Vegas, they moved into an apartment next door to Eileen’s father. In early April, Frank received a 1 a.m. phone call from Tony. He asked Frank to meet him in the parking lot of My Place. It wasn’t unusual for Tony to want to meet at odd hours, so Frank didn’t think much about it at the time.
During their get-together they discussed Frank’s upcoming trial and a couple of other things, none of which were urgent. Tony went inside the bar four or five times to use the pay phone. Other than that, it was a routine session.
When Frank got home, Eileen was upset. She said, “What’s the matter with that guy? Can’t he sleep? Why does he bother you all hours of the day and night? He calls and you run; this is ridiculous!”
“That’s none of your business; don’t worry about it,” he said.
Frank got in bed and before his head hit the pillow he heard gunshots. He pushed Eileen out of bed and onto the floor, then covered her with his own body. When the shots stopped, he went outside to look around. He saw two things: a guy lying in the doorway of the apartment next to his with blood gushing from a wound in his leg, and a van speeding away. He went back inside and told Eileen that it looked like the guy next door had been shot, probably due to a drug deal that went sour.
Eileen didn’t buy that explanation. “Your friend calls you and you go out to meet him. You get home and aren’t in bed two seconds and somebody gets shot next door. Right next door, Frank! Come on! Don’t you think maybe your friend Tony is trying to kill you?”
Frank laughed. First Tony was becoming paranoid, and now Eileen. “You’re fuckin’ crazy. You know that, don’t you?”
“Laugh all you want, but I’ve got a feeling Tony wants you dead. I can understand that you’re blinded by your friendship for him. But think about what I’m telling you, please.”
“Sure, I’ll think about it,” he promised.
Frank had to admit to himself that Tony got under his skin now and then and had lied to him. Tony had also made some questionable decisions lately, like getting taken in by Romano and ordering the Lisner hit without Chicago’s approval. Tony was going through some tough times; so was Frank. But they’d been friends for years and they still were. He’d never turn on Tony and was sure Tony felt the same. He dismissed Eileen’s concerns as resentment over his friendship with Tony.
The phone rang again about an hour later. It was Tony wanting to know what Frank was doing and if he could come out for another meeting at the bar. After Frank hung up he said, “That was Tony. I’m going back out for a while.”
“Frank, he was checking to see if you were dead or alive. Can’t you see that? You make sure you tell Tony that I know about the meeting and if anything happens to you, I’ll know who was responsible.”
For the second time that night Frank laughed at his wife, then left again for My Place. When he met with Tony, he mentioned the shooting at his apartment building. “Well, imagine that,” Tony deadpanned.
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On April 20, 1982, Frank Cullotta was convicted of possession of stolen property, in the case of emptying the absent couple’s home to furnish his own. Because of his prior felony convictions, he was facing a potential sentence of life in prison. A number of unresolved charges were hanging over his head as well. In addition, Tony Spilotro had been noticeably slow in lending a helping hand as Frank’s legal problems grew. He was even less enthusiastic after the conviction of his right-hand man.
Frank had gone into the courtroom with a bad feeling about the outcome, but he did have one ace up his sleeve. During the defense portion of the case, he had his lawyer, John Momot, put on a surprise witness: Eileen’s cousin. He testified that he received the stolen furniture and gave it to Frank and Eileen. In theory, if Frank didn’t know the furnishings were hot, he’d be innocent of the charge. The jury was apparently unconvinced. They were out for only five hours before returning the guilty verdict.
The judge was a pro-prosecution type who kept a 45-caliber handgun between his legs during court. After the verdict, he wouldn’t set an appeal bond and Frank was taken straight to jail.
On one hand, Frank felt like a deflated balloon. On the other, it seemed like a great weight was off his back. Much of the uncertainty in his life had been lifted. Even though he still had other charges hanging over him, he was at peace, in a way. And in that frame of mind, he started thinking. He thought about Tony, about the shooting at the apartment next door, and about Jerry Lisner. He thought about the Outfit guys he talked with when he was back in Chicago, how messed up everything had been in Vegas for a long time, and how it kept getting worse.
Frank called a lawyer to appeal his conviction. The attorney said he’d appeal, but only if Frank came up with $10,000. Frank said he was almost broke and told the lawyer that he’d have to get the money from Tony. When the lawyer got back to Frank, he said Tony was avoiding him and not returning his calls. The attorney finally caught up with him, but Tony would only kick in six thousand; Eileen had to come up with the other four.
Frank started thinking some more. He’d been doing all the giving and Tony had been doing the taking. Getting any money out of him for bonds or lawyers was like pulling teeth. He now knew that something was seriously wrong in his world. And he didn’t like it one bit. For the first time since hooking up with Tony in Vegas, Frank Cullotta started thinking for himself.
And then Eileen told him that Herb Blitzstein wanted her to give him back her gold cross. Frank had gotten it from the Gold Rush and given it to her as a present. And now, with Frank behind bars and fighting for his life, Blitzstein wanted the damn thing back. Frank was furious. With all Tony’s money, including hundreds of thousands that Frank had handed over, now they wanted his wife’s gold cross? Frank asked himself: Are they setting me up? Will they be glad to get rid of me?
With the money situation becoming critical, Frank told Eileen to ask Tony for a job. Tony told her, “Gee, I don’t know what I can do for you right now.” He offered to see if he could get her a job at a restaurant about thirty miles outside of town. This further incensed Frank. Here was the guy who ran Las Vegas and that was the best he could do?
The more he thought about it, the more Frank began to believe Tony was trying to set him up. Spilotro was the King of the Strip, the mob’s man in Vegas. He had the world by the balls, but had gone and fucked it all up. It made sense that he’d be looking for a fall guy to lay everything off on. Frank could imagine the word getting back to Chicago: Cullotta is out of control and doing his own thing. He’s the one hitting people without getting approval.
Maybe that was why Tony hadn’t helped Frank with his bonds and legal fees. He’d already decided to throw him to the wolves.
As he searched his memory, he realized the signs had been there all along. Eileen had seen them; he’d chosen to ignore them. But no longer. He was now a believer in his wife’s intuition. And if he and Eileen were right, he was in a tough goddamn spot.
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Frank and Tony weren’t the only ones with contacts in Chicago. The FBI also had their sources of information and they learned that Frank and Eileen’s fears were real; a contract on Frank had, in fact, been authorized.
On April 30 the FBI’s Chicago agents informed their Las Vegas colleagues that the Outfit had approved a contract on Frank Cullotta. The FBI had a policy that if they became aware someone’s life was in danger, they had to inform that person, regardless of who he was or what they thought of him. Charlie Parsons called the gangster’s lawyer. He told him he had some very important information regarding his client and asked for a meeting at the jail that afternoon.
When Parsons got to the jail, he told Frank and the lawyer that it had been a long week and he’d be brief. And then he made his announcement. “We’ve received credible information that the Chicago Outfit has authorized a contract on Frank.” He left immediately afterward. His matter-of-fact delivery was intentional, designed to get Frank’s attention.
For Frank, the agent’s visit served as confirmation of what, in his heart, he already knew. He thought long and hard about his situation over the weekend. By Monday morning, he’d made his decision. He called the FBI office and spoke with Parsons. “This is Frank Cullotta. I want to talk with you.”
“Don’t say anything on the phone,” Parsons said. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”
With that phone call, Frank Cullotta’s life took yet another turn, one he never thought possible. The man whom the cops were never able to intimidate or beat information out of was about to become a cooperating government witness.